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THE 


SECOND   AMERICAN  EDITION 


OF  THE  NEW 


EDINBURGH  ENCYCLOPEDIA. 


A. 


A  IS  the  first  letter  of  the  alphabet  in  almost  all 
f  languages,  and  has  probably  received  this  place 
from  the  facility  with  which  we  utter  the  sound  that  it 
represents.  In  pronouncing  this  letter,  the  lips  assume 
no  particular  position,  but  are  merely  opened  to  form  a 
passage  for  the  voice*.     See  Alphabet. 

The  letter  A  is  also  a  mark  of  abbreviation,  and  re- 
presents a  great  number  of  words,  which  will  be  found 
under  the  article  Character. 

A  is  likewise  a  word,  and  is  sometimes  the  indefinite 
article,  and  sometimes  a  preposition.  When  it  is  used 
as  an  article,  it  is  prefixed  to  a  singular  noun,  in  order 
to  separate  one  individual  from  the  Gtnus  or  general 
class,  of  which  the  noun  is  the  common  name.  Its  sig- 
nification, indeed,  is  nearly  the  same  with  the  word  one, 
and,  in  the  French  and  Italian  languages,  the  numeri- 
cal words  tin,  uno,  are  also  the  indefinite  articles.  Al- 
though the  indefinite  article  denotes  only  a  single  indi- 
vidual of  a  genus,  yet  it  is  sometimes  prefixed  to  plural 
nouns,  as  a  few,  a  hundred.  These  plural  words,  how- 
ever, denote  a  number  of  individuals  taken  collectively, 
and  therefore  to  this  aggregate,  or  whole,  the  indefinite 
article  is  still  applied.     See  Grammar. 

The  letter  A  seems  to  be  a  preposition  in  the  expres- 
sions, "  I  went  a-hunting,"  "  Thomas  a-Kempis,"  «-loft, 
a-head,  a-foot.  In  these  cases  Dr.  M^allace  considers 
it  as  a  contraction  ofatj.  But  as  at  has  a  relation  chief- 
ly to  place,  Dr.  Lowth|  regards  the  word  a  as  a  substi- 
tute for  the  preposition  on. 

Dr.  Johnson,  and  all  other  writers,  suppose  the  word 


*  In  the  English  language,  it  has  a  more  acute  sound 
than  in  any  other  European  idiom.  When  long  and  ac- 
cented, it  is  sounded  like   the  diphthong  at.     Dupon- 

CEAU. 

t  It  isnot  so,  however,in  Thomas  a-Kempis,and  other 
similar  Latinized  names  of  the  middle  ages,  in  which  a 
the  preposition  of  the  Latin  ablative,  stands  for  the  Eng- 
lish preposition  of.  Thus  Thomas  a-Kempis,  mean? 
Thomas  of  Kempis.     Id. 

X  And  Mr.  Home  Tooke.    Id. 
Vol.  I.    Part  I. 


a  to  hare  a  peculiar  signification  in  the  phrases  "  ten 
pounds  a-year,"  "  two  hours  a-day ;"  but  it  is  evident, 
that  in  these  expressions  it  is  nothing  more  than  the  in- 
definite article,  signifying  one,  as  "  ten  pounds  one  year," 
"  two  hours  one  day." 

A,  in  jnusic,  is  the  nominal  of  the  sixth  note  in  the 
natural  diatonic  scale,  or  gamut;  to  which  Guido  Are- 
tino  originally  applied  the  monosyllable  la.  It  is  like- 
wise the  name  of  one  of  the  two  natural  moods ;  and  is 
the  open  note  of  the  second  string  of  the  violin,  by  which 
its  other  strings  are  tuned  and  regulated.  A  is  like- 
wise the  name  of  that  note  in  our  system  which  cor- 
responds with  the  lowest  sound  employed  by  the  ancient 
Greeks;  i.  e.  the  v^orXaf<.fiity»fi,i>e(  of  the  hyperdorian, 
or  deepest  Greek  mode,  placed  by  the  moderns  on  the 
first  space  in  the  bass-cliff.  If  any  numeral  figure  is 
added  to  the  letter  A,  when  prefixed  to  a  vocal  compo- 
sition, it  denotes  the  number  of  voices  for  which  the 
piece  is  intended ;  thus  A  3  signifies  for  three  voices. 
See  Dr.  Busby's  Musical  Dictionary,  (o) 

AALBOURG,  or  Aalborg,  the  capital  sf  a  diocese 
or  county  of  that  name  in  North  Jutland.  It  lies  on  the  ca- 
nal which  joins  the  gulf  of  Lymfurt  and  the  sea,  and  de- 
rives its  name  from  the  number  of  eels  which  are  caught 
in  the  neighbourhood,  the  word  signifying  Ecl-toivn. 
The  city  is  large,  containing  14,500 inhabitants,  and,  ex- 
cepting Copenhagen,  is  the  richest  and  finest  city  iu 
Denmark.  It  has  an  exchange  for  merchants,  an  excel- 
lent harbour,  a  considerable  trade  in  corn  and  herring, 
and  different  manufactories  of  guns,  pistols,  saddles, 
and  gloves.  It  was  taken  by  the  Swedes  in  1643,  and 
1658.  The  diocese  forms  the  northern  extremity  of 
Jutland,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  lies  in  a  peninsula 
made  by  the  sea  and  the  gulf  of  Lymfurt.  The  popula- 
tion of  the  diocese  amounts  to  80,872  souls.  East  Long. 
10»  5'  10"     N.  Lat.  57"  2'  57".   {n) 

A  AM,  or  Haaji,  a  Dutch  liquid  measure,  containing 
128  mingles,  equal  to  288  English  pints. 

AARHUUS,  or  Aarhusen,  the  capital  of  a  diocese 
of  that  name  in  North  Jutland.  It  is  situated  in  a  fine 
plain,  between  the  sea  and  the  lake  Gudde,  which  con- 
vey their  waters  through  a  broad  canal,  that  divides  the 


11^7 


ABA 


ABA 


town  into  two  equal  parts ;  and  carries  on  a  good  trade. 
The  town  is  large,  containing  1*1,700  inhabitants,  and  is 
the  seat  of  an  university.  It  has  six  gates,  two  principal 
churches,  two  market  i)laces,  a  free  school,  and  a  well 
endowed  hospital.  The  cathedral,  which  was  begun  in 
1201,  is  150  paces  long,  96  broiid,  and  45  German  ells 
high.  The  diocese,  which  contains  1 1 7,942  souls,  is  re- 
markably fertile ;  it  is  adorned  with  woods,  bays,  lakes, 
and  rivers  abounding  in  fish;  and  is  enlivened  by  a  great 
number  of  country  seats.  The  town  is  situated  in  East 
Long.  100  22'  36".     North  Lat.  56°  9'  35".  (o) 

AARON,  son  of  Anirani  and  Jochibed,  of  the  tribe 
of  Levi,  and  elder  brother  of  Moses,  was  the  first  high 
priest  of  Israel.  When  Moses  was  commissioned  by 
heaven  to  release  his  countrymen  from  the  yoke  of  the 
Egyptians,  Aaron,  who  was  more  eloquent  than  his  bro- 
ther, was  a))pointed  his  interpreter.  Some  time  after 
the  deliverance  of  the  Israelites,  he  and  his  sons  were 
invested  with  the  sacerdotal  office,  which  was  to  be 
transmitted  to  their  descendants  in  perpetual  succes- 
sion. His  facility  in  yielding  to  the  murmurs  of  the 
people,  while  Moses  was  receiving  the  law  on  Mount 
Sinai,  and  making  a  golden  calf,  in  compliance  with 
their  idolatrous  desires,  was  keenly  resented  by  his  bro- 
ther, who  would  probably  have  deprived  him  of  the  sa- 
■f.re(\  character,  which  he  had  thus  violated,  had  he  not 
atoned  for  his  transgression  by  humility  and  repentance. 
He  does  not  seem,  however,  to  have  ever  attained  the 
strong  and  immoveable  faith  which  distinguished  the 
leader  of  Israel.  On  account  of  his  unbelief  at  Kadish, 
he  was  prevented  from  entering  the  promised  land,  and 
died  in  the  143d  year  of  his  age,  forty  years  after  the 
emigration  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt.  He  was  bu- 
ried bv  his  son  and  Moses  in  a  cave  of  the  mountain 
Hor.   'See  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  iii.  p.  364,  429.    {k) 

AAVORA,  or  Avoira,  a  species  of  palm  tree  found 
in  Africa  and  the  West  India  islands,  which  has  not  been 
arranged  in  the  botanical  systems.  The  fruit  is  of  the 
size  of  a  hen's  egg,  and  is  included  with  several  more  in 
a  large  shell.  In  the  middle  of  the  fruit  there  is  a  hard 
nut,  about  the  size  of  a  peach  stone,  which  contains  a  nu- 
cleus resembling  a  white  almond.  This  nucleus  is  mild 
find  nutritive,  and  is  employed  by  the  natives  as  an  as- 
tringent, particularly  in  cases  of  diarrhoea.  The  pulp, 
which  incircles  the  kernel,  is  eaten  by  cows  and  other 
quadrupeds,  and,  when  macerated,  affords  an  oil  which 
is  lit  for  burning,  and  useful  as  a  condiment.  The  tree 
has  been  transplanted  to  Guiana,  and  is  frequently  con- 
founded with  the  cocoa-nut  tree.  See  La  Marpk'g  lUfts- 
trations  of  Natural  History,  Plate  896.  (w) 

AB,  the  eleventh  month  of  the  civil  year  of  the  Jews, 
and  the  fifth  of  their  ecclesiastical  year,  which  began  with 
the  month  Nisan  or  Ahib.  The  month  Ab  contained  30 
days,  and  comprehended  part  of  our  months  of  July  and 
August,  or,  accortling  to  some  writers,  of  June  and  July. 

The  ninth  day  of  this  month  was  observed  as  a  fast  by 
the  Jews,  to  commemorate  the  destruction  of  the  tem- 
ple by  Nebuchadnezzar.  It  is  remarkable,  that  this 
event  happened  on  the  same  day  of  the  year  on  which 
the  temple  was  afterwards  burned  by  Titus,  and  on  which 
Adrian  published  his  edict  for  prohibiting  the  Jews  from 
continuing  in  Judea.  See  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  iii.  p.  36.  (o) 

ABACIN ARE,  from  the  Italian  ahbacinarc,io  dazzle, 
pr  make  blind,  from  the  root  bacino,  a  basin,  is  the  name 
of  a  punishment,  in  which  the  criminal  was  deprived  of 
sight,  by  holding  to  his  eyes  a  red-hot  basin,  ma(}e  of 
iron  or  bra??.     It  appears  from  Plato,  (in  Gorgia,)  and 


from  Laberlus,  (apud  Atd.  Gcll.  lib.  ir.  c.  1 7.)  that  this 
punishment  was  very  ancient.  Robert,  duke  of  Nor- 
mandy, suffered  this  punishment  from  Henry  I.  of  Eng- 
land. The  oi)eration  « as  performed  prlvi  candente  el 
valde  igticsccnle  apposita.  Languisin  Chron.  A.  C.  1102. 
The  same  practice  is  still  used  among  eastern  nations_i 
and  particularly  among  the  Persians.  See  Anna  Com- 
mcna.  Al.xiad,  1.  15.  p.  48  ;  and  Joh.  Villaneus,  lib.  ii. 
cap.  13.  lib.  viii.  cap.  36.  (v) 

ABACK,  in  Naval  Tactics,  is  the  situation  of  the  sails 
of  a  ship,  when  they  are  flattened  against  the  masts  by 
the  impulse  ol' the  wind.  The  sails  may  he  brought  aback, 
either  by  a  sudden  change  in  the  wind,  or  by  an  altera- 
tion in  the  course  of  the  ship.  By  slackening  the  lee- 
braces,  and  hauling  in  the  weather  ones,  so  that  the  whole 
impulse  of  the  wind  may  be  exerted  on  the  fore-part  of 
the  sails,  they  are  laid  aiack,  either  for  the  purpose  of 
retreating  without  turning  to  one  side,  when  the  ship  is 
in  danger  in  a  narrow  channel,  or  when  she  has  advanced 
beyond  her  station  in  the  line  of  battle,  (o) 

ABACUS,  from  the  synonymous  Greek  word  a;8«|,or 
from  the  Phenician  word  abek,  dust,  is  the  name  of  a 
smooth  table  covered  with  dust,  on  which  the  first  ma? 
Ihematicians  made  their  calculations,  and  traced  their 
diagrams.  See  Persius,  Sat.  1.  v.  131.  Hence  it  be- 
came the  appellation  of  an  instrument  employed  by  the 
ancients  for  performing  the  operations  of  arithmetic. 

The  abacus  generally  used,  is  represented  in  the  an- 
nexed diagram,  and  consists  of  any  number  of  parallel 
lines  drawn  at  a  distance  from  each  other,  equal  to  twica 
the  diameter  of  a  counter.  A  counter  placed  on  the  first 


10,000 

1,000 

100 

10 

1 


or  uppermost  line  signifies  10,000;  and  two  counters, 
2x  10,000  or  20,000.  A  counter  on  the  second  line,  sig- 
nifies 1000;  a  counter  on  the  third  line,  100;  on  the 
fourth  line,  1 0 ;  and,  on  the  fifth,  1 .  When  a  counter  is 
placed  in  any  of  the  spaces  between  the  parcllel  lines,  it 
signifies  one  half  of  what  it  would  signifyif  it  wsre  placed 
in  the  line  immediately  above  it;  or  five  times  what  it 
would  signify  if  it  were  placed  on  the  line  immediately 
below  it.  In  the  space  between  the  second  and  third 
lines,  for  example,  each  counter  signifies  500.  In  the 
annexed  abacus,  therefore,  the  counters  on  the  first  line 
will  denote  40,000 ;  those  on  the  second,  3,000 ;  those 
which  lie  between  the  second  and  third,  1,000;  those  ou 
the  third  line,  300 ;  that  which  lies  between  the  third  and 
fourth,  50;  those  on  the  fourth,  20;  and  those  on  the  fifth, 
4.  The  whole  sum,  consequently,  which  the  countersin 
dicnte,  will  be 

40,000 

3,000 

1,000 

300 

50 

20 

4 


44.374 


ABACUS. 


Instead  of  the  parallel  lines  and  counters,  brass  wires 
and  ivory  balls  are  frequently  substituted.  See  Hist. 
Acad.  Inscript.  torn.  iii.  p.  390.  Wolfii  Lexic.  Matkeinat. 
p.  171.  Phil.  Trans.  No.  180. 

An  ingenious  abacus,  invented  by  the  celebrated  Par- 
rault,  is  represented  in  Plate  1.  tig.  1.  It  consists  of  two 
plates,  PQRS,  ABCD;  of  which  ABCD  is  the  upper- 
most, and  is  ))laced  directly  above  PQRS.  The  plate 
PQRS  is  about  an  inch  (hick,  and  a  foot  long,  and  has  a 
number  of  grooves,  in  which  the  slips  of  ivory,  or  copper, 
kg.  If,  pe,  qd,  &c.  are  moveable  in  either  direction,  like 
the  sliding  lid  of  a  box.  Each  slip  is  divided  into  26 
equal  parts,  by  horizontal  lines  cut  pretty  deep,  and  has 
a  figure  in  every  division,  except  the  four  middle  ones, 
as  appears  from  the  plate.  The  uppermost  plate,  ABCD, 
is  pierced  completely  through  by  the  two  openings 
EF,  GH,  each  being  exactly  opposite  the  line  of  cy- 
phers, and  also  by  the  seven  vertical  openings,  mn,  op, 
&c.  When  the  slips  of  ivory  are  raised  or  depressed,  the 
figures  will  appear  in  the  openings  EF,  GH,  but  in  such 
a  manner,  that  the  sum  of  the  two  figures  on  the  same 
slip,  which  appear  in  the  openings  EP,  GH,  will  always 
amount  to  10.  This  slip  at  N,  contains  units  ;  the  slip  at 
D,  tens  ;  the  slip  at  C,  hundreds,  &:c.  In  order  to  move 
the  slips,  when  the  plate  ABCD  is  placed  upon  the  plate 
PQRS,  a  sharp  point  is  introduced  through  the  grooves 
}nn,  op,  ifcc.  and  placed  in  one  of  the  cross  strokes  in  the 
slips  of  ivory,  so  that,  by  a  slight  oblique  pressure,  the 
slip  may  be  either  raised  or  depressed.  When  any  par- 
ticular figure  is  wanted  in  the  opening  GH,  we  have  on- 
ly to  place  the  sharp  point  in  the  cross  stroke  of  (he  slip 
tiiat  appears  through  the  grooves  mn,  op,  opposite  to  the 
figure  required,  and  then  move  the  slip  downwards,  till 
the  sharp  point  is  at  n,  or  p,  or  the  bottom  of  the  groove, 
the  required  figure  ^vill  appear  in  the  opening  GH.  The 
reason  of  this  may  be  readily  understood  by  inspecting 
the  figure. 

The  pieces  of  wood,  between  which  the  slips  of  ivory 
move,  are  interru|)tcd  in  their  length  by  a  space  equal 
to  three  of  the  spaces  in  tiie  slips,  as  is  represented  by 
the  shaded  parts  above  g,f,  e,  <fcc.  and  the  middle  of  each 
interruption  ought  to  be  exactly  opposite  the  opening 
GH.  The  lower  surface  of  each  slij)  of  ivory,  as  T-T, 
is  formed  into  teeth  L,  L,  each  tooth  being  opposite  one 
of  the  1 1  figures,  and  carries  a  catch  M,  ^vith  a  spring 
N.  By  pressing  against  M,  the  catch  may  be  made  to  lie 
within  the  sli|)  T-T  ;  hut  when  the  pressure  is  removed, 
the  spring  N  forces  it  out,  as  in  the  figure.  Now,  when 
the  slip  is  moving  in  its  groove  the  catch  M  will  be  kept 
within  the  slip  by  the  pressure  of  one  of  the  pieces  of 
wood  between  which  it  moves,  till  the  catch  comes  op- 
posite to  the  interruption  in  the  piece  of  wood,  when  the 
spring  will  force  it  out,  so  that  it  will  enter  into  the  teeth 
of  the  adjacent  slip  on  the  left  hand,  and  carry  it  down 
one  space. 

In  order  to  show  the  use  of  this  Abacus,  let  us  sup- 
pose it  required  to  add  8  to  7.  In  the  groove  mn  of 
units,  place  the  sharp  point  upon  the  cross  stroke  of 
the  ivorj-  slip  opposite  8,  and  pressing  with  tlio  shar]) 
point  till  it  comes  to  n,  the  number  8  will  appear  in 
the  line  of  units  to  the  left  hand  of  H.  When  this  is 
done,  place  the  sharp  point  in  the  cross  stroke  opposite 
7,  and  bring  it  also  down  to  n.  Instead  of  7,  a  0  will 
appear  in  the  line  of  units  at  H,  and  a  1  in  the  line  of 
hundreds,  as  the  slip  which  contains  the  line  of  hun- 
dreds has  been  brought  down  one  sjiace  by  the  catch 
in  the  slip  of  units.  Keeping  the  sharp  point  still  at  ?i, 
in  the  stroke  which  was  opposite  7,  move  the  slip  up- 


wards till  the  point  reaches  the  very  top  »«,  and  a  5  will 
now  appear  in  place  of  0,  in  the  line  of  units  at  H  :  so 
that  the  figures  in  the  opening  GH  will  be  now  15,  the 
sum  of  7  and  8.  Whenever  a  blank  space  or  a  0  ap- 
pears in  the  oi)ening,  the  slips  of  ivory  must  always  be 
carried  up  to  the  very  top  of  the  groove. 

In  subtraction,  we  must  put  the  greater  number,  sup- 
pose 123,  in  the  opening  EF,  and  if  the  lesser  number 
be  34,  we  must,  by  means  of  the  sharp  point  placed  in 
the  cross  stroke  opposite  4,  bring  this  figure  in  the  line 
of  units  to  the  bottom  of  the  groove  mn,  and  also  the 
figure  3  in  the  line  of  tens,  to  the  bottom  of  the  groove 
op.  Insteadof  the  number  123  in  the  opening  EF,  we 
shall  now  have  89,  the  difference  between  123  and  34. 
It  must  be  attended  to,  however,  that  whenever  there  is 
a  0  in  the  greater  number,  we  must  take  1  from  the 
line  of  tens,  if  the  0  is  in  the  line  of  rmits,  and  1  from 
the  line  of  hundreds,  if  the  0  is  in  the  line  oitcns :  Thus, 
if  we  want  the  difference  between  92  and  150,  the  Aba- 
cus will  give  68  instead  of  58 ;  and  if  we  want  the  dif- 
ference between  1500  and  264,  the  Abacus  will  give 
1340  instead  of  1230. 

In  multiplication,  the  same  process  is  necessary  as  in 
addition.  If,  for  exami>le,  the  product  of  15  and  15 
were  required,  we  bring  5  times  5,  ivhicli  is  25,  into  the 
lower  opening,  by  means  of  the  sharp  point,  as  before, 
and  we  afterwards  bring  one  times  5,  or  5,  in  the  line  of 
tens,  to  the  opening ;  and  one  times  1 ,  or  1 ,  in  the  line  of 
hundreds,  to  the  opening.  When  this  is  done,  the  num- 
ber 225  will  appear  in  the  opening,  as  the  product  of  15 
by  15. 

In  the  figure,  we  have,  for  the  sake  of  distinctness, 
represented  only  one  of  the  slips  with  teeth  and  a  catch : 
but  all  the  slips,  except  the  last  kg,  have  a  catch ;  and 
all  of  them,  except  the  first  ta,  have  teeth.  A  descrip- 
tion and  drawing  of  the  ancient  Roman  Abacus,  may  be 
seen  in  F.  Urzin.  Erplicat.  Inscr.  Duilliana: ;  and  in  Ant. 
Augu»tin,  Numism.  ;  Dial.  9.  For  an  accoutit  of  other 
arithmetical  machines,  see  Arithmetic,  Part  III.  Gun- 
ter's  Scale,  Logistic  Circles,  and  Siiwanpa.n.  (iv) 

ABACUS,  in  Architecture, is  tlie  highest  part  of  the 
capital  of  a  column,  or  pilaster  "*. 

According  to  Vitruvius,  the  Abacus  originally  repre- 
sented a  square  tile  placed  over  a  basket.  An  Athe- 
nian woman  happening  to  place  a  basket,  with  a  tile 
over  it,  above  the  root  of  an  acanthus,  the  plant  vege- 
tated and  encircled  the  basket,  till,  meeting  with  the 
tile,  it  curled  back,  and  twisted  itself  into  the  form  of  a 
volute.  The  sculptor  Callimachus  passing  by,  is  said 
to  have  taken  the  hint,  and  invented  the  Coriatliian  ca- 
pital.    See  Ci\  11^  Architecture,  (w) 

ABAD  A,  or  Alicorno,  a  particular  kind  of  wild  an- 
imal from  Benguela  in  Africa.  According  to  Dapper, 
it  has  two  horns  of  different  sizes  ;  one  on  its  forehead, 
and  the  other  in  the  nape  of  its  neck.  Its  head  and  tail 
resemble  those  of  an  ox,  and  its  feet  are  like  those  of  a 
stag.  The  horn  on  its  forehead  is  considered  by  the 
negroes  as  a  specific  in  several  diseases.  Vallisneri 
has  adopted  the  description  given  by  Dapper  as  be- 
longing to  a  real  animal ;  but  Cuvier  is  of  opinion,  that 


*  That  part  of  the  capital  of  a  column  which  sur- 
mounts the  circular  part  of  the  same,  and  w  hich  is  square. 
In  Grecian  architecture,  it  is  always  a  plain  square  fillet 
in  the  Doric  order.  The  Romans  have  added  moulding. 
In  the  Ionic  and  Corinthian  orders,  it  is  a  moulded  nieai- 
ber  often  enriched.  Latrobe. 
A  2 


ABA 


ABA 


the  account  is  fabulous,  from  the  want  of  rcSeniVilande 
between  the  aliada  and  every  other  animal.  See  Mo- 
dem Universal  Histoiy,  vol.  xiii.  p.  8.  Diet,  des  Sci- 
ences Nat.;  and  Vallisneri,  torn.  iii.  p.  367.   (w) 

ABADDON,  (he  name  given  by  St.  John  in  the  book 
of  Revelations  to  the  king  of  the  locusts,  the  angel  of 
the  bottomless  pit.  Some  authors  suppose  him  to  be 
Satan ;  and  the  locusts  to  be  zealots,  or  robbers  infest- 
ing the  land  of  Judea.  Others  think  that  it  was  Maho- 
met, who  issued  from  the  abj-ss,  or  the  cave  of  Hera ; 
and  Mr.  Bryant  imagines  it  to  be  the  name  of  the 
Ophite,  or  Serpent  Deity,  anciently  ■\vorshi[)ped.  See 
iMwma.n's  Paraphrase  oti  tlie  Revelations,]}.  119.  More's 
Tluological  Works,  p.  130.     (c) 

ABANO,  or  Apoxo,  (Peter  de)  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  philosophers  and  physicians  of  his  age,  was 
born  in  the  year  1250,  at  Ahano,  a  village  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Padua,  from  which  he  received  his  name. 
After  studying  Greek  at  Constantinople,  to  which  he 
went  at  an  early  age,  he  repaired  to  Paris,  where  he 
was  instructed  in  the  science  of  mathematics,  and  took 
his  degree  of  medicine  and  philosojihy.  His  thirst  for 
knowledge  seems  also  to  have  prompted  him  to  travel 
into  England  and  Scotland,  which  he  is  said  to  have 
■visited  before  he  returned  to  his  native  country.  In 
the  year  1302,  he  was  appointed  professor  of  medicine 
in  the  university  of  Padua ;  but  though  this  office  was 
created  for  himself,  he  soon  relincjuished  it,  and  went 
to  practise  physic  at  Bologna.  His  reputation  as  a  phy- 
sician was  so  great,  that,  for  every  visit  to  his  patients, 
who  resided  without  the  walls  of  Bologna,  he  received 
the  sum  of  ."JO  florins ;  and  when  he  was  called  to  Rome 
to  attend  pope  Honorius  the  Fourth,  he  demanded  400 
ducats  a-day  for  his  trouble. 

The  science  of  astrology  seems  to  have  been  a  fa- 
vourite study  of  Abano's.     He  wrote  no  less  than  three 
■»vorks  upon  this  subject;  and  we  find  him  predicting 
the  effects  of  his  medicines,  and  the  fate  of  his  patients, 
from  the  as|)ect  and  position  of  the  stars.     Hence  he 
ivas  regarded  as  a  magician  by  the  vulgar,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  have  acquired  his  knowledge  of  the  seven  li- 
beral arts,  under  the  tuition  of  seven  familiar  spirits, 
whom  he  kept  imprisoned  in  a  crystal  vase.     With 
such  superior  i)retensions  to  knowledge,  Abano  could 
not  long  escape  the  notice  of  the  inquisition.      He  was 
accused  of  denying  the  existence  of  demons  and  spi- 
rits; and,  in  1306,  through  the  malice  of  a  rival  phy- 
Bician,  he  was  denounced  before  the  inquisitorial  tribu- 
nal as  guilty  of  necromancy  and  divination.     By  the 
powerful  influence  of  his  friends,  the  severity  of  his 
judges  was  softened,  and  he  was  acquitted  of  the  charges 
which  malevolence  had  preferred.      This  disappoint- 
ment, however,  did  not  extinguish  the  hostility  of  his  en- 
emies :  the  philosophical  studies,  and  the  liberal  senti- 
ments of  Abano,  supplied  them  with  fresh  sources  of 
accusation ;  and  as  if  the  crime  of  necromancy  had  not 
appeared  sufficiently  heinous,  they  preferred  the  more 
popular  and  destructive  charges  of  heresy  and  atheism. 
Again  dragged  before  the  in(|uisilion,  and  anticipating, 
probably,  the  issue  of  his  trial,  the  health  and  spirits  of 
Abano  began  to  decline,  and  death  rescued  him  from 
the  grasp  of  his  enemies  in  131 5,  at  the  age  of  sixty-six. 
But  even  death  did  not  disarm  the  malignant  fury  of  his 
persecutors.     The  holy  inquisitors  sat  in  judgment  on 
his  lifeless  corpse ;  and,  as  if  the  spirit  that  had  fled 
from  its  cold  tenement  had  been  sensible  to  suffering, 
they  condemned  the  Ijody  to  be  consigned  to  the  flames; 
.and  threatened,  with  excommunication,  the  magistrates 


of  Paduft,  unless  they  put  in  execution  the  barbarous 
sentence.  The  body  of  Abano,  however,  had  been  rais- 
ed by  an  affectionate  domestic  Irom  its  place  of  intern- 
ment in  the  church  of  St.  Anthony,  and  concealed  in  a 
gepulchre  that  happened  to  be  open  in  the  church  of  St. 
Peter.  When  the  inquisitors  found  that  the  body  had 
been  carried  off,  they  threatened  vengeance  against  eve- 
ry person  concerne(l  in  the  transaction ;  but  the  magis- 
trates of  Padua  opposed  this  barbarous  excess  of  rigour ; 
and  the  inquisition  was  satisfied  with  the  impotent  i)a- 
rade  of  burning  Abano  in  eftigy  in  the  market-place  of 
Padua.  The  corpse  was  afterwards  transferred  to  the 
church  of  St.  Augustine ;  where  a  sepulchral  stone  still 
marks  the  spot  in  which  the  persecuted  body  of  Abano 
was  at  length  suffered  to  repose. 

While  Abano  remained  at  Paris,  he  composed  his 
principal  work,  intitled.  Conciliator  differcntiantm  Phi- 
losophonim  et  prccipue  Medicorujn,  which  was  first  pub- 
lished at  Venice  in  1471.  It  was  reprinted  at  Mantua 
in  1472,  and  though  it  has  passed  through  many  editions, 
it  is  now  very  scarce.  His  other  works  are,  1.  De 
Vaienis  eorumque  remediis,  Mantua,  1472.  2.  Expo- 
sitio  Prohleviatum  Aristotclis,  Mantua,  1475.  3.  Im 
Fisionotnie  (bi  Conciliator  Pierre  de  Apono,  Pad.  1474. 
4.  Astrolahium  Planum  in  tabtilis  ascendens,  &c.  Venet. 
1502.  5.  Texlus  Mesne  novitcr  emrndatus,  Venet. 
1505.  6.  Geomatilia,  Venet.  1549.  7.  Dioscoridcs  di- 
gestus  Alphahetico  ordine,  &c.  Lugdun.  1512;  and  a 
number  of  other  works  on  astrology  and  magic,  which 
are  too  trifling  to  be  mentioned  here,     (/s) 

AB ANTES,  a  warlike  people,  who  emigrated  from 
Thrace  into  Phocis,  a  Grecian  province,  where  they 
founded  a  city,  and  called  it  Aba,  after  the  name  of  their 
leader.  They  afterwards  went  to  Euboea,  an  island 
on  the  eastern  coast  of  Greece,  which  was  thence  call- 
ed Abantias,  or  Abautis.  The  Abantes  were  a  brave 
people,  and  always  came  to  close  combat  with  their 
enemies.  They  wore  their  hair  long  behind,  but  had 
it  cut  short  before,  in  order  to  prevent  it  from  being 
seized  by  their  adversaries  in  battle.  See  the  llicul, 
lib.  ii.  v.  542;  Strabo,  tom.  ii.  p.  682;  Hcrodoi.  i.  c. 
146;  Vnivers.Hist.v.8.p.315.     (o) 

ABAPTISTA,  a  term  employed  by  some  sui^eons 
to  denote  a  conical  saw,  with  a  circular  edge,  which  was 
used  for  perforating  the  skull.  The  cylindrical  form  of 
this  instrument  is  now  preferred ;  and  various  improve- 
ments have  been  suggested,  for  preventing  any  dan- 
gerous consequences  from  this  delicate  operation.  A 
new  instrument  of  this  kind,  in  which  no  centre  pin  is 
necessary,  has  been  invented  by  Mr.  Rodman  of  Paisley, 
and  is  described  in  the  Phil.  Moi^.  for  April,  1802.  An- 
othertrepanning  instrument  has  been  invented  by  S.  Cro- 
ker  King,  Esq.  who  has  given  an  account  of  it  in  the 
Transactions  of  the  Royal  Irish  Academy,  vol.  iv.  See 
Chesselden's  Observations  on  Le  Dran,  p.  447;  and 
Trepan,  Surgery  Index,     {w) 

ABARCA,  or  Avabca,  the  name  of  a  shoe  used  in 
Spain,  chiefly  by  travellers  and  shepherds,  for  wander- 
ing among  the  mountains.  It  was  ma<le  of  the  raw  skins 
of  goats  or  oxen,  and  bound  together  with  cords.  Sanc- 
tius,  king  of  Navarre,  who  reigned  about  905, received  the' 
surname  of  Abarca,  from  having  furnished  his  troops  w  ilh 
this  kind  of  shoe,  in  order  to  cross  over  the  snowy  Alps. 
See  Rodcric  Tolotan.  de  Reb.  Hispan.  1.  5.  cap.  22.  («•) 

ABARIS,  the  philosopher,  a  native  of  Hyperborean 
Scythia,  and  Che  son  of  Sent  bus.  The  period  when 
he  flourished  is  extremely  doubtful,  (Bishop  Lloyd's 
Chronological  Account  of   Pythagoras,  v.  7.)  and  his 


ABA 


ABB 


history  is  so  completely  involved  in  fables,  that  Hero- 
dotus himself  did  not  venture  to  record  them.  This 
historian  contents  himself  with  relating  the  story  of  his 
carrying  an  arrow  through  the  world,  and  living  with- 
out any  sustenance.  (Lib.  iv.  cap.  36.  p.  296.  edit.  Wes- 
selingii.)  Herodotus,  it  would  appear,  was  unacquainted 
with  the  most  marvellous  parts  of  the  story;  for  Jam- 
blichus,  who  pretends  to  better  information,  affirms, 
that,  upon  this  arrow,  which  Abaris  had  received  from 
the  Hyperborean  Apollo,  he  was  conveyed  through  the 
air,  like  a  witch  on  a  broom-stick.  {Fita  Fytliagora,  p. 
128.)  At  an  advanced  age,  his  countrymen  sent  him  to 
Athens,  in  the  character  of  an  ambassador  (Harpocra- 
tionis  Dictionarium  indrcem  Rhct<nres,  voce  ASafif. ;)  and 
according  to  Strabo,  (torn.  i.  p.  4C2)  he  recommended 
himself  by  his  fmliteness,  eloquence,  and  wisdom,  to  the 
esteem  of  the  learned  men  of  Greece.  Having  travers- 
ed various  countries,  he  returned  home,  in  order  to 
consecrate  the  gold,  which  he  had  collected,  to  the 
Hyperborean  Apollo:  for  he  was  one  of  the  priests  of 
this  divinity.  In  his  progress,  he  is  rcjiorted,  bj' 
Porphyry  and  Jamblichus,  to  have  visited  Pythagoras  in 
Italy ;  and  to  have  been  favoured  with  a  sight  of  his 
golden  thigb.  That  he  was  contemporary  with  this 
philosopher,  is  very  far  from  being  certain ;  but  he  at 
least  appears  to  have  been  as  great  an  impostor  as  him- 
self. Some  of  the  ancients  considered  him  as  a  conjurer ; 
others,  with  greater  Justice,  as  a  mere  cheat.  Suidas 
mentions  him  as  the  author  of  various  works.  Mr.  Toland 
supposes  Abaris  to  have  been  a  druid,  and  a  native  of 
the  Hebrides.  (Posthumous  If'arks,  vol.  i.\>.  \6}.')  The 
same  strange  hypothesis  has  been  ado|)te(l  by  the  in- 
dustrious Mr.  Carte  {Hist,  of  E/urLtrui,  vol.  i.  p.  52.); 
but  it  involves  so  many  absurdities,  that  it  seems  hardly 
intitled  to  a  serious  refutation.  We  shall  only  oppose 
it  by  asking  a  single  question.  Himerius,  the  sophist, 
[apiid  Fhotium,  p.  ]  1 36.)  extols  Abaris  for  speaking 
pure  Greek,  wliich  he  is  said  to  have  acquired  by  means 
of  the  intercourse  between  the  Greeks  and  Hyper- 
boreans. Did  such  a  frequent  intercourse  suljsist  many 
hundred  years  before  Christ,  between  the  inhabitants  of 
Greece  and  the  Hebrides  ?  The  most  curious  account 
of  Abaris  is  to  be  found  in  Bayle's  Dictionaire  His- 
torique  ct  Critique.  See  also  Bruckeri  Historia  Critica 
Philosophia.     (c) 

ABAS,  a  Persian  weight  for  weighing  precious  stones, 
one-eighth  less  than  the  European  carat,     (m) 

ABASCIA,  or  Abcas,  a  district  of  Georgia,  tributary 
to  the  Turks,  bounded  on  the  east  by  Mingrelia,  on  the 
north  and  west  by  Black  Circassia,  and  on  the  south  by 
the  Black  Sea.  The  women  are  remarkal-Iy  beautiful, 
and  the  men  active  and  robust.  They  are.  however, 
poor, and  treacherous  in  their  dealings,  and  li^e  in  con- 
stant dread  of  one  another ;  since  the  strong  seize  the 
helpless  females,  and  sell  them  as  slaves  to  the  Turks. 
They  trade  in  furs,  I  uek  and  tiger  skins,  linen  yam, 
boxwood,  bees-wax,  and  honey ;  hut  their  chief  traffic 
consists  in  selling  their  own  children.  Anaco;  ia  is 
the  capital  of  the  district.  This  district  lies  between 
39"  and  43"  E.  Long,  and  43»  and  45"  N.  Lat.   (o) 

ABATIS,  in  military  tactics,  is  a  fence  com)K)sed  of 
a  number  of  felled  trees,  thrown  together  either  length- 
wise, or  with  their  branches  interwoven,  for  the  purpose 
of  obstructing  roads,  guarding  intrenchnients,  or  covering 
the  passage  of  a  river,     (n) 

ABAUZIT,  PiRMiN,  a  Frenchman  of  considerable 
learning,  was  born  at  Uwz^in  Languedoc,  on  the  11th 


November,  1679.  To  avoid  the  persecutions  to  which 
Protestants  were  then  exposed,  his  mother  carried  him 
into  Switzerland,  after  the  decease  of  his  father,  where 
he  ])rosecuted  the  studies  of  physic  and  theology.  He 
visited  Holland  in  1698,  and  became  acquainted  with 
some  of  the  eminent  literati  of  that  period,  such  as 
Bayle,  Jurieu,  and  Basnage.  He  then  visited  England, 
and  was  introduced  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  with  whom  he 
afterwards  entered  into  an  epistolary  correspondence. 
The  intimacy  of  Abauzit  with  this  illustrious  philoso- 
pher, was  owing  to  his  defence  of  Newton  against  Cas- 
tel,  and  to  his  having  detected  an  error  in  the  Principia. 
King  William  III.  invited  him  to  settle  in  England ;  but 
this  offer  he  declined.  In  1723,  he  refused  the  profes- 
sorship of  philosophy  in  Geneva;  but  was,  in  1726,  ad- 
mitted a  citizen,  and  appointed  librarian  of  that  city. 
Here  his  learning,  piety,  and  simplicity  of  manners,  ac- 
quired him  the  estimation  of  his  fellow-citizens,  who 
deeply  regretted  his  death,  which  happened  on  the  20th 
March,  1767. 

Abauzit  was  the  author  of  some  mathematical  works, 
defending  the  doctrines  of  Newton ;  and  also  of  several 
theological  tracts.  From  his  desire  to  divest  the  scrip- 
tures of  mysteries,  he  emjiloyed  himself  in  discovering 
what  he  supposed  errors  in  the  different  translations. 
He  wrote  an  essay  on  the  Apocalj'pse,  endeavouring  to 
demonstrate,  that  the  predictions  there  contained,  were 
applicable  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem.  But,  in  con- 
sequence of  a  translation  of  this  work  into  English,  to 
which  a  satisfactory  refutation  was  added,  he  suppress- 
ed a  new  edition,  which  ivas  then  prepared  for  the 
press.  Abauzit  was  honoured  with  the  friendship  and 
esteem  of  Voltaire  and  Kosseau,  the  latter  of  whom  ad- 
dressed to  Abauzit  a  handsome  eloge  in  the  highest 
strain  of  panegyric,     (c) 

ABBADIE,  James,  a  Protestant  divine  of  eminence, 
born  at  Nay,  in  Berne,  between  1650  an  1660.  He 
went  into  Holland,  Germany,  and  Prussia,  and  was  ap- 
pointed minister  of  the  French  church  in  Berlin.  He 
came  into  England  with  the  prince  of  Orange ;  and,  af- 
ter being  ajipointed  minister  of  the  French  church  in 
the  Savoy  in  London,  he  was  promoted  to  the  deanery 
of  Killaloe,  in  Ireland.  His  discourses,  in  the  pulpit, 
were  admired  as  the  finest  specimens  of  eloquence ;  and 
his  memory  is  said  to  have  been  so  great,  that  he  coni- 
pose<l  all  his  works  before  they  were  committed  to  wri- 
ting. He  died  in  1 727.  Besides  theological  works,  he 
published  a  defence  of  the  Revolution,  and  a  panegyrie 
on  Mary,  queen  of  England,  printed  at  the  Hague, 
1695.   (c) 

ABBE',  the  name  of  a  class  of  persons  in  France, 
who  have  not  obtained  a  fixed  settlement  either  in 
chui-ch  or  state.  They  were  not  in  ordere,  but,  having 
undei-gone  the  ceremony  of  tonsure,  were  intitled  to 
certain  privileges  in  the  church.  Their  dress  is  ra- 
ther academical  than  ecclesiastical ;  and  they  are  gene*- 
rally  employed  as  tutors  in  colleges  and  private  fami- 
lies. Many  individuals  of  this  order  have  been  among 
the  brightest  ornaments  of  science  and  literature,  (w) 

ABBESS,  the  superior  of  a  nunnery,  or,  more  par- 
ticularly, a  nun  invested  with  an  abbacy.  By  the  coun- 
cil of  Trent,  it  was  decreed,  that  an  abbess  must  be  at 
least  forty  years  of  age ;  and  that  she  should  receive 
the  veil  of  prelacy  at  the  age  of  sixty.  She  is  elected 
from  the  sisterhood  of  her  own  order ;  and,  after  her 
election  is  read  aloud,  she  [irostrates  herself  on  the 
carpet,  before  the  great  altar,  and  the  sisters  begin  the 


ABB 


ABB 


litany.  The  bishop  of  the  diocese  then  delivero  to  lier 
the  paator.il  staff,  with  these  words : — "  Receive  (his 
pastoral  staff:  to  be  borne  before  the  flocic  committed 
to  your  charge,  as  a  warning  of  just  severity  and  cor- 
rection." The  power  of  an  abbess,  over  her  convent, 
resembles  that  of  an  abbot ;  but  she  does  not  perform 
the  spiritual  functions.  Formerly  some  were  accus- 
lomed  to  give  the  veil  to  nuns ;  but  this  was  after- 
wards judged  unlawful.  It  was  also  usual  for  the  ab- 
besses to  confess ;  but  it  is  said,  that  their  curiosity  led 
(hem  to  such  an  extent,  that  it  was  necessary  to  check 
that  practice.  The  presence  of  the  abbess  during  con- 
fession, is  allowed  by  St.  Basil.  In  France  and  Italy, 
many  were  exenjpted  from  Episcopal  Jurisdiction,  and 
some  had  the  privilege  of  commissioning  a  priest  to 
net  for  them  in  performing  the  spiritual  functions.  See 
St.  Basil,  Regies  abregees,  Interrog.  110.  torn.  ii.  p.  453. 
Fleury.  List,  uu  Droit  Ecclcsiast.  and  Biblioth.  Crit.  de 
M.  de  Sainjore,  fom.  i.  p.  6.     (c) 

ABBEV ILLE,  a  large  town  in  France,  in  the  depart- 
ment of  the  Somme.  It  is  pleasantly  situated  in  a  fer- 
tile valley,  where  the  river  Somme  separates  itself  into 
several  branches,  and  divides  the  town  into  two  parts. 
The  town  is  fortilied,  and  the  walls  are  flanked  with 
bastions,  and  incircled  with  wide  ditches.  From  the 
circumstances  of  its  never  having  been  taken,  it  is  call- 
ed the  Maiden  Town,  and  assumes  the  motto  of  semper 
fiddis.  The  \voolen  manufactory,  which  ^vas  establish- 
ed here  in  1 605,  under  the  auspices  of  Colbert,  has  pro- 
duced stuffs  little  inferior  to  those  of  England  and  Hol- 
land ;  but  the  success  of  this  manufactory  has  been  part- 
ly owing  to  the  clandestine  importation  of  English  and 
Irish  wool,  and  to  the  ingenuity  of  British  Avorkmen. 
By  means  of  the  Somme,  in  which  the  tide  rises  about 
six  or  seven  feet,  the  inhal>itants  carry  on  a  considerai- 
ble  trade  in  grain,  hemp,  flax,  sail-cloth,  coarse  linens, 
cordage,  oil,  and  black  and  green  soap.  The  town, 
which  is  rather  of  a  mean  appearance,  contains  18,052 
inhabitants,  and  the  two  cantons,  22,004.  Its  territory 
comprehends  10 7i  kiliometrcs,  and  13  communes.  It 
has  a  collegiate  church,  and  1 3  parish  churches,  with  a 
number  of  monasteries  and  nunneries.  Its  distance 
from  Paris  is  45  French  leagues  N.  W.,  its  Long.  1" 
49'  45"  E.,  and  Lat.  50"  7'  1"  N.  See  L'  Histoire  Gene- 
alogique  desComptes  de,  Panlhieu.     Paris,  1657.    (o) 

ABBEY,  a  religious  house,  governed  by  an  abbot,  or 
abbess.  In  Britain,  religious  houses  were  of  various 
denominations,  such  as  abbeys,  priories,  and  hospitals  ; 
and  differed  cliiefly  in  the  extent  of  their  possessions, 
powers,  and  privileges.  At  tirsf,  the  endowments  of 
abbeys  were  probably  but  of  limited  extent ;  but  they 
afterwards  acquired  immense  tracts  of  territory,  pur- 
chased either  by  means  of  their  own  treasures,  or  ob- 
tained by  pious  donations  from  others ;  given  under  the 
condition  of  burning  a  taper  on  the  tomb  of  the  donor, 
or  of  celebrating  solemn  masses  for  the  repose  of  his 
soul.  The  property,  thus  bestowed,  could  not  return 
to  the  laity ;  as  many  canons  prohibited  the  alienation 
of  the  properly  of  the  church.  Certain  statutes  are 
therefore  said  to  have  been  enacted  against  these  gifts 
in  mortmain ;  and,  in  several  grants  to  laymen,  the 
grantees  were  prohibited  from  selling  to  monks,  and 
particularly  to  Jews.  From  simple  places  of  retirement, 
where  the  devout  withdrew  to  the  exercise  of  religious 
meditation,  abbeys,  by  the  gradual  accession  of  riches, 
were  at  length  converted  into  palaces ;  luxury  was  in* 
troduced,  and,  along  with  it,  dissipation  and  vice.     The 


progress  of  the  Protestant  religion  gradually  under- 
mined the  Catholic  superstition.  The  populace  beheld 
their  possessions  with  a  jealous  eye,  while  they  could 
discover  no  indications  of  any  charitable  purpose  to 
which  they  were  applied.  The  Catholics  in  England 
were  nearly  rooted  out  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  and 
those  in  Scotland  a  few  years  afterwards ;  and  their  |)oj- 
sessions  were  seized  upon  by  the  crown,  or  by  those 
subjects  who  had  influence  to  obtain  a  share  for  them- 
selves. At  this  day,  their  property  is  either  in  the 
hands  of  the  crown,  or  held  by  private  individuals. 

Certain  abbeys  enjoyed  extraordinary  privileges. 
They  were  allowed  to  coin  money ;  and  an  extensive 
jurisdiction  was  conferred  upon  them,  in  virtue  of  which, 
the  abbot,  by  his  deputy,  could  even  try  offenders  for 
capital  crimes  committed  within  the  territories  of  the 
abbey.  Some  could  export  every  thing  produced  with- 
in their  bounds,  free  of  duty ;  while  others  were  exempt- 
ed from  the  power  of  the  bishop  of  the  diocese.  Se- 
veral abbeys  obtained  bulls  from  the  pope,  declaring, 
that  they  should  be  liable  for  no  debts,  unless  it  were 
proved,  that  the  money  borrowed  was  expressly  convert- 
ed to  the  use  of  the  community.  The  abbots,  who  rul- 
ed many  of  the  abbeys  in  Britain,  had  the  privileges  of 
lords  of  parliament.  Twenty-nine  are  enumeratetl,  who, 
in  England,  had  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Lortis ;  but  this 
honour  was  talcen  from  the  order  in  1 540.  In  nunnerie?, 
subservient  to  abbeys,  the  abbot  could  elect  the  supe- 
rior. 

There  were  many  offices  in  abbeys,  besides  that  held 
by  the  abbot ;  such  as  that  of  prior,  sub-prior,  chamliei^ 
Iain,  treasurer,  almoner,  &c.;  and  the  duties  of  these 
persons  were  all  regulated  with  the  greatest  punctuali- 
ty. ■  There  was  likewise  a  master  of  the  novices,  whose 
province  it  was  to  instruct  them  in  the  rules  of  their 
order ;  and,  by  the  Benedictine  constitutions,  a  master 
was  to  be  provided  for  teaching  grammar,  logic,  and 
philosophy.  There  were  also  lay  teachers;  and  monks 
themselves  sometimes  travelled  from  house  to  house-, 
giving  instructions  in  music  and  singing. 

Monasteries  were  the  sole  abode  of  the  sciences  cul- 
tivated in  ancient  times.  We  are  indebted  to  monks 
alone,  for  the  histories  of  our  forefathers,  which  have 
been  transmitted  to  the  present  day ;  and  we  cannot 
sufficiently  regret  the  destruction  of  their  libraries, 
which  fell  a  sacrifice  to  the  religious  zeal  of  (he  re- 
formers, as  there  were  no  other  places  that,  for  succes» 
sive  ages,  had  been  a  secure  deposit  for  historical  re- 
cords, and  the  leaminj;  of  antiiiuity.  Hence,  though 
we  may  hail  the  overthrow  of  popery  in  these  kingdoms, 
as  an  event  which  cannot  be  too  highly  prized,  we  must 
lament  the  losses  which  literature  has  sustained  in  the 
general  devastation.  Besides  the  library,  there  was  in 
the  abbey  a  writing-room;  and  it  is  well  known,  that 
the  mo8t  beautiful  manuscripts  now  existing  were  writ- 
ten by  monks ;  some  of  which,  of  immense  extent,  are 
adorned  with  such  splendid  illuminations,  and  written 
with  so  much  care,  that  it  would  seem  to  have  required 
almost  a  lifetime  for  their  execution. 

Monasteries  afforded  a  welcome  asylum  to  those  whO' 
wished  to  forsake  (he  toils  of  active  life,  and  a  tranquil 
retreat  to  persons  of  dignified  birth,  in  indigence  or 
old  age.  They  supported  the  i)oor,  received  pilgrims, 
and  afforded  entertainment  to  travellers.  Perhaps  it 
may  be  the  subject  of  just  regret,  that  there  are  at 
this  day  no  institutions  of  a  similar  nature  in  Britain, 
w  bich  might  aflbrd  a  secure  retreat  to  persons,  parti- 


ABBOT. 


tuJaily  females,  whom  forfuitcras  events  have  preventeil 
from  holding  their  proper  place  in  society.     See  BIo- 

NASTERY.       (c) 

ABBOT,  the  superior  of  an  abbey  of  monks,  and 
next  in  dignity  to  a  bishop.  This  appellation,  signify- 
ing fatlier,  is  derived  from  the  Hebrew,  and  was  an- 
ciently applied  to  all  monks.  The  rulers  of  the  early 
monasteries  assumed  the  title  of  Abbot,  or  Archiman- 
drite. Some  of  the  ancient  French  peers,  and  even 
several  of  their  sovereigns,  are  mentioned  in  history 
under  the  denomination  of  Abbots ;  probably  from  en- 
joying particular  possessions,  similar  to  the  ecclesiasfi- 
cal  principalities  of  modem  times. 

Anciently,  abbots  were  subject  to  the  bishops,  or  or- 
dinary pastors,  and  took  no  share  in  ecclesiastical  af- 
fairs, because  their  dwellings  were  in  remote  places. 
But  their  manners  soon  changed :  They  gradually  be- 
gan to  usurp  power;  they  asjiired  to  the  rank  of  pre- 
lates, and  aimed  at  independence  of  the  bishops,  in 
which  many  of  them  succeeded. 

Abbots,  infilled  to  wear  the  episcopal  badges,  such 
■as  tlie  mitre  or  ring,  or  exercise  episcopal  authority, 
were  denominated  mitred  abbots.  Others,  from  bearing 
the  pastoral  start"  oiily,  were  called  crosiered  abbots ; 
others,  ecumenical  abbots ;  and  some,  from  their  supe- 
riority over  all  others,  were  styled  cardinal  abbots.  In 
the  Roman  Catholic  countries,  regular  abbots  are  those 
who  take  the  vows,  and  wear  the  habit  of  the  order : 
commendaiory  abbots,  on  the  other  hand,  are  seculars, 
who  have  received  tonsure,  but  must  take  orders  at  a 
certain  age. 

In  Britain,  the  abbot  was  an  ecclesiastic  of  great 
power  and  dignity  :  When  visiting  a  monastery,  he 
was  received  l)y  a  procession  of  monks;  and  he  could 
confine  those  of  bis  own  monastery  in  a  strong  prison, 
called  the  "  lying  house,"  appropriated  for  great  of- 
fenders. Monks,  after  having  been  beaten  even  to  a 
plentiful  effusion  of  blooti,  have  by  his  order  been  con' 
fined  in  that  dungeon. 

Much  ceremony  was  used  at  the  election  and  bene- 
diction of  an  abbot,  and  gorgeous  feasts  were  given  at 
their  installation.  Their  public  dress  was  the  Dalmatic 
or  seamless  coat  of  Christ,  the  mitre,  crosier,  gloves, 
ring,  and  sandals;  and  those  in  parliament  wore  an 
elegant  robe.  At  an  abbot's  decease,  his  seals  were 
broken  on  one  of  the  steps  before  the  great  altar.  He 
lay  in  the  middle  of  the  choir,  arrayed  in  his  pontifi- 
cals, until  the  third  day;  and  was  then  buried  in  this 
attire,  bearing  his  crosier  in  his  hand.  See  Helyot 
Histoire  des  Ordres  Monastiques.  IMartine  de  Antiquix 
Ecclesia:  Ritibtis.  Dugdale  Monasticmi  Anglicamim. 
Fosbrooke's  English  Manachism.  Hume's  Hist.  vol.  iv. 
p.  184,  186,  207.     (c) 

ABBOT,  George,  archbishop  of  Canterbuiy,  was 
the  son  of  a  cloth-worker  at  Guildford,  in  Surrey, 
where  he  was  born  on  the  29th  day  of  October,  1562. 
While  yet  a  child,  he  displayed  a  quickness  of  appre- 
hension, and  an  extent  of  capacity,  which  seemed  to 
mark  him  out  'or  future  eminence.  His  father,  ambi- 
tious to  cultivate  his  genius,  resolved  to  educate  him 
for  the  church,  which,  to  a  person  of  his  narrow  for- 
tune, seemed  to  afford  the  faircet  prospect  of  advance- 
ment. ^  Accordingly  young  Abbot,  after  receiving  the 
first  rudiments  of  literature  in  bis  native  town,  was,  at 
the  age  of  sixteen,  entered  a  student  of  Baliol  College 
in  Oxford.  Passing  through  the  regular  course  of  gra- 
duatiwn,  he,  in  a  few  yeare  jrfter,  took  orders,  and  dis- 


tinguished himself  ai  a  preacher,  by  the  energetic 
eloqnence  of  his  discourses.  Nor  did  his  talents  and 
acquirements  excite  alone  the  admiration  of  his  lite- 
rary associates ;  they  procured  him  a  more  important 
advantage,  the  favour  of  the  great.  Under  the  patron- 
age of  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  he  was  thrice  elected  vice- 
chancellor  of  the  university ;  and  appointed  first  to  the 
deanery  of  Winchester,  and  afterwards  to  that  of  Glou- 
cester. When  the  translation  of  the  Bible  was  under- 
taken by  the  direction  of  King  James,  Dr.  Abbot  was 
the  second  of  eight  learned  divines  in  the  university  of 
Oxford,  who  were  intrusted  with  the  charge  of  trans- 
lating the  Gospels  and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  How 
ably  the  task  was  executed,  is  sufficiently  known  by 
every  one  who  has  compared  their  version  with  the 
original. 

After  the  death  of  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  Abbot  became 
chaplain  to  George  Hume,  Earl  of  Dunbar,  whom  he 
accompanied  to  Scotland  in  1608,  to  assist  him  in  esta- 
blishing an  union  between  the  Scottish  and  English 
churches.  The  prudence  and  moderation  which  he 
displayed  in  conducting  this  delicate  business,  raised 
him  very  high  in  the  estimation  of  the  king,  who  seem- 
ed to  think  no  preferment  too  great  for  his  services. 
On  his  return  to  England,  he  was  appointed  bishop  of 
Litchfield  and  Coventry ;  in  this  situation  he  hatl  re- 
mained only  two  months  when  he  was  |ireferred  to  the 
see  of  Lonilon  ;  and  next  year  he  was  consecrated  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  Abbot  had  the  singular  felicity 
of  reflecting,  that  these  high  rewards  were  a  just  and 
spontaneous  tribute  to  his  virtues.  He  had  never 
courted  patronage  by  any  unworthy  compliance  with 
the  desires  of  those  ivbo  had  preferments  to  bestow ; 
nor  could  even  the  gratitude  which  he  would  naturally 
feel  towards  his  sovereign  for  his  present  high  eleva* 
tion,  betray  him  into  one  departure  from  that  purity  and 
rectitude  which  became  bis  sacred  character.  When 
James,  misled  by  his  partiality  to  the  unprincipled  Ro- 
chester, was  solicitous  to  procure  a  divorce  between 
lady  Frances  Howard  and  the  earl  of  Essex,  the  arch- 
bishop resisted  it  with  intrepid  firmness.  On  a  subse- 
quent occasion,  when  the  royal  decree  for  the  permis- 
sion of  sports  and  pastimes  on  Sunday,  was  to  be  pro- 
claimed at  Croydon,  he  ventured  to  prohibit  it  from 
being  read.  In  short,  he  maintained  in  all  his  conduct 
an  inviolable  regard  for  religion,  which,  combined  with 
his  exalted  talents,  gained  him  the  esteem  and  confi- 
dence even  of  those  whom  he  found  it  his  duty  to  op- 
pose; insomuch  that  all  the  great  transactions  of  church 
and  state  were,  in  a  certain  degree,  regulated  by  his 
counsels  or  his  influence.  Zeal  lor  th»  Protestant  re- 
ligion induced  him  eagerly  to  promote  the  union  be- 
tween the  Elector  Palatine  and  the  princess  Elizabeth ; 
and  the  same  motive  prevented  him  from  agreeing  to 
the  resolution  which  the  king  had  formed  of  marrying 
the  prince  of  Wales  to  the  infanta  of  Spain. 

Amidst  these  public  avocations,  the  duties  of  private 
beneficence  were  by  no  means  forgotten.  He  had  long 
meditated  the  erection  of  an  hospital  in  his  native  town ; 
and  as  he  now  began  to  feel  his  health  decline,  he  has- 
tened the  execution  of  his  project,  saw  sir  Nicholas 
Kempe  lay  the  first  stone,  and  afterwards  endowed  the 
hospital  in  a  very  munificent  manner.  The  satisfaction 
imparted  by  these  deeds  of  charity,  was  interrupted  by 
an  unfortunate  accident.  While  he  was  one  day  en- 
gaged in  hunting  in  the  park  of  lord  Zouch  at  Bramzil, 
an  arrow  wliich  he  shot  from  a  cross-bow  at  one  of  the 


8 


ABB 


ABD 


deer,  struck  his  lordship's  keeper,  and  killed  him  on 
the  s()ot.  This  involuntary  homicide  pierced  with  keen 
anguish  the  heart  of  the  amiable  prelate.  He  sunk 
into  a  deep  and  settled  melancholy ;  observed  the  fatal 
day  as  a  monthly  fast ;  and,  to  make  some  compensation 
to  the  widow,  settled  on  her  an  annuity  of  twenty  pounds 
sterling.  Yet  there  were  not  wanting  i)ersons  mali- 
cious enough  to  endeavour  to  turn  this  accident  to  his 
ruin ;  and  though  his  majesty  wrote  him  with  his  own 
hand  a  consolatory  letter,  and  declared  that  "  an  angel 
might  have  miscarried  in  this  sort,"  it  was  thought 
necessary  to  appoint  a  commission  to  investigate  the 
alTair.  The  result  of  their  inquiry  was,  that  he  received 
a  complete  dispensation  imder  the  great  seal,  and  was 
declared  fully  intitled  to  the  exercise  of  archiepiscopal 
authorit}'.  During  the  whole  reign  of  James,  he  was 
treated  with  that  kindness  and  respect  to  which  his  ^'ir- 
tuesintilled  him.  Nor  was  the  primate,  on  his  part, 
deficient  in  gratitude.  Though  worn  out  with  infirmi- 
ties, he  attended  his  sovereign  during  his  last  illness 
with  afJectiouate  and  unremitting  solicitude,  and  saw 
him  expire  on  the  27th  of  March,  1G25. 

From  that  moment  his  influence  began  visibly  to  de- 
cline. His  inflexible  virtue,  which  was  a  perpetual 
censure  on  the  manners  of  Charles  and  his  profligate 
minister,  induced  him  frequently  to  oppose  their  mea- 
sures. His  principles  of  liberty  were  alarmed  by  the 
unconstitutional  demand  of  a  general  loan ;  and  his  in- 
dignation was  strongly  excited  against  those  mercenary 
ecclesiastics  who  prostituted  religion  to  the  support  of 
such  a  flagrant  infringement  on  the  subject's  rights. 
He  refused,  therefore,  to  license  a  sermon  which  Dr. 
Sibthorpe  had  written  for  this  disgraceful  purpose; 
and  Buckingham  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  of  gra- 
tifying his  hatred  against  the  worthy  primate.  At  his 
instigation,  Abl)ot  was  suspended  from  the  archiepis- 
copal office,  banished  from  London,  and  ordered  to  con- 
fine himself  at  one  of  his  country  seats.  On  the  con- 
vocation of  parliament,  however,  it  was  found  necessary 
to  restore  him ;  and  such  was  his  popularity,  that  he 
was  employed  by  the  lords  as  the  only  person  who 
could  moderate  the  pretensions  of  the  commons,  in  the 
petition  of  right.  At  court  his  presence  was  extremely 
unwelcome ;  his  authority  was  entirely  superseded  by 
the  intrigues  of  Laud;  and  the  indignities  which  he 
suffered  induced  him  to  withdraw  to  Croydon,  where 
he  died  on  the  4th  of  August,  lt)33,  at  the  age  of  seven- 
ty-one. He  was  buried  in  the  church  of  Guildford,  where 
a  magnificent  monument  was  erected  to  his  memory. 

The  church  of  England  cannot  boast  of  a  prelate 
more  truly  respectable  than  Abbot,  archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury. Offices  which  are  open  to  merit,  independent 
of  rank  or  fortune,  will  often  be  filled  by  men  conspi- 
cuous for  talents  and  virtue ;  yet  it  not  unfrequently 
happens,  that  high  elevation  destroys,  or  at  least  im- 
pairs, the  excellence  which  led  to  its  attainment.  But 
Abbot  was  not  less  remark al)le  for  his  moderation,  bis 
integrity,  and  his  firmness  in  the  exercise  of  his  exalt- 
ed office  as  primate,  than  for  his  modesty,  his  unaspir- 
ing temper,  and  his  uncorru|)tible  virtue  in  more  ob- 
scure and  humble  situations.  He  seems  to  have  been 
influenced  in  all  his  conduct  by  the  spirit  of  the  religion 
which  he  professed.  Though  naturally  mild  and  un- 
offending, he  was  resolute  in  opposing  whatever  his 
conscience  disapproved :  dutiful  to  his  sovereign,  he 
was,  at  the  same  time,  solicitously  attentive  to  the 
rights  of  the  subject :  zealous  for  the  respectability  of 


his  order,  he  wished  to  promote  it,  not  by  constrained 
reverence  for  the  clerical  dignity,  but  by  the  exemplary 
purity  of  the  clerical  life.  His  enemies  branded  him 
as  a  puritan,  but  that  was  a  term  of  reproach  bestowed, 
without  discrimination,  by  the  licentious  and  unprin- 
cipled courtiers  of  Charles,  on  all  who  refused  to  admit 
the  unlimited  prerogative  of  the  crown ;  and  it  is  per- 
haps the  most  striking  proof  of  his  excellence,  that 
malignity  could  never  throw  any  fouler  imputation  on 
his  character. 

His  works  are,  Quastiones  sex  theologicre  totidem  Prcc- 
Icclionibus  disjmtatce,  Oxford,  1598.  Dr.  Hill's  Reasons 
for  Papistry  unmasked,  Oxford,  1604.  Sermons  on  the 
Prophet  Jonas.  The  History  of  the  massacre  of  the  Val- 
teline.  A  Geography.  A  Treatise  on  the  perpetual 
Visibility  of  the  true  Church.  A  Preface  to  the  Exami- 
nation of  George  Sprat.  A  Sermon  from  Isaiah,  xi.  6. 
preached  at  Winchester,  May  20,  1608,  at  the  Funeral 
of  Thomas,  Earl  of  Dorset.  A  Narrative  concerning  his 
Disgrace  at  Court,  in  two  parts,  written  in  1627.  His 
Judgment  of  bowing  at  the  name  of  Jesus.  A  Letter  to 
the  Archbishop  of  York,  dated  September  4,  1622.  A 
Letter  to  Dr.  Williams,  bishop  of  Lincoln,  Lord  Keeper. 
Besides  these,  he  published  several  Speeches  and  Dis- 
courses, delivered  in  Parliament  and  elsewhere.    (>t) 

ABBOT,  Robert,  an  elder  brother  of  the  archbishop, 
was  born  in  1560.  He  was  an  eminent  preacher,  and 
stood  so  high  in  the  estimation  of  king  James  L  that  to- 
wards the  beginning  of  his  reign,  he  appointed  him  one 
of  his  chaplains  in  ordinary,  and  ordered  his  work  De 
Antichtisto  to  be  reprinted,  along  with  part  of  a  treatise 
of  his  own  on  the  Apocalypse.  While  regius  professor 
of  divinity  at  Oxford,  the  king  was  so  much  gratified  by 
his  lectures  on  the  supreme  power  of  kings,  that  he  pro- 
moted him  to  the  see  of  Salisbury,  to  which  he  was  con- 
secrated by  his  brother  the  archbishop,  in  1615.  Having 
filled  it  little  more  than  two  years,  he  died  in  1 61 7.     (c) 

ABBREVIATION,  is  the  shortening  of  a  word  by 
omitting  some  of  the  letters.  Those  languages  which 
consist  chiefly  of  consonants,  such  as  the  Hebrew,  may 
be  said  to  be  written  altogether  in  abbreviations,  because 
a  number  of  subsequent  consonants  would  be  mute,  with- 
out the  substitution  of  vowels  :  In  such  languages,  there- 
fore, it  is  in  the  omission  of  these  vowels  that  the  abbre- 
viation consists. 

Abbreviations  have  been  particularly  used  by  ancient 
la^vyers  and  physicians.  Many  of  them  remain  to  this 
day,  and  books  in  explanation  of  them  have  been  pub- 
lished, as  if  they  had  been  in  a  foreign  language.  AiN 
cient  manuscripts,  particularly  those  of  the  12th,  13th, 
or  14fh  century,  abound  with  contractions  to  such  a  de- 
gree, that  a  whole  word  is  sometimes  expressed  by  a 
single  letter,  which  greatly  increases  the  difficulty  of 
reading  them.     See  Contractions. 

The  numerous  abbreviations  found  in  the  relics  of  Ro- 
man history,  and  others  which  are  still  in  use,  will  be 
found  under  the  article  Character.  See  Diversions 
of  Piirky,  chap.  i.     (c) 

ABDALMALEK,  the  eon  of  Mirvan,  and  fifth  ca- 
liph of  the  race  of  the  Ommiades.  He  was  a  great  con- 
queror, and  reigned  between  685  and  706.  In  his  reign, 
th«  Greek  language  was  excluded  from  the  public  ac- 
counts,   (tv) 

ABDALONYMUS,  a  descendant  of  king  Cinyrag, 
and  one  of  the  royal  family  of  Sidon,  who  lived  in  obscu- 
rity, while  Strato  possessed  the  throne.  Alexander  the 
Great,  having  deposed  Strato,  inquired  after  the  de- 


ABD 


ABE 


9 


scemlants  of  Cinyras ;  and  having  discovered  Abdalony- 
mus  livinjt  in  virtuous  and  happy  poverty,  he  was  so 
pleased  with  his  conversation,  that  he  not  only  restored 
iiim  to  his  lawful  inheritance,  but  extended  his  dominions, 
and  enriched  him  with  a  share  of  the  Persian  spoils.  Quint. 
Curt.  lib.  iv.  c.  1.  Justin,  lib.  xi.  c.  10.  Vnivcrs.  Hist. 
vol.  viii.  p.  830.     (o) 

ABDALS,in  the  East  Indies,a  species  of  modern  bac- 
chanals, who  are  so  infuriated  with  zeal  for  their  super- 
stition, that  they  often  rush  into  the  streets  with  poniards 
in  their  hands,  and  put  to  death  every  person  of  a  differ- 
ent religion.  This  is  called  running  anwk ;  the  word 
amok,  which  signifies  slaughter,  being  the  cry  of  these 
desperate  fanatics.  If  they  happen  to  fall  in  this  war- 
fare, they  are  regarded  by  the  vulgar  as  martyrs  for 
their  religion,     (w) 

ABDERA,  a  maritime  town  of  Thrace,  situated  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river  Nessus,  and  chiefly  remarkable 
for  the  marvellous  stories  which  are  related  of  it  by  an- 
cient authors.  During  the  reign  of  Lysiniachus,  the  in- 
habitants of  Abdera  were  said  to  be  afflicted  with  a  burn- 
ing fever,  which  reached  its  maximum  on  the  seventh 
day,  and  which  affected  their  imaginations  in  such  a  man- 
ner, that  every  one  fancied  himself  a  player.  The  fa- 
vourite drama  of  this  theatrical  city,  was  the  Androme- 
da of  Euripides ;  and  it  was  not  uncommon  to  see  groups 
of  these  tragedians  spouting  in  the  streets  with  all  the 
fervour  and  sincerity  of  real  actors.  Lucian,  who  re- 
lates this  incredible  story,  accounts  for  it  from  the  fol- 
lowing circumstance.  During  a  very  sultry  summer,  the 
Andromeda  of  Euripides  was  performed  in  Abdera  by 
the  celebrated  actor  Archelaus.  When  the  audience  was 
dismissed,  several  of  them  were  seized  with  a  delirious 
fever ;  and  as  the  various  incidents  of  the  play  had  made 
a  deep  impression  u|ion  their  minds,  they  began,  during 
the  paroxysms  of  the  disease,  to  imitate  the  gestures  and 
looks  of  the  leading  characters ;  and  pronounce  the  bro- 
ken sentences  which  their  memory  had  |)reserve<l.  The 
disease  Avas  said  to  have  been  epidemical,  and  therefore 
the  whole  inhabitants  were  seized  with  this  dramatic 
mania. 

Among  other  wonders,  the  grass  of  the  surrounding 
country  is  said  to  have  been  of  such  a  noxious  quality, 
that  the  horses  which  fed  upon  it  were  seized  with  mad- 
ness ;  and  during  the  reign  of  Cassander,  king  of  Mace- 
don,  the  houses  were  so  inundated  with  tribes  of  rats  and 
frogs,  that  the  inhabitants  were  obliged  to  surrender 
them  for  a  while  to  the  devastation  of  these  invaders. 

Though  the  stupidity  of  the  Abderites  is  proverbial 
among  ancient  authors,  yet  Abdera  had  the  honour  of 
giving  birth  to  many  illustrious  men  ;  among  w  horn  were 
Democritus,  Anaxarchus,  Protagorus,  Hecateus  the  his- 
torian, and  Nicaenetus  the  poet.  Abdera  was  formerly 
celebrated  for  its  gold  and  silver  mines ;  but  is  now  re- 
«luced  to  an  insignificant  Village.  See  Plin.  Nat.  Hist. 
Jib.  XXV.  cap.  8.  Justin.  lib.  xxv.  cap.  2.  Jjucian.  Opera. 
torn.  ii.  p.  1.  Herodotus,  lib.  \.c.  186.  Steplmn.  de  Urb. 
p.  5.  Mela.  ii.  c.  2.  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  vii.  p.  432.  vol.  x.  p. 
49.  and  Bayle  voc.  Abdera.     (o) 

ABDOMEN,  in  Anatomy,  from  ahdo,  to  hide,  is  the 
lower  belly  or  cavity  which  lies  between  the  thorax,  from 
which  it  is  separated  by  the  diaphragm,  and  a  circular 
ridge  of  bone,  which  separates  it  from  the  pelvis.  The 
abdomen  is  divided  on  its  exterior  surface  into  four  re- 
gions, called  the  epigastric,  the  umbilical,  the  hypogas- 
tric, and  the  lumbar.  For  an  account  of  which,  see 
Anatomy,    (o) 

Vol.  I.  Part  I.. 


ABDOMINALES,  in  Zoologj',  the  fourth  order  of 
fishes  in  the  Linneean  system.  See  Hist.  Nat.  des  pois- 
sons,  par  M.  Gouan,  and  IcnTHYOLOCv.     (w) 

ABDOLLATI  PH.  an  Arabian  physician, born  at  Bag- 
dad in  1161,  to  whom  posterity  is  indebted  for  a  minute 
and  interesting  account  of  Egypt.  After  having  studied 
grammar,  rhetoric,  history,  poetry,  and  the  dogmas  of 
the  Mahommedan  law,  he  began  to  travel  at  the  age  of 
28.  He  reached  Mosul,  where  he  remained  a  year,  giv- 
ing lectures  in  some  of  the  colleges.  He  next  proceeded 
to  Damascus,  where  he  prevailed  in  a  controversy  over 
Al-Keiidi,  a  I'aniuus  grammarian ;  and  then  advanced 
towards  Jerusalem.  Having  learned  that  Saladin,  king 
of  the  Saracens,  who  had  seized  on  the  sovereignty  of 
Egypt,  and  endeavoured  to  expel  the  Christians  from  the 
Holy  Land,  was  encamped  near  Acre,  he  repaired  thi- 
ther, probably  to  obtain  a  protection  during  his  travels ; 
but  he  found  the  king  overwhelmed  with  mortification, 
at  a  signal  defeat  which  he  had  received  from  the  Chris- 
tians, and  incapable  of  admitting  him  to  his  presence. 
One  of  his  principal  officers,  liowever,  Bohaddin  Ebn 
Shaddad,  to  whom  Abdollatiph  was  known,  offered  him 
his  patronage,  and  recommended  him  to  one  of  the  chief 
men  of  the  court,  Ali-Kadi  Al-Fadelo,  who  promised  him 
a  pension  if  he  would  return  to  Damascus.  But  Ab<Iol- 
latiph  chose  rather  to  travel  in  Egypt ;  and  with  this 
view  went  to  Cairo  with  the  recommendations  of  Al- 
Fadelo.  Having  understood  that  Saladin  had  conclud- 
ed a  peace  with  the  Christians,  and  was  then  at  Jerusa- 
lem, he  went  thither,  and  experienced  the  most  gratify- 
ing reception.  He  afterwaitls  delivered  lectures  in  the 
great  church  or  temple,  called  Al-Aksa.  Thence  he  re- 
turned to  Damascus  for  the  third  time ;  and  in  the  col- 
lege founded  by  AI-Aziz,  imparted  instruction  on  vari- 
ous subjects  to  a  numerous  audience. 

Subsequent  to  this  period,  Abdollatiph  travelled  info 
Greece,  where  he  resided  several  years,  and  afterwards 
visited  Syria,  Asia  Minor,  and  Armenia,  practising  his 
art  in  various  courts.  At  length  he  wished  to  return  to 
Damascus,  as  the  place  of  his  future  residence ;  but  he 
was  desirous  i)reviously  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Blec- 
ca,  on  his  road  to  Bagdad,  for  the  purpose  of  presenting 
some  of  his  ^vorks  to  the  caliph  Al-Mostansor  Billah. 
He  died  at  Bagdad  in  1223.  Osaiba,  an  eminent  Ara- 
bian biographer,  ascribes  150  works  to  Abdollatiph. 
The  only  one  extant  is  his  account  of  Egypt,  which  was 
brought  to  Europe  in  manuscript  by  Dr.  Pococke,  and 
deposited  in  the  Bodleian  library  at  Oxford.  This  work 
has  been  lately  published  by  Dr.  White,  accompanied 
with  an  elegant  Latin  Version,     (c) 

ABDUCTION,  in  Law,  is  the  act  of  carrying  off  a 
woman,  and  marrying  her  against  her  will.  This  has  al- 
ways been  reckoned  a  heinous  offence,  though  the  de- 
gree of  punishment  adequate  to  it  is  not  universally- 
agreed  u|)on.  In  Scotland,  those  who  have  forcibly  en- 
tered a  woman's  house,  carried  her  off,  and  married  her 
without  her  own  consent,  have  deservedly  suffered  ca- 
pital punishment,     (c) 

ABDUCTORES,  or  Abductors,  in  Anatomy,  a 
name  given  to  a  number  of  muscles,  from  their  office  of 
drawing  away,  or  separating,  certain  moveable  parts, 
iuto  which  they  are  inserted,  as  the  thumbs,  thighs,  eyes, 
&c.     See  Anatomy,     (?») 

ABEILE,  Gasper,  a  celebrated  Avit  of  the  16th,  centu- 
ry, who  was  born  at  Riez,  in  1 648,  and  died  at  Paris  in 
1718.  The  brilliancy  of  his  conversation  procured  him 
the  favour  of  Marshal  Luxembourg,  and  some  of  the 


10 


ABE 


ABE 


first  characters  at  the  French  court :  though  the  mirth 
which  he  excited  seems  to  have  been  ciiicfly  owing  to 
an  unseemly  wrinkled  countenance,  susceptible  of  the 
jnost  ludicrous  expression.  He  was  the  author  of  seve- 
ral dramatic  i)ieces ;  but  his  wit  was  much  suiierior  to 
Lis  genius,     (w) 

ABEL,  the  second  son  of  Adam  and  Eve.  He  and  his 
brother  Cain,  being  taught  by  their  father  the  duties 
which  they  owed  to  God,  offered  in  sacrifice  the  first 
fruits  of  their  laliours.  Cain,  as  a  husbandman,  oPTered 
of  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  Abel,  as  a  Shepherd,  of  the 
firstlings  of  his  flock.  God  accepted  Abel's  sacrifice, 
but  was  displeased  with  Cain's.  Though  we  are  uncer- 
tain what  were  the  precise  reasons  of  this  preference, 
or  in  what  manner  it  was  testified,  we  know  that  Cain, 
in  consequence  of  it,  conceived  the  most  dial)olical  envy 
and  hatred  at  his  brother,  and,  having  invited  him  into 
the  field,  cruelly  murdered  him.  Abel  is  frequently 
mentioned  in  the  New  Testament,  and  is  placed  by  our 
Saviour,  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  saints,  who  had  been 
persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake.  His  martyrdom  is 
not  celebrated  by  the  Greek  churches,  though  they  have 
feasts  in  honour  of  every  other  patriarch  :  and  even 
among  the  Roman  Catholics,  his  name  does  not  appear 
in  any  catalogue  of  the  saints  or  martyrs  till  the  1 0th 
century.  He  is  invoked,  however,  in  several  of  the  lita- 
nies, for  persons  at  the  point  of  death,  and  is  said  to  be 
honoured  by  the  Ethiopians  annually  on  the  28(h  of  De- 
cember.    See  Univ.  Hist.  vo\.  i.  ]t.  150 — 154.     (rf) 

ABEL,  Charl.es  Fredeiiic,  a  celebrated  composer 
and  performer  of  music.  He  left  Germany,  his  native 
country,  in  1759,  and  coming  over  to  England,  he  was 
soon  noticed  as  a  musical  ]>erformer,  anti  obtained  the 
office  of  chamber-musician  to  the  queen,  with  a  salary 
of  200Z.  a  year.  He  was  irascible  and  overbearing  in  his 
temper,  and  was  so  fond  of  ardent  spirits,  that  he  died  at 
London  of  excessive  drinking,  in  1787.  According  to 
the  celebrated  Dr.  Burney,  the  compositions  of  Abel 
were  easy,  and  elegantly  simple ;  and  his  superiority  in 
writing  and  playing  an  adagio  was  so  great,  and  he  ex- 
pressed the  most  pleasing,  yet  learned  modulation,  the 
richest  harmony,  and  the  most  polished  and  elegant 
melody,  with  such  feeling,  taste,  and  science,  that  no 
other  musical  composition  or  performance  could  be 
compared  with  it.  "  The  knowledge  Abel  had  acquir- 
ed in  Germany,"  says  Dr.  Burney,  "  in  every  part  of 
musical  science,  rendered  him  the  umpire  in  all  musical 
controversies,  and  caused  him  to  be  consulted  in  all  dif- 
ficult points.  His  concertos,  and  other  pieces,  were 
very  popular,  and  frequently  played  on  public  occasions. 
The  taste  and  science  of  Abel  were  rather  greater  than 
his  invention ;  so  that  some  of  his  later  productions,  com- 
pared with  those  of  younger  composers,  ap|)eared  some- 
what languid  and  monotonous."     See  Burncjfs  Hist,  of 


Music,  vol.  iv.    (ni) 
ID,  (o 


ABELARD,  (or  Abailard)  Peter,  celebrated  for 
his  learning  and  misfortunes,  flourished  in  the  twelfth 
century,  under  the  reigns  of  Louis  le  Gros,  and  Louis 
le  Jeune.  He  was  Iwrn  in  the  village  of  Palais,  in  Brit- 
tanj'.  He  gave  early  indications  ol  an  acute  and  lively 
genius,  which  his  father,  a  man  of  rank  and  opulence, 
resolved  to  cultivate  by  the  most  liberal  education. 
Young  Abelard  amply  repaid  his  father's  care,  by  his 
tapid  progress  in  science,  and  the  ardour  with  which 
he  prosecuted  his  studies.  In  the  height  of  literary 
enthusiasm,  he  renounced  the  rights  of  primogeniture 
in  favour  of  his  brothers,  that,  relieved  from  all  lo«  er 


concerns,  he  might  give  his  undivided  attention  to  phi- 
losophy. 

It  is  to  be  regretted,  that  the  science  of  that  barba- 
rous age  presented  no  objects  more  worthy  of  such  ge- 
nius and  application.  Logic  became  his  favourite  study ; 
and  so  fond  was  he  of  wielding  the  weajions  of  argu- 
mentation, that  he  travelled  into  diflerent  provinces  in 
quest  of  disputes,  like  a  knight-errant  in  search  of  ad- 
ventures. This  romantic  expedition  terminated  at 
Paris,  where  he  met  with  William  de  Champeaux,  a 
celebrated  professor  of  philosojihy,  and  soon  became 
his  favourite  disciple.  Their  friendship,  however,  was 
of  short  continuance.  The  penetrating  Abelard  easily 
detected  the  fallacies  of  the  professor's  reasoning;  and 
Champeaux,  perplexed  and  foiled  by  the  questions  and 
arguments  of  his  presumptuous  scholar,  conceived 
against  him  the  most  rancorous  hatred.  The  senior 
students,  envious  of  Abelard's  growing  reputation,  took 
part  in  their  master's  resentment.  But  this  oji|iosition 
served  only  to  increase  the  young  logician's  presump- 
tion. Thinking  himself  qualified,  by  his  attainments, 
to  impart  instruction  instead  of  receiving  it,  he  resolved 
to  establish  a  school  of  his  own.  Melua,  where  the 
French  court  then  resided,  was  the  theatre  which  he 
chose  for  the  display  of  his  talents.  Champeaux  made 
every  exertion  to  prevent  the  erection  of  this  rival 
school ;  but  through  the  influence  of  some  powerful 
courtiers,  who  were  the  professor's  enemies,  Abelard 
prevailed.  He  soon  eclipsed  his  antagonist's  reputa- 
tion, and,  elated  by  his  success,  removed  his  school  to 
Corbeil,  that  he  might  engage  him  in  closer  and  more 
frequent  encounters.  Here  his  excessive  application 
threw  him  into  a  dangerous  illness;  and  his  physicians, 
whom  he  aftenvards  suspected  of  being  in  league  with 
his  adversary,  advised  him  to  retire  to  Brittany  for  the 
benefit  of  his  native  air. 

On  returning  to  Paris  about  two  years  after,  he  found 
that  Champeaux  had  resigned  his  chair,  and  entered 
into  a  convent  of  canons  regular.  In  this  new  situa- 
tion, however,  he  continued  his  lectures.  He  had 
broached  an  opinion  somewhat  similar  to  the  doctrine 
of  universals,  afterwards  adopted  by  Spinoza.  Alielard 
again  entered  the  lists  with  him,  and  pressed  him  so 
vigorously,  that  he  was  forced  to  renounce  his  favourite 
tenets.  The  monk  incurred  general  contempt ;  his  an- 
tagonist was  hailed  with  universal  apidause ;  and,  to 
complete  his  triumph,  the  professor  in  whose  favour 
Champeaux  had  resigned,  inlisted  under  (he  banners 
of  Abelard,  and  became  his  disciple.  Such  success 
naturally  inflamed  the  animosity  of  his  opponents,  and 
stimulated  their  activity.  Through  Champeaux's  in- 
fluence, the  converted  professor  was  discarded ;  and 
Abelard  himself  was  assailed  by  such  a  furious  storm 
of  persecution,  that  he  was  forced  to  quit  Paris,  and 
take  refuge  in  Rlelun. 

Hearing,  soon  after,  that  Champeaux,  w  ith  his  whole 
train  of  monks,  had  retired  to  a  country  village,  he  went 
and  ijosted  himself  on  mount  St.  Genevieve,  and  thence, 
as  from  a  battery,  levelled  his  logical  artillery  against 
the  professor,  who  had  been  ai'pointed  at  Paris  after 
the  dismissal  of  his  own  convert.  Champeaux  hastened 
with  the  host  of  his  convent  to  the  relief  of  his  besieged 
friend.  But  his  assistance  was  unavailing;  the  j  bilo- 
sopher  was  deserted  by  his  jjupils,  and  retired  to  a  mo- 
nastery to  conceal  the  shame  of  his  deleat.  Abelard 
and  Champeaux  still  continued  the  contest,  in  which 
the  former  was  uniformlv  victorious.     Meanwhile  he 


ABELARD. 


11 


was  called  from  the  conflict  to  visit  his  parents,  who 
had  resolved  to  spend  the  remainder  of  life  in  a  con- 
vent. During  his  absence,  his  rival  was  made  bishop 
of  Chalons.  Abelard,  on  his  return,  finding  that  he 
might  quit  his  school,  without  the  suspicion  of  being 
forced  from  the  field,  resolved  henceforth  to  devote 
himself  to  the  study  of  divinity.  With  this  view  he  re- 
moved to  Laon,  where  Anselm  then  lectured  with  great 
reputation.  Abelard,  however,  was  so  little  satisfied 
with  his  abilities,  that  he  soon  forsook  his  lectures,  and 
gave  his  days  and  nights  to  the  study  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  the  ancient  lathers.  In  a  short  time  he  found  him- 
self qualified  for  lecturing  on  theology,  and  commenced 
an  exposition  of  Ezekiel,  in  a  manner  so  plain  and  en- 
*  gaging,  as  to  attract  an  incredible  number  of  admirers. 
The  jealousy  of  Anselm  was  roused,  and  Abelard  was 
again  compelled  to  return  to  Paris.  Here  he  continued 
his  lectures  on  Ezekiel ;  and  his  reputation  as  a  divine 
was  no  less  flattering  than  that  which  he  had  formerly 
enjoyed  as  a  philosopher. 

But,  in  the  midst  of  this  success,  his  happiness  was 
still  incomplete :  a  passion,  stronger  than  literary  am- 
bition, now  occupied  his  breast;  and  he  began  to  sigh 
for  pleasures,  which  neither  learning  nor  fame  could 
impart.  Yet  his  ambition  attended  him  even  in  love. 
In  the  bloom  of  life,  elegant  in  his  manners,  and  grace- 
ful in  his  appearance,  he  was  confident  of  success  to 
his  addresses  wherever  he  should  condescend  to  pay 
them,  and  resolved  to  be  satisfied  with  no  ordinary 
conquest.  His  choice  did  not  long  remain  undecided. 
A  young  lady,  named  Heloise,  reputed  niece  of  Fulbert, 
a  canon  of  the  church  of  Notredame,  happened  to  re- 
side near  the  place  where  Abelard  lectured.  She  ivas 
in  her  eighteenth  year,  when  the  heart  is  most  fender 
and  susceptible.  To  the  most  exquisite  beauty,  she 
united  mental  accomplishments  equally  admirable  :  and 
her  charms  were  heightened  by  such  a  graceful  and 
modest  air,  as  rendered  their  influence  irresistible. 
Abelard  could  not  aspire  to  a  lovelier  object.  He  saw 
her,  conversed  with  her,  and  was  captivated.  Philoso- 
phy and  divinity  were  forgotten,  and  his  whole  mind 
was  bent  on  the  completion  of  those  desires  which 
Heloise  had  inspired. 

A  most  favourable  opportunity  soon  occurred.  Ful- 
bert, who  loved  his  niece,  was  desirons  to  cultivate  her 
genius  and  propensity  for  learning.  He  had  already 
hired  masters  to  instruct  her  in  several  languages ;  and 
would  gladly  have  indulged  her  desire  of  attaining  a 
knowledge  of  the  higher  branches  of  literature  :  but 
he  was  fond  of  money ;  and  though  anxious  for  his 
niece's  improvement,  he  wished  to  efTect  it  with  little 
expense.  He  was,  therefore,  highly  pleased,  when 
Abelard  proposed  to  board  in  his  house.  He  requested 
him  to  devote  some  of  his  leisure  hours  to  the  instruc- 
tion of  Heloise  in  philosophy  :  resigned  her  entirely  to 
his  authority ;  and  even  enjoined  him,  if  he  should  find 
it  necessary,  to  inforce  his  precepts  by  compulsion. 
Abelard  undertook  the  charge  with  transport ;  though, 
by  a  refined  dissimulation,  he  seemed  at  first  unwilling 
to  agree  to  the  canon's  pro|)osal ;  alleging,  that  the 
sciences  in  which  he  wished  his  niece  to  be  instructed, 
were  beyond  the  reach  of  female  intellect.  He  con- 
trived to  render  his  instructions  extremely  pleasing  to 
his  fair  pupil  :  Instead  of  the  dull  prece|its  of  philoso- 
phy, he  taught  her  the  delightful  lessons  of  love;  and 
insinuated  himself  so  completely  into  her  affections, 
that  she  was  willing  to  comply  with  his  fondest  wishes. 


Fulbert  had  a  country  house  at  Corbeil,  to  which,  as 
a  place  of  retirement  favourable  to  study,  the  lovers 
used  frequently  to  repair.  They  spent  whole  months 
in  this  retreat,  abandoning  themselves,  without  fear  of 
observation  or  of  censure,  to  the  transports  of  a  mutual 
passion.  The  vigour  of  Abelard's  mind  was  percepti- 
bly impaired  by  this  criminal  indulgence.  His  public 
performances  were  disgracefully  mean.  He  became 
averse  to  study ;  and  the  hours  which  he  could  steal 
from  the  soft  endearments  of  love,  were  employed  in 
the  composition  of  amorous  lays.  So  striking  a  change 
naturally  occasioned  surmises;  and  the  unguarded  be- 
haviour of  the  lovers  soon  convinced  the  world,  that 
their  secret  hours  were  not  always  spent  in  the  study 
of  the  sciences.  Fulbert  alone  had  no  suspicion  of  their 
intimacy.  His  partiality  to  Heloise,  and  his  confidence 
in  her  preceptor,  iireventeil  him  from  giving  credit  to 
the  rumours  which  prevailed  against  them,  till,  awa- 
kened by  the  numerous  hints  and  discoveries,  which 
were  daily  communicated  to  him,  he  watched  their 
conduct  with  the  closest  vigilance,  and  surprised  them 
in  a  moment  of  criminal  enjoyment.  An  immediate 
separation  was  the  first  consequence  of  this  discovery- 
With  the  ingenuity  natural  to  lovers,  they  still  found 
means  to  continue  their  interviews ;  and  one  evening, 
after  the  transport  of  meeting,  Heloise  acquainted 
Abelard,  that  she  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  their  fa- 
miliarity. Abelard  proposed,  that  she  should  remove 
to  the  house  of  his  sister  in  Brittany;  and  Heloise,  dis- 
guised in  the  habit  of  a  nun,  set  off  without  delay. 

After  her  departure,  Abelard  waited  on  the  canon, 
explained  to  him  the  reason  of  his  niece's  withdrawing, 
and  endeavoured  to  appease  his  rising  fury,  by  offering 
to  make  any  reparation  for  his  offence.  Fulbert  insisted 
on  their  immediate  marriage,  to  which  Abelard  con- 
sented. But  Heloise,  with  the  most  romantic  and  un- 
parelleled  excess  of  love,  remonstrated  against  an 
union,  which  might  perhaps  diminish  their  mutual  at- 
tachment, and  would  certainly  prevent  the  advance- 
ment of  her  beloved  Abelard.  Her  objections  were 
with  difficulty  overcome ;  and,  on  her  return  from  Brit- 
tany, they  were  married  in  the  most  private  manner. 
As  it  was  the  interest  and  the  wish  of  Abelard  that 
their  marriage  should  be  kept  secret,  Heloise,  regard- 
less of  her  own  reputation,  denied  it  so  solemnly  and 
obstinately,  as  to  obtain  general  credit.  Her  uncle,  on 
the  other  hand,  anxious  only  to  conceal  her  reproach, 
was  highly  incensed  by  her  false  and  shameless  beha- 
viour. To  screen  her  from  the  effects  of  his  resent- 
ment, Abelard  sent  her  to  the  convent  of  Argenteuil, 
where  she  assumed  the  habit  of  a  nun.  She  did  not, 
however,  take  the  veil,  that  it  might  still  be  in  her 
power,  in  more  favourable  circumstances,  to  return  to 
the  world.  Fulbert,  regarding  this  as  a  fresh  instance 
of  her  seducer's  perfidy,  meditated  schemes  of  deep 
revenge.  By  means  of  a  treacherous  domestic,  assas- 
sins were  admitted  into  the  chamber  of  Abelard,  while 
asleep :  and,  by  the  canon's  direction,  inflicted  upon 
him  the  most  cruel  and  degrading  mutilation.  Shame 
and  despair  drove  him  into  the  darkness  of  a  monas- 
tery, where  his  only  consolation  was  the  conversation 
and  condolence  of  Heloise,  whose  affection  did  not  seem 
diminished  by  his  misfortune.  At  the  age  of  twenty- 
two,  while  yet  warm  in  youth,  and  glowing  in  beauty, 
she  assumed  the  veil,  in  compliance  with  his  request,, 
and  renounced  for  ever  the  pleasures  of  society. 

La  a  few  years,  Abelard  was  reconciled  to  hia  unbag> 
B2 


12 


ABELARD. 


py  fate,  and  his  literafy  ambition  revived.  In  the  mo- 
nastery of  St.  Denys,  to  which  he  had  retired,  he  began 
to  comment  on  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles ;  but  the  dis- 
orderly monks,  offended  by  the  freedom  with  which  he 
censured  their  irregularities,  refused  to  listen  to  his 
lectures.  With  the  consent  of  the  abbot,  he  withdrew 
from  this  licentious  fraternity,  and  established  a  school 
at  Thibaud,  in  Champagne.  His  fame  attracted  such 
numbers  of  scholars,  not  only  from  the  remotest  pro- 
vinces of  France,  but  likewise  from  Rome,  Spain,  Eng- 
land, and  Germany,  that  they  could  neither  be  supplied 
with  lodgings,  nor  with  food.  His  fortune  would  soon 
have  equalled  his  celebrity,  but  the  active  persecution 
of  his  enemies  again  involved  him  in  calamity  and  dis- 
grace. Alberic  of  Rheims,  and  Lotulf  of  Lombardy, 
whom  he  had  offended  while  at  Laon,  and  ivho  were 
mortified  to  see  their  schools  deserted  for  Abelard's, 
pretended  to  discover  heresy  in  a  work  of  his,  intitled. 
The  Mystery  of  the  Trinity.  They  prevailed  with  the 
archbishop  to  assemble  a  council  at  Soissons,  and  Abe- 
lard,  without  being  heard  in  his  defence,  was  condemn- 
ed to  burn  his  book  with  his  own  hands,  and  to  confine 
himself  h  ithin  the  convent  of  SI.  Medard.  So  keenly 
did  he  feel  the  severity  of  this  sentence,  that  he  himself 
tleclares,  the  unhai)py  fate  of  his  writings  affected  him 
more  deeply  than  the  cruelest  of  his  sufferings. 

After  a  short  confinement  in  St.  Medard,  he  was  or- 
dered to  return  to  St.  Denys.  Here  his  restless  fondness 
lor  disputation  furnished  the  malice  of  his  enemies  with 
an  additional  accusation  against  him.  He  had  hinted, 
that  Dionysius,  the  Areopagite,  could  not  be  the  patron 
of  their  monastery ;  as  it  was  not  probable  he  had  ever 
been  in  France.  This  blasphemous  opinion  was  speedi- 
ly reported  to  the  archbishop,  who  threatened  to  de- 
liver up  to  the  secular  power  the  audacious  and  impious 
offender  who  had  thus  daretl  to  reflect  on  the  honour 
of  his  convent  and  of  the  kingdom  at  large.  Abelard, 
alarmed  by  his  menaces,  fled  to  the  cloister  of  Troies,  in 
Champagne,  where  he  remained  till  the  storm  had  blown 
over.  On  the  death  of  the  abbot,  which  happened  soon 
after,  he  obtained  permission  to  live  where  he  pleased. 

Tired,  at  last,  of  this  perpetual -conflict  with  prejudice 
and  malignity,  he  wished  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his 
days  in  some  peaceful  retirement,  where,  with  the  so- 
ciety of  a  few  chosen  friends,  he  might  solace  himself 
for  the  many  injuries  which  he  had  sustained.  With 
this  view,  he  chose  a  solitude  in  the  diocese  of  Troies; 
and  having  there  obtained  a  portion  of  ground,  by  per- 
mission of  the  bishop,  he  built  a  small  house  and  a  cha- 
pel, which  he  dedicated  to  the  3Iost  Holy  Trinity.  His 
reputation  followed  him  even  into  this  sequestered  re- 
treat. Scholars  flocked  to  him  from  all  quarters ;  and, 
building  little  huts  for  themselves  in  the  desert,  were 
content  to  live  on  herbs  and  roots,  that  they  might  enjoy 
the  instructions  of  this  extraordinary  man.  As  a  memo- 
rial of  the  hajipiness  which  he  enjoyed  in  this  solitude, 
he  dedicated  his  chapel,  which  had  been  enlargetl  by 
the  liberal  contributions  of  his  scholars,  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  by  the  name  of  the  Paraclete,  or  Comforter.  15ut 
his  tranquillity  waa  soon  disturbed  by  the  envy  of  his 
former  per8e<-utors,  Alberic  and  Lotulf,  who  pretended 
to  discover  heresy  in  the  name  which  ho  had  given  to 
bis  chapel ;  and  alleged,  that  he  thus  artfully  designed 


to  insinuate  the  doctrines  which  he  durst  not  openly 
avow.  Their  persecution  was  the  more  fomiitlable,  as 
they  were  joined  by  St.  Bernard  and  St.  Norbet,  two 
popular  zealots,  who  raised  such  a  clamour  against  him 
that  even  his  best  friends  were  either  carried  away  by 
the  general  prejudice,  or  were  afraid  to  show  any  dis- 
position to  favour  him.  So  complete  was  his  misery,  that 
he  often  fonned  the  resolution  of  forsaking  Christendom, 
an<l  seeking  among  heathens  the  security  and  peace 
which  was  denied  him  among  Christians  and  monks  *. 

The  duke  of  Brittany,  compassionating  his  misfor- 
tunes, appointed  him  to  the  abbey  of  St.  Guildas,  in  ths 
diocese  of  St.  Vannes.  The  monks  had  already  chosen 
him  as  their  superior,  and  he  naturally  hoped,  that  his 
new  situation  would  prove  a  safe  asylum  from  the 
rage  of  his  enemies.  But  he  had  only  exchanged 
one  source  of  misery  for  another.  The  profligacy  of 
the  monks,  and  the  tyranny  of  the  nobleman  who  was 
the  superior  of  the  abbey,  and  who  had  deprived  it  of  the 
greater  part  of  its  revenues,  gave  him  much  vexation, 
and  exposed  him  to  many  dangers.  Poison  was  fre- 
quently mingled  in  his  food,  and  when  that  failed,  in 
the  holy  eucharist  itself.  In  vain  did  he  suspend  over 
the  mutinous  the  terrors  of  excommunication  :  he  lived 
in  perpetual  fear  of  assassination,  and  compared  his 
situation  to  that  of  Damocles,  while  seated  at  the  table 
of  the  Sicilian  tyrant,  with  a  naked  sword  suspended 
by  a  single  hair  over  his  head. 

Whilst  Abelard  thus  suffered  in  St.  Guildas,  Heloise 
was  equally  unhappy  at  Argenteuil.  The  nuns,  of 
whom  she  was  prioress,  had  become  so  licentious,  that 
Lugger,  abbot  of  St.  Denys,  taking  advantage  of  their 
irregularities,  deprived  them  of  their  monastery,  and 
established  monks  of  his  own  in  their  room.  On  leav- 
ing Ai^enteuil,  she  applied  to  Abelard,  who,  by  permis- 
sion of  the  bishop  of  Troies,  gave  her  the  house  and 
chapel  of  the  Paraclete,  and  there  founded  a  nunnery. 
Here  she  conducted  herself  with  the  greatest  prudence, 
piety,  and  zeal.  "  The  bishops  loved  her  as  their  child, 
the  abbesses  as  their  sister,  and  the  other  religious  as 
their  mother."  Abelard  made  frequent  journeys  from 
Brittany,  to  promote  the  interests  of  this  rising  house, 
and  to  escape  from  the  vexations  i\  hich  he  experienced 
in  his  own  abbey.  But  finding,  that,  notwithstanding 
their  misfortunes,  the  passion  of  Heloise  was  reviving 
in  all  its  former  anlour,  he  resolved  to  separate  himseff 
from  her  for  ever.  He  reminded  her,  that,  to  make 
their  retirement  useful,  and  their  penitence  sincere,  it 
was  necessary  that  they  should  forget  each  other,  and 
think  for  the  future  of  God  alone ;  and,  having  given 
her  directions  for  her  own  conduct,  an«l  the  manage- 
ment of  the  nuns,  he  bade  her  a  last  adieu,  and  return- 
ed to  his  abbey.  A  long  interval  had  elapsed  since 
their  separation,  when  a  letter  of  AbelanI  to  his  friend 
Philintus  fell  by  chance  into  the  hands  of  Heloise.  It 
contained  a  long  account  of  all  his  jjersecutious  and  mis- 
fortunes; and  Heloise  was  so  deejily  affected  by  the 
perusal,  that  she  could  not  avoid  writing  him  in  all  the 
tenderness  of  passion,  and  rejiroachiug  him  for  his  long 
silence.  This  was  the  origin  of  that  celebrated  cor- 
respondence, which  has  been  i)reserved  in  Abelard's 
works,  and  ^vhich  Pope  has  immortalized  by  tlie  har- 
mony of  his  numbers. 


•Hi«  words  are  remarkable; — "Sa^I)c  autem,  (Dens  ecit>)  in  tantara  lapsus  sum  ilespcrntionem,  ut  Cliristianorum  finibus  cxoessis 
ad  gcntes  tnmaire  Uisi>onercm,  alque  ibi  quicte  sub  nuacuDqae  tributi  pactione  inter  inimicoa  Christii  Chiistiane  virerc."  MelarJi 
opera,  p.  32. 


ABE 


ABE 


13 


About  ten  years  after  his  return  to  St.  Guililas,  Iiis 
•nemies  brouglit  a  new  charge  of  lieresy  against  him, 
before    tlie  arclibishop  of  Sens.     At   his  own   desire, 
permission  was  granted  him  to  defend  his  doctrine  be- 
fore a  public  assembly.     For  this  purpose,  the  council 
of  Sens  was  convened  in  1 1 40,  in  which  Louis  the  Se- 
venth assisted  in  person.     St.  Bernard  was  his  accuser, 
and  delivered  to  the  assembly  some  propositions,  drawn 
from  Abelartl's  book,  which  were  publicly  read.     Abe- 
lard,  dreading  the  malice  and  unfairness  of  his  enemies, 
appealed  to  the  pope.     But  he   had  been  anticipated 
by  St.  Bernard,  who  prevailed  with  the  pontiff  to  eon- 
firm  the  sentence,  which,  notwithstanding  his  appeal, 
the  council  had  |)ronoHnced  against  him  before  he  had 
time  to  present  himself  before  his  HoKness's  tribunal. 
The  pope,  like^vise,  ordered  his  books  to   be  burnt, 
himself  to  be  confined,  and  to  be  for  ever  prevented 
from  teaching.     Soon  after,  his  Holiness  was  appeased 
by  the  intercession  of  the  abbot  of  Clugni,  who,  with 
great  humanity,  received  Abelard  into  his  monastery, 
reconciled  him  with  St.  Bernard,  and  admitted  him  as 
a   religious   of  his   society.     In    this    last   retirement, 
Abelard  exjierienced  every  kindness,  till,  weakened  by 
age,  and  afflicted  with  complicated  disease,  he  was  sent 
to  the  priory  of  St.  Marcel,  near  Chalons,  where  he 
died  on  the  2l8t  of  April,  1142,  in  the  sixty-third  year 
of  his  age.     His  body  was  sent  to  the  chapel  of  the 
Paraclete,  according  to  a  former  request  of  Heloise, 
and  his  own  desire.     She  survived  him  for  20  years, 
distinguished  for  her  learning,  her  piety,  resignation, 
and  exemplary  conduct.     She  died  on  the  1 7th  of  May, 
1163,  and  desired  to  be  buried  in  the  same  tomb  with 
Abelard,   whose   memory  she  had  cherished  «ith  un- 
diminished affection  till  the  last  moment  of  her  life. 
The  following  ej)itaph  was  inscribed  on  her  tomb  *  : 

Hie, 

Sub  eodcm  tnarmore,jacent 

Htijus  mmmsterii 

Canditor,  Petrus  Abelardus, 

Et  Ahbatissima  prinm,  Heloisa, 

Olim  studiis,  ingcnio,  infaustis  miptiis, 

Et  pceniicntia. 

Nunc,  atema  ut  spiramus,  felicitate  conjuncti. 

Fctnis  obiit  21  mo  Aprilis,  1 1 42  ; 

Heloisa,  'nmo  Maii,  1163. 

TRANSLATION  OF  THE  EPITAPH. 

Here, 

under  the  same  marble, 

lie  Peter  Abelard, 

Pounder, 

and 

Heloise,  First  Abbess 

of  this 

Monastery ; 

Once  united 

in  studies,  in  genius, 

in  unhajiiiy  nu;ttials,  and 

Penitence, 

Now,  as  we  hope, 

in  Eternal  Felicity. 

Abelard  died  on  the  21st  of  April,  1142: 

Heloise,  on  the  17th  of  May,  1163. 


On  reviewing  tlie  life  of  Abelard,  we  find  much  to 
admire,  but  more  to  condemn.  Singular,  indeed,  must 
have  been  the  talents  of  that  man,  who,  in  an  age  when 
logic  was  almost  the  only  science,  could  foil  the  first 
champions  in  the  field  of  disputation ;  and  who,  under 
every  circumstance  of  discouragement,  could  draw, 
even  to  a  solitary  desert,  admiring  and  crouded  audi- 
tories from  the  most  distant  countries  of  civilized 
Europe.  But  vanity  and  selfishness  were  the  pre- 
dominant features  in  his  character.  Even  modesty,  it 
is  true,  will  not  always  shield  superior  genius  from 
envy  and  persecution  ;  but  he  may  fairly  be  suspected 
of  unusual  petulance  and  presumption  who  never  chang- 
ed his  situation  without  exciting  new  enemies,  and  who 
was  driven  from  every  society  with  which  he  was  con- 
nected, by  the  dissentions  and  animosities  which  he 
himself  had  occasioned.  His  conduct  to  Heloise  will 
stamp  his  memory  with  perpetual  infamy.  Had  he 
merely  been  impelled  by  the  ardour  of  resistless  pas- 
sion, his  crime,  though  still  unjustifiable,  might  have 
found  some  apology  in  human  frailty.  But  black  must 
have  been  the  heart,  which  could  form  against  such 
lovely  excellence  a  deliberate  plan  of  seduction,  and 
could  requite  with  selfish  jealousy,  and  cold  indif- 
ference, the  most  disinterested  and  faithful  affection. 
Youth  and  inexperience  plead  the  excuse  of  Heloise ; 
and  if  we  must  still  condemn  her  crime,  her  amiable 
sensibility,  and  romantic  generosity,  soften,  at  least,  the 
severity  of  our  censure. 

The  works  of  Abelard,  written  in  Latin,  are,  "  An 
address  to  the  Paraclete  on  the  study  of  the  Scriptures ; 
Problems  and  Solutions ;  Sermons  on  the  Festivals;  a 
Treatise  against  Heresies ;  an  Exposition  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer;  a  Commentary  on  the  Romans;  a  System  of 
Theology ;  and  his  Letters  to  Heloise,  and  others." 
The  best  edition  of  the  works  of  Abelard,  is  that  which 
was  jiublished  at  Paris,  from  the  MSS.  of  Francis 
D'Amboise,  intitled  Jhalardi  et  Heloisa;  cotijtigis  ejus, 
opera,  ex  editioue  Andreie  Quercetani,  quarto,  1616, 
Bometimes  dated  1606,  and  1626.     (k) 

ABELIANS,  a  sect  of  heretics  in  Africa,  who  ap- 
peared in  the  reign  of  Arcadius.  According  to  St. 
Augustin,  they  enjoined  marriage,  but  did  not  permit 
any  sexual  intercourse.  In  order  to  preserve  the  sect, 
they  were  therefore  obliged  to  adopt  a  boy  and  a  girl, 
who  were  to  inherit  their  effects,  and  marry  upon  the 
same  hard  terms.  This  unnatural  association,  how- 
ever, did  not  flourish  long  :  As  soon  as  its  novelty  was 
gone,  the  number  of  its  members  diminished ;  and  it 
was  extinct  in  the  reign  of  Theodosius.  The  tenets  of 
these  heretics  seem  to  have  been  founded  on  the  sup- 
position that  Abel  was  married,  and  died  without  issue. 
See  Augustin  de  Hair.  cap.  87.  vel  Opera,  torn.  vi.  n. 
14. :  and  Bochart,  Gcograph.  Sacr.  lib.  ii.  cap.  16.     (?!;) 

ABEL-MOSCHL'S,  the  seed  of  a  plant  which  has 
the  flavour  of  Musk,  and  is  indigenous  in  Egypt,  and  in 
the  East  and  West  Indies.  The  fragrance  of  the  seeds, 
which  resembles  that  of  a  mixture  of  amber  and  musk, 
has  induced  the  Arabians  to  mix  them  with  their  coffee. 
They  are  chiefly  useful,  however,  as  a  perfume  ;  though, 
from  their  peculiar  flavour,  and  other  qualities,  they 
seem  to  merit  attention  as  a  medicinal  substance.  The 
best  seeds  come  from  Martinique,     (w) 

ABEN-EZRA,  a  celebrated  Spanish  rabbi,  who  was 


•  Sorac  years  ago,  the  tomb  of  Abelard   and  Heloise  -was  conveyed  from  the  chapel  of  the  Paraclete  to  the  National  Museum   at 
Pans. 


14 


ABE 


ABE 


famed  for  bis  knowledge  in  theolc^y,  philosophy,  ag- 
trology,  medicine,  poetry,  and  grammar.  His  "  Com- 
mentaries on  the  Old  Testament"  are  much  esteemed, 
and  are  remarkable  for  the  concise  and  elegant  style 
in  which  they  are  composed.  His  "  Jesud  Mora,"  in 
which  he  recommends  the  study  of  the  Talmud,  is  the 
scarcest  of  all  his  works.  Dr.  Hyde  translated  his  poem 
on  the  Game  of  Chess ;  but  his  other  works,  excepting 
liis  Elegantioc,  Grammatical,  printed  at  Venice  in  1548, 
remain  unedited  in  ancient  libraries.  He  died  at 
Rhodes  at  the  age  of  75,  in  1174,  or  1190.  See  Mas- 
clff.  Hebrew  Grammar,  v.  ii.  'p.  30.     (w) 

ABERBROTHOCK,  or  Arbroath,  a  sea-port  town, 
and  one  of  the  royal  boroughs  of  Scotland,  situated  on 
the  mouth  of  the  small  river  Brothock,  in  the  county  of 
Angus,  about  56  miles  N.  N.  E.  of  Edinburgh. 

This  town  was  erected  into  a  royal  borough  about 
the  middle  of  the  12th  century,  by  king  William  the 
Lyon,  who,  in  1 1 73,  founded  its  abbey,  dedicated  to  St. 
Thomas  a  Becket;  but  it  was  not  consecrated  till  the 
year  1233.  The  remains  of  its  royal  founder  are  in- 
terred there,  now  undistinguished  amidst  plebeian  dust. 
This  monastery  was  one  of  the  richest  in  Scotland ;  the 
monks  were  of  the  Tyronensian  order  from  the  abbey 
of  Kelso,  but  were  declared  independent  of  its  jurisdic- 
tion. It  enjoyed  many  other  uncommon  privileges  :  a 
charter  from  king  John  of  England  is  still  preserved, 
wherein  the  monastery  and  citizens  of  Aberbrothock 
are  exempted  a  teloniis  et  consuctudhie  in  every  part  of 
England,  except  London  and  Oxford. 

A  parliament  was  held  at  Arbroath  in  1320,  when  the 
barons  of  Scotland  under  king  Robert  Bruce,  in  a  cele- 
brated and  energetic  manifesto,  addressed  to  the  jjope, 
asserted  the  independence  of  their  kingdom.  In  1525, 
the  famous  cardinal  Beaton,  the  Wolsey  of  Scotland, 
was  the  last  abbot  of  Arbroath.  After  the  destruction 
of  the  abbey,  by  the  ungovernable  fanaticism  of  the  re- 
formers, its  revenues  were  erected  into  a  temporary  lord- 
ship, in  favour  of  lord  John  Hamilton,  of  the  family  of 
Chatelherault ;  and  lord  Aberbrothock  is  still  one  of 
the  titles  of  the  duke  of  Hamilton.  There  is  a  dignity 
and  venerable  grandeur  in  the  ruins  of  the  abbey,  which 
still  command  respect  from  strangers  as  they  approach 
the  town ;  and  when  more  closely  inspected,  its  mould- 
ering Gothic  arches  and  dilapidated  columns,  impress 
the  mind  with  high  ideas  of  its  former  magnificence. 

With  the  abbey  the  town  appears  to  have  fallen  into 
decay  for  a  considerable  period.  But  early  in  the  last 
century,  when  the  Union  had  diffused  a  spirit  of  com- 
merce into  Scotland,  a  few  individuals  of  property  be- 
gan the  manufacture  of  brown  linen,  which  succeeded 
beyond  expectation:  it  is  still  the  principal  trade  of 
the  place ;  and  from  its  quality,  has  acquired  a  celebri- 
ty hitherto  unrivalled. 

The  following  abstract  from  the  books  of  the  Brown 
Linen  Stamp-Office,  Arbroath,  and  confirmed  to  the 
honourable  the  Board  of  Trustees,  by  the  affidavit  of 
the  stamp-master,  will  show  the  progressive  increase 
of  the  linen-manufacture  for  the  last  four  years. 


Stamped  from 
KOT.  1803   to  Nov.  1804, 

1804  18QS, 

1805  1806,. 

1806  180r, 


rar<U. 
1,129,495 
1,147,240 
1,230,034  1-2 
1,484,425  1-2 


Average  Value. 

L.  62,097  15  0 
C4,9I5  10  9 
69,246  14  It 
83,454  15     9 


Besides  the  above,  the  manufacture  of  sail-cloth  is 
ektensive,  and  may  be  fairly  calculated  for  some  years 


past  at  not  less  than  100,000i.  annual  value.  Ten  sail- 
cloth  manufacturers  are  contractors  for  supplying  hifr 
majesty's  navy  with  canvas ;  the  rest  of  the  canvas 
manufactured  goes  for  exportation  and  home  consump- 
tion. From  1500  to  2000  tons  of  flax  and  hemp,  exclu- 
sive of  lintseed,  tallow,  and  ashes,  are  annually  import- 
ed from  the  Baltic  :  The  above,  including  a  tan-work, 
conducted  with  spirit  and  activity,  are  the  principal 
branches  of  trade  in  Arbroath.  It  enjoys  a  safe  har- 
bour, entirely  artificial,  which  has  been  twice  extended 
within  these  last  four  years,  owing  to  its  increase  of 
shipping,  which  at  present  consists  of  upwards  of  50 
vessels,  comprehending  about  4000  tons  register ;  their 
general  size  being  from  60  150  tons:  Of  these,  three 
vessels  belong  to  a  company  of  the  merchants,  and  are 
constantly  employed  in  the  London  trade,  the  greater 
part  of  the  linen  and  sail-cloth  manufactured  being 
shipped  direct  for  that  port :  The  rest  are  chiefly  em- 
ployed in  the  Baltic  and  coasting  trade. 

In  the  year  1 781 ,  an  attack  was  made  upon  the  town 
by  a  French  privateer,  after  which  a  fort  was  built  by 
subscri[)tion.  It  is  constructed  in  the  form  of  a  cres- 
cent, on  a  small  hill  adjoining  to  the  harbour,  mounted 
with  six  12-pounders,  and  commands  the  coast  to  a 
considerable   distance. 

The  increase  of  population,  and  prosperous  state  of' 
commerce  in  Arbroath,  will  most  forcibly  appear  from 
the  following  facts.  There  is  a  respectable  gentleman 
still  alive  there,  who  recollects  the  time  when  he  could 
have  sat  down  and  told  the  name  of  every  householder' 
in  the  town  and  suburbs.  And  the  writer  of  this  article 
has  just  now  before  him,  a  receipt  from  the  town-trea- 
surer of  Arbroath,  granted  to  the  tacksman  of  the  shore- 
dues,  for  the  year  1717,  the  amount  of  which,  rendered 
into  sterling  money,  makes  tlieir  annual  value  29Z.  5s. 
4d. :  And  in  the  year  1 807,  the  shore-dues  were  sold  by 
public  roup  for  735Z.  sterling.  To  these  may  be  added 
the  income  arising  from  other  duties  and  property  be- 
longing to  the  town ;  making  the  present  annual  re- 
venue from  1700Z.  to  1800/.  sterling 

A  new  town-house,  including  prisons,  town-hall, 
town-clerk's  office,  and  register,  room,  <fec.  is  just  now 
building,  after  a  very  elegant  plan,  by  Mr.  David  Logan, 
architect.  This  building,  when  completed,  will  add 
considerably  to  the  embellishment  of  the  High  Street, 
which,  from  a  Avant  of  taste  too  prevalent  in  former 
times,  is  crooked  and  irregular.  In  the  year  1797,  a- 
private  library  was  established  by  a  few  of  the  principal 
inhabitants  and  neighbouring  gentlemen,  which  at  pre- 
sent consists  of  112  members,  contains  about  2000  vo- 
lumes, is  rapidly  increasing,  and  promises  to  promote 
the  diffusion  of  literary  and  scientific  knowledge.  The 
old  town-house,  a  large  and  respectable  building,  has 
been  recently  purch.-.sed  by  the  guildry,  and  will  be 
occupied  as  a  guild-hall,  coffee-room,  library-room,  &c. 
Within  these  last  twenty  years,  a  very  great  addition 
has  been  made  to  the  extent  and  population  of  the  town, 
by  building  upon  ground  taken  in  perpetual  feu  from 
the  adjoining  proprietors,  in  which  more  attention  has 
been  paid  to  the  regularity  and  uniformity  of  the  streets. 
The  greater  part  of  these  additions  are  without  the 
royalty,  and  in  the  neighbouring  parish  of  St.  Vigeang. 
The  population,  including  the  suburbs,  may  be  reckon- 
ed about  9000. 

Arbroath  is  healthfully  situated,  enjoys  a  free  circula- 
tion of  air,-  and,  although  it  cannot  boast  of  many  rich 
capitalists  employed  in  trade,  or  wallowing  ia  luxury* 


ABERCROMBY. 


15 


from  overgrown  fortunes,  yet  It  displays  a  spirit  of  pro- 
gressive industry  and  improvement,  which  may  be  just- 
ly considered  as  the  true  source  of  national  prosperity : 
And  it  has  often  been  remarked  by  strangers,  that  it 
exhibits  perhaps  fewer  instances  of  abject  poverty  and 
extreme  wretchedness,  than  most  towns  of  equal  popu- 
lation in  Great  Britain.  Lat.  N.  56"  32'  30 ".  Long. 
20  34' 15".     (a.  B.) 

ABERCROMBY,  Sir  Ralph,  K.  B.  was  the  son  of 
George  Abercromby  of  Tullibodj',  Esq.  in  the  county 
of  Clackmannan.  He  was  born  in  1738,  and  was  one 
of  five  sons,  all  of  whom  rose  to  situations  of  eminence 
in  different  departments  of  the  service  of  the  state. 
He  entered  into  the  army  as  cornet  of  the  3d  Dragoon 
Guards,  in  1756;  and,  ascending  through  the  interme- 
diate gradations  of  rank,  he  was  appointed,  in  1781, 
colonel  of  the  103d,  or  King's  Irish  infantry.  This 
new-raised  regiment  was  reduced  at  the  peace  in  1 783, 
when  colonel  Abercromby  was  placed  on  half-pay.  In 
1787,  he  was  removed  to  the  command  of  the  7th  re- 
giment of  dragoons.  He  acquired,  during  the  long 
period  of  his  military  service,  great  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience in  his  profession,  having  served  in  the  Seven 
Years'  War,  and  in  the  war  with  America  and  its  allies. 

But  the  chief  services  which  he  rendered  to  his  coun- 
try, were  those  occasioned  by  the  great  contest  into 
which  Great  Britain  entered  with  France,  soon  after 
the  French  Revolution.  He  was  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  major-general,  and  soon  after  to  that  of  lieutenant- 
general  ;  and,  in  the  two  campaigns  on  the  Continent, 
in  which  the  British  troo[)s  were  commanded  by  the 
duke  of  York,  he  gave  many  proofs  of  his  skill,  vigi- 
lance, and  intrepidity.  In  the  action  on  the  heights  of 
Cateau  he  commanded  the  advanced  guard,  and  was 
wounded  at  Nimeguen  in  the  October  following  (1 794.) 
It  has  been  sometimes  remarked,  that  the  talents,  as 
well  as  the  temper,  of  a  commander  are  put  to  as  severe 
a  test  in  conducting  a  retreat,  as  in  achieving  a  victo- 
ry. The  truth  of  this  lieutenant-general  Abercrom- 
by experienced,  when  he  was  called  upon  to  perform 
the  painfid  but  important  duty,  of  conducting  a  part  of 
the  retreating  army  out  of  Holland,  in  the  winter  of 
1794-5.  The  guards,  and  all  the  sick,  were  on  this 
occasion  committed  to  his  care  ;  and  in  the  disastrous 
march  from  Devanter  to  Oldensal,  he  sustained  the 
severest  hardships,  and  experienced  the  most  painful 
feelings,  which  had  ever  perhaps  fallen  to  his  lot. 
Harassed  by  a  victorious  enemy  on  his  rear,  obliged 
to  conduct  his  troops  with  a  ra|iidity  bej'ond  their 
strength,  through  bad  roads,  in  the  most  inclement 
part  of  a  winter  uncommonly  severe,  and  finding  it 
alike  difficult  to  procure  food  and  shelter  for  his  sol- 
diers, the  anguish  he  felt  in  seeing  tluir  numbers  daily 
diminish  by  cold  and  fatigue,  admits  of  no  adeijuate 
description.  His  gallant  si^irit  was  ready  to  sink  be- 
neath the  cares  which  oppressed  him,  before  his  arrival 
at  the  place  of  destination.  He  accomplished  his  oliject, 
however,  as  well  <■!?  human  judgment,  united  with  huma- 
nity, could  accomplish  it,  about  the  end  of  January,  1 T95. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  he  was  appointed  to 
succeed  sir  Charles  Grey,  as  commander  in  chief  of  the 
British  forces  in  llie  West  Indies.  Previous  to  his  ar- 
rival, the  French  had  made  considerable  exertions  to 
recover  from  their  losses  in  that  quarter;  and,  besides 
recapturing  several  of  their  islands,  they  seized,  to  an 
immense  amount,  the  property  of  the  rich  emigrants, 
who  had  fled  thither  from  France.     General  ALercrom- 


by  repaired  to  Southampton,  to  take  tlie  command  of 
tlie  troops  destined  for  the  West  Indies.  The  expedi- 
tion was  unfortunately  prevented  from  sailing  till  after 
the  equinox,  and  several  transports  were  lost  in  endea- 
vouring to  clear  the  Channel.  Every  possible  exer- 
tion was  however  made,  and  the  general,  with  his  troops, 
at  length  arrived  at  the  place  of  destination. 

Haviiivs  arranged  his  plans,  he  waited  the  proper 
season  for  their  execution ;  and,  on  March  24,  1 796,  a 
detachment  of  his  army  suddenly  attacked  and  obtain- 
ed possession  of  the  island  of  Grenada.  He  soon  after 
became  master  of  the  Dutch  settlements  of  Demarara 
and  Essequibo,  in  South  America.  Towards  the  end 
of  April,  the-  admiral  had  the  necessary  ships  in  readi- 
ness for  conveying,  the  troops  designed  for  an  attack  on 
the  island  of  St.  Lucia.  Here  the  enemy  had  a  num- 
ber of  well-disciplined  black  and  white  troops,  who  de- 
fended the  garrison  of  Morne  Fortune  with  considera- 
ble gallantry.  After  experiencing  much  obstruction 
from  the  exertions  of  the  enemy,  favoured  by  the  nature 
of  the  country,  a  suspension  of  arms  took  place  on  the 
24th  of  May,  and  a  capitulation  was  entered  into  on 
the  26th,  by  which  the  fortress  was  surrendered  to  the 
British,  and  the  troops  became  prisoners  of  ivar.  The 
island  of  St.  Vincent  was  next  attacked,  and  yielded  to 
the  British  arms  about  the  middle  of  .Tune.  This  short 
and  brilliant  campaign  was  concluded  by  the  command- 
er in  chief  in  the  island  of  Grenada,  where  his  pre- 
sence became  necessary  to  quell  the  insurgents  who  had 
taken  arms  against  the  British,  and  were  headed  !)y  the 
fierce  and  enterprising  Fedon.  After  the  arrival  of 
Abercromby,  hostilities  were  speedily  brought  to  a  ter- 
mination; and  on  the  19th  of  June,  full  possession  was 
obtained  of  every  post  in  the  island,  and  the  haughty 
chief,  Fedon,  with  his  troops,  were  reduced  to  uncondi- 
tional submission. 

Early  in  the  following  year,  (1797)  the  general  sail- 
ed, with  a  considerable  fleet  of  ships  of  war  and  trans- 
ports, against  the  Spanish  island  of  Trinidad,  and,  on 
the  16th  of  February,  approached  the  fortifications  of 
Gasper  Grande,  under  cover  of  which,  a  Spanish  squa* 
dron,  consisting  of  four  sail  of  the  line  and  a  frigate, 
were  found  lying  at  anchor.  On  perceiving  the  ap- 
proach of  the  British,  the  Si)anish  fleet  retired  further 
into  the  bay.  General  Abercromby  made  arrange- 
ments for  attacking  the  town  and  ships  of  war  early  in 
the  following  morning.  The  Spaniards,  however,  an- 
ticipated his  intentions;  and,  dreading  the  impending 
conflict,  set  fire  to  (heir  own  ships,  and  retired  to  a  dif- 
ferent part  of  the  island.  On  the  following  day,  the 
troops  landed ;  and  soon  after  the  whole  colony  sub- 
mitted to  the  British  arms.  Having  performed  these 
inqiortant  sen'ices  in  so  gallant  a  manner,  and  having 
failed  only  in  his  attempt  on  the  Spanish  Island  of  Por- 
to Rico,  the  commander  in  chief  returned  soon  after 
to  England,  where  he  was  received  with  every  mark  of 
honour  and  public  respect.  During  his  absence  on 
these  enterprises,  he  was  invested  with  (he  red  rib- 
band, and  soon  after  his  return  he  received  the  appoint- 
ments of  Governor  of  Fort  George  and  Fort  Augustus. 

In  times  of  public  peril,  a  commander  so  justly  re- 
spected for  his  valour  and  hunianitj-,  could  not  ex- 
pect long  (o  enjoy  the  delights  of  domestic  retirement. 
These,  his  gentle  manners  and  unambitious  character 
rendered  jieculiarly  dear  to  him.  But  he  was  reserv- 
ed for  other  active  duties,  to  which  the  service  of  his 
country  called  him. 


16 


ABERCROMBY. 


Ireland  had  been  long  a  subject  or  solicitude  to 
British  statesmen.  The  great  majority  of  its  inha- 
bitants, being  attached  to  the  Catholic  religion,  and 
having  been  accustomed  to  view  with  a  jealous  eye 
the  superior  privileges  enjoyed  by  their  Protestant 
brethren,  were  deemed  the  fit  objects  of  French  arti- 
fice and  intrigue.  The  leaders  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution employed  these  religious  animosities,  as  well  as 
the  political  discontents  of  the  Irish,  to  inflame  their 
minds  against  their  sovereign  and  the  British  con- 
stitution. AVhen  party  disputes  liad  arisen  to  such  a 
lieight  as  to  be  attended  by  frequent  outrages,  and  to 
threaten  that  country  with  open  rebellion,  Sir  R.  Aber- 
croniby  was  selected  to  till  the  important  station  of 
commander  in  chief  of  his  majesty's  forces  in  Ireland. 
He  arrived  there  in  that  character  about  the  middle  of 
November,  1 797.  Finding  that  the  conduct  of  some 
of  the  British  troops  had  too  much  tended  to  increase 
the  spirit  of  insubordination,  he  issued  a  proclama- 
tion on  the  subject  soon  after  his  arrival.  In  this 
proclamation,  which  is  written  in  a  simple  and  impres- 
sive strain  of  indignant  sensibility,  he  laments  and  re- 
proves the  occasional  excesses  into  Avhich  they  had 
fallen,  and  which  had  rendered  them  more  formidable 
to  their  friends  than  to  their  enemies ;  and  he  declares 
his  firm  determination  to  punish,  with  exemplary 
severity,  any  similar  outrage,  of  which  they  might  be 
guilty  in  future.  Though  much  has  been  insinuat- 
ed against  the  policy  of  this  proclamation  at  such  a 
crisis,  there  can  exist  only  one  ojjinion,  as  to  the  mo- 
tives by  which  it  was  dictated.  Nor  can  we  cease  to 
regard  it  as  forming  a  most  marked  and  decisive  proof 
of  the  manly  independence  of  his  mind,  and  of  the  ge- 
nuine benevolence  of  his  heart.  He  did  not  long  re- 
lain  his  command  in  Ireland.  The  inconveniences, 
arising  from  the  delegation  of  the  highest  civil  and 
military  authority  to  different  persons,  had  been  felt  to 
occasion  much  perplexity  in  the  management  of  public 
affairs,  at  that  season  of  agitation  and  alarm.  Sir  R. 
Abercromby,  therefore,  resigned  the  command,  and 
marquis  Cornwallis  was  appointed  his  successor,  «dth 
the  additional  honour  of  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland. 

In  the  summer  of  the  same  year.  Sir  R.  Abercrom- 
by was  appointed  commander  in  chief  of  his  majesty's 
forces  in  Scotland ;  and,  for  a  short  time,  the  cares  of 
his  military  duty  ^vere  agreeably  blended  with  the  en- 
dearments of  kindred,  and  the  society  of  early  friends. 

In  the  autumn  of  1799,  he  was  employed  in  the  ex- 
pedition to  Holland,  as  next  in  command  to  the  duke  of 
York.  On  this  occasion  he  gave  new  and  ample  proofs 
of  his  skill  and  valour.  But  the  lateness  of  the  season  at 
which  the  expedition  sailed,  the  extreme  wetness  of  the 
»veather,  the  advanced  state  of  the  enemy's  preparations 
f<  ir  defence,  and  the  unexpected  refusal  of^  the  Dutch 
people  to  receive  the  British  as  their  deliverers  from 
the  yoke  of  France,  all  combined  to  render  success 
hopeless.  The  military  talents  of  the  generals  there- 
fore were  chiefly  employed  to  secure  to  the  British  ar- 
my a  strong  and  impregnable  position,  capable  of  being 
supplied  by  sea  with  provisions  and  stores.  Having 
done  this,  they  were  enabled  to  conclude  a  convention 
with  the  enemy  ;  by  which  they  were  permitted  to  re- 
embark  unmolested,  and  return  to  Britain. 

In  the  following  year  (1 800)  the  attention  of  the  pub- 
lic was  drawn  towards  a  great  naval  and  military  ex- 
pedition, which  was  fitted  out  by  the  English  govern- 
ment at  an  immense  expense.    It  sailed  from  England 


eariy  in  summer;  the  naval  force  under  llie  coramana 
of  admiral  lord  Keith,  and  the  army  commanded  by  sir 
R.  Abercromby.  After  threatening  Cadiz,  and  linger- 
ing for  a  considerable  time  in  the  Mediterranean,  orders 
at  length  arrived  from  England  for  the  fleet  to  proceed 
to  Egypt,  and  tlie  two  divisions  rendezvoused  at  Malta 
on  the  14th  December.  Thence  they  sailed  on  the 
20th  and  21st  of  the  same  month,  carrying  along  with 
them  500  Maltese  recruits,  who  were  designed  to  act 
as  pioneers.  The  fleet,  in  place  of  sailing  direct  for 
Egypt,  which  sound  policy,  we  apprehend,  should  have 
dictated,  again  rendezvoused,  on  the  1st  January,  1801, 
in  Marmoriss  Bay.  The  fleet,  to  the  number  of  175 
sail,  weighed  anchor  on  the  23d  February ;  and,  on 
the  1st  March,  it  came  in  sight  of  the  coast  of  Egypt, 
and  on  the  following  morning  anchored  in  Aboukir  Bay, 
in  the  very  place  where,  a  feiv  years  before.  Nelson  had 
added  to  the  naval  triumphs  of  his  country. 

The  violence  of  the  wind,  from  the  1st  to  the  7th  of 
March,  rendered  a  landing  impracticable ;  and  the  re- 
sult of  the  inquiries,  which  «ere  made  during  that  in- 
terval, was,  that  there  was  no  part  of  the  coast  so  fa- 
vourable for  the  attempt  as  Aboukir  Bay.  The  wea- 
ther becoming  calmer  on  the  7th,  that  day  was  spent 
in  reconnoitring  the  shore;  a  service  in  which  Sir  Sid- 
ney Smith  displayed  great  skill  and  activity. 

Meanwhile  the  French,  who,  availing  themselves  of 
the  delay  of  the  British,  obtained  naval  and  military  re- 
inforcements from  Europe,  and  were  fully  aware  ol  the 
attempt,  which  was  soon  to  be  made,  though  ignorant 
of  the  precise  point  of  landing,  used  every  exertion  to 
counteract  its  success.  Two  thousand  of  their  men 
were  strongly  intrenched  on  the  sanil-hills  near  the 
shore,  and  formed  in  a  concave  figure,  opposite  to  the 
British  ships.  The  main  body  of  the  French  army 
was  stationed  at  and  near  Alexandria,  within  a  few 
miles.  At  two  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  the 
British  troops  began  to  assemble  in  the  boats ;  at  three, 
the  signal  was  given  for  them  to  rendezvous  near  the 
Mondovi,  anchored  within  gunshot  of  the  shore ;  and 
it  was  not  till  about  nine  in  the  morning,  that  the  boats 
were  assembled  and  arranged.  At  that  hour,  the  sig- 
nal for  landing  was  given.  The  boats  rushed  forward 
with  one  great  impulse,  and  the  work  of  destruction  be- 
gan. Twelve  pieces  of  cannon  placed  on  the  sand- 
hills, within  gunshot  of  the  boats,  and  the  castle  of 
Aboukir,  opened  a  dread(ul  fire  on  our  gallant  sol- 
diers, who,  crowded  in  the  boats,  were  utterly  unable 
to  make  the  least  resistance.  As  they  ap])roached  the 
shore  with  a  rapidity  that  seems  in  such  circumstan- 
ces incredible,  a  torrent  of  grape  and  musketry  as- 
sailed them,  and  even  their  enemies  were  confounded 
by  the  boldness  of  the  attempt.  Unajipalled  by  thi» 
tempest  of  death,  which,  for  a  short  time,  made  dread- 
ful havock  among  our  troops,  the  23d  and  40th  regi- 
ments, which  first  reached  the  shore,  leaped  from  the 
boats,  formed  as  on  parade,  mounted  the  heights,  which 
seemed  inaccessible,  in  the  face  of  the  enemy's  fire, 
without  returning  a  shot,  charged  with  the  bayonet  two 
battalions,  who  were  stationed  on  the  summit,  put  them 
to  flight,  and  took  three  pieces  of  cannon.  In  vain  did 
the  enemy  endeavour  to  rally  his  troops ;  in  vain  did 
a  iKMly  of  cavalry  charge  suddenly  on  the  Guards,  the 
moment  of  their  debarkation.  They  gave  way  at  all 
points,  maintaining,  as  they  retreated,  a  scattered,  and 
inefficient  fire.  The  boats  returned  for  the  remaining 
part  of  the  army,  which  was  lauded  before  the  close  of 


ABERCROMBY. 


17 


the  same  day.  The  troops  ^veie  employed  the  next 
day  in  searching  for  ivater,  in  which  they  happily  suc- 
ceeded ;  and  the  castle  of  Aboukir  refusing  to  surren- 
der, two  regiments  were  ordered  to  blockade  if.  On 
the  13th,  the  general,  desirous  of  forcing  the  heights 
near  Alexandria,  on  which  a  body  of  French,  amount- 
ing to  6000,  was  posted,  marched  his  army  to  the  at- 
tack; and,  after  a  severe  conflict,  compelled  them  to 
retire.  AVishing  to  follow  up  his  first  success,  and  to 
drive  the  enemy  from  liis  new  position,  the  general  pro- 
ceeded to  reconnoitre,  and,  during  his  absence,  the  cen- 
tre of  his  army  was  exposed  to  a  most  destructive  fire, 
from  which  they  had  no  shelter,  and  to  Avliich  they  could 
oppose  scarcely  any  resistance.  At  length  the  attempt 
to  force  the  enemy's  lines  was  deemed  impracticable, 
and  the  army  retired  with  great  loss  to  that  position 
which  was  soon  to  be  the  theatre  of  struggle  and  of 
victory.  Why  sir  Ralph  Abercromby  did  not  either 
remain  contented  with  gaining  his  first  object  on  the 
13th,  or  keep  his  men  out  of  the  reach  of  the  enemy's 
cannon,  while  he  was  in  suspense  about  making  a  se- 
cond attack,  it  is  not  easy  to  conjecture.  The  loss  of 
the  English  on  that  unfortunate  day,  in  killed  and  wound- 
ed, was  upwards  of  1000;  and  the  general  himself  had 
a  horse  shot  under  him.  After  the  1 3th,  Aboukir  cas- 
tle, which  had  hitherto  been  only  blockaded,  was  be- 
sieged, and  on  the  fifth  day  of  the  siege  it  was  sur- 
rendered. On  the  20th,  a  considerable  body  of  the 
enemy  was  seen  advancing  towards  Alexandria  ;  and  an 
Arab  chief  gave  information  to  sir  Sidney  Smith,  that 
the  French  general,  Menou,  meant,  next  morning,  to 
surprise  and  attack  the  British  cam[>.  Sir  Sidney  Smith, 
who,  unwilling  to  confine  his  exertions  for  his  country 
to  one  element,  partook  of  all  the  dangers  of  the  field, 
communicated  this  intelligence  at  head  quarters,  to- 
gether with  his  own  belief  of  its  truth.  The  position 
of  the  French  army,  however,  was  so  strong  by  nature 
and  art,  and  it  seemed  so  much  their  interest  to  remain 
on  the  defensive,  that  sir  R.  Abercromby  could  not  give 
credit  to  the  report.  Every  precaution,  however,  had 
already  been  used  to  secure  and  strengthen  the  posi- 
tion of  his  army. 

On  the  morning  of  the  21st  March,  the  army  was,  as 
usual,  in  battle  array  at  three  o'clock.  All  remained 
quiet  fur  about  half  an  hour,  and  the  troops  were  re- 
tiring to  their  tents,  when  the  report  of  a  musket  on 
the  left  awakened  attention  and  recalled  (hem  to  their 
posts.  Scattered  sounds  of  musketry  and  cannon  suc- 
ceeded in  the  same  quarter;  but,  from  the  apparent 
weakness  of  the  attack  upon  the  left,  it  was  wisely  judg- 
ed that  this  was  only  a  feint,  and  that  the  real  object 
of  attack  was  the  right  of  the  British  armj'.  After 
a  short  interval  of  suspense,  rendered  doubly  awful 
by  the  gloom  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  shouts  were  heard  from  the  enemy,  march- 
ing in  columns  to  the  attack  of  the  right  wing  of  the 
British ;  a  roar  of  musketry  and  artillery  succeeded, 
end  a  general  action  began.  This  is  not  the  proper 
l)lace  for  detailing  the  events  of  that  memoralile  day, 
on  which,  after  a  long  and  severe  engagement,  the 
British  gained  a  signal  triumph  over  an  assailing  ene- 
my, nnich  superior  in  nimibers.  The  joy  of  victory, 
however,  was  shaded  with  sorrow  from  the  irrepara- 
ble loss  which  the  army  sustained  in  the  fall  of  its 
brave  commander,  sir  Ralph  Abercromby,  who,  blend- 
ing the  coolness  of  age  and  experience  with  the  ardour 
and  activity  of  youth,  repaired  on  horseback  to  the 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


right  on  the  first  alarm,  and  exposed  himself  to  all 
the  dangers  of  the  field.  Early  in  the  action,  he  re- 
ceived a  mortal  wound  in  the  thigh  from  a  musket- 
ball  ;  yet  he  continued  to  move  about,  and  give  orders 
with  his  characteristic  promptitude  and  jDcrspicuity. 
In  a  formidable  charge  by  the  enemy's  cavalry,  he  ivas 
thrown  from  his  horse,  and,  in  a  scuffle  with  a  French 
olTicer,  whom  he  disarmed,  he  received  a  contusion  on 
the  breast.  Still  he  remained  in  the  field,  uncon- 
scious or  regardless  of  his  danger,  till  the  retreat  and 
discomfiture  of  the  enemy  gave  him  leisure  to  think 
of  his  situation.  Exertion  being  no  longer  necessary, 
his  spirit  sunk  beneath  fatigue  and  loss  of  blood,  and 
he  was  conve3'ed,  feeble  and  faint,  from  the  field  of 
victory,  amid  the  expressions  of  love  and  sympathy, 
from  the  companions  of  his  dangers,  who  were  to  be- 
hold his  face  no  more !  He  w  as  put  on  board  a  boat, 
and  carried  to  lord  Keith's  flag-ship.  All  the  attempts 
which  were  made  to  extract  the  ball  proving  inetfec- 
tual,  he  lingered  for  a  week  in  great  pain,  aggravated 
by  mental  solicitude  respecting  the  army.  A  mortifi- 
cation at  length  took  place,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
28th  he  expired ;  and  the  joy  which  the  great  vic- 
tory of  the  21st  had  inspired,  was,  for  a  season,  turned 
into  mourning.  His  remains  were  conveyed  to  Malta 
in  the  Flora  frigate,  attended  by  his  aid-du-camp,  and 
Avere  interred  in  the  commandery  of  the  grand  master, 
with  the  highest  military  honours.  The  same  frigate 
conveyed  to  England  the  standard  of  the  celebrated 
brigade,  which  Bonaparte  had  presumptuously  named. 
The  Inrincible  Legion.  This  flag,  inscribed  with  the 
names  of  those  battles  in  which  the  brigade  had  been 
chiefly  distinguished,  was  valiantly,  but  in  vain,  de- 
fended. The  corps  was  said  to  have  perished  to  a 
man;  and  the  standard  remains  as  a  trophy  to  the 
victors,  and  a  monument  of  human  pride.  Having,  by 
his  talents  and  exertions,  paved  the  way  for  that  com- 
plete success  which  in  a  few  months  crowned  the  la- 
bours of  the  British  troops,  and  expelled  the  French 
from  Egypt,  sir  Ralph  Abercromby  was  succeeded  in 
the  chief  command  by  his  much  esteemed  friend  gene- 
ral Hutchinson.  This  gentleman,  who,  to  the  qualities 
which  form  an  able  commander,  adds  the  accom])lish- 
ments  of  a  correct  and  elegant  scholar,  in  the  des- 
patches which  announced  to  the  English  government 
the  death  of  Abercromby,  pays  the  following  aflecling 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  veteran  commander: — 
"  Were  it  permitted  for  a  soldier  to  regret  any  one 
who  has  fallen  in  the  service  of  his  country,  I  might 
be  excused  for  lamenting  him  more  than  any  other 
person ;  but  it  is  some  consolation  to  tiiose  who  ten- 
derly loved  him,  that  as  his  life  was  honourable,  so  w  as 
his  death  glorious!  His  memory  will  be  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  his  country,  and  will  be  sacred  to  every 
British  soldier,  and  embalmed  in  the  recollection  of  a 
grateful  posterity."     (/) 

ABERCROMBY,  Alexander,  (lord  Abercromby,) 
was  the  youngest  son  of  George  Abercromby  of  TuIIi- 
bodjs  and  was  born  in  1745.  Destined,  i)robably  on 
account  of  his  promising  talents,  to  the  bar,  he  passed 
through  all  the  various  stages  of  education  prescribed 
for  our  Scottish  lawyers.  But  his  mind  was  too  much 
formed  for  the  gaieties  of  fashionable  life,  to  relinquish 
them  for  the  irksome  drudgery  of  a  laborious  employ- 
ment. For  some  years  after  he  had  been  atlmitted  into 
the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  his  s|/lendid  talents  were 
almost  wholly  obscured  by  indolence  or  frivolity  ;  till 
C 


18 


ABERDEEN. 


roused  at  lengtii  to  exertion  by  the  dread  of  penury,  or 
the  desire  of  fame,  he  engaged  with  ardent  emulation 
in  all  the  duties  of  his  profession.  IJis  industry  and 
ambition  were  amply  rewarded.  He  soon  became  emi- 
nent for  his  professional  skill,  and  was  distinguished 
as  one  of  the  most  eloquent  pleaders  at  the  bar.  Ho- 
nours now  began  to  crowd  upon  him.  He  was  first  ap- 
pointed one  of  the  inferior  judges ;  and,  after  passing 
through  various  gradations  of  preferment,  was  raised 
to  the  bench  of  the  supreme  civil  court  in  the  year  1 792 ; 
and  in  the  same  year  was  made  one  of  the  judges  in 
the  High  Court  of  Justiciary.  In  his  judicial  capacity 
he  was  distinguished  by  a  profound  knowledge  of  law, 
a  patient  attention,  a  clearness  of  discernment,  and  an 
unbiassed  imi)artiality,  which  excited  general  admira- 
tion. But  his  country  was  soon  deprived  of  his  valua- 
ble services;  forhe  was  seized  with  a  distemper,  which 
terminated  Ms  existence  in  November,  1795. 

Amidst  the  numerous  and  fatiguing  duties  of  his 
profession,  Abercromby  found  leisure  to  indulge  his 
passion  for  elegant  literature.  Of  the  correctness  and 
■cultivation  of  his  taste,  we  have  some  very  happy  speci- 
mens in  the  papers  which  he  contributeel  to  the  Mir- 
ror, a  periodical  work  ))ublished  at  Edinburgh  in  1779, 
and  conducted  chielly  by  the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  a 
.class  of  men  whose  genius  and  learning  do  honour  to 
their  country. 

The  Mirror  was  revived,  though  under  a  different 
name,  in  tlie  year  1785-C,  by  the  same  gentlemen  who 
■had  established  it  at  first.  To  this  new  work,  \^  hich 
was  called  the  Lounger,  Abercromby  contributed  nine 
papers,  which  are  remarkable  for  easy  and  elegant 
composition,  justness  of  sentiment,  and  the  extensive 
knowledge  which  they  display  of  human  life.    (>t) 

ABERDEEN,  capital  of  the  county  to  which  it  gives 
name,  and  the  principal  city  in  the  north  of  Scotland, 
consists,  in  reality,  of  two  distinct  towns,  called  Old  and 
New  Aberdeen,  situated  at  the  distance  of  aliout  a  mile 
from  each  other,  and  having  separate  privileges,  char- 
ters, and  magistrates. 

Old  Aberdeen  stands  upon  an  eminence  which  rises 
from  the  bank  of  the  river  Don,  about  a  mile  from  the 
sea.  The  history  of  its  origin  is  unknown  ;  but  it  must 
be  one  of  the  most  ancient  towns  in  Scotland ;  for  at  the 
end  of  the  ninth  century  it  seems  to  have  been  a  place 
of  importance,  and  is  said  to  have  received  some  pecu- 
liar privileges  from  king  Gregory  the  Great.  His 
charter  was  lost,  however,  when  the  town  was  burnt  by 
the  English;  and  the  oldest  authentic  charter  now  ex- 
tant is  that  of  David  I.  who,  in  the  year  1154,  trans- 
lated the  episcopal  see  from  Morthelach  to  Al>erdeen, 
which  he  erected  into  a  free  borough  of  barony,  holding 
directly  of  the  crown.  This  charter  has  been  repeat- 
edly renewed  by  different  sovereigns,  and  was  finally 
confirmed  by  an  act  of  George  I.  which  vests  in  the 
free  burgesses  of  the  town  the  power  of  electing  their 
own  magistrates. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  1 4th  century,  the  citizens 
'who  had  adherei*.  to  Robert  Bruce,  driven  to  despair 
by  the  atrocities  of  the  English  garrison,  came  upon 
them  by  surprise,  and  having  seized  the  castle,  put 
them  all  to  the  sword.  Some  English  soldiers,  who 
happened  to  be  in  the  neighbourhood,  advanced  imme- 
diately to  revenge  the  death  of  their  countrymen ;  but 
they  were  met  in  liie  church-yard  of  St.  Nicholas  by 
the  Aberdonians,  who  defeated  them  with  great  slaugh- 
ter.    These  disasters  were  afterwards  amply  revenged. 


In  the  year  1333,  a  fleet  iiaving  been  sent  by  Edward 
III.  to  ravage  the  eastern  coasts  of  Scotland,  a  body  of 
English  troops  landed  by  night,  and  fidling  upon  Aber- 
deen by  surprise,  butchered  a  great  number  of  the  iu- 
habitants;  and  were  employed  for  six  whole  days  in 
burning  and  pillaging  the  town.  Three  years  after, 
when  Edward  himself  in  person  invaded  Scotland,  and 
penetrated  with  an  army  as  far  north  as  Inverness,  the 
citizens  of  Aberdeen  encountered  a  party  of  English 
troops  who  had  landed  at  Dunnoter,  and  slew  their 
leader.  Enraged  by  this  misfortune,  Edward  attacked 
Aberdeen  on  his  return  from  the  north,  massacred  the 
greater  number  of  the  inhabitants,  and  again  reduced 
the  town  to  ruins.  A  new  city  was  soon  erected,  how- 
ever, in  a  different  situation,  which,  to  distinguish  it 
from  that  which  had  been  destroyed,  was  called  the 
New  town  of  Aberdeen.  Aberdeen  was  so  much  en- 
deared to  David  Bruce  for  its  steady  and  zealous  loyal- 
ty to  his  father  and  himself,  that  he  honoured  it  for 
some  time  with  his  residence,  and  erected  there  a  mint, 
from  which  he  issued  various  coins.  During  the  civil 
commotions  which  agitated  Scotland  in  the  j-ear  1644, 
the  marquis  of  I\Iontrose  approached  this  town  with 
about  2000  men,  and  summoned  it  to  surrender.  With 
this  summons,  it  was  not  likely  that  a  town,  which  had 
on  all  occasions  displayed  so  much  spirit,  would  readily 
comply,  particularly  as  it  was  defended  by  a  force  un- 
der the  command  of  lord  Burleigh,  not  much  inferior 
in  number  to  that  of  the  assailants.  A  battle  accord- 
ingly ensued,  in  which  Montrose  prevailed,  and  many 
of  the  principal  inhabitants  were  slain. 

Old  Aberdeen,  though  now  completely  eclipsed  by 
the  splendour  of  the  New  Town,  could  once  boast  of 
several  magnificent  edifices,  and  still  contains  some 
respectable  buildings.  Over  the  Don  there  is  a  fine 
bridge  of  Gothic  architecture,  built  by  bishop  Cheyne, 
in  1281.  The  span  of  its  arch  is  07  feet,  and  its  height 
from  the  surface  of  the  river  34i  feet.  But  the  jirin- 
cipal  ornament  of  this  town  was  its  cathedral,  dedicated 
to  St.  Machar,  whose  former  magnificence  is  strikingly 
indicated  by  two  antique  spires,  and  an  aisle  now  occu- 
jiied  as  the  parish  church,  Avhich  are  its  only  remains. 
It  was  founded  in  1154,  when  the  episcopal  see  was 
translated  from  Morthelach  ;  but  liaving  either  become 
ruinous,  or  being  deemed  not  sufficiently  elegant,  it 
was  taken  down,  and  founded  anew  by  bishop  Alexan- 
der Kenninmouth,  in  1357.  Nearly  80  years  were  oc- 
cupied in  building  it,  and  it  was  at  length  completed 
by  bishop  William  Elphinstone,  who  was  lord  chan- 
cellor of  Scotland,  in  the  reign  of  James  III.  and  keep- 
er of  the  privy  seal  to  the  succeeding  monarch.  In  the 
cathedral  there  was  a  valuable  library,  which  was  de- 
stroyed at  the  Reformation,  by  those  worse  than  Sara- 
cen barbarians,  who,  demolished,  besides,  the  venerable 
edifice  itself.  To  the  same  munificent  prelate  Aber- 
deen is  indebted  for  its  university.  In  the  year  1494, 
he  obtained  from  [)ope  Alexander  a  bull,  impowering 
him  to  institute  siudhon  gcntrale,  ct  universitatis  sludii 
gcncralis,  for  theology,  medicine,  canon  and  civil  law, 
the  liberal  arts,  and  every  lawful  faculty,  with  the  right 
of  granting  degrees  according  to  the  merits  of  the  stu- 
dents. Twelve  years  elapsed  after  the  date  of  this 
bull,  before  the  college  was  foumled.  It  was  at  first 
dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Mary;  but,  being  greatly  pa- 
tronized by  the  king,  it  was  afterwards  denominated 
King's  College.  It  is  a  large  and  stately  structure, 
containing  a  chapel,  library,  museum,  connnon  hall. 


ABERDEEN. 


n 


and  lecture  rooms.  Connected  with  this  college,  there 
U  a  long  row  of  modern  houses  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  professor?,  and  such  of  the  students  as  choose  to 
reside  tliere.  Behind  those  buildings  is  the  garden  of 
the  college,  with  a  house  and  garden  approi)riatcd  to 
the  principal.  The  museum  is  well  furnished,  and  the 
librnry  is  valuable.  A  fund,  amounting  to  about  7000/. 
is  appropriated  for  bursaries  to  students  who  stand  in 
need  of  such  support.  Hector  Boethius,  well  known 
for  his  history  of  Scotland,  was  invited  from  Paris  to 
be  its  first  principal,  and  was  allowed  a  salary  of  40 
merks  Scots,  equivalent  to  2l.  3s.  Ad.  sterling.  Besides 
nine  professors,  this  college  has  a  chancellor,  general- 
ly a  nobleman;  a  rector,  intitled  lord  rector;  a  princi- 
pal, a  sub-principal,  and  a  procurator,  who  is  intnisf- 
ed  with  the  management  of  the  funds.  There  is  in 
Old  Aberdeen  a  neat  town-house,  built  a  few  years  ago 
at  the  expense  of  the  community,  a  trade's  hospi- 
tal for  decayed  burgesses  and  their  widows,  and  an 
hospital  for  12  poor  men,  founded  by  Gavin  Dunbar, 
who  died  in  1532.  Tiie  magistrates  of  this  town  are, 
a  provost,  three  bailiffs,  a  treasurer,  and  council,  with 
the  deacons  of  six  incoqiorated  trades. 

New  Aberdeen,  situated  on  a  rising  ground  near 
the  estuary  of  the  Dee,  is  a  large  and  elegant  to«  ti-. 
It  has  many  fine  streets,  whose  sides  are  lined  with 
handsome  houses,  generally  four  floors  in  height,  built 
of  granite  from  the  neighbouring  quarries.  In  this 
town  the  notice  of  strangers  is  attracted  by  several 
public  buildings,  which  do  the  highest  honour  to  the 
taste  and  spirit  of  the  inhabitants.  On  the  north  sida 
of  the  market-place,  a  large  oblong  square  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  city,  is  the  town-house,  adorned  with  an  ele- 
gant si)ire ;  and  adjoining  to  it  is  the  prison,  a  square 
tower  120  feet  high,  which  is  likewise  surmounted  by 
a  spire,  so  that  the  whole  has  a  very  lofty  appearance. 
An  elegant  mason  lodge  contiguous  to  this,  and  a  bank- 
ing office  of  polished  granite  recently  erected,  opposite 
the  town-house,  give  to  this  part  of  the  town  an  air  of 
peculiar  splendour.  The  cross,  which  stands  in  the 
middle  of  Castle-street,  is  the  most  complete  perhaps 
in  the  kingdom.  It  is  an  octagon  stone  building,  orna- 
mented with  elegant  bas-relievos  of  the  kings  of  Scot- 
land, from  James  I.  to  James  VI.  having  in  the  centre 
a  Corinthian  column,  on  the  top  of  which  there  is  the 
figure  of  an  unicorn.  But  the  princi[)al  building  in 
New  Aberdeen  is  the  Marischal  college,  founded  by 
George  Keith,  earl  Marischal,  in  1593.  It  stands  in 
Broad-street,  and  contains,  besides  lecture  rooms,  a 
public  school  for  conferring  degrees,  a  common  hall, 
decorated  with  some  fine  paintings,  chiefly  by  Jamie- 
son,  a  library,  a  small  museum  of  natural  history  and 
antiquities,  and  an  observatory,  well  furnished  with 
astronomical  apparatus.  Its  original  establishment  was 
a  principal,  and  two  professors  of  philosojihy ;  but  there 
have  since  been  added,  by  the  munificence  of  rich  in- 
dividuals, a  third  professorship  of  philosophy,  and 
others,  of  divinity,  mathematics,  chemistry,  medicine, 
and  oriental  languages.  There  are  likewise  many  bur- 
saries for  poor  students.  The  officers  of  this  college 
are,  the  chancellor,  the  rector,  the  dean  of  faculties,  the 
regent,  who  is  also  ix  officio,  professor  of  Greek,  and 
the  principal.  In  the  two  colleges  of  Aberdeen,  there 
were,  in  the  year  1 808,  between  300  and  400  students. 
New  Aberdeen  has  lately  been  much  improved  by  the 
opening  of  two  elegant  streets,  one  forming  an  entrance 
from  the  north,  and  the  other  from  the  south.     The 


latter  passes  over  a  majestic  arch  of  cut  granite,  the 
span  of  which  is  1 30  feet,  its  height  29  feet,  and  its 
width  within  the  parapets  40.  In  the  Upper  Kirkgate 
is  a  church  which  formerly  belonged  to  the  Francis- 
cans, and  which  was  founded  by  bishop  Elphinstone, 
and  finished  by  one  of  his  successors.  Over  the  Dee 
there  is  a  fine  bridge  of  seven  arches,  said  to  have  been 
first  projected  by  Elphinstone,  who  left  a  considerable 
legacy  for  the  purpose  of  building  it,  and  to  have  been 
comi)leted  by  bishop  Dunbar,  in  the  year  1530;  it  was 
repaired,  or  rather  rebuilt,  in  1 724,  by  the  magistrate* 
of  Aberdeen. 

While  the  buildings  of  Aberdeen  thus  display  the 
taste  of  its  inhabitants,  its  numerous  charitable  institu- 
tions bear  a  still  more  honnural)le  testimony  to  their  hu- 
manity. Of  these,  we  shall  only  mention  the  poor-house, 
appropriated  to  the  reception  of  the  aged  poor,  and  of 
destitute  children ;  Lady  Drum's  hospital  for  old  un- 
married women,  founded  in  10C8,  by  the  lady  Marj-, 
daughter  of  the  earl  of  Buchan,  and  widow  of  sir  Alex- 
ander Ir^-iue  of  Drum;  Gordon's  hospital,  founded  in 
1 733,  in  which,  from  00  to  66  boys  are  clothed,  main- 
tained, and  educated ;  the  infirmary,  established  in  1 742, 
in  which  about  900  patients  are  annually  relieved;  the 
dispensaries,  which  have  annually  from  200  to  300  j)a- 
tients  on  the  books  of  charity ;  and  the  lunatic  asj'- 
lum,  built  by  subscription,  about  half  a  mile  from  town, 
in  the  year  1800. 

Aberdeen  carries  on  a  considerable  commerce,  chief-- 
ly  to  the  Baltic ;  though  a  few  of  its  merchants  trade 
to  the  Levant,  and  West  Indies.  Its  exports  are  knit 
stockings,  for  the  manufacture  of  which  it  was  long 
unrivalled,  thread,  salmon,  grain,  and  meal.  The  ma- 
nufacture of  fine  thread  is  carried  on  to  a  considerable 
extent,  and  the  manufacture  of  brown  linen,  osnaburgs, 
and  canvas,  has  lately  been  introduced.  It  seems  ra- 
ther a  reflection  on  the  enterjjrising  spirit  of  the  in- 
habitants, that  not  a  single  decked  vessel  lias  been  fit- 
ted out  fi-om  their  port  for  the  prosecution  of  the  her- 
ring or  white  fisheries,  for  which  their  situation  is  so 
peculiarly  favourable.  Till  lately,  the  tra«le  of  Aber- 
deen was  much  obstructed  by  the  difficulty  and  dan- 
ger of  approaching  its  harbour,  occasioned  by  a  bar  of 
sand  which  was  perpetually  shifting  its  situation.  A 
neiv  pier,  erected  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  ac- 
cording to  a  plan  designed  by  Mr.  Smeaton,  has  ef- 
fectually remedied  that  inconvenience.  The  pier  is 
1200  feet  long,  increasing  in  height  and  thickness  as 
it  approaches  the  sea,  where  the  rounding  is  60  feet 
diameter  at  the  base,  and  the  perpendicular  elevation 
28  feet.  Near  it  are  two  batteries,  inounting  ten  twelve 
pounders.  The  number  of  British  ships  entered  at 
Aberdeen  m  1795,  amounted  to  61 ;  of  foreign  vessels 
5 ;  and  of  British  ships  cleared  out,  28.  Aberdeen, 
united  with  the  boroughs  of  Aberbrothock,  Brechin, 
Inverbervie,  and  Montrose,  sends  one  member  to  par- 
liament. Its  civil  government  is  vested  in  a  provost, 
styled  lord  provost,  four  bailies,  a  dean  of  guild,  trea- 
surer, and  town-clerk,  a  town  council,  and  seven  dea- 
cons oi'  the  incorporated  trades.  The  united  popula- 
tion of  Old  and  New  Aberdeen,  amounted,  in  1 795,  to 
24,493 ;  in  1801,  to  27,508.  It  is  situated  in  W.  Long. 
2»  8'.  N.  Lat.  57"  9';  about  106  miles  north-east  from 
Edinburgh.     (/») 

ABERDEENSHIRE,  a  county  in  the  north  of  Scot- 
land, bounded  by  the  Gentian  ocean  on  the  east ;  by 
the  counties  of  Kincardine,  Angus,  and  Perth,  on  the 
C  2 


no 


ABE 


ABE 


soiilh ;  and  by  the  counties  of  Inverness,  Moraj%  and 
Banft",  on  the  west.  It  contains  85  parishes,  1 1  70  square 
miles;  and,  in  1801,  its  population  was  123,082,  bein^ 
an  increase  of  62-16  since  the  year  1755.  The  inland 
part  of  the  county  is,  in  general,  wild,  barren,  and 
inountainous,  though  the  eye  is  frequently  relieved  by 
large  forests  of  natural  wood,  which  stretch  along  the 
sides  of  the  hills.  That  part  of  the  county  which  bor- 
ders on  the  coast  is  more  fertile,  though  still  suscepti- 
ble of  great  improvement.  It  slopes  gradually  from 
the  central  districts  to  the  sea,  where  it  terminates  in 
a  bold,  rocky  coast,  occasionally  rising  into  stupendous 
precij)ices,  which  arrest  the  attention  of  everj^  travel- 
ler. The  principal  rivers  which  traverse  the  county, 
are  the  Dee,  the  Don,  the  Ythan,  the  Ugie,  and  the 
Cruden,  which  are  all  celebrated  for  the  excellent  sal- 
mon with  which  they  abound.  In  the  Ythan  several 
pearls  have  been  found,  which  sold  separately  at  t^vo 
and  thr^e  pounds  sterling. 

The  shapes  and  the  various  connexions  and  group- 
ings of  the  mountains  of  this  connty  are  still  imper- 
Tectly  known ;  and  we  have  but  little  information  re- 
specting the  geognostic  structure  and  relations  of  the 
numerous  rocks  and  minerals  that  render  this  part  of 
Scotland  so  very  interesting.  It  would  appear  from 
the  observalions  that  have  been  published,  and  the  se- 
ries of  specimens  which  we  have  had  opportunities  of 
examining,  that  the  following  rocks  and  simple  mine- 
rals occur  in  Aberdeenshire.  Rocks,  Vrimilive  rocks, 
granite,  gneiss,  mica-slatc,  clay  slate,  hornblende-slate, 
hornblende  rock,  primitive  limestone,  and  sienite.  Floctz 
rocks,  sandstone,  and  limestone.  Simple  mixkrals. 
Topaz,  found  near  Cairngorum  ;  rock-crystal,  at  Cairn- 
gorum  and  other  ])laces,  falsely  denominated  topaz. 
Agates,  common  quartz,  crystalized.  Also  amethyst, 
cyanite,  mica,  with  radiated  fracture.  Precious  beryl, 
calx-spar  in  various  forms,  gray  manganese  ore.  From 
the  granite  or  sienite  quarries,  12,000  tons  of  that 
stone,  valued  at  8400/.  are  annually  exported  to  Lon- 
don. The  limestone  is  very  abundant,  but,  from  the 
scarcity  of  coal,  it  cannot  be  wrought  to  much  advan- 
tage. The  county  contains  many  mineral  waters,  and 
those  of  Peterhead  and  Glendee  are  much  resorted  to 
for  their  medicinal  qualities.  The  principal  manufac- 
ture in  the  county  was  formerly  the  knitting  of  stock- 
ings and  hose,  in  which  great  numbers  of  the  common 
people  were  engaged ;  but  the  linen  and  sail-cloth  ma- 
nufactures have  been  lately  introduced  with  great 
success  into  Aberdeen,  Peterhead,  and  Huntly.  The 
valued  rent  of  Aberdeenshire  is  235,665/.  Ss.  llrf. 
Scotch,  and  the  real  land-rent  was  lately  estimated  at 
1 33,632/.  sterling,     (r)  {w) 

ABERGAVENNY,  an  irregular,  though  beanliful 
town  in  Monmouthshire,  supposed  to  be  the  Gihba- 
nium  of  Antoninus.  It  is  delightfully  situated  in  a 
range  of  meadows,  at  the  confluence  of  the  rivers  Usk 
and  Gavenny,  and  incircled  by  several  projecting  hills, 
which  abound  in  coal,  iron  ore,  and  limestone.  The 
Gothic  bridge  over  the  Usk,  ronsisting  of  15  arches, 
is  almost  the  only  public  building  desers'ing  of  notice. 
On  the  south  side  of  the  town  are  the  ruins  of  a  castle 
■which  is  celebrated  in  the  history  of  Wales ;  and  to  the 
east  lies  St.  Michael's  Mount,  in  which  there  is  a  chasm 
supposed  by  tfie  vulgar  to  have  been  made  at  the  cru- 
cifixion. It  is  resorted  to  by  devotees,  who  carry  off 
the  sacred  soil  in  handkerchiefs  and  carts,  in  order  tb 
enrich  their  fields.     A  few  miles   from  Abergavenny 


lie  the  ruins  Of  Llantony  abbey,  iuibosonied  in  the 
deepest  recesses  of  the  black  mountains.  It  is  founded 
on  the  site  of  a  chapel  supposed  to  have  been  the  resi- 
dence of  St.  David,  the  tutelary  saint  of  tie  Welsh, 
and  was  rebuilt  by  sir  William  de  Lacey  in  1108.  The 
town  hr.s  a  considerable  trade  in  flanne!;.  Population 
in  1801,  2573.  W.  Long.  3o  5'.  N.  Lat.  51°  50'.  (w) 
ABERNETHY,  a  small  town  in  Scotland,  situ,.ted 
on  the  river  Tay,  about  six  miles  from  Perth.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  founded  in  460,  and  to  have  been  the 
capital  of  the  ancient  British  kings.  There  was  a  re- 
ligious house  here,  which  afterwards  became  a  bishop's 
see.  The  Culdees,  whose  history  is  so  obscure,  had  in 
this  place  a  university,  and  a  collegiate  church,  which 
is  known  to  have  subsisted  towartls  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  At  Abernethy  is  a  singular  tower 
of  a  circular  form,  74  feet  high,  and  48  in  circumfer- 
ence. There  is  one  of  the  same  construction  at  Bre- 
chin, and  several  similar  ones  in  Ireland.  These  build- 
ings have  been  supposed  by  some  to  be  watch-towers  • 
others  imagine  that  they  were  belfries  for  summoning' 
the  people  to  prayers;  while  a  third  class  maintain" 
that  they  were  iienitentiary  towers  lor  the  reception  of 
hermits.  Population  in  1801,  1355.  See  Chalmer's 
Caledonia.  Iimes's  Critical  Enqvinj.  Keith's  Hisloni 
of  the  Bishops.  Ledwich's  Antiquities.  See  also  6'/. 
Andrews,     (c) 

ABERNETHY,  John,  an  eminent  dissenting  cler- 
gyman, was  born  at  Coleraine  on  the  19th  of  October, 
1680.  In  consequence  of  an  insurrection  in  Ireland' 
his  mother  was  obliged  to  retire  with  her  family  to 
Derry,  in  the  siege  of  which  she  lost  ail  her  children 
except  John,  who  whs  at  that  time  living  with  a  rela- 
tion. As  no  ojjijortunity  could  be  obtained  of  convey- 
ing him  to  his  mother  at  Derry,  he  accompanied  his 
fri>  nd  to  Scotland,  in  order  to  escape  the  fury  of  the 
Irish  rebels. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  went  to  the  university  of 
Glasgow, where  betook  his  degree  of  A.  M. ;  and  from 
this  he  removed  to  Edinburgh,  to  prosecute  the  study 
of  divinity.  He  was  ordiiined  minister  of  the  dissent- 
ing congregation  at  Antrim  in  1 703  ;  but  beiu"-  one  of 
those  who  opposed  the  subscription  of  the  Westmin- 
ster Confession,  he  and  his  friends  were,  in  1  726,  ex- 
cluded by  the  synod,  who  revived  the  act  of  1 705,  re- 
quiring subscription  from  every  candidate  for  the  min- 
istry. From  the  great  influence  of  the  synod,  his  con- 
gregation began  to  desert  him ;  in  consequence  of 
which  he  accepted  of  an  invitation  from  tlie  congrega- 
tion of  Wood-Street,  Dublin,  to  which  he  removed  in 
1 730.  In  this  situation  he  continued  for  ten  years,  and 
enjoyed  the  respect  and  esteem  of  all  who  knew  him  ; 
but  a  sudden  attack  of  the  gout,  with  which  he  had 
been  formerly  seized,  put  an  end  to  his  life  in  Decem- 
ber 1740,  in  the  sixtieth  j'ear  of  his  age. 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  Abernethy  was  much  admired; 
and  his  talents  for  public  speaking  gave  him  great  in- 
fluence in  the  synod.  In  private  life  he  was  distin- 
guished by  vivacity  of  disposition,  urbanity  of  manners, 
and  by  the  whole  train  of  domestic  virtues. 

The  independence  of  his  mind,  and  his  attachment 
to  civil  and  religious  liberty,  were  conspicuous  in  the 
exertions  which  he  made  to  emancipate  the  Irish 
dissenters  from  the  operation  of  the  test  laws,  those 
striking  proofs  of  the  bigotry  and  illiberal  policy  of  our 
ancestors.  The  most  celebrated  of  Mr.  Abernethy "s 
works  is  his  Discourses  on  tlu  Divine  Attribvlcs.     Two 


ABERRATIOIV. 


»l 


volumes  of  liis  Strmons  were  publii>lied  in  1 7J8,  an<l 
other  two  in  1757,  to  which  is  prefixed  an  account  of 
his  life,  supposed  to  be  written  by  Dr.  Duchal.  He 
also  left  behind  him  a  diary  of  his  life  in  six  volumes 

4  to.     (w) 

ABERRATION,  in  Astronomy,  is  a  change  in  the 
position  of  the  fixed  stars,  arisina;  from  the  progres- 
sive motion  of  light,  combined  with  the  annual  motion 
of  the  earth,  by  means  of  which  they  sometimes  ap- 
pear twenty  seconds  distant  from  their  true  position. 

This  apparent  motion  of  the  heavenly  bodies  was  de- 
tected in  1725,  by  our  celebrated  countryman  Dr.  Brad- 
ley, and  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  discoveries  wiiich 
has  enriched  the  science  of  astronomy. 

During  the  seventeenth  century,  the  supporters  of 
the  Copernican  system  laboured  to  prove  the  animal 
motion  of  the  earth,  by  detecting  a  change  in  the  posi- 
tion of  the  fixed  stars.  They  supposed,  that  if  ASBD 
was  the  earth's  orbit,  A  its  position  in  December,  B  its 
position  in  June,  and  S  any  fixed  star,  the  observer  on 
the  earth  at  A  would  see  the  star  S,  in  the  point  n  of 
the  heavens;  while  the  observer,  when  the  earth  came 
to  B,  would  see  it  in  the  part »«,  the  star  having  appear- 
ed to  move  through  the  arch  m  n,  equal  to  the  angle 
ASB,  or  the  angte  snbtended  at  the  star,  by  the  diame- 
ter of  the  earth's  orbit.     They  saw,  that  when  the  star 

5  was  in  the  pole  of  the  ecliptic,  or  equinlistant  from 
A  and  B,  this  angle  was  a  maximum ;  for  the  angle  AsB, 
subtended  by  AB,  at  any  other  star*,  is  evidently  less 
than  ASB,  and  therefore  they  selected  a  star  nearest  to 
the  pole  of  the  ecliptic,  with  the  Iwpe  of  detecting  the 
earth's  annual  parallax,  and  thus  putting  to  silence  the 
abettors  of  the  Ptolomaic  and  Tychonic  systems. 

With  this  view,  Dr.  Hooke  made  a  number  of  obser- 
vations in  1669,  on  y  Draconis;  and  he  informs  us,  in 
his  Attempt  to  prove  the  Motion  of  the  Earth  from  Ob- 
servations, that  he  found  this  star  25"  more  northerly 
in  July  than  in  October.  These  oljservatious,  how- 
ever, were  not  accurate,  as  afterwards  appeared  from 
those  which  were  made  by  Dr.  Bradley  upon  the  same 
star. 

About  the  same  time,  M.  Picard,  when  going  to 
Uraniburg  to  determine  the  difference  of  longitude  be- 
tween it  and  Paris,  had  observed  the  motions  of  the 
pole  star,  and  found  a  variation  amounting  to  nearly  40" 
in  a  year.  As  this  variation  was  in  a  direction  opposite 
to  that  which  should  have  been  produced  by  the  paral- 
lax of  the  earth's  orbit,  Picard  confessed  himself  unable 
to  account  for  it ;  but  insisted  that  the  error  in  his  ob- 
servations at  Uraniburg  could  not  amount  to  10".  Col- 
lect. Ohservat.  Paris,  1691. 

In  1680,  Mr.  Flamstead  made  a  number  of  observa- 
tions on  the  pole  star.  He  found  that  its  declination 
was  40"  less  in  July  than  in  December;  and  falling  into 
the  same  error  as  Dr.  Hooke,  he  endeavoured  to  show 
that  this  variation  was  the  effect  of  the  annual  parallax. 
Cassini  and  Manfredi  maintained  that  the  motion  of 
the  earth  could  not  account  for  the  observed  variation ; 
but  none  of  them  were  able  to  give  an  adequate  explana- 
tion of  the  annual  changes  which  every  astronomer  ob- 
served in  the  position  of  tlie  stars. 

In  order  to  confirm  the  observations  of  Dr.  Hooke, 
Mr.  Samuel  IVlolyneux  erected  an  instrument,  about 
the  end  of  November,  1725,  constructed  by  the  cele- 
brated Mr.  Graham.  He  made  his  first  observation  on 
V  Draconis,  on  the  3d  December,  and  repeated  it  on 
the  loth,  nth,  and  12th  of  the  same  month;  but  this 


was  done  rather  witli  the  intention  of  trj'irtg  the  instra- 
ment,  than  detecting  any  parallax  in  the  stars,  as  no 
sensible  alteration  of  the  parallax  could  have  been  ex- 
pected at  that  season  of  the  year.  Dr.  Bradley  was  at 
this  time  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Molyneux  at  Kew,  (Brad- 
ley's Letter  to  Halley.  Phil.  Trans.  1728,)  and  being 
anxious  to  try  the  new  instrument,  he  observed  y  Dra- 
conis on  the  1 7th  December,  and  found  that  it  was 
more  southerly  than  it  had  been  ivhen  Mr.  Molyneux 
observed  it  about  the  beginning  of  the  month.  This 
variation  they  naturally  ascribed  to  the  inaccuracy  of 
their  observations ;  but  upon  repeating  them  on  the 
20th  of  December,  they  found  that  the  star  was  still 
continuing  to  move  southward.  The  direction  of  \\n* 
motion,  however,  being  opposite  to  that  which  would 
have  been  produced  by  ))arallax,  they  were  more  per- 
plexed than  before ;  and,  as  they  were  satisfied  of  the 
accuracy  of  their  observations,  they  began  to  suspect 
the  correctness  of  the  instruiiient.  But  being  cojivinccd, 
from  many  trials,  that  their  susi)icious  were  groundless, 
they  continued  to  observe  the  star,  and  found  that  on 
the  beginning  of  March,  1 720,  it  had  moved  20"  south 
since  the  commencement  of  their  observations; — that 
it  remained  stationary  till  the  middle  of  A|)ril,  when 
its  motion  was  northerly ; — that  it  continued  to  move 
northward  till  the  month  of  September,  when  it  again 
became  stationary,  having  advanced  20"  farther  north 
than  it  was  in  June ;  and  that  it  again  resumed  its  mo- 
tion towards  the  south.  The  law  of  the  variation  in  the 
motion  of  the  fixed  stars  being  thusdetermined.  Dr.  Brad- 
ley became  very  anxious  to  discover  its  cause.  In  his  first 
speculations  on  this  subject,  he  ascribed  these  cliangeg 
to  the  nutation  of  the  earth's  axis;  but  this  hypothesis 
was  soon  abandoned ;  for  he  afterwards  saw,  that  stars 
which,  from  the  equality  of  their  polar  distances,  ought 
to  have  had  the  same  nutation,  sustained  ve.y  different 
changes  of  declination. 

Eager  to  investigate  these  curious  phenomena.  Dr. 
Bradley  determined  to  erect  an  accurate  instrument 
for  himself  at  Wanstead,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
Mr.  Graham,  it  was  ready  for  use  on  the  19lh  August, 
1 727.  After  a  number  of  interesting  observations,  con- 
tinued for  the  sjiace  of  a  year,  from  which  he  satisfied 
himself  completely  respecting  the  general  laws  of  the 
phenomena,  he  again  directed  the  whole  energy  of  his 
mind  to  discover  their  cause.  A  change  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  plumb-line  which  adjusted  his  instrument, 
and  an  elevation  of  the  stars  by  the  refraction  of  the 
atmosphere,  soon  occurred  to  him  as  sources  of  ex- 
planation; but,  being  inadequate  to  account  for  the 
phenomena,  they  were  as  quickly  rejected.  In  this 
state  of  perplexity,  the  discovery  of  Roemer  concern- 
ing the  successive  propagation  of  light,  came  info  his 
mind,  and  he  instantly  saw,  that  all  the  phenomena 
which  he  had  observed,  might  be  occasioned  by  the 
motion  of  the  earth  in  its  orbit,  combined  with  the  suc- 
cessive propagation  of  light. 

In  order  to  undei-stand  this,  let  us  su|)pose,  that  b 
particle  of  light,  coming  from  a  star,  is  at  A  when  the 
eye  is  at  B,  and  that  light  moves  through  the  space 
AC  in  the  same  time  that  the  eye,  by  the  annual  mo- 
tion of  the  earth,  moves  through  BC.  By  taking  any 
point  E,  and  drawing  ED  parallel  to  B  A,  the  particle 
of  light  will  evidently  be  at  D,  when  the  eye  has  moved 
to  E,  for  CD  :  CA  =  CE  :  CB,  (Euclid,  VI.  Prop.  2.) 
Let  us  now  suppose,  that  AB  is  a  telescope  or  tube, 
moving  parallel  to  itself,  then  it  is  manifest  that  the 


22 


ABERRATION. 


particle  of  light  will  always  appear  in  the  lube,  and  con- 
sequently the  star  from  which  it  comes  will  be  seen  in 
the  direction  of  the  tube;  that  is,  in  the  directions  BA, 
jED,  CF,  wiieii  the  eye  is  at  B,  E,  and  C,  successively  : 
But  the  light  from  the  star  comes  in  directions  parallel 
to  AC,  because  the  real  place  of  the  star  is  in  that  direc- 
tion; consequently  the  aberration,  or  the  difference  be- 
tween the  real  and  apparent  place  of  the  star,  will  be 
the  angle  ACP,  which  may  be  computed  Irigonometri- 
cally,  by  having  the  velocity  of  light,  the  velocity  of  the 
earth  in  its  orbit,  and  the  place  of  the  star. 

■"The  following  Table  contains  the  greatest  aberration 
in  right  ascension  and  declination  of  the  principal  fixed 
stars  for  1800.  Larger  tables  may  be  seen  in  the  Ephe- 
merides  de  Vienne,  1773,1784, 17 S5 ;  Epheinetides  de  Ber- 
lin, 1776;  Cmmohtiancc  des  Temps,  1 781 , 1 789, 1 790, 1791. 


Longitude    of 

Greatest 

Longitude   of 

Greatest 

Names  of  ten 

ttie    sun,   when 

aberra- 

the   sun, 

when 

aberra- 

l>riDcipal fixed 

tlie  aberration  in 

tion  in 

the  aberration  in 

tion  in 

stars. 

right    ascension 

riglit  as- 

declination 

is  0 

declina- 

is 0  for  18U0. 

cension. 

for  1800. 

tion. 

Aldebaran, 

5'      7°   33' 

20"  5 

4«     6o 

49' 

3"  8 

Capella, 

5     16    38 

28.   5 

8      3 

23 

8.  0 

Betalgeus, 

5    26    25 

20.  2 

3       1 

48 

5.  6 

Sirius, 

6      8    21 

20.  8 

9      4 

0 

12.  8 

Regulus, 

7    27     13 

19.  3 

1     25 

47 

6.  9 

Spica, 

9    20     13 

18.  8 

9    26 

2 

7.  6 

Arcturus, 

10      3    54 

20.  0 

2       1 

25 

12.  3 

Antares, 

11       6    10 

21.  9 

0       1 

12 

3.  8 

Lyra, 

0       6    55 

25.  6 

3      5 

17 

17.   7 

Aquila, 

0    23    24 

19.  9 

3      6 

52 

10.  4 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance,  that  from  the  theory 
of  the  first  satellite  of  Jupiter,  M.  La  Place  has  found 
for  the  entire  aberration,  37"  5,  a  result  exactly  the  same 
as  that  which  Bradley  deduced  from  a  great  number  of 
delicate  observations  on  the  fixed  stars.  From  this 
curious  coincidence.  La  Place  concludes,  that  the  velo- 
city of  light  in  all  the  space  comprehendeil  by  the 
earth's  orbit,  is  the  same  as  at  the  circumference  of  this 
orbit,  and  that  the  same  thing  holds  with  regard  to  the 
orbit  of  Jupiter.  See  Preface  to  his  Mecanique  Celeste, 
torn.  iv.  p.  1 1 .  For  farther  information  on  this  subject. 
See  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xxxv.  p.  637.  Id.  1782.  p.  58. 
Meni.  Acad.  Paris,  1737,  p.  205.  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin, 
torn.  ii.  1746,  p.  14.  Nov.  Acad.  Petrop.  i.  440.  T. 
Simpson's  Essays  an  several  Subjects,  1740;  Traitisvr 
V Aberration,  par  Fontaines  des  Crutes,  1 744  ;  Boscovi- 
chii  Opera,  torn.  v.  p.  417.  1785.  Connoissance  lies 
Temps,  1788.  Trigonmnetrie  par  M.  Cagnoli,  §  790, 
791  ;  and  Vince's  Astronomy,  vol.  i.  ch.  22.  See  As- 
tronomy, Index.     (/«) 

ABERRATION  of  a  planet,  in  longitude,  latitude, 
right  ascension,  and  declination,  is  its  geocentric  motion 
in  longitude,  latitude,  &c.  during  the  time  that  light 
travels  from  the  planet  to  the  earth.  The  time,  for 
exam|)Ie,  in  which  light  moves  from  the  sun  to  the 
.earth,  8'  8";  and  during  this  time,  the  geocentric  mo- 
tion of  the  sun  in  longitude,  is  20",  consequently  20"  is 
the  sun's  aberration  in  longitude.  The  greatest  aber- 
ration of  the  several  planets  when  in  perihelion,  or 
nearest  the  sun,  is,  Mercury  50".  5,  "Venus  43".  5, 
Mars  36",  Jupiter  29",  Saturn  27",  Georgium  Sidus 
25",  Moon  0'.'  40'".     Sec  the  memoirs  on  this  subject 


by  Claraut  and  Euler,  in  the  Man.  Aead.  Par.  1746; 
Mem.  Acad.  Berl.  torn.  ii.  for  1746;  Comment.  Pe- 
tropol.  1 739,  tom.  ii.  See  also  Eplumeridts  de  Paris, 
torn.  viii.  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  Ix.  p.  536,  and  Vince's  As- 
tronomy, vol.  i.  p.  332.     (?b) 

ABERRATION,  in  Optics,  is  of  two  kinds;  Aba- 
ration  of  colour,  or  refrangibility,  sometimes  called  Chro- 
matic uherration  ;  and  Aberration  of  sphericity,  or  Sphe- 
rical aberration. 

When  a  beam  of  white  light  falls  upon  a  spherical 
lens,  the  violet,  or  most  rtlVdngible  rays,  cross  the  axis 
at  a  point  ne.rer  the  ler.s,  than  the  red  or  least  refran- 
gible mys.  The  distance  between  the  point,  where  the 
red  ray  intersects  the  axis,  and  the  geometrical  focus,  is 
called  the  longit7idiiuif.  chromatic  aberrntion  of  the  red 
ray ;  and  its  lateral  chromatic  ahcrraticn  is  measured  by 
a  line  perj)endicular  to  the  axis,  and  drawn  from  the  fo- 
cus till  it  meet  the  refracted  ray. 

In  consequence  of  the  spherical  figure  of  the  lens, 
the  red,  or  any  other  kind  of  rays  that  pass  nearest  the 
centre  of  the  lens,  meet  the  axis  in  a  point  nearer  the 
lens  than  those  which  pass  at  a  greater  distance  from 
the  centre.  The  distance  between  this  point  and  the 
geometrical  focus,  is  called  the  longitudinal  splterical 
aberration  ;  and  the  distance  of  the  geometrical  focus 
from  the  refracted  ray,  in  a  line  perpendicular  to  the 
axis,  is  called  the  lateral  spherical  aberration.  The  same 
kind  of  aberration  is  protiuced  by  reflection  from  sphe- 
rical specula.  When  the  speculum  is  parabolic,  and 
the  point  from  which  the  rays  proceed  infinitely  distant, 
there  is  no  aberration,  as  all  the  rays  meet  in  the  geo- 
metrical focus.  There  is  also  no  spherical  aberration 
for  parallel  rays  in  the  meniscus  lens  AB,  Fig.  4.  when 
its  convex  surface  ACB,  is  part  of  a  prolate  spheroid, 
and  its  concave  surface  AEB,  formed  with  a  radius  les» 
than  FC,  the  distance  between  the  vertex  of  the  lens 
and  the  farther  focus  of  the  st)heroid.  If  the  lens  be  pla- 
no-convex, as  in  Fig.  5.  having  its  convex  surface  part 
of  a  hyperboloid,  \vli08e  major  axis  is  to  the  distance 
between  the  foci,  as  the  sine  of  incidence  is  to  the  sine 
of  refraction  out  of  the  solid  into  the  ambient  medium, 
the  parallel  rays  RR  will  be  refracted  to  the  farther  fo- 
cus F,  without  any  spherical  aberration. 

In  order  to  find  the  lens  of  least  aberration,  M.  Klin- 
genstierna  has  given  the  follo'iving  general  theorem, 
a  r(OT-f-  4—2m^  )  +/  (2w»  -f  m) . 
b  ~/(»n+  4 — 2?n^  )-f-  r  (2/?j-'  -f-  m) ' 


( in  which  a  is  the  radius 


of  the  surface  of  the  lens  next  the  object;  b  the  radius 
of  the  other  surface ;  m  the  index  of  refraction,  or  the 
riitio  of  the  angle  of  incidence  to  that  of  refraction ;  r 

the  distance  of  the  radiant  point,  and/  the  focal  distance 

3 
of  the  refracted  rays.     When  m=-  and  r  infinite,  we 


bavev=r-;  and  when 
b     o 


1686,  we  have -r=  infinite, or 

0 


a  plano-convex  lens. 

The  spherical  aberration  of  lenses  being  very  small, 
when  compared  with  the  chromatic  aberration,  the  con- 
fusion of  images  arising  from  the  latter  is  a  great  ob- 
stacle to  the  perfection  of  refracting  telescoites.  The 
method  of  removing  this  confusion  to  a  certain  extent, 
by  a  combination  of  lenses  of  «litfercnt  refractive  and 
dispersive  poivers,  first  tliscovered  by  Mr.  Dolloml, 
gave  rise  to  the  achromatic  telescope,  an  instrument 
which  has  exercised  the  genius  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished   philosophers.        See.   Hugenii   Dioptrica ; 


ABH 


ABI 


23 


Phil.  Trans.  toIb.  xxxv.  xlviii.  p.  103—287;  1.  p.  73; 
li.  p.  944.;  Hi.  p.  17;  liii.  p.  173;  Iv.  p.  54. ;  Ix. — Mem. 
Acad.  Par.  1737,1746;  1752;  1755;  1756,  p.  380;  1757, 
p.  524;  1762,  p.  578;  1764,  p.  75;  1765,  p.  53;  1767,  p. 
43,423;  mo,p.  4G\.— Mem.  Jcad.  Berlin,  1746;  1761, 
p.  231  ;  1762,  p.  66,  343;  1766;  1790;  1791,  p.  40; 
1798,  p.  3. — SchmediscJun  Ahhandliingen,  1760,  p.  79, 
944.— ^ou.  Cotnmmt.  Petropol.  1 762. — Mem.  Irish  Acad. 
vol.iv.  p.  171. — Edinb.  Trans,  vol.  iii.  part.  2.  p.  26 — 
Comment.  Gottnig.  vol.  xlii.  Boscovichii  Opera ;  and 
KliBgenstierna  de  Aberratimiibus  Luminis.  See  also 
Achromatic  Telescopes,  and  Optics,     (w) 

ABERYSTWITH,  a  town  in  South  Wales,  situated 
on  the  river  Rydall,  near  its  confluence  with  the  Ist- 
with,  on  a  bold  eminence,  which  overhangs  the  bay  of 
Cardigan.  The  houses  are  chiefly  built  of  black  slate, 
and  the  streets  are  rugged  and  steep.  It  is  rich  and 
populous ;  carries  on  a  trade  in  lead,  calamine,  and 
fish ;  and,  as  a  bathing  place,  is  frequented  by  much 
company.  The  walls,  and  the  castle,  which  was  built 
in  1107,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  by  Gilbert  le  Strong- 
bow,  and  rebuilt  by  Edward  I.  are  now  in  ruins.  In 
1637,  a  mint  for  the  coinage  of  silver,  was  established 
here  by  king  Charles.  Population  in  1801,  1753.  W. 
Long.  4°  15' 47".     N.  Lat.  52»  18' 10".     (w) 

ABESTA,  or  Abista,  a  commentary  on  two  of  the 
religious  books  of  the  Persian  Magi,  called  Zend  and 
Pazend.  It  is  held  sacred  by  that  sect,  and  is  supposed 
to  be  the  production  of  their  founder  Zoroaster.  Ac- 
cording to  Perron,  it  signifies  the  language  of  the  Ori- 
ental text  of  Zoroaster's  works.  See  Hist.  Acad.  Scieti. 
Par.  1 762.  Hyde  dc  Religione  Veler.  Persarum,  cap.  2. 
D'Herbel.     Biblioth.  Orient,  p.  ^\.     (n>) 

ABEX,  or  Abesh,  a  mountainous  and  barren  district 
of  Ethiopia,  stretching  along  the  Red  Sea  for  the  space 
of  500  miles,  and  extending  100  miles  into  the  inte- 
rior. It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  Egypt,  on  the  west 
by  Abyssinia  and  Nubia,  and  on  the  east  by  the  coast 
of  Ajan.  Its  principal  towns  are  Suakeni  and  Arkee- 
ko ;  the  former  being  tiie  capital,  where  the  governor 
resides.  The  country  is  destitute  of  water;  and  the 
air  is  so  unhealthy,  and  the  heat  so  excessive,  that  the 
wild  beasts  are  more  numerous  than  the  Mahommedans, 
who  are  its  inhabitants.  It  is  subject  to  the  Turks ; 
and  is  remarkable  for  !:!i'ge  forests  of  ebony-trees,  (jp) 

ABEYANCE,  a  term  in  law.  If  a  living  becomes 
vacant  by  the  death  of  a  clergyman,  the  free-hold  is 
said  to  be  in  abeyance  till  his  successor  be  inducted  ; 
for  the  patron  has  not  the  fee-simple,  but  only  the  right 
of  presentation,  the  freehold  being  in  the  possession  of 
the  incumbf  nt  w/ien  he  is  inducted,  but  in  the  posses- 
sion of  nobody,  or  in  abeyance,  before  his  induction,  (w) 

ABGAR,  or  Abcarus,  a  lung  of  Edessa  in  Mesopo- 
tamia; who  is  said  to  hiive  written  a  letter  to  Jesus 
Chritt,  imploring  him  to  come  nnd  cure  a  distemper 
in  his  feet.  Eusebius  has  preserved  both  the  letter 
and  the  answer,  which  were  taken  from  the  archives 
of  the  city  of  Edessa.  The  authenticity  of  these  let- 
ters has  been  admitted  by  Parker,  Cave,  Tillemont, 
Addison,  and  denied  by  Le  Clerc,  Dupin,  Jones,  Lard- 
ner,  &c.  See  Eusebius's  Ecclesiast.  Hist.  lib.  i.  cap.  3. 
Jones's  Canon  of  tlu  New  Testament,  vol.  ii.  p.  I ;  and 
Lardner's  Works,  vol.  vii.  p.  222.     (w) 

ABGILLUS,  John.     See  Prester,  John. 

ABHER,  sometimes  called  Haber  and  Ebher,  a 
large  city  in  Persian  Irak,  or  ancient  Parthia,  contain- 
ing 2500  houses,  and  governed  by  a  deroga.     It  is  de- 


lightfully situated  on  a  small  rirer.  and  adorned  with 
splendid  buildings  and  gardens  of  immense  extent.  E. 
Long.  50»  59'.     N.  Lat.  36.  14'.     (?i;) 

ABHORRERS,  the  name  of  a  political  party  in  Eng- 
land, which  existed  in  the  year  1680;  the  same  year 
in  which  the  epithets  of  Whig  and  Tory  were  intro- 
duced. They  were  violent  enemies  of  the  democratic 
part  of  our  constitution,  and  courted  the  royal  favour, 
by  expressing  their  abhorrence  against  the  petitioners, 
or  those  who  petitioned  for  redress  of  grievances,  or 
prescribed  to  the  king  any  time  for  assembling  the 
parliament.  At  the  meeting  of  parliament,  great  num- 
bers of  the  abhorrers  were  seized  by  the  house  of 
commons,  and  thrown  into  prison.  These  arbitrary 
commitments,  however,  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  were  put  an  end  to  by  the  manly  courage  of 
one  Stowel  of  Exeter,  who  was  one  of  the  abhorrers. 
See  Hume's  History  of  England,  vol.  viii.  p.  128,  132, 
133.     (m) 

ABIANS,  the  name  of  a  strolling  association  of 
Thracians  or  Scythians,  who  lived  in  the  wagons 
which  carried  their  provisions.  They  devolved  the  cul- 
tivation of  their  lands  upon  others,  from  whom  they 
received  a  small  sum,  sufficient  for  supplj-ing  them 
with  the  necessaries  of  life.  The  Abians  were  remarka- 
ble for  their  integrity,  and  are  denominated  by  Homer 
«»fif»3-oi  ^iKitiDTttTio.  See  Stralx),  torn.  i.  p.  454,  &c.  (»«) 

ABINGDON,  a  market  town  in  Berkshire,  situated 
at  the  confluence  of  the  Ock  and  the  Thjiines,  and 
said  to  have  been  built  by  Cissa,  king  of  the  West  Sax- 
ons, A.  D.  517.  Is  was  incorporated  hy  Queen  Marj' ; 
and  is  suiiposed  by  bishop  Gibson  to  be  Clovcskoe,  the 
place  mentioned  in  the  Saxon  annals,  where  a  synod 
was  held  in  742,  and  another  in  822.  Abingdon  carries 
on  a  considerable  trade  in  malt  and  corn,  which  are 
conveyed  down  the  Thames  to  London  in  barges.  It 
has  also  a  manufacture  of  sail-cloth  and  sacking.  Po- 
pulation in  1801,  4356.  W.  Long.  1"  10' 37",  N.  Lat. 
51o  40'  3".     See  Maton's  Tour,     {rv) 

ABINGDON,  a  town  at  the  head  of  the  tide  waters 
of  Bush  river,  in  the  county  of  Hartford,  Maryland, 
remarkable  for  a  college,  which  was  instituted  there 
by  the  methodists  iu  1785,  and  called  Cokesburgh,  in 
honour  of  their  two  principal  bishops.  It  is  78  miles 
S.  W.  of  Philadelphia.     (n») 

ABIPONIANS,  or  Abipons,  a  migratory  race  in- 
habiting the  district  or  province  of  Chaco,  in  Paraguay, 
who  believe  themselves  sprung  from  tlie  devil,  .<\nd 
consider  him  as  represented  by  the  Pleiades  in  the 
heavens.  They  are  a  strong  and  robust  people,  patient 
of  fatigue,  and  of  exposure  to  the  inclemency  of  the 
seasons.  Most  of  them  have  small  black  eyes,  and  all 
of  tiiein  thick  black  hair.  Their  restlessness  is  such, 
that  they  seldom  continue  long  in  one  fixed  place  of 
habitation;  which  is  changed  with  the  greater  facility, 
as  both  the  males  and  females  are  equestrians. — 
Hunting,  swimming,  and  running  their  horses,  engage 
their  constant  attention,  when  unoccupied  by  the  fre- 
quent wars  carried  on  with  their  neigliboiirs.  These 
are  so  numerous,  that  the  boundaries  of  this  tribe  are 
only  to  be  ascertained  by  (hose  of  the  adjoining  nations. 
When  travelling,  their  whole  property  is  carried  along 
with  them ;  the  women  riding  on  horseback  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  men.  No  nation  in  America  abounds 
more  with  horses;  some  individuals  possessing  above 
forty.  There  are  immense  herds  of  these  animals  run-, 
ning  wild,  from  which  many  are  cuught  and  tamed. 


34 


ABT 


ABL 


Besides,  they  will  sometimes,  in  one  incursion  against 
the  Spaniards,  take  three  or  four  tliousand.  The  wo- 
men, contrary  to  what  generally  happens  among  sa- 
vage nation?,  suffer  severely  in  parturition;  which  is 
thought  to  be  the  consequence  of  their  equestrian  ex- 
ercises compressing  the  bones  during  adolescence. 
The  men  seldom  marry  till  after  twenty-five,  and  the 
women  rarely  before  twenty  years  of  age.  The  children 
are  nursed  until  the  third  year;  and  polygamy  being 
common  among  the  Abiponians,  mothers  not  only  fre- 
quently murder  their  own  children,  lest  during  that 
time  the  affections  of  their  husbands  may  be  estranged 
from  them,  but  even  procure  abortions  by  violent  means. 
This  they  do  with  absolute  impunity  :  and  there  are  in- 
stances of  some  mothers  having,  without  opposition, 
destroyed  all  their  children  as  soon  as  they  were  born. 
Yet,  notwithstanding  this  unnatural  custom,  those  chil- 
dren that  die  by  disease  are  bitterly  regretted. 

These  people  consult  soothsayers,  who  possess  an 
unlimited  influence  over  them ;  and,  by  this  means,  pre- 
scribe the  manner,  time,  and  place,  of  invading  an  ene- 
my, hunting  wild  beasts,  <fec.  If  one  of  their  sooth- 
sayers persuades  them  to  battle,  he  rides  round  the 
trttops,  imprecating  evil  on  the  enemy,  and  striking  the 
air  with  a  palm-branch,  accompanied  by  many  gesticu- 
lations :  and  this  ceremony  is  esteemed  suflicient  to  in- 
rure  victory.  These  impostors  pretend  that  they  are 
immortal ;  and  that  they  have  frequent  intercourse  with 
the  devil.  They  extort  what  they  please  from  the  cre- 
dulous people,  who  dare  refuse  them  nothing. 

The  Abiponians  are  governed  by  a  cacique,  or  chief; 
and  even  admit  of  female  government.  When  a  per- 
son dies  in  his  own  country,  he  is  immediately  wrai)ped 
up  in  a  hide,  and  buried  with  such  precipitation,  that  it 
is  supposed  the  living  have  sometimes  perished  by  it. 
The  survivors  then  proceed  to  destroy  every  thing  that 
may  revive  the  remembrance  of  the  deceased.  The 
temporary  hut  which  he  had  erected  i^  overthrown; 
his  utensils  are  burned  ;  and,  besides  the  horses  burned 
along  with  him,  some  of  the  smaller  animals  are  killed. 
His  widow  and  children  migrate  to  some  other  coun- 
try. It  is  a  crime  to  mention  the  name  of  a  person  de- 
ceased ;  and  the  vejy  terms  of  the  language  that  may 
recal  his  memory  are  abolished.  Should  an  Abiponian 
die  in  a  foreign  country,  the  flesh  is  stripped  from  his 
bones,  and  he  is  carried  to  his  own  territory.  Seven 
skeletons  have  been  thus  brought,  and,  after  having 
been  kept  in  a  hut  nine  days,  were  committed  to  the 
earth. 

Whenever  an  enemy  is  wounded,  the  Abiponians  cut 
off  his  head  with  surprising  dexterity ;  and  having 
stripped  off  the  skin,  it  is  stuffed  and  kept  as  a  trophy. 
The  language  of  the  Abiponians  iirescnls  several  in- 
teresting peculiarities ;  and  the  acquisition  of  it  is  at- 
tended with  extreme  difficulty.  It  wants  certain  parts 
of  speech,  which  are  deemed  indispensable  by  civilized 
nations  in  communicating  their  sentiments,  while  there 
is  an  incredible  number  of  synonymes.  The  per[ietual 
change  which  arises  from  abolisiiing  whatever  relates 
to  one  deceased,  is  a  great  source  of  the  difficulty  in 
aoquiring  the  langu.ige. 

The  history  of  this  nation,  which,  from  frequent  wars, 
and  other  causes,  has  now  been  reduced  to  little  more 
than  50()0  people,  is  written  by  Martin  Dobrizhoffer,  a 
missionary,  who  acted  in  this  capacity  in  Paraguay  for 
twenty-two  years,  seven  of  which  he  passed  with  the 
Abiponians.   He  lameuts  the  hostility  of  the  Americaua 


i»  Paraguay  towards  the  missionaries,  who  appear  to 
have  made  but  little  i)rogress  in  converting  them  to 
Christianity;  and  enumerates  above  thirty  individuals 
who  have  suffered  a  violent  death  by  the  hands  of  these 
savages.  See  Dobrizhofter,  Historia  de  Abiponibus, 
equestri  hcUicosaque  Paraquarim  natione.  Viennse, 
1784,  3  vol.  in  8vo.  See  also  Pinkertou's  Geog.  vol. 
iii.j).  760.  (c) 

ABJURATION,  Oath  op,  is  that  by  which  a  per- 
son binds  himself  not  to  acknowledge  any  royal  authori- 
ty in  the  Pretender.  See  \st  IViUiam  and  Mary,  I3th 
W.  III.,  \st  Geo.  I.  This  oath  may  be  seen  in  Act  Otk 
Geo.  III.  cap.  53.  (/») 

ABKAS,  a  nation  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  and  one  of  the 
seven  nations  between  the  Euxine  and  the  Caspian. 
They  are  called  by  the  Circassians,  Ktish  Hasip,  which 
signifies,  a  |)eople  beyond  the  mountains.  Their  chief 
establishments  are  on  the  southern  declivity  of  the 
mountains,  between  the  Euxine  and  the  river  Cuban. 
They  are  divided  into  two  governments,  the  Eastern 
and  the  Western,  both  of  which  are  ruled  by  a  bashaw. 
Their  language  is  peculiar  to  themselves,  and  their 
religion  has  some  traces  of  Christianity.  The  capital 
of  ihe  nation  is  Anacopir,  formerly  Nicopsis.  (tv) 

ABLACTATION,  the  act  of  weaning  a  child  from 
the  breast.  In  the  interior  parts  of  Africa,  the  negro 
women  suckle  their  children  tiil  they  are  able  to  walk 
by  themselves,  and  hence  the  period  of  ablactation  fre- 
quently extends  to  three  years.  See  Park's  Travels, 
5th  edit.  8vo.  p.  395.  (w) 

ABLATIVE,  one  of  the  cases  in  the  Latin  language, 
which  always  denotes  conconiitancy.     See  Grammar. 

It  has  been  much  debated  among  grammarians, 
whether  or  not  the  Greek  language  has  an  ablative 
case.  Frischlin,  Sanclius,  and  the  Portroyalists,  main- 
tained the  afldrmative,  and  Crusius  and  Perizonius  the 
negative  side  of  the  ({uestion.  {m) 

ABLAY,  a  district  in  Great  Tartary,  lying  on  the 
east  side  of  the  river  Irtis,  and  stretching  for  500  leagues 
along  the  southern  frontier  of  Siberia,  between  the 
latitudes  of  51"  and  54"  North,  and  the  longitudes  72» 
and  83"  East.  The  inhabitants  of  Ablay,  who  are  call- 
ed Btuhars,  are  subject  to  Russia,  though  their  chief 
is  a  Calmuck.  (w) 

ABLE,  Thomas,  a  learned  clergyman,  who  distiif 
guished  himself  by  his  opposition  to  the  tyranny  of  king 
Henry  VIII.  He  w.is  the  chaplain  and  instructor  of 
queen  Catharine,  and  wrote  a  treatise  in  order  to  prove 
the  impropriety  and  injustice  of  dissolving  her  marriage 
with  that  haughty  monarch.  He  was  prosecuted  in 
153-1,  for  being  concerned  in  the  affair  of  the  holy  maid 
of  Kent,  a  pretended  prophetess,  who  was  afterwards 
executed,  together  with  several  of  her  associates.  Be- 
ing one  of  those  who  denied  the  supremacy  which  Ileniy 
arrogated  over  the  church.  Able  was  thrown  into  prison, 
and  was  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered,  in  Smithfield, 
on  the  30th  of  .luly,  15-10.  See  Wood.  Alhmw  Oxoii. 
vol.  i.  p.  57.  (w) 

ABLUENi'  Medicines,  the  same  as  abstergent,  de- 
tergent, or  diluent  medicines,  are  those  wiiich  are  em- 
ployed to  wash  otffrom  any  part  of  the  body  substances 
whose  adiiesion  to  it  is  injurious,  (w) 

ABLUTION,  a  religious  ceremony  practised  in 
ancient  times,  and  still  in  use  among  the  Mahoiumedans 
and  Roman  Catholics.  It  consists  in  washing  either 
the  whole  or  part  of  the  bmly  before  the  offering  up 
of  a  sacrifice,   or  the  performance    of  any   religious 


ABO 


ABO 


25 


duty,  and  is  considered  as  a  purification  of  the  wor- 
shipper, necessary  to  the  proper  observance  of  any 
sacred  rite.  See  Guer.  Mccurs  des  Fwrcs,  torn.  i.  lib. 
2.     (n>) 

ABO,  the  capital  of  Swedish  Finland.  It  is  situated 
on  a  promontory  formed  by  the  Gulfs  of  Bothnia  and 
Finland,  and  is  divided  into  two  parts  by  the  river 
Aurajoeki.  It  is  the  fourth  town  in  Sweden  in  point 
of  size,  and  the  eigrhth  voting  town  in  the  diet.  In 
1 026,  Gustavus  Adolphus  established  a  gymnasium  at 
Abo,  which  was  converted  into  an  university  by  queen 
Christina,  in  1610,  and  endowed  with  all  the  privileges 
of  that  of  Upsal.  The  anatomical  school  enjoys  the 
extraordinary  right  of  claiming  for  dissection  the  bodies 
of  all  those  who  hold  lands  or  pensions  from  the  crown. 
In  1713,  Abo  was  taken  by  the  Russians,  who  remained 
masters  of  the  place  till  1720.  They  committed  great 
disorders  during  their  stay,  and  carried  off  with  them 
the  library.  In  1741,  the  town  was  ceded  to  Russia, 
but  was  restored  in  1 743  by  the  peace  of  Abo.  It  was 
again  taken  by  the  Russians,  along  with  the  whole  of 
Finland,  in  1808. 

The  harbour  near  Beckholmen,  about  three  Eng- 
lish miles  from  Abo,  is  both  safe  and  commodious,  and 
(he  city  carries  on  a  considerable  trade.  In  1761,  the 
export  trade  to  ports  in  the  Baltic  employed  19  ships, 
14  of  which  belonged  to  Abo.  They  exported  salt, 
tiles,  iron,  and  nails,  copper,  pitch,  tar,  pots,  and  deals, 
to  the  amount  of  3122  rix-dollars.  To  Geneva,  Lisbon, 
Bourdeaux,  Amsterdam,  &c.  they  exported  iron^  tar, 
pitch,  deals,  joists,  &c.  to  the  annual  amount  of  7187 
rix-dollars.  In  the  same  year,  16  ships,  of  which  nine 
belonged  to  the  town,  arrived  with  cargoes  at  Abo, 
and  the  value  of  imports  amounted  to  104,967  rix- 
dollars.  The  articles  imported  were,  tobacco,  coffee, 
wine,  sugar,  salt,  rye,  wheat,  hemp,  spiceries,  drugs,  &c. 
At  Abo  there  are  manufactures  of  silk,  ribband,  sail- 
cloth, leather,  watches,  paper,  and  sugar;  and  the  plan- 
tations of  tobacco  produce  nearly  152,000  cwt.  annually. 
The  revenue  paid  to  the  crown  in  1761  from  this  city, 
was  4075  rix-dollars.  Population  in  1  791,  8504.  Num- 
ber of  houses  1100.  E.  Long.  22»  13'  30".  N.  Lat.  OO" 
27'  10".     See  Acerbi's  Travels,     {iv) 

ABOLA,  the  name  of  one  of  the  divisions  of  the 
Agow,  in  Abyssinia,  and  of  the  river  which  runs  through 
it.  It  is  a  curious  circumstance,  that  there  are  no  fish 
in  the  Abola,  or  in  any  of  its  tributary  streams.  Mr. 
Bruce  accounts  for  this,  by  supposing,  that  the  spawn 
and  fish  are  destroyed  in  winter  by  the  rapidity  of  the 
current,  and  in  summer  by  the  great  heat  which  dries 
up  the  streams.  See  Brace's  Travels,  vol.  iii.  p.  S81, 
4to  edit,     (jv) 

ABOMASUS,  the  name  of  the  fourth  stomach  of 
animals  that  chew  the  cud,  where  the  chyle  is  formed, 
and  from  which  the  food  immediately  descends  into  the 
intestines,     (w) 

ABORIGINES,  a  name  which  is  now  given  to  the 
original  inhabitants  of  any  country.  It  was  formerly 
applied  to  those  who  inhabited  ancient  Latium.  See 
Livy,  i.  c.  1.  Strabo,  i.     Ufiiv.  Hist.  vol.  xi.  p.  220.  (w) 

ABORTION,  is  the  expulsion  of  the  foetus,  at  a  pe- 
riod of  gestation  so  eariy,  that  it  is  impossible  for  it  to 
survive.  The  precise  age  at  which  a  child  may  live  in- 
dependent of  its  uterine  appendages,  is  not  exactly  de- 
termined ;  but  all  practitioners  agree,  that,  before  the 
seventh  month,  there  is  little  chance  of  preserving  the 
infant.     Between  the  seventh  month,  and  the  usual  time 

Vol.  I,  Part  I. 


of  parturition,  the  woman  is  not  said  to  miscarry,  but  to 
have  a  premature  labour. 

In  every  state,  whether  savage  or  civilized,  attempts 
have,  from  various  motives,  been  made  to  procure 
abortion.  These  are  dangerous  in  proportion  to  the 
violence  of  the  means  employed,  and  the  difficulty  with 
which  the  ovum  separates  from  the  litems.  It  is  a  fact 
which  cannot  be  too  generally  known,  that  such  medi- 
cines as  destroy  the  child,  or  cause  a  miscarriage,  pro- 
duce a  very  dangerous  effect  on  the  system  of  the  mo- 
ther, and  sometimes  prove  fatal  to  her  life.  That  such 
attempts  are  highly  criminal,  no  one  can  doubt  who 
considers  the  subject;  but,  unfortunately,  a  prejudice 
prevails  with  the  ignorant,  that  until  the  period  of 
quickening,  the  child  is  not  alive ;  and  that,  conse- 
quently, it  is  not  reprehensible  to  remove  it.  There  is, 
however,  no  fact  more  clearly  proved  than  this,  that  the 
foetus  is  alive,  and  gives  decided  marks  of  its  vitality, 
long  before  its  motion  can  be  felt  by  the  mother.  Our 
laws,  notwithstanding,  seem  to  be  framed  on  the  vulgar 
belief;  for,  in  Scotland,  it  is  declared  to  be  a  capital 
crime  to  procure  a  miscarriage  after  the  child  is  quick ; 
but  there  is  no  statute  against  destroying  it  before  that 
period,  and  the  attempt,  at  most,  can  only  receive  an 
arbitrary  punishment.  By  an  act  of  the  British  par- 
liament, passed  so  lately  as  the  year  1803,  this  distinc- 
tion is  explicitly  made ;  for  it  is  expressly  said,  that  the 
procuring  of  abortion,  before  the  child  be  quick,  shall 
be  punished  with  imprisonment  or  transportation ;  but 
if  the  child  have  quickened,  the  person  shall  be  hang- 
ed. There  is  the  authority  of  Hale,  for  saying  that  in 
England  this  princi|ile  was  at  one  time  even  pushed 
farther;  for  the  plea  of  pregnancj'  did  not  stop  the  exe- 
cution of  a  criminal,  if  she  had  not  reached  the  period 
of  quickening.  In  ScotI  lud,  this  barbarous  rule  never 
obtained  ground ;  for  pregnancy,  at  any  stage,  has  al- 
ways been  admitted  as  a  bar  to  execution.  In  France, 
the  crime  of  procuring  abortion  was  formerly  capital ; 
but  since  the  Revolution,  the  punishment  is  twenty 
years'  imprisonment.  In  every  civilized  country,  it  is 
decreed,  that  if  a  woman  die  in  consequence  of  taking 
medicines  to  cause  abortion,  the  person  who  admin- 
istered them  shall  be  held  guilty  of  murder. 

In  some  countries,  abortion,  so  far  from  being  pro- 
hibited, is  encouraged.  In  the  island  of  Formosa,  we 
are  told  that  no  woman  is  allowed  to  carry  a  child  to 
the  full  time,  till  she  arrives  at  the  age  of  thirty-five 
years.  The  American  Indians,  likewise,  permit  at- 
tempts to  procure  abortion;  and  the  Africans,  in  or- 
der to  conceal  an  illicit  connexion,  sometimes  use  an 
infusion  of  a  species  of  grass  to  destroy  the  foetus.  In 
Guiana,  a  different  plant  is  used  for  the  same  purpose. 
In  the  West  Indies,  the  Negroes  sometimes  make  simi- 
lar attempts ;  though,  from  promiscuous  intercourse,  and 
other  causes,  abortion  frequently  happens  without  any 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  mother. 

However  criminal  this  practice  may  be,  it  is  far  less 
so  than  the  custom  of  some  other  countries,  where  the 
child  is  allowed  to  come  to  the  full  time,  but  is  suf- 
focated whenever  it  is  born.  Such  is  the  case  in  the 
South  Sea  Islands.  In  China,  new  born  children  are 
exposed  on  the  streets,  or  thrown  into  the  wafer,  with- 
out compunction.  Other  savages,  still  more  barbarous, 
inter  the  living  child  with  the  dead  mother,  when  she 
happens  to  die  soon  after  delivery.  For  the  considera- 
tion of  the  causes,  prevention,  and  treatment  of  abor- 
tion, see  the  article  Midwifery  ;  and  see  also  Dr. 
D 


26 


ABR 


ABR 


Hamiltoirs  Oidlbics  of  Midn-lfiry.  Chambon,  Mtda- 
(licsdes  FiHWii.i.  Vigarous,  Maladies  cles  Femmcs,  toin. 
ii.  p.  302.  Petit,  Maladies,  &c.  torn.  i.  p.  2 15.  Den- 
m.Tii's  Inlroducllon,  chap.  15.  Hoffman,  Opera,  toiii. 
iii.  p.  170.  L'audelocque,  VArt,  &c.  part  iv.  c.  vii.  art. 
3.  Maiiriceau's  Traile,  liv.  i.  chap.  24.  La  Motte,  liv. 
ii.  chap.  15.  Rocderer  Ektnens,  §  71.  Deleurge 
Traile, I  520.  Peu,  PraiJque,\>.  87.  Plenk,  Elcmenta, 
p.  80.  Levret,  L\4ri,  Sec.  p.  423.  Smetlie,  b.  i.  c.  3.  § 
7.  Leak's  Diseases  of  ll'^oinen,  vol.  i.  p.  1 40.  Piozo's 
Traiie,  \i.  iQO.  Stahl,in Halter's Disp.  Med.  t.iv.  Fo- 
ilerC  TraiU  de  Medicine  Legale,  t.  ii.  p.  13.  and  Burn's 
Observations  en  Abortion,     (i) 

ABOIJ-HANNES,  or  Father  John,  the  name  of  a 
hird  found  in  Ethiojiia,  and  supposed  to  be  the  Ibis, 
which  the  Egyptians  formerly  lield  in  high  veneration, 
but  which  no  longer  exists  in  that  country.  Mr.  Bruce 
founds  this  opinion  upon  the  resemblance  between  the 
abouhannes,  and  the  embalmed  bodies  of  the  Ibis  which 
have  been  preserved  by  the  superstition  of  the  Egyp- 
tians ;  and  likewise  upon  its  similarity  to  the  figures  of 
the  ibis  which  appear  among  the  hieroglyphics  on  the 
ancient  obelisks.  According  to  Cuvier,  who  calls  it 
Nununius  Ibis,  it  is  the  same  as  the  Tantalus  Ethiopicus 
of  Latham,  and  the  Tantalus  Favonimis  of  Vahl.  See 
Brute's  Travels,  2d  edit.  vol.  vii.  p.  270 ;  and  Mr.  Til- 
loch's  Philosophical  Magasinc,  vol.  viii.  and  vol.  xsiii. 
p.  191.     (w) 

ABOUKIR,  a  town  in  Lower  Egypt,  situated  be- 
tween Rosetta  and  Alexandria,  at  the  distance  of  four 
leagues  from  the  latter,  and  celebrated  by  the  brilliant 
victory  gained  by  Admiral  Nelson  over  the  French  fleet 
in  the  bay  of  Aboukir,  in  1 798  ;  and  by  a  battle  in  1 799, 
between  the  French  army  and  a  body  of  Turks  and 
Arabs,  who  had  landed  in  the  bay,  and  made  them- 
selves master  of  the  redoubt  and  the  fort.  Bona|)arte 
attacked  them  on  the  20th  of  July,  and,  after  a  blootly 
engagement,  obtained  possession  of  the  peninsula.  The 
fort  held  out  for  the  space  of  eight  days,  when  it  capi- 
tulated, and  exhibited  nothing  but  a  heap  of  ashes. 
From  some  inconsiderable  ruins,  Aboukir  appears  to 
have  been  the  site  of  an  ancient  city ;  and  its  situation 
with  respect  to  Alexandria  warrants  the  supposition 
that  it  is  Canopus,  one  of  the  most  ancient  cities  in  the 
world.  The  town  is  built  upon  a  rock ;  and  if  we  may 
give  credit  to  Pliny,  was  formerly  a  small  island. 
About  two  miles  from  Aboukir  are  the  ruins  of  a  town 
upon  the  sea  coast,  and  partly  under  water,  supposed 
to  be  the  Taposiris  Parva  of  the  ancients.  The  for- 
tress of  Aboukir,  which  is  not  strong,  is  governed  by 
a.  Torbashi,  who  collects  a  toll  from  those  who  cross 
the  ferry.  E.  Long.  SO"  18'.  N.  Lat.  31<>  39'.  Sec 
Savanf's  Letters  on  Egypt,  vol.  i.  p.  49.  Plin.  Nat. 
Hist.  lib.  v.  Strabo,  lib.  1 7.  and  Brace's  Travels.  See 
Abercromby.     (iv) 

ABRABANEL,  Isaac,  a  celebrated  and  learned 
rabbi,  born  at  Lisbon  in  1437.  He  was  confessor  to 
Alphonso  V.  king  of  Portugal,  and  Ferdinand  the 
Catholic ;  but  having  amassed  great  wealth,  his  over- 
bearing and  ambitious  disposition  displayed  itself  in 
iis  oppression  of  the  poor,  and  in  his  insatiable  desire 
of  the  most  illustrious  titles.  His  unrelenting  hosti- 
lity to  the  Christian  faith,  combined  with  the  arrogance 
of  Ihs  temper,  was  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  the  per- 
WCutioD  in  1492,  in  which  he  and  all  the  Jews  were 
driven  out  of  the  Spanish  dominions.  After  his  expul- 
•ion  from  Spain,  he  resided  at  Naples,  Corfu,  &c.,  and 


died  at  Venice  in  1 508.  The  reverses  of  fortune  whiclf 
he  experienced  on  account  of  his  religion,  soured  his  dis- 
position, and  generated  that  implacable  hatred  against 
the  Catholics,  which  is  displayed  in  all  his  writings. 
His  principal  works  are  a  Commentary  on  the  Old 
Testament ;  a  Treatise  to  prove  the  Nou-eternity  of  the 
World;  an  Explication  of  some  of  the  Prophecies;  and 
a  Treatise  on  the  Articles  of  Faith,  &c.  At.  See  Nov. 
Act.  Lips.  1086,  p,  530,  and  Biblioth.  Rabbin,  torn,  iii- 
p.  870.     (w) 

ABRAM,  afterwards  named  Abraham,  was  tlte  son 
of  Terah,  an  inhabitant  of  Ur,  in  Chaldea.  His  father 
was  an  idolater,  like  the  rest  of  his  countrymen ;  but 
Abraham  having  renounced  heathenism,  they  left  Ur 
together,  and  on  their  way  to  Canaan,  resided  at  Haran, 
in  Mesopotamia.  Terah  having  died  at  Haran,  the 
Lord  commanded  Abraham  to  go  towards  Palestine,  at 
that  time  inhabited  by  the  Canaanitts,  promising  to 
make  of  him  a  great  nation ;  and  to  raise  up  to  him  an 
offspring,  in  whom  all  nations  of  the  earth  should  be 
blessed.  Firmly  believing  the  Divine  promise,  he  took 
with  him  his  wife,  and  Lot,  his  brother's  son,  with  all 
his  servants  and  cattle,  and  settled  in  Canaan,  where 
the  promise  made  to  him  was  renewed,  confirmed,  and 
enlarged.  The  facts  in  this  and  the  subsequent  part 
of  his  history  are  so  well  known,  and  narrated  with 
such  interesting  simplicity  by  Rloses,  that  it  is  unne- 
cessary to  give  even  a  general  detail  of  them,     (d) 

ABRAXAS,  or  Abrasaxas,  a  mystical  word,  sup- 
posed by  St.  Jerom  and  other  writers  to  denote  the 
supreme  God  of  the  Basilidian  heretics,  though  it  is 
the  opinion  of  Irena.'us  that  it  was  the  first  of  their  365 
heaveus,  or  the  prince  of  the  angels  that  inhabited 
them.  According  to  Beausobrc,  it  is  derived  from 
»S^i(  and  cr«e«,  which  may  be  made  to  signify  magnifi- 
cent Saviour.  See  Moiitfeuicon's  Pahcographia  Grceca, 
lib.  ii.  cap.  3. 

The  term  Abraxas  is  also  the  name  of  small  statues 
of  plates  of  metal  or  stones,  on  which  are  engraven- 
figures  of  the  Egyptian  deities,  combined  with  Zoroas- 
tric  and  Jewish  symbols,  and  a  strange  mixture  of  He-- 
brew,  Phoenician,  Greek,  Coptic,  and  Latin  characters. 
In  the  PaliBOgraphia  Grreca  of  Montfaucon,  may  be 
seen  engravings  of  a  great  number  of  these  gems, 
Avhich  he  has  arranged  into  different  classes.  Their 
origin  and  use  have  been  much  disputed  among  anti- 
quarians. Montfaucon  is  of  opinion,  along  with  St. 
Jerom,  that  Abraxas  was  the  god  of  the  Basilidians; 
and  that  the  gems  of  that  name  were  amulets  worn  by 
these  and  other  heretics  in  the  early  ages  of  the  church- 
BeauEobre  and  Lardner,  however,  have  examined  care- 
fully the  various  specimens  given  hj'  Montfaucon,  and 
have  shown  pretty  clearly  that  they  are  of  heathen 
origin;  that  Abraxas  was  not  the  god  of  the  Basili- 
dians; that  this  term  signifies  nothing  but  the  sun, 
which  was  never  worshipped  by  these  heretics ;  that 
the  figures  are  for  the  most  part  Egyjitian ;  that  there 
is  no  evidence  of  their  having  belonged  to  the  Basili- 
dians ;  that  those  which  have  the  words  Jao,  Sabaoth, 
&c.  upon  them,  were  the  works  of  magicians,  who 
never  professed  the  Christian  faith ;  and  that  some  of 
these  figures  derived  their  origin  from  the  Siuoniana 
and  Ophites,  who  did  not  even  profess  Christianity. 
Treatises  on  the  abraxas  have  been  published  by  Mo- 
carius  and  J.  Chiflet,  to  whom  Montfaucon  has  been 
indebted  for  many  of  his  figures.  Several  of  these 
gems  are  in  the  National  Library  at  Paris.    Beause- 


ABR 


ABR 


27 


bre^s  Hislwry  of  the  Manicheaiis,  vol.  ii.  p.  55 ;  and 
Lar'lner's  Works,  vol.  ix.  p.  190.  (ro) 

ABRIDGMENT,  in  literature,  the  reduction  of  a 
work  into  less  than  its  original  compass ;  which  is  an 
art  of  infinitely  greater  utility  than  we  are  generally 
disposed  to  admit.  It  was  in  the  fifth  century  that  the 
practice  of  abridging  came  into  general  use.  When 
ilie  taste  for  literature  began  to  decline,  the  number 
of  original  compositions  was  greatly  diminished,  and  a 
swarm  of  abridgers  supplied  their  place,  and  gratified 
*he  indolence  of  the  public  by  abridgments  of  the  pon- 
derous and  almost  forgotten  volumes  of  antiquity.  Some 
of  these  abridgers  emi)loyed,  with  a  few  changes,  the 
expressions  of  the  authors  themselves  ;  others  selected 
their  facts  from  various  sources,  and  clothed  them  in 
their  own  language  ;  while  a  third  class  collected  the 
most  valuable  passages  from  authors  who  wrote  upon 
the  same  subject ;  and  by  their  union  formed  an  inte- 
resting work,  and  thus  rescued  from  oblivion  some  of 
the  most  valuable  fragments  of  antiquity.  In  this  way 
several  huge  works  were  greatly  improved  by  abridg- 
ment ;  among  which  we  may  mention  the  voluminous 
history  of  Trogus  Pompeius,  of  which  Justin  has  fur- 
nished such  an  excellent  epitome.  At  no  period,  per- 
haps, has  the  necessity  of  abridging  been  more  conspi- 
cuous, or  ought  to  be  more  earnestly  enforced,  than  at 
the  present.  In  this  age,  it  would  appear  as  if  each 
author  thought  his  su))ject  inexhaustible  ;  and,  not  con- 
tent with  disquisitions  on  points  truly  im|)ortant  to 
science,  he  forces  into  notice  those  which  never  merit- 
ed consideration,  as  if  it  were  possible  to  convert  dross 
into  gold.  We  regret  that  several  such  aliempta  have 
been  too  successful ;  and  we  have  to  lament  the  depra- 
vity of  public  taste,  which  must  always  result  froifl 
such  pernicious  examples. 

We  lay  it  down  as  indisputable,  that  the  better  an 
author  understands  his  subject,  he  will  reduce  it  into 
the  smaller  compass ;  because  each  head  having  re- 
ceived the  discussion  peculiar  to  itself,  becomes  a  co- 
rollary. There  cannot,  therefore,  be  a  more  estimable 
property,  than  that  of  expressing  much  matter  in  few 
"words ;  and  when  an  author  fails  in  this,  we  can  ascribe 
it  only  to  ignorance  of  his  subject,  or  the  want  of  skill 
in  composition.  At  the  same  time  it  is  true,  that  many, 
unacquainted  with  logical  deductions,  wander  into  pro- 
lixity, from  inattention  to  the  strong  positions  in  which 
an  argument  may  be  placed. 

The  ponderous  volumes  daily  ushered  into  the  world, 
attended  by  every  mark  of  pedantry,  do  little  credit  to 
literature.  It  is  no  uncommon  occurrence  to  find 
scarcely  one-fourth  of  them  occupied  by  the  subject 
announced,  while  the  rest  is  filled  by  the  author  with 
a  commentary  on  himself,  in  his  preface,  introduction, 
and  appendixes ;  or  in  that  most  convenient,  and  least 
suspected  of  all  receptacles, — innumerable  notes. 

Those  who  employ  themselves  in  the  abridgment  of 
books,  are  often  engaged  in  a  useful  occupation :  for 
they  have  not  only  the  choice  of  the  work,  Ijut  the  se- 
lection of  the  matter.  It  is  not  easy  to  point  out  the 
specific  line  which  they  should  follow ;  for  this  must, 
in  general,  he  regulated  by  the  work  itself.  But  the 
principal  jjoints  to  be  considered  are,  first,  the  precise 
object  of  the  w(  k ;  and,  secondly,  what  parts  of  it  most 
forcibly  tend  to  support  the  views  of  its  author.  When 
nn  abridger  has  made  himself  fully  master  of  these,  he 
may  retrench  superfluities  which  have  escaped  the  au- 
thor's notice ;  and  may  be  able  to  present  the  work  in 


a  more  satisfactory  form  than  was  originally  done  by 
the  author  himself. 

The  following  hints  to  abridgers  are  given  by  the 
elegant  author  of  the  Book  of  Maccabeep,  in  a  preface 
to  that  history  :  "  All  these  things,  I  say,  being  declared 
by  Jason  of  Cyrene,  in  jive  books,  we  shall  essay  to 
ahridge  in  one  volume.  We  shall  be  careful  that  they 
who  read  may  have  (klight ;  that  they  who  are  desirous 
to  commit  to  memory  may  have  case  ;  and  that  all  into 
whose  hands  it  comes  may  have  profit."  "  To  stand 
upon  every  point,  to  go  over  things  at  large,  and  to  be 
citrious  in  particulars,  belongs  to  the  first  author  of  the 
story ;  but  to  use  brevity,  and  avoid  much  labouring  in 
the  work,  is  to  be  granted  to  him  who  will  make  an 
abridgment."  See  The  Method  of  making  Abridgments, 
hy  the  Abbg  Gualtier,  in  2  vols.  4to.  Baillet  Trigement 
dcs  Sfavans,  tom.  i.  j).  240 ;  and  D'Israeli's  Curiosities 
ofLitn-aiure,  3th  edit.  vol.  ii.  p.  166.    (c) 

ABRIZAN,  the  name  of  a  festival  observed  by  the 
ancient  Persians  on  the  13th  day  of  the  month  Tir.  It 
has  been  partly  adopted  by  the  3Iahommedans,  and,  hs.\)- 
pening  near  the  time  of  the  autumnal  equinoxes,  it  ap- 
pears to  have  been  preparatory  to  the  rainy  seasons. 
See  Harmer's  06*cn;ai^OTW,  v.  iii.  p.  10.  (»») 

ABROMA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Polyadel- 
phia,  and  order  Pentandria. 

The  Abroma  Augusta  is  a  native  of  various  parts  of 
India,  New  South  Wales,  the  Philippine  Isles,  &c.  It 
has  been  found  by  Dr.  Roxburgh  to  be  particularly  ex- 
cellent for  making  cordage,  it'c.  and  has  thence  been 
called  Indian  flax.  The  fibres  employed  for  this  pur- 
pose are  abundantly  interwoven  with  its  bark,  and 
remarkable  for  their  beauty,  fineness,  and  strength. 
They  are  separated  from  the  parenchymatous  sub- 
stance, by  maceration  in  water,  frmn  four  to  eight  days, 
&c.  See  Memoirs  of  the  Society  of  Arts  for  1804, 
which  contains  Dr.  Roxburgh's  paper  on  this  subject. 
See  Botany,  (to) 

ABRUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Diadelphia, 
and  order  Decandria.     See  Botany,  (w) 

ABRUZZO,  a  province  of  Naples,  which  derives  its 
name  from  the  city  of  Geramo,  anciently  called  Abruz- 
zo.  It  was  the  Samnium  of  the  ancients,  the  country  of 
the  Samnites,  who  were  distinguished  by  their  valour, 
their  civilization,  and  the  wars  which  they  waged  with 
the  Romans  during  seventy  years.  Abruzzo  is  divided 
by  the  river  Pescara  into  two  parts,  called  Ulterior  and 
Citerior  Abruzzo,  of  which  Aquila  and  Chieti  (Tlieate) 
are  the  capitals.  This  province  is  naturally  fertile  and 
productive,  and  affords  its  inhabitants  more  than  a  suf- 
ficient supply  of  corn,  rice,  fruit,  oil,  and  wine,  besides 
saflron  and  hemp ;  but  from  the  want  of  convenient 
harbours  and  good  roads,  there  is  no  encouragement 
to  exportation.  The  country  is  therefore  in  general 
desolate,  and  the  peasantry  poor  and  uncomfortable. 
The  climate  is  cold,  though  salubrious;  the  country 
being  traversed  by  the  Apennines,  which  are  always 
covered  with  snow.  Among  the  stupendous  mountains 
which  continually  arrest  the  ej'e  of  the  traveller,  Blon- 
te-Corno  and  Majella  are  the  most  interesting.  The 
former  presents  a  rugged  and  broken  front,  and  is  al- 
most inaccessible,  while  the  declivities  of  Majella  are 
clolhed  with  rich  fields,  and  an  immense  variety  of 
jjlants.  These  mountains  are  infested  with  wolves  and 
bears,  which  commit  great  depredations  in  the  winter. 
The  deer  and  the  tiger-cat,  or  lynx,  are  also  found  in 
the  woods.  In  the  province  of  Abruzzo  is  llie  cele-- 
D  2 


28 


ABS 


ABS 


brated  emissary  of  the  emperor  Clauilius,  for  draining 
(he  beautiful  and  ronianlic  lake  of  Celano,  anciently 
called  Fucinus.  This  emissary  is  a  covered  under- 
groimd  canal,  three  miles  long.  A  great  part  of  it  is 
cut  out  of  the  solid  rock,  and  the  remaining  part  is 
supported  by  masonry,  with  large  openings  to  admit  the 
light  and  the  air.  According  to  Suetonius,  30,000 
men  were  employed  for  eleven  years  in  this  stupendous 
work,  which  was  intended  to  convey  the  superfluous 
waters  of  the  lake  Celano  into  the  bed  of  the  river  Ga- 
rigliano.  The  emmissary  being  now  filled  u|)  with  rub- 
bish, the  waters  of  this  lake,  which  is  above  thirty 
miles  la  circumference,  are  making  rapid  encroach- 
ments on  the  rich  and  cultivated  plains  which  sur- 
round it ;  and  unless  the  canal  is  cleared  and  repaired, 
the  lake  will  sooti  inundate  the  numerous  villages 
w  hich  smile  upon  its  banks.  See  Phil.  Trans.  1 786, 
p.  363  ;  and  Swinburne's  Travels,  v.  iv.  p.  378.  (w) 

ABSALOM,  the  son  of  David.  His  sister  Tamar 
having  been  ravished  by  Amnon,  her  elder  brother, 
Absalom  took  her  under  his  protection;  and,  having 
waited  two  years  for  an  opportunity  of  revenging  this 
injury,  procured  the  assassination  of  Amnon  at  a  feast, 
to  which  he  had  invited  the  whole  royal  family.  On 
this,  he  fled  to  his  grandfather,  and  continued  with  him 
in  Geshur  three  years;  after  which,  he  was  restored  to 
David's  favour.  But,  looking  on  himself  as  presump- 
tive heir  to  the  crown,  he  soon  formed  the  design  of 
dethroning  his  father,  and  succeeded  in  gaining  the 
aftections  of  many  of  the  people.  Through  the  influ- 
ence of  Hushai,  David's  friend,  who  counteracted  the 
counsels  of  Ahithophel,  Absalom's  adviser,  he  delayed 
attacking  the  king's  army,  till  they  were  prepared  to 
receive  him.  In  consequence  of  this,  his  forces  were 
defeated  with  great  slaughter,  and  he  himself,  having 
fled  into  the  wood  of  Ephraim,  was  caught  by  the  hair 
when  passing  under  a  large  oak.  Here  he  was  found 
hanging  by  Joab,  who  thrust  him  through  with  three 
darts,  though  David  had  ordered  his  life  to  be  spared. 
See  Unir.  Hist.  v.  iv.  p.  73—79.  (tl) 

ABSCESS,  in  Surgery,  is  a  cavity  containing  puru- 
lent matter.  See  Hist,  ile  VAcad.  i)ar.  1701,  p.  29; 
1731,  p.  515.  Hunter's  Medical  Observations  and  In- 
quiries, \o\.  ii.  p.  57.  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xii.  p.  1035. 
Bell  On  Ulcers,  ed.  3.  p.  54,  93.  Kirkland's  Medical 
Surgery,  vol.  ii.  p.  49,  62,  133,  142,160,  175,  183,  185, 
253.  Asiatic  Researches,  vol.  vii.  J.  Hunter's  Nat. 
Hist,  of  the  Teeth,  Part  II.  Bell's  Surgery,  iv.  76,  203, 
209;  V.  390.     Pearson's  SVr^ery,  vol.  i.     See  also  StR- 

GERY.    (tv) 

ABSCISS,  or  Abscissa,  from  abscimlo,  to  cut  off, 
the  part  of  the  diameter  of  a  curve,  between  its  origin 
and  an  onliuate.  See  Curve,  Ordinate,  and  Conic 
Sections,  (mj) 

ABSCISSION,  in  Surgery,  is  used  to  express  the 
cutting  away  any  unsound  and  soft  part  of  the  body ; 
while  amputation  is  the  cutting  away  of  bones,  (w) 

ABSENCE  OK  Mind,  a  want  of  attention  to  external 
objects  that  are  present,  while  the  mind  is  engaged 
with  its  own  reflections.  It  depends  on  the  power  of 
association,  confirmed  by  habits  of  abstruse  and  solitary 
thinking.  It  is,  of  course,  the  failing  of  literary  men; 
of  those  who  are  accustomed  to  silent  reasoning,  and 
to  view  their  opinions  in  all  their  consequences  and 
aspects.  A  long  train  of  thought  passes  through  the 
mind,  and  the  attention  is  engaged  so  completely,  that 
•bjects  without,  which  make  au  impression   on   the 


senses,  are  either  not  perceived,  or  have  not  sufficient 
power  to  break  the  line  of  associated  ideas;  or,  per- 
haps, have  no  such  relation  to  any  of  them  as  to  restore 
the  perceptive  faculty  to  its  exercise.  A  clock  may 
strike,  or  a  friend  may  utter  something  which  ought  to 
interest  us,  and  both  may  be  unheard  or  neglected. 
"  A  man  is  mentioned,  in  Darwin's  Zoonomia,  Avho, 
during  the  paroxysm  of  a  reverie,  was  reciting  some 
lines  from  Pope,  one  of  which  he  had  forgotten.  It  was 
several  times  inefiectually  shouted  in  his  ears,  till  at 
length,  after  much  labour,  he  recollected  it  by  his  own 
eflbrts."  See  Mr.  Grant's  paper  on  Reverie,  in  the 
Manchester  Memoirs. 

The  absence  of  mind  which  we  are  speaking  of,  is 
the  failing  of  those  likewise  whose  imaginations  are 
active,  and  whose  memories  are  good ;  who  indulge  in 
scenes  of  fancied  happiness,  and  fly  from  the  miseries 
around  them  to  those  ideal  joys  from  which  all  sorrow 
is  excluded.  They  contemplate,  in  their  reveries,  only 
the  fair  side  of  objects.  Every  adventure  in  which 
they  engage  is  successful ;  every  incident  that  occurs 
is  improved  to  their  benefit ;  every  sound  is  harmo- 
nious, and  every  colour  is  pleasing  to  the  eye.  This 
exercise  of  the  imagination  differs  from  a  dream ;  be- 
cause the  individual  is  really  awake,  and  exerts  such  a 
power  over  his  thoughts,  as  to  banish  all  evil  from  the 
happiness  which  he  enjoys,  and  to  satiate  himself  with 
unmingled  pleasure.  The  exertion  of  this  power  must 
be  considered  as  voluntary,  at  least  in  its  first  or  ear- 
liest endeavours,  though  the  ideas  appear  to  follow 
each  other  in  the  mind,  without  any  control  or  direc- 
tion from  the  will. 

A  want  of  attention  to  external  objects,  that  are  pre- 
sent, is  often  the  effect  of  a  strong  impression,  made 
upon  the  mind.  This  impression,  and  the  incidents 
and  appearances  which  gave  rise  to  it,  overpower  the 
faculty  of  perception,  withdraw  it  from  the  organs  of 
sense,  and,  engrossing  the  whole  of  the  thinking  prin- 
ciple, render  us  incapable,  for  a  while,  of  turning  the 
mental  eye  to  any  thing  without.  Thus,  an  execution ; 
a  contest  between  two  powerful  armies;  a  madhouse, 
with  its  wretched  inhabitants; — one  or  any  of  these  ob- 
jects may  force  itself  so  strongly  upon  the  attention, 
that  the  idea  of  it  will  continue  in  the  memory,  even 
against  our  wishes,  and  produce  a  train  of  reflections, 
which  will  abstract  us  entirely  from  the  occurrences 
around  us.  These  succeed  one  another  without  our  no- 
tice or  concern.  We  have  heard  of  a  man,  who  had 
%vitnessed  the  execution  of  a  person,  with  whom  he  wag 
connected  in  business :  and  such  was  the  impression 
that  the  last  struggles  of  the  criminal  made  upon  him, 
that,  for  a  whole  week,  he  neither  sjioke  nor  acted  as 
he  had  done  before.  He  appeared  to  be  absorl)ed  in 
thought,  and  at  night  his  dreams  were  characterized 
by  the  objects  which  had  taken  possession  of  his  mind. 

Where  absence  of  mind  rises  to  such  a  height  as  io 
constitute  a  disease,  it  is  for  the  most  part  connected 
with  some  disorder  of  the  body;  and  is  to  be  cured  by 
exercise  and  change  of  place,  by  a  relaxation  from  ha- 
bits of  abstract  thinking,  and  by  the  various  remedies 
for  counteracting  any  undue  irritability  or  depression 
of  the  nervous  system.  (A) 

ABSOLUTE  Number,  in  algebra,  is  the  known 
quantity,  or  number,  which  forms  one  of  the  terms  of 
an  equation.  Thus,  in  the  equation,  x' — bx=8,  the 
absolute  number  is  8.  {m) 

ABSOLUTION,  in  the  canon  law,  is  that  act  by 


ABS 


ABS 


99 


which  a  Roman  Catholic  priest  forgives  the  sins  of  those 
who,  by  confession  and  repentance,  seem  to  deserve  it. 
The  form  of  absolution,  employed  by  Tetzel,  whose 
sale  of  indulgences  and  absolutions  paved  the  way  for 
the  Reformation,  may  be  seen  in  Robertson's  History 
of  Charles  V.  vol.  ii.  p.  117.     {w) 

ABSORBENTS,  or  Aesokbing  Vessels,  are  mi- 
nute and  (ransi)arent  vessels,  found  in  all  animals,  which 
absorb,  or  imbibe,  any  fluid  with  which  they  come  in 
contact,  and  carry  them  into  the  circulating  blood. 
They  are  divided  into  Lactcals  and  Lymphatics,  accord- 
ing to  the  liquids  which  they  convey  ;  the  former  con- 
veying from  the  intestines  a  milky  liquid,  called  the 
chyle,  and  the  latter  conveying  lymph,  a  thin  pellucid 
liquor,  from  all  the  interstices  of  the  body.  The  lac- 
teal vessels  were  discovered  by  Erasistratus,  of  the 
Alexandrian  school ;  and  the  lymphatics,  by  Rudbec,  a 
Swede,  and  Bartholine,  a  Dutch  anatomist,  in  1651. 
The  opinions  of  the  English  anatomists  on  the  absorb- 
ent vessels,  have  been  recently  controverted  by  M.  Wal- 
ter, a  German  Physician,  in  a  curious  paper  in  the 
Mem.  de  PAcad.  Berlin,  1786,  1787.  He  maintains, 
that  the  lymphatics  are  properly  the  absorbing  vessels, 
and  that,  in  all  parts  where  there  is  a  cellular  substance, 
they  partake  with  the  veins  in  the  office  of  absorjition ; 
that  they  absorb  the  chyle  in  conjunction  with  the  Vena 
Portarum  ;  that  they  alone  absorb  the  milk  in  the  breasts 
of  women ;  and  that  the  veins,  on  the  other  hand,  per- 
form the  office  of  absorption  in  all  the  cavities  of  the 
body,  and  over  all  its  surface.  See  Hunter's  Medical 
Comnuularics.  Kennedy's  Essay  on  External  Reme- 
dies, &c.  Baillie's  Morbid  Anaiotny.  Soiimmering  de 
Morb.  vas.  Absorb.  Corp.  Hum.  1 793.  Mascagni  dc  Ve- 
nis  Lymphaticis  ;  and  Cruickshank's  Anatomy  of  tlu  Ab- 
sorbent Vessels.     See  also  Anatomy,     (iv) 

ABSORBENT  Medicines,  sometimes  called  Anta- 
cidcs,  Antalkalines,  and  Antacrids,  are  those  substances 
which,  when  taken  inwardly,  or  applied  externallj', 
have  the  property  of  absorbing  redundant  and  acrid 
humours.  In  cases  of  erysipelas,  for  example,  the  ap- 
plication of  dry  flour  to  the  skin,  absorbs  the  acrid  mat- 
ter, which  propagates  the  inflammation  by  flowing  un- 
der the  cuticle.  See  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xli.  p.  557.  Edinb. 
Med.  Essays,  vol.  v.  art.  24.  Langii  Opera  Medica,  p. 
432.     Mf?n.  Acad.  Par.  1 700.     See  also  Materia  BIe- 

DICA.      (w) 

ABSORPTION,  is  that  function  which  is  exercised 
by  the  absorbent  vessels.  This  power  has  been  ascrib- 
ed by  some  physiologists  to  the  capillary  attraction  of 
the  vessels,  and  others  refer  it  to  the  pressure  of  the 
atmosphere  on  the  surface  of  the  body,  which  propels 
the  matter  subject  to  absorption  into  the  mouths  of  the 
vessels.  Dr.  Hunter  attributes  to  (he  mouths  of  the 
vessels  powers  similar  to  those  exerted  by  a  caterpil- 
lar when  feeding  on  a  leaf;  and  Dr.  Fullarton  supposes 
a  power  of  suction  in  the  surface  of  the  absorbents. 
See  Duncan's  Med.  Comment,  v.  x.  p.  354.  See  also 
Absorbents,  and  Physiology,     (to) 

ABSORPTION,  in  Chemistry,  is  the  property  which 
most  bodies  possess  of  drawing  into  their  substance, 
and  assimilating  others  of  a  tlifferent  constitution. 
Thus  stones,  wood,  and  animal  fibre,  are  variously  dis- 
posed to  imbibe  and  retain  moisture;  and  thus  water 
has  the  faculty  to  incorporate  with  itself  air  and  other 
elastic  fluids.  It  is  in  this  way  that  gases  become  uni- 
ted to  liquids,  and  that  both  gases  and  liquids  are  swal- 
lowed up  and  lost  iu  the  ioterior  compogitiou  of  solids. 


In  all  such  cases,  a  real  chemical  force  is  exerted,  en- 
tirely distinct  from  the  power  employed  in  |)roducing 
mere  capillary  ascent.  Absorfition  is  constantly  at- 
tended by  change  of  temperature  and  alteration  of  vo- 
lume, the  circumstances  which  unequivocally  mark  a 
new  combination.  AVhen  a  spunge  draws  up  water 
into  its  tubulated  structure,  it  acts  only  by  the  ap- 
proximation of  its  numerous  internal  surfaces.  The 
result  is  a  mechanical  compound,  and  both  the  spunge 
and  the  water,  quite  independent  of  each  other,  pre- 
serve their  peculiar  character.  If  a  solid  body  be  re- 
duced to  minute  contiguous  fragments,  it  will  like- 
ivise  admit  the  penetration  of  a  liquid,  which  insinu- 
ates itself  along  the  winding  interstices.  In  this  way, 
sand  is  capable  of  being  wetted.  But,  when  paper  is 
soaked  in  water,  a  very  diflferent  process  obtains ;  the 
particles  of  the  fluid,  attracted  into  the  substance  of  the 
paper,  occasion  a  general  distention,  with  a  sensible 
extrication  of  heat ;  the  paper,  in  consequence,  be- 
comes denser,  and  partakes  in  some  degree  of  the  soft- 
ness and  transparency  of  the  water,  to  ivhich  it  is  now 
so  intimately  united.  The  water  must  therefore,  in  its 
combination  with  paper,  exist  in  a  concentrated  state. 
The  same  thing  takes  place  in  the  union  of  (he  gases 
with  liquor  or  solid  substances.  That  portion  of  air,  for 
instance,  which  is  lodged  in  charcoal,  appears  to  be 
highly  condensed :  it  is  only  disengaged  from  its  basis 
by  the  application  of  water,  to  which  the  charcoal  shows 
a  superior  affinity.  The  singular  properties  of  the  hy- 
drophanous  opal  are  owing  to  a  similar  cause. 

To  consider  solution  as  essential  to  chemical  union, 
is,  therefore,  to  overlook  the  economy  of  nature.     The 
combination  of  bodies  take  a  much  Avider  range.     When 
a  liquid  joins  with  a  gaseous  substance,  or  solid  matter 
unites  to  liquid,  the  opposite  ingredients  may  enter  into 
the  composition  in  every  possible  proportion.     The  re- 
ciprocal action  of  copper  and  mercury  will  serve  as  an 
example  :  the  copper  first  absorbs  the  globules  of  mer- 
cury into  its  mass ;  and,  retaining  its  solidity,  it  only 
becomes  brighter  and  more  brittle.      By  degrees,   it 
softens,  and  passes  into  the  state  of  an  amalgam.     And 
as  the  proportion  of  the  mercury  farther  increases,  the 
resulting  compound  begins  to  assume  the  character  of 
a  liquid,  and  continually  appro<'(ches  to  the  fluidity  of 
mercury  itself.     In  this  instance,  we  trace  a  continuous 
chain  of  character,  extending  from  the  one  ingredient 
to  the  other.     It  often  happens,  however,  that  the  inter- 
mediate links  are  less  apparent.  But,  in  every  case, 
the  extreme  limits  of  combination,  on  either  side,  de- 
serve to  fix  attention ;  and  wc  may  state  it  as  a  general 
principle,  that,  whenever  a  solid  has  a  close  attraction 
to  a  fluid  substance,  two  opposite  products  will  result 
from  their  union,  the  one  preserving  the  form  and  con- 
sistence of  the  solid,  and  the  other  again  retaining  the 
more  obvious  qualities  of  the  fluid.     In  the  one  case, 
the  character  of  solidity  predominates;    in  the  other, 
that  of  fluidity  maintains  the  ascendency.     If  a  given 
stone  be  shown  to  absorb  moisture,  we  may  safely  draw 
the  inverse  conclusion,  that  water,  in  its  turn,  is  capable 
of  dissolving  the  stony  matter.     The  attraction  of  (he 
water  may  yet  be  too  feeble  to  overcome  the  mutual  co- 
hesion of  the  particles  of  the  stone ;  but  when  the  dis- 
integration is  eflected  by  other  means,  the  assimilating 
powers  of  the  fluid  will  act  with  full  eflect.     Such  a 
process  has  the  most  extensive  ojieration,  and  its  diffuse 
energy  may  very  often  elude  the  ordinary  and  imperfect 
modes  of  chemical  analysis.     This  view  of  the  subject 


30 


ABSORPTION. 


is  evidenlly  f;n*ourable  to  the  Neptunian,  or  aqueous, 
hypothesis  of  the  foniiation  of  rocks. 

We  are  not  ignorant  of  the  recent  attempts  to  revive 
certain  mechanical  tlicories,  concerning  tlie  mutual  re- 
lation of  fluids.  Water,  it  is  alleged,  imbibes  always 
its  own  bulk  of  every  kind  of  gas ;  and,  when  converted 
into  vapour,  it  spreads  through  the  air,  or  other  gase- 
ous mass,  passively,  filling  up  the  vacuities,  and  oc- 
cupying exactly  the  same  space  which  it  would  have 
done  if  the  medium  of  its  expansion  had  been  entirely 
removed.  But  these  assertions  will  be  found  to  be 
grounded  on  vague  experiments,  and  supported  only  by 
very  crude  and  unjjhilosophical  reasonings.  We  de- 
cline entering  on  the  consideration  of  the  question  at 
present,  but  propose  to  give  it  a  thorough  discussion  in 
some  future  article. 

About  the  year  1746,  M.  Dalibard,  {Mem.  dcs  S{a- 
vans  Elrangers,  i.  p.  212,  et  scq.)  at  the  request  of  the 
conite  rte  Buffon,  made  some  curious  observations  on 
the  variable  weight  of  a  piece  of  wood,  which  was  kept 
plunged  under  water.  It  was  discovered,  when  taken 
out,  and  its  surface  wiped,  to  be  somewhat  heavier  or 
lighter,  according  to  the  state  of  the  atmosphere,  es- 
pecially in  regard  to  temperature.  Similar  results  were 
obtained  from  horn  ;  marble,  and  other  granular  stones. 
All  those  substances,  being  kept  immersed  in  water, 
were  found  to  gain  uniformly  more  weight  in  winter 
than  during  the  months  of  summer;  and,  in  general, 
to  absorb  the  fluid  more  copiously  in  cold  than  in  hot 
weather.  But  when  the  cold  became  intense,  a  singu- 
lar anomaly  took  place.  The  lUlatatioii,  which  always 
accompanies  the  act  of  freezing,  communicates  a  mu- 
tual repulsive  force  to  the  particles  of  water,  that 
seems,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  overcome  the  opposite 
attraction  of  the  hygroscopic  substances.  A  piece  of 
wood  suffered  a  sudden  and  very  material  diminution 
of  weight,  when  the  surrounding  liquid  was  converted 
into  solid  ice.  A  mass  of  copper,  penetrated  by  sub- 
mersion in  mercurj',  is  liable  also  to  very  sensible  varia- 
tion of  weight,  according  to  the  temperature  in  which 
it  is  exposed — being  always  heavier  when  cold,  and 
lighter  when  subjected  to  heat.  These  remarkable  facts 
throw  new  light  on  the  nature  and  modifications  of  che- 
mical affinity.  But  the  subject  would  require  a  nicer 
and  more  elaborate  investigation. 

On  the  faculty  of  the  different  earths  to  abstract 
mositure  from  the  air,  professor  Leslie  has  given  us  a 
very  interesting  sketch  in  Nicholson's  Journal  for  the 
year  1800.  By  help  of  that  delicate  instrument — his 
hygrometer — he  found,  that  earthy  substances,  after 
being  intensely  dried,  showed  a  remarkable  disposition 
to  attrack  moisture  again,  and  to  desiccate  the  air  in 
which  they  are  included ;  not  inferior,  indeed,  to  that 
possessed  by  sulphuric  acid  and  the  most  deliquescent 
salts.  The  several  i)rimitive  earths  exhibit  that  ab- 
aorbent  power  in  very  different  degrees;  silica  having 
the  smallest  energy,  and  alumina  the  greatest.  The 
effects  are  much  augmented  in  a  higher  temperature. 
Of  the  compound  bodies,  basalt  has,  in  every  state,  the 
strongest  attraction  for  humidity.  This  fact  perfectly 
agrees  with  the  known  property,  that  basalt,  or  whin- 
stone,  by  its  decomposition,  forms  the  most  fertile  soil ; 
for  garden,  or  vegetable,  mould  showed  the  most  ener- 
getic absorption.  Hence,  perhaps,  a  method  is  furnish- 
ed, much  easier,  and  more  satisfactory,  than  any  che- 
Hiieal  analysis,  for  ascertaining  the  relative  values  of 
(lififerent  soils.     We  trust,  that  a  subject  so  novel  will 


not  be  suffered  to  rest,  but  will  be  pursued  with  that 
ardour  which  its  importance  demands.  We  shall  have 
occasion,  in  the  subsequent  parts  of  our  work,  to  treat 
of  chemical  absorption  with  more  detail.  See  Attrac- 
tion Chemical;  Capillary  Action;  Earths  Absorb- 
ent; HrcKOBcovic  Substances ;  and  Soils,     (y) 

ABSORPTION  of  the  Earth,  is  the  sinking  iu 
of  land,  either  in  consequ'^nce  of  an  opening  of  the  earth 
or  some  subterraneous  convulsions. 

In  the  time  of  Pliny,  the  town  Curites,  and  the  moun- 
tain Cybotus,  on  which  it  stood,  were  so  completely 
absorbed,  that  scarcely  a  trace  of  them  was  left  behind. 
The  city  of  Tantalus,  in  Magnesia,  and  the  mountain 
Sypilus,  suffered  the  same  calamity  from  a  sudden  o|)en- 
ing  of  the  earth.  A  similar  fate  befell  the  towns  of 
Galanis  and  Gamalis,  in  Phoenicia ;  and  the  huge  pro- 
montory of  Phegium,  in  Ethiopia,  disappeared  after  a 
violent  earthquake.  The  lofty  mountain  Picus,  in  the 
Molucca  Isles,  was  instantaneously  absorbed,  in  con- 
sequence of  an  earth(]uake ;  and  an  immense  lake  of 
water  appeared  on  the  place  which  it  occupied.  See 
Plin.  Hist.  Nat.  torn.  i. 

A  similar  accident  hajipened  in  China,  in  1550,  when 
a  whole  province  was  sivallowed  up,  along  with  its  in- 
habitants, and  left  in  its  place  an  extensive  sheet  of 
water.  We  are  also  told,  that  several  mountains  of  the 
Andes  have  disappeared  from  a  similar  cause. 

In  1702,  Borge,  a  seat  in  Norway,  sunk  into  the 
ground,  and  became  a  lake  100  fathoms  deep;  and  in 
Finland,  in  1793,  a  piece  of  ground  of  4000  square 
yards,  sunk  to  the  depth  of  15  fathoms. 

On  the  23d  of  June,  1727,  one  of  the  Cevennes,  a 
chain  of  mountains  in  the  south  of  France,  was  under- 
mined by  absorption,  and  the  whole  mountain,  with  its 
huge  basaltic  columns,  rolled,  with  a  dreadful  crash, 
into  the  valley  below.  An  immense  block  of  stone,  90 
feet  long  and  20  in  diameter,  sunk  in  a  vertical  position ; 
and  so  great  was  the  shock,  that  it  was  felt,  and  con- 
sidered as  an  earthquake,  at  the  distance  of  three  miles. 
The  village  Pradines,  which  was  situated  on  the  de- 
clivity of  the  mountain,  was  overwhelmed  by  the  tor- 
rent of  huge  fragments  of  rocks;  but  its  inhabitants 
were  fortunately  celebrating  midsummer  eve,  around 
a  bonfire  at  some  distance. 

These  instances  of  absorption,  however,  are  less  in- 
teresting than  that  dreadful  calamity  which  happened 
at  Schweitz,  a  canton  in  Switzerland,  on  the  ad  Sep- 
tember, 1806,  and  which  appears  to  have  been  owing 
to  an  absorption  of  the  earth.  Between  the  lakes  of 
Zug  and  Lowertz,  and  the  mountains  of  Rosenburg  and 
Rossi,  lay  a  delightful  and  luxuriant  valley,  decorated 
with  a  number  of  beautiful  villages.  At  five  o'clock, 
in  the  evening  of  the  3d  September,  the  Spitzberg,  or 
north-east  projection  of  the  mountain  Rosenberg,  pre- 
cipitated itself  into  the  valley,  from  the  height  of  2000 
feet,  and  buried  in  its  ruins  the  villages  of  Goldau, 
Busingen,  and  Rathlen,  with  a  part  of  Lowertz  and 
Oberart.  The  torrent  of  earth  and  stones,  ivhich  com- 
posed the  mountain,  rushed  like  lava  into  the  valley, 
and  overwhelmed  more  than  three  square  miles  of  the' 
richest  fields.  A  portion  of  this  mass,  mingled  with 
the  trees  and  cottages,  which  it  had  torn  from  their 
base,  plunged  into  the  lake  of  Lowertz,  and  filled  up 
nearly  a  fifth  jiart  of  its  bed.  The  immense  swell 
which  was  thus  occasioned,  rolling  in  awful  dignity  along 
the  lake,  completely  submerged  two  inhabited  islamlp, 
and  the  whole  village  of  Seven,  Avhich  stood  upon  its 


ABS 


ABS 


31 


nortlicrn  extremity.  In  tliia  dreadful  accident,  betivcrn 
1500  and  2000  of  the  unfortunate  inhabitants  were 
buried  alive. 

Mr.  Uuckminster,  who  has  given  a  detailed  account 
of  this  curious  plienomenon,  imagines  that  tlie  calca- 
reous earth  ivns  loosened  by  moisture,  at  the  place 
where  the  projecting  mass  was  connected  with  the 
mountains ;  while  others  are  of  ojiinioii  that  it  was 
pushed  from  its  base  by  the  swelling  of  the  fountains  of 
Rosenberg.  There  is,  however,  no  evidence  in  favour 
of  any  of  these  explanations,  audit  seems  rathtr  proba- 
ble that  the  equilibrium  of  the  impending  mass  was 
destroyed  by  the  absoq)tion,  or  sinking  in  of  the 
earth,  by  which  its  base  was  u[)held.  See  the  Phil. 
Mag.  vol.  xxvii.  p.  2o9.  For  an  account  of  similar 
phenomena,  see  Fhil.  Trans.  1713,  vol.  xxviii.  p.  267. 
Id.  1716,  vol.  xxix.  p.  409.  Id.  1718,  vol.  xxx.  p.  760. 
Id.  1728,  vol.  xxxv.  p.  531.  Id.  1739,  vol.  xli.  p.  272. 
Id.  1745,  vol.  xliii.  p.  52.  Id.  1756,  p.  547.  Id.  1786,  p. 
220 ;  and  Zach.  Ephem.  i.  545.  Voyage  dans  les  De- 
part. Canial.  p.  24.  Pinkerton's  Qcog.  vol.  i.  p.  299.  (>«) 

ABSTERGENT  Medicines,  are  those  which  not 
only  by  their  fluidity  wash  off  any  substances  that  ad- 
here to  the  body,  but  which  have  the  power  of  dimin- 
ishing the  cohesion  of  such  substances,     (w) 

ABSTINENCE,  the  avoiding  or  rci'raiuing  from 
any  thing,  to  which  there  is  either  a  natural  or  habitual 
propensity.  In  various  systems  of  religion,  abstinence 
has  been  enjoined,  not  only  from  all  food  for  certain 
limited  periods,  but  also  during  a  particular  season, 
from  certain  Idndsof  food.  During  one  of  the  Mahom- 
medan  feasts,  total  abstinence  from  food  is  observed  be- 
tween sun-rise  and  sun-set.  The  Jews,  as  is  well  known, 
abstain  entirely  from  swine's  flesh ;  and  the  Roman 
Catholics,  on  some  days  of  (he  week,  independent  of 
their  greater  fasts,  eat  no  flesh. 

The  eflects  of  abstinence,  and  the  surprising  powers 
of  animated  nature  to  sustain  the  absolute  privation  of 
what  seems  indispensable  to  preserve  life,  are  subjects 
of  extreme  interest.  Wonderful  effects  in  (he  cure  of 
disease,  are  said  to  have  resulted  from  a  spare  and 
meagre  diet :  One  of  these  is  recorded  in  the  histoiy 
of  Cornaro,  a  uoble  Venetian,  who,  after  a  life  of  luxury, 
was,  at  the  age  of  forty,  attacked  by  a  disease  attended 
with  mortal  symptoms ;  yet  he  not  only  recovered,  but 
lived  nearly  one  hundred  years,  from  the  mere  effects 
of  abstemiousness.  We  are  told  of  several  individuals 
that  liave  reached  a  century,  a  century  and  a  half,  nay, 
have  even  ap|)roached  (o  the  age  of  two  centuries,  sup- 
j:orted  on  an  extremely  slender  diet,  which  was  thought 
to  contribute  materially  to  the  jirtservalion  of  their 
health.  But  though  physicians  have  ascribed  many 
singular  cures  to  this  cause  alone,  it  is  not  to  be  denied, 
that  extraordinary  abstinence  will  also  be  productive  of 
disease. 

There  is  a  wide  dijference  between  the  faculty  of 
subsisting  on  a  given  portion  of  footl,  however  small, 
and  that  of  supporting  existence  under  the  total  priva- 
tion of  sustenance.  Neither  is  it  to  be  overlooked,  in 
considering  this  subject,  that,  in  certain  situations,  the 
animal  functions  are  feebly  maintained.  Numerous 
animals  are  destined  to  pass  a  large  portion  of  their 
existence  in  a  state  of  absolute  insensibility.  On  the 
simple  approach  of  cold,  without  any  other  known 
cause,  they  become  languid  and  inactive ;  their  mem- 
bers stiffen ;  and  they  fall  into  a  profound  torpidity, 
from  which  they  are  only  to  be  roused  by  augmenting 


the  surrounding  temperature.  But  not  to  recur  to  such 
instances,  where  the  animal  funcfious  are  unquestion- 
ably impaired,  we  have  witnessed  many  cases  of  beasts, 
birds,  fishes,  and  insects,  living  incredibly  long  in  a 
condition  of  total  abstinence;  and  even  some  human 
beings,  who  of  all  animals  can  least  support  the  want 
of  sustenance,  have  survived  in  a  similar  situation.  Of 
this,  a  melancholy  example  lately  occurred,  when  four- 
teen men  and  women,  of  a  vessel  wrecked  on  the  coast 
of  Arracan,  lived  twenty-three  complete  days  without  a. 
morsel  of  food ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  fifth  day  after 
the  shipwreck,  that  two  of  their  companions  first  died  of 
want. 

More  than  a  century  ago,  it  was  observed  by  the 
Italian  naturalist  Redi,  that  animals  do  not  perish  from 
hunger  so  soon  as  is  commonly  believed.  A  civet-cat 
lived  ten  dajs  with  him ;  wild  pigeons,  twelve  and 
thirteen  ;  an  antelope,  twenty  ;  and  a  very  large  wild 
cat,  the  same  time,  without  food.  A  royal  eagle  survived 
twenty-eight  days ;  and  Buflfon  mentions  one  that  lived 
five  weeks  without  food  ;  a  badger  lived  a  month  ;  and 
several  dogs  thirty-six  days.  We  have  accounts  still 
more  surprising,  from  naturalists  of  undoubted  credit. 
A  crocodile  will  live  two  months  without  nourisliment. 
Leeuweuhoek  had  a  scorpion  that  lived  three  months. 
Redi  kept  a  cameleon  eight  months,  and  vipers  ten 
months,  in  a  state  of  perfect  abstinence.  Vaillant  had 
a  spider  that  lived  ten  months ;  nay,  its  strength  was 
then  sufBcient  to  kill  another  of  its  own  species,  as 
large  as  itself,  and  it  was  quite  vigorous,  when  put 
under  the  receiver  where  it  ^vas  kept.  According  to 
several  authors,  some  of  those  animals  that  have  long 
supported  the  privation  of  food,  did  not  become  nearly 
so  much  emaciated,  as  might  reasonably  be  supposed. 
Mr.  John  Hunter  enclosed  a  toad  between  two  stone 
flower-pots;  and,  at  the  end  of  fourteen  months,  it  was 
as  lively  as  ever.  M.  Sue  quotes  instances  of  the  same 
animals  living  eighteen  months,  without  either  nutri- 
ment or  respiration,  from  being  sealed  up  in  boxes.  M. 
Herissant  covered  a  box,  containing  three  toads,  with  a 
coating  of  plaister,  and  on  opening  it  eighteen  months 
afterwards,  one  was  still  alive.  Land  tortoises  lived 
eighteen  months  with  Redi ;  and  Baker  kept  a  beetle 
without  food  three  complete  years,  when  it  escaped. 
Dr.  Shaw  mentions  two  Egyptian  serpents  that  had  been 
preserved  for  the  period  of  five  j'ears,  without  suste- 
nance, in  a  bottle  closely  corked ;  yet,  w  hen  he  saw 
them,  they  had  cast  their  skins,  and  were  as  lively  as  if 
newly  caught. 

There  are  some  surprising  instances  of  the  power  of 
animals  to  survive  long  under  the  privation  of  food : 
and  others  occur,  which  are  beyond  the  possibility  of 
deception,  such  as  a  decapilated  snail,  which,  though 
deprived  of  the  very  organs  for  taking  nourishnienf, 
will  not  only  live  months,  perhaps  years,  but  will  ac- 
quire a  new  head,  similar  to  that  of  which  it  ^vas  de- 
prived. 

The  state  of  an  animal,  living  in  the  air  without  sus- 
tenance, is,  in  the  general  case,  ver3-  different  from  one 
living  without  it  in  water.  In  this  fluid,  we  have  seen 
many  of  the  smaller  animals  survive  a  long  lime,  w  ith- 
out  any  other  support  than  what  (he  shnple  element 
afforded.  Hydracbnic  have  been  kept  eighteen  months 
without  any  supply  of  food;  and  leeches,  as  well  as 
certain  species  of  fishes,  above  three  j-ears.  Still  these 
instances  are  not  to  be  compared  with  those  where  the 
privation  of  nourishment   is   absolute;   because    it  is 


32 


ABSTRACTION. 


difficult  to  ascertain,  whether  imperceptible  animnlcula 
might  not  be  the  food  of  such  animals.  It  has  been 
thought,  indeed,  that  living  creatures  may  increase  in 
size,  without  any  nutriment ;  and  it  is  certain,  though 
the  point  may  probably  be  explained  on  ditrerent  princi- 
ples, that  the  animated  form  will  unfold  by  the  simple 
application  of  heat  alone ;  and  that  it  will  increase  its 
size  after  it  has  burst  its  integuments.  Thus,  the  eggs 
of  fishes,  snails,  and  other  aquatic  animals,  will  be 
hatched,  and  their  young  altnin  considerable  size,  in 
nothing  but  water.  Vipers  also,  if  taken  when  just 
produced  by  the  mother,  will  grow  much  larger,  though 
supplied  only  with  air.  See  Redi  Ohscrvasicni  d.  gli 
Animali  Vivtnti,  che  sc  trovano  negli  Anhnali  Viventi. 
Buffon  Ilistoire  Naturelle.  \'irey  sur  les  Vers.  Sue 
sur  la  Vitaiite.  '  Muller  Hydrachta;.  Hunter  on  the 
Animal  Economy.  Phil.  Trails,  vol.  xiv.  p.  577.  Id. 
1741,  vol.  xli.  p.  725.  Mem.  Acad.  Par.  1131.  Comment. 
Bonon.  torn,  ii.  p.  221 .     (c) 

ABSTRACT  Number,  is  a  collection  of  units 
considered  by  themselves,  which  do  not  indicate  any 
thing  determinate.  For  example,  2  is  an  abstract 
number ;  but  when  we  say  2  men,  2  is  then  concrete. 
{w) 

ABSTRACTION,  in  metaphysics,  a  mental  opera- 
lion,  by  which  we  separate,  in  thought,  things  which 
arc  naturally  conjoined.  According  to  the  logicians, 
it  is  an  operation  of  tlie  mind,  by  w  liich  we  detach  from 
our  conceptions  all  those  circumstances  (hat  render 
them  particular,  and  thereby  fit  them  to  denote  a  whole 
rank  or  class  of  beings.  Thus,  in  contemplating  the 
various  kinds  of  triangles,  we  leave  out,  by  the  power  of 
abstraction,  every  one  of  their  properties,  but  that  of 
their  having  three  sides,  which  thue  becomes  charac- 
teristic of  a  whole  genus  of  beings,  that  may  neverthe- 
less differ  from  each  other  in  many  other  particulars, 
such  as  the  length  of  their  sides,  the  proportional  mag- 
nitude of  their  angles,  <Src.  In  like  manner,  while  consi- 
dering the  various  individuals  of  the  human  race,  we 
discover  certain  characteristic  properties,  such  as  pecu- 
liarities of  form,  stature,  language,  reason,  &c.  which 
they  all  possess  in  common ;  and  which  therefore  are 
assigned  to  the  whole  of  this  class  of  individuals,  under 
the  abstract  denomination  of  man.  In  this  manner  are 
formed  general  ideas,  and  general  terms,  the  great  in- 
struments of  scientific  research.  See  Logic  and  Me- 
taphysics. 

Abstraction,  according  to  Mr.  Locke,  may  be  em- 
ployed in  three  ways.  1st,  the  mind  may  consider 
some  particular  part  of  a  thing  distinct  from  the 
whole ;  as  a  man's  arm,  without  the  consideration  of 
the  rest  of  his  body.  2dly,  we  may  consider  the  mode 
of  a  substance,  without  reference  to  the  substance 
itself;  or  we  may  separately  consider  several  modes 
which  subsist  together  in  one  substance.  It  is  by  this 
kind  of  abstraction,  that  geometricians  treat  separately 
of  the  length  of  bodies,  which  they  call  a  line,  without 
the  consideration  of  their  breadth  and  thickness.  3dly, 
by  abstraction,  the  mind  frames  general,  or  universal 
ideas,  omitting  the  modes  and  relations  which  are 
peculiar  to  the  individual  objects  whence  they  arc  de- 
rived. Thus,  when  we  would  understand  a  thinking 
being  in  general,  we  gather  from  our  own  conscious- 
ness what  it  is  to  think;  and,  omitting  the  considera- 
tion of  whatever  has  a  peculiar  relation  to  our  mind, 
or  to  the  human  mind,  we  form  the  conception  of  a 
thmking  being  in  general. 


This  last  operation  of  abstraction,  by  which  general 
ideas  are  formed,  implies  the  exercise  of  another  men- 
tal power,  by  which  we  compare  together  the  various 
objects  of  nature,  and  discover  that  one  or  more  attri- 
butes are  common  to  many  individuals.  This  power 
has  been  called  geiurali^ation ;  and  it  has  been  said, 
that  though  we  could  not  generalize  without  some  de- 
gree of  abstraction,  yet  we  might  abstract  without  go- 
neralizing.  Thus,  I  may  attend  to  the  whiteness  of  the 
paper  before  me,  without  applying  that  colour  to  any 
other  object;  and  the  whiteness  of  this  individual  ob- 
ject is  an  abstract  conception,  though  not  a  general 
one,  while  applied  to  one  individuiil  only.  (See  Reid's 
Essays  on  the  Intelkclual  Powers.)  This  power  of 
generalization  appears  to  be  nothing  more  than  an  ex- 
ercise of  the  mental  operation,  more  commonly  known 
by  the  name  of  association  or  combination ;  whereby 
we  are  led  to  conjoin  in  thought  objects  which  resem- 
ble each  other  in  certain  particulars,  or  which,  even  by 
mere  accident,  have  been  presented  to  the  mind  toge- 
ther. By  means  of  this  power  of  combining,  and  the 
co-operating  faculty  of  abstraction,  we  are  naturally  led 
to  trace  the  manifold  resemblances  and  differenceg 
which  the  objects  of  nature  exhibit :  and  by  ascertain- 
ing the  general  laws  to  which  their  various  phenomena 
are  subjected,  we  render  them  proper  subjects  for 
scientific  speculation.     See  Association. 

The  theory  of  abstract  ideas  has  cost  metaphysicians 
as  much  trouble  as  any  branch  of  their  abstruse  science, 
and  has  divided  them  into  sects  or  p.nrties,  between 
which  a  keen  controversy  has  long  been  carried  ou 
respecting  this  subject.  Plato  and  Aristotle,  among 
the  ancients,  maintained,  that  abstract  ideas  are  beings 
which  have  a  real  existence,  at  least  in  the  mind  that 
conceives  them :  Zeno  asserted,  that  they  were  mere 
non-entities.  Most  of  the  schoolmen  sided  with  Aris- 
totle ;  but  Roscelinus,  and  Peter  Abelard,  adopted  the 
opinion  of  Zeno;  and  asserted,  that  abstract  ideas,  or 
tmivcrsals,  as  they  called  them,  were  nothing  but  natnrs  ; 
whence  they  were  called  nominalists,  and  their  opjio- 
ncnts  got  the  name  of  realists.  A  few  chose  to  place 
universality  neither  in  things  nor  in  names,  but  in  our 
conceptions ;  from  which  they  were  called  conceptualists. 
The  disputes  on  this  subject  formed  the  chief,  if  not 
the  only  employment  of  the  learned,  during  the  middle 
ages ;  and  sometimes  they  had  recourse  to  hard  blows, 
when  they  found  themselves  deficient  in  argument. 

The  metaphysicians  of  our  own  country  have  exer- 
cised a  great  deal  of  ingenuity  upon  this  subject ;  and 
have,  in  general,  been  favourable  to  the  doctrine  of 
nominalism.  Hobbes,  Berkeley,  Hume,  Campbell,  anil 
professor  Stewart,  have  all  been  decided  nominalists, 
and  have  adduced  many  powerful  arguments  in  support 
of  their  opinion.  Cudworth  and  Locke,  however,  were 
realists,  or  rather  conceptualists ;  and  we  may  join  Dr. 
Reid  to  the  same  class.  The  following  short  passage, 
from  Cudworth,  contains  a  pretty  clear  statement  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  conceptualists.  "  It  is  a  ridiculous 
conceit  of  a  modern  atheistic  writer,  Mr.  Hobbes,  that 
universals  are  nothing  else  but  names,  attributed  to 
many  singular  bodies ;  because,  whatever  is,  is  singu- 
lar. For,  though  whatsoever  exists  without  the  mind 
be  singular,  yet  it  is  plain,  that  there  are  conceptions  in 
our  minds  objectively  universal.  Which  universal  ob- 
jects of  our  mind,  though  they  exist  not  as  such  any 
where  without  it,  yet  they  are  not,  therefore,  nothing, 
but  have  an  intelligible  entity  for  this  very  reason,  be- 


ABU 


ABY 


33 


cause  (hey  are  conceivable ;  for  since  nonentity  is  not 
couceivable,  whatsoever  is  conceivable,  and  an  object  of 
the  mind,  is  therefore  something."     Intell.  Si/st.  p.  731. 

To  tliis  we  shall  oi)pose  an  argument  of  the  Abbe 
de  Coiulillac,  an  iugtnious  advocate  for  nominalism 
among  the  French.  "  If  you  say  that  abstract  ideas  are 
any  thing  but  names,  say,  if  you  can,  what  that  thing  is  .' 
In  the  case  of  numbtr,  when  you  take  away  tlie  idea 
of  the  fingers,  or  any  other  objects  which  naturally 
suggest  plurality,  when  you  take  away  the  names  which 
are  its  signs,  you  will  seek  in  vain  for  any  idea  in  the 
miud;  there  absolutely  remains  iwthing."  La  Langue 
de  Calculs,  \>.  i.  c.  4. 

Lord  Bolingbroke  was  of  opinion,  that  a  great  deal  of 
this  controversy  was  merely  verbal,  and  arose  from  not 
making  a  proper  distinction  between  itkas  and  fiotions, 
which  last  are  altogether  confined  to  the  mind,  and 
therefore  need  not  be  copies  of  any  individual  thing  in 
nature.  There  are  some  philosophers  who  are  so  far 
realists  or  conceptualists,  as  to  admit,  that  distinct  mental 
notions  or  conceptiotis,  may  be  attached  to  abstract  or 
general  terms,  such  as  tvhiteness,  goodness,  extension, 
<S:c.  though  they  are  of  oiiinion,  that  there  can  be  no 
pictures  of  these  i)roperties  delineated  in  the  mind; 
and  that  they  cannot  exist  externally,  but  as  attributes 
to  some  subject,     (/re) 

ABSUllDUftI,  Reductio  ad,  in  Geometry,  is  that 
mwle  of  demonstration,  by  which  it  is  shown  that  any 
other  hypothesis,  different  from  that  contained  in  the 
proiiosition,  involves  a  contradiction,  or  leads  to  an 
absurdity.     («») 

ABTH  ANE,  an  officer  anciently  known  in  Scotland, 
whose  precise  office  has  been  (he  suliject  of  much  con- 
troversy among  an1i([uarians.  By  some  writers,  thane 
is  considered  to  be  the  bailiff  of  (he  king,  and  abthane  the 
bailiff  or  steward  of  the  abbot.  This  distinction  was 
introduced  long  after  the  office  was  known  in  Scotland ; 
and  it  is  said,  that  when  lands  were  granted  (o  a  bishop 
or  abbot  by  the  king,  but  with  (he  reservation  of  par- 
ticular rights,  the  province  of  the  thane  was  to  attend 
to  such  rights,  while  that  of  the  abthane  was  to  manage 
those  perlaining  to  (he  ecclesiastics.  See  Trans.  Antiq. 
Soc.  Edin.  vol.  i.     (<■) 

ABUBEKER,  (he  immediate  successor  of  Mahomet, 
the  first  who  bore  the  tide  of  calii'h,  which  signifies 
simply  vicar  and  successor;  and  the  first  who  col- 
lected into  a  book  the  scattered  fragments  of  the  Koran. 
This  he  called  Almotbaf,  or  "  the  book,"  and  deposited 
it  ill  the  hands  of  Mahomet's  widow.  Abubekcr  re- 
ceived his  name  after  the  marriage  of  his  daughter 
Ayosha  to  Mahomet,  the  words  Abu  Beer,  signifying, 
"  father  of  the  virgin."  For  this  prophet  he  bore  the 
highest  veneration  ;  and  vouched  for  the  authenticity  of 
his  revelations,  from  his  nightly  visits  to  heaven.  The 
death  of  Mahomet  being  an  event  which  his  followers 
believed  impossible,  the  doctrines  he  had  established 
were  in  danger  of  being  overthrown.  But  Abubeker 
was  elected  liis  successor,  and  the  moderation  which  he 
displayed,  tendt'd  to  reconcile  the  discordant  opinions 
that  prevailed.  At  first  his  reign  was  turbulent,  because 
many  of  the  Mahometans  refused  to  recognize  him  ; 
however,  he  not  only  succeeded  iu  reducing  them  all  to 
obedience,  but  extended  the  faith  he  professed  into  other 
countries.  After  a  life  eminently  distinguished  by  pru- 
ilence,  equity,  and  moderation,  he  died  in  the  sixly- 
four(h  vear  of  his  age,  A.  D.  635.     (e) 

ABULFARAGIUS,  Gregory,  was  born  at  Malalia, 
Vol.  1.  Part  I. 


a  city  of  Armenia,  in  1226.  At  the  age  of  twenty  he 
was  ordained  bishop  of  Guba,  by  Ignatius  (he  patriarch 
of  the  Jacobites,  and  was  elected  their  primate  in  the 
East,  about  (he  year  1266.  He  was  said  to  have  pre- 
dicted his  death,  which  happened  in  1286.  The  most 
learned  of  all  his  works  are  his  Epitome  of  Universal 
History  from  the  Creation  (o  his  own  (ime ;  and  his 
Treatise  on  the  origin  and  manners  of  (he  Arabians. 
Both  (liese  works  were  translated  into  I^alin,  and  illus- 
trated with  notes  by  Dr.  Pococke,  the  one  in  1663,  and 
(he  o(herin  1650.  The  las(of  these  works  is  known  by 
the  name  of  Speeinun  Hist.  Areibum,  and  is  an  extract 
from  the  first,     (w;) 

ABULFEDA,  Ismaf.i,,  prince  of  Hamah,  a  city  of 
Syria,  and  remarkable  for  his  learning,  was  born  at  Da- 
mascus in  1273.  In  1321  he  wrote  a  valuable  geographi- 
cal work,  published  at  London  by  Grttvius  in  1650.  He 
also  wrote  the  lives  of  Mahomet  and  Snladin ;  the  for- 
mer of  which  was  printed  at  Oxford  in  1723,  and  the 
latter  at  Leyden  in  1732.  His  Annals  of  Alahomedan- 
ism  is  a  work  much  esteemed.  It  was  published,  ac- 
compnnie<lwith  a  Latin  version,  in  1789-1 794,  at  Copen- 
hagen, in  5  vols.  4to.  Abulfeda  was  a  soldier  as  well 
as  an  author.  He  served  inseveral  expeditions  under  his 
father;  he  was  at  the  storming  of  Tripoli  in  1289,  and 
at  the  capture  of  Acca  in  1291  ;  where  he  distinguished 
himself  by  his  bravery  and  skill.     He  died  in  1332.    (c) 

ABULGHAZL  Bayatur,  Khan  of  the  Tartars,  and 
descendant  of  Jenghizkan,  was  born  at  Urgens  in  1 605. 
Afttr  a  series  of  misfortunes,  he  wns  raised  (o  (he 
throne  of  Karuzm,  in  1645,  and  rendered  himself  for- 
midable to  his  enemies  by  the  courage  which  he  dis- 
played during  a  reign  of  tw  enty  years.  Being  deter- 
mined to  spend  (he  remainder  of  his  days  in  peaceful 
quiel,  he  resigned  his  sceptre  to  his  son  in  1 065,  and 
in  his  retirement,  began  to  compose  the  celebrated  ge- 
nealogical History  of  the  Turks.  His  labours,  however, 
were  interrupted  by  his  death;  but  the  work  which  he 
had  begun  was  completed  by  his  successor.  H  is  written 
in  the  Turkish  language,  and  is  considered  as  the  most 
authentic  history  of  the  Turks  and  Tartars  that  is  now 
extant.  This  work  was  procured  by  Strahlenberg  when 
a  captive  in  Siberia,  and  has  been  translated  into  most 
of  the  languages  of  Europe.  See  Mod.  Univ.  Hist.  vol. 
iii.  p.  334.     («') 

ABUNA.     See  Abyssinian  Cnimcn. 

ABUNDANT  Number,  is  one  whose  divisors,  or  ali- 
quot parts,  added  together,  exceed  the  number  itself. 
Thus  24  is  an  abundant  number,  because  the  sum  of 
its  divisors,  which  are  1,  2,  3,  4,  6,  8,  12,  exceed  the 
number  24.  See  Deficient  Number,  Perfect  Num- 
ber,    (w) 

ABYDOS,  according  to  some  geographers,  is  (he 
ancient  castle  of  the  Dardanelles,  situated  on  the  Asiatic 
side  of  the  Strait  of  that  name ;  where,  according  to  Le 
Brun,  the  sea  is  only  400  toises  broad.  The  city  was 
situated  in  a  plain,  and  was  founiled  by  a  colony  of  Mi- 
lesians in  the  reign  of  Gyges.  As  this  city  formerly 
commanded  the  Straits,  its  possession  was  of  great  con- 
sequence to  those  who  wished  to  cut  off  the  communica- 
tion between  the  Euxine  Sea  and  the  Archipelago.  It 
was  therefore  defended  with  the  most  obstinate  courage, 
against  the  attack  of  king  Philip ;  Lut,  after  immense 
carnage,  it  was  compelled  to  surrender  in  201.  A.  C. 
The  determined  bravery  of  the  inhnbitants,  on  (his  oc- 
casion.is  perhaps  unequalled  in  (he  annals  of  war.  Fifty 
of  the  citizens  swore  before  the  inhabitants,  that,  when 


34 


ABY 


ABY 


the  enemy  was  master  of  the  inner  Wall,  they  would  put 
the  women  and  children  to  the  sword,  burn  the  galleys 
which  contained  all  their  effects,  and  throw  their  ^old 
and  silver  into  the  sea ;  and  the  inhabitants  vowed  in 
return,  that  they  would  either  conquer  or  fKll.  This 
magnanimous,  though  savage  resolution,  was  so  tar 
executed,  that  the  members  of  the  same  family  butcher- 
ed each  other,  and  none  were  saved  but  those  whom 
the  Macedonians  restrained  from  self-destruction.  It 
was  near  this  city  that  Xerxes  built  the  famous  bridge 
across  the  Hellespont.  See  Lzct/,  xxxi.  cap.  18.  Justin. 
ii.  c.  13.  Univers.  Hist.  vol.  iv.  p.  462,  490.  vii.  382. 
viii.  139.  ix.  257.     (w) 

ABYDUS,  a  celebrated  town  in  Egypt,  now  called 
Madfunch,  or  the  buried  city.  It  is  situated  between 
Ptolemais  and  Diospolis  Parva,  about  three  miles  to  the 
west  of  the  Nile,  near  the  village  of  El  Berbi,  and  cele- 
brated for  the  palace  of  Memnon,  and  the  splendid 
temple  of  Osiris  built  by  Ismandes.  The  city  itself, 
which  almost  equalled  Thebes  in  grandeur  and  mag- 
nificence, was  reduced  to  a  village  in  the  reign  of  Au- 
gustus, and  is  now  only  a  heaj)  of  uninhabited  ruins ;  but 
in  its  immetliate  vicinit}',  the  celebrated  tomb  of  Is- 
mandes is  still  found.  A  portico  60  feet  high,  resting 
©n  two  rows  of  massy  columns,  forms  the  entrance  to  the 
tomb,  which  leads  into  a  temple  3oO  feet  long  and  145 
wide.  In  this  and  the  other  apartments,  which  are  very 
spacious,  the  walls  are  covered  with  hieroglyphics. 
Multitudes  of  animals,  human  figures  with  pointed  ca))s, 
and  several  of  the  Indian  divinities,  are  sculptured  in 
rude  proportion.  In  this  building  are  many  subterrane- 
ous a|)artments,  which  are  said  to  be  as  spacious  and 
magnificent  as  those  which  are  above  them,  but  the 
passages  wliich  lead  to  them  are  obstructed  by  heaps  of 
rubbish,  wliich  the  Arabs  have  piled  up  when  searching 
for  treasure.  See  Pococke's  Dcscript.  East.  p.  83.  and 
bavary's  Letters  on  Egypt,  vol.  ii.  p.  5.  Univ.  Hist.  i.  393. 
xvii.  196.     (w) 

ABYLA,  a  mountain  in  Africa,  called  one  of  the  pil- 
lars of  Hercules,  and  situated  on  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar, 
opposite  to  the  mountain  Caipe,  the  pillar  on  the  Span- 
ish side.  See  Bochart  Oper.  torn.  i.  p.  731,  &c.  Straho. 
3.  Mela.  \.  5.     (w) 

ABYSS,  is  the  tenn  employed  by  the  old  geologists 
to  denote  the  immense  cavern  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth, 
communicating  with  the  ocean,  into  which  they  suppose 
the  water  retired  after  the  deluge  had  subsided. 

Those  who  wish  to  examine  the  controversies  upon 
the  existence  of  a  subterraneous  cavern,  may  consult 
Act.  Erudit.  tom.  vi.  p.  24.  M  1727,  p.  313.  .Journal 
(ks  Sfavans,  tom.  Iviii.  p.  393.  Memoirs  of  Literature, 
vol.  viii.  p.  101.  Ray's  Phisico-TIuology,  disc.  ii.  ch.  ii. 
p.  76;  Woodward's  Hi6/.  of  the  Earth;  and  Jameson's 
iHm«"a?o^,  vol.  iii.  p.  76.     See  also  Geognosy,     (m) 

ABYSSINIA,  Abassia,  or  Upper  Ethiopia,  called 
likewise  Ilabbcsh  by  the  surrounding  nations,  is  an  em- 
pire of  Africa,  comprehended  between  the  7th  and  lOtli 
degrees  of  N.  Lat.  and  the  30th  and  40th  degrees  of  E. 
Long.  All  nations  of  a  black  complexion  were  called, 
by  the  ancients,  Ethiopians.  Under  this  title  were  com- 
prehendcil  the  Arabians  and  other  Asiatics;  and  the 
Africans  in  general  were  divided  into  the  western  or 
Hesperian  Ethiopians,  and  the  eastern,  situated  above 
Egypt.  Hence  there  is  an  apparent  disagreement 
among  ancient  authors  concerning  the  situation  of  Ethi- 
opia,and  it  wasknownbya  variety  of  names.  Sometimes 
it  was  called  India;  a  vague  appellation,  wliich  seems 


to  have  been  given  indiscriminately  to  those  eastern  na- 
tions which  were  most  remote,  or  least  known.  Some- 
times it  was  denominated  Atlantia  and  Etheria  ;  and,  in 
the  more  distant  periwis  of  antiquity,  Cephenia.  Its 
most  common  appellation, however,  was  Abasene,!i  word 
not  unlike  its  modern  names,  Abassia  and  Abyssinia.  On 
the  other  hand,  Persia,  Chaldea,  Assyria,  and  other 
Asiatic  countries,  were  sometimes  styled  Ethiopia ;  and 
all  the  nations  along  the  coast  of  the  Red  Sea  were  called 
promiscuously  Ethiopians  or  Indians. 

There  was  one  country,  however,  to  which  the  name 
Ethiopia  was  thought  particularly  to  belong,  and  which 
was  therefore  called  Ethiopia  Propria.  It  was  bounded 
on  the  north  by  Egypt,  extending  all  the  way  to  the  less 
cataract  of  the  Nile,  and  the  island  Elephantine ;  on  the 
west,  by  Libya  Interior;  on  the  east,  by  the  Red  Sea; 
and  on  the  south,  by  unknown  parts  of  Africa.  The  geo- 
graphy of  ancient  Ethiopia  is  involved  in  much  obscu- 
rity :  indeed  no  accurate  information  can  be  expected 
concerning  the  interior  of  a  country,  of  which  even  the 
general  outlines  have  not  been  ascertained  with  pre- 
cision. Ancient  writers  agree  in  describing  it  as  very 
mountainous,  though  they  mention  none  of  its  moun- 
tains of  any  consequence,  except  Garbata  and  Elephas, 
which  are  generally  supposed  to  answer  to  the  moun- 
tains of  Tigre.  A  great  variety  of  nations  were  assigned 
to  ancient  Ethiopia,  distinguished  by  names  expressive 
either  of  some  personal  peculiarity,  or  of  their  particular 
mode  of  living.  Among  these  were  the  Blemniyes, 
said,  probably  on  account  of  the  shortness  of  their  necks, 
to  have  no  heads,  but  to  have  their  eyes,  moutlia,  and 
noses,  in  their  breasts ;  the  Troglodytes,  scarcely  supe- 
rior to  the  brutes ;  the  Struthiojihagi,  or  ostrich  eaters ; 
Acridophjigi,  or  locust  eaters ;  Chelonophagi,  who  fed 
on  tortoises;  Elephaiitophagi,  who  lived  on  elephants; 
Agriophagi,  who  ate  the  tlesh  of  wild  beasts;  Anthro- 
pophagi, or  man  eaters,  now  supposed  to  have  been  the 
Caffres,  and  not  Ethiopians ;  and  the  Macrobii,  a  poAver- 
ful  nation,  reniarkalile  for  their  longevity. 

The  remote  situation  of  this  country  rendered  it  a 
proper  scene  for  poetic  fiction.  To  this,  perhaps  rather 
than  to  his  historical  accuracy,  we  must  ascribe  the  cha 
racter  which  Homer  has  given  the  Ethiopians  as  the 
justest  of  men,  with  whom  eVen  the  go«ls  deigned  to 
associate  in  the  familiarity  of  convivial  intercourse. 
Concerning  their  general  customs,  however,  we  receive 
from  ancient  historians  more  certain  information.  In 
many  of  these  thej-  dilTered  widely  from  all  other  na- 
tions, and  particularly,  in  the  manner  of  electing  their 
kings.  The  priests,  in  whose  hands  the  chief  power 
was  lodged,  chose  the  most  reputable  men  of  their  or- 
der, and  drew  around  them  a  circle  which  they  were 
not  allowed  to  pass.  A  priest  entered  the  circle,  running 
and  jumping  like  a  satyr.  Those  enclosed  as  candidates 
for  the  sovereignty,  endeavoured  to  catch  hold  of  him, 
and  the  person  who  tirst  succeeded,  was  hailed  as  the 
vicegerent  of  Heaven,  intrusted  by  Providence  with  the 
government  of  the  nation.  The  sovereign,  thus  elected, 
began  immediately  to  live  after  the  manner  prescribed 
by  the  laivs.  He  was  regulated,  in  all  his  conduct,  by 
the  customs  of  the  country  over  which  he  presided ;  and, 
in  dispensing  rewards  and  punishments,  was  obliged 
rigidly  to  ailliere  to  the  original  institutions  of  the  state. 
A  subject  could  not  be  put  to  death  by  the  royal  order, 
though  capitally  convicted  in  a  court  of  justice.  An 
officer  was  sent  to  him  with  the  signal  of  death;  and  the 
criminal,  shutting  himself  up  in  his  house,  became  his 


ABYSSINIA. 


3d 


own  executioner.  The  pjieats  of  Meroe,  who  conferred 
the  royal  office,  assumed  an  arbitrary  power  over  the 
sovereign,  and  even  limited  at  pleasure  the  period  of  his 
reign.  When  a  king  had  displeased  them,  or  when  they 
ivished  to  give  him  a  successor,  they  despatched  a  cou- 
rier to  order  him  to  die.  To  oppose  a  mandate,  which 
was  represented  as  proceeding  from  the  gods,  would 
have  been  regarded  as  the  most  heinous  of  crimes;  and 
the  kings,  though  under  no  obligation  to  obedience  but 
what  tlieir  own  sui)erstition  imiiosed,  implicitly  com- 
plied with  these  tyrannical  awards.  At  length,  Erga- 
nienes,  who  reigned  in  the  time  of  Ptolemy  the  Second, 
and  who  was  instructed  in  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks, 
had  the  courage  to  shake  off  this  iniquitous  yoke.  He 
led  an  army  against  Meroe,  put  all  the  priests  to  the 
sword,  and  instituted  a  new  worship,  less  arbitrary  and 
oppressive.  Among  the  friends  and  adherents  of  the 
king,  the  singular  custom  prevailed,  of  subjecting  them- 
selves to  every  personal  infirmity  with  which,  by  acci- 
dent or  malady,  he  happened  to  be  afflicted.  It  was  ac- 
counted base  and  disloyal  to  refuse  to  share  in  all  their 
monarch's  sufferings,  since  men  are  induced,  even  by 
the  sentiments  of  common  affection,  to  appropriate  the 
distresses  or  happiness  of  their  friends :  to  die  with  their 
sovereign,  was  considered  a  most  glorious  testimony  of 
their  fidelity.  A  prince,  in  whose  safety  his  subjects 
were  so  nearly  interested,  must  have  been  very  secure 
against  the  machinations  of  treason. 

Their  funeral  ceremonies  were  peculiar  and  remark- 
able. The  body,  after  being  salted,  was  put  into  a  hol- 
low statue,  resembling  the  deceased  ;  and  the  statue  ^vas 
placed  in  a  niche,  on  a  pillar  erected  for  the  purpose. 
These  st.itues  were  made  of  gold,  silver,  or  earthen 
ware,  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the  deceased. 
The  body  was  kept  for  a  year  in  the  houses  of  the  near- 
est relations ;  who,  during  that  time,  offered  sacrifices 
and  first  fruits  to  their  departed  friend.  When  the  year 
had  expired,  the  niche  was  fixed  in  a  place  set  apart 
for  that  piu'pose  near  the  town. 

In  war,  tlie  Ethiopians  made  use  of  bows  and  arrows, 
darts,  lances,  and  several  other  weapons,  which  they 
managed  \vith  great  strength  and  address.  Their  ar- 
rows were  very  short,  pointed  with  sharp  stones  instead 
of  iron,  and  dipped  in  the  virus  of  serpents,  or  some 
other  poison  so  |)Owerful,  that  the  wounds  which  they 
inflicted  were  followed  by  instant  death.  Their  bows 
were  four  cubits  long;  and  to  bend  them  required  a 
degree  of  strength  which  no  other  nation  could  exert. 
Like  the  Parthians,  they  retreated  fighting ;  and,  whilst 
retiring  at  full  speed,  discharged  volleys  of  arrows  with 
the  utmost  dexterity  and  effect.  Such  were  some  of 
the  customs  by  which  those  Ethiopians  were  distin- 
guished who  lived  in  the  capital,  and  w  ho  inhabited  the 
island  of  Meroe,  and  that  part  of  Ethiopia  which  was 
adjacent  to  Egypt.  There  were  many  other  Ethiopian 
nations,  some  of  which  cultivated  the  tracts  on  each  side 
of  the  Nile,  and  the  islands  with  which  it  is  interspersed; 
others  inhabited  the  |)rovinces  bordering  on  Arabia ;  and 
others  dwelt  nearer  the  centre  of  Africa.  All  these 
people  had  the  negro  features;  flat  noses,  black  skins, 
and  woolly  hair.  They  were  savage  and  ferocious  in 
their  appearance,  brutal  in  their  customs  and  manners. 
They  are  now  known  by  the  name  of  Shankala ;  and  still 
retain  their  primitive  rudeness  and  barbarity. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  country  above  Meroe  made  re- 
markable distinctions  among  their  gods.  Some  they 
supposed  to  Ijp  of  an  eternal,  incorruptible  nature,  as  the 


sun,  the  moon,  and  the  universe;  others,  born  of  men» 
had  acquired  diviue  honours  by  their  virtues,  and  their 
benefactions  to  mankind.  But  there  were  some  Ethio- 
jilans  who  believed  in  no  gods ;  and,  when  the  sun  rose, 
they  fled  into  their  marshes,  execrating  him  as  their 
crudest  enemy.  These  people  differed  likewise  froia 
other  nations  in  their  manner  of  honouring  the  dead. 
Some  thought  it  the  most  honourable  burial  to  throw 
their  bodies  into  the  river :  others  placed  them  in  niches 
in  their  houses,  that  their  children  might  be  roused,  by 
the  sight  of  their  ancestors,  to  virtuous  achievementu ; 
and  that  (he  more  advanced  in  life  might  retain  their 
deceased  friends  in  their  memory  and  affection.  To 
swear  with  their  hand  laid  upon  a  dead  body,  was  their 
most  sacred  and  inviolable  o;ith.  Their  monarchies 
were  in  general  elective ;  and  their  ideas  of  the  quali- 
ties requisite  in  a  sovereign,  exhibit,  in  a  mo?t  striking 
light,  the  simplicity  of  these  barbarous  tribes.  Some  of 
them  conferred  the  crown  on  the  most  handsome  man  of 
the  nation ;  thinking  it  proper,  that  dignity  and  a  fine 
person,  in  their  estimation  the  best  gifts  of  heaven, 
should  always  be  united.  Others  preferred,  r.s  their 
sovereign,  the  most  vigilant  shepherd,  from  a  reasonable 
persuasion,  that  he  would  prove  likewise  the  most  faith- 
ful guardian  of  his  people.  In  some  districts,  the  richest 
was  exalted  to  the  throne,  because  he  had  the  most  am- 
ple means  of  doing  good  to  his  subjects;  while  others 
thought  the  strongest  most  entitled  to  royal  power,  inas- 
much as  he  was  ablest  to  defend  lliem  fi-om  their  ene- 
mies. 

Modern  Abyssinia  was  scarcely  known  to  Europeans 
till  it  was  discovered  by  the  Portuguese,  towards  the  end 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  Before  that  time,  indeed,  a  few 
individuals  had  occasionally  gone  to  that  country  from 
Italy;  but  the  information  which  they  communicated 
concerning  it  was  so  vague  and  obscure,  that  even  its 
situation  was  unknown.  An  embassy  from  the  king  of 
Portugal  arrived  in  Abyssinia  in  the  year  1520.  Covil- 
lan,  who  had  been  delegated  several  years  before  as 
ambassador  from  the  same  court,  was,  according  to  the 
usual  policy  of  the  Abyssinians  towards  strangers,  de- 
tained in  the  country,  though  treated  with  the  utmost 
kindness  and  respect.  His  knowledge  of  Abyssinia 
must,  of  course,  have  been  extensive.  He  was  still 
alive  when  his  countryman,  Roderigo  de  Lima,  came  to 
Shoa  with  his  suite;  and  Francisco  Alvarez,  one  of  the 
chaplains  to  Roderigo's  embassy,  who,  besides  residing 
six  years  in  this  kingdom,  possessed  the  additional  ad- 
vantage of  Covillan's  information,  gave  the  first  regular 
account  of  Abyssinia.  Mr.  Bruce,  who  certainly  had  op- 
portunities  of  observation  at  least  equal  to  those  of  Al- 
varez, has  questioned  the  authenticity  of  his  narrative. 
But  the  truth  is,  as  Mr.  Bruce  himself  has  conjectured, 
that  several  fabrications  were  published  in  Alvarez's 
name,  by  persons  who  had  probably,  never  travelled  out 
of  their  own  country.  Damian  Goez  tells  us,  that  he 
had  seen  a  journal  written  by  Alvarez,  very  different 
from  that  which  had  been  given  to  the  public ;  and  the 
writer  of  this  article  has  been  favoured  with  the  sight  of 
extracts  from  the  original  manuscrijit,  taken  by  a  lady, 
highly  respectable  for  her  rank  and  accomplishments, 
while  residing  in  Portugal,  which,  in  every  thing  essen- 
tial, coincide  with  the  narrative  of  Bruce.  In  the  reign 
of  Vasous  I.  a  mission  to  Abyssinia  was  concerted  by 
Louis  XIV.  of  France.  The  introduction  of  the  mission- 
aries was  facilitated  by  a  dangerous  scorbutic  disorder, 
which  bad  attacked  Yasous  and  bis  son,  for  which  they 
E2 


36 


.VBYSSINIA. 


wished  ti)  hare  the  advice  of  a  Euroj)ean  physician. 
Through  llie  infliieiice  of  the  Frencli  consul  at  Cairo, 
this  honour  wa^  conferred  on  Charles  Poucet,  a  French 
chemist  and  apothecary,  whom  father  Brevedent,  a  pious 
and  intelligent  jt  suit,  iittended  as  his  servant.  Poncet 
arrived  at  Gondar  on  the  21st  of  Julj',  1 099,  and  having 
completely  sncceeded  in  curing  his  royal  patients,  set 
out  on  the  following  summer  on  hia  return  for  Europe, 
by  the  way  of  Masuah,  and,  arriving  in  safety,  published 
a  distinct  and  copious  account  of  his  journey.  The  ac- 
counts of  the  Jesuits  and  Portuguese,  with  Mr.  Bruce's 
Travels,  are  the  only  sources  of  our  information  respect- 
ing Aljyssinia.  I'o  this  latter  gentleman,  whom,  not- 
withstanding the  vexatious  cavils  of  ignorance  and  pre- 
judice, we  scruple  not  to  pronounce  one  of  the  most 
deserving  of  modern  travellers,  the  world  is  indebted, 
not  only  for  a  clear  antl  comprehensive  view  of  the  geo- 
graphy of  that  extensive  emi)ire,  but  for  an  interesting 
detail  of  its  history,  institutions,  and  manners. 

The  progressive  geography  of  this  country  cannot 
easily  be  traced.  Its  boundaries  have  varied  at  ditTer- 
cnt  periods,  according  to  the  power  and  conquests  of  its 
sovereigns.  In  the  days  of  Amda  Sion,  who  began  to 
reign  in  the  year  1312,  it  extended  from  the  IGth  to  the 
7th  degree  of  north  latitude,  ami  from  44"  to  35"  of  east 
longitude  from  Greenwich.  The  most  numerous,  and 
tlie  ruling  inhabitants  of  this  extensive  country,  were  the 
descendants  of  a  colony  from  Yemen,  or  Arabia  Felix. 
The  aboriginal  tribes  were  reduced  to  dependence,  or 
exiled  to  the  mountains ;  the  Shankala  wandered  around 
the  frontiers,  which,  as  in  all  barbarous  kingdoms,  were 
ill  defined,  and  changed  almost  everyyear  with  the  vary- 
ing fortune  of  war.  Wandering  Arabs,  and  Shankala, 
enclose  Abyssinia  on  the  nortJi.  The  former  migrated 
from  the  opposite  coast  of  the  Red  Sea,  at  a  period  sub- 
sequent to  the  time  of  Mahomet.  The  latter  are  the  na- 
tive inhabitants  of  ancient  Ethiopia,  and  occupy  a  more 
extensive  territory  than  all  Abyssinia  and  Nubia  toge- 
ther. They  encircle  the  whole  length  of  Abyssinia  on 
the  west;  join  the  Galla  on  the  south,  and  coast  down  the 
White  river  to  Sennaar,  where  they  rule  under  the  name 
of  Fungi.  To  the  north,  where  they  are  mingled  with 
the  Beja  and  Belowe  Arabs,  they  are  called  Dubena.  It 
seems  to  be  the  same  race  wliich,  in  the  ridge  of  moun- 
tains to  the  east  of  Tigre,  is  kuo^vn  by  the  ajipellation  of 
Doba.  The  Beja  are  a  wandering  tribe  in  the  range  of 
mountains  north  of  Souakem ;  the  Taka  Halanga  appear 
to  be  of  the  same  nation ;  and  it  is  conjectured,  with 
much  probability,  that  the  Belowe  are  the  same  with 
the  Albanim,  a  race  of  degenerate  Christians. 

Abyssinia  is  divided  into  several  provinces,  each  of 
which  contains  many  small  districts,  called  in  Geez, 
Midr,  or  the  Laud.  Beginning  from  the  north,  the  na- 
tural order  of  the  provinces  is  as  follows  : 

1.  Passing  from  Mazaga,  the  low  country,  inhabited  by 
the  Dubena  Shankala,  we  enter  Tigre,  an  extensive  and 
mountainous  province,  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  river 
Mareb,  and  by  the  Tacazze  on  the  west;  on  its  north-east 
corner,  along  the  shore,  it  has  the  territory  of  the  Bahar- 
iiagash  ;  on  the  south  and  south-west  it  borders  on  Angot 
and  Lasta.  2.  From  Tigre  we  proceed  to  Samen,  a  very 
mountainous  region  between  the  river  Tacazze  and  Co- 
ror,  bounded  by  Tigre  on  the  nortli,  Amharaon  the  south, 
Angot  on  the  east,  and  Begemder  and  Dembea  on  the 
west.  3.  Begemder,  a  rich  and  valuable  province,  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  Balessan,  a  district  a<ljoining  to 
Saoien ;  on  the  cast  by  Lusta  and  Aogot,  on  the  south  by 


Amhara,  from  which  it  is  s ci)jrated  by  the  river  Bashila, 
and  on  the  west  by  Dembea.  4.  On  leaving  Begemder, 
we  enter  Amhara,  which  is  bounde<l  by  Begemder  on  the 
north,  Walaka  and  JIarrabet  on  the  south,  Angot  on  the 
east,  and  west  by  the  Abay,  or  Abyssinian  Nile.  5.  Wa- 
laka, a  low,  unwholesome,  but  fertile  province,  lies  be- 
tween the  two  rivers  Geshen  and  Samba ;  and  south- 
ward of  that  is  the  Upper  Shoa.  6.  Damot  forms  the 
eastern  division  of  the  country,  which  is  incircled  by  the 
river  Abay,  or  Bahar-el-Azrek,  which,  issuing  from  the 
lake  Tzana,  divides  this  province  from  Begemder,  Am- 
hara, and  Shoa;  it  is  surrounded  by  the  same  river  on 
the  south,  and  is  separated  from  Gojani  by  the  moun- 
tainous ridge  of  Litchamhara.  7.  Gojam,  called  more 
proi)erly  Agow-Midre,  is  divided  from  Damot  by  the 
range  of  Aformasha  and  Litchambara ;  it  reaches  on  the 
north-west  to  Kuara  and  the  country  of  the  Shankala; 
and  on  the  south-west  and  south  is  bounded  by  the  Abys- 
sinian Nile.  8.  Dembea  comprehends  all  the  country 
that  lies  around  the  lake  of  that  name ;  including  on  the 
east  Foggora,  Dara,  and  Alata;  on  the  north-east,  Gon- 
dar the  metropolis,  and  the  rich  district  beneath  it;  oii 
the  south-west,  the  district  of  Bed,  or  the  |)lain  barren 
country ;  and  on  the  west,  the  lands  around  Dingleber 
and  Waind.igar.  9.  Kuara  is  a  wild  district,  lying  north 
of  the  lake  Dembea,  and  bordering  on  Fazuclo  and  the 
country  of  the  Shankala.  10.  Walkait,  Tzegade,  and 
Woggorn,  are  low  provinces  north  of  the  lake  of  Dem- 
bea. The  first  of  these  is  an  unwholesome  <listricf,  of- 
ten used  as  a  state  prison.  Tzegade  and  Woggora  are 
excellent  corn  countries.  Woggora,  in  particular,  which 
lies  east  of  Gondar,  is  one  of  the  granaries  of  the  king- 
dom. Ras-el-Feel,  of  which  Mr.  Bruce  was  appointed 
governor,  is  a  wild  Mahometan  district,  the  most  nor- 
therly territory  belonging  to  the  Abyssinians. 

In  this  list  of  the  i)rovinces  of  Abyssinia,  the  reader 
will  observe  that  two  are  omitted,  which  Mr.  Bruce  has 
included  in  his  enumeration.  These  are  Masua  and 
Sire;  the  former  of  which,  situated  at  the  entrance  of 
Abyssinia  from  the  Arabian  Gulf,  is  in  reality  a  distinct 
and  independent  territory,  whose  sovereign,  or  Naybe, 
originally  a  vassal  of  the  Ottoman  Porte,  taking  advan- 
tage of  his  remote  situation,  renounced  the  authority  of 
Ids  former  lord,  and  chose  rather  to  purchase  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Abyssinian  monarch,  by  yiehling  to  him  one 
half  of  the  annual  customs  of  Masuah.  As  for  Sir^,  it 
has  long  been  absorbed  in  the  province  and  government 
of  Tigre,  and  seemed,  therefore,  to  have  no  claim  to 
be  classed  as  a  separate  province. 

In  Abyssinia,  more,  perhaps,  than  in  any  other  coun- 
try, the  rude  magnificence  of  nature  is  strikingly  display- 
ed. It  is  pervade<l  by  vast  ranges  of  mountains,  whose 
amazing  height,  and  wild  irregular  forms,  excite  at  once 
the  most  sublime  ideas  of  creative  power,  and  the  most 
humbling  conviction  of  the  weakness  of  man.  Of  these, 
some  tower  in  the  shape  of  pyramids,  obelisks,  or  prisms; 
some  flat,  thin,  and  square,  seem  scarce  firm  enough  to 
resist  the  violence  of  the  wind;  while  others,  still  more 
wonderful,  appear likeinvertedpyramids,  which,  by  some 
dreadful  concussion,  have  been  pitched  u))on  their  points, 
and  present  an  apparent  exception  to  the  general  law  of 
gravitation.  To  travel  through  these  mountainous  re- 
gions, is  toilsome  and  hazardous.  Sometimes  the  road 
is  intersected  by  deep  gullies,  full  of  loose  stones,  or  ob- 
structed by  huge  fragments  of  rock.  Sometimes  it  lies 
in  the  bed  of  a  torrent,  which  has  been  exhausted  by  the 
heat  of  sainnicr,  but  which  is  often  eo  suddenly  swelled 


ABYSSINIA. 


37 


by  tlie  rain  in  tlie  mountains,  as  to  tliunder  down  in  an 
instant  with  the  violence  of  a  mighty  river.  Now  it 
winds  np  tlie  side  of  a  steep  and  craggy  hill ;  and  now 
stretches  along  the  brink  of  a  hanging  precipice,  from 
which  the  traveller  looks  with  mingled  delight  and  fear, 
on  the  deep  and  beautiful  valley  beneath. 

The  mountains  of  Abyssinia  appear  in  three  ridges; 
the  first  of  no  great  height,  full  of  gullies  and  broken 
ground,  and  thinly  covered  with  shrubs ;  the  second  high- 
er and  steeper,  still  more  nigged  and  bare;  the  third,  a 
row  of  sharp  uneven  hills,  which,  though  inferior  to  those 
in  the  centre,  would  yet  be  accounted  high  in  any  coun- 
try in  Europe.  Far  above  all  the  rest  towers  Taranta, 
in  the  east  of  the  kingdom,  whose  summit,  generally  in- 
volved in  clouds,  is  never  seen  but  in  the  clearest  wea- 
ther :  it  is  one  of  the  higliest  mountains  in  the  world. 
Next  to  Taranta,  the  most  remarkable  are  the  precipit- 
ous mountains  of  Adowa  in  Tigre ;  Lanialmon,  and 
Amda  Gideon,  or  the  Jews'  Rock,  in  Samen  ;  Ganza  in 
the  south  of  the  empire ;  and  the  triple  ridge  of  Afor- 
masha,  Litchambara,  and  Amid- Amid,  wliich,  as  they 
form  a  regular  crescent,  Mr.  Bruce  supposed  to  be  the 
Mountains  of  the  Moon. 

Abyssinia,  as  might  he  expected  in  a  country  so  moun- 
tainous, is  watered  by  many  streams.  Besides  the  tor- 
rents formed  by  the  rains,  and  the  perennial  rivulets 
which  wind  through  the  valleys,  several  large  rivers  take 
their  rise  among  the  hills,  giving  beauty  and  fertility  to 
the  country  through  which  they  flow.  Of  these  the  most 
considerable  is  the  Bahar-el-azrek,  or  Blue  River,  called 
by  the  natives  Abay ;  which  3Ir.  Bruce,  taking  it  for  the 
Nile,  traced  to  its  sources  in  the  district  of  Ras-el-F6el. 
For  this  mistake,  he  has  been  censured  with  a  degree  of 
petulance  and  acrimony,  that  would  almost  warrant  the 
supposition,  that  his  accusers  themselves  believe  and 
envy  the  discovery,  whic  h  they  are  so  vehemently  anxious 
to  disprove.  When  Blr.  Bruce  sailed  for  Africa,  it  was 
the  general  opinion  of  Europeans,  that  the  sources  of 
the  Nile  were  to  be  sought  in  Al)yssiuia.  On  his  arri- 
val in  that  country,  he  actually  found  a  large  river  which 
the  inhabitants  dignified  with  that  name ;  and  it  surely 
argued  no  uncommon  portion  of  vanity  or  credulity,  if 
he  imagined  that  he  had  succeeded  in  the  object  of  his 
journey,  exactly  where  concurring  circumstances  led 
him  to  expect  success,  and  exulted  in  tlie  belief  of  hav- 
ing first  discovered  those  fountains,  wliich  had  so  long 
been  the  subject  of  fruitless  curiosity.  The  Bahar-el- 
Abiad,  or  White  River,  which  is  the  principal  branch  of 
the  Nile,  takes  its  rise  among  the  Jibbel  Kumri,  or 
Mountains  of  the  Moon,  in  the  country  of  Donga,  but 
its  sources  have  not  yet  been  explore*!.  The  river,  next 
in  consequence  to  the  Abay,  is  the  Tacuz,  or  Tacazze, 
which  flows  from  three  springs  in  the  province  of  Angot, 
about  200  miles  south-west  of  Gondar.  Another  branch 
of  the  Tacazze  rises  in  the  frontiers  of  Begemder,  near 
Dabuco;  whence,  running  between  Gouliou,  Lasta,  and 
Belessan,  it  joins  the  Angot  branch,  and  becomes  the 
boundary  between  Tigre  and  Amhara.  Tacazze  was 
the  Astaboras  of  the  ancients,  and  the  Abay  was  their 
Astapus.  The  Mareb  is  a  large,  deep,  and  smooth  ri- 
ver, which  forms  the  boundary  between  Tigre  and  the 
Baharnagash.  The  Maleg,  said  to  rise  in  the  marshes 
of  Narea,  joins  the  Tacazze,  after  flowing  in  a  parallel 
course  of  considerable  length.  Several  tributary  streams, 
as  the  Angueah  and  Bowihah,  fall  into  the  Tacazze  and 
Abay.  The  Jemma,  whose  sources  are  in  the  mountains 
of  Amid- Amid,  is  rather  larger  then  the  Abay,  and  very 


much  more  rapid.  After  flowing  through  the  valley  of 
St.  George,  it  cro-scs  Mait&ha,  on  the  east  of  the  Abay, 
in  which  it  loses  ilself  below  Samsur.  There  are  two 
other  rivers,  the  Hanazoand  the  Hawash,  which  flow  in 
an  opposite  »lircc(ion,  towards  the  entrance  of  the  Red- 
Sea;  the  former  of  which  is  said  to  be  absorbed  by  (he 
sands  of  Adel.  Some  of  these  rivers  are  distinguished 
by  cataracts  of  stupendous  height  and  volume.  The 
most  magnificent  is  that  of  the  Abay  at  Alata.  Its  height 
Mr.  Bruce  supposes  to  be  about  forly  feet.  Tlie  river, 
when  he  viewed  it,  had  been  considerably  increased  by 
rains,  and  fell  in  one  unbroken  sheet  o(  water,  about  half 
an  English  mile  in  breadth,  with  a  force  and  noise  that 
was  truly  awful.  A  thick  fume,  or  haze,  covered  the  fall 
around,  and  hung  over  the  stream  both  above  and  below, 
marking  its  track,  though  the  water  was  unseen. 

The  lake  Tzana,  or  Dembea,  is  by  much  the  largest 
expanse  of  water  known  in  Abyssinia.  It  is  about  fifty 
miles  long,  and  thirty-five  in  its  greatest  breadth,  though 
it  decreases  greatly  at  each  extremity,  where  it  is  some- 
times not  above  ten  miles  broad ;  its  extent,  however, 
differs  greatly  in  the  dry  and  rainy  seasons.  Tliis  lake 
is  interspersed  with  many  islands,  which  were  formerly 
used  as  prisons  for  the  great,  or  as  places  of  voluntary  re- 
treat for  the  discontented  or  unfortunate.  Near  the  mid- 
dle is  one  called  Tzana,  which  is  supposed  to  have  given 
name  to  tlie  lake.  But,  notwithstanding  the  number  of 
rivers  in  Abyssinia,  there  are  many  parts  of  it  totally  des- 
titute of  springs,  or  flowing  streams,  where  the  inhabit- 
ants are  compelled  to  use  the  water  of  stagnant  pools 
formed  by  the  rains. 

Though  situated  within  the  torrid  zone,  Abyssinia  is, 
in  general,  temperate  and  healihy.  Its  climate  varies, 
indeed,  with  the  surface  and  aspect  of  the  country.  Iii 
the  high  and  mountainous  regions,  the  coolnessof  theair, 
and  the  serenity  of  the  sky,  give  health  and  sprightliness 
to  the  inhabitants;  while  those  confined  to  the  valleys,  or 
dwelling  in  the  vicinity  of  marshes  or  sandy  deserts,  lan- 
guish under  the  pernicious  influence  of  excessive  heat, 
or  a  moist,  stagnant,  sutfocating  atmosphere.  Indeed,  the 
climate  seems  to  be  influenced  by  situation  and  soil,  al- 
most as  much  as  liy  the  latitude.  On  the  summit  of  La- 
malmon,  5lr.  Bruce  observed  the  thermometer  stand  at 
32",  in  the  depth  of  winter,  the  wind  north-west,  clear 
and  cold,  attended  with  hoar-frost,  which  vanished  into 
dew  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  sunrise.  lie  saw 
hail  lie  for  three  hours  on  the  mountains  of  Amid-Amid. 
But  snow  is  never  seen  even  on  the  loftiest  mountains; 
nor  has  it  found  a  name  in  the  language  of  Aliyssinia. 
There  is  a  curious  passage,  however,  in  one  of  the  na- 
tive historians,  in  which  a  fall  of  snow  is  very  explicitly 
described  ;  but  described  as  a  phenomenon  unknown  be- 
fore, and  for  w  hicli  no  appropriate  term  had  as  yet  been 
invented.  Sjieaking  of  the  village  of  Zinzenam,  whose 
name  signifies  ram  upon  rain.,  he  thus  proceeds:  "  Tliis 
village  has  its  name  from  an  extraordinary  circumstance 
that  once  happened  in  these  parts.  (Zinzenam  lies  in 
the  level  country  of  Foggora.)  A  shower  of  rain  felt, 
which  was  not  proi)erly  of  tlie  nature  of  rain,  as  it  did 
not  run  upon  the  ground,  but  remained  very  light,  having 
scarce  the  weight  of  feathers,  of  a  beautiful  white  colour 
like  flour :  it  fell  in  showers,  and  darkened  the  air  more 
than  rain,  and  liker  to  mist.  It  covered  the  face  of  the 
whole  country  for  several  days,  retaining  its  whiteness 
the  \vhole  time ;  then  went  away  like  dew,  without  leav- 
ing any  smell,  or  unwholesome  eftect,  behind  it." 

The  following  Table,    extracted  from  the  register 


3S 


ABYSSINIA. 


kept  by  Mr.  Bruce  at  Gomlar,  from  February  1770  to 
May  1771,  may  serve  to  give  some  idea,  of  the  g;eneral 
state  of  the  l)arometer  and  thermometer  during  that  pe- 
riod. We  select  from  the  register  of  each  month  the 
altitude  most  frequent  at  noon,  and  then,  to  show  their 
full  range,  shall  give  the  lowest  and  highest  altitude  of 
both,  during  the  time  wheu  the  register  was  kept. 


Montlis. 


Feb.  1770, 

.March, 

April, 

May, 

June, 

July, 

August. 

September, 


Biu'om. 

Thei- 

21°      6' 

72 

21        5 

80 

21      11 

76 

21      11 

74 

21        4 

63 

21        C 

59 

21        6 

01 

21        G 

63 

Monllis. 

Oct.  itTo, 

November, 

December, 

Jan.  1771, 

February, 

March, 

April, 

May, 


Haiom. 

Tlicr. 

21° 

C 

67" 

21 

5 

71 

21 

5 

69 

21 

5 

70 

21 

6 

72 

21 

0 

77 

21 

0 

73 

21 

1 

73 

In  March  and  April  of  the  year  1770,  the  thermome- 
ter frequently  stood  at  80",  sometimes  considerably  above 
"it,  and  once  in  April  rose  to  91",  the  wind  blowing  W. 
N.  W.  The  range  of  the  barometer  and  thermometer 
was. 


Mouths. 

Hours. 

Barometer. 

Tlierm.         AViud. 

April  29. 

6.V  morn. 

22°  ir 

690              s. 

Mar.  29. 

2i  even. 

20     11 

75             E. 

April  19. 

12  noon. 

91      W.  N.  W 

July     7. 

12  noon. 

21      0 

543           w. 

The  mountainsofTaranta  form  the  boundary  between 
the  opposite  seasons.  On  the  east  side  towards  the  Red 
Sea,  the  rainy  season  is  from  October  to  AprL! ;  on  the 
western,  or  Abyssinian  side,  cloudy,  wet,  and  cold  wea- 
ther, prevails  from  P.Iay  to  October.  This  may  serve  to 
reconcile  an  apparent  disagreement  in  the  accounts  of 
Alvarez  and  Bruce.  According  to  Alvarez,  the  winter 
in  Abyssinia  consists  of  three  rainy  months,  February, 
March,  and  April ;  wliile  Mr.  Bruce,  on  the  contrary, 
assigns  all  these  months  to  summer,  and  dates  the  com- 
mencement of  winter  from  the  close  of  April,  or  the  be- 
ginning of  May.  Alvarez  probably  describes  the  sea- 
sons on  the  east  of  Taranta ;  while  Mr.  Bruce  with  more 
accuracy  confines  his  description  to  the  seasons  peculiar 
to  Abyssinia.  From  the  second  week  of  September, 
thereisaniutervalofdry,  but  sickly  weather,  till  the  20th 
of  October,  when  the  rains  begin  again  to  fall,  and  con- 
tinue constant,  but  moderate,  till  the  beginning  of 
November.  With  the  last  of  these  rains  all  epidemic 
diseases  disappear. 

The  variety  of  elevation,  which  so  much  diversifies 
the  climate  of  this  extensive  country,  produces  an  equal- 
ly perceptible  difference  in  its  soil.  Many  of  the  loftier 
mountains  are  rude  masses  of  rock,  either  totally  bare, 
or  so  scantily  covered  with  earth  as  to  produce  nolliing 
but  stuiited  shrubs,  or  coarse  bent  grass.  But  the  bar- 
renness of  the  liills  is  amply  comiiensated  by  the  rich 
fertility  of  the  valleys.  There,  a  deep  and  kindly  soil, 
fostered  by  the  rays  of  a  vertical  sun,  rewards  the  lalwurs 
of  the  husbandman  with  three  harvests  in  the  year.  The 
first  seed-time  is  in  July  and  August,  in  the  middle  of 
the  rainy  season,  when  they  sow  wlieat,  tocusso,  barley, 
and  teff.  Towards  the  end  of  November,  they  begin  to 
reap,  first  their  barley,  tlien  their  wheat,  and  last  of  all 
the  teff.  In  room  of  these,  barley  is  immedintcly  sown 
On  the  same  ground,  without  any  manure,  and  is  cii' 


down  in  February.  For  a  tliird  crop  they  sometimes  sow 
tetr,  but  more  frequently  a  kind  of  vetch,  or  pea,  called 
shimbra;  these  they  reap  before  the  first  rains,  which 
begin  to  fall  in  the  month  of  April.  In  general,  the  level 
parts  of  Abyssinia,  particularly  if  watered  by  any  peren- 
nial stream,  are,beyonddescription,  luxuriantand beauti- 
ful. Nor  do  even  the  hills  present  an  uniform  aspect  of 
sterility.  Some  of  them  in  the  vicinity  of  the  principal 
towns  are  cultivated  almost  to  their  summits;  the  sides 
of  others  are  clothed  with  forests  of  stately  trees,  adorned 
at  once  M'ith  the  richestfruit,  and  with  flowers  of  exquisite 
beauty  and  delicious  fragrance  ;  and,  in  passing  through 
tliis  mountainous  country,  the  traveller  is  often  surprised 
on  gaining  the  height  of  even  its  wildest  ridges,  to  meet 
with  cheerful  villages  and  cultivated  plains. 

Abyssinia  presents  a  rich  field  of  natural  history. 
There  are,  indeed,  few  or  none  of  its  animals  which  are 
not  to  be  found  in  other  parts  of  Africa ;  but  it  produces 
many  curious  plants,  some  of  which,  if  not  peculiar  to 
itself,  have  not  yet  been  described  by  those  who  have 
travelled  or  resided  in  any  other  country.  In  liis  selec- 
tion of  the  })limts  of  Abyssinia,  Mr.  Bruce  has  chiefly  at- 
tended to  those  which,  having  once  been  regarded  by 
the  ancients  as  subjects  of  consequence,  and  copiously 
treated  of  in  their  writings,  have  now,  through  various 
accidents,  become  either  of  doubtful  existence,  or  un- 
certain description.  His  attention  is  next  directed  to 
those  \vluch  are  employed  in  manufactures  aud  medicine, 
or  used  as  food  in  the  countries  where  they  are  found. 
He  then  describes  those  plants,  or  varieties  of  plants, 
which,  whether  in  genus  or  in  species,  are  unknown. 
His  limited  knowledge  of  botany,  however,  obliged  him 
to  speak  of  these  sparingly,  and  with  hesitation.  The 
plants  which  he  has  thought  worthy  of  a  particular  de- 
scrijitioii,  are  the  following  :  The  papyrus,  called  by  the 
Greeks  hihlos  ;  the  ballessan,  balsam,  or  balm ;  the  sassa, 
supposed  by  Mr.  Bruce  to  be  the  opocalpasum  tree  of 
Galen;  the  ergett,  or  mimosa,  of  which  Mr.  Bruce  hag 
described  two  varieties,  the  ergett  y  tlinimo,  and  the  er- 
gett el  krone ;  the  ensete,  a  herbaceous  plant,  which 
constitutes  the  chief  vegetable  food  of  the  Abyssinians; 
the  kolquall ;  the  rack ;  the  gir-gir,  or  geshe  el  Aube,  a 
species  of  grass  unknown  to  botanists  till  discovered  by 
Mr.  Bruce;  the  kaiituffa;  the  gaguedi ;  thewausej^;  the 
farek,  or  bauhinia  acuminata;  the  kuara,  called  by  botan- 
ists corallodendron;  the  walkuffa;  the  wooginos  orbrucea 
antidysenterica,  a  sovereign  remedy  against  the  dysente- 
ry ;  the  cusso,  or  bankesia  Abyssinica  ;  the  nuk,  or  nuge, 
from  which  the  Abyssinians  extriict  their  vegetable  oil ; 
the  teff,  a  kind  of  grain,  from  which  is  made  the  bread 
commonly  used  by  the  natives ;  and  the  tocusso,  a  black 
grain  which  grows  in  the  borders  of  the  Kulla,  or  hot 
country,  and  of  which  a  very  black  bread  is  made,  eaten 
only  by  the  poor.  From  both  the  teff  and  tocusso  hreatl, 
there  is  prefian  d  a  sourish  liquor,  called  bouza,  which, 
like  our  small  beer,  is  used  as  tlie  common  drink  of  the 
country. 

Every  tree,  and  every  bush  in  Abyssinia,  not  only  re- 
tains its  verdure,  but  bears  blossoms  and  fruit  in  all  sea- 
sons of  the  year.  The  same  part  of  the  tree,  indeed, 
never  flowers  more  than  once  in  twelve  months,  but  the 
process  of  fructification  advances  in  a  very  remarkable 
manner  through  the  whole.  The  blossoms  first  appear 
on  the  western  boughs,  and  the  fruit  proceeds,  through 
the  regular  stages,  to  maturity.  The  southern  branches 
next  iindorgo  a  similar  process ;  it  then  crosses  the  tree, 
and  the  north  is  in  flower.    The  east  succeeds  last,  and. 


ABYSSINIA. 


39 


produces  blossoms  anil  fruit  till  the  commencement  of  the 
rains.  All  the  trees  are  evergreen;  their  leaves  are 
highly  varnished,  and  of  a  tough  leatherlike  texture, 
which  enables  them  to  withstand  the  constant  and  vio- 
lent rains,  under  which  they  are  produced. 

In  no  country,  perhaps,  in  the  world,  is  there  a  great- 
er variety  of  animals,  both  wild  and  tame,  than  in  Abys- 
linia.     Clothed  in  perjietual  verdure,  and  most  luxuriant 
herbage,  it  affords  an  ami)Ie  and  unfailing  provision  to 
cattle  of  every  description.     Immense   numbers  of  the 
cow  species  every  where  present  themselves,  differing 
widely  in  size  and  appearance.     Of  these,  some  have  no 
horns,  and  are  distinguished  likewise  by  the  colour  and 
length  of  their  hair,  or  by  having  bosses  upon  their  back, 
according  to  the  variety  of  climate  or  pasture.     Other 
kinds  have  horns  of  various  dimensions ;  and  there  is 
one  species  whose  horns  are  of  such  a  monstrous  size 
as  to  be  capable  of  containing  ten  quarts  each.     Uiil  the 
»ize  of  the  animal  bears  no  proportion  to  that  of  his  horn  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  is  not  nearly  so  large  as  a  common 
English  cow,  and    the  growth   of    horn    is  a   disease 
which  generallj'  proves  fatal ;  as  it  is  encouraged  for  a 
particular  purpose.     The  terrific  appearance  of  these 
animals  has  given  rise  to  the  fable  of  carnivormts  hulls  ; 
a  species  of  monster  which  exists  neither  in  Abyssinia, 
nor  in  any  other  part  of  Africa.     The  buffalo  of  this 
country  is  exceedingly  ferocious ;  he  resides  not  in  the 
high  and  temperate  regions,  but  in  the  sultry  valleys  be- 
low, where,  as  if  conscious  of  his  superior  strength,  he 
stretches  himself  at    his  ease   among  large    spreading 
trees,  near  the  clearest  and  deepest  rivers,  or  stagnant 
pools  of  the  purest  water ;  yet  in  his  person   he  is  as 
dirty  and  slovenly,  as  in  his  disiwsition  he  is  fierce  and 
untractable.     Among  the  wild  animals  are  prodigious 
numbers  of  the  ^asf/  m  antelope  VXnA;  the  bohtir,  mssa, 
fecho,  and  nmdoqua.  These  are  to  be  met  with  only  in  the 
uncultivated  parts  of  the  country,  where  they  feed  chiefly 
on  trees.     They  are  extremely  numerous  in  those  pro- 
vinces which  have  been  depopulated  by  war,  enjoying 
among  the  wild  oats  a  quiet  residence,  without  the  fear 
of  being  molested  by  man.  Hi/anas  abound  in  Abyssinia, 
of  which  Mr.  Bruce  supposes  there   are  two  species. 
Those  which  he  had  seen  on  mount  Libanus  and  at  Alep- 
po, exactly  resembled  the  hya-na  described  by  M.  Buffon, 
and  seemed  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  the  hog;  while 
those  which  infest  Abyssinia  are  much  larger,  and  seem 
more  allied  to  the  canine  race.     The  barbarous  custom 
of  leaving  the  slauglitered  carcasses  of  criminals  unburi- 
ed  in  the  streets,  attracts  the  hya-nas  in  multitudes  to 
the  towns ;  so  that  it  is  very  unsafe  to  venture  from  home 
after  it  is  dark.     The  natives  believe  that  these  animals 
are  Falasha  from  the  neighbouring  mountains,  who  be- 
ing transformed  by  magic,  come  to  banquet,  during  the 
night,  on  human  flesh.     Of  the  dog  or  fox  kind  there 
are  few  ^'arieties.     The  deep  or  jackal,  is  the  most  nu- 
merous class,  and  is  in  all  respects  the  same  as  the  deep 
of  Barbary  and  Syria.     The  nildboar  is  frequently  seen 
in  swamps,  or  on  the  banks  of  rivers  covered  with  wood. 
He  is  smaller  and  smoother  in  the  hair  than  those  of 
Barbary  and  Europe,  but  differs  from  them  in  nothing 
else.     The  low  hot  country  is  inhabited  by  the  ehphant, 
rhinoceros,  and  cameleopird  ;  nor  do  the  lion,  the  leerpard, 
or  the  panther,  ever  appear  in  the   high  and  cultivated 
regions.    The  country  is  every  where  infested  by  flocks 
a{ apes  anA  baLoMis,  who  destroy  the  fields  of  millet; 
rats  and  mice  likewise  abound,  and  commit  great  devas- 
tation on  the  crops.     Hares  are  very  numerous ;  and, 


being  accounted  unclean,  are  never  hunted  but  by  fowls 
and  beasts  ofjirey.  All  the  large  rivers  abound  Avith 
crocodiles  and  hippopotami. 

The  number  of  birds  in  Abyssinia  almost  exceeds 
belief.  The  high  and  low  couutries  are  equally  stored 
with  them.  'J'hose  of  the  carnivorous  kiiul,  occu|)y  the 
rocks  and  niountains ;  among  which  there  are  many  spe- 
cies of  the  eagle,  vidlurc,  and  hawk.  A  species  of  kite, 
called  Imdaya,  very  frequent  in  Egypt,  comes  to  Ethiopia 
very  punctually  after  the  tropical  rains.  Their  first 
supply  of  food  is  a  quantity  of  shell-fish,  which  have  been 
forced  by  the  flood  from  the  salt  springs  where  they  have 
been  nourished ;  and,  when  the  rains  subside,  are  left 
without  moisture  on  the  edges  of  the  deserts.  The  car- 
casses of  wild  beasts,  slain  by  the  hunters,  afford  them 
an  ample  store  of  provisions.  They  next  prey  on  field- 
rats  and  mice,  that  appear  after  harvest,  and  swarm  in 
the  fissures  of  the  ground.  But  their  chief  resource 
is  in  the  number  of  cattle  slaughtered  by  the  army  on 
march;  beasts  of  burthen,  which  die  under  carriage,  or 
ill  treatment ;  or  soldiers,  who  perish  by  disease  or  the 
sword,  and  are  left  to  rot  in  the  open  fields.  These 
furnish  such  a  supply  of  carrion,  that  one  would  think 
that  all  the  carnivorous  fowls  in  the  world  were  collect- 
ed round  the  camp.  The  fields  are  covered  with  them 
on  every  side  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  the 
branches  of  the  trees  are  ready  to  break  under  the 
l)res3ure  of  their  weight.  These  supplies  all  fail  at  the 
commencement  of  the  rains,  when  the  hunters  and 
armies  are  forced  to  return  home,  and  the  vast  quantity 
of  water,  which  inundates  the  country,  deprives  them 
of  every  other  kind  of  food. 

There  are  likewise  great  numbers  of  birds,  which 
live  upon  insects.  The  fly,  which  reigns,  in  swarms, 
on  the  plains  from  May  to  September,  is  attended  by  a 
multitude  of  feathered  enemies,  some  of  which  devour 
them  for  food ;  others  seem  to  persecute  them  in  re- 
venge for  the  injuries  which  they  commit  against  man- 
Idnd,  andthe  brute  creation ;  scattering  niyrLids  of  them 
on  the  ground,  without  heeding  them  more.  Bees.'ton, 
which  abound  in  all  parts  of  Abyssinia,  are  an  unfailing 
supply  to  these  birds. 

Nor  is  the  granivorous  tribe  less  numerous,  or  less 
plentifully  provided  with  focwl.  All  the  trees  and  shrubs 
in  Abyssinia  bear  flowers,  seeds,  and  fruit,  in  every  sea- 
son of  the  year ;  and,  as  the  country  is  divided  by  a  ridge 
of  mountains,  which  likewise  diviile  the  seasons,  those 
birds  which  subsist  on  one  particular  kind  of  food,  are 
transported,  by  a  short  migration,  to  the  same  seasons, 
and  the  same  food,  on  one  side  of  the  mountains,  of 
which  a  change  of  weather  had  deprived  theni  on  the 
other. 

This  country  has  few  owls,  but  those  arc  remarkable 
for  their  size  and  beauty.  Thecroivs  are  black-and-white 
almost  in  equal  proportions.  The  raven,  which  is  of  a 
large  size,  has  black  feathers  intermixed  with  brown, 
his  beak  tipt  with  white,  and  a  tuft  of  white  feathers  on 
his  head,  in  the  figure  of  a  cup  or  chalice.  Mr.  Bruce 
saw  neither  sparrows,  magpies,  nor  bats,  during  his 
residence  in  Abyssinia.  Water  fowls,  too,  were  rare, 
particularly  of  the  web-footed  kind:  but,  during  the 
rainy  season,  the  plains  are  covered  with  storks,  of  va- 
rious descriptions.  The  large  birds  which  reside  on  the 
mountains  of  Samen  and  Taranta,  are  fortified  against 
the  weather  by  tubular  feathers,  the  hollow  part  of  which 
is  full  of  a  fine  dust  or  powder,  which,  on  grasping  them, 
issues  out  in  such  abundance  as  to  stain  the  hand.  There 


40 


ABYSSINIA. 


are  no  geese  here,  wild  or  tame,  excepting  what  is  call- 
ed the  golden  goose,  goose  of  the  Nile,  or  goose  of  the 
Cape,  which  is  comirion  in  every  part  of  Africa.  Snipes 
arc  ibund  in  all  the  deep  and  grassy  bogs,  but  there  are 
no  ivoo/kocks.  There  are,  in  Abyssinia,  various  kinds 
o( stvallotvs  unknown  in  Europe;  those  which  are  com- 
mon in  Euroiie  appear  on  passage,  at  the  very  season 
when  they  take  their  flight  Ironi  that  coutinent.  Pigeons 
are  very  numerous,  and  all  of  them  migrate  but  one 
kind,  which  lives  in  the  eaves  of  houses,  or  holes  in  the 
Will!,  and  which  the  Abj'ssinians  account  unclean,  be- 
cause it  has  chnvs  like  a  falcon,  of  which  they  supjiose  it 
a  mixture. 

There  is  a  species  of  eagle,  to  which  Blr.  Bruce  has 
given  the  name  of  the  golden  eagle,  which  well  deserves 
a  particular  description.  His  Ethiopic  name  is  nisser  ; 
and,  from  a  tuft  of  hair  below  his  beak,  he  is  called  by 
the  vulgar  Abmi  DucKn,  or  Father  Longhcard.  He  is 
one  of  the  largest  birds  that  fly.  One  which  Mr.  Uruce 
shot  measured  8  feet  4  inches  from  mng  to  wing,  and 
from  the  tip  of  Iiis  tail  to  the  point  of  his  beak,  upwards 
of  4  feet  and  a  half.  His  legs  appeared  short  but  strong, 
and  his  tliighs  were  extremely  museular.  His  middle 
claw  was  about  two  inches  and  a  half  long,  rather  strong 
than  sharp.  His  bill,  from  the  root  to  the  point,  mea- 
sured three  inches  and  a  quarter,  and  at  the  root  was  an 
inch  and  three  quarters  broad.  From  the  cavity  of  his 
lower  jaw  proceeded  a  forked  bunch  of  strong  hair;  his 
eye  was  remarkably  small ;  the  crown  of  liis  head  was 
bald,  as  was  also  the  front,  at  thejunction  of  the  bill  with 
the  skull.  His  feathers,  on  being  grasped,  emitted  a 
great  quantity  of  yellow  powder;  andtlioseon  his  back 
produced  a  brown  dust  of  their  own  colour.  The  fea- 
ther? of  his  belly  and  breast  were  of  a  goUleu  colour,  and 
seemed  to  havenothing  extraordinary  iutheir  formation; 
but  the  large  feathers  in  his  shoulder  and  wings  were 
fine  tubes,  from  which,  upon  pressure,  the  powder  was 
emitted. 

Besides  swarms  of  locusts,  and  a   species  of  ants, 
wliirh  are  extremely  troublesome  and  pernicious,  Abys- 
sinia is  likewise  infested  by  a  fly,  called  Tsaltsalya,  an 
itisect  more  formidable  than  the  strongest  or  most  savage 
wild  beast.     He  is  very  little  larger  than  a  bee,  but  of 
a  thicker  proportion;  his  wings,  which  are  placed  se- 
jjarate  like  those  of  a  fly,  are  of  pure  gauze,  without 
colour  or  spot ;  his  head  is   large,  his  upper  jaw  sharp, 
armed  at  the  einl  with  a  stnmg  pointetl  hair,  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  long;  his  lower  jaw  has  two  of  these 
pointed  hairs;  and  the  three  on  both  jaws,  when  joined 
toaether,  make  a  resistance  to  the  finger,  nearly  eijual 
to  that  of  a  strong  hog's  bristle.     His  tegs  arc  serrated 
ill  the  inside,  and  covered  with  brown  hair,  or  down.  He 
has  no  sting ;  his  motion  is  rapid  and  sudden,  resembling 
that  of  a  gad  fly.     The  sound  which  he  utters  is  a  jar- 
ring noise,  together  with  a  humming,  and  seems  partly 
to  proceed  from  a  vibration  of  the  three  hairs  at  his 
snout.     As  soon  as  the  buzzing  of  this  insect  is  heard, 
the  utmost  alarm  and  trepidation  j-revails.     The  cattle 
forsake  their  fowl,  and  run  wildly  about  the  plain,  till  at 
length  they  fall  down,  worn  out  w  ith  terror,  hunger,  and 
fatigue.     Fortunately  this  dreadful  enemy  is  conlined  to 
the  black  loamy  soil,  and  the  sands  of  Atbara  afford  a 
safe  retreat  from  his  pursuit.     Even  the  thiek  skin  of 
the  camel  gives  no  security  against  his  attacks.     His 
body,  head,  and  legs,  penetrateil  by  the  proboscis  of  this 
fly,sweIlinto  large  bosses,  which  break  antli)utrefy,  to  his 
certain  destruction.     The  elephant  and  rhinoeeros,  too. 


wliose  enonuous  bulk,  and  habits  of  life,  prevent  them 
from  removing  to  dry  and  desert  places,  are  obliged  to 
roll  themselves  in  the  mire,  which,  when  «iry,  cases 
them  as  it  were  in  armour,  and  enables  them  to  withstand 
this  winged  assassin.  Small  and  inconsiderable  as  he 
apiiears,  the  Tsaltsalya  seems  to  have  given  law  to  the 
first  settlement  in  the  country.  He  absolutely  debarred 
the  inhabitants  of  the  rich  black  soil  from  enjoying  the 
assistance  of  any  beasts  of  labour,  and  deprived  them  of 
the  flesh  and  milk  of  cattle  for  food.  Another  nation 
was  thus  introduced,  who  led  a  wandering  life,  and  pre- 
served their  herds  and  flocks  by  drivingthemto  the  sands 
of  Atiiara,  till  the  disa|)pearance  of  this  insect  enabled 
them  to  bring  them  back. 

IMr.  Bruce,  in  opposition  to  almost  every  account  that 
has  been  published  of  Abyssinia,  maintains  that  there 
are  few  serpents  in  that  countiy.  In  Upper  Abyssinia 
he  saw  none  of  any  kind,  and  no  remarkable  varieties 
even  in  the  low  country,  excepting  the  large  snake  call- 
ed lea,  which  is  often  above  twenty  feet  in  length,  and 
as  thick  as  an  ordinary  man's  thigh.  His  chief  residence 
is  by  the  grassy  stagnant  pools  of  rivers.  He  is  an  ani- 
mal of  prey,  and  feeds  upon  antelopes  and  deer,  which, 
as  he  has  no  canine  teeth,  he  swallows  in  whole  pieces, 
after  having  broken  the  bones,  and  draivn  them  out  into 
a  length  to  be  more  easily  managed.  There  is  likewise 
a  species  of  horned  viper  called  cerastes,  which  is  gene- 
rally about  13  or  14  inches  long.  It  has  sixteen  small 
immoveable  teeth,  and  in  the  upperjaw  two  canine  teeth, 
hollow,  crooked,  and  fmel)'  polished.  Its  poison,  con- 
sidering its  size,  is  very  copious,  and  is  contained  in  a 
bag  under  its  canine  teeth ;  when  these  are  taken  out,  an 
operation  very  easily  performed,  the  viper  bites  without 
any  fatal  consequence.  Its  horns  are  about  three-twelfths 
of  an  inch  long,  and  its  body,  where  thickest,  about  ten- 
twelfths.  It  moves  with  great  rapidity,  and  in  all  direc- 
tions. When  inclined  to  surprise  any  person  who  is  too 
far  from  it,  it  creeps  with  its  side  towards  him,  and  its 
liead  averted,  till,  judging  its  distance,  it  turns  rouud, 
and  springs  on  him. 

Mr.  Bruce  vouches,  from  his  own  observation,  for  the 
reality  of  the  incantation  of  serpents.  At  Cairo  he  saw 
a  man  fake  a  cerastes,  w  ith  his  naked  hand,  from  a  num- 
ber of  others  at  the  bottom  of  a  tub,  put  it  in  his  breast, 
twist  it  about  his  neck,  and  last  of  all  eat  it  with  as  litl!e 
repugnance  as  if  it  had  been  a  stock  of  celery.  All  the 
black  people  of  Sennaar  arc  perfectly  armed  against  the 
bite  of  either  scor|iion  or  viper.  They  take  them  with- 
out scruple  in  their  hands,  and  toss  them  to  one  another 
like  balls,  without  irritating  them  so  much  as  to  bite. 
The  creature,  however  lively  before,  when  seized  by  on«! 
of  these  barbarians,  always  appeared  languid  and  feeble, 
frequently  shut  his  eyes,  and  never  turned  his  nioulh 
towards  the  arm  of  the  person  that  held  him;  yet,  when 
a  chicken  was  made  to  flutter  before  him,  his  seeming 
indilTcrence  left  him;  he  bit  it  with  great  signs  of  rage, 
and  the  chicken  died  almost  instantly.  These  peojile 
pretend  to  possess  a  natural  exemption  from  the  noxious 
power  of  serpents;  and,  by  certain  medicines,  can  com- 
municate this  exemption  to  others.  The  Arabs  acquire 
it  from  their  infancy,  by  clicwiiig  a  certain  root,  and 
washing  themselves  w  ith  an  iidusion  of  certain  plants  in 
water.  Though  Ihe  drugs  were  given  to  Mr.  Bruce,  and 
he  several  times  fortified  himself  for  the  experiment, 
his  resolution  always  failed  him  at  the  moment  of  trii'l. 

So  much  for  the  naturtd  history  of  Abyssinia,  which 
wc  have  detailed  tlie  more  n)inutely,  because  the  facts 


ABYSSINIA. 


41 


which  It  presents,  while  they  are  not  uninteresting  to 
the  general  reader,  are  calculated  to  give  the  naturalist 
the  most  correct  idea  of  the  peculiarities  of  climate  and 
country. 

If  the  external  features  of  this  extensive  region  are 
singular  and  striking — the  character  and  manners  of  its 
inhabitants  are  still  more  so.  The  picture  is  indeed 
mortifying  and  disgusting;  for  of  all  the  people  in  the 
■world,  the  Abyssinians  are  perhaps  the  most  barbarous 
and  depraved.  The  thirst  of  revenge,  inflamed  by  per- 
petual hostilities,  and  by  personal  and  national  injuries, 
has  frequently  impelled  the  savage  to  torture  and  devour 
the  body  of  his  captive  enemy.  We  sicken  with  horror 
at  the  recital,  and  cannot  easily  be  reconciled  to  the 
idea,  that  we  partake  of  the  same  nature  with  the  mon- 
strous cannibal.  But  what  shall  we  think  of  a  people 
who,  without  the  irritation  of  war,  or  the  animosity  of 
revenge,  seem  habitually  to  delight  in  cruelties  scarce 
less  enormous,  and  ^vhose  daily  banquets  are  disgraced 
by  the  protracted  torture  of  the  unhappy  animal  which 
is  destined  to  be  the  victim  of  their  unnatural  luxury  ? 

Mr.  Bruce,  who  was  frequently  compelled  to  be  pre- 
sent at  these  horrid  festivals,  has  given  a  very  lively 
description  of  one  of  them,  which  we  shall  transcribe 
in  his  own  words.  "  A  long  table  is  set  in  the  middle  of 
a  large  room,  and  benches  beside  it  for  a  number  of 
guests  who  are  invited.  A  cow  or  bull,  one  or  more,  as 
the  company  is  numerous,  is  brought  close  to  t!ie  door, 
and  his  feet  strongly  tied.  The  skin  that  hangs  down 
under  his  chin  and  throat,  which  I  think  we  call  the 
dewlap  in  England,  is  cut  only  so  deep  as  to  arrive  at 
the  fat,  of  whicli  it  totally  consists,  and  by  the  separation 
of  a  few  small  blood  vessels,  six  or  seven  drops  of  blood 
only  fall  to  the  ground.  They  have  no  stone,  bench,  nor 
altar,  upon  which  these  cruel  assassins  lay  the  animal's 
head  in  this  operation.  I  should  beg  his  pardon  indeed 
for  calling  him  an  assassin,  as  he  is  not  so  merciful  as  to 
aim  at  the  life,  but  on  the  contrary,  to  keep  the  beast 
alive  till  he  be  totally  eaten  up.  Having  satisfied  the 
Slosaical  law,  according  to  his  conception,  by  pouring 
these  six  or  seven  drops  upon  the  ground,  two  or  more 
of  them  fall  to  work;  on  the  back  of  the  beast,  and  on 
each  side  of  the  spine,  they  cut  skin  deep;  then  putting 
their  fingers  between  the  flesh  and  the  skin,  they  begin 
to  strip  the  hide  of  the  animal  halfway  down  his  ribs, 
ami  so  on  to  the  buttock,  cutting  the  skin  wherever  it 
hinders  them  commodiously  to  strip  the  poor  animal 
bare.  All  the  flesh  on  the  buttocks  is  cut  off  then,  and 
in  solid  square  pieces  without  bones,  or  much  etfusion 
of  blood ;  and  the  prodigious  noise  the  animal  makes,  is 
a  signal  for  the  company  to  sit  down  to  table. 

"  There  are  then  laid  before  every  guest,  instead  of 
plates,  round  cakes,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  about  twice  as 
big  as  a  pancake,  and  something  thicker  and  tougher. 
It  is  unleavened  bread,  of  a  sourish  taste,  far  from  be- 
ing disagreeable,  and  very  easily  digested,  made  of  a 
grain  called  tefl".  It  is  of  different  colours,  from  black 
to  the  colour  of  the  whitest  wheat-bread.  Three  or 
four  of  these  c:ikes  are  generally  put  uppermost,  for  the 
food  of  the  person  opposite  to  whose  seat  they  are  pla- 
ced. Beneath  these  are  four  or  five  of  ordinary  bread, 
and  of  a  blackish  kind.  These  serve  the  master  to  wipe 
his  fingers  upon,  and  afterwards  the  servant,  for  bread 
lo  his  dinner.  Two  or  three  servants  then  co.-ne,  each 
with  a  square  i)iece  of  beef  in  his  bare  hands,  laying  it 
upon  the  cakes  of  teff,  placed  like  dishes  down  the  table, 
without  cloth  or  any  tiling  else  beneath  them.     By  this 

Vol.  I.  Paet  I. 


time  all  the  guests  have  knives  in  their  hands,  and  their 
men  have  the  large  crooked  ones,  which  they  put  to  all 
sorts  of  uses  during  the  time  of  war.  The  woiien  have 
small  clasped  knives,  such  as  the  worst  of  the  kind  made 
at  Birmingham,  sold  for  a  penny  each.  The  company 
are  so  ranged,  that  one  man  sits  between  two  women ; 
the  man,  with  his  long  knife,  cuts  a  thin  piece,  which 
would  be  thought  a  good  beaf-steak  in  England,  while 
you  see  the  motion  of  the  fibres  yet  perfectly  distinct, 
and  alive  in  the  flesh. 

"  No  man  in  Abyssinia,  of  any  fashion  whatever,  feeds 
himself,  or  touches  his  own  meat.  The  women  take 
the  steak,  and  cut  it  lengthways,  like  strings,  about  the 
thickness  of  your  little  finger,  then  crossways  into 
square  pieces,  something  smaller  than  dice.  This  they 
lay  upon  a  piece  of  the  teflf  bread,  strongly  jiowdered 
with  black  or  Cayenne  pepper,  and  fossil  salt ;  they  then 
wrap  it  up  in  the  teff  bread  like  a  cartridge.  In  the 
meantime  the  man,  having  put  up  his  knife,  with  each 
hand  resting  on  his  neighbour's  knee,  his  body  stooping, 
his  head  low  and  forward,  and  his  mouth  open,  very  like 
an  idiot,  turns  to  her  whose  cartridge  is  first  ready,  who 
stuffs  the  whole  of  it  into  his  mouth,  which  is  so  full,  that 
he  is  in  constant  danger  of  being  choked.  This  is  a 
mark  of  grandeur.  The  greater  a  man  would  seem  to 
be,  the  larger  piece  he  takes  in  his  mouth ;  and  the  more 
noise  he  makes  in  chewing  it,  the  more  polite  he  is 
thought  to  be.  They  have,  indeed,  a  proverb,  that  says, 
"  Beggars  and  thieves  only  eat  small  pieces,  or  without 
making  a  noise."  Having  despatched  this  morsel,  which 
he  <loes  very  expeditiously,  his  next  female  neighbour 
holds  forth  another  cartridge,  which  goes  the  same  wa)', 
and  so  on  till  he  is  satisfied.  He  never  drinks  till  he  has 
finished  eating;  and  before  he  begins,  in  gratitude  to  the 
fair  ones  that  fed  him,  he  makes  up  two  small  rolls  of  the 
same  kind  and  form ;  each  of  his  neighbours  open  their 
mouths  at  the  same  time,  while  with  each  hand  he  puts 
their  portion  into  their  mouths.  He  then  falls  to  drink- 
ing out  of  a  large  handsome  horn ;  the  ladies  eat  till  they 
are  satisfied,  and  then  all  drink  together.  A  great  deal 
of  mirth  and  joke  goes  round,  very  seldom  with  any 
mixture  of  acrimony  or  ill  humour. 

"  All  this  time  the  unfortunate  victim  at  the  door  is 
bleeding  indeed,  but  bleeding  little.  As  long  as  they 
can  cut  ofl"the  flesh  from  his  bones,  they  do  not  meddle 
with  the  thighs  or  the  parts  where  the  great  arteries  are. 
At  last  they  fall  upon  the  thighs  likewise;  and  soon  after: 
the  animal,  bleeding  to  death,  becomes  so  tough,  that  the 
cannibals  who  have  the  rest  of  it  to  eat,  find  very  hard 
work  to  separate  the  flesh  from  the  bones  with  their 
teeth  like  dogs." 

This  inhuman  practice  is  so  repugnant  to  the  manners 
and  sentiments  of  Europeans,  that  some  have  been  in- 
duced to  regard  it  as  altogether  absurd  and  impossible. 
But,  not  lo  mention  the  temerity  and  the  injustice  of 
r^ecting  an  account  of  distant  nations,  because  it  hap- 
pens not  to  coincide  with  our  own  customs,  or  precon- 
ceived opinions, — Mr.  Bruce's  narrative  is  confirmed  by 
the  testimony  of  other  travellers,  and,  in  a  certain  de- 
gree, by  the  practice  of  other  countries.  Lobo  assures 
us,  that  the  Galla  eat  raw  meat,  and  nothing  else,  a  cus- 
tom which  seems  to  have  prevailed  pretty  generally  in 
the  south  of  Africa.  Speaking  of  the  Abyssinians,  he 
alfirms,  "  that  their  greatest  treat  is  a  piece  of  raw  Ijeef, 
quite  warm.  When  they  give  a  feast,  they  kill  an  ox, 
and  immediately  serve  up  a  quarter  of  it  on  the  table, 
with  much  pepper  and  salt ;  and  the  gall  of  the  ox  servea 


'43 


ABYSSINIA. 


them  for  oil  and  vinegar."  To  cut  the  animal  in  pieces 
while  alive,  is  an  easy  and  natural  refinement  on  this 
barbarous  practice  ;  and  accordingly  Abrnm,  an  Abys- 
sinian, told  sir  William  Jones,  that  the  country  people 
and  soldierly  made  no  scruple  of  drinking  the  blood,  and 
eating  the  raw  flesh  of  an  ox,  not  caring  whether  they 
cut  it  when  dead  or  alive. 

A  people  of  such  unexampled  cruelty  towards  brute 
animals,  cannot  be  expected  to  pay  much  resard  to  the 
sufferings  of  their  fellow  creatures.  Inured  from  their 
infancy  to  blood,  murder  seems  almost  their  pastime. 
Even  children,  when  provoked,  are  prevented  only  by  the 
want  of  strength  from  imbruing  their  impotent  hands  in 
the  blood  of  a  playfellow,  or  a  brother.  Their  sanguinary 
laws  are  but  a  weak  restraint  against  these  violent  pas- 
sions, when  seconded  by  greater  strength  and  address; 
and  the  punishments  annexed  to  the  laws  themselves, 
exhibit  the  most  striking  example  of  the  national  cru- 
elty. One  of  these  punishments  is  flaying  alive ;  and 
even  Ozoro  Esther,  the  heroine  of  Mr.  Bruce's  narra- 
tive, smiled  with  savage  complacency  when  presented 
with  the  skin  of  an  enemy.  Criminals  are  frequently 
hewn  in  pieces  with  a  sabre;  nor  is  this  performed  by 
common  executioners,  whose  office,  in  every  civilized 
country,  is  held  infamous  and  detestable, but  by  people  of 
quality,  and  officers  of  rank.  So  little,  indeed,  is  thought 
of  these  executions,  that  Mr.  Bruce,  happening  one  day 
to  pass  by  an  oflicer  who  had  three  men  to  despatch  in 
this  manner,  was  coolly  requested  by  him  to  stop  till 
he  had  cut  them  all  to  pieces,  as  he  wished  to  converse 
with  him  upon  an  affair  of  consequence.  Stoning  to 
death  is  another  capital  punishment  frequent  in  Abys- 
sinia ;  inflicted  generally  on  Franks  and  Roman  Catho- 
lics, when  they  happen  to  be  found,  and  on  other  here- 
tics in  religion. 

To  say  that  these  savages  are  perfidious  and  false  in 
the  extreme,  is  only  to  delineate  a  natural  feature  of 
their  hideous  character ;  for,  where  the  laws  of  huma- 
nity are  habitually  outraged,  the  restraints  of  morality, 
or  of  honour,  will  be  unknown  or  disregarded.  So 
completely  is  the  moral  sense  of  the  Abyssinians  per- 
verted, that  they  prefer  deceit  to  honesty,  and  falsehood 
to  truth,  when  their  interest  seems  in  noways  concerned 
in  the  preference.  Even  those  regulations  which  seem 
essential  to  the  very  existence  of  society,  are  but  little 
respected  by  those  rude  barbarians.  Marriage  is  here  a 
very  slender  tie,  formed  and  dissolved  at  pleasure ;  and 
chastity  is  a  virtue  which  they  hold  in  very  low  esteem. 
Their  marriages  are  celebrated  in  the  church,  to  be 
sure,  with  great  solemnity,  and  the  parlies  bind  them- 
selves, by  an  oath,  to  continue  faithful  to  each  other  for 
life.  They  make  no  scruple,  however,  of  breaking  these 
engagements,  whenever  they  find  it  inconvenient  or 
unpleasant  to  live  longer  together ;  and  their  flivorces 
and  marriages  are  accordingly  very  fre<|uent.  IMr.  Bruce 
tells  us,  that  he  was  once  at  Koscam,  in  presence  of  Uie 
Iteghe,  (or  (jueen-do wager,)  when  in  the  circle  there 
was  a  woman  of  great  quality,  and  seven  men,  who 
had  all  been  her  husbands,  though  none  of  them  was 
then  the  happy  spouse.  If  the  husband  first  wishes  to 
be  released  from  his  engagement,  he,  or  his  surety, 
must  restore  the  portion  which  the  lady  brought  him, 
and  pay  her  likewise  the  sum  sti]iulated  in  case  of  se- 


paration. If  it  be  the  lady  who  desires  to  recover  her 
liberty,  the  husband  is  liable  to  no  restitution,  provided 
he  has  been  faithful,  acconling  to  a  contract,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  conjugal  duties.  Sometimes,  without  any 
quarrel  or  ill-will,  a  separation  is  agreed  on  by  mutual 
consent.  In  this  case,  the  portion  of  the  wife  is  united 
with  the  sum  stipulated  by  the  husband,  of  which  they 
receive  each  an  equal  share.  If  they  have  any  progeny, 
the  boys  always  go  with  the  mother,  even  though  there 
be  only  one  child ;  if  there  be  no  sons,  she  claims  none 
of  the  girls.  Among  the  lower  ranks,  marraiges  are 
contracted  with  less  ceremony,  and  are  still  more  easily 
dissolved;  but  the  king's  judges,  or  governors  of  pro- 
vinces, take  care  that  the  children  shall  be  maintained 
either  by  their  parents,  or  by  some  other  person.  Where 
the  nuptial  union  is  held  so  little  sacred,  jealousy  cannot 
be  supijoscd  to  prevail ;  and  the  distinction  of  legitimate 
and  illegitimate  offspring  is  unknown. 

Such  is  a  faint  outline  of  the  Abyssinian  character; 
and,  hideous  and  disgusting  as  it  is,  it  is  the  character 
of  a  people  professing  Christianity,  who  have  the  scrip- 
tures translated  into  their  own  language,  and  whoso 
country  is  filled  with  churches  innumerable !  But  let 
not  the  infidel  triumph  in  the  concession.  The  Chris- 
tianity of  the  Abyssinians  is  a  mere  system  of  parade, 
extending  little  further  than  the  acknowledgment  of 
saints,  and  the  observance  of  festivals ;  nor  can  it  be 
wondered,  if  the  pure  and  humanizing  morality  of  the 
gospel  has  produced  little  improvement  on  the  charac- 
ter of  a  people,  who  place  the  essentials  of  religion  in 
external  pageantry,  and  think  the  most  flagrant  crimes 
sufficiently  expiated  by  the  erection  of  a  sanctuary,  or 
the  utterance  of  a  prayer.  Yet  the  brutal  manners  of 
the  Abyssinians  might  certainly  be  laid  to  the  charge  of 
Christianity  with  as  much  justice  as  those  enormities 
which,  during  the  dark  ages,  were  perpetrated  in  its 
name,  and  which  the  candour  of  modern  philosophers 
has  endeavoured  to  construe  into  objections  against  the 
benign  tendency  of  the  Christian  religion. 

A  more  probable  cause  of  their  barbarity  might  be 
found  in  the  degrading  influence  of  their  government. 
It  is  an  anomalous  kind  of  monarchy  :  the  will  of  the 
sovereign  is  the  only  law ;  his  power  over  the  lives  and 
property  of  his  subjects  is  uncontrolled;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  is  unsupported  by  such  a  military  force  as  is 
necessary  to  give  effect  and  consistency  to  its  opera- 
tions. The  militia  of  the  several  districts  is  entirely  at 
the  disposal  of  their  respective  governors,  whose  gene- 
ral safety  depends  on  the  weakness  and  necessities  of 
the  |)rince.  Any  ol  these  governors  is  more  than  a 
match  for  his  sovereign :  indeed,  the  government  of 
Tigre  alone  is  equal  to  all  the  rest  of  the  empire. 
Though  the  sovereignty  be  so  far  hereditary,  that  it  is 
confined  to  one  family,  in  that  family  it  is  elective  :  and 
as  the  ruling  minister,  in  the  name  of  the  people,  deter- 
mines the  election,  it  generally  falls  on  an  infant,  during 
whose  minority  the  minister  continues  to  exercise  all  the 
prerogatives  of  the  crown.  Hence  rebellions  and  civil 
wars  peri)etually  agitate  this  disjointed  government ; 
and  the  citizens,  engaged  in  unceasing  hostilities  with 
each  other,  contract,  of  course,  that  savage  ferocity,  by 
which  they  are  so  infamously  distinguished*.  While 
the  right  of  succession  to  the  throne  was  thus  undefined, 


*  The  (levastatioiis  committed  by  the  Abyssinian  armies  are  dreadful  beyond  description.     "  An  army,"  says  Mr.  Brace,  •'  leaves  no- 
tliin^;  living  bchiail,  not  even  the  vestige  of  a  haiiilation  j  but  fire  and  the  swoid  reduce  every  tiling  to  a  wilderness  and  solitude.     The 


ABYSSINIA. 


43 


the  elected  monarch  would  necessarily  incur  the  hatred 
and  resentment  of  the  other  branches  of  the  royal  family. 
To  prevent  the  feuds  which  would  result  from  their 
mutual  aniniositj',  the  Abyssiniaus  had  recourse  to  the 
expedient  of  confining  the  jirinces  of  the  blood  to  a  kind 
of  state  prison,  situated  on  some  loftj'  and  solitary  moun- 
tain, where  they  were  educated  in  a  total  ignorance  of 
political  transactions ;  and,  when  the  throne  happened  to 
be  vacant,  the  nobles,  or  rather  the  prime  minister,  se- 
lected from  these  captives  the  person  who  appeared 
best  qualified,  by  his  simplicity  or  pliability,  for  being 
their  future  king.  The  weakness  of  the  royal  family, 
and  the  preponderating  power  of  the  governors,  have 
rendered  these  precautions  unnecessary,  but  the  prac- 
tice has  not  j'et  been  abandoned. 

In  the  better  days  of  this  kingdom,  the  royal  office 
was  intrenched  with  all  that  splendour  and  ceremony 
by  which  despotical  governments  are  distinguished ;  and 
which,  by  keeping  the  subject  at  an  awful  distance,  ex- 
cite for  the  person  of  his  sovereign  a  degree  of  venera- 
tion approacliing  to  worship.  The  monarch  was  invested 
in  a  manner  at  once  solemn  and  romantic.  IJressed  in 
crimson  damask,  with  a  chain  of  gold  about  his  neck,  and 
his  head  uncovered,  he  mounted  a  horse,  richlj'  capari- 
soned, and  advanced,  at  the  head  of  his  nobility,  to  the 
paved  area  before  the  church.  A  number  of  young  girls, 
daughters  of  the  Ambares,  or  sujireme  judges,  with 
many  other  noble  virgins,  ranged  themselves  on  each 
side  of  the  court.  Two  of  the  noblest  held  in  their  hands 
a  cord  of  crimson  silk,  stretched  across  from  row  to  ro^v, 
and  drawn  tight  about  breast  high.  The  king  then  en- 
tered at  a  moderate  pace,  displaying  his  skill  in  horse- 
manship as  he  went  along.  When  he  advanced  to  the 
cord,  the  damsels  cried  out,  "  Who  are  you  ?"  He  an- 
swered, "  I  am  your  king,  the  king  of  Ethio|)ia."  "  You 
shall  not  pass,"  they  replied,  "  You  are  not  our  king." 
Retiring  a  few  paces,  he  again  presented  himself,  and 
the  question  was  repeated  as  before.  "  I  am  your  king," 
was  his  second  reply,  "  the  king  of  Israel."  But  this 
answer  likewise  was  rejected.  Returning  a  third  time, 
and  being  asked  again,  "  Who  are  you  ?"  "  1  am  your 
king,"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  king  of  Sion,"  and,  unsheath- 
ing his  sabre,  cut  asunder  the  cord.  The  virgins 
chaunted  halleluiahs,  and  the  air  rung  with  the  accla- 
mations of  the  army  and  the  royal  attendants.  Amidst 
these  expressions  of  joy,  he  rode  up  to  the  stair  of  the 
church,  and  there  dismounting,  sat  down  upon  a  stone, 
resembling  an  altar  of  Anubis,  or  the  Dog-star.  A  num- 
ber of  priests  followed  in  procession.  The  king  was 
first  anointed,  and  then  crowned.  Singing  priests  at- 
tended him  half-way  up  the  steps ;  he  then  slopped  at 
an  aperture,  made  on  purpose  in  the  stair,  where  he 
was  fumigated  with  myrrh,  aloes,  and  cassia.  Divine  ser- 
vice was  celebrated,  and,  on  his  return  to  the  camp, 
fourteen  days  were  spent  in  feasting  and  rejoicing.  See 
Psalm  xxiii.  7 — 10. 

Their  coronations  are  now  conducted  with  less  magni- 
ficence ;  and  many  of  their  ancient  ceremonies  liave 
fallen  into  disuse.  Enough  still  remain,  however,  to 
give  splendour  and  dignity  to  the  government ;  and  a 
striking  resemblance  may  be  traced  between  many  of 
the  customs  which  still  prevail  in  Abyssinia,  and  the 


pompous  usages  of  the  Persian  court.  The  king  of 
Abyssinia,  like  the  Persian  monarclis  of  old,  is  saluted 
with  the  title  of  "  King  of  kings."  Subjects,  in  both 
countries,  approach  the  royal  pereon,  with  the  external 
signs  of  adoration,  prostrating  themselves  before  him, 
and  continuing  in  that  posture  till  ordered  to  rise.  As 
nothing  preserves  or  heightens  the  veneration  for  ma- 
jesty so  much  as  distance  and  reserve,  neither  (he  Abys- 
sinian nor  Persiau  monarch  ever  exposes  himself  to  the 
view  of  his  subjects.  When  the  king  of  Abyssinia  either 
rides  abroad,  or  gives  audience  in  his  iialace,  his  head 
and  forehead  are  perfectly  covered ;  anil  one  of  his  hands 
is  placed  on  his  mouth,  so  that  only  his  eyes  are  seen. 
This  total  seclusion  from  the  public,  though  in  one  re- 
sjiect  advantageous,  was  attended  with  many  inconve- 
niencies ;  to  remedy  which,  t^vo  officers  were  appointed 
in  Persia,  who  were  called  the  King's-Eyes  and  the 
King's-Ear,  and  who  were  intrusted  i\  ith  the  dangerous 
charge  of  seeing  and  hearing  for  their  sovereign.  The 
Abyssinian  monarch  holds  communication  with  his  suli- 
jects  by  means  of  an  officer  named  Kal-Hatze,  Uu  voice, 
or  word  of  the  king.  When  sitting  in  council,  or  in 
judgment,  he  is  enclosed  in  a  kind  of  balcony,  with 
lattice  windows  and  curtains  before  him.  Incases  of 
treason,  he  speaks  through  a  hole  in  the  side  of  his  bal- 
cony to  the  Kal-Hatze,  who  conveys  his  questions  or 
remarks  to  the  judges,  who  are  seated  at  the  council- 
table.  When  consulting  on  civil  aflairs,  the  counsellors 
arc  seated  at  the  table :  and  the  king,  though  himself 
unseen,  has  a  distinct  view  of  them  all.  They  deliver 
their  sentiments  according  to  their  age  or  rank ;  the 
youngest,  or  lowest  officer,  always  speaking  first.  After 
they  have  concluded  their  deliberations,  the  whole  as- 
sembly rise,  and  the  Kal-Hatze  pronounces  the  royal 
decree.  Though  the  original  object  of  these  delibera- 
tions must  have  been  to  decide  on  any  measure  accord- 
ing to  the  sense  of  the  majority,  yet  no  majority  can  pre- 
vail against  the  prerogative  of  the  king :  nay,  even  a 
rtiajority  Iiave  frequently  been  punished  by  imprison- 
ment, when  their  sentiments  happened  to  differ  from 
those  of  his  majesty.  In  Abyssinia,  however,  the  an- 
cient custom  of  the  monarch's  concealing  himself  from 
public  view,  is  now  less  strictly  observed.  The  constant 
wars  in  which  this  country  has  been  engaged,  since  Adel 
was  occupied  by  the  Mahometans,  have  often  compelled 
the  sovereign  to  expose  bis  person  in  the  field;  and  on 
many  occasions,  the  army,  and  the  kingdom  at  large, 
have  been  indebted  for  safety  and  victory  to  the  skill  and 
gallantry  of  their  prince.  In  the  time  of  war,  he  is  at- 
tended by  an  officer,  named  Lika  Magwass,  who  rides 
constantly  round  him,  carrying  his  shield  and  his  lance; 
and  such  was  the  respect  once  paid  to  him,  not  only  by 
foreign  enemies,  but  even  by  his  own  subjects  in  rebel- 
lion, that,  before  the  arrival  of  the  Europeans,  no  king 
of  Abyssinia  ever  fell  in  battle.  At  that  period,  the 
practice,  both  of  excommunicating  and  murdering  (heir 
sovereigns,  seems  to  have  been  first  introduced.  Even 
yet,  however,  the  respect  for  the  royal  person  is,  in  some 
degree,  retainetl ;  and,  in  the  day  of  battle,  he  is  often 
arrayed  in  his  insignia,  lest,  being  unknown,  he  should 
perish  by  the  sword  of  his  enemies. 

Tliose  who  wish  to  complain  of  grievances,  assemble. 


beasts  and  birds  unmolested  have  the  country  to  tlieinselvcs,  and  increase  beyond  all  possible  conception."  Tlie  number  of  unburied 
ean-asses  would  be  sufficient  to  occasion  contagious  distempers,  did  not  these  voracious  animals  consume  ibera  before  putrefaction.  The 
carrion  fouls,  which  follow  an  army  while  in  motien,  form  a  black  canopy,  extending  oYcr  it  for  leagues.  When  it  encamps,  Uie  ground 
and  trees  are  coyered  with  them  beyond  the  reach  of  sighi, 

F2 


44 


ABYSSINIA. 


at  break  of  tlay,  before  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
palace,  and  continue  tliere  till  night,  crying  for  justice 
in  a  loud  and  querulous  tone,  and  in  iiU  the  different  lan- 
guages which  they  can  speak.  It  may  well  be  supposed, 
that  in  a  country  so  ill  governed  as  Abyssinia,  involved 
too  in  perpetual  wars,  there  will  be  multitudes  of  suffer- 
ers, who  have  to  complain  of  real  injuries  and  violence. 
What  was  at  first  only  an  unhappy  consequence  of  a  bad 
government,  has  now  grown  into  an  established  form ; 
insomuch,  that  when  the  rains  prevent  the  really  dis- 
tressed from  approaching  the  capital,  or  standing  in  the 
streets,  a  set  of  vagrants  are  provided  and  maintained, 
whose  business  it  is  to  imitate  the  various  tones  of  sor- 
row and  of  pain ;  aud  this,  they  say,  is  for  the  king's 
honour,  that  he  may  not  be  lonely  from  the  quietness  of 
the  palace.  The  burden  of  these  complaints,  whether 
real  or  feigned,  is  always,  Rete  Ojan  hai  ;  Do  me  jus- 
tice, O  my  king.  Wlien  quickly  repeated,  it  very  much 
resembles  Prete  Janiii,  (of  which  Prester  John  is  a  cor- 
ruption,) the  name  that  was  given  to  this  prince,  and 
the  derivation  of  which  has  not  yet  been  ascertained. 

As  if  the  clamour  of  these  complainants  were  insuf- 
ficient to  rouse  his  majesty  from  his  morning  slumbers, 
he  has  an  officer,  called  Serach  Massery,  who,  with  a 
long  whip,  begins  cracking  and  making  a  noise  at  the 
door  of  the  palace  before  the  dawn  of  day.  This  fright- 
ens away  tlie  hyaina  and  other  wild  beasts,  and  serves 
likewise  as  a  signal  for  the  king  to  arise;  for  he  sits  in 
judgment  every  morning  till  eight  o'clock,  his  hour  of 
breakfast.  He  has  likewise  six  noblemen  of  his  own 
election,  who  are  called  Baalomaal,  (masters  of  his 
effects,)  and  whose  office  corresponds  to  that  of  gentle- 
men of  the  bed-chamber;  four  of  these  always  attend 
him.  There  is  a  seventh,  who  is  their  president,  called 
Azeleffa  el  Camisha,  groom  of  the  robe  or  stole.  He  is 
keeper  of  the  king's  wardrobe,  and  first  officer  of  the 
bed-chamber.  These  officers,  with  the  black  slaves,  and 
some  others,  wait  upon  the  king  as  menial  servants ;  and 
enjoy  a  degree  of  familiarity  with  him,  to  which  no  other 
subject  is  admitted.  There  are  many  other  officers  in 
the  king's  retinue  ;  but  to  enumerate  them,  would  only 
incumber  our  pages  with  uncouth  and  barbarous  names, 
without  conveying  any  precise  idea  of  the  offices  which 
they  denote.  The  Kasmati  of  Tigre  is  the  most  power- 
ful of  the  governors ;  and  the  office  of  Ras  is  the  highest 
dignity  to  which  a  subject  can  attain. 

As  the  use  of  money  is  unknown  in  Abyssinia,  the 
revenue  is  paid  in  bullion  gold,  and  the  rude  products 
of  the  various  provinces.  Agowmidre  pays  the  king 
annually  about  1000  ounces  of  gold,  1000  dabras  of  ho- 
ney, and  1000  or  1 500  cattle ;  Damot  pays  800  ounces  of 
gold;  Gojam  80  ounces,  and  70  mules;  Lasta  1000 
ounces ;  Tigre  pays  to  the  amount  of  400  ounces  in  salt 
and  cotton  cloths;  Valkait  1500  ounces  in  cotton 
cloth. 

The  want  of  money  is  supplied  by  fossil  salt,  which, 
being  divided  into  square  pieces  about  a  foot  long,  is  the 
only  medium  of  traffic  used  in  this  country.  The  value 
of  commodities  is  sometimes  estimated  likewise  by  cot- 
ton cloths;  thus  they  say,  that  an  article  is  worth  so 
many  webs  or  cloths  of  cotton.  Various  coins,  indeed, 
are  current  at  Masuah,  which,  being  the  very  entrance 
of  .\byssinia,  is  a  place  of  considerable  trade.  These 
coins  have  been  introduced  by  tlie  commercial  inter- 
course of  this  island  with  the  opposite  coast  of  Arabia. 
Their  names,  and  relative  value,  may  be  learned  from 
the  following  table : 


Venetian  sequin 
Pataka,    or     imperial  > 
dollar \ 

1  harf 
10  kibeer 

1  kibeer 


2{  pataka, 

28  harf. 

4  diwani. 
1  diwani. 
3  borjooke,  or  grains. 


The  borjooke  are  small  glass  beads  of  all  kinds  and 
colour,  which,  whether  broken  or  entire,  pass  for 
small  money;  the  harf  is  equal  to  120  grains  of  these 
beads. 

The  wakea,  or  Abyssinian  ounce,  equivalent  to  10 
derints  or  drams,  and  12  ounces  make  a  litir,  or  rotol, 
which  may  therefore  be  called  the  Abj'ssinian  pound. 
At  Gondar,  the  capital,  a  wakea  is  equal  to  6  drams  40 
grains  Troy  weight,  and  is  divided  into  10  drams  of  40 
grains  each.  The  ordinary  value  of  a  wakea  is  from  72 
to  76  of  the  siilt  bricks  already  mentioned.  In  1 769  the 
wakea  was  sold  at  80  salts,  and  in  1770  at  34;  but  the 
bricks  differed  considerably  in  size. 

The  grain  mecsure  used  in  Abyssinia  is  the  ardeb, 
which  contains  10  measures  called  madega,  each  equal 
to  1 2  ounces  Cairo  weight.  An  ardeb  of  grain  costs  2 
deriins  or  2  patakas ;  an  ardeb  of  teff  the  same ;  6  or  8 
ardeb  of  tocusso  are  equivalent  to  an  ounce,  or  10 
dcrims,  of  gold. 

Comparing  the  natural  advantages  of  this  country 
with  the  ancient  date  of  its  empire,  we  might  reasona- 
bly expect  to  find  it  possessed  of  extensive  commerce, 
and  of  all  those  arts  and  manufactures  which  commerce 
leads  in  its  train.  Yet  such  has  been  the  paralyzing  in- 
fluence of  its  government,  that  its  commerce  is  limited 
by  the  shores  of  the  Arabian  Gulf,  its  manufactures  are 
contemptible,  and  the  useful  and  elegant  arts  are  here 
almost  totally  unknown.  The  use  of  the  plant  merjom- 
bey,  a  species  of  solanum,  and  of  the  juice  of  the  kol- 
quall  tree,  enables  them  to  tan  hides  in  great  perfection. 
Coarse  cotton  cloth  is  the  staple  manufacture  of  the 
country  ;  but  so  complelely  are  they  ignorant  of  the  art 
of  dyeing,  though  possessed  of  all  the  necessary  mate- 
rials, that  yellow,  produced  from  the  plant  suf,  is  the 
only  colour  which  they  have.  To  procure  a  blue  border 
for  their  cotton  cloths,  they  unravel  the  threads  of  the 
blue  cloth  of  Surat,  and  then  v.cave  them  again  into  their 
own  webs.  Their  earthen  ware  is  tolerable ;  but  though 
Cosmo  de  Medici,  among  other  artisans,  sent  manufac- 
turers of  glass  to  the  king,  they  were  unable  to  impart  to 
the  rude  inhabitants  the  knowledge  of  these  valuable 
arts. 

Nor  has  their  progress  in  architecture  been  at  all  more 
considerable.  Their  houses  are  very  mean,  constructed 
chiefly  of  clay,  and  thatched  in  the  form  of  cones.  The 
salubrity  of  elevated  situations,  and  the  inconveniences 
attending  the  inundation  of  the  rivers  during  the  rains, 
have  induced  them  to  build  many  of  their  towns  and  vil- 
lages on  the  mountains.  The  houses  are  separated  by 
hedges  of  unfading  verdure,  which,  being  intermixed  at 
regular  intervals  with  fruit  trees  and  flowers,  at  once 
give  beauty  to  the  scene,  and  salubrity  to  the  air. 

Gondar,  the  present  metropolis,  stands  on  the  summit 
of  a  mountain  of  considerable  height.  In  times  of  peace, 
it  contains  about  teu  thousand  families;  aud,  as  the 
liouses  consist  of  only  one  story,  it  must  occupy  a  prodi- 
gious extent  of  ground.  At  the  west  end  of  the  town 
stands  the  royal  palace,  formerly  a  structure  of  consi- 
derable conse{|uence.  It  was  a  square  buihling,  four 
stories  high,  flanked  with  square  towers,  and  commanded 


ABYSSINIA. 


4d 


from  the  lop  <i  magnificent  view  of  all  the  country  south- 
ward to  the  lake  of  Tzana.  It  was  built  by  masons  from 
India,  in  the  reign  of  Facilidas,  about  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century;  and  by  such  Abyssinians  as  had 
been  instructed  in  architecture  by  the  Jesuits,  without 
adopting  their  creed,  and  continued  in  the  country  after 
the  expulsion  of  the  Portuguese.  Great  part  of  it  is  now 
in  ruins,  having  at  diflferent  times  been  burnt ;  and  suc- 
cessive princes  have  added  to  it  apartments  built  of 
clay,  after  the  fashion  of  the  country.  The  palace,  and 
all  the  buildings  connected  with  it,  arc  surrounded  by  a 
substantial  stone  wall,  about  thirty  feet  high,  the  four 
sides  of  which  are  about  an  English  mile  and  a  half  iu 
length. 

Koscam,  the  palace  of  the  Iteghe,  is  situated  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Debra  Tfai,  or  Mountain  of  the  Sun. 
It  consists  of  a  square  tower  of  three  stories,  with  a 
flat  parapet  roof  or  terrace,  and  battlements  around  it. 
It  is  encompassed  by  a  high  outer  wall,  above  a  mile  in 
circumference.  Within  this  enclosure,  there  is  a  church 
built,  says  Mr.  Bruce,  by  the  present  Iteghe,  and  account- 
ed the  richest  in  Abyssinia.  The  large  crosses  carried 
in  procession  are  of  gold,  and  their  kettle  dnmis  of  sil- 
ver. Plates  of  gold,  likewise,  cover  the  altar,  all  the 
gifts  of  the  munificent  patroness.  Behind  the  palace, 
and  further  up  the  hill,  are  the  houses  of  people  of  quali- 
ty, chieHy  relations  of  the  Iteghe  herself. 

Axiun,  once  the  capital  of  Abyssinia,  is  distinguished 
by  extensive  ruins.  In  one  square,  apparently  the  cen- 
tre of  the  town,  there  are  forty  obelisks  of  granite ;  none 
of  which,  however,  have  any  hieroglyphics.  Of  those 
which  are  still  standing,  there  is  one  larger  than  the 
rest;  but  two  have  fallen  which  appear  the  largest  of 
all.  On  the  top  of  that  which  is  standing,  there  is  a  pa- 
tera, in  the  Grecian  taste,  exceedingly  well  carved;  he- 
low,  there  is  the  figure  of  a  door-bolt  ;mm1  lock,  as  if  to 
represent  an  entrance  through  the  obelisk  into  some 
buildi.ig  behind.  Upon  the  face  of  the  obelisk,  there  is 
a  great  deal  of  carving  in  a  Gothic  taste,  like  metopes, 
triglyphs,  and  guttae,  disposed  rudely,  and  without  or- 
der. Towards  the  south,  there  is  a  road  cut  in  a  moun- 
tain of  red  marble,  having  on  the  left  a  parapet  wall, 
about  five  feet  high,  solid,  and  of  the  same  materials. 
In  this  wall,  there  are  hewn,  at  equal  distances,  solid 
pedestals,  which  still  retain  the  marks  of  the  colossal 
statues  of  Syrius,  the  Latrator  Anubis,  or  Dog-star. 
One  hundred  and  thirty-three  of  these  pedestals  are 
still  in  their  places ;  but  only  two  figures  of  the  Dog 
remain,  much  mutilated,  and  in  a  taste  [dainly  Egyptian. 
Of  a  superb  temple,  which  once  graced  this  capital,  the 
only  remains  are  two  magnificent  flights  of  steps,  com- 
posed of  granite,  several  hundred  feet  long,  and  still  in 
their  original  position.  Below  these  steps,  there  are 
three  small  square  enclosures,  in  the  middle  of  one  of 
which  is  the  stone  upon  which  the  king  sits  when  he  is 
crowned ;  and  below  it,  where  he  naturally  places  his 
feet,  there  Is  a  large  oblong  slab  of  freestone,  bearing  an 
inscription,  which,  though  much  defaced,  Mr.  Bruce 
has  ventured  to  restore.     It  is 

nrOAEMAIOT  ETEPTETOr 

BASIAEHS. 

The  foim<lation,  rise,  and  desertion  of  this  city,  is  one 
of  the  obscurest  parts  of  Abyssini'in  history.  Its  ruins, 
however,  sufficiently  prov£  it  to  have  been  the  work  of 
Egyptian  artists,  and  it  was  probably  founded  by  one  of 
the  Ptolemies.  There  are  few  other  towns  in  Abyssinia, 


nor  are  these  of  any  imporfance.  The  only  buildings  cf 
consequence  which  it  contains,  are  the  works  of  fo- 
reigners ;  nor  have  these  specimens  of  architecture  in 
any  degree  improved  the  taste  or  skill  of  the  inhabit- 
ants. 

The  Abyssinians,  like  the  ancient  Egyptians,  compute 
time  by  the  solar  year.  Their  month  consists  of  30  days, 
and,  to  complete  tlie  year,  they  add  five  days  and  a  quar- 
ter to  the  month  of  August,  which  they  call  Nahasse. 
Every  fourth  year  they  add  a  sixth  day.  With  them,  as 
with  all  the  E:istern  nations,  the  year  begins  on  the  29th 
or  30lh  day  of  August,  that  being  the  first  of  their 
month  Mascarum.  It  is  uncertain  whence  the  names  of 
their  months  have  been  derived  :  they  have  no  signifi- 
cation in  any  of  the  languages  of  the  country.  Their 
common  epoch  is  from  the  creation  of  the  v.orld,  \vliich  y 
they  date  5500  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  reject- 
ing the  calculation  of  the  Greeks,  who  make  that  period 
consist  of  5508  years.  They  make  use,  likewise,  of 
many  other  epochs,  such  as  from  the  councils  of  Nice 
and  Ephesus.  In  all  their  ecclesiastical  computations, 
they  invariably  employ  the  golden  number  and  epact. 
The  use  of  the  epact,  according  to  Scaliger,  was  first 
adopted  by  the  Abyssinians  in  the  time  of  Dioclesian. 
But  this  0](inion  is  at  variance  with  the  (lositive  evi- 
dence of  Abyssinian  history,  which  ascribes  the  inven- 
tion of  the  epact  to  Demetrius,  patriarch  of  Alexandria, 
who  was  elected  in  the  reign  of  the  emperor  Severus, 
long  before  the  time  of  Dioclesian.  The  Abyssinians 
have  another  method  of  computing  time  [leculiar  to 
themselves.  They  describe  their  years  by  the  names 
of  the  four  Evangelists,  and  will  tell  you  that  an  event 
happened  in  the  days  of  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  or  John. 
They  mark  out  the  difierent  periods  of  the  day  in  a  very 
arbitrary  and  irregular  manner.  The  first  period,  called 
Nagge,  comprehends  the  short  and  scarcely  perceptible 
morning  twilight.  Meset,  the  evening  twilight,  denotes 
the  instant  between  the  sun's  decline  and  the  appearing 
of  the  stars.  Mid-day  is  called  Kater,  a  very  ancient 
word,  which  signifies  culmination ;  and  any  other  part 
of  the  day  is  expressed  by  pointing  at  that  place  in  the 
heavens  where  the  sun  Avas  at  the  lime  of  which  they 
speak. 

T  he  natives  are,  in  general,  of  a  dark  olive  complexion , 
and,  from  a  just  antipathy  against  the  sanguinary  and 
fanatical  Jesuits,  they  detest  the  resemblance  of  a  w-hite 
complexion ;  insomuch  that  they  even  show  aversion  to 
white  grapes.  The  principal  jjart  of  their  dress  is  a 
large  cotton  cloth,  >vith  a  blue  and  yellow  border,  which 
they  wraj)  round  them  in  a  particular  manner,  and  bind 
with  a  sash.  Besides  these  robes,  which  are  light  and 
beautiful,  they  wear  a  kind  of  breeches  reaching  to  the 
middle  of  their  thigh,  and  girt  with  a  belt  of  white  cloth ; 
those  of  the  higher  ranks  are  made  of  red  Indian  cotton 
cloth,  with  girdles  of  silk  or  worsted,  brought  from  the 
Levant.     Their  head-dress  is  a  kind  of  turban. 

On  this  subject,  Mr.  Bruce  has  given  a  curious  disser- 
tation, intended  to  prove,  that  the  Ethiopi.'sn  language 
was  the  original  language  of  mankind ;  and  that  its  al- 
phabet was  composed  of  the  first  written  characters 
that  had  ever  been  invented.  But  his  theory,  though 
ingenious,  will  not  stand  the  test  of  sober  investigation. 
The  language  of  Abyssinia  is  an  ancient  offspring  of  the 
Arabic ;  for  it  will  appear  in  the  sequel,  that  Ethiopia 
was  peopled  by  a  colony  from  the  Arabian  peninsula. 
It  is  divided  into  various  dialects,  the  i)rincipal  of  which 
are  the  Tigrin,  or  that  of  Tigre,  and  the  Amharic,  which 


i6 


ABYSSINIA. 


is  now  the  preTailiug  language  of  this  empire.  With 
regard  to  the  characters,  we  are  informed  by  3Ir.  Mur- 
ray, the  ingenious  editor  of  Bruce's  Travels,  that  "  they 
are  nothing  else  but  the  Coptic  forms  of  the  Greek  al- 
phabet, modelled  on  the  plan  of  the  Arabic,  deranged 
from  their  former  order,  and  made  rude  by  the  hands 
gf  barbarous  scribes.  The  change  made  in  the  Arabic 
alphabet  by  Ibn  Mocla,  is  well  known  ;  but  it  expresses 
none  of  the  vowels.  Long  before  that  time,  the  mis- 
sionaries, who  first  wrote  the  Geez,  took  the  Greek  al- 
jihabet  from  Egypt ;  but  finding  that  the  language  was 
more  related  to  the  Arabic  and  Hebrew  than  the  Greek, 
they  still  retained  snch  of  those  letters  as  were  common, 
with  which  they  expressed  the  Geez  words  in  the  Ara- 
bic or  Hebrew  manner."  The  Abyssinian  language  has 
.^  been  illustrated  by  the  labours  of  Ludolf,  and  other  mis- 
sionaries ;  it  is  probably  nearly  allied  to  the  Coptic  or 
Egyptian,  as  a  great  intercourse  once  subsisted  between 
the  two  countries. 

Having  thus  detailed,  at  some  length,  the  manners, 
institutions,  and  present  condition  of  Abyssinia,  we  shall 
uow  proceed  to  give  a  sketch  of  its  history,  w  hich  the 
limits  prescribed  to  us  for  articles  of  this  nature  will 
necessarily  render  short  and  imperfect. 

Various  opinions  have  been  entertained  concerning 
the  original  population  of  Ethiopia.     It    was  known 
among  the  Jews  by  the  name  of  Cush  ;  an  appellation 
Arhich  applied  likewise  to  the  peninsula  of  Arabia,  as 
well  as  to  the  country  watered  by  the  Araxes;  and  to 
the  region  adjacent  to  Egypt,  on  the  coast  of  the  Ara- 
bian gulf.     To  all  these  countries,  the  name  was  evi- 
dently transmitted  from  Cush,  llie  grandson  of  No:ih; 
but  the  honour  of  being  his  lineal  descendants  has  been 
chiefly  disputed  by  the  Arabs  and  Abyssinians.     The 
majority  of  the  learned  have  decided  in  favour  of  the 
Arabs ;  maintaining  that  Cush  having  settled  in  Arabia, 
his  descendants  gradually  migrated  to  its  south-eastern 
extremity ;  whence,  by  an  easy  passage,  they  transport- 
ed themselves  across  the  straits  of  Babelmandeb,  and 
«ntered  the  country  properly  called  Ethiopia.    Accord- 
ing to  some  writers,  this  migration  took  place  while  the 
Israelites  resided  in  Egypt;  others  date  it  from  the  pe- 
rioil  when  they  were  governed  by  judges  in  the  land  of 
Canaan.  On  the  other  hand,  a  tradition  prevails  among 
the  Abyssinians,  which,  they  say,  has  been  transmitted 
from  time  immemorial,  that,  soon  after  the  flood,  Cu^h, 
with  his  family,  passed  through  Atbara,  at  that  time  un- 
inhabited, till  they  came  to  the  ridge  of  mountains,  by 
which  that  country  is  separated  from  the  high  lands  of 
Abyssinia.     Still  dismayed  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
deluge,  of  which  the  tropical  rains  would  seem  to  threat- 
en a  return,  they  did  not  venture  to  settle  in  the  plains 
of  Atbara,  hut  chose  to  dwell  in  caves  scooped  out  in 
the  sides  of  the  mountains.     The  tradition  seems  to  be 
partly  refuted  by  the  art  which  is  displayed  in  the  forma- 
tion of  these  subterraneous  abodes.  "  It  is  an  undoubt- 
ed fact,"  says  Mr.  Bruce,  "  that  here  the  Cushites,  with 
unparalleled  industrj',  and  with  instruments  utterly  un- 
known to  us,  formed  for  themselves  commodious,  yet 
wonderful  habitations,  in  the  heart  of  mountains  of  gra- 
nite and  marble,  which  remain  entire  in  great  numbers 
to  this  day,  and  promise^todo  so  till  the  consummation 
of  all  things."  Now,  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  how  the 
first  inhabitants  of  a  world,  recently  emerged  from  Uie 
>vaters  of  the  flood,  could  possess  either  knowledge  or 
means  suflicient  for  working  the  heart  of  marble  or  gra- 
nite, "  into  commodious,  yet  wonderful  babitatioas." 


Such  works  could  only  be  accomplished  by  men  who 
had  long  been  united  in  regular  society,  and  among 
whom  art,  and  even  science,  had  been  cultivated  with 
assiduity  and  success.  These  reflections  give  additional 
probability  to  the  conjecture,  that  Ethiopia  was  peopled 
by  a  colony  of  Cushites  from  Arabia ;  the  resemblance, 
which  may  still  be  traced  between  the  features  of  the 
Arabs  and  Abyssinians,  sufliciently  indicates  their  af"- 
finity. 

As  the  Cushites  became  more  numerous,  they  occu- 
pied all  the  neighbouring  mountains,  still  retaining  their 
original  custom  of  dwelling  in  caverns,  till  extending 
from  one  range  to  another,  they  s|)read  their  arts  and 
industry  quite  across  the  continent  of  Africa,  from  the 
eastern  to  the  western  ocean.  Early  in  the  days  of 
Abraham,  if  we  may  believe  the  Abyssinian  traditions, 
they  founded  the  city  of  Axum,  whose  ruins  still  bear 
testimony  to  its  ancient  magnificence.  Soon  after,  they 
penetrated  into  Atbara,  where,  pleased  to  find  themselves 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  tropical  rains,  -which  impeded 
their  progress  in  astronomy,  their  favourite  science, 
they  built  the  city  of  Meroe,  afterwards  celebrated  as 
capital  of  that  extensive  peninsula  of  the  same  name, 
which  is  formed  by  the  branching  of  the  Nile.  Yet  it 
does  not  apjjcar,  that,  even  after  building  these  cities, 
they  relinquished  their  ancient  habitations  in  the  moun- 
tains. Mr.  Bruce  saw  many  of  these  caves  immediately 
above  the  site  of  Meroe ;  and,  as  a  number  of  similar 
excavations  are  to  be  seen  near  the  top  of  a  mountain  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Thebes,  that  city  likewise  proba- 
bly owed  its  origin  to  a  colony  of  Cushites. 

While  the  northern  and  central  parts  of  their  territory 
were  the  scenes  of  such  improvement,  the  colony  had 
extended  itself  southward  along  the  mountains  that  run 
parallel  to  the  Arabian  gulf.  In  tliat  rich  tract  of  coun- 
try, then  more  important  and  better  known  than  any  part 
of  the  globe,  thej'  found  all  the  perfumes  and  aromatics 
of  the  East,  cassia,  frankincense,  and  myrrh.  It  was 
called  Saba,  or  Azabo,  signifying  south,  because  it  lay 
on  the  southern  coast  of  the  Red  Sea.  Penetrating  still 
further  in  the  same  direction,  they  entered  into  a  de- 
lightful climate,  where,  in  the  course  of  their  excava- 
tions, they  discovered  large  quantities  of  gold  and  silver, 
lying  in  globules,  pure  and  unalloyed,  without  any  ne- 
cessity of  being  prepared  or  separated. 

These  local  advantages  naturally  directed  their  at- 
tention to  commerce;  and  the  Ethiopians  seem  to  have 
been,  at  that  early  period,  a  nation  of  the  first  impor- 
tance for  opulence  and  civilization.  In  the  district  ex- 
tending from  Meroe  to  Thebes,  cities  were  built  which 
displayed  many  improvements  in  architecture;  com- 
merce and  agriculture  introduced  the  elegant  arts;  and 
the  science  of  astronomy  was  cultivated  with  ardour, 
and  with  peculiar  advantage,  under  the  unclouded  sky 
of  the  Thebaid.  Nor  were  the  sciences  neglected  by 
their  countrymen  in  the  south.  Those  who  dwelt  within 
the  limits  of  the  tropical  rains,  confined  to  their  caves 
or  houses  for  six  months  in  the  year,  would  naturally  be 
led  to  employ  their  time  in  sedentary  occupations.  "Let- 
ters," says  Mr.  Bruce,  "at  least  one  kind  of  them,  and 
arithmetical  characters,  were  invented  by  this  middle 
part  of  the  Cushites ;  while  trade  and  astronomy,  the 
natural  history  of  the  winds  and  seasons,  were  what  ne- 
cessarily emidoyed  that  part  of  the  colony  established  at 
Sofala,  most  to  the  southward." 

The  nature  of  the  commerce  in  which  the  Ethiopians 
were  engaged,  the  collecting  of  gold,  aud  preparing  of 


ABYSSINIA. 


47 


Bpices  necessarily  confined  tl.em  to  their  own  country ; 
and,  that  they  might  reap  the  full  advantage  of  these 
valuable  productions,  it  was  requisite  that  they  should 
have  merchants,  or  carriers,  to  disperse  them  over  the 
tontinertt.  A  >vandering  shepherd  tribe,  w  ho  inhabited 
the  neighbouring  country,  seemed  by  their  roaming  and 
unsettled  mode  of  life,  to  be  peculiarly  (jualified  for  that 
employment.  These  people  difiered  much  in  their  ap- 
pearance from  the  Ethiopians;  having  long  hair,  Eu- 
ropean features,  and  very  dark  complexions,  though 
without  any  resemblance  to  the  black  moor,  or  negro. 
Fixed  to  no  certain  residence,  they  drove  their  nume- 
rous flocks  from  place  to  place,  and  erected  their  move- 
able huts  wherever  the  pasture  seemed  most  luxuriant, 
or  the  stream  most  refreshing.  By  conducting  the 
trade  of  the  Cushites,  they  became  a  great  and  powerful 
people;  their  Docks  increased  in  number,  and  their  ter- 
ritory was  enlarged.  They  occupied  a  narrow  tract  of 
land  along  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  afterwards  along  the 
Red  Sea,  to  the  ports  of  which  they  carried  their  mer- 
chandise ;  but  their  principal  residence  was  in  that  level 
region  w  hich  lies  between  the  northern  tropic  and  the 
mountains  of  Abyssinia.  This  extensive  countrj-,  which 
is  now  called  Beja,  stretches  along  the  sea-coast  from 
Masuah  to  Suakem,  then  turning  westwar<l,  continues  in 
that  direction,  having  the  Nile  on  the  south,  and  the 
tropic  of  Cancer  on  the  north,  till  it  reaches  the  deserts 
of  Selima,  and  the  confines  of  Libya.  The  next  district 
which  they  possessed  was  Meroe,  or,  as  it  is  now  called, 
Atbara,  lying  between  the  rivers  Nile  and  Astaboras. 
Another  territory  belonged  to  them,  which  is  now  called 
Derkin,  a  small  plain  stretching  from  east  to  west,  be- 
tween the  river  Mareb  and  Atbara.  But  the  noblest 
and  most  warlike  of  all  the  Shepherds  were  those  which 
inhabited  the  mountains  of  the  Habab,  extending  from 
the  neighbourhood  of  Masuah  to  Suakem.  These  shep- 
herds are  distinguished  by  various  ai)pellations,  proba- 
bly denoting  their  various  degrees  of  rank.  Some  were 
called  simply  Shepherds,  whom  we  may  suppose  to  have 
been  the  lowest  class.  Some  were  called  Hycsos,  shep- 
herds armed,  or  wearing  harness,  and  were  probably  the 
national  soldiers.  Ag-ag,  is  thought  to  have  been  the 
appellation  of  their  nobles  or  chiefs,  whence  arose  the 
title  of  king  of  kings.  It  was  the  hereditary  name  of 
the  king  of  Amaiek,  whom  Samuel  hewed  in  pieces, 
and  who  was  an  Arabian  shepherd. 

The  power  of  the  Shepherds  was  greatly  augmented 
after  the  building  of  Carthage,  as  the  extensive  carriage 
of  that  commercial  city  fell  into  the  bands  of  the  Leha- 
bim,  Lubim,  or  Lib3'an  peasants.  In  those  early  ages, 
the  want  of  navigation  was  sup|)lied  by  immense  multi- 
tudes of  camels;  and  we  find  that,  even  before  the  days 
■of  Joseph,  the  Isbniaelite  merchants,  with  the  help  of 
these  animals,  traded  to  Palestine  and  Syria,  from  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Arabian  peninsula.  The 
Shepherds,  though  in  general  the  friends  and  allies  of 
the  Egyptians,  were  sometimes  their  most  formidable 
enemies.  They  were  united,  indeed,  by  mutual  interest ; 
but  no  cordial  amity  could  be  expected  between  two 
nations,  whose  manners  and  religion  were  so  much  at 
variance.  The  cow,  which  the  Egyptians  worphipi)ed, 
the  Sheplierds  slaughtered  for  food;  and,  while  the 
idolatry  of  the  former  converted  into  objects  of  adoration 
the  most  unclean  animals,  and  the  vilest  reptiles,  the 
latter  paid  their  purer  and  more  rational  homage  only 
to  the  luminaries  of  heaven. 

But  besides  the  Cushites  and  Shepherds,  Abyssinia 


is  inhabited  by  nations  of  a  fairer  complexion,  who, 
though  of  various  names,  are  all  comprehended  under 
the  general  denomination  of  Ilabbesh,  signifying  a  num- 
ber of  distinct  people,  assembled  by  accident  in  one 
place.  The  chronicle  of  Axum,  the  most  ancient  his- 
tory of  this  country,  \vhose  authority,  next  to  that  of  thfe 
Holy  Scriptures,  is  held  most  sacred  by  the  Abyssinian?, 
gives  the  following  account  of  the  original  settlement  of 
these  various  nations.  Abyssinia,  according  to  this  his- 
tory, was  never  inhabited  till  1808  years  before  the  birth 
of  Christ.  Two  hundred  years  after  that  period,  it  was 
laid  waste  by  a  flood,  which  so  deformed  and  altered  the 
face  of  the  country,  that  it  received  the  name  of  (Jure 
Midra,  a  country  laid  waste;  or,  as  it  is  expressed  by 
Isaiah,  (xviii.  2.)  a  land  which  the  waters  or  floods  had 
spoiled.  About  1400  years  before  the  nativity,  it  was 
peopled  by  a  variety  of  nations,  speaking  different  lan- 
guages, who  settled  unmolested  in  the  high  lands  of 
Tigrc,  among  the  Agaazi  or  Shepherds,  with  whom 
they  were  in  friendship.  The  most  considerable  of 
these  nations  settled  in  the  province  of  Amhara,  origin- 
ally as  little  known  as  any  of  the  recent  establishments; 
but  uj)on  a  revolution  which  took  place  in  the  countrj', 
the  king  fled  thither  with  his  court,  and  remained  so 
long,  that  the  Geez,  or  language  of  (he  Shepherds,  was 
dropt,  and  would  have  become  totally  obsolete,  had  not 
the  sacred  writings  been  translated  into  that  dialect. 
The  nation  second  in  consequence  was  the  Agows  of 
Damot,  a  |)rovince  in  the  south  of  Abyssinia,  where 
they  are  settled  immediately  upon  the  sources  of  the 
Abay.  The  next  are  the  Agows  of  Lasia,  called  like- 
wise Tcheratz  Agow,  from  Tchera,  their  principal  re- 
sidence ;  these  people  live  in  caverns,  and  seem  to 
worship  the  Tacazze  with  the  same  degree  of  venera- 
tion which  the  Agows  of  Damot  pay  to  the  Abay,  or 
Abyssinian  Nile,  'iheieis  still  anothcrof  these  nations, 
named  Gafat,  who  dwell  near  Damot,  on  the  southern 
banks  of  the  Abay  ;  and  who,  according  to  their  own 
declaration,  ever  have  been  Pagans,  as  they  now  are. 
Thus,  the  different  nations  who  possessed  Abyssinia 
were  the  Cushites,  the  Shepherds,  Amhara,  Agow  or 
Damot,  Agow  of  Tchera,  and  Gafat.  In  conformity 
with  the  Axum  chronicle,  which  mentions  that  the  four 
last  of  these  nations  had  emigrated  from  Palestine,  Mr. 
Bruce  contends  that  they  were  Canaanites,  who  escaped 
from  the  cruelty  of  the  Israelites,  when  they  took  pos- 
session of  the  promised  land.  His  theory  is  contrary  to 
probability,  and  unsupported  by  facts.  It  rests  chiefly 
on  the  coincidence  between  the  period  of  the  invasion 
of  Canaan,  and  the  entrance  of  these  strangers  into 
Ethiopia ;  and  on  the  testimony  of  Procopius,  ^vho  men- 
tions that,  in  his  time,  two  pillars  were  standing  on  the 
coast  of  Mauritania,  which  bore  this  inscription  in  the 
Phronician  language  :  "  We  are  Canaanites,  flying  from 
the  face  of  Joshua  the  son  of  Nun,  the  robber."  Were 
the  first  of  these  arguments  admitted,  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  identify  the  negroes  imported  to  our  West 
Indian  colonies  from  the  coast  of  Guinea,  with  the  ad- 
venturers who  emigrate,  at  the  same  period,  to  the 
American  continents,  from  the  Highlands  of  Scotland ; 
and,  as  the  authenticity  of  the  inscriptions  mentioned  by 
Procopius  is  much  disputed,  they  cannot  fairly  be  ad- 
duced in  proof  of  any  historical  fact.  Mr.  Bruce's 
opinion,  that  the  Ethiopians  spoke  the  original  language, 
and  were  the  first  inventors  of  writing,  must  be  as- 
cribed to  the  same  fondness  for  theorj',  by  which  he 
seems  to  have  been  too  frequently  misled.    It  is  certain 


48 


ABYSSINIA. 


however,  that  they  were,  in  ancient  times,  a  learned  and 
civilized  people;  how  they  came  to  be  degraded  into 
their  present  state  of  barbarity,  is  a  iihenoinenon  as  un- 
accountable and  striking,  as  the  degeneracy  of  their 
neighbours,  the  Egyptians. 

According  to  an  extravagant  fiction,  the  Ethiojjians, 
who  possessed  the  country  of  Thebais,  made  an  irrup- 
liou  into  Lower  Egypt,  while  the  Jewish  legislator  re- 
sided in  that  country;  penetrated  as  far  as  Memphis; 
and,  having  defeated  the  Egyptians,  threatened  the 
kingdom  with  total  destruction.  By  the  advice  of  the 
oracles,  Moses  was  intrusted  with  the  command  of  the 
Egyi»tian  forces,  and  immediately  prepared  to  invade 
the  enemy's  country.  Instead  of  marching  along  the 
"banks  of  the  Nile,  where  the  Ethiopians  were  ready  to 
oppose  him,  he  led  his  army  through  some  of  the  in- 
terior countries,  which  were  much  infested  with  serpents. 
To  protect  his  men  from  these  dangerous  animals,  he 
carried  along  with  him  a  number  of  panniers,  formed  of 
the  papyrus,  ^vhicli  he  filled  with  the  birds  named  ibis, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  approached  the  tract  where  the  rep- 
tiles abounded,  lie  let  out  a  sufficient  number  of  these 
birds,  which,  by  destroying  the  serpents,  cleared  the 
■way  for  his  army.  The  Ethiopians,  thus  surprised  in 
their  own  country,  where  they  had  no  dread  of  invasion, 
■were  easily  defeated  in  the  field,  and  took  refuge  in 
their  cajntal  Meroe,  a  city  rendered  almost  impregna- 
ble by  three  rivers  flowing  round  it,  tlve  Astapus,  the 
Astaboras,  and  the  Nile.  The  daughter  of  the  Ethiopian 
monarch  became  enamoured  of  Moses,  whom  she  had 
seen  from  the  walls;  and  offered,  on  condition  of  his 
swearing  to  marry  her,  to  open  the  city  to  the  assailants. 
Moses  complied;  but  stained  the  glory  of  his  conquest 
by  his  cruelty  towards  the  inhabitants.  He  plundered 
their  city,  put  many  of  them  to  the  sword,  ravaged  the 
whole  country,  and  dismantled  their  places  of  strength. 
He  then  returned  in  triumph  to  Egypt,  after  having  been 
absent  for  ten  years  on  this  expedition. 

From  the  invasion  by  Moses,  till  the  queen  of  Sheba's 
visit  to  Jerusalem,  we  have  no  particulars  of  the  history 
«f  Ethiopia,  The  Abyssinians,  who  suppose  that  prin- 
cess to  have  been  sovereign  of  Ethiopia  Proper,  tell  us, 
that  having  heard  from  Tameran,  an  Ethiopian  mer- 
thaiit,  of  the  surprising  opulence  and  ivisdom  of  Solo- 
mon, she  resolved  to  ascertain  in  person  the  truth  of 
his  report.  Though  she  had  been  a  Pagan  before  un- 
4ert  iking  this  journej',  she  was  so  struck  with  the 
grandeur  of  the  Jewish  monarch,  and  the  extensive 
knowledge  which  he  displayed,  that  she  immediately 
became  a  convert  to  the  true  religion.  It  is  added  that 
she  became  pregnant  by  Solomon,  and,  on  returning  to 
lier  own  country,  was  delivered  of  a  son,  to  whom  she 
gave  the  name  of  Mcnilek,  another  self.  Some  years 
after,  Menilek  was  sent  to  his  father's  court,  where  he 
was  carefully  instructed  in  the  learning  and  institutions  of 
the  Jews,  and  crowned  king  of  Ethiopia,  in  the  temple 
of  Jerusalem,  receiving  from  Solomon  at  his  inaugura- 
tion, the  name  of  David.  After  remaining  for  some 
time  in  Judea,  he  was  accompanied  to  Ethiopia  by  many 
Isrm'lites  of  distinction,  and  particularly  by  twelve  doc- 
,  tors  of  the  law,  chosen  from  the  twelve  tribes,  among 
■whom  was  Azariah  the  son  of  Zadok,  the  high  priest. 
These  introduced  into  Abyssinia  the  religion  of  Moses, 
anil  framed  after  Jewish  models  the  civil  and  sacred  in- 
stitutions of  the  country.  Mr.  Bruce  supposes,  with 
great  probability,  that  this  princess  was  queen  of  the 
territory  named  Saba  or  Azab  ;  an  opinion  which  coiu- 


cides  more  exactly  than  any  other  with  the  description 
which  our  Saviour  has  given  of  her,  "  as  queen  of  the 
south,  coming  iiom  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth." 
She  is  called  by  the  Arabs  Belkis,  and  Makeda  by  the 
Abyssinians.  She  enjoyed  the  sovereignty  for  forty 
years,  and,  before  her  death,  she  bound  her  subjects 
by  three  remarkable  laws :  1st,  That  the  crown  should 
be  hereditary  in  the  family  of  Solomon :  2dly,  That, after 
her,  no  woman  should  be  allowed  to  inherit  the  crown, 
or  to  reign  as  queen,  but  that  it  should  descend  to  the 
heirs-male,  however  distant,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
female  heirs,  however  near ;  and  that  these  two  articles 
should  be  considered  as  the  fundamental  and  unalterable 
laws  of  the  kingdom  :  Lastly,  she  enacted,  that  the  heirs- 
male  of  the  royal  family  should  be  imprisoned  on  a 
high  mountain,  where  they  were  to  continue  till  death, 
or  till  the  course  of  succession  should  call  them  to  the 
throne. 

Having  established  these  regulations  in  a  manner 
not  to  be  revoked,  Makeda  died  in  the  986th  year  be- 
fore the  birth  of  Christ,  leaving  her  son  Menilek  to 
succeed  her,  whose  descendants,  if  we  may  believe  the 
Abyssinian  annals,  have  ever  since  continued  to  occupy 
the  throne.  In  the  reign  of  Menilek,  the  empire  was  in- 
vaded by  Shishak,  king  of  Egypt,  who  plundered  the 
temple  of  Jerusalem,  under  Rehoboam.  A  rich  temple, 
which  had  been  erected  at  Saba,  the  capital  of  the 
Ethiopian  emi)ire,  underwent  a  similar  fate ;  and  it  was 
jirobably  on  this  occasion  that  Menilek  removed  the  seat 
of  government  to  Tigre.  Many  circumstances  concur 
to  prove,  that  Shishak  was  no  other  than  the  celebrated 
Sesostris,  and  was  the  first  Egyptian  monarch  who  had 
made  conquests  in  Ethio|)ia.  Scripture  indirectly  as- 
cribes to  Shishak  the  sovereignty  of  this  countr}' ;  and 
Herodotus  ex])licitly  asserts,  that  Sesostris  was  master 
of  Ethiopia;  though  neither  in  sacred  nor  profane 
history  is  it  elseivhere  related,  that  this  empire  was  ever 
subject  to  any  other  Egyptian. 

From  the  death  of  Shishak  till  the  days  of  Cyrus  the 
great,  there  is  a  chasm  in  the  history  of  Abyssinia 
which  can  only  be  filled  up  by  theory  and  conjecture. 
That  conqueror  is  said  to  have  subdued  Ethiopia ;  but 
the  inhabitants  having  revolted  after  his  death,  Camliy- 
ses,  his  successor,  attem|)ted  in  vain  to  reduce  them  to 
submission.  Before  he  undertook  this  expedition,  he 
sent  ambassadors  to  the  king  of  the  Macrobii,  under 
pretence  of  soliciting  his  alliance,  though  in  reality  he 
only  wished  to  ascertain  the  strength  of  the  country. 
The  Ethiopian  monarch,  aware  of  his  design,  disdained 
the  rich  presents  which  Cambyses  had  sent  him ;  re- 
liroached  the  ambassadors  with  the  injustice  and  am- 
bition of  their  sovereign,  and  delivered  to  them  a  bow, 
with  these  remarkable  words  :  "  Carry  this  bow  to  your 
master,  and  till  he  can  find  a  man  able  to  bend  if,  let 
him  not  talk  to  us  of  submission."  This  resolute  an- 
swer so  exas|)erated  Ca:nbyses,  (hat  he  instantly  began 
his  march,  without  taking  time  even  to  procure  the  ne- 
cessary provisions  for  his  army.  A  famine  of  conse- 
quence ensued  among  them,  which  became  at  last  so 
dreadful,  that  the  soldiers  ■were  compelletl  to  devour 
one  another :  and  Cambyses  finding  himself  in  immi- 
nent danger,  marched  back  his  army  with  prodigious 
loss.  Even  if  he  could  have  effected  his  march  inio 
the  heart  of  the  empire,  he  would  probably  have  fiiiled 
in  the  object  of  his  expcdit'on ;  for  Ethiopia  had  been 
strengthened,  but  a  short  time  before,  by  an  accession 
of  24,000  Egyptians.     These  fugitives  had  been  sta- 


ABYSSINIA. 


49 


tioned  hy  Psammenitus  in  different  ])lac€g  on  the  fron- 
tiers, and,  having  continued  there  forthree  years  without 
being  relieved,  revolted  to  the  emperor  of  Ethiopia, 
who  placed  them  in  a  country  disaffected  to  him,  order- 
ing them  to  expel  the  inhabitant!?,  and  to  occupy  their 
territory. 

Curiosity  induced  Potlemy  Euei^etes  to  invade  this 
country,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  discovering  the  source 
of  the  Nile.  Though  no  historian  has  recorded  the  par- 
ticulars of  his  expedition,  it  appears  from  an  inscription 
copied  by  Cosmus  Egyptius,  from  a  white  marble  chair, 
which  stood  at  the  entrance  of  Adide,  one  of  the  cities  of 
Ethiopia,  that  he  had  penetrated  into  the  farthest  parts  of 
the  empire ;  subdued  its  most  powerful  nations ;  and,  af- 
ter all  his  conquests,  assembled  his  army  at  Adule,  where 
he  sacrificed  to  Mars,  Neptune,  and  Jupiter ;  and,  in 
gratitude  for  hia  success,  dedicated  to  Mars  a  white 
narble  chair. 

In  the  reign  of  Augustus,  when  the  Roman  forces 
were  tirawn  out  of  Egypt,  for  the  purpose  of  invading 
Arabia,  Candace,  queen  of  Meroe,  took  advantage  of 
their  absence,  to  make  an  irruption  into  the  province  of 
Thebais.     As  she  met  with  no  force  to  oppose  her,  she 
proceeded,  for  some  time,  with  great  success ;  but  being 
at  length  apprised  that  Petronius,  governor  of  Egypt, 
was  hastening  towards  her  with  a  powerful  army,  she 
retired  with  precipitation  into  her  own  dominions.     Pe- 
tronius overtook  her  at  Pselcha,  where,  with  not  more 
than  one-third  of  the  number  of  men  which  composed 
the  Ethiopian  army,  he  gained  an  easy  victory  over 
those  undisciplined  savages,  who  were  armed  only  with 
poles,  hatchets,  or  bludgeons.     He   reduced  the  most 
important  fortresses  of  the  country ;  but,  notwithstand- 
ing his  success,  was  obliged,  soon  after,  to  withdraw  his 
soldiers,  who  were  unable  to  sustain  the  excessive  heat 
of  the  climate.     Candace  afterwards  sent  ambassadors 
to  Rome,  who  gratified  Augustus  with  such  magnificent 
presents,  that  he   was  induced  to  grant  their  queen  a 
peace  on  terms  of  her  own  proposing.     The  Romans, 
from  that  time,  accounted  themselves  masters  of  Ethi- 
opia ;  and  Augustus  was  congratulated  on  having  com- 
pleted the  conquest  of  Africa,  by  reducing  a  country  till 
that  time  unknown.  The  conquest,  however,  was  mere- 
ly nominal,  for  Meroe  continued  under  the  government 
of  its  wonted  sovereign.     Queens,  who  were  distinguish- 
ed by  the  general  title  of  Candace,  as  the  Roman  empe- 
K)rs  by  that  of  Caesar,  had  reigned  in  that  country  for 
many  generations ;  and  we  learn,  from  the  story  of  the 
Ethiopian  eunuch,  that  it  still  continued,  in  the  reign  of 
Tiberius,  to  be  governed  by  a  princess  of  the  same  name. 
During  the  reign  of  Abreha  and  Atzbeha,  (translated 
by  Mr.  Bruce,  Abraham  the  blessed,)  who  ascended  the 
throne  about  327  years  after  the  Christian  era,  Mero- 
pius,  a  philosopher  of  Tyre,  by  nation  and  religion  a 
Greek,  set  sail  for  India  from  a  port  on  the  Red  Sea,  tak- 
ing along  with  him  Frumentius  and  CEdesius,  two  young 
men  on  whom  he  had  bestowed  a  very  liberal  education. 
Their  vessel  was  cast  away  on  the  rocks  of  the  Abyssi- 
Bian  coast,  and  Meropius  was  slain  by  the  barbarous  na- 
tives, while  acting  bravely  in  his  own  defence.     The 
youths  were  conveyed  to  Axum,  then  the  capital  of  the 
kingdom  and  the  residence  of  the  court,  where  they 
soon  displayed  the  superiority  of  a  cultivated  mind. 
The  A byssinians regarded  them  as  prodigies:  (Edcsius 
was  set  over  the  king's  household  and  wardrobe,  an  of- 
fice which  has  always  been  held  by  a  stranger;  and 
Frumentius  was  intrusted  by  the  Iteghe,  or  queen  dow- 
VoL.  I.  Part  I.  «=  ^ 


ager,  with  the  charge  of  the  yoUng  prince's  education, 
to  ivhich  he  devoted  himself  with  the  most  faithful  as- 
siduity. Having  imbued  the  mind  of  his  pupil  with  all 
the  learning  of  the  times,  he  inspired  him  with  a  love 
and  veneration  for  the  Christian  religion. 

After  this  he  visited  Athanasius,  who  had  been  recent- 
ly elected  Patriarch  of  Alexandria,  related  to  hiui  the 
progress  he  had  made  towards  the  conversion  of  the 
young  monarch,  and  the  sanguine  hopes  which  he  en- 
tertained of  seeing  the  Christian  religion  established  in 
Ethiopia.  Athanasius,  delighted  with  the  prospect  of 
such  an  accession  of  proselytes,  consecrated  Frumentius 
bishop  of  Axuma  ;  who,  returning  immediately  to  enter 
on  his  new  office,  found  his  royal  pupil  completely  dis- 
posed to  favour  his  ]>ious  design.  He  made  an  open 
avowal  of  the  Christian  faith ;  his  example  was  followed 
by  the  greater  part  of  his  subjects ;  and,  amidst  the  nu- 
merous heresies  which  then  prevailed  in  the  East,  the 
church  of  Ethiopia  remained  uncontaminated,  so  long  as 
it  was  superintended  by  its  first  bishop  and  apostle. 

It  was  during  this  reign  that  the  Abyssinians  under- 
took the  expedition,  celebrated  in  Arabian  story  under 
the  name  of  the  War  of  the  Elephant.  In  the  middle  of 
the  Arabian  peninsula  stood  a  temple,  which,  for  about 
fourteen  centuries,  had  been  held  in  the  highest  venera- 
tion; for  it  was  built,  say  the  Arabs,  on  the  spot  where 
Adam  had  pitched  his  tent  when  drrven  from  Paradise, 
and  contained  the  black  stone  on  which  Jacob  reposed 
his  head,  when  he  saw  the  vision  of  the  angels  descend- 
ing and  ascending  on  the  ladder,  that  reached  to  heaven. 
The  multitude  of  strangers,  who  resorted  from  the  sur- 
rounding nations  to  this  sacred  place,  suggested  the  idea 
of  rendering  it  the  emporium  of  the  trade  between  India 
and  Africa.  Part  of  Arabia  seems,  at  that  time,  to  have 
been  in  possession  of  the  Ethiopians,  and  Abreha,  to 
divert  the  trade  into  a  channel  more  convenient  for  his 
own  dominions,  built  a  large  temple  in  the  country  of  the 
Homerites,  near  the  Indian  ocean,  on  which  he  bestow- 
ed all  the  privileges  enjoyed  by  the  tem[)le  of  Mecca. 
Alanned  at  the  prospect  of  having  their  city  deserted, 
the  Arabians  entered  the  temple  of  Abreha  by  night,  and 
after  burning  as  much  of  it  as  could  be  consumed,  pollut- 
ed the  rest  with  every  mark  of  indignity.  To  revenge 
this  sacrilegious  insult,  Abreha,  mounted  upon  a  ivhite 
elephant,  marched  against  Mecca  with  a  powerful  army,, 
resolving  to  level  its  temple  with  the  ground.  His  fury 
was  diverted  by  the  stratagem  of  Abow  Taleb,  Blaho- 
met's  grandfather,  who  was  then  keeper  of  the  Caaba, 
or  round  tower.  He  persuaded  his  countrymen  to  make 
no  resistance  to  the  Ethiopian  army ;  presented  him- 
self before  Abreha  early  on  his  march  ;  and,  by  false  in- 
telligence, directed  his  vengeance  from  Mecca  against 
the  rival  temple  of  Osiris  at  Taief,  which  Abreha  razed 
to  its  foundations,  and  then  prepared  to  return  to  his  own 
kingdom.  It  was  not  long  before  he  ivas  convinced  of 
his  mistake,  and  Mecca  would  have  soon  fallen  a  victim 
to  his  indignation,  had  not  Heaven  interposed  for  the 
protection  of  that  holy  city.  A  flock  of  birds,  called  Aba- 
bil,  came  from  the  sea,  having  faces  like  lions,  and  each 
holding  in  his  claws  a  stone  like  a  pea,  which  they  let 
fall  upon  the  Ethiopians  in  such  numbers,  that  every  one 
of  them  was  destroyed.  A  less  miraculous  account  of 
their  destruction  is,  that,  during  the  siege  of  Mecca,  the 
small-pox  made  its  appearance ;  and  the  investing  army 
were  the  first  of  its  victims. 

It  is  said,  that  after  the  death  of  Abreha,  the  court,  and 
principal  people  of  Abyssinia,  relapsed  into  idolatry, 
G 


oO 


ABYSSINIA. 


which  continued  to  prev.iil  till  the  year  521,  when  they 
were  again  converted  by  their  king  Adad,  or  Aitlog,  pro- 
bably the  same  with  Caleb,  orElisbaan.  That  monarch 
was  engaged  in  war  with  the  Homerites,  or  Saba;ans,  in 
Arabia  Felix,  and,  having  defeated  their  armies,  and 
subverted  their  kingdom,  he  embraced  the  Christian  re- 
ligion, in  token  of  gratitude  to  its  author,  to  whom  he 
ascribed  his  success. 

Soon  after  this  event,  a  violent  persecution  of  the 
Christians  broke  out  in  Arabia.  At  an  early  period,  the 
Jewish  religion  had  penetrated  far  into  that  peninsula; 
and,  after  the  temple  liad  been  destroyed  by  Titus,  its 
professors  were  strengthened  by  such  an  accession  of 
numbers  and  of  wealth,  as  enabled  them  to  establish 
several  independent  principalities.  In  the  Neged,  and 
even  as  far  as  Medina,  petty  sovereigns  started  up, 
whose  knowledge  and  practice  in  war  rendered  them  ex- 
tremely formidable  to  the  commercial  and  efTeminate 
Arabians.  These  people  persecuted  the  Christians 
with  the  most  inveterate  hatred.  Phineas,  one  of  their 
princes  from  Medina,  having  defeated  the  governor  of 
Najiran,  ordered  furnaces,  or  pits  full  of  fire,  to  be  pre- 
pared, into  which  he  threw  as  many  of  the  inhabitants 
of  that  place  as  refused  to  renounce  the  Christian  reli- 
gion. The  governor,  St.  Aretas,  with  ninety  of  his  com- 
panions, fell  victims  to  his  cruelty.  Justin,  the  Greek 
emperor,  could  give  no  relief  to  these  afflicted  Chris- 
tians, as  he  was  at  that  time  engaged  in  an  unsuccessful 
war  against  the  Persians ;  but,  in  the  year  522,  he  sent 
an  embassy  to  the  king  of  Abyssinia,  entreating  him, 
since  he  too  was  now  a  member  of  the  Greek  church, 
to  interfere  in  favour  of  the  Christians  of  Najiran.  Ca- 
leb, on  receiving  this  message,  commanded  his  general 
^breha,  governor  of  Yemen,  to  march  to  the  aid  of  young 
Aretas,  who  was  then  collecting  troops  to  revenge  his 
father's  death.  The  ardent  warrior,  strengthened  by 
this  reinforcement,  would  not  wait  till  the  arrival  of  the 
emperor,  who  had  promised  to  follow  Abreha  with  a 
powerful  army.  He  came  up  with  Phineas,  while  he 
was  ferrying  his  troops  over  an  arm  of  the  sea;  the 
Jewish  forces  were  completely  routed,  and  their  general 
himself,  to  escape  being  taken,  was  compelled  to  swim 
on  his  horse  to  the  nearest  shore.  In  a  short  time  af- 
terwards, the  emperor  with  his  army  crossed  the  Red 
Sea ;  and  Phineas,  hazarding  a  second  battle,  was  again 
defeated.  But,  notwithstanding  these  misfortunes,  none 
of  the  Jewish  principalities  seem,  at  that  time,  to  have 
been  overturned. 

When  Mahomet  promulgated  his  pretended  revela- 
tion,the  Ethiopian  governor  of  Yemen  became  a  convert 
to  his  doctrines ;  but  there  seems  to  be  no  truth  in  the 
story  so  eageriy  propagated  by  the  Arabian  historians, 
that  the  king  of  Abyssinia  liiniself  embraced  the  new 
religion.  From  this  time  the  Abyssinians  lost  all  the 
power  which  they  had  formerly  enjoyed  in  Arabia. 
The  governors  were  expelled  by  Mahomet  and  his  suc- 
cessors, and,  taking  refuge  in  Africa  with  great  num- 
bers of  their  subjects,  established  there  the  kingdoms  of 
Adel,  Wy|)o,Mara,  Tarshish,  Hadea,  Aussa,  and  several 
others,  which  soon  rose  to  importance  for  power  and 
opulence. 

The  successors  of  Mahomet,  in  the  progress  of  their 
Tictories,  had  expelled  the  Jews  by  violence  or  oppres- 
sion from  their  dominions  in  Palestine,  Arabia,  and 
Egypt.  Abyssinia,  unsubdued  by  these  fierce  enthusi- 
asU,  aflforded  an  asylum  to  the  fugitives,  the  more  invit- 
ing, as  their  eouatrymen  had  already  a  powerful  estal)- 


lishment  in  that  empire.  There  was  one  Jewish  familj 
which  had  always  preserved  on  the  mountain  of  Samen 
an  independent  sovereignty,  and  the  royal  residence 
was  on  the  sunmiit  of  a  high  |)ointed  cliff,  called  from 
that  circumstance,  the  Jen's  Rock.  Several  other  rug- 
ged and  inaccessible  mountains  were  occupied  by  (hat 
people  as  natural  fortresses ;  and  their  strength  was  so 
much  increased  by  the  numbers  of  their  countrymen 
who  fled  before  the  conquering  Mahometans,  that  they 
began  to  meditate  a  revolution  in  Abyssinia,  in  favour  of 
their  own  religion.  Many  circumstances  concurred  to 
facilitate  their  design.  The  Abyssinians,  distracted  by 
various  heresies,  were  more  inclined  to  embrace  any 
other  religion,  than  to  yield  one  disputed  point  to  their 
Christian  adversaries;  the  country,  desolated  by  pesti- 
lence and  war,  suffered,  moreover,  all  the  multiplied 
evils  which  usually  prevail  under  the  government  of  a 
minor ;  and  Judith,  the  daughter  of  the  Jewish  king,  a 
woman  of  unbounded  ambition,  and  of  singular  talents 
for  intrigue,  had  lately  been  married  to  the  governor  of 
Bugna,  a  small  district  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lasta, 
both  which  countries  were  strongly  prejudiced  in  favour 
of  Judaism.  This  artful  and  aspiring  woman  had  form- 
ed so  powerful  a  faction,  that  she  resolved  to  usurp  the 
throne  of  Abyssinia,  and  to  extirpate  the  family  of  Solo- 
mon, who  had  continued  since  the  days  of  Makeda,  to 
reign  in  uninterrupted  succession.  With  this  design, 
she  surprised  the  almost  inaccessible  mountain  of  Damo, 
where  the  royal  princes  were  at  that  time  confined,  and 
massacred  every  one  of  them,  to  the  number,  it  is  said, 
of  four  hundred.  Fortunately  the  nobles  of  Amhara,on 
hearing  of  this  catastrophe,  conveyed  the  infant  king  Del 
Naad,  the  only  surviving  prince  of  his  race,  into  the  loy- 
al province  of  Shoa,  and  thus  the  line  of  Solomon  was 
preserved ;  and  at  length,  after  an  interval  of  some  ages, 
restored. 

Judith  immediately  mounted  the  throne,  to  whicli  she 
had  thus  paved  her  way  through  blood  ;  and,  in  defiance 
of  one  of  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  kingdom,  that  no 
woman  should  be  permitted  to  reign,  not  only  enjoyed 
the  sovereignty  undisturbed  during  forty  years,  but  trans- 
mitted it  in  peace  to  her  family ;  five  of  whom  succes- 
sively swayed  the  sceptre  of  Abyssinia.  Of  the  trans- 
actions of  these  reigns  nothing  is  recorded ;  except  that, 
during  this  whole  period,  the  kingdom  was  a  scene  of 
murder,  violence,  and  oppression.  By  a  new  revolution^ 
of  which  the  history  is  now  lost,  the  descendants  of  Ju- 
dith were  supplanted  by  relations  of  their  own,  a  noble 
family  of  Lasta.  The  reign  of  these  princes  was  distin- 
guished by  the  restoration  of  Christianity,  and  the  ge- 
neral mildness  of  their  government.  The  kingdom,  un- 
der them,  recovered  from  the  misfortunes  wliich  had 
long  overwhelmed  it;  and  their  names  are  still  pre- 
served with  gratitude  and  veneration.  But  as  they 
were  not  of  the  line  of  Solomon,  and,  of  consequence, 
were  accounted  usuri)ers,  the  history  of  none  of  them 
is  recorded  in  the  annnis  of  the  nation,  excepting  that  of 
Lalibala,  who  was  revered  as  a  saint,  and  who  reigned, 
with  great  splendour,  about  the  beginning  of  the  thir- 
teenth century. 

At  that  time,  the  Saracens,  having  conquered  Egypt, 
persecuted  the  Christians  in  that  country  with  great 
rigour,  and  particularly  the  masons  and  hewers  of  stone, 
whom  they  detested  as  the  promoters  of  idolatry,  by  the 
ornaments  with  which  they  embellished  their  works. 
Lalibala  oj)cned  an  asylum  for  those  Egyptians,  of  whom 
prodigious  numbers  reported  to  his  dominions ;  and  re- 


ABYSSINIA, 


51 


Solved  to  render  them  useful  to  the  country  from  which 
they  received  protection.  He  had  long  admired  the  ca- 
rerns  of  the  ancient  Troglodytes;  and  the  first  work  in 
which  he  employed  the  Egyptians,  was  to  hew  churches, 
after  these  specimens,  out  of  the  rocks  of  his  native  coun- 
try Lasta.  These  churches  still  remain  entire,  having 
large  columns  formed  out  of  the  solid  adamant,  with 
every  species  of  ornament  that  can  be  executed  in  build- 
ings above  ground.  He  next  engaged  in  the  more  ar- 
duous attemi)t  to  lessen  the  stream  of  the  Nile,  that  it 
^ight  no  longer  fertilize  the  land  of  Egypt,  possessed, 
at  that  time,  by  the  enemies  of  his  religion.  By  an  exact 
sur^'ey  and  calculation,  he  had  discovered,  that  several 
of  its  tributary  streams,  which  issued  from  the  highest 
part  of  the  country,  could  be  directed  into  the  low  coun- 
try to  the  south,  instead  of  taking  a  northern  course,  and 
thus  augmenting  the  Nile.  It  is  said,  that  he  succeeded 
so  far  as  to  intersect  two  of  its  largest  branches,  Avhich 
have  ever  since  flowed  into  the  Indian  Ocean.  He  was 
next  proceeding  to  carry  a  level  towards  the  lake  Za- 
waia,  the  reservoir  of  many  of  the  streams  which  flow 
into  the  Egyptian  river,  which  would  certainly  have 
been  very  sensibly  diminished  by  Ihe  loss  of  so  much 
tvater.  Death  interposed  to  prevent  the  execution  of 
this  stupendous  design ;  though  there  is  at  Shoa  a  writ- 
ten account,  which  states,  that  he  was  dissuaded  from  his 
undertaking  by  certain  monks,  who  represented  to  him 
the  danger  of  enriching,  by  so  many  fine  rivers,  the 
kingdoms  of  Hadea,  Adel,  and  Mara,  which  would  thus 
be  rendered  so  populous  and  powerful,  as  to  rival  the  em- 
pire of  Abyssinia,  or,  at  least,  to  become  altogether  in- 
dependent of  its  authority.  Alvarez  informs  us,  that 
Roderigo  de  Lima,  the  Portuguese  ambassador,  saw  the 
remains  of  these  works  in  the  year  1322,  and  travelleil 
among  them  for  several  days. 

Ever  since  the  usurpation  of  Judith,  the  descendants 
ef  Del  Naad  had  continued  to  rule  over  the.  loyal  pro- 
vince of  Shoa,  without  having  made  one  attempt  towards 
recovering  their  ancient  sovereignty.  But  what  they 
despaired  of  eflecting  by  force  of  arms,  they  obtained 
from  the  magnanimous  generosity  of  the  grandson  of 
Lalibala.  Tccla  Haimanout,  who  had  been  ordained 
Abuna,  and  who  is  celebrated  as  the  founder  of  the 
monastery  of  Debra  Libanos,  had  acquired,  by  the  sanc- 
tity of  his  character,  and  his  love  for  his  country,  an  un- 
limited influence  over  the  mind  of  Naacueto  Laab,  the 
reigning  monarch,  a  prince  remarkable  for  the  integrity 
of  his  principles,  and  the  benevolence  of  his  disposition. 
He  was  easily  persuaded  by  the  Abuna,  that  his  crown, 
though  transmitted  to  him  from  his  ancestors,  whose 
virtues  had  rendered  it  illustrious,  could  never  be  puri- 
fied from  the  stain  of  usurpation ;  and  he  willingly  re- 
signed it  to  Icon  Amiac,  of  the  line  of  Solomon,  then 
reigning  in  the  province  of  Shoa.  In  consequence  of 
the  mediation  of  Tecla  Haimanout,  a  treaty  was  con- 
cluded between  these  two  princes,  in  which  it  was  sti- 
pulated, that  Icon  Amlac  should  ascend  the  throne  of 
Abyssinia ;  but  that  a  ])ortion  of  territory  in  Lasta  should 
be  granted  in  absolute  property  to  Naacueto  Laab,  and 
his  heirs ;  that,  in  token  of  their  former  grandeur,  they 
should  retain  the  emblems  of  sovereignty ;  be  free  from 
all  public  burdens ;  and  be  styled  kings  of  Zngue,  or  the 
Lasta  kings.  Nor  did  the  Abuna  forget  his  own  interest 
in  this  mediation.  By  one  of  its  articles  he  obtained  a 
third  of  the  kingdom  for  the  maintenance  of  his  own 
dignity,  and  for  the  support  of  the  clergy,  convents,  and 
churches  throughout  the  empire ;  and  by  another  it  was 


decreed,  that,  after  him,  no  native  Abyssinian  should  be 
chosen  Abuna,  even  although  he  should  be  ordained  at 
Cairo.  "  The  part  of  the  treaty  most  liable  to  be  bro- 
ken," as  is  well  observed  by  Mr.  Bruce,  "  was  that  which 
erected  a  kingdom  within  a  kingdom.  However,  it  is 
one  of  the  remarkable  facts  in  the  annals  of  this  coun- 
try, that  the  article  between  Icon  Amlac,  and  the  house 
of  Zague,  was  carefully  observed  for  near  500  years. 
It  was  made  before  the  year  1300,  and  was  never  vio- 
lated till  the  treacherous  murder  of  the  Zaguean  prince, 
in  the  unfortunate  war  of  Begemder,  in  the  reign  of  Joas, 
1768.  Icon  Andac,  though  now  sovereign  of  Abys- 
sinia, continued  to  reside  in  the  province  which  had 
been  so  faithful  to  his  family.  He  reigned  a  considera- 
ble time  ;  and  was  succeeded  on  the  throne  by  five  dif- 
ferent princes  in  the  s£mie  number  of  years. 

The  cause  of  this  rapid  succession  of  sovereigns,  and 
the  events  which  happened  in  their  reigns,  are  equally 
unknown  to  us  ,•  nor  have  we  any  account  of  the  trans- 
actions of  the  empire  till  the  days  of  Amda  Sion,  who 
began  to  reign  in  the  year  1312.  He  was  the  son  of 
Wedem  Araad,  w  ho  wus  the  youngest  brother  of  Icon 
Amlac.  Amda  Sion  was  his  inauguration  name,  by 
which  he  is  generally  known ;  his  Christian  name  was 
Guebra  3Iascal.  The  first  actions  of  his  reign  were 
disgraceful  to  humanity,  and  very  difl"erent  from  the 
character  which  he  ever  aftcrwanls  maintained.  Not 
content  with  living  publicly  with  his  father's  concubine, 
he  soon  after  committed  incest  with  his  two  sisters. 
Honorius,  a  monk,  who  was  afterwards  canonized  for  his 
sanctily,  first  exhorted  him  to  repentance,  and  then  pub- 
licly excommunicated  him  for  these  infamous  crimes. 
The  refractory  monarch,  instead  of  sinking  under  this 
sentence,  ordered  Honorius  to  be  whipped  through  the 
streets  of  his  capital.  That  very  night  the  town  was  re- 
duced to  ashes  by  fire,  arising,  through  the  just  ven- 
geance of  Heaven,  from  the  blood  of  the  outraged  saint. 
Such  at  least  was  the  account  which  the  clergy  gave  of 
this  catastrophe;  but  the  king,  convinced  that  they 
themselvcs  were  the  incendiaries,  banished  them  into 
those  provinces,  of  which  tlie  inhabitants  were  chiefly 
Pagans  or  Jews,  where  they  were  extremely  successful 
in  propagating  the  Christian  religion. 

The  licentious  conduct  of  Amda  Sion  had  produced, 
in  the  neighbouring  nations,  such  a  contempt  for  his 
government,  that,  while  he  himself  was  embroiled  with 
Honorius  and  the  monks,  one  of  his  factors,  who  had 
been  charged  with  his  commercial  interests,  was  robbed 
and  assassinated  by  the  Bloors,  in  the  province  of  Ifat. 
Impatient  to  revenge  this  outrage,  he  suddenly  assem- 
bled his  troops,  and  ordered  them  to  redezvous  at 
Shugura,  upon  the  frontiers ;  while,  attended  by  only 
seven  horsemen,  he  fell  upon  the  nearest  Mahometan 
settlements,  ])utting  all  he  met  with  to  the  sword.  He 
then  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  army,  and 
desolated  the  whole  country,  carrying  off  a  prodigious 
booty. 

The  Moors,  astonished  by  the  unexpected  activity  of 
this  monarch,  whom  they  had  despised  as  an  effeminate 
voluptuarj',  assembled  in  great  numbers  to  oppose  him  ; 
and,  hearing  that  he  was  left  ivith  scarcely  a  suflicient 
number  of  soldiers  to  guard  the  camp,  they  resolved  to 
attack  him  before  break  of  day,  imagining  that  he  could 
not  possibly  make  any  effectual  resistance.  Fortunate- 
ly t\vo  detachments  of  his  army  had  joined  him  the  night 
before  :  these  he  drew  up  in  battle  arraj',  and,  when  the 
Moors  presented  themselves,  he  attacked  them  with 
G2 


\> 


2» 


ABYSSINIA. 


resistless  fury,  slew  their  geueral  -nitli  his  own  hand, 
antl,  animating  his  troojis  by  his  example,  obtained  a  de- 
cisive victory.  He  then  commanded  his  soldiers  to 
build  huts  lor  themselves,  and  to  sow  the  adjacent  lands, 
as  if  he  intended  to  continue  during  the  rainy  season  in 
the  enemy's  country.  Terrified  at  the  prospect  of  being 
totally  extirpated,  the  Moors  readily  submitted  to  the 
tribute  which  he  imposed;  and  the  king,  already  ad- 
mired for  his  valour,  conciliated  still  further  the  af- 
fections of  his  subjects,  by  distributing  among  them  his 
own  share  of  the  plunder.  Even  the  priests,  whom  he 
had  so  much  oflended,  now  extolled  his  munificence  to 
the  churclies,  and  his  zeal  against  the  cHemies  of  the 
cross. 

Scarcely  had  the  Ahyssinians  returned  to  their  own 
countrj',  when  the  Moors  prepared  for  another  revolt. 
A  combination  was  formed  by  Amano  king  of  Hadea, 
Saber-eddin,  whom  Amda  Sion  had  made  governor  of 
Fatigar,  and  secretly  by  Giuimel-eddin,  governor  in 
Dawaro.  The  king  endeavoured  to  conceal  his  know- 
ledge of  their  conspiracy,  that,  without  awakening  their 
suspicions,  he  might  pre|)are  an  army  powerful  enough 
to  crush  them,  before  they  had  time  to  unite  their  for- 
ces. The  Moors,  though  fully  apprised  of  his  prepara- 
tions, facilitated  by  their  own  precipitation  the  comple- 
tion of  his  design;  for,  without  any  regular  plan  of 
operation,  they  suddenly  commenced  hostilities, by  plun- 
dering some  Christian  villages,  and  destroying  their 
churches.  The  royal  army  was  despatched  against  the 
rebels  in  three  separate  detachments.  Amano,  king  of 
Hadea,  who,  by  the  advice  of  a  conjurer,  had  resolved 
to  wait  in  his  own  dominions  the  ap|)roach  of  Amda 
Sion,  whom,  it  >vas  decreed  he  should  deprive  at  once 
of  his  kingdom  and  his  life,  was  surprised  by  the  gene- 
ral of  the  cavalrj^  his  army  completely  routed,  and  him- 
self carried  prisoner  to  the  capital.  Saber-eddin  was 
next  brought  (o  an  engagement  by  the  governor  of  Am- 
hara,  who  gained  a  decisive  victory,  laid  waste  the 
rebel's  country,  and  made  captives  of  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren. Mefmwhile  intelligence  was  received,  that  the 
Falasha  likewise  were  in  rebellion,  and  had  already  taken 
the  field  with  a  formidable  army.  By  the  king's  com- 
mand, Tzaga  Christos,  governor  of  Begemder,  assem- 
bled the  troops  of  his  province,  with  those  of  Gondar, 
Sacalto,  and  Damot ;  overtook  the  rebels  before  they 
had  time  to  commit  much  devastation,  defeated  them 
with  great  slaughter,  and  forced  the  survivors  to  con- 
ceal themselves  among  their  fastnesses  in  the  moun- 
tains. The  king  himself  had  proceeded  with  a  small 
detachment  of  his  army  to  Dawaro,  to  keep  the  govern- 
or of  that  province  in  awe ;  and,  having  now  completely 
succeeded  in  quelling  the  rebels,  was  jireparing  to  re- 
turn with  his  victorious  forces,  when  he  >vas  informed 
that  the  kings  of  Adel  and  Mara  had  resolved  to  give 
him  battle.  Exasperated  by  this  intelligence,  he  pre- 
pared to  pursue  his  enemies  with  the  most  signal  ven- 
geance. To  give  greater  solemnity  to  his  resolution,  he 
assembled  the  principal  officers  of  his  army,  and,  sur- 
rounded by  his  soldiers,  pronounced  before  a  monk  of 
noted  sanctity,  and  arrayed  in  his  sacerdotal  habit,  a 
long  invective  against  the  Mahometans ;  recounted  the 
unprorokeil  injuries  which,  at  the  instigation  of  the 
kings  of  Adel  and  Mara,  they  had  committed  against 
him ;  enumerated  the  atrocilieg  of  which  they  had  been 
guilty;  disclaimed  all  avaricious  motives  in  undertak- 
ing the  war,  declaring,  that  he  would  appropriate  no 
part  of  (be  spoil  which  was  stained  with  the  blood  of  his 


subjects,  more  valuable  to  him  thau  all  the  riches  of 
Adel;  and  concluded  with  swearing  on  the  holy  eu- 
charist,  that,  though  but  twenty  of  his  army  should  join 
him,  he  woukl  not  turn  his  back  upon  Adel  or  Mara,  till 
he  had  either  forced  them  to  submit  as  tributaries,  or 
had  utterly  extirpated  them,  and  annihilated  their  re- 
ligion. The  soldiers  were  fired  by  his  enthusiasm ;  and, 
to  show  themselves  as  disinterested  as  their  sovereign, 
took  lighted  torches  in  their  hands,  and  set  fire  to  all  the 
rich  spoil  which  they  had  acquired  in  the  province  of 
Fatigar.  Having  thus  satisfied  their  consciences  that 
they  were  the  true  soldiers  of  Christ,  they  set  out  on 
their  march,  thirsting,  not  for  the  wealth,  but  the  blood 
of  the  infidels. 

Their  ardent  impetuosity  was  checked  by  the  obsta- 
cles to  which  their  own  superstition  gave  rise.  The 
Abyssinians  believe,  that  the  world  is  possessed,  during 
the  night,  by  certain  genii  unfriendly  to  mankind,  dis- 
turbed by  the  slightest  motion,  and  implacable  in  their 
revenge.  To  such  a  degree  does  the  dread  of  these 
spirits  prevail,  that  an  Abyssinian  will  not  venture,  at 
night,  even  to  throw  a  little  water  out  of  a  basin,  lest  it 
should  violate  the  dignity  of  some  vindictive  elf.  The 
Moors  deride  these  superstitious  fears,  and  frequently 
turn  them  to  their  own  advantage.  Protected  by  a  verse 
of  the  Koran,  sewed  up  in  leather,  and  worn  round  their 
neck  or  arms,  they  bid  defiance  to  the  power  of  the  most 
malignant  genii,  and  engage  without  scruple  in  any 
nocturnal  enterprise.  In  their  wars  with  the  Abyssinians, 
night  is  their  favourite  season  of  attack ;  and,  in  the 
present  cam])aign,  they  resolved  to  avoid  a  pitched 
battle,  and  to  harass  the  king's  army  in  the  dark.  I'he 
troops  of  Amda  Sion,  though  they  had  always  the  advan- 
tage, were  soon  wearied  out  by  these  nightly  skirmishes ; 
and,  on  the  commencement  of  the  rainy  season,  insisted 
on  being  allowed  to  return.  A  prince  of  such  a  martial 
disposition,  naturally  resented  a  proposal  which  betray- 
ed their  deficiency  in  steadiness  and  discipline.  He 
therefore  desired  his  officers  to  acquaint  them,  that,  if 
they  were  afraid  of  rains,  he  would  conduct  them  to 
Adel,  where  there  were  none ;  and  that,  for  his  owa 
part,  he  had  resolved  not  to  quit  the  field,  \vhile  there 
was  one  village  in  his  dominions  that  did  not  acknow- 
ledge him  as  sovereign.  On  hearing  this  remonstrance, 
tl>e  army  again  set  forward;  but,  being  still  harassed  by 
the  nightly  attacks  of  the  Moors,  the  spirit  of  mutiny 
began  once  more  to  prevail.  The  eloquence  of  the  king 
brought  them  back  to  a  sense  of  their  duty;  but  imme- 
diately afterwards  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  fever, 
which  seemed  to  threaten  his  life.  While,inconsequence 
of  his  illness,  the  soldiers  expected  everj'  moment  an 
order  to  return,  they  accidentally  received  intelligence 
that  an  army  of  40,000  Moors  was  advancing  towards 
them,  and  was  then  at  no  great  distance  from  the  camp. 
The  king,  though  now  free  from  fever,  was  so  excessive- 
ly feeble,  that  he  fainted  while  his  servant  was  employ etl 
in  putting  on  Ms  armour.  His  resolution,  however,  was 
unalterable;  and,  after  recovering  from  his  swoon,  he 
addressed  his  soldiers  in  a  speech  full  of  enthusiasm, 
exhorting  them  to  confide  in  the  righteousness  of  their 
cause,  and  in  the  continuance  of  that  favour  which  they 
had  hitherto  experienced  from  heaven.  Animated  by 
this  address,  his  soldiers  were  now  only  solicitous,  that, 
in  his  present  feeble  state,  he  should  not  expose  hia  per- 
son in  battle;  and  he  promised  to  comply  with  their  re- 
quest. But  the  whole  army  was  soon  thrown  into  con- 
sternation, bj-  a  report  that  the  Moors  had  poisoned  the 


ABYSSINIA. 


53 


■wells,  and  enchanted  all  the  aireama  in  front  of  the  camp. 
Though  a  priest  of  great  sanctitj'  was  employed  to  dis- 
enchant the  waters,  and  a  river  was  consecrated  by  the 
name  of  Jordan,  the  soldiers  not  only  refused  to  advance, 
but  resolved  immediately  to  return  home.  The  king 
rode  through  the  ranks  in  the  most  violent  agitation,  and 
conjured  them  to  remember  their  former  valour,  and 
the  solemn  oaths  by  which  they  had  repeate<lly  bound 
themselves  to  remain  true  to  the  cause  of  their  sovereign 
and  their  religion.  Finding  that  his  arguments  pro<luced 
no  effect,  he  begged,  that  those  who  were  unwilling  to 
fight,  would  only  stand  in  their  places  as  spectators  of 
the  bravery  of  their  comrades.  He  then  ordered  the 
master  of  the  horse,  with  only  five  others,  to  attack  the 
left  wing  of  the  enemy;  while  he  himself,  with  a  small 
party  of  his  servants,  made  a  furious  onset  on  the  right. 
His  valour  was  crowned  with  success.  Weak  as  he 
then  was,  he  slew  with  his  own  hand  the  t«  o  leaders  of 
the  right  wing ;  his  son,  who  fought  on  the  left,  des- 
patched another  officer  of  rank ;  and  the  soldiers, 
ashamed  of  their  conduct,  and  alarmed  for  the  safety  of 
their  valiant  monarch,  rushed  furiously  to  his  rescue. 
The  centre  and  left  wing  of  the  enemy  was  entirely  de- 
feated ;  the  right  wing,  consisting  ehiefly  of  Arabians, 
retreated  in  a  bo«ly ;  but,  ignorant  of  the  country,  enter- 
ed a  deep  valley,  surrounded  by  perpendicular  rocks, 
which  were  thickly  covered  with  wood.  Amda  Sion, 
perceiving  their  situation,  attacked  them  with  a  few  of 
his  troops  in  front,  while  others  rolled  great  stones  upon 
them  from  the  top  of  the  rocks;  and  thus,  being  unable 
either  to  resist  or  escape,  they  all  perished  to  a  man. 
Another  division  of  the  army  was  sent,  under  (he  com- 
mand of  the  master  of  the  horse,  in  pursuit  of  the  rest 
of  the  Moors.  They  found  these  unhappy  people,  ex- 
hausted by  the  fatigues  of  the  combat  and  of  flight, 
lying  by  the  side  of  a  water,  which  they  lapped  like 
dogs ;  and,  in  this  helpless  situation,  they  were  slaugh- 
tered without  resistance  by  the  relentless  conquerors. 
Wearied  at  length  with  murder,  they  made  prisoners 
of  the  few  who  survived.  Among  these  were  Salek 
king  of  Mara,  and  his  queen  ;  the  former  of  whom  was 
hanged  by  the  order  of  Amda  Sion,  the  latter  hewn  to 
pieces  by  the  soldiers,  and  her  body  given  to  the  dogs. 

Pursuing  his  advantages,  the  Abyssinian  monarch 
advanced  still  further  into  the  Mahometan  territories, 
till  he  reached  the  dominions  of  the  king  of  Adel.  That 
prince,  rendered  desperate  by  the  devastation  of  liis 
country,  and  the  ))rospect  of  its  total  ruin,  resolved  to 
make  one  last  effort  for  its  preservation.  He  therefore 
took  the  field  against  the  Abyssinians,  but  conducted 
himself  with  less  prudence  than  his  own  situation  and 
the  character  of  his  adversary  required.  Victory  again 
declared  in  favour  of  Amda  Sion ;  the  king  of  Adel  fell 
in  the  engagement;  and  his  troops,  dispersed  in  all  di- 
rections, were  intercepted  by  detachments  of  the  Abys- 
sinian army ,  which  had  been  placed  in  ambush  to  prevent 
their  escape. 

After  this  disastrous  event,  the  sons  of  the  late  king, 
dismayed  by  the  prospect  of  inevitable  destruction,  wait- 
ed upon  Amda  Sion  with  valuable  jiresents ;  and,  pros- 
trating themselves  in  the  dust  before  him,  besought  him 
<o  pardon  the  injuries  which  they  had  committed,  and 
assured  him  of  their  readiness  to  submit  to  his  dominion, 
provided  he  would  advance  no  further  into  their  country, 
but  spare  the  lives  and  proj-.erty  of  their  afflicted  sub- 
jects. The  stern  conqueror  rejected  their  entreaties 
with  indignation ;  reproached  them  with  the  enormities 


which  they  had  perpetrated  against  his  Ohristian  sub- 
jects; told  them,  that  he  had  proceeded  thOB  far  into 
their  kingdom  to  inflict  the  jiunishment  due  to  their 
crimes ;  and  commanded  them  to  return  and  expect  the 
approach  of  his  army,  as  he  would  never  turn  his  back 
upon  Adel,  while  he  had  ten  men  capable  of  drawing 
their  swords.  The  two  eldest  jirinces,  with  their  uncle, 
who  had  accompanied  them,  were  overawed  by  the 
fierce  demeanour  of  the  Abyssinian  ;  but  the  youngest 
made  a  spirited  speech,  in  which  he  complimented  him 
on  his  unparal!eledvalour,and  entreated  him  not  to  sully 
his  fame  by  the  oppression  of  a  people  already  conquered 
and  defenceless.  The  only  answer  he  could  obtain  was, 
that  unless  the  queen,  his  mother,  with  the  rest  of  the 
royal  family,  and  the  principal  people  of  the  nation, 
should  surrender  themnelves  next  evening  at  his  tent- 
door,  as  he  had  done,  he  would  lay  waste  the  kingdom  of 
Adel,  from  the  place  where  he  then  sat,  to  the  Indian 
Ocean.  Rather  than  submit  to  such  cruel  terms,  the 
Adelians  resolved  to  try  once  more  the  fortune  of  war; 
and  bound  themselves,  by  mutual  oaths,  to  stand  by  each 
other  to  the  last  extremity.  They  informed  the  young 
princes  of  their  resolution ;  and  requested  them  to  seize 
the  first  opportunity  of  escaping  from  the  camp  of  Amda 
Sion,  and  take  the  command  of  the  army,  every  man  of 
which  was  ready  to  conquer,  or  die  in  their  cause.  Pro- 
voke«l  by  their  obstinacy,  the  Abyssinian  monarch  divid- 
ed his  army  into  three  detachments ;  two  of  Avhich  were 
commanded  to  enter  the  enemy's  country  by  different 
routes,  while  he  himself  marched  directly  to  the  spot 
where  the  Adelians  were  encamped.  An  obstinate  en- 
gagement ensued,  in  which  the  young  king  of  Wypo 
particularly  distinguished  himself,  opposing  Amda  Sion 
wherever  he  appeared,  and  exhorting  his  troops  to  re- 
main firm  to  the  last.  At  length,  the  Abyssinian  monarch, 
observing  the  exploits  of  this  young  warrior,  grasped  a 
Iww  in  his  hand,  and  took  so  just  an  aim,  that  he  shot 
him  through  the  middle  of  the  neck,  so  that,  his  head 
declining  to  one  shoulder,  he  fell  dead  among  his  horse's 
feet.  The  Adelians,  disheartened  by  their  hero's  fall, 
betook  themselves  to  flight ;  but,  meeting  with  two  de- 
tachments of  Amda  Sion'i?  army,  they  were  so  com- 
pletelj'  destroyed,  that  only  three  out  of  5000  are  said 
to  have  escaped.  Nor  had  the  Abyssinians  much  cause 
to  rejoice  in  the  victory ;  for  many  of  their  principal 
officers  were  slain,  and  scarcely  one  of  their  horsemen 
left  the  field  without  a  wound. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  compaign,  the  Abyssi- 
nians were  engaged  in  destroying  the  towns  and  vil- 
lages, and  laying  waste  the  country  of  the  Mahome- 
tans ;  exercising  against  these  unhappy  people  every 
species  of  cruelty,  on  pretence  of  retaliating  their  inju- 
ries against  the  Christians.  Weary  at  length  of  con- 
quest and  bloodshed,  the  king  returned  in  triumph  to 
Tegulut,  where  he  died  a  natural  death,  after  a  reign  of 
thirty  years;  during  which,  though  almost  constantly 
engaged  in  war,  he  never  sustained  a  defeat. 

The  reign  of  Saaif  Araad,  the  son  and  successor  of 
Amda  Sion,  is  distinguished  by  no  remarkable  transac- 
tion, except  his  relieving  the  Coptic  patriarch,  whom 
the  soldan  of  Egypt  had  thrown  into  prison. 

Theodorus,  ivho  occupied  the  throne  from  the  year 
1409  to  1412,  was  the  first  who  retracted  the  grant  of 
one-third  of  the  kingdom,  which  Icon  Amiac  had  made 
to  the  Abuna.  Notwithstanding  this  infringement,  how- 
ever, on  the  power  of  the  church,  he  was  so  revered  by 
his  subjects,  for  the  sanctity  of  his  character,  that  it  is 


64 


ABYSSINIA. 


still  a  prevailing  opinion  in  Abyssinia,  that  he  is  to  rise 
again  from  the  grave,  and  reign  in  his  ancient  kingdom 
for  a  thousand  years ;  during  which  period  the  arms  of 
the  warrior  are  to  be  hung  up  in  the  hall,  and  joy  and 
4)eace  are  universally  to  prevail. 

Nothing  important  occurs  in  the  history  of  Abyssinia, 
from  the  death  of  Theodorus  in  1412,  till  Zara  Jacob  as- 
cended the  throne  in  1434.  The  partiality  of  his  historians 
lias  represented  this  monarch  as  another  Solomon,  an 
exact  model  of  what  a  sovereign  should  be.  He  was 
remarkable  for  his  curiosity  with  regard  to  the  politics, 
manners,  and  religion  of  other  countries ;  and,  by  his 
desire,  an  embassy,  consisting  of  priests  from  the  Abys- 
sinian convent  at  Jerusalem,  was  sent  to  the  council  of 
Florence.  The  Roman  ponlifif,  pleased  with  an  event 
which  seemed  to  promise  the  introduction  of  his  spi- 
ritual sovereignty  into  the  most  important  kingdom  of 
Africa,  ordered  a  painting  to  be  taken  of  the  embassy, 
which  is  still  to  be  seen  in  the  Vatican.  A  convent  was 
obtained  for  the  Abyssinians  at  Rome,  which,  though 
still  preserved,  is  seldom  visited  by  those  to  whom  it  is 
appropriated.  A  party  was  henceforth  formed  in  Abys- 
sinia in  favour  of  the  church  of  Rome ;  and,  during  this 
reign,  began  those  religious  disputes,  which  rendered 
the  name  of  Franks,  or  Frangi,  so  odious  and  danger- 
ous. 

This  perfect  sovereign,  this  model  for  future  princes, 
was  the  first  who  introduced  religious  persecution  into 
his  dominions.  The  established  religion  was  that  of  the 
Greek  church ;  but  it  was  corrupted,  in  many  places,  by 
Mahometan,  and  even  Pagan  superstitions.  Some 
families,  accused  of  worshi])ping  the  cow  and  the  ser- 
pent, were  dragged  before  this  zealous  monarch,  who 
immediately  sentenced  them  to  death.  Their  execution 
was  followed  by  a  proclamation,  tlmt  whoever  did  not 
wear  on  his  right  hand  an  anuilet,  with  this  inscription, 
"  I  renounce  the  devil  for  Christ  our  Lord,"  should  for- 
feit his  property,  and  be  liable,  besides,  to  corporal 
punishment.  This  perseaulion,  which  soon  became 
general  throughout  the  kingdom,  was  committed  to 
Amda  Sion,  the  Arab  Saat,  a  person  whose  affected 
austerity  had  procured  him  the  confidence  of  the  king, 
by  whom  he  was  so  highlj'  distinguished,  that,  when  he 
appeared  abroad,  he  was  attended  by  a  number  of  sol- 
diers with  drums,  trumjicts,  and  other  ensigns  of  mili- 
tary dignity.  The  cruelty  of  this  odious  inquisitor  was 
severely  reprimanded  in  a  public  assembly,  by  certain 
priests  from  Jerusalem ;  the  persecution  was  suppress- 
ed, and  the  king  now  turned  his  thoughts  from  religion 
to  the  civil  improvement  of  his  dominions. 

The  opulence  of  the  Moorish  states,  arising  from  their 
extensive  trade,  was  frequently  employed  in  the  pur- 
poses of  rebellion.  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  to 
inquire  into  the  circumstances  and  dispositions  of  the 
several  governors.  With  this  view  he  divided  the  em- 
pire more  distinctly,  and,  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Maho- 
metan states,  formed  several  new  governments,  which 
he  gave  to  his  Christian  soldiers,  that  they  might  be 
rea»ly  to  check  tlie  first  tendency  to  revolt. 

The  last  transaction  which  is  recorded  of  this  mo- 
narch, places  his  character  in  a  very  unfavourable  light. 
The  queen,  impatient  to  see  her  son  in  possession  of 
the  throne,  had  formed  the  design  of  obliging  Zara  Ja- 
cob to  associate  him  as  his  partner  in  the  government. 
The  plot  was  discovered  by  her  husband,  who  ordered 
_her  to  be  scourged  to  death ;  and  the  young  prince,  who, 
^4hough  free  from  the  guilt  of  bcr  conspiracy,  Jiad  ven- 


tured to  perform  the  usual  solemnities  at  her  grave, 
was  loaded  with  irons,  and  banished  to  the  top  of  a 
mountain.  In  this  situation,  he  was  saved  from  death 
only  by  the  interference  of  the  monks  of  Debra  Kosse 
and  Debra  Libanos,  who  pretended  to  have  discovered, 
by  prophecies,  visions,  and  dreams,  that  none  but  Ba:da 
Mariam  should  succeed  his  father  on  the  throne. 

From  the  time  when  the  princes  of  the  royal  family 
had  been  massacred  by  Judith,  the  custom  of  confining 
them  on  a  mountain  had  been  discontinued.  But  Bada 
IMariam  was  so  convinced,  by  the  imprudence  of  his 
mother,  and  his  own  sufferings,  of  the  necessity  of  re- 
viving it,  that  all  his  male  relations  were  arrested  by 
his  command,  and  sent  prisoners  for  life  to  the  high 
mountain  of  Geshen,  on  the  confines  of  Begemder  and 
Amhara.  Soon  after,  he  undertook  an  expedition  against 
the  Dobas,  a  barbarous  but  wealthy  race  of  she|ihenls, 
Pagans  by  religion,  who  constantly  made  inroads  into 
his  kingdom,  and  committed  the  greatest  enormities. 
The  king  of  Adel  had  invited  these  shepherds  to  send 
into  his  dominions  their  wives,  their  children,  and  most 
valuable  effects;  while  he  himself  would  cutoffthe  Abys- 
sinian army  from  provision.  This  proposal  was  made 
known  to  Baeda  Mariam,  who,  with  a  large  body  of  horse, 
took  possession  of  a  pass  called  Fendera,  through  which 
they  were  obliged  to  march;  and,  when  they  arrived  at 
that  place,  their  whole  company  was  cut  to  pieces, 
without  distinction  of  age  or  sex.  After  laying  waste 
their  country,  and  forcing  them  to  renounce  their  reli- 
gion, he  sent  his  army  against  the  kingdom  of  Adel, 
where  his  general  obtained  a  complete  victory.  But, 
while  he  himself  was  hastening  towards  that  country, 
resolving  to  reduce  it  to  the  lowest  state  of  subjection, 
he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  illness,  which  occasioned 
his  death. 

About  this  time  the  Portuguese  were  extending 
their  discoveries  along  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  had  al- 
ready formed  the  project  of  opening  a  passage  to  India 
by  doubling  the  Cape.  A  plan  was  likewise  concerted 
for  penetrating  through  the  interior  of  the  African  con- 
tinent, that,  if  the  former  project  should  fail,  the  mer 
chandise  of  the  East  Indies  might  be  conveyed  to  Por- 
tugal by  land.  The  success  of  such  a  scheme  was  ren- 
dered probable  by  the  report  of  some  monks,  who  had 
been  seen  at  Jerusalem  and  Alexandria,  the  subjects,  as 
they  said,  of  a  Christian  prince  in  Africa,  whose  domi- 
uions  extended  from  the  eastern  to  the  western  ocean. 
Of  the  truth  of  their  reports,  the  Portuguese  navigators 
had  been  so  strongly  assured  by  Bemoy,  a  king  of  the 
Jaloffs,  that  Henry,  the  scientific  and  enterprising  prince 
under  whose  auspices  these  plans  of  discovery  were 
conducted,  resolved  to  send  ambassadors  to  this  unknown 
sovereign.  Peter  de  Covillan,  and  Alphonsode  Paiva, 
were  appointed  to  this  important  embassy,  with  direc- 
tions to  explore  the  sources  of  the  Indian  trade,  and  the 
principal  markets  for  spices;  and,  above  all,  to  ascertain 
the  i>ossibiIity  of  reaching  the  East  Indies  by  sailing 
round  the  southern  extremity  of  Africa.  Tluis  instruct- 
ed, they  proceeded  to  Alexandria,  thence  to  Cairo,  next 
to  Suez,  and  afterwards  to  Aden,  a  rich  commercial 
town  beyond  tlie  Straits  of  Babelmandeb.  Thej'  sailed 
from  this  city  in  separate  directions;  Covillan  for  India, 
and  De  Paiva  for  Suakcm.  De  Paiva  soon  lost  his  life ; 
but  Covillan,  after  visiting  Calicut  and  Goa,  recrossed 
the  Indian  ocean,  insjiected  the  mines  of  Sofala,  and  re- 
turned by  Aden  to  Cairo,  where  he  heard  of  the  death  of 
bis  companion.    At  Cairo  be  was  aict  by  two  Jews  with 


ABYSSINIA. 


letters  from  the  king  of  Abyssinia ;  one- of  whom  he  sent 
back  with  letters  lo  that  monarch  in  return,  and,  with 
the  other,  proceeded  to  the  island  of  Orniiis,  in  the  Per- 
sian gulf.  Here  the  Jew  left  him  ;  and  Covillan  return- 
ed to  Aden,  whence  he  passed  into  the  Abyssinian  do- 
minions. 

On  his  arrival  in  that  country,  he  was  kindly  received 
by  Alexander  the  reigmng  prince,  and  exalted  to  the 
most  honourable  offices  in  the  state;  though,  according 
to  Abyssinian  i)olicy,  he  was  never  allowed  to  return  to 
Europe.  He  found  means,  however,  to  convey,  from 
time  to  time,  important  intelligence  to  the  king  of  Por- 
tugal. He  described  the  several  ports  in  India  which 
he  had  seen ;  the  disposition  of  the  princes ;  the  situation 
and  riches  of  the  mines  of  Sofala.  He  exhorted  the 
king  to  pursue,  with  unremitting  diligence,  the  discove- 
ry of  the  passage  found  Africa ;  declaring,  that  the  Cape 
"was  well  known  in  India,  and  that  the  voyage  was  at- 
tended with  little  danger.  To  these  descriptions  he 
added  a  chart  or  map,  which  he  had  received  from  a 
Moor  in  India,  and  in  which  the  Cape,  and  the  cities 
round  the  coast,  were  accurately  represented. 

The  reign  of  Alexander  was  disturbed  by  frequent 
rebellions.  Called  to  the  throne  while  a  minor,  he  had 
displayed,  from  his  earliest  years,  an  ardent  desire  to 
make  war  against  the  king  of  Adel ;  but  that  monarch, 
convinced,  by  the  misfortunes  of  his  predecessors,  that 
he  was  unable  to  cope  in  the  field  with  such  a  powerful 
adversary,  endeavoured  lo  gain  over  a  party  at  the  court 
of  Abyssinia.  Za-Salucc,  the  prime  minister,  with  many 
of  the  principal  nobility,  were  seduced  by  his  intrigues ; 
and  Saluce,  being  intrusted  with  the  command  of  great 
part  of  the  forces,  abandoned  his  master  in  the  heat  of 
an  engagement.  This  treachery  seemed  only  to  infuse 
fresh  courage  into  Alexander,  and  the  few  brave  troops 
who  remained  with  him.  Engaging  in  a  narrow  defile, 
the  king  was  close  pressed  by  a  Moor,  who  bore  the  green 
standard  of  Mahomet,  on  whom  he  turned  suddenly,  and 
slew  him  with  his  javelin ;  then,  wresting  the  colours 
from  him  as  he  fell,  with  the  point  of  the  spear  that  bore 
the  ensign,  he  struck  the  king  of  Adel's  son  to  the 
ground ;  on  which  the  Moors  retreated  from  the  field. 
He  then  returned  in  pursuit  of  Za-Saluce,  who  had  has- 
tened, by  forced  marches,  to  Amhara,  exciting  the  spi- 
rit of  revolt  in  the  governors  of  the  provinces  through 
which  he  passed.  Two  days  after  his  return  to  the  capi- 
tal, the  young  monarch  fell  a  victim  to  the  perfidy  of 
his  minister.  The  traitor  soon  met  with  the  punishment 
tlue  to  his  crimes;  for,  while  attempting  to  excite  a  re- 
volt in  Amhara,  he  was  attacked  by  the  nobility  of  that 
province,  and,  being  deserted  by  his  troops,  was  taken 
prisoner  without  resistance  :  his  eyes  were  put  out ;  and, 
being  mounted  on  an  ass,  he  was  carried  through  Am- 
hara and  Shoa,  amidst  the  curses  and  derision  of  the 
-people. 

On  the  death  of  Alexander's  infant  son,  which  hap- 
pened seven  months  after,  Naad,  his  younger  brother, 
■^vas  called,  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  people,  to  the 
throne.  His  wisdom  was  conspicuously  displayed  in 
the  first  act  of  his  reign.  He  published  a  proclamation, 
offering  a  general  pardon  to  all  who  had  been  engaged 
in  the  late  rebellion ;  and  prohibiting,  under  pain  of 
death,  any  one  from  upbraiding  his  neighbour  with  his 
former  disloyalty.  On  assuming  the  government,  he 
found  himself  engaged  in  a  war  which  demanded  his 
most  vigorous  exertions.  Maffudi,  prince  of  Arar,  a 
district  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Adel,  a  man  of  a  war- 


like disposition,  and  an  enthusiastic  Blahometan,  had 
made  a  vow  to  spend  forty  days  every  year,  during  the 
time  of  Lent,  in  some  part  of  Abyssinia.  The  supersti- 
tion of  the  people  facilitated  his  jirogress ;  for  they  ob- 
served that  fast  so  rigidly  as  to  exhaust  their  strength ; 
insomuch  that  Maffuili  had  continued  for  thirty  years  lo 
ravage  the  country,  during  that  period,  without  opposi- 
tion, and  was  now  regarded  as  invincible.  Naad  com- 
manded his  soldiers  to  continue  their  usual  manner  of 
living,  without  regarding  the  fast ;  and,  when  his  enemy 
advanced  with  his  wonted  confidence  of  success,  his 
army  was  entirely  cut  to  pieces. 

Having  thus  removed  the  terrors  of  invasion,  Naad 
employed  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  reforming  the 
manners  of  his  subjects;  and,  after  reigning  thirteen 
years,  was  succeeded  by  his  son  David  HI.  then  only- 
eleven  years  of  age.  Early  in  this  reign,  the  Turks, 
with  a  view  of  sharing  the  profits  of  the  trade  carried  on 
in  Adel  by  merchants  who  had  fled  from  their  own  op- 
pressions in  India,  took  possession  of  Zeyla,  a  small 
island  in  the  Red  Sea,  where  they  erected  a  custom-house, 
and  oppressed  and  ruined,  as  usual,  the  commerce  of  the 
adjacent  coasts.  Both  Adel  and  Abyssinia  were  thus 
menaced  by  a  formidable  enemy,  who  was  prevented 
from  overwhelming  them  only  by  his  attempts  to  obtain 
possession  of  India.  In  this  emergency,  Helena,  the 
queen-regent,  wished  to  enter  into  an  alliance  with  the 
Portuguese ;  and,  by  the  advice  of  Peter  Covillan,  an 
Armenian  merchant  named  Matthew,  with  a  young 
Abyssinian,  were  sent  on  an  embassy  for  that  purpose 
to  the  court  of  Lisbon.  The  merchant,  though  raised 
to  the  rank  of  ambassador,  could  not  sustain  the  dignity 
of  his  new  character.  At  Dabul,  in  the  East  Indies,  he 
was  seized  as  a  spy ;  and,  though  relieved  by  Albuquer- 
que, viceroy  of  Goa,  he  was  not  alloived  to  depart  for 
Portugal  till  1513,  three  years  after  his  arrival  in  India. 
He  was  insulted  by  the  shipmasters  with  whom  he  sail- 
ed for  that  country ;  but  on  his  arrival  at  Lisbon,  he  was 
received  with  every  mark  of  resjiect :  the  shipmasters 
were  loaded  with  irons,  and  would  probably  have  rlied 
in  prison,  had  not  Matthew  interceded  in  their  behalf. 

The  prince  of  Arar,  having  recovered  from  the  de- 
feat which  he  had  suffered  from  Naad,  and  increased 
his  power  by  alliances  with  the  Turks  in  Arabia,  had 
renewed  his  annual  incursions  into  Abyssinia  with  great- 
er success  than  before.  In  return  for  the  multitude  of 
slaves  which  he  had  sent  to  Mecca,  he  was  made  sheyhk 
of  Zeyla,  which  may  be  considered  the  key  to  the  Abys- 
sinian dominions ;  and  the  king  of  Adel  had  been  indu- 
ced, by  his  success,  to  enter  into  a  league  with  him 
against  that  empire,  which  he  had  always  regarded  with 
a  very  unfriendly  eye.  Accordingly,  they  invaded  Abys- 
sinia with  their  united  forces,  and  committed  such  devas- 
tation as  spread  terror  through  the  whole  country.  To 
revenge  these  injuries,  Uavid,  then  a  youth  of  sixteen, 
levied  a  powerful  army,  by  a  judicious  disposition  of 
which,  he  hemmed  in  the  Moors  among  some  narrow 
defiles,  where  they  could  not  hazard  an  engagement 
without  certain  destruction.  To  add  to  their  consterna- 
tion, Maffudi  came  to  the  king  of  Adel,  and  assured  him 
that  his  time  was  now  come ;  that  he  had  been  warned 
long  before,  by  a  prophecy,  that  if  in  this  year  (1316,) 
he  should  encounter  the  king  of  Abyssinia  in  person, 
he  should  certainly  die.  He  therefore  advised  him  to 
retreat  as  speedily  as  possible,  over  the  least  difficult 
part  of  the  mountain,  before  the  battle  should  commence. 
The  Adelian,  already  dismayed  by  the  situation  of  his 


d6 


ABYSSINIA. 


army,  willingly  followed  his  advice ;  and  Maflfudi,  as  soon 
as  he  supposed  his  ally  beyond  the  reach  of  danger,  sent 
a  message  to  the  Abyssinian  camp,  challenging  any 
manof  quality  to  fight  liim  in  single  combat,  on  condition 
that  the  party  of  the  victorious  champion  should  be  ac- 
counted conquerors,  and  that  both  armies  should  imme- 
diately separate  without  further  bloodshed.  A  monk, 
named  Gabriel  Andreas,  instantly  accepted  the  chal- 
lenge ;  and,  when  the  combatants  met,  MaSudi  received 
from  his  antagonist  such  a  violent  stroke  with  a  two- 
bandied  sword,  as  almost  severed  his  body  in  two.  An- 
dreas cut  off  his  head ;  and,  throwing  it  at  the  king's 
feet,  exclaimed,  "  There  is  the  Goliah  of  the  Infidels  !" 
Notwithstanding  the  terms  stipulated  before  the  combat, 
a  general  engagement  ensued,  in  which  the  Moors  were 
completely  discomfited. 

On  the  same  day  (in  the  month  of  July,  1316)  Zeyla 
was  taken,  and  its  town  burnt  by  the  Portuguese  fleet, 
under  Lopez  Suarez  de  Alberguiera.     On  board  this 
fleet  was  Matthew,  the  Abyssinian  ambassador,  who  had 
been  treated,  during  his  residence  in  Portugal,  with  the 
highest  respect,  and  the  most  flattering  attention.  Splen- 
did lodgings  were  assigned  him,   with  a  magnificent 
equipage,  and  a  suitable  maintenance ;  and,  on  his  re- 
turn, he  was  accompanied  by  an  ambassador  from  the 
court  of  Lisbon  to  the  Abyssinian  king.     This  ambassa- 
dor was  Edward  Galvan,  a  man  who  had  filled  the  most 
important  state  departments  witli  great  applause,   but 
whose  advanced  age  (for  he  was  now  86)  rendered  him 
surely  very  unfit  for  a  vwyage  so  distant  and  perilous. 
As  might  have  been  foreseen,  he  died  on  the  island  of 
Camaran,  in  the  Red  Sea,  where  Suarez  had  imprudent- 
ly wintered,  in  the  utmost  distress  for  want  of  provisions. 
Suarez  was  superseded  by  Lopez  de  Segueyra,  who, 
sailing  first  to  the  island  of  Goa,  returned  with  a  strong 
fleet  to  the  Red  Sea,  and  landed  at  ]Masuah,  an  island 
belonging  to  Abyssinia.     At  the  approach  of  this  fleet 
the  inhabitants  fled ;  but  when  it  had  remained  for  some 
days  off  Masuah  without  committing  hostilities,  a  Chris- 
tian and  a  Moor  ventured  to  come  from  the  continent, 
who  informed  Segueyra,  that  the  land  ojiposite  to  Ma- 
suah was  part  of  Abyssinia ;  adding,  that  the  inhabitants 
were  Christians,  and  that  the  reason  why  they  fleil  at 
the -appearance  of  the  fleet,  was  their  dread  of  the  Turks, 
who  frequently  made  descents,  and  ravaged  the  coast. 
The  admiral,  overjoyed  at  this  intelligence,  dismissed 
them  with  presents,  and  was  soon  after  visited  by  the 
governor  of  Arkeeko,  who  informed  him   that  seven 
monks  were  deputed  to  wait  on  him  from  the  monaste- 
ry of  Bisan,  about  twenty-four  miles  up  the  country. 
These  monks,   on  their  arrival,  instantly  recognised 
Matthew,  and  congratulated  him  warmly  on  his  return. 
Lopez  had  next  an  interview  with  the  Baharnagash,  who 
informed  him  that  the  arrival  of  the  Portuguese  had  been 
long  expected  in  consequence  of  ancient  prophecies ; 
and  that  he  himself,  and  all  the  officers  of  the  king, 
were  ready  to  serve  him.     Mutual  presents   were  ex- 
changed, and  an  embassy  was  prepared  by  the  admiral 
to  be  sent  to  the  court.     Don  Roderigo  de  Lima,  who 
was  ap|>ointed  ambassador  instead  of  Galvan,  who  had 
died,  was  accompanied  by  a  small  company  of  resolute 
men,  willing  to  undergo  any  hardship  or  danger  for  the 
Slory  of  their  king,  and  the  honour  of  their  country. 
Their  present  journey  required  all  their  constancy.   Be- 
fore they  could  reach  the  king,  they  had  to  cross  the 
whole  extent  of  the  empire,  over  rugged  mountains, 
and  Uirough  woods  almost  impervious,  interwoTen  yrilb 


briers  and  thorns,  and  infested  with  innumerable  wild 
beasts.  Their  reception  but  ill  requited  the  toils  of 
their  journpy.  De  Lima,  instead  of  gaining  an  imme- 
diate audience  of  the  king,  was  waited  upon  by  an  ofli- 
cer,  called  Hadug  Ras,  Avho  ordered  him  to  pilch  his 
tent  three  miles  further  from  the  camp;  and  it  was  not 
till  three  years  afterwards  that  he  obtained  leave  to  de- 
part. After  that  long  interval,  David  determined  to 
send  an  embassy  to  Portugal,  and  dismissed  Roderigo 
%vith  an  Abyssinian  monk,  named  Zaga  Zaab,  whom  he 
appointed  his  own  ambassador. 

Meanwhile,  the  Mahometans  were  alarmed  by  this 
long  intercourse  between  two  such  distant  nations,  to 
both  of  which  they  were  equally  inimical.  An  alliance 
was  formed  between  the  king  of  Adel  and  the  Turks  in 
Arabia;  and  the  Adelians,  thus  reinforced,  and  being 
trained  by  their  new  allies  to  the  use  of  fire-arms,  then 
unknown  to  the  Abyssinians,  defeated  David  in  every 
engagement,  and  hunted  him,  like  a  wild  beast,  from 
place  to  place.  Mahomet,  surnamed  Gragne,  or  left- 
hitttded,  who  commanded  the  Turkish  army,  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  the  king,  exhorting  liim  to  desist  from  fighting 
against  God,  to  make  peace  while  it  was  yet  in  his  power, 
and  to  give  him  his  daughter  in  marriage,  otherwise  he 
would  reduce  his  kingdom  to  such  a  state  as  to  be  ca- 
pable of  producing  nothing  but  grass.  The  spirited 
monarch,  yet  unsubdued  by  his  misfortunes,  would  listen 
to  no  terms  proposed  by  an  infidel  and  a  blasphemer. 
Frequent  encounters  succeeded,  in  which  David  was 
constantly  worsted ;  in  one  engagement  liis  eldest  son 
was  killed ;  in  another  his  youngest  was  taken  prisoner; 
and  he  himself,  destitute  and  forlorn,  was  forced  to  wan- 
der about  on  foot,  skulking  among  the  bushes  on  the 
mountains.  Struck  with  admiration  of  his  heroism,  and 
with  compassion  for  his  misfortunes,  many  of  his  veteran 
soldiers  sought  him  out  in  his  retreat,  and  with  these  he 
gained  some  slight  advantages,  wliich  served  to  revive 
the  spirits  of  himself  and  his  followers.  But  his  enemies 
were  too  powerful  to  be  resisted  with  any  probability  of 
final  success,  and  the  king,  in  this  hopeless  situation,  be- 
gan to  turn  his  thoughts  seriously  towards  Portugal. 

John  Bermudes,  one  of  Roderigo"s  attendants,  who 
had  been  detained  in  Abyssinia,  was  chosen  as  ambas- 
sador to  his  native  monarch,  with  the  additional  dignity 
of  Abuua.  Bigoted  to  the  Roman  catholic  religion,  he 
refused  to  accept  of  this  new  office,  unless  his  onlina- 
tion  should  be  approved  by  the  pope; — a  provision  to 
which,  though  it  virtually  submitted  the  church  of 
Abyssinia  to  that  of  Rome,  David  was  induced,  by  the 
necessity  of  his  affairs,  to  comply.  Ob  his  arrival  at 
Lisbon,  Bermudes  ordered  Zaga  Zaab  to  be  put  in  irons 
for  neglecting  the  interests  of  his  master ;  and  repre- 
sented so  strongly  the  distresses  of  the  Aljyssinians,  (hat 
he  soon  obtained  an  oriler  for  400  nmsketeers  to  be 
sent  to  their  relief,  under  Don  Garcia  de  Noronlia.  He 
would  have  sailed  along  with  Don  Garcia  to  accelerate 
the  progress  of  the  fleet,  but  was  detained  a  whole  year 
by  sickness,  occasioned,  he  suspected,  by  poison  given 
him  by  Zaga  Zaab,  whom  the  king  had  set  at  liberty. 
Another  delay  was  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Don  Gai^ 
cia.  At  length  it  was  resolved  that  Don  Sfephtii  de 
Gama,  who  had  succeeded  to  Noronlia,  should  sail  to 
the  Arabian  gulf,  in  order  to  secure  some  Turkish  ves- 
sels which  then  lay  at  Suez.  Finding  that  the  vessels 
hati  been  withdrawn  before  his  arrival,  he  anchored  in 
the  port  of  Masuah,  and  sent  some  boats  to  Arket  ko  for 
water  and  provisions  5  but  that  coast  was  now  in  iiosset- 


ABYSSINIA. 


57 


91011  ol"  tlie  Moois,  who  stizfd  the  g-ftods  which  ho  had 
sent  in  exchange  for  the  desired  supplies,  and  dismipsed 
the  boats  without  nny  thing  in  return.  A  message  was 
afterwards  sent  to  Don  Stephen,  imi>ortin£C,  (hat  if  he 
would  make  peace  witli  the  king  of  Adel,  who  was  now 
master  of  all  Ethiopia,  his  p;oodsshonhl  be  restored,  and 
liis  fiecl  plentifully  supplied  with  water  and  provisions 
of  every  kind.  Don  Stephen,  aware  of  the  perfidy  of 
this  proposal,  accepted  it  with  seeming  pleasure;  pro- 
mised to  come  ashore  r  wu  as  the  festival,  which  the 
Mahometans  were  then  debraling,  should  be  ended  ; 
sent  more  goods,  and  obtained  as  niiich  jirovisions  as 
he  required.  No  sooner  were  they  on  hoard,  than  he 
strictly  prohibited  all  intercourse  with  the  shore,  and, 
selecting  COO  of  his  best  men,  attacked  the  town  of  Ar- 
keeko,  massacred  all  the  people  he  met  with,  and  sent 
the  head  of  the  governor  to  the  Abyssinian  court. 

A  new  monarch  had  ascended  the  throne  of  that  king- 
dom. During  the  wars  w  hich  David  carried  on  wifh 
the  Moors,  a  Mahometan  chief,  named  Vizir  Mugdid, 
had  attacked  the  rock  of  Geshen,  the  state  prison  of  the' 
royal  family, and, ascending  it  without  opposition,  put  all 
the  princes  to  the  sword.  The  heart  of  this  heroic  mo- 
narch could  not  stand  this  disaster,  and  he  died  in  the 
same  year,  (1.140.)  His  son  Claudius,  who  succeeded 
faim,  though  then  only  18  years  of  age,  possessed  all  the 
great  qualities  necessary  in  the  dreadful  exigencies  of 
his  kingdom;  and,  before  the  arrival  of  the  Portuguese, 
had  already  made  considerable  progress  against  his  ene- 
mies. He  frustrated  a  league  which  they  had  formed 
against  him  in  the  beginning  of  his  reign ;  obliged  them 
to  desist  from  pillage;  defeated  them  in  a  general  en- 
gagement; and,  having  intelligence  of  a  design  formed 
against  his  life  by  one  of  his  own  governors,  decoyed 
I  he  traitor  into  an  ainbnsh,  and  slew  the  greater  part  of 
his  army. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  affairs  when  Don  Stephen 
de  Gama  came  to  the  assistance  of  the  Abyssinians. 
The  number  of  men  w  hom  the  king  of  Portugal  had  al- 
lotted to  this  service,  amounted  to  450;  but  the  officers 
were  men  of  the  first  rank,  by  whose  retinue  the  army 
W.1S  considerably  increased.  A  general  aniour  for  this 
enterprise  prevailed  in  the  fleet;  and  the  bay  where 
they  were  moored  has  received,  from  the  murmurs  of 
those  who  were  detained  on  board,  the  name  of  Bahia 
dos  Agra vadosv— the  Kay  of  the  Injured. 

This  small  but  gallant  army  set  out  without  delay 
under  the  command  of  Don  Christopher  de  Gam'a, 
youngest  brother  of  the  ad'i'iral.  They  were  met  on 
their  march  by  tlie  queen,  attended  by  her  two  sisters, 
and  many  others  of  both  sexes;  and,  after  a  mutual  ex- 
change of  civilities,  the  queen  returned,  escorted  by  100 
musketeers,  wiiom  ll.e  penern.l  had  appointed  as  lier 
guard.  After  mar::!iing  eight  days  through  a  verv  ru.-- 
ged  country,  Don  Christopher  received  from  Gra'-ne  a 
very  insulting  defiance,  which  he  returned  in  a  similar 
lone.  A  battle  was  fought,  in  which  the  Moor,  though 
greatly  superior  in  horse,  got  such  a  convincing  siieci- 
inen  of  Portuguese  val6ur,  that  he  did  not  choose,  on 
that  occasion,  to  venture  a  second  engagement. 

The  Portuguese,  ouinsr  fo  the  advanced  sIMe  of  the 
season,  had  now  retire.!  into  winter  quarter.;  while 
Oragne.havingreceivr.l  powerful  reinforcements  to  his 
army,  wished  to  bring  them  to  action  before  they  should 
he  j.jined  by  the  king.  Hurried  aivay  by  his  natural 
mpetuosily,  Don  CJiristopher  resolved,  in  opposition  to 
the  remonstrances  of  his  most  skilful  officers,  to  Tenlure 
V  -^L.  I.  Pari-  I. 


an  engagement,  though  at  prodigious  disadvantage. 
The  superiority  of  the  Portuguese,  however,  was  still  so 
gre;;t,  that  Ihey  seemed  likely  to  obtain  the  victorv,  till 
their  general,  rashly  exposing  himself,  w  as  wounded  in 
the  arm  by  a  musket  I)all.  Confusion  and  defeat  ensued; 
and  the  barbarians,  obtaining  possession  of  (he  camp, 
began  to  violate  the  wo.men,  who  had  all  retired  into  the 
general's  tent.  On  this,  an  Abyssinian  ludy,  who  had 
married  one  of  the  Portuguese,  set  fire  to  some  barrels 
of  gunpowder  which  stood  in  the  tent,  and  thus  perish- 
ed with  the  ravishers. 

Don  Christopher,  disdaining  to  fly,  was  forced  into  a 
htier,  and  carried  olT  the  field.  At  the  approach  of 
night,  he  entered  a  cave  to  have  his  w  ound  dressed,  but 
obstinately  refused  to  proceed  further.  Betrayed  by  a 
woman  whom  he  loved,  he  was  seized  next  day  by  a 
party  of  the  enemy,  and  carried  in  triumph  to  Gragne, 
who,  after  many  mutual  insults,  struck  off  his  head, 
which  was  sent  to  Constantinople,  while  his  body  was 
cut  to  pieces,  and  dispersed  through  Abyssinia. 

The  cruelty  of  this  barbarian  proved  more  detrimental 
to  his  cause,  than  if  he  had  been  completely  defeated. 
The  Portuguese,  exasperated  by  the  loss  of  their  gene- 
ral, were  ready  to  undergo  any  danger  to  revenge  his 
death ;  while  the  Turks,  irritated  by  an  action  which  de- 
prived them  of  Don  Christopher's  ransom,  abandoned 
their  leader,  and  returned  to  their  own  country.  Gragne, 
thus  deserted,  was  easily  defeated  by  Claudius;  anil  in 
a  subsequent  battle,  fought  on  the  10th  of  February, 
1543,  his  army  was  routed,  and  he  himself  slain  by  a 
Portuguese,  named  Peter  I,yon,  who  had  been  Don 
Christopher's  valet  de  chambre.  Gragn6's  wife  and  son, 
with  Nur,  the  son  of  Mugdid,  who  destroyed  the  royal 
lamily,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Claudius  ;  and  happy  had 
it  been  for  (hat  monarch  if  he  had  immediately  ordered 
them  to  execution. 

Relieved  from  all  fear  of  external  enemies,  the  atten- 
tion of  Claudius  was  now  occupied  by  affairs  of  relit'iou. 
r>ermudes,    a   turbulent  bigot,  insisted    that    the  kin" 
should  embrace  (he  doctrines  of  the  Roman  church,  and 
establish  that  religion  throuchout  his  dominions.     Clau- 
dius rejected  with  indignation  such  an  insolent  request, 
and  a  violent  altercation  ensued  between  the  Abuna  and' 
the  sovereign.     Matters  would  have  iiroceeded  to  the 
worst  extremities,   had  not  Claudius  been   prevented 
from  revenging  the  insults  of  the  patriarch,  by  a  wish  to 
conciliate  the  Portuguese,  from  whose  continuance  in 
(he  country  he  expected  the  greatest  advantages.  Arius 
Dias,  their  commander,  had    been  persuaded,    by  the 
king's  influence,  to  renounce   (he  Roman  ca(holic  reli- 
gion, and  be  baptized  into  that  of  Abyssinia  by  the  name 
of  Marcus,  or  Marco  ;  in  consequence  of  which,  he  was 
regarded  as  a  naturalized  subject,  and  honoured  with 
the    most  distinguished  marks  of  royal  favour.      The 
quarrel   with   Berniudes  becoming  every  day  more  vio- 
lent, the  king  deprived  him  of  al!   authority  over  the 
Portuguese;  to  whom  he  intimated,  that,  as  "he  had  ap- 
pointed Marco  his  captain-generel,  he  expected   they 
would  obey  him  aloue  during  their  residence  in  Abyssi- 
nia.    Indignant  at  this  declaration,  which,  in  fact,  sub- 
jected them  to  the  power  ^vl)ich  they  had  com.e  to  pro- 
tect, the   Portuguese  resolved  to  die  sword  in  hand, 
rather  than  submit  to  such  degrading  terms.     Claudius, 
having  in  vain  attempted  to  force  f'hcm  to  compliance, 
had  next  recourse  to  artifice ;  declared  liis  regret  for 
the  violent  measures  he  had  used,  and  his  readiness  to 
make  any  compensation  for  the  wrongs  which  thev  mioht 
H  '      ° 


58 


ABYSSINIA. 


have  suffered.  In  the  mean  time,  by  ordering  his  sub- 
jects to  suiifily  them  with  no  provisions,  and  bribing 
them  with  great  sums  of  gold,  lie  found  means  to 
weaken  them  effectually,  by  disjiersing  their  leaders  into 
different  parts  of  the  kingdom.  The  result  of  this  quarrel 
was,  that,  without  any  absolute  enmity  between  the  king 
and  the  Portuguese,  Bermudes  was  persuaded  to  with- 
draw to  India;  to  which  place  he  at  length  effected  his 
escape,  after  skulking  for  two  years,  forlorn  and  despis- 
ed, in  a  kingdom  where  he  had  aspired  to  equal  power 
with  the  sovereign. 

Claudius  had  scarcely  got  rid  of  this  turbulent  ec- 
clesiastic, when  a  new  de|)utation  of  priests  arrived  in 
his  dominions.  The  Pope,  anxious  to  establish  his 
power  in  Abyssinia,  had  invested  Nugnez  Barctto,  of 
the  new  order  of  Jesuits,  with  the  dignity  of  patriarch 
of  that  country,  and  sent  him  to  attempt  the  conversion 
of  Claudius  and  his  subjects. 

Baretto,  on  arriving  at  Goa,  was  informed,  that  the 
Abyssinian  monarch   was  so  hostile  (o  the  church  of 
Rome,  that  there   was  no  probability  of  his  being  fa- 
vourably received.     The   patriarch,    therefore,  rather 
(liau  expose  his  own  sacred  dignity  to  the  danger  of  in- 
suU,  thought  proper  to  commission  some  inferior  cler- 
gymen  as   ambassadors    to    the    king.       Accordingly, 
Oviedo,  bishop  of  Hierapolis,  Carneyro,  bishop  of  Nice, 
with  several  other  dignitaries,  arrived  on  this  errand  at 
iVIasuah,  in  the  year  1 533,  and  met  with  a  more  favoura- 
ble reception  than  they  had  reason  to  expect.     But  the 
thoughts   of  Claudius  were  then  occupied  about   the 
more  important  concern  ofappointing  a  successor  to  his 
throne.     He  had  no  son,  and  his  younger  brother  had 
been  taken  by  the  Moors,  during  his  father's  reign,  and 
imprisoned  on  a  high  mountain  in  Adel.     His  ransom 
ai)peared  difficult,  and  would  perhaps  have  been  found 
impossible,  had  not  a  son  of  the  famous  Gragnc  been  at 
the  same  time  a  prisoner  in   Abyssinia;  by  releasing 
whom,  and  paying  besides  four  thousand  ounces  of  gold, 
Claudius  at  length  procured  the  restoration  of  his  brother. 
Niir,  the  son  of  Mugdid,   had  become  passionately 
enamoured  of  the  widow  of  Gragne  ;  but  she  refused  to 
give  him  her  hand,  till  he  should  present  her  with  the 
head  of  Claudius,  the  murderer  of  her  former  husband. 
The  lover  willingly  undertook  the  task,  and  challenged 
the  Abyssinian  monarch  while  marching  towards  Adel. 
Claudius  was  not  of  a  disposiliou  to  decline  the  combat, 
though  it  had  been  prophesied  that  he  should  die  in  this 
campaign.     His  soldiers,  more  alarmed  b.v  the  jiredic- 
tion,  abandoned  their  monarch  in  the  commencement  of 
the  battle;  while,  attended  by  only  18  Portuguese  and 
20  horsemen  of  Abyssinia,  he  fought  with   the  most 
heroic  bravery,  till  at  last  he  fell,  comi>lclcly   covered 
with  wounds.  His  head  was  cutoff,  and  brought  by  Nur 
to  his  mistress,   who  hung  it  up  on  a  tree  before  her 
door,  where  it  remained  for  three  years. 

After  this  fatal  engagement,  which  took  place  on  (he 
22d  of  ftlarch,  1559,  Menas  ascended  the  throne  without 
opposition.  During  the  greater  part  of  his  reign  he  wag 
engaged  in  war  with  his  own  sulijects,  who  were  in- 
stigated to  rebellion  by  the  popish  missionaries.  The 
'  insolence  of  these  ecclesiastics  at  last  provoked  the  king 
to  banish  them  to  a  barren  and  solitary  mountain,  inclu- 
ding in  their  sentence  all  the  rest  of  the  Europeans ; 
un  insult  which  they  resented  so  highly,  that  they  im- 
mediately went  over  to  the  rebels.  Their  united  forces 
were  defeatetl  by  Menas,  but  the  victory  was  by  no 
means  so  decisive  as  to  put  an  end  to  the  rebellion. 


After  a  turbulent  reign  of  four  years,  IVIenas  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  son,  Sertza  Denghel,  a  boy  of  1 2  years  of 
age.  Tliis  prince  was  engaged  in  almost  perpetual 
conflicts  with  the  Galla,  the  Falasha,  and  the  Moors,  in 
which  he  was  generally  victorious.  During  his  reign 
the  Roman  Catholics  were  unmolested,  though  such  a 
strong  prejudice  had  been  excited  against  them  in  the 
minds  both  of  the  king  and  his  subjects,  that  they 
never  ventured  to  appear  at  court,  nor  were  permitted 
to  serve  in  the  army.  His  la?  'tpedition  was  against 
some  rebels  who  had  begun'  excite  commotions  in 
the  province  of  Damot.  A  i>riest,  revered  for  his  sanc- 
tity and  skill  in  divination,  had  warned  him,  in  vain, 
not  to  proceed  in  this  enterprise ;  and,  when  he  found 
the  warlike  monarch  obstinate  in  his  purpose,  he  only 
requested  him  not  to  eat  of  the  fish  of  a  certain  river : 
this  advice  also  was  despised ;  and  Sertza  Denghel 
died  in  consequence  of  eating  these  fish,  which  were  of 
a  poisonous  quality. 

A   violent  dispute  now  arose  about  the  succession  to 
the  throne,     in  the  first  stage  of  his  sickness,    the   late 
king    had  nominated  his  son  Jacob  as  his  successor, 
though  then  a  boy  of  only  seven  years  of  age  ;  but  as 
he  felt  his  dissolution  approaching,  he  gave  the   prefer- 
ence to  his  nephew  Za  Denghel,  who  had  reached  the 
years  of  manhootl,  and  had  already  ilisplayed  the  ac- 
tivity and  talents  necessary  for  governing  a  turbulent 
people.     This  appointment  gave  great  offence  to  the 
queen, and  to  miiny  of  the  principal  nobility,  who  hadex- 
pected  to  engross,  during  the  minority  of  Jacob,  all  the 
power  and   prerogatives  of  the   crown.      Regardless, 
therefore,  of  Sertza  Denghel's  will,  the  queen,  in  con- 
junction with  Kesla  Wahad  and   Ras   Athanasius,  her 
sons-in-law,   immediately  proclaimed  the  infant  Jacob 
king,  and  confined  Za  Denghel  to  an  island  in  the  lake 
Tzana.     An  attempt  was  made  at  the  same  time  to 
seize  the  person  of  Socinios,  the  natural  son  of  Facilidas, 
who   might  likewise  have    pretended    a    right    to  the 
throne;  but  alaj^med  by  the  fate  of  Za  Denghel,  Socinios 
had  withdrawn  from  the  power  of  his  enemies;  and  Za 
Denghel  himself  soon  found  means  to  escape,  and  took 
refuge  among   the   inaccessible   mountains   of  Gojana. 
Jacob  continueil  till  the  age  of  seventeen  a  passive  tool 
in  the  hands  of  his  tutors;  but  finding  that  they  still 
wished  to  prolong  their  dominion  over  him,  he  took  thc' 
government  into  his  own  hands,  and  banished  one  of  (heir 
number  to  the  kingdom  of  Narea.     By  this  bold  exer- 
cise of  poiver,  he  so  alarmed  and  exasperated  his  tutors, 
that  they  imiiifdiately  entered  into  a  conspiracy  to  de- 
pose him,  and  to  raise  his  rival,  Za  Denghel,  to  (he 
throne.     So  effectually  had  (he  latter  concealed  his  re- 
treat, that  he  was  not  discovered  withoutnuich  difficulty. 
Jacob,  fimling  that  his  fall  was  determined,  fled  from 
his  palace  with  precipitation;  but,  being  overtaken  on 
the  borders  of  Samen,  he  was  brought  back  to  (lie  new 
sovereign,  who,  with  a  clemency  unusual  in  Abyssinia, 
contented  himself  with  banishing  him  for  life  lo  Narea. 
No  sooner  was  Za  Denghel  established  on   the  throne, 
than  he  gave  great  offence  to  his  Subjects  by  his  avowed 
attachment  to  the  church  of  Rome. 

The  catholic  missionaries  were  now  all  dead,  and 
their  religion  was  languishing  for  want  of  support,  when 
Peter  Paez,  a  man  of  prudence  aud  talents,  was  sent 
on  this  mission,  and  arrived  in  Abyssinia  in  the  year 
1000.  Instead  of  intruding  himself  immedi^itely  into 
the  royal  presence,  Paez  quietly  took  u|>  his  residence 
at  (h«  convent  of  Fremona,  wisely  judging,  that  the 


ABYSSINIA. 


59 


uiost  certain  nieiliod  of  succeeding  iii  ilie  grand  object 
of  liis  mission,  was  to  reconinieud  himself,  by  his  utility 
and  conciliating  deportment,  to  tlie  people  whom  he  had 
come  to  convert.  With  this  view,  he  applied  assichious- 
ly  to  the  study  of  the  Geez,  or  learned  language  of 
the  Abyssinians;  and,  having  soon  attained  such  |iro- 
liciency  as  to  surpass  the  mitives  themselves,  he  opened 
a  school,  to  Avhich  Portuguese  and  Abyssinians  were 
admitted  promiscuously.  'Die  rapid  [irogress  of  his 
scholars  acquired  him  general  applause ;  and,  four 
years  after  his  arrival,  he  Avas  sent  for  by  the  king,  who 
honoured  him  with  the  most  di::tinguished  attention  and 
regard.  Two  of  his  pupils,  whom  he  had  brought  along 
with  him,  vanquished,  in  a  religious  dispute,  the  ablest 
theologians  of  the  kingdom ;  and  Paez  himself,  after 
celebrating  mass,  pronounced  a  sermon  in  the  Gcez 
language,  admired  for  its  eloquence  and  the  purity  of 
its  diction.  So  powerful  was  the  elTect  which  it  pro- 
duced on  iSa  Denghel,  alreadj'  partial  to  the  church  of 
Rome,  thiit  he  immediately  embraced  (he  catholic  re- 
ligion, issued  proclamations  lorbidding  the  observance 
of  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  and  wrote  letters  to  pope  Cle- 
ment VIII.  and  Philip  IH.  of  Spain,  requesting  them 
to  send  mechanics  to  instruct  his  ]ieople  in  the  arts,  and 
Jesuits  to  teach  them  divinity. 

The  Abyssinians,  ever  prone  to  revolt,  and  less  easily 
I'onverted  than  their  sovereign,  were  instantly  in  arms. 
A  traitor,  named  Za  Selasse,  under  pretence  of  religious 
zeal,  prevailed  on  the  Abuna  to  excommunicate  Za 
Deughel,  and  absolve  his  subjects  from  their  allegiance. 
He  then  proceeded  to  Oojam,  a  province  remarkable 
for  its  aversion  to  the  ciitholics,  where  multitudes  of 
rebels  flocked  rouiKl  his  standartl,  eager  to  vindicate 
the  established  religion  of  their  country,  against  the  in- 
novations of  forpigntrs,  and  the  prejudices  of  their  king. 
Za  Denghe),  on  his  part,  was  equally  zealous ;  and, 
being  naturally  fond  of  w;ir,  hjistened  to  meet  the  rebels 
with  wliat  forces  he  could  raise.  His  troops,  who 
thought  themselves  under  no  obligation  of  fidelity  to  an 
excommunicated  monarch,  deserted  him  in  great  num- 
bers on  his  march  ;  and  even  those  who  followed  him  to 
the  field,  left  him  in  the  heat  of  battle,  surrounded  by 
his  enemies,  by  whom,  after  performing  ])rodigies  of 
valour,  he  was  overpowered  and  slain.  However  un- 
po|)ular  his  attachment  to  the  church  of  Rome  may 
have  rendered  this  prince  while  alive,  the  report  of  his 
death,  and  particularly  of  the  heroism  which  he  displayed 
in  the  fatal  engagement,  excited  against  the  rebels  such 
a  general  indignation,  that  they  did  not  venture  to  name 
any  successor  to  the  vacant  throne. 

Socinios,  called  also  Susnns,  and  Melee  Segued,  was 
already  in  possession  of  the  empire;  and  advancing 
rapidly  with  a  mighty  army,  compelled  the  Ras  Athana- 
sius  to  acknowledge  him  as  sovereign,  and  join  him 
with  the  forces  under  his  command.  When  he  made 
a  sinilar  proi'Osal  to  Za  Selasse,  that  traitor  first  amu- 
sed him  with  an  equivocal  ansv,-er,  and  then  marched 
against  him  with  his  whole  army ;  while  Socinios,  hap- 
pening to  fall  sick,  and  being  unable  to  confide  in  Atha- 
nasius,  withdrew  to  the  mountains  of  Amhara.  Za 
Selasse  opposed  Socinios,  in  the  expectation  that  Jacob 
would  revive  his  pretensions  to  the  crown,  under  whom 
he  hoped  to  enjoy  all  the  privileges  of  sovereignty-.  A 
messenger  at  Icnglh  arrived  from  Jacob-'s  camp,  iidbrni- 
ing  Selasse  that  he  was  then  in  Dembea,  and  promising 
him  the  highest  honours  if  he  would  acknowledge  and 
mpport  liis  claim.     The  traitor  readily  complied ;  but 


happening  soon  after  to  be  defeated  by  Socinios,  with 
the  loss  of  the  greater  part  of  his  army,  he  was  coldly 
received  by  Jacob,  and  immediately  revolted  to  his 
rival.  Jacob,  who  was  now  joined  by  Athanasius,  pos- 
sestcd  an  army  said  to  have  amounted  to  thirty  times 
the  number  of  that  of  Socinios ;  but,  being  drawn  by 
that  experienced  general  into  a  disadvantHgeous  situa- 
tion, his  army  was  defeated  with  great  slaughter,  and  he 
himself  perished  in  the  field. 

Socinios,  thus  established  on  the  throne,  showed  him- 
self as  much  inclined  as  his  predecessor  to  favour  the 
Portuguese.  By  intermarriages  with  the  natives,  and 
by  training  their  sons  to  war,  they  had  now  increased 
to  a  numerous  army,  formidable  for  their  valour,  and 
their  superior  military  skill.  It  was  therefore  the  in- 
terest of  the  sovereign  to  attach  them  as  much  as  pos- 
sible to  his  cause ;  and,  as  Socinios  well  understood 
that  this  could  only  be  efiected  by  honouring  their 
priests  and  favouring  their  religion,  he  invited  Peter 
Paez  to  court ;  heard  him  dispute  on  the  supremacy  of 
the  Pope,  and  the  double  nature  of  Christ,  and  deliver 
a  sermon  so  eloquent  and  impressive,  that  he  immedi- 
ately jirofi'ssed  his  belief  in  the  doctrines  which  the 
I)atriarch  had  so  ably  illustrated  ;  enlarged  the  territory 
of  'he  Jesuits  at  Fremona ;  and  delivered  to  Paez  two 
letters,  one  addressed  to  the  Pope,  acknowledging  his 
suprem.icy,  the  other  to  the  king  of  Portugal,  request- 
ing a  new  supply  of  troops  to  deliver  Abyssinia  from  the 
incursions  of  the  Galla. 

Soon  after  these  transactions,  the  king's  attention  was 
called  from  matters  of  religion,  to  a  rebellion  which  had 
already  made  considerable  progress.  As  the  body  of 
Jacob,  who  fell  in  the  late  engagement,  had  never  beeu 
found,  an  impostor,  assuming  his  name,  appeared  among 
the  mountains  of  Habab,  pretending  to  have  been  so 
dreadfully  wounded  in  the  face,  that  he  kept  one  side  of 
it  constantly  covered  to  conceal  its  deformity.  His 
story  obtained  general  credit,  and  multitudes  flocked  to 
his  standard;  but,  whether  from  his  incapacity  to  sui-'- 
port  the  imposture,  or  his  deficiency  in  tlie  qualifica- 
tions of  a  general,  they  were  dispersed  on  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  the  royal  army ;  the  posts  which  he  had 
taken  were  successively  stormed,  till,  driven  from  plaee 
to  place,  he  at  last  effected  his  retreat  into  his  native 
mountains.  But  the  spirit  of  rebellion,  instead  of  being 
quelled  by  the  vigorous  activity  of  the  royalists,  seemed 
to  have  diffused  itself  throughout  the  whole  province  of 
Tigre;  so  that  Sela  Christos,  the  governor,  who  had  al- 
ready dispersed  the  impostor's  army,  found  it  necessary 
to  acquaint  his  brother  Socinios  with  the  state  of  affairs, 
and  to  request  his  assistance.  Most  of  the  troojis  had 
been  sent  on  an  expedition  against  the  Shangalla  and 
Gongas;  yet  the  king  set  out  immediately  for  Tigrc 
with  the  scanty  force  which  he  could  muster  on  this 
emergency.  Hearing,  as  he  advanced,  that  a  parly  of 
Galla  had  posted  themselves  on  a  neighbouring  hill,  he 
determined  to  surround  them,  and  thus  cut  off  their  re- 
treat; but  his  cavalry,  whom  he  had  sent  to  reconnoitre 
their  situation,  were  attacked  in  passing  a  deep  ravine, 
and  almost  entirely  destroyed;  while  the  rest  of  the  ar- 
my were  seized  with  such  terror,  that  they  refused  to 
proceed.  The  Galla,  eager  to  improve  their  advantage, 
rushed  for\vard  to  attack  them.  Socinios,  advancing 
alone,  slew  the  first  that  opposed  him,  and  his  troops, 
athamed  of  their  cowardice,  and  animated  by  their 
monarch's  example,  fell  furiously  on  the  enemy,  and 
obtained  a  decisive  victory.  The  counterfeit  Jacob, 
U  2 


GO 


ABYSSINIA. 


ronfiiriiip  again  to  take  the  fielil,  was  defeated  by  So- 
I'iuios  »itli  a  much  inferior  force;  and  the  Galla,  who 
had  committed  dreadful  exctsses  in  the  soulhern  i»ro- 
vinces,  were  aunounded  by  llie  king's  anny,  and  com- 
pletely cut  to  pieces.  The  im|iostor  was  soon  after 
assassinated,  and  found  to  be  no  other  than  a  her<lsinan 
fioni  the  mountains,  to  which  lie  had  always  fled  for  re- 
fui'e,  w  ho  hati  covered  his  face,  in  reality  disfigured  by 
no  scar,  to  conceal  his  want  of  resemblance  to  the  prince, 
IV hose  character  he  had  assumed. 

Scarcely  was  this  rebellion  suppressed,  when  an- 
other of  a  more  alarming  nature  was  excited  by  one 
31elchisedec,  who  had  been  a  servant  of  Sertza  Deng- 
hcl,  and  possessed  considerable  knowledge  of  military 
siffaii's.  Sanuda,  a  brave  officer,  who  had  been  sent  to 
oppose  him,  lost  the  whole  of  his  army  in  a  single  en- 
gagement ;  while  he  himself  escaped  with  difficulty,  af- 
ter receiving  many  wounds.  Socinios,  after  this  dis- 
aster, sent  his  brother  Emana  Chrislos  with  a  considera- 
ble array,  to  re<luce  this  formidable  traitor.  The  well- 
known  valour  and  abilities  of  Emana  Christos  could  not 
remove  the  teiTor  which  the  rebel  forces  had  diflused 
throughout  the  countrj-.  To  sanction  his  cause,  Mel- 
chisedec  had  got  into  his  possession  a  prince  of  the 
blood  royal,  named  Arzo,  whom  he  pi'oclainfied  king; 
after  which  he  boldly  advanced  to  meet  the  roj'al  arnij'. 
The  combat  was  obstinate  and  bloody;  victory  seemed 
even  to  declare  for  the  rebels ;  till  Melchisedec,  seeing 
Emana  Christos  pushing  furiously  to  the  place  where 
he  stood,  fled  with  the  utmost  precipitation.  But  his  cow- 
ardice availed  him  nothing ;  for  he  was  soon  overtaken 
by  the  peasants,  and  executed,  with  many  of  his  prin- 
cipal officers,  in  the  manner  due  to  their  crimes. 

The  spirit  of  rebellion  now  pervaded  the  kingdom  ; 
the  fl.imes  of  war  were  kindled  in  everj'  quarter;  and 
atrocities  perpetrated  on  l.oth  sides,  the  recital  of  which 
would  be  alike  unprofitable  and  disgusting.  The  l<on- 
gas,  the  Agows,  the  Galla,  and  the  Jews,  who  support- 
ed the  pretensions  ol'  another  impostor,  were  succes- 
fively  confjuered.  Extirpation  was  the  principle  on 
which  hostilities  were  conducted ;  a  ];rinciple  which  the 
king,  inflamed  with  religious  zeal,  exerted  in  its  utmost 
W!veri(y  against  the  Jews.  Few  of  that  unhappy  people 
escaped  from  the  general  massacre ;  their  children  were 
sold  into  captivity ;  and  thofe  w  ho  were  allowed  to  sur- 
vive, were  scattered  throughout  the  empire,  coni|ielled 
to  renounce  their  religion  for  Christianity,  and,  in  token 
of  their  sincerity,  to  labour  publicly  on  the  day  which 
Ihey  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  with  scnipulous 
veneration. 

During  these  commotions,  Paez  continued  to  labour 
with  unremitting  assiduity  for  the  conversion  of  the 
Abyssinians  to  the  catholic  faith.  No  man  could  have 
been  better  qualified  for  such  an  undertaking.  With 
extensive  learning,  he  possessed  likewise  eminent  skill 
in  the  mechanical  arts;  and  such  an  intimate  acquain- 
tance with  human  nature,  as  enabled  him  to  convert 
these  attainments  to  the  best  advantage.  He  instruct- 
ed the  Abyssinians  in  the  art  of  building ;  and,  with 
incredible  lalwur,  erected  chnrches  and  palaces,  which 
could  not  fail  to  be  viewed  with  delight  and  astonish- 
njcnt  by  these  rude  barbarians.  While  his  genius  was 
thus  revered,  his  amiable  manners  conciliated  affection ; 
presenting  a  contrast,  too  striking  to  be  overlooked,  to 
the  ignorance  and  bnitality  of  his  antagonists.  His  suc- 
cess was  such  as  he  was  entitled  to  expect.  Sela  Chris- 
los, the  king's  brother,  became  a  zealous  catholic ;  the 


principal  people  in  the  kingdom  followed  his  example; 
and  when  Simon,  the  Abyssinian  patriarch,  was  adniit- 
te«l.  at  his  own  request,  to  discuss  with  Paez  the  doc- 
trines of  their  respective  churches,  in  the  presence  of 
the  king,  the  inferiority  of  the  Abuna  was  so  apparent, 
that  Socinios  thought  himself  warranted  to  make  apulr- 
lic  avowal  of  his  belief  in  the  catholic  doctrines,  for 
which  he  had  already  shown  a  strong  predilection. 

AVhile  the  labours  of  I'aez  were  thus  successful,  let- 
ters arrived  from  the  jiope  and  king  of  Spain,  exhorting 
Socinios  to  continue  firm  to  the  Roman  church,  and  en- 
couraging him  with  the  assurance,  not  of  any  temporal 
support,  but  of  the  far  superior  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
A  reinforcement  of  soldiers  would  have  been  as  accepta- 
ble ;  yet  the  king,  thinking  perhaps  he  had  advanced  too 
far  to  recede,  resolved  to  submit  in  form  to  his  Holi- 
ness, and  immediately-  ap|)ointed  ambassadors  to  convey 
this  important  intelligence  to  Europe.  To  this  embassy 
Antonio  Fernandez  w'as chosen  by  lot;  and  taking Fecur 
Egzie  as  his  companion,  he  set  out  in  the  beginning  ol 
March,  1013.  As  the  provinces  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Masuah  were  then  in  a  state  of  rebellion,  the  ambassa- 
dors were  obliged  to  pass  through  Narea  and  the 
southern  provinces  to  IMelinda,  whence  they  might  sail 
for  Goa.  Their  route  lay  in  the  country  of  inhospitable 
savages,  whose  natural  jealousy  of  the  connexion  be- 
tween the  Abyssinians  and  Europeans  was  increased  by 
the  insinuations  of  an  Abyssinian  schismatic,  named 
Manquer,  W'ho  had  followed  them  for  the  jiurpose  of  re- 
tarding and  persecuting  them  on  their  journej'.  After 
surmounting  various  obstacles,  which  his  malice  threw 
in  their  way,  they  were  imprisoned  in  the  kingdom  of 
Alaba,  whose  sovereign  being  a  Moor,  was  persuaded 
by  Manquer,  that  they  intended  to  overturn  the  Maho- 
metan religion.  The  barbarian  threatened  them  with 
death  ;  but,  after  holding  a  council,  in  which  Manquer 
gave  his  voice  for  their  execution,  he  resolved  to  send 
them  back  to  Abyssinia.  Thus  ended  an  embassy  which, 
had  it  been  allowed  tfl  proceed  to  Europe,  would  have 
conveyed  to  the  po))e  the  voluntarj'  submission  of  an 
Abyssinian  monarch,  and  contributed  more  than  anj' 
other  cause  to  the  final  establishment  of  popery  in  that 
kingdom. 

His  subjects  did  not  view  with  indifference  the  apos- 
tacy  of  Socinios  from  the  established  religion.  A  danger- 
ous conspiracy  was  formed  against  his  life  by  Emana 
Christos,  his  own  brother;  Julius,  his  son-in-law ;  and 
Kefla  Wahud,  master  of  the  household.  1'hey  had 
agreed  to  assassinate  him  in  the  palace ;  but  the  king, 
being  informed  of  their  design  just  before  their  arrival, 
had  the  address  to  prevent  it.  Sentence  of  excommuni- 
cation was  prononnce<i  against  him  by  the  Abuna ;  but, 
on  the  menaces  of  Socinios,  it  Avas  immediately  recall- 
ed. The  vengeance  of  the  conspirators  was  next  direct- 
ed against  Sela  Chrislos,  who  had  been  invested  with 
the  government  of  Gojam,  of  which  his  brother  Emana 
Christos  had  been  deprived,  for  his  adherence  to  the 
Alexandrian  church.  Julius,  governor  of  Tigre,  first  ap- 
peared in  amis,  and  hastened  into  Gojam,  in  hopes  to 
surprise  Sela  Christos.  But  the  whole  scheme  was 
frustrated  by  the  vigilance  of  the  king,  w  ho  advanced 
into  that  province  before  the  rebels  were  informed  of 
his  intention,  and  proceeded  without  delay  io  meet  the 
army  of  Julius.  Here  he  posted  himself  so  judiciously, 
that' his  enemy  could  not  force  him  to  an  engagement 
without  evident  disadvantage.  But  the  temerity  of  Ju- 
lius brooght  tlw  affwr  to  a  speedy  termination;   for, 


ABYSSINIA. 


6i 


nishing  with  a  few  atteiiilanls  into  the  royal  camp,  he 
advanced  directly  to  the  king's  tent,  where,  being  re- 
cognised by  tlie  guards,  lie  and  his  followers  were  in- 
stantly despatched.  Alter  the  death  of  their  leader, 
the  rebel  army  fled  in  all  directions,  and  were  pursued 
by  the  royalists  with  prodigious  slaughter.  Emana 
Christos  had  taicen  refuge  on  a  high  mountain  in  G<>jam, 
where  he  was  invested  by  Af  Christos,  an  experienced 
general ;  and,  as  the  mountain  was  destitute  of  water,  his 
soldiers,  to  save  themselves  fiotn  perishing  with  thirst, 
betrayed  him  into  the  hands  of  his  enemy,  while  he  was 
preparing  to  make  a  vigorous  defence.  He  was  capi- 
tally convicted  in  a  full  assembly  of  judges ;  but  the 
king  remitted  the  sentence,  and  confined  him  in  Ain- 
hara. 

After  suppressing  two  other  rebellions,  Socinios, 
irritated  by  the  opposition  he  had  met  with,  determined 
to  show,  in  the  most  public  manner,  his  attachment  to 
the  church  of  Rome.  He  therefore  issued  a  proclama- 
tion, renouncing  the  Alexandrian  creed,  and  inveighing 
against  the  profligacy  of  the  Abyssinian  clergy.  This 
proclamation  is  said  to  have  been  suggested  by  Peter 
Pae/,,  who  died  immediately  after  leaving  the  palace. 
The  first  effect  it  i)roduced  was  another  rebellion  in 
Amhara,  which  was  quickly  sup|)ressed  by  the  activity 
of  Sela  Christos. 

Though  the  embassy  to  the  pope  and  king  of  Spain 
had  been  constrained  to  return,  frequent  accounts  had 
been  transmitted  to  Europe  of  the  revolution  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  religious  affairs  of  Abyssinia.  A  new 
set  of  missionaries,  therefore,  were  sent  to  this  country, 
under  the  direction  of  the  patriarch  Alphonzo  Mendez, 
and  arrived  at  Gorgora,  where  the  king  then  resided,  in 
the  beginning  of  the  year  162(5.  At  the  first  audience, 
Socinios  acknowledged  the  pope's  supremacy  ;  and  soon 
after  took  the  oath  of  submission  in  a  manner  peculiarly 
solemn.  A  sermon,  enforcing  the  pope's  sujiremacy, 
was  preached  by  the  patriarch  in  the  Portuguese  lan- 
guage, which  is  said  to  have  powerfully  confirmed  the 
faith  of  Socinios,  and  his  brother  Sela  Christos,  though 
they  understood  not  a  word  of  the  language  in  which  it 
was  delivered.  This  discourse  was  answered  in  the 
Amharic  language,  equally  unintelligible  to  the  mis- 
sionaries, and  the  patriarch  made  a  short  reply  in  Por- 
tuguese. At  the  conclusion  of  this  edifying  discussion, 
the  oath  was  taken  by  the  emperor  on  his  knees,  and  by 
all  the  princes  au-d  nobles  in  succession.  Sela  Christos, 
after  performing  this  ceremony,  drew  his  sword,  and  de- 
nounced vengeance  on  those  who  should  fall  from  their 
duty;  adding  at  the  same  time  an  oath  of  allegiance  to 
the  king,  and  to  Facilidas,  the  prince  royal ;  but  decla- 
ring, that  if  the  latter  should  ever  fail  to  promote  and 
defend  the  catholic  faith,  he  should  be  his  most  irrecon- 
tileable  enemy. 

The  violent  character  of  Mendez,  which  was  exactly 
the  reverse  of  that  of  the  excellent  Paez,  excited  a  gen- 
eralaud  deadly  hatred  agaiustthe  Roman  catholics.  At 
his  instigation,  an  edict  was  issued  by  the  king,  enjoin- 
ing all  the  priests  to  embrace  the  catholic  religion  un- 
der pain  of  death ;  and  the  people,  under  the  same  pen- 
alty, to  observe  Lent  and  Easter,  and  all  the  moveable 
feasts,  according  to  the  regulations  of  the  church  of 
Rome.  The  Abyssinian  clergy  were  re-ordaiued ;  the 
churches  were  consecrated  anew ;  even  adults  under- 
went a  second  time  the  ceremony  of  baptism ;  circum- 
cision, polygamy,  and  divorce,  which  had  been  allowed 
by  the  Alexandiian  church,  and  always  practised  in 


Abyssinia,  were  now  ah=.olutely  prohibited.  Nay,  lo 
such  excesses  did  the  frantic  zeal  of  this  ecclesiastic 
proceed,  that  he  ordered  the  body  of  an  Abyssinian  saint 
lo  be  ignominiously  thrown  out  of  the  grave,  because  it 
had  been  buried  under  the  altar  of  a  church,  which  he 
supposed  to  be  tliereby  defiled.  In  consequence  of 
these  outrageous  proceedings,  the  whole  empire  was  in 
a  flame  of  rebellion ;  w  hile  its  external  enemies,  taking 
advantage  of  the  general  confusion,  invaded  and  ravaged 
it  with  impunity.  At  last  the  king's  army,  weary  of  de- 
stroying their  countrymen  for  a  quarrel  which  they  did 
not  understand,  demanded  the  restoration  of  the  ancient 
religion ;  and  Socinios  himself,  wishing  to  give  repose  to 
his  exhausted  country,  first  passed  an  act  of  general  to- 
leration, and  then  formally  re-established  the  Alexan- 
drian faith,  liturgy,  and  altars  for  communion.  Having 
thus  endeavoured  to  expiate,  or  at  least  to  heal  the  cala- 
mities which  his  fanaticism  had  brought  on  his  sub- 
jects, and  being  now  worn  out  with  age  and  infirniily,  he 
resigned  his  crown  to  Facilidas  his  son,  and  passed  the 
remainder  of  his  days  in  tranquillity  and  retirement. 

Facilidas  had  no  sooner  ascended  the  throne,  than  he 
showed  an  inveterate  enmity  against  the  catholics,  and  a 
decided  resolution  to  exterminate  them  from  his  domi- 
nions. Mendez,  and  all  his  brethren,  were  ordered  fir.--t 
lo  retire  to  Fremona,  and  afterwards  to  quit  the  country. 
The  refractor}'  patriarch,  instead  of  obeying  this  com- 
mand, ap|ilied  lo  the  Baharnagash,  then  in  rebellion. 
Avho  carried  them  from  Fremona  by  uiglit,  under  a  strong 
guard,  and  lodged  them  safe  in  the  fortress  of  Adicoita. 
The  Baharnagash  conveyed  them  from  place  to  place, 
through  hot  unwholesome  situations,  exhausting  at  once 
their  patience  and  their  strength.  On  receiving  a  pre- 
sent of  gold,  he  allowed  them  to  return  to  Adicotta;  but 
Facilidas,  having  discovered  their  retreat,  endeavoured 
to  prevail  with  the  Baharnagash  to  deliver  them  into 
his  hands.  Delicacy  would  not  allow  him  to  violate  the 
rights  of  hospitalitj-,  by  delivering  his  guests  to  their 
enemy ;  but  he  easily  consented,  on  receiving  a  proper 
compensation,  to  sell  them  as  slaves  to  the  Turks.  Two 
alone  remained,  in  hopes  of  obtaining  the  crown  of  mar- 
tyrdom; an  honour  which  Facilidas  conferred  upon  them 
as  soon  as  he  got  them  into  his  power.  Nor  was  he  con- 
tent with  the  extirpation  of  the  missionaries,  but  resolv- 
ed to  put  to  death  every  person  of  consequence  who  re- 
fused to  renounce  the  Roman  catholic  religion.  His  un- 
cle, Sela  Christos,  was  among  the  first  of  his  victims,  re- 
solutely adhering  to  his  principles,  in  spite  of  all  the 
threats  and  promises  of  the  king.  Yet  these  persecu- 
tions did  not  deter  the  Europeans  from  sending  another 
mission  into  Abyssinia.  The  miscarriages  of  the  Je- 
suits were  ascribed,  not  without  justice,  to  their  own  in- 
solence and  obstinacy;  and  it  was  hoped,  that  mission- 
aries, of  a  more  prudent  and  conciliating  character, 
might  yet  succeed  in  the  great  object  of  subjugating 
this  country  to  the  tyranny  of  the  Roman  Pontiff.  Six 
ca]iuchins,  of  the  order  of  St.  Francis,  set  out  on  this 
mission  with  protections  from  the  Grand  Signior.  Oi" 
these,  two  were  murdered  by  the  Galla,  while  attempt- 
ing to  enter  Abyssinia  by  the  way  of  Magadoxa ;  two, 
who  reached  the  country  in  safety,  were  there  stoned  to 
dc-ath  ;  and  the  remaining  two,  hearing  at  Masuah  of  the 
unhappy  fate  of  their  companions,  did  not  venture  to  pro- 
ceed. Not  long  after,  three  other  missionaries  made  a 
similar  attempt ;  but,  at  the  command  of  Facilidas,  were 
niurdered  by  the  bashaw  of  Masuah. 

Notwithstanding  the  restoration  of  the  ancient  reli- 


m 


ABYSSINIA. 


gion,  llie  spirit  of  rebellion  was  not  yet  subdued.  Mel- 
cba  Christo?,  whom,  during  the  last  reign,  the  Agows 
had  endeavoured  to  exalt  to  the  throne,  still  continued 
in  ig-ms;  hedefeatedan  army,  which  Pacilidas  command- 
ed in  person ;  and,  pursuing  his  good  fortune,  seized 
the  royal  palace,  and  was  formally  crowned.  But  he 
«lid  not  long  continue  to  enjoy  his  elevation ;  Pacilidas 
quickly  recruited  his  army,  which  surrounded  and  at- 
taclied  the  rebels,  before  they  were  awiire  of  their  ap- 
proach, defeated  them  with  great  slaughter,  and  slew 
their  leader  himself.  Another  rebellion  now  broke  out 
in  Lasta,  where  the  son  of  Melcha  Cbristos  was  set  up 
as  king,  and  the  rebels  seemed  determined  not  to  yield 
while  there  was  a  possibility  of  resistance.  After  vari- 
ous success,  their  general  submitted  unconditionally  to 
tlie  king,  who  bestowed  on  him  large  possessions  in  Be- 
gcmder,  with  his  daughter  Theoclea  in  marriage. 

Pacilidas  died  in  October,  1665,  and  was  succeeded 
by  his  son  Hannes,  who,  though  an  enthusiastic  Chris- 
tian, was  as  hostile  to  the  Roman  catholics  as  his  pre- 
decessor had  been.  After  a  reign  of  five  years,  spent 
chiefly  in  regulating  church  affairs,  and  contending  with 
the  clergy,  he  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Yasous,  with  the 
approbation  and  joy  of  the  ^vhole  kingdom. 

The  fii-st  transaction  of  this  monarch's  reign  exhibits 
Ids  character  in  a  very  amiable  light.  Pacilidas,  after 
suppressing  a  rebellion,  headed  by  his  brother  Claudius, 
had  banished  the  princes  to  the  mountain  of  Wechne, 
where  they  continued  from  that  time  to  be  imprisoned. 
Here  Ihey  were  visited  by  Yasous,  who  found  them  in  a 
condition  of  extreme  wretchedness.  His  father,  a  man 
of  a  sordid  disposition,  had  withheld  the  greater  part 
of  their  revenue,  and  the  little  which  he  did  allow  them 
was  embezzled  by  their  keepers ;  so  that  these  unhappy 
princes,  without  the  |)ower  of  complaining,  or  of  procur- 
ing redress,  were  left  almost  entirely  destitute  of  the 
means  of  subsistence.  Yasous  found  them  in  tatters,  and 
many  of  them  almost  naked ;  and,  deeply  affected  by  the 
sight,  distributed  among  them  a  large  sum  of  money 
for  present  relief,  clothed  them  in  a  manner  suitable  to 
their  rank,  and  made  such  arrangements,  with  regard  to 
their  revenue,  thatit  could  not  in  future  be  embezzled  or 
misapplied.  He  then  conducted  the  prisoners  to  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  leaving  them  at  liberty  either  to 
return  to  their  residence  on  its  summit,  or  to  remove  to 
any  part  of  the  kingdom.  By  this  extraordinary  gene- 
rosity, he  so  completely  gained  their  affections,  that  they 
unanimously  returned  to  their  former  confinement,  nor 
did  one  of  them  ever  attempt  to  disturb  the  tranquillity 
of  his  reign. 

Though  possessed  ofevery  great  and  amiable  quality, 
Yasous  was  not  secure  from  the  turbulence  of  faction, 
and  the  machinations  of  treason.  Rebellions  were  fre- 
quent in  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  but  were  quickly 
suppressed  by  his  activity  and  valour.  Such  iruleed 
were  his  talents  as  a  general,  an<l  his  personal  prowess, 
that  one  of  his  campaigns  is  esteemed  the  most  brilliant 
that  is  recorded  in  the  annals  of  Abyssinia.  In  this 
reign,  the  correspondence  between  Europe  and  Abyssinia 
was  renewed,  and  attempts  were  made  to  revive  the  in- 
terests of  the  Roman  church,  by  introducing  new  mis- 
sionaries into  the  kingdom.  Some  Italian  Prancisca  ■  s, 
who  had  settled  at  Cairo,  were  supplanted  by  a  set  of 
capuchins  from  Jerusalem ;  and  on  their  return  to  Rome, 
rejiorted,  that  a  numler  of  catholics  had  fled  from  the 
persecutions  in  Abyssinia,  into  the  neighbouring  coun- 
tries of  Nubia  and  Sennaar,  where  thcv  ^vcre  so  much 


oppressed  by  the  Mahometans,  that,  unless  immedi- 
ately relieved,  they  would  be  compelled  to  renounce  the 
religion  of  Jesus  for  that  of  the  Arabian  prophet.  The 
cause  of  these  injured  Christians  was  eagerly  espoused 
in  It::ly,  and  a  mission  instituted  for  their  relief,  at  the 
expense  of  the  pope,  which  still  continues  under  the 
name  of  the  Ethiopic  mission.  These  missionaries  were 
directed  to  penetrate,  if  possible,  into  Abyssinia ;  and 
to  maintain  the  catholic  faith  as  far  as  circumstances 
would  permit,  till  a  more  favourable  opportunity  should 
occur  of  converting  the  whole  kingdom.  About  the 
same  time,  Louis  XIV.  of  France  concerted  an  embassy 
to  the  king  of  Abyssinia ;  and,  on  his  applying  to  the 
pope  for  his  consent,  his  holiness  ap])ointed  six  Jesuitst 
as  missionaries  to  that  court,  with  the  superior  of  the 
Franciscans  to  be  his  legate,  a  latere,  furnishing  him 
with  suitable  presents  for  the  king  and  his  nobility. 

The  entrance  of  these  missionaries  into  Abyssinia 
was  facilitated  by  a  dangerous  scorbutic  disorder,  with 
which  Yasous  and  his  son  were  then  afflicted,  and  for 
which  they  wished  to  have  the  advice  of  an  European 
physician.  Maillet,  the  French  consul  at  Cairo,  wish- 
ing to  disappoint  the  Franciscans,  prevailed  with  Hagi 
Ali,  to  whom  Yasous  had  applied,  to  send  a  Jesuit  called 
Charles  Poncet,  as  physician,  with  father  Brevedent  as 
his  servant.  Brevedent  died  soon  after  his  arrival  in 
Gondar ;  but  Poncet  lived  to  effect  the  cure  of  his  royal 
patient,  and  notwithstanding  the  machinations  of  the 
Franciscans,  returned  in  safety  to  Europe.  An  ambas- 
sador to  the  court  of  Prance  was  appointed  by  Yasous ; 
but  the  violence  of  Maillet  prevented  hiin  from  proceed- 
ing. By  the  influence  of  the  Jesuits,  another  embassy 
to  Abyssinia  was  concerted  by  Louis ;  and  M.  de  Roule, 
vice-consul  at  Damietta,  was  appointed  ambassador. 
But  this  mission  was  very  improperly  conducted ;  it  was 
resisted  by  the  merchants  at  Cairo,  impeded  by  the 
Franciscans,  and  terminated  in  the  murder  of  De  Roule 
in  the  kingdom  of  Sennaar. 

Immediately  before  this  event,  Yasous  had  been  as- 
sassinated by  his  son  Tecla  Haimanout,  who  was  in- 
stigated to  this  parricide  by  the  jealousy  of  the  queen. 
Tecla  Haimanout  himself  shared  the  same  fate  in  the 
year  1706,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  uncle  Tiffdis  or 
Theophilus,  whose  first  care  was  to  discoverand  execute 
the  murderers  of  his  predecessor.  Tigi,  one  of  these 
assassins,  raised  an  army  of  Galla,  which  committed 
great  ravages,  but  was  soon  defeated  by  Theophilus, 
with  a  force  greatly  inferior.  Soon  after  this  victory, 
Thaophilus  was  seized  with  a  fever,  of  which  he  died 
in  Se|itember,1709.  After  his  death,  the  line  of  Solomon 
%va8  a  second  time  set  aside,  and  a  stranger,  named  Ous- 
tas,  was  raised  to  the  throne.  But,  though  his  character 
rendered  him  in  every  respect  worthy  of  the  kingdom, 
the  people  were  so  much  attached  to  the  ancient  Mce  of 
monarehs,  that  he  was  soon  deposed,  and  David,  son  of 
Yasous,  was  crowned  at  Gondar  on  the  30th  of  Januarv, 
1714. 

David,  though  a  rigid  Alexandrian,  was  so  provoked 
by  the  dissensions  of  the  Abyssinian  clergy,  that  he  senta 
body  of  Pagan  Galla  to  a  church  where  they  were  as- 
semfded,  wlio  massacred  them  without  distinction.  This 
wanton  act  of  cruelly  rendered  the  king  so  odious,  that 
he  was  carried  off  by  poison  in  1717.  David  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  brother  BaculfH,  who  endeavoured  to  se- 
cure himself,  by  destroying  all  the  nobility  who  had  any 
share  in  former  conspiracies.  He  <lied  in  1 725),  and  was 
succeeded  by  his  son  Yasous  H. 


ABYSSINIA. 


& 


Yasous  showed  an  inclination  lo  promote  the  arts  of 
l)eace,  renounced  the  diversion  of  hunting,  and  the  ex- 
peditions against  the  Bhangalla,  which  were  usually  con- 
ducted with  great  barbarity.     I5ut  being  reproached  for 
his  inactivity,  in  a  satire,  entitled,  "  The  Expedition  of 
Yasous  the  Little,"  he  invaded  the  kingdom  of  Sennaar, 
without  the  least  provocation,  and  allowed  his  soldiers  to 
exercise  the  most  dreadful  cruelties.     He  had  not  long 
returned  from  this   ruinous  expedition,  when  he   was 
obliged  again  to  take   (he  field  against  Suhul  Michael, 
governor  of  Tigre.     The  rebel,  unable  to  cope  with  his 
sovereign  in  open  war,  fled  to  a  high  mountain  for  re- 
fuge ;  but  all  his  posts  being  taken  by  storm,  excepting 
one,  which  must  likewise  have  been  carried  by  the  royal 
army,  he   requested  a  capitulation ;  consigned  into  the 
hands  of  Yasous  a  great  quantity  of  treasure;   and  de- 
scended with  a  stone  upon  his  head,  (indicating,  that  he 
had  been  guilty  of  a  capital  crime,)  to  submit  to  the 
clemency  of  the  king.     A  promise  was  reluctantly  ex- 
torted from  Yasous  to  spare  his  life;  but,  as  soon  as  the 
rebel  appeared  in  his  |)resence,  his  indignation  return- 
ed, ami,  retracting  his  promise,  he  ordered  him  to  be 
carried  out  and  executed  at  his  tent  door.     At  the  in- 
tercession of  all  his  officers,  the  king  again  pardoned 
him ;  but  with  these  remarkable  words,  that  he  washed 
his  hands  of  all  the  blood  which  should  be  shed  by  Mi- 
chael, before  he  effected  the  destruction  of  his  country, 
which  he  had  long  been  meditating.    Michael,  after  con- 
tinuing sometime  in  prison,  was  restored  to  his  govern- 
ment of  Tigre ;  and,  by  his  dutiful  behavioiu-,  so  gained 
upon  the  king,  that  he  was  made  governor  of  Endcrta 
and  Sire,  as  well  as  of  Tigre,  thus  becoming  master  of 
one  half  of  Abyssinia.     But  this  increase  of  power  did 
not  tempt  him  to  any  new  rebellion  during  the  reign  of 
Yasous,  who  died  in  June,  1753,  in  the  twenty-fourth 
year  of  his  reign. 

Yasous  had  espoused  a  princess  of  the  Galla,  whose 
son  Joas  now  succeeded  to  the  throne.  Influenced  by 
his  mother,  the  young  king  showed  an  almost  exclusive 
preference  to  the  Galla,  who,  of  all  people,  were  most 
detested  by  the  Abyssinians,  both  on  account  of  their 
barbarity,  and  of  the  wars  which  had  always  subsisted 
between  the  two  nations.  On  the  accession  of  Joas,  1200 
Galla  horse  were  sent  as  the  portion  of  his  mother;  and 
these  were  followed  by  a  number  of  ])rivate  persons,  at- 
tracted by  curiosity,  or  the  hope  of  preferment,  who  were 
embodied  into  a  troop  of  infantry,  under  the  command 
of  Woosheka.  Their  favourable  reception  induced 
many  others  to  appear.  Two  of  the  king's  uncles  were 
sent  for,  who  brought  along  with  them  a  troop  of  one 
thousand  horse.  These  Gallas  assumed  a  sovereign 
authority  over  the  prince,  while  his  native  subjects  were 
to  the  last  degree  incensed,  at  seeing  their  inveterate 
enemies  thus  reigning  in  the  heart  of  their  kingdom. 
So  violent  was  their  resentment,  when  Joas  named  his 
uncle  Lubo  to  the  government  of  Amhara,  that,  to  avoid 
a  civil  war,  he  was  obliged  to  retract  the  appointment. 
The  whole  empire  was  now  divided  into  two  factions ; 
the  one  headed  toy  the  old  queen,  mother  of  Yasous,  the 
other  by  Joas  himself  and  his  Galla  relations.  Welled 
de  I'Gul,  the  prime  minister,  had  hitherto  restrained,  by 
his  prudent  conduct,  the  fury  of  the  opposite  parties; 
but,  after  his  death,  a  scene  of  violence  and  confusion 
ensued,  which  continued  for  many  years. 

The  imprudence  of  the  king  first  brought  matters  to 
&  crisis.  Ayo,  an  old  and  respectable  officer,  bad  late- 
ly resigned  the  government  of   Begemder  into   the 


hands  of  the  queen.     His  son,  Marlam  Berea,  esteem- 
ed the  most  accomplished  nobleman  in  the  kingdom, 
had  married  Ozoro  Esther,  daughter  of  the  old  queen 
by  her  second  husband ;  and   it  was  of  course  expect- 
ed, that   he  should  succeed  his  father  in  the  govern- 
ment.    A  quarrel  had  unfortunately  happened  between 
Ayo  and   Suhul  Michael,  ^^hich  continued  undecided 
till  Ayo  resigned.     Rejecting  the  decision  of  judges, 
whom  he  thought  partial  and  unjust,  Marlam  insisted 
that  the  king  should  either  determine  the  affair  in  per- 
son, or  that  it  should  be  referred  to  the  sword;  and  his 
firnmess  was  branded  by  his  enemies  as  disobedience 
and  rebellion.     On  this  account,  Joas  deprived  him,  by 
proclamation,  of  the  government  of  Begemder,  bestow- 
ing it  on  his  uncle  Bruhle.   This  appointment  was  heard 
with  general  terror  and  indignation.     As  Begemder  is 
a  frontier  province,  bordering  on  the  Galla,  it  was  obvi- 
ous, that  on  the  accession  of  Bruhle,  it  would  be  over- 
run by  that  people,  savage  beyond  all  other  barbarians. 
Mariam  himself  was  particularly  indignant  at  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  was  deprived  of  his  dignity,  and  sub- 
jected to  a  race  of  pagans,  whom  he  had  often  compel- 
led in  battle  to  acknowledge  his  superiority.     He  sent  a 
remonstrance  to  the  king,  reminding  him,  that  he  had 
sworn,  as  governor  of  Begemder,  to  allow  none  of  the 
Galla  to  enter  his  |>rovince;  warning   him  of  the  dan- 
ger to  which  the  princes  in  Wechne  would  be  exposed 
from  the  vicinity  of  these  barbarians ;  and  entreating, 
that,  if  he  was  determined  to  deprive  him  of  the  govern- 
ment, he  would  at  least  bestow  it  on  an  Abyssinian  noble- 
man, in  which  case  he  would  retire  and  live  in  |.>rivate 
with  his  father.     At  the  same  time,  he  declared,  that  if 
the  king  himself  should  invade  his  province  at  the  head 
of  an  army  of  Galla,  he  would  retire  to  its  furthest  ex- 
tremity, leaving  every  kind  of  provision  for  his  majes- 
ty's troops.   But  if  an  armj-,  conducted  by  a  Galla  com- 
mander, should  march  towards  Begemder,  he  would  en- 
counter them  on  the  frontiers,  before  one  of  them  should 
drink  of  the  well  of  Fernay,  or  advance  the  length  of  a 
pike  into  the  province.     To  this  spirited  remonstrance, 
Joas  returned  a  scofling  answer,  announcing  the  speedy 
arrival  of  Bruhle ;  at  the  same  time  he  created  Michael 
governor  of  Samen,  that,  in  case  there  should  be  occa- 
sion for  him,  he  might  meet  with  no  obstruction  in  his 
march  to  Gondar.     Mariam,    provoked    by  the   king's 
message,    replied  with  equal  di?dain  ;  alluding  ironical- 
ly to  the  name  of  Bruhle,  which,  in  the  Abyssinian  lan- 
guage,   signifies  a  bottle,    and   telling   him,    that   this 
Bruhle,  if  sent  into  that  coimtry,  should  be  broken  on  the 
rocks  of  Begemder. 

The  royal  army  was  instantly  put  in  motion,  but  the 
Abyssinians  refused  to  draw  a  sword  against  their  coun- 
trymen ;  the  Galla,  unable  to  support  the  shock  of  Ma- 
riam's  army,  were  defeated  at  the  well  of  Fernay  ;  and 
though  Mariam  had  given  express  orders  that  Bruhle 
should,  if  ]X)ssible,  be  taken  alive,  one  of  his  servants 
pierced  him  twice  with  a  lance,  and  stretched  him  dead 
on  the  field.  On  hearing  of  this  disaster,  Joas  instantly 
despatched  an  express  for  Michael,  and  invested  him  with 
the  dignity  of  Ras,  attended  with  unlimited  power,  both 
military  and  civil.  Michael,  who  was  prepared  for  this 
event,  set  out  for  the  capital  with  an  army  of  20,000  cho- 
sen men,  1000  of  whom  were  armed  with  nniskets.  These 
troops,  w  ho  were  allowed  to  take  along  with  them  neither 
tents  nor  provisions,  desolated  the  count.y  through 
which  they  passed;  so  that  (he  inhabitants  fled  before 
them,  as  from  the  most  inveterate  enemies.     When  he 


64 


ABYSSINIA. 


nrrived  at  Gondar,  IMichael,  aa  if  lie  meant  (o  invest  it, 
took  possession  of  all  the  avenues;  but,  instead  of  com- 
mitting any  act  of  liostility,  lie  waited  on  the  king  with 
the  utmost  respect,  and,  jtroceeding  from  the  palace  to  his 
own  house,  he  there  sat  in  judgment,  as  the  nature  of 
his  office  required.  In  the  administration  ofjustice  he 
WHS  so  rigorous  and  impartial,  that  in  a  short  time  the 
most  valuable  articles  were  left  in  the  streets  of  Gondar 
night  and  day,  without  being  stolen,  and  the  people,  who 
were  at  first  alarmed  by  his  severity,  noiv  onlj'  regretted 
that  he  had  not  come  sooner  to  relieve  them  from  the 
confusion  and  anarchy  which  had  so  long  prevailed. 

Having  thus  secured  the  tranquillity  of  the  capital, 
he  set  out  on  his  expedition  to  Begemder.  But  being 
unwillingto  incur  the  odium  which  would  attend  the  des- 
truction of  the  excellent  Mariam,he  insisted  that  the  king 
liimself  should  march  from  Gondar.attended  by  hiswhole 
army,  and  took  every  occasion  of  extolling  Mariam's  vir- 
tues, and  censuring  the  king  for  attempting  to  destroy 
such  a  meritorious  subject.  Mariam,  as  he  had  pro- 
mised in  his  last  remonstrance,  retired  to  the  extremity  of 
the  province,  while  Joas  and  Michael  hurried  on  with  im- 
petuosity, spreading  terror  and  desolation  wherever  they 
appeared.  An  engagement  took  place  on  the  extreme 
borders  of  Begemder,  in  which  the  royal  army,  amount- 
ing to  twice  the  number  of  Mariam's,  soon  obtained  the 
victo^J^  The  unfortunate  nobleman,  with  twelve  of  his 
officers,  took  refuge  among  the  Galla,  by  whom  they  were 
immediately  betrayed.  The  throat  of  JIariam  was  cut  by 
Lubo,  the  brother  of  Bruhle,  and  his  body  disfigured  in  a 
shocking  manner.  His  head  was  carried  to  Michael's  tent, 
who  would  not  allow  it  to  be  uncovered  in  his  presence ; 
and  when  Lubo  demanded  tlie  twelve  officers,  who  had 
sought  protection  from  the  Ras,  to  be  delivered  up  for  ex- 
ecution, Michael  was  so  enraged,  that  he  ordered  Woo- 
sheka,  Lubo's  messenger,  to  be  cut  in  pieces  at  his  tent- 
door  ;  an  order  which  would  certainly  have  been  execu- 
ted, bad  he  not  fled  with  the  utmost  precipitation. 

Michael  had  always  been  offended  at  the  ascendency 
which  the  Galla  had  gained  over  the  king ;  and  hisjealousy 
was  now  still  further  roused  by  the  favour  which  Joas  dis- 
played towards  anotherolScer,  WaragiiaFasil,aGallaby 
birth,  who  haddistinguished  himself  at  the  battle  iu  which 
Alariam  was  slain.  Not  far  from  the  field  of  battle,  Mari- 
am Barea  had  a  house,  where  his  widow  Ozoro  Esther  at 
that  time  resided.  Here  I'asil,  invited  by  the  pleasantness 
of  the  situation,  encamped  with  his  cavalry.  Ozoro  Esther 
was  alanned.   At  the  advice  of  Ay  to  Aylo,a  nobleman  in 
whom  she  placed  great  confidence,  she  repaired  to  Mi- 
chael's tent,  and  threw  herself  at  his  feet ;  while  Aylo  in- 
formed the  Ras,  that  she  intended  to  give  him  her  hand, 
as  he  was  the  only  person  free  from  the  guilt  of  the  mur- 
der of  her  former  husband,  who  could  now  afford  her  jiro- 
lection.     Michael,  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  such  an 
advantageous  match,  caused  his  army  to  be  drawn  out  in 
bat  lie-array;  and,  sending  for  a  priest,  was  married  to  the 
princess  in  sightof  alltbesoldiers.  The  air  rung  with  their 
acclamations,  and  Joas,  being  informed  of  the  reason,  ex- 
pressed his  displeasure  in  such  unc(|uivocal  terms,  that, 
from  that  moment,  Michael  and  he  regarded  each  other 
with  mutual  hatred.  A  tiining  accident  soon  made  their 
hatred  public.  Michael,  to  screen  himself  from  the  heat 
of  the  sun,  happened  one  day  to  throw  a  white  handker- 
chief over  his  head.  The  king,  who  was  then  marching 
at  the  liead  of  his  army,  regarded  this  as  an  insult  offered 
to  himself;  and,  though  the  hanilkercliief  was  instantly 
wUhdmwn,  would  accept  of  no  atonement  for  such  a  hei- 


nous transgression.  Some  time  after  liiis,  Fasil  being  In- 
volved in  a  quarrel  with  a  man  of  great  consequence,  the 
Ras,  as  civil  judge,  summoned  both  parties  to  appear  be- 
fore his  tribunal.  Fasil  rejected  his  jurisdiction;  and 
the  affair  was  submitted  to  the  other  civil  judges,  who 
decided  in  favour  of  Michael,  and  declared  Fasil  in  re- 
bellion. This  decision  was  followed  by  a  proclamation, 
depriving  him  of  his  government  of  Damot,  and  of  every 
other  public  office  with  which  he  was  invested.  The 
Galla  chief,  instead  of  submitting  to  this  disgrace,  en- 
camped on  the  high  road  betwixt  Damot  and  Gondar, 
intercepting  all  the  provisions  coming  to  the  capital 
from  the  south.  A  shot  was  next  fired  at  the  Ras  from 
the  windows  of  the  palace,  while  he  sat  in  judgment  in 
his  own  house.  The  intention  of  this  shot  could  not  be 
mistaken.  Joas  instantly  removed  to  a  distance,  but 
sent  Woosheka  lo  desire  Michael  to  return  to  Tigre 
without  seeing  his  face;  informing  him  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  had  committed  to  his  uncle  Lubo  the  go- 
vernment of  Begemder  and  Amhara.  Next  day,  four 
judges  were  sent  to  Michael  by  the  king,  commanding 
bini,  on  pain  of  his  severest  displeasure,  to  depart  for 
Tigre  with  all  ex])edition.  The  Ras  returned  a  formal 
answer,  expressing  his  hope  that  the  king  himself  would 
immediately  march  against  Fasil.  When  this  was  re- 
fused, Michael  issued  a  proclamation,  commanding  all 
the  Galla  to  leave  the  capital  next  day  on  pain  of  death. 
Fasil  was  soon  after  defeated  in  an  engagement,  and 
obliged  to  retire  into  Damot.  In  this  engagement  some 
of  the  king's  black  horse  were  taken,  and,  on  being 
questioned  by  Michael,  confessed  that  they  had  been 
sent  by  his  majesty  to  the  assistance  of  his  enemy.  Mi- 
chael immediately  sent  assassins  to  take  away  the  life  of 
his  sovereign, — in  which  they  soon  succeeded,  and  bu- 
ried him  in  the  church  of  St.  Raphael. 

Michael  now  placed  on  the  throne  Hannes,  brother  to 
the  late  king  Bacuffa,  an  ohl  man,  who  had  spent  all  his 
days  on  the  mountain  of  Wechne,  and  was  of  course 
totally  unacquainted  with  political  affairs.  Hannes  had 
been  maimed  by  the  loss  of  one  hand,  to  prevent  him 
from  aspiring  to  the  throne  ;  for,  by  the  law  of  Abyssinia, 
the  king  must  be  free  from  every  personal  defect.  jMi- 
chael  laughed  at  this  objection ;  hut,  on  finding  him  to- 
tally averse  to  business,  he  carried  him  off  by  poison, 
and  made  his  son,  Tecla  Haimanont,  his  successor  on 
the  throne.  He  now  marched  against  Fasil  without  de- 
lay, and  defeated  him  after  an  obstinate  engagement- 
Woosheka  was  taken  prisoner,  and  at  the  desire,  (as  has 
been  alleged,)  of  Ozoro  Esther,  that  unhappy  man  was 
flayed  alive,  and  his  skin  ivas  formed  into  a  bottle.  On 
the  night  when  the  horriil  operation  was  performed,  the 
princess  ajipeared  in  the  royal  tent,  decked  like  h  bride, 
and  afterwards  returned  in  triumph  lo  Gondar. 

Soon  after  this,  Mr.  Bruce  entered  Al)y.-sinia.  Dur- 
ing the  whole  of  his  residence  in  that  country,  war  and 
bloodshed  prevailed.  Tecla  }lainianout  still  maintained 
his  ground.  An  usurper,  named  Soeinios,  was  reduced 
to  the  (iegrading  state  of  a  menial  in  the  king's  kitchen. 
Fasil  could  not  be  subdued  by  the  skill  or  activitj  of 
Michael,  whom  fortune  seemed  now  to  have  forsaken  ; 
an  attempt  was  even  made  to  assassinate  hiiii,  and  on' one 
occasion  he  was  m:ule  prisoner  by  the  rebel.-;. 

Such  is  an  imperfect  sketch  of  the  history  of  Abys- 
sinia, a  country  sunk  in  the  lowest  state  of  barbarity, 
and  afflicted — even  with  lut  the  hope  of  improvement— 
with  all  the  calamities  which  result  from  an  ill  co.nstitu- 
ted  government.    Yet  Abyssinia,  in  extent,  in  situation, 


ABY 


ACA 


65 


ami  natural  advantages,  is  the  most  Important  country 
in  Africa ;  and  from  this  kingdom,  more  conveniently 
than  from  any  other  quarter,  might  the  blessings  of  civil- 
iKation  he  diffused  through  that  unfortunate  continent. 
May  not  the  Ijenevolent  heart  now  anticipate,  with  con- 
fidence, the  auspicious,  and  perhaps  not  far  distant  era, 
when  the  enlightened  exertions  of  the  African  Institu- 
tion shall  reclaim  from  their  native  indolence  and  fero- 
city, the  savage  inhabitants  of  this  wide  portion  of  the 
globe,  and,  by  promoting  among  them  the  blessings  of 
industry,  knowledge,  and  religion,  and  teaching  them  to 
estimate  and  improve  their  local  advantages,  shall  atone, 
in  some  degree,  for  the  long  train  of  miseries  which 
they  have  hitherto  suiifered  from  European  oppression  ? 

ABYSSINIAN  Church  is  the  name  given  to  the 
church  established  in  the  empire  of  Abyssinia. 

The  Abyssinians  are  said  to  be  a  branch  of  the  Copts 
or  Jacobites;  though  the  name  of  Copt  properly  applies 
to  those  Christians  only  who  dwell  in  Egyi)t,  Nubia, 
and  the  adjacent  countries.  They  are  called  also  Mono- 
fhysitcs,  or  Etitychians,  because  they  admit  only  one 
nature  in  Jesus  Christ,  rejecting  the  council  of  Chalce- 
don.  Christianity  was  introduced  into  Abyssinia  by  Pru- 
mentius,  early  in  the  fourth  century ;  and,  according  to 
Mosheim,  the  doctrines  of  the  Monophysites  found  their 
way  into  this  country  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
century,  or  perhaps  sooner. 

At  the  head  of  the  Abyssinian  church  is  a  bishop,  or 
Metropolitan,  styled  Abuna,  who  is  appointed  by  the 
patriarch  of  Alexandria  residing  at  Cairo;  and,  by  a  law 
of  Abyssinia,  must  always  be  a  foreigner.  As  the  Abuna 
is  generally  ignorant  of  the  language  and  manners  of  the 
country,  he  is  not  allowed  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of 
government.  Next  to  the  Abuna  in  dignity  is  the  Komos, 
or  Hegumenos,  a  kind  of  arch-presbyter;  but  the  Deb- 
taras,  a  set  of  chanters  who  conduct  the  sacred  music, 
and  assist  at  all  the  public  offices  of  the  church,  stand 
higher  than  the  Komos  in  general  estimation.  The  dea- 
cons form  the  lowest  order  of  the  priesthood.  All  these 
orders  are  allowed  to  marry;  but  the  monks,  who  are 
very  numerous,  vow  aloud,  before  their  superior,  to  pre- 
serve chastity;  adding,  however,  in  a  whisper,  asymi pre- 
serve it.  These  monks  are  divided  into  two  classes; 
those  of  Debra  Libanos,  and  those  of  St.  Eustathius. 
They  have  no  convents,  but  live  in  separate  houses  round 
their  church.  The  superior  of  the  monks  of  Debra 
Libanos  is  the  Itchegue ;  who,  at  least  in  troublesome 
times,  is  of  much  greater  consequence  than  the  Abuna. 

The  religion  of  Abyssinia  consists  merely  of  a  mot- 
ley collection  of  traditions,  tenets,  and  ceremonies,  de- 
rived from  the  Jewish  and  Christian  churches.  In  their 
form  of  worship,  Judaism  seems  to  predominate.  The 
rites  of  Moses  are  strictly  observed;  both  sexes  un- 
dergo circumcision;  meats  prohibited  by  the  Jewish 
law  are  abstained  from ;  brothers  marry  the  wives  of 
their  deceased  brothers ;  women  are  obliged  to  observe 
the  legal  purifications ;  Saturday  and  Sunday  are  held 
sacred  as  Sabbaths ;  and  j>ersons  under  Jewish  disquali- 
fications are  prohibited  from  entering  the  church.  They 
have  festivals  and  saints  innumerable.  One  day  is  con- 
secrated to  Balaam's  ass ;  another  to  Pontius  Pilate  and 
his  wife  :  to  Pilate,  because  he  washed  his  hands  before 
pronouncing  sentence  on  Christ;  to  his  lady,  because 
she  warned  him  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  blood 
of  that  just  person.  The  Epiphany  is  celebrated  with 
peculiar  festivity,  in  commemoration  of  our  Saviour's 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


baptism.  On  this  occasion  they  plunge  and  sport  in 
rivers ;  which  has  given  rise  to  the  erroneous  opinion, 
that  they  are  every  year  baptized  anew.  They  have 
four  seasons  of  Lent ;  the  great  Lent  commences  ten 
days  earlier  than  in  Europe,  and  is  so  rigidly  observed, 
that  many  abstain  at  that  time  even  from  fish ;  because 
St.  Paul  says,  there  is  one  kindof  Desli  of  men,  and  an- 
other of  fishes.  In  legends  and  miracles  they  at  least 
equal  the  church  of  Rome ;  and  so  confounded  the  Je- 
suits by  the  numerous  and  apparently  authenticated  ac- 
counts of  llie  wonders  performed  by  their  saints,  that 
these  missionaries  were  obliged  to  deny  that  miracles 
were  sufficient  to  prove  the  truth  of  a  religion.  Images 
embossed,  or  in  relievo,  they  abhor,  as  favouring  idola- 
try ;  nevertheless,  their  churches  are  hung  round  with 
pictures,  to  which  they  pay  the  highest  veneration.  They 
argue  that  the  soul  is  uncreated,  because  God  finished 
all  his  works  on  the  sixth  day.  About  the  intermediate 
state  of  souls  they  are  not  entirely  agreed;  the  most 
prevailing  ojiinion,  however,  is,  that  immediately  on 
their  separation  from  the  body,  the  souls  of  good  men 
enter  into  bliss.  Their  canon  of  scripture  is  the  same 
as  ours ;  but  they  regard  the  Song  of  Solomon  as  merely 
a  love  poem,  composed  in  honour  of  Pharaoh's  daughter, 
without  any  mystical  allusion  to  Christ  and  the  church. 

Upon  the  whole,  it  may  be  said,  that  the  religion  of 
the  Abyssinians  is  a  monstrous  heap  of  superstitions, 
unworthily  dignified  with  the  name  of  Christianity ;  giv- 
ing rise  sometimes  to  disputes  and  persecution ;  but  in- 
capable of  producing  any  salutary  effect  upon  the  sen- 
timents or  conduct  of  its  professors.  (A:) 

ACACIA,  in  the  Linnpeau  systeui,  a  species  of  Mi- 
mosa, belonging  to  the  class  of  Polygamia,  and  order 
Moniecia.     See  Botany. 

The  Chinese  employ  the  flowers  of  this  plant,  to  pro- 
duce that  beautiful  and  durable  yellow  which  has  been 
so  much  admired  in  their  different  stuffs.  The  flowers 
are  gently  heated  in  an  earthen  vessel,  till  they  become 
a  little  dry,  and  of  a  yellow  colour;  and  then  water  is 
added,  till  the  flowers  are  held  incorporated  together. 
After  this  mixture  is  boiled  for  some  time,  it  becomes 
thick  and  yellow,  and  is  then  strained  through  a  piece 
of  coarse  silk.  The  strained  liquid  is  now  mixed  with 
alum  and  calcined  oyster  shells,  finely  pulverized ;  an 
ounce  of  alum,  and  the  same  quantity  of  oj-ster  shells, 
being  added  for  every  three  pounds  of  acacia  flowers. 
The  different  shades  of  yellow  are  proiluced  by  mixing 
different  quantities  of  acacia  seeds  with  the  flowers ; 
only  a  little  Brazil  wood  is  required  for  the  deepest  yel- 
low, (w) 

ACACIA,  an  astringent  gummy  substance,  being  the 
inspissated  juice  of  the  unripe  i)ods  of  the  Mijiosa 
NiLOTicA  of  Linnaeus.  It  has  been  long  used  as  a  tonic 
in  several  diseases;  but  is  now  banished  from  the  Ma- 
teria Medica.  The  method  of  preparing  this  medicine 
may  be  seen  in  Murray's  Apparat.  Mcdicin.  p.  2.   (w) 

ACACIA,  is  the  name  of  a  purple  bag  filled  with  dust, 
which  was  carried  by  some  of  the  consuls  and  emperors 
as  an  emblem  of  mortality.  It  is  represented  on  medals 
after  the  time  of  Anastasius. 

AC  ACIUS,  St.  a  bishop  of  Amida,  in  Mesopotamia, 
who  flourished  about  the  year  420.  He  was  of  such  a 
charitable  and  humane  disposition,  that  he  ransomed 
7000  Persian  slaves,  who  were  dying  with  hunger,  by 
selling  the  plate  belonging  to  his  church.  Having  con- 
veyed them  in  safety  to  their  native  country,  their  king,^ 
Veranius,  was  so  delighted  with  the  benevolence  of 
1 


66 


ACA 


ACA 


Acaciu?,  that  he  eolicited  rrom  him  an  interview,  which 
led  to  a  peace  between  Veranius  and  Theodosius  I.  So- 
crat.  Hist.  Eccles.  lib.  7.  cap.  21 .  (w) 

ACADEMICS,  a  name  commonly  employed  to  dis- 
tinguish the  disciples  of  the  school  of  Plato  among  the 
ancient  sects  of  philosophy.  It  originated  from  the 
circumstance  of  Plato  having  chosen  as  the  theatre  of 
his  instructions  a  public  grove  in  the  vicinity  of  Athens, 
called  the  Academy,  from  Hecademus,  who  had  bequeath- 
ed it  to  his  fellow-citizens  for  the  purpose  of  gymnastic 
exercises.  Upon  this  account,  the  doctrine  of  the  Pla- 
tonic school  was  called  the  Academical  Philosophy,  and 
those  who  adopted  it.  Academics. 

The  peculiar  characteristic  by  which  the  academical 
philosophy  was  distinguished  from  all  other  ancient 
sects,  was  a  certain  degree  of  doubt,  or  ske|)ticism, 
concerning  the  original  principles  of  knowledge.  The 
skepticism  of  Plato,  however,  was  much  more  moderate 
than  that  of  some  of  his  successors  in  the  academic 
chair;  insomuch,  that  the  doctrines  of  the  academy 
have  been  distinguished  into  three  successive  schools, 
or  eras,  each  varying  from  the  skepticism  of  its  prede- 
cessor, and  denominated  the  Old  Academy,  the  Middle 
Aceulemy,  and  the  New  Academy. 

If  Plato  doubted  concerning  the  truths  which  are  en- 
titled to  im|>licit  admission,  it  was  not  in  order  to  damp 
the  ardour  of  the  inquisitive  examiner  of  nature,  but  to 
guard  against  the  false  confidence  and  precipitate  deci- 
sion, which  are  so  fatal  to  the  progress  of  true  science. 
He  had  learned  from  his  master  Socrates,  the  advan- 
tages which  may  be  derived  from  putting  every  thing 
to  the  test  of  close  and  unprejudiced  reasoning.  The 
great  prevalence  of  sophistry  in  the  age  in  which  he 
lived,  convinced  him  of  the  facility  with  which  the  mind 
imi)ose8  upon  itself,  and  substitutes  the  false  glosses  of 
its  fancy  for  the  pure  and  immutable,  though  recondite, 
truths  of  nature.  He,  therefore,  resolved  to  distrust  the 
impressions  which  the  prdinary  contemplation  of  objects 
excited ;  and  seek  after  those  more  secret  laws  and  con- 
necting causes  in  the  order  of  things,  which  escape  the 
penetration  of  the  vulgar;  while  they  constitute  the  true 
province  and  noblest  pursuit  of  the  philosopher.  That 
Plato  ascribed  the  uncertainty  which  accompanies  the 
search  after  truth,  not  to  the  nature  of  things  themselves, 
but  to  the  imperfection  of  the  human  faculties,  is  evident 
from  the  following  passage  of  his  Phado :  "  If  we  are 
unable  to  discover  truth,  this  must  be  owing  to  one  of 
two  reasons ;  either  that  there  is  no  truth  in  the  nature  of 
things  themselves,  or  that  the  mind  of  man  is,  from  some 
radical  defect,  unable  to  discover  it.  Upon  the  latter 
supposition,  the  uncertainty  of  human  opinions  may  be 
fidly  accounted  for;  and  therefore  we  ought  to  ascribe 
all  our  errors  to  the  defectiveness  of  our  own  minds, 
and  not  to  affirm,  gratuitously,  that  there  is  any  defect  in 
the  nature  of  things.  Truth  is  frequently  difficult  of 
access ;  and  therefore  to  arrive  at  it,  we  must  proceed 
with  caution  and  diffidence,  examining  carefully  every 
step  which  we  take ;  yet  after  all  our  efforts,  we  shall 
often  find  ourselves  tlisappointed,  and  forced  to  sit  down, 
confessing  our  ignorance  and  our  weakness."  True 
science,  according  to  the  sublime  conceptions  of  Plato, 
was  conversant,  not  about  those  material  forms  and  im- 
perfect intelligences  which  we  meet  with  in  our  daily 
intercourse  with  men;  but  it  investigates  the  nature  of 
those  purer  and  more  perfect  patterns,  which  were  the 
models,  or  archetypes,  after  which  all  created  beings 
vrere  formed.     These  perfect  exemplars  he  supposes  to 


have  existed  from  all  eternity,  and  he  calls  them  the  Ideas 
of  the  great  original  Intelligence.  As  these  cannot  be 
perceived  by  the  human  senses,  whatever  knowledge  we 
derive  from  that  source  is  unsatisfactory  and  uncertain. 
Plato,  therefore,  must  be  admitted  as  maintaining  that 
degree  of  skepticism  which  denies  all  paramount  autho' 
rity  to  the  evidence  of  sense. 

The  tenets  of  the  Academy,  as  originally  promulgated 
by  Plato,  were  taught  in  succession  by  his  nephew 
Speusippus,  his  disciple  Xenocrates,  by  Polemo,  Cran- 
tor,  and  Crates ;  in  whom  the  series  of  philoso|>hers  of 
the  Old,  or  proper  Academy,  terminated.  After  tlie 
death  of  Crates,  which  happened  about  the  middle  of 
the  third  century  before  Christ,  that  innovation  in  the 
tenets  of  the  school  took  place,  which  gave  rise  to  the 
appellation  of  the  Middle  Academy.  This  innovation 
was  made  by  Arcesilaus  of  iEolis ;  a  philosopher  who, 
after  having  attended  various  philosophical  schools, 
finally  attached  himself  to  that  of  Plato.  He  was  of  a 
gay  and  luxurious  disposition,  and  inclined  to  treat  the 
contentions  of  philosophers  ivith  more  levity  than  be- 
came a  professed  votary  of  science.  He  taught  that 
although  there  may  be  a  real  certainty  in  the  nature  of 
things,  yet  every  thing  is  uncertain  to  the  human  under- 
standing ;  and  consequently,  that  all  confident  assertions 
are  absurd.  He  admitted,  that  the  testimony  of  the 
senses,  and  the  authority  of  reason,  might  be  sufficient 
for  the  ordinary  conduct  of  life;  but  denied  that  they  were 
capable  of  ascertaining  the  real  nature  of  things ; — a 
doctrine  reconcileable,  without  much  difficulty,  to  the 
assertion  of  Plato,  that  every  kind  of  knowledge  derived 
from  sensible  objects  is  uncertain ;  and  that  the  only 
true  science  is  that  which  is  employed  upon  the  immu- 
table objects  of  intelligence. 

After  the  death  of  Arcesilaus,  the  academy  was  suc- 
cessively under  the  care  of  Lacydes,  Evander,  and 
Egesinus.  Its  new  tenets,  however,  meeting  with  great 
opposition,  these  philosophers  found  it  difficult  to  sup- 
port the  credit  of  the  school ;  and  Carneades,  a  Cyrenian 
by  birth,  and  one  of  its  disciples,  found  it  reasonable  to 
modify  what  was  most  obnoxious  in  the  system  of  Ar- 
cesilaus, and  became  the  founder  of  the  New  Academy. 
It  was  his  doctrine,  that  the  senses,  the  understanding, 
and  the  imagination,  frequently  deceive  us,  and  there- 
fore cannot  be  infallible  judges  of  truth;  but  that  from 
the  impressions  which  we  perceive  to  be  produced  on 
the  mind  by  means  of  the  senses,  we  justly  infer  ap- 
pearances of  truth  or  probabilities.  These  impressions 
Carneades  called  phantasies,  or  images ;  and  maintained, 
that  they  do  not  always  correspond  to  the  real  nature  of 
things.  The  successors  of  Carneades  in  the  New  Aca- 
demy, were  Clitomachus,  a  native  of  Carthage,  Philo  of 
Larissa,  and  Antiochus  of  Ascalon,  who  resigned  the 
chair  in  the  175th  Olympiad,  when  the  Academic  School 
was  transferred  to  Rome.  The  learning  and  eloquence 
of  Philo  are  highly  celebrated  by  Cicero,  who  knew  him 
at  Rome,  whither  he  had  fled  for  refuge  during  the 
Mithridatic  war.  He  is  reckoned  by  some  the  founder 
of  hfourth  academy ;  as  he  held  the  peculiar  tenet,  that 
truth  in  its  nature  is  comprehensible,  although  not  by 
the  human  faculties. 

Thus  it  appears  that  skepticism  was  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent encouraged  by  all  the  teachers  of  the  Academic 
school,  but  most  of  all  by  Arcesilaus,  and  his  followers 
of  the  middle  aca<lemy ;  and  in  the  lowest  degree  by 
Plato,  and  the  more  genuine  Academics.  If  Plato 
seemed  to  contract  our  sphere  of  knowledge,  it  was 


ACA 


ACA 


67 


only  with  the  intention  of  directing  the  strongest  illumi- 
nation on  the  objects  which  were  most  fraught  with  in- 
struction, and  subservient  to  the  highest  purposes.  But 
Arcesilaus,  by  placing  in  the  same  obscurity  every  ob- 
ject within  the  utmost  extent  of  the  sphere,  encouraged 
a  chilling  and  dangerous  indifference  about  every  princi- 
ple, whether  of  speculation  or  action.  Such,  however, 
were  not  the  genuine  doctrines  of  the  Academy,  as  is 
frequently  assumed  by  Hume,  and  other  modern  free- 
thinkers, who  wish  to  arrogate  to  themselves  the  ho- 
nourable title  of  Academics,  instead  of  the  more  appro- 
priate, though  reproachful,  appellation  of  skeptics.  The 
skepticism  of  Plato,  and  his  genuine  followers,  was  not 
that  which  wishes  to  throw  doubt  and  obscurity  upon 
every  object  of  human  knowledge,  but  that  which  hesi- 
tates to  assume  what  it  has  not  investigated  ;  and  is  cau- 
tious of  believing,  in  order  that  it  may  believe  nothing 
that  is  not  absolutely  conformable  to  truth.  This  rational, 
or  Platonic  skepticism,  may  be  seen  admirably  exempli- 
fied in  some  of  the  philosophical  writings  of  Cicero,  who, 
though  he  sometimes  calls  himself  an  eclectic  philoso- 
pher, and  professes  to  select  whatever  he  found  most 
valuable  in  the  various  schools  of  Greece,  shows  a  mani- 
fest predilection  for  the  doctrines  of  the  academy  as 
taught  by  Plato ;  and  therefore  may  be  considered  as  a 
genuine  academic.  See  Plin.  Hist.  Nat.  1 . 1 2.  c.  1 .  Laert. 
1.  4.  Cic.  deFin.  1.  4.  c.  31.  Ac.  Clu.  1.  4.  anddc  Oral. 
1.  3.  c.  16.  Sext.  Emp.  Adv.  Rhet.  s.  20.  Also  Potter's 
Arch.  Grac.  Bruckeri  Hist.  Phil,  and  Enfield's  Abridg- 
ment. (»j) 

ACADEMY.  The  term  Academy  is  of  the  same  ori- 
gin as  Academics,  though  some  are  of  opinion  that  it  was 
derived  from  Cadmus,  who  first  brought  letters  from 
Phoenicia  toGreece,  and  who  introduced  into  thatsavage 
country  the  learning  and  mythology  of  Egjiit. 

It  is  now  employed  to  denote  a  society  of  learned  men, 
associated  for  the  purpose  of  advancing  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences, by  communicating  to  the  world  the  discoveries 
which  are  made,  either  by  its  own  members,  or  by  other 
learned  individuals. 

The  first  academy  of  this  kind  of  which  we  have  any 
account,  is  that  which  Charlemagne  established,  by  the 
advice  of  his  preceptor  Alcuin.  It  was  composed  of 
the  learned  men  of  the  court,  at  the  head  of  whom  was 
the  emperor  himself.  The  object  of  this  institution 
was  to  promote  a  taste  for  polite  literature,  and  improve 
the  language  of  the  country,  which  was  at  that  time 
in  a  very  rude  state.  As  this  object  coultl  only  be 
attained  by  a  careful  study  of  the  compositions  of  antiqui- 
ty, it  was  required  of  each  member  to  give  an  account  of 
the  ancient  authors  which  he  had  read,  and  communi- 
cate the  remarks  he  had  made  upon  them  ;  and  so  great 
was  their  attachment  to  the  ancients,  that  they  are  said 
even  to  have  assumed  their  names.     See  Alcuin. 

The  exertions  of  Alcuin  were  honourable  and  useful : 
but  they  were  unable  to  dispel  the  darkness  of  the  mid- 
dle ages.  The  institution  died  with  himself;  and  the 
troubles  consequent  upon  the  dissolution  of  the  Carlo- 
vingian  monarchy,  extinguished  the  few  faint  lights  that 
were  beginning  to  irradiate  the  gloom.  During  several 
successive  ages,  we  find  no  association  for  the  advance- 
ment of  learning.  The  prevalence  of  the  feudal  system 
nourished  a  spirit  inconsistent  with  literary  repose.  In- 
dividuals of  superior  talents  now  and  then  appeared,  but 
their  discoveries,  from  the  unfavourable  circumstances 
ef  the  times,  perished  with  themselvea.  The  little  know- 


ledge that  survived  the  general  wreck,  was  preserved 
in  the  cells  of  the  monks,  for  the  benefit  of  future  ages. 
Every  attempt  at  improvement  in  Europe  had  been 
partial  and  unsuccessful,  till  the  final  overthrow  of  the 
Roman  empire  by  the  Turks,  in  1453.  At  (hat  time  seve- 
ral Greek  scholars,  driven  from  their  habitations,  came 
and  settled  in  Italy,  where  they  established  schools, 
which  formed  the  basis  of  the  numerous  academical  in- 
stitutions that  successively  arose  in  the  surrounding 
countries.  In  giving  an  account  of  these  institutions,  we 
shall  begin  with  Italy,  and  then  proceed  to  the  other 
countries  in  which  academies  have  been  established. 

Italian  Academies.  In  Italy  the  number  of  aca- 
demical institutions  increased  with  such  rapidity,  that 
they  are  said  io  have  amounted  in  a  short  time  to  350. 
In  the  city  of  Milan  alone,  Jarckius  reckons  25,  of  which 
he  has  given  the  history.  The  names  of  many  of  the 
Italian  academies  are  curious  and  expressive:  Thus  we 
find  the  academy  of  the  Abbandonati,  Acerbi,  AJfflati,  Af- 
fcUuosi,  Acuti,  Agilati,  Lunatici,  Insipidi,  Ombrosi,  Fu- 
mosi,  Inquicti,  and  above  an  hundred  others  of  a  similar 
kind,  an  account  of  which  will  be  found  in  Mazzuchelli's 
Scrittori  Wltalia.  Instead  therefore  of  attempting  to 
give  a  particular  account  of  all  the  Italian  academies, 
we  shall  confine  our  attention  to  some  of  the  most  re- 
markable. 

So  early  as  the  year  1 345,  an  association  was  formed 
by  the  painters  of  Venice,  under  the  protection  of  St. 
Luke,  for  the  improvement  of  their  own  art.  Another 
of  the  same  kind,  called  the  society  of  St.  Luke,  was 
established  at  Florence  in  1350,  under  the  particular 
patronage  of  the  house  of  Medici.  These  early  insti- 
tutions, though  they  had  not  then  obtained  the  name  of 
academie3rtl"ere  yet  the  same  in  their  nature,  and  served 
as  a  model  tor  many  other  academical  institutions,  which 
afterwards  arose  in  different  parts  of  the  continent. 

In  the  15th  century,  an  academy  had  been  established 
at  Naples,  in  the  reign  of  Alphonso  I.  by  Antonio  Bec- 
catelli,and  several  other  eminent  men,  whom  that  patron 
of  letters  had  attracted  to  his  court.  After  the  death  of 
Beccateili,  the  charge  of  the  academy  devolved  upon  Pon- 
tano,  under  whose  direction  it  rose  to  a  considerable 
degree  of  respectability.  It  not  only  contained  the  chief 
literati  at  Naples,  but  had  associated  to  itself  for  honora- 
ry members,  the  most  eminent  scholars  in  other  parts  of 
Europe.  The  place  where  it  met  was  denominated  the 
Portico.  We  are  informed  by  Apostolo  Zeno,  that  Ber- 
nardo Christoforo,  a  learned  Neapolitan,  had  written  the 
historyof  this  early  institution,  in  a  work  entitled,  Acade- 
mia  Poiitani ;  sive  Vitm  illustrium  virorum,  qui  cum  Jo. 
Joviano  Pontano,  Neapoli  jloruere :  But  the  manuscript 
is  now  lost.     See  Roscoe's  Life  of  Leo  X. 

A  new  academy  was  established  at  Naplesin  178  7,  un- 
der the  title  of  Reali  Academia  delle  Sciense  ct  Belle 
Lettere  di  Napoli.  The  first  volume  of  their  Transac- 
tions was  published  at  Naples  in  1788,  in  4to. 

In  the  15th  century,  under  the  pontificate  of  Paul  II. 
an  attempt  was  made  to  establish  in  Rome  an  academy 
for  the  study  of  antiquities :  but  the  jealousy  of  that 
haughty  and  ignorant  pontiff  defeated  the  plan,  by  doom- 
ing to  imprisonment  and  death  some  of  the  most  emi- 
nent scholars  of  that  time.  Under  the  auspices  of  Leo 
X.  the  plan  was  carried  into  execution,  and  the  acade- 
my continued  long  in  a  flourishing  state.  It  however 
fell  gradually  into  decay,  but  gave  birth  to  others  of 
greater  celebrity. 

12 


68 


ACADEMY. 


About  the  middle  of  the  following  century,  an  acade- 
my was  established  at  Rossano,  in  the  kingdom  of  Na- 
ples, called  La  Societa  Scientifica  Rossuiunse  DegV  In- 
curiosi. 

About  the  year  1560,  an  academy  was  formed  at  Na- 
ples, in  the  house  of  Baptista  Porta,  called,  AcadciniaSc- 
cretorvm  Natures,  which  had  for  its  object  the  investiga- 
tion of  physical  science.  Its  founder  having  recently 
returned  from  liis  travels,  communicated  the  informa- 
tion which  he  had  collected  to  his  fellow-members, 
who,  in  their  turn,  imparted  the  knowledge  which  they 
had  individually  obtained.  The  church  of  Rome,  how- 
evtr,  becoming  jealous  of  this  flourishing  association, 
put  an  end  to  its  meetings,  lest  the  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge should  undermine  the  foundation  of  the  Catholic 
faith. 

The  Academy  of  Secrets  was  succeeded  by  the  Aca- 
dcmia  Li/ncci,  established  at  Rome  in  the  beginning  of 
the  17lh  century,  by  prince  Frederick  Cesi,  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  physical  science.  It  was  composed  of  the 
most  eminent  philosophers  of  the  age,  among  whom  was 
the  illustrious  Galileo. 

About  the  close  of  the  same  centurj",  another  academy 
was  formed  at  Rome,  for  reviving  the  study  of  poetry 
and  belles  lettres.  It  was  named  Arcadi,  from  a  regu- 
lation that  required  all  the  members  to  appear  masked 
like  shepherds  of  Arcadia.  Ladies  were  admitted  to 
this  academy,  and  in  the  space  of  ten  years  its  mem- 
bers amounttd  to  the  number  of  t500.  They  held  their 
meetings  seven  times  a-year  in  a  meadow  or  grove,  or 
in  the  garden  of  some  nobleman  of  distinction.  All  tlie 
members  of  the  academy  assumed,  at  their  admission, 
new  pastoral  names,  in  imitation  of  the  ancient  Arcadians. 
There  were  different  branches  of  this  institiijjon  through- 
out Italy,  which  were  regulated  after  the  sanfl;  manner. 

About  the  middle  of  the  16th  century,  an  academy 
was  instituted  at  Umidi  in  Florence,  in  honour  of  the 
grand  duke  Cosm.o  I.  who,  in  1549,  declared  himself  its 
protector.  It  was  afterwards  called  Acadcmia  la  Flo- 
rtntina,  and  goes  under  the  name  of  the  Florentine  Aca- 
demy. Its  chief  attention  was  directed  to  the  Italian 
poetry.  It  has  produced  many  excellent  works,  and  for 
these  two  last  centuries  has  included  most  of  the  eminent 
characters  in  Italy. 

The  Acadama  delta  Cnisca,  or  Acadcmia  Furfwato- 
nim,  the  Bran  Academy,  was  so  named  probably  from 
the  nature  of  its  institution,  the  design  of  which  was  to 
polish  and  improve  the  Italian  language,  to  sift  the  words, 
as  it  were,  and  reject  all  such  as  were  barbarous,  or  of 
doubtful  authority.  It  was  formed  in  1582,  but  was  lit- 
tle known  till  two  years  after,  when  it  attracted  notice  on 
account  of  a  dispute  between  Tasso  and  some  of  its 
members.  The  chief  work  which  it  has  produced,  is  an 
Italian  Dictionary,  a  well  known  work  of  great  merit. 
In  this  academy,  Torricelli,  the  disciple  of  Galileo,  de- 
livered many  of  his  philosophical  discourses.  It  is  now 
united  with  two  others,  viz.  the  Fiorcntina  and  Apatisla, 
under  the  name  of  the  Reali  Acaikmia  Fiorcntina. 

The  Academia  della  Crusca  was  followed  by  another 
academy  at  Florence,  under  the  name  of  Del  Cinuiito. 
It  arose  towards  the  beginning  of  the  17th  century,  un- 
der the  protection  of  prince  Leopold,  afterwartls  Cardi- 
nal de  Medicis;  and  numbered  among  its  members 
Paul  del  Buono,  who,  in  1657,  invented  an  instrument 
to  prove  the  incompressibility  of  water;  AlphonsoBo- 
relli,  celebrated  for  his  book  de  Molu  Animalium  ;  count 
Lawrence  JWagalotti,  who,  in  1677,  publifhcd  a  book  of 


curious  experiments,  under  the  fitle  of  Saggi  di  Natti- 
rail  Espcriense,  a  copy  of  which  being  presented  to  the 
Royal  Society  of  London,  was  translated  into  English  by' 
Mr.  Waller,  and  published  in  4to,  in  1 684  ; — together 
with  other  philosophers  of  equal  reputation. 

Academia  Bononiensis,  was  founded  at  Bologna,  by 
Eustachio  Manfredi,  in  1 690.  At  the  early  age  of  six- 
teen, this  young  man  associated  to  himself  some  of  his 
companions,  with  the  view  of  discussing  those  subjects, 
to  which,  in  the  course  of  their  studies,  their  attention 
was  directed.  They  held  stated  meetings  in  the  apart- 
ment of  Manfredi,  and  appointed  beforehand  the  sub- 
jects that  were  to  be  discussed.  Their  armorial  badge 
was  the  |)lanetary  system,  surrounded  by  a  serpent  hold- 
ing its  tail  in  its  mouth ;  and  their  motto,  Mens  Agital  ; 
from  which  they  assumed  the  name  of  hiquiUi.  Th« 
members  of  this  academy  gradually  increased,  and  many 
of  them  attained  the  highest  literary  and  scientific  ho- 
nours. In  1704,  J.  B.  Morgagui  being  made  director, 
new-modelled  the  academy,  with  the  assistance  of  E. 
Manfredi  and  Stancarius ;  banished,  in  a  great  measure, 
the  useless  speculations  of  the  schoolmen ;  and  introduc- 
ed the  mode  of  philosophizing,  which  has  been  since 
followed  with  so  much  success.  In  1 714,  this  academy 
was  united  with  the  Bononian  Institute,  which  was  a  kind 
of  college  under  the  protection  of  the  senate,  and  richly 
endowed  by  Clement  XI.  and  Benedict  XIV.  as  well  as 
by  the  liberality  of  private  individuals,  Hence  it  obtain- 
ed the  name  of  the  Academy  of  the  Institute,  and  the  di- 
rector was  named  president.  Not  only  were  persons  of 
both  sexes  admitted  members  of  this  academy,  but  seve- 
ral ladies  were  raised  to  professorships.  Of  these,  Anna 
Manzolini  was  professor  of  anatomy ;  and  Laura  Bassi, 
who  died  in  1778,  was  renowned  for  her  knowledge  of 
the  abstruse  sciences.  "  The  place  in  which  the  acade- 
my met,"  says  count  Stolberg,  "  is  an  enormous  build- 
ing, which  contains  above  forty  a|iartments,  with  many 
halls  under  them.  The  learned  have  assured  me,  that 
the  cabinet  of  natural  history  is  not  only  amply  provided 
with  the  wealth  of  nature,  in  every  division  of  her  three 
kingdoms,  but  the  specimens,  especially  the  fossils,  are 
peculiarly  fine.  The  library  is  said  to  contain  above 
1 20,000  volumes,  not  including  the  numerous  and  valua- 
ble manuscripts  which  fill  a  whole  apartment;  and  the 
separate  apartments  that  are  allotted  for  study,  are  fur- 
nisheil  with  an  individual  library  for  each  science.  The 
celebrated  hall  of  anatomy  is  large,  and  well  supplied 
with  waxen  models  of  all  the  parts  of  the  human  botlj-. 
The  large  and  valuable  collection  of  |)hilosophical  instru- 
ments, which  belonged  to  the  late  lord  Cowper,  was 
purchased  by  some  private  citizens  of  Bologna,  and  pre- 
sented to  the  institution."  See  Stolberg''s  Travels,  vol. 
i.  p.  265,  4to.  The  Commaitarii  Bononienses  were  se- 
lectcd  from  the  early  protluctions  of  the  institution;  and 
the  first  volume  appeared  at  Bologna  in  the  year  1748, 
to  which  is  prefixed  an  account  of  the  nature  and  early 
history  of  the  academy.  Since  that  time,  a  considera- 
ble number  of  volumes  have  been  published. 

There  was  also  an  academy  instituted  at  Bologna  in 
1 687  ;  the  object  of  which  was  to  examine  the  doctrine, 
discipline,  and  history  of  the  church. 

A  Cosinogrnpiiical  Acadany  was  founded  at  Venice,  by 
Vincent  Coronelli,  about  the  beginning  of  the  18th  cen- 
tury, for  the  extension  of  geographical  knowledge. 
The  device  of  the  academy  was  the  terraqueous  globe, 
with  the  motto  plus  ultra.  The  members  took  the  title 
*•■  Argonauts.     All  the  Klobes,  maps,  and  i;eographicBl 


ACADEMY. 


m 


writings  of  Coronelli,  have  been  published  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  academy. 

The  Rot^al  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Ttirin,  was  insti- 
tuted about  the  middle  of  the  18th  century.  It  began  to 
publish  its  memoirs  in  1759,  in  4to,  under  the  title  of 
Miscellanea  Philosophico-Malficniatica  Socictatis  privatm 
Taurincnsis,  and  was  honoured  with  several  papers  by  the 
illustrious  La  Grange.  In  consequence  of  the  annexa- 
tion of  Turin  to  France,  this  academy  was  new-modelled, 
and  received  the  name  of  the  Imperial  Academy  of 
Sciences,  Jjiteraivre,  and  the  Fine  Arts,  at  Turin.  Two 
4to  vols,  of  its  memoirs  have  been  published  for  1804 
and  1805;  one  of  which  contains  |)apcrs  on  literature 
and  the  fine  arts ;  and  the  other,  a  history  of  the  acade- 
my, by  the  secretary  Vopali  Eandi. 

The  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Siena,  instituted  by  prince 
Leopold  in  1767,  published  their  transactions  in  a  con- 
siderable number  of  volumes;  of  which  the  first  ap- 
peared in  1771,  and  the  7th  in  1794,  in  4to,  under  the 
title  of  Atti  delT  Acculemia  di  Siena. 

The  Academy  of  Fcubta,  was  established  towards  the 
end  of  the  18th  century;  and  in  1794,  had  published 
three  volumes  of  their  transactions,  under  the  title  of 
Saggi  Scientijica  e  Literari  dell '  Acadcmia  di  Padova. 

Those  who  wish  for  further  information  respecting  the 
Italian  Academies,  may  consult  Vockerodt  Introductio 
in  Notitiam.  Soc.  Litt.  Jcnn,  1687.  J.  Heiskius,  Program- 
)na  de  Pinacothecis,  et  Soc.  Doct.  in  Etiropa.  Diction- 
naire  de  Trevoux.  Sachius  Grammarologia.  Fureterius 
Diet.  Historique  dcs  Ouvrages  des  S^avans ;  and  the 
Memoirs  of  the  Academies  themselves. 

French  Academies.  Having  taken  a  general  view 
of  some  of  the  most  celebrated  Italian  academies,  we 
shall  now  give  an  account  of  the  academical  institutions 
in  France.  The  first  of  these  that  claims  our  notice  is 
the  Academic  Franjoise,  or  the  French  Academy,  which 
was  established  by  Cardinal  Richelieu  in  1 C35,  for  the 
purpose  chiefly  of  imjjroving  the  French  language, 
though  its  plan  also  comprehended  grammar,  poetry, 
and  eloquence.  This  academy  has  produced  many  ex- 
cellent works ;  but  it  is  chiefly  celebrated  for  its  dic- 
tionary of  the  French  tongue,  which,  after  a  labour  of 
about  50  years,  was  published  in  1694.  It  has  gone 
through  several  editions,  and  the  academy,  till  its  aboli- 
tion by  the  convention,  was  employed  in  improving  it. 
The  history  of  the  academy,  to  the  year  1692,  is  written 
by  M.  Pelisson,  and  continued  to  the  year  1706,  by  M. 
I'Abbe  d'Olivet. 

The  French  Academy  was  followed  by  that  of  Paint- 
ing and  Sculpture.  So  far  back  as  the  end  of  the  14th 
century,  we  find  an  institution  established  at  Paris,  under 
the  title  of  the  Academy  of  St.  Luke.  In  1430,  Charles 
VII.  conferred  upon  it  many  privileges,  which  were 
confirmed  by  Henry  III.  in  1584.  It  was  afterwards 
united  with  the  Society  of  Sculptors,  who  had  a  house 
near  St.  Denys,  where  they  held  their  meetings,  and  dis- 
tributed their  annual  prizes.  This  institution  had  fallen 
into  decay,  till  it  was  revived  by  Le  Brun,  Sarazin,  Cor- 
■neille,  and  some  other  eminent  painters  and  sculptors, 
who  are  generally  considered  as  its  founders.  There 
were  twelve  professors,  each  of  whom  attended  a  month 
in  the  year,  and  in  case  of  absence,  their  place  was  sup- 
plied by  twelve  adjuncts.  The  academists  drew  after 
the  model  of  a  naked  man,  whom  the  attending  profess- 
or set  in  two  different  attitudes  every  week.  This  was 
called,  setting  the  model.  In  one  of  the  weeks  of  the 
month  he  place^two  models  together,  which  was  called. 


setting  the  group.  The  paintings  and  models  formed 
after  this  standard,  were  called  Acadanics,  or  Academy 
Figures.  They  had  likewise  a  naked  woman,  who  stood 
for  a  model  in  the  public  school.  Three  prizes  for  de- 
sign were  distributed  among  the  scholars  every  three 
months:  two  for  painting,  and  two  for  sculpture,  every 
year.  An  account  of  this  academy  has  been  published 
by  Guerin,  imder  the  tide  of  Dcsciipticn  de  VAcademie 
Royalc  de  Peinlure  ct  dc  Saitpture. 

While  France,  from  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  had  been 
rapidly  advancing  in  opulence  and  power,  it  was  also 
making  great  progress  in  science  and  learning.  Two 
great  literary  institutions  had  already  been  formed,  the 
labours  of  which  contributed  greatly  to  animate  the 
French  to  new  exertions.  This  appeared  in  (he  forma- 
tion of  an  academy  at  Paris  by  M.Colbert,  in  1663,  under 
the  patronage  of  the  king;  the  object  of  which  was  to 
sludy  and  explain  ancient  monuments,  and  (o  preserve 
the  memory  of  important  events,  particularly  those  of 
the  French  monarchy,  by  coins,  inscriptions,  relievo?, 
&c.  It  consisted  at  first  of  only  four  members,  Messrs. 
Charpentier,  Quinalt,  TAIibe  Tallemant,  and  Felibien, 
who  were  chosen  from  the  Academic  Fran^oise,  and 
met  in  the  library  of  M.  Colbert.  From  the  small  num- 
ber of  its  members,  it  was  at  first  named  Petite  Academic  ; 
but  alraut  the  year  1691,  it  began  to  obtain  the  name  of 
Academic  Rm/alc  des  Inscriptions  et  Medailles. 

The  academy  first  directed  their  attention  to  devices 
for  the  hangings  of  the  palace  at  Versailles,  and  for 
ships,  buildings,  &c.  They  then  proceeded  to  give 
plans  of  the  king's  conquests,  with  views  and  descrip- 
tions of  the  cities  and  principal  places.  At  last  they  un- 
dertook a  medaliic  history  of  the  king's  reign,  which, 
after  several  interruptions,  was  brought  down  to  the  ac- 
cession of  the  duke  of  Anjou  to  the  crown  of  Spain. 
In  this  history,  the  establishment  of  the  academy  itself 
was  not  forgotten.  One  of  the  medals  represents  Mer- 
cury sitting,  and  writing  with  an  ancient  stylus  upon  a 
brass  table.  His  left  hand  is  supported  ujion  an  urn  full 
of  medals,  and  at  his  feet  there  are  several  other  medals 
placed  upon  a  card.  The  legend,  Rerum  gestarum 
fides,  and  the  exergue,  Academia  Rcgia  inscriptiomtm  et 
nu7nistnatum  instituta  M.DC.LXIII.  signifies  that  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Inscriptions  and  Medals  ought  to 
give  to  future  ages  a  faithful  testimony  of  great  actions. 
The  memoirs  of  the  academy  are  published  in  a  great 
number  of  volumes,  in  which  the  eloges  of  the  mem- 
bers are  written  by  the  secretary.  Their  motto  is, 
Fetat  mori. 

The  academies  at  Paris  already  mentioned  were  in  a 
great  measure  eclipsed  by  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sci- 
ences,  which  was  established  in  1666,  by  Louis  XIV. 
When  the  peace  of  the  Pyrenees  allowed  this  monarch 
to  rest  from  his  conquests,  he  instructed  his  minister  - 
Colbert  to  form  a  society  of  men  distinguished  for  their  ■ 
learning  and  talents,  who  should  meet  under  the  royal 
protection,  and  communicate  their  respective  discove- 
ries. Agreeably  to  these  instructions,  Colbert  select- 
ed some  of  those  who  were  most  celebrated  for  their 
knowledge  in  physics,  mathematics,  history,  and  the 
belles  lettres,  to  form  the  new  institution.  The  members 
were  arranged  into  four  distinct  classes,  and  had  their 
meetings  appointed  on  different  days.  But  the  classes  of 
history  and  belles  lettres  were  afterwards  taken  from  it, 
and  united  to  the  French  academy;  so  that  there  remain- ' 
ed  only  the  classes  of  mathematics  and  natural  philoso- 
phy.    At  this  early  period,  the  academy  published,  in 


70 


ACADEMY. 


1 692-3,  gome  fugitive  pieces,  which  had  been  read  In  the 
meetiiiga  of  these  years,  but  which  were  too  short  for 
separate  publication ;  and  many  of  the  academicians  re- 
ceived considerable  pensions  from  the  king. 

In  1699,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Abbfi  Bignon,  who 
had  long  been  president,  it  obtained  a  new  set  of  regu- 
lations ;  according  to  which  its  members  were  divided 
into  honorary,  pensionaries,  or  those  who  received  sa- 
laries from  the  king,  associates,  and  eleves. 

In  1716,  the  duke  of  Orleans,  with  the  authority  of  the 
king,  suppressed  the  class  of  eleves,  and  established  in 
its  place  12  adjuncts,  to  whom  he  gave  the  power  of 
voting  in  matters  of  science.  The  number  of  honorary 
members  was  increased  to  12;  and  a  class  of  associates 
was  created  to  the  number  of  six,  who  were  not  confined 
to  any  particular  department  of  science.  It  underwent 
still  further  changes  in  the  year  1 785.  The  king  added 
classes  of  natural  history,  agriculture,  mineralogy,  and 
physics,  and  incorporated  the  associates  and  adjuncts, 
limiting  the  members  of  each  class  to  six.  These 
classes  were  composed  of  persons  celebrated  for  their 
literary  and  scientific  attainments.  There  were  besides 
a  perpetual  secretary  and  treasurer ;  twelve  free  asso- 
ciates, and  eight  associate  foreigners. 

This  academy  has  done  more  to  promote  the  progress 
of  science,  than  any  other  upon  the  continent.  It  has 
repeatedly  sent  out  persons  to  make  observations  in 
different  parts  of  the  world,  and  has  been  at  great  pains 
in  computing  the  meridian.  Since  the  re-establishment 
of  the  academy,  in  1699,  it  has  annually  published  a 
quarto  volume,  containing  the  papers  that  have  been 
read  in  it  during  that  year.  A  history  of  the  academy, 
together  with  an  epitome  of  its  memoirs,  has  been  pre- 
fixed to  each  volume  :  and  at  the  end  of  the  history  are 
culogiums  on  such  academists  as  have  died  in  the  course 
of  the  year.  The  Abbe  Rozier  has  published,  in  four 
4to  volumes,  an  excellent  index  to  the  whole,  from  its 
commencement  to  the  year  1 770.  M.  Rouille  de  Meslay, 
(bunded  two  prizes,  one  of  2500,  and  the  other  of  2000 
livres,  to  be  distributed  every  year  alternately.  The 
subject  of  the  first  related  to  physical  astronomy ;  that  of 
the  latter,  to  navigation  and  commerce.  Besides  these 
prizes,  and  the  salaries  which  were  regularly  paid  to  the 
pensionaries,  extraordinary  gratuities  were  sometimes 
given,  and  such  expenses  defrayed  as  were  necessarily 
incurred  in  making  experiments. 

The  memoirs  of  the  academy,  from  its  commence- 
ment till  the  year  1793,  when  it  was  abolished  by  the 
Convention,  are  comprehended  in  139  volumes,  in  4to; 
1 1  from  its  foundation  to  its  re-establishment  in  1 699 ; 
92  from  1699  to  1790;  the  year  1772  containing  two 
volumes ;  1 1  of  memoirs  presented  to  the  academy  by 
learned  foreigners ;  nine  of  prizes ;  nine  of  tables  to 
1780;  and  seven  of  drawings  of  machines. 

The  history  of  the  academy,  to  the  year  1 697,  was 
written  by  Duharael,  and  continued  from  year  to  year  by 
Fontenelle,  under  the  following  titles  ;  Duhamel  Uisto- 
ria  Rcgia  Academue  Scientiarutn.  Histoire  de  VAcadcnm 
RcydU  des  Sciences,  avcc  Us  Memoires  de  Malhtmatique 
et  de  Physique,  tires  des  Re^slres  de  C Academic.  His- 
toire de  CAcadcmie  Roy  ale  des  Sciences,  depuis  son  esta- 
blisscment  en  1666,  jusqu'en  1699,  en  13  tomes  Ato.  In 
latter  timet,  the  history  of  the  academy  was  prefixed  to 
each  volume.  Their  motto  is  Invenit  et  perfcdt.  This 
academy  having  been  abolished  at  the  Revolution,  a  new 
one  was  established  in  its  place  under  the  name  of  the 
National  JnstittUe ;  for  aa  account  of  which,  see  Institute. 


The  Rcyed  Academy  of  Surgery  was  instituted  at  Pari« 
in  1731,  and  confirmed  by  letters  patent  in  1748.  The 
object  of  this  institution  is  not  merely  to  communicate 
the  observations  and  discoveries  of  its  members,  but  also 
to  give  an  account  of  whatever  is  written  on  surgery. 
All  the  regular  surgeons  in  Paris  are  members  of  this 
academy.  Forty  members  are  counsellors  of  a  perpe- 
tual committee,  and  there  are  twenty  adjuncts.  A  ques- 
tion is  proposed  yearly,  and  a  gold  medal  of  the  value 
of  500  livres  is  given  to  him  who  can  produce  the  best 
answer.  Their  transactions  have  been  published  in  a 
considerable  number  of  volumes. 

Besides  these,  the  French  have  many  other  academies 
of  less  note  ;  viz.  Tlu  Academic  des  jeux  Floraux,  esta- 
blished at  Thoulouse,  consisting  of  40  members,  and  one 
of  the  most  ancient  in  the  kingdom.  The  Royal  Academy 
of  Sciences  and  Polite  Literature  at  Thoulouse,  whose 
transactions  have  been  published  in  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  volumes,  the  first  of  which  appeared  in  1 782,  in 
4to.  The  academy  at  Caen,  founded  by  letters  patent,  in 
1 705.  The  academy  at  Rouen,  established  in  1 736,  by 
M.  Le  Ciit,  who  was  its  perpetual  secretary.  There 
were  also  academies  founded  at  Bourdeaux,  1 703 ;  Sois- 
sons,  1675;  Marseilles,  1726;  Dijon,  Orleans,  Pau,  Be- 
ziers,  Montauban,  Metz,  Amiens,  1750  ;  Chalons,  Nanci, 
&c.  At  Dijon,  there  is  a  very  handsome  saloon,  belong- 
ing to  the  academy,  ornamented  with  the  busts  of  the 
eminent  men  whom  that  city  has  produced.  Among 
these  are  Bossuet,  Fevret,  De  Brosses,  Crebillou, 
Pyron,  and  Buffon. 

German  Academies.  The  establishment  of  acade- 
mies in  Italy,  France,  and  England,  animated  the  Ger- 
mans to  estal)lish  institutions  of  a  similar  kind.  The 
works  of  lord  Bacon,  in  particular,  inspired  the  nations 
of  Europe  with  new  ardour  in  the  prosecution  of  sci- 
ence ;  and  to  them,  chiefly,  Bucknerus  ascribes  the  in- 
stitution of  the  Academia  Naturcc  Curiosorum.  This 
academy  was  first  begun  by  M.  Bausch,  a  celebrated 
physician  in  Swinfurth,  a  city  in  the  circle  of  Franconia. 
Having  associated  with  himself  some  other  physicians, 
he  drew  up  a  set  of  rules,  which  constituted  the  founda- 
tion of  this  new  institution,  the  object  of  wlilch  was  the 
communication  of  new  and  important  physical  discove- 
ries. Their  first  meeting  was  held  on  January  1,  1652, 
when  Bausch  was  elected  president,  and,  at  the  same 
meeting,  two  adjuncts  were  chosen,  whose  office  it  was 
to  assist  the  president.  Every  six  months  the  president 
proposed  to  each  of  the  members  a  subject  connected 
with  zoology,  Iwtany,  or  mineralogy ;  and  the  memoini, 
which  were  written  on  these  subjects,  were  published 
in  a  detached  form. 

In  1 670,  they  resolved  to  publish  a  volume  annually  ; 
and  the  first  volume,  which  consisted  of  pieces  printed 
at  different  times,  appeared  at  Leipsic,  in  1684,  under 
the  title  of  Ephemerides,  which  was  followed  by  other 
volumes,  with  some  interruptions,  and  variations  of  the 
title.  In  1687,  the  academy  was  taken  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  emperor  Leo|iold,  who  conferred  upon  it 
several  privileges,  and  raised  its  students  to  the  dignity 
of  counts  Palatine  of  the  Roman  empire.  From  him  too 
it  obtained  the  name  of  Ciesarco-LeopoUina  Natura  Cu- 
riosorum Accukmia.  Every  member  was  required  to 
have  for  the  symbol  of  the  academy,  a  gold  ring,  on 
which  was  an  open  book,  having  an  eye  on  the  front  of 
it.  On  the  other  side  was  the  motto  of  the  academy, 
Nunquam  Otiosus.  A  history  of  this  institution  has  been 
written  by  Buchuer,  one  of  its  presidents,  under  the  ti- 


ACADEMY. 


71 


tie  of,  Buchneri  Historia  Acaicmiae  Natures  Curiosonim, 
4tD,  Hal.  1756.  An  account  of  it  will  also  be  found  in  the 
prefaces  and  appendices  to  the  volumes  of  its  transactions. 

Other  academies  of  the  same  name  were  established 
in  different  parts  of  the  continent ;  viz.  one  at  Palermo 
in  1643;  one  in  Spain  in  1652;  one  at  Venice  in  1701  ; 
and  another  at  Geneva  in  1715. 

77i«  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Berlin  was  found- 
ed in  1700,  by  Frederick  I.  king  of  Prussia,  after  the 
model  of  the  Royal  Society  of  London ;  with  this  differ- 
ence, that,  along  with  natural  philosophy  and  mathema- 
tics, it  comprehended  also  the  belles  lettres.  A  new  set 
of  regulations  were  framed  in  1710,  by  which  the  presi- 
dent was  to  be  a  chancellor  of  state,  and  to  be  recom- 
mended by  the  king.  The  academy  was  divided  into 
four  classes  :  the  first  embraced  phj-sics,  medicine,  and 
chemistry;  the  second,  mathematics,  astronomy,  and 
mechanics ;  the  third,  the  German  language,  and  the 
history  of  the  country ;  the  fourth,  oriental  learning,  par- 
ticularly as  it  related  to  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel 
among  infidels.  Each  of  these  classes  had  a  director, 
who  held  his  office  for  life.  They  met  once  a-week  in 
their  turn ;  and  the  members  of  any  one  of  the  classes 
had  free  admission  to  the  meetings  of  the  rest. 

M.  Leibnitz,  who  was  the  great  promoter  of  this  insti- 
tution, was  appointed  its  first  director.  In  1710,  the 
members  began  to  publish  their  transactions,  under  the 
title  of  Miscellanea  Beroliiunsia  ;  and,  though  they  re- 
ceived little  patronage  from  the  successor  of  Frederick 
I.  they  continued  to  publish  new  volumes  in  1  723,  1727, 
1 734, 1737,  and  1 740.  In  1 743,  Frederick  III.  gave  new 
vigour  to  their  proceedings.  This  monarch,  equally 
distinguished  by  his  talents  in  peace  and  in  war,  invited 
to  the  academy,  from  the  different  countries  of  Europe, 
the  most  eminent  literary  men,  and  encouraged  among 
his  subjects  the  cultivation  of  the  sciences,  by  proposing 
to  them  suitable  rewards.  Conceiving  that  it  would  be 
of  advantage  to  the  academy,  which,  till  that  time,  had 
been  under  the  direction  of  some  minister,  or  opulent 
nobleman,  to  have  a  man  of  letters  for  its  president,  he 
conferred  that  honour  on  M.  Maupertuis.  At  the  same 
time,  he  gave  it  new  regulations,  and  assumed  the  title 
of  its  protector.  There  was  a  particular  class  for  logic 
and  metaphysics ;  which  was  named  the  class  of  Specula^ 
live  philosophy.  There  were  two  public  meetings  an- 
nually, one  in  January,  and  the  other  in  May,  at  the  lat- 
ter of  which  a  gold  medal,  of  the  value  of  50  ducats,  was 
given  for  the  best  tlissertation  on  some  appointed  sub- 
ject. 

In  1 798,  his  Prussian  majesty  introduced  some  new 
regulations  into  the  academy.  A  directory  was  chosen 
for  the  management  of  its  funds,  consisting  of  a  presi- 
dent, the  four  directors  of  the  classes,  and  two  members 
to  be  chosen,  not  from  the  academy,  but  from  men  of  bu- 
siness, who  should  be  at  the  same  time  men  of  learning, 
and  capable  of  conducting  the  economical  affairs  of  the 
institution.  The  academy  had  the  power  of  choosing 
members ;  but  the  king,  of  confirming  or  rejecting  them. 
The  public  library  at  Berlin,  with  the  collection  of  natu- 
ral curiosities,  was  united  to  the  academy,  and  intrusted 
to  its  direction.  The  great  end  of  these  regulations  was 
to  turn  the  attention  of  the  academy  to  objects  of  real 
utility;  to  excite  the  national  industry,  by  improving  the 
arts ;  to  purifj'-  the  different  systems  of  moral  and  literary 
education ;  and  to  oppose  the  prejudices  of  the  people, 
as  well  as  the  licentious  and  destructive  efforts  of  false 
philosophers. 


Since  1743,  the  transactionsof  this  academy  have  been 
regularly  published  in  a  great  number  of  volumes,  under 
(he  title  of  Mcjnoires  de  PAcadcmie  Royale  des  Sciences 
et  Belles  Lettres  cl  Berlin.  A  full  account  of  it  will  be 
found  in  a  book  entitled,  Histoire  dc  r Academic  Royale 
des  Sciences  et  Belles  Lettres  A  Berlin.  The  Miscellanea 
Berolinensia  were  published  in  7  vols.  4to,  from  1710  to 
1743.  The  History  and  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of 
Berlin  appeared  in  25  vols.  4to,  from  1746  to  1771  ;  and 
the  New  Memoirs  of  the  same  academy  in  10  vols,  from 
1771  to  1787.     Another  volume  appeared  in  1792. 

The  Academy  of  Surgery  at  Vienna  was  instituted  in 
1783,  by  the  present  emperor  Francis  II.  under  the 
direction  of  Brambilla.  It  had  at  first  only  two  profes- 
sors, who  were  intrusted  with  the  education  of  130  young 
men,  30  of  whom  had  been  surgeons  in  the  army.  But 
the  number  both  of  teachers  and  students  has  been  much 
increased.  The  emperor  has  provided  for  them  a  large 
and  splendid  building  in  Vienna,  which  contains  accom- 
modation both  for  the  teachers  and  the  students ;  for 
clinical  lectures,  pregnant  women,  patients  and  servants. 
There  is  also  belonging  to  the  institution  a  medical 
library,  a  complete  set  of  chirurgical  instruments,  an  ap- 
paratus for  experiments  in  natural  philosophy,  a  collec- 
tion of  specimens  in  natural  history,  a  number  of  ana- 
tomical and  pathological  preparations,  a  collection  of 
preparations  in  wax,  brought  from  Florence,  and  various 
other  useful  articles.  There  is  also  a  good  botanical 
garden  adjacent  to  the  buihiing.  Three  prize  medals, 
of  the  value  of  40  florins  each,  are  bestowed  upon  those 
students  who  return  the  best  answers  to  the  questions 
proposed  in  the  preceding  year.  These  prize  essays 
are  annually  collected  and  published. 

The  Academy  of  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architec- 
ture, was  founded  at  Vienna  in  1705,  with  the  view  of 
encouraging  and  promoting  the  fine  arts. 

The  Electoral  Academy  at  Erfurt  was  founded  by  the 
Elector  of  Mentz  in  1754,  for  the  purpose  of  promoting 
the  useful  sciences.  It  consists  of  a  protector,  a  pre- 
sident, a  director,  assessors,  adjuncts,  and  associates. 

The  first  volume  of  their  Memoirs,  which  are  all  in 
Latin,  appeared  in  1757,  in  12mo.  In  1784,  they  began 
to  publish  in  4to,  and  in  their  own  language.  In  1799, 
they  changed  the  form  of  their  volumes  to  8vo,  since 
which  time  only  one  volume  has  reached  this  country. 

The  Electoral  Bavarian  Academy  of  Sciences  at 
Munich,  established  in  1 759,  published  its  memoirs  under 
the  title  of  Abhandlungen  der  Baierischen  Academic. 
Munich,  1763. 

The  Hessian  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Giessen  publish- 
ed its  transasctions,  with  the  title  of  ^c(a  Philosophico- 
inedica  Academioe  Scientiarum  principalis  Hessiac<e, 
Giessae,  1761. 

The  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Manfte»»  was  established 
by  Charles  Theodore, Elector  Palatine,  in  1775,  accord- 
ing to  a  plan  of  the  learned  Schepflin,  and  divided  into 
two  classes ;  viz.  the  historical,  and  the  physical.  The 
latter,  in  1780,  was  divided  into  the  physical,  properly 
so  called,  and  the  meteorological.  The  papers  of  the  aca- 
demy have  been  published  in  1 1  volumes  4to,  under  the 
title  of  Acta  Academim  Thcodoro-Palatuue.  The  me- 
teorological observations,  after  1781,  form  12  volumes, 
4to,  with  the  title  of  Ephevicrides  Societatis  Mcteorolo- 
gicm  Palatina:.  An  academy  of  Arts  was  instituted  at 
Manheim  in  1757 ;  but  it  has  been  since  transferred  to 
Dusseldorf. 

An  academy  was  instituted  at  Tubengen, under  the  ti- 


72 


ACADEIHY: 


tie  o^  TJu  Acadimy  qfSivabian  History,  for  the  purpose  of 
publishing  the  best  historical  writings,  and  the  lives  of 
the  chief  historians,  fvud  for  compiling  new  historical 
memoirs. 

The  Royal  Acadetny  of  Sciences  at  JSrM«i/s,  puhlish- 
ftd  their  memoirs  in  a  great  number  of  volumes ;  the 
first  of  which  appeared  in  1777,  and  the  filth  in  1788, 
in  4to. 

Spanish  and  Portuguese  Academies.  The  Royal 
Spanish  Academy  was  established  at  Madrid  in  1714. 
It  was  projected  by  the  duke  d'Escalona,  and  having 
received  the  approbation  of  the  king,  it  was  taken  under 
his  royal  protection.  It  consisted  at  first  of  eight  mem- 
bers, including  the  duke,  who  was  made  president,  or 
director,  and  a  secretary ;  to  whom  1 4  others  were  af- 
terwards added.  Its  device  is  a  cmcible  upon  the  fire, 
with  this  motto,  Limpia  Fyay  da  Espkndor  ;  It  purifies, 
fixes,  and  gives  brightness.  The  object  of  the  academy 
is  to  cultivate  and  improve  the  national  language ;  and, 
for  this  purpose,  it  was  recommended  to  them,  in  the 
royal  declaration,  to  compose  a  dictionary,  in  which  the 
words  and  phrases,  used  by  the  best  Spanish  writers, 
might  be  distinguished  from  such  as  were  low,  bar- 
barous, or  obsolete.  The  academy  was  to  have  its  own 
printer;  but  it  was  not  perrailtecl  to  put  any  thing  to 
press  without  an  order  of  the  council.  The  academi- 
cians, too,  had  all  the  privileges  and  immunities  enjoy- 
ed by  the  domestic  officers  in  the  king's  service,  and  in 
the  royal  palace.  There  is  also  at  Madrid  a  Royal  Aca- 
demy of  History,  and  an  Academy  of  Painting,  establish- 
ed in  1752. 

The  Royal  Academy  of  Portuguese  History  at  Lisbon, 
•was  instituted  in  1720,  by  king  John  V.  It  consists  of 
a  director,  four  censors,  a  secretary,  and  50  members, 
to  each  of  whom  is  assigned  some  portion  of  the  civil 
or  ecclesiastical  history  of  the  nation,  which  he  may 
compose  either  in  Portuguese  or  in  Latin.  The  mem- 
bers, who  reside  in  the  country,  are  obliged  to  make  ex- 
tracts out  of  all  the  registers,  &c.  in  tiie  places  where 
they  live,  and  to  collect  whatever  may  serve  to  illustrate 
the  history  of  the  kingdom.  A  medal  was  struck  by  the 
academy  in  honour  of  their  founder;  on  the  front  of 
<vhich  was  his  effigy,  with  this  inscription,  Joannes  V. 
laisitanorum  Rex  ;  and,  on  the  reverse,  the  same  prince 
is  represented  standing,  and  raising  History,  almost 
prostrate  before  him,  with  this  inscription,  Historia  re- 
surges.  Underneath  are  the  following  words ;  Regia 
Academia  Historic  Lusitania:  Instituta  vi  Jdus  Decem- 

bris  MDCCXX. 

The  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Lisbon,  was  found- 
ed in  1779,  by  the  duke  de  Lafoens,  uncle  to  the  queen. 
The  sovereign  is  the  immetliate  patron,  and  the  founder 
is  president.  It  is  divided  into  three  classes,  that  of  na- 
tural science,  mathematics,  and  national  literature.  It 
is  composed  of  60  members ;  of  these,  24  arc  regular 
and  ordinary  ;  of  the  rest,  a  few  foreigners,  and  some  of 
^igh  rank  in  the  nation,  are  honorary ;  some  are  veteran 
members,  and  a  considerable  number  are  extra-cor- 
respondents. They  have  an  allonance  from  govern- 
ment, which  has  enabled  them  to  establish  an  observa- 
tory, a  museum,  a  library,  and  a  printing-office.  There 
are  several  volumes  of  its  transactions,  the  first  of  which 
was  published  at  Lisbon  in  1797. 

Rl'ssian  Academies.  When  many  of  the  nations 
of  Euiope  were  enlarging,  by  their  discoveries,  the 
boundaries  of  knowledge,  the  Russians  were  still  in 
a  state  of  comparative  barbarity.  Ff  ter  the  Great,  during 


his  travels  in  1717,  having  observed  the  beneficial  efi- 
fects  of  literary  institutions  in  promoting  civilization, 
resolved  to  establish  an  academy  in  his  own  capitals 
With  this  view,  he  consulted  the  most  eminent  scholars 
about  the  regulations  which  it  might  be  proper  to  adopt. 
But  after  having  completed  the  plan,  his  death,  in  1 725, 
prevented  him  from  seeing  it  put  into  execution.  His 
successor,  Catharine,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  his 
views,  finished  what  he  had  so  auspiciously  begun,  and 
established,  on  the  plan  of  the  academy  of  Paris,  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  scientific  institutions  in  Europe,  un- 
der the  title  of  The  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Peters- 
burgh.  Its  first  public  meeting  was  held  on  the  27th 
December,  1 725,  in  presence  of  the  duke  of  Holstein, 
and  a  great  number  of  persons  of  distinction. 

On  the  1  st  of  August,  1 726,  Catharine  attended  the  Aca- 
demy ;  when  professor  Bulfinger  delivered  an  oratioa 
upon  the  advantages  derived  from  the  loadstone  and  the 
needle  for  the  discovery  of  the  longitude.  The  empress 
settled  a  fund  of  4982i.  per  annum,  for  the  support  of  the 
academy,  and  fifteen  members,  eminent  for  their  learning 
and  talents,  were  admitted,  under  the  title  of  professors  in 
the  different  branches  of  literature  and  science,  with  sala- 
ries appointed  to  them  from  the  public  fund.  The  most 
eminent  of  these  professors  were  Nicholas  and  Daniel 
Bernoulli,  the  two  De  Lisles,  Bulfinger,  and  Wolf. 

Under  the  short  reign  of  Peter  II.  the  salaries  of  the 
members  were  withdrawn,  and  the  academy  was  alto- 
gether neglected  by  the  court.  It  was  again  patronized 
by  the  empress  Anne,  and  flourished  for  some  time  under 
the  direction  of  Baron  Korf;  but,  upon  his  death,  towards 
the  end  of  Anne's  reign,  an  ignorant  person  was  appoint- 
ed president,  and  many  of  the  most  able  members  quit- 
ted the  kingdom.  It  again  revived  upon  the  accession 
of  Elizabeth ;  the  original  plan  was  enlarged ;  an  aca- 
demy of  arts  was  added  in  1 758,  but  again  separated  from 
it  in  1764.  Men  of  learning  were  a  second  time  encou- 
raged to  settle  at  Petersburgh ;  and  the  annual  fund  was 
increased  to  10,659Z. 

Catharine  II.  took  the  academy  more  immediately  un- 
der her  protection ;  corrected  many  of  its  abuses,  and  in- 
fused new  vigour  into  its  proceedings.  To  obtain  infor- 
mation respecting  the  nature  and  state  of  her  vast  em- 
pire, she  encouraged  men  of  talents  to  visit  the  different 
provinces ;  for  which  purpose  she  granted  a  largess  of 
2000/.  to  be  renewed  as  occasion  might  require.  These 
travellers  were  instructed  by  the  academy  to  make  in- 
quiries concerning  the  different  sorts  of  soil  and  water  ; 
the  best  method  of  cultivating  barren  and  desert  spots ; 
the  local  disorders  incident  to  men  and  animals,  and  the 
best  means  of  relieving  them  ;  the  breeding  of  cattle, 
and  especially  of  sheep ;  the  rearing  of  bees  and  silk- 
worms; the  proper  places  for  fishing  and  hunting;  the 
various  minerals  and  plants;  and  the  different  arts  and 
trades.  They  were  also  enjoined  to  determine,  « ilh  ac- 
curacy, the  latitude  and  longitude  of  the  chief  toAvns ; 
to  make  astronomical,  geograi)hical,  and  meteorological 
observations ;  to  trace  the  course  of  rivers ;  (o  take  the 
most  exact  charts;  and  to  observe  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  different  nations,  their  language,  antiqui- 
ties, traditions,  history,  religion,  dress ;  and,  in  short,  to 
obtain  every  information  which  might  tend  to  illustrate 
the  real  slate  of  the  Russian  dominions.  The  accounts 
of  these  expeditions,  undertaken  by  Pallas,  Gmclin,Stol- 
berg,  Guldcnstaedt,  and  other  ingenious  men,  have 
thrown  much  light  upon  the  state  of  that  extensive  em- 
pire.    The  academy  is  divided  into  three  classes.    The 


ACADEMY. 


73 


first,  comprehending  astronomy  and  geography;  the 
second,  physics  and  mathematics ;  and  the  third,  me- 
chanics. 

The  academy  has  an  excellent  library,  consisting  of 
36,000  curious  books  and  manuscripts,  and  an  extensive 
museum,  in  which  a  vast  collection  of  specimens,  illus- 
trative of  natural  history,  are  deposited ;  an  observatory, 
&c.     It  has  for  its  motto,  Paulatim. 

The  Transactions  of  tliis  academy  were  first  pub- 
lished in  1728,  under  the  title  of  Commentarii  Acad. 
Scientiarum  Jmperialis  Petropolitame,  ad  an.  1720.  This 
series  was  continued  till  1 746,  when,  on  account  of  some 
new  regulations,  the  title  was  changed  to  Novi  Com- 
vientarii,  &c.  This  last  series  went  on  till  1783,  when 
it  was  again  changed  to  that  oS  Nova  Acta,  &c.  This 
new  series  differed  from  the  former,  in  having  a  history 
of  the  proceedings  of  the  academy,  and  also  an  abstract 
oj"  its  memoirs,  prefixed  to  each  volume.  The  com- 
mentaries were  contained  iu  14  volumes.  About  30  vo- 
lumes of  the  new  commentaries  were  published  in  La- 
tin. During  this  series,  the  labours  of  the  academi- 
cians were  considerably  interrupted,  on  account  of  the 
misconduct  of  some  of  the  directors.  In  1783,  however, 
by  the  api)ointment  of  a  new  director,  the  dissentions 
subsided,  and  new  ardour  was  given  to  its  proceedings. 
The  Transactions  of  the  academy  abound  with  ingenious 
and  learned  disquisitions  upon  various  branches  of  know- 
ledge, which  show  the  rapid  progress  in  science  which 
the  Russians  have  made  during  the  last  century.  The 
princess  Dashkoff  is  at  present  the  directress  of  this 
academy. 

The  Academy  of  Arts,  was  established  at  Peters- 
burgh  by  the  empress  Elizabeth,  at  the  suggestion  of 
count  Shuvalof,  with  a  fund  of  4000Z.  per  annum  for  its 
support.  The  number  of  scliohirs  was  limited  to  40.  It 
was  first  annexed  to  the  Academy  of  Sciences,  and  after- 
wards formed  into  a  separate  institution,  by  the  empress 
Catharine.  This  princess  augmented  the  annual  fund  to 
12,000/.  and  the  number  of  scholars  to  300.  She  also 
constructed  a  large  circular  building  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  academy.  The  scholars  are  admitted  at 
the  age  of  six,  and  continue  till  they  arrive  at  eighteen. 
They  are  supported  at  the  expense  of  the  crown,  and 
are  taught  reading,  writing,  drawing,  arithmetic,  an* 
the  French  and  German  languages.  Prizes  are  distri- 
buted annually;  and,  from  those  who  have  obtained 
four,  twelve  are  selected,  who  are  sent  abroad  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  empress ;  and,  when  they  settle  in  any 
town,  they  receive  an  annual  salary  of  60/,  which  ii  con- 
tinued for  four  years. 

Swedish  Academies.  The  Royal  Academy  of  Scien- 
ces at  Stockholm,  had  its  origin  from  six  persons  of  dis- 
tinguished learning,  who,  in  1739,  formed  a  private 
society  for  reading  dissertations  on  literary  subjects. 
The  celebrated  Linnieus  was  one  of  this  number.  The 
character  and  talents  of  the  founders  soon  procured  them 
a  multitude  of  associates.  The  institution  attracted 
the  public  attention,  and  was  incorporated  by  the  king, 
on  the  31st  March,  1741,  under  the  name  of  the  Royal 
Swedish  Academy.  Though  the  academy  has  acquired 
great  funds,  by  legacies  and  private  donations,  a  pro- 
fessor of  exi)erimeut;d  philosophy  and  two  secretaries 
are  the  only  persons  who  receive  any  salaries.  Each 
of  the  members  resident  at  Stockholm  becomes  presi- 
dent by  rotation,  and  continues  in  office  during  three 
months.  Tlie  dissertations  read  at  each  meeting  are 
collected  and  publislied  four  times  a-year,  in  8vo,  They 

Vol.  I.  Part  I, 


are  written  in  the  Swedish  language ;  and  the  annual 
publications  make  a  volume.  The  first  volume  was 
published  at  the  end  of  1 739,  under  the  title  of  Kor.scl- 
Svenska  Vetenskaps  Academiens  Handlingar,  and  the 
work  proceeded  without  interruption  till  the  year  1779, 
when  a  new  series  was  begun  under  the  title  of  Kongl. 
Vetenskaps  Academiens  Nya  Handlinqar ;  the  first  of 
which  was  published  in  1780.  The  papers  relating  to 
agriculture  are  printed  separately,  under  the  title  of 
Economica  Acta,  of  which  several  volumes  have  been 
published.  Annual  premiums,  in  money  and  gold  me- 
dals, princi[)ally  for  the  encouragement  of  agriculture 
and  inland  trade,  are  also  distributed  by  the  academy. 
The  fund  for  these  prizes  is  supplied  from  private  do- 
nations. The  funds  of  the  academy,  amounting,  in  1800, 
to  400/.  are  derived  from  the  profits  which  arise  from 
the  exclusive  sale  of  almanacs.  In  1799,  the  academy 
was  divided  into  seven  classes,  viz.  1.  General  and  rural 
economy,  containing  fifteen  members ;  2.  Comnurce  and 
the mcclMnical arts,  containing  fifteen  members;  3.  Ex- 
terior Physics  and  Natural  History,  containing  fifteen 
members;  4.  Interior  Physics  and  Natural  Philosophy, 
containing  fifteen  members ;  5.  Mathematics,  containing 
eighteen  members ;  6.  Medicine,  containing  fifteen  mem- 
bers ;  7.  Belles  Lettres,  History,  Languages,  containing 
twelve  members.  See  Coxe's  Travels,  ii.  342;  and 
Acerbi's  Travels,  i.  111. 

The  Acadetny  of  Belles  Lettres  at  Stockholm  was  in- 
stituted by  the  queen-tlowager,  and  protected  by  her 
son  Gustavus  III.  who  established  a  fund  for  prizes,  and 
settled  pensions  on  several  of  the  members.  The  num- 
ber of  members  is  fixed  at  fifty;  viz.  16  foreign,  14 
honorary,  and  20  ordinary  members.  The  regulations 
of  the  academy  are  nearly  the  same  with  those  of  the 
Academy  of  Inscriptions  at  Paris. 

The  Swedish  Academy,  or  the  Eighteen,  as  it  is  called, 
was  instituted,  in  1788,  by  Gustavus  III.  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  Swedish  language.  The  number  of 
members  is  18;  and  the  general  arrangements  of  the 
academy  are  somewhat  similar  to  those  of  the  Academic 
Franjoise.     See  Acerbi's  Travels,  i.  102,  105, 131. 

At  Stockholm  there  is  also  an  Aceukmy  of  Painting 
and  Sculpture,  which  has  nine  professors,  and  about  400 
scholars.  This  academy  distributes,  annually,  three 
large  and  three  small  medals;  and  the  students  who 
distinguish  themselves  most  are  permitted  to  travel  in- 
to Prance  and  Italy  at  the  expense  of  the  institution. 

The  Academy  of  .Antiquities  at  Upsal  was  planned 
and  begun  under  queen  Christina,  and  established  by 
her  successor  Charles  Gustavus.  Its  object  is,  to  illus- 
trate the  northern  languages,  and  the  antiquities  of  the 
cou  ntry,  as  stones,  coins,  &c.  For  an  account  of  the  So- 
ciety at  Upsal,  see  Society. 

There  is  also  an  Academy  of  Belles  Lettres  at  Abo. 

Danish  Academies.  TheRoyaUcademyofScimces 
at  Copenhagen  owes  its  origin  to  the  zeal  of  six  scholars, 
whom  Christian  VI.  in  1742,  ordered  to  arrange  his 
cabinet  of  medals.  Among  these  six  was  Pontop|)idan, 
the  celebrated  author  of  the  Natural  History  of  Nor- 
way. These  persons  meeting  occasionally  for  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  were  appointed,  gradually  enlarged 
their  plans,  associated  with  themselves  others  eminent 
in  science,  and  forming  a  kind  of  literary  society,  em- 
ployed themselves  in  exploring  and  illustrating  the  an- 
tiquities of  their  country.  The  count  of  Holstein,  who 
was  the  first  president,  warmly  patronized  this  society ; 
and  recommended  it  so  strongly  to  Christian  VI.  that. 


74 


ACADEMY. 


In  1 743,  his  Danish  majesty  took  it  under  his  protection, 
called  it  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences,  endowed  it 
with  a  fund,  an<l  ordered  the  members  to  join  to  their 
former  pursuits,  natural  history,  physics,  and  mathema- 
tics. In  consequence  of  the  royal  favour,  new  zeal  was 
diflfused  among  its  members ;  and  their  Transactions 
have  been  published  in  the  Danish  language,  in  a  great 
number  of  volumes,  some  of  which  have  been  translated 
into  Latin.     See  Coxe's  Travels,  vol.  ii.  p.  554. 

American  Academies.  An  Academy  in  America, 
similar  to  those  in  Europe,  had  been  in  contemplation 
before  the  commencement  of  the  American  war,  but  it 
was  not  carried  into  effect  till  the  end  of  the  year  1779. 
At  that  time,  notwithstanding  the  pressure  of  war,  a 
number  of  gentlemen  applied  to  the  legislature,  and  ob- 
tained its  sanction,  for  the  establishment  of  a  society, 
with  ample  privileges,  under  the  name  of  The  American 
.Ictukmy  of  ^rts  ami  Sciences.  The  object  of  the  aca- 
demy was  to  promote  the  various  branches  of  know- 
ledge. The  first  volume  of  its  Transactions,  consisting 
of  the  communications  that  were  received  from  its  esta- 
blishment till  the  end  of  the  year  1783,  was  published 
at  Boston,  in  1 785,  in  4to. 


For  an  account  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society, 
see  Society. 

British  Academies.  The  Royal  Irish  Academy,  SiWie 
from  a  society  which  was  established  at  Dublin  about 
the  year  1782.  This  society  consisted  of  an  indefinite 
number  of  members,  chiefly  belonging  to  the  university ; 
who,  at  weekly  meetings,  read  essays  in  rotation.  Anx- 
ious to  make  their  labours  redound  to  the  honour  and 
advantage  of  their  country,  they  formed  a  plan  more 
extensive  ;  and  admitting  such  additional  members  only 
as  might  add  dignity  to  their  new  institution,  or,  by  their 
publications,  had  given  sure  ground  to  hope  for  advan- 
tage from  their  labours,  they  became  the  founders  of  the 
Royal  Irish  Academy.  The  design  of  the  academy  is 
very  extensive,  embracing  whatever  tends  to  promote 
the  advancement  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  the  cultivation 
of  polite  literature,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  antiqui- 
ties of  the  country.  In  all  these  departments  of  know- 
ledge, the  society  has  furnished  many  excellent  disser- 
tations ;  and  the  papers  relating  to  polite  literature  are 
more  numerous  than  those  of  any  other  academy,  which 
is  not  wholly  of  a  literary  nature.  They  have  already 
published  ten  volumes  of  their  Transactions;  the  first 


The  American  Editors,  not  having  before  them  the 
entire  plan  of  this  work,  are  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
reason  of  the  distinction  here  made  between  Academies, 
expressly  so  called,  and  those  learned  institutions  which 
have  adopted  the  less  determinate  appellation  of  Socie- 
ties. Unless,  perhaps,  they  should  conceive  the  latter 
name  toj  be  more  properly  applicable  to  those  which, 
like  the  Royal  Society  of  London  and  the  American  Phi- 
losophical Society,  devote  themselves  exclusively  to  the 
inveitigationof  the  Physical  and  Mathematical  Sciences. 
This  distinction,  however,  is  not,  and  probably  never 
will  be,  universally  adopted.  On  the  continents  of  Ame- 
rica and  Europe,  learned  institutions  have  indifferently 
assumed  the  name  of  Academy  or  that  of  Society,  whether 
their  olyect  was  to  |)romote  the  Physical  or  the  Moral 
Sciences.  Thus  the  Economical  Society  of  Berne  had 
merely  in  view  the  promotion  and  improvement  of  agri- 
culture and  other  similar  practical  pursuits,  while  the 
scientific  Academics  of  Paris,  Petersburgh,  and  Berlin, 
devoted  their  learned  researches  to  the  higher  branches 
of  astronomy,  natural  philosophy,  and  the  mathematics. 
In  the  United  States,  the  same  indiscriminate  application 
is  made  of  those  different  denominations.  Hence,  if 
we  could  have  taken  upon  ourselves  to  alter  in  the  least 
the  distribution  of  the  different  articles  which  compose 
this  work,  we  would  have  considered  this  as  the  proper 
place  to  give  aa  account  of  the  American  Philosophical 
Society.  But,  being  willing  to  adhere  to  our  determi- 
nation to  give  the  original  text  to  our  readers  in  all  its 
integrity,  we  shall  leave  him  to  look  for  that  article  in 
the  proper  place  which  has  been  allotted  to  it,  and  shall 
content  ourselves  under  this  head  to  give  a  short  notice 
of  other  American  learned  institutions,  on  which  the 
original  edition  of  this  work  is  silent. 

The  Connecticut  Academy  of  Sciences,  incorporated 
by  an  act  of  the  legislature  of  that  state,  was  instituted 
in  the  year  1799.  Its  object  is  the  promotion  of  every 
branch  of  useful  knowledge.  We  have  as  yet  only  seen 
one  volumeof  their  Transactions,  printedat  New-Haven, 
in  1810,  in  octavo. 

The  New-York  Society  for  the  promotion  of  useful 
Arts,  was  at  first  cetablisbed  for  mere  agricultural  pur- 


poses, under  the  name  of  the  New-York  Agricultural 
Society.  In  the  year  1807,  it  extended  the  sphere  of 
its  i)ursuits,  and  assumed  its  present  denomination.  It 
consists  of  the  most  respectable  scientific  and  literary 
characters  ih  that  slate,  under  the  patronage  and  presi- 
dency of  the  venerable  Robert  R.  Livingston.  It  has 
not  yet  obtained  a  charter  from  (he  legislature  of  the 
state,  which  will,  no  doubt,  be  granted,  whenever  it  is 
applied  for.  The  first  volume  of  its  Transactions,  under 
its  new  organization,  was  printed  at  Albany  in  1807,  8vo. 

The  Historical  Society  of  Massackusetts  deserves  to 
be  mentioned  in  this  place.  It  was  instituted  in  1791  ; 
and  its  object  is  to  collect  and  preserve  all  documents, 
either  manuscript  or  printed,  which  have  a  tendency  to 
throw  light  on  the  history  of  America.  It  has  already 
published  several  volumes  of  interesting  memoirs ;  of 
which  it  has  been  observed,  with  too  much  truth,  that 
the  greatest  part  of  their  contents  relate  to  the  local  his- 
tory of  that  portion  of  the  United  States,  which  is  com- 
monly called  New-England.  A  similar  institution,  on 
a  more  enlarged  scale,  which  perhaps  would  be  best 
established  either  at  the  seat  of  the  federal  government 
or  at  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  is  much  wished  for,  and 
would  probably  preserve  many  important  but  fugitive 
documents,  which  otherwise  w'M  be  lost  to  our  pos- 
terity. 

The  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  was 
founded  in  the  year  1 805,  by  the  voluntary  association 
and  contributions  of  a  number  of  gentlemen  of  the  city 
of  Philadelphia.  It  was  soon  after  incorporated  by  the 
legislature.  The  object  of  this  institution  is  to  improve 
and  refine  the  public  taste  in  works  of  art,  and  to  culti- 
vate and  encourage  our  native  genius,  by  providing 
elegant  and  improved  specimens  of  the  arts  for  imita- 
tion, and  schools  for  instruction.  Its  present  president 
is  George  Clymer,  Esq. 

There  is  a  similar  institution  in  the  city  of  New- 
York. 

There  are  also  in  the  United  States  a  great  number 
of  Societies,  instituted  for  the  promotion  of  various 
branches  of  theoretical  and  practical  knowledge,  and 
particularly  of  medicine  and  agriculture.    Dufokceai'. 


ACADEMY. 


/.J 


wf  which  appeared  in  1788.  See  the  Preface  to  the  1st 
Toliime  of  the  Transactions. 

The  Academy  of  Ancient  Music  was  instituted  at  Lon- 
don, in  1 710,  by  several  persons  of  distinction,  and  some 
of  the  most  eminent  performers,  with  the  view  of  pro- 
Inotius;  the  study  and  practice  of  vocal  and  instrumental 
harmony.  It  had  the  advantage  of  a  library,  consistine; 
of  the  most  celebrated  compositions,  both  foreign  and 
domestic.  The  band  of  the  Chapel-Royal,  and  thechoir 
of  St.  Paul's,  with  the  boys  belonging  to  each,  contribut- 
ed their  exertions  in  support  of  this  new  institution.  In 
1731,  a  difference  arose  among  the  members;  in  conse- 
quence of  which,  the  support  of  the  boys,  and  of  several 
of  the  members,  was  withdrawn.  Prom  this  lime  it  be- 
came a  seminary  for  the  instruction  of  youth  in  the  prin- 
cii)lps  of  music. 

The  Roi/al  Academy  of  Mtisic  was  formed  by  the  prin- 
«  cipal  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  kingdom,  for  the  perform- 
ance of  operas  composed  by  Mr.  Handel,  and  conducted 
by  him  at  the  theatre  in  the  Haymarket.  This  institu- 
tion attracted  extraordinary  attention,  and  continued  to 
flourish,  for  a  considerable  time,  with  great  reputation. 
The  subscription  amounted  to  50,000/. ;  and  the  king, 
subscribing  1000/.  allowed  the  society  to  assume  the  ti- 
tle of  Royal  Academy.  It  consisted  of  a  governor,  de- 
putj--governor,  and  twenty  directors.  A  contest,  how- 
ever, betwixt  Handel  and  Senesino,  in  which  the  direc- 
tors took  the  jiart  of  the  latter,  occasioned  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  acadcnij',  after  it  had  existed  for  more  than 
nine  years. 

The  Royal  Academy  of  Arts  was  established  at  Lon- 
don, in  1 768,  for  the  encouragement  of  designing,  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  <tc.  The  king  is  the  patron ;  and  it  is  un- 
der the  direction  of  forty  artists  of  the  first  rank  in  their 
several  professions.  They  paint  from  living  models  of 
different  characters.  Nine  are  chosen  out  of  the  forty, 
to  attend  in  rotation,  to  set  the  figures,  to  examine  the 
performances  that  are  produced,  and  to  give  the  neces- 
sary instructions.  There  are  professors  of  painting,  of 
architecture,.ofanatomy,and  of  perspective,  who  annual- 
ly give  lectures  in  their  different  departments ;  besides 
a  president,  a  council,  and  other  ofTicevs.  There  is  an 
annual  exhibition  of  paintings,  sculptures,  and  designs, 
at  which  some  excellent  pieces  have  been  sometimes 
produced.  It  is  open  to  all  who  have  any  taste  for  the 
studies  which  it  professes  to  cultivate. 

On  the  subject  of  Academies,  see  Descamp,  Stir 
ttdilitf  de  tetahlissement  dcs  ecoles  gratuites,  Paris,  17t)8. 
Rozoi,  L'Essais  Philosophique  siir  PctaJylissenwnt  des 
ecolcs  grtUuites  de  dessin.  Ramdohr,  Tiber  Mahkrei,  and 
Bildhmurkunsl  in  Rom.  Leipsick,  1787;  and  Mazzu- 
chelli's  Scrittori  D'ltalia,  passim.  See  also  Institute, 
Institution,  Society. 

ACADEMY  is  also  used  to  signify  a  collegiate  semi- 
nary, either  of  a  public  or  private  nature,  where  youth 
are  instmcted  in  the  arts  and  sciences.  There  were 
two  public  academies  of  this  kind  in  the  Roman  emi)ire  ; 
one  at  Rome,  founded  by  Adrian,  in  which  all  the  sciences 
were  taught;  and  the  other  at  Berytes  in  Phoenicia, 
which  was  confined  chiefly  to  the  science  of  law.  In 
the  thirteeuth  century,  similar  academies  began  to  be 
erected  in  various  parts  of  Europe ;  peculiar  privileges 
were  granted  to  the  students;  they  were  invested  with  a 
certain  jurisdiction,  and  governed  by  their  own  laws  and 
Statutes.     See  University. 

Frederick  I.  king  of  Prussia,  established  an  Jcadenty 
in  Berlin,  in  1703,  for  the  education  of  theyoung  nobility 


belonging  to  the  court.  This  illustrious  seminary,  which 
was  called  the  .Icadcmy  of  Princes,  has  now  lost  much 
of  its  original  splendour. 

The  Romans  had  a  kind  of  military  academies  in  all 
the  cities  of  Italy,  called  Campi  Marlii,  where  youth 
were  admitted  to  be  trained  for  war  at  the  public  ex- 
pense. The  Greeks,  besides  academies  of  this  kind, 
had  military  professors,  called  Tactici,  who  taughtall  the 
higher  offices  of  war,  &c.  &c. 

In  this  couutrj',  we  have  two  royal  academies  of  thi.< 
kind ;  one  at  Fortsmouth,  in  which  navigation,  drawina:, 
ifec.  are  taught.  It  was  founded  by  George  I.  in  1722 ; 
and  is  under  the  direction  of  the  Board  of  Admiralty, 
which  gives  salaries  to  various  masters,  with  one  of 
whom  the  students  are  boarded  at  their  own  expense, 
their  education  only  being  supplied  by  government. 
The  young  men  are  rated  as  midshi|)men  when  they  en- 
ter the  academy  ;  and  the  time  that  they  spend  at  this 
seminary,  not  exceeding  two  years,  is  considered  the 
same  as  if  thej-  had  been  in  actual  service. — The  other 
is  a  Military  Jcademy  at  Woolwich,  where  young  men 
are  taught  fortification,  gunnery,  mining,  and  such 
branches  of  the  mathematics  as  are  necessarj'  to  qualify 
them  for  the  service  of  the  artillery  and  engineers.  It 
was  instituted  by  George  II.  by  warrants,  dated  30th 
April  and  18th  November,  1 741  ;  and  is  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Master-general  and  Board  of  Ordnance.  The 
gentlemen  educated  at  Ibis  academj',  amounting  to  180, 
are  the  sons  of  noblemen  and  military  officers.  They 
are  called  Gentlemen  Cadets ;  and  are  not  admitted  un- 
der 1 4,  nor  above  1 C  years  of  age.  The  cadets  arc  under 
the  direction  of  a  lieutenant-governor.  Each  company 
has  a  captain  and  two  subalterns,  as  military  directors ; 
and  an  inspector,  who  superintends  the  studies  of  the  ca- 
dets. The  academy  has  at  present  about  20  masters, 
viz.  a  professor  of  mathematics,  and  eight  other  mathe- 
matical masters;  a  professor  of  fortification,  and  two  mas- 
ters ;  five  drawing  masters:  two  French  masters;  with 
masters  for  chemistry,  fencing,  and  dancing.  This  in- 
stitution is  of  the  greatest  consequence  to  the  state ;  and 
it  is  hardly  credible  that  so  important  an  object  should 
be  accomplished  at  such  a  trifling  expense.  The  pay 
of  each  cadet  is  only  2s.  6d.  per  day ;  and  as  this  is  sufli- 
cient  for  his  maintenance,  his  parents  are  at  no  expense 
while  he  continues  at  the  academy.  Owing  to  the  un- 
healthy and  confined  situation  of  the  old  buildings,  govern- 
ment determined  to  erect  new  ones  on  the  side  of  Shooter's 
hill.  The  foundation  stone  was  accordingly  laid  by  the 
duke  of  York  on  the  27tli  May,  1303,  and  the  academy 
was  removed  to  them  on  the  1 2th  of  August,  1 800.  The 
Cadets'  Barracks  is  a  very  handsome  building,  and  has  a 
noble  appearance,  from  the  number  of  field-pieces  ar- 
ranged before  it.  The  academy  is  an  elegant  building, 
in  the  Gothic  style.  For  an  account  of  the  Jlilitary  Col- 
lege at  Marlow,  see  College. 

The  Dissenters  in  England  have  several  private  acade- 
mies, at  which  those  who  are  intended  for  the  ministry 
are  educated.  Prior  to  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.  the 
universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  were  open  to  all 
protestants,  of  whatever  denomination.  At  that  time, 
however,  certain  oaths  were  introduced,  which  excluded 
those  who  did  not  adhere  to  the  national  establishment. 
Hence  private  academies  were  instituted  by  many  of  the 
most  eminent  of  the  non-conformist  divines  in  difierent 
parts  of  the  kingdom.  These  have  produced  many  cele- 
brated men:  but,  of  late  years,  they  have  ratherfallen  off. 
A  pretty  full  account  j)f  them  may  be  found  in  the  Theo- 
K  2 


76 


ACA 


ACA 


logical  and  Biblical  IMagazine  for  1807,  in  an  Essay,  en- 
titled. Dissenting  Academies,     (w) 

ACADEMY,  is  a  name  given  to  those  seminaries 
where  the  Jewish  Kabbins  instructed  the  youth  in  the 
language,  traditions,  and  rites  of  their  nation.  Soon  af- 
ter the  dispersion  of  the  Jews,  at  the  destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem, they  are  said  to  have  erected  academies  at 
Japhne,  Lydda, Babylon,  and  Tiberias;  which  last  place 
produced  the  compilers  of  the  Mishna  and  the  Masorites. 
Buxtorf  says,  that  this  academy  subsisted  in  Jerom's 
time.  The  most  famous  of  the  Babylonian  schools,  in 
later  times,  were  those  that  were  established  in  the  ci- 
ties of  Sora,  Nahardea,  and  Pumbeditha.  Saadias,  a 
celebrated  grammarian,  was  rector  of  the  academy  at 
Sora,  in  927.  But  these  academies  were  demolished 
by  the  Mahomedan  kings  of  Persia  about  the  year 
1040.     (i/) 

ACADEMY  is  also  a  name  given  to  a  riding-school, 
where  young  men  are  taught  to  ride  the  great  horse, 
fencing,  and  other  exercises  of  a  similar  kind.  The 
duke  of  Newcastle,  in  a  work  upon  this  subject,  says, 
that  the  art  of  horsemanship  passed  from  Italy  to  Eng- 
land; and  that  the  first  academy  of  this  kind  was  establish- 
ed at  Naples,  by  Frederick  Grison,  who  wrote  upon  the 
subject.  Henry  VIII.  brought  two  Italians,  scholars 
of  Grison,  into  England,  for  the  purpose  of  teaching 
this  art ;  since  which  time  it  has  continued  to  be  taught 
in  all  the  considerable  cities  of  the  country.  The 
ground  allotted  for  the  purpose  is  usually  called  the  Ma- 
nege,    (uj 

ACjEN  A,  from  »^»tiici,  arod  ten  feetlong,  which  the 
Greeks  employed  in  the  mensuration  of  land. 

ACjENA,  in  Botany,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class 
Tetrandria,  and  order  Monogynia ;  and  comprehending 
only  one  species,  which  is  a  Mexican  plant.  See  Bota- 
ny.    («;) 

ACALYPHA,  in  Botany,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the 
order  Monadelphia,  and  class  Moneecia.  In  the  last 
edition  of  Linnaeus,  by  Gmelin,  tliis  plant  is  made  a 
genus  of  the  Monadelphia  Dodecandria.  See  Bota- 
ny,    (w) 

AC  AM  AS,  the  son  of  Theseus  and  Phaedra,  was  one 
of  the  Grecian  leaders  at  the  seige  of  Troy;  and  was 
sent,  along  with  Diomedes,  on  an  embassy  to  Priam,  in 
order  to  procure  the  restoration  of  Helen.  Laodice,  the 
daughter  of  Priam,  fell  desperately  in  love  with  Acamas, 
and  revealed  her  passion  to  Philobia,the  wife  of  Perseus. 
Perseus  being  solicitous  to  oblige  Laodice,  invited  Aca- 
mas to  Dardanus,  a  city  of  which  he  was  governor,  and, 
after  a  splendid  entertainment,  introduced  Laodice  to 
him,  in  Ihe  character  of  one  of  the  king's  concubines. 
The  result  of  this  gallantry  was  a  son,  called  Munitus, 
who  afterwards  followed  his  father  into  Thrace,  and 
fUed  by  the  bite  of  a  serpent.  Acamas  was  one  of  the 
heroes  who  were  concealed  in  the  woodeu  horse.  He 
founded  the  city  Acamantium,  in  Phrygia  Major ;  and 
gave  name  to  the  Acamantides,  one  of  the  tribes  of 
Athens,     (o) 

ACANTHABOLUS,  the  name  of  an  instrument  de- 
scribed by  Paulus  jEgineta,  for  extracting  thorns  from 
the  flesh.  It  resembles  the  instrumeut  called  volsella, 
which  is  used  in  taking  bones  from  the  oesophagus.  See 
Celsu^,  viii.  30.     (j») 

AC  ANTHANOTUS,  in  Ichthyology,  the  name  of  a 
genus  of  fishes,  of  the  order  Abdominales,  in  Linnteus's 
system.     See  Ichthtology.     (ro) 

ACANTHURUS,  in  Ichthyology,  Sie  name  of  a  ge- 


nus of  fishes  belonging  to  the  order  Thoracici.     See 
Ichtiiyoi^ogy.     (n») 

ACANTHUS,  or  Bear's  Breech,  in  Botany,  a  ge- 
nus of  plants  of  the  order  Angiospermia,  and  class  Di- 
dynamia     See  Botany,     (w) 

ACANTICONE,  the  name  of  a  mineral  species,  of 
the  flint  genus.  It  is  the  Pistacite  of  Werner,  Arandi- 
lite  of  D'Andrada,  andThallite  of  La  Metherie.  It  was 
formerly  ranked  as  a  variety  of  common  actynolite  ;  but 
the  late  observations  of  Werner  and  Haiiy  show  that  it  is 
a  distinct  species,  and  nearly  allied  to  Angite.  See 
Oryctognosy.     (r) 

AC  ANZI,  the  name  of  the  Turkish  light-horse,  which 
form  the  vanguard  of  the  grand  Signior's  army  when  on 
a  march,     (w) 

AC  APULCO,  the  second  sea-port  town  in  the  Mexi- 
can empire,  situated  on  a  bay  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  at 
the  distance  of  240  miles  south  of  Mexico.  The  town 
itself  is  very  inconsiderable,  being  composed  of  only  two 
or  three  hundred  thatched  and  ill-built  houses :  but  the 
harbour  is  large  and  commodious,  and  is  cajiable  of  con- 
taining five  hundred  ships.  The  harbour  is  secured  by 
a  small  island,  lying  at  its  entrance,  which  is  encircled 
by  lofty  mountains,  forming  two  inlets  of  sufficient  depth 
for  the  largest  vessels ;  but,  as  all  vessels  must  enter  it 
by  a  sea-breeze  in  the  d.iy  time,  and  clear  out  by  a  land- 
breeze  in  the  night,  they  are  often  driven  off  to  sea,  af- 
ter many  fruitless  attempts  to  make  the  harbour.  The 
castle  of  St.  Diego,  situated  on  a  promontory,  at  a  small 
distance  from  the  town,  guards  the  harbour  with  31 
pieces  of  cannon,  the  greaterpart  of  which  are  24  pound- 
ers. The  climate  of  Acapuico  is  damp  and  sultry ;  the 
country  is  exposed  to  frequent  earthquakes  :  and  as  the 
town  is  encircled  with  a  volcanic  triountain,  the  atmos- 
phere is  always  thick  and  unhealthy.  In  the  rainy  sea- 
son, the  south-east  winds  are  extremely  destructive; 
while  the  salubrious  north  winds  of  the  eastern  coast 
are  totally  unknown.  Hence  the  Spanish  families  re- 
tire to  a  distance  from  the  coast,  when  business  does 
not  require  their  attendance  ;  and  the  town  is  inhabited 
only  by  400  families  of  mulattoes,  negroes,  and  Chinese, 
or  people  from  the  Philippine  Isles.  The  trade  of  Aca- 
puico is  carried  on  chiefly  with  the  Philippines  and  Peru. 
When  the  Chinese  ship,  the  name  given  by  the  Spanish 
writers  to  the  Galleon  from  Manilla,  in  the  Philippine 
Isles,  arrives  at  Acapuico,  the  merchants  from  Mexi- 
co, Peru,  and  even  Chili,  hasten  thither  to  receive  and 
exchange  their  commodities ;  and  erect  tents  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  town,  so  as  to  form  a  lai^e  encampment. 
The  Manilla  galleon  arrives  annually,  loaded  with  all 
the  treasures  of  the  East,  consisting  of  gold-works,  mus- 
lins, printed  linens,  silks,  perfumes,  and  precious  stones ; 
which  are  exchanged  to  the  Mexican  traders,  for  cochi- 
neal, European  toys,  and  about  half  a  million  sterling. 
Though  there  is  a  considerable  number  of  cattle  and 
sheep,  yet  provisions  are  very  scarce ;  and  the  city  de- 
pends on  a  supply  from  the  Indians.  The  governor  of 
Acapuico  has  the  title  of  lieutenant-general  of  the  Coast 
of  the  South  Sea :  and  commands  three  companies  of 
militia,  the  Chinese,  the  Mulatto,  and  the  Negro.  The 
surrounding  country  produces  cotton,  maize,  pot-herbs, 
fruits,  and  some  tobacco.  About  thre^miles  to  the  east 
of  Acapuico,  is  an  excellent  harbour,  called  Port-Marquis, 
to  which  the  ships  from  Peru  generally  carry  their  con- 
traband goods.  Acapuico  was  taken  and  plundered  by 
sir  Francis  Drake  in  1580.  W.  Long.  lOOMl'.  N.  JLat. 
17;  5'    (o) 


ACC 


ACC 


77 


ACARA, 

AC  AR  A  AY  A, 

ACARAMUCU, 

ACARAPIBA, 

ACARAPINIMA, 

ACARUPITAMBA, 

ACARAPUCU, 

ACARAUNA, 

ACARNAN, 


The  trivial  names  of  fish- 
es, which  are  chiefly  found'on 
the  coasts  of  South  Ameri- 
ca. For  anaccoimtofwhich, 
^  see  Marcgrave,  Ray,  Rondc- 
let,AadWiUughln/.  TheAcA- 
RAMucu  is  the  BaJ.istes  Mo- 
noceros  of  Linnteus,  and  the 
AcARAUNAhisC/wc/orfffW.  See 
Diet,  des  Scieiwe  Naturelks,  vol.i.  and  Ichthyology,  (w) 

ACARNANIA,  now  called  La  Camia,  a  country 
situated  on  the  Ionian  sea,  and  separated  from  iEtolia  by 
the  river  Achelous,  and  from  Epirus  by  the  gulf  of 
Ambracia.  For  a  particular  account  of  this  country, 
gee  Macrobius'  Sattimal,  lib.  i.  cap.  12.  Polybii  Hist. 
lib.  iv.  cap.  30.  lAv.  lib.  xxxii.  cap.  4.  Strabo,  lib.  x.  p. 
317,  318.  Univ.  Hist.  vi.  276;  vii.  239,  329,  380,  401  ; 
ix.  84.     (w) 

ACARUS,  the  Tick,  or  Mite,  a  genus  of  insects  of 
the  order  Aptera.  See  Entomology,  and  Philos.  Mag. 
vol.  xxiii.  p.  1.     (to) 

ACASATHULA,  a  sea-port  town  in  Mexico,  re- 
markable for  three  volcanoes  in  its  neighbourhood.  W. 
Long.  93".  N.  Lat.  12"  50'.     (to) 

AC  AT  ALECTIC,  in  prosody,  a  name  given  to  ver- 
ses which  are  not  defective  in  feet  or  syllables,     (w) 

ACATASTATjE,  a  name  given  to  fevers  anoma- 
lous in  their  appearance,  and  irregular  in  their  parox- 
ysms,    (to) 

ACATHISTUS,  ahymnsungin  the  Greek  church  in 
hoiiourof  the  Virgin,  for  having  thrice  delivered  Constan- 
tinople from  the  barbarous  hordes  which  invaded  it.    (to) 

ACBAR,  the  name  of  a  huge  Idol,  from  the  wor- 
ship of  which  Mahomet  could  with  difficulty  restrain 
the  Arabians,     (to) 

ACCAWAW  Indians,  the  name  of  one  of  the  sa- 
vage tribes,  who  are  Aborigines  of  Guiana.  Though 
they  live  on  friendly  terms  with  the  Dutch  settlers,  yet 
they  treacherously  administer  slow  poison  imder  their 
nails;  and  are  bo  distrustful,  that  they  pallisade  the 
ground  which  surrounds  their  hamlets  with  poisoned 
spikes.  See  Stedman's  Narrative  of  an  Expedition  to 
Surinam,  vol.  i.  p.  420.     (o) 

ACCELERANDO,  the  term  for  accelerating  the 
time  in  the  middle  of  a  piece  of  music,     (to) 

ACCELERATION,  in  mechanics,  is  an  augmenta- 
tion of  velocity  received  by  a  moving  body,  whether 
falling  freely  by  its  own  weight,  descending  an  inclin- 
ed plane,  or  oscillating  round  a  fixed  centre.  The 
laws  of  the  acceleration  of  falling  bodies  were  discover- 
ed by  the  celebrated  Galileo.  See  Dynamics,  and 
Mechanics,     (jb) 

ACCELERATION  of  the  Moon,  or  her  secular 
equation,  is  an  increase  of  velocity  in  the  mean  motion 
of  the  moon,  arising,  according  to  La  Place,  from  a  di- 
minution in  the  eccentricity  of  the  earth's  orbit,  produc- 
ed by  the  action  of  the  sun.  When  this  eccentricity, 
therefore,  becomes  a  minimum,  the  acceleration  will 
cease,  and  when  the  eccentricity  increases,  the  accel- 
eration will  be  converted  into  a  retardation. 

Dr.  Halley  wi^he  first  who  detected  this  diminution 
in  the  periodical  i^olution  of  the  moon,  by  a  comparison 
of  the  ancient  and  modern  eclipses.  But,  as  the  longi- 
tudes of  the  places  where  tiiese  eclipses  were  observed, 
were  not  accurately  ascertained,  he  did  not  attempt  to 
determine  the  quantity  of  acceleration.  This,  however, 
was  afterwards  done  by  Mr.  Dunthorne,  who  fouad  that 


the  acceleration  amounted  to  10"  in  100  years.  By  a 
comparison  of  three  eclipses,  observed  near  Cairo  in 
977,  978,  979,  by  Ibn-Junis,  La  Lande  has  found  the  ac- 
celeration to  be  9".886  in  100  years.  In  Mayer's  first 
tables  it  is  7",  and  in  his  last  9".  According  to  La  Place, 
it  amounts  to  11".  135.  See  Phil.  Trans.  No.  204,  218  ; 
and  vol.  xlvi.  p.  162 ;  1 749,  1 750, 1 777.  Newton's  Prin- 
cipia,  2d  edit.  p.  481.  Comment.  Reg.  Soc.  Gotting.  1752, 
p.  388.  Mem.  de  VAcad.  Par.  1757,  1763,  1786.  Mem. 
de  VAccLd.  Berlin.  1 773,  1 782.  Connoissances  des  Temps, 
1779,  1782,  1790,  p.  294.  Long's  Astronomy,  vol.  ii.  p. 
436.  Astronomie  par  La  Lande,  tom.  ii.  Art.  1483. 
Vince's  Astronomy,  vol.  i.  p.  206.  See  Astronomy,  (to) 

ACCELERATION  of  the  Stars,  is  the  difference 
between  the  time  in  which  the  sun  performs  his  diurnal 
revolution,  and  the  time  in  which  the  fixed  stars  seem 
to  perform  their  diurnal  revolution,  which  makes  the 
stars  rise,  come  to  the  meridian,  and  set,  3'  55''.9  soon- 
er every  day.  During  every  24  hours,  the  sun  moves  59' 
8".5  eastward,  (in  a  direction  contrary  to  that  of  his 
diurnal  motion,)  a  space  which  he  describes  in  his  daily 
revolution  in  3'  55".9.  If  the  sun  and  a  fixed  star,  there- 
fore, leave  the  same  point  in  the  heavens  at  the  same 
time,  the  fixed  star  will  return  to  that  point  in  the  space 
of  23h.  56'  4".l  equal  to  24h.  minus  3'  55".9,  while  the 
sun  will  require  24  hours  to  arrive  at  the  same  point. 
During  the  next  revolution,  the  star  will  gain  3'  55".9, 
and  will  reach  the  point  from  which  it  first  set  out  7' 
51  ".8  before  the  sun.     See  Astronomy,     {iv) 

ACCELER  ATORES  Urin.e,  the  name  of  two  mus- 
cles for  accelerating  the  ejection  of  the  urine  and  semen. 
See  Anatomy,     (to) 

ACCENT,  in  Grammar,  a  certain  mark,  or  character, 
placed  over  a  syllable,  in  order  to  direct  the  manage- 
ment of  the  voice  in  pronunciation.  The  accents  which 
we  commonly  employ,  are  the  same  that  were  in  use 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  are  three  in  num- 
ber, viz.  the  acute  cucccnt  marked  (')  which  denotes  the 
elevation  of  the  voice ;  the  grave  accent  ("),  which 
marks  the  depression  of  the  voice ;  and  the  circun^x 
accent  (*)  or  ("),  which  is  composed  of  the  grave  and 
the  acute,  and  indicates  that  the  voice  is  to  be  first 
elevated  and  then  depressed. 

Different  nations  vary  from  each  other  greatly  in  the 
accents  which  they  employ.  The  Hebrew  abounds 
more  in  them  than  any  other  language,  as  it  is  reckoned 
to  employ  twentj'-five  tonic  and  lour  etiphonic  accents ; 
although  authors  are  nor  perfectly  agreed  as  to  the  num- 
ber of  either  class.  The  tonic  accents  are  intended  to 
give  the  proper  tone  to  syllables,  and  are  divided  into 
grammatical  and  musical.  The  euphonic  accents  are 
called  rhetorical,  and  are  intended  to  make  the  pronun- 
ciation more  sweet  and  agreeable.  Of  the  Hebrew  ac- 
cents, some  are  placed  above  and  some  below  the  syl- 
lables ;  and  they  serve  not  only  to  regulate  the  variations 
of  the  voice,  but  also  to  mark  the  jicrioils  and  members 
of  a  discourse,  like  our  characters  for  punctuation. 
They  are  classed  according  to  their  dignity,  or  relative 
importance;  and  have  obtained  the  lofty  titles  of  em- 
perors, kings,  dukes,  &c.  The  emperor  rules  over  a 
whole  phrase,  and  terminates  the  sense  completely, 
like  our  full  point ;  the  king  corresponds  to  our  colon, 
or  semicolon ;  and  the  duke  to  a  comma ;  but  they  in- 
terchange dignities  as  the  [)hrases  are  longer  or  shorter; 
and  thus  the  king  may  become  a  dukt-,  and  the  duke  a 
king.  The  office  of  these  accents  is  very  different  in 
poetry  from  what  it  is  in  prose. 


"3 


7» 


ACCENT. 


Mucli  oontrort-rsy  has  arisen  concerning  both  the 
origin  and  the  use  of  the  Hebrew  accents.  Some  main- 
t.iiu,  thnt  they  serve  to  distinguish  the  sense;  while 
others  allow  them  no  other  office  llian  to  regulate  the 
musical  cadence,  or  melody ;  alleging,  tliat  the  Jews 
sing,  rather  than  road,  the  fcri|)tures  in  their  synagogues. 
The  learned  Hennjn  aflirms,  Ihat  the  Hebrew  accents 
are  of  Arabic  invention ;  and  that  they  were  adopted  by 
the  Jewish  doctors  of  the  school  of  Tiberias,  called  the 
Masokites,  csijecially  by  the  celebrated  Kabbi  Ben 
Ascher.  It  is  not,  however,  so  easy  to  conceive,  that 
this  contrivance  could  have  been  of  Arabic  origin,  when 
the  Arabic  language  has  no  such  thing  as  accents,  either 
in  prose  or  verse.  The  nio.~t  |)revailing  opinion  among 
the  learned  is,  that  the  invention  of  the  Hebrew  ixcenta, 
as  well  as  the  vowel  points,  is  entirely  due  to  the  Maso- 
rites,  and  took  i)lace  about  tlie  midtUe  of  the  sixth  cen- 
tury. The  accents  have  been  a  source  of  great  diificuliy 
in  learning  the  Hebrew  language ;  and  of  equal  confu- 
sion and  error  in  its  interpretation.  Few  of  them  are 
now  of  any  known  use,  except  that  of  distinguishing 
periods;  and  biblical  interpreters  are  at  great  variance 
concerning  their  position,  necessity,  and  utility.  See 
Buxtorf's  Thesaurus. 

'J'he  Chinese  and  Siamese  are  noted  for  the  musical 
accent  with  which  Ihej'  speak ;  and,  in  their  language, 
the  accents  are  employed  to  prevent  ambiguity,  and  to 
confer  a  peculiar  meaning  upon  words.  They  consist 
•f  a  kind  of  modulation,  or  a  prolongation,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  a  variation  of  the  sound  of  a  vowel,  by  raising 
or  depressing  the  voice  a  certain  pitch.  Tlie  accents 
of  the  Chinese  are  reckoned  four  or  five  in  number, 
and  the  same  sound  may  acquire  as  many  different 
meanings,  according  to  the  accents  affixed  to  it.  Thus, 
the  syllable  ya,  according  as  it  is  accented,  may  signify 
Qod,  a  wall,  excellent,  siupidilij,  and  a  goose  ;  so  that  if 
they  deviate  ever  so  little  from  the  accent,  they  say  quite 
a  contrary  thing  to  what  was  intended,  The  Siamese 
al|ihabet  begins  with  six  characters,  which  are  all  equi- 
valent to  our  k,  but  are  differently  accented ;  for,  in  this 
language,  the  consonants,  as  well  as  the  vow«ls,  are 
diversitied  by  accents.     La  Loubere,  tom.  ii.  1.  8. 

With  respect  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  accents,  there 
has  been  no  less  dispute  about  their  anliqiiity  and  their 
nse,  than  concerning  those  of  the  Hebrews.  It  is  the 
opinion  of  Vossius,  and  other  learned  grammarians,  that 
they  are  a  comparatively  modern  invention ;  and  that 
the  most  ancient  Greek  accents  were  a  few  musical  notes 
for  poetry,  invented  by  Aristophanes  the  grammarian, 
about  the  time  of  Ptolemy  Philopater,  and  which  were 
very  different  from  those  afterwards  introduced.  {Vos. 
de  Accent.  Grcec.)  Montfaucon,  while  he  allows  Aris- 
tophanes to  have  been  the  inventor  of  prosody,  and  of 
the  marks  by  which  the  accents  are  now  distinguished, 
asserts,  that  the  Greek  language  was  by  no  means  des- 
titute of  accents  before  his  time.  [PaUograph.  Grace. 
33.)  Wetsleen,  Gesner,  lord  Monboddo,  and  others, 
have  contended  for  the  high  antiquity  of  the  Greek  ac- 
cents, and  endeavoured  to  point  out  their  specific  use. 
H  is  not,  however,  contended,  that  the  ancient  Greeks 
used  accents  in  their  common  writings,  or  books,  but 
only  in  their  schools.  No  Greek  inscriptions  have  either 
accent,  spirit,  apostrophus,  or  iur*  subscribed,  till  170 
years  after  Christ.  Michaelis  apprehended,  that  they 
do  not  occur  in  any  copies  of  the  New  Testament  still 
extant,  which  are  antecedent  to  the  eighth  century,  and 
but  seldom  in  those  which  are  more  modern  ;  that  tbey 


were  not  written  hy  tlie  apostles,  but  were  probably  first 
added  by  Pluthalius  in  the  year  4.58.  His  translator, 
however,  Mr.  Marsh,  has  discovered  both  accents  and 
marks  of  aspiration,  in  several  more  ancient  MSS, 
which  he  mentions;  particularly  the  Vatican,  and  the 
Claromontane.  "J'he  Alexandrian,  Cambridge,  and  four 
other  MSS.  are  without  accents.  Translat.  oj  Micliacl. 
Inlrod.  vol.  ii.  p.  894. 

1'he  Grc(  ks  called  their  accents  vftrtiiai,  or  »»»•», 
and  the  Romans  called  them  accentus ;  terms  which 
seem  to  show  that  their  effect  was  musical,  or  consisted 
in  a  variation  of  the  tone  of  the  voice,  in  respect  of 
acuteness  and  gravity.  This  also  appears  from  the 
three  species  or  varieties  of  the  ancient  accents;  the 
aculc,  whose  office,  it  is  said,  was  to  raise  the  voice  to  a 
greater  height  in  the  musical  scale ;  the  grave,  whose 
office  it  was  to  depress  it ;  anil  the  circumflex,  which 
first  carried  the  voice  from  grave  to  acute,  and  then 
from  acute  to  grave.  The  management  of  these  accents 
was  reduced  to  rule  by  the  ancients,  and  formed  a  prinr 
cipal  object  of  attention  with  all  ])ublic  speakers.  There 
were  academies  instituted  for  the  management  of  the 
voice,  at  which  those  destined  for  the  bar  or  the  stage 
attended,  and  received  instructions  from  persons  called 
<f>tii»<TKiii,  or  regulators  of  the  voice.  Roscius,  the  cele- 
brated actor,  had  an  academy  of  this  kind;  and  happened 
to  have  a  law-suit  with  one  of  his  pupils,  in  which  Cicero 
pleaded  his  cause.  Both  Cicero  and  Quinctilian  relate 
the  story  of  Cains  Gracchus,  when  he  was  declaiming  in 
public,  having  a  musician,  or  tihiccn,  stationed  behind 
him,  in  order  to  regulate  the  tones  of  his  voice  by  a  pipe 
or  flute.  His  employment,  says  Cicero,  was  not  only  to 
appease  the  passion  of  his  master,  but,  ujion  certain  o<-- 
casions,  to  stir  it  up  :  Qmj  itistaret  ccleritcr  cum  sonuiii, 
quo  ilium  aut  rcmisstim  excitarct,  aut  a  coiUcntione  rcvo^ 
caret. 

Many  passages  might  be  cited  from  Cicero,  Quincti- 
lian, ^oethius,  and  Plutarch,  in  order  to  prove,  tliat|uol 
pnly  musicians  and  actors,  but  even  orators,  had  a  nola- 
tion,  by  which  the  inflexions  of  voice  peculiar  to  their 
several  professions,  of  singing,  declaiming,  and  ha- 
ranguing, in  public,  were  ascertained.  This,  in  the  case 
of  haranguing,  we  may  suppose  to  have  been  very  much 
of  the  nature  of  the  ancient  accents.  M.  Duclos  {Enci/c. 
art.  Declam.  des  Anciens)  has  denied  the  possibility  of 
this,  on  the  principle,  that  the  intervals  are  too  minute  to 
be  accurately  marked  or  ascertained.  The  possibility 
of  it,  however,  has  been  completely  proved  by  the  inge- 
nious Mr.  Steele,  who  was  able  to  imitate,  upon  a  violon- 
cello, the  exact  tone  of  the  voice  in  declamation,  as  it 
naturally  passes  from  grave  to  acute,  and  from  acute  to 
grave ;  and  to  express  it  in  writing.  With  a  finger  on 
the  fourth  string  of  a  violoncello,  and  a  corresponding 
motion  of  the  bow,  he  imitated  the  precise  tones  of 
speech,  by  rapidly  sliding  the  finger  up  and  down  the 
string,  so  as  to  produce  a  continued  transition  of  the 
sound  from  acute  to  grave,  or  the  contrary.  {Prosodia 
Rationalis.)  This  kind  of  musical  tone  is  very  diifereut 
from  any  succession  of  notes  in  the  diatonic,  chromatic, 
or  even  enharmonic  scales ;  for  these  all  consist  of  intcTr 
val-s,  or  sudden  starts  from  tone  to  tone.  But  the  music 
of  declamation  is  a  continual  and  inakible  gliding  up- 
wards or  downwards,  without  anj'  suoacn  transition  of 
tone.  It  is,  however,  perfectly  su.sceptible  of  notation, 
and  on  principles  altogether  analogous  to  our  common 
method  of  writing  inusic,  as  was  shown  by  Mr.  Steele, 
who,  to  denote  this  kind  of  melody,  inscribed  in  the  stave 


ACCENT. 


79 


of  five  lines,  instead  of  crotchets  and  quavers,  a  set  of 
right  lines  obliquely  ascending  or  descending  through 
a  space,  corresponding  to  the  musical  interval  through 
which  the  voice  naturally  glides  in  speaking. 

These  sliJing  notes,  or  marks  of  declamation,  when 
taken  out  of  the  stave,  are  the  exact  representatives  of 
the  ancient  accents ;  and,  if  their  relative  position,  as  to 
acuteness  and  gravity,  be  retained,  they  may,  even  in 
this  situation,  be  sounded  truly  by  the  voice  with  a  little 
practice.  Mr.  Steele  had  made  considerable  proficiency 
himself  in  analysing  and  recording  the  melody  of  s])eech, 
and  could  repeat  a  sentence,  which  he  had  committed  to 
paper  with  the  accented  tones,  nearly  as  correctly  as  if 
it  had  been  set  to  music.  His  success,  in  this  way, 
made  him  so  sanguine,  as  to  cherish  the  expectation  of 
"  transmitting  to  posterity  the  types  of  modern  elocution, 
as  accurately  as  we  have  received  the  musical  compo- 
sitions of  Corelli." 

The  investigations  of  this  ingenious  author  have,  we 
think,  clearly  established,  that  there  is  a  musical  accen- 
tuation in  all  pleasing  declamation ;  and  that  this  accen- 
tuation may  be  very  accurately  expressed  by  notes  or 
characters;  yet,  after  all,  we  cannot  help  thinking,  that 
the  office  of  the  Greek  accents,  which  have  descended 
to  us,  was  considerably  dilTerent  from  this.  The  accents 
of  declamation  must  vary  considerably  on  the  dilTerent 
words  and  syllables,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject, otherwise  the  expression  cannot  be  just  or  pleasing. 
It  is  pretty  clearly  shown  by  Mr.  Steele,  that  when  we 
utter  the  interjection  oh !  under  the  strong  impression 
of  wondor  or  surprise,  we  use  a  circumflex  musical  slide, 
first  ascending,  and  then  descending,  through  no  less  an 
interval  than  a  whole  octave,  thus,  oh !  But  the  same  in- 
terjection is  employed  as  indicative  of  many  other  feel- 
ings of  the  mind,  such  as  affection,  sorrow,  compassion, 
(fee. ;  and  on  each  occasion  the  nuisical  accent  will  be 
different,  or  the  expression  cannot  be  just.  AVhen  it 
denotes  sorrow,  the  tone  of  the  voice  continues  all  the 
while  nearly  at  the  same  pitch  ;  for  it  is  the  natural  cha- 
racter of  grief  to  be  monotonous.  Unquestionably,  the 
declamation  of  the  Greeks  had  analogous  properties,  or 
it  must  have  had  a  defect  unknown  to  «ny  living  lan- 
guage ;  it  must  have  been  completely  destitute  of  senti- 
mental ex|)res3ion,  as  inanimate  as  writing,  and  as  mo- 
notonous as  the  cant  of  a  parish  clerk.  Yet  the  Greek 
accentual  marks  are  invariably  attached  to  particular 
syllables,  whether  the  subject  be  serious  or  gay,  rheto- 
rical or  didactic  ;  and  whether  the  sentence  be  in  the 
form  of  a  simple  proposition,  a  comman<l,  an  insinua- 
tion, or  an  interrogation.  The  inference  appears  to  us 
unavoidable,  that  the  Greek  accents  are  not  rhetorical 
marks,  expressive  of  sentiment;  but  grammatical  signs, 
indicative  of  emphasis,  quantity,  or  signification ;  and 
this  conclusion  is  greatly  strengthened  by  the  compara- 
tively modern  date  which  is,  with  probability,  assigned 
to  these  characters. 

The  rules  which  grammarians  have  given,  respecting 
the  Greek  accents,  are  very  perplexed,  and  liable  to 
many  exceptions.  The  whole  difficulty  of  the  matter, 
says  Messrs.  de  Port  Royal,  consists  in  two  points ;  first, 
in  knowing  the  quantity  of  the  ultimate  and  penultimate; 
and,  secondly,  iifknowing  on  what  syllable  the  words 
should  have  their  elevation  by  nature ;  because,  even 
supposing  the  same  quantity,  the  elevation  may  not  be 
the  same.  Thus,  in  utetga-rti,  the  antepenultimate  is 
acute ;  but  in  «><«»•«,  the  penultimate.  The  utmost 
latitude  of  the  acute  accent,  among  the  Greeks,  was, 


that  it  might  occupy  some  one  of  three  syllables,  the 
ultimate,  penultimate,  or  antepenultimate.  Among  the 
Romans,  the  latitude  was  not  so  great;  for  it  necessa- 
rily occupied  either  the  penultimate  or  antepenultimate. 
Among  them,  too,  the  rules  for  placing  it  were  very 
precise ;  viz.  that,  in  dissyllables,  it  always  occupied  the 
penult,  or  first  syllable ;  in  polysyllables  it  occupied  the 
penult,  if  it  were  long,  and,  if  it  were  short,  the  ante- 
penult. (See  Diomedes  de  Accent,  lib.  ii.  and  Quiuct. 
hist.  lib.  i.  c.  5.)  In  Latin  words  it  is  well  known,  that 
the  accentual  marks  served  to  distinguish  the  meaning 
conveyed;  and,  though  disused  in  the  English,  they 
have  been  retained  in  the  French  for  a  similar  purpose, 
or  for  marking  the  pronunciation.  In  some  Greek  words, 
they  undoubtedly  have  a  like  effect;  thus,  ^ia,  denotes 
a  goddess  and  ^)»  a  shotv,  with  no  other  difference  than 
that  between  the  acute  and  the  grave  accent.  Thus, 
also,  ^ij7j«'x7o»««,  accented  on  the  second  syllable,  deno- 
ted, shiin  by  a  mother,  but  futlftKlim,  accented  on  the 
third,  meant  anwtricitk.  In  most  cases,  however,  the 
effect  of  the  Greek  accents  must  have  been  very  differ- 
ent from  this. 

Various  arguments  have  been  adduced  to  prove,  that 
the  puqiose  of  the  Greek  accents  was  to  indicate  the 
stress,  or  emphasis  of  the  voice,  which  is  the  effect  that 
we  now  denote  by  the  term  accent ;  since,  by  an  accent- 
ed syllable,  we  mean,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  an  em- 
phatic syllable.  All  polysyllables,  it  has  been  observed, 
required  one  iicute  or  circumflex  Greek  accent;  ours 
require  one  emphasis.  The  accent  was  never  removed 
further  hark  by  the  ancient  Greeks,  than  the  antepenult 
syllabic ;  neither  is  our  emphasis,  except  in  a  few  cases, 
Avhere  it  resembles  the  practice  of  the  modern  Greeks. 
The  ancient  accent  was  invariably  fixed  upon  a  particu- 
lar syllable  of  a  word;  so  is  our  emphasis.  It  was 
changed,  however,  to  another  syllable,  in  derivative 
words,  differing  in  length;  or  in  similar  words,  differina; 
in  sense ;  so  is  our  emphasis  precisely.  The  Greek 
circumflex  was  never  placed  on  any  short  syllable,  nor 
further  back  than  the  penult ;  our  long  syllables,  i.  e.  our 
long  vowels  and  diphthongs,  are  generally  emphatic, 
and  are  pronounced  with  a  circumflex,  or  rising  and 
falling  inflexion  of  the  voice. 

But,  says  Mr.  Sheridan,  our  accent,  or  emphatic  pro- 
nunciation of  syllables,  has  the  effect  of  lengthening  the 
vowel,  or  syllable,  which  is  accented,  while  the  Greek 
accent  often  falls  upon  a  short  vowel;  and  therefore, 
upon  this  supposition,  would  be  destructive  of  the  rythni, 
or  proportional  length  of  the  syllables  of  words.  It  is, 
indeed,  true,  that  the  laying  the  stress  of  the  voice  upon 
the  votvcl  of  a  syllable,  renders  that  syllable  long,  as  in 
glo'ry,  fa'lhcr,  ho'ly,  ikc;  but  it  is  equally  true,  as  is  ad- 
mitted by  the  same  author,  that,  if  the  stress  be  laid, 
not  upon  the  vowel,  but  upon  the  consonant  which  fol- 
lows it,  the  syllable  may  continue  short,  as  in  ha'bit,  bat'- 
tle,  bbr'row,  ifcc.  It  may,  indeed,  be  supposed,  that,  in 
such  cases,  the  accented  syllable  is  lengthened  by  the 
virtual  repetition  of  the  accented  consonant,  b,  i,  or  r  ; 
but,  in  fact,  we  seldom  redouble  a  letter  in  pronuncia- 
tion, even  when  it  is  written  double.  It  is  only  in  such 
compounds  as  over^ntn,  or  where  a  mute  e  intervenes, 
as  in  supineness,  that  this  takes  place.  Thus,  an  ac- 
CCTiterf  syllable  may  he  long  or  short,  according  as  the 
vowel,  or  the  consonant  >vhieh  follows  it,  is  rendered 
emphatic ;  and  we  may  observ  e  by  the  way,  that  it  is  the 
genius  of  the  Scotch  pronunciation  to  dwell  upOn  the 
vowels,  and  of  the  English  to  accent  the  consoaajits. 


80 


ACCENT. 


Thus, instead  of  tlieEnprlish  ha'hil,  and  biil'lle,  a  Scotch- 
man naturally  says  ha'bit,  and  hai'tk.  The  English, 
therefore,  abounds  in  the  acute  accent,  the  Scotch  in 
the  grave,  and,  it  may  be  added,  the  Irish  in  the  cir- 
cumflex. 

From  these  observations,  we  think  it  clearly  follows, 
that  a  syllable  may  be  rendered  emphatic,  and  yet  con- 
tinue short ;  and  on  this  account,  the  metrical  propor- 
tion of  syllables  may  be  retained,  although  the  accent 
(supposing  it  the  same  wiih  emphasis,)  be  placed  ou 
those  which  are  short,  and  not  on  those  which  are  long. 
Thus  the  proportional  length  of  all  the  syllables  in 
f<»7f9«7«»«!  may  continue  the  same,  whether  we  place  the 
emphasis,  or  accent,  on  its  second  or  its  third  syllable, 
if,  in  this  last  case,  we  lay  the  stress  on  the  v,  and  not 
on  the  «.*  By  this  variation  of  the  accent,  we  are  able 
to  mark  the  change  of  meaning  of  the  word ;  and  thus 
we  discern  one  use  of  the  accents,  corresponding  to  the 
purpose  for  which  they  were  said  to  have  been  invented 
by  Aristophanes  of  Byzantium;  namely,  to  facilitate  the 
progress  of  foreigners  in  the  proper  pronunciation  of 
Greek  words. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that  there  is  a 
passage  in  the  treatise  of  Dionysius  of  Ualicarnassus 
concerning  composition,  which  is  rather  inconsistent 
with  this  doctrine  concerning  the  use  of  the  Greek  ac. 
rents,  and  is  morefsvourable  to  the  system  of  Mr.  Steele. 
"  The  melody  of  common  speech,"  says  this  critic,  "  is 
measured  nearly  by  out  interval,  that,  namely,  which  is 
commonly  called  the  diapenta.     It  does  not  rise  more 


*  This  appears  to  be  an  unnecessary  distinction ;  and 
indeed,  it  may  be  demonstrated  not  to  be  founded  in 
fact,  which  may  easily  be  done  by  comparing  the  pro- 
nunciation of  the  long  accented  Italian  syllables  with 
that  of  the  short  ones  of  the  English  language,  that  are 
likewise  accented.  Take,  for  instance,  the  Italian  word 
bcllo,  in  which  the  e  is  pronounced  very  long  and  strong- 
ly accented,  while  at  the  same  time  the  two  Us  are  suc- 
cessively articulated  in  the  clearest  and  most  distinct 
manner.  Take,  on  the  other  side,  the  English  word/o/Zi/, 
in  which  the  o,  though  accented, is  pronounced  extreme- 
ly short.  If  the  accent  were  really  on  the/  that  follows  it, 
that  consonant  would,  as  in  the  Italian  language,  be  arti- 
culated ilistinctly  and  separately  from  the  other  /;instead 
of  which  the  two  Us  are  blended  and  articulated  toge^ 
ther  as  if  there  were  only  one,  and  produce  but  a  weak 
liquid  sound ;  which  is  pronounced  by  an  English  organ 
Avith  not  half  the  strength  that  is  given  by  an  Italian 
speaker  to  one  of  the  two  Us  that  are  contained  in  the 
word  which  we  have  adduced  by  way  of  example.  We 
must  acknowledge  with  great  difRdence,  that  we  do  not 
perceive  any  necessity  for  the  distinction  which  is  at- 
tempted to  be  here  established ;  nor  can  we  see  any  rea- 
son why  a  short  vowel  may  not  as  well  be  accented,  or 
in  other  words,  strongly  and  emphatically  uttered,  as  a 
long  one.  We  therefore  venture  to  think  that  in  short 
syllables,  as  well  as  in  those  that  are  long,  the  emphatic 
accent  is  really  placed  on  the  vowel  itself,  and  not  on 
the  consonant  by  which  it  is  followed,  Grammarians 
have  too  long  blended  together  the  ideas  of  accent  and 
quantity,  and  seem  to  be  now  seeking  pretexts  or  apolo- 
gies for  keeping  them  separate.  To  us  it  appears  that 
no  two  things  can  be  more  distinct,  and  that  there  is  no 
need  of  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  consonant  to  prove  the 
nccentuation  of  a  short  cyllable.     Dt  ponchau. 


than  three  tones  and  a  half  towards  the  acute,  nor  doe* 
it  descend  further  towards  the  grave.  But  every  word 
has  not  the  same  tone ;  for  some  are  sounded  with  an 
acute  tone,  some  with  a  grave,  and  some  with  both.  Of 
these  last,  some  have  the  acute  and  grave  blended  toge- 
ther in  the  same  syllable,  which  is  then  called  circtim- 
fiected ;  others  have  them  on  different  syllables,  each  of 
which  preserves  its  own  proper  accent,  whether  grave 
or  acute,  distinct  and  separate  from  that  of  any  other. 
In  dissyllables  of  this  kind,  the  one  is  grave  and  the 
other  acute ;  and  betwixt  these  there  can  be  no  medium ; 
but  in  words  of  many  syllables,  of  whatever  kind,  there 
is  but  one  which  is  accented  acute,  while  all  the  rest 
are  grave.  Such  is  the  melody  of  speech."  Sect.  Wth. 
To  obviate  this  dilficulty,  however,  it  may  be  reasonably 
supposed,  that  the  observations  of  Dionysius  apply  to 
the  accents  of  oratory  or  declamation,  which  were  re- 
duced to  rule  by  the  ancients,  and  even  represented  by 
written  characters ;  but  that  they  have  no  reference  to 
the  grammatical  accents  wliich  we  at  present  possess. 

Considerable  light  has  been  thrown  upon  this  contro- 
verted question,  by  an  examination  of  the  pronunciation 
of  the  modern  Greeks,  who  may  retain  many  particulars 
of  the  manner  of  speaking  of  their  classical  ancestors. 
Even  here,  however,  the  testimony  of  authors  is  contra- 
dictory, and  respectable  authorities  may  be  produced  on 
both  sides  of  the  controversy.  Jlr.  Marsh,  the  learned 
translator  of  Michaelis,  informs  us,  that  Eugeniu.s,  a 
Greek  priest,  and  archbishop  of  Cherson,  in  reading 
Greek,  distinctly  marked,  by  his  pronunciation,  both  ac- 
cent and  quantity  ;  lengthening  the  sound,  without  rais- 
ing the  tone  of  his  voice,  when  he  pronounced  a  long  syl- 
lable, ^vhich  had  not  an  acute  accent,  and  raising  the 
tone  of  his  voice  without  lengthening  the  sound,  when 
he  pronounced  a  short  syllable  which  had  an  acute  ac- 
cent; in  the  same  manner  as  in  music,  the  acutest  note 
in  a  bar  may  frequently  be  the  shortest. 

A  very  different  account  of  the  practice  of  the  modern 
Greeks  is  given  by  Mr.  Browne,  {Irish  Trans,  vol.  7.) 
who  had  an  opportunity  of  conversing  with  the  crew  of 
a  Greek  ship  from  Patrass,  a  town  situated  near  the  anr 
cient  Corinth,  which  had  been  driven,  by  stress  of  wea- 
ther, into  the  port  of  Dingle  in  Ireland,  and  continued 
there  for  a  considerable  time.  "  Of  the  two  first  persons 
whom  I  met,"  says  Mr.  Browne,  "  one,  the  steward  of 
the  ship,  an  inhabitant  of  the  island  of  Cephalonia,  had  a 
school  education :  he  read  Euripides,  and  translated 
some  easier  passages  without  much  ditficulty.  The 
companion,  however,  of  the  steward,  could  s|)eak  only 
modern  Greek,  in  which  I  could  discover,  that  he  was 
giving  a  description  of  the  distress  of  the  ship ;  and, 
though  notable  tounderstand the  context,  I  could  plainly 
distinguish  many  words,  such  as  h>i(x,  Jv;t«> ;  and  among 
the  rest,  the  sound  of  Ah^^wt*;  pronounced  short.  This 
awoke  my  curiosity,  which  was  still  more  heightened 
when  1  observed  that  he  said  A»S-f«»«ii  long,  with  the 
same  attention  to  the  alteration  of  the  accent  with  the 
variety  of  the  case,  which  a  hoy  would  be  taught  to  pay 
at  a  school  in  England.  Watching,  therefore,  more 
closely,  and  asking  the  other  to  read  some  Greek,  I 
found  that  they  both  uniformly  pronounced  acconling  to 
accent,  without  any  attention  to  longfjj^  short  syllables 
where  accent  came  in  the  way ;  and,  on  their  departure, 
one  of  them  having  bade  me  good  day,  by  saying 
KaA«^f;<e,  to  which  I  answered,  K«A«/H.(;a,he,  withstrong 
marks  of  reprobation,  set  me  right,  and  repeated 
KaA«.ur;<( ;  and,  with  like  censure,  did  the  captain,  upon 


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W 


auother  occasion,  observe,  upon  my  saying  Socritlcs,  in- 
ste.ul  of  Socrates." 

Mr.  Browne  proceeds  to  inform  us,  that  the  most  in- 
telligent of  these  Greeks  repeatedly  assured  him,  that 
Greek  verse,  as  well  as  prose,  was  read  by  accent,  and 
not  by  quantity  ;  and  exemplified  it  by  reading  in  that 
manner  several  lines  of  Homer,  with  whose  name  they 
seemed  perfectly  well  acquainted.  When,  however,  a 
syllable  with  the  acute  accent  followed  one  with  the  cir- 
cumflex, as  in  the  case  of  KAi/<)i,  it  was  shortened,  on  ac- 
count of  the  great  length  of  the  preceding  syllable.  "  I 
must  here  add,"  says  Mr.  Browne,  "  that  these  men  con- 
firmed an  observation,  which  I  have  heard  made,  that  we 
are  much  mistaken  in  our  idea  of  the  supposed  lofty 
sound  of  jr«At>^A«ir;3»io  .9-«A«o-8->!s ;  that  the  borderers  on 
the  coast  of  the  Archipelago  take  their  ideas  from  the 
gentle  laving  of  the  shore  by  a  summer  wave,  and  not 
from  the  roaring  of  a  winter  ocean,  and  they  accordingly 
pronounced  it  PofypMisveo  thalasscs." 

These  particulars,  so  distinctly  stated  by  Mr.  Browne, 
are  entirely  conformable  to  the  purpose  of  the  Greek 
accents,  which  we  have  above  thought,  on  the  whole, 
the  most  probable ;  viz.  to  mark  the  emphasis,  or  stress 
of  the  voice,  in  reading.  But,  as  we  have  already 
shown,  the  emphasis  need  not  affect  the  quantity  of  the 
syllables ;  as  it  does  not,  of  necessity,  lengthen  the  sylla- 
ble on  which  it  is  placed.  Mr.  Browne  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  aware  of  this ;  for  he  constantly  speaks  of 
makini;  a  syllable  long  by  placing  the  einphasis  upon  it; 
and,  on  this  account,  he  is  greatly  puzzled  to  explain 
in  what  manner  the  rythm  of  the  ancient  versification 
could  be  made  sensible  to  the  ear,  by  reading  it  accord- 
ing to  tlie  accent,  and  not  the  quantity.  This  is  cer- 
tainly perfectly  possible  ;  but  it  would  be  very  difficult 
lor  a  modern  to  do  it  without  a  great  deal  of  practice. 
(,«) 

ACCENT,  in  Music.  The  notes,  or  parts  of  a  bar, 
on  which  the  emphasis  naturally  falls,  are  said  to  be  ac- 
cented. In  common  time,  whether  vocal  or  instrument- 
al, the  first  and  third  notes  of  a  bar  are  accented,  and  in 
Iripple  time  the  first  and  last  note,    (w) 

ACCEPTANCE,  a  word  employed  in  law,  and  in 
connnerce ;  as  the  acceptance  of  a  deed,  and  the  accept- 
ance of  a  bill.  1.  Acceptance  of  a  Deed.  When  any 
deed  is  granted  by  one  person  in  favour  of  another,  the 
person  in  whose  favour  it  is  granted  must  accept  the  deed 
before  it  becomes  binding  upon  him.  The  circumstance 
of  the  deed  being  in  his  possession,  is  not  a  sufficient 
proof  of  his  having  accepted  it.  In  the  eye  of  the  law, 
the  receiver  of  the  deed  may  have  accepted  of  it  either 
by  a  verbil  acceptance,  by  acting  upon  the  deed,  by  de- 
riving benefit  from  it,  by  taking  infeftment  on  it,  or  even 
by  i>uiting  it  on  record.  2.  Acceptance  of  a  Bill,  is 
the  act  of  signing  or  subscribing  a  bill,  or  agreeing  ver- 
bally to  pay  the  sum  contained  in  it  at  the  appointed 
time,  and  according  to  the  conditions  specified.  In 
Engl.ind,  a  verbal  acceptance  has  been  held  to  be  as  ob- 
ligatory as  a  written  one ;  but  in  Scotland  it  may  be 
doubted,  whether  the  bill  can  be  accepted,  in  any  other 
way  than  by  the  subscription  of  the  person  on  whom  it 
is  drawn,  (j)* 


*  In  France,  Spain,  and  the  other  countries  of  the 
continent  of  Europe,  where  parol  evidence  in  matters  of 
contract  is  not  admitted  to  the  same  extent  that  it  is  in 
Engia  id,  a  verbal  acceptance  of  a  bill  of  exchange  or 

You.  I.  Pam  I. 


ACCEPTIL  ATION  is  the  extinction  of  a  debt,  with 
a  declaration  from  the  creditor,  that  he  foregoes  all  fur- 
ther claim  upon  the  debtor,  though  no  payment  has  been 
made.  (J) 

ACCESSION,  in  Law,  is  a  method  of  acquiring  pro- 
perty in  consequence  of  its  connexion  with  other  pro- 
perty, and  is  either  natural  or  artificial.  By  natural 
accession,  the  proprietor  of  cattle  has  a  right  to  their 
young,  and  the  proprietor  of  the  soil  to  its  produce.  In 
the  same  way,  the  proprietor  of  ground  lying  on  the  side 
of  a  river,  has  a  right  to  the  addition  which  that  ground 
may  gradually  receive.  By  artificial  accession,  trees  or 
houses  built  upon  the  ground  of  another,  belong  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  ground,  and  not  to  the  person  who 
planted,  or  built  them.  (J) 

ACCESSORY  TO  a  Crime.  A  person  is  said  to  be 
accessory  to  a  crime,  if  he  either  commands  or  orders 
another  to  commit  the  crime,  or  furnishes  the  means 
for  its  commission.  Those  who  receive,  or  comfort,  any 
person  guilty  of  murder,  or  felony,  are  also  considered 
by  the  law  as  accessory  to  their  perpetration.  In  the 
lowest  offences,  such  as  riots,  mobs,  &c.  and  in  the 
highest,  such  as  high  treason,  there  are  no  accesso- 
ries, all  those  concerned  being  regarded  as  principals. 

W  ■      c  uu      • 

ACCESSORY  Nerves,  a  pair  of  nerves  which  arise 

by  several  filaments  from  the  medulla  spinalis  of  the 

neck,  and  terminate  in  the  traijezius.  (w) 

ACCI ACATURA,  from  acciacare,  to  break  down,  « 
term  in  music,  which  indicates  the  manner  in  which  cer- 
tain passages  should  be  performed  on  the  harpsichord ; 
and  signifies  that  sweeping  of  the  chords,  and  dropping 
of  sprinkled  notes,  which  are  particularly  proper  in  ac- 
companiments, and  which  form  one  of  the  chief  beauties 
of  that  instrument.     Busby's  Mus.  Did.  (w) 

ACCIAJUOLI  DoNATO,  a  learned  Florentine,  born 
in  1 428,  and  descended  from  Justinian,  emperor  of  Con- 
stantinople, was  reckoned  one  of  the  ablest  orators, 
philosophers,  and  mathematicians,  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived.  Acciajuoli  was  present  at  the  celebrated 
conversasiotu  which  was  held  in  the  wood  of  Camildoli, 
at  the  suggestion,  and  in  the  presence  of  Lorenzo  de 
Medici,  by  the  most  distinguished  literati  of  Florence ; 
and  he  was  one  of  the  five  deputies  who  made  new  laws 
for  the  university  of  Pisa,  when  it  was  re-established  by 
the  Florentine  nobility.  He  was  treasurer  of  Florence, 
and  thrice  president' of  the  Guelphs;  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  some  political  dissentions,  the  malignity  of 
his  enemies  compelled  him  for  a  while  to  withdraw  from 
his  native  city.  In  1461,  he  was  sent  to  congratulate 
Lewis  XI.  on  his  coronation,  and  was  afterwards  em- 
ployed on  several  important  embassies. — When  he  was 
going  as  ambassador  to  France,  to  request  succour 
against  Pope  Sextus  IV.,  who  had  harassed  the  Floren- 
tines, he  died  at  Milan,  on  the  20th  of  August,  1478,  in 
the  50lh  year  of  his  age.  His  lio<ly  was  conveyed  to  the 
church  of  the  Carthusians  at  Florence,  where  it  was  in- 
terred at  the  public  expense,  in  the  tomb  of  his  ances- 
tors. Acciajuoli  was  much  employed  in  public  situa- 
tions; and  as  the  fortune  which  he  left  to  his  children 
was  very  small,  his  daughters,  like  those  of  Aristides, 
were  portioned  at  the  public  expense.  His  works  were, 
Expositio  stiper  lihros  JEthicorum  Aristottlis,  1478,  Com- 

promissory  note  is  not  valid.     In  the  United  States  the 
rule  of  the  English  law  prevails.    Duponceau. 


82 


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menl.  in  Arislot.  Lib.  fill.  Politicorum,  1566.  Caroli 
Magni  Vita.  Istoria  Fiorentina  di  Leonardo  Aretino  tror 
rfo«a,  1473 ;  a  Translation  of  some  of  PlutarcKs  Lives, 
&c.  &c. 

The  lives  of  no  fewer  than  21  Italian  writers  of  the 
name  of  Acciajuoli  may  be  found  in  MaszuchellVs 
Scrittori  Dltalia,  vol.  i.  p.  37 — 53.  (o) 

ACCIDENT,  a  term  used  in  Logic,  Grammar,  and 
Heraldry.  Among  logicians,  it  signifies  any  thing  which 
does  not  essentially  belong  to  a  substance,  or  without 
which  the  substance  may  be  conceived  to  exist ;  as 
redness  in  the  rose,  and  sweetness  in  the  orange.  Hence 
the  word  accident  is  employed  by  grammarians  to  denote 
the  properties  which  are  not  essential  to  wonls ;  thus 
number,  gender,  and  cases,  are  the  accidents  of  sub- 
stantive nouns,  and  comparison  is  the  accident  of  adjec- 
tives. In  heraldry,  the  word  accident  signifies  any  thing 
in  a  coat  of  arms,  which  may  be  omitted  or  retained, 
without  affecting  the  essence  of  the  armour.  Thus 
ahatanents,  differences,  and  tincttire,  are  the  accidents 
of  a  coat  of  arms,  (o) 

ACCIDENTAL  Colours,  a  name  given  by  Buffon 
to  those  colours  Avhich  arise  from  the  continued  action 
of  light  upon  the  retina,  in  order  to  distinguish  them 
from  those  which  are  produced  by  the  decomposition  of 
white  light. 

A  few  of  the  phenomena  of  accidental  colours  were 
first  observed  by  De  la  Hire,  and  our  countryman  Dr. 
Jurin;  but  we  are  indebted  to  Buffon,  professor  Sherffer, 
und  jEpinus,  for  a  complete  series  of  experiments,  by 
which  the  nature  and  cause  of  these  colours  have  been 
almost  completely  unfolded.  The  limits  of  our  work 
will  not  permit  us  to  give  a  detailed  view  of  the  various 
experiments  by  which  this  subject  has  been  illustrated  ; 
but,  by  directing  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the  most 
important  facts,  and  to  the  theory  by  which  they  may 
toe  explained,  he  will  be  enabled  to  account  for  the 
various  optical  illusions  which  are  referable  to  the  same 
cause. 

When  we  look  steadily,  and  for  a  considerable  time, 
at  a  small  square  of  red  paper  placed  upon  a  white 
ground,  we  perceive  a  light  green  border  surrounding 
the  red  square  :  by  removing  the  eye  from  the  red  square, 
and  directing  it  to  another  part  of  the  white  ground,  we 
perceive  very  distinctly  a  square  of  light-green  approach- 
ing a  little  to  blue,  and  of  the  same  size  as  the  real  red 
square.  This  imaginary  green  is  the  accidental  colour 
f^red,  and  continues  to  be  visible  till  the  impression 
made  upon  the  retina  by  the  red  square  has  been  effaced 
by  other  images.  By  making  the  same  experiment  with 
squares  of  different  colours,  it  will  be  found  that 

Blaick  is  the  accidental  colour  of  White. 

White  that  of Black. 

TAcd Blue. 

Purple Green. 

Ebie Yellow. 

Green Red. 

In  these  experiments  of  Buffon,  the  ground  on  which 
the  squares  of  natural  colours  were  viewed,  was  white, 
except  in  the  case  of  the  white  square,  which  was  placed 
upon  a  black  ground.  Professor  Scherffer  has  found,  that 
the  accidental  colourswillbe  much  more  vivid,  and  their 
outlines  more  distinct,  if  the  natural  colours  are  viewed 
upon  a  black  ground,  and  the  eye  transferred  to  a  wliite 
ground.    The  most  convenient  way  of  making  the  ex- 


periments, is  to  use  coloured  wafers,  fixed  either  upon 
a  piece  of  white  or  black  paper. 

In  order  to  explain  these  phenomena,  we  must  recol- 
lect, that  white  light  is  composed  of  seven  different 
colours,  in  the  following  proportions  :  the  colours  being 
supposed  to  be  arranged  in  the  circumference  of  a  cir- 
cle. 

Violet a  or  800 

Indigo i  or  40 

Blue i  or  60 

Green ^  or  60 

Yellow A  or  -18 

Orange       /^  or  27 

Red I  or  45 

Hence,  if  we  take  seven  powders  of  the  same  colour  as 
the  seven  prismatic  colours,  and  proportion  the  quanti- 
ties of  each  to  the  numbers  in  the  preceding  Table,  the 
mixture  of  all  these  powders  will  be  of  a  white  colour; 
but  if  the  red  powder,  or  any  of  the  others,  be  with- 
drawn, the  mixture  of  the  remaining  colours  will  not  be 
white,  as  before.  To  illustrate  this  in  a  more  simple 
manner,  let  us  suppose  that  a  circular  wheel  has  its  cir- 
cumference divided  into  sectors,  whose  arches  are  in 
the  same  proportion  as  the  preceding  numbers,  and 
that  each  sector  is  painted  of  its  proper  colour,  viz.  the 
sector  of  80"  violet,  that  of  40o  indigo,  and  so  on  with 
the  rest,  as  is  represented  in  Plate  IV.  Fig.  4 ;  then  if 
this  wheel  be  whirled  briskly  round  its  axis,  its  colour 
will  be  white.  But  if  the  red  sector  is  taken  out,  or 
painted  black,  and  the  wheel  again  put  in  motion,  the 
colour  of  the  wheel  will  then  be  green;  and,  by  leaving 
out  the  other  colours  successively,  the  following  results 
will  be  obtained : 

Colours  omitted.  Colour  of  the  wheel  in  motion. 

Red Green. 

Yellow Blue. 

Green Purple. 

Blue Red. 

As  this  experimental  method  of  determining  the  co- 
lour which  arises  from  mixing  any  number  of  the  pris- 
matic colours  is  too  circuitous  to  be  used  in  jiractice,  we 
shall  proceed  to  point  out  a  method  b}-  which  the  re- 
sulting colour  may  be  determined  by  a  very  sim])le  cal- 
culation. 

Let  the  seven  prismatic  colours  be  arranged  in  a  cir- 
cle, as  in  Fig.  4,  where  each  colour  occupies  its  pro- 
per arch  of  the  circumference ;  <ind  let  us  suppose  each 
colour  concentratetl  in  the  centre  of  gravity  of  its  arch ; 
then,  if  we  omit  any  of  the  colours,  it  has  been  found, 
that  the  colour  resulting  from  the  mixture  of  all  the 
remaining  colours,  is  that  which  is  nearest  to  the  centre 
of  gravity  of  the  remaining  arch.  Thus,  if  we  omit 
violet,  the  remaining  arch  will  be  AEB,  whose  centre  of 
gravity  is  the  point  m,  which  falls  in  the  green  arch  : 
but  as  the  point  m  does  not  coincide  with  g,  the  centre 
of  gravity  of  the  green  arch,  the  colour  arising  from  a 
mixture  of  all  the  colours,  except  violet,  will  not  be 
exactly  green,  but  green  mixed  with  a  little  yellow,  as 
the  point  m  lies  between  the  centres  of  gravity  of  the 
green  and  yellow  arches.  Since  v  is  in  the  centre  of  the 
arch  AB,  and  m  the  centre  of  AEB,  it  is  evident,  that  the 
point  m  will  always  be  directly  opposite  to  the  centrt-  of 
gravity  v  of  the  violet,  or  omitted  colour ;  lience  we  have 


ACCIDENTAL  COLOURS. 


8ft 


only  to  draw  a  tliameter  from  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the 
omitted  colour,  ami  the  extremity  of  that  diameter  will 
point  out  the  colour  which  results  from  the  combination 
of  the  rest. 

If  we  suppose  the  divisions  of  the  circle  to  commence 
from  A, the  boundary  of  the  redand  violet,  we  shall  have 
the  following  I'able,  which  will  enable  us  to  determine 
the  resulting  colour  without  the  aid  of  a  diagram. 


IVisitionof  ilie 

P.isilionofthe 

point   m,  or  the 

centre  of  gravitj 

point  opposite 

Limits  of  each 

Colours. 

of  each  coloured 

the  centre  of  gra- 

coloured  arcli. 

arch. 

vitj'  of  each  co- 
loured arch. 

Violet, 

40th  deg. 

220th  deg. 

From  0°  to  80 

Indigo, 

100th 

280th 

80       120 

Blue, 

150th 

330th 

120       180 

Green, 

210th 

30th 

180       240 

Yellow, 

264th 

B4th 

240       288 

Orange, 

301st  i 

121st  i 

288       315 

Red, 

337th  i 

157th  i 

315       360 

As  the  construction  of  the  preceding  Table  is  very 
obvious,  from  the  inspection  of  Fig.  4.,  a  single  exam- 
ple will  be  sufficient  to  explain  its  use.  Let  it  be  re- 
quired, therefore,  to  determine  the  colour  which  results 
from  a  mixture  of  all  the  colours,  except  blue.  In  the 
third  column,  we  find,  that  the  point  m,  opposite  to  the 
centre  of  gravity  of  the  blue  arch,  is  in  the  330fh  degree 
of  the  circle,  which  appears,  from  the  fourth  column,  to 
lie  between  the  limits  of  the  red  arch,  viz.  315  to  360  : 
therefore  the  resulting  colour  will  be  red,  but  with  a 
small  mixture  of  orange,  as  the  330th  degree,  or  the 
point  in,  is  between  the  centres  of  gravity  of  the  red  and 
that  of  the  orange  arches,  being  7"  from  the  former,  and 
284°  from  the  latter. 

With  the  aid  of  these  preliminary  observations,  we 
are  in  a  state  of  preparation  for  explaining  the  pheno- 
mena of  accidental  colours.  When  the  eye  is  fixed  for 
some  time  upon  a  red  square,  the  part  of  the  retina, 
which  receives  the  image  of  the  square,  is  strongly  ex- 
cited by  the  continued  action  of  the  red  rays.  The  sen- 
sibility of  that  relaxed  portion  of  (he  retina  to  red  light, 
must  therefore  be  diminished,  in  the  same  way  as  the 
palate,  when  accustomed  to  a  particular  taste,  ceases  to 
feel  its  impression.  But  if  the  red  rays,  which  after- 
wards fall  upon  the  relaxed  part  of  the  retina,  are  feeble, 
compared  with  those  which  issued  from  (he  red  square, 
and  produced  the  relaxation ;  or  if  the  taste,  which  is 
afterwards  presented  to  the  palate,  is  much  weaker  than 
that  which  first  diminished  its  sensibility,  then  it  is  still 
more  olivious,  that  (he  debilitated  portion  of  the  respec- 
tive organs  will  not  be  susceptible  of  these  feebler  ex- 
citements. 

When  the  eye  therefore  is  turned  from  the  red  square 
to  the  white  paper,  the  enfeebled  portion  of  the  retina 
is  excited  by  the  white  light  which  flows  from  the  pa- 
per, but  is  not  sensible  to  the  impression  of  the  red 
rays  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  this  white  light. 
The  debilitated  part  of  the  retina,  therefore,  is  excited 
by  all  the  component  colours  of  white  light,  except  the 
red,  or  by  the  colour  resulting  from  their  combination. 
But  it  will  be  found,  from  the  preceding  Table,  that  this 
resulting  colour  is  blue  with  a  mixture  of  green,  or 


bluish-green,  consequently  the  relaxed  part  of  the  retina 
will  be  sensible  only  to  this  colour,  and  will  perceive  a 
bluish-green  square  upon  the  white  paper,  of  the  same 
size  as  the  red  square,  if  the  white  paper  and  red  square 
were  held  at  the  same  distance ;  but  of  a  greater  or  less 
size,  according  as  the  distance  of  the  white  paper  is 
greater  or  less  than  the  distance  of  the  red  square. 
Hence  the  accidental  colour  of  red  is  bluish-green,  or, 
in  general,  the  accidental  colour  of  any  natural  colour  is 
that  which  results  from  the  mixture  of  all  the  colours  of 
the  spectrum,  except  the  natural  colour  itself.  When 
the  square  first  viewed  by  the  eye  is  black,  it  is  obvious 
that  the  part  of  the  retina  on  which  its  image  falls,  is 
not  excited  by  any  rays,  while  all  the  surrounding  part 
of  the  membrane  is  excited,  and  enfeebled,  by  the  im- 
age of  the  white  i)aper  upon  which  the  black  square  is 
placed.  If  the  eye,  therefore,  be  fixed  upon  a  white 
ground,  the  light  of  this  ground  will  make  the  strongest 
impression  u|)on  the  unexcited  part  of  the  retina,  and, 
consequently,  there  will  appear,  on  the  white  ground,  a 
square  whiter  than  the  surrounding  portion.  The  very 
reverse  of  this  will  happen,  when  a  white  square,  upon 
a  black  ground,  is  viewed  by  the  eye. 

From  this  hypothesis  we  may  now  construct  a  table 
of  accidental  colours  more  accurate  than  that  which 
BuSbn  deduced  from  exjjeriment.  The  table,  however, 
which  is  thus  formed,  is  founded  on  the  supposition, 
that  the  natural  colours  employed  are  of  the  same  kind 
as  the  prismatic  ones. 

Natural 

Colours.  Accidental  Colours 

Red,  Blue,  with  a  small  mixture  of  Green. 

Orange,      Blue,  with  nearly  an  equal  part  of  Indigo. 
Yellow,     Indigo,  with  a  considerable  mixture  of  Vio- 
let. 
Green,        Violet,  with  a  mixture  of  Red. 
Blue,  Red,  with  a  mixture  of  Orange. 

Indigo,        Yellow,  mth  a  considerable  mixture  of 

Orange. 
Violet,      Green,  withaconsiderablemixture  of  Blue. 


There  is  one  appearance  observed  by  Buffon,  which 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  explained,  either  by  that 
philosopher,  or  by  any  succeeding  author.  The  writer 
of  the  article  Accidental  Colours,  in  the  Suppl.  to 
the  Encyc.  Brit,  has  attempted  to  account  for  it;  but  it 
is  easy  to  show,  that  he  has  ascribed  the  i)henomenon  to 
a  wrong  cause.  The  appearance  to  which  we  allude,  is 
the  fringe  of  accidental  colour,  which  seems  to  surround 
the  coloured  square,  before  the  eye  is  transferred  to  the 
white  ground.  This  fringe  is  ascribed,  in  the  article 
now  quoted,  to  a  dilatation  of  the  pupil,  without  any 
explanation  of  the  process  by  which  the  fringe  is  gene- 
rated. 

We  presume,  however,  that,  in  this  explanation,  the 
dilatation  of  the  pupil  is  supposed  to  increase  the  image 
of  the  square  upon  the  retina;  so  that  the  white  light 
from  the  paper,  immediately  surrounding  the  real  square, 
falls  upon  that  part  of  the  retina  over  which  the  incre- 
ment of  the  image  is  expanded,  and  produces  the  acci- 
dental colour  of  the  square,  stretching  as  far  beyond  the 
real  square,  as  the  image  on  the  retina,  increased  by  the 
dilatation  of  the  pupil,  stretches  beyond  the  image 
which  is  formed  before  the  pupil  begins  to  expand. 
Admitting  the  dilatation  of  the  pupil,  which,  in  the  pre- 
sent case,  we  are  disposed  to  call  in  question,  the  only 
effect  of  it  would  be  to  give  us  a  larger  image  of  the 
L  2 


%4 


ACCIDEISTAL  COLOURS. 


real  sqiiare';  or  if,  from  any  occult  cause,  a  fringe  should 
be  produced,  its  colour  ought  to  be  much  fainter  than 
the  accidental  colour  of  the  square;  for  the  part  of  the 
retina,  which  prothices  the  fringe,  has  not  been  so  long 
excitedas  the  part  which  produces  the  accidental  colour. 
There  is,  however,  no  perceptible  difference  between 
this  colour  and  (he  fringe,  so  that  the  phenomenon  must 
be  traced  to  a  different  cause. 

If  we  examine  with  accuracy  this  coloured  fringe,  we 
shall  find,  that,  in  general,  it  does  not  completely  sur- 
round (he  real  square,  but  appears  only  on  one  or  two 
sides  of  tiie  square  at  the  same  lime ;  and  if  a  circle  is 
used  instead  of  a  square,  the  fringe  will  be  a  lunula,  or 
lucid  bow,  surrounding  only  one  hal  f  of  the  circumference. 
Had  this  single  circumstance  been  attended  to,  philoso- 
phers might  have  readily  discovered,  that  the  fringe 
arose  from  the  unsteadiness  of  the  observers  eye,  which 
cannot  remain  fixed  on  the  same  point  of  the  square,  or 
circle.  The  smallest  aberration  of  the  eye,  which  begins 
to  be  unsteady  in  a  short  time,  will  therefore  make  the 
image  of  the  while  paper  contiguous  to  the  square,  fall 
upon  the  excited  part  of  the  retina,  and  thus  j)rothice 
the  accidental  coloured  fringe,  which  will  increase  with 
the  unsteadiness  of  the  eye.  If,  from  the  unsteadiness 
of  the  head  or  hand  of  the  observer,  (he  paper  on  which 
the  square  is  placed  should  be  removed  to  a  greater  dis- 
tance from  (he  eye,  than  when  the  impression  was  made 
upon  the  retina,  the  fringe  will  surround  (he  whole 
square  ;  and  may  be  made  to  assume  any  size,  by  in- 
creasing the  distance  of  the  paper  from  the  eye,  after 
the  retina  has  been  sufficiently  excited.  In  this  case, 
the  natural-coloured  square  will  be  surrounded  with  a 
Fquare  of  accidental  colour,  the  sides  of  the  squares 
forming  any  angle  with  each  other,  according  to  the  po- 
sition of  the  real  square. 

When  the  retina  is  highly  excited  by  the  action  of  the 
coloured  light,  the  accidental  colour  appears,  though 
with  much  less  brilliancy,  w  hen  the  eye  is  shut.  This, 
however,  evidently  arises  from  a  small  quantity  of  light, 
which  is  transmitted  through  the  eyelids.  It  has  been 
maintained,  (Sup.  Encyc.  Brit.)  that  the  accidental  CO' 

Xamber  and  order  of  the  natural-coloured  Squares. 


Green 
Blue 


Yellow 
Green 
Red 
Yellow 

Yellow 


Green 
Blue 
Green 
Red   . 


Red 


lours  will  appear,  even  if  w'e  retire  into  a  dark  room  ; 
but  this  is  physically  impossible.  From  the  duration  of 
the  impressions  of  light  upon  the  retina,  the  square  may 
in  this  case,  appear  of  its  natural  colour,  and  actually 
does  so ;  but  the  presence  of  light  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  the  generation  of  accidental  colours. 

In  order  to  show,  that  (he  same  colour  resuKs  from 
the  combination  of  accidental  colours,  as  from  the  com- 
bination of  real  ones,  i>rofessor  Scherffer  placed  two 
small  squares  in  contact  with  each  other,  upon  a  black 
ground,  (he  square  on  the  left  being  yellow,  and  that  on 
the  right  red.  He  then  fixed  his  eye  for  a  few  seconds  ou 
the  centre  of  the  yellow  square,  and,  without  moving  his 
head,  he  fixed  it  for  the  same  time  on  (he  centre  of  (he 
red  square ;  his  eye  was  (hen  returned  to  the  yellow 
square,  and  the  operation  of  viewing  each  square  alter- 
nately was  repeated  three  or  four  limes.  When  this  part 
of  the  experiment  was  completed,  he  turned  his  eye  lo  a 
whi(e  wall,  on  which  (here  appeared  (hree  squares,  in 
con(i;ct  with  each  other.  The  square  on  the  left  was 
violet,  (he  middle  square  was  a  mixture  of  green  and 
bbu',  and  the  colour  of  the  right  hand  square  was  a  vivid 
green.  When  the  eye  is  fixed  on  the  yellow  square,  the 
image  of  it  falls  upon  the  centre  of  the  retina,  and  pro- 
duces an  accidental  colour  of  indigo-violet;  but  when 
the  eye  is  transferred  to  the  red  square,  its  image  falls 
likewise  upon  the  centre  of  the  retina,  and  pi-oducesan 
accidental  colour  of  bluith-green ;  consequently  the 
mixture  of  these  acciden(al  colours  produces  green  and 
blue,  which  is  therefore  the  accidental  colour  that  ap- 
pears in  the  middle  square.  But  while  the  eye  was 
fixed  on  the  yellow  square,  the  image  of  the  red  square 
fell  upon  one  side  of  the  centre  of  the  retina,  and  pro- 
duced the  accidental  colour  of  green,  wiiich  appeared  in 
the  right  hand  square;  and,  while  the  eye  was  fixed  ou 
the  red  square,  the  image  of  the  yellow  square  fell  upon 
the  other  side  of  (he  centre  of  the  retina,  and  produced 
the  accidental  colour  of  indigo-violet,  which  appeared 
in  the  left  hand  square.  This,  we  presume,  is  the  true 
explanation  of  the  phenomena,  and  may  be  applied  to 
the  following  experiments  of  Scherffer. 

Nuralier  and  order  of  the  Accidental  Coloun. 

Deep  Blue     Violet  with  much  Red  Pale  Red 

Reddish  Orange  Pale  Yellow 

Green  Dark  brown  Red 

Reddish        Deep  pur-    Deep      Green  and  Green 

pie  blue  blue 

Pale  yel-       Greenish       Deep      Green  and  Green 
low                blue           green          blue 


The  preceding  experiments,  which  were  intended 
merely  to  prove  the  mixture  of  accidental  colours,  might 
have  been  conducted  with  much  more  simplicity.  If, 
for  example,  in  the  case  of  the  yellow  and  red  squares, 
the  one  were  always  concealed  when  the  eye  was  exa- 
mining the  other,  then,  if  the  eye,  after  an  alternate  exa- 
mination of  each  square,  were  transferred  to  a  white 
ground  instead  of  three  squares,  it  would  perceive  only 
one,  which  will  be  found  to  be  a  combination  of  the  two 
accidental  colours,  like  the  middle  square  in  Scherffer's 
experiment.  The  effect  of  the  experiment  will  be  still 
more  beautiful  when  one  of  the  squares  is  larger  than 
the  other.  If  we  make  the  red  square  largest,  and  exa- 
mine the  two  squares  as  before,  we  shall  have,  by  turning 
the  eye  to  a  white  surface,  the  apjiearance  of  one  square 
enclosed  in  another :  the  interior  square  will  be  green 


and  blue,  or  the  mixture  of  the  accidental  colours  of  the 
red  and  yellow  squares,  while  the  exterior  square  is  the 
accidental  colour  of  the  red  square.  If  the  yellow  square 
Is  the  largest,  the  interior  square  will  be  the  same  as  be- 
fore, but  the  exterior  one  will  be  the  accidental  colour 
of  yellow. 

In  the  course  of  bis  experiments,  Buffon  remarked, 
that  the  figure  and  colour  of  a  red  square  underwent 
several  curious  transformations,  by  looking  at  it  steadily 
for  a  very  long  time.  These  [(henomena,  however,  were 
observed  after  his  eye  had  been  reiluced  by  fatigue  to  an 
extreme  degree  of  debility ;  and  therefore,  it  would  be 
absurd  to  attempt  an  exidanation  of  appearances,  wliich 
probably  arose  from  the  diseased  state  of  the  organ. 

The  subject  of  accidental  colours  has  been  investigaf- 
ed  by  M.  iEpinus ;  but  he  has  attended  only  to  those 


ACCIDENTAL  COLOURS. 


55 


phenomena  whicli  were  produced  by  the  impression  of 
the  solar  iiiinge  upon  the  retina.  When  the  sun  was 
near  the  horizon,  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  light  diminish- 
ed by  the  interposition  of  thin  clouds  or  floating  exhala- 
tions, M.  jEpinus  fixed  his  eye  steadily  on  the  solar  disc 
for  the  space  of  15  seconds.  After  shutting  his  eye,  he 
perceived  an  irregular  |)ale  yellow  image  of  the  sun, 
verging  to  green  like  sulphur,  and  surrounded  with  a 
faint  red  border.  As  soon  he  opened  his  eye,  and 
turned  it  to  a  white  ground,  the  image  of  the  sun  was 
brownish  red,  and  its  encircling  border  was  sky-blue. 
When  his  eye  was  again  shut,  the  image  of  the  sun  be- 
came green  and  the  border  a  red  colour,  different  from 
the  liist.  Upon  opening  his  eye,  and  turning  it  to  the 
white  ground  as  before,  the  image  was  more  red  than 
formerly,  and  the  border  a  brighter  sky-blue.  His  eye 
being  again  shut,  the  image  appeared  green  ap|)roach- 
ing  to  sky-blue,  and  the  border  red,  still  differing  from 
the  former.  When  his  eye  was  opened  as  before,  upon  a 
white-ground,  the  image  was  still  red,  and  its  border 
sky-blue,  but  the  shaties  of  these  colours  were  different 
from  the  last.  At  the  end  of  four  or  five  minutes,  when 
his  eye  was  shut,  the  image  was  a  fine  sky-blue,  and  tlie 
border  a  brilliant  red ;  and  upon  oi)ening  his  eye  as  be- 
fore, the  image  was  a  brilliant  red,  and  the  border  a  fine 
sky-blue.  By  considering  that  the  colour  of  the  sun  ap- 
proached to  orange,  and  that  when  the  eyes  are  shut,  red 
light  is  still  admitted  through  the  eyelids,  the  preceding 
phenomena  may  admit  of  satisfactory  explanation.  It 
was  observed  by  ^|)inuB,  that  the  image  of  the  sun, 
after  his  eye  was  fixed  on  the  white  ground,  frequently 
disappeared,  returned,  and  disappearexl  again,  and  that 
it  generally  disappeared  when  he  wished  to  examine  it, 
but  returned  when  the  eye  was  not  prepared  for  observ- 
ing it. 

These  experiments  of  ^^pinus  were  repeated  under 
different  circumstances  by  the  editor  of  this  work.  In- 
stead of  looking  at  the  sun  when  obscured  and  tinged 
with  yellow  by  the  interposition  of  clouds  and  vapours, 
I  took  advantage  of  a  fine  summer's  day,  when  the  sun 
was  near  the  meridian,  and  formed  a  very  brilliant  and 
distinct  image  of  his  disc  by  means  of  the  concave 
mirror  of  a  reflecting  telescope.  My  right  eye  being 
tied  up,  I  viewed  this  luminous  disc  with  the  left  through 
a  tube,  which  prevented  any  extraneous  light  from  fall- 
ing upon  the  retina.  When  the  retina  was  highly  ex- 
cited by  the  solar  image,  I  turned  my  left  eye  to  a  white 
ground,  and  perceived  the  following  appearances  by  al- 
ternately opening  and  shutting  it. 

Spectra  with  flie  left  Spectbx  with  the  left 

Eye  open.  Eye  shut. 

1.  Pink  surrounded  with  green     .     .     .    Green 

2.  Orange  mixed  with  Pink    ....     Blue 

3.  Yellowish  Brown Bluish  Pink 

4.  Yellow 

5.  Pure  Red Sky  Blue 

6.  Orange        Indigo 

This  series  of  colours  is  much  more  extensive  than  that 
observed  by  iEpinus,  because  the  retina  was  more 
strongly  excited  by  the  sun's  light. 

After  uncovering  my  right  eye,  a  remarkable  pheno- 
menon appeared;  but  as  I  am  afraid  that  there  was 


some  illusion  attending  it,  I  shall  insert  the  account 
which  I  drew  up  at  the  time  for  a  scientific  friend,  and 
request  the  reader  to  consider  it,  not  as  a  scientific  fact, 
but  as  a  point  which  is  to  be  confirmed  or  overthrown  by 
subsequent  experiments.  '•  I  was  surprised  to  find,  upon 
uncovering  my  right  eye,  and  turning  it  to  a  white 
ground,  that  it  also  gave  a  coloured  spectrum  exactly 
the  reverse  of  the  first  spectrum,  which  was  pink  sur- 
rounded with  green.  This  result  was  so  extraordinary, 
that  I  repeated  the  experiment  twice,  in  order  to  be  se- 
cure against  deception,  and  always  with  the  same  result. 
The  spectrum  in  the  left  eye  was  uniformly  invigorated 
by  closing  the  eyelids,  because  the  images  of  external 
objects  efface  the  impression  upon  the  retina ;  and  when 
I  refreshed  the  spectrum  in  the  left  eye,  the  spectrum  in 
the  right  was  also  strengthened.  On  repeating  the  ex- 
periment a  third  time,  the  spectrum  appeared  in  both 
eyes,  which  seems  to  prove,  that  the  impression  of  the 
solar  iiiws'c  was  conveyed  by  tlie  optic  nerve  from  the  left 
to  the  right  eye  ;  for  the  right  eye  being  shut,  could  not 
be  affccteil  by  the  luminous  image  *.  After  these  expe- 
riments, my  eyes  were  reduced  to  such  a  state  of  ex- 
treme debility,  that  they  were  imfit  for  any  further  trials. 
A  spectrum  of  a  darkish  hue  floated  before  the  left  eye 
for  many  hours,  which  was  succeeded  by  the  most  ex- 
cruciating ])ains,  shooting  through  every  part  of  the 
head.  These  pains,  accompanied  with  a  slight  inflam- 
mation in  both  eyes,  continued  for  several  days,  and  pre- 
vented me  from  varying  the  experiments."  This  debi- 
lity of  the  eyes  has  continued  for  two  years,  and  several 
parts  of  the  retina  in  both  eyes  have  completely  lost  their 
sensibility.  I  must  therefore  leave  it  to  other  observers 
to  confirm  or  overthrow  this  experiment. 

Dr.  R.  Darwin  has  made  some  ingenious  observations 
on  the  subjectof  accidental  colours.  The  images  which 
arise  from  the  duration  of  the  impression  of  light  upon 
the  retina,  and  those  wliich  are  accidentally  coloured, 
he  calls  spectra,  some  of  which,  as  the  black  spectrum 
from  a  white  object,  arise  from  a  defect  of  sensibility ; 
and  others,  as  the  white  spectrum  from  a  black  object, 
arise  from  an  excess  of  sensibility.  The  spectra  which 
have  the  same  colour  as  the  object  that  makes  the  im- 
pression upon  the  retina,  such  as  the  red  spectrum  of  a 
red  square,  which  appears  after  the  eye  is  shut  and  all 
light  excluded,  he  calls  direct  spectra,  and  those  which 
have  the  accidental  colour  of  the  object  examined,  he 
calls  reverse  spectra.  The  various  experiments  which 
he  relates,  may  be  easily  explained  from  the  principles 
already  laid  down  :  the  physiological  conclusions  which 
he  has  deduced  from  them,  do  not  belong  to  this  article. 
Bee  Phil.  Trans.  1786,  p.  313. 

It  can  scarcely  be  expected,  that,  in  a  work  like  the 
present,  we  can  enumerate  the  various  phenomena  which 
may  be  explained  by  the  theory  of  accidental  colours. 
That  the  reader,  however,  may  be  able  to  trace  these 
phenomena  to  their  proper  source,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  mention,  that  the  general  causes  of  such  appearances 
in  the  open  air,  are  to  be  found  in  the  verdure  of  the 
fields,  the  azure  colour  of  the  sea,  the  blueness  of  the 
sky,  the  golden  brilliancy  of  the  rising  and  setting  sun, 
and  the  ruddy  hue  of  the  morning  and  evening  clouds. 
When  such  phenomena  are  seen  in  a  room,  they  are 
generally  to  be  traced  to  the  colour  of  the  walls,  or  the 
window-curtains,  and  sometimes  to  that  of  the  car- 


•  Immediately  before  the  spectrum  given  by  tfce  right  eye  vanished,  the  green  image  was  surrounded  to  a  considerable  disUnce  witk 
totaUlarkness,  so  that  the  corresiionding  part  of  the  retina  w»a  completely  insensible  to  lijjb.t. 


86 


ACC 


ACC 


pet  or  the  furniture,  when  strongly  illuminated  by  the 
sun. 

Dr.  Darwin  very  properly  infers,  from  the  theory  of 
accidental  colours,  that  in  the  diaNplate  of  a  clock  or 
watch,  or  in  a  book  printed  with  small  types,  the  letters 
or  figures  should  be  of  such  a  colour,  that  their  spectra 
or  accidental  colours  may  be  of  the  same  hue  as  the 
groimd  on  which  they  are  placed.  When  this  is  done, 
the  letters  will  appear  most  distinct,  because  the  spectra 
arising  from  the  unsteadiness  of  the  eye  cannot  become 
visible.  We  conceive,  however,  that  the  theory  is  capa- 
ble of  a  much  more  extensive  application,  and  that,  at 
some  future  time,  which  is  not  far  distant,  a  knoAvledge 
of  accidental  colours  will  be  deemed  absolutely  necessa- 
ry to  the  manufficturer  in  the  fabrication  of  coloured 
stuffs.  It  will  be  uniformly  found,  that,  in  every  com- 
bination of  colours,  those  are  the  most  pleasing  tothe  eye, 
in  which  the  prominent  colour  is  placed  upon  a  groimd 
similar  to  its  accidental  colour :  the  general  effect  will 
not  be  injured  by  the  appearance  of  partial  or  complete 
spectra,  and  the  organ  of  sight  will  not  be  distracted  by 
floating  images  alternately  soliciting  his  attention,  and 
escaping  from  his  view.  Whenever  theory  seems  to 
come  in  contact  with  practice,  the  connexion  should  be 
diligently  traced  through  all  its  consequences;  for  it  is 
frequently  thus  that  philosophy  becomes  the  handmaid  of 
the  arts. 

Before  concluding  this  article,  we  shall  present  the 
reader  with  a  new  theory  of  accidental  colours,  proposed 
by  the  celebrated  La  Place,  and  published  in  the  2d 
edition  of  Haiiy's  Traite  de  Physique.  La  Place  sup- 
poses, "  that  there  exists  in  the  eye  a  certain  disposi- 
tion, in  virtue  of  which,  the  red  rays  comprised  in  the 
whiteness  of  the  ground  are,  at  the  moment  when  they 
arrive  at  that  organ,  in  a  manner  attracted  by  those 
which  form  the  predominant  red  colour  of  the  circle ;  so 
that  the  two  impressions  become  blended  into  one,  and 
the  green  colour  finds  itself  at  liberty  to  act  as  though  it 
existed  alone.  According  to  this  method  of  conceiving 
things,  the  sensation  of  the  red  decomposes  that  of  the 
whiteness,  and  while  the  homogeneous  actions  combine 
together,  the  action  of  the  heterogeneous  rays  which  are 
disengaged  from  the  combination,  protluces  its  effect 
separately."  This  hypothesis,  unauthorized  by  experi- 
ment, is  entitled  to  our  regard  solely  from  the  unrivalled 
genius  of  its  illustrious  author.  In  a  subsequent  article, 
in  which  we  propose  to  give  a  new  theory  of  acciden- 
tal colours,  founded  on  a  number  of  experiments,  we 
shall  be  able  to  give  a  direct  refutation  of  La  Place's 
theory. 

The  writer  of  this  article  is  engaged  in  a  set  of  ex- 
periments connected  with  accidental  colours,  by  which 
he  expects  to  reduce  the  various  colours  in  nature  to 
a  fixed  nomenclature, — to  ascertain  the  elements  of 
which  they  are  composed,  and  the  proportion  in  which 
these  elements  are  combined ;  and  to  determine  the 
duration  of  the  impression  of  light  upon  the  retina,  when 
proceeding  from  bodies  of  various  colours,  and  under 
different  degrees  of  illumination.  The  results  of  these 
experiments  may  probably  be  communicated  in  some 
subsequent  article.  Those  who  wish  to  study  the  sub- 
ject of  accidental  colours,  are  referred  to  the  works 
already  quoted,  and  to  Jurin's  Essay  on  Distinct  and  In- 
distinct Fision,  at  the  end  o( Smith's  Optics.  Oi/scrvatims 
sur  la  Physique,  par  Rosier,  <£-c.  vol.  xxvi.  p.  1 75.  273. 
291.  Porterficld  on  tlu  Eye,  \o].  \.  p.  343.  Buffon, 
Mem.  Acad.  Par.  1743.  p.  215.  iEpinua,  Nov.  Cmtmtnt. 


Pelrop.  torn.  x.  p.  286.  Gregory's  Translation  of  H&uy'u- 
No/.  Phil.  vol.  ii.  p.  424.  Addenda.  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin. 
vol.  ii.  for  1771.  See  also  Chromatics,  Colour,  Op- 
tics, Shadow,  and  Spectrum,     (w) 

ACCIPENSER,  a  genus  of  fishes,  belonging  to  the 
order  cartilaginei.  The  fishes  of  this  genus  are  very 
large,  and  are  all  inhabitants  of  the  sea.  As  their  flesh 
is  delicate,  they  form  a  considerable  article  of  commerce 
on  the  banks  of  the  Cas]»ian,  and  in  many  parts  of  Eu- 
ro])e  and  America.     See  Ichthtology.     (j») 

ACCIPITRES,  the  name  of  the  first  order  of  birds 
in  the  Linnxan  system.  See  Ornitholocy,  and  Hawk. 
(w) 

ACCISMUS,  fromaxKi<r^«(,  denotes  the  refusal  of  any 
thing  which  we  anxiously  wish.  It  is  supposed  to  be 
derived  from  Acco,  the  name  of  a  curious  female,  who 
was  noted  for  this  species  of  affectation.  This  old  lady, 
whose  life  is  written  by  Bayle,  is  said  to  have  run  tlis- 
traded,  when  she  found  from  her  glass  that  old  age  had 
deformed  her  features.  Plutarch  informs  us,  that  her 
name  was  used  by  mothers  to  terrify  their  children. 
See  Phdarch,  de  Stoic.  Repugnant,  p.  1040,  and  CkUus 
Rhodiginus,  lib.  vi.  cap.  1 0.  and  lib.  xvi.  cap.  2.     (»») 

ACCIUS,  or  Attius  Lucius,  a  Roman  tragic  poet, 
and  the  son  of  a  freedman,  was  born  about  the  year  of 
Rome  583.  B.  C.  170.  He  was  highly  esteemed,  and 
publicly  patronized  by  Decimus  Brutus,  consul  in  615, 
whose  victories  he  had  celebrated  in  several  poems,  and 
who,  in  return,  caused  some  of  his  verses  to  be  inscri- 
bed on  the  temples  and  monuments  that  were  erected 
in  honour  of  his  military  triumphs.  (Cic.  de  Jrchia  Poi'ta, 
c.  xi.  Valcr.  Max.  lib.  viii.  14.)  The  subjects  of  his 
tragedies  were  taken  principally  from  the  Grecian  his- 
tory; and  fragments  of  no  fewer  than  fifty  of  them, 
among  which  are  two  entitled  Medea,  are  still  extant, 
but  in  such  a  mutilated  state,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
form  any  correct  opinion  of  his  merits  as  a  dramatic 
author.  He  composed,  however,  at  least  one  tragedy  en- 
tirely Roman,  called  Brutus,  which  related  to  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Tarquins ;  and  he  is  supposed,  not  without 
some  probability,  to  have  also  written  comedies^  Be- 
sides his  dramatic  writings,  he  was  the  author  of  Annals, 
in  verse,  which  are  mentioned  by  Macrobius,  Priscian, 
Festus,  and  Nonnius  Marcellus ;  and,  according  to  the 
testimony  of  Aulus  Gellius,  of  a  treatise  in  prose,  called 
Diilascalida,  relating  to  poets  and  poetry.  He  was  held 
in  such  high  estimation  by  the  public,  that  a  comedian 
was  punished  for  only  mentioning  his  name  on  the  stage. 
His  style  has  been  censured  for  its  harshness,  but  this 
Quinctilian  ascribes  more  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived, 
than  to  his  negligence ;  and,  when  speaking  of  him  and 
his  contemporary  Pacuvius,  passes  a  high  encomium  on 
their  tragic  works,  as  excelling  in  dignity  of  sentiment, 
force  of  language,  and  majesty  of  character.  The 
opinion  of  some,  that  his  talents,  as  a  historian,  are  de- 
rided by  Cicero,  {De  Clar.  Orat.  and  De  Legibus,)  is 
fully  refuted,  not  only  by  the  frequent  honourable  men 
tion  that  is  mtule  of  him  in  the  writings  of  that  orator, 
but  by  the  fact,  that  the  Accius,  of  whom  Cicero  speaks 
contemptuously,  wrote  in  prose,  whereas  the  ./Innals 
of  Lucius  Accius  were  iu  verse.  See  Vossius  de  Poet. 
IjOtin.  |).  7.  Quinctil.  Institut.  lib.  v.  cap.  13.  lib.  x. 
cap.  I.     (rf) 

ACCLAMATION,  a  confused  noise  or  shout,  by 
which  the  public  express  their  opinion  or  applause  of 
any  thing.  In  a  more  restricted  sense,  it  denotes  a 
certain  formula  of  words,  uttered  with  exlraordioary  vc- 


ACCLAMATION. 


87 


1161)16066,  and  in  a  peculiar  clianting  tofte,  frequent  in 
the  ancient  assemblies. 

Acclamations  were  generally  accompanied  with  ap- 
plauses ;  from  which,  however,  they  ought  to  be  distin- 
guished, applause  being  siv€n  by  the  hands,  and  be- 
■stowed  only  on  persons  that  were  present;  acclama- 
tion, by  the  voice,  and  on  those  also  who  were  absent. 
Acclamation  was  sometimes  given  by  women,  but  ap- 
plause seems  to  have  been  confined  to  men.  Acclama- 
tions are  of  different  kinds ;  nuptial,  scholastic,  theatrical, 
military,  senatorial,  and  ecclesiastical. 

The  formula!,  or  expressions  used  in  acclamation, 
were  of  various  kinds,  corresponding  to  the  occasion 
on  which  they  were  employed,  though,  as  will  be  imme- 
diately noticed,  the  same  forms  were  frequently  used, 
even  when  the  subjects  to  which  they  related  were  dis- 
similar. Indeed,  being  merely  general  expressions  of 
joy  and  respect,  or  of  reproach  and  contumely,  it  is 
naturally  to  be  expected  that  they  will  resemble  one 
another. 

Acclamations  were  an  essential  part  of  the  nuptial 
ceremony,  both  among  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans. 
Thus  'epithalamian  songs,  both  on  the  evening  of  the 
marriage  and  the  morning  after,  may  be  regarded  in 
this  light;  for  in  these  the  praises  of  the  bridegroom 
and  bride  were  celebrated,  and  fervent  wishes  for  their 
happiness  expressed.  The  Roman  formula  was,  in 
general,  Feliciter,  or  lo  Hymen.  These  were  the  lata 
omina,  mentioned  by  Seneca,  {In  Octav.  iv.  I.  704.)  with 
which  the  citizens  hailed  the  nuptials  of  Nero  and  Pop- 
piea. 

The  scholastic  acclamations  are  those  which  were 
bestowed  on  authors,  who  recited  their  works,  either  in 
the  public  assemblies,  or  the  more  private  academies; 
and  their  admirers  were  careful  that  they  should  be  con- 
ferred in  the  most  solemn  and  respectful  manner.  In- 
vitations were  sent,  and  presents  sometimes  given,  to 
procure  them  ;  nor  was  it  uncommon  for  men  of  fortune 
to  keep  able  applauders  in  their  service,  and  lend  them 
to  their  friends.  These  acclamations  were  frequently 
accompanied  with  music ;  and  the  formula:  were  varied 
according  to  the  character  of  the  author,  and  the  nature 
of  his  compositions.  One  of  the  most  usual  forms  was 
<7»^««,  or,  perhaps  <r«^«{,  rvisehf,  repeated  three  times ; 
(Martial,  i.  4,  &c.)  and  sometimes  i/V«f^i/«5,  i.  e.  stijnra 
quam  did  possit.  The  same  author  (ii.  27.  3.)  compre- 
hends several  other  customary  forms  in  this  verse : 

"  Effect*,  gratiter,  cit6,  nequiter,  Euge,  Beat*." 

The  acclamations  of  the  theatre,  simple  and  artless 
during  the  first  ages  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  were 
gradually  changed,  from  confused  and  tumultuous  shouts, 
into  a  sort  of  regular  concerts.  In  this  form  they  ex- 
isted during  the  reign  of  Augustus,  but  ivere  still  more 
highly  im|)roved  by  Nero,  who  himself  played  on  the 
stage,  and  gave  the  signal  to  the  band  of  acclainiers, 
which  on  one  occasion  consisted  of  five  thousand  sol- 
diers, called  Augustals,  who  immediately  began  to  chant 
his  praise,  and  the  spectators  were  obliged  to  repeat 
them.  The  responses  were  conducted  by  a  music 
master  called  Merochorus,  or  Pausarius.  At  the  public 
festivals  and  games,  as  well  as  in  the  theatres,  accla- 
mations were  given  not  only  to  the  emperors,  their 
children,  favourites,  and  the  magistrates  who  presided, 
but  to  others,  of  distinguished  literary  or  civil  merit,  to 
the  actors,  and  to  those  who  carried  off  the  prizes.  The 


most  common  formulae  were  Annos  felices,  Longiorcm 
vitam,  feliciter.  Those  with  which  the  victories  of  the 
Athletae  were  honoured,  were  loud  and  extravagant,  ac- 
companied with  violent  gestures,  ex|>ressing  sometimes 
compassion  and  joy,  sometimes  horror  nnd  disgust. 

Military  acclamations  were  employed  by  the  Romans 
at  the  election  of  their  commanders,  when  the  soldiers 
exclaimed,  Dii  te  servent  imperator ;  and  when  about 
to  engage  the  enemy,  they  cried  out  Victoria.  (Caisar,  de 
Bell.  Gall.  v.  30.)  The  Greeks  also  begun  their  battles 
with  a  general  shout,  called  i\»\x.yt4,<,<i,  from  the  soldiers 
re[)eating  the  word  ctXctX,  and  according  to  Suidas,  some- 
times cA«A«».  This  custom  indeed  was  general  among 
all  ancient  nations,  and  still  exists  in  many  parts  of  the 
world.  When  a  war  was  finished,  or  the  enemy  com- 
pletely routed,  the  victorious  array  expressed  their  joy, 
by  pronouncing  aloud  the  name  of  their  commander ; 
and  after  their  return,  their  acclamations  were  increased, 
and  re-echoed  by  the  citizens,  whilst  they  marched  in 
procession  to  deposit  the  spoils  in  the  capital.  The 
city  resounded  with  the  cry  of  Salve  imperator,  Vestra 
sahts.  Nostra  salus,  or  lo  tritimphe.  So  Horace,  in  ad- 
dressing Anton.  lulus,  says : 

"  Tuque  dam  procedis,  lo  trtumphc, 
Non  semel  diceinus,  lo  triumplie, 
CiTitas  omnis." — Od.  11.  lib.  iv.  49. 

The  acclamations  in  the  senate,  though  more  so- 
lemn, were  evidently  borrowed  from  the  theatres,  beins; 
made,  not  at  the  pleasure  of  any  individual,  but,  as  in 
the  choruses,  by  the  direction  of  a  person  appointed  for 
the  purpose.  They  do  not  seem  to  have  been  intro- 
duced till  about  the  time  of  Trajan;  aiid  were  so  much 
abused,  and  so  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  the  court, 
that  Claudian  procured  their  abolition.  But  flattery  be- 
ing always  pleasing  to  tyrants,  the  custom  was  soon  re- 
sumed; the  emperors  receiving,  not  only  at  their  first 
election,  but  whenever  they  entered  the  senate,  that  in- 
cense of  adulation  which  is  offered  to  the  rank,  oftener 
than  to  the  merit,  of  princes.  The  same  may  be  said 
respecting  the  acclamations  of  the  populace,  which  were 
as  liberally  conferred  on  the  stu[)id  Vitellius,  and  the 
sanguinary  Nero,  as  on  Trajan,  who  so  truly  deserved 
the  title  of  Optimus.  When  the  emperors  gave  largesses 
of  money  or  provisions  to  the  people,  the  form  of  accla- 
mation commonly  was,  "  De  nostris  annis  tibi  Jupiter 
augcat  annos."  (Tertull.  Apol.  c.  35.) 

The  Greek  emperors  were  afterwards  greeted  with 
acclamations,  taken  from  those  of  the  Romans,  the  peo- 
ple chanting  out,  UaMx  i??,  "  Many  years."  Nay,  Plu- 
tarch mentions  an  acclamation  so  loud,  on  the  occasion 
of  Flaminius  restoring  liberty  to  Greece,  that  the  birds 
fell  from  the  sky  at  the  shout.  The  Turks  still  observe 
a  similar  ceremony  at  the  sight  of  their  emperors  and 
grand  viziers ;  and  the  custom  of  saluting  kings,  con- 
querors, and  distinguished  persons,  with  some  forms  of 
acclamation,  is  very  general  and  prevalent. 

At  first  confined  to  amusements  and  political  subjects, 
acclamations  were  at  length  practised  in  ecclesiastical 
assemblies.  Sermons  were  applauded  with  the  hands 
and  feet,  the  people  most  extravagantly  and  absurdly 
interrupting  the  preacher,  by  calling  out,  "  Orthodox ! 
Third  Apostle  !"  &c.  whilst  they  shook  their  loose  gar- 
ments, and  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  in  token  of  their 
approbation.  This  practice  was  condemned  by  Chrisos- 
tom,  yet  tolerated  by  Augustine ;  but  good  sense,  and 
religious  decorum,  at  last  succeeded  in  banishing  it  from 


88 


ACC 


ACC 


the  solemn  services  of  Christian  worship.  Pitisci  Lex. 
Ant.  Rom.  Potter's  JrcJueol.  Grcec.  Suidas  in  EAtA. 
Bingham's  Orig.  Eccl.  xiv.  4.  Lardner'a  Works,  vol. 
iii.Sl.  (rf) 

ACCOLADE,  or  Accolee,  from  ad  and  colhim,  the 
name  of  a  ceremony  employed  in  the  conferring  of 
knightliood.  It  consisted,  according  to  gome  antiqua- 
rians, in  an  embrace,  or  kiss,  with  which  the  king  lio- 
noured  the  new  knight  as  a  mark  of  esteem.  Gregory 
de  Tours  informs  us,  that  the  kings  of  France  formerly 
kissed  the  knights  on  the  left  cheek,  when  they  conferred 
the  gilt  shoulder-belt.  It  is  the  opinion  of  other  anti- 
quarians, that  the  ceremony  in  question  was  performed 
by  giving  a  blow  on  the  chine  of  the  neck.  According 
to  John  of  Salisbury,  the  accolee,  or  blow,  was  used  among 
the  ancient  Normans ;  and  William  the  Conqueror  con- 
ferred the  order  of  knighthood  upon  his  son  by  a  simi- 
lar process.  The  blow  was  originally  given  by  the 
naked  fist,  according  to  Lambertus  Ardensis,  but  was  af- 
terwards changed  into  a  stroke  with  the  flat  of  the  sword 
upon  the  knight's  shoulder.  Fauchet  endeavours  to  re- 
concile these  two  opinions,  by  supposing  the  kiss  to  be 
intended  as  a  stroke  upon  the  cheek,     (w) 

ACCOLTI,  Bernardo,  surnamed  L'Unico,  or  the 
Non-such,  from  the  wonderful  strength  of  his  under- 
standing, and  the  variety  of  sciences  with  which  he  was 
acquainted.  His  talents  as  a  poet  gained  him  a  seat 
among  the  academicians  of  the  court  of  Urbino ;  and  so 
high  was  he  in  the  esteem  of  Leo  X.  that  this  generous 
patron  of  literature  created  him  prince  of  the  state  of 
Nepi,  in  1 520.  The  generosity  of  Leo  was  immediately 
rewarded  by  a  poem,  still  in  MS.  entitled, "  The  Libera- 
lity of  Pope  Leo  X."  The  reputation  of  Accoiti  was  so 
great,  that  when  he  was  to  recite  publicly  at  Rome,  all 
the  shops  were  shut,  the  people  flocked  to  hear  him, 
princes  and  prelates  honoured  him  with  their  presence, 
and  every  ceremony  was  observed  which  could  give 
pomp  ancl  solemnity  to  the  scene.  The  talents  of  Ac- 
coiti, however,  seem  to  have  had  more  splendour  than 
solidity,  and  he  appears  to  have  excelled  more  as  an  im- 
provisatore,  than  as  a  poet,     (o) 

ACCOMMODATION,  the  application  of  one  thing 
f)y  analogy  to  another,  in  consequence  of  a  resemblance, 
either  real  or  supposed,  between  them.  To  know  a 
thing  by  accommodation,  is  to  know  it  by  the  idea  of  a 
similar  thing  referred  to  it. 

In  theology,  the  term  accommodation  is  applied  to 
what  may  be  called  the  indirect  fullilmcnt  of  prophecy; 
as  when  passages,  that  originally  related  to  one  event, 
are  quoted  as  if  they  referred  to  another,  in  which  some 
resemblance  may  be  traced.  The  method  of  explaining 
scripture  on  this  principle  of  accommodation,  serves,  it 
has  been  said,  as  a  key  for  solving  some  of  the  greatest 
diflficulties  relating  to  the  prophecies.  It  has  been  justly 
called  a  convenient  [irinciple;  for,  if  it  were  once  gene- 
rally adopted,  we  should  get  rid  of  the  strongest  proofs 
of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  which  prophecy  has  hither- 
to been  supposed  to  furnish.  It  is  not  affirmed,  that 
this  is  either  the  wish  or  the  design  of  some  of  the  au- 
thors who  have  adopted  and  defended  the  principle  of 
accommodation ;  but  scarcely  any  of  them,  with  the  ex- 
ception perhaps  of  one  or  two  German  divines,  have 
pleaded  for  its  unlimited  application  to  the  Old  Tes- 
tament predictions.  It  is  vain  to  press  even  Mj<;fi^Zts 
into  the  service,  as  has  been  lately  attemi)ted ;  for  both 
he,  and  his  no  less  acute  and  learned  commentator 
Marsh,  expressly  avow,  not  merely  their  doubt  of  the 


propriety  of  universally  extending  this  principle,  but 
their  conviction  of  the  danger  with  which  it  would  be 
attended,  and  of  the  inconclusive  reasonings  which  its 
patrons  have  brought  forward  in  its  defence.  (Vid. 
Marsh's  Michaelis,  vol.  i.  p.  200 — 214.  and  Notes,  p. 
470 — 479.)  The  following  view  of  the  subject  is  taken 
chiefly  from  their  statements. 

This  mode  of  interpreting  the  prephecies  was  early 
introduced  among  theologians,  probably  by  Origen,  who 
employs  it  under  the  name  of  0<Kov9/M.«t,  (which  the  Latin 
fathers  afterwards  called  dispensatio,)  in  replying  to  the 
objections  of  Celsus ;  and  whose  allegorical  disposition 
did  such  injury  to  the  cause  of  truth.  They  express- 
ly affirmed,  that  the  apostles  accommodated  their  quo- 
tfitions  from  the  Old  Testament  to  the  prejudices  of 
the  Jews,  without  any  regard  to  their  original  import; 
an  opinion  the  most  unwarrantable  and  dangerous ;  for 
that  those  who  were  commissioned  to  publish  the  re- 
velations of  God  to  mankind,  should  have  recourse  to 
such  an  unjustifiable  artifice,  is  contrary  to  all  the  no- 
tions which  sound  reason,  the  ultimate  judge  of  the 
truth  of  revelation,  leads  us  to  form  respecting  the  di- 
vine character  and  conduct.  Dr.  Eckermann  extends 
the  doctrine  of  accommodation  to  every  quotation  in 
the  New  Testament  without  exception  ;  proceeding  on 
the  hypothesis,  that  the  Old  Testament  contains  no  pro- 
phecy which  literally  and  immediately  relates  to  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ.  Dr.  Owen,  on  the  contrary,  in 
his  "  Modes  of  Quotation,"  §  3.  entirely  rejects  the  prin- 
ciple of  accommodation ;  to  whose  opinion  Michaelis  is, 
in  most  cases,  inclined  to  accede,  though  with  this  es- 
sential difference,  that  he  admits  only  a  grammatical 
and  literal,  whilst  Dr.  Owen  contends  for  a  typical  mean- 
ing of  particular  passages. 

With  respect  to  the  quotations  from  the  Jewish  scrip- 
tures, contained  in  the  New  Testiinient,  it  seems  neces- 
sary to  make  an  accurate  distinction  between  those 
which,  being  merely  borrowed,  are  used  as  the  words 
of  the  person  who  quotes  them,  and  those  which  are  pro- 
duced as  proofs  of  a  doctrine,  or  the  completion  of  a 
prophecy.  In  the  one  case,  accommodation  may  be 
allowed ;  for  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  that  the  writers  of 
the  New  Testament,  from  their  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  Septuagint,  might  often  allude  to  passages,  and 
quote  them  from  memory,  as  an  illustration  of  what  they 
were  stating,  without  directly  intending  to  bring  them 
forward  as  irresistible  arguments.  But,  in  the  other 
case,  there  is  no  little  difliculty,  and  even  hazard,  in 
having  recourse  to  this  principle ;  for  if  it  once  be  ad- 
mitted, that  the  evangelists  and  apostles,  and  even  our 
Lord  himself,  employed  arguments,  which,  on  this  sup- 
position, are  evidently  no  arguments  at  all,  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  one,  and  the  divine  mission  of  the  other,  must 
be  extremely  equivocal. 

If  it  were  true,  that  the  Old  Testament  was  falsely 
quoted  in  the  New,  when  either  doctrines  or  prophecies 
are  the  subjects  of  discussion,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
make  the  following  distinctions  :  (1.)  If  such  quotations 
were  discovered  in  a  book,  whose  canonical  authority  is 
doubted,  they  must  be  regarded  as  human  errors,  and 
the  inspiration  of  the  book  itself  be  abandoned.  (2.)  If 
they  could  be  found  in  those  books  which  belong  to  the 
•V«Aoyi^iM.tv<c,  the  inspiration  of  these  books  also  must  be 
given  up,  though  no  inference  could  be  drawn  that  the 
a[>ostles  were  not  preachers  of  a  divine  religion.  But 
(3.)  were  it  possible  to  show,  that  the  very  author  of 
our  religion  had  made  a  wrong  application  of  any  text 


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of  the  Olil  TtsUiineiit,  it  would  follow,  tliat  he  was  not 
infallible  ;  und  that  Christianity  itself  was  false. 

It  seems  particularly  obvious,  that  the  principle  of  ac- 
commodation should  not  be  hastily  adopted  where  tlie 
strong  ex|)ression9  are  used,  "  This  was  done  that  it 
might  be  fulfilled  which  was  spoken  by  the  i)ro|)het ;" 
or,  "  Then  was  fulfilled  that  which  was  spoken,"  &:c. 
A  formula  of  this  kind  is  never  used  in  quoting  from  a 
classic  author;  it  is,  therefore,  no  argument  in  favour 
of  accommodation,  in  these  cases,  to  say,  with  Nicholls, 
(Conference  rvilh  a  Theist,  P.  III.  p.  11.)  that  no  one 
would  object  to  a  writer  who  should  address  the  apos- 
tles, in  the  words  of  Virgil's  invocation  of  the  Sun  and 
Mood, 

— — Vos  o  cUrlssinm  rauiidi 
Lumina. 

Every  one  must  perceive  that  these  cases  are  quite  dis- 
similar, jind  that  when  the  sacred  writers  used  the  above 
expressions,  they  were  jjersuaded,  that  the  passages 
which  they  introduced  did  directly  refer  to  the  events 
to  which  they  applied  them.  Wetstein  {Note  on  Mat. 
i.  22.)  alleges  an  example  of  similar  latitude  of  expres- 
sion from  E[)hrera  Syrus  ;  and  Dr.  Sykes  {Introduction  to 
the  Hebrews,  §  3.)  appeals  to  other  writers  also.  The 
authority  of  Jerom,  however,  whom  lie  quotes  among 
the  rest,  is  of  little  weight,  as  that  learned  father  was 
an  avowed  allegorist.  The  examples  of  Wetstein,  and 
those  which  Ur.  Sykes  has  quoted  from  Epiphanius  and 
Olympiodorus,  are  not  much  more  conclusive,  being 
only  similar  to  the  language  which  we  would  use  in 
cautioning  any  one,  "  Let  not  that  be  fulfilled  in  thee;" 
^vhere  the  caution  itself  implies,  that  the  words  to  which 
we  allude  are  no  prophecy. 

Dr.  Sykes,  indeed,  affirms,  that  if  we  were  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  Jewish  phraseology,  we  should  less 
hesitate  in  admitting  the  principle  of  accommodation. 
As  to  the  particular  term  "  fulfilled,"  he  says,  the  Jew- 
ish writers  very  often  meant  no  more  by  it  than  the 
happening  of  a  similar  event,  or  an  exact  agreement  in 
particular  circumstances  of  latter  things  with  former; 
and  that  the  masters .  of  the  synagogue    applied  pas- 
sages of  the  Old  Testament    in    senses  very  remote 
from  that  of  tlie  original  author.     But,  not  to  insist  on 
the  impropriety  of  putting  the  inspired  writers  of  the 
New  Testament  on  a  level  with  the  Jewish  Rabbis,  it 
must  not  be  concealed,  that  this  learned  author  has  pro- 
duced no  examples  from  the  Talmud,  or  from  any  Jew- 
ish  commentator,  wliere  similar  expressions  are  used 
in  cases  of  mere  accommodation ;  and  no  assertion  can 
be  admitted  without  authority.     This  omission  is  the 
more  inexcusable,  that  the  very  principle  which  he  de- 
fends, rests  almost  entirely  on  the  decision  of  the  ques- 
tion. Did  the  Rabbis,  in  quoting  passages  from  the  Old 
Testament,  with  a  formula  of  this  kind,  "  In  this  the 
scripture  was  fulfilled,"  consider  these  passages  as  di- 
rectly referring  to  the  events  to  which  theyapplied  them? 
or  did  they  ground  the  quotation  on  a  mere  parity  of  cir- 
cumstances ?  It  is  no  small  presumption  against  his  as- 
sertions, that  Surenhusius,  who  has  accurately  examined 
this  question  in  his  B«;3Ao{  xaraA^i«v«(  (Amsterd.  1713,) 
decides  against  them.     In  his  third  thesis,  "  Deformulis 
alU:gandi,'"he  compares  the  expression,  f*A)pf«Si,  uyj^p^, 
with  the  rabbinical  formulre  ;  and,  referring  to  tlie  Tau- 
chuma,  fol.  39.  col.  3.  where  Deut.  xvii.   7.  is  quoted 
with  the  formula,  "  ad  confinnandum  id  quod  scriptmn 
<st,"  observes,  "  ex  cujus  loci  applicaJtione  patet  illam 
Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


formulam,  non  solum  alludendi,  vcruiii  cliam  demoiislrandi 
vim  Imberc,"  that  it  is  not  merely  illusive,  but  demon- 
strative,    (rf) 

ACCOMPANIMENT,  in  IMusic,  a  vocal  or  instru- 
mental accessory,  which  may  consist  of  an  unlimited 
number  of  parts,  to  supply  the  necessary  chasms,  and  to 
heighten  the  general  effect.  Accompaniments  must  be 
executed  with  much  skill  and  delicacy,  and  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  fulfil  not  only  the  object  of  the  composer, 
but  to  admit  of  the  leader  giving  the  full  effect  to  the 
composition ;  which  will  otherwise  make  but  a  feeble 
impression,  though  in  the  most  skilful  hands.  Accom- 
paniments are  iu  no  degree  susceptible  of  embellish- 
ment; a  circumstance  which  is  too  often  overlooked.  It 
is  extremely  difficult,  without  a  previous  knowledge  of 
the  composition,  in  the  person  .iccompanying,  to  treat  an 
accompaniment  in  a  way  which  is  at  once  judicious  and 
pleasing.  It  is  generally  believed,  that  the  accom- 
paniments of  (he  ancients  consisted  in  nothing  more  than 
plaj'ing  in  octave,  or  in  antiphony,  to  the  voice ;  though 
the  Abbe  Fraguier  has  endeavoured  to  prove,  from  a 
passage  in  Plato,  that  they  had  actual  symphony,  or 
music  in  parts,     (c) 

ACCOMPLICE,  one  who  is  associated  Tvith  another 
in  the  commission  of  any  crime.  By  a  general  rule  of 
the  Scottish  law,  the  evidence  of  an  accomplice  against 
a  criminal  is  not  received,  unless  in  cases  of  treason, 
secret  crimes,  and  those  particular  cases  which  are  ex- 
cepted by  statute.  That  the  accomplice  may  have  no 
motive  to  give  false  evidence,  he  always  receives  par- 
don before  his  evidence  is  taken,     (w) 

ACCOREES,  the  name  of  a  deformed  tribe  of  negroes 
in  Guiana,  who  live  on  the  upper  part  of  the  river  Sera- 
maca.  Some  of  them  have  only  tlirec  or  four  fingers  on 
each  hand,  and  the  same  number  of  toes  on  each  foot ; 
while  others  have  only  two  fingers  and  toes,  which  re- 
semble the  claws  of  a  lobster,  or  rather  limbs  cured  af- 
ter mutilation  by  fire,  or  any  other  accident.  See  Sted- 
man's  Narrative  of  an  Expedition  to  Surinam,  vol.  ii.  p. 
265.     (w) 

ACCORDATURA,  in  Music,  is  the  scale  or  tuning 
of  the  open  strings  of  any  instrument.  The  notes,  G, 
D,  A,  and  E,  form  the  accordatura  of  the  violin,     {m) 

ACCORSO  Mariangelo,  a  learned  writer,  who  was 
born  about  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  centurj^,  at  Aquila» 
in  the  kingdom  of  Naples.  He  employed  himself  in  the 
meritorious  office  of  rescuing  the  works  of  older  au- 
thors from  oblivion;  a  species  of  labour  which  is  fre- 
quentl}^  more  useful  than  the  composition  of  new  ones. 
He  published  a  learned  work,  entitled,  "  Diatribce,  in 
Ausonium,"  &c.  in  1524,  which  is  much  esteemed  as  a 
specimen  of  critical  skill.  The  authors  whose  works  he 
corrected  are  Ausonius,  Ovid,  Claudian,  and  Solinus. 
In  1533,  he  published  an  edition  of  Ammianus  Marcel- 
linus,  containing  five  books  more  than  any  other  edition; 
though  the  first  thirteen  are  still  wanting.  He  was  also 
the  original  editor  of  the  "  Epistles  of  Cassiodorus,"  and 
his  "  Treatise  on  the  Soul."  In  1331,  he  published  a 
facetious  dialogue,  in  which  he  ri<liculed  the  affected 
use  of  antiquated  phrases,  with  which  his  contempo- 
raries corrupted  the  Latin  language.  Accorso  was  ac- 
cused of  having,  in  his  notes  upon  Ausonius,  appro- 
priated to  himself  the  labours  of  Fabricius  Varano ;  but 
the  solemn  and  determined  oath  with  which  he  repelled 
this  charge  of  jilagiarism,  is  a  strong  proof  of  his  inno- 
cence, and  of  the  anxious  solicitude  which  he  felt  about 
his  literary  reputation.  Accorso  was  likewise  the  au- 
M 


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thor  of  Latin  and  Italian  verses.  He  was  a  celebrated 
linguist ;  and  he  corrected  a  number  of  passages  in  an- 
cient authors,  while  he  was  riding  on  horseback  through 
Germany  and  Poland.  He  spent  thirty-three  years  in 
the  court  of  the  emperor  Charles  V.  who  was  much  de- 
lighted with  his  society,  and  honoured  him  with  many 
marks  of  his  favour.  See  Nicolo  Toppi  Biblioth.  Napolet. 
p.  206.     (c) 

ACCOUNTS,  Public,  (Commissioners  of,)  are  five 
persons  appointed  by  act  of  parliament  "  to  examine 
and  state,  in  what  manner,  and  at  what  times,  the  re- 
ceipts, issues,  and  expenditures  of  the  public  moneys 
are  accounted  for;  and  to  consider  and  rejiort  by  what 
means  and  methods  the  public  accounts  may  in  future 
be  passed,  and  the  accountants  compelled  to  pay  the 
balances  due  from  them  in  a  more  expeditious  and  less 
expensive  manner."     See  Act  of  25th  Geo.  III.  cap.  52. 

w 

ACCUBATION,  (from  acculo,  to  lie  down  to,)  a 
posture  of  the  body  between  sitting  and  lying.  In  this 
posture  the  Greeks  and  Romans  reclined  at  table;  a 
custom  which  they  borrowed  from  the  nations  of  the 
East.  During  the  first  ages  of  the  republic,  the  Romans 
sat  at  meals ;  and  Homer  represents  his  heroes  as  sit- 
ting around  the  wall,  on  separate  seats,  with  a  small  ta- 
ble before  each,  on  which  was  set  his  portion  of  meat  and 
drink.  When  the  custom  of  reclining  was  first  introdu- 
ced at  Rome,  it  was  adopted  only  by  the  men ;  but  after- 
wards, when  the  prevalence  of  luxury  had  overcome  the 
sense  of  delicacj",  women  also  were  allowed  to  recline 
at  table.  It  was  only  at  supper  that  they  were  placed  in 
this  indulgent  posture.  They  took  their  other  meals 
without  any  formality,  either  alone  or  in  company,  sitting 
or  standing. 

The  Romans  arranged  themselves  at  supper  in  the 
following  manner:  In  the  cronaculum,  or  dining-room, 
three  couches  were  placed  around  the  table ;  three  per- 
sons reclining  on  each  couch.  They  reclined  on  the 
left  arm,  with  the  head  a  little  raised,  and  the  back  sup- 
ported by  cushions.  The  feet  of  the  first  were  stretch- 
ed behind  the  back  of  the  second,  and  the  feet  of  the  se- 
cond behind  the  back  of  the  third.  Thus  the  head  of 
the  second  was  opposite  to  the  breast  of  the  first,  sepa- 
rated only  by  a  pillow;  and  when  any  of  them  wished 
to  converse  with  another,  placed  higher  on  the  same 
couch,  he  was  obliged  to  lean  upon  his  bosom.  The 
middle  place  \sa%  reckoned  the  most  honourable ;  but 
when  a  consul  hai)pened  to  be  present  at  an  entertain- 
ment, he  occupied  the  lowest  place  on  the  middle  couch; 
because  there  he  could  most  conveniently  receive  and 
answer  messages.  Before  coming  to  table,  the  guests 
put  on  the  canatoria  vestis,  or  dining  garment;  and 
pulled  off"  their  slippers,  that  they  might  not  injure  the 
couches.     (A) 

ACCUSATION,  (compounded  of arf,  to;  and  causari, 
to  .plead;)  an  assertion,  imputing  to  some  person  a 
crime,  or  a  fault :  in  law,  a  formal  declaration,  charging 
some  person  with  an  act  punishable  by  a  judicial  sen- 
tence. "  In  Rome,  where  there  was  no  calumniator puh- 
licxis,  no  attorney-general,  every  one  was  permitted  to 
prosecute  crimes  that  had  a  public  bad  tendency ;  and 
for  that  reason,  are  termed  public  crimes.  This  was  a 
faulty  institution ;  because  such  a  privilege  given  to  in- 
dividuals could  not  fail  to  be  frequently  made  the  in- 
strument of  venting  private  ill-will  and  revenge." 
Karnes'  Jaw  Tracts.  It  is  a  general  rule  of  British 
jurisprudence,  that  accusation  is  competent  only  at  the 


suit  of  the  Crown,  in  behalf  of  the  public,  or  of  the  pri- 
vate i)arties  themselves,  who  may  happen  to  be  aggriev- 
ed.    In  Scotland,  the  power  of  accusation  in  behalf  of 
the  public   is  committed  to  the  King's  Advocate,  and  to 
the  procurators  fiscal  of  such  of  the  inferior  courts  as 
possess  criminal  jurisdiction.     Penal  actions  at  the  suit 
of  |)rivate  parties  require  the  concurrence  of  the   public 
prosecutor;  but  that  concurrence  cannot  be  withheld. 
Indeed  it  is  given  as  a  matter  of  course.     In  this  de- 
partment of  judicial  procedure,  the  law  of  England  ex- 
hibits a  model  of  excellence,  which  has  been  adopted 
into  the  law  of  Scotland  in  the  case  of  trials  for  treason 
only.     The  institution  of  the  grand  jury  is  at  once  ad- 
mirably calculated  forrestraininggroundless  accusations, 
and  for  remedying  the  supineness  or  connivance  of  the 
public  [irosecutors.     In  general,  before  a  party  can  be 
put  on  liis  trial,  the  grand  jury  of  the  county  muit  find 
a  hill  against  him ;  that  is,  must  declare,  on  oath,  that 
the  evidence  brought  before  them  is  sufficient  to  war- 
rant a  trial.     This  jury  consists  of  twenty-four  free- 
holders, of  w  horn  twenty-three  onlj-  are  sworn  in.  "  To 
find  a  bill,  there  must  at  least  twelve  of  the  jury  agree  : 
for,  so  tender  is  the  law  of  England  of  the  lives  of  the 
subjects,  that  no  man  can  be  convicted  at  the  suit  of  the 
king,  of  any  capital  offence,  unless  by  the   unanimous 
voice  of  twenty-four  of  his  equals  and  neighbours ;  that  is, 
by  twelve  at  the  leastof  the  grand  jury,  in  the  first  place 
assenting  to  the   accusation;    and  afterwards   by    the 
whole  petit  jury,  of  twelve  more,  finding  him   guilty 
upon  his  irM."{BlackstoncsConiinc?itarics,  book  iv.c.23.") 
Prosecutions  for  crimes,  not  capital,  may  be  commenced 
without  the  previous  authority  of  the  grand  jury,  by  w  ay 
of  information,  in  the  name  of  the  king.     These  "are  of 
two  kinds ;  first,   those  which  are  properly  the  king's 
own  suits,  and  filed  ex  officio  by  the  attorney-general  ; 
"  secondly,  those  in  which,  though  the  king  is  the  no- 
minal prosecutor,  yet  it  is  at  the  relation  of  some  pri- 
vate person,  or  common  informer,"   {Blackstone ;)  but 
it  is  provided,  by  stat.  4th  and  5th  of  William  and  Mary, 
c.  18.  that  no  information  shall  be  filed  without  express 
direction  from  the  Court  of  King's  Bench.     .^Ippcal  at 
the  suit  of  private  parties,  a  form  now  almost  in  desue- 
tude, is  another  mode  of  accusation  not  requiring  the 
sanction  of  a  grand  jury.  It  is  competent,  in  cases  of 
larceny,  rape,  arson  (fire  raising)  and  mayhem  (maiming) 
to  the  party  injured;  and,  in  cases  of  murder,  to  the 
near  relations  of  the  defunct.     Impeadiment  by  the  com- 
mons of  Great  Britain  in  Parliament  assembled,  is  an- 
other form  by  which  persons  suspected  of  high  crimes 
and  misdemeanours  are  brought  to  trial. — Whatever  be 
the  form  of  the  accusation,  the  mild  spirit  of  British 
justice  presumes  the  party  accused  to  be  innocent  till 
he  is  actually  convicted.     Yet  the  rigour  with  which 
prisoners  are  confined  is  frequently  much  greater  than 
the  purpose  of  sure  custody  seems  to  require.     In  gene- 
ral, it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  use  of  irons,  as  a  securi- 
ty against  escape  from  prison,  is  precisely  a  substitution 
of  a  cheap  but  inhuman  mode  of  restraint,  for  the  pro- 
per degree  of  strength  in  the  structure,  or  for  the  pro- 
per  number  of  guards.     Were   prisons   properly  con- 
atrncted  and  guartled,  there  would  be  no  necessity  for 
punishing,  with  irons,  persons  whom,  till  conviction,  the 
law  holds  to  be  innocent.     But  a  practice  still  more  ad- 
verse to  this  legal  presumption  prevails  in  England. 
Prisoners  in  irons  are  brought  into  court,  and  placed  at 
the  bar;  though  it  must  be  obvious,  that  in  the  very 
face  of  the  highest  power  which  the  law  exerts,  and  in 


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the  midst  of  a  crowded  assembly,  there  can  be  no  risk 
of  escape.  In  still  anotlier  respect,  the  innocence  of  the 
party  accused,  even  when  it  no  longer  rests  upon  pre- 
sumption, but  is  ascertained  by  acquittal,  is  not  followed 
by  what  ought  to  be  a  consequence  of  acquittal,  indem- 
nification for  the  loss  and  expense  which  the  party  has 
incurred.  While  a  party,  who  has  been  successful  in  a 
civil  action,  obtains  indemnification  for  the  sums  which 
he  has  expended  in  maintaining  his  right,  it  seems  some- 
what inconsistent  that  a  party  in  a  criminal  action  should 
receive  no  iudemnification  for  the  sums  which  lie  has 
expended  in  defence  of  his  character,  liberty,  and  life. 
Thai  criminal  prosecutions  are  carried  on  for  the  benefit 
of  the  ph6Z(C,  is  no  suliicient  answer.  When  the  interest 
of  an  individual  suffers  any  detriment  for  the  benefit  of 
the  community,  reparation  ought  always  to  be  made. 
Indeed,  \\\\en property  it,  taken  from  an  individual,  for 
any  public  purpose,  such  as  a  high  road  or  a  canal,  the 
person  so  deprived  always  receives  an  equivalent;  and 
why  ought  not  this  principle  of  compensation  to  be  ex- 
tended to  him  who,  in  the  course  of  public  justice,  has 
been  erroneously  subjected  to  a  temporary  loss  of  li- 
berty, most  probably  to  an  irretrievable  loss  of  health 
and  character;  and,  what  is  worse,  to  those  tempta- 
tions which  extreme  indigence,  and  loss  of  reputation, 
render  almost  irresistible?  In  matters  of  this  kind, 
that  is  a  very  narrow  policy  which  would  lay  much  stress 
on  the  expense  of  doing  justice.  Justice  is,  in  all  cases, 
true  policy,     (a) 

ACCUSATIVE,  the  fourth  case  of  Latin  nouns, 
which,  like  the  dative  case,  denotes  the  a|)position  or 
the  junction  of  one  thing  to  another.  This  apposition 
may  take  place  either  in  consequence  of  previous  mo- 
tion, or  without  it ;  and  hence  we  see  the  reason  why 
the  accusative  case  is  put  after  an  active  verb ;  for  the 
action  is  supposed  to  proceed  from  the  agent  to  the 
thing  acted  upon.  A  different  account  of  this  case 
has  been  given  by  ]Mr.  Harris  in  his  Hermes,  [).  283. 
See  Grammar,     (jf) 

ACEMELLA,  or  Acmella,  the  name  of  seeds 
from  the  island  of  Ceylon,  whicli  were  celebrated  for 
their  faculty  of  dissolving  stones.  They  were  suc- 
cessfully used  in  that  island  for  dissolving  calculi,  and 
curing  nephritic  disorders.  See  PhU.  Trans.  1700-1, 
vol.  xxii.  p.  760.     (j») 

ACEPHALA,  in  zoology,  the  name  of  the  third  fa- 
mily of  mollusca,  in  the  arrangement  of  Cuvier.  See 
Helmintuology.     (/) 

ACEPH  ALI,  from  a»«(:f«A«{,  without  a  head,  a  name 
which  has  been  given  to  various  sects  in  the  Christian 
church,  from  the  supposed  circumstance  of  their  being 
aibject  to  no  head  or  leader.  This  appellation  seems 
to  have  been  first  given  to  those  Avho  refused  to  adhere 
to  John  of  Antioch,  or  St.  Cyril  of  Alexandria,  after 
their  contest  witli  the  Council  of  Ephesus  in  431.  It 
was  afterwards  applied  to  such  of  the  followers  of  Peter 
Mongus,  who  in  482  deserted  him,  when  he  subscribed 
to  the  decrees  of  the  council  of  Chalcedon.  The  Ace- 
phali  were  generally  Eutjxians,  and  were  divided  into 
the  Corrupticola,  the  Incorrtipiicohc,  the  Agnoetee,  and 
the  Tritheitec.  The  Cornipticola;,  who  were  the  adhe- 
rents of  Severus  of  Antioch,  maintained  that  our  Sa- 
viour's body  was  corruptible  before  its  resurrection; 
while  the  Incorrupticolse  held  the  opposite  opinion. 
The  Agnoeta;  believed  that  our  Saviour  was  ignorant 
of  some  things;  and  the  Tritheitae  maintained  that 
(here  were  three  distinct  natures  in  the  Trinity,  (to) 


ACEPHALI,  a  name  given  to  the  levellers  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  I.  who  acknowledged  no  superior.  Le- 
ges. H.  1.     (»d) 

ACEPHALOUS,  a  term  applied  to  certain  nations, 
whom  the  credulity  of  both  ancient  and  modern  travel- 
lers has  represented  as  without  heads,  the  organs  of 
sensation  being  in  other  parts  of  their  body.  It  would 
be  an  insult  upon  the  understanding  of  our  readers, 
were  we  to  attempt  a  refutation  of  such  extravagant 
opinions,  or  even  to  amuse  them  by  reciting  the  fancies 
of  ignorant  voyagers.  See  Abyssinia,  p.  33.  col.  2. 
and  Ue  Laet.  Dcscript.  Americ.  lib.  xvii.  cap.  22. 

Among  the  number  of  monstrous  births  which  jihysi- 
cians  have  observed,  there  have  been  several  instances 
of  individuals  being  born  without  heads.  See  Phil. 
Trans,  vol.  Ixv.  p.  311.     (w) 

ACER,  the  maple-tree,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging 
to  the  class  Polygamia  and  order  Monojcia.  See  Bota- 
^  v.     (w) 

ACERENZA,  or  Cirenza,  anciently  Aclientntia,  a 
city  of  Naples,  situated  on  the  river  Ilrandauo,  in  the 
Basilicala.  It  is  the  see  of  an  archbishop.  Population 
3000.  E.  Long.  IS"  58'.  N.  Lat.  40<>  48'.     (w) 

ACERRA,  in  antiquity,  a  kind  of  altar  erected  by  the 
Romans  in  honour  of  a  person  deceased ;  on  whicli  in- 
cense was  daily  burned  till  the  lime  of  his  burial.  A 
similar  custom  prevails  among  the  Chinese.  lu  a  room 
hung  round  with  mourning,  they  raise  an  altar,  on  whicli 
is  placed  an  image  of  the  deceased,  and  every  one  who 
api)roaches  it,  boivs  four  times,  and  offers  gifts  and  per- 
fumes. The  erection  of  acerrte  was  i)rohibited  by  the 
laws  of  the  twelve  tables. 

Accrra  was  likewise  used  as  synonymous  with  tku- 
ribtduin  and  pyxis,  to  signify  the  small  pot  or  censer, 
which  contained  the  incense  and  perfumes  that  were 
burnt  on  the  altars  of  the  gods.  A'^olaries  offered  differ- 
ent quantities  of  incense,  according  to  (heir  rank  and 
opulence ;  hence  the  rich  were  said  to  sacrifice  plena 
acerra,  pouring  out  their  incense,  from  full  censers  on 
the  altar;  while  the  poor,  Avho  used  no  censers,  pre- 
sented their  humble  offerings  with  their  fingers.  Cen- 
sers are  mentioned  in  scripture;  they  were  used  by  the 
ancient  church  ;  and  are  still  retained  by  the  Romanists 
under  the  name  of  incense  (lOts.     (k) 

ACESINES,  the  ancient  name  of  a  river  in  India,  on 
the  banks  of  which  Alexander  built  a  city  under  the  di- 
rection of  Hephestion.  It  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  the 
river  now  called  Rauvee  ;  but  it  is  the  opinion  of  major 
Rennel,  that  the  river  Jenaub  is  the  Acesines  mention- 
ed in  ancient  history.  See  Arrian  De  Erpedit.  .dlexand. 
lib.  v.  and  Strabo,  Qeog.  vol.  ii.  1014.     {rv) 

ACETABULUM,  from  acetem,  vinegar,  snAtaltda, 
a  table,  the  name  of  a  little  vessel  emjiloyed  by  the  an- 
cients for  holding  vinegar  when  brought  to  table.  It  is 
also  the  name  of  a  liquid  and  dry  Roman  measure,  which 
is  supposed  by  Agricola  to  be  equal  to  15  drachms; 
but  which  Du  Pinet  makes  equal  to  two  ounces,  and  a 
little  more  when  it  measured  oil  and  wine,  and  three 
ounces,  when  it  measured  honey.  The  same  term  is 
employed  in  anatomy  to  denote  the  large  cavity  in  a 
bone,  in  which  the  round  head  of  another  bone  is  lodg- 
ed, for  the  purpose  of  having  a  free  motion  in  every  di- 
rection. The  word  acetabula  was  likew  ise  applied  to 
the  cups  in  the  exhibition  of  cups  and  balls  by  jugglers. 
See  Beckmanu's  H^s^  of  Inventions,  vol.  iii.  p.  300.  (w) 

ACETATES,  or  Acetites,  are  salts  formed  by  the 
combination  of  acetic  acid  with  alkaline  and  earthy 
M2 


9-2 


ACH 


ACH 


bases.  See  Murray  s  Chemistry,  vol.  iv.  p.  471.;  and 
Phil.  Magazine,  vol.  xxiii.  p.  12.;  see  also  Chemistry. 
(w) 

ACETIC  Acid,  or  radical  vinegar;  one  of  the  vege- 
table acids  existing  generally  in  the  sap  of  vegetables. 
It  is  however  more  properly  the  produce  of  fermenta- 
tion.    See  CiiEMisTuy.     (iv) 

ACETOUS  Acid,  or  distilled  vinegar,  was  former- 
ly supposed  to  differ  from  acetic  acid  only  in  the  degree 
of  oxygenizement,  the  latter  being  oxygenized  to  a 
maximum ;  but  it  is  now  found  to  differ  only  in  the  de- 
gree of  dilution.     See  Chemistry,     {w) 

ACHiEANS,  the  inhabitants  of  Achaia  Prop-ia,  so 
called  from  Achwus,  the  son  of  Xuthus,  king  of  Thes- 
snly,  who,  ^vhen  banished  from  that  kingdom,  had  settled 
in  Athens.     Achitus  afterwards  recovered  possession  of 
Thessaly ;    but  having  committed  the  crime  of  man- 
slaughter, was  obliged  to  fly  to  Laconia,  a  province  of 
Peloponnesus,  where  he  died,  and  where  his  posterity 
remained  under  the  appellation  of  Achaans,  till  they 
were   expelled   by  the   Dorcs  and   Heraclidae.     They 
then  laid  claim  to  Achaia ;  and  having  driven  out  the 
loniaus,  took  possession  of  the  country,  under  the  con- 
duct of  their  brave  king  Tisame  nes,  the  son  of  Orestes. 
The   kingdom  consisted,   as   during  the  time  of   the 
lonians,  chiefly  of  twelve  cities,  which  were  divided  be- 
tween the  four  sons  of  Tisanienes,  who,  with  their  cou- 
sin, a  grandson  of  Orestes,  for  some  time  jointly  reign- 
ed over  this  new  Achsean  state.     At  length  the  form  of 
government  was  changed  and  a  mixed  democracy  es- 
tablished.     Their  territory  was  not  extensive,  nor  their 
revenues  large;    but  the  inhabitants,  though  without 
commerce,  or  greater  industry  than  was  necessary  to  pro- 
cure subsistence,  were  governed  by  wise   and   equal 
laws.     Thus  united,  their  cities  or  states  formed  only 
one  body ;  and  few  causes  of  envy  or  objects  of  ambi- 
tion existing  among  them,  political  harmony  pervaded 
every  class  of  the  citizens.     So  celebrated  were  their 
magistrates  for  probity,  justice,  and  love  of  liberty,  that 
they  were  at  one  lime  the  common  arbitrators  of  the 
Italian  Greeks.     After  the  battle  of  Leuctra,  they  were 
chosen  umpires  in  the  dispute  between  the  Lacedsemo- 
niaus  and  the  Thebans,  w  ho  respectively  claimed  the 
victory,  and  their  decision  was  submitted  to  as  impartial 
and  jus-t.     They  retained  their  liberty  and  republican 
form  of  government  till  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great; 
after  whose  death  they  became  a  prey  to  political  dis- 
cord, and  were  oppressetl  and  enslaved,  sometimes  by 
the  Macedonian  kings,  and  sometimes  by  tyrants  of  their 
own.    E;.ch  town,  attentive  to  its  own  interest  only,  be- 
gan to  separate  from  the  rest ;  mutual  jealousies  ensued; 
and  the  common  cause  of  liberty  completely  languish- 
ed. But  the  invasion  of  Italy  by  Pyrrhus  alx)ut  the  J25lh 
Olympiad,  I!.  C.  280,  again  united  the  Achaans,  and 
led  them  not  only  to  revive  their  ancient  league,  but  to 
extend  its  influence,  by  receiving  other  stales  into  the 
onion,  till  at  length  it  embraced  the  whole  of  Greece, 
except  the  territory  of  the  Lacedaemonians.     By  the 
Achttan  league,  all  the  cities  subject  to  it  were  govern- 
ed by  a  great  council  or  general  assemlih',  consisting 
of  a  certain  number  of  deputies  from  each  of  them,'elect- 
ed  by  a  plurality  of  votes.     It  was  convened  ordinarily 
twice  a  year,  for  the  pur|)ose  of  enacting  laws,  filling 
vacancies  in  the  magistracy,  declaring  war,  concluding 
peace,    or  Ibrming  alliances;    and  its  ilecisions  were 
binding  on  all  the  members  of  the  confederacy.     This 
assembly  had  at  first  two  presidents,  or  chief  niagistrateg. 


nominated  alternately  by  the  different  stales ;  but  they 
soon  elected  only  one,  who  presided  in  the  council,  and 
commanded  the  army.     They  and  the  other  magistrates 
continued  iiioflice  two  years  successively  ;  and  the  pre- 
sident, called  strategos  by  the  Greeks,  and  prator  by 
the  Latins,  was  responsible  to  the  general  assemblj-. 
The  iLmiurgi,  ten  in  number,  next  in  authority  to  the 
prwtor,  were  chosen  by  the  assembly,  appointed  to  act 
as  the  privy  council  of  the  prretor,  and  had  the  power, 
on   some  extraordinary  occasions,    of  summuuiiig  the 
general  assembly.     Such  was  the  fundamental  constitu- 
tion of  the  Acha~an  confederacy.     But  their  peace  and 
prosperity  were  not  of  long  continuance.     The  rivalry 
and  power  of  the  Laceda'inoniaus  first  reduced  them  to 
the  necessity  of  applying  for  assistance  to  the  sovereigns 
of  Macedon  ;  and  being  afterwards  overpowered  by  the 
-Etolians,  they  formed  an  alliance  with  Philip,  w  ho  hav- 
ing successfully  supported  them  against  their  enemies, 
re-established  their  tranquillity,  by  procuring  a  general 
peace.     Refusing,   however,  to  aid  his  ambitious  pro- 
jects, Philip  soon  changed  his  conduct  towards  them, 
and  even  i)oisoned  Aratus,  whilst  he  was  pnetor  for  the 
seventeenth  time.     Under  the  presidency  of  Philopa;- 
men,  during  the  war  between  Philip  and  the  Romans, 
about  200  years  B.  C.  the  Achseans  entered  into  an  alli- 
ance with  the  latter,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the   war 
were  put  in  possession  of  Corinth,  delivered  from  every 
kind  of  servitude,  and  again  permitted  to  govern  them- 
selves by  their  own  laws.     In  the  year  B.  C.  191,  the 
powerful  city  of  Lacedaemon  was  added  by  conquest  to 
the  Acha>an  commonwealth,  by  which  means  the  Acha;- 
ans  eclipsed  all  the  other  states  of  Greece.     But  inter- 
nal disi)utes  about  the  place  of  holding  their  genera! 
assemblies,  and  the  turbulent  spirit  of  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians, soon  interrupted  their  tranquillity.    The  Achaean 
league  was  at  this  time  courtedby  almost  all  the  Eastern 
nations;  its  ancient  alliances  were  renewed;  and  its  in- 
creasing ]>ower  became  an  object  of  jealousy  to  the  Ro- 
mans. The  death  of  Philoposmen,  who  was  poisoned  by 
the  Messcnians,  alter  they  had  defeated  him  and  taken 
him  prisoner,  gave  a  blow  to  the  interest  of  his  country, 
from  which  it  nevercomplelely  recovered.  The  Achaean 
confederacy  became  feeble  \>y  being  disunitid ;  and  in 
the  year  before  Christ  147,  the  Romans,  who  hH<l  some 
time  before  interfered  with  its  internal  policy,  decreed, 
that  a  great  number  of  the  confederate  cities  should  be 
separated  from  the  general   alliance,  and  in  future  be 
governed  by  their  own  laws.  This,  indeed,  roused  their 
indignation,  and  gave  a  new  spring  to  their  exertions; 
but  their  struggle  in  the  war  with  the  Romans  which 
succeeded,  was  ineffectual.     No  longer  directed  by  wise 
magistrates,  or  skilful  commanders,  their  spirit  of  re- 
venge, though  ungovernable  and  savage,  could  be  of  no 
avail  against  the  military  talents  of  the  Romans.     Ac- 
cordingly in  146  B.  C.  Mummius,  the  Roman  general, 
arrived  in  Greece,  defeated  the  Achxans,  plundered  Co- 
rinth of  its  rich  spoils,  and  then  reduced  it  to  ashes; 
under  the  ruins  of  which  the  Achaean  league  seems  to 
have  Ijeen  buried.     It  was  soon  after  dissolved,  and 
Greece  reduced  to  a  Roman  province  under  the  name  of 
Achaia,  which  paid  an  annual  tribute  to  Home,  and  was 
governed    like  the  other  conquered   provinces  of  the 
empire.     During  the  reign  of  Nero,  it  was  restored  to 
its  ancient  liberty ;  but  it  was  afterwards  reduced  to  its 
former  state  of  subjection  by  Vespasian.     Its  privileges 
were  in  some  degree  enlarged  by  Nerva,  though  it  was 
elill  governed  by  a  Roman  praetor;  and  in  (his  state  il 


ACH 


ACH 


98 


remained  till  the  time  of  ConEtantine  the  Great,  who,  iu 
his  new  division  of  tlie  Roman  provinces,  subjected  it  to 
the  prsefect  of  lUyricum.  See  Ancient  Univ.  Hist.  vol. 
vi.  p.  44.  Justin,  lib.  34.  cap.  1.  and  Monthly  Review, 
vol.  Ixxi.  p.  531. 

ACHJEUS,  son  of  Andromachus,  and  cousin  of  Se- 
leucus  Ceraunus,  whom  he  supported  by  his  abilities 
on  the  throne  of  Syria,  was,  on  the  deatli  of  Scleucus, 
ofifered  the  crown  by  the  army,  and  several  of  the  pro- 
vinces. He  magnanimously  declined  the  offer,  and 
vindicated  the  claims  of  Antiocluis,  brother  to  the  de- 
ceased king,  who  was  then  in  his  15th  year,  and  who 
was  afterwards  surnamed  the  Great.  Acha;ug,  being 
invested  with  the  government  of  Asia  Minor,  recovered 
all  the  countries  in  Asia  which  hud  been  seized  by  At- 
tains, king  of  Pergamus,  ami  annexed  them  to  the  crown 
of  Syria.  His  prosperity  excited  the  envy  of  the  cour- 
tiers, who  persuaded  the  king  that  he  aspired  to  the 
throne.  Seeing  that  his  destruction  was  determined, 
Achffius  thought  proper  to  anticipate  the  malice  of  his 
enemies;  he  ordered  himself  to  be  proclaimed  king  at 
Laodicea,  and  soon  became  one  of  the  most  powerful 
monarchs  of  Asia.  Antiochus  at  length  took  the  field 
against  him,  and  having  taken  the  city  of  Sardis,  shut 
bim  up  in  the  castle.  Achajus  was  betrayed  into  the 
hands  of  the  Syrian  monarch,  who,  forgetting  his  obli- 
gations to  the  man  who  had  conferred  on  him  ihe  crown, 
ordered  him  instantly  to  be  beheaded ;  his  limbs  were 
cut  off,  his  body  sewed  in  the  skin  of  an  ass,  and  ex- 
posed on  a  gibbet.     See  Poli/bius,  lib.  viii.  p.  528.    (k) 

ACHAIA,  properly  that  narrow  district  of  Pelopon- 
nesus which  extended  westward  along  the  bay  of  Co- 
rinth, and  is  now  called  Remiania  Alia.  By  the  early 
writers,  and  particularly  by  the  poets,  all  Greece  was 
sometimes  included  under  the  name  Achaia.  In  the 
times  of  the  Roman  state,  the  name  of  Achaia  was  ap- 
plied not  only  to  the  whole  of  the  Peloponnesus,  but 
likewise  to  those  cities,  beyond  the  isthnuis,  which  had 
entered  into  the  Achaean  league.  After  the  dissolution 
of  that  league,  Greece  was  divided,  by  a  decree  of  the 
Roman  senate,  into  two  provinces,  viz.  that  of  Macedo- 
nia, containing  also  Thessaly ;  and  that  of  Achaia,  in- 
cluding all  the  other  states  of  Greece.  See  Gibbon's 
Hist.  chap.  1.  vol.  i.  p.  33. 

ACHAIfJS,  or  Achayus,  the  son  of  king  Ethwin, 
succeeded  to  the  crown  of  Scotland  in  738,  u|)on  the 
death  of  Soluatius.  Having  lived  familiarly  with  the 
nobles  before  his  accession  to  the  throne,-he  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  sources  of  their  mutual  animosi- 
ties, with  which  the  kingdom  was  so  frequently  agitated. 
It  was,  therefore,  the  first  act  of  his  reign,  to  reconcile 
the  nobles,  and  check  the  turbulent  spirit  which  their 
animosities  had  engendered.  No  sooner  had  he  suc- 
ceeded in  uniting  the  liearts  of  his  subjects,  than  the 
tranquillity  of  the  nation  was  disturbed  by  an  aggres- 
sion of  the  Irish.  A  number  of  banditti,  from  Ireland, 
who  infested  the  district  of  Cantire,  in  the  west  of  Scot- 
land, havhig  been  completely  routed  by  the  inhabitants, 
the  Irish  nation  was  highly  exasperated,  and  resolved  to 
revenge  the  injury.  Achaius  despatched  an  ambas- 
sador to  soften  their  rage,  but  before  he  had  lime  to 
return  from  his  fruitless  mission,  an  immense  number 
of  Irish  plundered  and  laid  waste  Ihe  island  of  Isla. 
These  depredators  were  all  drowned  when  returning 
home  with  their  spoil;  and  such  w.ns  the  terror  which 
this  calamity  inspired  into  the  Irish,  that  they  imme- 
diately sued  for  peace,  which  was  generously  granted 


to  them  by  the  king  of  Scotland.  A  abort  time  after 
the  conclusion  of  this  treaty,  the  emperor  Charlemr.gne 
sent  an  ambassador  to  Achaius,  requesting  him  to  enter 
into  a  strict  alliance  mth  him  against  the  English,  who, 
in  the  language  of  the  envoy,  "  shamefnlly  filled  both 
sea  and  land  with  their  piracies  and  bloody  invasions." 
After  much  hesitation  and  debate  among  the  king's 
counsellors,  the  alliance  was  unanimously  agreed  to, 
and  Achaius  sent  his  brother  William,  along  wilh  Cle- 
ment, John  Scotus,  Raban,  and  Alcuin,  four  of  the  most 
learned  men  in  Scotland,  together  with  an  army  of  4000 
men,  to  accompany  the  Preach  ambassador  to  Paris, 
where  the  alliance  was  concluded,  on  terms  very  tV.vour- 
able  to  the  Scots.  In  order  to  perpetuate  the  remem- 
brance of  this  event,  Achaius  added  to  the  arms  of  Scot- 
land a  double  field  sowed  with  lilies.  After  assisting 
Hungus,  king  of  the  Picts,  to  repel  an  aggression  of 
Athelstane,  king  of  the  West  Saxons,  Achaius  spent 
the  rest  of  his  reign  in  complete  tranquillity,  and  died 
in  819,  distinguished  for  his  piety  and  wisdom.  Sec 
Lssleus  Origin,  tie  et  Mor.  Hcolorum,  p.  173 — 1 78 ;  Hoe- 
thius  if;rf.  Scotorum.  lib.  x.  184 — 191;  and  Mezeray 
Abrege  de  VHist.  de  la  France,  torn.  i.  p.  242.     (»«) 

ACHANIA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Monadel- 
phia  and  order  Polyandrisu     See  Botany,     (w) 

ACHEEN,  or  Achen,  called  likewise  Ache,  from  a 
tree  of  that  name  which  is  peculiar  to  it,  is  a  kingdom  in 
the  north-west  of  Sumatba,  and  is  the  only  part  of  that 
island  which  ever  rose  to  such  importance  as  to  become 
Ihe  subject  of  history.  It  is  of  small  extent,  stretching 
about  50  miles  inland,  and  little  more  even  on  the  coast, 
containing  about  2600  square  miles.  Its  climate,  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  rest  of  the  island,  is  healthy;  as  it 
has  fewer  swamps  and  woods.  The  soil  is  very  fertile, 
producing,  besides  delicious  fruits,  abundance  of  rice  and 
cotton,  and  a  little  raw  silk  of  inferiorquality.  Golddust 
is  found  in  Ihe  mountains,  andsulphuris  procured  in  con- 
siderable quantities  from  a  volcano  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
capital. 

On  a  river  flowing  into  the  sea  near  the  north-west 
point,  which  is  called  Acliecn-head,  is  situated  the  ca- 
pital, about  two  miles  from  the  coast.  When  the  Por- 
tuguese first  landed  on  the  island,  about  Ihe  beginning 
of  the  IGlh  century,  it  wasunder  the  dominion  of  the  king 
of  Pe<lir,  and  commanded  by  a  slave  as  governor ;  one  of 
these  slaves  rebelled  against  the  king,  and  established 
Acheen  as  the  metropolis  of  his  kingdom.  The  valley 
in  which  it  stands  is  surrounded,  in  the  form  of  an  am- 
phitheatre, by  two  lofty  ranges  of  hills;  and  the  town 
itself  rises  in  the  middle  of  a  forest  of  cocoa-trees.  Ac- 
cording to  Chantreaux,  it  is  situated  in  Long.  95o  35' 
East,  and  Lat.  5"  10'  North.  It  contains  about  800 
houses,  which  are  built  of  bamboos  and  rough  timber, 
and  raised  to  the  height  of  some  feet  from  the  ground ; 
for  in  the  rainy  season  the  whole  country  is  overflo\ved. 
Neither  wall  iiormoatsurronnds  the  town;  but  the  king's 
palace,  a  rude  and  uncouth  edifice,  which  stands  in  the 
centre,  and  is  about  a  mile  and  half  in  circund'erence,  is 
encompassed  by  strong  walls,  and  a  mout  25  feet  deep. 
Near  the  palace-gate  are  several  pieces  of  brass  ordnance, 
of  prodigious  size.  Some  of  these  were  made  In  Portu- 
gal ;  two  of  them  were  sent  to  Ihe  king  of  Acheen,  by 
James  I.  of  England,  and  their  date  and  founder's  name 
are  still  visible  :  the  bore  of  one  of  them  is  18  inches,  of 
Ihe  other  22  inches  in  diameter.  Besides  the  native 
Achenese,  this  town  is  inhabited  by  Dutch,  Danes,  Por- 
tuguese, Guzarats,  and  Chinese ;  the  latter  of  whom  are 


94 


ACH 


ACH 


most  numerous,  and  carry  on  a  considerable  trade.  The 
i  iihabitants  have  an  extensive  manulacture  of  thick  cotton 
cloth,  and  of  stuff  for  trowsers,  worn  by  the  Malays  and 
Achenese.  They  weave  likewise  very  handsome  silk, 
of  a  particular  make ;  though  this  manufacture  is  now  on 
the  decline,  owing  to  the  degeneracy  of  the  silk-worms. 
The  Achenese  are  hold  and  expert  navigators;  and  carry 
on  an  extensive  trade  with  the  district  of  Telinga,  on 
the  coast  of  Hindostan.  The  articles  which  they  ex- 
port, arc  gold-dust,  Japan-wood,  betel-nut,  patch-leaf,  or 
cosliis  indiais,  pepper,  sulphur,  camphor,  and  benzoin ;  in 
return  for  which,  they  receive  the  cotton  goods  of  India. 
They  are  supplied  by  the  European  traders,  with  Bengal 
opium,  iron,  and  various  other  commodities. 

The  Achenese  differ  considerably  from  the  rest  of  the 
Sumatrans.  In  jjcrson,  they  are  taller,  stouter,  and  of 
darker  complexion ;  in  disiiosition,  they  are  more  active 
and  industrious,  more  sagacious  and  penetrating.  They 
|)rofess  the  31ahometan  religion :  their  mosques  and 
priests  are  numerous ;  and  they  adhere  with  rigid  exact- 
,  ness  to  the  forms  and  ceremonies  prescribed  in  the  Alco- 
ran. Their  government  is  a  hereditary  monarchy,  which 
is  more  or  less  arbitrary,  according  to  the  talents  and 
disposition  of  the  reigning  prince,  whom  they  call  T\ian- 
kita,  or  my  master.  His  council  consists  of  four  no- 
blemen, called  Ooloobaggans,  with  eight  of  inferior  or- 
der, who  sit  on  the  right  hand  of  the  throne;  and  six- 
teen, named  Cajoorangs,  who  are  seated  on  the  left.  A 
woman  sits  at  the  feet  of  the  king,  to  whom  he  com- 
municates whatever  ideas  occur  to  him  during  the  deli- 
beration ;  she  conveys  them  to  an  eunuch  near  her,  by 
whom  they  are  transmitted  to  an  officer,  who  proclaims 
them  aloud  to  the  whole  assembly.  The  throne  was  for- 
merly made  of  ivory  and  tortoise-shell;  and  when  queens 
reigned,  a  curtain  of  gauze  was  drawn  round  it  to  conceal 
them  from  view.  Strangers  or  merchants  obtain  an  au- 
dience by  offering  presents  to  the  king  and  his  otBcers. 
An  European,  before  entering  the  royal  palace,  is  obliged 
to  take  off  his  shoes.  A  stranger,  after  being  introduced, 
is  sumptuously  entertained  in  a  separate  building,  and  re- 
turns in  the  evening,  attended  by  a  number  of  people  with 
lighted  torches  in  their  hands.  On  high  days,  the  king, 
mounted  on  an  elephant  richly  caparisoned,  proceeds  in 
state  to  the  great  mosque,  preceded  by  officers,  armed 
after  the  fashion  of  Europeans.  The  laws  of  Acheea  are 
extremely  severe.  Petty  theft  is  punished  by  suspending 
the  criminal  from  a  tree,  or  cutting  off  a  finger,  hand,  or 
leg,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  crime.  Robbers  and 
housebreakers  are  punished  by  drowning,  and  their  bo- 
dies are  exposed  for  some  days  on  a  stake.  If  an  imaum, 
or  priest,  be  robbed,  the  sacrilegious  offender  is  burned 
alive.  Adultery  is  punished  in  a  very  singular  manner. 
The  criminal  is  delivered  up  to  the  injured  husband  and 
his  relations,  who  form  a  circle  round  him.  A  large  wea- 
pon is  then  presented  to  him  by  one  of  his  own  friends, 
and,  y  he  can  cut  his  way  through  the  circle,  he  is  free 
from  all  further  prosecution ;  but  if  he  fall  by  the  swords 
of  his  adversaries,  as  generally  bap|)cns,  he  is  refused  the 
usual  rites  of  sepulture.  Yet  these  sanguinary  laws  only 
indicate  the  weakness  of  government,  and  the  general 
depravity  of  the  people ;  evils  which  they  tend  rather  to 
increase  than  to  correct.  Where  crimes  of  every  de- 
scription are  punished  with  indiscriminating  severity,  the 
people,  familiarized  with  the  sight  of  torture  and  death, 
become  hardened  in  iniquity.  Japan  and  Achecn  afford 
striking  proofs  of  the  inefficacy  of  rigorous  institutions, 
in  improving  the  public  morale.  No  where  are  Uie  penal- 


ties of  guilt  more  dreadful ;  yet  no  where  are  the  people 
more  flagitious,  (k) 

ACHET  A,  in  the  Linnaean  System,  the  third  species 
of  the  genus  Gryllus,  or  Cricket.     See  Entomology. 

{TV) 

ACHERNER,  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude  in  the 
constellation  Eridanus.     See  Eridanl's. 

ACHILLEA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Synge- 
nesia,  and  order  Polygamia  Superflua.  See  Botany,  (m) 

ACHILLEID,  the  name  of  a  poem  written  by  Statius, 
in  which  he  gives  an  account  only  of  the  infancy  and 
education  of  Achilles,  having  died  before  he  completed 
the  poem.  Scaliger  considers  Statius  as  superior  to  the 
most  celebrated  poets  of  Greece  and  Rome,  (w) 

ACHILLES,  the  son  of  Peleus  and  Thetis,  said  to 
have  been  born  at  Phthia,  in  Thessaly,  was  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  heroes  of  Greece.  His  history  is  so  in- 
volved in  fable,  and  such  contradictory  accounts  are 
given  of  it  by  ancient  authors,  that  no  accurate  informa- 
tion concerning  him  can  be  obtained.  To  render  him 
invulnerable  his  mother,  it  is  said,  dipped  his  whole  body, 
except  the  heel,  by  which  she  held  him,  in  the  river  Styx. 
Homer,  however,<lo€s  not  seem  to  have  known  or  believ- 
ed this;  for  in  the  Iliad, (lib.  xxi.  161. )he  mentions  Achil- 
les as  being  wounded  in  the  right  arm  by  the  lance  of 
Asteropajus.  Nor  is  it  agreed,  whether  Chiron,  the  cen- 
taur, or  Phrcnix,  was  his  first  preceptor,  under  whom  he 
was  instructed  in  horsemanship  and  the  use  of  arms;  and 
by  whom  he  was  fed  with  honey,  and  the  fat  of  lions  and 
wild  boars,  to  fit  him  for  enduring  martial  toil.  Thetis, 
being  warned  by  an  oracle  that  her  son  would  be  slain  at 
Troy,  endeavoured  to  conceal  him  in  female  apparel  at  the 
court  of  Lycomedes,  to  prevent  him  from  engaging  in  the 
Trojan  war;  but  Ulysses,  having  discovered  him,  persua- 
ded bun  to  follow  the  Greeks.  During  his  concealment, 
he  is  said  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  one  of  Lycomedes' 
daughters,  and  Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epims,  was  the  result 
of  tliis  amour.  At  the  siege  of  Troy,  he  distinguished 
himself  by  the  most  splendid  and  heroic  achievements ; 
but  being  enraged  at  the  conduct  of  Agamemnon,  in  de- 
priving liini  of  Brise'is,  he  retired  in  disgust  from  the 
camp.  Every  attempt  to  rouse  him  from  his  inactivity, 
so  dangerous  to  the  Greeks,  proved  ineffectual,  till  the 
death  of  his  friend  Patroclus  awakened  his  indignation, 
and  desire  of  revenge.  Nothing  now  could  restrain  his 
impetuosity  :  he  slew  Hector;  fastened  his  corpse  to  his 
chariot,  and  dragged  it  thrice  round  the  walls  of  Troy. 
But,  wliilst  in  the  temple  treating  about  his  marriage 
with  Philoxena,  the  daughter  of  Priam,  he  was  wounded 
in  the  heel  with  an  arrow  by  Paris.  The  wound 
proved  speedily  fatal,  and  he  was  interred  in  the  pro- 
montory of  Sigeeum.  After  the  capture  of  Troy,  the 
Greeks  sacrificed  Philoxena  on  his  tomb,  in  obedience 
to  his  request,  that  he  might  enjoy  her  company  in  the 
Elysian  fields,  where  he  is  said  also  to  have  married 
Medea.  When  Alexander  saw  this  tomb,  it  is  said  he 
honoured  it  by  placing  a  crown  upon  it,  exclaiming,  at 
the  same  time,  that  "  Achilles  was  happy  in  having, 
during  his  life,  a  friend  like  Patroclus,  and  after  his 
death,  a  poet  like  Homer."  Achilles  is  supposed  to  have 
died  about  1 184  years  before  the  Christian  era.  Homer 
has  been  blamed,  and  we  imagine  not  without  justice, 
formaking  his  hero  Achilles  of  too  ferocious  and  unamia- 
ble  a  character.  IJr.  Blair  has,  indeed,  attempted  to  repel 
this  charge;  but  though  it  were  admitted,  that  the  hero 
of  the  Iliad  is  not  destitute  of  candour,  justice,  and  affec- 
tion, that  spirit  of  insatiable  revenge,  which  the  poet  has 


ACH 


ACH 


95 


so  iuimitably  ileacribed,  aa  his  ruling  passion,  musl  lor 
i?vcr  tarnish  the  lustre  of  his  character,  anil,  were  it  pos- 
sible, even  diminish  his  reputation  for  warlike  bravery. 
His  resentment  against  Agamemnon,  however  justifi- 
able at  its  commencement,  was  prolonged  till  it  had  al- 
most ruined  the  cause  in  which  he  had  engaged ;  and 
nothing  but  his  thirst  of  revenging  the  death  of  Patro- 
clus,  saved  his  countrymen  from  destruction  and  dis- 
grace. His  courage  was  ferocity  itself :  and  his  conduct 
to  Hector  was  more  like  that  of  a  tiger  than  of  a  man. 
(See  J/jflrf,  lib.  xxii.  345,&c.)  This  is  the  character  given 
him  by  Horace  Dc  Jrte  Pod.  v.  121. 

Impiger,  iracundus,  inexorabilis,  accr, 

Jura  negct  sibi  nat«,  uiliil  non  arroget  armia.      (J) 

ACHILLINI,  Alexander,  a  celebrated  philosopher 
and  physician,  who  is  said  to  have  discovered  the  Mal- 
Icus  and  incus,  two  bones  in  the  ear  which  convey  from 
the  tympanum  to  the  vestibule  the  impressions  which 
are  made  upon  the  external  organ.  He  was  born  at  Bo- 
logna on  the  29th  October,  HCJ;  and  made  such  rapid 
progress  in  his  studies,  that,  in  1485,  he  was  appointed 
a  professor  of  philofophy  in  the  university  of  his  native 
city.  The  fame  of  his  learning  and  genius  having  ex- 
tended over  (he  whole  of  Italy,  he  accepted,  in  1306,  of 
an  invitation  from  the  university  of  Padua  to  fill  the  first 
chair  of  phiIosoph3S  and  was  afterwards,  in  1508,  ap- 
pointed professor  of  the  theory  of  medicine.  The  re- 
putation which  he  had  obtained  drew  immense  crowds 
of  students  to  Padua,  and  excited  the  jealousy  of  Pora- 
ponaccio,  his  colleague  and  rival.  In  the  public  dispu- 
tations, the  eloquence  and  arguments  of  Achillini  were 
opposed  by  the  raillery  and  wit  of  his  rival ;  but  ridicule 
was  found  a  contemptible  weapon,  when  wielded  against 
the  acuteness  of  solid  argument,  and  Achillini  triumphed 
over  the  disappointed  aniliition  and  personal  malice  of  his 
antagonist.  The  war,  which  at  this  time  raged  between 
the  Venetians  and  the  league  of  Cambray,  put  a  stop  to 
the  proceedings  of  the  university  of  Padua,  in  1509,  and 
obliged  Achillini  to  retire  to  Bologna,  where  he  was  aj)- 
pointed  to  the  chair  in  the  university  which  he  had  be- 
fore filled.  Achillini  died  at  Bologna  on  the  2d  August, 
1512,  and  was  interred  with  great  pomp  in  a  church  be- 
longing to  the  Carmelite  Friars.  From  the  extent  of  his 
learning,  he  obtained  the  name  of  the  Great  Philosopher, 
and  wai5  remarkable  for  the  honest  simplicity  and  sin- 
cerity of  his  manners.  He  was  the  follower  and  inter- 
preter of  Averroes,  the  conmientator  of  Aristotle,  and 
defended  the  tenets  of  his  master  with  an  acuteness  and 
strength  of  argument  which  were  universally  admired. 
Achillini  was  the  author  of  many  works ;  but  the  list  is 
too  long  and  uninteresting  to  be  inserted  here.  See 
Masziichelli Hcrittori  tT Italia,  vol.  i.  p.  100.     (tv) 

ACHIMENES,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Didy- 
namia,  and  order  Angiospermia.     See  BorANV'.     (w) 

ACHLYS,  from  «;%;''«'«■>  tTarkncss,  a  term  in  medicine, 
which  signifies  dimness  of  sight,  or  blindness  arising 
from  opacity  of  the  cornea.  It  is  likewise  employed  to 
signify  a  small  blue  speck  over  the  cornea.  See  Cullen's 
Nosolosri/,  and  Wardro))'s  Essays  on  the  Morbid  Anatomy 
of  the  Human  Eye,  1808. 

The  same  word  was  employed  by  the  ancient  Greek 
>vriters,  to  signify  the  first  cause  which  preceded  the 
creation  of  the  world,  of  the  gods,  and  of  chaos,     (w) 

ACHMET  I.  emperor  of  the  Turks,  the  successor 
and  third  son  of  Mahomet  III.  ascended  the  throne  in 
1603,  when  he  was  about  fifteen  years  old.     The  em- 


pire experienced  much  vicissitude  of  fortune  during  his 
reign.  Though  capable  of  forming  bold  and  extensive 
plans,  he  wanted  steadiness  to  execute  them  ;  and  was 
BO  devoted  to  sensual  pleasures  an»l  field  sports,  as  to 
neglect,  in  a  great  measure,  those  military  preparations 
which  the  state  of  the  kingdom  required.  The  Asiatic 
rebels,  supported  by  the  Persians,  besieged  and  took 
the  city  of  Bagdad,  to  recover  which,  all  his  efforts 
were  ineffectual.  In  Transylvania  and  Hungary,  though 
assisted  by  the  famous  Bethleni  Gahor,  and  Potskay, 
the  success  of  the  Turks  against  the  G  ermans  was  not 
much  greater :  yet  a  peace  was  at  length  concluded  be- 
tween him  and  the  emjjeror,  without  any  material  dis- 
advantage to  either.  Peace  was  likewise  restored  with 
the  Persians  before  his  death  ;  but  his  reign  continued 
to  be  disturbed  by  insurrections,  and  his  personal  safety 
was  endangered  bj'  a  pretender  to  his  throne,  and  seve- 
ral attempts  upon  his  life.  His  seraglio  consisted  of 
3000  women  ;  and  he  kept  40,000  falconers,  and  almost 
as  many  huntsmen,  in  various  parts  of  the  country.  He 
expended  large  sums  in  building,  particularly  on  a  mag- 
nificent mosque  in  the  Hippodrome.  Though  ignorant, 
proud,  and  ambitious,  he^vas  less  cruel  than  many  of  his 
predecessors  :  and  though  naturally  of  a  strong  constitu- 
tion, he  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine.  His  three  sons 
successively  reigned  after  him.     (</) 

ACHMET  II.  emperor  of  the  Turks,  was  the  son  of 
sultan  Ibrahim,  and  succeeded  his  brother  Solyman  in 
1091.  During  his  reign  the  administration  of  govern- 
ment was  feeble,  and  the  wars  of  the  empire  were  con- 
ducted with  little  vigour  or  success.  The  Germans,  the 
Venetians,  and  the  Arabs,  made  considerable  encroach- 
ments on  the  limits  of  the  empire,  which  he  never  was 
able  to  repel.  His  character  in  private  life  was  amiable 
and  inoffensive,  and  his  conductin  civil  affairs  honourable 
and  just ;  but  as  a  sovereign,  he  was  destitute  of  the  ta- 
lents which  are  necessary  forthe  government  of  a  power- 
ful and  extensive  empire.  He  had  some  taste  for  poetry 
and  music,  and  was  universally  esteemed  and  beloved  as 
a  man.     He  died  in  1U95,  at  the  age  of  fifty,     {(l) 

ACHMET  III.  emperor  of  the  Turks,  son  of  Maho- 
met IV.  on  the  deposition  of  his  brother,  Mustapha  II. 
in  1 703,  ascended  the  imperial  throne.  After  subduing 
the  insurrections  which  had  for  some  years  weakened 
the  government,  his  great  object  was  to  amass  wealth ; 
and  with  this  view,  he  debased  the  coin,  and  imposed 
new  taxes.  He  gave  protection  to  Charles XII.  of  Swe- 
den, who  took  refuge  in  his  dominions  after  the  battle 
of  Pultowa ;  received  him  with  great  hospitality ;  and  at 
the  instigation  of  the  sultana  mother,declaredwaragainst 
the  Russians ;  which  was  soon  terminated  by  the  ad- 
vantageous peace  of  Pruth.  He  likewise  made  war  on 
the  Venetians,  and  recovered  the  IMorea  from  them ;  but 
in  an  attack  on  Hungary,  his  army  uas  defeated  by  prince 
Eugene,  in  1710,  at  the  battle  of  Peterwardin.  By  sub- 
•  mitting  implicitly  to  the  influence  of  his  ministers  and 
favourites,  he  lost  the  confidence  of  the  people,  and  tar- 
nished the  glory  of  his  otherwise  splendid  but  short 
reign.  In  1730,  he  was  driven  from  his  throne  by  the 
sedition  and  rebellion  of  his  soldiers.  After  his  de- 
thronement, he  was  confined  in  the  same  apartment 
which  had  been  occupied  by  his  successor  Mahomet  V. 
and  continued  there  till  he  was  cut  off  by  an  apoplexy,  at 
the  age  of  74,  in  the  year  1736.     (rf) 

ACHMIM,  or  EcHMiM,  a  considerable  town  in  Upper 
Egypt,  situated  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Nile.  It  was 
called  by  the  ancients  Chemmis,  or  Chommo,  and  Pano- 


96 


ACH 


ACH 


plis:  its  Coptic  name  is  Smin.  Abulfeda  describes 
Aclimiin  as  a  large  towu  containing  a  temple,  ■n-hicli  may 
be  compared  with  the  most  celebrated  monuments  of 
antiquity,  constructed  of  prodigious  stones,  which  are 
sculptured  with  innumerable  figures.  Though  still  one 
of  the  finest  towns  in  Upper  Egypt,  its  extent  is  greatly 
circumscribed,  and  its  beauty  much  impaired.  When 
visited  by  M.  Savary,  the  ruins  of  the  temple  were  ivith- 
out  the  compass  of  the  town ;  some  of  the  stones  had 
been  transferred  into  a  mosque,  wliere  they  were  placed 
without  taste  or  regularity ;  and  others  lay  in  confused 
heaps  in  the  streets  of  Achmim.  A  few  still  remained, 
whose  size  rendered  them  immoveable.  Among  the 
figures  with  which  they  were  covered,  the  most  remark- 
able were  four  concentric  circles  inscribed  in  a  square  ; 
the  innermost  circle  contained  a  figure  of  the  sun ;  of 
the  two  next,  which  were  both  divided  into  twelve  parts, 
one  exhibited  twelve  birds ;  the  other,  tivelve  animals, 
almost  effaced,  apparently  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac ;  iu 
the  fourth,  were  represented  twelve  human  figures, 
which  M.  Siivary,  with  much  probability,  supposed  to 
have  been  the  twelve  gods,  designed  as  emblems  of  the 
twelve  months ;  for  the  Egyptians  were  the  first  who 
thus  divided  the  year.  The  four  seasons  occupy  the 
angles  of  the  square ;  and  a  globe,  with  wings,  is  still 
discernible  on  its  side.  It  is  probable,  that  the  temple 
was  dedicated  to  (he  Sun,  and  that  the  hieroglyphics  on 
this  stone  represented  his  passage  into  the  different 
signs  of  the  Zodiac,  and  his  annual  revolution  in  the  hea- 
vens. They  may  be  regarded  as  an  unequivocal  proof, 
that  the  Egyptians  possessed,  from  the  remotest  antiqui- 
ty, a  considerable  knowledge  of  astronomy.  At  Achmim, 
there  is  a  Hospice,  or  convent  of  Franciscans,  established 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  converts  or  persecuted 
Christians  in  Nubia.  South  of  the  convent,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  some  hundred  yards,  there  is  a  triumphal  arch, 
built  by  the  emperor  Nero,  with  the  inscription  ITANI 
©Eli.  The  streets  of  this  town  are  wide  and  clean,  and  its 
police  is  well  regulated :  but  the  air  is  tainted  by  a  calish 
of  stagnant  water,  and  the  inhabitants  are  yellow  and  un- 
healthy. The  women  retain  no  marks  of  beauty  after 
childhood  ;  at  sixteen  they  are  beyond  the  age  of  mar- 
riage ;  and  Mr.  Bruce  saw  several  of  them  pregnant, 
who  were  not  eleven  years  old.  Yet  the  men  are  neither 
smaller,  nor  less  active  and  vigorous,  than  in  other  places. 
Achmim  has  extensive  manufactures  of  cotton  cloth,  and 
pottery;  and  its  crops,  particularly  of  wheat,  are  supe- 
rior to  any  in  Egypt.  But  the  most  remarkable  object 
in  this  place,  is  the  serpent  Haridi,  which  is  the  won- 
der of  all  the  surrounding  country.  It  is  now  about  a 
century  since  Scheick  Haridi  died  here,  and  the  Maho- 
metans, who  revered  him  as  a  saint,  erected  a  splendid 
monument  to  his  memory.  An  artful  priest,  availing 
himself  of  the  general  veneration  for  Haridi's  sanctity, 
pretended  that  his  soul  had  passed  into  one  of  those  in- 
nocuous serpents,  with  which  tlie  Thebaid  abounds.  He  ■ 
trained  it  with  great  care;  taught  it  to  perform  innume- 
rable tricks ;  and,  confining  it  to  the  tomb  of  the  saint 
whom  it  represented,  undertook,  with  this  sacred  as- 
sistant, to  cure  every  species  of  disease.  Crowds  of  pa- 
tients resorted  to  it  from  all  quarters;  a  few  fortunate 
cures,  eflfected  by  nature  or  imagination,  established  its 
credit ;  successive  priests  were  intrusted  with  the  charge 
of  this  wonderful  serpent,  and  to  the  pei-suasion  of  its 
healing  power,  had  soon  the  address  to  add  the  belief  of 
its  immortality.  They  cut  it  in  pieces  in  presence  of 
the  emir ;  put  it  into  an  ura,  where  they  allowed  it  to 


continue  for  two  hours ;  and  then  produced  a  serpeof , 
which  could  not  be  distinguished  from  the  former  ia 
size  or  appearance.  Such  an  irresistible  proofof  its  di- 
vinity necessarily  established  its  claim  to  adoration,  and 
greatly  enhanced  the  value  of  its  favours.  When  pro- 
pitious to  its  supplicants,  it  ap|)eared  at  the  bottom  of 
the  tomb ;  but  soon  became  so  shy,  that  it  was  seen  only 
by  those  who  presented  the  richest  oflerings.  In  extra- 
ordinary cases,  when  its  presence  was  indispensable  to 
the  cure  of  a  patient,  a  young  virgin  was  sent  to  solicit 
its  aid.  The  damsel  suffered  the  serpent  to  twine  around 
her,  and  carried  it  in  triumph  to  her  afflicted  relation, 
whose  recovery  was  now  regarded  as  certain.  Even  the 
Christians  acknowledge  the  power  of  the  serjient  Hari- 
di ;  but  they  maintain,  that  it  is  the  demon  Asmodeus, 
who  slew  the  seven  husbands  of  Tobit's  wife  ;  and  that 
the  angel  Raphael,  after  metamorphosing  him,  conveyed 
him  to  Achmim,  where  God  allows  him  to  perform  won- 
ders for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  the  infidels.  Accord- 
ing to  BI.  Savary,  this  ser[)ent  is  of  the  kind  described 
by  Hero<lotns,  which  were  held  sacred  by  the  ancient 
Egyptians.  They  were  called  afxin  S'xificiK,  good  genii, 
and  were  emblems  of  Cncph,  the  symbolical  divinity 
which  represented  the  Divine  bounty.  See  Bavary's 
Lcttres  sur  VEgyptc,  vol.  ii.  let.  t) ;  and  Bruce's  Travels, 
vol.  ii.  p.  8.  8vo.  edit.  E.  Long.  31"  33'.  N.  Lat.  28" 
40'.     (k) 

ACHRADINA,one  of  the  cities  and  divisions  of  Sy- 
racuse, remarkable  for  the  splendour  of  its  public  build- 
ings. From  some  peculiar  quality  in  the  rocks  of  this 
district,  dead  bodies  may  be  preserved  in  them  for  a 
great  length  of  time.  Hence  large  excavations  are  made 
in  them  for  the  reception  of  the  dead,     (to) 

ACHRAS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hexandria 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (ib) 

ACHROMATIC  TELESCOPES.  The  name  ac/iro- 
Tnatic,  from  a  priv.  and  ^fufia,  colour,  was  given  by  Dr. 
Bevis  to  those  telescopes  whose  oliject-glasses  are  com- 
posed of  two  or  more  lenses  of  different  substances,  for 
the  purpose  of  removing  the  chromatic  and  spherical 
aberration. 

It  appeared  from  Newton's  experiments  on  light, 
that  the  refraction  of  the  differently  coloured  rays, 
which  compose  the  prismatic  spec:trum,  was  always  iu 
a  given  proportion  to  the  refraction  of  the  mean  re- 
frangible ray;  that  refraction  could  not  be  produced 
without  colour;  and  therefore,  that  no  improvement 
could  be  expected  in  the  refracting  telescope.  New- 
ton's Optics,  b.  ii.  exp.  S.  But  though  Newton  could 
scarcely  refuse  his  assent  to  these  conclusions,  which 
were  fairly  deducible  from  his  experiments,  he  was  too 
cautious  a  philosopher  to  maintain,  that  the  imperfec- 
tions of  the  refracting  telescope,  arising  from  the  aber- 
ration of  colour,  were  absolutely  incapable  of  correc- 
tion. He  remarks,  on  the  contrary,  in  his  sixth  letter 
to  Oldenhurgh,  that  "  it  did  not  seem  to  him  impossible 
for  contrary  refractions  so  to  correct  each  other's  in- 
equalities, as  to  make  their  difference  regular;  that, 
for  this  purpose,  he  examined  what  may  be  done,  not 
only  by  glasses  alone,  but  more  especially  by  a  compli- 
cation of  divers  successive  tnedivms,  as  by  two  or  more 
glasses,  or  crystals,  with  water,  or  some  other  lluid  be- 
tween them,  all  which  together  may  perform  the  office 
of  the  object-glass,  on  whose  construction  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  instrument  chiefly  depends;  and  that  the  re- 
sults of  these  trials,  as  well  as  the  results  of  theory, 
would  probably  be  given  on  some  future  occawon." 


ACHROMATIC  TELESCOPES. 


9: 


Prom  these  obsscrvalions,  it  is  vcrj'  obvious  that  Newton 
was  far  from  despairing  of  the  improvement  of  dioptric 
instruments ;  and  that  his  capacious  mind  even,  in  some 
measure,  anticipated  the  discovery  of  the  achromatic 
telescope. 

The  first  suggestion  which  led  the  way  to  this  great 
discovery,  has  been  attrilmted,  by  foreign  mathemati- 
••ians,  to  the  celebrated  Euler.  In  the  Memoirs  of  the 
Berlin  Academy,  this  philosopher  observes,  that  New- 
ton appeared  to  have  no  idea  of  correcting  the  chromatic 
aberration  by  a  combination  of  lenses  of  water  and  glass, 
but  that  the  union  of  transparent  substances  in  the  hu- 
man eye,  which  he  conceived  to  produce  a  perfect 
image,  suggested  to  himself  the  great  probability, 
that  a  similar  combination  might  form  an  achromatic 
object-glass.  See  Mem.  Berlhi,  1747,  tom.  iii.  p.  279. 
Euler  therefore  proceeded  to  determine  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  lenses,  which,  when  combined  with  water, 
would  produce  a  colourless  image ;  and  he  has  comput- 
ed a  table,  containing  the  radii  of  curvature  for  all  focal 
lengths,  from  one  inch  to  33  feet.  The  instruments, 
however,  which  were  executed  at  Paris  on  this  princi- 
ple, were  found  to  be  little  better  than  the  common  re- 
tracting telescopes. 

From  this  view  of  the  labours  of  Euler,  it  clearly  ap- 
pears, that  he  was  unacquainted  with  Newton's  letter  to 
Oldeuburgh ;  that  he  proceeded  on  a  false  principle,  viz. 
the  perfect  achromatism  of  the  human  ej'e;  and  that  he 
has  not  given  a  single  hint  that  was  not  known  to  New- 
ton about  eio-hty-five  years  before.  But  though  the 
memoir  of  Euler  is  not  entitled  to  the  praise  of  ori- 
ginality, it  had  the  great  merit  of  exciting  the  inquiries 
of  philosophers,  respecting  this  long-neglected  subject. 

The  attention  of  Mr.  John  DoUond  was,  at  this  time, 
directed  to  the  investigations  of  Euler;  and  as  he  per- 
ceived that  the  results  obtained  by  the  German  philoso- 
pher contradicted  the  experiments  of  Newton,  he  re- 
traced the  calculations  of  the  former ;  he  substituted  the 
numbers  which  express  the  ratio  between  the  refractive 
powers  of  glass  and  water,  as  deduced  from  the  experi- 
ments of  Newton,  instead  of  the  hypothetical  numbers 
of  Euler,  and  found,  that,  even  upon  his  own  principles, 
there  could  be  no  correction  of  the  chromatic  abeiTa- 
tion,  unless  when  the  focal  length  of  the  compound  lens 
was  infinitely  great.  Dollond  therefore  remained  in  the 
conviction,  that  the  experiments  of  Newton  ivere  cor- 
rect, and  that  refraction  could  not  be  produced  without 
colour.     See  Phil.  Trans.  1 752. 

To  these  objections  Euler  replied,  in  the  Berlin  Me- 
moirs for  1753.  Without  questioning  the  accuracy  of 
Newton,  he  maintained,  that  the  quantities  in  his  for- 
mulae, objected  to  by  Dollond,  were  too  minute  to  inva- 
lidate his  theory ;  he  endeavoured  to  point  out  some 
inconsistencies  in  the  calculations  of  Dollond,  and,  re- 
suming his  erroneous  analogy  between  the  organ  of  vi- 
sion and  his  proposed  telescope,  he  insisted,  that  every 
objection  to  his  theory  would  be  finally  removed. 

The  researches  of  Euler  were  carefully  examined  by 
M.  Klingenstierna,  a  Swedish  philosopher,  who  began 
to  suspect  the  accuracy  of  Newton's  eighth  experiment, 
and  therefore  determined  to  repeat  it.  By  making  the 
rays  pass  through  a  prism  of  glass  placed  within  a  pris- 
matic vessel  of  water,  Newton  found,  that,  when  the 
emergent  ray  was  parallel  to  the  incident  ray,  it  was 
perfectly  white;  and  that,  when  inclined  to  the  incident 
ray,  its  edges  were  tinged  with  colours.  But  in  the 
experiment  of  Klingenstierna,  the  emergent  light  was 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


actually  coloured,  even  when  it  emerged  parallel  to  the 
incident  ray.  See  Swed,  AhliatuUungcn.  vol.  xvi.  p.  300. 

The  paper,  which  contained  this  experiment,  was 
transmitted  to  Mr.  Dollond  by  its  author,  in  October, 
1754,  who  assailed  the  experiment  of  Newton,  both  by 
geometrical  and  metaphysical  reasoning.  The  former 
convictions  of  the  English  optifcian  were  immediately 
unsettled,  and  he  determined  to  resort  to  the  infallible 
evidence  of  experiment.  In  a  prism  of  water,  formed 
by  two  pieces  of  plate  glass,  he  placed  a  glass  prism, 
with  their  refracting  angles  in  opposite  directions,  and 
adjusted  the  angles  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  emer- 
gent and  incident  rays  were  parallel.  When  the  appa- 
ratus was  thus  adjusted,  the  emergent  light  was  infected 
with  the  prismatic  colours; — a  result  similar  to  that 
which  was  obtained  by  M.  Klingenstierna,  but  contrary 
to  the  eighth  experiment  of  Newton.  As  Mr.  Dollond 
was  thus  able  to  produce  colour  without  refraction,  he 
saw,  that,  if  the  angle  of  the  water  prism  could  have  been 
sufficiently  enlarged,  he  might  have  produced  considera- 
ble refraction  without  colour.  He  therefore  used  a 
glass  prism  with  an  angle  of  only  9»,  and  increased  the 
angle  of  the  water  prism,  till  the  emergent  light  was  free 
from  colour.  In  this  situation  of  the  prisms,  the  refrac- 
tion by  the  water  prism  was  to  that  of  the  glass  prism 
as  5  to  4.  The  emergent  ray  was  therefore  inclined  to 
the  incident  ray ;  refraction  was  [iroduced  without  co- 
lour; and  therefore  the  refraction  of  the  different  colour- 
ed rays  was  not  in  any  given  ratio  to  the  mean  refrac- 
tion. 

The  success  of  these  experiments  naturally  led  Mr. 
Dollond  to  expect,  that  the  same  result  might  be  ob- 
tained by  combining  prisms  of  different  klnils  of  glass. 
A  considerable  time,  however,  ela|)sed  before  this  ex- 
periment was  made,  and  it  was  not  till  the  end  of  1757, 
that  it  was  successfully  executed.  3Ir.  Dollond  then 
found,  that,  of  all  the  kinds  of  glass  which  he  tried, 
cromi  glass  protluced  the  lenst  divergency,  ortUspersion 
of  the  different  rays,  and  fiinl  glass  the  greatest ;  and 
that,  if  a  prism  of  flint  glass  Avere  combined  with  a 
prism  of  crown  glass,  with  their  refracting  angles  in  an 
opiwsile  direction,  and  so  proportioned  to  each  other 
that  the  refraction  produced  by  the  flint  glass  prism 
was  to  that  produced  by  the  crown  glass  jirism,  as  2  to  3, 
the  incident  light  would  emerge  after  refraction,  with- 
out divergence  or  dispersion  of  the  rays. 

When  this  result  was  obtained,  the  step  to  the  inven- 
tion of  the  achromatic  telescop,j  was  comparatively 
easy.  A  lens  may  be  conceived  as  composed  of  an  in- 
finite number  of  small  prisms  with  different  refractinjj 
angles ;  and  therefore  it  might  naturally  be  supposed, 
that  an  object-glass,  composed  of  a  convex  lens  of  crown 
glass,  and  a  concave  lens  of  flint  glass,  with  the  radii  of 
curvature  proi)erly  adjusted,  would  produce  an  image 
perfectly  free  from  chromatic  aberration.  Mr.  Dollond 
accordingly  constructed  telescopes  with  these  object- 
glasses,  which  were  much  superior  to  those  of  the  com- 
mon construction,  and  received  the  name  of  .^chromatic 
Tekscopes. 

Before  we  proceed  to  detail  the  future  history  of  this 
useful  instrument,  we  must  pause  to  consider  a  claim  to 
the  invention,  which  has  been  urged  in  behalf  of  Ches- 
ter More  Hall,  Esq.  of  Morehall,  in  Essex.  It  has  been 
positively  stated,  that  this  gentleman,  so  early  as  1 729, 
considered  the  eye  as  an  achromatic  instrument,  and 
supposed,  that,  by  a  similar  combination  of  different  sub- 
stances, an  object  might  be  formed,  so  as  to  produce  a 
N 


68 


ACHROMATIC  TELESCOPES. 


colourless  image.  After  many  trials  with  different 
kinds  of  glass,  he  is  said  to  have  constructed,  so  early  as 
1 733,  several  achromatic  object-glasses,  which,  with  a 
focal  length  of  20  inches,  bore  an  aperture  of  more  than 
two  inches  and  a  half.  One  of  these  telescopes  is  stated 
to  be  in  the  possession  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Smith,  of  Char- 
lotte-street, Rathbone  Place,  and  to  possess  all  the  pro- 
perties of  Dollond's  telescopes ;  and  another  came  into 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Ayscough,  optician,  in  Ludgatc  Hill,  so 
early  as  1754.  These  facts  are  mentioned  in  the  Gen- 
tleman's Magazine  for  1790,  p.  890,  by  an  anonymous 
author;  and,  if  projierly  authenticated,  are  sufficient  to 
prove,  that  Mr.  Hall  was  the  original  inventor  of  the 
achromatic  telescope.  But  though  we  make  this  admis- 
sion, we  cannot  pa?s  unnoticed  the  remark  in  that  anony- 
mous paper,  that  Mr.  Hall's  invention  seems  to  have 
been  made  public  by  Mr.  Bass,  the  optician  who  ground 
his  lenses;  because  it  is  evidently  intended  to  insinuate, 
that  Mr.  Dollond  had  availed  himself  of  information  ob- 
tained, either  directly  or  indirectly,  from  Mr.  Bass. 
Now,  whatever  evidence  can  be  adduced  in  support  of 
Mr.  Hall's  claims,  there  is  the  strongest  reason  to  be- 
lieve, that  Dollond  did  not  receive  the  least  hint  of  the 
invention.  We  find  his  attention  directed  to  the  sub- 
ject, in  consequence  of  Euler's  researches ;  and  we  see 
the  discovery  gradually  unfolding  itself  in  his  mind  dur- 
ing the  vast  interval  between  the  first  suggestion  of 
Klingenstierna  and  the  final  construction  of  the  achro- 
matic telescope.  We  have  therefore  no  difficulty  in  set- 
tling the  various  claims,  which  have  been  urged  by  our 
own  countrymen  and  by  foreiirners,  for  the  honour  of 
this  invention. — By  his  experiments  on  light  and  co- 
lours. Sir  Isaac  Newton  pointed  out  the  cause  of  the  im- 
perfections of  the  dioptric  telescope.  He  made  experi- 
ments on  compound  object-glasses  of  water  and  glass, 
■with  a  view  of  removing  these  imperfections;  and  though 
his  attempts  were  unsuccessful,  yet  he  did  not  despair 
that  this  great  object  might  be  iiccomplished.  Euler, 
tvithoiit  being  acquainted  with  these  attempts  of  New- 
ton, made  similar  experiments  with  lenses  of  glass  and 
water;  but  was  more  sanguine  in  his  hopes  of  success 
than  the  English  philosopher.  Klingenstierna  had  the 
high  merit  of  making  the  first  steii  to  the  discovery,  by 
showing  the  error  in  Newton's  eighth  experiment,  and 
proving,  that,  with  prisms  of  glass  and  water,  there  could 
be  colour  without  refraction.  This  idea  was  seized  by 
Mr.  Dollond,  who  traced  it  through  all  its  consequences, 
till  he  -arrived  at  the  construction  of  the  achromatic 
telescope.  If  the  claims  of  Mr.  Hall  are  substantiated 
by  unexceptional  evidence,  we  cannot  withhold  from 
him  the  merit  of  being  the  original  inventor.  But  while 
we  allow,  that  he  may  have  anticipated  Dollond  in  the 
«Ugcovery,  we  must,  at  the  same  time,  guard  against 
every  insinuation  that  has  the  least  tendency  to  tarnish 
the  fame  of  that  ingenious  optician. 

As  soon  as  the  discovery  of  Dollond  was  made  public, 
the  foreign  mathematicians  employed  all  the  resources 
of  the  modern  analysis  to  ascertain  the  curvature  which 
must  be  given  to  the  lenses,  in  order  to  correct,  at  the 
»ame  time,  the  aberration  of  colour  and  sphericity.  The 
genius  of  Clairaut,  Euler,  and  D'Alembert,  were  first 
called  into  action,  and  produced  the  most  elegant  solu- 
tions of  this  interesting  problem.  The  subject  was  al- 
so investigated  by  Klingenstierna,  Rochou,  Boscovich, 
Pezenas,  Duval  le  Roi,  Jeaurnf,  and  Klugel;  and  the 
practical  optician  has  received,  from  the  labours  of  thege 


philoso|)hers,  all  the  assistance  which  art  can  expect 
from  science. 

During  all  these  investigations,  the  common  theory  of 
refraction,  as  established  by  the  experiments  of  Newton, 
was  never  called  in  question.  It  was  therefore  reserved 
for  our  ingenious  countryman.  Dr.  Robert  Blair,  Profes- 
sor of  Practical  Astronomy  in  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh, to  throw  new  light  upon  this  branch  of  plijsics. 
The  discoveries  of  this  philoso;)her  were  equally  impor- 
tant and  unexpected,  and  entitle  him  to  a  high  r;iuk 
among  those  illustrious  men,  who  have  contributed  to 
the  advancement  of  the  science  ofo|)tics.  From  a  num- 
ber of  well-conducted  experiments.  Dr.  Blair  has  shown, 
that  a  great  variety  of  fluids  possess  the  quality  of  dis- 
persing the  rays  of  light  in  a  greater  degree  than  crown 
glass ;  and  (hat  this  quality  is  possessed  in  a  remarkable 
manner  by  the  solutions  of  metals,  the  essential  oils,  and 
all  the  mineral  acids,  excepting  the  sulphuric.  He  has 
shown,  that  the  superior  refrangibility  of  the  violet  to  the 
red  rays,  when  the  refraction  is  made  from  any  medium 
into  a  vacuum,  may  be  considered  as  a  general  fict ;  yet, 
when  the  refraction  is  made  from  one  medium  into  an- 
other, the  red  rays  are  sometimes  Ihe  most  refrangible, 
and  the  violet  rays  the  least  refrangible ;  and  sometinieg 
all  the  coloured  rays  in  the  spectrum  are  equally  re- 
frangible, according  to  the  qualities  of  the  media  through 
which  the  light  is  transmitted.  By  making  trials  with 
object-glasses  composed  of  two  media  of  different  dis- 
persive powers,  in  which  both  the  chromatic  aud  splicri- 
eal  aberrations  were  corrected  as  far  as  the  principles 
would  allow,  he  found,  that  the  correction  of  colour  is 
never  complete ;  for  the  green  rays,  which  are  the  mean 
refrangible  in  crown  glass,  were  among  the  least  re- 
frangible in  all  the  refracting  media  which  he  had 
hitherto  examined,  which  is  evidently  the  cause  of  the 
uncorrected  colour.  This  circumstance  would  have  ex- 
tinguished every  hope  of  removing  completely  the  chro- 
matic aberration ;  but  Dr.  Blair  had  the  good  fortune  to 
discover,  that  the  muriatic  acid  was  an  exception  to  this 
general  rule.  He  found,  that  a  fluid,  in  which  the  parti- 
cles of  muriatic  acid  and  metalline  particles  hold  a  due 
proportion,  had  a  greater  disper^■ive  power  than  crown 
glass,  and,  at  the  same  time,  refracted  all  the  order;  of 
rays  exactly  in  the  same  proportion  as  the  crown  gbos; 
and  hence  he  concluded,  that  rays  of  all  colours,  which 
diverge  by  the  refraction  of  (he  crown  glass,  may  either 
be  made  to  emerge  parallel  by  a  subsequent  refraction 
at  the  confines  of  the  glass  and  muriatic  acid ;  or,  by 
diminishing  the  refractive  density  of  the  fluid,  the  re- 
fraction, which  takes  place  in  the  confines  of  it  in  the 
glass,  miiy  be  rendered  as  regular  as  reflection.  Upon 
this  new  principle.  Dr.  Blair  constructed  an  object-glass 
fourteen  inches  in  focal  length,  composed  of  crown  glass, 
alcohol,  and  an  essential  oil,  which  was  much  superior  to 
an  object-glass  of  crown  and  flint  glass,  with  30  inches 
of  focal  length,  and  the  same  aperture. 

Having  thus  given  a  brief  account  of  the  history  of 
the  achromatic  telescope,  we  shall  now  proceed  to  ex- 
plain the  principles  of  its  constniction,  beginning  with 
the  achromatic  object-glass. 

On  Achromatic  Object-Gi,asses. 

Let  AB,  CD,  EF,  be  the  three  lenses  which  compose 
an  achromatic  glass,  AB  and  EF  being  convex,  and  of 
crown  glass,  and  CD  being  a  concave  lens  of  flint  glass ; 
and  let  us  suppose  them  placed  at  a  little  distance  from 


ACHROMATIC  TELESCOPES. 


99 


racli  other,  that  the  progress  of  the  rays  may  be  more 
easily  observed.  If  two  white  rays  of  light  RL,  R'L', 
moving  in  parallel  directions,  fall  upon  the  convex  lens 
AB,  at  the  poittls  L,  L',  the  red  rays,  which  enter  into 
their  composition,  being  the  least  refrangible,  would  be 
bent  into  the  directions  Lr,L'r,  if  there  were  nootherlen- 
«es ;  and  the  violet  rays,  which  are  the  most  refrangible, 
would  be  bent  into  the  directions  Lt',  h'v.  But  ivhcn 
the  concave  lens  CD  is  interposed,  so  as  to  intercept 
these  rays  before  their  convergence  at  the  points  v,  r, 
they  will  be  refracted  from  the  axis,  in  the  directions 
m  p,  n  0,  because  the  focal  distance  of  CD  is  less  than 
AB;  for,  if  the  lens  CD  had  been  made  of  the  same, 
glass,  and  with  the  same  curvature  as  AB,  the  rays 
would  have  emerged  colourless,  and  parallel  to  their 
original  directions  RL,  R'L'.  The  violet  ray  n  o,  will 
cross  the  red  ray  at  t  ;  because,  on  account  of  its  supe- 
rior refrangibility,  it  is  more  bent  from  the  axis  by  the 
refraction  of  the  concave  lens.  The  only  efTect  of  the 
greater  dispei'sive  imwer  of  the  flint  glass  lens  CD,  is 
to  delay  the  meeting  of  the  red  and  violet  rays  at  t. 
When  the  third  lens  EF,  intercepts  the  rays  m  t,  n  t, 
before  their  concourse  at  t,  it  will  refract  them  to  the 
same  point  at  F ;  for  the  red  rays,  which  are  least  re- 
frangible, fall  upon  the  lens  at  a  greater  angle  of  inci- 
dence, so  th;;t  the  dirt'erence  of  their  refrangibilities  is 
counteracted  by  their  ditferent  obliquities  of  incidence. 
The  rays  L'r,  L'r,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  axis,  will 
undergo  similar  refractions;  so  that  the  diflerently 
coloured  rays  will  all  meet  in  the  focus  F,  of  the  com- 
bined lenses,  and  will  form  an  image  nearly  colour- 
less. 

When  the  object-glass  consists  only  of  two  lenses,  as 
AB,  CD,  the  focal  length  of  the  concave  one  CD,  is 
much  greater  than  that  of  AB ;  from  which  it  hapjiens, 
that  the  rays  L  tn,  L  n,  are  bent  towards  the  axis,  and, 
in  consequence  of  the  greater  dispersive  power  of  the 
flint  glass,  they  are  united  in  the  focus  Avithout  colour. 
The  triple  object-glasses,  however,  are  preferable  to 
those  with  only  two  lenses ;  for,  in  the  former,  the  sphe- 
rical, as  well  as  the  chromatic,  aberration  may  be  cor- 
rected. 

It  is  obvious,  that,  in  order  to  produce  these  effects, 
there  must  be  a  certain  proportion  between  the  radii  of 
the  surfaces  a,  h  ;  a',  b' ;  a",  b".  The  method  of  deter- 
mining these  radii  by  analytical  investigation,  will  be 
explained  in  the  article  Optics.  But  it  may  be  proper 
in  this  placs,  for  the  use  of  the  practical  optician,  to 
give  the  results,  which  are  deducible  from  the  researches 
of  the  most  eminent  philosophers.  The  letters  a,  b  ;  a', 
V  ;  a",  b",  represent  the  radii  of  curvature  of  the  surfaces 
to  w  hich  they  are  affixed  in  Fig.  5,  a  being  the  surface 
next  the  object,  and  b"  that  next  the  eye.  The  letter  x 
is  the  focal  length  of  the  first  lens,  whose  radii  are  a,  b  ; 
y,  the  focal  length  of  the  lens,  whose  radii  are  a',  b' ;  and 
*  that  of  the  lens,  whose  radii  are  o",  h''.  The  focal 
length  of  the  compound  object-glass  is  always  =  1 . 

Forms  for  Triple  Object-Glasses. 

I.  a  =r.  0.757 

h  =a'  —  0.505 

b'  =a"=  1.060 

b"  =  0.107 

II,  «=;i  =  a"=6"  =  0.640 

of  =6"=:  0.528 


III.  a  =  &  =  a"  =  6"  =0.6412    a:  =  0.6096 

a'  =0.5227     t/=  0.4384 
6'  =0.5367     2=0.6090 

IV.  a  =  b  =  a'  =b'  =0.530       a;  =  0.5038 

o"=  1.215       v  =  0-4388 
b"  =  0.3046    'z  =  0.7727 

V.  a  =  6  =  o"  =  b"  =  0.6160 
a'  =  0.6356 
6'  =  0.3790 

a  =  b  =  a'  =b'  =  0.4748 
fl"  =  0.3514 


VL 


VIL 


VIIL 


IX. 


6"  =  0.4383 

a  =r  6  =  0.7963 
fl'  =  i'  =  0.4748 
a"  =  b"  =  0.5023 

a  =6"  =  0.7306 
a'  =6'  =0.4748 
a"  =  b    =0.5023 

a  =o"  =  0.7048 
b  =6"  =  0.5471 
a'  =b'  =  0.4748 


In  the  four  preceding  forms,  calculated  from  the  formu- 
lae of  Boscovicli,  the  sine  of  incidence  is  to  the  sine  of 
refraction  in  the  crown  glass  as  1.527  to  1 ;  and  as  1.575 
to  1  in  the  flint  glass ;  and  the  ratio  of  the  differences  of 
the  sines  of  the  extreme  rays  0.6486. 

X.  a  =  4'  =  a"  =  b"  =  0.6087 
a'  =0.4544 
b    =0.8696 

XL  a  =  a"  =  b"  =  0.604 

b  =0.766 
a'  =  0.455 
b'  =0.558 

XII.  a   =0.628 

b    =0.790 

a'  =  0.431 

a"  =  6'  =0.593 

b"  =  0.651 

The  three  preceding  forms  are  taken  from  the  best 
telescopes  of  Dollond. 

Forms  for  Double  Object-Glasses. 

I.         ^  a   =0.323 

b   =a'  =0.318 

b'  =  1.582 


II. 


a  =b  =  0.3206 
a'  =0.3281 
b'  =  1.5333 


These  two  forms  are  computed  from  Boscovich. 


III.  a  =  6943 
b  =22712 
a'  =  14750 


Distance  between 

the  lenses  =    100 

Aperture  =  3000 

N   2 


100 


ACHROMATIC  TELESCOPES. 


IV. 


v 

= 18333 

Tliickness  of  the 

X 

==  10800 

convex  lens 

=     250 

V 

=  14080 

Thickness  of  the 

F 

=  32024 

concave  lens 

=     100 

a 

=    2168 

Distance  between 

b 

=    7092 

the  lenses 

=       31 

a' 

=    4606 

Aperture 

=     937 

V 

=    5740 

Thickness  of  the 

X 

=    3123 

convex  lens 

=       70 

V 

=    4397 

Thickness  of  the 

' 

F 

=  10000 

concave  lens 

=       31 

The  two  preceding  forms  are  calculated  from  Klugcl. 
F  is  the  focal  length  of  the  compound  object-glass. 

V.  a  =  0.293 

h  =0.353 
a'  =  0.345 
t'  =  1.148 

In  order  to  use  the  preceding  forms,  we  have  only  to 
multiply  the  decimal  numbers  by  the  focal  length  which 
we  wish  to  give  to  the  compound  object-glass ;  thus,  if 
we  employ  the  last  form  for  a  compound  object-glass  of  1 2 
inches,  we  shall  have  az:  12  x  0.293  z=.  3.516inches; 
and  so  on  with  the  other  radii. 

When  the  object-glass  is  finished,  it  may  be  much  im- 
proved by  interposing  some  pure  turpentine  varnish  be- 
tween the  lenses,  which  prevents  the  loss  of  light  from 
the  reflection  at  the  internal  surfaces,  and  remedies  any 
imperfection  in  the  polish  of  the  lenses.  The  French 
opticians  use  mastich  for  this  purpose. 

The  editor  has  been  favoured  with  the  following  forms 
for  achromatic  telescopes,  by  Mr.  Tulley,  optician,  at 
Islington,  whose  admirable  telescopes  have  received 
the  approbation  of  the  first  astronomers  and  opticians  of 
the  present  day.  They  contain  the  radii  of  curvature 
which  he  actually  employs  in  practice,  and  which  vary 
only  with  the  density  of  the  flint  glass. 


a 

h  ■■ 
a' 
V 
F 


:    8  inches 

14.3 

12.11 
:28.5 
:  30  inches,  or  2\ 


feet 


Specific  gravity  of  the 
flint  glass     .     .     .     . 

Ratio  of  refraction  in 
the  crown,  to  that  in 
flint  glass     .     .     .     . 


3.354 


II. 


a  ■■ 

b  : 
of: 
V. 

F 


Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass    .    . 
Ratio  of  refraction 

III. 


1  to  1.656 

7.5  inches 
11.5 
10.1 
20.5 
:  30  inches,  or  2^  feet 


3.192 
.    .     1  to  1.52 

a  =      8  inches 

b  c=    7.5 

ef=    7.4 

V  =  24.5 

F  =  27  inches,  or  2  feet  3  inches 


Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass 3.192 

Ratio  of  refraction    .     .     .     1  to  1 .52 

IV.  a  =13.6  inches 
b  =17.2 

of  =  16.3 

V  =  54.0 

F  =  44  inches,  or  3  feet  8  inches 
Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass 3.354 

Ratio  of  refraction    .     .     .     1  to  1.656 

V.  a  =  13.6  inches 
b  =  18.8 

a' =17.0 

b'  =  67.0 

F  =  44  inches,  or  3  feet  3  inches 
Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass 3.437 

Ratio  of  refraction   .     .     .     1  to  1.726 


VI. 


a  =:    8  inches 
b  =  12.5 
a' =11 


fc'  =  27 

F  =  30  inches,  or  2\ 
Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass 3.334 

Ratio  of  refraction   .     .     .     1  to  1.642 


feet 


This  form  does  not  make  such  a  good  object-glass  a« 
the  rest ;  but  it  answers  well  with  erect  eye-pieces. 


VII. 


Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass     .     .     .     . 

Ratio  of  refraction    .     . 


fl  =    8  inches 

b  =  17.2 

o'=  13.15 

h'  =  32.6 

F  =  30  inches,  or  2J  feet 


3.437 

1  to  1.726 


vm. 


specific  gravity  of  the 
flint  glass    .     .     .     . 
Ratio  of  refraction    .     . 

IX. 


a  =11.5  inches 

6  =  16.8 

a'  =  15.25 

V  =  32.5 

X  =  13.65 

t/  =  20.76 

F  =  44  inches,  or  3  feet  8  inches 


Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass     .     . 
Ratio  of  refraction 


a  ■■ 
b  ■■ 
a'. 
V . 

F: 


3.192 
1  to  1.52 

18.4 

:26.8 

24.4 
52.0 
:  72  inches,  or  6  feet 


3.192 
I  to  1.52 


a  =  14.3 

b  =  19.4 

o'=18.0 

ft' =72 

F  =  44  or  3  feet  8  inches 


ACHROMATIC  TELESCOPES. 


101 


Specific  gravity  of  the 

flint  glass 3.466 

Ratio  of  refraction  .     .     .     1  to  1.74 

By  comparing  tlie  forms  VIII.  and  X.  in  which  the 
focal  length  of  the  compound  object-glass  is  the  same, 
and  in  which  t!ie  specific  gravities  of  the  flint  glass  are 
the  greatest  and  the  least  that  can  be  obtained,  we  shall 
sec  tlie  immense  variation  in  some  of  the  radii,  arising 
from  this  extreme  variation  of  density.  The  radii  a,  b, 
a',  are  nearly  the  same  in  both  forms,  but  the  surface  I' 
of  the  (lint  glass  is  in  the  one  case  72  inches,  and  iu  the 
other  only  32i. 

On  Achbomaiic  Eye-Pieces. 

In  order  to  correct  the  chromatic  aberration  in  the 
eye-pieces  of  telescopes,  we  are  not  under  the  necessity 
of  using  compound  lenses  of  different  dispersive  powers, 
as  all  the  orders  of  rays  can  be  united  by  a  particular 
arrangement  of  the  eye-glasses.  This  will  be  obvious 
from  Plate  IV.  Fig.  0.,  where  AB  is  a  compound  object- 
glass,  and  DE  an  eye-piece,  consisting  of  two  lenses 
D,  E.  Then  if  CDE  be  the  axis  of  the  telescope,  and 
PS  a  ray  of  white  light  passing  through  the  object- 
glass,  since  the  object-glass  is  achromatic,  this  ray  will 
fall  upon  the  eye-glass  D,  without  being  sej)arated  into 
the  prismatic  colours,  through  whatever  part  of  the  com- 
pound lens  it  is  transmitted.  This  ray,  however,  will  be 
decomposed  after  refraction  through  the  lens  I),  and  the 
red  rays  will  be  bent  into  the  direction  SR,  and  the  vio- 
let into  the  direction  SV.  But  these  rays  are  intercept- 
ed by  the  second  lens  E,  at  the  points  m,  n  ;  and  as  the 
refracting  angle  of  the  lens  is  greater  at  m  than  at  n,  this 
increase  of  the  refracting  angle  for  the  red  ray  will  make 
up  for  its  inferior  refrangibility,  and  the  rays  S  w.  S  n, 
will  emerge  paralJel  Irom  the  lens  in  the  lines  mr,  nv. 
The  chromatic  aoerration,  therefore,  which  is  always 
proportional  to  the  angle  formed  by  the  rays  mr,  nv,  will 
be  destroyed. 

In  small  telescopes  and  opera-glasses,  where  it  would 
be  very  inconvenient  to  have  a  long  eye-piece  composed 
of  several  lenses,  a  compound  lens  of  crown  and  flint- 
glass  should  be  used,  and  may  consist  either  of  three  or 
two  glasses,  with  the  following  curvatures ;  the  letters 
a,  b,  &c.  representing  the  same  radii  as  before,  and  F 
the  focal  length  of  the  compound  lens  being  =  1. 

Triple  Eye-Glasses. 

I.  a  =  b  =  a"  =  h"  =  0.640     X  =  2  =  0.608 
o'  =6'  =0.529  y=  0.433 


II,  a  =  J"  =  0.810    x  = 

b=a'  =  b'  =  0"==  0.529 

Double  Eye-Glasses. 

I  a  =  b  =  0.320 

a'^  b'  =  0.529 

II.         a=a'=  b   =  0.320 
6'  =  1.517 


:  s  =  0.608 
y=  0.438 


X  =  0.304 
y  =  0.438 

X  =  0.304 
y  =  0.438 


If  .the  object  is  to  be  erect,  as  in  tlie  Galilean  tele- 
scojie,  the  lens  of  flint  glass  must  be  made  convex,  and 
those  of  crown  glass  concave,  in  order  that  the  concavi- 
ty of  the  compound  glass  may  predominate. 


An  achromatic  eye-piece  for  astronomical  telescope?, 
of  the  same  kind  as  that  which  is  represented  in  Fig.  6, 
should  have  the  focal  length  of  the  lens  D  triple  that  of 
the  lens  E,  and  the  distance  DE  should  be  double  the 
focal  length  of  E,  or  two-thirds  of  the  focal  length  of  D. 
In  one  of  Dollond's  best  telescopes,  the  focal  length  of 
1)  was  12.75  lines,  and  its  thickness  1 .62  lines ;  the  focal 
length  of  E,  5.45  lines,  its  thickness  1.25  lines,  and  the 
distance  between  their  interior  surfaces  4.20  lines  :  in 
another  eye-piece  of  Dollond's  construction,  the  focal 
length  of  D  was  8.30  lines,  and  its  thickness  1.60;  the 
focal  length  of  E  3.53,  and  its  thickness  0.97.  In  both 
these  eye-pieces,  the  lenses  should  be  plano-couvex, 
w  ith  their  plane  sides  turned  to  the  eye,  iu  order  to  di- 
minish the  spherical  aberration. 

When  the  achromatic  eye-piece  consists  of  three 
lenses,  it  may  be  constructed  by  the  following  formulffi. 
where  F  is  the  focal  length  of  the  object-glass,  and 
X,  y,  r,  the  focal  length  of  the  eye-glasses,  reckoning 
from  that  which  is  nearest  the  object. 


Distance  between  1st  and  2d  lenses 
Distances  between  2d  and  3d     .     . 


5'+^-f 


Distance  of  Ist  lens  from  the  focus  of  the  object- 
glass   .     .     .     .  • 


^+y 


x+y 

Magnifying  power  of  the  eye-piece       .     .     .    — — 

Focal  length  of  a  single  lens  with  the  same 
power       

y 

Distance  of  the  eye  from  the  3d  lens    ...  r 

Length  of  the  eye-|)iece x-^2s-\-Zy 

Field  of  view,  m  being  the  aperture  of  the  }    3438m 
field     . S       F 

The  focal  length  of  the  3  lenses  may  be  made  equal, 
though  it  is  preferable  to  give  the  thin!  less  focal  length 
than  the  other  two,  and  to  make  its  distance  from  the 
second  equal  to  its  own  focal  length,  added  to  \\, 
the   focal   length   of   one   of    the    other    lenses;    for 

when  X  =  3/,  the  expression  3^  +  «  H =-f — becomes 

2-f  Hy.     In  this  case  the  magnifying  power  of  the  eye- 
piece is  equal  to  that  of  the  third  lens  z. 

Achromatic  eye-pieces  may  be  made  of  four  lenses, 
if  their  focal  lengths  are  as  the  numbers  14,  21,  27,  32 ; 
their  distances  23,  44,  40;  their  apertures  5.6;  3.4; 
13.5;  2.6;  and  the  aperture  of  the  field  bar  in  the  an- 
terior focus  of  the  4th  eye-glass  7 

In  one  of  Rarasden's  eye-pieces  of  four  lenses,  the 
focal  lengths  were  0.77  of  an  inch;  7.025;  1.01  ;  0.79; 
and  their  distances  1.18 ;  1.83 ;  1.10,  reckoning  from  the 
lens  next  the  object.  This  eye-piece  was  equal  to  a  lens 
0.566  inches  in  focal  length. 

In  one  of  Dollond's  best  eye-pieces,  the  focal  lengths 
were  14i  lines;  19;  22f;  14;  the  distances  22.48; 
46.17  ;  21.45,  and  the  thickness  of  the  lenses  at  their 
centre  1.23;  1.25;  1.47. 

With  the  intention  of  enlarging  the  field  of  view,  Mr. 
Dollond  constructed  some  eye-pieces,  consisting  of  five, 
and  some  even  of  six  lenses ;  but  the  limits  of  this  work 
will  not  permit  us  to  enter  into  any  details  respecting 


i(Xt 


ACI 


ACI 


their  construction.  Besides  the  works  quoted  under 
Aberration,  in  Optics,  see  Mem.  Acad.  Par.  1779,  p. 
23.  Miscellama  Taurinmsia,  torn.  3.  part  iii.  p.  92. 
Euler'a  Diopfric*.  Rochon's  Opuscules,  1768.  Rochon's 
Menwires,  1783.  Boscovich's  Dissertations,  Vienna, 
1 767.  Memmie  sttlli  Cannochiali,  1781.  And  two  French 
translations  of  Smith's  Optics,  by  Pezenas,  and  M.  Du- 
Tal  le  Roi,  1767.     See  also  Optics,     (w) 

ACHYRANTHES,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class 
Pentandria,  and  order  Monogynia.    See  Botany,  (tu) 

ACI  A,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Dodecandria, 
and  order  Monodelphia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ACIDS  are  a  class  of  chemical  agents,  distinguished 
by  the  following  common  properties: — They  have  a  sour 
taste,  and  are  the  only  substances  to  which  this  taste 
belongs;  they  are  more  or  less  soluble  in  water;  they 
change  the  blue,  purple,  and  green  colours  of  vegetables 
to  a  red ;  combine  with  alkalis  and  earths,  neutralizing 
their  common  properties ;  and  dissolve  metals  and  me- 
tallic oxides.  These  properties  are  possessed  by  the 
different  acids  in  very  ditferent  degrees.  In  some  of 
them,  the  sour  taste  is  scarcely  perceptible  in  their  most 
concentrated  state;  in  others,  it  is  extremely  strong, 
even  when  they  are  largely  diluted  with  water :  and  a 
similar  diversity  exists  with  regard  to  all  their  other 
characteristic  properties.  In  general,  they  exert  ener- 
getic chemical  actions,  partly  from  the  facility  with  which 
they  afford  oxygen  to  bodies,  and  partly  from  the  pow- 
erful affinities  they  directly  exert ;  and  the  history  of 
their  jiroperties  and  combinations  constitutes  the  most 
extensive  department  of  the  science  of  chemistry. 

The  important  truth,  that  oxygen  is  the  principle  of 
acidity,  wi-.s  established  by  the  researches  of  Lavoisier, 
and  formed  one  of  the  leading  propositions  of  the  mo- 
dern chemical  system,  which  he  contribuled  to  rear.  By 
a  very  ample  induction,  this  eminent  chemist  demon- 
strated, that  the  greater  number  of  simple  inflammable 
substances,  when  combined  with  oxygen,  in  certain  pro- 
portions, form  compounds  possessed  of  acid  powers; 
and  again,  by  ilecomposing  a  number  of  acids,  he  proved, 
that  oxygen  exists  in  them  as  a  constituent  principle. 
He  hence  inferred,  that  oxygen  is  essential  to  their  com- 
position, and  is  the  principle  of  acidity*. 


*  This,  however  regarded  as  a  just  induction  during 
the  meridian  splendour  of  the  antiphlogistic  theory,  bids 
fair  to  become  equally  objection  ible  with  its  previously 
flourishing  antagonist.  By  neither  the  phlogistic,  nor 
antiphlogistic  theory  separately,  can  the  various  facts 
of  chemical  science  be  comjiletely  explained;  and 
the  numerous  discoveries,  of  late  brought  to  light  by  the 
agency  of  galvanism,  tend  strongly  to  evince,  that  a  just 
view  of  the  subject  can  only  be  derived  from  the  united 
strength  of  both  doctrines.  It  is  true,  Lavoisier  demon- 
strated that  the  greater  number  of  inflammable  substan- 
ces formed  acids  by  combinalion  with  oxygen;  but  it  is 
equally  true,  that  many  of  those  substances  then  deemed 
simple,  are  now  shown  to  be  compounds,  of  which  hy- 
drogen forms  a  part.  The  doctrine  of  Lavoisier  therefore 
totters  at  its  base ;  and  if  the  foundation  be  erroneous, 
the  superstructure  cannot  be  correct.  It  is  incuinltent 
on  those  who  still  maintain  inviolable  this  supposed  sole 
principle  of  acidity,  to  show  what  becomes  of  the  other 
constituents  of  those  bodies  thus  acidified.  If  it  is  still 
retained,  it  most  probably  must  produce  some  influence 
on  the  change  resulting;  anU  that  it  is  retained,  is  ren- 


There  existed,  even  at  the  period  of  Lavoisier's  re^ 
searches,  some  objection  to  this  conclusion.  Three  very 
powerful  acids  hail,  in  particular,  not  been  decomposed ; 
and  it  was  therefore  only  an  hypothesis  to  infer,  as  it  was 
necessary  to  do,  in  conformity  to  the  theory  he  sought  to 
establish,  that  they  are  compounds,  and  contain  oxygen 
as  an  element.  Yet  the  analogy  between  these,  and  the 
other  acids  which  had  been  decomposed  and  proved  to 
contain  oxygen,  is  so  direct,  that  the  inference  could 
scarcely  but  he  admitted  as  having  much  i)robability ; 
and  it  is  probable  that  it  will  soon  be  confirmed  by  the 
application  of  Galvanism  to  the  analysis  of  these  acids. 

There  are  some  other  facts  which  have  been  stated  as 
unfavourable  to  the  conclusion,  that  oxygen  is  exclusive- 
ly the  principle  of  acidity.  Thus  it  is  affirmed,  that 
there  are  acids,  the  composition  of  which  is  known,  and 
in  which  no  oxygen  is  contained.  Sulphuretted  hydrogen 
gas  has  been  given  as  an  example  of  this.  It  is  a  com- 
pound of  sulphur  and  hydrogen,  in  the  projjortions,  as 
determined  by  Thenard,  of  70.857  of  sulphur,  and  29.143 
of  hydrogen.  Yet  it  appears  to  possess  the  properties 
of  an  acid.  It  changes  the  more  delicate  vegetable  co- 
lours, as  those  of  litmus  and  radish,  to  a  red  ;  it  is  abun- 
dantly soluble  in  water,  decomjioses  soap,  a  property  be- 
longing to  the  acids,  and,  what  is  the  most  distinctive 
acid  character,  conibines  with  the  alkalis,  earths,  and 
metallic  oxides,  forming  compounds,  some  of  which  are 
crystallizable,  and  not  very  dissimilar  in  their  properties 
to  the  compounds  of  these  substances  with  the  acids. 
Hence  Berthollet  has  not  hesitated  to  rank  it  as  an  acid, 
and  to  conclude  that  it  jjroves,  "  that  acidity  is  not  iu 
all  cases  owing  to  oxygen*." 


dered  more  than  probable,  since  its  escape  has  never 
yet  been  demonstrated  by  any  product  into  which  it 
may  have  been  supposed  to  enter. 

That  oxygen  enters  into  the  composition  of  acids,  is 
not  to  be  called  in  question ;  as  little  shall  we  deny  it« 
necessity  to  acidification ;  but  that  it  is  the  principle, 
the  sole  principle  of  that  result,  is  far  from  being  de- 
monstrated. 

It  certainly  is  very  extraordinary,  supposing  Lavoi 
sier's  doctrine  correct,  that  the  only  really  simple  in 
flammable  substance,  which  combines  with  an  infinitely 
larger  proportion  of  oxygen  than  any  other  known, 
should  produce  with  it  a  body  totally  devoid  of  any  acid 
property.  Hydrogen,  the  only  realty  simple  ioAAamm- 
ble,  takes  up  85  per  ct.  of  oxygen — and  water  is  the  re- 
sult ;  now  wherein  does  this  differ  from  other  inflamma- 
bles, that  an  anomaly  so  strange  should  here  prevail '.' 
Davy's  experiments  answer  this — all  the  other  inllamma- 
bles  are  compounds ;  of  course,  other  principles  are  to  be 
taken  into  consideration  in  the  process  of  their  acidifi- 
cation. Hydrogen  is  the  principle  which  he  finds  unit^ 
ed  to  them  in  their  pristine  state :  and  as  tins  appears 
universal,  so,  to  thut  principle  in  combination  with  the 
base  and  with  oxygen,  is  its  acidity  to  be  ascribed. 
Oxygen  alone  does  not  pro<luce  it ;  hydrogen  alone  is 
equally  inellicicnt;  but  both  connected,  operating  on  a 
base,  produce  an  acid,  de|H!ndiiig  on  that  base  for  its 
specific  character ;  hence  we  perceive  that  an  opening 
is  hereby  shown,  for  the  junction  of  these  hitherto  dis- 
cordant theories.     CoxE. 

*  This  substance,  by  Davy's  experiments,  has  lately 
been  shown  to  possess  oxygen,  and  hence  the  olijeclions 
of  Berthollet  on  that  score  alone,  are  unfounded.   Id. 


ACI 


ACO 


103 


There  is  still,  liowever,  some  reason  to  doubt  with  re- 
gard to  this  conclusion.  Though  this  substance  reddens 
some  of  the  vegetable  colours,  there  are  others  on  which 
it  has  not  this  effect;  and  one  of  them,  the  syrup  of  vio- 
lets, reddened  by  all  the  acids,  it  even  changes  to  a 
green.  And  Berthollet  himself  has  admitted,  that  he  is 
uncertain  if  its  power  is  sufficiently  energetic  to  pro- 
duce neutralization  in  its  combinations  with  the  alkaline 
bases.  Besides,  if  even  its  acid  powers  were  unequivo- 
cally established,  its  composition  is  not  determined  with 
that  precision  which  would  preclude  the  possibility  of 
oxygen  being  contained  in  it.  In  all  the  processes  by 
which  it  is  formed,  oxygen  is  present,  and  may  enter 
into  combination  with  its  other  elements;  and  in  all  the 
analyses  of  it  hitherto  executed,  it  will  be  found,  that  no 
attention  has  been  paid  to  the  possible  source  of  fallacj', 
that,  if  it  contain  oxygen,  this,  when  its  composition  is 
subverted,  may  combine  with  a  porl-on  of  its  hydrogen, 
and  form  water.  The  proi)ortions  of  its  elements  have 
always  been  estimated  from  experiments,  in  which  the 
proportion  of  sul[diur  only  was  directly  determined. 
From  this  was  inferred,  the  |)roporfion  of  hydrogen,  with 
which  this  suljihur  was  combined.  But  it  is  obvious, 
that  for  any  thing  proved  l.y  such  an  analysis,  oxygen 
may  have  also  been  a  constituent  principle  of  it,  and  the 
proportion  of  hydrogen  estimated  too  high.  And  if 
oxygen  do  enter  into  its  composition,  a  small  quantily 
may  communicate  to  it  its  weak  acid  powers ;  for  we  are 
not  to  judge  of  the  quantity  of  oxygen  necessary  to 
acidify  a  compound  base,  from  the  quantity  that  would  be 
required  to  render  acid  either  of  its  elements. 

Other  objections  that  have  been  made  to  the  principle, 
that  oxygen  is  exclusively  the  source  of  acidity,  are  of 
less  force.  The  substances  to  which  the  names  of  Prus- 
sic  acid,  and  Uric  acid,  have  been  given,  have  been  sup- 
posed to  contain  no  oxygen ;  but  from  the  complicated 
products  of  their  analysis,  this  has  scarcely  been  deter- 
mined with  accuracy,  and  indeed  rather  a))pears  to  be  a 
mistake.  And  it  deserves  to  be  remarked,  as  even  fa- 
vourable to  the  conclusion,  that  acidity  depends  on  oxy- 
gen; that  of  these  two  substances,  into  the  composition 
of  which  oxygen  has  been  supposed  not  to  enter,  the 
acid  powers  are  so  weak,  that  some  chemists  have  sup- 
posed, that  they  ought  not  to  be  received  into  the  class 
of  acids. 

Muriatic  acid,  by  an  addition  of  oxygen,  it  has  been 
stated,  has  its  iicid  powers  not  augmented,  but  much 
diminished.  It  loses  its  sonr  taste  ;  becomes  less  solu- 
ble in  water;  and  does  not  redden  the  vegetable  colours. 
But  still  it  retains  the  most  characteristic' acid  proper- 
ty— that  of  neutralizing  the  alkaline  properties ;  and,  as 
Berthollet  has  justly  remarked,  the  reciprocal  satura- 
tion of  the  muriatic  acid  and  the  oxygen  in  this  combi- 
nation, must  weaken  their  tendency  to  other  combina- 
tions, hence  diminish  soine  of  the  acid  properties ;  while 
the  excess  of  oxygen  not  retained  by  a  strong  affinity, 
must  give  rise  to  other  properties  not  usually  observed 
in  acids,  such  as  that  of  destroying,  instead  of  reddening, 
the  vegetable  colours. 

It  thus  appears,  that  there  is  still  sufficient  reason  to 
conclude,  that  oxygen  is  exclusively  the  principle  of 
acidity.  It  is  no  doubt  possible,  a  priori,  that  the  pro- 
perty which  we  name  acidity,  characterized  chiefly  by 
the  power  of  combining  with  the  alkaline  bases,  aud 
neutralizing  their  properties,  may-arise  fuoni  other  com- 
binations, or  be  even  displayed  by  a  simple  substance; 
but  the  facts,  that  in  general  oxygen  is  contained  in 


those  substances  which  are  possessed  of  this  property, 
and  that  this  element  communicates  acid  powers  to  the 
substances  with  which  it  combines,  appear  to  establish 
the  conclusion  that  it  is  the  principle  of  acidity.  iSor 
does  it  follow  from  this,  that  all  the  compounds  which  it 
forms  should  be  acid  ;  for  if  present  in  small  proportion, 
and  particularly  when  combined  Avith  an  element,  the 
chemical  action  of  which  is  energetic,  the  powers  may 
not  appear  which  it  would  communicate  were  it  predo- 
minant in  the  composition.  And  accordingly  in  many 
combinations,  the  presence  of  a  small  proportion  of  oxy- 
gen does  not  communicate  acidity,  wldle  this  proitcrty 
appe;;rs  when  the  oxygen  becomes  more  predominant. 

In  consequence  of  the  researches  of  modern  chemis- 
try the  number  of  known  acids  is  now  considerable. 
They  amount  to  about  twenty-eight.  Of  these,  eighteen 
exist  in  the  mineral  kingdom,  or  are  formed  from  mine- 
ral substances ;  nine  are  products  of  the  vegetable  sys- 
tem ;  and  five  are  of  animnl  origin. 

The  plan  of  our  work  being  in  general  to  jdace  under 
the  account  of  each  branch  of  science,  those  detail* 
which  are  more  partieularly  connected  with  it,  we  refer 
to  the  article  Ciiemistry  for  the  history  of  the  individual 
acids,  and  any  further  observations  on  the  chemical  pro- 
perty of  acidity.     (6) 

ACILIUS,  GliAbrio  Marcus,  a  descendant  of  the 
Roman  family  of  Acilia,  who  was  raised  to  the  consul- 
ship in  the  year  of  Rome  562.  He  was  sent  against  An- 
tiochus,kingof  Syria,  with  an  army  of  1 2,000  men.  The 
Syrian  army  waited  the  approach  of  the  Romans  at  the 
streights  of  Thermopyla;  in  Thessaly ;  but  after  a  severe 
engagement,  they  were  compelled  to  retire  with  con- 
siderable loss.  After  taking  Heraclea,  Acilius  attacked 
the  ^tolians,  who  had  joined  Antiochus,  and  besieged 
them  in  Naupactum ;  but  before  the  termination  of  the 
siege,  peace  was  concluded  at  the  solicitation  of  T.  Q. 
Plamiuius.  In  consequence  of  a  vow  made  by  Acilius 
before  the  battle  of  Thermo])yla',  he  built  the  temple  of 
Piety  at  Rome.  It  was  afterwards  consecrated  by  his 
son,  who  adorned  it  with  an  equestrian  statue  of  his  fa- 
ther, w  hich  was  the  first  of  the  kind  that  had  been  seeu 
in  Italy.  See  Lhy,  lib.  30.  cap.  14,  23,  24,  25 ;  lib.  40. 
cap.  34. — Falcr.  Max.  lib.  3.  cap.  34.     (rv) 

ACIRS,  the  name  given  to  the  destructive  hurricanes 
of  snow  which  rage  among  the  Cevennes,  a  chain  of 
mountains  in  the  south  of  France.  The  fury  of  these 
tempests  is  so  dreadful,  that  the  traveller  has  no  chance 
of  escaping  with  his  life.  The  ravines  are  instantly 
filled;  the  precipices  disappear ;  and  the  villages  are 
so  overwhelmed  with  snow,  that  the  inhabitants  are 
sometimes  obliged  to  communicate  with  each  other  by 
subterraneous  passages,  excavated  out  of  the  superin- 
cumbent mass,     (w) 

ACLIDES,  a  missive  weapon  used  by  the  Romans. 
It  was  fixed  to  the  end  of  a  string,  so  that  when  dis- 
chai^ed  from  the  hand,  it  could  be  drawn  back  again  for 
further  use.     (w) 

ACNID  A,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Dia;cia,  and 
other  Pentandria.     See  Botany,     (rv) 

ACOEMETiE,from  apriv.  and  Mti^ccu,  to  lie  down, 
a  class  of  eastern  monks,  who,  during  the  fifth  century, 
kept  up  perpetual  worshij)  in  their  churches.  See  His- 
toire  dcs  Ordrcs  Mmaitiques,  par  M.  Helyot,  torn.  i. 
cap.  29.  Rom.  1770;  and  Wetstein's  Proleg.  Nov.  Test. 
vol.  i.  p.  10.     (n) 

ACOLYTHl,  from  a  priv.  and  it.Xt/«>,  to  disturb,  a 
name  given  to  the  stoics,  from  the  obstinacy  with  which 


104 


ACO 


ACO 


they  adhered  to  their  principles  and  resolutions.  This 
appellation  was  likewise  given  to  an  inferior  order  of 
clergy  in  the  Latin  Church,  who  were  next  in  rank  to 
the  sub-deacons,     (w) 

ACONITUM,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Polyan- 
dria,  and  order  Trigynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ACORN,  the  nut  of  the  oak  tree.  A  method  of  pre- 
serving acorns  fon  a  whole  year  in  bees-wax,  may  be 
seen  in  a  paper  by  Mr.  Ellis  in  the  Phil.  Trans,  for  1 768, 
p.  75.  This  fruit  was  used  as  food  before  the  cultivation 
of  corn.  In  Spain  it  has  been  considered  as  a  delicacy, 
and  served  up  as  a  desert ;  and  in  seasons  of  scarcity, 
the  Norwegians  grind  it  into  meal  for  making  bread. 
Acorns  have  been  considered  as  the  best  substitutes  for 
coffee,  when  they  are  toasted  brown,  and  have  absorbed 
some  fresh  butter,     (n) 

ACORUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hexandria, 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ACOSTA,  Uriel,  a  native  of  Portugal,  whose  life 
exhibits  a  melancholy  picture  of  the  consequences  of  un- 
settled opinions,  and  the  cruelty  of  intolerance.  Acosta 
was  born  towards  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
educated  in  the  Roman  Catholic  religion.  As  he  ad- 
vanced in  years,  however,  he  began  to  doubt  the  truth 
of  its  doctrines ;  and,  on  making  a  comparison  between 
Christianity  and  Judaism,  he  preferred  the  latter,  and 
determined  to  embrace  it.  Dreading,  however,  the  in- 
tolerance of  the  Catholics,  he  relinquished  an  office  of 
some  emolument  in  Portugal,  and  persuaded  the  sur- 
viving members  of  his  own  family  to  forsake  their  native 
country,  and  accompany  him  to  Amsterdam.  Here  he 
underwent  circumcision,  and  was  admitted  to  the  syna- 
gogue; but  having  soon  discovered,  that  the  practices  of 
the  Jews  were  inconsistent  with  his  opinions,  he  refused 


to  comply  with  them,  and  was  therefore  excommanl- 
cated.  He  immediately  became  the  object  of  persecu- 
tion, was  reviled  as  an  atheist,  and  was  even  exposed  to 
the  insults  of  the  children  in  the  streets.  The  resent- 
ment of  the  people  was  still  further  inflamed  against  him, 
on  account  of  a  treatise  which  he  wrote  on  the  Sadu- 
cean  principle,  denying  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 
For  this  offence  he  was  dragged  by  the  Jews  before 
the  civil  tribunal ;  his  book  was  confiscated ;  and  he  was 
lined  a  large  sum,  and  imprisoned.  Acosia  proceeded 
still  further  in  skepticism,  and  at  length  ventured  to  deny 
the  divine  legation  of  Moses.  But  his  firmness  wiis  not 
equal  to  his  temerity ;  for  though  he  had  lived  no  less 
than  fifteen  years  under  a  sentence  of  excommunication, 
he  afterwards  made  a  public  recantation  of  his  errors 
in  the  synagogue,  and  subscribed  the  dogmas  of  the 
Jewish  church.  A  few  days  subsequent  to  this  event, 
he  is  said  to  have  been  accused  by  his  own  nephew  of 
neglecting  the  rites  of  Judaism.  The  sentence  of  ex- 
communication was  again  passed,  and  was  attended  by 
the  more  humiliating  disgrace  of  receiving  thirty-nine 
stripes;  and  of  being  laid  on  his  back  at  the  entrance 
of  the  synagogue,  that  every  one  might  pass  over  him. 
We  cannot  wonder  that  such  aggravated  persecution 
rendered  Acosta  desperate.  He  resolved  on  the  de- 
struction of  his  principal  enemy,  but  having  failed  in  the 
attempt,  shot  himself  between  the  years  1 640  and  1 630. 
See  Acosta's  Exenrplar.  Fit.  Human,  passim ;  and  Lim- 
borch's  Refutation  of  it.     (c) 

ACOUSMATICI,  the  name  given  the  disciples  of 
Pythagoras,  who  had  not  comi)leted  their  noviciate  of 
five  years,  and  who  were  therefore  not  initiated  into  the 
secrets  of  his  philosophy,  (w) 


ACOUSTICS. 


Acoustics,  or  the  science  which  treats  of  (he  nature 
and  laws  of  sound,  has  considerable  claims  upon  our 
attention.  The  phenomena  which  it  presents  are  highly 
interesting  ;  and  the  inquiries  of  philosophers  into  their 
causes  l)ave  been  crowned  with  considerable  success. 

History. 

Several  important  facts  concerning  sound  must  have 
been  known  at  a  very  early  period.  The  tuning  of  the 
lyre,  and  various  other  instruments,  which  are  coeval 
with  the  remotest  antiquity,  necessarily  implies  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  fact,  that  as  we  diminish  the  length 
of  musical  strings,  or  increase  their  tension,  we  render 
their  tone  more  acute.  We  have,  however,  no  reason 
to  believe,  that  till  500  years  before  the  Christian  era, 
any  attempt  had  been  made  to  discover  the  relation 
which  subsists  between  the  length  of  strings  producing 
the  various  notes  of  music.  About  this  period,  Pytha- 
goras gave  a  correct  determination  of  the  ratios  between 
various  sounds. 

The  account  Which  the  ancients  give  of  the  mode  by 
which  this  philosopher  discovered  these  values,  is  evi- 
dently fabulous,  so  that  we  cannot  say  with  certainty 
how  he  obtained  them;  though  it  was  probably  by 
means  of  some  instrument,  which,  like  the  monochord, 
would  enable  him  to  increase  or  diminish  at  pleasure  the 
«£GKtiTC  l«Pgth  of  a  string. 


About  200  years  subsequent  to  the  time  of  Pythago- 
ras, Aristotle,  who  seems  to  have  attended  to  almost 
every  subject,  wrote  upon  the  nature  of  sound.  He 
understood,  that  the  number  of  vibrations  peformed 
by  strings,  or  by  the  air  in  pipes,  is  inversely  as  their 
lengths ;  and  that  sound  is  transmitted  to  the  ear  by 
similar  vibrations  communicated  to  the  atmosphere. 
We  are  not  informed  on  what  evidence  Aristotle  found- 
ed these  doctrines;  but  it  is  likely,  from  the  loose 
reasoning,  and  imperfect  analogies  with  which  the  an- 
cients were  satisfied  in  their  physical  inquiries,  that 
these  opinions  were  merely  sagacious  conjectures. 

Such,  in  Acoustics,  was  the  narrow  patrimony  trans- 
mitted to  us  by  the  ancients;  and  even  this  scanty  pit 
tance  we  did  not  receive  till  it  was  too  late  to  be  of  any 
material  advantage.  During  the  darkness  which  over- 
spread the  whole  literarj'  ivorld,  no  additions  were  made 
to  the  science  of  Acoustics,  and  even  the  knowledge 
which  the  ancients  possessed  on  this  subject,  was  in  a 
great  measure  lost;  for  though  the  writings  of  Aristotle 
had  been  preserved,  I  hey  were  so  completely  misunder- 
stood, as  to  be  of  no  use.  Galileo  may  therefore  be  justly 
said  to  have  (about  the  year  1000  after  Christ)  disco> 
vered  anew,  what  was  known  to  the  ancients  concerning 
the  nature  of  sound.  He  conceived  that  sound  is  mere- 
ly a  vibration  of  the  air;  that  the  distinction  between 
musical  sounds  probably  consists  in  the  different  fre- 
quency of  these  vibrations ;  and  that  a  musical  string,  by 


ACOUSTICS. 


105 


performing  each  of  its  vibrations  in  equal  times,  pre- 
serves its  uniformity  of  tone.  He  considered  the  whole 
matter  of  a  musical  string  as  if  collected  into  its  middle 
point ;  and  demonstrated,  that  on  this  supposition  its 
vibrations  would  be  performed  in  equal  times ;  whence 
he  concluded,  that  if  the  matter  be  diffused  uniformly 
along  the  string,  its  vibrations  will  obey  the  same  law. 

Though  the  latter  part  of  this  reasoning,  in  which  it 
is  inferred  that  an  uniform  string  vibrates  similarly  to 
what  it  would  do  if  its  whole  matter  were  collected  into 
one  point,  proceeds  on  an  analogy  too  distant  to  be  by 
any  means  conclusive,  the  labours  of  Galileo  were  va- 
luable, as  they  led  the  way  to  more  accurate  investiga- 
tions. 

In  the  year  1714,  Dr.  Brook  Taylor  demonstrated  Ga- 
lileo's theorem,  upon  the  hypothesis  of  the  initial  form 
of  a  vibrating  string  being  what  is  called  an  harmonic 
curoc ;  and  he  gave  a  determination  of  the  frequency 
of  vibration  in  such  a  curve.  By  this  demonstration. 
Dr.  Taylor  has  an  indisputable  claim  to  the  honour  of 
being  the  first  who  proved  the  isochronism  of  a  vibrat- 
ing string.  M.  Sauveur  had  indeed,  in  the  preceding 
year,  attempted  to  give  a  solution  of  the  same  theorem, 
but  his  demonstration  is  in  all  respects  erroneous.  Dr. 
Taylor  was  mistaken  in  supposing,  that,  whatever  may 
be  the  initial  form  of  an  inflected  string,  it  will,  after  a 
few  vibrations,  assume  the  form  of  an  harmonic  curve ; 
and  that  this  is  the  only  curve  in  which  isochronous 
vibrations  can  be  performed,  or  all  the  points  of  a  string 
arrive  at  its  axis  at  the  same  time.  Yet  his  determina- 
tion of  the  frequency  of  the  vibrations  of  a  string  ex- 
tends to  all  cases ;  as  this  frequency  is  the  same,  what- 
ever be  the  initial  figure  of  the  string,  if  it  be  all  situ- 
ated on  the  same  side  of  its  axis. 

The  limited  nature  of  the  solution  given  by  Dr.  Tay- 
lor, induced  D'Alembert  to  apply  himself  to  the  same 
question.  The  result  of  his  labours  was  given  in  the 
Berlin  Memoirs  for  the  year  1750.  In  that  volume, 
D'Alembert  has,  by  the  mode  of  partial  differences, 
given  a  solution  of  this  problem,  which  embraces  all 
the  initial  forms  of  a  chord,  in  which  the  law  of  continu- 
ity takes  place  ;  and  has  shown,  that  there  is  an  infinite 
number  of  curves,  different  from  that  discovered  by  Dr. 
Taylor,  each  endowed  with  this  property,  that  all  its 
points  arrive  simultaneously  at  its  axis.  Shortly  after, 
Euler  gave  another  solution,  founded  on  similar  prin- 
ciples, which  led  him  to  a  construction  more  general 
than  that  which  D'Alembert  had  employed.  It  was  olv 
jected  to  the  generality  of  this  construction,  first  by 
D'Alembert,  and  afterwards  by  La  Grange,  that  the 
principles  on  which  it  is  founded  necessarily  limit  its 
application  lo  those  cases  in  which  the  initial  form  of  a 
string  is  a  contimied  curve.  Euler,  with  a  greatness  of 
mind  of  which  we  have  but  few  examples,  acknowledged 
the  justice  of  the  remarks  which  the  latter  of  these  ma- 
thematicians had  made  against  the  generality  of  his  con- 
struction. 

Daniel  Bernoulli  attempted  to  extend  Dr.  Taylor's 
solution  to  all  possible  initial  forms,  by  conceiving  them 
to  be  either  harmonic  curves,  or  produced  by  a  combina- 
■  tion  of  several  subordinate  harmonic  curves.  This  sup- 
position enabled  him  to  give  a  solution  of  the  problem 
of  vibrating  strings,  equally  extensive  in  its  application 
with  those  which  can  be  legitimately  deduced  from  the 
methods  of  either  D'Alembert  or  Euler.  These  three 
'mathematicians  have  equally  failed  in  showing,  that  their 
equations  extend  to  all  possible  cases  of  a  vibrating 

Vol..  I.  Part  I. 


chord.  To  remedy  this  defect,  La  Grange  investiga- 
ted this  question  by  a  mode  perfectly  new  and  totally 
independent  of  the  hypothesis,  that  the  initial  form  of 
the  vibrating  chord  is  subjected  to  any  law  of  continu- 
ity ;  and  therefore  his  conclusions  must  be  considered 
as  independent  of  any  such  law.  He  considers  a  vibrat- 
ing chord  under  two  views,  either  as  composed  of  a 
finite  or  an  infinite  number  of  particles.  In  the  former 
case,  analysis  conducts  him  to  a  general  theory,  the  same 
with  that  which  we  have  mentioned  above  as  invented  by 
Daniel  Bernoulli.  In  the  latter  case,  his  conclusions  are 
exactly  the  same  with  those  which  Euler  had  drawn 
from  sources  not  so  legitimate. 

Daniel  Bernoulli,  subsequent  to  the  publication  of  his 
essay  on  vibrating  chords,  investigated  the  lateral  vibra- 
tions of  an  elastic  rod  fixed  at  one  extremity;  and  de- 
termined the  vibrations  of  a  column  of  air  contained  in 
a  pipe.  The  conclusions  at  which  he  has  arrived,  have, 
when  brought  to  the  test  of  experiment,  been  found  ac- 
curate, though  deduced  from  suppositions  which  are 
not  considered  as  perfectly  just.  Euler  and  La  Grange 
have  also  prosecuted  this  latter  subject,  by  methods 
similar  to  those  which  they  have  emi)loyed  in  the  pro- 
blem of  vibrating  chords.  The  vibrations  of  several 
other  bodies  have  been  considered  by  both  Bernoulli 
and  Euler,  and  the  results  of  the  latter  corrected  iji 
some  instances  by  Riccati. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  the  first  who  investigated,  with 
any  precision,  the  propagation  of  sound.  His  reason- 
ings on  this  subject  were  always  considered  as  extreme- 
ly difficult  and  obscure,  and  have  been  shown,  first  by 
M.  Cramer,  and  afterwards  more  fully  by  La  Grange,  to 
be  in  some  respects  faulty ;  but  by  that  good  fortune 
which  attended  him  in  all  his  researches,  his  conclu- 
sions are  accurate,  and  have  been  confirmed  by  the  in- 
quiries of  subsequent  philosoi)her8. 

Several  other  mathematicians  attempted  this  subject 
with  no  better  success  than  had  attended  the  efforts  of 
sir  Isaac  Newton ;  their  methwls  being  founded  on 
such  erroneous  principles,  or  their  calculations  being 
so  embarrassed  with  infinite  series,  as  to  remove  all 
confidence  in  their  conclusions. 

At  length,  about  the  year  1759,  both  La  Grange  and 
Euler  succeeded  in  giving  solutions  of  this  problem, 
unobjectionable  in  their  principles,  and  extensive  in  their 
application ;  thus  subjecting  to  analysis  a  problem  in- 
volved in  such  difficulties,  as  seemed  to  place  it  wholly 
above  the  reach  of  mathematical  investigation. 

One  circumstance,  however,  rendered  the  labours  of 
these  philosophers  not  quite  satisfactory.  The  velocity  ' 
which  theory  uniformly  attributes  to  sound,  is  found  to 
differ  considerably  from  experience.  The  cause  of 
this  difference  La  Place  has  lately  suggested  to  be  an 
increase  in  the  elasticity  of  the  air,  produced  by  the 
heat  evolved  during  the  condensation  to  which  it  is  sub- 
jected in  transmitting  an  undulation. 

Biot  has  examined  what  increase  of  elasticity  would 
be  required  lo  render  theory  consistent  with  observa- 
tion ;  and  has  found  it  to  differ  very  little  from  ivhat 
should  take  place  agreeably  to  the  experiments  of  Mr. 
Dalton  on  air,  removing  by  this  result  the  chief  dif- 
ficulty in  the  theory  of  sound. 

The  science  of  Acoustics  is  indebted  to  several  other 
philosophers,  who  have  laboured  in  the  experimental  de- 
partment of  this  science. 

About  the  year  1 654,  Soland  made  the  first  speaking 
trumpet  from  the  description  given  by  Kireh^r,  of  the 
O 


106 


ACOUSTICS. 


tube  which  Alexander  was  snpposed  to  hare  used  in 
commanding  his  armies.  Moreland,  however,  by  draw- 
ing the  attention  of  philosophers  to  that  which  he  con- 
structed in  1671,  had  the  merit  of  being  the  first 
who  made  this  instrument  really  known,  and  applied 
to  use. 

Dr.  Wallis  about  the  same  time  discovered  the  fact, 
that  if  a  string  be  made  to  sound  near  another  which 
corresponds  to  it  in  thickness  and  tension,  but  of  which 
the  length  is  any  multiple  of  it,  the  latter  will  divide 
itself  into  several  vibrating  portions,  each  equal  in  length 
to  the  former  string,  and  sounding  the  same  note  with 
it.  He  also  discovered,  that,  when  a  string  is  divided 
by  any  slight  pressure  into  two  portions,  commensura- 
ble tvith  each  other,  the  vibrations  exciteil  in  one  of 
these  portions  will  communicate  itself  to  the  other.  The 
grave  harmonics  produced  by  the  union  of  two  sounds, 
were  observed  about  the  year  1 753,  by  both  Tartini  and 
Romieu. 

Lambert,  by  his  experiments  on  flutes;  Dr.  Chladni, 
by  his  mode  of  observing  the  vibrations  of  plates,  and 
liis  discovery  of  the  longitudinal  and  spiral  vibrations  of 
solid  bwlies ;  Dr.  Thomas  Young,  by  his  observations  on 
the  rotatory  motions  of  strings;  and  Dr.  Robison,  by  his 
remarks  on  the  production  of  continued  sounds  by  dis- 
tinct independent  noises,  the  induction  of  harmonics  on 
a  vibrating  chord,  and  the  transmission  of  sound  through 
water — have  extended  our  experimental  knowledge  on 
this  subject,  and  corrected  our  theoretical  deductions 
by  the  accurate  test  of  experience. 

By  the  labours  of  these  philosoi)hers.  Acoustics  has 
been  brought  to  a  state  of  great  perfection.  The  science 
now  presents  a  very  different  aspect  from  what  it  ex- 
hibited in  the  time  of  the  ancients.     The  properties  by 


which  bodies  act  in  producing  sound,  are  now  known ,' 
and  their  motle  of  operation  has,  in  general,  been  suc- 
cessfully investigated ; — the  laws  which  sound  obeys  in 
its  transmission  to  the  organ  of  hearing,  have  been  re- 
duced to  the  common  principles  of  meehanics; — the 
essential  differences  between  various  sounds  have  been 
detected;  and  their  mode  of  action  upon  the  ear  ia 
pretty  well  understood :  thus  affording  us  a  more  com- 
plete knowledge  concerning  sound,  and  tlie  sense  of 
hearing,  than  we  possess  with  respect  to  any  otlier  of 
our  senses  or  their  objects. 

These  improvements  we  chiefly  owe  to  the  exquisite 
refinements  in  modern  mathematics,  and  to  tlie  spirit  of 
experimental  philo30i)hy,  which  has  diifused  itself  over 
Eurojie  since  the  time  of  Bacon. 

The  different  sciences  are  united  by  so  many  points  of 
conflict,  that  we  can  hardly  promote  any  one  of  them, 
without  at  the  same  time  advancing  several  others.  The 
mode  of  partial  differences  was  chiefly  suggested  to 
D'AIembert,  by  his  inquiries  concerning  a  vibrating 
string ;  and  it  is  by  the  application  of  it  which  he  has 
given  during  the  course  of  these  inquiries,  that  Euler 
was  enabled  to  erect  a  superstructure,  which  has  in  a 
manner  made  the  discovery  entirely  his  own,  and  almost 
wholly  changed  the  appearance  of  fluxions. 

The  researches  into  the  nature  of  sound  have  also 
illumined  several  collateral  branches  of  physical  know- 
lege.  By  them  we  have  acquired  more  accurate  views 
of  the  real  motions  which  take  place  in  nature ;  and 
the  facts  which  have  been  discovered  concerning  sound, 
afford  valuable  hints  to  the  theorist,  both  in  physicB 
and  physiology,  and  promise  to  form  a  powerful  in- 
strument of  research  ia  the  hands  of  the  experimental 
philosopher. 


PART  I.    THEOHY  OF  ACOUSTICS. 


CHAP.  I. 
Of  the  Production  of  Sound  in  General. 

If  we  rub  our  moistened  finger  along  the  edge  of  a 
drinking  glass,  or  draw  a  bow  across  the  strings  of  a 
violin,  we  can  in  both  cases  procure  sounds  which  re- 
main undiminished  in  intensity,  as  long  as  the  operation 
by  which  they  are  excited  is  continued.  A  similar  fact 
takes  place  with  respect  to  any  other  sonorous  body, 
■whose  structure  is  not  destroyed  by  the  mode  of  excita- 
tion employed.  When  therefore  the  sound  of  a  body 
becomes  by  any  means  extinguished,  we  are  not  to  at- 
tribute this  extinction  to  the  capability  of  the  body  for 
producing  sound  being  exhausted,  but  rather  to  the  dis- 
continuance of  that  mode  of  action  by  which  the  excited 
bo<ly  had  formerly  produced  sound. 

Though  all  bodies  may,  by  some  mode  of  excitation, 
be  made  to  sound,  there  is  a  great  difference  among 
them  in  the  intensity  of  the  sounds  which  they  produce 
during  the  operation,  and  in  the  permanence  of  these 
sounds  after  the  excitation  has  ceased.  Thus,  if  we 
strike  two  bells,  one  of  lead,  and  the  other  of  brass,  tlie 
sound  of  the  former  is  feeble  and  momentary,  compared 
•with  that  of  the  latter.  In  the  former,  therefore,  ac- 
cording to  the  remark  which  we  have  made  above,  that 
action,  by  which  (he  body  produces  sound,  is  excited 
only  ia  a  gmail  degree,  and  ceases  with  the  excitement; 


in  the  latter  there  is  some  power,  by  which,  when  tlis« 
mode  of  action  is  once  begun,  it  perseveres  in  it  for 
some  time  afterwards.  By  examining  the  characteristic 
difference  between  these  two  classes  of  bodies,  we  may 
be  enabled  to  discover  what  are  the  physical  properties 
on  which  the  production  of  sound  depends,  and  what  is 
their  mode  of  action.  This  difference  is  found  to  depend 
on  the  substance  and  the  fonn  of  the  sounding  bodies, 
and  also  upon  the  various  external  circumstances  in 
which  they  are  placed. 

In  comparing  the  properties  of  these  substances,  we 
shall  find  them  distinguished  from  each  other  by  the  de- 
gree of  vibration  which  they  are  capable  of  having  ex- 
cited in  them,  and  by  the  length  of  time  during  which 
they  can  preserve  a  vibratory  motion ;  (hose  substances 
which  are  most  capable  of  vibration  being  most  sonorous, 
and  those  which  can  longest  maintain  a  state  of  vibra- 
tion also  persevering  longest  in  emitting  sound.  In- 
stances of  this  law  will  readily  suggest  themselves  to 
the  reader.  Bodies,  though  of  the  same  substance, 
differ  in  these  respects  according  as  their  form  varies ; 
those  forms  which  are  roost  favourable  to  the  pro<luc- 
tion  and  continuance  of  a  vibratory  motion,  being  also 
most  pro|>itious  to  the  production  and  permanence  of 
sound. 

A  similar  analogy  prevails  with  respect  to  the  exter- 
nal circumstances  which  affect  soundini;  bo<lies ;  and 
givea  us  sufficient  ground  to  believe,  that  there  is  some 


ACOUSTICS. 


107 


connexion  between  the  production  of  sound  and  the  vi- 
bration of  bodies.  Accordingly,  when  a  body  sounds 
powerfully,  such  as  a  large  bell,  or  the  lowest  string  of 
a  harpsichord,  we  can,  by  the  naked  eye,  perceive  that 
it  actually  vibrates ;  and  even  in  those  cases  where  this 
is  not  so  perceptible,  we  may  detect  it  by  the  microscope, 
or  some  other  artifice.  Thus,  if  we  put  some  water 
into  a  glass,  and  make  it  sound,  as  in  the  experiment  first 
mentioned,  the  water  will  be  agitated.  If  we  hold  the 
open  hand  over  the  pipe  of  an  organ,  we  shall  feel  a 
tremulous  motion  in  the  air  passing  through  it.  Such 
experiments  may  be  extended  to  all  solid  bodies,  by 
strewing  them  with  fine  sand,  or  placing  upon  them 
small  pieces  of  paper. 

These  observations,  showing  that  the  intensity  and 
permanence  of  the  sounds  which  can  be  produced  from 
sonorous  bodies,  are  uniformly  proportional  to  the  de- 
gree and  ()ermanence  of  the  vibration  which  can  be  ex- 
cited in  them,  and  that  the  production  of  sound  is  al- 
ways accompanied  by  such  a  vibration,  prove,  that  sound 
and  vibration  are  necessarily  connected,  either  as  cause 
and  effect,  or  as  simultaneous  effects  of  the  same  cause. 
But  as  we  are  already  acquainted  with  the  causes  on 
which  vibration  depends,  and  which  sufficiently  account 
for  it,  there  remains  for  us  either  to  consider  sound  as 
produced  by  vibration,  or  to  believe  that  those  physical 
properties  by  which  bodies  vibrate,  are  capable  of  be- 
ing at  the  same  time  excited  to  some  other  mode  of  ac- 
tion, by  which  they  produce  sound :  Thus,  when  we 
strike  a  bell  with  a  hammer,  and  produce  a  sound,  we 
may  either  suppose,  that  the  vibration  which  is  thus 
excited  is  the  cause  of  the  sound,  or  we  may  imagine, 
that  those  physical  properties  which  render  the  bell  ca- 
pable of  vibration  are  excited  to  some  other  mode  of 
action  which  produces  sound ;  and  that  the  hammer  not 
only  acts  by  its  impulse  in  producing  vibration,  but  also 
exerts  some  other  influence  which  excites  sound.  This 
latter  opinion  will  appear  inadmissible,  if  we  consider, 
that  a  tendency  to  produce  motion  in  the  sounding  body 
is  the  only  thing  common  to  the  several  motles  of  excit- 
ing sound ;  and  that  the  physical  properties  by  which  bo- 
dies vibrate  are  not  in  all  cases  the  same ;  some  vibrating 
in  consequence  of  their  cohesion,  some  by  means  of  a 
strong  repulsion  between  their  particles,  which  opposes 
their  being  compressed,  and  others  from  either  of  these 
causes  separately,  or  from  both  of  them  combined. 

Though  these  observations,  we  conceive,  sufficient- 
ly establish  the  opinion,  that  vibration  is  the  cause  of 
sound,  it  may  be  satisfactory  to  deduce  the  same  doc- 
trine from  the  two  following  experiments. 

Let  AFB  be  a  string,  stretched  between  the  two  pins 
A  and  B,  one  of  which,  B,  is  moveable  round  a  hinge  at 
C,  and  has  attached  to  it  an  arm  CD,  from  which  the 
weight  E  is  suspended.  With  the  point  of  a  quill  in- 
flect the  string  into  the  position  AGB,  and  let  the  string 
then  slip  from  the  point.  It  will  immediately  fly  towards 
AFB,  on  each  side  of  which  it  will  vibrate,  and  at  the 
same  time  send  forth  sound.  Here  it  is  evident,  that 
neither  the  quill  nor  the  tension  of  the  string  acts  in 
exciting  sound,  further  than  as  tiiey  are  favourable  to 
the  production  of  motion  in  the  string  ;  for  their  action 
produces  no  souiul  till,  by  the  removal  of  the  quill,  the 
tension  is  enabled  actually  to  |)roduce  motion.  Instead 
of  forcibly  removing  the  string,  as  in  the  former  experi- 
ment, raise  the  arm  CU,  so  that  the  string  may  hang 
loose  in  the  form  AHB,  and  then  suddenly  let  go  the 
arm  Dj  ,in  this  case  also  tlie  string  will  sound,  and  give 


exactly  the  same  tone  as  in  the  former  experiment. 
These  two  modes  of  exciting  sound  are  similar  in  one 
respect  only.  In  both,  the  string  is  at  freedom,  in  a 
position  from  which  it  is  moved  by  its  tension  ;  and  dur- 
ing this  motion  it  sounds.  We  conceive  it  would  be 
superfluous  to  adduce  more  proofs  that  motion  is  the 
cause  of  sound,  and  that  generally  this  motion  is  vibra- 
tory; we  shall  therefore  proceed  to  consider  the  pro- 
duction of  sounds  indued  with  peculiar  qualities. 

CHAP.  II. 

Of  the  Phoduction  o/"  Particular  Sounds. 
Sect.  I.     General  Ranarks. 

The  differences  in  quality  by  which  sounds  are  dis- 
tinguished from  each  other,  do  not  immediately  depend 
on  corresponding  differences  in  the  nature  of  the  bodies 
from  which  the  sounds  issue;  for,  by  various  artifices, 
we  can  procure,  from  bodies  consisting  of  the  same  sub- 
stance, sounds  which  shall  differ  in  almost  any  respect 
we  choose.  It  is  then  by  examining  those  artifices,  and 
investigating  in  what  respects  their  mode  of  operation 
can  ditjfer,  or  correspond,  that  the  immediate  causes  of 
the  diflerent  qualities  of  sound  can  alone  be  discovered. 
The  circumstances  which  affect  the  sounds  of  bodies 
are,  their  form,  their  magnitude,  their  density,  the  mode 
by  which  they  are  excited,  and  the  comparative  force 
of  the  power  by  which  they  vibrate.  As  these  must 
evidently  affect  the  vibration  of  the  sonorous  bodies,  the 
above-mentioned  investigation  necessarily  supposes,  that 
we  trace  in  what  manner  the  vibration  of  a  body  is  chang- 
ed by  a  variation  in  these  circumstances. 

This  research,  however,  requiring  a  considerable  ac- 
quaintance with  the  higher  analysis,  we  shall  at  present 
take  for  granted  the  results  to  which  it  leads;  referring 
those  readers  who  are  versant  in  mathematical  inquiries 
to  the  word  Vibration,  and  to  the  authors  quoted  at 
the  end  of  this  article. 

Those  philosophers  who  have  investigated  the  vi- 
brations of  bodies,  have  arrived  at  the  following  con- 
clusion, that  whatever  affects  the  vibration  of  a  body 
produces  a  corresponding  effect  on  the  qualities  of  the 
sounds  which  it  emits;  and  conversely,  that  those  bo- 
dies whose  sounds  are  similar,  have  something  in  com- 
mon in  their  mode  of  vibration ; — consequently  the  dif- 
ferent qualities  of  sound  are  caused  by  something  pe- 
culiar in  the  vibration  of  the  bodies  by  which  the  sounds 
are  produced. 

All  continued  sounds,  which  remain  in  any  degree 
uniform  throughout  their  duration,  are  capable  of  being 
compared  with  each  other  in  their  degree  of  acuteness. 
When  sounds  are  equally  acute,  they  are  said  to  have 
the  same  pitch;  but  when  they  differ  in  acuteness,  that 
sound  which  is  shriller  is  said  to  be  acute,  or  to  have  a 
higher  pitch;  and  that  which  is  less  shrill,  is  said  to  be 
gr.iver,  and  to  have  a  lower  pitch,  or  a  deeper  tone.  A 
difference  in  pitch  forms  the  chief  character  by  which 
musical  sounds  are  distinguished  from  each  other,  and 
is  the  found:ition  of  their  use  in  music.  In  unmusical 
sounds,  it  generally  holds  a  place  subordinate  to  their 
other  qualities. 

Musical  sounds  hive  occupied  the  attention  of  phi- 
losophers more  thin  any  other  class  of  sounds.  The 
superior  precision  with  which  the  ear  can  estimate  any 
variatio;i  in  pitch,  renders  tliese  sounds  more  easily  com- 
pared ;  and  the  vibration  of  the  sonorous  bodies  which 
0   2 


108 


ACOUSTICS. 


produce  them,  are,  on  account  of  their  superior  simplici- 
ty of  form,  more  easily  investigated. 

We  have  already  mentioned,  that  the  physical  pro- 
perties by  which  bodies  vibrate  are  not  always  the  same; 
some  vibrating  in  consequence  of  their  cohesion ;  others 
from  a  strong  repulsion,  which  the  particles  exert  on 
each  other,  such  as  the  different  kinds  of  air ;  and  a  third 
class,  such  as  the  metals,  being  capable  of  vibrating,  by 
either  of  these  forces,  separately,  or  by  the  combined 
action  of  both. 

It  is  convenient  to  arrange  the  sonorous  bodies,  which 
produce  musical  sounds,  rather  according  to  the  powers 
by  which  they  actually  vibrate  at  the  time  when  under 
our  consideration,  dividing  them  into  the  three  following 
classes, — tliose  which  vibrate  by  cohesion  alone, — those 
which  vibrate  by  repulsion, — and  those  which  vibrate  by 
the  combined  action  of  both.  According  to  this  mode  of 
division,  the  same  body  may  successively  appear  under 
each  of  these  different  classes.  But  as  its  mode  of  vibra- 
tion and  of  sounding  follows  different  laws,  according  to 
the  division  in  which  for  the  time  it  appears,  we  may 
consider  it  in  each  as  a  different  sounding  body.  The 
first  class  includes  all  bodies  vibrating  by  tension,  such 
as  musical  strings,  when  vibrating  laterally ;  the  second 
class  includes  wind  instruments,  and  the  longitudinal 
vibrations  of  rods,  strings,  &c. ;  and  the  third  class  com- 
prehends the  lateral  vibrations  of  elastic  rods,  bells, 
plates,  rings,  cylinders,  &c. 

Sect.  II.    Of  Musical  Strings. 

A  musical  string  is  of  an  uniform  thickness,  and 
stretched  between  two  points,  by  a  force  much  greater 
than  its  weight.  The  stretching  force  which  is  applied, 
is  generally  conceived  as  measured  by  the  weight  which 
would  occasion  an  equal  tension.  In  the  usual  mode  of 
exciting  a  musical  string,  it  vibrates  on  each  side  of  its 
quiescent  position,  the  extremities  being  the  only  points 
of  the  string  which  remain  at  rest.  The  sound  which  the 
string  gives  in  this  mode  of  vibration  is  called  its/wida- 
mental  sound. 

The  pitch  of  the  fundamental  sound  of  musical  strings 
is  found  by  experience  to  de])end  on  three  circum- 
stances ;  the  length  of  the  string,  the  weight  of  a  given 
portion  of  it,  and  the  force  of  tension  to  which  it  is  sub- 
jected. The  tone  becomes  more  acute  as  we  increase 
their  tension,  or  diminish  their  length,  and  the  weight  of 
a  given  portion.  Thus  the  diminution  of  the  length  of 
strings,  and  of  the  weight  of  equal  portions,  produce  the 
same  effect  upon  their  pitch  as  if  we  had  increased  the 
force  of  tension.  If  strings,  therefore,  differ  from  each 
other  in  any  two  of  these  circumstances,  we  can,  by  a  pro- 
per adjustment  of  the  third,  produce  from  them  sounds 
whose  pitch  will  be  the  same,  or  which  shall  differ  in  any 
degree  we  choose.  On  this  fact  depend,  for  the  most 
part,  the  various  modes  of  producing  the  several  musical 
sounds  in  stringed  instruments. — These  circumstances 
also  affect  the  time  occupied  by  the  vibration  of  an  uni- 
form string. 

Let  AFB  vibrate  between  the  points  G  and  K,we  call 
its  motion  in  one  direction,  from  G  to  K,  a  single  vibra- 
tion ;  and  its  motion  in  returning  from  K  to  G,  another 
single  vibration ;  and  these  two  motions,  which  it  per- 
forms between  the  time  when  it  leaves  G  and  returns  to 
the  same  point,  are,  when  taken  together,  called  a  dou- 
ble vibration. 

It  has  been  demonstrated,  that  the  time  of  a  double 


vibration,  expressed  in  parts  of  a  second  of  lime,  will  be 
found  by  the  following  operation :  Multiply  the  number 
of  inches  described  by  a  falling  body  in  a  second  of 
time,  that  is  193  nearly,  by  the  weight  which  is  equal 
to  the  force  of  tension;  and,  by  this  product,  divide  the 
weight  of  two  inches  of  the  string,  extract  the  square 
root  of  the  quotient,  and  multiply  the  root  thus  found  by 
the  length  of  the  string  in  inches;  the  result  will  be  the 
time  of  a  double  vibration  expressed  in  parts  of  a  second 
of  time. 

The  same  thing  may  be  expressed  more  conveniently 
by  an  algebraic  formula.  Let  L  represent  the  length 
of  the  string  in  inches ;  w,  the  weight  of  an  inch  of  the 
string;  t,  a  weight  equivalent  to  the  force  of  tension; 
g,  the  number  of  inches  through  which  a  body  falls  in 
a  second  of  time,  by  the  action  of  gravity;  and  T,  the 
time  of  a  double  vibration  expressed  in  seconds.     Then 

T=L^^orT=Lv/g^ 

As  the  distance  of  the  string  from  its  quiescent  posi- 
tion does  not  form  an  element  of  the  algebraic  expres- 
sion, which  is  thus  found  for  the  time  of  a  vibration,  it 
follows,  that  this  time  is  independent  of  the  distance, 
and  that  a  string  performs  each  of  its  vibrations  in  equal 
times,  whether  in  these  vibrations  its  excursions  on  each 
side  of  the  axis  be  great  or  small.  So  long,  then,  as  the 
string  continues  vibrating  in  the  manner  which  pro- 
duces its  fundamental  sound,  its  vibrations  will  be  iso- 
chronous. Upon  this  isochronism  depends  the  unifor- 
mity of  its  tone;  for  if  we  employ  a  string  of  unequal 
thickness,  and  whose  vibrations  are  consequently  per- 
formed in  different  times,  the  sound  which  we  procure 
is  confused  and  variable ;  and  any  other  mode  by  which 
we  destroy  the  isochronism  produces  a  similar  effect. 
The  same  law  has  been  found  to  extend  to  the  other 
cases  of  musical  sounds  being  produced  by  vibration  ; 
and  therefore  we  may  conclude,  that  isochroidsm,  in  the 
vibrations  of  sonorous  bodies,  is  essential  to  their  pro- 
ducing musical  sounds. 

The  number  of  vibrations  performed  by  a  string  in  a 
second  of  time,  is  evidently  the  reciprocal  value  which 
we  have  found  for  the  time  of  one  vibration  ;  so  that  if 
N  rejjresent  the  number  of  vibrations,  we  shall  have 
this  formula : 


N= 


La/ 2  w 


,orN: 


Lv/2w 


The  frequency  of  vibration  which  this  equation  gives, 
is  found  to  agree  very  exactly  with  the  result  of  expe- 
riments performed  with  strings,  whose  vibrations  arc 
so  slow  as  to  admit  of  being  numbered. 

The  relation  hetAveen  the  number  of  vibrations  per- 
fonned  by  different  strings,  may  be  expressed  by  a 
more  simple  formula;  for  ^  and  the  number  2  being 
both  constant  quantities,  they  may  in  this  case  be  re- 
jected, and  we  get  the  following  proportional  equa- 
tion; n=Y~~7='      According,  then,  as  we  diminish 

the  length  of  a  string,  and  the  weight  of  an  inch  of  it, 
or  increase  its  tension,  we  increase  its  frequency  of  vi- 
bration ;  but  equal  changes  in  these  circumstances  do 
not  produce  equal  effects.  Thus,  if  in  different  strings 
their  tension  unA  the  weight  of  an  inch  remain  the  same, 
their  frequency  of  yibratioa  will  be  inversely  as  their 


ACOUSTICS. 


109 


lengths,  or  n==rj- ;  so  that  if  we  make  the  length  one- 
third,  we  triple  the  number  of  vibrations :  If  the  length 

and  tension  remain  the  same,  n  =-    -,  or  the  number  of 

v  m 
•vibrationB  is  inversely  proportional  to  the  square  roots 
of  the  weights  of  equal  lengths  of  the  respective  strings ; 
and  if  the  length  and  the  weigiit  of  equal  portions  be 
the  same,n  =^17*>'  the  frequency  of  vibration  is  as  the 
square  roo:s  of  tension  to  which  the  respective  strings 
are  subjected ;  the  effect  which  each  of  these  circum- 
stances has  in  increasing  the  frequency  of  vibration  is 
exactly  proportional  to  its  effect  upon  the  pitch  of  the 
string ;  for  if  we  diminish  the  length  of  a  string  to  one- 
third,  it  would  require  the  weight  of  equal  lengths  of 
the  chord  to  be  diminished  to  one-ninth,  or  the  force 
of  tension  to  be  increased  nine  times,  to  produce  an 
equivalent  effect  upon  its  pitch.  As  there  is  no  other 
conceivable  mode  in  which  the  action  of  these  circum- 
stances can  correspond  to  the  changes  they  produce  in 
the  pitch  of  a  sonorous  body,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt 
that  the  frequency  of  vibration  is  the  cause  on  which 
the  pitch  of  sonorous  bodies  depends. 

If,  in  the  beginning  of  its  vibration,  a  string  has  any 
form  ABC,  wholly  situated  in  one  plane,  and  on  one 
side  of  its  axis  AC,  it  follows  from  theory,  and  accords 
with  observation,  that  at  the  end  of  a  single  vibration  it 
will  have  assumed  on  the  other  side  of  its  axis,  a  form 
ADC,  perfectly  similar,  but  in  an  inverted  position  ;  so 
that  the  portion  DC  shall  be  equal  and  similar  to  BA, 
and  the  portion  DA  to  BC.  The  chord  will  consequent- 
ly, at  the  end  of  a  double  or  complete  vibration,  return 
to  its  initial  form  ABC. 

Every  musical  string  is  capable  of  vibrating  laterally, 
in  a  mode  considerably  different  from  that  by  which  it 
produces  its  fundamental  sound. 

Let  a  string,  AE,  have  an  initial  form,  AwiBnCjDrE, 
of  which  equal  and  similar  portions  A?/iB,  BnC,  CjD, 
DrE,  are  on  different  sides  of  its  axis,  and  let  these  por- 
tions be  arranged  in  such  a  manner  as  that,  in  any  two 
adjacent  portions,  their  extremities,  which  meet  in  the 
l)oint  of  division  between  them,  shall  be  similar  to  each 
other :  Thus,  in  (he  portions  A»iB,andBnC,  which  meet 
in  the  point  B,  let  the  extremities  «iB  and  nB  be  similar; 
and  in  the  portions  BnC  and  C7D,  which  meet  in  the 
point  C,  let  nC  be  similar  to  Cq,  and  nB  consequently 
similar  to  qB  ;  and  let  the  same  law  extend  to  all  other 
portions. 

The  several  points  in  which  the  string  cuts  its  axis 
must  remain  at  rest,  and,  at  the  end  of  a  single  vibration, 
the  string  will  have  assumed  the  form  A<BoC/)DsE  si- 
milar to  its  initial  form  inverted ;  and,  at  the  end  of  a 
complete  or  double  vibration,  it  will  have  returned  to  its 
original  position.  For  if  we  conceive  the  points,  B,  C, 
D,  to  be  fixed  in  their  present  position,  by  means  of  pins, 
then  it  is  evident  tliat,  as  these  equal  and  simitar  por- 
tions, AwiB,  BnC,  CyD,  DrE,  begin  their  vibration  at 
the  same  instant  of  time,  and  in  similar  circumstances, 
the  changes  which  they  may  have  sustained  at  any  mo- 
ment of  time  during  the  vibration  will  be  exactly  the 
same.  They  will  consequently  remain  similar  through- 
out the  vibration,  and  at  each  instant  of  time  solicit  the 
points  of  division  between  them  with  forces  which  are 
equal,  and  in  contrary  directions ;  these  points  of  divi- 
sion therefore  will  remain  at  rest,  though  the  pins  by 
which  they  are  fixed  should  be  removed.     The  sounds 


which  a  string  gives  when  vibrating  in  this  manner,  are 
called  its  harmonics ;  the  points  of  the  strinar  which  re- 
main at  rest  are  named  vibration  nodes,  or  points  of  divi- 
sion :  and  the  vibrating  portions  intercepted  between 
them  are  denominated  bellies,  or  loops. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark,  that  the  whole  string 
performs  its  vibration  in  the  same  time  with  any  of  its 
loops ;  and  that  the  time  occupied  in  performing  a  com- 
plete vibration,  will  be  found  by  considering  any  of  the 
loops  as  a  separate  string  fixed  at  both  extremities,  and 
applying  to  it  the  formula  given  above  for  the  fundamen- 
tal vibration  of  strings.  This  application  may  be  m:!de  in 
the  following  manner :  Let  L  be  the  length  of  the  w  hole 
string,  b  the  number  of  bellies  or  loo|)s,  then  L  divided 
by  b,  will  be  the  length  of  each  loop,  which  we  may 
substitute  in  the  formulae  instead  of  L  ;  by  this  substitu- 
tion we  transform  these  formulae  into  the  following : 

L\/2w         fty/jl     ^  fty/T 

These  equations  are  very  general  in  their  applicatioo, 
and  evidently  include  those  given  for  a  string  vibrating 
in  its  fundamental  mode;  for  in  that  case  b  becomes  I, 
and  totally  disappears  from  the  expressions.  In  com- 
paring the  number  of  vibrations  performed  in  a  given 
time,  by  a  string  emitting  its  different  sounds,  the  quan- 
tities, L,  g,  t,  and  m,  becoming  constant,  may  be  re- 
jected, and  we  get  this  proportional  equation,  w=6  ,•  or 
the  number  of  vibrations  performed  by  a  given  string 
in  a  second  of  time,  is  proportional  to  the  number  of 
loops  in  which  the  string  vibrates  :  the  harmonic  sounds 
of  a  chord  should  consequently  be  more  acute  than  its 
fundamental  sound. 

The  complicated  form  which  a  chord  assumes  when 
giving  its  harmonics,  would  lead  us  to  suppose,  that 
such  sounds  could  hardly  ever  be  excited  :  but  tills  is  by 
no  means  the  case ;  for  harmonic  sounds  may  be  easily 
produced  by  drawing  a  bow  across  the  string  AE,  and 
lightly  touching  the  point  of  division  D.  In  some  mu- 
sical instruments  these  are  the  only  sounds  employed ; 
and  in  all  such  cases  we  can,  by  putting  bits  of  paper  on 
the  string,  prove  that  the  points  of  division  are  at  rest 
while  the  intervening  portions  are  in  motion. 

A  string  has,  in  the  foregoing  remarks,  been  consi- 
dered as  producing,  at  a  given  time,  but  one  simple 
sound.  This,  however,  is  seldom  the  case,  as  sonorous 
bodies,  at  the  same  time  that  they  produce  their  funda- 
mental, produce  also  one  or  more  of  its  harmonics.  For 
such  an  accompaniment,  it  appears  at  first  sight  difficult 
to  assign  a  proper  reason,  as  that  vibration,  which  theo- 
ry attributes  to  the  chord,  seems  fitted  to  produce  only 
one  sound. 

Philosoiihers  have  accordingly,  in  general,  been  dis- 
posed to  attribute  the  production  of  these  harmonics  to 
something  external  to  the  vibrating  string ;  some  sup- 
posing them  (iroduced  in  the  transmission  of  the  funda- 
mental to  the  ear;  some  conceiving  that  tl-.ey  arise  from 
the  peculiar  structure  of  that  organ;  others,  as  La  Grange, 
referring  them  to  sympathetic  vibrations  in  the  different 
bodies  adjacent  to  the  string.  These  different  ojjinions, 
however,  are  untenable:  for  some  bodies,  such  as  a  drink- 
ing glass,  when  excited  by  rubbing  a  moistened  finger 
along  its  edge,  or  an  iEolian  lyre,  when  acted  on  by  the 
wind,  give  exactly  the  same  notes  with  a  vibrating 
string,  but  unaccompanied  with  harmonics.  Dr.  Tho- 
mas Young  has  also  found,  that  even  in  the  same  chord 
it  is  not  universally  true,  that  the  fundamental  sound 


110 


ACOUSTICS. 


must  always  be  accompanied  by  all  the  liarmonics  of 
which  the  chord  is  suscei)tible ;  for  that  by  inflecting 
the  chord  exactly  at  any  point  in  which  the  chord  may 
be  divided  into  a  number  of  equal  parts,  and  then  suf- 
fering it  to  vibrate,  we  lose  the  effect  of  the  correspond- 
ing harmonic.  The  just  inference  from  this  is,  that  the 
production  of  the  fundamental  in  conjunction  with  its 
harmonics,  depends  neither  upon  any  thing  in  the  trans- 
mission of  the  sound,  nor  upon  the  peculiar  structure  of 
the  ear,  nor  upon  any  agitation  of  the  surrounding  bo- 
dies, but  rather  upon  the  manner  in  which  the  string  vi- 
brates. One  of  the  simplest  modes  in  which  we  can 
conceive  harmonics,  produced  by  the  peculiar  manner  in 
which  the  string  vibrates,  is  by  supposing  (agreeably  to 
the  theory  of  Daniel  Bernoulli,  which  we  hare  already 
mentioned)  that  while  the  whole  of  the  string,  ABODE, 
vibrates  on  each  side  of  its  axis  AE,  producing  its  fun- 
damental sound,  it  serves  as  a  moveable  axis  to  partial 
vibrations  of  its  aliquot  parts  AB,  BC,  CD,  DE,  in  the 
eame  plane  with  it,  |)ro(lucing  the  corresponding  harmo- 
nic. That  a  string  can,  in  some  measure,  assume  such 
a  mode  of  vibration,  is  shown  by  professor  Kobison;  who, 
in  some  experiments  with  the  covered  string  of  a  vio- 
lincello,  sounding  by  the  friction  of  an  ivory  wheel, 
found,  that  if  he  "  put  something  soft,  such  as  a  lock  of 
cotton,  in  the  way  of  the  wide  vibrations  of  the  chord, 
at  one-third  and  two-thirds  of  its  length,  so  as  to  disturb 
them  when  they  became  very  wide,  the  string  instantly 
put  on  an  appearance  something  similar  to  Fig.  3,  per- 
forming at  once  the  full  vibration  competent  toils  whole 
length,  and  the  three  subordinate  vibrations,  correspond- 
ing to  one-third  of  its  length,  and  sounding  the  funda- 
mental and  the  12th  with  equal  strength.  In  this  man- 
ner all  the  different  accomjjaniments  were  produced  at 
pleasure." 

These  experiments  show,  that  harmonics  may  be  pro- 
duced in  the  manner  supposed  by  Bernoulli;  but  to  de- 
termine whether  this  be  the  usual  mode  of  their  produc- 
tion, by  a  string  vibrating  freely,  requires  that  we  trace 
the  actual  motion  of  the  string.  Dr.  Thomas  Young  is, 
we  believe,  the  only  philosopher  who  has  attempted  this 
with  any  success.  He  observed,  by  a  microscopic  in- 
spection of  any  luminous  point  on  the  surface  of  a  chord, 
for  instance  the  reflection  of  a  candle  in  the  coil  of  a  fine 
wire  wound  round  it,  that  the  vibration  of  a  chord  de- 
viates from  the  plane  of  its  first  direction,  and  becomes 
a  rotation  or  revolution,  which  may  be  considered  as 
composed  of  various  vibrations  in  different  planes;  and 
that  besides  these  vibrations  of  the  whole  chord,  it  is 
also  frequently  agitated  by  subordinate  vibrations,  which 
constitute  harmonic  notes  of  different  kinds.  It  is  to  be 
much  regretted,  that  the  other  avocations  of  that  inge- 
iiious  gentleman  have  prevented  his  prosecuting  these 
observations,  so  as  to  refer  each  separate  harmonic  to 
the  particular  subordinate  vibrations  on  which  it  de- 
pends, and  trace  the  peculiar  mode  of  division  which 
the  chord  sustains,  in  assuming  each  particular  vibra- 
tion. Yet  we  conceive  that  we  do  not  transgress  the 
due  Ijounds  of  philosophic  caution,  in  considering  these 
observations,  combined  with  the  experiments  of  profes- 
sor Robison,  as  sufficient  proof  that  the  harmonics  which 
accompany  the  fundamental  sound  of  a  string,  are  occa- 
sioned by  the  fundamental  vibration  of  the  string  being 
combined  with  subordinate  vibrations  of  its  aliquot  parts, 
cither  in  the  same  or  in  different  planes.  There  are 
eeveral  sources  from  which  these  partial  vibrations  may 
lif  »uj)poscd  to  originate,  such  as  inequalities  in  the 


tliickness  of  the  chord,  or  in  the  density  or  flexibility  of 
its  different  parts,  and  also  the  particular  mode  of  exci- 
tation which  has  been  employed  in  producing  the  fun- 
damental sound.  All  these  causes  are  probably  com- 
bined in  the  production  of  the  effect ;  but  we  know  little 
respecting  the  particular  operation  of  each  of  them,  and 
still  less  concerning  the  general  result  of  their  combined 
action. 

Surfaces  in  a  state  of  tension,  such  as  the  top  of  a 
drum,  the  tambourine,  <fec.  may  perhaps  be  considered 
as  included  under  this  division  of  the  sources  of  musical 
sounds.  Their  mode  of  vibration,  however,  is  little  un- 
derstood, and,  we  conceive,  not  very  interesting. 

Sect.  III.  Of  Musical  Bodies  vibrating  by  Repulsion. 

The  sonorous  bodies  which  lately  passed  under  our 
review,  produce  sound  by  vibrating  laterally  on  each 
side  of  a  fixed  axis.  Those  which  we  are  now  to  con- 
sider, perform  their  vibrations  longitudinally,  or  in  the 
direction  of  their  length. 

Wind  instruments  constitute  one  of  the  genera  of  this 
class,  and  though  the  air  which  vibrates  in  all  of  them 
is  the  same,  yet  they  admit  of  such  a  variety  in  their 
form,  and  derive  such  different  characters  from  this  vari- 
ety, that  they  may  be  regarded  as  a  genus  not  less  ex- 
tensive and  important  than  the  class  of  bodies  which 
vibrate  by  tension.  The  longitudinal  vibration  of  elastic 
fluids  accordingly  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  philo- 
so[)hers,  and  several  interesting  facts  were  discovered ; 
but  it  must  be  owned,  that  this  subject  is  still  imper- 
fectly understood,  and  that  many  of  the  phenomena  have 
not  yet  received  a  proper  explanation. 

We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Chladni  of  Wirtemberg  for 
the  imjiortant  discovery,  that  elastic  solids,  and  even 
strings  in  a  state  of  tension,  are  also  capable  of  vibrat- 
ing longitudinally ;  and  in  this  mode  of  vibration  obey 
the  same  laws  with  elastic  fluids.  It  is  almost  certain, 
though  the  experiment  is  encompassed  with  such  diffi- 
culties as  never  to  have  been  tried,  that  those  fluids 
which  are  usually  called  non-elastic,  admit  of  similar 
vibrations.  Thus,  the  class  of  musical  bodies  vibrating 
longitudinally,  is  not  only  more  diversified  in  its  powers 
than  the  other  classes  into  which  we  have  divided  sound- 
ing bodies,  but  also  more  extensive  in  the  range  of  sub- 
stances which  it  comprehends.  An  uniform  rod  of  any 
solid  substance,  or  a  column  of  air  contained  in  a  cylin- 
drical tube,  whose  diameter  is  every  where  equal,  may 
have  its  vibration  limited  at  both  extremities  by  an  im- 
moveable obstacle  ;  or  both  extremities  may  be  at  liber- 
ty; or  one  extremity  may  be  confined,  and  the  other 
disengaged.  Though  |)hilosophers  are  by  no  means 
unanimous  in  their  opinions  with  regard  to  the  mode  in 
which  the  vibration  is  prwluced  and  maintained  in  each 
of  these  cases,  they  uniformly  agree  in  concluding,  that 
a  column  of  air,  or  a  rod  of  any  substance,  if  either  con- 
fined, or  free  at  both  extremities,  performs  a  double 
vibration  in  the  same  time  that  a  minute  impulse  would 
occupy  when  travelling  in  a  medium  of  the  substance 
through  twice  the  length  of  the  sonorous  body ;  and 
that  in  a  bwly  fixed  at  one  extremity  only,  it  will  occu- 
py double  that  time.  It  therefore  becomes  of  importance 
to  consider  what  are  the  velocities  witli  which  an  impulse 
can  be  transmitted  through  different  media. 

Let  e  be  the  elasticity  of  the  medium  mejisured  by  a 
weight,  whose  pressure  on  a  square  inch  of  the  medium 
would  counterbalance  the  el.isticity,  p  the  weight  of  a 
solid  inch  of  water,  s  the  specific  gravity  of  the  medium. 


ACOUSTICS. 


Ill 


g  the  number  of  inches  through  which  a  heavy  body  falls 
in  the  first  secoud  of  time.  Then  if,  when  the  medium 
is  compressed  suddenly  into  less  space,  its  elasticity  at 
the  moment  of  coin|)ression  increases  in  the  same  pro- 
portion with  its  density,  it  may  be  demonstrated  that  v, 
the  number  of  inches  through  which  a  minute  impulse 

will  be  conveyed  in  a  second  of  time,  is  \=\/  SLIE: 

^        sp 
and  by  rejecting  the  constant  quantities  2  g  and  p,  we 

get  this  proportional  equation  V=.v/  _£_. 

^       s 

This  equation,  or  one  equivalent  to  it,  is  in  general 
the  only  one  that  is  given  on  this  suliject  by  the  ele- 
mentary writers.  But  as  it  is  founded  on  the  hypo- 
thesis, that  during  the  transmission  of  an  impulse,  the 
momentary  elasticity  of  any  medium  increases  in  the 
same  ratio  with  the  condensation  to  which  !t  U  subject- 
ed, it  can  be  applied  to  those  cases  alone  in  which  this 
hypothesis  holds  true.  Such  cases  never  occur  in  na- 
ture ;  for  in  every  body  with  which  we  are  acquainted, 
condensation  produces  an  elevation  of  temperature,  and 
an  elevation  of  temperature  alwaysoccasions  an  increase 
of  elasticity  ;  consequently  during  the  condensation  sus- 
tained in  transmitting  any  minute  impulse,  the  elasticity 
of  the  medium  increases  more  rapidly  than  its  density. 

The  simplest  and  most  probable  hypothesis  which  we 
can  form  concerning  the  relation  between  the  density 
and  corresponding  elasticity  of  a  given  medium,  is,  that 
the  latter  is  proportional  to  some  power  of  the  former. 
Let  m  be  the  exponent  of  that  power,  and  let  the  density 
of  the  medium  previous  to  receiving  the  impulse,  be  con- 


sidered as  unity.  Then 


v=^: 


ilil^.    Similar  formu- 


sp 


Ire  might  be  given  for  several  other  functions,  which  the 
elasticity  might  be  supposed  to  be  of  the  density ;  but 
the  number  of  such  hypotheses  is  unlimited.     From  this 


formula  we  deduce  the  followiu! 


gV^Y^. 


con- 


sequently in  the  same  medium,  when  of  the  same  specific 
gravity  and  temperature,  every  impulse  should  be  trans- 
mitted with  the  same  uniform  velocity  during  the  whole 
of  its  jirogress.  If  therefore  L  represent  the  length  of 
a  body  vibrating  longitudinally,  and  having  its  ends  in 
similar  circumstances,  either  both  fixed,  or  both  free, 

2L\/  sp 
the  lime  of  a  double  vibration  will  be  T= — —      ■  i 

V  2  e  g  m 
and  consequently  the  number  of  such  vibrations  in  a 


second  of  time  will  be  N  =■ 


V2 


c  sin 


2L^/  s  p 

Similar  equations  may  be  procured  for  an  uniform 
elastic  rod,  or  a  column  of  air  fixed  at  one  extremity 
and  free  at  the  other,  by  substituting  4  L  instead  of 
2  L  in  the  foregoing  equations.  Unfortunately  we  can- 
not, by  these  equations  alone,  determine  the  number  of 
vibrations  (jcrformed  in  a  second  by  a  given  body  ;  for 
the  elasticity  of  solid  bodies  is  so  immense,  that  we  can- 
not well  em|)loy  compressing  forces  sufficiently  power- 
ful to  determine  its  quantity,  or  the  laws  which  it  fol- 
lows; and  the  several  kinds  of  air  with  whose  elasticity 
we  are  better  acquainted,  seem  to  preserve  themselves 
distinct  from  the  surrounding  atmosphere,  for  some  dis- 
tance beyond  the  tube  through  which  they  pass ;  so  that, 
with  respect  to  them,  we  cannot,  with  sufficient  preci- 
sion, determine  the  length  of  the  vibrating  body. 


We  are  not,  however,  to  consider  these  equations  as 
of  no  service ;  for  liy  converting  them  into  proportional 
equations,  we  may  derive  from  them  very  important  in- 
formation. By  comjiaring  the  equations  for  a  vibrating 
body  free  at  both  extremities,  and  for  a  vibrating  body 
of  half  its  length,  fixed  at  one  extremity  and  free  at  the 
other,  we  find  that  each  performs  an  equal  number  of 
vibrations.  We  may  therefore  only  consider  the  equa- 
tion for  a  body  having  both  its  extremities  in  the  same 
circumstances.     From  this  equation,  ive  procure  this  ge •• 

V  <?  wi 
neral  proportional  equation  N==^ — - — . 

If  we  now  suppose  e,  m,and  *,  constant,  we  have  «==-=- 


If  L,  m,  and  e,  be  constant 

If  L,  m,  and  *,  be  constant 
If  L,  s,  and  e,  be  constant 

If  I  and  m  be  constant 


1 


n4=v/    e 


From  these  equations  we  may  deduce  the  following 
general  conclusions  concerning  bodies  vibrating  longi- 
tudinally. The  number  of  vibrations  performed  in  a  se- 
cond of  time  by  a  given  body  is  the  same,  whether  that 
body  be  fixed  at  both  extremities,  or  free  at  both ;  and 
therefore  its  sound  in  these  two  cases  should  be  the 
same.  But  if  the  body  be  fixed  at  one  extremity,  and 
free  at  the  other,  its  length  must  be  reduced  to  one  half, 
to  make  it  give  the  same  tone  as  in  the  two  former  cases. 
This  is  found  also  agreeable  to  experience ;  for  if  we 
blow  into  a  tube  closed  at  one  extremity,  it  will  give  the 
same  tone  which  we  procure  by  blowing  info  an  open 
tube  of  double  the  length.  The  different  pitch  of  bo- 
dies vibrating  longitudinally,  and  free  at  both  extremities, 
depends  on  four  circumstances,  viz.  their  elasticity,  the 
temporary  rate  at  which  their  elasticity  is  increased  by 
condensation,  their  length,  and  their  specific  gravity ; 
the  tone  of  any  body  being  more  acute,  according  as  the 
elasticity,  and  the  rate  of  its  increase  by  condensation, 
are  greater,  or  the  length  and  specific  gravity  less. 
These  circumstances,  however,  should  not  affect  the 
soimd  in  the  same  degree  :  thus  it  would  require  the 
specific  gravity  to  be  reduced  to  one-fourth,  or  the  elas- 
ticity, or  m,  the  index  of  the  power  of  the  density  fo 
which  the  temporary  elasticity  is  proportional,  to  be  qua- 
drupled, in  order  fo  have  the  same  effect  which  a  dimi- 
nution of  its  length  to  one-half  would  produce. 

The  length  of  the  sonorous  body  is  almost  exclusively 
the  only  one  of  these  circumstances  which  we  have  com- 
pletely in  our  power.  We  can  vary  the  others  only  in- 
directly, and  in  a  limited  degree,  by  means  of  pressure, 
or  a  change  of  temperature. 

If  several  bodies  of  the  same  substance  be  subjected 
to  the  same  degree  of  pressure  and  temperature,  the 
frequency  of  their  vibrations  should  be  inversely  as  their 
lengths;  that  is,  if  any  of  them  be  only  half  the  length 
of  another,  its  number  of  vibrations  should  be  double 
the  number  performed  in  the  same  time  by  the  longer 
body.  The  sounds  emitted  by  such  bodies  are  found  to 
be  such  as  exactly  correspond  to  this  difference  in  the 
number  of  their  vibrations.  If  therefore  we  determine 
this  number  for  any  given  length  of  a  body,  by  compar- 
ing its  sound  with  that  <rf  a  string  vibrating  laterally. 


112 


ACOUSTICS. 


we  can  easily  find  Ihenunibercorresiionding  to  any  other 
length  of  the  same  body,  whilst  exposed  to  the  same 
pressure  and  temperature. 

In  solid  bodies  this  determination  is  easy,  but  in  wind 
instruments  it  is  extremely  difficult;  for  in  these,  as 
we  formerly  mentioned,  the  column  of  air  which  forms 
the  vibrating  body  is  not  limited  by  the  tube  through 
which  it  passes,  but  seems  to  extend  to  some  distance 
beyond  it.  Therefore,  to  find  the  real  length  of  the  so- 
norous body,  we  must  add  this  distance  to  the  length  of 
the  tube;  and  likewise  make  a  small  addition,  on  account 
of  the  mouth'piece  of  the  instrument.  These  correc- 
tions are  probably  the  same  for  different  lengths  of  the 
same  tube,  when  blown  with  the  same  force ;  but  must 
vary  as  we  change  the  diameter  of  the  tube,  or  the 
strength  of  the  blast,  dec.  The  rate  of  this  variation 
has  not  been  well  ascertained  ;  but  since,  by  increasing 
the  diameter  of  a  tube,  we  flatten  its  tone  in  a  small  de- 
gree, this  correction  must  increase  somewhat  with  the 
diameter.  This  result  we  would  naturally  expect,  from 
considering  that  a  slender  column  of  air  moving  mth  a 
certain  velocity,  must  lose  itself  in  the  surrounding  at- 
mosphere sooner  than  one  of  a  greater  diameter. 

As  an  increase  of  temperature  generally  increases  the 
repulsion  between  the  particles  of  bodies,  it  must  either 
increase  their  elasticity,  or  diminish  their  specific  gra- 
vity, and  consequently  produce  corresponding  effects 
upon  their  tone.  The  length  of  a  vibrating  column  of 
air  is  determined  by  the  length  of  the  tube  through 
which  the  air  passes,  and  its  elasticity  by  the  pressure  of 
the  atmosphere ;  therefore,  in  estimating  the  effects  of 
heat  upon  the  vibration  of  such  a  column,  the  length  and 
elasticity  may  be  considered  as  constant  quantities.  The 
change  which  can  be  produced  in  m,  by  any  moderate 
increase  of  temperature,  is  so  small,  that  it  may  also  be 
viewed  in  the  same  light ;  consequently  the  number  of 
the  vibrations  which  the  same  column  of  air  performs  at 
different  temperatures,  should  be  inversely  proportional 
to  the  square  roots  of  the  specific  gravities  of  the  air  at 
those  temperatures ;  and  thus  the  frequency  of  vibra- 
tion increased  about  J^,  by  an  elevation  of  30  degrees  of 
Fahrenheit's  thermometer. 

The  effect  which  this  change  in  the  frequency  of  vi- 
bration produces  on  the  pitch  of  wind  instruments,  is  so 
considerable,  that  Dr.  Smith  found  his  organ  a  full  quar- 
ter of  a  tone  higher  in  summer  than  in  winter;  flutes 
likewise,  and  other  instruments  blown  by  the  mouth, 
gradually  become  more  acute  as  the  included  air  is 
heated  by  the  breath. 

Mr.  Dalton,  in  his  experiments  upon  the  different 
elastic  fluids,  found  that  they  all  expand  in  the  same 
degree,  with  the  same  increase  of  temperature.  The 
frequency  of  vibration  therefore  should,  in  all  elastic 
fluids,  be  increased  nearly  J^,  by  an  elevation  of  30  de- 
grees of  temperature.  From  this,  and  other  similari- 
ties in  the  nature  of  these  fluids,  we  may  consider  them 
as  differing  from  each  other  only  in  their  densitj' ;  and 
therefore  the  number  of  their  vibrations  will  vary  in  the 
inverse  sulHluplicate  ratio  of  these  densities.  In  the 
experiments  performed  by  Dr.  Chladni  on  the  tones  of  an 
organ-pipe  in  different  gases,  the  sound  of  carlionic  acid 
gas,  nitrous  gas,  and  oxygen  gas,  agrees  with  this  theo- 
ry ;  but  azote  and  hydrogen  gas  give  a  note  considerably 
lowerthanwhat  we  should  infer  from  calculation.  Hence 
we  must  suspend  our  judgment  with  respect  to  the  vi- 
bration of  these  two  latter  fluids,  till  future  experiments 
may  enable  us  to  determine  whether  the  results  differ 


from  theory  in  conseqtience  of  any  inaccuracy  in  the  mode 
of  performing  the  experiment,  or  from  some  peculiarity 
in  the  nature  of  these  fluids. 

Variations  in  the  barometer  can  produce  very  slight 
effects  on  the  sound  of  a  column  of  air ;  for  as  we  in- 
crease the  pressure  on  an  elastic  fluid,  its  density  and 
elasticity  increase  at  nearly  the  same  rate.  Sulzer,  and 
professor  Robison,  have  indeed  shown,  that  in  dry  air 
the  densities  increase  a  little  faster  than  the  elasticities, 
and  in  moist  air  a  little  slower ;  but  by  an  experiment  of 
the  academicians  del  Cimento,  the  effect  which  this 
irregularity  has  upon  the  sound  of  a  wind  instrument, 
seems  too  minute  to  be  appreciated  by  the  ear.  They 
enclosed  an  organ-pipe  in  the  receiver  of  an  air-pump, 
and  also  of  a  condenser ;  and  they  found  that  as  long  as 
the  sound  was  audible,  its  pitch  remained  unchanged. 

We  are  unable  to  say  what  effect  heat  or  pressure 
should  liavc  upon  the  sound  of  solid  bodies,  but  within 
niotlerate  limits  it  is  probably  trifling;  and  as  we  have 
not  in  general  the  necessary  data  for  determining  the 
frequency  of  their  vibration,  we  must  in  this  case  trust 
chiefly  to  experiment.  Dr.  Chladni,  who  first  disco- 
vered the  longitudinal  vibrations  of  solids,  found,  that 
the  tones  of  these  bodies  are  exceedingly  acute.  Thus 
the  tone  of  a  rod  of  tin  is  about  two  octaves  and  a  large 
seventh  higher  than  that  of  a  column  of  air  in  an  open 
pipe  of  the  same  length ;  one  of  silver,  three  octaves 
and  a  whole  tone  ;  one  of  copper,  nearly  three  octaves 
and  a  fifth ;  and  iron  and  glass,  about  four  octaves.  The 
same  philosopher  discovered,  that  a  strinc  can  vibrate 
longitudinally,  exactly  as  a  roil  fastened  at  both  ends; 
and  that  its  tones  are  exceedingly  high,  in  comparison 
of  those  which  it  gives  by  vibrating  laterally.  In  this 
motle  of  vibration,  the  pitch  in  no  degree  depends  on 
the  thickness  or  tension  of  the  string,  but  rather  on  the 
nature  of  its  substance. 

Bodies  vibrating  longitudinally,  resemble  musical 
strings,  in  producing,  beside  their  fundamental,  several 
successive  harmonic  sounds.  The  different  modes  of 
vibration  which  solid  bodies  assume  in  producing  these 
sounds,  have  been  accurately  traced  by  Dr.  Chladni. 
When  a  rod,  free  at  both  extremities,  and  vibrating  lon- 
gitudinally, produces  its  fundamental  sound,  we  may, 
by  stremng  it  with  sand,  or  by  laying  light  bodies  upon 
its  surface,  perceive,  that  there  is  a  certain  point  in  the 
middle  which  remains  at  rest,  and  at  which  tjie  vibra- 
tion of  each  half  stops.  In  its  second  mode  of  vibration, 
it  vibrates  like  two  rods  free  at  both  extremities,  each 
of  half  the  length  of  the  original  rod ;  so  that  there  are 
two  points  at  rest,  each  one-fourth  distant  from  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  rotl.  In  its  third  mode  of  vibration,  it 
divides  itself  in  a  similar  manner,  so  that  it  has  three 
points  at  rest.  The  sounds  thus  produced,  including 
the  fundamentfil  sounds,  correspond  in  the  frequency  of 
their  vibrations  to  the  natural  numbers,  1 ,  2,  3,  <fec. 

A  rod  fixed  at  both  ends,  or  a  string  stretched  be- 
tween two  pins,  vibrates  along  its  whole  length,  when 
producing  its  fundamental  sound ;  and  in  giving  its  sutj- 
onlinate  sounds,  divides  itself  into  two  or  more  parts, 
each  of  which  vibrates  in  a  manner  similar  to  the  whole. 
These  sounds  have  to  each  other  the  same  relalion  with 
the  harmonics  of  a  rod  free  at  both  extremities,  or  of  a 
stretched  string  vibrating  laterally.  A  rod  fixed  at  one 
extremity,  and  free  at  the  other,  may  be  considered  as 
forming  one  half  of  a  rod  free  at  both  extremities,  and 
vibrating  according  to  those  modes  in  which  the  middle 
point  of  the  longer  rod  is  quiescent,     lis  harmonics  are 


ACOUSTICS. 


113 


accordingly   as    the   series   of  odd  numbers,  3,    5,  7, 

These  experiments  throw  considerable  light  upon  the 
manner  in  Avhich  sound  is  generated  in  wind  instru- 
ments. We  have  already  mentioned,  that  the  funda- 
mental sounds  of  a  tube,  open  at  both  extremities,  and 
of  a  tube  shut  at  one  extremity  and  open  at  the  other, 
bear  the  same  relation  to  each  other  with  the  sounds  of 
a  rod  free  at  both  extremities,  and  of  a  rod  fixed  at  one 
extremity  and  free  at  the  other.  A  similar  analogy 
holds  in  the  secondary  sounds,  which  are  produced  by 
these  bodies.  Thus,  by  blowing  across  the  extremity 
of  an  open  tube,  we  can  produce,  not  only  its  fundamen- 
tal sound,  but  also,  by  varying  the  force  of  the  blast,  we 
can  excite  a  series  of  sounds  related  to  each  other  in 
the  same  manner  with  those  produced  from  a  rod  free 
at  both  extremities ;  and,  from  a  tube  shut  at  one  end 
and  open  at  the  other,  we  can  procure  only  those  sounds 
which  correspond  to  the  series  of  uneven  numbers. 
From  these  analogies,  w^e  may  safely  infer,  that  the  vi- 
brations in  a  column  of  air,  confined  in  a  tube,  are  con- 
stituted in  a  manner  exactly  similar  to  those  which  take 
place  in  a  rod  vibrating  longitudinally. 

In  order  to  contirm  this  opinion  by  experiment,  we 
may  remark,  thnt  any  quiescent  point  of  a  vibrating  body 
must,  at  each  instant  during  the  vibration,  be  acted  ujion 
by  equal  and  contrary  forces,  for  it  could  not,  on  any 
other  sujiposition,  remain  at  rest ;  and  that  consequently 
the  adjacent  vibrating  portions,  which  are  on  different 
sides  of  it,  must,  at  any  time,  be  either  both  pressing 
towards  it,  or  both  moving  from  it.  The  parts  imme- 
diately adjacent  to  a  quiescent  point  are  therefore  at 
one  time  highly  condensed  by  the  vibrating  portions  on 
different  sides  of  it  rushing  towards  each  other;  and  at 
another  time  highly  rarefied  by  these  portions  moving 
off  from  it  in  contrary  directions. 

We  may  prove  the  existence  of  such  rarefactions  and 
condensations  in  the  column  of  air  contained  in  a  tube, 
by  boring  small  holes  in  different  parts  of  the  tube,  and 
slightly  pasting  fine  membranes  over  them ;  the  mem- 
branes which  are  adjacent  to  the  quiescent  points,  will 
be  violently  agitated,  and  those  which  are  more  distant, 
very  slightly  aflfected. 

Sect,  IV.  Of  Sonorous  Bodies  vibrating  laterally  by  the 
combined  Action  of  their  Cohesion  and  Elasticity. 

The  vibrations  of  this  class  of  sonorous  bodies  have 
occupied  the  attention  of  several  eminent  mathemati- 
cians ;  but  the  difficulty  of  the  subject  is  so  great  as  to 
liave  prevented  them  from  making  much  progress  in 
their  investigations. 

The  sounds  produced  by  rods,  vibrating  laterally  in 
different  circumstances,  seldom  admit  of  being  com- 
pared with  each  other.  But  the  times  occupied  by  simi- 
lar vibrations  of  rods,  in  similar  circumstances,  are  di- 
rectly as  the  squares  of  their  lengths,  and  inversely  as 
their  diameters.  The  vibrations  of  plates  are  still  more 
complicated  than  those  of  rods.  Dr.  Chladni  has  con- 
trived to  trace  these  vibrations  through  singular  varie- 
ties, liy  strewing  the  plates  with  sand,  which  collects  it- 
self into  such  places  as  are  at  rest  during  the  vibrations. 
Some  of  the  figures  which  the  sand  thus  assumes,  are 
represented  in  Fig.  5,  6,  7,  S,  0,  Plate  II. 

We  know  very  little  more  concerning  the  vibration 
Of  rings  and  cylinders,  than  that  they  sometimes  divide 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


themselves  into  four  vibrating  parts,  some'times  into  six, 
and  sometimes  into  eight. 

CHAP.  III. 

Of  the  Propagation  of  Sound. 

In  an  open  space,  and  through  a  serene  atmosphere, 
sound  is  generally  propagated,  in  all  directions,  from  the 
sonorous  body.  Sounds,  even  the  most  powerful,  when 
thus  transmitted  freely  through  the  air,  diminish  rapidly 
in  force,  as  they  depart  from  their  sources,  and,  within 
moderate  distances,  wholly  die  away.  What  law  this 
diminution  follows  is  not  yet  ascertained ;  and  is  indeed, 
in  the  present  state  of  Acoustics,  incapable  of  determi- 
nation. We  can  at  present  estimate  the  force  of  sounds 
by  the  ear  alone ;  an  instrument  of  comparison,  whose 
decisions  on  this  point  vary  with  the  bodily  state  of  the 
observer,  and  whose  scale  expresses  no  definite  relation 
but  that  of  equality. 

Though  sound  has  in  general,  at  its  origin,  a  tendency 
to  difliise  itself  in  all  directions,  it  is  sometimes  propa- 
gated more  forcibly  in  one  direction  than  in  others.  A 
cannon  seems  much  louder  to  those  who  stand  imme- 
diately before  it,  than  to  those  who  are  placed  behind  it. 
The  same  fact  is  illustrated  by  the  speaking-trumpet; 
the  person  towards  whom  the  instrument  is  directed 
hears  distinctly  the  words  spoken  through  it,  while 
tliose  who  are  situated  a  little  to  one  side  hardly  per- 
ceive any  sound. 

Sound  is,  in  a  great  measure,  intercepted  by  the  in- 
tervention of  any  solid  obstacle  between  the  hfearer  and 
the  sonorous  body.  Thus,  if,  whilst  a  bell  is  sounding, 
houses  intervene  between  us  and  the  bell,  we  hear  it 
sound  but  faintly,  compared  to  what  we  do  after  having 
turned  the  corner  of  the  building.  From  this  fact,  sound 
would  seem  to  be  chiefly  propagated  in  straight  lines. 
If,  however,  we  speak  through  a  tube,  the  voice  will  be 
wholly  confined  by  the  tube,  and  follow  its  windings, 
however  tortuous;  yet  wc  are  not  from  this  to  infer, 
that  air  is  the  only  medium  through  which  sound  can 
be  transmitted.  Various  other  bodies,  both  solid  and 
fluid,  are  excellent  conductors  of  sound. 

If  a  log  of  wood  is  scratched  at  one  extremity  with  a 
pin,  a  person  who  applies  his  ear  to  the  other  end  will 
hear  the  sound  distinctly.  The  trampling  of  horses,  too, 
is  heard  at  a  much  greater  distance,  by  applying  the  ear 
to  the  ground,  than  by  listening  to  the  sound  conveyed 
through  the  atmosphere.  Several  other  instances  of 
sound  being  transmitted  through  solids,  will  be  men- 
tioned before  the  conclusion  of  this  article.  Liquids 
are,  in  like  manner,  good  conductors  of  sound.  Mr.  W. 
Arderon  caused  three  persons  to  dive  under  water  about 
the  depth  of  two  feet ;  in  that  situation  they  heard  dis- 
tinctly what  he  spoke  to  them.  We  are  informed  by 
professor  Robison,  that,  by  plunging  Ins  head  underwa- 
ter, he  heard  at  the  distance  of  1200  feet,  the  sound  of 
a  bell  which  was  rung  in  the  same  medium.  The  cause 
then  why  sound  is  interrupted  by  the  interposition  of 
solid  bodies,  is  not  that  the  body  so  interposed  is  inca- 
pable of  conducting  sound,  hut  that  sound  does  not  rea- 
dily pass  from  one  medium  to  another. 

When  a  piece  of  ordnance  is  fired  at  the  distance  of 
some  miles,  a  certain  number  of  seconds  intervene  be- 
tween seeing  the  flash   and   hearing  the  report;    the 
sound  of  the  cannon  has  therefore  occupied  this  nuni- 
P 


114 


ACOUSTICS. 


ber  of  seconds  in  travelling  through  that  distance.  Phi- 
losophers have  endeavoured,  by  an  attentive  observation 
of  such  facts,  to  determine  the  rate  at  which  sound  tra- 
vels through  the  air.  The  mean  result  of  these  obser- 
vations gives  to  all  sounds,  whether  loud  or  weak,  a  ve- 
locity of  about  1130  feet  in  a  second  of  time.  This 
velocity  remains  unchanged  by  those  variations  in  the 
density  of  (he  atmosphere  which  the  barometer  indi- 
cates, but  is  increased  by  an  elevation  of  temperature. 
The  time  which  elapses  during  the  transmission  of 
sound  to  any  moderate  distance  through  solid  bodies,  is 
so  minute  as  not  to  have  been  ascertained  by  any  direct 
experiments. 

We  are  here  naturally  led  to  inquire,  in  what  mode 
sound  is  propagated  through  various  media,  and  what 
takes  place  in  these  media  during  its  transmission.  Be- 
fore we  enter  on  this  discussion,  let  us  trace  the  mecha- 
nical effect  which  the  vibration  of  sonorous  bodies  must 
produce  on  the  surrounding  atmosphere.  Let  the  string 
AFB  be  supposed,  as  formerly,  to  vibrate  from  G  to  K,  it 
is  evident  that  in  this  vibration,  it  must  displace  all  the 
air  between  these  two  points,  impelling  it  towards  K, 
and  by  the  action  of  this  impulse,  condensing  it.  The 
air  thus  displaced  must  communicate  its  motion  and  con- 
densation to  an  adjacent  portion;  and  this  second  por- 
tion will  act  in  a  similar  manner  upon  a  third,  and  the 
third  upon  a  fourth,  and  so  on  gradually,  transferring  the 
impulse  and  condensation  from  the  nearer  to  the  more 
remote  regions  of  the  atmosphere.  While  this  impulse 
and  condensation  are  propagated  in  all  directions,  the 
string,  by  vibrating  back  from  K  to  G,  produces  a  rare- 
faction in  the  air  adjacent  to  K.  This  rarefaction  is  now 
communicated  through  the  atmosphere  in  the  same  di- 
rection with  the  condensation :  and,  in  a  similar  manner, 
a  counter  vibration  of  the  chord  |)roduces  another  con- 
densation, which  is  again  succeeded  by  a  corresponding 
rarefaction ;  so  that  as  long  as  the  string  continues  to 
vibrate,  there  are  successive  condensations  and  rarefac- 
tions propagated  from  it  in  the  direction  KM,  and  cor- 
responding ones  in  the  direction  GL.  The  manner  in 
which  these  undulations  take  place  may  be  tolerably 
w*ll  conceived,  by  considering  them  as  having  some  re- 
semblance to  the  elevations  and  depressions  of  (he  con- 
centric waves,  generated  by  throwing  a  stone  upon  a 
tniooth  sheet  of  water. 

The  facts  which  might  be  adduced  to  prove  that  an 
impulse  is  communicated  through  the  air  by  sounding 
jBodics,  are  innumerable^  The  agitation  which  the  ex- 
plosions of  artillery  produce  in  doors  and  windows  is  fa- 
miliar to  the  most  inattentive  observer.  Any  person  who 
has  listened  to  the  sound  of  an  organ,  must  have  per- 
ceived, that  when  the  instrument  was  giving  its  deeper 
tones,  the  seat  on  which  he  was  placed  vibrated.  The 
game  fact  is  illustrated  with  respect  to  weaker  sounds, 
by  the  discovery  of  Dr.  Wallis,  that  if  near  a  stretched 
musical  string  we  sound  on  any  instrument  a  note  in  ac- 
cord with  that  of  the  string,  the  string  will  vibrate  and 
give  the  same  sound. 

There  are  striking  analogies  between  the  transmis- 
sion of  an  impulse,  and  the  propagation  of  sound  through 
Tario>is  media ;  those  bodies  which  are  best  adapted  for 
the  transmission  of  an  impulse,  being  also  the  best  con- 
ductors of  sound.  Thus,  air,  wood,  the  metals,  &c.  con- 
vey sound  powerfully,  and  to  considerable  distances; 
while  it  can  scarcely  be  propagated  through  a  few  inches 
•f  cork,  au4  Tarioua  other  substances.     The  intensity  of 


the  sound  transmitted  from  a  sonorous  body  through  the 
same  medium  also  varies,  according  as  the  force  of  im- 
pulse which  the  sonorous  body  can  impress  upon  it 
changes  :  Thus  sounds  are  much  louder  in  valleys, 
where  the  air  is  dense,  and  can  receive  a  stronger  im- 
pulse than  on  high  mountains,  where  it  is  rarer. 

If  an  impulse,  or  undulation,  be  communicated  through 
E,  a  less  elastic  medium,  to  AB,  the  surface  of  one 
which  is  more  elastic,  it  will  be  partially  transmitted, 
and  partially  reflected;  so  that  there  will  be  two  series 
of  undulations  proceeding  from  AB,  the  anterior  surface 
of  the  more  elastic  medium ;  one  through  that  medium 
G,  and  another  through  E,  the  rarer  one ;  each  of  which 
has  a  weaker  impulse  than  the  original  undulation.  If' 
again,  the  second  medium  be  terminated  by  a  third 
medium  H,  similar  to  the  first,  the  undulations  which 
have  been  transmitted  through  the  second  medium  G 
will,  in  the  transition  from  it  to  the  third,  be  again  par- 
tially reflected,  and  partially  transmitted  :  so  (hat  in  this 
case  also  there  will  be  two  series  of  undulations  pro- 
ceeding from  the  posterior  surface  of  the  denser  medium, 
one  of  them  reflected  back  into  G,  and  one  transmitted 
into  H ;  each  having  a  less  force  of  impulsion  than  the 
undulation  in  the  denser  medium,  by  which  they  were 
generated.  A  similar  phenomenon  takes  place  with  re- 
spect to  sound.  Thus  a  person,  speaking  in  a  large 
room,  perceives  the  sound  of  his  voice  reflected  by  the 
sides  of  the  room ;  while  one  placed  on  the  other  side  of 
the  partition  also  hears  the  sound,  but  much  weaker, 
than  if  the  partition  did  not  intervene.  When  the  differ- 
ence between  the  two  media  is  very  great,  the  undula- 
tion must  be  almost  wholly  reflected ;  and  in  such  cases 
the  sound  is  also  chiefly  reflected. 

The  velocity  with  which  sound  is  propagated  through 
different  medi:i,  observes  a  similar  analogy. 

By  employing  (he  formula  which  is  given  in  Chap.  III. 
Sect.  III.  and  substituting  for  wi  the  value  which  may 
be  derived  from  some  of  Mr.  Dalton's  experiments,  the 
mean  velocity  with  which  an  impulse  can  be  transmitted 
through  the  atmosjihere,  will  be  found  to  differ  but  little 
from  that  with  which  sound  is  jjropagated  through  the 
same  medium.  Observation  shows  a  coincidence  be- 
tween them  still  more  complete.  If,  when  artillery  is 
fired  at  a  distance,  the  pardcles  of  dust  which  float  in  a 
sun-beam  are  inspecled  wi(h  a  microscope,  they  will  be 
seen  agitated  at  the  same  instant  that  we  hear  the  explo- 
sion ;  and  we  are  informed,  by  a  literary  gentleman,  that 
he  has  observed  similar  agitations  in  cobwebs.  The 
impulse  by  which  these  bodies  are  thus  affected,  must 
therefore  be  propagated  through  the  air  with  a  velocity 
exactly  equal  to  that  of  sound.  The  same  coincidence 
cannot  be  exactly  traced  in  solids,  as  these  bodies  trans- 
mit both  sound  and  an  impulse  with  such  celerity,  (hat 
the  time  which  elapses  during  the  (ransmission  of  eilher 
has  not  yet  been  estimated.  In  order  to  complete  (his 
analogy,  it  is  only  required  that  we  should  be  able  to 
prevent  the  transmission  of  an  impulse  without  changing 
the  physical  properties  of  the  medium.  This  we  can  do 
in  one  case  only  :  Let  a  person  draw  a  string  tight  over 
his  ears,  and  let  another  stretch  the  string,  and  suspend 
a  watch  to  the  remote  end  of  it,  the  sound  of  the  watch 
will  be  heard  by  the  person  over  whose  ears  the  siring 
passes;  if  now  the  string  be  gradually  relaxed,  the 
sound  becomes  by  degrees  weaker,  anti  ultimately  im- 
perceptible. 

From  these  analogies  we  must  conclude,  that  the  pr»- 


ACOUSTICS. 


115 


pagation  of  sound  depends  entirely  on  the  transmission 
of  an  impulse  which  souuding  Iwdies  commuiiicate  to 
the  surrounding  medium. 

Most  writers  on  Acoustics  draw  the  same  inference 
from  the  weakness  of  the  sound  which  a  bell  emits  when 
struck  in  an  exhausted  receiver,  and  from  its  strength 
in  condensed  air.  Such  experiments,  though  generally 
considered  as  decisive,  appear  to  us  to  admit  of  two  ex- 
planations, and  to  be  far  from  satisfactory.  We  have 
therefore  had  recourse  to  other  means  of  establishing 
our  conclusion. 

Table  of  Observations  by  different  Philosophers  on  the 
Velocities  of  Sound  in  common  Air. 

Feet  per  Feet  per 

second.  second. 

Cassini,  and  others,  1172 
Derham,  during  day,  1 142 
Bianconi,  ....  903 
Cassini,       .     .     .     .1107 

Meyer, 1105 

Muller, 1109 

PictPt, 1130 

French  Academicians, 
at  night,  .     .     .     .  1 109 


Roberts,  Phil.  Trans. 

n.  209,     .... 
Uoyle,  Essay  on  Mo- 
tion,      

Walker,     .     .     . 

Mersennus,    .     . 
Flamstead,  &  Halley, 
Florentine  Academi- 
cians,    .... 


1300 

1200 
1130 
1326 
1474 
1142 

1148 


By  comparing  such  of  the  foregoing  observations  as 
seem  to  have  been  conducted  with  most  care,  we  procure 
1130  feet  per  second,  as  the  mean  velocity  of  sound  in 
the  atmospheric  air. 

As  the  time  occupied  by  a  rod  free  at  both  extremi- 
ties, in  performing  a  double  longitudinal  vibration,  is 
equal  to  that  which  elapses  during  the  transmission  of  an 
impulse  through  twice  the  length  of  the  roll;  the  cele- 
rity »vith  which  sound  is  transmitted  through  diflferent 
substances,  may  be  easily  calculated  from  the  number  of 
vibrations  which  given  rods  of  these  substances  perform 
in  a  second  of  time.  The  same  calculation  may  also  be 
founded  on  experiments  respecting  the  elasticity  of  any 
substance ;  but  this  latter  mode  is  more  liable  to  error 
than  the  former.  It  is,  however,  the  only  one  we  can 
employ  to  discover  the  velocity  with  which  sound  is  pro- 
pagated through  liquids.  From  such  calculations  the 
numbers  in  the  following  Table  have  been  determined. 

Table  cfthe  Velocities  of  Sound. 


Media. 

Feet  per 

Media. 

Feet  per 

second. 

second. 

Common  air, 

1130 

Copper, 

12,500 

Hydrogen, 

3899 

Iron, 

17,500 

Oxygen, 

1064 

Glass, 

17,500 

Nitrogen, 

1149 

Crown  glass. 

17,700 

Carbonic  acid. 

922 

Brass, 

11,800 

Mercury, 

4900 

i  10,000 
\  12,0<10 

Water, 

Spirit  of  wine, 

4900 
4900 

Tobacco  pipes, 

Tin, 

7800 

Wood, 

<  11,000 
}  12,000 

Silver, 

9300 

We  usually  hear  sounds  by  their  being  conveyed  to 
the  interior  parts  of  the  ear  through  the  external  aper- 
ture of  that  organ.     It  has,  however,  been  long  kaown, 


that  we  can  hear  the  sound  of  a  tuning-fork,  or  any 
other  sonorous  body,  in  several  other  modes,  such  as  by 
holding  it  between  the  teeth.  The  following  extract 
from  Dr.  Chladni,  who  has  performed  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  experiments  relative  to  this  subject,  may  be  in- 
teresting to  the  reader.  "  Two  persons,"  says  the  doc- 
tor, "  IV  ho  had  stopped  their  ears,  could  converse  witii 
each  other  when  they  held  a  long  stick,  or  a  series  of 
sticks,  between  their  teeth,  or  rested  their  teeth  against 
them.  It  is  all  the  same,  whether  the  person  who  speaks 
rests  the  stick  against  his  tliroat  or  his  breast;  or  when 
o;ie  rests  the  stick  which  he  holds  in  his  teeth  against 
some  vessel  into  which  the  other  speaks.  The  eflect 
will  be  the  greater  the  more  the  vessel  is  capable  of  a 
tremulous  motion.  It  appeared  to  be  strongest  with 
glass  and  porcelain  vessels ;  with  copper  kettles,  wooden 
boxes,  and  earthen  pots,  it  was  weaker.  Sticks  of  glass, 
and  next  to  these  firwood,  conducted  the  sound  best. 
The  sound  could  also  be  heard  when  a  thread  was  held 
between  the  teeth  by  both,  so  as  to  be  somewhat  stretch- 
ed. Through  each  substance  the  sound  was  moditied  in 
a  manner  a  little  different.  By  resting  a  stick,  or  any 
other  body,  against  the  temples,  the  forehefid,  and  the 
external  cartilaginous  part  of  the  ear,  sound  is  convey- 
ed to  the  interior  organs  of  hearing,  as  will  readily  ap- 
pear if  you  hold  your  watch  to  those  parts  of  another 
person  who  has  stopped  up  his  ears." 

In  reviewing  the  whole  process  which  takes  place  in 
the  production  of  sound  by  a  sonorous  body,  till  it  makes 
an  impression  on  the  organ  of  hearing,  we  perceive  its 
several  steps  depending  solely  on  some  motion  accom- 
panying each  of  them,  and  essential  to  it.  From  all  this 
the  inference  is  irresistible,  that  sound  is  merely  a  mo- 
tion originating  in  the  sonorous  body,  and  communicated 
from  it  through  the  intervening  medium,  to  the  interior 
parts  of  the  ear ;  and  that  hearing  is  merely  a  sensation 
produced  by  the  consequent  affection  of  this  organ.  We 
have  thus  endeavoured,  by  a  regular  iuduction  from  the 
phenomena  of  sound,  to  discover  its  nature ;  a  mode  of 
procedure  which  is  not  only  the  most  legitimate,  but  also 
the  best  fitted  to  give  a  distinct  view  of  the  present  state 
of  Acoustics,  and  of  the  evidence  on  which  its  theory  is 
established.  We  may  now  take  an  opposite  course,  and 
consider  the  general  phenomena  of  sound  in  their  con- 
nexion with  theory. 

A  noise  may  be  regarded  as  a  single  impulse,  or  se- 
veral impulses,  whose  aggregate  duration  is  so  short  as 
not  to  be  appreciable.  A  continued  sound  is  a  succes- 
sion of  separate  impulses  communicated  to  the  ear,  and 
producing  separate  impressions,  but  in  such  rapid  suc- 
cession as  not  to  be  accurately  distinguished  from  each 
other;  and  thus  seeming  to  form  one  continued  sensa- 
tion There  are  many  facts  in  vision  which  may  illustrate 
the  nature  of  sound.  Thus  when  we  move  a  flaming 
stick  rapidly  in  a  circle,  its  path  seems  to  be  one  con- 
tinued line  of  light,  though  our  perception  of  it  must  be 
occasioned  by  the  coalescence  of  several  successive  im- 
pressions on  the  retina.  A  musical  sound  consists  of  a 
series  of  undulations  which  arrive  at  the  ear  at  equal 
intervals  of  time,  and  the  pitch  of  the  sound  depends  on 
the  length  of  the  interval  between  each  impression. 
Musical  sound  should  therefore  be  produced,  not  only 
by  the  isochronous  vibration  of  sonorous  bodies,  but  also 
by  any  other  mode  in  which  a  ra))id  succession  of  equi- 
distant impulses  can  be  commuaicited  to  the  ear,  whe- 
ther those  impulses  originate  from  the  same  or  different 
sources.  In  this  case  theory  is  confirmed  by  experiment ; 
P2 


11& 


ACOUSTICS. 


for  by  drawing  a  quill  slowly  acrosg  the  teeth  of  a  comb, 
a  number  of  distinct  noises  are  perceived ;  but  by  in- 
creasing the  rapidity  with  whicli  these  noises  succeed 
each  other,  they  finally  coalesce  iu  one  unbroken  sound 
of  a  determinate  pitch.  In  a  similar  manner  the  distinct 
put5's  arising  from  the  alternate  opening  and  shutting  of 
a  stop-cock,  attached  to  the  wind-chest  of  an  organ, 
form,  when  repeated  with  sufficient  frequency,  a  very 
smooth  musical  note.  We  may  reciprocally,  by  increasing 
the  capacity  of  a  cavity  attached  to  a  pipe,  gradually  re- 
duce the  frequency  of  vibration  till  the  sound  becomes 
at  last  analysed  into  distinct  puffs.  The  number  of  undu- 
lations which  constitute  the  sound  of  any  sonorous  body, 
is  exactly  equal  to  the  number  of  complete  vibrations 
which  the  body  performs  in  the  same  time ;  and  may 
therefore  be  determined  by  the  methods  which  are  men- 
tioned in  Chap.  II  *.  According  to  the  experiments  of 
Sauveur,  the  lowest  sound  which  the  ear  can  appreciate 
consists  of  12|-  undulations  in  a  second,  and  the  most 
acute,  of  something  more  than  0000. 

Each  of  the  undulations  which  constitute  the  funda- 
mental sound  of  a  sonorous  body,  may  contain  within  it 
several  minuter  rarefactions  and  condensations,  thus 
producing,  at  the  same  time,  the  sensations  |)eculiar  to 
the  fundiimental  sound,  and  to  its  harmonics. 

When  two  bodies,  whose  sounds  are  the  same,  are 
adjacent,  they  reciprocally  affect  each  other's  vibrations 
through  the  medium  of  the  air,  in  such  a  manner  that 
these  vibrations  become  synchronous,  or  performed  to- 
gether; and  thus  both  bodies  conspire  in  producing 
each  condensation  and  each  rarefaction ;  the  result  of 
which  co-operation  is  a  more  pleasing  and  uniform  sound 
than  either  of  them  would  produce  separately :  but  if 
the  sounds  of  the  two  bodies  differ  a  little  from  each 
other,  the  undulations  of  the  one  sound  will  have  a  ten- 
dency sometimes  to  destroy,  and  sometimes  to  enforce 
the  undulations  of  the  other.  Thus  if  one  sound  consist 
of  90  undulations  in  a  second,  and  the  other  of  93,  every 
30th  undulation  of  the  one  will  coincide  with  every  31st 
undulation  of  the  other,  and  tend  to  strengthen  it,  whilst 
the  intermediate  undulations  will  in  some  measure  coun- 
teract and  destroy  each  other.  The  coincident  pulses 
therefore  of  the  two  sounds  must  make  a  more  power- 
ful impression  on  the  ear  than  the  other  undulations ; 
producing  what  is  called  a  beat  in  the  sounds.  By 
means  of  these  beats,  we  can  frequently  determine  by 
the  following  rule  the  absolute  number  of  pulses  which 
constitute  any  two  sounds  whose  relative  frequency  of 
undulation  is  known.  Express  the  relation  between  the 
sounds  in  the  lowest  possible  numbers,  and  these  multi- 
plied by  the  beats  during  a  second,  will  respectively 
give  the  number  of  undulations  iu  a  second,  which  con- 
ctitute  each  sound. 

When  the  beats  of  two  sounds  recur  in  such  rapid 
succession  as  not  to  be  separately  distinguished  by  the 
ear,  they  coalesce  into  a  third  sound,  which  is  called  a 
grave  harmonic.     The  hardness  or  softness  of  a  musi- 


cal sound  depends  upon  the  condensation  in  its  undu- 
lations being  abrupt  orgr.ndual;  consequently  all  sounds 
become  softened  as  they  depart  further  from  their 
sources.  Other  variations  between  different  sounds  are 
partly  produced  by  the  particular  order  in  which  the  un- 
dulations succeed  each  other,  aud  partly  by  diflerences 
in  the  form  of  each  undulation. 

As  undulations  are  sent  off  from  sonorous  bodies  in 
a  form  nearly  spherical,  the  force  of  each  must  dimin- 
ish as  the  square  of  its  distance  from  the  sonorous  bo<ly 
incrtases;  and  from  this  several  authors  have  inferred, 
that  the  intensify  of  sound  diminishes  at  the  same  rate. 
If,  however,  we  estimate  the  intensity  of  sound  by  the 
degree  of  sensation  which  it  is  fitted  to  produce,  it  pro- 
bably diminishes  at  a  more  rapid  rate ;  for  in  all  our 
senses  the  force  of  sensation  does  not  depend  merely  on 
the  degree  of  excitement,  but  also  on  the  suddenness  of 
the  excitation ;  consequently  if  two  undulations  have 
each  an  equal  impetus,  the  one  in  which  the  condensation 
is  most  abrupt  and  confined  within  the  narrowest  limits, 
should  produce  the  most  vivid  sensation.  The  crossing 
of  sounds  in  the  nit,  without  being  mutually  destroyed, 
must-arise  from  the  air  in  the  point  of  their  intersection 
partaking  of  both  motions. 

CHAP.  IV. 

Of  the  Reflection  o/"  Sound. 

A  sound,  whose  progress  is  interrupted  by  any  solid 
obstacle,  must  be  partly  transmitted,  and  partly  reflect- 
ed, with  a  velocity  equal  to  that  which  it  had  before 
impinging  agaiust  the  obstacle.  The  reflection  of  souud 
differs  from  that  of  light  in  the  degree  of  smoothness 
required  in  the  reflecting  surface ;  thus  walls,  rocks,  and 
many  other  bodies  whose  surfaces  have  considerable  ir- 
regularities, reflect  sound  very  perfectly.  La  Grange 
has,  however,  demonstrated,  that,  in  sound  as  well  as 
light,  the  angle  of  reflection  is  equal  to  the  angle  of  in- 
cidence; and  therefore,  by  emi)loying  the  laws  of  ca- 
toptrics, and  keeping  in  view  that  sound  has  generally 
a  tendency  to  be  a  little  scattered  by  reflection,  we 
may  obtain  an  explanation  of  several  interesting  pheno- 
mena. 

When  a  sound,  issuing  from  a  distant  point,  impinges 
on  a  concave  surface,  it  converges  to  a  certain  point  after 
reflection ;  and  a  person,  situated  near  that  point,  will 
hear  the  reflected  sound  more  distinctly  than  the  direct 
sound.  A  similar  effect  will  be  produced  by  reflection 
from  several  plain  surfaces  properly  situated.  If  the 
reflecting  surface  be  of  an  elliptical  form,  all  the  sound 
which  proceeds  from  one  of  its  foci  is  reflected  to  the 
other.  To  such  a  reflection,  the  phenomena  which  take 
place  in  the  whispering  gallery  at  St.  Paul's  and  several 
other  buildings,  is  frequently  ascribed.  A  person  stand- 
ing near  the  wall  with  his  face  turned  to  it,  whispers  a 
few  words,  which  are  heard  by  another,  who  applies  his 


•  Professor  Hobison,  in  the  article  Trumpbt,  vol.  ii.  p.  720  of  the  Supplement  to  the  Encyclopadia  Britanruca,  gives  a  rule  for  deter- 
tnining  the  number  of  aerial  pulses  made  by  an  open  pipe  of  any  given  length,  which  will  be  very  apt  to  mislead  tlie  incautious  reader. 
The  learned  professor,  in  that  rule,  considers  the  number  of  pulses  as  equal  to  the  number  of  vibrations  performed  by  the  air  in  the 
pipe,  iind  determines  the  number  of  vibrations,  by  extending  to  an  open  pipe  the  formula  which  he  had  previously  found  for  the  vibra- 
tions of  a  string.  Now,  as  that  formula  expresses  the  single  vibrations  of  a  string,  the  extension  of  it  must  express  the  number  of 
wnRle  vibrations  of  the  air  in  a  pipe,  an<l  consequently  give  doable  the  number  of  pulses.  If  this  role  be  applied  to  the  example  given 
in  tJii-  second  next  paragraph,  it  will  be  found  to  give  double  tlie  number  of  pulses  mentioned  there  by  that  philosoplier.  We  Iiav« 
iieen  induced  to  nientioD  these  circumstances,  lest  those  readers,  who  might  not  choose  to  investigate  the  principles  on  which  the  nU» 
i«  founded,  should,  upon  eompaiiog  it  with  «ur  formula,  and  finding;  tbe  results  different,  c«U  io  question  the  accuracy  of  the  Utter, 


ACOUSTICS. 


117 


ear  to  the  Trail  at  nearly  the  opposite  side  of  the  building; 
though  the  sound  is  not  percejitible  to  those  who  are 
situated  nearer  to  the  speaker.  The  position  of  the 
speaker  is  in  this  case  such,  (hat  the  sound  must,  after 
reflection,  diverge,  instead  of  converging,  to  (he  0|)po- 
«ite  point  of  the  buiUling;  consequently  (he  effect  must 
arise  either  from  two  or  more  successive  reflections 
alonar  the  sides  of  a  [lolygon,  or  from  a  continued  deflec- 
tion of  tlie  sound  along  the  wall.  To  determine  which 
•f  these  is  the  cause  of  (he  pheTiomena,  would  require 
several  experiments.  The  Uall  of  Secrets,  as  it  is 
sailed,  in  the  observatory  at  Paris,  produces  a  similar 
eflect,  but  in  a  more  perfect  manner.  This  hall  is  of  an 
ect.igonal  form,  with  cloister  arches,  or  arched  l)y  por- 
tions of  a  cylinder,  which  meet  at  angles,  corresponding 
to  those  formed  by  the  sides  of  the  building.  The 
speaker  applies  his  mouth  very  near  the  wall  to  one  of 
the  angles,  and  the  person  situated  at  the  opposite  angle 
hears  his  voice  distinctly.  Montucia  thinks,  that,  in  this 
case,  "  there  can  be  no  reflection  of  the  voice,  according 
to  (he  laws  of  caloptrics ;  but  that  the  re-entering  angle, 
continued  along  the  arch  from  one  side  of  the  hall  to 
the  other,  forms  a  sort  of  canal,  which  contains  the  voice 
and  transmits  it  to  the  other  side."  We  conceive, 
however,  that  the  effect  may  also  be  accounted  for  by 
successive  reflections  along  the  arch,  as  completely  as 
by  a  continued  deflection;  but  we  shall  not  presume  to 
affirm  on  which  of  these  it  depends. 

The  most  frequent  instances  of  the  reflection  of  sound 
are  from  surfaces,  which  may  be  considered  as  plane. 
In  these,  the  sound  issuing  from  any  point  seems,  after 
reflection,  to  proceed  from  a  point  equally  distant  and 
similarly  situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  reflecting 
.•surface  ;  the  phenomena  differing  a  little  according  to 


the  position  of  the  speaker,  with  respect  to  the  body 
which  occasions  the  reflection.  If  a  person's  voice 
strike  any  surface  perpendicularly,  it  will  be  reflected 
back  in  the  same  line ;  and  the  time  occupied  between 
the  utterance  of  the  sound  and  its  arrival  again  a(  the 
speaker,  will  be  equal  to  the  time  in  which  sound 
tnivels  througli  twice  the  distance  between  the  speaker 
and  the  reflecting  surface.  This  time  may  therefore  be 
expressed  in  seconds,  by  a  fraction  whose  numerator  is 
twice  the  distance,  and  whose  denominator  is  1130  feet. 
If  (he  distance  of  the  reflecting  object  is  less  than  47 
feet,  then  the  interval  between  the  impression  produced 
on  the  ear  by  the  direct  sound,  and  that  produced  by  the 
reflected  sound,  will  be  less  than  J^  of  a  second,  and  the 
two  sounds  will  consequently  seem  to  constitute  a  single 
sound;  but  when  the  distance  is  greater  than  47  feet, 
the  interval  of  time  between  the  speaker's  hearing  the 
tlirect  and  the  reflected  sounds  exceeds  y'^  of  a  second ; 
and  as  this  interval  can  be  discerned  by  the  ear,  the 
two  sounds  will  be  separate,  and  therefore  form  an  echo. 
A  reflecting  surface  will  return  the  echo  of  one  or 
more  syllables  in  proportion  to  its  distance  from  the 
speaker ;  for  the  last  of  the  syllables  must  be  uttered 
before  the  echo  of  the  first  arrives  at  the  ear.  It  i» 
computed,  that,  in  the  usual  way  of  speaking,  each  syl- 
lable is  pronounced  in  about  f  of  a  second ;  the  distance 
therefore  of  a  reflecting  object  must  be  as  many  times 
101 1  feet  as  the  echo  returns  syllables.  A  compound 
echo,  or  one  which  repeats  the  same  sound  several 
times,  is  occasioned  by  several  reflecting  surfaces,  si- 
tuated at  different  distances  from  the  speaker.  But  for 
the  more  particular  consideration  of  this  subject,  we 
must  refer  to  the  article  Echo. 


PART.  II.  PRACTICE  OF  ACOUSTICS. 


The  practice  of  Acoustics  is  confined  to  instruments 
for  the  production  of  sounds ; — for  the  transmission  of 
sound  to  greater  distances ; — for  concentrating  sound 
after  its  transmission ; — and  for  measuring  the  relations 
ef  sounds. 

Sect.  1.    On  Kratsetistein's  Vowel  Pipes. 

The  sounds  produced  by  instruments  are  chiefly 
musical.  Kratzenstein  and  Kempelen  have,  however, 
by  making  experiments  on  the  effects  of  pipes  of  dif- 
ferent forms,  succeeded  in  constructing  such  as  shall 
imitate  very  accurately  the  different  vowel  sounds  pro- 
duced by  the  human  voice.  The  theory  of  the  vibration, 
which  takes  place  in  these  pipes,  is  very  imperfectly 
understood,  and  therefore  we  must  rest  satisfied  merely 
with  giving  sections  of  them.  The  sound  in  the  pipe, 
which  gives  the  vowel  /,  is  produced  by  blowing  through 
the  tube  attached  to  the  pipe  1 ;  but  in  the  case  of 
the  other  vowels.  A,  E,  O,  and  U,  by  blowing  into  the 
pipes  with  a  reed  mouth-piece,  resembling  that  of  a 
'(fox-humana  organ-pipe.  This  mouth-piece  is  repre- 
sented in  Plate  II.  Fig.  13,  where  AB  is  a  semi-cylin- 
tlrical  mouth-piece  with  a  metallic  tongue,  or  plate, 
between  A  and  B,  by  whose  vibrations  the  current  of 
air  is  alternately  admitted  and  excluded. 


Sect.  II.     On  the  Speaking  Trumpet. 

The  speaking  trumpet  is  an  instrument  intended  for 
transmitting  sound  to  considerable  distances  in  a  particu- 
lar direction.  The  form  which  is  given  to  this  trumpet 
is  different,  according  to  the  various  theories  whicli 
have  been  formed  concerning  its  action,  being  some- 
times a  parabolic,  sometimes  an  hyperbolic  conoid.  The 
form  of  a  simple  cone  is  found  to  answer  fully  better  in 
practice  than  any  other.  This  construction  of  the  in- 
strument is  represented  in  Plate  II.  Fig.  11,  where  A 
is  a  mouth-jnece,  adapted  to  surround  the  lips  of  the 
speaker,  and  confine  the  voice.  AB  is  the  body  of  the 
instrument,  being  a  cone,  truncated  at  A,  and  gradually 
enlarging  towards  B.  Sometimes  the  instrument  is 
terminated  at  B,  by  a  sudden  enlargement  of  its  aper- 
ture. The  theory  of  the  action  of  this  trumpet  has  been, 
in  general,  very  ill  understood.  The  augmentiition  in 
the  iutensitj'  of  the  sound  has  been  supposed  to  arise 
partly  from  the  vil|^tion  of  the  substance  of  the  trumpet, 
and  partly  from  a  reflection  of  the  sonorous  rays  from 
its  sides.  The  former  of  these  circumstances,  however, 
has  long  ceased  to  be  adduced  as  a  cause  of  the  augmen- 
tation of  sound;  for  its  effect  must  be  to  render  the 
voice  indistinct,  and  nearly  unintelligible ;  but  the  latter 
still  continues  to  be  the  theory  of  the  action  of  thi»  in- 


118 


ACOUSTICS. 


struDient,  which  is  usually  given  by  writers  on  Acous- 
tics. According  to  these  authors,  the  sonorous  rays 
A  b,  A  c,  A  /,  and  A  g,  which  diverge  from  the  point 

A,  and  which  would,  if  the  instrument  were  not  em- 
ployed, continue  to  proceed  through  the  atmosphere  in 
their  diverging  lines,  are,  by  impinging  against  the 
points  b,  c,  f,  and  g,  in  the  side  of  the  instrument,  re- 
flected into  the  parallel  lines,  b  e,  c  d,fh,  and  g  k,  and 
thus  transmitted  to  the  hearer.  Tliis  will  a|)pear  a  very 
defective  theory,  if  we  consider,  tliat  it  extends  the 
analogy  between  sound  3nd  light  much  further  than  we 
are  warranted  to  do  by  the  phenomena  of  nature  ;  for, 
if  we  consider  sound,  at  such  minute  distances,  as  con- 
sisting, like  light,  of  distinct  and  independent  rays,  the 
surfaces  reflecting  sound  must  require  a  higher  degree 
of  polish  than  we  generally  find  them  to  have ;  and  a 
wall,  or  a  rock,  which  at  present  reflect  sound  very  per- 
fectly, should  rather  disperse  it  in  all  directions.  In  a 
similar  manner,  the  sound  of  a  flute,  when  all  its  finger 
holes  are  shut,  should  proceed,  without  any  divergence, 
through  the  air  in  rays  perfectly  parallel.  The  same 
thing  should  also  take  place  with  the  sound  of  a  tuning 
fork,  and  many  other  sonorous  bodies ;  but  this  is  con- 
trary to  daily  experience.  Indeed,  the  phenomena  of 
sound  at  minute  distances  cannot  be  explained  on  any 
other  supposition,  than  by  supposing  its  undulations  to 
correspond  with  any  compressed  fluid,  in  having  a  ten- 
dency to  escape  in  that  direction  where  it  is  least  re- 
sisted. According  to  this  view  of  the  subject,  any  un- 
dulation should  enter  the  trum|)et  at  the  point  A,  in  a 
condensed  state,  and  press  against  the  sides  of  the  in- 
strument during  its  whole  progress  through  it,  thus 
uniformly  occupying  the  whole  breadth  of  the  trumpet, 
and  becoming  more  rare  as  it  approaches  the  extremity 

B.  We  may  obsen'e,  however,  that  the  diminution  in 
its  density  should  be  probably  greater  in  the  parts  adja- 
cent to  the  sides  of  the  instrument,  than  in  those  nearer 
the  axis.  The  action  of  the  instrument  must  therefore 
chiefly  depend  either  on  the  confinement  of  the  undula- 
tion by  the  tube,  or  by  its  gradual  diffusion  across  the 
whole  diameter  of  the  tube.  The  confinement  of  the 
air  in  the  tube  must  chiefly  operate  by  rendering  it  less 
fugacious,  and  capable  of  receiving  a  stronger  impulse 
from  the  organs  of  speech,  and  thus  increasing  the  in- 
tensity of  the  sound  in  the  same  manner  tliat  the  sound 
of  a  sonorous  body  is  louder  in  a  dense  than  in  a  rare 
atmosphere.  A  similar  explanation  is  also  suggested  by 
Professor  Leslie  in  his  ingenious  Essay  on  Heat.  On 
this  action  of  the  instrument,  the  increase  of  sound,  at 
least  at  moderate  distances,  seems  chiefly  to  depend ; 
for  llassenfratz  found,  that  the  beat  of  a  watch,  placed 
in  the  mouth  of  a  cylindrical  trumpet,  was  audible  at 
nearly  double  the  distance  which  it  could  be  heard 
without  employing  the  instrument;  an  eflect  which 
coidd  not  take  place  according  to  the  usual  principles 
which  are  employed  to  explain  the  action  of  the  speak- 
ing tnimpel.  The  same  gentleman  found,'  in  oilier 
experiments,  that  a  cylindrical  speaking  trumpet  trans- 
mitted the  sound  of  his  watch  to  as  great  a  distance  as 
a  conical  trumpet.  From  which  ex||Hriments,  and  from 
the  preceding  remarks,  it  is  evident^hat  the  immediate 
effect  of  the  speaking  Inuijpet  in  increasing  the  inten- 
sity of  sound,  depends  in  no  degree  on  reflection,  but 
rather  on  the  air  being  rendered  less  fugacious,  and 
Qiore  Cfipabie  of  receiving  a  strong  impulse.  We  con- 
ceive, however,  that  the  gradual  enlargement  of  the  in- 
slnunent,  by  rendering  the  uudulatiou  less  dense  and 


spread  over  a  greater  surface,  makes  it  less  apt  to  dif- 
fuse itself  in  a  spherical  form,  and  consequently  less 
exhausted  by  being  transmitted  to  considerable  distan- 
ces. Such  an  effect  actually  takes  place  in  the  conical 
trumpet,  for  it  transmits  sound  chiefly  in  the  direction 
to  which  it  is  pointed. 

Sect.  III.    On  the  Hearing  Trumpet. 

The  form  which  is  usually  given  to  the  hearing  trum- 
pet, corresponds  to  that  of  the  speaking  trumpet,  in  be- 
ing a  cone  truncated  near  its  summit,  but  differs  from  it 
in  being  sometimes  of  a  curved  form.  The  summit  of 
the  cone  is  placed  in  the  ear,  and  the  wide  extremity 
turned  towards  the  point  from  which  the  sound  comes. 
The  effect  of  this  instrument  is  found  to  be  a  very  consi- 
derable augmentation  in  the  intensity  of  the  sound,  and 
it  is  accordingly  employed  by  those  whose  sense  of  hear- 
ing is  impaired.  The  common  theory  of  the  hearing 
trumpet,  founded  on  the  hypothesis  of  reflection,  may  be 
easily  conceived,  by  supposing  the  section  of  the  speak- 
ing trumpet,  Plate  II.  Fig.  12,  to  represent  a  hearing 
trumpet,  of  which  the  summit  A  is  jilaced  in  the  ear, 
and  d  c,e  b,  hf,  k  g,  to  be  parallel  rays,  which  impinge 
against  the  sides  of  the  instrument,  and  are  converged 
by  reflection  to  the  point  A.  The  theory  of  reflection 
is  less  applicable  to  the  hearing  than  to  the  spealdng 
trumpet;  for  when  the  instrument  is  of  considerable 
length,  or  the  source  from  which  the  sound  issues  is 
very  near,  each  ray  will  sustain  several  reflections  be- 
tween the  opposite  sides  of  the  tube,  and  at  e::ch  re- 
flection the  angle  of  incidence  will  be  increased  in  such 
a  manner,  that,  after  a  i'ew  reflections,  the  ray  will  again 
issue  out  at  the  mouth  of  the  instrument.  We  must 
therefore  conceive  a  process  the  reverse  of  what  takes 
place  in  the  speaking  trumpet ;  and  that  the  action  of 
the  sides  of  the  instrument  is  not  limited  to  the  parts 
immediately  adjacent ;  but  extends  to  the  axis  of  the 
tube,  gradually  transferring  the  whole  impetus,  which 
was  impressed  on  the  air  at  the  aperture  of  the  instru- 
ment to  the  narrow  portion  of  air  at  its  vertex ;  .lud  thus 
enabling  it  to  act  with  more  energy  upon  the  organ  of 
hearing. 

Sect.  IV.    On  Acoustic  Ttibes. 

Sound  may  be  conveyed  to  much  greater  distances  by 
being  confined,  during  its  whole  transmission,  within  a 
pipe.  Such  pipes  are  frequently  used  in  coffee-rooms 
and  taverns,  for  conveying  orders  to  the  attendants.  Dr. 
Herschel  employs  a  similar  tube  attached  to  his  forty 
feet  telescopes,  for  communicating  his  observations  to 
an  assistant,  who  sits  in  a  small  house  near  the  instru- 
ment; and  thus,  under  cover,  notes  them  down,  and 
the  particular  time  in  which  they  were  made.  Acoustic 
tubes  are  generally  of  a  cylindrical  form,  and  have  at 
each  extremity  a  mouth-piece,  like  that  of  a  speaking 
trumpet,  to  which  either  the  mouth  or  ear  is  applied, 
according  as  the  person  is  speaking,  or  listening  to  an- 
other. 

The  phenomena  of  sound  when  confined  in  acoustic 
pipes,  demonstrate  more  completely  than  even  the  phe- 
uomena  of  speaking  and  hearing  trumi)ets,  that  we  must 
be  led  to  erroneous  conclusions,  by  applying  to  minute 
portions  of  sound  the  laws  of  catoptrics.  According  to 
these  laws,  when  an  acoustic  pipe  is  bent  at  a  right  an- 
gle, the  whole  sound  should  at  that  angle  be  reflected 


ACOUSTICS. 


IW 


oack  in  the  same  path  by  which  it  arrived  at  it ;  and  no 
sound  should  be  transmitted  to  the  other  extremity  of 
the  tube.  This,  however,  is  contrary  to  fact;  for  when 
we  speak  into  an  acoustic  pipe,  the  voice  follows  its 
windings,  however  tortuous.  The  condensations  and 
rarefactions  wliich  constitute  the  sound,  must  therefore 
have  communicated  themselves  laterally  from  the  one 
part  of  the  tube  into  the  other,  contrary  to  the  laws  of 
catoptrics.  The  sound  thus  transmitted  must  be  indeed 
■weakened  by  a  partial  reflection,  and  also  by  a  partial 
transmission  through  the  substance  of  the  tube;  and  the 
relation  between  the  force  of  the  sound  transmitted 
along  the  tube  to  that  which  is  reflected  back,  must  de- 
pend oa  the  relation  which  the  diameters  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  tube  on  each  side  of  the  right  angle  bear  to 
each  other,  and  to  the  depth  of  the  undulations  which 
oonstitute  the  sound.  The  further  consideration  of  this 
interesting  subject,  of  which  we  believe  no  author  has 
yet  treated,  we  must  defer  to  the  article  Vibration. 

Sect.  V.  Explanation  of  the  Deception  called  the  Invi- 
sible Girl. 

Mr.  Charles's  deception  of  the  invisible  girl,  is  chiefly 
produced  by  means  of  acoustic  tubes.  In  this  exhibition 
a  square  railing  of  wood  is  fixed  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  within  this  railing  a  globe  is  firmly  fixed  with 
ribbons,  having  four  trumpets  inserted  into  it,  one  op- 
posite to  each  side  of  the  railing.  The  spectators,  by 
tirst  speaking  into  any  of  the  trumpets,  and  then  applying 
their  ear  to  it,  hear,  in  a  feeble  voice,  an  answer  to  their 
questions  apparently  issuing  from  the  trumpets.  This 
deception  is  performed  by  conveying  the  sound  through 
pipes,  which  are  conducted  from  another  room  under 
the  flooring,  and  along  a  bar  of  the  railing,  to  a  small 
aperture  opposite  to  the  month  of  the  trumpet,  from 
which  the  sound  after  reflection  seems  to  proceed.  The 
trumpets  reflect  the  spectator's  question  to  the  pipe, 
which  conveys  it  to  a  person  placed  in  the  next  room, 
and  also  conducts  back  that  person's  answer. 

Sect.  VI.   On  Ventriloquism.. 

Ventriloquism  does  not,  as  is  frequently  supposed,  de- 
pend on  the  reflection  of  sound,  but  wholly  on  the  inac- 
curacy with  which  the  ear  judges  of  the  direction  from 
which  sounds  proceed ;  enabling  the  performer,  by  a 
variation  of  his  tone  of  voice,  and  by  seeming  not  to 
move  his  lips,  to  persuade  the  spectators  that  tlie  sound 
proceeds  from  some  object  to  which  he  has  diverted 
their  attention.  The  deception,  therefore,  witli  respect 
to  the  direction  of  the  sound,  depends  wholly  on  the 
power  which  the  finesse  of  the  performer  gives  him  over 
the  imaginations  of  his  audience. 

Sect.  VII.    On  Sounding  Boards. 

Sounding  boards  are  employed  in  all  stringed  instru- 
ments for  increasing  the  force  of  their  sound.  A  similar 
contrivance  is  often  employed  to  assist  the  voice  of  pub- 
lic speakers ;  but  the  principles  of  these  two  kinds  of 
sounding  boards  are  perfectly  distinct  from  each  other. 
The  sounding  board  employed  to  assist  the  voice  of  |)ub- 
lic  speakers,  depends  for  its  effect  chiefly,  if  not  wholly, 
upon  reflection.  In  stringed  instruments,  the  sounding 
board  receives  a  vibratory  motion  from  the  string,  and  by 
thug  impelling  the  air  with  a  greater  surface,  produces 


a  more  powerful  sound  than  the  string  alone.  That  this 
is  its  mode  of  operation,  may  be  easily  seen  by  stretch- 
ing a  musical  string  over  a  bo^rd,  and  pressing  the  edge 
of  a  thin  ivory  scale,  or  any  other  hard  body,  against  the 
middle  point  of  the  string.  The  sound  of  the  string  is 
feet)le,  when  the  scale  is  merely  held  in  the  hand  without 
touching  the  board,  but  becomes  powerful  when  we  rest 
the  scale  against  the  board.  The  same  fact  may  be  also 
proved  by  stretching  the  string  on  some  solid  body,  in 
which  it  cannot  readily  produce  vibration.  In  this  case, 
the  vicinity  of  that  body  will  be  found  to  have  little 
effect  in  increasing  the  sound.  The  effect  of  a  mute 
ujjon  a  violin  seems  to  arise  from  its  preventing  the 
vibrations  of  the  string  from  being  communicated  along 
the  bridge  of  the  violin  to  the  body  of  the  instrument. 

SecT.  VIII.    On  Sonmneters. 

Sonometers  are  instruments  intended  for  determining 
the  relation  between  the  number  of  undulations  which 
constitute  the  several  notes  of  music.  This  instrument 
is  usually  in  the  form  of  an  oblong  box,  upon  which  two 
metallic  wires  are  stretched  by  weights,  and  which,  by 
varying  either  their  length  or  tension,  may  be  tuned,  so 
as  that  their  sounds  shall  have  (o  each  other  the  rela- 
tion of  any  two  notes  of  the  musical  scale.  We  can, 
then,  by  comparing  the  relative  lengths,  or  tension,  of 
the  strings,  easily  determine  their  relative  frequency  of 
vibration.  The  monochord  is  a  similar  instrument, 
having  one  string  only,  and  generally  constructed  so  as 
to  vary  the  effective  length  of  the  string,  by  a  moveable 
bridge.  For  the  relations  which  are  thus  discovered  be- 
tween the  notes  of  the  gamut,  we  must  refer  to  the  arti- 
cle Music. 

Sect.  IX.    Method  of  measuring  Distances  by  means  of 
Sound. 

A  knowledge  of  the  velocity  of  sound  enables  us  to 
measure  distances  which  we  can  by  no  other  mode  as- 
certain. It  has  been  already  mentioned,  that  sound  tra- 
vels through  1130  feet  in  a  second  of  time;  and  there- 
fore it  must  occupy  a  little  more  than  4J-  seconds,  or  5 
beats  of  a  healthy  pulse,  in  passing  through  the  distance 
of  a  mile.  Consequently,  if  we  divide  by  4|,  the  num- 
ber of  seconds  which  elapse  between  the  time  of  seeing 
the  flash  of  a  cannon,  or  of  lightning,  and  the  time  of 
hearing  (he  report,  the  quotient  will  express  in  miles  the 
distance  of  the  cannon  or  the  thunder. 

For  further  information  on  the  subject  of  Acoustics, 
the  reader  is  referred  to  (he  articles  Echo  and  Vibra- 
tion, and  to  the  following  works  : 

Mersenne  Harmonic  Universelle,  Paris,  1636;  Galiler 
Discorsi  Mathanatichi,  1 038  ;  Bartoli  del  Sono,  1 680 ; 
Derham,  Phil.  Tram.  No.  313;  Carre.  Mem.  Acad.  Par. 
1704;  De  la  Hire.  Id.  171G,  p.  252;  Cassiny,  Maraldi, 
and  La  Caille,  Id.  1738,  p.  128,  1739 ;  Hawksbee,  Phil. 
Trans,  v.  xxiv.  p.  902 ;  v.  xxvi.  p.  367.  Bishop  of  Ferns, 
Id.  V.  xiv.  p.  471.  Walker,  Id.  v.  xx.  p.  433.  T.  Young, 
Id.  1800,  p.  106.  Young's  Nat.  Phil.v.  ii.  p.  531,  607. 
Euler,  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin.  1 759;  1 765,  p.  335.  Miscellan. 
TmtrincHs.  torn.  ii.  11.  Euler's  Con/frf,  circa.  Propag, 
Soni,  Berl.  1750.  Nov.  Comment.  Petrop.  torn.  i.  p.  67. 
Bernoulli,  Mem.  Acad.  Par.  1762,  p.  442.  La  Grange 
Miscellan.  Taurinens.  torn  i,  1739,  p.  1 — 146;  Id.  torn, 
ii,  p.  1.  11.  232.  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin.  1736,  p.  181.  Lam. 


120 


ACOUSTICS. 


bert.  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin.  1 7C3,  p.  70 ;  1 772,  p.  1 73.  Bian- 
coni.  Cmmnent.  Bonmi.  ii.  365.  Zanotti.  Id.  ii.  Blagden. 
Phil.  Trans.  1784,  p.  291.  Perrolle,  Melanges  dc  la  Soc. 
Turin.  1780,  torn.  iii.  or  Nicholson's  Journal,  v.  i.  p.  41 1 . 
Chladni  Entdeckungen  iihcr  die  Theorie  des  Klangcs, 
Leips.  1787.  GWbert'e  JotOTialderPhysik.in.  159.  177. 
182.  Von  Arnim.  Id.  iii.  167  ;  iv.  112.  Biot.  Journal  de 
Physique,  v.  Iv.  p.  1 73.  Lamark.  Id.  v.  xlix.  p.  397.  Gre- 
^OTOwHz  Dissert.  <U  Propag.  Soni,  Vaut.  \1Q\.  Neder- 
holm.  Dissert,  dc  Soni,  celerit.  Abo,  1762.  Winkler. 
Tentam.  circa  Soni,  celtrit.  Lips.  \1^^.  Experiences  sur 
la  Vitesse  du  Son,  Copeuliagen,  1761.  Anleron  Phil. 
Trans.  1748,  p.  149. 

Taylor  Phil.  Trans,  v.  xxviii.  p.  26.  Hermann,  Act. 
Erudit.  Lips.  1716.  p.  370.  Euler,  Mem.  Acad.  Berl. 
1 748,  p.  69 ;  1 753,  p.  196 ;  1 765,  p.  307,  335.  Nov.  Com- 
ment.  Petrop.  torn.  iii.  1762,  1763.  Mt.  Acad.  Petrop. 
1779,  part  i.  p.  103;  part  ii.  p.  116;  1780,  partii.  p.  99. 
Melanges  de  Soc.  Turin,  torn.  iii.  pour  1762 — 1765.  Act. 
Lips.  1749,  p.  512.  Bernoulli,  Mem.  Acad.  Par.  1762,  p. 
431.  Commait.  Petrop.  torn,  iii.  p.  13.  62;  xiii.  p.  105. 


167.  Nov.  Comm.  Petrop.  xv.  p,  361  ;  xri.  p.  257.  Nor- 
Act.  Petrop.  1787.  vol.  v.  p.  197.  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin- 
1705.  D'Alembert  Opu.<ic.  Mathemai.  torn.  i.  iv.  p.  128- 
Mem.  Acad.  Berlin.  1747,  p.  214;  1750,  p.  355;  \15Z\ 
1763, p. 235.  Ch\aAm,Phil.Mag.  v.  ii.  p. 31 5.  391 ;  v.  iii. 
p.  389 ;  V.  iv.  p.  275. ;  v.  xii.  p.  259.  Chladni  Entdec- 
kungen,  &c.  dx.  Chladui  iihcr  die  Longitudinal  Schwe- 
bwigcn  dcr  Stabe.  Riccati,  Mem.  Soc.  Ital.  vol.  i.  p.  444  ; 
vol.  iv.  p.  81.  Acad.  Pad.  vol.  i.  p.  419.  Lexell,  Act.  Pe- 
trop. 1781,  V.  ii.  p.  185.  Lambert,  Nov.  Act.  Hclvct.  v. 
i.  p.  42.  WiotMem.  Institut.  Nat.  torn.  iv.  p.  21.  Zanotti. 
de  Chord.  Fibrat.  Comirunt.  Roma-,  1765. 

Kralzenstein,  Observations  par  Rosier,  vol.  xxi.  p.  385. 
Sauveur,  Mem.  Acad.  Par.  1 702,  p.  308.  Moreland  on 
the  Speaking  Trumpet,  London,  1671.  Lambert,  Mem.  ^ 
Acad.  Berl.  1763,  p.  87.  Hassenfrals,  Annates  dc  Chiniie, 
torn,  xii ;  or  Nicholson's  Journal,  vol.  ix.  p.  283.  Con- 
yers,  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xiii.  p.  1027.  Robison,  Encyc. 
Brit.  Supp.  art.  Trumpet.  Nicholson's  Journal,  vol. 
iii.  8vo.  p.  50.  Duquet  Machin,  Approuv.  torn.  ii.  v. 
129*.     (a.  c.) 


*  Note.  There  is  still  wanted  a  work  on  the  practical 
application  of  the  principles  of  acoustics  to  the  construc- 
tion of  rooms,  in  wliich  ■what  is  spoken  or  performed  shall 
be  uttered  without  difficulty,  and  distinctly  heard  through- 
out the  space  enclosed.  In  none  of  the  works  contained 
in  the  foregoing  list,  with  which  the  writer  of  this  arti- 
cle is  acquainted,  is  there  any  thing  like  an  attempt  to. 
lay  down  a  system  by  which  an  architect  could  be  guid- 
ed in  his  design. 

In  the  following  remarks,  an  attempt  will  be  made  to 
lay  down  some  general  principles,  and  to  open  the  way 
to  a  more  ample  elucidation  of  a  subject  of  great  im- 
portance, especially  in  these  United  States.  Under  a 
government  in  which  public  debate  precedes  every 
public  measure,  from  the  enactment  of  national  laws,  to 
the  assessment  of  a  corporation  tax,  it  is  indeed  essential 
that  the  halls  of  debate  should  be  constructed  on  good 
prinrijjles. 

Rooms,  in  the  construction  of  which  a  knovrledge  of 
the  science  of  sounds  is  necessary,  may  be  distributed 
in  three  classes. 

1.  Rooms  in  which  one  speaker  only  is  to  be  heard, 
whose  place  is  fixed,  as  well  as  that  of  the  audience. 
To  this  class  belong  churches  and  lecture  rooms. 

2.  Rooms  in  which  there  are  to  be  heard  more  than 
one  speaker  or  musical  performer,  in  which  one  part  is 
appropriated  to  the  sound,  the  other  to  the  audience. 
To  this  class  belong  music  rooms  and  theatres. 

3.  Rooms  in  which  the  speakers  are  scattered  over 
the  whole,  or  the  greater  part,  of  the  space  enclosed, 
who  also  form  the  audience.  To  this  class  belong  le- 
gislative halls,  and  all  rooms  of  debate, 

Halls  of  justice,  as  conducted  in  our  own  country  and 
in  the  British  empire,  form  an  intermediate  class  be- 
tween the  two  latter;  these  are  occupied  by  the  bench, 
the  bar,  and  the  jury,  being  a  very  considerable  part  of 
the  whole  space,  which  assimilates  the  room  to  those  of 
the  last  class,  while  the  large  space  occu|)ied  by  the 
audience  connects  them  with  the  preceding. 

The  general  principles,  on  which  rooms  of  each  of 
these  classes  ought  to  be  constructed,  are  the  same  : — 


and  on  these  I  will  in  the  first  place  make  some  obser- 
vations. 

The  distinctness,  with  which  the  human  voice  can  be 
heard  by  a  good  ear,  depends,  independently  of  reverbe- 
ration, or  consonant  vibration,  1.  On  the  clearness  and 
strength  of  the  voice, — 2.  On  the  direction  of  the  mouth 
of  the  speaker  when  uttering  his  voice, — 3.  On  the  state 
of  the  atmosphere,^4.  On  the  distance  between  the 
speaker  and  hearer, — 5.  On  the  absence  of  other  inter- 
fering sounds. 

When  the  voice  is  good,  the  articulation  clear,  the 
mouth  directed  to  the  hearer,  the  atmos](here  compara- 
tively heavy,  the  distance  moderate,  and  when  silence 
prevails,  the  voice  of  a  speaker  may  be  distinctly  heard 
without  any  assistance  from  art.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  musical  or  any  other  sounds. 

But  as  there  is  no  where  perfect  silence,  as  good 
voices  and  good  declamation  are  rare,  as  the  mouths  of 
speakers  cannot  be  directed  to  all  parts  of  an  audience 
at  once,  and  as  the  very  existence  of  an  enclosed  space 
implies  a  multitude  of  echoes,  it  is  the  business  of  art, 
so  to  use  or  to  destroy  their  effect,  as  to  j.roduce  the 
greatest  possible  ease  to  the  speaker  and  to  the  hearer, 
and  to  correct  all  that  opposes  tlie  attainment  of  this 
object. 

The  consideration  of  the  artist  must  therefore  be  di- 
rected, 1 .  to  the  production  of  such  echoes  only,  as  are 
useful  in  supporting  the  effect  of  the  voice  or  sound; 

2.  to  the  destruction  of  such  as  interfere  with  its  effect; 

3.  to  the  production  (where  it  is  possible)  of  co-harmo- 
nious vibrations ;  4.  to  the  destructiou  of  those  of  the 
opposite  kind;  5.  and  to  the  exclusion  of  substances  in- 
tervening between  the  speaker  and  hearer. 

In  pr.'.ctJc  i!  architecture,  the  only  effects  of  sound 
over  which  the  artist  can  ohtnin  any  control,  are  echo 
and  vibration  : — and  the  only  means  within  his  power 
are  fonn  and  materials. 

In  treating  theoretically  therefore  on  the  subject  be- 
fore me,  I  shiill  consider  sound  only  as  in  its  capacity  of 
reflection  or  reverberation,  aod  in  its  power  of  commu- 
nicating  vibration  to  solid  siibslauces.     Over  direct,  or 


ACOUSTICS. 


121 


what  may  be  called  riuliant  sound,  the  architect  has  no 
control :  and,  as  it  will  in  the  sequel  appear  that  the  use 
that  may  be  made  of  the  communication  of  the  vibration 
of  sound  to  solids  is  extremely  limited,  the  principal  ob- 
ject of  attention  will  be  the  effect  of  reverberation,  or 
echo,  as  depending  on  the  form  and  materials  of  a  room. 

The  forms  into  which  rooms  may  be  distributed  are, 
1st.  Parallelopipedons.  2d.  Cylinders  and  cylindroids,  or 
elliptical  rooms  with  flat  ceilings.  3d.  Parallelopipedons 
with  arched  ceilings.  4th.  Cylindrical  rooms  with  sphe- 
rical ceilings  or  domes.  5th.  Rooms,  in  their  walls  or 
ceilings,  compounded  of  the  former  kinds. 

There  are  other  geometrical  forms  which  might  be 
adopted;  and  which,  however  ridiculous  in  idea,  might 
produce  wonderful  effects  as  to  the  propagation  of  sound. 
They  will  very  seldom,  if  ever,  be  executed ;  but  they 
deserve  notice  on  account  of  the  theory  they  elucidate 
and  confirm.  Of  these  ideal  rooms,  the  globular  and  the 
parabolic  conoid  claim  attention. 

It  is  a  matter  of  fact,  ascertained  at  least  by  all  my 
own  experience,  that  surfaces  reflect  sound  in  pro[)ortion 
to  their  regularity  or  smoothness,  as  well  as  in  proportion 
to  their  hardness,  notwithstanding  the  general  truth  of 
tlie  remark  contained  above  in  chap.  iv. 

If  therefore  a  spherical  room  could  be  constructed  of 
perfectly  solid  materials,  perfectly  polished,  and  a  sound 
were  to  issue  from  the  voice  of  a  person  in  the  centre, 
there  would  be  an  accumulation  of  echo  at  the  centre, 
wi^iich  would  probably  be  destructive  of  the  organs  of 
hearing.  For  all  the  primary,  secouilary,  and  succes- 
sive echoes  would  pass  that  point,  and  as  experiment 
has  established  the  fact,  that  each  echo,  from  each  echo- 
ing surface  (at  a  moderate  distance)  is  little  less  intense 
than  the  original  sound ;  and  as,  in  the  case  supposed, 
every  point  in  the  polished  surface  of  the  sphere  would 
return  an  echo ;  and  as  their  number  is  infinite,  it  would 
not  be  a  deviation  from  the  language  of  mathematical 
truth  to  say,  that  the  sound  accumulated  in  the  centre 
would  be  infinitely  loud. 

In  the  subsequent  pages  I  shall  use  the  expression 
primary  echo,  for  the  echo  of  the  original  sound ;  secon- 
dary echo,  for  the  echo  of  a  reverberated  sound ;  and  sub- 
sequent echoes,  for  the  echoes  of  sounds  more  than  twice 
reverberated. 

If  in  such  a  spherical  room,  the  voice  remain  in  the 
centre,  and  the  earwere  in  any  other  point,  nothing  would 
be  heard  but  the  direct  voice,  and  the  echoes  passing 
along  that  diameter  of  the  sphere  which  passes  also 
through  the  ear. 

If  the  voice  were  also  placed  out  of  the  centre,  but  so 
that  the  ear  and  the  voice  were  in  the  same  diameter, 
and  at  equal  or  unequal  distances  from  the  centre,  then, 
besides  the  direct  voice,  the  ear  would  receive  echoes 
from  each  termination  of  the  diameter  of  a  great  circle, 
in  the  plane  of  which  both  the  voice  and  the  ear  were 
placed ;  and  also  primary  echoes  from  every  point  of  a 
circle  from  the  circumference  of  which,  chord  lines  be- 
ing drawn  through  the  voice  and  the  ear,  would  make  the 
angles  of  incidence  and  reflection  on  the  surface  of  the 
sphere  equal.  But  no  other  primary  echoes  could  pass 
through  the  ear;  although  cases  would  exist  in  which 
circles  of  subsequent  echoes  might  pass  the  same  point. 

If  the  voice  and  the  ear  were  placed  not  in  the  same 
gfeat  circle,  then  there  would  be  only  one  circle  of  pri- 
mary echoes  which  could  reach  the  ear,  to  wit,  that  on 
each  side  of  which  the  angles  of  incidence  and  reflection 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


would  be  equal ;  subsequent  echoes  however  would 
reach  the  same  point. 

Which  of  an  infinite  series  of  subsequent  reverbera- 
tions would  pass  through  the  ear,  the  following  formula 
would  determine. 

Let  c  be  the  circumference  of  a  great  circle;  m  the  an- 
gle subtended  at  the  circumference  by  two  chords  of  in- 
cidence and  reflection,  jtassing  each  through  one  of  the. 
points  at  which  the  voice  and  ear  are  placed  ;  y  the  num- 
ber of  quotients  obtained  by  dividing  the  circumference 
by  m,  and  by  the  successive  remainders  of  each  remain- 
der after  each  division;  a,b,  c,  &c.  and  2  the  succes- 
sive remainders ;  g  the  last  remainder ;  x  the  number 
of  the  reverberation  which  would  coincide  with  the  first : 

cy 


then  X  =- 


As  in  a  regular  po- 


'711  X  a  X  l>  X  c  X  "fee.  X  s 
lygon  a  is  =  0,  there  being  no  remainder,  y  will  be  =  1 . 
and  X  =  to  the  number  of  the  sides  of  the  polygon. 

From  hence  it  follows,  that  if  the  ear  and  voice  were  so 
placed  as  each  to  fall  into  a  side  of  a  regular  polygon 
described  within  a  great  circle  of  the  sphere,  the  ear 
would  receive  an  infinite  number  of  successive  echoes 
from  the  circles  which  would  be  described  by  the  angles 
of  the  polygon  on  the  surface  of  the  sphere,  if  the  poly- 
gon were  made  to  revolve  round  its  diameter.  And  the 
echoes  would  run  round  the  sphere  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, passing  through  the  ear  both  from  the  left  to  the 
right  and  from  the  right  to  the  left.  The  nearer  the 
voice  and  the  ear  were  placed  to  the  surface  of  the  sphere, 
the  more  numerous  would  be  the  sides  of  the  polygon 
which  may  pass  through  those  points,  and  of  course  the 
more  numerous  the  angles  describing  the  circles  which 
would  return  them,  or  in  other  words,  the  more  numer- 
ous would  be  the  echoes. 

But  this  would  also  happen  if  the  voice  and  ear  were  not 
placed  in  the  sides  of  a  regular  polygon,  because,  by  the 
formula  stated  above,  after  a  certain  number  of  reverber- 
ations are  performed,  the  echo  would  begin  to  reach  and 
pass  through  the  ear.  But  this  would  happen  only  at  in- 
tervals ;  and,  if  I  am  not  much  mistaken,  the  undulatory 
effect  of  the  echoes  under  domes  is  to  be  ascribed  to  this 
cause,  and  not,  as  is  generally  supposed,  to  the  wavy  mo- 
tion of  the  air.  It  must  also  be  observed,  that  when  the 
voice  and  ear  are  placed  out  of  the  same  diameter  of  the 
sphere,  there  will  be  two  points,  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
centre,  from  which  the  voice  will  be  reverberated ;  and 
as  the  angle  m  (as  in  the  formula  above)  cannot  be 
equal  on  both  sides,  the  number  y  will  also  vary ;  and 
the  reverberation  from  the  right  and  the  left  will  not 
coincide,  excepting  at  every  termination  of  a  cycle  of 
echoes,  which  might  be  easily  calculated  if  the  relative 
magnitude  of  each  angle  m  were  known. 

If  the  voice  and  ear  could  both  be  placed  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  sphere,  then  every  point  of  that  surface  would 
return  an  echo ;  and  the  effect  would  be  the  same  as  if 
they  were  in  the  centre. 

In  these  principles  is  to  be  found  the  whole  mystery  of 
Whispering  Galleries,  and  of  the  Hall  of  Secrets  at  Paris. 
If  a  room  were  built  horizontally  in  the  form  of  a  para- 
bolic conoid,  and  the  voice  were  made  to  issue  from  it« 
focus — or  if  it  were  covered  with  a  parabolic  dome,  and 
the  voice  placed  in  the  focus — every  hearer  would  receive 
the  direct  voice  and  one  single  echo :  for  all  echoes  be- 
ing reverberated  in  lines  parallel  to  the  axis  of  the  para- 
bola, no  two  echoes  could  possibly  pa«s  through  tJte 
same  point. 

Q 


122 


ACOUSTICS. 


I  now  «ome  (o  consider  such  forms  of  rooms  as  are 
usually  adopted  for  public  purposes.  As  the  floors  of 
these  rooms  are  generally  covered  either  with  mats  or 
carpels,  or  by  the  audience,  I  shall  leave  the  floor  out 
of  consideration  for  the  present. 

1 .  Farallelopipedons.  The  primary  echoes  in  all  rooms 
vrith  plain  walls  and  ceilings  will  be  equal  to  the  number 
of  planes  enclosing  them,  let  the  voice  and  the  ear  be 
placed  as  they  may.  A  square  or  oblong  room  therefore 
will  return  five  echoes  to  each  ear.  Each  set  of  subse- 
quent echoes  will  be  also  equal  to  the  number  of  en- 
closing surfaces. 

2.  Cylindrical  rooms  with  flat  ceilings.  The  ceiling  of 
a  cylindrical  room  will  return  one  primary  echo.  The 
surface  of  the  wall  however  will  return  rings  of  echoes, 
either  circular, — if  the  voice  and  ear  be  both  either  on 
the  same  level  or  both  in  the  axis  of  the  cylinder, — or 
elliptical,  if  they  be  otherwise  placed. 

The  secondary  echoes  of  the  ceiling  from  the  walls  will 
be  also  from  rings  determined  on  the  same  principle. 

In  elliptical  or  cylindroidal  rooms,  if  the  voice  be  in 
one  focus,  all  the  echoes  will  be  collected  at  the  other. 
In  every  other  case  the  laws  that  govern  the  echoes  of 
cylindrical  rooms  will  prevail. 

3.  Parallelopipedons  with  arclud  ceilings.  Besides  the 
four  echoes  of  the  walls,  there  will  be  from  the  ceiling 
of  these  rooms  an  arch  line  of  echoes  circular  or  ellip- 
tical according  to  the  position  of  the  voice  and  ear. 
These  will  be  reverberated  as  from  the  wall  of  a  cylin- 
drical room. 

4.  Cirailar  domed  rooms.  What  I  have  said  above  on 
a  s|)herical  room  a|»plies  to  the  echoes  from  the  dome  of 
such  a  room,  if  the  voice  and  ear  be  within  the  circle  of 
the  dome,  as  is  the  case  in  a  considerable  part  of  the 
Pantheon  at  Rome  at  the  elevation  of  six  feet  from  the 
floor,  and  in  the  Bank  of  Pennsylvania  at  Philadel|)hia. 
But  as  a  dome  is  only  one  half  or  a  segment  of  a  sphere 
or  spheiiod,  the  echoes  will  of  course  be  much  less  nu- 
merous, and  fewer  of  them  will  reach  the  ear.  The 
vails  supporting  the  dome  will  also  cast  innumerable 
echoes  on  to  its  surface,  which  will  be  reverberated  at  in- 
tervals or  in  cycles,  so  as  to  reach  the  ear  at  regular  in- 
tervals, and  produce  an  uudulatory  effect.  I  have  above 
said  so  much  on  the  general  theory  of  the  case  that  I  fear 
I  have  fatigued  the  reader,  and  quite  enough  to  suggest 
to  his  own  reasoning  all  that  can  be  said  on  the  princi- 
))les  of  the  echoes,  and  of  the  prolongation  and  the  un- 
dulation of  sound  in  domes. 

5.  Mixed  rooms  partake  of  the  qualities  of  all  the 
«lhers  of  which  they  are  composed. 

1  have  now  to  consider  in  how  far  echo,  or  the  rever- 
beration of  the  voice,  is  useful  in  giving  it  effect  on  the 
car,  and  in  how  far  it  destroys  that  effect. 

It  was  observed  above.  Chap.  IV.  that  if  the  distance 
of  the  speaker  from  the  surface  which  reflects  the  voice 
be  greater  than  forty-seven  feet,  there  will  be  a  percep- 
tible echo,  the  ge|)aration  of  which  from  the  original 
sound  in  point  of  time,  is  certainly  a.  means  of  rendering 
the  articulation  of  the  voice  indistinct,  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  a  page  of  printing,  which  has  received  a  double 
impression,  is  read  with  difficulty.  I  am  not  able  from 
my  own  experience  to  confirm  this  observation ;  but,  at 
■whatever  distance  an  echo  becomes  perceptible  and 
confuses  the  voice,  I  would  call  such  an  echo  dissonant, 
all  others  consonant  echoes. 

If  it  then  be  assumed  as  a  fact,  that  in  all  rooms  in 
which  the  speaker  caauot  be  placed  at  a  greater  diatauce 


than  forty-seven  feet  from  any  wall  or  ceiling,  the  pri- 
mary echo  will  so  nearly  coincide  with  the  voice  as  to 
be  consonant,  then  such  a  room,  in  whatever  form  it  may 
be  built,  would  multiply  the  effect  of  the  voice  by  the 
number  of  echoes  which  would  be  returned  to  the  ear. 

But  as  it  is  necessary  to  distinctness  that  each  sylla- 
ble or  note  of  sound  which  is  uttered  should  be  heard 
during  the  time  of  its  utterance  only,  the  secondary  and 
subsequent  echoes,  travelling  much  further  than  the 
primary  echo,  would  be  still  a  great  cause  of  confusion. 
And  the  fact  confirms  this  reasoning.  For  in  a  room 
about  forty  feet  square  and  less  than  forty  feet  high,  if 
the  walls  and  ceiling  be  well  plastered,  and  no  obstruc- 
tion given  to  echo  by  furniture  or  numerous  persons,  in 
w  hich,  including  that  from  the  floor,  there  cannot  be  pos- 
sibly more  than  six  primary  echoes,  and  six  in  each  set 
of  subsequent  echoes,  it  is  impossible  to  speak  loud  and 
rapidly  so  as  to  be  distinctly  heard. 

In  rooms,  any  part  of  the  walls  or  .ceiling  of  which  is 
cylindrical  or  splierical,  and  in  which  of  course  the 
echoes  are  infinitely  more  numerous,  the  effect  of  con- 
fusion by  the  interference  of  subsequent  echoes  is  still 
more '  considerable. 

On  the  plain  fact,  however,  that  consonant  echoes  do 
support  the  voice  and  increase  its  effect,  there  cannot  be 
any  dispute.  Theory  and  experience  both  confirm  it. 
No  echo  however  can  be  mathematically  consonant ;  for 
no  case  can  occur  in  which  the  distance  of  the  voice 
from  the  ear  >vouId  be  exactly  equal  to  the  legs  of  the 
angles  of  incidence  and  reflection  of  an  echo,  the  dis- 
tance between  the  voice  and  the  ear  being  a  straight  line, 
or  the  shortest  distance :  still  less  then  can  subsequent 
echoes  be  consonant. 

These  considerations  throw  a  strong  light  upon  the 
question  of  the  construction  of  the  rooms  enumerated  ia 
the  first  part  of  the  essay,  info  which  I  will  now  enter. 

If  the  separate  tones  or  articulations  of  a  voice  were 
made  to  succeed  each  other  at  such  intervals,  as  to  leave 
time  between  them  for  the  primary  and  substMjuent 
echoes  to  arrive  at  the  ear,  let  Iheir  number  dependent 
upon  the  form  of  the  room  be  what  it  may,  then  no  in- 
distinctness could  be  produced  by  them.  But  if  upon 
the  image  (if  I  may  be  allowed  the  term)  of  one  sound, 
the  impression  of  a  different  sound  be  stamped,  indis- 
tinctness of  both  is  the  consequence. 

There  are  therefore  two  principal  means  of  avoiding 
this  confusion : — the  first  depends  on  the  'speaker  or 
musician  :  it  is  an  articulation  adapted  in  its  pace  to  the 
echoing  qualify  of  the  room ; — the  other  is  in  the  pro- 
vince of  the  architect,  so  to  construct  the  room  as  to 
regulate  its  echoing  qualities  according  to  its  use. 

The  first  of  these  principles  has  been  long  understood 
in  practice  by  professors  of  oratory  and  declamation ; 
and  it  has  become  a  kind  of  habit  among  public  speak- 
ers to  articulate  slowly  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the 
room  in  which  they  speak.  The  evil,  although  thus  re- 
medied by  men  who  speak  according  to  a  regular  sys- 
tem, beiug  inherent  in  an  ill-constructed  room,  will  be 
felt  the  moment  the  warmth  of  feeling  or  the  ignorance 
of  the  E]>eaker  causes  a  more  rapid  delivery  than  i» 
adhpted  to  that  degree  of  echo  which  is  unavoidable.  It 
is  then  the  duty  of  the  architect  to  suijpress  or  exclude 
the  echoes  that  would  confuse  the  distinctness  of  the 
species  of  sound  which  it  is  the  object  of  the  edifice  ^t^ 
exhibit.  The  mode  of  effecting  this  object  will  be  dif- 
ferent, according  to  the  different  use  to  wiiich  the  room 
fa  put. 


ACOUSTICS. 


123 


1.  In  cluirclies  and  lectuve-rooms  in  which  there  is 
t)nly  one  speaker,  remaining  in  one  place,  in  which  the 
object  ot  instruction,  as  well  as  the  laws  of  declamation, 
require  a  slow  and  measured  articulation,  primary  eclioes 
cannot  be  considered  as  injurious.  They  are,  on  the 
contrary,  beneficial.  If  the  room  be  a  parallelopipedon, 
there  will  be  five  such  echoes;  and,  presuming  the  rule 
(Chap.  iV.)  to  be  correct,  if  the  mean  distance  of  the 
voice  and  echoing  surface  do  not  exceed  forty-seven 
feet,  the  voice  will  be  well  heard  and  supported ;  unless 
the  walls  be  so  smooth  and  hard,  and  the  height  so  pro- 
portioned to  the  width  and  length,  as  to  reverberate 
audibly  the  echo  a  second  time  or  oftener. 

The  object  then  would  be  attained,  were  the  room  so 
constructed  that  no  secondary  and  subsequent  echoes 
could  reach  the  audience,  or  that  they  should  be  so 
weak  as  not  to  have  any  perceptible  effect. 

The  most  effectual  means,  which  could  be  adopted, 
would  probably  be,  to  prevent  all  echo,  excepting  from 
the  ceiling,  by  hanging  the  walls  with  drapery,  orotlier- 
wise  covering  them  so^hat  they  should  not  reverberate 
sound.  Rooms,  the  walls  of  which  are  broken  into  sunk 
pannels  enriched  by  relievos,  or  which  are  decorated 
with  fluted  pilasters,  or  otherwise  so  varied  in  their  sur- 
face as  to  offer  to  the  rays  of  sound,  which  in  this  re- 
spect resemble  those  of  light,  no  regular  mirror  from 
which  they  can  be  uniformly  reflected,  are  better  calcu- 
lated to  render  the  voice  distinctly  audible,  than  those, 
the  walls  of  which  are  unvaried  in  tlioir  surface. 

As  our  churches  are  usually  constructed,  the  galle- 
ries, the  pews,  the  cornices,  the  windows  and  their  cur- 
tains, but  especially  a  crowded  congregation,  answer 
the  purpose  to  a  considerable  extent.  If  the  ceiling  be 
arched,  and  not  so  high  as  to  produce  a  perceptible  sepa- 
ration of  the  voice  and  its  echo,  it  will  be  a  better  room 
than  if  the  ceiling  be  flat.  If  the  ceiling  be  spherical, 
the  effect  will  be  still  greater;  but  it  will  be  unequal, 
because  the  primary  echoes  will  be  limited  to  the  planes 
of  certain  great  circles ;  as  may  be  easily  understood  on 
referring  to  the  observations  I  have  made  on  the  auppo- 
«ition  of  a  spherical  room. 

If  the  ceiling  were  parabolic,  and  the  speaker  placed 
in  the  focus,  the  room  would  I  believe  be  as  perfectly 
adapted  to  its  purpose  as  possible.  On  this  one  point, 
however,  I  have  no  experience ;  but  all  my  observations 
on  churches  and  lecture-rooms,  actually  in  existence, 
confirm  the  theory  I  have  advanced. 

The  place  of  the  orator  is  next  to  be  considered. — 
He  ought  to  be  so  situated  that  his  hearers  shall  not  be 
behind  him,  and  also,  that  he  shall  be  at  the  shortest 
mean  distance  from  them.  Both  these  rules,  which  are 
all  that  govern  the  case,  suggest  at  once  the  ancient 
semicircular  theatre  as  the  most  perfect  form  of  a  church 
or  lecture-room,  the  orator  or  exhibiter  being  placed  in 
the  .centre,  or  moving  along  the  diameter. 

It  has  now  become  a  pretty  general  practice  to  con- 
struct lecture-rooms  in  this  form,  es[)ecially  when  the 
nature  of  the  subject  explained  in  them  requires  room, 
and  the  objects  exhibited  are  numerous.  In  the  chemi- 
cal lecture-room  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.though 
on  a  very  limited  scale,  I  have  endeavoured  to  adapt  the 
form  and  arrangement  to  the  princi|)les  which  I  have 
laid  down ;  and  the  object  in  view  has  been  perfectly 
attained. 

The  anatomical  theatre  in  the  same  building  is  a  cir- 
cular room  covered  with  a  dome.  In  au  anatomical 
theatre  the  perfect  view  of  the  subject  is  of  as  much 


importance  as  the  perfect  hearing  of  the  lecture.  Th« 
circular  form  of  such  a  room  brings  the  subject,  placcii 
in  the  centre,  as  near  as  possible  to  the  eyes  of  the  great- 
est number  of  students ;  and  it  is  therefore  preferable  in 
the  semicircular  plan.  Each  of  these  rooms  is  45  feet 
in  diameter. 

But  in  churches,  habit,  and  certain  rules  of  form, 
which  have  an  emblematical  origin,  forbid  the  theatrical 
plan ;  and  although<circular  churches  have  been  built  by 
those  Christians  who  have  deviated  most  from  the  strict 
system  of  the  catholic  church,  the  expense  attending 
their  construction,  as  well  as  other  considerations,  have 
prescribed  to  churches  an  oblong,  or  cruciform,  and 
rectangular  plan. 

The  extent  of  many  churches,  and  the  consequent 
difficulty  of  supporting  the  roof,  have  introduced  columns 
or  pillars,  and  aisles,  into  the  interior.  These,  as  far 
as  they  break  the  regularity  of  the  enclosing  planes, 
destroy  interfering  echoes.  But  they  also  intercept  the 
view  as  well  as  the  voice  of  the  speaker.  In  the  plain, 
rectangul.ir  churches  most  generally  required  by  the 
congregalions  of  our  country,  the  principal  considera- 
tions would  be  the  place  of  the  speaker  and  the  form  of 
the  ceiling.  The  centre  of  one  of  the  longest  sides, 
brings  the  voice  to  the  shortest  possible  distance  from 
the  majority  of  the  hearers ;  and  if  the  ceiling  be  flat,  it 
is  the  most  advantageous  position.  But  if  the  ceiling 
be  arched,  it  is  better  that  he  should  be  placed  in  the 
longitudinal  line,  bisecting  the  area  of  the  church,  for 
the  reasons  stated  above.     See  Cylindrical  Ceilings. 

I  cannot  help  regretting  that  the  abuse,  attributed  to 
the  use  of  pictures  and  statuary  in  churches,  has  expel- 
led them  from  most  of  the  religious  edifices  of  our  coun- 
try. Indepemlently  of  the  operation  of  sensible  repre- 
sentations of  the  objects  of  our  veneration  or  faith  on 
our  minds,  pictures  and  statuary  have  a  great  effect  ia 
suppressing  interfering  echoes  in  churches.  The  sound- 
boartl  of  the  preacher  is  intended  to  have  this  effect,  by 
intercepting  the  voice  before  it  can  reach  any  echoing 
surface ;  and  it  answers  the  purpose  well,  especially  if 
lined  with  velvet,  or  made  of  any  soft  or  vibrating  sub- 
stance, which  receiving,  and  as  it  were  absorbing  the 
vibrations  of  the  voice,  does  not  reflect  them. 

2.  Theatres  and  music-rooms.  The  object  of  a  theatre  is 
to  exhibit  an  extent  of  scenery  to  the  view,  as  well  as  to 
convey  a  variety  of  sounds  to  the  ear.  One  side  or  half  of 
the  room  is  therefore  necessarily  devoted  to  the  voice,  the 
place  of  which  is  not  fixed,  but  only  limited,  to  any  point 
within  that  side ;  the  hearers  being  confined  to  the  other. 
All  the  general  principles,  which  apply  to  lecture- 
rooms,  apply  to  theatres.  The  best  form  is  the  semi- 
circle, and  the  best  ceiling,  the  semi-spherical.  The  extent 
Avhich  this  article  already  occupies  forbids  my  entering 
into  the  very  useful  disquisition  of  that  proportion  of 
the  height  of  the  ceiling  to  that  of  the  walls  occupied 
by  boxes  and  galleries,  and  to  the  diameter  of  the  house, 
which  affords  the  greatest  advantage  of  hearing  dis- 
tinctly what  is  uttered  on  any  part  of  the  stage.  And 
this  disquisition  is  the  less  necessary,  because  the  econo- 
my of  space,  and  the  technical  arrangements  of  a  theatre, 
and  of  the  space  under  the  roof,  render  the  rules  of 
construction  which  the  principles  of  acoustics  prescribe, 
practicable  only  in  small  theatres.  The  sacrifice  which 
in  large  houses  of  this  kind  would  be  made  of  the  room 
withi'i  the  roof  v.ould  be  too  considerable.  On  this 
subject,  see  the  article  Civil  Architecture  and  Theatre. 
Music-rooms  re<iuire  a  sejiarate  consideration.  The 
Q  2 


124 


ACR 


ACR 


declamation  of  the  stage  ought  to  be  adaptetl  in  its  de- 
gree or  rai)idity  to  the  size  of  the  house  :  and  a  good  actor 
knows  how  to  measure  the  pace  of  his  recitation  to 
the  greatest  advantage,  on  each  stage  which  he  treads. 
Primary  echo  therefore  may  in  a  theatre  be  advantage- 
ously allowed.  But  in  a  music-room,  echo  is  the  de- 
struction of  the  clear  articulation  so  necessary  to  give 
eflfect  to  melody,  and  to  the  distinct  succession  and  mo- 
dulation of  chords,  without  whicW  harmony  cannot  be 
understood,  or  proiluce  its  effect.  Whoever  has  been 
accustomed  to  attend  the  European  cathedral  service,  and 
has  been  placed  in  situations  in  which  the  echo  equalled 
the  original  sound  in  intenseness,  must  have  observed 
its  injurious  effect,  excepting  in  very  slow  successions 
of  chords.  In  concert-halls,  in  which  very  rapid  music 
is  to  be  occasionally  performed,  there  should  be  no  per- 
ceptible echo.  The  audience,  if  numerous,  is  security 
against  echo  from  the  floor  and  from  a  part  of  the  walls; 
and  the  decorations  of  the  walls  themselves,  and  the 
draperies,  destroy  the  remainder.  But  experience  proves 
that  the  destruction  of  echo  may  be  carried  too  far  even 
in  concert-rooms ;  and  singers  who  are  not  encouraged 
by  the  echo  of  their  own  voice,  com|)lain  exceedingly 
of  the  distress  they  suffer.  That  part  therefore  of  a 
concert-room,  in  which  the  musicians  and  singers  are 


placed,  should  be  free  from  the  kind  of  furniture  and 
decoration  which  destroys  echo;  and  although  I  have 
no  experience  to  warrant  the  assertion,  I  am  of  opinion 
that  a  cylindrical  wall  behind  them  at  no  great  distance, 
ivould  advantageously  increase,  without  confusing,  the 
effects  of  the  music. 

3.  Legislative  Hulls,  Halls  of  Debate,  Courts  of  Jus- 
tice.—H'he  construction  of  legislative  halls  to  the  best 
advantage  of  hearing  and  speaking,  is  attended  with 
many  difficulties  which  are  not  to  be  encountered  in  any 
room,  in  which  the  place  of  the  voice  is  fixed,  or  limited 
to  a  small  compass. 

If  perfect  silence  could  be  preserved  in  these  rooms, 
there  would  be  no  difficulty  which  could  not  be  over- 
come, by  adhering  to  those  general  principles  of  construc- 
tion which  apply  to  the  other  classes,  excepting  one  : — 
the  back  of  the  speaker  must  necessarily  be  often  placed 
towards  the  hearer;  and  on  the  other  hand  the  back  of 
the  hearers  must  often  be  turned  to  the  speaker.  With- 
out entering  at  present  more  particularly  into  this  part 
of  the  subject,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  article 
Civil  Architecture,  for  the  construction  which  in  most 
respects  is  found  to  be  the  best  adapted  to  its  pur- 
pose.   Latrode. 


ACQUAPENDENTE.     See  Fabricius. 

ACRA,  AcARA,  AcRON,  or  Ai^crou,  in  geography, 
once  a  distinct  kingdom,  now  a  dependent  district  of  the 
kingdom  of  Aquamboe,  on  the  coast  of  Guinea,  in  Afri- 
ca. Here  the  English,  Dutch,  and  Danes,  have  forts, 
accounted  the  best  on  the  whole  coast.  That  of  the 
English  is  called  fort  James;  the  Dutch,  Creveceur; 
and  the  Danish,  Chrislianburgh.  Each  fort  has  its  se- 
parate village,  which  are  all  included  under  the  name  of 
Acra.  At  Acra  alone  there  is  found  more  gold  than  on 
the  whole  coast ;  and  its  commerce,  already  extensive, 
would  be  still  further  increased,  were  it  not  perpetually 
interrupted  by  continual  quarrels  between  the  natives 
of  Aquamboe  and  Akem.  The  country  is  fertile,  and 
abounds  in  game.  This  province  contains  three  villages 
upon  the  coast,  viz.  Soco,  Orsaca,  and  the  Lesser  Acra. 
The  village  of  Great  Acra  is  six  leagues  from  the  sea. 
The  village  of  Lesser  Acra  furnishes  one  third  of  the 
gold  found  on  the  whole  coast.  It  is  brought  from  the 
country  of  Abonoe  and  the  province  of  Acania.  See 
Dap])er's  Description  de  PAfrique,  p.  287.  N.  Lat.  SO" 
40'.  E.  Long.  1»29'.  (a-) 

ACRA,  and  Acro,  when  forming  a  part  of  the  Greek 
names  of  places,  always  imply  that  the  place  is  situated 
upon  an  eminence,  as  Acragas,  Acroceraunia.  (w) 

ACRAGAS.     See  Agrigentum. 

ACRE,  or  Acra,  a  sea-port  town  in  Syria,  formerly 
called  Ptolcmais,  from  one  of  the  Ptolemies ;  and  Acra, 
on  account  of  its  fortifications.  Its  Arabian  name  is 
Akka,  which  greatly  resembles  its  ancient  Hebrew  ap- 
pellation Acco  or  Accho.  Acre  is  surrounded  by  an  ex- 
tensive and  fertile  plain  on  the  north  and  east :  On  the 
"West  it  is  washed  by  the  Mediterranean ;  and  on  the 
south  there  is  a  semicircular  bay  nine  miles  long,  which 
extends  from  the  city  to  Mount  Cannel. 

This  town  has  been  celebrated  in  history,  as  the  thea- 


tre of  several  important  transactions.  During  the  holy 
war,  it  was  the  principal  scene  of  contention  between 
the  Christians  and  Inlidels.  Saladin,  king  of  Egypt,  ob- 
tained possession  of  it  in  1187;  and,  soon  after,  it  was 
invested  by  the  combined  forces  of  all  the  Christians  in 
Palestine.  For  two  years,  it  was  defended  with  the  most 
obstinate  bravery ;  an  incredible  number  of  troops,  both 
European  and  Asiatic,  were  destroyed ;  nor  did  it  sur- 
render till  the  assailants  were  reinforced  by  the  armies 
of  Philip  Augustus  of  Prance,  and  Richard  I.  of  Eng- 
lanrl,  two  monarclis,  whose  ardour  in  the  sacred  cause, 
and  whose  emulation  of  each  other's  fame  incited  them 
to  extraordinary  efforts  of  valour.  The  Saracens,  re- 
duced to  the  last  extremity,  could  not  long  hold  out 
against  such  formidable  enemies,  and,  on  the  12th  of 
July,  1191,  they  surrendered  themselves  prisoners  of 
war.  Thus,  after  losing  more  than  100,000  men,  the 
Christians  became  masters  of  Acre,  a  strong  position 
and  commotlious  harbour;  they  procured  the  restoration 
of  their  fellow  Christians,  Avho  had  been  taken  by  the 
Infidels;  and  once  more  obtained  possession  of  the  wood 
of  the  true  cross.  Saladin,  however,  having  refused  to 
ratify  the  capitulation,  Richard  I.  ordere<l  5000  of  the 
Saracen  captives  to  be  butchered;  and  this  act  of  wan- 
ton cruelty  compelled  Saladin  to  retaliate  upon  the 
Christians.  Almost  a  century  posterior  to  this  event, 
when,  after  many  unsuccessful  attempts  to  recover  the 
Holy  Land,  Jerusalem  was  wrested  from  the  Christians, 
Acre  became  their  metropolis  in  Syria,  and  was  adorned 
Avith  many  useful  and  elegant  works ;  pilgrims  and  fu- 
gitives augmented  its  population ;  and  the  advantages 
of  its  situation  attracted  the  trade  both  of  the  East  and 
West.  At  this  time,  extreme  lecentiousness  prevailed 
in  the  city,  which  the  feeble  efforts  of  government  were 
insufficient  to  restrain.  The  adjacent  Mahometan  vil- 
lages were  [dundered  by  gangs  of  banditti,  who  sallied 


ACR 


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125 


forlli  under  tlic  banners  of  the  cross.  Nineteen  Syrian 
merchants  were  robbed  and  ignominiously  murdered, 
yet  satisCaction  was  demandetl  in  vain.  Incensed  by 
these  enormities,  the  sultan  Khalil  advanced  againtt 
Acre  with  a  powerful  army,  provided  with  a  formidable 
train  of  artillery.  The  Moslems,  after  a  siege  of  thirty- 
three  days,  succeeded  in  storming  the  town,  and  60,000 
Christians  were  either  butchered  or  made  slaves.  The 
fortress  of  the  Templars  was  demolished ;  their  grand- 
master was  slain  ;  and  of  500  knights,  only  ten  survived. 
Of  the  fugitives,  a  very  few  arrived  in  safety  in  the 
island  of  Cyprus.  This  siege  was  distinguished  by  an 
act  of  female  resolution,  scarcely  paralleled  in  history. 
A  number  of  beautiful  young  nuns,  dreading  the  viola- 
tion of  their  chastity  by  the  brutal  Saracens,  determined 
to  render  themselves  objects  of  aversion,  by  mangling 
their  faces  in  the  most  shocking  manner;  and  when  the 
conquerors  entered  the  city,  they  were  so  disappointed 
at  the  disgusting  appearance  of  these  virgins,  that  they 
put  them  all  to  the  sword. 

Acre,  after  being  thus  desolated,  remained  almost 
wholly  deserted,  till  the  year  1 730,  when  it  was  fortified 
by  Uaber,  an  Arabian  scheik,  who  maintained  his  imle- 
pendence  for  many  years  against  the  Ottoman  power, 
and  was  at  length  basely  assassinated,  at  the  advanced 
age  0^86,  by  the  emissaries  of  the  pacha,  against  whose 
tyranny  he  had,  through  life,  defended  his  people.  Acre 
has  since  been  rendered,  by  the  works  of  Djezzar,  one 
of  the  i)rincipal  towns  upon  the  Syrian  coast.  His 
mosque  is  admired  as  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of 
Eastern  architecture.  The  bazar,  or  covered  market, 
Ties  with  those  of  Aleppo ;  and  the  public  fountain, 
though  the  water  is  of  indilTerent  quality,  exceeds  even 
those  of  Damascus  in  elegance.  Of  these  works  the 
pacha  has  the  sole  merit,  as  he  Isoth  planned  them,  and 
superintended  the  execution;  yet,  amidst  all  these  im- 
provements, the  fortifications  of  Acre,  though  they  had 
been  frequently  repaired,  continued  so  insignificant,  that 
they  were  incapable  of  withstanding  any  hostile  assault. 
When  the  French  approached  the  city,  in  the  spring  of 
the  year  1799,  a  few  wretched  low  towers,  mounted  with 
rusty  iron  cannon,  some  of  which  burst  every  time  a 
round  was  fired,  constituted  its  whole  defence.  In  these, 
the  pacha  Djezzar,  who  had  already  evacuated  Caiffa, 
placed  so  little  confidence,  that  he  was  preparing  to 
make  good  his  retreat,  and  to  convey  to  some  place  of 
security  his  women  and  treasure,  when  sir  Sydney  Smith 
anchored  with  his  squadron  in  the  road  of  Caiffa,  and 
eent  colonel  Philipeaux,  a  French  engineer,  to  assist 
the  pacha  in  fortifying  the  town.  Djezzar,  thus  encou- 
raged, determined  to  hold  out  to  the  last.  Caiffa  was 
occupied  by  the  French  advanced  guard,  commanded 
by  Kleber,  and  the  investment  of  Acre  was  completed 
by  Bonai)arte.  But  all  their  exertions,  extraordinary  as 
they  were,  were  baffled  by  the  vigilance,  the  activity, 
and  the  valour  of  sir  Sydney  Smith,  In  vain  did  they 
try  every  variety  of  attack.  The  garrison,  assisted  by 
the  English  marines,  repulsed  them  on  every  occasion 
with  great  slaughter;  and,  after  sustaining  many  irre- 
parable losses,  particularly  of  his  battering  pieces  and 
stores,  Bonaparte  announced  to  the  army  his  intention 
of  raising  the  siege.  Accordingly,  he  began  his  retreat 
on  the  20th  of  May,  the  sixty-first  day  after  breaking  the 
ground.  On  this  occasion  uncommon  spirit  was  »lis- 
played,  and  wonderful  achievements  performed,  both  by 
-the  besiegeU  and  their  assailants;  but  oa  both  bides 


cruelties  were  committed,  and  distresses  endured,  which 
humanity  shudders  on  recollecting. 

Acre,  possessed  of  every  natural  advantage,  is  daily 
increasing  in  prosperity.  Corn  and  cotton  are  the  staple 
articles  of  its  commerce ;  but  the  trade  has  lately  been 
monopolized  by  the  pacha,  without  any  exception  even 
in  favour  of  the  Euroi)ean  merchants.  The  French  had 
six  mercantile  houses  in  Acre,  over  which  a  consul  pre- 
sided ;  and  Russia  has  recently  established  here  a  resi- 
dent. Acre  is  situated  27  miles  south  of  Tyre,  and 
about  70  miles  north  of  Jerusalem ;  in  Lat.  320  40'  N. 
Lon.  39"  25'  E.  See  Hume's  Hist.  vol.  ii  p.  14,  23. 
Gibbon's  Hist.  chap.  lix.  vol.  ii.  p.  128,  147,  &c.     (*) 

ACRE,  a  measure  of  superficies.     See  Measures. 

ACRIDOPHAGI,  from  axQn,  locust,  and  (p««/»,  to 
eat,  a  nation  so  denominated  by  the  ancients,  from  the 
nature  of  their  food.  The  exact  situation  of  their  coun- 
try is  not  ascertained,  whence  many  of  the  moderns 
have  considered  their  existence  as  entirely  fabulous.  It 
is  probable,  however,  that  this  incredulity  has,  in  a  great 
measure,  arisen  from  an  invincible  repugnance  to  be- 
lieve that  an  animal,  which  has  ever  been  the  type  of 
pestilence  and  destruction,  should  at  any  time  have  been 
used  in  sustaining  life.  The  most  distinct  account  of 
the  Acridophagi  is  given  by  Diodorus  Siculus,  who  de- 
scribes them  as  "  an  Ethiopian  nation,  very  black,  of 
meagre  person,  and  small  stature.  They  were  so  short 
lived,  that  their  life  never  exceeded  forty  years ;  and 
they  generally  died  a  wretched  death.  Winged  insects, 
of  a  hideous  form,  were  generated  in  their  bodies,  be- 
ginning in  the  breast  and  belly,  and  gradually  spreading 
over  the  whole  frame.  Excruciating  torments,  attended 
Avith  effusions  of  putrid  blood,  were  occasioned  by  these 
animals  when  forcing  their  way  through  the  skin ;  and 
the  miserable  sufferer  uttering  lamentable  cries,  made 
way  for  them  with  his  nails.  At  length  he  expired,  hav- 
ing his  body  covered  with  innumerable  ulcers.  During 
spring,  when  the  warm  west  winds  drive  immense 
swarms  of  locusts  among  the  Acridophagi,  they  set  fire 
to  wood  and  other  combustibles  in  a  steep  and  extensive 
valley,  and  the  flight  of  locusts  in  passing  over  it  were 
suffocated  by  the  smoke.  They  were  then  collected  in 
heaps,  and  salted  for  future  use." 

Strabo  coincides  with  Diodorus  in  assigning  the  same 
country  to  the  Acridophagi.  Agatharcides,  a  Greek 
historian,  who  lived  prior  to  the  time  both  of  Strabo  and 
Diodorus,  also  places  them  in  Ethiopia,  though  appa- 
rently in  a  different  part  of  that  extensive  country.  Ac- 
cording to  Pliny,  the  Parthians  fed  on  locusts,  which  he 
infers  was  not  in  consequence  of  scarcity,  as  they  abound- 
ed in  wealth ;  and  the  females  full  of  eggs  were  preferred, 
^lian,  the  naturalist,  says,  they  were  sold  in  Egypt  for 
food;  and  various  Greek  authors  mention,  that  they 
were  used  as  sustenance  by  the  lowest  orders  in  Greece. 
But  if  Aristophanes  and  Athena^us  mean  this  identical 
animal,  at  one  time  it  seems  to  have  been  sought  after 
as  a  delicacy,  and  publicly  sold.  St.  Jerom,  who  lived 
in  the  filth  century,  speaks  of  the  "  Orientals  ami  inha- 
bitants of  Libya  eating  locusts,  where  they  appear  in  im- 
mense clouds."  Several  other  ancient  authors  agree  iu 
asserting,  that  these  animals  were  an  article  of  food  In 
various  nations. 

The  same  custom  has  been  transmitted  to  the  present 
day.  Locusts  are  used  as  footl  by  ditlerent  tribes  of 
Arabia,  who  even  catch  them  in  great  quantities,  and 
bring  th^  to  the  public  markets  for  sale.    Kiebubr, 


126 


ACR 


ACT 


the  Danish  tfaveller,  observes,  that  the  locust  arrirca 
lean  and  emaciated,  and  that  it  is  only  after  it  has  fatten- 
ed on  the  herbage,  that  the  Arabs  consider  it  a  delicacy ; 
and  the  female,  when  full  of  eggs,  is  thought  an  invigo- 
rating food  for  men.  The  Jews,  as  well  as  the  Arabs, 
eat  them.  Dr.  Shaw  compares  the  taste  of  the  locusts  of 
Barbary,  where  they  are  also  eaten,  to  that  of  cray-fish. 
Hasselquist,  a  pupil  of  the  celebrated  Linnteus,  during 
his  travels  in  Syria  and  Egypt,  learned,  that  the  Arabs 
and  Ethiopians  ate  locusts ;  and,  when  a  scarcity  pre- 
Tailed  at  Mecca,  that  they  were  bruised  in  mortars,  and 
baked  into  cakes,  which  were  used  as  bread ;  and  that 
they  were  likewise  eaten  when  there  was  no  scarcity, 
though  prepared  in  a  different  maimer.  Sparrmann  in- 
forms us,  that  the  Hottentots  feed  on  the  immense 
swarms  of  locusts  that  ap])ear  at  different  intervals,  and 
chiefly  prefer  the  females,  which  are  more  easily  caught 
from  the  shortness  of  their  wings,  and  the  distention  of 
their  bodies  with  eggs.  All  these  facts  are  confirmed 
by  other  travellers,  whence  there  is  no  doubt  that  both 
ancient  and  motlern  nations  have  fed  on  locusts ;  and  the 
various  modes  in  which  they  are  yet  prepared,  may  vie 
with  the  nicest  refinements  of  European  luxury. 

Hence  it  is  obvious,  that  the  passage  of  scripture 
which  states  that  St.  John  fed  on  locusts  in  the  wilder- 
Bess,  which  has  often  been  the  subject  of  commentary, 
involves  no  obscurity,  except  that  which  ignorance  of 
ancient  customs  has  thrown  over  it.  For  although  some 
bave  supposed,  that  his  food  was  the  tops  of  certain 
plants,  and  others  have  thought  that  the  wonls  translat- 
ed locusts  here  signifies  quails,  nothing  but  the  literal 
interpretation  of  the  words  is  required  for  understand- 
ing the  passage.  See  Diodorus  Siadus,  lib.  xxiv.  cap.  3. 
Strabo,  lib  xvi.  Agath;ircideg,  Pcriplus  dc  Ruhro  Mart. 
— Mlian,  lib.  vi.  cap.  20.  Atheturtts,  lib.  xlix.  Plin.  Hist. 
Nat.  lib.  vi.  and  xi.  Hieronymi  Opera,  tom.  iv.  Hassel- 
quist's  Travels.  Shaw's  Travels,  j).  258.  Sparrmann's 
Voyage.  Niebuhr  Description  de  Vjirahie.  Barrow's 
Travels,  vol.  i.  Drake's  Voyages.  Buffon,  Hist.  Nat. 
Tol.  vi.  p.  216,     (c) 

ACROAMATIC,  or  Acroatic,  the  name  given  to 
Aristotle's  secret  lectures  on  the  abstnise  points  in  phi- 
losophy, in  which  he  aimed  at  demonstration.  Those 
disciples,  who  were  allowed  to  attend  them,  were  called 
jicroamatici.     See  Exoteric.     (>d) 

ACROCERAUNIA,  called  likewise  Ceraunia,  or 
Monies  Ceraunii,  mountains  of  Epirus,  projecting 
into  the  sea,  and  extremely  dangerous  to  mariners. 
They  derived  their  name  from  the  Greek  word  xi^tivi»(, 
thunder  ;  because  they  were  so  lofty  as  to  be  frequently 
struck  with  thunder.  They  extended  from  west  to  east, 
as  far  as  Cindus,  in  N.  Lat.  40°  25',  separating  the  Io- 
nian from  the  Adriatic  sea.  Here  Avas  the  shortest  pas- 
sage from  Greece  to  Italy.  The  Acroceraunia  are 
now  called  Monti  della  Chimera.  Strabo,  vi.  Plin.  iv. 
cap.  1.    (k) 

ACROCHORDUS,  a  genus  of  serpents.     See  Ophi- 

OLOGT.       (/) 

ACRON.     See  Acra. 

ACROCORINTHUS,  a  high  hill,  on  which  was  built 
the  citadel  of  Corinth,  called  by  the  same  name.  The 
situation  of  this  mountain  rendered  the  possession  of  it 
highly  im|iortant.  It  separated  the  Peloponnesus  from 
the  rest  of  Greece ;  its  fortress  cut  off  all  communica- 
tion by  land  with  the  country  within  the  isthmus  of  Co- 
.  rjnth ;  and  was  therefore  called  by  Philip  of  JVIacedon, 
tie  fetters  of  Greece.     A  temple  of  Venus  sfood  at  the 


entrance  of  the  citadel ;  and  from  a  lower  part  of  the 
hill  issued  the  fountain  Pyrene.     (A;) 

ACRONIC AL,  from  <»x{o»<*;k««>  compounded  of  uxftg, 
the  extremity,  and  »i/|,  night.  The  rising  and  setting  of 
a  star,  or  planet,  is  said  to  be  acronical,  when  this  phe- 
nomenon happens  just  as  the  sun  is  descending  below 
the  horizon,     (w) 

ACROPOLIS,  the  citadel  of  Athens,  built  on  an  emi- 
nence, which  was  accessible  only  on  one  side.  Here 
the  Athenians,  induced  by  the  natural  strength  of  the 
place,  built  their  first  city,  which,  from  that  circum- 
stance, was  ever  afterwards  distinguished  by  the  name 
of  Polis.  It  was  called  likewise  Acropolis,  the  Upper 
City,  in  contradistinction  to  that  which  was  afterwards 
built  in  the  adjacent  plain.  It  was  encompassed  by  a 
wall,  the  northern  part  of  which  was  built  by  the  Pelas- 
gi ;  the  southern,  by  Cimon,  son  of  Miltiades,  out  of  the 
Persian  spoils.  From  its  nine  gates,  it  was  called  Eh- 
neapylon,  though  it  had  only  one  principal  entrance,  the 
ascent  to  which  was  by  a  magnificent  flight  of  steps, 
composed  of  white  marble,  and  built  under  the  direction 
of  Pericles.     See  Pausan.  In  Attic,     {k) 

ACROSTIC,  from  <txf  »i,  the  extremity,  and  rrij^tt,  a 
verse,  is  a  name  generally  applied  to  poetical  composi- 
tions, in  which  the  initial  or  final  letters  of  every  line 
form  the  name  of  some  person  or  thina;.     (w)     * 

ACROSTICHUM,  a  genus  of  jdants  belonging  to  the 
class  Cryptogamia,  and  order  Filices,  See  Botany,  (w) 

ACT  OP  Faith.  See  Auto  de  Fe,  and  Inquisition. 

ACT,  the  name  of  the  parts  into  which  every  drama- 
tic poem  is  divided,  in  order  to  relieve  the  audience  and 
the  actors.  In  the  Grecian  drama  there  were  no  acts; 
but  the  same  purpose  seems  to  have  been  partly  answer^ 
ed  by  their  episo<les,  choruses,  &c.  The  stage,  how- 
ever, was  never  empty,  and  the  representation  of  the 
piece  suffered  no  interruptions.  It  appears  from  Ho- 
race's Art  of  Poetry,  line  189 — 194,  that  the  Romans 
uniformly  divided  their  plays  into  five  acts ;  and  that 
the  time  between  each  act  was  spent  in  singing,  and 
similar  amusements.  The  comedies  of  Terence,  and 
the  tragedies  of  Seneca,  consist  universally  of  five  acts. 
See  Drama,     (w) 

ACTiEA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Polyandria, 
and  order  Monogyiiia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ACTINIA,  a  genus  of  animals  belonging  to  the  order 
Mollusca,  of  the  class  of  Vermes.  See  Animal  Flow- 
er, and  Helminthology.     (/) 

ACTION,  a  term  of  the  Roman  law,  adopted  into  that 
of  all  modern  states,  which  is  thus  explained  in  the  In- 
stitutes of  Justinian :— "  Jctio  nihil  aliud  est  quam  jus 
perseqvendi  quod  sibi  dehctur." 

The  mode  of  obtaining  justice  among  the  Romany 
was  to  summon  the  defender  into  court,  which  the  pur- 
suer, or  plaintiff,  might  do  verbally  ;  and  if  he  failed  in 
compliance,  he  might  force  him  into  the  presence  of  the 
magistrate.  Sureties  were  then  given  for  appearance 
on  a  certain  day. 

The  parties  having  come  into  court,  the  plaintiff  stated 
his  cause  before  the  praetor,  in  a  certain  form  of  words, 
which  varied  only  according  to  the  nature  of  the  action. 
The  pra  tor  immediately  appointed  judges  to  determine 
the  point.  1'he  litigants  had  next  to  find  sureties  to 
fulfil  the  judgment,  whatever  it  might  be,  to  each  other. 
The  cause  was  decided,  after  the  judges  had  taken  a 
solemn  oath  to  preserve  impartiality. 

Actions  were  divided  into  real,  personal,  and  mixed« 
and  each  of  lltese  classes  branched  out  into  uumcrous 


ACT 


ACT 


12: 


Uibdivigione.     See  Justinian.  IitstU.  lib.  ir.  tit.  4 ;  and 
Gibbon's  Hist.  chap.  xliv.  vol.  viii.  p.  75.     (c) 

ACTION,  in  Mechanics,  is,  properly  speaking,  the 
motion  which  one  body  either  produces,  or  tends  to  pro- 
duce, in  another  body ;  though  it  has  been  generally 
employed  to  denote  the  effect  which  one  power  exerts 
against  another  power. 

The  principle  of  least  Action,  was  a  name  given  by 
Maupertuis  to  the  law,  that  when  any  bodies,  acting 
upon  one  another,  suffer  any  change  in  their  motion, 
the  mass,  multiplied  by  the  space  and  the  velocity,  or 
the  quantity  of  action  which  nature  employs  to  etfect 
this  change,  is  the  least  possible.  This  principle  was 
attacked,  as  false,  by  Koenig,  a  professor  at  the  Hague, 
who  also  maintained  that  Leibnitz  had  described  the 
same  principle  in  1707,  in  a  letter  to  Herman.  This 
attack  gave  rise  to  a  long  and  keen  dispute,  in  which 
the  Academy  of  Berlin  interfered  in  behalf  of  their  pre- 
sident. The  principle  of  least  action  was  extended  by 
Euler,  who  [iroved,  "  that,  in  the  trajectoris  described 
by  means  of  central  forces,  the  [troduct  of  the  integral 
of  the  velocity,  and  the  element  of  the  curve,  is  either  a 
minimum  or  a  maximum."  This  new  law,  which  Euler 
recognized  only  in  the  case  of  insulated  bodies,  was  still 
further  generalized  by  La  Grange,  v/ho  found,  "  that  the 
gum  of  the  products  of  the  masses  by  the  integrals  of 
the  velocities,  multiplied  by  the  elements  of  the  spaces, 
is  always  a  minimum  or  a  maximum."  This  principle 
has  been  employed  by  La  Grange  with  great  success,  in 
the  solution  of  many  difticult  dynamical  problems.  See 
Mem.  Mad.  Par.  17 44  ;  1749,  p.  .031,  8vo.  p.  771  ;  1752, 
p.  503,  8vo.  [).  765.  Mem.  Acatl.  Berlin,  n4ti,  p.  267 ; 
1 750 ;  1 752  ;  1 753,  p.  310.  Act.  Lips.  Mart.  1 751.  Eu- 
ler's  Traiie  dcs  Isoperimctries  Lausanne,  1744.  La 
Grange's  Mecanique  Analytique,  1788,  p.  189.  Com- 
ment. Bonon.  torn.  vi.  Nov.  Comment.  Petrop.  torn.  xx. 
p,  239.     See  Mechanics,     (ro) 

ACTION,  in  Oratory,  the  adaption  of  the  gestures 
and  attitudes  of  the  body  to  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
of  the  mind,  intended  to  be  conveyed  by  the  speaker. 
There  is  always  a  sympathy  between  the  body  and  the 
mind,  and  the  one  cannot  be  powerfully  affected  without 
a  corresponding  change  taking  |)lace  in  the  other.  A 
jwwerful  emotion  becomes  immediately  manifest  by  its 
effects  upon  the  voice,  countenance,  and  gestures  of  the 
person  who  feels  it :  and  if  these  appropriate  effects  of 
strong  feeling  are  not  discernible,  we  find  it  diliicult  to 
persuade  ourselves  (hat  strong  feeling  is  really  excited, 
but  are  disposed  to  think  that  it  is  only  dissembled. 

Pleads  he  in  earnest  >.  Look  upon  liis  face  ; 

His  c;c5  <Io  drop  uo  tears  ;  his  prayers  are  jest ; 

His  woids  come  from  his  moulli :  ours  from  our  breast ; 

Wc  pray  with  lieart  and  soul. — Suakspeare. 

There  is  something  contagious  in  the  appropriate 
looks  and  gestures  of  emotion  ;  insomuch  that  the  most 
ordinary  matter  uttered  with  just  action  will  make  a 
deej)  impression  upon  an  audience,  when  matter  greatly 
more  valuable,  if  delivered  without  this  advantage,  will 
be  hardly  listened  to.  The  effect  of  pantomime  exhibi- 
tions powerfully  illustrates  this,  and  shows  that  speaking 
is  but  one  department  of  oratory.  It  is  well  known, 
that  the  greatest  of  orators,  Demosthenes,  |)laced  the 
tirst,  second,  and  third  perfection  of  an  accomplished 
speaker  in  elocution  ;  by  which  we  are  to  understand, 
not  only  just .  roimuciation,  Ijut  appropriate  action  ;  and 
the  same  celebrated  character,  n  bile  he  endeavoured  to 


correct  a  defect  in  his  articulation,  by  speaking  with 
|)ebbles  in  his  mouth,  was  no  less  solicitous  to  conquer  a 
faulty  attitude  to  which  he  was  liable,  by  practising  with 
a  drawn  sword  suspended  over  his  shoulder. 

Minute  and  elaborate  rules  have  been  given  by  Quin- 
tilian,  and  other  ancient  rhetoricians,  for  perfecting  the 
orator  in  this  difficult  branch  of  his  art ;  and  a  late  inge- 
nious writer  has  endeavoured  to  express  the  gestures 
approi)riate  to  the  different  kinds  of  speaking,  by  writ- 
ten characters.  (See  Austin's  Chironomia.)  We  are 
not,  however,  of  opinion,  that  much  benefit  can  be  de- 
rived from  studying  the  subject  in  this  way.  In  order 
to  produce  a  just  effect,  action  must  be  easy  and  unaffect- 
ed, not  stiff  and  artificial.  It  must  not  seem  to  be  stu- 
died, but  to  flow  from  the  impulse  of  the  moment.  If  an 
orator,  when  he  delivers  a  speech,  has  his  attitudes  pre- 
viously arranged  in  his  mind,  and  each  introduced  at  a 
determinate  place,  he  may  earn  the  reputation  of  a  good 
actor,  but  will  scarcely  ever  be  deemed  a  powerful  anil 
persuasive  speaker.  We  do  not,  however,  deny,  that 
considerable  benefit  may  be  obtained  from  stutlying  the 
rules  of  the  best  writers  on  this  subject ;  but  we  are  of 
opinion,  that  much  more  may  be  reaped  from  the  stmly 
of  nature  ;  t.  e.  by  observing  how  men  of  accomplished 
minds,  and  elegant  address,  demean  themselves,  when 
they  are  expressing  any  thing  with  energy ;  and  how 
they  vary  the  gesticulation  as  the  emotion  varies.  Ac- 
tion is  the  natural,  and  not  the  artificial  expression  of 
feeling ;  and  in  an  ordinary  conversation  of  genteel  com- 
pany, an  attentive  observer  may  detect  all  those  gesti- 
culations by  which  an  orator  enchants  his  audience. 

Of  the  two  extremes,  a  deficient  is  undoubtedly  less 
faulty  than  a  redundant  action.  It  is  less  disgusting  to 
see  a  speaker  stand  lifeless  like  a  statue,  than  to  find 
him  constantly  in  motion,  and  practising  a  regular  round 
of  gesticulations,  and  grimaces,  which  can  excite  no 
other  emotion  than  ridicule.  This  is  the  "  tearing  the 
passion  to  rags,"  which  Hamlet  so  justly  reprehends. 
It  is,  however,  much  easier  to  say  what  gestures  are 
wrong,  than  what  are  strictly  proper.  But  one  thing 
seems  sufficiently  manifest,  that  in  public  speaking,  the 
exertions  of  action  and  emphasis  should  be  reserved  for 
the  parts  which  are  truly  pathetic,  and  not  wasted  upon 
the  common  and  trivial.  If  a  speaker  utters  common 
things  in  a  calm  manner,  he  will  the  more  readily  grow 
vehement  when  the  subject  is  animating;  and  on  that 
account  will  be  more  apt  to  affect  his  audience,  than  if 
he  had  employed  vehemence  of  manner  in  every  part. 
See  Oratory,     (m) 

ACTION,  in  Poetry,  is  the  chain  of  events,  either 
real  or  fictitious,  which  form  the  subject  of  an  epic  or  a 
dramatic  poem.     See  Poktrv.     (w) 

ACTIUM,  an  inconsiderable  town  in  Acamania,  re- 
markable only  for  the  victory  which  Augustus  gained 
there  over  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,     (k) 

ACTOR,  in  the  Drama,  one  who  represents  some 
person,  or  character,  on  the  stage.  Among  the  Greeks, 
with  wliom  theatrical  entertainments  seem  to  have  ori- 
ginated, the  drama  at  first  consistetl  of  a  simple  chorus, 
who  sung  hymns,  probably  in  alternate  stanzas,  in  ho- 
nour of  Bacchus.  To  relieve  the  audience  from  the  fa- 
tiguing sameness  of  these  musical  exhibitions,  Thespis, 
a  native  of  Attica,  introduced  a  decl.timer,  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  recite  the  adventures  of  some  of  the  Gre- 
cian heroes.  .^Jschylus  still  further  diversified  the  en- 
tertainment, by  changing  these  declamations  into  dia- 
logues  betweea  two  persons;    antl  adopting  a  loftier 


128 


ACT 


ACT 


ityle,  and  dressing  lus  actors  in  a  more  splendid  man- 
ner, gave  the  first  lineaments  of  a  regular  tragedy. 
Sophocles  rendered  it  more  perfect,  by  introducing  a 
.third  person;  and  the  Greeks,  following  him  as  their 
model,  never  brought  more  than  three  ])ersons  at  once 
upon  the  stage.  Among  the  Romans,  too,  who,  in  all 
matters  of  taste,  were  directed  by  the  i)ractice  of  the 
Greeks,  it  was  adopted  as  a  rule,  that  no  fourth  person 
should  be  allowed  to  take  part  in  the  dialogue : 


'  Ncc  quai-ta  loqui  persona  laboret." 

Aas  Poet.  1. 


193. 


The  restriction;  however,  only  extended  to  tragP'Jy  ; 
fbr  in  comedy  the  number  of  actors  might  be  varied  at 
pleasure.  Such  arbitrary  restrictions  are  extremely  in- 
judicious. By  introducing  a  too  precise  uniformity  into 
dramatic  compositions,  they  are  apt  to  render  them  stifiT, 
t  edious,  and  uninteresting ;  and  it  is  none  of  the  least  im- 
provements in  the  modern  drama,  that,  by  introducing  a 
.  greater  number  of  characters  on  the  stage,  the  bustle 
and  distress  of  the  scene  is  heightened,  and  a  diversity 
is  occasioned,  which  never  fails  to  excite  interest. 

The  ancient  actors  were  at  great  pains  to  qualify 
themselves  for  the  different  characters  in  which  they 
wished  to  excel.  Some  contended  with  the  wrestlers  in 
the  palestrae,  in  order  to  acquire  greater  vigour  and  sup- 
pleness of  body ;  while  others  subjected  themselves  to 
a  strict  regimen,  to  render  their  voices  more  ductile  and 
sonorous.  The  principal  actors  would  never  allow  an- 
other to  speak  before  them,  lest  he  should  prepossess  the 
audience,  and  the  inferior  performers  were  obliged  to 
lower  their  voices,  though  clear  and  sonorous,  that  they 
might  not  be  louder  than  their  superiors.  The  size  of 
the  theatres  obliged  them  to  speak  very  loud,  and  to  line 
the  mouth  of  their  masks  with  brass,  in  order  to  give 
clearness  and  strength  to  their  voice.  A  musician  plaj'- 
ed  a  prelude  on  the  flute  to  give  them  the  proper  tone ; 
and  accompanied  them  while  they  declaimed,  to  prevent 
their  voices  from  sinking  too  low.  Their  dress  always 
corresponded  to  the  character  in  which  they  appeared ; 
and  every  expedient  was  employed  to  delude  the  audi- 
ence into  a  momentarj-  belief  of  the  reality  of  the  scenes 
represented  before  them.  It  is  said  of  Polus,  a  celebra- 
ted Athenian  performer,  that  when  he  was  to  personate 
Electra,  in  one  of  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles,  he  caused 
the  urn  which  contained  the  ashes  of  a  son  whom  he  had 
recently  lost,  to  be  conveyed  to  the  theatre;  and  when 
the  princess  is  represented  as  clasping  the  supposed  urn 
of  her  brother  Orestes,  the  actor  seized  that  of  his  son 
with  a  trembling  hand,  and  uttered  such  piercing  ac- 
cents of  grief,  as  forced  torrents  of  tears  from  the  sym- 
pathizing audience.  A  first  rate  performer  never  ap- 
peared in  any  odious  or  contemptible  character,  what- 
ever scope  it  might  give  to  his  professional  talents;  for 
which  reason  the  part  of  a  tyrant,  so  much  detested  in 
Greece,  was  always  abandoned  to  the  subordinate  actors. 
In  Greece  the  profession  of  a  player  was  lucrative  and 
respectable.  Polussometimesgained  a  talent,  (225Z.  ster- 
ling,) in  two  days.  They  enjoyed  all  the  privileges  of 
citizens,  and  often  rose  to  the  most  honourable  employ- 
ments. At  Rome,  actors  were  reckoned  infnmous ;  de- 
graded from  their  rank  as  citizens;  exi>elled  their  tribe, 
and  deprived  of  the  right  of  suflrage  by  censors.  In 
France,  they  are  asmuch  despised  as  they  were  formerly 
at  Rome.  I  n  England,  they  enjoj' almost  as  high  a  degree 
oC  respectability  as  they  did  among  the  Greeks.    (*) 


ACTRESS,  a  woman,  who  personates  any  character 
on  the  stage. 

Among  the  ancients,  who  had  no  actresses,  female 
characters  were  generally  represented  by  eunuchs, 
whose  voice  resembles  that  of  women.  Sporus  the  eu- 
nuch, so  famous  in  the  reign  of  Nero,  was  compelled  by 
Vitellius  to  iiersonale  a  young  girl  in  the  theatre ;  an 
ignominy  by  which  lie  was  so  deeply  affected,  that  he 
thrust  a  sword  through  his  breast. 

Actresses  are  said  to  have  been  first  introduced  on  the 
English  stage  by  King  Charles  II.,  after  his  restoration ; 
yet  we  learn  from  history,  that  the  queen  of  James  I.  act- 
ed !»  part  in  a  pastoral ;  and  Prynn,  in  his  Histriomastix, 
speaks  of  female  actors  in  his  time  as  prostitutes.  Ac- 
tresses have  always  been  regarded  with  less  respect  and 
indulgence  than  male  performers ;  and  the  public  senti- 
ment iu  this  respect  is  certaiulyjust.  Theatrical  exhi- 
bition nuist  completely  destroy  that  modest  reserve, 
that  soft  and  shrinking  delicacy,  which  gives  beauty  its 
most  winning  charm ;  and  the  female  characters  in  our 
drama  are  oflen  so  grossly  licentious,  that  no  woman  of 
virtuous  principle  can  personate  them  without  rei)ug- 
nance.  Yet  we  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  the  character 
of  actresses  ought  indiscriminately  to  be  suspected  or 
despised.  The  exemplary  conduct  and  distinguished  re- 
spectability of  many  of  our  modern  actresses  would  be 
sufficient  to  refute  such  an  injurious  insinuation.     (Jc) 

ACTS  OF  THE  Apostles,  one  of  the  books  of  sacred 
Scripture,  was  written  by  the  Evangelist  Luke ;  and 
seems  to  have  been  completed  about  the  year  63.  Luke 
is  supposed  to  have  been  one  of  the  seventy  whom  our 
Lord  sent  out  to  preach  the  gospel ;  and  is  acknowledged 
to  have  been  the  companion  of  the  Apostle  Paul  in  his 
travels.  He  was  himself  therefore  an  actor,  and  an  eye- 
witness, in  most  of  the  events  which  he  records ;  and 
was  well  qualified  to  detail  and  describe  them.  He  ad- 
dresses the  book  of  Acts  to  the  same  person  to  whom  he 
had  addressed  his  former  treatise ;  and  he  seems  to  say 
himself,  that  he  intended  it  as  a  coutjnuatjon  of  the  his- 
tory which  he  had  begun  to  give  in  his  gospel.  There 
can  be  no  doubt,  that  many  things  were  done  by  the 
apostles  which  are  not  recorded  in  the  book  of  Acts ; 
and  that  many  of  the  events,  which  have  been  mention- 
ed, are  narrated  very  concisely.  The  writer  evidently 
confines  himself  to  a  few  of  the  principal  transactions 
and  miracles  in  the  early  progress  of  Christianity ;  and 
particularly  to  the  preaching  of  the  apostles,  Peter  and 
Paul.  He  gives  an  account  of  the  ascension  of  Jesus 
Christ;  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  apos- 
tles ;  and  the  first  preaching  of  the  gospel.  He  describ«g 
the  rapid  increase  of  the  Christian  church  at  Jerusalem ; 
the  circumstances  which  attended  the  jireacliing  of  the 
Apostle  Peter  to  the  Gentiles ;  and  their  admission  to 
the  privileges  of  the  gospel.  He  particularly  depicts, 
in  a  very  interesting  manner,  the  miraculous  conversion 
of  Paul ;  and  then  restricts  his  narrative  chiefly  to  the 
actions  of  that  apostle.  He  relates  his  first  preaching 
at  Antioch,  in  Syria;  and  details  three  extensive  jour- 
neys, which  he  made  at  «lifferent  times,  to  the  principal 
places  in  Greece  and  Asia.  Having  detailed,  in  the 
course  of  his  narrative,  many  miraculous  testimonies  to 
the  truth  of  Christianity,  and  described  many  eminent 
examples  of  the  Christian  character,  the  writer  con- 
cludes with  an  account  of  Paul's  voyage  to  Rome,  in  con- 
sequence of  his  appeal  to  the  emperor,  and  of  his  im- 
jirisonment  there  for  two  years.  As  a  historical  compo- 
sitiou,  this  book  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  is  allowed, 


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129 


by  the  best  critic?,  to  possess  very  great  merit ;  and,  as 
a  part  of  the  sacred  writings,  it  has  been  almost  univer- 
sally received  in  the  Christian  church,  upon  the  most  un- 
questionable evidence. 

Several  other  writings  have  been  proposed  to  the 
Christian  world,  as  containing  further  accounts  of  the 
acts  of  the  apostles.  These  are,  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
professed  to  have  been  written  by  Abdias,  a  pretended 
bishop  of  Bal)ylon ;  Acts  of  St.  Peter,  entitled  also,  The 
Recognitions  of  St.  Clement;  Acts  of  St.  Paul,  containing 
the  history  of  that  apostle  from  his  imprisonment  at 
Rome  to  his  death;  Acts  of  St.  John  the  Evangelist,  Acts 
of  St.  Andrew,  and  Acts  of  St.  Thomas,  used  by  the  Ma- 
nichees;  Acts  of  St.  Philip,  acknowledged  by  the  Gnos- 
tics ;  and  Acts  of  St.  Matthias,  which  some  Jews  are  sup- 
posed to  have  framed.  All  these  books  are  support- 
ed by  no  respectable  testimony,  and  are  universally  con- 
sidered as  spurious.  They  are  so  filled,  indeed,  with 
ridiculous  visions  and  foolish  fables,  as  to  afford  suf- 
ficient internal  evidence  for  rejecting  them  from  the 
number  of  inspired  writines.     (9) 

ACUPUNCTURE,  a  niethwl  of  curing  diseases  by 
pricking  the  parts  affected  with  a  silver  needle.  It  is 
much  used  in  Siam,  Japan,  and  other  oriental  nations, 
where  this  operation  is  considered  as  a  specific  for  al- 
most every  disorder.  It  is  also  employed  in  some  parts 
of  America ;  but  more  frequently  as  an  ornament  than 
as  a  remedy.  See  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xiii.  No.  148,  p.  231. 
168.3;  and  Dampier's  Voyages,     (iv) 

ADAGIO,  or  Adag,  a  term  in  music,  which  signi- 
fies the  second  degree  from  slow  to  quick.  It  is  com- 
monly applied  to  those  pieces  of  music,  which  should 
be  performed  in  slow  time  with  grace  and  embellish- 
ments. It  is  frequent!}'  used  substantively,  as  when  we 
say  "  to  play  an  adagio."     (w) 

ADAM,  the  first  man,  and  original  progenitor  of  the 
human  race.  The  account  of  his  creation  given  by  Mo- 
ses, independently  of  its  inspired  authority,  possesses 
every  evidence  of  authenticity  that  can  be  reasonably  de- 
sired. Though  short,  it  is  comprehensive,  and  even 
minute ;  not,  like  the  heathen  tr.iditions,  confused  or 
contradictory,  but  clear  and  consistent ;  and  though  not 
compiled  till  about  2300  years  after  the  event,  the  ex- 
traordinary longevity  of  the  antediluvian  patriarchs  must 
have  secured,  in  a  great  measure,  the  accurate  trans- 
mission of  it,  through  the  family  and  descendants  of 
Abraham  to  Moses.  The  sacred  historian  relates,  that 
the  body  of  Adam  was  formed,  on  the  sixth  day  of  the 
.creation,  out  of  the  (hist  of  the  ground,  and  that  God 
breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life.  He  was  pla- 
ced in  a  delightful  garden  called  Eden,  i.  e.  Pleasure, 
containing  every  thing  necessary  to  his  subsistence  and 
comfort.  Dominion  was  given  him  over  all  the  inferior 
creatures;  and,  when  Go<l  made  them  pass  before  him 
in  the  garden,  he  bestowed  on  each  of  them  a  name,  suit- 
ed to  its  nature,  and  probably  descriptive  of  its  princi- 
pal qualities.  The  animals  being  created  by  pairs,  nisile 
and  female,  Adam  alone  was  without  a  suitable  compa- 
nion; which  God  iicrceiving,  provided  for  hiscomfort,  by 
casting  him  into  a  deep  sleep,  taking  a  rib  from  his  side, 
and  out  of  it  forming  a  woman. 

Both  Adam  and  Eve  are  said  to  have  been  created  in 
the  image,  and  after  the  likeness,  of  Deity ;  expressions 
%vhicli  cannot  be  well  understood,  if  applied  to  their  bo- 
dily structure,  but  which  convey  the  most  important 
meaning,  when  referred  to  their  character  as  moral  be- 
ings.    'I'he  ideas  of  knowledge  suited  to  this  character, 

Voi..  I.  Part  I. 


of  innocence,  purity,  and  immortality,  seem  lobe  clearly 
implied.  But  being  moral  agents,  they  were  placed  in 
a  state  of  probation ;  and  the  test  of  obedience  required 
of  them,  was  to  abstain  from  eating  the  fruit  of  a  parti- 
cular tree,  planted  in  the  middle  of  the  garden,  and 
named,  from  its  peculiar  design,  the  Tree  of  the  Know- 
ledge of  Good  and  Evil.  This  prohibition  was  enforc- 
ed by  the  most  awful  sanction ;  but  the  tempter,  under 
the  form  of  a  serpent,  by  the  most  artful  insinuations, 
prevailed  with  the  woman  to  eat  this  forbidden  fruit;  and 
she  seduced  her  husband  into  the  same  act  of  disobedi- 
ence. The  consequences  of  this  conduct  proved  fatal  to 
their  happiness,  as  well  as  to  their  innocence.  They 
were  punished  by  being  subjected  to  the  death  with 
wliich  God  threatened  them ;  the  woman  was  doomed  to 
submission,  and  pain  in  child-bearing ;  and  the  man  to 
sorrow  and  toil.  Having  lost  their  purity,  and  being 
ashamed  of  (heir nakedness,  God  madecoverings  of  skins 
for  them,  expelled  them  from  Eden,  and  placed,  at  the 
east  of  it,  "  cherubims  and  ?t  flaming  sword,"  or  a  dividing 
flame,  "  which  turned  every  way,  to  kee|>  the  way  to  the 
tree  of  life."  After  this,  Adam  called  his  wife's  name 
Eve,  i.  c.  life  or  living,  to  signify  that  she  was  to  be  the 
mother  of  the  human  race. 

The  name  Adam,  has  furnished  etymologists  with  a 
fertile  source  of  conjecture.  It  has  frequently  been  de- 
rived from  noiN,  red  earth,  or  vegetable  mould.  Ludol- 
phus  traces  it  to  the  Ethiopian  root  adama,  to  be  pleasant 
or  beautiful,  {Hist.Ethiop.  p.  77.) — Protogonus,  the  name 
of  the  first  man,  according  to  Sanchoniatho,  is  supposed 
to  be  a  translation  of  the  Egyptian  title  of  Adam,  taken 
from  the  pillars  of  Troth ;  and  Mr.  Bryant  saj's,  that  ad 
and  ada  signify ^r*<,  {Ant.  Ulyth.  vol.  i.  p.  23. ;)  corres- 
ponding to  which  is  the  query  of  sir  William  Jones, 
whether  it  may  not  be  derived  from  Adim?  which  in  San- 
scrit has  the  same  meaning,  and  is  a  name  of  (he  first  me- 
nu. The  opinion  of  Parkhurst,  that  it  is  derived  from  m, 
to  resemble  or  be  like,  appears  the  most  probable,  both 
from  Gen.  i.  27.  v.  2.  and  from  Adam  being  the  name  of 
man  in  general,  including  bolh  sexes.  For  an  account 
of  the  opinions  of  Jewish  Rabbis  and  Mahometans,  and 
the  ancient  traditions  respecting  Adam,  see  Eugubin. 
apud  Salian.  Annal.  t.  I.  p.  106.  Talmud  in  Lib.  Sanlied. 
Bartoloccii  Bibl.  Rabbin.  1. 1.  p.  65.  322.  Heidegger  Hist. 
Pal.  t.  I.  p.  83.  Gem.  Sanhed.  p.  582.  Vossius  de  Phi- 
los.  cap.  9.  p.  71.  Sale's  Koran.  D'Herbelot's  Biblioth. 
Orient.     PeTc'wal's  Account  of  Ccr/lon,  \.  i.  p.  224.     (d) 

ADAM,  Robert,  an  eminent  architect,  born  at  Edin- 
burgh in  1723.  He  seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  talent  for 
architecture  by  iidieritance,  as  the  works  of  his  grand- 
fattier  are  said  to  have  been  peculiarly  characterized  by 
taste  :  and  the  genius  of  his  father,  William  Adam  of 
Maiybnrgh  in  Fife,  was  eminently  conspicuous  in  Ho|)e- 
toun  House,  in  the  Royal  Infirmary,  and  in  other  build- 
ings, both  public  and  private. 

His  son  Robert  studied  at  the  university  of  Edinburgh, 
where  he  was  associated  with  several  cotemporaries,  who 
afterwards  made  a  consj)icuou3  figure  in  the  annals  of 
literature.  In  1 754,  he  went  to  the  continent,  and  resi- 
ded three  years  in  Italy,  where,  from  the  splendid  mo- 
numents of  antiquity  which  that  country  presents  to  the 
traveller,  he  imbibed  that  scientific  style  of  design  by 
whichallhisworksare distinguished.  Butitwasonly from 
fragments  that  he  was  enabled  to  form  his  taste.  He 
saw,  with  deep  regret,  that  the  ravages  of  time,  and  the 
hands  of  barbarians,  had  conspired  for  the  destruction 
of  thoae  noble  specimens  of  ancient  grandeur  {  and  that 
R 


1^ 


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it  was  only  in  their  ruins  that  he  could  stutly  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  ancients.  With  the  intention  of  viewing 
a  more  complete  monument  of  ancient  splendour,  he  un- 
dertook a  voyage  to  Spalatro  in  Dalmatia,  where  the 
palace  to  which  Dioclesian  retired  from  the  cares  of 
government,  still  exhibited  the  remains  of  an  extensive 
pile.  Mr.  Adam,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Clerisseau,  a 
French  artist,  and  two  expert  draughtsmen,  sailed  from 
Venice  in  July,  1 754.  They  found  the  palace  much  de- 
faced ;  but  as  its  remains  still  exhibited  the  nature  of 
the  structure,  they  proceeded  to  a  minute  examination 
of  its  various  parts.  Their  labours,  however,  were  im- 
mediately interrupted  by  the  interference  of  government, 
from  a  suspicion  that  they  were  making  plans  of  the  for- 
tifications. Fortunately,  however,  general  Grjeme,  com- 
mander in  chief  of  the  Venetian  forces,  interposed ;  and, 
being  seconded  by  count  Antonio  Marcovich,  they  were 
soon  allowed  to  prosecute  their  designs. 

Mr.  Adam  returned  to  England  in  1764,  and  publish- 
ed a  splendid  work,  containing  engravings  and  descriji- 
tions  of  the  ruins  of  the  palace  of  Dioclesian,  and  of  some 
other  buildings,  which  convey  an  accurate  idea  of  the 
original  structure.  Before  this  period,  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed architect  to  the  king  and  queen ;  an  office  which 
he  resigned  on  being  elected  member  of  parliament  for 
the  county  of  Kinross.  About  the  year  1775,  he,  in  con- 
junction with  his  brother  James,  who  was  also  an  archi- 
tect, published  another  splendid  work,  consisting  of  plans 
and  elevations  of  buildings,  erected  from  their  designs. 
Among  these  were  several  public  and  private  edifices, 
both  in  England  and  Scotland,  that  are  universally  ad- 
mired for  the  taste  which  they  display,  among  which 
are  the  Register  Office,  the  New  College  of  Edinburgh, 
and  the  Royal  Infirmary  of  Glasgow. 

The  vigour  of  Mr.  Adam's  genius,  and  the  refinement 
of  his  taste,  seem  to  have  increased  at  the  approach  of 
old  age.     In  the  course  of  the  year  preceding  his  death, 
he  designed  no  less  than  eight  public  buildings,  and  twen- 
ty-five private  ones,  all  of  singular  variety  and  beauty. 
This  architect  died  in  1792,  by  the  bursting  of  a 
blood-vessel,  and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  (c) 
ADAM'S  PEAK,  or  Hammaleel,  a  high  and  con- 
spicuous mountain  in  the  south  part  of  the  island  of 
Ceylon,  situated  about  60  miles  to  the  east  of  Columbo. 
It  is  of  a  conical  form,  terminating  in  a  circular  plane 
about  200  yards  in  diameter ;  and  is  seen,  by  those  who 
sail  along  the  south-west  coast  of  the  island,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  150  miles.     Two  smaller  peaks  rise  from  the 
same  mountain,  and  when  seen  from  some  parts  of  the 
interior,  all  the  three  peaks  ap|)ear  of  the  same  height. 
The  summit  of  the  mountain  is  said  to  be  covered  \('ith 
trees,  and  to  have  a  deep  lake,  which  forms  the  source 
of  the  four  principal  rivers  of  Ceylon.     Devotees  from 
the  Indian  coast  frequently  visit  the  places  of  worship 
which  they  have  erected  on  this  mountain,  and  ascend 
■  the  steepest  parts  by  means  of  ropes  and  chains  fixed  to 
the  rocks.     The  Roman  Catholics,  ever  anxious  about 
the  propagation  of  their  faith,  have  built  a  chapel  on  the 
mountain,  in  order  to  take  advantage  of  the  superstition 
of  the  Indian  pilgrims.     Adam's  Peak  lies  to  the  south- 
east of  Chilauw,  and  to  the  north  by  west  of  Dondar 
Head,  in  E.  Long.  80»  27'  36",  and  N.  Lat.  7°  1'  50". 
A  view  of  Adam's  Peak  is  given  in  lord  Valentia's 
Travels,  vol.  i.  p.  166.     See  Cordiner's  Description  of 
Ceylon,  vol.  i.  p.  8. 1807  ;  and  Percival's  Account  (f  Cey- 
lon, p.  224.  226.     {w) 

AJDAMANT,  the  ancient  oMne  for  the  diamond. 


It  also  signifies  a  species  of  highly  tempered  iron  ;  and 
sometimes  is  used  to  denote  the  magnet.  See  Diamond, 
and  Oryctognosy.     (n;) 

ADAMI  PoMUM,  a  name  given  to  the  protuberance 
in  the  fore-part  of  the  throat,  occasioned  by  the  pro- 
jection of  the  thyroid  cartilage  of  the  larynx.  It  received 
this  appellation  from  the  idea,  that  it  was  occasioned  by 
a  part  of  the  forbidden  fruit  sticking  in  Adam's  throat,  {f) 

ADAMITES,  or  Adamians,  according  to  the  testi- 
mony of  Epiphanius,  were  a  sect  of  heretics  in  the  se- 
cond century,  who  assumed  this  title,  in  consequence  of 
their  imitating  Adam's  nakedness  in  a  state  of  inno- 
cence, when  they  met  for  public  worship  in  their  smoky 
and  heated  caverns  or  churches,  which  they  called  Pa- 
radise. On  entering  these  places,  they  threw  off  their 
clothes,  and  resumed  them  when  their  worship  wa» 
finished.  Community  of  women  is  said  to  have  been  one 
of  their  tenets,  though  they  condemned  matrimony,  and 
professed  to  live  in  solitude  and  continence.  When  any 
of  them  violated  the  laws  of  the  society,  he  was  called 
Adam,  declared  to  have  eaten  the  forbidden  fruit,  and 
to  be  expelled  from  paradise,  by  being  excluded  from 
their  assemblies.  {Epiph.  Hcercs.  lii.)  They  are  sup- 
posed to  have  been  a  branch  of  the  Carpocratians  and 
Basilidians;  but  Dr.  Lardner,  (vol.  ix.  p.  337,&c.)  thinks 
that  they  never  had  any  existence.  Nor  can  it  be  denied, 
that  even  Epiphanius,  the  earliest  writer  who  mentions 
them,  has  stated  his  information  in  such  a  hesitating 
and  ambiguous  manner,  as  to  leave  a  considerable  sus- 
picion in  the  reader's  mind,  that  it  is  altogether  ficti- 
tious,    (rf) 

ADAMS,  Samuel,  late  governor  of  3Iassachusetts, 
eminent  for  his  piety,  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
heroes  of  the  American  Revolution,  was  descended  from 
ancestors  highly  respectable,  and  born  in  Boston  on  the 
27th  of  September,  1722.  Having  received  the  rudi- 
ments of  a  liberal  education  at  the  grammar-school  under 
the  care  of  a  Mr.  Lovell,  he  was  admitted  a  student  of 
the  university  of  Harvard  in  the  year  1736.  Here  he 
made  considerable  proficiency  in  classical  learning,  logic, 
and  in  natural  philosophy ;  but,  as  he  was  designed  for 
the  ministry,  a  [jrofession  to  which  he  seems  to  have 
been  much  inclined,  his  studies  were  particularly  direct- 
ed to  systematic  divinity.  He  received  the  degree  of 
A.  B.  in  1740,  and  that  of  A.  M.  in  1743.  Why  he  did 
not  assume  the  clerical  character,  so  congenial  to  his 
views  and  habits,  does  not  appear.  After  he  had  retired 
from  the  university,  he  attempted  a  concern  in  the  busi- 
ness in  which  his  father  had  been  engaged ;  but  it  was 
easily  seen,  that  the  propensities  of  his  nervous  and 
elevated  mind  were  not  turned  to  the  accumulation  of 
property  or  the  charms  of  wealth.  He  was  however 
soon  chosen  to  several  public  stations  in  his  native  town, 
and  in  1765  elected  a  meniher  of  the  general  assembly 
of  Massachusetts.  He  was  a  member  of  the  legislature 
nearly  ten  years  ;  and,  while  he  gave  repeated  evidence 
of  that  political  cast  of  mind  which  influenced  his  after 
conduct,  he  was  the  soul  which  animated  that  bo<ly  to 
its  most  important  resolutions.  In  1774  he  became  a 
member  of  the  general  congress,  in  which  station  he 
remained  a  number  of  years.  Here  he  rendered  the 
most  interesting  services  to  his  country.  In  this  assem- 
bly, where  the  foundation  of  the  American  revolution  was 
formed,  where  the  principles  and  systems  of  government 
were  drawn  into  discussion,  his  manly  eloquence  was 
never  resisted  with  success ;  simple,  yet  vigorous  and 


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131 


ADAMS,  George,  a  celebrated  optksian,  was  born 
in  1730,  and  died  on  the  14th  August,  1795.  He  was 
the  author  of  Essays  on  the  Microscope;  Essays  on 


persuasive,  it  was  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  trying  occa- 
sions for  which  it  was  employed. 

A  period  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Adams,  not  to  be  overlook- 
ed, was  that  in  which  he,  with  Mr.  Hancock,  was  pro- 
scribed by  the  last  act  of  the  British  government  in 
Massachusetts,  at  the  same  time  that  a  general  pardon 
was  granted  to  all  who  had  rebelled.  It  has  been  said 
that  Mr.  Adams  made  the  motion  for  independence  :  this 
however  is  not  correct.  With  Franklin,  Hancock,  and 
others,  lie  planned  and  signed  the  act  which  declared 
the  United  States  "  free,  sovereign,  and  independent :" 
and  during  the  eventful  period  of  our  revolutionary  war, 
no  man  exerted  himself  with  greater  energy,  or  was 
more  successful  in  the  means  of  effecting  that  great 
event,  than  the  subject  of  this  memoir.  In  1780,  he  was 
chosen  a  member  of  the  senate  in  the  legislature  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, and  was  placed  at  the  head  of  that  respect- 
able body.  While  in  the  discharge  of  these  legislative 
duties,  the  memorable  insurrection  in  his  native  state 
took  place ;  but,  through  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Adams,  the 
most  spirited  measures  were  adopted,  which  were  at- 
tended with  the  most  favourable  results.  Consequences 
truly  alarming  were  prevented,  and  the  insurgents  soon 
convinced  of  their  delusion.  In  this  scene  of  adversity, 
when  a  civil  war  had  commenced,  with  that  uniformity 
of  conduct  for  which  he  was  so  remarkable,  he  declared 
that  republics  could  exist  only  by  a  due  submission  to 
the  laws ;  that  the  laws  ought  to  be  put  in  force  against 
all  opposition ;  and  that  a  government  could  be  support- 
ed only  by  the  exertions  of  a  virtuous  and  enlightened 
people.  Soon  after  the  insurrection,  the  convention  for 
examining  the  constitution  of  the  United  States  met  at 
Philadelphia;  and  when  this  important  subject  was 
taken  into  consideration  in  Massachusetts,  Mr.  Adams 
was  one  of  the  twelve  representatives  of  Boston.  Though 
he  did  not  altogether  approve  of  its  several  provisions, 
particularly  of  that  wliich  rendered  the  several  states 
.amenable  to  the  courts  of  the  nation,  yet  after  certain 
amendments  vreee  made,  he  gave  his  hearty  assent  for 
its  adoption. 

Mr.  Adams  was  chosen  governor  of  the  state  of  Mas- 
sachusetts in  1794,  after  having  held  the  office  of  lieu- 
tenant governor  for  five  years.  He  continued  in  this 
station  three  years,  when  his  advanced  age  and  increased 
infirmities  induced  him  to  retire  from  the  active  scene 
of  public  life.  He  died  October  2d,  1803,  in  the  82d  year 
of  his  age,  and  in  the  full  belief  of  those  religious  prin- 
cijiles  in  which  he  had  been  educated. 

TJie  importance  of  the  services,  which  governor  Adams 
rendered  his  country,  were  greatly  enhanced  by  the  lite- 
rary labours  in  which  he  was  engaged  the  greater  part 
of  his  life.  Early  distinguished  as  a  writer,  among  his 
first  attempts  of  this  nature  ivere  his  political  produc- 
tions against  the  administration  of  governor  Shirley, 
lie  was  the  author  of  many  patriotic  reports  and  ad- 
dresses; of  an  interesting  letter  to  the  earl  of  Hillsbo- 
rough, and  of  an  oration,  published  iu  1770.  The  last 
effort  of  his  pen  was  a  letter  in  defence  of  Christianity, 
against  the  attacks  of  Mr.  Thomas  Paine.  Poli/anthos, 
v.  Hi.  Sullivan's  sketch  in  the  public  papers,  i803.  Allen's 
Siograpk.  Diet.     Elliot's  Biog.     Gordon's  Amer.  War. 

Frahcis- 


Electricity  and  Magnetism :  an  Introduction  to  Prac- 
tical Astronomy;  Geometrical  and  Graphical  Essays; 
an  Essay  on  Vision ;  Lectures  on  Natural  Philosophy ; 
and  a  Treatise  on  the  Barometer,  &c.  (rv) 

ADAMS,  a  township  in  Massachusetts,  in  the  United 
States,  situated  about  140  miles  north-west  of  Boston, 
and  containing  2040  inhabitants.  It  is  remarkable  for  a 
deep  excavation,  about  40  rods  in  length,  and  in  some 
places  60  feet  deep,  formed  by  Hudson's  brook,  in  a 
quarry  of  white  marble.  A  natural  bridge,  about  14 
feet  long,  10  feet  broad,  and  62  feet  high,  is  formed  over 
this  channel  by  the  projection  of  the  rocks,  (tv) 

AD  AMBON,  Patrick,  archbishop  of  St.  Andrew's,  a 
famous  Latin  poet,  was  born  at  Perth  in  the  year  1536. 
His  parents  do  not  ai>pear  to  have  been  in  very  flourish- 
ing circumstances ;  but  he  received  a  sufficiently  liberal 
education,  first  at  the  grammar-school  of  his  native 
town,  and  afterwards  in  the  university  of  St.  Andrew's. 
Having  taken  the  degree  of  master  of  arts,  he  was  in- 
duced, by  Macgil  of  Rankeilor,  to  undertake  the  tuition 
of  his  eldest  son.  They  resided  two  years  at  Paris,  and 
afterwards  visited  the  universities  of  Poictiers  and  Pa- 
dua, where  Adamson  applied  himself  with  great  assiduity 
to  the  study  of  the  civil  and  canon  laws.  On  their  re- 
turn from  Italy,  they  visited  Geneva;  and  here,  in  his 
familiar  intercourse  with  Beza,  he  eagerly  imbibed  the 
Calvinistic  doctrines  of  theology.  Seven  years  after 
their  arrival  on  the  continent,  they  revisited  Paris.  This 
was  about  the  period  of  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
which  Dr.  Smollett  has  very  justly  characterized  as  the 
most  perfidious,  cruel,  and  infamous  massacre,  that  ever 
disgraced  the  annals  of  any  nation.  Adamson,  who  had 
distinguished  himself  by  his  literature,  and  was  well 
known  as  a  zealous  protestant,  found  means  to  escape 
from  the  capital,  and  to  obtain  a  place  of  refuge  at 
Bourges.  During  his  concealment  he  composed  his  po- 
etical paraphrase  of  the  book  of  Job,  and  a  tragedy  on 
the  story  of  Herod,  who  was  smitten  by  the  angel.  This 
tragedy,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  learn,  was  never  print- 
ed ;  but  the  other  production  may  be  found  in  the  col- 
lection of  the  author's  Poetnaia  Sacra,  (Loud.  1619,  4to.) 
which  was  edited  by  his  son-in-law,  Thomas  Wilson,  an 
advocate.  Having  concealed  himself  at  Bourges  for 
the  space  of  seven  months,  he  at  length  withdrew 
during  the  night ;  and  he  had  scarcely  removed  seven 
miles  from  the  city,  when  the  person  who  had  harboured 
liim,  an  old  man  of  seventy,  was  tried  in  a  summary 
manner,  and  condemned  to  be  thrown  from  the  top  of  his 
own  house.  The  profession  which  Adamson  had  origi- 
nally chosen  seems  to  have  been  that  of  an  advocate;  and 
before  his  return  to  Scotland  he  is  said  to  have  taken  the 
degree  of  doctor  of  laws.  Soonafter  his  arrival,  however, 
he  entered  into  holy  orders,  and  became  minister  of  Pais- 
ley. In  1575,  the  general  assembly  appointed  him  one  of 
its  commissioners  for  settling  the  jurisdiction  and  polity 
of  the  church ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  following  year, 
he  was  nominated,  with  David  Lindsay,  to  report  their 
proceedings  to  the  regent  Morton.  About  this  period, 
the  earl  constituted  him  one  of  his  chaplains;  and,  on 
the  death  of  archbishop  Douglass,  promoted  him  to  the 
see  of  St.  Andrew's.  This  high  preferment  was  the 
origin  of  all  his  misfortunes.  The  power  of  the  pres- 
byterians  was  now  become  extremely  formidable;  and 
indeed  the  archbishop  himself  had  formerly  contributed 
to  its  advancement,  by  publicly  preaching  against  the 
hierarchy.  From  the  period  of  his  instalment,  he  was 
engaged  in  almost  perpetual  altercation.  In  1578,  he 
R2 


132 


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submitted  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the  gefieral  assembly; 
but  this  expedient  did  not  long  secure  his  tranquillity; 
for  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  year,  new  accusations 
were  preferred  against  him.  In  1582  he  was  attacked 
with  a  grievous  distem])er,  in  which  the  physicians 
could  afford  him  no  relief;  and,  under  the  anxiety  of 
mind  incident  to  such  a  condition,  he  had  recourse  to  a 
simple  remedy  administered  by  an  old  woman,  named 
Alison  Pearson.  As  her  medicine  was  found  to  be  effi- 
cacious, she  was  committed  to  prison  under  ti  charge  of 
witchcraft ;  and  although  she  was  so  fortunate  as  to  make 
her  escape  on  this  occasion,  yet,  after  an  interval  of 
about  four  years,  she  was  again  apprehended ;  and  was 
most  inhumanly  condemned  to  the  stake.  When  king 
.Tames  visited  St.  Andrew's  in  1583,  the  archbishop 
preached  and  disputed  before  him  with  great  approba- 
tion and  applause.  His  antagonist  in  the  disputation 
was  the  celebrated' Andrew  Melvil,  principal  of  St.  Ma- 
ry's college,  who  has  very  keenly  satirized  the  learned 
prelate  in  several  of  his  compositions.  The  eloquence 
and  learning  which  Adamson  displayed  on  this  occasion, 
recommended  him  to  the  favour  of  tlie  king,  who  sent 
him  as  his  ambassador  to  the  court  of  England.  During 
bis  residence  in  London,  he  kept  two  principal  objects 
in  view  ;  he  endeavoured  to  recommend  his  sovereign 
to  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  England ;  and  to  procure 
some  supi)ort  to  the  tottering  cause  of  episcopacy  in 
Scotland.  His  eloquent  sermons  drew  such  numerous 
auditories,  and  excited  such  a  high  idea  of  the  young 
king,  that  queen  Elizabeth  prohibited  him  from  mount- 
ing the  pulpit  during  his  stay  in  her  dominions.  He  was 
recalled  in  1584,  and  sat  in  the  parliament  held  in  the 
month  of  August.  His  enemies,  the  presbyterians,  still 
viewed  him  with  implacable  hatred ;  and,  in  the  year 
1586,  the  provincial  synod  of  Fife  summoned  him  to 
appear,  and  to  answer  for  his  contempt  of  the  decrees 
of  former  assemblies,  in  presuming  to  exercise  the 
functions  of  a  bishop.  Though  he  refused  to  acknow- 
ledge the  jurisdiction  of  the  court,  and  appealed  from 
it  to  the  king,  a  sentence  of  excommunication,  equally 
indecent  and  irregular,  was  pronounced  against  him. 
Adamson,  with  no  less  indecency,  thundered  hisarchie- 
piscopal  excommunication  against  Melvil,  and  some  of 
his  other  opponents.  The  unfortunate  primate  had  once 
stood  so  high  in  the  royal  favour,  that  James  had  con- 
descended to  compose  a  sonnet  in  commendation  of  his 
Paraphrase  of  the  book  of  Job  :  but  the  favour  of  princes 
is  generally  held  by  a  very  precarious  tenure.  Having 
fallen  under  the  king's  displeasure,  having  been  de- 
prived of  the  revenues  of  his  see,  in  consequence  of  the 
act  of  annexation,  and  being  overwhelmed  with  poverty 
and  disease,  he,  in  the  j'ear  1591,  made  the  meanest 
submission  to  the  clergy,  and  delivered  to  the  assembly 
a  formal  recantation  of  all  his  opinions  concerning 
church-government,  which  had  been  the  cause  of  offence 
to  the  presbyterians.  Such  a  confession  from  the  most 
learned  person  of  the  episcopal  order,  was  consiilered 
as  a  testimony  which  the  force  of  truth  had  extorted 
from  an  adversary ;  but,  without  entering  into  the  merits 
of  the  case,  we  may  venture  to  assert,  that  a  complica- 
tion of  miseries  had  at  least  as  great  a  share  as  the  force 
of  truth,  in  extorting  so  humiliating  a  recantation.  The 
Recantation  of  Maister  Patrick  Atlamsone,  which  cannot 
be  read  without  pity  and  indignation,  was  officiously  pub- 
lished, as  a  pamphlet,  in  the  year  1598.  Having  lan- 
'guished  out  his  latter  days  in  extreme  [loverty,  he  died 
At  St.  Andrew's  about  the  15th  of  March,  1592.     His 


character,  though  certainly  not  free  from  blemishes, 
was  far  from  being  despicable.  He  was  a  man  of  very 
considerable  erudition;  and  he  acquired  great  reputa- 
tion as  a  popular  preacher.  His  conduct  as  a  church- 
man exhibited  material  errors :  though  his  mind  seems 
to  have  received  lasting  impressions  of  piety,  yet  he 
rendered  himself  too  subservient  to  the  views  of  a  weak 
and  arbitrary  monarch.  His  unworthy  compliances  were 
sufficiently  punished  by  his  disgrace  and  sufferings ;  but 
his  literary  works  remain  no  contemptible  monument  of 
his  genius  and  learning.  Several  of  his  poems  may  be 
found  in  the  Delicite  Poetartim  Scotorum,  tom.  i.  and  in 
the  Poetanim  Scotorum  Musce  Sacrce,  tom  ii.  A  very 
loose  and  erroneous  account  of  Adamson  occurs  in  Dr. 
Mackenzie's  Ldvcs  of  Scots  Writers,  vol.  iii.  p.  304 ; 
but  a  more  satisfactory  view  of  his  personal  and  literary 
history  may  be  expected  from  Mr.  Irving's  Lives  of  Scot- 
tish Writers,  tvho  flourished  during  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries,     (e) 

ADANSONIA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Mo- 
nadelphia,  and  order  Polyandria.  It  derives  its  name 
from  Michael  Adanson,  a  French  naturalist,  who  wrote 
the  Histoire  Naturelle  du  Senegal,  4to,  and  the  Fatnilles 
des  Plantes,  2  vols.  8vo.     See  Botany,     (w) 

AD  AR,  the  twelfth  month  of  the  ecclesiastical  year  of 
the  Hebrews,  and  the  sixth  of  their  civil  year.  At  the 
end  of  every  three  years,  the  Jews  Intercalate  a  thir- 
teenth month,  called  Feadar,  or  second  Adar,  in  order  to 
make  up  for  the  33  days,  which  the  solar  year  has  in  that 
time  got  before  the  lunar  year.     (n>) 

ADAVES,  or  Adaes,  a  station  in  the  north-east  ex- 
tremity of  the  province  of  Texas,  in  the  Spanish  domin- 
ions in  North  America.  The  fortress  is  situated  in  a 
fertile  country,  at  the  distance  of  nearly  six  miles  from 
the  lake  Adayes.  This  lake  is  in  some  places  five 
leagues  broad  and  ten  in  circumference,  with  a  gulf 
which  is  navigable  by  lar^e  vessels,  and  which  could 
not  be  sounded  with  a  rope  180  fathoms  long.  In  the 
middle  of  this  lake  stamls  a  hill,  or  rock,  of  a  pyramidal 
fonn,  about  100  yards  in  circumference,  and  composed  of 
stone,  which  reflects  the  rays  of  the  sun  like  crystal. 

The  lake  abounds  in  fish ;  and  the  surrounding  coun- 
try is  plentiful  in  wild  cattle,  bears,  and  beavers;  and 
the  soil  is  fertile  in  maize,  and  other  grain.  See  Pinker- 
ton's  Gfo^rfl/)Ay,  vol.  iii.  p.  223.     {iv) 

ADDER,  or  Viper.  See  Co/ufifr,  Ophiology. 
ADDER  Stones,  a  name  given  to  opake  rings  of 
glass  found  in  this  country,  with  a  round  hole  in  their 
centre  and  a  very  thick  rim.  They  are  sometimes 
beautifully  variegated,  and  are  considered  as  a  proof 
that  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  this  island  possessed  the 
art  of  making  glass.  See  Phil.  Mag.  vol.  xx.  p.  1 7.  and 
Anguinum  Omnn.     {iv) 

ADDISON,  Lancelot,  the  father  of  the  celebrated 
Joseph  Addison,  was  born  in  1632.  After  taking  his 
degrees  at  Oxford,  and  distinguishing  himself  by  his 
learning  and  industry,  he  was  chosen  one  of  the  terrce 
fjii,  for  the  act  which  was  celebrated  in  1658.  In  the 
oration,  which  he  delivered  on  this  occasion,  he  had  the 
imprudence  to  sfeak  disrespectfully  of  the  jiersons  in 
power;  and  was  compelled  to  retract  his  animadversions, 
and  solicit  pardon  upon  his  knees.  After  obtaining  a 
rectory  in  Wiltshire,  and  being  appointed  one  of  the 
prebends  in  the  cathedral  church  of  Sarum,  he  took  his 
theological  degrees  in  1675.  In  1 083,  he  was  promoted 
to  the  deanery  of  Litchfield;  and  in  the  following  year 
collated  to  the  archdeaconry  of  Coventry.    He  died  on 


ADDISON. 


133 


the  20th  April,  1703,  at  the  age  of  71.  He  was  the 
author  of  many  works,  botli  literary  anil  theological ;  but 
none  of  them  have  obtained  much  celebrity.  See  Wood's 
Alhcn.  Oxon.  part  ii.  col.  970.  1721.  (w) 

ADDISON,  Joseph,  a  poetand  miscellaneous  writer, 
was  born  on  the  Ist  of  May,  1672,  aud  died  of  asthma, 
combined  with  dropsy,  on  the  17th  of  June,  A.  D.  1719. 
Being  a  weakly  child,  and  thought  not  likely  to  live,  he 
was  baptized  the  very  <lay  on  which  he  was  born.  He 
received  the  first  part  of  his  education  under  the  tuition 
of  his  father,  from  whom  he  imbibed  those  principles  of 
piety,  whicli  characterized  him  through  life.  He  was 
then  put  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Nash  of  Ambrosbury ; 
and  afterwards  under  that  of  Mr.  Taylor  at  Salisbury. 
His  father  being  created  dean  of  Litchfield,  and  carry- 
ing his  children  with  him  to  that  place,  Addison  became, 
for  some  time,  tlie  pupil  of  Mr.  Sliaw ;  but  no  account  of 
his  early  acquirements  or  tendencies  has  been  given  by 
any  of  his  biographers,  though  Johnson  relates  that  one 
of  bis  masters,  probably  Shaw,  was  barred  out  of  his 
school  on  the  approach  of  the  holidays,  principally  by 
tlie  mischievous  contrivance  of  Addison.  From  Litch- 
field he  was  sent  to  the  Charterltouse,  where  he  con- 
tracted the  intimacy  with  Sir  Richard  Steele,  which 
their  joint  labours  in  the  Tatler,  the  Spectator,  and  the 
Guardian,  have  so  effectually  commemorated.  Their 
friendship.however,  was  not  on  e<iual  terms:  for  Addison 
knew  that  Steele  was  his  inferior,  and  treated  him  as 
such ;  and  Steele  acknowle«lged  his  inferiority,  by  a  de- 
ference sufficiently  submissive.  A  man  who  endures  the 
sarcasms  of  another,  without  resistance  or  reply,  has 
parted  with  the  honourable  character  of  a  friend,  for 
that  of  a  flatterer  or  a  slave. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  Addison  was  entered  at  Queen's 
College,  Oxford;  and  some  Latin  verses  which  he  had 
written  on  tlie  Inauguration  of  King  William  and  Queen 
Mary,  being  accidentally  seen  by  Dr.  Lancaster,  after- 
wards Provost  of  Queen's  College,  he  was,  by  his  recom- 
mendation, elected  into  Magdalen  College,  on  the  foun- 
der's benefaction.  He  made  an  early  and  surprising 
progress  in  literature.  His  Latin  poems,  the  principal 
of  which  are  the  War  between  the  Figmies  and  tlie  Cranes, 
the  Description  of  the  Barometer,  and  the  Puppet-show, 
are  to  be  found  in  the  second  volume  of  the  Musec  An- 
glicanoB,  which  was  collected  by  himself.  He  presented 
the  collection  to  Boileau,  the  French  satirist,  who  from 
that  time,  says  Tickell,  "  conceived  an  opinion  of  the 
English  genius  for  poetry."  Boileau  is  known  to  have 
had  an  utter  dislike  to  all  modern  compositions  in  Latin ; 
and  it  is  probable  that  his  jirol'ession  of  regard  in  this 
instance  was  the  effect  of  his  politeness,  rather  than  his 
approbation.  In  the  year  1690,  Addison  contributed  a 
copy  of  Latin  verses  to  the  Oxford  Congratulations  on 
the  return  of  King  William  from  Ireland  after  the  battle 
ttfihe  Boyne  :  and  having  taken  the  degree  of  Master  of 
Arts,  he  published,  in  1693,  some  verses  inscribed  to 
Dryden.  This  was  the  first  of  his  attempts  in  English. 
It  was  followed  by  a  translation  of  the  fourth  Georgic  of 
Virgil,  (omitting  the  story  of  Aristeeus,)  by  an  Account 
of  the  Greatest  English  Poets,  dedicated  to  H.  S.,  gener- 
ally supposed  to  be  Henry  Sacheverel,  and  by  other 
pieces  in  prose  and  verse.  In  the  year  1695,  he  wrote  a 
poem  to  King  William,  on  one  of  his  campaigns ;  and,  by 
addressing  it  to  Lord  Somers,  the  keeper  of  the  great 
seal,  he  procured  the  patronage  of  that  nobleman.  Hav- 
ing declined  entrance  into  holy  orders  on  account  of  his 
natural  diffidence,  and  some  needless  scruples  about  the 


clerical  office,  he  obtained  a  pension  of  300Z.  per  annum, 
by  the  influence  of  his  patrons  Somers  and  Montague,  to 
the  last  of  whom  he  was  introduced  by  Congreve.  By 
this  means  he  was  enabled  to  execute  his  favourite  pur- 
pose of  travelling  into  Italy.  Accordiugly,  in  1699,  hi; 
made  a  tour  into  that  country,  which  he  surveyed  with 
the  rapture  of  a  poet,  and  the  judgment  of  a  critic ;  com- 
paring the  apiiearances  of  the  mountains,  woods,  ami 
rivers,  with  the  descriptions  given  by  Virgil  and  Ho- 
race ;  and  in  1701,  he  wrote  a.  poetical  epistle  from  Italy 
to  Montague,  (now  become  Lord  Halifax,)  which  has 
been  very  generally  admired. 

During  his  travels,  he  composed  the  Dialogues  on 
Medals,  and  four  acts  of  the  tragedy  of  Ceito.  He  ex- 
perienced, however,  the  common  lot  of  those  who  are 
dependent  on  courts.  His  pension  was  not  regularly 
remitted,  and  he  found  it  necessary  to  hasten  to  England: 
being  distressed  by  indigence,  and  forced  to  become  the 
travelling  tutor  of  a  squire,  whose  name  has  not  been 
mentioned,  and  probably  has  no  title  to  be  recorded. 
After  his  return  to  England,  he  published  his  Travels, 
which  he  dedicated  to  Lord  Somers. 

In  1704,  Jlr.  .\ddison  celebrated  the  victory  at  Blen- 
heim, ill  a  poem  entitled  t]ie  Campaign.  It  was  written 
at  the  reijuest  of  Lord  Godolphin,  signified  to  him  by 
BIr.  Boyle,  afterwanls  Lord  Carleton ;  and  it  procured 
for  him  the  office  of  commissioner  of  the  appeals,  in 
which  appointment  he  succeeded  Mr.  Locke.  In  this 
poem  is  the  well-knoAvn  simile  of  the  angel.  He  was 
soon  after  chosen  under-secretary  of  state,  first  to  sir 
Charles  Hedges,  and  then  to  the  earl  of  Sunderland. 
About  this  time,  he  wrote  the  opera  of  Rosamond,  which 
met  with  neglect  and  hisses  on  the  stage ;  but  he  at- 
terwards  published  it  with  better  fortune,  and  showed  ei- 
ther his  want  of  judgment,  or  his  servile  absurdity,  by 
inscribing  it  to  the  duchess  of  Marlborough,  "  a  woman, 
without  skill  or  pretensions  to  skill,  in  poetry  or  litera- 
ture." 

He  went  into  Ireland  in  the  year  1 709,  as  secretary 
to  the  infamous  earl  of  Wharton  ;  and  was,  at  the  same 
time,  appointed  keeper  of  the  records  in  Birmingham's 
Tower,  with  an  allowance  augmented  for  his  accom- 
modation to  300Z.  per  annum-  Though  a  keen  Whig, 
he  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  relinquish  his  in- 
timacy with  Swift,  who  held  the  sentiments  of  the  Tories, 
and  attached  himself  to  that  parly.  But  his  acceptance 
of  favours  from  lord  Wharton,  bj'  no  means  implies  an 
approbation  of  his  crimes  :  and  it  will  not  be  an  easy 
matter  to  find  in  any  history,  two  associates  of  charac- 
ters so  directly  opposite,  as  those  of  Addison  and  Whar- 
ton. When  he  was  in  oBice,  he  never  remitted  his  fees 
in  civility  to  his  friends ;  "  for,"  said  he,  "  I  may  have 
a  hundred  friends,  and  if  my  fee  be  two  guineas,  I  shall, 
by  relinquishing  my  right,  lose  two  hundred  guineas, 
and  no  friend  gain  more  than  two  :  there  is,  therefore, 
no  proportion  between  the  good  imparted,  and  the  evil 
suffered."  Whether  this  reasoning  be  just  or  not,  it  is 
certain,  that,  in  his  official  capacity,  he  never  indulged 
bis  friends  by  any  gratuitous  services :  and  throughout 
his  life,  he  a|)pears  to  have  known  the  value  of  money, 
and  to  have  had  pretty  exact  ideas  of  the  duty  of  pay- 
ment, when  the  fixed  time  was  come.  But  while  this  is 
mentioned,  let  it  not  be  forgotten,  that  he  established  it 
as  a  rule  for  himself,  not  to  take,  on  any  pretence,  more 
than  the  usual  fees  of  his  office. 

He  was  reserved  and  silent  before  strangers,  and  so 
timorous,  that  Chesterfield  declares  he  was  the  most 


K4 


ADDISON. 


awkward  man  he  ever  saw :  but  he  was  easy,  fluent,  and 
familiar,  in  the  company  of  his  friends.  Pope,  who  liad 
some  good  reasons  to  view  the  character  of  Addison  in 
an  unfavourable  light,  bears  testimony  to  the  seducing 
charms  of  his  conversation.  He  was  jealous  of  a  rival 
in  wit.  Steele  was  not  of  sufficient  dignity  to  occupy 
much  of  his  attention,  or  draw  forth  his  censure ;  but 
the  growing  reputation  of  Pope  touched  the  sensibility 
of  his  pride ;  and  led  him  to  support  the  pre-eminence 
to  which  he  fancied  he  was  raised,  by  means  of  which 
honour  and  openness  could  not  readily  approve.  It  was 
his  practice  to  study  all  the  morning,  to  dine  at  a  tavern, 
and  to  spend  the  evening  at  Button's  coffee-house, 
frequented  by  all  who  had  pretensions  to  wit  in  those 
times.  At  the  tavern,  he  drank  too  much  wine.  In 
politics,  though  sufficiently  in  earnest,  he  was  not  vio- 
lent ;  and  was  respected,  if  not  beloved,  by  individuals 
of  both  parties,  which  at  that  time  agitated  the  state. 
When  Swift  stept  forth  as  the  champion  of  the  Tories, 
his  intimacy  with  Addison  was  not  so  close  as  before  : 
yet  they  still  maintained  a  regard  for  the  virtues  and 
talents  of  each  other.     See  the  Journal  to  Stella. 

While  Addison  was  in  Ireland,  Steele  began  the  Tal- 
ler, a  series  of  essays  on  literature  and  manners ;  the 
first  of  which  appeared  on  the  12th  of  April,  1709. 
These  essays  were  published  without  the  name  of  the 
author;  but  Addison  discovered  them  to  be  Steele's,  by 
the  use  which  the  latter  had  made  of  a  criticism  on  Vir- 
gil, which  he  had  communicated  to  him  some  time  be- 
fore. No  sooner  was  this  discovery  made,  than  Addi- 
son became  a  contributer  to  the  paper.  The  Tatler  was 
succeeded  by  the  Spectator ;  the  first  number  of  which 
appeared  on  the  first  of  March,  1711:  and  such  was  the 
exuberance  of  matter,  of  which  its  authors  had  the 
choice,  that  it  was  continued  daily  till  it  extended  to 
seven  volumes,  the  seventh  being  completed  on  the  8th 
of  December,  1712.  In  the  year  1713,  the  tragedy  of 
Cato  was  represented  on  the  stage.  This  tragedy  was 
known  to  be  the  production  of  a  Whig,  and  was  zealously 
applauded  by  those  who  belonged  to  that  party ;  every 
line,  which  was  favourable  to  liberty,  was  received  with 
tumultuous  apiirobation ;  and  the  approbation  was  echo- 
♦•d  by  the  Tories,  in  order  to  show,  that  they  tlid  not  feel 
the  censure  which  it  was  supposed  to  convej'.  Lord 
Bolingbroke  called  the  actor  who  personated  Cato  to 
his  box,  and  gave  him  fifty  guineas,  for  having  so  ably 
supported  the  cause  of  freedom  against  the  encroach- 
ments and  the  violence  of  a  perpetual  dictator.  After 
the  representation  of  Cato,  the  Guardian,  another  pe- 
riodical paper,  was  undertaken  by  Steele ;  and  to  this 
also  Mr.  Addison  contributed,  but  not  so  regularly  as  to 
the  Tatler  and  the  Spectator.  The  popularity  of  these 
papers  was  deservedly  very  high  ;  and,  though  no  longer 
supported  by  partj',  or  recommended  by  novelty,  they 
yet  stand  at  the  head  of  English  literature,  and  will  be 
perused  with  benefit  and  delight  while  the  English  con- 
tinues to  be  acknowledged  as  a  separate  tongue.  This 
pre-eminence  they  owe  chiefly  to  the  genius  of  Addison. 
His  essays  in  the  Spectator  are  marked  by  one  of  the 
letters  in  the  name  Clio,  and  in  the  Guardian  by  a  hand, 
characters  which  he  employed  to  distinguish  his  com- 
positions from  those  of  his  associates.  After  the  pub- 
lication of  the  Guardian,  the  Spectator  was  revived,  and 
Addison  contributed,  as  before,  without  using,  however, 
any  marks  by  which  his  papers  could  be  known.  An 
eighth  volume  was  now  completed.  About  the  same 
time,  he  meditated  a  dictionary  of  the  English  language, 


and  proceeded  some  length  in  the  definition  of  words, 
and  the  collection  of  authorities ;  but  the  nunaber  of  his 
political  avocations  prevented  the  final  execution  of  his 
purpose,  and  the  work  has  since  been  performed  by  Dr. 
Johnson,  with  great  ability,  and  with  no  little  success. 
The  Whig  Examiner  was  written  about  the  time  when 
Cato  was  brought  upon  the  stage;  and  some  other  po- 
litical papers,  of  which  Addison  was  the  author,  are  re- 
ferred to  the  same  period.  The  Freeholder,  the  last  of 
the  periodical  publications  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
and  which  was  designed  to  support  the  established  go- 
vernment, appeared  in  the  year  1715. 

In  the  year  1716,  he  married  the  countess  dowager  of 
Warwick,  to  whose  son  he  had  been  tutor.  The  lady 
was  not  to  be  won  but  after  a  long  and  anxious  court- 
ship ;  and  showed,  when  she  granted  him  her  hand,  that 
she  was  abundantly  persuaded  of  her  condescension  in 
taking  him  for  a  husband.  The  marriage  by  no  means 
increased  the  happiness  of  Addison.  She  never  forgot 
her  rank,  and  seems  to  have  formed  an  opinion,  which  is 
not  uncommon,  that  no  culture  of  intellect,  or  exaltation 
of  genius,  can  make  up  for  the  want  of  coronets  and  an- 
cestry. The  majestic  and  repulsive  behaviour  of  the 
countess  often  drove  him  from  her  society  to  a  tavern, 
and  made  him  very  unwilling  to  return  to  her  when  he 
was  there.  It  is  certain,  as  Johnson  remarks,  that  Addi- 
son has  left  behind  him  no  encouragement  to  ambitious 
love. 

The  year  after  his  marriage,  he  was  appointed  secre- 
tary of  state,  and  reached  his  highest  preferment.  It  is 
generally  acknowledged,  that  he  was  unfit  for  the  duties 
of  his  |)lace,  and  that  he  could  not  issue  an  order  with- 
out losing  his  time  in  quest  of  elegant  expressions,  a 
solicitude  which  never  left  him  in  any  of  his  writings. 
He  shortly  after  retired  from  his  office  with  a  pension 
of  1500Z.  and  devoted  himself  to  literary  pursuits.  As 
his  mind  was  turned  to  piety,  he  wrote  the  Evidences  of 
the  Christian  Religion,  which  he  intended  as  an  antidote 
to  infidelity ;  and  he  designed  a  new  version  of  the  book 
of  Psalms.  He  projected  also  a  tragedy  on  the  death  of 
Socrates.  He  relapsed  however  into  politics,  and  wrote 
the  Old  Whig,  with  remarks  on  the  Plebeian,  which  he 
either  knew,  or  soon  discovered,  to  be  the  production 
of  Steele.  The  comedy  of  the  Drummer  is  likewise 
ascribed  to  Addison. 

Prior  to  his  death,  which  happened  in  the  year  1719, 
he  sent  for  lord  Warwick,  a  young  man  of  a  loose  and 
irregular  life ;  and  when  he  desired,  with  great  respect, 
to  hear  his  last  injunctions,  Addison,  grasping  his  hand, 
addressed  him  in  these  memorable  words : — "  I  have 
sent  for  you,  that  you  may  see  how  a  Christian  can  die." 
The  effect  of  this  awful  scene  is  not  known,  as  the  earl 
died  soon  after.  Such  a  death  as  Addison's  might  have 
been  expected  from  a  life  approaching  as  near  to  per- 
fection as  the  weakness  of  human  nature  will  allow.  It 
is  related  of  him,  that  he  received  encouragement  from 
a  married  lady,  of  whom  he  had  been  enamoured ;  and 
that  he  had  the  virtue  to  resist  the  temptation.  The 
struggle,  however,  must  have  been  great,  for  he  was 
several  times  in  love.  He  refused  a  gratification  of  300/. 
and  a  ring  from  major  Dunbar,  w^hom  he  had  endeavour- 
ed to  serve :  and  when  Mr.  Temple  Stanyan  had  borrow- 
ed 500/.  of  him,  and  yeilded  to  him,  in  an  argument, 
with  too  great  obsequiousness,  he  said  to  him  : — "  Either 
contradict  me,  sir,  or  pay  me  the  money." 

After  the  death  of  Addison,  Tickell  w  rote  a  poem  to 
the  memory  of  his  friend  and  patron,  which  he  addressed 


ADD 


ADE 


135 


to  the  earl  of  Warwick,  and  which  Johnson,  who  seldom 
praises  where  praise  is  not  deserved,  pronounces  to  be 
one  of  the  most  noble  and  interesting  of  funeral  compo- 
sitions in  the  whole  circle  of  English  literature.  The 
foilo^ving  paragraphs  are  particularly  recommended  by 
the  last  mentioned  writer : 

To  strew  fresh  laurels  let  the  task  be  mine, 
A  frequent  pilgrim  at  the  sacred  shrine ; 
Miite  with  true  sighs  thy  absence  to  bemoan. 
And  grave  with  faithful  epitaphs  thy  stone, 
If  e'er  from  me  thy  loved  memorial  part. 
May  shame  afHict  tliis  alienated  heart ; 
Of  Ihec  forgetful,  if  I  form  a  song. 
My  lyre  be  broken,  and  untuned  my  tongue  ; 
My  grief  be  doubled  from  thy  image  free. 
And  mirth  a  torment  unchastised  by  thee. 

Oft  let  me  range  the  gloomy  aisles  alone  ; 
Sad  luxury  !  to  vulgar  minds  unknown. 
Along  the  walls,  where  speaking  marbles  show 
"What  worthies  form  the  hallowed  mould  below. 
Proud  names,  who  once  the  reins  of  empire  held. 
In  arms  who  triumphed,  or  in  arts  excelled  ; 
Chiefs  graced  with  scars,  and  pro<ligal  of  blood  ; 
Stern  patriots,  who  for  sacred  freedom  stood  ; 
Just  men,  by  whom  impartial  laws  were  given  ; 
And  saints,  who  taught  and  led  the  way  to  heaven. 
Ne'er  to  these  chambers,  where  the  mighty  rest 
Since  their  foundation,  came  a  nobler  guest ; 
Nor  e'er  was  to  the  bowers  of  bliss  conveyed 
A  fairer  spirit,  or  more  welcome  shade. 

The  chief  works  of  Mr.  Addison  are  the  tragedy  of 
Cato ;  his  papers  in  the  Tatler,  the  Spectator,  and  the 
Guardian  ,•  and  the  Evidences  of  the  Christian  Religion. 

The  tragedy  of  Cato  is  the  reverse  of  a  true  copy 
from  nature.  The  incitlents  are  such  as  seldom  occur 
in  real  life,  and  are  therefore  but  little  calculated  to  in- 
terest the  attention  ;  but  the  principal  character  is  well 
supported,  anil  the  poetry  is  line.  Cato's  solilotjuy  on 
the  immortality  of  the  soul  may  be  selected  as  one  of 
the  most  dignified  and  elegant  compositions  in  the  Eng- 
lish tongue.  In  writing  this  tragedy,  he  was  confined 
by  narrow  ideas  on  the  subject  of  the  unities  of  time  and 
place,  as  Dennis  has  shown  with  malevolent  acuteness  ; 
and  its  moral  tendency  may  be  questioned,  as  Cato  not 
only  falls  before  the  power  of  a  tyrant,  but  takes  away 
his  own  life.  In  his  other  poems,  some  of  which  appear 
to  have  been  executed  with  care,  there  is  little  either 
to  blame  or  to  praise. 

Addison's  papers,  in  the  Tatler,  the  Spectator,  anil 
the  Guardian,  may  be  divided  into  the  comic,  the  seri- 
ous, and  the  critical. 

His  humour  is  peculiar  to  himself.  He  employed  his 
wit  against  the  approaches  of  skepticism  and  immorality; 
and  such  is  the  force  of  good  example,  that,  since  his 
time,  it  has  generally  been  found  in  alliance  with  truth 
and  virtue.  His  court  of  honour  in  the  Tatler,  and  the 
.  pajiers  relating  to  sir  Roger  de  Coverley  in  the  Specta- 
tor, may  be  selected  as  the  best  specimens  of  his  comic 
powers.  For  easy  and  delicate  satire,  they  are  perhaps 
unequalled  in  any  language.  Addison  has  risen  "  above 
all  Greek,  above  all  Roman  fame."  His  serious  papers, 
which  are  written  with  a  beauty  and  propriety  of  lan- 
guage not  inferior  to  any  thing  in  his  comic  productions, 
were  uniformly  designed  to  meliorate  the  dispositions, 
and  to  reform  the  conduct,  of  his  readers ;  and  it  cannot 
be  denied,  that  they  had  the  effect  which  they  were 
meant  to  have,  and  that  such  as  perused  them  were  ren- 
dered not  only  wiser,  but  better  than  they  were  before. 
He  recommended  knov/ledge  to  those  who  were  not  of 


the  learned  professions,  at  a  time  when  ignorance  was 
considered  as  no  disgrace ;  and  he  taught  the  females 
of  his  days,  that  they  had  minds  as  well  as  those  of  the 
opposite  sex,  and  that  these  minds  deserved  to  be  culti- 
vated and  improved.  He  may  safely  be  regarded,  as 
one  of  those  who  have  contributed  most  to  change  us 
into  a  nation  of  readers.  He  has  been  called  a  bad  cri- 
tic ;  but  they,  who  censure  him,  should  remember,  that 
he  was  the  first  who  exhibited  the  canonsof  criticism  in- 
an  easy  and  popular  manner,  and  enabled  those  to  judge 
of  poetry  who  were  not  so  desirous  of  profound  know- 
ledge, as  of  sufficient  information  to  qualify  themselves 
for  talking  of  the  rules  by  which  books  ought  to  be 
written.  He  did  not  publish  a  system  of  criticism ;  but 
what  he  offered  was  just.  The  precepts  of  the  ancients 
had  remained  concealed  in  the  poetics  of  Aristotle,  or 
scattered  over  the  irregular  prefaces  of  Dryden,  till  Ad- 
dison gave  to  the  general  reader  his  observations  on  the 
Paradise  Lost.  And  so  preferable  are  ease  and  elegance 
of  composition  to  the  system  and  deep  investigations  of 
science,  that  Milton  was  brought  into  universal  notice, 
and  became  the  favourite  of  all  who  had  pretensions  to 
literature :  for,  besides  the  inherent  excellence  of  the 
poem,  all  were  pleased  with  what  had  been  so  agreeably 
recommended  to  their  approbation.  He  descended,  how- 
ever, "  in  a  dying  fall,"  from  the  epic  dignity,  and  wrote 
comments  on  the  ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  which  were 
read  only  because  they  were  of  his  writing.  No  quota- 
tions from  Virgil,  and  of  these  he  employed  not  a  few, 
could  make  the  world  believe,  that  the  story  was  either 
very  interesting  in  itself,  or  told  in  such  a  way  as  to 
give  pleasure  to  the  reader. 

It  may  be  said  of  his  "  Evidences  of  the  Christian 
Religion,"  that  they  were  well  intended,  and  that  they 
may  be  perused  with  advantage  by  those  who  have  not 
time  to  read  larger  treatises :  but,  as  the  subject  has 
engaged  the  attention  of  others,  since  Addison  wrote, 
they  are  inferior  to  the  works  of  Paley  and  Beattie,  and 
the  Apologies  of  Watson ;  men  who  stood  forth  in  de- 
fence of  Christianity,  when  it  was  attacked  by  the  im- 
pudence of  Paine,  the  wit  of  Voltaire,  and  the  subtle 
insinuations  of  the  historian  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of 
the  Roman  Empire.     (A) 

ADDITIONS,  in  Heraldry,  are  a  species  of  bearings 
in  coats  of  arms,  in  which  additional  marks  of  honour 
are  placed.  This  reward  descends  to  none  of  the  fami- 
ly except  to  those  in  the  person's  own  direct  line,  (w) 

ADDITIONS,  a  name  given  by  distillers  to  the  salts, 
acids,  aromatics,  and  oi7*,  which  are  added  to  the  liquor 
in  a  state  of  fermentation,  in  order  to  improve  the  vino- 
sity  of  the  spirit,  increase  its  quantity,  or  communicate 
to  it  a  particular  flavour,     (n) 

ADDUCENT,  or  Adductor  Muscles,  from  adduce, 
to  draw  to,  are  those  which  draw  together  the  parts  of  the 
body  to  which  they  are  attached.  See  Anatomy.  (/) 

ADEL,  or  Adea,  a  kingdom  of  Africa,  bounded  on 
the  east  by  the  Indian  ocean ;  on  the  north,  by  the  Red 
Sea,  the  straits  of  Babelmandeb,  and  Cape  Guardafui ; 
on  the  south,  by  the  kingdom  of  Magadoxa  ;  and  on  the 
west,  by  the  country  of  the  Galla,  or  the  kingdoms  of 
Dancali,  Dawaro,  Bali,  Fatigar,  and  other  districts  of 
Abyssinia.  Its  extent,  though  not  exactly  ascertained, 
is  supposed  to  be  about  160  leagues  from  east  to  west, 
and  about  72  from  north  to  south.  Adel,  the  capital, 
from  which  the  kingdom  has  received  its  name,  is  situ- 
ated near  the  river  Hawash,  about  300  miles  south  of 
Mocha  in  Arabia ;  N,  Lat.  8»  5'.  E.  Long.  440  20'.  This 


136 


ADE 


ADE 


kiiigilom  is  sometimes  called  Zeila,  from  an  eminent 
seii-port  or  that  name.  It  is  said  to  have  been  first 
erected  into  a  separate  kingdom,  about  the  beginning  of 
the  1 6th  century,  by  Salatru,  a  jtrince  of  Abyssinia,  who, 
having  esca[)ed  from  the  prison,  in  which  the  royal  fa- 
mily, according  to  the  custom  of  that  country,  was  con- 
fined, took  refuge  in  Adel,  then  an  Abyssinian  province ; 
and  marrying  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  Zeila,  became 
independent  sovereign  of  these  united  kingdoms.  The 
kings  of  Adel  are  the  most  formidable  enemies  with 
whom  the  monarclis  of  Abyssinia  have  to  contend.  As 
the  Adelians  are  Mahommedans,  and  the  Abyssinians 
profess  Christianit)',  their  mutual  jealousy  of  each 
other's  power  is  heightened  by  the  rancour  of  religious 
zeal  ;  and  the  wars,  in  which  the  two  nations  are  almost 
perpetually  engaged,  are  marked  with  every  atrocity, 
which  might  be  expected  from  the  rivalship  and  enthu- 
siasm of  savages.  For  their  hatred  against  the  Chris- 
tians, and  their  zeal  in  the  cause  of  (he  Prophet,  the 
kings  of  Adel  are  in  great  favour  with  the  Grand  Sig- 
nior,  to  whom  they  are  tributary,  and  are  dignified  with 
the  appellation  of  saints.  In  exchange  for  this  flattering 
title,  the  sultans  have  appropriated  to  themselves  the 
most  considerable  maritime  towns  of  the  Adelians ;  so 
that  all  their  ports,  except  Zeila,  are  now  occupied  by 
the  Turks. 

The  interior  of  this  kingdom  is  little  known  to  Euro- 
peans. Towards  the  south-east,  the  whole  coast  is  a  de- 
eert :  but  in  the  rest  of  the  country,  the  soil,  composed 
of  rich  black  earth,  washed  down  l)y  torrents  from 
Abyssinia,  is  extremely  luxuriant.  It  produces  wheat, 
l)arley,  and  millet  in  abundance  ;  and  pastures  numerous 
llocks  and  herils.  We  are  informed  by  Hamilton  and 
Barthema,  that  sheep  are  found  at  Adel  entirely  white, 
^vith  the  head  of  a  brilliant  black,  and  with  very  small 
ears.  The  sheep  of  Adel  are  said  to  have  their  neck 
swollen  l)y  a  kind  of  dewlap  hanging  down  to  the  ground, 
which  demonstrates  the  identity  of  the  species  with  the 
ram  upon  ancient  marbles  represented  by  Fabroni,  and 
proves  that  this  species  exists  in  Europe,  Asia,  and 
Africa.  Some  of  these  sheep  are  remarkable  for  the 
size  of  their  tails,  which  sometimes  weigh  25  jiounds, 
and  their  wool  is  almost  as  hard  as  the  bristles  of  a  hog. 
The  principal  articles  of  commerce  are  gold-dust, 
ivory,  frankincense,  and  negro  slaves,  whicli  are  ex- 
changed for  the  merchandise  of  Arabia  and  the  In- 
dies. 

The  inhabitants,  called  Gibhertis,  are  a  stout  and  war- 
like people;  those  on  the  northern  coast  are  of  a  tawny 
brown  complexion ;  and  those  towards  the  south  are  of 
a  deeper  black.  Their  principal  towns,  besides  Add 
and  Zeila  already  mentioned,  are  Barbara,  a  place  of 
considerable  trade ;  Meta,  on  the  northern  coast,  near 
the  river  Soal :  Assem,  on  the  east,  which  supplies  the 
mariners  with  provisions ;  and  Cape  Ouardafui,  to  the 
north  of  Assem,  It  seldom  rains  is  this  country ;  but 
the  soil  is  irrigated  by  many  rivers  and  canals.  The 
climate  is  intensely  hot,  feverish,  unhealthy,  and  gene- 
rally fatal  to  strangers.  AValknaer'sGfog'.  notes.  French 
edit.  vol.  vi.  p.  413.     {k){iv) 

ADELFORS,  the  name  of  the  gold  mines  in  the 
province  of  Smoland,  in  Sweden,  discovered  in  1738. 
The  principal  rock  of  this  district  is  greenstone-slate. 
The  go'd  is  contained  in  veins,  which  are  from  two 
inches  to  nearly  six  feet  broad,  and  the  most  productive 
are  said  to  run  from  north  to  south.  Tlie  vein-stone  is 
quartz,  and  the  only  ore  is  copper  pyrites.     The  gold  is 


cither  native,  and  then  it  is  in  leaves  or  cnrstallized ;  or 
is  combined  with  pyrites,  forming  the  auriferous  copper 
pyrites  of  mineralogists.  These  mines  arc  nearly  ex- 
hausted. We  possess  no  good  description  of  this  re- 
markable mining  district.  See  Anton.  Swab's  Anmark- 
ningaro/verGull-gangarnevid.  AtlclJ'ors,  1745,  p.  117 — 
136.  Anders.  Snob's  am  strykande  Quarts-Gangar  i 
Adclfors  Gidhnalmstracter  i  Smaland.  Vetensk.  Acad. 
Handlung,  1762,  p.  281—283.  I.  Gotschalk  Wallerio 
Disscrtatio  Historico-Mincralogicadc  Aurifodina  Addfors. 
Resp.  Joh.  Colliandcr.  Upsalia:,  1764.  Barmi  Samuel  Gu- 
saf  Hcrmclin.  Berattelse  otn  amalgamations  inrattningcn 
vid  Adclfors giddvcrk.  Vctcnsk.  Acad.  Handling,  p.  153 — 
159.  Rctiss  Mitieralogie,  vol.  ii.  p.  358.  Lconhard\i  To- 
fographisclun  Mineralogic,  vol.  i.  p.  365,  366.  Berg- 
man's  Phys.  Gcog.  in  the  Journal  (ks  Miiics,  n.  xv.  p.  49. 
Pinkerton's  Gcog.  vol.  i.  p.  578.  Jameson's  Mineralogy, 
vol.  iii.  p.  132.     See  also  Geognosy,     (r) 

ADELIA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Diaecia,  and  order  Monadelphia.    See  Botany,     (w) 

ADELITES,  or  Almoganens,  a  name  given  by  the 
Spaniards  to  a  class  of  conjurers,  who  predicted  the  for- 
tunes of  individuals  from  the  flight  and  singing  of  birds, 
and  from  the  meeting  of  wild  beasts,  and  other  acciden- 
tal circumstances.  They  were  divided  into  two  classes, 
the  masters,  and  disciples  ;  and  they  preserved  carefully 
the  books  which  treated  of  this  species  of  divination, 
and  contained  the  rules  for  every  kind  of  prediction. 

ADEN,  or  Adden,  the  Eudaimon  of  the  ancients, 
the  capital  of  a  country  of  the  same  name,  situated  in  a 
rocky  peninsula  on  the  Indian  ocean,  at  the  southern  ex- 
tremity of  Arabia  Felix.  It  is  almost  completely  sur- 
rounded by  high  mountains,  on  the  summits  of  which 
numerous  small  square  forts  have  been  erected  by  the 
Arabs.  A  fine  aqueduct  conveys  water  from  the  same 
mountains  into  a  large  reservoir,  or  canal,  about  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  city. 

Aden,  from  the  excellence  and  advantageous  situation 
of  its  harbour,  which  opened  an  easy  communication  with 
Egypt,  Ethiopia,  India,  and  Persia,  was,  for  many  ages, 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  marts,  and  most  flourishing 
factories,  in  Asia.  In  1513,  it  baffled  the  attempts  of 
Albuquerque,  the  Portuguese  admiral,  who  wished  to 
demolish  it;  but  in  1539,  Solyman  II.  treacherously 
seized  the  sovereign  of  Aden,  and  obtained  possession 
of  tlie  city.  The  Turks  were  soon  expelled  in  their 
turn  by  the  king  of  Yemen,  who  removed  the  trade  of 
Aden  to  Mocha,  till  that  time  an  inconsiderable  village. 
Aden  is  now  almost  a  heap  of  ruins,  with  two  mosques 
and  minarets ;  but  as  the  kingdom  of  Mocha  is  torn  to 
pieces  by  the  Wahabees,  Aden  will  probably  recover  its 
commercial  importance.  Banians  from  Mocha  reside 
liere  to  carry  on  the  trade  with  Bcrbera,  and  buy  up 
the  myrrh  and  gum-arabic  brought  bj-  the  Samaulies. 
Cape  Aden  is  a  lofty  rock,  with  several  ruined  towers. 
N.  Lat.  12''  40'.  E.  Long.  45»  4'.  See  Captain  Robert 
Coverte's  Voyage  and  Travels,  or  Osborne's  Collect,  of 
Voyages,  vol.  ii.  |).  248,  and  Lord  Valentin's  Travels, 
vol.  ii.  p.  12,  86.     (t) 

ADENANTHERA.agenusofplanfsbclongingtothe 
class  Decandria,  and  order  Monogynia.  See  Botany,  (w) 

ADEPH  AGIA,  from  ah^dfia., gUdtotiy,  comi)ounded 
of  uini,  plentifully,  and  faftit,  to  cat,  the  goddess  of 
Gluttony,  whom  the  Sicilians  honoured  with  religious 
worship.  They  erected  a  temple  to  lier,  and  jtlaceil  her 
statue  next  to  that  of  Cere?,    (w) 


ADH 


ADH 


137 


ADERBIJIAN,  or  Azebbeyan  (the  comdry  of  fire,) 
one  of  the  fifteen  provinces  of  Persia,  and  one  of  the 
eleven  which  belong  to  the  khan  or  king  of  Persia.  It 
extends  from  48o  to  BA"  E.  Long,  and  from  36°  to  39» 
N.  Lat. ;  and  is  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  province  of 
Ghilan,  the  Caspian  Sea,  and  Jabristan ;  on  the  south, 
by  Jrac-Ajemi;  on  the  west  and  north-west,  by  Curdis- 
tan,  andUpper  Armenia;  and  on  the  north,  by  Schirwan 
and  Georgia.  Its  principal  towns  are  Tebriz  or  Tauris, 
a  populous  and  commercial  city,  formerly  the  residence 
of  the  Persian  raonarchs,  Ardevil,  and  Sultania.  (w) 

ADFECTED,  or  Affected  Equations.  See  Al- 
gebra. 

ADHA,  or  the  Great  Bairam,  a  festival  celebrated 
by  the  Mahometans,  on  the  tenth  day  of  the  last  month 
of  their  year,  which  was  named  Dhu'lhajjia,  signifying 
the  month  of  pilgrimages,  because  this  month  was  par- 
ticularly appointed  for  the  performance  of  religious 
ceremonies  by  pilgrims  at  Mecca.  On  this  day,  they  offer 
there,  and  no  where  else,  a  solemn  sacrifice  of  a  sheep, 
which  is  also  called  Adha.  See  Sale's  Koran,  Prel.  Dis- 
sert.  p.  150.  ((/) 

ADHERENCE,  Action  of,  in  the  Scottish  law,  is 
an  action  at  the  instance  of  a  husband,  or  wife,  to  com- 
pel either  party  to  adhere  in  case  of  desertion.  The  sen- 
tence of  adherence  may  be  enforced  by  letters  of  horn- 
ing; and,  if  the  offender  disobey,  the  act  1575,  c.  55. 
directs  the  church  to  admonish  him,  and  in  case  of  fur- 
ther disobedience  to  excommunicate  him.  This  action 
does  not  seem  to  be  competent  when  the  party  is  out  of 
the  kingdom.  See  Bell's  Diet,  of  the  Law  of  Scotland, 
vol.  i.  p.  10.  (?y) 

ADHESION,  or  Adherence,  from  ad  and  hareo,  to 
slick,  is  properly  the  condition  of  two  separate  bodies, 
when  they  are  held  together  by  the  mutual  attraction  of 
their  particles.  It  is  generally  employed  to  denote  the 
force  by  which  the  surfaces  of  solids  adhere  to  the 
surfaces  of  fluids,  in  consequence  of  their  mutual  at- 
traction. 

Our  countryman  Dr.  B.  Taylor  seems  to  have  been 
the  first  who  made  this  branch  of  physics  a  subject  of  in- 
Testigation.  He  observed  so  early  as  1713,  the  ascent 
of  water  between  two  glass  plates,  and  from  his  expe- 
riments on  the  adhesion  of  surfaces,  he  concluded,  that 
the  adhesive  force  might  be  measured  by  the  weight 
which  was  necessary  to  separate  the  contiguous  sur- 
faces. He  found,  that  a  square  inch  of  wood  required 
fifty  grains  to  raise  it,  and  that  the  adhesive  force  was 
always  in  the  direct  ratio  of  the  surface  in  contact  with 
the  fluid.  It  was  the  opinion  of  some  other  philoso- 
phers, that  this  adhesion  was  owing  to  atmospherical 
pressure,  and  therefore  no  new  ex|)eriments  were  in- 
stituted till  1773,  when  M.  Guyton  Morveau  investigat- 
ed the  subject  with  the  greatest  ardour  and  success.  He 
suspended  a  polished  disc  of  glass,  thirty  lines  in  dia- 
meter, to  the  arm  of  a  balance,  and  found  that  a  weight 
of  nine  gross,  and  a  few  grains,  ivas  necessary  to  separate 
it  from  the  surface  of  mercury.  The  apparatus  was  then 
placed  in  the  exhausted  receiver  of  an  air  pump,  and 
the  same  counterpoise  as  before  was  necessary  to  dis- 
unite the  mercury  and  glass.  This  experiment,  which 
viearly  showed  that  the  pressure  of  the  air  was  not  the 
cause  of  adhesion,  was  followed  by  a  variety  of  others, 
from  which  Morveau  obtained  very  interesting  results. 
The  metals  which  he  employed,  were  in  the  greatest 
purity ;  they  were  each  an  inch  in  diameter,  well  polish- 
Jed,  and  of  the  same  thickness,  and  had  a  small  ring  in 

Vol.  I.     Part  L 


their  centre,  by  which  they  were  suspended  »t  the  arm 
of  an  assay  balance.  With  this  apparatus,  he  obtained 
the  following  results. 

Metals  employed.         Force  of  adhesron.  Specific  gravide*. 

Gold,      ....     446  grains,  ....  19.342 

Silver,   ....     429 10.510 

Tin,       ....     418 7.296 

Lead,     ....     397 11.445 

Bismuth,     .     .     .     372 9.800 

Zinc,     ....     204 6.862 

Copper,       .     .     .     142 7.788 

Antimony,      .     .     126 6.700 

Iron,      ....     115 7.700 

Cobalt,        ....    8 7.800 

To  the  preceding  Table,  we  have  added  the  specific 
gravities  of  the  metals,  in  order  to  show  that  the  force 
of  adhesion  is  in  no  respects  connected  with  the  densi- 
ties of  the  solids.  The  adhesive  force  of  each  metal 
seems  to  be  proportional  to  its  solubility  in  mercury ; 
and  therefore  the  numbers  which  express  that  force  in 
the  different  metals,  may  be  regarded  as  an  approxima- 
tion towards  the  ratio  of  the  relative  affinities  of  the  me- 
tals for  mercury. 

Dr.  Taylor's  method  of  ascertaining  the  force  of  adhe- 
sion was  also  employed  by  Mr.  Achard  of  Berlin,  who 
has  made  an  immense  number  of  interesting  experi- 
ments upon  this  subject.  By  varying  the  atmospherical 
pressure,  he  found  no  change  in  the  adhesive  force  of 
glass  and  water ;  but  when  fluids  of  different  tempera- 
tures were  employed,  he  found  that  their  adhesion  to  so- 
lids was  uniformly  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  the  temperature. 
The  relation  between  the  adhesion  of  glass,  and  the 
temperature  of  water,  he  expresses  by  an  equation  similar 

16  3 

to  the  following:  «  =  530 — -a,  or  o=  99.33 — —t; 

o  16 

and  the  table  which  Mr.  Achard  has  computed  from  these 
formula;  for  different  degrees  of  Sulzer's  thermometer, 
accords  wonderfully  with  the  experimental  results. 
From  these  results,  it  appears  that  for  every  additional 
degree  of  heat  of  Sulzer's  thermometer,  (equal  to 
1.1565  of  Fahrenheit,)  the  adhesive  force  diminishes 
0.1858  grains  accortling  to  experiment,  or  ^J-^  of  a  grain 
for  every  degree  of  Fahrenheit;  and  0.1876  according 
to  calculation.  This  diminution  in  the  force  of  adhesion 
is  ascribed  by  Morveau  to  the  diminution  of  the  fluid's 
density  in  consequence  of  its  rarefaction  by  heat,  from 
which  it  happens  that  the  tlisc  of  glass  comes  in  con- 
tact with  fewer  points  of  the  fluid. 

Inorder  toascertain  the  relation  between  the  adhesive 
force  and  the  area  of  the  surface  of  the  soli<l  that  is 
brought  into  contact  mth  the  fluid,  Mr.  Achard  em- 
ployed discs  of  glass,  from  1.5  to  7  inches  in  diameter, 
and  found  that  the  force  was  in  the  direct  ratio  of  the 
squares  of  the  surfaces. 

•When  the  experiments  were  made  with  various  fluids, 
viz.  distilled  water,  sulphuric  acid,  concentrated  vinegar, 
alcohol,  acetite  of  lead,  acetite  of  copper,  deliquiated 
potash,  ammonia,  sulphuric  ether,  oil  of  turpentine, 
aBil  oil  of  almonds,  Mr.  Achard  found  that  with  al- 
most all  these  fluids,  lead  and  brass  had  the  greatest 
adhesion ;  and  wax  and  sulphur  an  adhesion  greater  than 
any  of  the  other  metals.  The  adhesion  of  gypsum  was 
the  least  in  all  the  fluids,  excef)t  the  suli)huric  acid,  to 
which  it  adhered  with  greater  force  than  aivy  of  tlie  other 
discs. 


138 


ADI 


ADI 


The  subject  of  adhesion  has  been  ably  discussed  by 
M.  Dutour  in  the  Journal  de  Physique.  He  shows,  that 
the  method  employed  by  Taylor  and  Ach:ird  to  estimate 
the  adhesive  force,  is  correct  only  when  the  solid  rises 
from  the  fluid  surface,  without  bringing  along  with  it  any 
of  the  fluid  particles,  as  in  the  case  of  glass  and  mercu- 
ry; for  when  the  solid  brings  along  with  it  a  quantity  of 
the  fluid,  as  in  the  case  of  glass  and  water,  mercury,  and 
some  of  the  metals,  the  solid  does  not  se|)iirat*  from  the 
fluid  at  the  plane  of  adhesion,  but  a  little  below  it,  in  a 
plane  lying  in  the  substance  of  the  fluid ;  so  that  the 
weight  which  produces  this  separation  is  rather  an  ex- 
pression of  the  cohesion  between  the  p.Tticles  of  (he 
fluid,  than  of  the  adhesion  of  the  solid.  M.  Dutour  also 
obtained  the  following  results : 

A  disc  of  72  square  lines  French,  adhered  to 

Water  with  a  force  of 31  gr.  Fr. 

Wine, 29 

Brandy, 22| 

Olive  oil, 22 

Alcohol, 18 

A  disc,  1 1  lines  in  diameter,  of 

Glass,  adheres  to  mercury  with  a  force  of  194 

Talc, 119 

Tallow, 49 

Paper, 27| 

Wax,      . 11 

Box,  (waxed,) 1 

Forfurtherinfonnation  on  this  subject,  seePhil.  Trans. 
1721,  vol.  xxxi.p.  204;  1804.  Cmiment.  Reir.Soc.  Got- 
tiiig.  1751,  vol.  i.  p.  301.  MisceUaii.  Taurinens.  vol.  i. 
Observations  par  Rozier,vo\.  i.\).  1 72,460;  vol.  xi.  p.  127; 
vol.xiii.Si//).  p.  357  ;  vol.  xiv.  p.  216;  vol.  xv.  p.  46,  234; 
vol.xvi.p.  85  ;  vol.  xix.  p.  137.  Mem.  Acad.  Berlin,  1776, 
p.  149.  Achard's  Chymisch.  Physiche  Schriften,  1780. 
Journal  de  Physique,  vol.  xlviii.  [).  287.  Phil.  Mas;,  vol. 
xi.  p.  27.  Gilbert's  Journal  dcr  Physik,  vol.  i.  p.  396, 
515;  vol.  iv.  p.  194;  vol.  xii.  p.  108.  Dr.  Thomas 
Young's  Lectures  on  Nat.  Phil.  vol.  ii.  p.  652.  (w) 

ADHESION,  in  Slrbery  and  Morbid  Anatomy,  a 
term  applied  to  the-  preternatural  union  which  takes 
place  between  two  inflamed,  ulcerated,  or  abraded  sur- 
faces. When  the  lungs,  bowels,  &c.  are  highly  in- 
ilamed,  their  external  coats  are,  as  it  were,  glued  to  the 
adjacent  membranes,  lining  the  chest  or  belly,  and  thus 
adhesions  are  formed.  See  Dr.  Flemyng's  Treatise  on 
AtBiesions  or  Accretions  of  the  Lungs,  or  the  Medical  Mu- 
'feum,  vol.  i.     (/) 

ADI. 4BENE,  the  richest  and  most  fertile  province 
of  Assyria,  to  the  whole  of  which  country  it  sometimes 
gave  its  name.  In  this  province,  Ptolemy  and  Aminia- 
iiu8,(with  whom  Strabo  coincides,)  place  Ninus  or  Nine- 
Teh,  Gaugamela,  and  Arbela.  In  consequence  of  the 
feuds  which  prevailed  among  the  Seleucidae,  Adiabene 
was  erected  into  a  separate  kingdom,  and  was  governed 
by  successive  sovereigns  in  opposition  to  the  kings  of 
Syria,  till  it  became  subject  to  the  Roman  emperors. 
In  the  reign  of  Trajan,  the  Adiabenians  joined  Chos- 
roes,  king  of  Persia,  then  at  war  with  the  Romans. 
Trajan  having  obtained  possession  of  Adenystra",  one  of 
their  strongest  forts,  transported  his  army  over  the  Ti- 
gris liy  means  of  a  bridge  of  boats,  and  made  himself 
master  of  the  whole  kingdom  of  Adiabene  in  the  1 15th 
year  of  the  Christian  era.  The  Adiabruians  soon  shook 
o£r  the  Roman  yoke;  but  were  again  subjugated  by  Se- 


verus,  who  from  that  circumstance  was  denominated 
Adiabenicus.  (k) 

ADIANTHUM,  a  genusof  plants,  of  the  class  Cryp- 
togamiii,  and  order  Filices.     See  Botany,  (to) 

ADIAPHORlSTS,from«i^(a(Jcf«5,mrfi^m7if,aname 
given  to  the  Luther  >ns  who  adhered  to  Melancthon, 
and  ai'tcrw  irds  to  those  who  subscribed  to  the  Interim 
whi'.h  Charles  V.  published  at  the  diet  of  Augsburg. 
Mt'l  'iicthon  had  maintained,  that  obedience  was  due 
to  the  imperial  edicts  in  matters  of  an  indifferent  na- 
ture, (w) 

ADJECTIVE,  a  word  which  expresses  as  inhering 
in  its  substance  the  quality  of  any  thing  whose  essence 
does  not  consist  in  motion  or  its  privation,  as  wise,  black, 
great.  Every  adjective  may  therefore  be  resolved  into 
a  substantive,  and  an  exftression  equivalent  to  of,  for  a 
wise  man  is  (he  same  as  a  man  of  wisdom.  See  Harris's 
Hermes,  p.  186-7.  Blair's  Lectures,  vol.  i.  p.  199;  and 
Grammar,  {w) 

ADIPOCIKE,  from  adcps,  fat,  and  ccra,  wax,  a  name 
given  by  Pourcroy  to  a  soft  unctuous  substance  of  a  light 
brown  colour,  into  which  the  muscular  fibre  of  animal 
bodies  is  spoiit<(neously  converted  when  protected  from 
atmospheric  air,  and  when  under  certain  circumstances 
of  temperature  and  humidify. 

This  substance  was  discovered  at  Paris  in  1 787,  %vhen 
the  burying  ground  of  the  chuixh  dcs  Innocens  was  re- 
moved on  account  of  its  insalubrity;  and  the  space  which 
it  occupied  laid  out  for  buildings.  This  burying  ground 
had  been  for  many  centuries  the  receptacle  of  the  dead 
in  one  of  the  most  pojiulous  districts  of  Paris,  and  con- 
tained several  large  cavities,  (fosses  commuties,)  about  30 
feet  deep,  and  20  feet  square.  Each  of  these  immense 
pits  which  had  been  heaijed  above  their  natural  level, 
contained  about  1500  adjacent  coflins,  enclosing  the  bo- 
dies of  the  poorer  inhabit:ints,  who  were  uniformly  «loom- 
ed  to  this  species  of  dishonour.ible  interment,  so  that  a 
space  of  nearly  200,000  cubic  yards  was  lomiiletely  fill- 
ed with  one  hideous  mass  of  corruption.  When  the 
proposed  alterations  on  this  part  of  tlie  city  were  to  be 
put  in  execution,  it  became  necessary  to  remove  the 
greater  part  of  the  soil  with  its  putrid  contents ;  and  it 
was  during  this  ojieration,  that  IMcssrs.  Fourcroy  and 
Thouret  obtained  the  following  interesting  facts. 

In  one  of  (he  pits  which  had  been  filled  up  about  15 
years,  the  bodies  had  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  coflins, 
as  if  they  had  been  flattened  by  the  pressure  of  some 
weight;  and  upon  removing  the  linen  sb.roud,  there  ap- 
peared irregular  masses  of  a  soft  unctuous  substance 
like  cheese,  of  a  brownish  colour,  and  apparently  inter- 
mediate between  wax  and  fit.  After  further  examina- 
tion, it  appeared  (hat  this  adipocire  was  composed  of 
every  part  of  the  body,  except  the  bones,  nails,  and  hair; 
that  it  was  generated  in  about  three  years;  that  it  was 
more  jierfect  in  the  centres  of  the  pi(s,  than  in  the  parts 
nearer  the  surface;  thiit  in  the  space  of  about  35  years, 
when  the  ground  is  dry,  it  becomes  brittle,  semitrans- 
paren(,  and  of  a  granuhUed  texture;  and  that  it  was 
never  produced  when  the  bodies  were  interred  singly. 

This  singular  substance  may  be  also  proiluced,  and 
with  greater  rapidity,  by  immersing  animal  matter  in 
running  water.  Dr.  Gibbes  found,  thai  part  of  a  cow 
placed  in  the  bottom  of  a  stream,  was  converted  into  an 
adipocirous  substance  in  about  three  months;  and  that 
the  same  conversion  might  be  cBectcd  in  the  space  of 
three  days,  by  macerating  the  animal  substance  in  di- 
luted nitrous  acid.    The  chemica)  properties  of  adipo- 


ADM 


ADM 


139 


I 


cire,  which  has  been  examined  by  Fourcroy,  Dr.  Gibbes, 
and  Dr.  Bostock  of  Liverpool,  willbe  found  under  the  ar- 
ticle Chemistry.  Dr.  Bostock's  ingenious  experiments 
may  be  seen  in  Nicholson's  Jojirnal,  vol.  iv.  p.  155.  The 
experiments  of  Fourcroy  in  the  Annaks  dc  Chimie,  vol. 
T.  p.  154^  vol.  viii.  p.  1 7  ;  and  those  of  Dr.  Gibbes  in  the 
Phil.  Trans.  1  "94,  vol.  Ixxxiv.  p.  1 69,  and  vol.  Ixxxv.  See 
the  Journal  de  Physique,  torn,  xxxviii.  Annates  dc  Chimie, 
vol.  iii.  p.  120;  vol.  vii.  p.  146,  and  Aikin's  Mincralogical 
Dictionary,     {w) 

ADIRONDACKS.     See  ALGONqums. 

ADIT  OP  A  Mine,  the  opening  by  which  we  entBr  a 
mine,  and  through  which  the  water  and  ores  are  carried 
out.  See  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  i.  p.  79 ;  vol.  ii.  and  vol.  xvii. 
{w) 

ADJUDICATION,  in  English  law,  the  act  of  adjudg- 
ing to  any  one  the  property  of  a  thing  by  a  legal  sen- 
tence. In  Scottish  law  it  is  employed  to  express  the 
diligence  by  which  land  is  attached  on  security  and  pay- 
ment of  debt,  or  by  which  a  feudal  title  is  made  up  in  a 
person  holding  an  obligation  to  convey,  without  procura- 
tory  or  precept.  See  Bell's  Did.  of  the  Law  of  Scotland, 
vol.  i.  p.  14.     (re) 

ADLE  Egg,  or  Subventaneotts  Egs;,  is  one  which  has 
not  been  imiiregnated  by  the  male  bird.  After  incuba- 
tion, these  eggs  are  found  to  contain  a  roundish  ash- 
coloured  substance.  See  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  vii.  No.  87.  (w) 

ADMINISTRATOR,  in  English  law,  is  nearly  the 
same  with  an  executor,  or  rather  it  is  the  person  to  whom 
is  committed  the  adminislration  of  the  goods  of  any  one 
who  has  failed  in  appointing  an  executor.  In  Scottish 
law,  it  denotes  a  person  legally  authorized  to  act  for  any 
person  whom  the  law  considers  as  incapable  of  manag- 
ing his  own  affairs.  It  is  generally  applied  to  a  father 
who  is  empowered  by  law  to  manage  the  property  of  his 
children  during  their  minority,     (re) 

ADMIRAL,  from  <»;iti){«A(««,  which  is  again  derived 
from  the  Arabic  word  Ameer,  a  prince,  and  »M,  the  sea, 
is  a  person  who  holds  an  office  as  a  judge  or  president 
of  a  court  for  the  trial  of  maritime  causes,  and  the  regu- 
lation of  maritime  affairs ;  and  has  the  command,  either 
of  the  whole  navy  or  of  a  portion  of  it. 

Neither  the  antiquity  nor  the  early  history  of  this  of- 
fice is  well  ascertained.  It  has  been  thought  by  some 
writers,  that  the  name  is  of  eastern  origin,  and  that  it  is 
derived  from  the  Arabic  word  amir  or  emir,  which  signi- 
fies a  commander,  whether  on  land  or  sea ;  but  without 
inquiring  into  the  foundation  of  this  conjecture,  it  is 
evident  that  such  an  office  will  gradually  arise  in  every 
state  as  a  navy  begins  to  be  formed.  Du  Cange  assures 
us  that  the  Sicilians  were  the  first  by  whom  the  title  of 
admiral  was  adoi)ted ;  and  says,  that  they  took  it  from 
the  eastern  nations,  who  often  visited  them  :  and  he,  fur- 
,ther,  gives  the  authority  of  Matthew  Paris  to  show,  that 
the  Genoese  were  the  next  who  applied  the  word  to  the 
commander  of  a  squadron.  This  appears  to  have  been 
done  in  the  time  of  the  crusaders,  and  about  the  year 
1244. 

History  is  silent  with  regard  to  the  exact  time  when 
the  name  of  this  officer  was  introduced  into  England. 
Sir  Henry  Spelman,  a  learned  antiquary,  is  of  opinion, 
that  it  was  not  before  the  reign  of  Henry  III :  because  it 
is  not  mentioned  in  the  laws  of  Oleron,  which  were  made 
in  the  year  1266,  nor  by  Bracton,  who  was  loril  chief 
justice  of  England  about  the  same  time,  in  his  treatise 
De  Legibns  et  Consuctudinibiis  Angli«.  It  is  likely,  that 
a  term  synonymous  with  that  of  admiral,  and  of  equal, 


or  perhaps  of  greater  antiquity,  was  used  in  remote  pe- 
riods :  as  in  later  times,  when  the  appellation  of  admiral 
was  not  known,  or  not  employed,  the  commander  of  the 
fleet  appears  to  have  had  the  name  of  custos  maris  ;  and 
sometimes  ihai  oi  capitaneiis  inaritimarum.  There  were 
anciently  three  or  four  admirals  of  the  English  seas,  who 
all  held  their  offices  during  the  pleasure  of  the  king  : 
and  besides  these  there  were  admirals  of  the  Cinque 
Ports  ;  one  of  whom  (William  Lattimer)  is  described  as 
Admiralis  quinquc  portuum,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III. 
The  title  of  Admiralis  Anglix,  or  high  admiral  of  Eng- 
land, was  first  given  to  the  earl  of  Arundel  and  Surrey^ 
by  a  patent  of  Richard  II.  in  the  year  1387  :  but  it  was 
not  a  title  of  frequent  application  till  the  reign  of  his  suc- 
cessor Henry  IV.  The  same  title  was  afterwards  con- 
ferred upon  other  subjects, generally  of  the  highest  rank ; 
though  it  has  now  been  discontinued  for  many  years,  and 
sunk  in  that  of  the  lords  commissioners  of  the  admiralty. 
The  king's  lieutenant  upon  the  high  seas,  locum  tcnens 
regis  super  marc,  was  an  officer  of  superior  dignity  to  the 
admiral  of  England. 

It  is  always  in  the  power  of  the  king  to  appoint  a  high 
admiral ;  and  when  that  power  is  exercised,  the  officer 
who  is  thus  appointed  has  always  the  sole  direction  of 
maritime  affairs.  The  royal  navy  is  under  his  govern- 
ment and  command  :  and  he  nominates  the  inferior  ad- 
mirals, captains,  and,  in  general,  all  who  sen'e  in  it, 
whether  by  virtue  of  commissions  or  of  warrants.  He 
has  likewise  a  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction  in  all  ma- 
ritime cases ;  including  transactions  which  take  place 
in  arms  of  the  sea,  and  on  the  rivers  which  flow  into  it, 
up  to  the  first  bridge.  This  power  extends  over  all 
sailors ;  both  those  who  are  in  actual  service,  and  those 
who  may  be  living  on  shore ;  and  throughout  the  king- 
dom, he  may  forcibly  apprehend  the  latter,  and  employ 
them  in  the  ships  of  war.  He  presides  in  the  court  of  ad- 
miralty :  and  when  offenders  are  convicted  of  capital 
crimes,  he  has  the  appointment  of  every  thing  which 
relates  to  their  execution.  The  emoluments  of  the 
lord  high  admiral  are  very  considerable.  He  had  for- 
merly a  right  to  the  tenth  part  of  all  prize  goods;  but 
that  right  was  abolished  by  statute  in  the  reign  of 
George  II.  (13  Geo.  II.  c.  4.)  He  is  still,  however,  en- 
titled to  all  fines  or  forfeitures  in  consequence  of  trans- 
gressions at  sea,  in  ports  or  havens,  and  within  high 
water  mark ;  though  between  high  and  low  water  mark, 
the  admiral  and  common  law  bear  rule  alternately,  the 
one  upon  the  land,  and  the  ofher  upon  the  water. 

The  administration  of  this  important  office  has,  for  a 
considerable  time  past,  been  intrusted  to  six  lords  com- 
missioners of  the  admiralty,  who,  by  a  statute  of  Wil- 
1am  and  Mary,  (W.  and  M.  stat.  ii.  c.  2.)  are  vested 
with  the  same  authority,  jurisdiction,  and  privileges, 
A\hich  the  lord  high  admiral  formerly  enjoyed.  The 
first  lord  is  always  a  member  of  Ihe  cabinet,  and  en- 
grosses the  whole  prerogatives;  as  his  colleagues  have 
few  or  none.  Petitions  or  applications  to  the  king  in 
council,  are  only  so  in  fiction,  as  no  discussion  of  them 
ever  takes  pbice;  and  they  are  immediately  transmitted 
to  the  admiralty,  where  the  lords  commissioners,  or 
tnore  properly  the  first  lord,  decides  upon  the  nature 
and  subject  of  the  application. 

Though  Scothind  never  possessed  any  thing  which 
could  nifrit  the  aiipellationof  a  navy,  there  was  former- 
ly a  lord  high  admiral  in  this  country.  It  is  difficult  to 
collect  much  of  his  early  history;  but  extensive  powers 
were  conferred  upon  him  by  an  act  which  was  passed  in 
S2 


140 


ADM 


ADM 


the  year  1651,  and  in  which  he  is  styled  "the  king's 
lieutenant  and  justice-general  upon  the  seas."  His  of- 
fice is  now  absorbed  in  that  of  the  lords  commissioners 
of  the  admiralty  for  Great  Britain.  A  vice-admiral, 
however,  is  still  appointed  by  the  crown,  and  exercises 
a  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction  in  Scotland  nearly  of 
the  same  kind  with  that  which  belonged  to  the  high-ad- 
miral of  England.  It  is  not  m;iny  years  since  ii  person 
accused  of  robbery  on  the  seas  was  tried  before  the 
vice-admiral,  and  a  jury  in  the  former  country,  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  hanged  at  Leith  within  high  water  mark. 
But  the  duty  of  the  office  is  now  generally  done  by  a 
deputy,  who  is  called  the  judge-admiral,  and  presides 
in  a  court  for  the  discussion  of  maritime  questions*. 

Admiral  is  also  the  title  given  to  the  highest  rank  of 
officers  in  the  British  navy.  There  are  admirals  of  the 
red,  white,  and  blue :  and  there  are  also  vice-admirals 
and  rear-admirals  of  each  of  these  flags.  An  admiral 
carries  his  fiag  at  the  main-topmast  head ;  a  vice-admi- 
ral at  the  fore-topmast  head,  and  a  rear-admiral  at  the 
mizen-topmast  head,  (c) 

ADMIRALTY,  Court  of,  a  supreme  court,  held  by 
the  lord  high  admiral,  or  the  lords  commissioners  of  the 
admiralty,  for  the  trial  of  maritime  causes,  whether  of  a 
civil  or  of  a  criminal  nature;  and  which  is  not  a  court 
of  record.  It  was  instituted  by  Edward  III.  It  takes 
cognizance  by  judge  and  jury,  of  all  criminal  offences 
upon  the  high  seas,  or  on  the-shores  of  any  country 
under  the  dominion  of  Great  Britain  ;  but  in  civil  cases, 
the  mode  is  different,  and  the  discussions  follow  the  prac- 
tice of  the  civil  law.  It  is  enacted,  that  in  criminal 
cases,  felons  shall  be  tried  in  the  presence  of  a  jury  by 
commissioners,  whom  the  lord  chancellor  has  the  right 
of  appointing ;  and  those  commissioners  are  the  judges 
of  the  court  of  admiralty  :  but  besides  these,  there  are 
three  or  four  others,  two  of  whom  must  always  be  taken 
from  the  number  of  supreme  judges.  An  appeal  to  the 
sovereign  in  chancery  lies  (8  Eliz.  c.  5.)  from  the  sen- 
tence of  the  court  of  admiralty. 

There  are  likewise  courts  of  an  inferior  nature  held 
by  the  admirals  deriving  their  ai)pointment8  from  the 
supreme  court,  or  the  judge-admiral  of  Scotland,  within 
their  respective  jurisdictions ;  and  an  appeal  lies  from 
their  decisions  to  the  supreme  court.  But  in  the  case 
of  prize  vessels,  taken  in  any  part  of  the  world  during 
ivar,  the  appeal  lies  to  certain  commissioners  of  appeals, 
who  are  chiefly  of  the  privy  councilf.     (c) 


*  In  the  United  States  there  is  no  office  correspon- 
ding to  that  of  lord  high  admiral  in  England;  the  pre- 
sident is  by  the  constitution  commander  in  chief  of  the 
army  and  navy  of  the  union,  and  the  secretary  of  the 
navy  under  him  superintends  the  details  of  the  latter 
department.     Duponceau. 

t  In  the  United  States  there  is  no  court  of  admiralty, 
expressly  so  called.  The  district  courts,  established  in 
the  diflerent  states  under  the  authority  of  the  federal 
government,  are  vested  by  law  with  what  are  called  ad- 
miralty powers,  and  have  original  cognizance  of  prize 
causes,  and  of  those  causes  civil  and  maritime  which  are 
held  in  England  to  be  within  the  jurisdiction  of  an  instance 
court  of  ailmiralty.  The  proceedings  in  cases  of  that  de- 
scription are  by  libel,  and  answer  according  to  the  course 
of  the  civil  law,  modified,  however,  in  many  respects,  by 
the  application  of  common  law  principles,  and  above  all, 
greatly  simplified  and  better  aduplcd  to  modern  use ;  the 


ADMIRALTY  Bat,  in  the  southern  island  of  New 
Zealand,  at  the  north-west  of  Queen  Charlotit's  sound, 
and  near  the  western  entrr.nce  of  Cooke's  straits.  This 
bay  is  spacious,  and  has  gootl  anchorage;  and  in  irn^ny 
parts  of  it  wood  and  water  can  easily  be  procured.  Its 
limits  are.  Cape  Stephens  on  the  north-west,  and  Cape 
Jackson  on  the  south-east.  Its  situation  is  marked  out 
by  the  Admiralty  islands,  which  lie  off  in  the  strait,  at 
some  distance  from  the  entrance ;  and  by  an  island  two 
miles  north  east  of  Cape  Stephens,  in  S.  Lat.  40"  37',  and 
E.  Long.  1 74»  54'.  (k) 

ADMIRALTY  Inlet,  the  name  given  by  Mr.  Van- 
couver to  the  supposed  straits  of  Juau  de  Fuca,  on  the 
west  coast  of  New  Georgia.  The  country,  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach,  is  beautiful,  and  the  soil  is  fertile.  On 
each  point  of  the  harbour,  which  Vancouver  named 
Penn's  Cove,  there  was  a  deserted  village,  in  Avhich 
were  found  sepulchres  in  the  form  of  centry-boxes,  con^ 
taining  small  skeletons,  and  pieces  of  bone,  which  were 
supposed  to  have  been  used  by  the  inhabitauts  for 
pointing  their  arrows  and  spears.  The  entrance  of  the 
bay  is  about  48"  30'  N.  Lat.  and  124"  15'  W.  Long.  (*•) 

ADMIRALTY  Island,  so  called  by  Mr.  Vancouver, 
an  island  in  George  the  Third's  Archipelago,  on  the 
north-west  coast  of  New  Norfolk,  in  America,  between 
57°  and  58"  30'  N.  Lat.  and  between  134°  and  135°  W. 
Long.  This  island,  which  is  about  60  leagues  in  circum- 
ference, has  many  convenient  bays,  line  streams  of  fresh 
water,  and  is  covered  with  an  uninterrupted  forest  of  fine 
trees,  chiefly  of  the  pine  tribe,     (k) 

ADMIRALTY  IsLANDs,a  cluster  of  between  twenty 
and  thirty  islands,  lying  to  the  north  of  New  Britain,  in 
about  2°  18'  S.  La"t.  and  164"  41'  E.  Long.  Captain 
Carteret,  by  whom  they  were  first  discovered,  described 
them  as  clothed  with  woods  of  beautiful  verdare,  luxuri- 
ous and  lofty,  interspersed  with  spots  that  have  beei* 
cleared  for  plantations ;  groves  of  cocoa-nut  trees ;  and 
houses  of  the  natives,  who  seemed  to  be  numerous.  As 
the  climate  and  latitude  of  these  islands  is  the  same  with 
that  of  the  Moluccas,  captain  Carteret  thought  it  proba- 
ble, that  they  produce  pines,  and  other  valuable  articles 
of  trade  ;  but  the  frail  state  of  his  ship,  and  his  want  of 
the  articles  necessary  for  trdding  with  the  Indians,  pre- 
vented him  from  landing  to  examine  them.    (A) 


trial  is  by  exhibits  and  witnesses,  without  the  interven- 
tion of  a  jury.  From  the  district  court  an  appeal  lies  to 
the  circuit  court,  aud  from  thence  to  the  supreme  court  of 
the  United  States,  which  decides  in  the  last  resort. 

The  district  courts  have  also  cognizance,  as  courts 
of  criminal  jurisdiction,  of  certain  petty  offences  com- 
mitted on  the  high  seas;  but  the  trial  of  piracy,  and  in 
general  of  all  crimes  cognizable  by  a  maritime  court, 
the  punishment  of  which  exceeds  thirty  stripes,  a  fine 
of  an  hundred  dollars,  or  an  imprisonment  of  six  months, 
belongs  to  the  circuit  court;  and  the  proceedings  in  such 
cases  are  according  to  the  course  of  the  common  law. 

Causes  of  forfeiture  in  consequence  of  violations  of 
the  revenue,  or  other  prohibitory  laws  of  the  United 
States,  are  held  Avith  us  to  be  within  the  admiralty 
branch  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  district  courts,  provided 
the  seizure  has  been  made  on  the  high  seas,  or  on 
waters  navigable  by  vessels  of  ten  tons  burthen ;  and 
therefore  such  causes  are  heard  and  determined  with- 
out a  jury.  It  is  otherwise  if  the  seizure  Itas  been  made 
oa  laud.    Dufoncsav. 


ADO 


ADO 


141 


ADOLESCENCE,  the  perimi  of  life  between  infancy 
and  manhood.  Among  the  Romans,  this  period  was 
from  twelve  to  twenty-one  in  females,  and  from  twelve 
to  twenty-Jive  in  males,  though  it  is  generally  placed 
between  fifteen  and  twenty-five,  or  thirty,     (ni) 

ADOM,  or  Adon,  a  small  kingdom,  or  principality  of 
the  Gold  Coast,  in  Africa,  which  extemis  in  a  direct  line 
along  the  river  Sehama.  It  is  bounded  on  the  east  by 
Tabeu  and  Guaffo,  on  the  north  by  M'assa,  and  on  the 
east  and  north-east  by  Abramboe,  and  on  the  south  by 
the  Atlantic.  It  is  a  rich  and  populous  country,  abound- 
ing in  corn  and  fruit,  and  feeding  great  numbers  of 
animals,  both  domestic  and  wild ;  its  rivers  are  full  of 
fish ;  and  it  possesses  considerable  mines  of  gold  and 
silver.  Many  fine  islands  belong  to  it,  which  are  cover- 
ed with  beautiful  and  populous  villages.  The  situation 
of  Adom  enables  its  inhabitants  to  intercept  the  commu- 
nication of  the  northern  regions  of  Africa  with  the  ne- 
groes of  the  coast ;  and  they  subject  those  who  carry 
on  that  intercourse  to  a  duty,  which  yields  a  considera- 
ble revenue.  The  authority  of  the  chief,  which  was  for- 
merly arbitrary,  is  now  controlled  by  five  or  six  of  the 
princi[)al  men,  who,  with  the  king,  form  the  national 
council.  See  Dapper's  Dcscriplim  Be  VAfriqtie,  p. 
288.     (A) 

ADONI  A,  solemn  feasts  in  honour  of  Venus,  and  in 
memory  of  Adonis. 

They  were  annually  celebrated,  with  peculiar  solem- 
nity, iu  the  temple  of  Venus  at  Byblos  in  Syria,  at  the 
season  when  the  water  of  the  river  Adonis  was  changed 
info  blood.  This  uncommon  appearance,  which  affortled 
such  a  strong  ground  for  superstition,  was  witnessed 
by  Mauudrell  on  the  17th  of  March,  and  is  rationally 
ascribed  by  him  to  the  eflect  of  the  preceding  violent 
rains,  washing  down  from  the  mountains  a  kind  of  red 
earth,  by  which  the  river  was  deeply  tinged.  (Travels, 
p.  34.)  The  most  |>arlicular  account  of  this  festival  is 
given  by  l.ucian,  (tie  Dea  Syria)  as  follows : — "  The 
Syrians  affirm,  that  what  the  boar  is  reported  to  have 
done  against  Adonis,  was  transacted  in  their  country; 
and  in  memory  of  this  accident  they,  every  year,  beat 
themselves,  and  wail,  and  celebrate  frantic  rites ;  and 
great  lamentations  are  appointed  throughout  the  coun- 
try. After  this,  they  first  perform  funeral  obsequies  to 
Adonis,  as  to  one  dead,  and  on  a  following  day,  feign 
that  he  is  alive,  and  ascended  into  the  air  or  heaven  ; 
and  shave  their  heads,  like  the  Egyptians  at  the  death 
of  Apis.  Whatever  women  will  not  consent  to  be  shaved, 
are  obliged,  by  way  of  punishment,  to  prostitute  them- 
selves during  one  day  to  strangers;  and  the  money 
thus  earned  is  consecrated  to  Venus."  Lucian  adds, 
that  "  some  of  the  Byblians  conceived  these  rites  to  be 
performed  in  honour  of  Osiris  the  Egyptian  deity,  and 
not  of  Adonis." 

At  the  time  of  this  feast  the  Egyptians,  according  to 
Cyril  as  well  as  Lucian,  conveyed  a  box  of  rushes  or  pa- 
pyrus, with  an  enclosed  letter,  to  the  women  of  Byblos, 
informing  them  that  their  god  Adonis,  whom  they  ima- 
gined to  be  lost,  was  discovered.  The  vessel  was 
thrown  into  the  sea,  and  always  arrived  safe  at  Byblos, 
at  the  end  of  seven  days ;  and  on  receiving  it,  the  wo- 
men ceased  their  mourning,  sung  his  praises,  and  made 
rejoicings  as  if  he  were  raised  to  life  again.  But  Meur- 
sius  says,  that  the  two  ceremonies  of  lamentation  and 
rejoicing,  were  observed  at  the  distance  of  six  months 
from  each  other;  Adonis  being  supposed  to  pass  half 
the  year  with  Proserpiae,  and  the  other  half  with  Veuus. 


The  one  they  called  «?>«v«cr;*ot,  disappearance-,  and  the 
other  £{fcr/«,  rettn-n.  These  Adonia  were  celebrated  at 
Alexandria  in  the  time  of  Cyril ;  and  at  Antioch  in  the 
time  of  Julian  the  apostate.  They  lasted  two  days ;  on 
the  first  of  which,  certain  images  of  Venus  and  Adonis 
were  carried,  some  limes  by  the  queen  herself,  in  solemn 
funeral  procession  ;  and  the  women  wept,  uttered  lamen- 
tations, &c.  This  mourning  was  called  A^«vi«»"|it«», 
According  to  Julius  Finnicus,  (See  Godwin's  Moses  antl 
Aaron,  p.  18ti.)  on  a  certiiin  night  during  these  solemni- 
ties, an  image  was  laid  on  a  bed,  and  after  great  lamen- 
tation made  over  it,  light  was  brought  in,  and  the  priest 
anointing  the  mouths  of  the  assistants,  >vhispered  to 
them  with  a  soft  voice,  "  Tnisl  ye  in  God,  for  oid  of 
distress  deliverance  has  come  to  us ;"  on  which  their 
sorrow  was  turned  into  joy,  and  the  image  taken  as  it 
were  out  of  its  seimlchre.  Part  of  this  ceremony  is  evi- 
dently alluded  to  by  Theocritus,  Jdyll.  xv.  84,  85. 

Mythologists  and  learned  divines  have  been  much 
divided  in  opinion  respecting  the  origin  of  these  rites. 
From  their  researches,  the  identity  of  Adonis  with  Osi- 
ris seems  to  be  as  satisfactorily  established  as  such  a 
point  can  be.  Plutarch  says  he  was  the  same  with  Bac- 
chus. (Symposiac,  lib.  iv.)  Thus  also  Ausonius  iden- 
tifies him  with  both : 

OgTgia  me  Bacchum  canit ; 
Osifin  JEgyptus  vocat ; 
Arabiea  gens  Jtiloneum, 

Proceeding  on  this  supposition,bishop  Patrick  ascribes 
the  origin  of  the  Adonia  to  the  slaughter  of  the  Ci-st- 
born  in  the  time  of  Moses ;  conjecturing  that  the  name 
of  Pharaoh's  eldest  sou,  slain  on  that  occasion,  might  be 
Osiris.  Spencer  (de  Leg.  Ileb.  lib.  2.  c.  37.)  thinks,  that 
the  death  of  Osiris  or  Adonis,  generally  considered  as 
the  Sun,  being  the  god  that  presided  over  the  fruits  of 
the  earth,  denoted  their  being  separated  from  the  earth 
in  the  time  of  harvest. 

Macrobius  says,  (Saturnal.  lib.  1 .  cap.  21 .)  that  Adonis 
was  undoubtedly  the  Sun ;  and  following  Bryant's  ety- 
mological system,  Ad-On  is  one  of  the  names  of  this  lu- 
minary. On  this  principle,  the  two  feasts  in  honour  of 
Adonis,  about  September  and  March,  might  relate  to  the 
diminution  of  light  during  the  winter  montlis,  and  the 
increase  of  it  during  the  summer  months.  From  the 
resemblance  between  the  rites  of  the  Orphic  Argonau- 
tica,and  those  mentioned  by  Julius  Firmicus,  others  have 
supposed  that  they  relate  to  the  Arkite  ceremonies,  com- 
memorating the  history  of  Noah  and  the  deluge.  See 
Pbd.  in  Nicia.  Ainmian.  Marcell.  22.  c.  9.  Brj-ant's 
Myth.  vol.  i.  p.  371.     Calmct's  Diet.  Frag.  317.  (d) 

ADONIS,  according  to  some  writers,  was  the  son  of 
Cinyras,  a  king  of  the  Assyrians,  who  founded  Paphos 
in  the  isle  of  Cyprus.  His  beauty  was  s-o  exquisite,  that 
Venus  became  enamoured  of  him,  while  yet  in  his  in- 
fancy, and  intrusted  Proser|)ine  with  the  care  of  his 
education.  Proserpine  refusing  to  restore  him  to  Venus, 
Jupiter  decreed,  that  he  should  live  one-third  of  the  year 
with  each  of  the  goddesses,  and  the  other  third  be  at 
his  own  disposal.  Adonis,  captivated  with  the  charms 
of  Venus,  gave  two-thirds  of  his  time  to  her  society. 
Diana,  offended  at  this,  sent  a  wild  boar,  which  slew 
him,  by  wounding  his  thigh  with  its  tusks.  According 
to  others,  he  was  the  incestuous  son  of  Cinyras,  by  his 
daughter  Myrrha.  He  was  sent  for  concealment  to  the 
mountains,  to  be  nursed  by  the  nymphs,  where  Venus 
falling  in  love  with  him,  admittcU  him  to  her  embraces ; 


142 


ADO 


ADO 


anil  JMars,  from  jealousy  and  revenge,  killed  Inm,  by 
transforming  liimself  into  a  wild  boar.  After  liis  death, 
Venus  obtained  the  coi^gent  of  Proserpine,  that  he  should 
divide  his  time  between  them,  and  ai)pointed  an  annu- 
al festival  to  commemorate  this  event.  The  death  of 
Adoni«  is  the  subject  of  an  exquisitely  tender  and  beau- 
tiful elegy,  by  the  poet  Bion.  ftlacrobius  explains  this 
fable  of  the  sun,  represented  by  Adonis,  |)assing  through 
the  twelve  signs;  Venus  meaning  the  upper,  and  Pro- 
serpine the  inferior  hemisphere  of  the  earth,  and  the 
boar  that  sleiv  him  signifying  the  winter.  (SaturnaL  lib. 
1.  cap.  21.)  Bryant  sup))oses  that  the  Canaanites  wor- 
shipped their  chief  deity,  the  sun,  under  this  title.  For 
other  mythological  interpretations,  see  Adonia.    (rf) 

ADONIS,  a  river  of  Phoenicia,  rising  in  mount  Liba- 
nus,  or  Lebanon,  and  called  by  the  Turks  Ohrakim  Bas- 
sa.  At  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  especially  about  the 
time  when  the  feast  of  Adonis  was  celebrated,  the  river 
is  stained  to  surprising  redness  by  a  sort  of  minium,  or 
red  earth,  washed  down  by  the  violence  of  the  rains. 
This  change  of  colour  the  heathens  attributed  to  the 
fresh  streaming  of  the  blood  of  Adonis, 

**  Whose  annual  wound  in  Lebanon,  nlUircd 
The  Syrian  damsels  to  lament  his  fate 
In  amorous  ditties  all  a  summer's  day  : 
While  smooth  Adonis,  from  his  native  rock, 
Kan  purple  to  the  sea  ;  suppnscrl  with  blood 
Of  Thammuz  yearly  wounded." 

Paradise  Lost,  book  i.  vci*.  446.    (A:) 

ADONIS,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Polyandria,  and  order  Polygynia.     See  Botany,  (w) 

ADONISTS,  the  name  of  a  sect  or  party  among  the- 
ological critics,  Avho  maintain,  that  the  vowel  points  com- 
monly annexed  to  the  Hebrew  ivord  Jehovah,  neither 
originally  belonged  to  it,  nor  express  its  true  [ironuncia- 
lion,  but  that  they  belong  to  the  words  Adonai  and  Elo- 
him,  and  were  applied  to  the  inefi"able  tetragrammaton 
Jehovah,  to  warn  the  readers,  that,  instead  of  this  word, 
they  are  always  to  read  Adonai.  They  are  opjioscd  to 
the  Jehovists  ;  the  principal  of  whom  are  Drusius,  Ca- 
pellus,  Buxtorf,  Allingius,  and  Keland  ;  which  last  has 
published  a  collection  of  their  writings.     (</) 

ADOPTION,  an  act  by  wliich  any  one  takes  another 
into  his  family,  owns  him  for  his  son,  and  appoints  him 
his  heir.  The  origin  of  it  is  obvious  and  natural.  As 
the  principle  of  lineal  descent,  and  the  influence  of  pa- 
rental affection,  are  peculiarly  strong,  it  is  reasonable  to 
expect,  that  those,  who  have  no  children,  will  be  solici- 
tous to  obtain  some  object,  on  whom  they  may  bestow 
their  love  and  property. 

Adoption  has,  accordingly,  in  one  form  or  another;  ex- 
isted in  every  age  and  country.  This  custom,  as  it  re- 
spected parents  procuring  children  to  themselves  as 
their  heirs,  or  to  preserve  their  family  from  extinction, 
was  practised  in  the  patriarchal  times,  and  afterwards 
among  the  Jews.  A  similar  practice  seems  to  have  been 
universally  prevalent  in  the  East.  The  following  regu- 
lations are  found  in  the  Gentoo  Laws,  and  the  institutes 
of  Menu  : — "  He,  who  is  desirous  to  adopt  a  child,  nmst 
inform  the  mapstraU,  and  shall  |)erform  the  jus^g,  [sa- 
crifice,] and  shall  give  gold  and  rice  to  the  father  of  the 
child,  whom  he  would  adopt."  "  A  woman  may  not 
adopt  a  child  without  her  husband's  order."  "  He,  who 
hat  no  son,  or  grandson,  or  grandson's  son,  or  brother's 
son,  shall  adopt  a  son ;  but  while  he  has  one,  he  shall 
not  adopt  a  second."  The  last  article  shows,  that,  in 
particular  instances,  adopliou  was  expressly  enjoined. 


Menu,  in  like  manner,  says — "  He  whom  his  father,  or 
mother,  with  her  husband's  assent,  gives  to  another  as 
his  son,  provided  the  donee  have  no  issue,  if  the  boy  be 
of  the  same  class,  and  affectionately  disposed,  is  a  soil 
given  by  water,  i.  e.  the  gift  being  conferred  by  the  pour- 
ing of  water.  He  who  has  no  son,  may  ap|)oint  his  daugh- 
ter to  raise  up  a  son  to  him,  by  saying  the  male  child, 
who  shall  be  born  from  her  in  wedlock,  shall  be  mine, 
for  the  purpose  of  performing  my  funeral  obsequies. 
The  son  of  a  man  is  even  as  himself;  and  as  a  son,  such 
is  a  daughter  thus  apiwinted.  The  son  of  a  daughter, 
appointed  as  just  mentioned,  shall  inherit  the  whole 
estate  of  her  father,  who  leaves  no  son.  Between  the 
sons  of  a  son  and  of  a  daugliter,  thus  appointed,  there  is 
no  difference  in  law." 

The  laws  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  respecting  adop- 
tion, were  still  more  precise.  Eunuchs  were  not  allow- 
ed  this  privilege,  as  being  incapable  of  begetting  chil- 
dren ;  and  it  was  expressly  required,  that  the  adoj)ter 
should  be  at  least  eighteen  years  older  than  his  adop- 
tive son,  that  there  might  appear  a  probability  of  his  be 
ing  the  natural  father. 

By  the  Greeks  it  was  termed  iitlnt,  filiation,  and  was 
allowed  to  such  as  hnd  no  issue  of  their  own,  excepting 
to  those  who  were  not  xvfiti  tctvlxi,  their  own  masters;  as 
slaves,  women,  madmen,  infants,  or  persons  under  tweu- 
tj-  years  of  age.  At  Athens,  foreigners  had  to  be  admit'- 
ted  to  the  freedom  of  the  city,  before  they  were  capable 
of  being  adopted.  Adojition  was  consummated  by  the 
form  of  a  will,  signed  and  sealed  in  the  presence  of  the  ma' 
gistrate  ;  after  which,  the  person,  so  adopted,  was  to  be 
inscribed  among  the  tribe  or  fraternity,  of  him  who 
adopted  him.  Having  thus  left  his  own  tribe,  he  was  not 
at  liberty  to  return  to  it  again,  till  he  had  begotten  a  child 
in  his  new  relation;  but,  even  in  that  case,  he  was  not 
obliged  to  return  to  his  former  parentage,  though  he 
had  this  privilege,  if  he  chose.  For  the  enrolment  of 
adoptions,  a  particular  time  was  appointed  ;  viz.  the  fes- 
tival S-x^fnMa..  Sir  William  Jones,  in  his  introduction  to 
the  speeches  of  Isaeus,  mentions  the  following  express 
law  of  Athens.  "  Adopted  sons  shall  not  devise  the 
property  acquired  by  adoption ;  but,  if  they  leave  legiti- 
mate sons,  they  may  return  to  their  natural  family.  If 
they  do  not  return,  the  estates  shall  go  to  the  heirs  of 
the  persons  who  adopted  them.  The  adopted  sons,  (if 
there  be  any,)  and  the  after-born  sons  to  the  person  who 
adopted  him,  shall  be  coheirs  of  the  estate ;  but  no 
adoption  by  a  man,  who  has  legitimate  sons  then  born, 
shall  be  valid."  On  this  the  learned  commentator  ob- 
serves, that,  both  at  Athens  and  at  Rome,  an  adopted 
son  acquired  all  the  rights,  both  sacred  and  civil,  and 
succeeded  to  all  the  advantages  and  burdens,  of  the  new 
family,  info  which  he  was  introduced ;  and  was  consi- 
dered in  every  light  as  a  son,  by  nature  born  in  lawful 
wedlock.  But  "  an  adopted  son  could  not  himself  adopt 
another;  he  must  cither  have  a  legitimate  son,  or  the 
estate  received  by  adoption,  must  return  to  the  adopting 
father's  heirs;  for  there  could  not  be  two  adopted  sons 
at  the  same  time."  To  prevent  rash  and  inconsiderate 
adoptions,  the  Laceda-monians  had  a  law,  that  they 
should  be  transacted,  or  at  least  confirmed,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  their  kings. 

Among  the  Romans,  there  were  two  forms  of  adop- 
tion:  the  one  before  the  pra,'tor,  called  adoplalio ;  the 
other,  during  the  commonwealth,  at  an  assembly  of  the 
people,  and  afterwards  by  a  rescript  of  the  emperor, 
called  adrogatio.  In  the  first,  the  njitural  father  address- 


ATIO 


ADO 


143 


ed  the  praetor,  declaring,  that  he  emancipated  his  soil, 
resigned  all  authorily  over  him,  and  consented  that  he 
should  be  taken  into  the  adopter's  family.  The  other 
mode  was  practised  when  the  party  to  be  adopted  was 
alre.dy  tree.  The  person  adopted  changed  all  his  for- 
ni<  r  names,  and  assumed  the  prename,  name,  and  sur- 
name, of  the  adopting  father.  In  the  reign  of  Nero, 
tilt  stnate  ordained,  that  fraudulent  adoptions  should  be 
of  no  avail,  either  to  qualify  men  for  honours,  or  to  en- 
title theni  to  the  whole  of  any  inheritance. 

By  the  law  of  Mahomet,  adoption  is  no  impediment 
to  marriage.  Among  the  Turks,  the  ceremony  is  per- 
formed by  obliging  the  adoptive  person  to  pass  between 
the  shirt  and  skin  of  the  adopter  For  this  reason,  to 
adopt  is  expressed  by  the  phrase,  to  draw  another  through 
my  shirt;  andan  adoptedsou  is  called  by  them,  Akietogli; 
i.  e.  The  son  of  another  life ;  because  he  was  not  begot- 
ten in  this.  Something  like  this  is  observable  among 
the  Hebrews :  Elijah  adopts  the  prophet  Elisha ;  first 
byputtinghismantlenponhim,and  then  by  letting itfall, 
when  he  was  ascending  in  the  chariot  of  fire.  (1  Kings 
xix.  10.  2  Kings  ii.  13.)  l)u  Cange  supi>oses,  that  the 
adoption  of  Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  by  the  emperor  Alex- 
ius Comnenus,  who  named  him  the  champion  of  the  em- 
pire, and  dignified  his  homage  with  the  filial  name  and 
lights  of  adoption,  was  of  this  kind. 

Amons;  the  Greeks  and  Armenians,  as  well  as  the 
Turks,  this  ceremony  is  frequently  performed  merely 
by  the  adopting  person  exchanging  girdles  with  him 
who  is  adopted,  when  he  succeeds  to  all  the  rights  and 
honours  of  a  son.  To  prevent  their  estates  from  falling 
into  the  grand  seignor's  treasury,  when  they  are  not 
likely  to  have  any  children  of  their  own,  they  also  some- 
times choose  a  child  of  either  sex,  amongst  the  mean- 
est people,  and  carry  the  child  imd  its  parents  before 
the  cadi,  and  there  declare  that  they  receive  it  for  their 
heir.  The  jjarents,  at  the  same  time  renounce  all  future 
claim  to  it;  a  writing  is  drawn  and  witnessed;  and  a 
child  thus  adojited  cannot  be  disinherited. 

Besides  these  ceremonies,  many  of  which  have  a  stri- 
king resemblance  to  each  other,  various  other  methods 
of  adoption  have  taken  place,  and  are  denominated  accor- 
ding to  the  forms  that  were  employed  among  Gothic  and 
military  nations.  See  Halhed's  Gentoo  Laws,  p.  263. 
J7tstilutcs  of  Memi,  in  Sir.  W.  Jones'  Works,  vol.  iii.  p. 
47,  352.  Archaologia  Attica.  Aulus  Gellius,  Gronov. 
lib.  v.  cap.  19.  I)u  Canue,  Sur  Joinville,  Dis.  xxii.  p. 
270.  Pitt's  Travels  to  Mecca,  p.  21 7,  225.  Lady  Mon- 
tague's Letters,  let.  xlii.  Burder's  Oriental  CustoinSy 
No.  459,  473,  512.  Gibbon's  Hist,  chap  Iviii.  vol.  ii.  p. 
45.  note,     (rf) 

ADOPTION,  BY  Arms,  was  when  a  prince  made  a 
present  of  arms  to  a  person,  in  consideration  of  his  merit 
and  valour.  In  this  manner,  the  king  of  the  Heruli  was 
adopted  by  Theodoric;  Ath.ilaric,  by  the  emperor  Jus- 
tinian; and  Cosroes,  by  the  emperor  Justin.  The  ob- 
ligation here  laid  on  the  sdoi'ted  son  was,  to  protect  and 
defend  the  father  from  injuries,  affronts,  <fcc.  To  this 
Selden  ascribes  the  origin  of  dubbing  knights.  {Tit.  of 
Hon.  p.  865.)  The  arms,  thus  assigned,  were  named 
adoptive  arms  ;  and  are  contradistinguished  from  arms  of 
alliance,     (rf) 

ADORATION,  an  act  of  worship,  strictly  due  to  the 
gu]<renie  Being  only;  but  performed  to  other  objects 
also,  whether  idols  or  men.  The  forms,  times,  objects, 
and  places  of  adoration,  arc  different  in  different  coun- 
tries, according  to  the  customs  and  religions  which  pre- 


vail in  them.  The  origin  of  this  practice  is  to  be  found 
in  the  universal  and  just  opinion,  that  the  sentiments  of 
the  heart  ought  to  be  expressed  by  articulate  language, 
and  external  actions.  The  term,  being  derived  from  the 
Latin  words  ad  and  orare,  signifies,  to  apply  the  hand  to 
the  mouth,  i.  e.  to  kiss  tlw  hand.  This  practice,  which 
seems  to  be  of  Persian  origin,  {Herodot.  Clio.  cap.  131.) 
being  one  of  the  great  marks  of  respect  and  submission 
in  eastern  countries,  was  easily  and  naturally  transfer- 
red to  idolatrous  worship. 

De  La  Vjille  gives  the  followipg  account  of  this  mode 
of  adoration  in  India.  "  At  Sural  is  seen  a  great  and 
fair  tree,  held  in  great  veneration.  On  high,  there 
hangs  a  bell,  which  those  that  come  to  make  their  fool- 
ish devotions,  first  of  all  ring  out,  as  if  thereby  to  call  the 
idol  to  hear  them ;  then  they  fall  to  their  adoration, 
which  is  commonly  to  extend  both  hands  downwards,  as 
much  as  possible,  being  joined  together  in  a  praying  pos- 
ture ;  which  lifting  up  again,  by  little  and  little,  they 
bring  to  their  moullis  as  if  to  kiss  them  ;  and  lastly,  ex- 
tend them  so  joined  together,  as  high  as  they  can  over 
their  heads,  m  hich  gesticulation  is  used  only  to  idols 
and  sacred  things.  This  ceremony  being  performed, 
some  make  their  prayers  standing;  ollurs  prostrate 
themselves,  with  their  whole  bodies  grovelling  on  the 
earth,  and  then  rise  again  ;  others  only  touch  the  ground 
with  the  head  and  forehead,  and  perform  oilier  like 
acts  of  humility."     Travels  in  India,  ]>.  20. 

In  the  East,  it  is  still  considered  as  a  mark  of  the 
highest  respect,  to  take  off  the  shoes,  and  approach 
barefooted  to  pay  adorations.  (See  Exod.  iii.  5.  and 
Josh.  V.  15.)  The  Egyptians  were  particularly  attentive 
to  this  practice  ;  and  the  Mahometans  observe  if,  w  hen- 
ever  they  enter  their  mosques.  When  Mr.  Wilkins  wish- 
ed to  enter  the  inner  hall  of  tlie  college  ol Seeks  at  Patna, 
he  was  told  that  it  wasa  place  of  worship,  open  tohimaiid 
all  men ;  but  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  take  off 
his  shoes,  {Asiut.  Res.  vol.  i.  p.  289 ;)  and  Ives,  in  his 
Travels,  (p.  75.)  says,  that  "  at  the  doors  of  an  Indian 
Pagoda  are  seen  as  many  slippers  and  sandals  as  there 
are  hats  hanging  up  in  our  churches." 

The  Romans,  when  practising  adoration,  having  their 
head  covered,  applied  their  hand  to  their  lips,  with  the 
fore  finger  resting  on  the  thumb,  which  was  erect ;  and 
thus  bowing  the  head,  turned  themselves  from  left  to 
right.  This  kiss  was  called  osculum  labratum  ;  for  or- 
dinarily they  were  afraid  to  touch  the  images  of  their 
gods  with  their  profane  lips.  But  Saturn  an^  Hercules 
were  adored  with  the  head  uncovered ;  whence  the  wor- 
ship of  the  last  was  called  institutum  peregrinum,  and 
ritus  Gracanitts,  as  being  different  from  the  usual  method 
of  the  Romans. 

Sometimes  also  standing  was  the  attitude  of  adoration : 
sometimes  the  body  was  inclined  forvvanl,  and  the  eyes 
fixed  on  the  earth ;  sometimes  kneeling,  which  was  a 
very  common  practice ;  and  sometimes  complete  prostra- 
tion on  the  ground.  Sitting  with  the  under  parts  of  the 
thighs  resting  on  the  heels,  seems  to  have  been  custom- 
ary among  the  Egyptians ;  almost  all  their  figures  of  wor- 
shippers discovered  in  their  sacred  buildings,  being 
represented  in  this  posture.  The  Persians,  and  other 
eastern  nations,  turn  their  faces  towanis  the  smi,  or  to 
the  east. 

Adoration  ivas  also  performed,  by  placing  crmvns,  gar- 
lands, <tc.  on  the  statues  and  images  of  the  gods ;  sitting 
dow  n  by  them,  or  praying  to  them  in  whispers,  to  be  fa- 
\oura.ble,  foveas  mihi. 


144 


ABO 


ADR 


These  rites  were  practised  at  sacrifices,  offering  np 
TOWS,  consecrating  temples,  dedicating  spoils,  passing 
by  sacred  places,  and  at  the  sight  of  the  statues  and  ima- 
ges of  the  gods.  Those  who  implored  the  aid  of  the 
gods,  lay  down  in  the  temples,  as  if  to  receive  responses 
from  them  in  their  sleep.  (Scrv.  in  JEn.  vii.  83.  Cic. 
Divin.  i.  43.)  And  the  sick,  in  particular,  did  so,  in  the 
temple  of  iEsculapius,  (Plaut.  Cure.  i.  1,  61.)  Idols 
Were  also  frequently  placed  at  the  gates  of  cities,  to  re- 
ceive the  homage  of  those  who  passed. 

The  Jewish  forms  of,adoration,  were  standing,  bow- 
ing, kneeling,  and  prostration.  The  Christians,  adopt- 
ing the  Grecian,  rather  than  the  Roman  mode,  always 
adore  with  their  heads  uncovered.  The  ancient  Chris- 
tians ordinarily  knelt  in  private ;  but  stood  on  the  Lord's 
day.  This  is  still  the  common  practice  among  Presby- 
terians, and  in  America ;  but  the  Lutheran  churches 
usually  adopt  the  form  of  kneeling  in  public  worship. 
The  Roman  catholics,  at  the  adoration  of  the  cross  on 
Good-Friday,  walk  barefooted,  though  this  custom  is 
not  observed  by  them  in  Protestant  countries.  Herodo- 
tus relates,  that  when  the  Persians  met,  if  one  of  them 
was  but  a  little  inferior  to  the  other,  they  kissed  each 
other;  but  if  greatly  inferior,  he  prostrated  himself,  and 
adored  or  worshipped  his  superior.  The  manner  of 
adoring  their  prince,  introduced  by  Cyrus,  consisted  in 
bending  their  knee,  falling  on  their  face  at  his  feet, 
striking  the  earth  with  their  forehead,  and  kissing  the 
ground.  The  kings  of  Persia,  indeed,  never  admitted 
any  one  into  their  presence,  gave  audience,  or  conferred 
favours,  without  exacting  this  ceremony.  No  instance 
of  servility  can  be  strongerthan  the  following  mentioned 
by  d'Herbelot.  A  conquered  prince  threw  himself  on 
the  ground,  and  kissed  the  hoof-prints  of  his  victo- 
rious enemy's  horse,  reciting  the  following  verses  in 
Persian : 

"  The  mark  that  the  foot  of  your  horse  has  left  upon 
the  dust,  serves  me  now  for  a  crown. 

"  The  ring,  which  1  wear  as  the  badge  of  my  slavery, 
is  become  my  richest  ornament. 

"  While  I  have  the  happiness  to  kiss  the  dust  of  your 
feet,  I  shall  think  that  fortune  favours  me  with  her  ten- 
«lerest  caresses,  and  her  sweetest  kisses." 

The  history  of  Haman  and  Mordecai,  shows  that  simi- 
lar reverence  was  paid  to  the  favourites  of  princes :  and 
according  to  Philostratus,  in  the  time  of  Apollonius,  a 
golden  statue  of  the  king  was  exposed  to  all  who  en- 
tered Babylon ;  and  none  but  those  who  adored  it  were 
admitted  within  the  gates.  This  homage,  however, 
Conon  refused  to  pay  to  Artaxerxes,  and  Callisthenes  to 
Alexander  the  Great,  thinking  it  unlawful  and  impious. 

The  Roman  and  Grecian  emperors  were  adored,  by 
bowing  or  kneeling  at  their  feet,  laying  hold  of  their 
purple  robe,  presently  withdrawing  the  hand,  and  &p- 
plying  it  to  the  lips.  This,  however,  was  an  honour  to 
which  none  but  persons  of  some  rank  or  dignity  were 
admitted.  The  conunon  mode  of  adoration  consisted  in 
falling  on  the  ground,  and  kissing  the  feet  of  the  em- 
peror; and  Dioclesian,  who  is  supposed  to  have  bor- 
rowed it  from  Persian  servitude,  had  gems  fastened  to 
his  shoes,  that  these  honours  might  be  more  willingly 
paid  to  him.  This  practice  was  continued  till  the  last 
age  of  the  Greek  monarchy.  Excepting  only  on  Sun- 
days, when  it  was  waved,  from  a  motive  of  religious 
pride,  this  humiliating  reverence  was  exacted  from  all 


who  entered  the  royal  presence,  from  the  princes  in- 
vested with  the  diadem  and  purple,  and  from  the  am- 
bassadors who  represented  their  independent  sove- 
reigns, the  caliphs  of  Asia,  Egypt,  or  Spain,  the  kings 
of  Prance  and  Italy,  and  the  Latin  emperors  of  ancient 
Rome.  {Gibbon,  chap  liii.  vol.  x.  p.  1 24.  8vo.  Constan- 
tin.  Porphyrog.  p.  95,  240.)  "When  any  one  pays  his 
respects  to  the  king  of  Acheen  in  Sumatra,  he  first  takes 
off  his  shoes  and  stockings,  and  leaves  them  at  the 
door,     (d) 

ADORATION,  as  used  in  the  court  of  Rome,  is  the 
ceremony  of  kissing  the  pope's  feet.  It  seems  to  have 
been  borrowed  from  the  imperial  court,  and  was  early 
received  by  the  Romish  prelates,  who,  to  prevent  the 
charge  of  impiety,  fastened  crucifixes  to  their  slippers, 
that  the  adoration  intended  for  the  pope  might  seem  to 
be  transferred  to  Christ.  Even  princes  sometimes  of- 
fered this  incense  to  papal  vanity;  and  Gregory  XIIL 
actually  claimed  it  as  a  duty.  In  the  ancient  church,  the 
same  ceremony  is  said  to  have  been  practised  io  all 
bishops ;  the  people  kissing  their  feet,  and  saluting  them 
thus;  tTfiiTx.vu  ri,  I  atlorcthee.     (rf) 

ADOWA,  the  capital  of  Tigre,  a  province  in  Abys- 
sinia, situated  on  the  declivity  of  a  hill,  on  the  west  side 
of  a  small  plain,  which  is  surroimded  by  mountains. 
Its  name,  signifying />«ss,  or  passage,  is  exactly  expres- 
sive of  its  situation;  for  whoever  wishes  to  go  from 
Gondar  to  the  Red  Sea,  must  pass  by  the  flat  ground  on 
which  Adowa  is  situated  below  the  river  Ribieraini. 
Adowa,  which  is  the  residence  of  the  governor,  contains 
about  three  hundred  houses,  each  surrounded  by  an  en- 
closure of  hedges  and  trees.  It  has  a  considerable  manu- 
factory of  coarse  cotton  cloth,  which  circulates  as  a  me- 
■  dium  of  exchange  in  place  of  money  ;  each  web  is  valu- 
ed at  a  pataka,  one-tenth  of  an  once  of  gold.  N.  Lat. 
140  7'.  E.  Long.  38»  50.     (k) 

ADOXA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Octandria,  and  order  Tetragynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ADRAMYTTIUM,  now  Audramiti,  a  town  of 
Mysia  Mi\ior,  at  the  foot  of  mount  Ida,  founded  by  a  co- 
lony of  Athenians.  This  city  had  a  harbour  and  dock 
near  the  Caicus,  and  was  once  famous  for  its  shipping 
and  trade.  It  is  now  a  wretched  village,  inhabited  only 
by  a  few  fishermen.  It  gave  name  to  the  Sinus  Adramyt- 
tentts,  an  arm  of  the  iEgean  sea,  and  its  conventus  was 
the  eighth  in  order  of  the  conventus  juridici  of  Asia. 
See  Strata,  13.     Thucyd  5.  c.  1.     (*) 

ADRASTUS,  king  of  Argos,  was  the  son  of  Talaua 
and  Lysimache.  He  is  known  in  history  as  one  of  the 
seven  warriors,  who  led  their  forces  against  Thebes,  in 
sup|)ort  of  Polynlces,  who  had  been  excluded  from  his 
share  in  the  government  of  that  city  by  his  brother 
Eteocles.  Adrastus  was  the  only  one  of  the  allied 
chiefs  who  survived  this  expedition ;  and  he  is  said  to 
have  escaped  only  by  the  swiftness  of  his  horse.  This 
war  is  rendered  famous  by  the  Thebaid  of  Statins. 
About  ten  years  after,  the  sons  of  these  seven  leaders 
renewed  the  war  with  the  Thebans,  in  order  to  avenge 
the  death  of  their  fathers.  They  were  called  Epigoni, 
or  descendants,  and  their  exploits  form  the  subject  of 
Wilkie's  Epigoniad.  Adrastus  was  also  engaged  in 
this  war;  in  which  Thebes  was  taken,  and  his  son 
^gialeus  slain.  This  last  circumstance  so  afflic(e<l 
Adrastus,  now  worn  out  with  age,  that  he  died  of  grief 
at  Megara,  as  he  was  returning  with  his  victorious  army 
to  Argos.  ApoUod.  1.  c.  9. ;  3.  c.  7.  Htrodol.  5.  c.  67. 
ip) 


ADRIAN. 


14d 


ADRIAN,  or  Hadrian  Publius  iEuus,  a  Roman 
emperor.  He  was  born  at  Rome  on  the  24th  of  January, 
iu  the  7Gth  year  of  the  Christian  era,  ami  about  829 
years  after  the  building  of  the  city.  He  was  proclaimed 
emperor  by  the  legions  in  the  year  117,  A.  U.  C.  870; 
or,  according  to  Crevier,  A.  U.  C.  868  ;  and  he  died  on 
IhelOthof  July,  A.  D.  138> 

Adrian  was  left  an  or()han  when  only  ten  years  of  age, 
and  put  under  the  guardianship  of  Trijan,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Cttlius  Tatianus,  a  Roman  knight.  He  made 
a  rapid  progress  in  the  learning  of  his  time;  and  seems 
to  have  imliibed,  at  an  early  period,  that  love  of  know- 
ledge which  afterwards  distinguished  him;  being  so  re- 
markable for  his  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  language, 
that  he  procured  for  himself  the  appellation  of  "  the 
young  Grecian."  He  served  as  a  tribune  of  the  army 
in  Lower  Moesia;  and  had  the  honour  of  informing  Tra- 
jan, that  Nerva  had  adopted  him  as  his  successor,  and 
of  congratulating  him  upon  that  joj'fnl  event.  He  was 
the  first  also  who  carried  the  intelligence  of  Nerva's 
death  to  the  same  illustrious  person;  and  having  com- 
municnfcd  the  tidings,  he  immediately  saluted  him  as 
emperor.  But  as  Trajan  disliked  him  on  account  of  the 
fickleness  of  his  temper,  and  the  preference  which  he 
eeemcd  to  give  to  literature,  when  compared  with  arms, 
Adrian  attempted  to  engage  the  empress  Plotina  in  his 
interests,  and  courted  her  with  such  assiduous  atten- 
tion, that,  l)y  her  means,  (sj  tfoilixr.t  ipiAixf,  Dio  Cass. 
vol.  ii.  p.  1149.  Ed.  Reim.)  the  way  to  preferment  soon 
liecame  open  and  easy.  He  quickly  married  Sabina, 
grand-niece  to  the  emperor;  a  step  which  contributed 
much  to  his  advancement,  though  but  little  to  his  hap- 
piness. He  held  successively  the  offices  of  questor, 
tribune  of  the  people,  praetor,  and  proconsul ;  and,  not 
long  before  the  death  of  Trajan,  he  was  appointeil  con- 
sul and  general  of  the  army  in  Syria.  In  all  these  of- 
fices, except  the  last,  he  dischnrged  his  duty  with  uni- 
versal approbation.  1 1  is  doubtful  whether  he  was  ado|)t- 
ed  by  the  emperor;  and  it  is  certain  that  he  was  never 
beloved  by  him.  On  the  death  of  Trajan,  however,  at 
Selinontum,  on  his  way  to  Rome,  Plotina,  whom  he  ap- 
pears to  have  gained  completely,  and  to  have  used  as 
the  instrument  of  his  ambition,  informed  the  senate  of 
the  emperor's  i)leasure,  which  she  declared  he  had 
made  known  to  her  in  his  last  illness,  that  Adrian  should 
succeed  him  in  the  government.  Accordingly,  he  was 
proclaimed  as  Caesar  by  the  army;  and,  while  yet  at 
Antioch,  his  election  was  confirmed  by  the  senate ;  a 
body  of  men  who,  though  once  (he  glory  of  Rome,  and 
conspicuous  for  their  virtues,  had  long  been  so  utterly 
subjected,  or  so  totally  corrupt,  as  to  echo  the  choice  of 
the  soldiers,  without  much  inquiry,  and  with  very  little 
concern. 

Adrian  was  naturally  inclined  to  peace.  He  felt  that 
the  boundaries  of  the  empire  had  already  been  extend- 
ed too  widely ;  and  api)ears  to  have  been  desirous  of 
relinquishing  a  part  of  those  regions  which  his  pre- 
decessors had  conquered,  that  he  might  be  able,  with 
greater  certainty,  to  keep  the  remainder  in  his  posses- 
sion. He  therefore  withdrew  his  troops  from  Armenia, 
Assyria,  and  Mesopotamia ;  and  determined  that  the 
river  Euphrates  should  again  be  the  limit  of  the  Roman 
dominions  on  the  east.  But  his  love  of  peace  was  the 
effect  of  conviction,  and  not  of  imbecility;  hesaw  thatit 
was  necessary  for  the  hai)pines3  of  the  state,  and  was 
averse  to  engage  in  foreign  wars.  This  aversion,  how- 
ever, did  not  hinder  him  from  taking  signal  rengeancc 

Vob.  I.  Part  I.  &     &  6 


on  the  Jews,  who  liad  provoked  him  by  their  frequent 
rebellions;  iind  his  conduct  towards  that  unhappy  peo- 
ple seems  to  have  been  marked  with  a  wantonness  of 
cruelty  which  no  provocation  could  justify,  and  which 
good  policy  would  have  led  him  to  avoid.  He  forbade 
them  to  enter  the  holy  city  except  on  one  day  of  the 
year,  the  anniversary  of  their  subjugation.  He  erect- 
ed a  temple  to  Jupiter  in  the  place  where  the  God  of 
the  Hebrews  was  worshipped ; — he  profaned  their 
sacred  buildings  with  whatever  they  regai-dcd  as  hateful 
or  abominable ; — he  fixed  the  image  of  a  hog  on  the 
marble  gate  of  the  city,  which  led  tow^ards  Bethlehem  ; 
and  confounding  those  who  adhered  to  the  institution.'^ 
of  Moses  with  the  Christians  of  Palestine,  he  raised  a 
statue  of  Venus  on  Mount  Calvary ;  and  established 
the  worship  of  Adonis  in  the  grottos  of  the  town  where 
our  Saviour  was  born.  Yet  while  he  was,  upon  the 
whole,  desirous  of  tranquillity,  he  knew  that  the  security 
of  the  empire  depended  on  the  excellence  of  its  troops. 
He  therefore  watched  with  great  carefulness  over  the 
discipline  of  his  armies;  frequently  reviewing  the  le- 
gions; preferring  those  only  who  had  distinguished 
themselves  by  their  valour  or  good  conduct ;  and,  in 
long  marches,  setting  the  example  of  hardy  exertion,  by 
travelling  on  foot,  with  his  head  uncovered,  and  expos- 
ing himself  to  all  the  severity  and  changes  of  the  wea- 
ther. 

After  detecting  a  conspiracy  against  his  life,  by  four 
persons  of  consular  dignity,  whom  he  ordered  to  be  put 
to  death,  Adrian  arrived  at  Rome,  A.  D.  118.  But 
though  he  was  received  with  great  demonstrations  of 
joy,  on  his  approach  to  the  capital,  he  refused  to  accept 
of  the  triumph  ^vliich  had  been  decreed  to  him  by  the 
Senate ;  and  he  had  before  declined  the  title  of  "  Father 
of  his  Country,"  in  imitation  of  Augustus,  who  would 
not  allow  himself  to  be  addressed  by  that  title,  till  he 
had  established  his  claim  to  It,  by  governing  well  for 
a  certain  number  of  years.  At  Rome,  he  endeavoured 
to  acquire  popularity  by  all  the  arts  which  were  com- 
mon at  that  time.  He  was  very  liberal  in  his  donationx 
to  the  |)eople.  He  remitted  debts  which  cities  or  in- 
dividuals owed  to  the  revenue  of  the  emperor,  or  to  the 
public  treasury,  equal  in  amount  to  7,000,000^  sterling. 
He  freed  Italy  from  the  tax  usually  paiil  for  decorating 
the  triumphs  of  victorious  leaders;  and  increased  the 
funds  which  Trajan  had  set  apart  for  the  education  of 
youth,  by  very  considerable  additions.  He  was  respect- 
ful in  his  behaviour  towards  the  Senate,  and  assiduous 
in  cultivating  their  good  will ;  relieving  those  who  were 
poor  from  the  pressure  of  indigence;  enabling  them  to 
defray  the  expense  connected  with  the  situations  in 
which  he  had  placed  them ;  and  granting  the  consul- 
ship for  the  third  time  to  such  as  desired  that  honour. 

Having  by  these  means  established  his  power  at  home, 
and  having  checked  tlie  inroads  of  the  barbarians,  who 
had  invaded  Illyricum,  Adrian  formed  the  resolution  of 
visiting  in  ])erson  the  whole  of  the  provinces  under  the 
dominion  of  Rome  ;  that  he  might  examine  for  hin)self 
the  state  of  e<ich  country  subject  to  his  government,  and 
hear  the  complaints,  and  redress  the  grievances  of  his 
people.  Nor  did  he  rest  satisfied  with  the  speculative 
grandeur  of  this  resolution,  but  carried  it  into  effect 
without  delay.  Accordingly,  he  visited  Gaul  in  the 
120th  or  12Ist  year  of  Christ,  A.  U.  C.  871,  and  showed 
a  wonderful  liberality  towards  the  inhabitants  of  that 
province;  encouraging  agriculture  and  industry  by 
every  method  in  his  power.  From  Gaul  he  went  into 
T 


146 


ADRIAN. 


Germany;  and  the  principal  army  of  the  empire  being 
tliere,  he  inspected  it,  and  restored  it  to  its  former  dis- 
cipline.    In  the  succeeding  year,  he  passed  over  into 
Britain,  wliere   he   introduced   many   regulations,   all 
favourable  to  the  natives  :  and  by  these,  as  well  as  his 
conduct  in  other  respects,  he  rendered  their  subjection 
to  the  Romans  more  tolerable  than  it  was  before.  While 
in  this  island,  his  love  of  peace,  or  desire  of  security, 
showed  itself  in  one  remarkable  instance  :  After  the  de- 
parture of  Agricola,  the  Scots,  Picts,  and  other  northern 
tribes,  had  rebelled  against  the  authority  of  Rome,  and 
effectually  recovered  their  ancient  liberty  ;  and,  being 
of  a  warlike  and  restless  disposition,  they  disturbed  the 
inhabitants  of  the  south  by  continued  inroads  and  depre- 
dations.    Instead  of  pureuing  these  freebooters  to  their 
mountains,  and  reducing  them  to  a  nominal  dependance, 
Adrian  resolved  to  keep  possession  only  of  that  part  of 
the  island  which  is  now  called  England ;  and  to  provide 
for  its   security,   by   constructing  a  wall  or   rampart, 
above  70  miles  in  length,  and  extending  quite  across 
tlic  country,  from  the  Solway  frith  on  the  west,  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Tyne  on  the  east.     In  the  prosecution  of 
this  design,  both  a  rampart  and  a  ditch  were  completed 
in  a  short  time ;  and   the  tranquillity  of  the  Roman 
dominions  in   Britain   was    restored   and   established. 
Some  portions  of  this  rampart  are  yet  to  be  seen;  and  it 
still  has  the  name  of  Adrian's  Wall.     Upon  his  return 
to  the  continent,  he  erected  a  magnificeut  palace  at 
Kismes,  in  honour  of  the  empress  Plotina,  who  had  con- 
tributed so  much  to  his  elevation  :  and  passing  from 
Caul  into  Spain,  he  rebuilt  the  temple  of  Augustus, 
which  liad  been  founded  by  the  emperor  Tiberius.     In 
the  latter  country,  a  maniac  attempted  to  put  an  end  to 
his  life ;  but  Adrian,  having  fortunately  escaped  from 
the  danger,  took  no  other  notice  of  the  assault  than 
that  of  committing   the   unhappy  person   to   medical 
care.     He  then  returned  to  Rome;  and,  proceeding  from 
the  capital  to  Athens,  he  visited  the  most  distant  pro- 
vinces of  the  East.     After  remaining  for  some  time  in 
Asia,  he  passed  through  the  islands  of  the  Archipelago, 
building  cities,  and  reforming  abuses ;  and  arrived  again 
at  Athens,  where  he  spent  the  winter,  and  was  initiated 
into  the  Eleusinian  mysteries.    In  these  journeys  he  was 
influenced  by  the  spirit  of  a  philosopher,  as  well  as  that 
of  an  emperor.     It  was  to  gratify  his  love  of  knowledge, 
or  to  indulge  a  reasonable  curiosity,  that  he  went  from 
Athens  to  Sicily,  in  order  to  examine  the  appearances 
of  that  remarkable  island,  and  to  observe  the  rising  sun 
from  the  lop  of  jF.tna.     Having  celebrated  at  Rome  the 
funeral  of  Plotina  with  extraordinary  pomp,  he  pursued 
his  journey  into  Asia  Minor;  and  having  spent  some  time 
in  that  country,   and  in  Egypt,  where  he  repaired  the 
tomb  of  Pompey  the  Great,  he  returned  to  Syria  ;  and, 
passing  through   Macedonia,  continued  for  a  while  to 
reside  at  Athens.    While  at  Athens,  he  appeared  in  the 
character  of  Archon,  and  performed  a  chief  part  at  the 
festival  in  honour  of  Bacchus.     He  endowed  the  city, 
which  had   long  been  the  seat  of  knowledge  and  the 
centre  of  refinement,  with  a  library,  containing  many 
precious  volumes;  and  he  built  a  house  of  a  most  asto- 
nishing structure  for  its  reception.     Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing the  many  and  sumptuous  edifices  whicli  he  raised, 
notwithstanding  his  profusion  of  expense  in  almost  every 
i;ity  which  he  visited,  though  the  projierty  of  his  subjects 
was  wholly  at  his  command,  and  though  he  had  many 
examples  of  rapacity  in  the  conduct  of  his  predecessors, 
be  never  seized  unjustly  the  possessions  of  any  man, 


nor  stained  his  government  by  tyrannical  exactions.  He 
would  not  even  accept  of  legacies,  if  the  persons  who 
bequeathed  them  were  unknown  to  him :  and  in  the 
case  of  his  friends,  he  would  take  nothing  as  heir  to 
any  one  who  had  children  for  whom  provision  ought  to 
be  made. 

In  the  year  135,  Adrian,  having  returned  from  Athens 
to  Rome,  fell  into  a  lingering  disease,  which  terminated 
in  a  dropsy.  In  the  course  of  his  illness,  the  cruelty  of 
his  temper,  which  even  in  the  days  of  health  he  had  not 
always  been  able  to  check,  increased  to  such  a  degree, 
that  he  ordered  many  illustrious  persons  to  be  arraignetl 
and  executed,  and  others  to  be  put  to  death,  without 
trial  or  accusation.  He  made  choice,  first  of  Comnio- 
dus  Verus,  and  then  of  Titus  Antinous,  as  his  successor 
in  the  government.  Upon  the  adoption  of  the  latter, 
the  empress  Sabina  died ;  not  without  a  suspicion  of 
being  poisoned  by  Adrian,  or  treated  so  harshly  as  to 
be  driven  in  a  fit  of  sorrow  and  despair,  to  put  an  end 
to  her  existence.  Hut  whatever  ground  there  may  be 
for  this  suspicion,  the  em|)eror,  as  was  customary  at 
that  time,  inrolled  her  among  the  number  of  the  deities. 
The  end  of  Adrian  was  now  approaching.  His  disease 
made  gradual,  but  sure  advances ;  and  all  the  symp- 
toms of  its  malignity  were  increased  by  a  habitual  in- 
temperance, in  which  he  indulged,  till  at  last  he  sunk 
under  the  violence  of  complicated  disorders,  and  expired, 
at  Baiae,  in  Campania,  after  a  reign  of  twenty-one  years 
and  eleven  months. 

On  his  death-bed  he  composed  the  following  beautiful 
verses,  which  he  addressed  to  his  soul : 

Animula,  vagiila,  Llanilula, 
Ifospes,  comesque  corporis. 
Quae  nunc  abibis  in  loca  ? 
Pallidula,  rigida,  nudula, 
Nee,  ut  soles,  (labisjocos. 

All,  fleeting  spirit !   wandering  fire. 

That  loiig  hast  ■ftarmcd  my  lender  breast, 
Must  thou  no  more  tiiis  fmrae  inspire, 

No  raoi*e  a  pleasing  cheerful  guest  r 
Whither,  ah  whither,  art  thou  flring  ? 

To  what  darli  undiscovered  shore  ? 
Thou  scem'st  all  trembling,  sbivering,  dying, 

And  vit  and  humour  are  no  more  ! 

Pope's  Work^,  toI.  iii.  p.  186. 

The  reign  of  Adrian  was  not  distinguished  by  any 
splendid  conquest.  He  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  legisla- 
tor, a  ruler,  a  patron  ol  learning,  and  a  scholar;  but  not 
as  a  general,  or  a  successlul  leader  in  war.  He  enact- 
ed many  laws  of  great  utility ;  and  enforced  those 
which  had  become  dormant.  He  deprived  masters  of 
the  power  of  life  and  death  over  llieir  slaves;  he  iiro- 
hihited  the  sale  of  these  unfortunate  persons ;  and  for- 
bade them  to  be  condemned,  either  as  the  victims  of 
prostitution,  or  to  fight  as  gladiators,  without  the  au- 
thority of  the  judge.  He  abolishid  the  use  of  private 
prisons.  He  reformed  the  police  in  all  the  great  cities; 
and  rendered  the  property  of  individuals  more  secure 
than  it  had  been  in  any  preceding  reign.  Many  of 
the  regulations  which  he  introduced  were  observed  till 
the  end  of  the  fourth  century.  Considering  the  termi- 
nation of  disputes  by  equitable  decision,  as  one  of  the 
principal  duties  of  a  sovereign,  he  was  active  and  faith- 
ful in  the  discharge  of  it:  and  in  eases  where  the  mat- 
ter was  doubtful,  he  sought  the  aid  of  the  most  experi- 
enced hiwyers,  in  onler  to  guide  his  judgment.  He 
was  a  patron  of  learning,  and  accessible  at  all  times  to 


ADRIAN. 


147 


those  who  professed  it ;  encouraging  them  to  diligence 
in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  rewarding  them  ac- 
cording to  their  deserts.  Phlegon,  Favorinus,  Epicte- 
tus,  Arrian,  Florus,  Plutarch,  Dionysius  of  Halicarnas- 
sus,  Pliilo  of  Byblos,  and  Suetonius,  all  flourished  in  his 
reign ;  names  which,  though  not  equal  in  celebrity  to 
those  of  the  writers  in  the  Augustan  period,  hold  a  con- 
siderable place  in  the  annals  of  literature.  He  was  him- 
self a  scholar,  and  composed  many  works  both  in  prose 
and  verse.  A  Greek  poem  which  he  wrote,  and  called 
the  Alcxandriad,  has  been  quoted  with  a|iprobation  by 
•some  of  the  ancients;  though,  in  Yik  Catacriani,  he  is 
said  to  have  followed  Antimachus,  whom  he  preferred 
to  Homer.  He  was  the  most  accomplished  orator, 
grammarian,  philosopher,  and  mathematician  of  his 
time*.  Such  was  the  strength  of  his  memory,  that  he 
knew  the  name  of  every  soldier  in  his  army,  and  could 
address  him  by  it ;  and  such  his  readiness  and  command 
over  his  attention,  that  it  was  often  his  practice  to  write, 
to  dictate  to  a  secretary,  and  to  converse,  with  his  min- 
isters about  the  affairs  of  the  empire,  at  the  same  time. 
To  this  enviable  character,  historians  have  added,  that 
he  was  fickle,  licentious,  and  cruel ;  and  have  charged 
him  with  suspiciousness  and  credulity  :  Nor  is  it  to  be 
denied,  that  while  he  was  often  eminent  for  virtue,  he 
was  sometimes  noted  for  vice.  See  JEliiis  Spartia)iu.i,  in 
Adrian.  Dion.  Cass.  Hist.  Roman,  tom.  ii.  p.  1149 — 
1170.  Ed.  Reimari.  Horsley's  Britannica  Romana. 
Univ.  Hist.  vol.  xiii.  p.  269 ;  and  Crevier's  Rom.  Empire, 
vol.  vii.  b.  19.     (h) 

ADRIAN  L  (Pope)  the  son  of  Theodore,  a  Roman 
nobleman,  was  raised  to  the  pontificate  A.D.  772.  His 
steady  attachment  to  Charlemagne,  in  opposition  to  De- 
siderius  king  of  the  Lombards,  was  rewarded  by  the 
protection,  munificence,  and  homage  of  the  French  mo- 
narch. Charlemagne  successfully  defended  him  against 
the  arms  of  Desiderius ;  visited  him  at  Rome ;  confirm- 
ed and  extended  the  grants  which  his  father  Pepin  had 
m<atle  to  the  popedom ;  formed  a  perpetual  alliance 
between  the  French  monarchy  and  the  supreme  eccle- 
siastical power;  and  expressed  his  reverence  for  the 
established  religion  by  the  humiliating  ceremony  of 
kissing  Adrian's  feet,  and  each  of  the  steps  by  which  he 
ascended  to  the  church  of  St.  Peter.  He  afterwards  de- 
livered the  pope  from  the  encroachments  of  the  bishop 
of  Ravenna,  who  claimed  and  had  seized  the  exarchate 
and  dukedom  of  Ferrara;  and  in  recompense  for  this 
service,  was  proclaimed  king  of  the  Lombards,  and  in- 
vested with  the  rights  of  tem|)oral  sovereignty  iu  the 
territories  of  the  Roman  See.  Though  the  general 
council  held  at  Constantinople,  A.D.  754,  had  condemn- 
ed the  worship  of  images,  the  empress  Irene  had  no 
sooner  assumed  the  regency,  during  the  minority  of  her 
son,  than  she  determined  to  re-establish  this  idolatrj' ; 
and,  on  applying  for  Adrian's  concurrence,  obtained  his 
consent  to  the  calling  of  another  council.  It  met  first 
at  Nice,  A.  D.  786,  but  being  dispersed  by  an  insurrec- 
tion of  the  citizens,  the  decree  restoring  this  idolatrous 
worship  was  not  passed  till  the  following  year.  But 
though  Adrian  gave  his  a|)probation  to  this  decree,  ami 
succeeded  in  establishing  its  dogmas  in  Italy,  it  was  op- 

*  The  splendid  buildings  with  which  he  adorned 
€very  part  of  his  empire,  evinces  ))roofs  of  a  more  pure 
and  more  splendid  taste,  than  is  to  be  found  in  the  ivorks 
•of  any  of  his  successors.    Latrobf.. 


posed  by  the  churehes  of  Prance,  Germany,  England, 
and  Spain.  Four  books,  called  lAbra  Carolini,  contain- 
ing one  hundred  and  twenty  objections  against  (he  Ni- 
cene  council,  were  published  as  the  work  of  Chnrle- 
niagne,  and  sent  by  him  to  Adrian.  They  execrate  the 
council,  and  deny  it  the  title  of  ecumenical ;  pour  the 
most  insolent  abuse  both  on  Irene  and  her  son;  and  en- 
deavour to  turn  into  redicule  the  arguments  in  favour  of 
images.  Adrian  wrote  an  answer  to  Charlemagne,  in 
which  he  evidently  temporizes  on  the  subject,  appear- 
ing afraid  to  avow  his  real  sentiments,  lest  he  should 
incur  the  displeasure  of  his  illustrious  patron  and  friend. 
Another  council  was  held,  A.  D.  794,  at  Frankfort  on 
the  Maine,  when  image-worshij)  was  again  condemned. 
But  Adrian  did  not  live  to  see  the  termination  of  th<^ 
contest,  for  he  died  in  795,  after  reigning  nearly  twen- 
ty-four years.  Though  he  made  no  pretensions  to  lite- 
rature, the  walls  of  Rome,  the  sacred  patrimony,  the 
ruin  of  the  Lombards,  and  the  friendship  of  Charle- 
magne, were  the  trophies  of  his  fame.  He  secretly  edi- 
fied the  throne  of  his  successors,  and  displayed  in  a 
narrow  space  the  virtues  of  a  great  prince.  His  merits 
and  hopes  are  summed  up  in  an  epita|)h  of  thirty-eight 
verses,  of  which  Charlemagne  declares  himself  the  au- 
thor.    {Concil.  tom.  viii.  p.  520,) 

Post  patrem  lacrymans  C.irolus  hacc  carmina  scripsi* 
Tu  mihi  (lulcis  amor,  te  ino<lo  plaiigo  pater — 
Nomina  jungo  simul  titulis,  clurissime,  nostra 
Adrjanus,  Carolus,  rex  ego,  tuque  pater. 

The  poetry  might  be  supplied  by  Alcuin;  hut  the  tear.", 
the  most  glorious  tribute,  can  belong  only  to  Charle- 
magne. See  Gibbon,  chap.  xlix.  vol.  ix.  p.  171.  Pla- 
iin.  de  Fitis.  Pontif.  M.  Fleury,  Hist  Eccl.  torn.  ix.  (</) 

ADRIAN  II.  (Pope)  a  native  of  Rome,  and  sonofTa- 
larus,  a  bishop,  succeeded  Nicholas  I.  A.  D.  807,  in  the 
seventy-sixth  year  of  his  age.  After  having  t^vice  re- 
fused the  pontificate,  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  accept  of 
it,  by  the  unanimous  request  of  the  cardinals,  nobility, 
and  people.  The  schism  between  the  Greek  and  the 
Latin  churches  was  about  this  time  increased  by  the 
ambition  of  PJiotius,  who,  from  a  civil  department,  had 
been  raised  by  merit  and  favour  to  the  i)atriarchute  of 
Constantinople;  but  whom  Nicholas  had,  from  motives 
of  jealousy,  subjected  to  the  excommunication  of  the 
papal  see.  Photius,  iu  revenge,  had  excommunicated 
Nicholas;  and  Adrian  on  his  accession,  supported  by 
Basil  the  Greek  emperor,  again  subjected  Photius  to  this 
ecclesiaclical  punishment,  and  procured  the  restoration 
of  Ignatius,  the  ex-patriarch  of  the  East.  This  was  ap- 
proved by  a  council  held  at  Con5tanlinoi)le,  in  809, 
which  also  silenced,  for  a  season,  the  disputes  between 
the  Eastern  and  AVestern  churches.  But  Adrian's  am- 
bition was  not  satisfied  with  this  tem|)orary  victory  over 
his  eastern  rivals ;  for  he  attempted,  though  witliout  suc- 
cess, to  extend  his  authority  and  influence,  by  soliciting, 
and  even  ordering  Charles  the  Bald,  who  had  taken  pos- 
session of  the  kingdom  of  Lorraine,  to  relinquish  it  in 
favour  of  the  Emperor;  and  by  taking  Carloman,  the 
rebellious  son  of  Charles,  and  the  younger  Hincmar, 
bishop  of  Laon,  under  his  [irotection.  After  a  turbulent 
and  ambitious  reign  of  five  years,  he  died  A.  D.  872. 
See  Platina.  Moshcim.  Oibbon,  vol.  xi.  1 73.     (d) 

ADRIAN  III.(Pope)  aRoman,  succeeded  Martin  II. 
A.  D.  884.     Desirous  of  freeing  Italy  and  the  pontifi- 
cate from  the  encroachments  of  the  emjteror  of  Germa- 
ny, he  issued  a  decree,  that,  if  Charles  died  without 
T  2 


1.48 


ADRIAN. 


leaving  a  son  to  succeed  him,  the  title  of  the  emperor  should 
be  bestowed  on  au  Italian  only;  and  that  no  regard 
should  be  paid  to  the  emperor  in  the  election  of  a  pope. 
Basil  could  not  prevail  with  him  to  annul  the  excom- 
munication of  Photius  the  Eastern  patriarch.  He  died 
in  885,  on  his  way  to  the  diet  of  Worms,  having  reign- 
ed only  14  months.     See  Platitia.  Botver.     (if) 

ADRIAN  IV.  (Pope)  the  only  Englishman  who 
ever  attained  that  dignity,  was  raised  to  the  pontificate 
A.  D.  1154.  His  original  name  was  Nicholas  Breke- 
spere,  a  native  of  Langley,  near  St.  Albans,  in  Hertford- 
shire. Being  refused  admission  into  the  monastery  at 
St.  Albans,  where  his  father  had  assumed  the  monastic 
habit,  he  went  to  Paris;  and  though  extremely  poor, 
soon  attracted  notice  by  his  uncommon  application,  and 
his  proficiency  in  theological  studies.  From  Paris  he 
removed  to  Provence,  where  he  became  a  regular  clerk 
in  the  monastery  of  St.  Rufus.  In  consequence  of  his 
prudence,  learning,  and  attention  to  discipline,  he  was 
tirst  advanced  to  the  canonical  order ;  and  afterwards, 
on  the  death  of  the  abbot,  in  1137,  was  chosen  superior 
of  the  institution.  Notwithstanding  his  acknowledged 
merit,  the  monks  would  not  submit  to  the  government  of 
a  foreigner;  and  Pope  Eugenius  III.  was  obliged  to 
remove  him  in  1146,  though,  as  a  i)roof  of  his  esteem, 
he  immediately  appointed  him  cardinal  bishop  of  Alba. 
Two  years  after,  he  was  sent  as  papal  legate  to  Den- 
mark and  Norway,  where  he  converted  those  nations  fo 
the  Catholic  faith,  and  erected  the  archiepiscopal  see  of 
Upsal.  On  returning  to  Rome,  after  the  death  of  Pope 
Anastasius,  he  was  unanimously  chosen  to  fill  the  va- 
cant chair ;  and  assumed  the  name  of  Adrian.  As  soon 
as  the  account  of  his  promotion  reached  England,  Henry 
II.  sent  the  abbot  of  St.  Albans  and  three  bishops  to  con- 
gratulate him ;  aud  though  he  refused  the  valuable  pre- 
sents which  they  offered  him,  he  bestowed  considerable 
grants  on  that  monastery;  particularly  an  exemption 
from  all  jurisdiction,  except  thntof  the  papal  see.  Scarce- 
ly was  he  seated  on  the  throne,  when  Arnold  of  Brescia, 
who  had  been  repeatedly  condemned  under  the  pontifi- 
cates of  Innocent  the  Second  and  Anastasius  the  Fourth, 
for  sowing  seeds  both  of  religious  and  political  dissen- 
tion  among  the  subjects  of  Rome,  felt  the  effects  of  his 
vengeance.  He  forced  the  m.'tgistrates  to  renounce  (he 
liberty,  whichtheyhad  assumed,  of  electingconsuls  with- 
out the  authority  of  the  pope  ;  refused  to  enter  the  late- 
ran  till  Arnold,  the  champion  of  liberty,  was  banished 
from  the  city ;  and  when  the  people,  in  revenge,  had  kill- 
ed or  wounded  one  of  the  cardinals,  he  laid  an  interdict 
on  their  religious  worship,  which  continued  from  Christ- 
mas to  Easter.  The  banishment  of  Arnold  procured  the 
removal  of  this  interdict ;  but  Adrian  was  yet  unappeas- 
ed,  and  nothing  but  the  death  of  this  seditious  innovator 
would  satisfy  him.  At  length,  having  made  peace  with 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  king  of  the  Romans,  who  conde- 
iicended  to  hold  his  stirrup  whilst  he  mounted  his  horse, 
Adrian,  to  the  great  mortification  of  his  own  subjects, 
placed  the  imperial  crown  on  the  head  of  this  prince, 
and  obtained,  by  his  influence,  the  recall  of  Arnold,  who 
had  fled  for  protection  to  the  viscounts  of  Ciimpania. 
He  was  accordingly  brought  to  Rome,  puldicly  burned 
.ilive,  and  his  ashes  were  thrown  into  the  Tiber,  lest  the 
heretics  should  collect  and  worship  the  relics  of  their 
master.  The  same  year,  1155,  Adrian  excommunicated 
William,  king  of  Sicily,  for  ravaging  the  territories  of 
the  church;  but  was  afterwiirds  reconciled  to  him,  and 
honoured  Mm  with  the  title  of  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies. 


Adrian  died  in  1 1 59,  after  a  short,  but  enterprising  and 
vigorous  reign  of  four  years  and  nine  months;  during 
which,  though  he  added  considerably  to  the  dignity  and 
power  of  the  papal  dominions,  he  found,  as  he  Avrote  to 
his  friend  and  countryman,  John  of  Salisbury,  that  the 
pontificate  was  a  situation  of  difficulty  and  danger;  and 
that  its  splendid  crown  often  burns  the  head  that  wears 
if.  Some  of  his  letters  and  homilies  are  still  extant. 
See  MuroUori.  Script.  Rer.  lial.  Plaiin.  Baron.  An.  torn, 
xii.     Hume's  Hist.  vol.  i.  p.  445.     (rf) 

ADRI  AN  V.  (Pope)  a  Genoese,  whose  original  name 
was  Ottoboni  Fiesci,  succeeded  Innocent  V.  A.  D.  1276. 
He  was  nephew  to  Innocent  IV.  and  being  created  car- 
dinal deacon  of  St.  Adrian,  was,  iu  1 254,  sent  as  his  am- 
bassador to  settle  the  disputes  between  Henry  III.  of 
England  and  his  barons.  He  was  deputed  on  a  similar 
mission,  when  Clement  III.  excommunicated  Henry's 
enemies.  When  congratulated  on  his  accession  to  the 
pontificate,  he  said,  "  I  wish  you  had  found  me  a  healthy 
cardinal  rather  than  a  dying  pope."  Immediately  after 
his  election,  he  went  to  Viterbo  to  concert  measures 
with  the  emperor  Rodolphus,  for  checking  the  power  of 
Charles,  king  of  the  two  Sicilies,  but  died  there  before 
his  consecration  had  taken  place,  having  been  pope  on- 
ly 38  days.  He  was  a  zealous  promoter  of  the  crusade 
to  the  Holy  Land,  and  liberally  contributed  money,  and 
other  supidies  for  its  support.     See  Platina.  Bower,  (d) 

ADRIAN  VI.  (Pope)  succeeded  Leo  X.  A.  D.  1522. 
He  was  a  native  of  Utrecht,  of  an  obscure  family,  and  ed- 
ucated gratuitously  at  Louvain.  Possessed  of  consider- 
able literary  talents,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of 
scholastic  theology,  and  became  distinguished  as  a  sub- 
tle defender  of  the  doctrines  of  Aquinas.  He  rose  to  the 
highest  honours  in  the  university  of  Louvain,  being  made 
professor  of  divinity,  and  vice-chancellor,  holding  at  the 
same  time  the  deanery  of  the  cathedral.  His  appoint- 
ment as  preceptor  to  Charles  V.  excited  the  j^alousj^  of 
De  Chievres  his  governor,  through  whose  influence  he 
was  removed  from  his  superintendance  of  the  youns; 
prince's  education,  and  sent  ambassador  to  the  court  of 
Spain,  where  Ferdinand  bestowed  on  him  the  bishopric 
of  Tortosa.  Adrian  was  made  a  cardinal  by  Leo,  in  1517; 
and  on  the  succession  of  Charles  to  the  Sjianish  throne, 
was  appointed  regent  of  the  kingdom  during  the  new 
king's  minority  ;  though  this  was  chiefly  a  nominal  dig- 
nity, as  Cardinal  Ximenes  took  the  active  management 
both  of  the  church  and  stale.  His  situation,  however, 
involved  him  in  considerable  difficnities,  his  scholastic 
habits  being  ill  suited  to  the  government  of  a  licentious 
and  turbulent  people;  and  his  unex])ected  elevation  to 
the  pa|)al  chair  only  changed  the  nature  of  his  difficul- 
ties, and  the  scene  of  his  mismanagement.  This  event 
appears  fo  have  been  occasioned  by  the  art  of  Julio  de 
Medicis,  himself  a  candidate  for  the  pontificate,  who, 
to  prevent  the  success  of  his  rival,  Alexander  Farnese, 
and  to  gain  the  friendship  and  protection  of  the  Empe- 
ror, voted,  with  his  parly  in  the  conclave,  for  Adrian, 
though  a  stranger  to  Italy,  and  unqualified  for  the  oflice. 

Adrian,  at  the  time  of  his  election,  January  9,  1522, 
was  at  Victoria,  in  Biscay,  and  did  not  reach  Rome  till 
September,  when  he  applied  himself  to  remedy  tlie  dis- 
orders which  an  anarchy  of  eight  months  had  occasion- 
ed ;  to  correct  the  extravagance  which  (irevailed  among 
the  ecclesiastics,  by  setting  them  an  example  of  mo<lera- 
tion  and  temperance;  fo  reform  the  dissolute  manners 
of  the  court  and  city  ;  and  to  re-establish  the  peace  of 
the  church,  which  the  spirit  of  Luther  aud  the  impru- 


ADR 


ADV 


149 


dence  of  Leo  had  so  completely  disturbed.  But  neither 
his  talents,  his  habits,  nor  his  manners,  were  suited  to 
the  situation  which  he  held,  or  the  plans  which  he  form- 
ed. His  attempts  to  check  the  progress  of  the  reformn- 
tion,  by  endeavouring  to  correct  the  abuses  that  existed 
in  ahnost  every  department  of  the  church,  were  peculi- 
arly unsuccessful.  Thwarted  by  the  whole  ecclesiastical 
body,  whose  pride  and  luxury  were  supported  by  these 
very  abuses,  he  saw,  with  unfeigned  regret,  the  impos- 
sibility of  making  any  important  or  general  reform ;  and 
on  one  occasion  feelingly  said  to  two  of  his  confidential 
friends,  that  "  the  condition  of  a  pope  was  the  most  un- 
hajipy  that  could  be  conceived ;  because  he  is  not  at  li- 
berty to  do  what  is  right,  though  he  had  the  inclination, 
and  could  find  the  means."  His  subsequent  briefs  and 
bulls  were  not  only  equally  ineffectual  to  crush  the  inte- 
rests of  the  Protestant  reformation,  but  the  acknowledg- 
ments of  the  general  corruption  of  the  clergy,  which  they 
contained,  by  justifying  Luther's  invectives  against  them, 
greatly  added  to  the  etfect  of  this  intrepid  relbrmer's 
■writings  and  labours.  Adrian  died  of  a  fever,  Septem- 
ber 24,  1323,  having  reigned  a  year  and  eight  months. 
His  private  character  was  amiable  ;  but  his  public  con- 
duct wanted  firmness  and  prudence.  Never  was  there 
a  pope  more  hated  by  the  cardinals,  or  more  despised 
by  the  people.  His  intentions,  though  good,  were  often 
misrepresented;  his  morals,  though  correct,  and  even  se- 
vere, were  calumniated ;  his  plans  of  reform,  though  no- 
ble and  disinterested,  were  ascribed  to  weakness  and 
austerity.  Learned  as  a  scholastic  divine,  firmly  attach- 
ed to  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  and  possessed  of  great- 
er sincerity  than  was  suited  to  a  st-itiou  which  could  be 
maintained  only  by  fraud  aud  hypocrisy,  he  lived  in  con- 
tinual perplexity  and  fear;  and  died  unlamented,  almost 
without  a  friend  to  regret  his  loss.  In  the  church  of 
St.  Peter,  where  he  was  buried,  the  following  epitaph 
concisely  aud  justly  delineates  his  character  : 

Adriarms  Papa  VI.  hie  situs  est. 
Qui  nihil  sibi  infelicius 

In  vita, 

Quani  qtiod  imperarct, 

Duxit. 

Destitute  of  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  they  received  no  en- 
couragement from  his  patronage ;  and  his  knowledge 
of  literature  was  chiefly  confined  to  the  theology  of  the 
schools.  Whilst  at  Louvain,  he  wrote  a  "  Commentary 
on  the  Book  of  Sentences,  by  Peter  Lombard;"  "Epis- 
tles;" rtnd  "  Qiuestiones  Qiiod'ibeticcf,'"  printed  at  Lou- 
vain, 1513;  and  at  Paris,  1516  and  1531.  See  Dubin. 
Bower.  Sechrndoif.  Beausobre  Hist,  de  la  R'fortnor 
tion.     Hume's  Hist.  vol.  iv.  p.  39,  40.     (</) 

ADRI ANOPLE,  or  Andrinopi.e,  a  celebrated  city 
of  Turkey,  in  Euro;ie,  in  the  province  of  Romania,  built, 
or  restored,  by  the  em[ieror  Adrian,  from  whom  it  has 
received  its  name.  This  city  was  built  in  honour  of  A  n- 
tinous,  and  at  first  bore  the  name  oi  AtUinoa.  It  is  situat- 
ed ina  plain  encircled  with  hills,  on  very  unequal  ground 
on  the  banks  of  the  river  Mariza.  It  is  about  five  miles 
in  circumference,  of  a  circular  form,  and  surrounded 
by  a  wall  flunked  with  towers.  The  houses  are  well 
built;  hut  the  streets  are  uneven,  narrow,  and  dirty. 
It  has,  however,  a  fine  bazar,  or  market  place,  called  AU 
Bassa,  which  is  an  arched  buihling,  about  half  a  mile 
long,  with  six  g::t8s  and  365  elegant  shops,  occupied  by 
Turks,  Armenians,  and  Jews.    Besides  the  Ali  Bassa, 


there  is  another  bazar  of  meaner  appearance,  .ibout  a 
rnile  long,  fuil  of  well  i)rovided  shops.  In  a  different 
part  of  the  town  is  tiie  hescslein,  to  which  is  confined 
the  sale  of  every  article  of  gold  and  silver,  jewels,  pis- 
tols, scimitars,  &c.  It  contains  about  200  shops,  and 
has  a  covering  of  boards,  supported  by  tv.'o  rows  of 
large  pillars.  The  palace  of  the  grand  vizier  is  re- 
m:irkable  only  for  its  extent  and  pleasant  situation ;  it  is 
about  two  miles  in  compass,  and  has  seven  gates.  It  is 
built  after  the  Turkish  style,  and  its  gardens  are  said  to 
be  several  mibis  in  circumference.  But  the  chief  oi)- 
jects  of  attention  in  Adrianople  are  four  mosques  of  ex- 
quisite taste  and  workmanship.  Their  high  and  elegant 
steeples;  their  galleries  raised  on  pillars  of  beautiful 
sculpture,  with  pedestals  and  chapiters  of  cast  brass ; 
gates  of  precious  marble,  exquisitely  carved ;  delight- 
ful fountains  and  stately  porticos ;  cupolas  surmounted 
with  gilded  balls — every  thing  here  arrests  the  eye,  and 
wears  an  air  of  magnificence,  .\driauople  was  taken 
from  the  Greek  emperor  by  sultan  Amurath  I.  in  1362, 
and  continued  the  capital  of  the  Turkish  empire  till  the 
taking  of  Constantinople  in  1453.  At  present,  it  is  un- 
der the  government  of  a  Mullah  Cadi,  whose  authority 
in  civil  and  criminal  matters  is  uncontrolled.  It  is.  the 
seat  of  a  Greek  bishop,  under  the  patriarch  of  Constan- 
tinople; and  contains  about  100,000  inhabitants,  or,  ac- 
cording to  other  accounts,  130,000.  Here  the  grand 
signior  frequently  resides,  particularly  when  he  finds  it 
unsafe  to  remain  at  Constantinople.  The  adjacent  coun- 
try is  very  fertile,  and  its  wine  is  esteemed  the  best  in 
Turkey.     N.  Lat.  41"  41'.     E.  Long.  26o  27'.     {k) 

ADRIATIC  Sea,  or  the  GuiiF  op  Venice,  an  arm  of 
the  Mediterranean,  about  200  leagues  long  and  50  broad, 
which  stretches  along  the  east  of  Italy  on  one  side,  and 
the  west  of  Dalmatia,  Sclavonia,  and  Turkey  on  the 
other.  The  temperature  of  the  Adriatic  is  considera- 
bly higher  in  summer  than  that  of  the  Mediterranean ; 
but  is  frequently  so  low  in  winter,  that  it  is  completely 
frozen  near  Venice.  The  dominion  of  the  Adriatic  be- 
longs to  the  Venetians.  This  sea  extends  from  south- 
east to  north-west  between  12"  9'  and  19"  48'of  E.  Long, 
and  between  40»  13'  and  45"  49'  of  N.  Lat.     (w) 

ADRUMETUM,  or  Hadrimetum,  the  capital  of 
Byzacium,  in  Africa,  an  ancient  and  famous  city,  whose 
situation  Dr.  Shaw  supjioses  to  have  been  the  same  with 
that  of  the  present  Herkla.  It  was  the  Justiniana  of  the 
middle  empire,  and  the  Heraclca  of  the  lower.  It  had 
many  different  names ;  Adrume,  Adrumetus,  Adrymet- 
tus,   Adrumetura,  Hirtius,  and  Hadrito.     (k) 

ADUAR,  or  Adouar,  a  kind  of  moveable  village, 
composed  of  tents,  and  used  by  the  Arabs.  In  the  king- 
dom of  Algiers  there  are  no  less  than  30,000  aduars.  (w) 
ADVENTURE  Bay, the  name  which  captain  Cooke 
gave  to  a  bay  in  the  southern  part  of  New  Holland,  call- 
ed Van  Diemen's  Land.  At  the  bottom  of  Adventure 
Bay  there  is  a  beautiful  sandy  beach,  apparently  formed 
by  ((articles  which  the  sea  washes  from  a  fine  white  sand- 
stone. In  a  plain  behind  the  beach,  there  is  a  brackish 
lake  out  of  which  captain  Cooke's  party  caught  some 
bream  and  trout.  A  forest  of  tall  trees,  rendered  im- 
pervious by  brakes  of  fern  and  shrubs,  covers  the  hilly 
ground  contiguous  to  the  bay.  The  country  appears  in 
general  very  dry,  and  the  heat  is  intense. 

The  inhabitants,  mild  and  cheerful,  have  little  of  the 
wild  appearance  common  to  savages.  In  genius  and 
personal  activity,  they  are  as  deficient  as  the  wretched 
natives  of  Terra  del  Fuego.    Tbcir  cowplexioo  is  a  dull 


150 


ADU 


ADU 


black ;  their  hair  perfectly  woolly ;  their  noses  are  broad 
and  full ;  their  eyes  are  of  a  moderate  size,  and,  though 
neither  quick  nor  jiiercing,  they  give  the  countenance 
a  frank  and  cheerful  appearance,     (k) 

ADVENTURERS,  Merchant,  a  name  given,  in 
1505,  by  king  Henry  VII.  to  the  first  society  of  mer- 
chants and  traders,  that  had  been  long  established  for  the 
advancement  of  commerce.  It  was  erected  by  patent  by 
king  Edward  I.  merely  for  the  exportation  of  wool,  &c. 
before  we  knew  the  value  of  that  commodity,  and  when 
we  were  in  a  great  measure  unacquainted  with  trade. 
This  company  obtained  privileges  from  John,  duke  of 
Brabant,  in  1296,  and  established  itself  at  Antwerp,  in 
conjunction  with  the  other  English  merchants  who  re- 
sorted to  that  place.  The  privileges  of  this  society  were 
successively  confirmed  by  the  sovereigns  of  England. 
Henry  VI.  granted  it  a  charter  in  1430  ;  and  in  1564, 
queen  Elizabeth  formed  the  company  into  an  English 
corporation. 

The  Merchant  Adventurers  of  London  had  long  been 
accustomed  to  demand  a  tax  from  the  English  merchants 
resident  in  other  places,  for  the  privilege  of  trading  in 
the  great  fairs  of  Flanders,  Brabant,  &c.  This  impost 
amounted  at  first  only  to  6.9.  8rf. ;  but  about  the  time  of 
Henry  VII.  it  had  increased  to  40/.  The  merchants  re- 
siding in  the  out  ports,  who  were  called  the  Merchant 
Adventurers  of  England,  applied  to  Parliament  for  relief 
from  this  imposition ;  and  an  act  was  passed  in  their  fa- 
vour in  1497,  12  Henry  VII.  cap.  6.  reducing  the  tax 
to  6/.  13s.  4rf. 

When  Charles  V.  established  the  inquisition  in  the 
Netherlands  in  1530,  the  company  of  merchant  adven- 
turers had  sufficient  influence  to  prevent  its  being  intro- 
duced into  Antwerp,     (w) 

ADVERB  is  a  word,  which  is  joined  to  adjectives 
and  verbs,  for  the  puqiose  of  modifying  their  significa- 
tion. As  iidjectives  and  verbs  denote  the  attributes  of 
substantives,  they  have  been  called  attributes  of  the 
first  order ;  but  as  adverbs  denote  the  attributes  of  ad- 
jectives and  verbs,  they  have  received  the  name  of  at- 
tributes of  attributes,  or  attributives  of  the  second  or- 
der. See  Harris's  Hfr»JC.9,  p.  192,  and  Home  Tooke's 
Diversions  of  Purley,  p.  494.    See  also  Grammar,   (w) 

ADVERSATIVE,  the  name  of  a  species  of  disjunc- 
tive conjunctions,  which  express  not  only  a  relation  of 
diversity,  but  a  relation  of  opposition ;  as  when  we  say, 
"  It  is  not  summer,  but  it  is  winter,"  where  bit  is  the 
adversative.  See  Harris's  Hicwnes,  p.  251,  and  Gram- 
mar,    (ni) 

ADULARIA,  a  sub-species  of  Felspar,  distinguished 
from  common  felspar  by  colour,  colour-reflection,  frac- 
ture, lamellar,  distinct  concretions,  and  high  degree  of 
transparency.     See  Oryctognosy.     (r) 

ADULTERATION,  from  adultcrare,  to  corrupt,  that 
of  corrupting  any  substance  by  mixing  with  it  some- 
thing of  less  value.  The  laws  against  the  adulteration 
of  the  comforts  and  necessaries  of  life  may  be  found 
from  the  following  references  : — Stat.  23.  Eliz.  cap.  8. ; 
13  W.  III.  cap.  5.;  1  W.  &  M.  cap.  34.;  10  Anne,  cap. 
20. ;  1  Geo.  I.  cap.  46. ;  1 1  Geo.  1.  cap.  30. ;  3  Geo.  III. 
cap.  11. 

Coin  is  adulterated  by  forging  another  inscription,  or 
stamp,  by  mixing  with  the  gold  and  silver  a  wrong  metal 
for  an  alloy,  or  by  making  the  alloy  too  great.  For  an 
account  of  the  adulteration  of  wine,  see  Beckmann'g 
jEf»*(.  of  Inventions,  vol.  i.  p.  396,  and  Wine,     (w) 

ADULTERY,  a  violation  of  conjugal  faith  by  crimi- 


nal intercourse  with  any  person,  either  married  or  sin- 
gle. When  an  unmarried  person  is  one  of  the  otftnd- 
ing  parties,  he  is  supposed  to  be  equally  guilty  of  this 
crime. 

Sonic  nations  have  considered  the  criminality  of  adul- 
tery to  consist  merely  in  giving  away  what  belonged  to 
another,  without  his  consent ;  and  that,  if  committed  by 
mutual  agreement,  the  action  was  rendered  innocent. 
Thus  the  Spartans,  so  far  from  considering  il  as  a  crime, 
or  as  an  afifront  upon  the  husband,  allowed  the  same 
liberties  to  be  taken  with  their  own  wives,  which  they 
took  with  those  of  their  neighl)ours :  and  even  offered 
them  to  strangers  as  a  token  of  respect.  This,  however, 
was  confined  entirely  to  the  husband.  Infidelity  in  the 
female  sex  ivas  unknown  in  Sparta,  and  the  laws  of  Ly- 
curgus  make  no  mention  of  such  a  crime.  In  some 
parts  of  India,  the  inhabitants  surrender  their  wives  and 
daughters  to  the  embraces  of  a  stranger,  and  look  upon 
it  not  only  as  innocent,  but  praiseworthy,  and  the  surest 
pledge  they  can  give  of  their  hospitality  and  friendship. 
In  other  places,  an  elephant  is  the  stipulated  price  for 
which  a  wife  is  permitted  to  prostitute  herself;  and  the 
woman  thinks  it  no  small  honour  to  be  rated  so  high. 
Among  the  Mingrelians,  a  hog  is  regarded  as  a  sulfi- 
cient  compensation  to  the  injured  husband. 

At  Calabar,  in  Guinea,  the  female  offender  is  tied 
firmly  under  an  ant's  nest  which  hangs  in  the  trees,  and 
is  bigger  than  a  bushel.  The  nest  is  then  shaken  down 
upon  her  with  a  pole,  and  she  is  kept  in  this  position  for 
about  half  an  hour,  till  she  is  almost  stung  to  death.  She 
is  then  carried  to  a  fire,  where  her  back  is  heated,  and 
cut  with  ten  gashes,  as  marks  by  which  she  may  be 
known.  If  she  offends  a  second  time,  she  is  sold  by  her 
husband.     See  Osborne's  Voyages,  vol.  ii.  p.  517. 

Most  civilized  nations  have  looked  upon  adultery,  in 
every  form,  as  a  crime  of  a  very  heinous  nature,  and  de- 
serving of  severe  punishment :  And  when  we  reflect 
upon  the  miserable  consequences  which  naturally  re- 
sult from  a  violation  of  conjugal  fidelity,  we  cannot  but 
feel  that  just  indignation,  which  has,  in  all  ages,  been 
excited  against  this  invasion  of  domestic  happiness. 

The  various  punishments,  which  were  inflicted  upon 
adulterers  in  former  times,  show  us,  that  the  ancients 
had  juster  ideas  of  this  crime,  than  those  which  prevail 
at  present.  By  the  Jewish  law,  adultery,  in  either  sex, 
was  punished  with  death ;  and  we  learn  from  Strabo, 
that  the  same  punishment  prevailed  in  Arabia  Felix. 

In  Greece,  adultery  was  reganled  as  a  stain  upon  the 
husband's  honour,  that  could  only  be  effaced  by  the  se- 
verest punishment,  or  the  death  of  the  oflenders.  Ac- 
cording to  Pausanias,  Hyettus,  an  inhabitant  of  -Argos, 
was  the  first  who  instituted  laws  against  this  crime. 
Having  slain  Molurus,  his  wife's  paramour,  he  fled  to 
Orchomenus,  a  city  of  Bn;otia.  Being  kindly  received 
by  the  king,  who  bestowed  upon  him  a  part  of  his  terri- 
tories, he  built  the  city  Hyettus,  and  decreed  severe 
punishments  against  adulterers.  We  find  in  Homer, 
that  adulterers  were  stoned  to  death.  Thug  Hector, 
when  charging  this  crime  upon  Paris,  says  : 

Al»tt1    Ifft   ^iTutX  KCCXUt   r«(x'   •I73-K  It^yKf. 

For  these  jour  crimes  you  had  hceti  aloncil  to  death. 

At  Athens,  by  the  laws  of  Draco  and  Solon,  adulterers, 
caught  in  the  act,  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  oflended  par- 
ty, who  might  inflict  upon  them  an  arbitrary  punishment. 
But,  contrary  to  the  practice  of  all  modern  lawgiver*, 


ADULTERY. 


151 


seduction,  in  such  cases,  was  considered  a  greater  crime 
than  violence ;  for,  if  the  wife  was  compelled  by  force, 
the  husband  could  only  demand  a  pecuniary  fine,  at  the 
discretion  of  the  judges.  Rich  men,  however,  were 
sometimes  allowed  to  redeem  themselves,  even  in  cases 
of  seduction,  Uy  paying  a  heavy  fine  to  the  injured  hus- 
band. Adulteresses,  in  Greece,  were  ever  after  looked 
upon  as  polluted  and  infamous;  they  were  prohibited 
from  entering  the  temples,  and  appearing  in  fine  gar- 
ments. The  Locrians  deprived  adulterers  of  their  eyes. 
This  punishment  was  strictly  enjoined  by  their  lawgiver 
Zeleucus,  who  set  them  a  remarkable  example,  by  pass- 
ing sentence  upon  his  own  son.  The  young  man  was 
beloved  by  the  people,  who  earnestly  implored  Zeleu- 
cus to  pardon  him.  The  father,  deaf  to  their  entreaties, 
showed  them  that  he  regarded  adultery  as  a  crime 
which  ought  not  to  be  forgiven,  and  yielded  so  far  as  to 
redeem  one  of  his  son's  eyes  by  the  loss  of  one  of  his 
own. 

Among  the  Romans,  during  the  republic,  the  stated 
punishment  of  this  crime  is  unknown.  Some  suppose 
ittohave  been  capital  by  the  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables; 
but  it  seems  rather  to  have  been  left  to  the  discretion 
of  the  husband  or  parents  of  the  offending  female.  The 
general  punishment  was  castration,  or  cutting  off  the 
nose,  ears,  &c.  By  the  Lex  Julia  dc  A(hdtcriis,  insti- 
tuted by  Augustus,  tlie  offenders  were  banished  to  se- 
parate islands,  and  condemned  to  pay  a  heavy  fine.  It 
was  afterwards  decreed  by  Antoninus,  that  the  charge  of 
adultery,  brought  by  a  husband  against  his  wife,  could 
not  be  sustained,  unless  he  himself  were  innocent : — 
"  Per  iniquum  cnim  videtur  esse  ul  pudicitiam  vir  ex 
tixore  exisrat,  quam  ipse  non  exhihcat."  Constantine  is 
thought  to  have  been  the  first  who  declared  it  a  capital 
crime.  In  the  reign  of  his  son  Constantius,  adulterers 
were  burned,  or  sewed  in  sacks,  and  thrown  into  the  sea. 
But  this  punishment  was  greatly  mitigated  by  Justinian 
towards  females.  The  adulteress  was  scourged,  and 
shut  up  in  a  monastery ;  from  which,  if  her  husband  did 
not  take  her  within  two  years,  she  was  shaven,  and  con- 
fined for  life.  Theodosius  instituted  the  abominable 
punishment  of  public  constupration,  which  was  soon 
after  abolished.  The  Romans  made  a  distinction  be- 
tween a  married  and  an  unmarried  adulteress.  The 
one  was  called  aduUera,  the  other  peUcx,  wliich  last  be- 
longed rather  to  sttipnnn. 

By  the  ancient  laws  of  France,  this  crime  was  punish- 
able with  death.  In  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  two  gentlemen  of  Normandy,  being  convicted 
of  adultery  with  the  dai!gbters-in-law  of  Philip  le  Bel, 
were  condemned  to  be  flayed  alive,  hanged,  and  quar- 
tered ;  and  the  offending  i)rincesses  were  sentenced  to 
perpetual  imprisonment.  But  this  punishment  was  in 
general  greatly  mitigated.  In  1357,  it  was  ordained  in 
some  districts,  that  the  offender  should  run  naked 
through  the  streets  and  pay  a  heavy  fine. 

Before  the  establishment  of  Christianity,  the  common 
punishment  in  Poland  was  emasculation.  The  adulterer 
was  carried  to  the  market-jjlace,  and  nailed  by  the  tes- 
ticles to  a  stake,  where  he  was  left  either  to  inflict  the 
punishment  upon  himself,  or  to  perish. 

By  the  Spanish  laws,  the  offender  was  punished  by 
the  loss  of  that  part  which  was  the  instrument  of  the 
crime.  But  the  practice  of  adultery  has  now  grown  so 
frequent  in  that  country,  particularly  among  the  monks, 
that  this  punishment  is  never  inflicted.  These  ascetic 
mortals,  being  restrained  from  marriage  by  the  rules  of 


their  order,  and  unwilling  to  refrain  from  those  plea- 
sures, which  by  their  vow  they  have  sworn  to  forsake, 
indulge  themselves  in  all  the  wantonness  of  lascivious 
debauchery.  The  jealousy  of  the  husband  is  lulled 
asleep  by  the  devout  appearance  of  the  offender ;  and 
the  wife  is  consoled  for  the  loss  of  her  honour  by  the 
promise  of  absolution, — an  infallible  specific  lor  a  guilty 
conscience. 

In  Portugal,  an  adulteress  is  condemned  to  the  flames; 
but  this  sentence  is  seldom  put  in  execution. 

The  Mahommedan  code,  which  rules  so  extensive  a 
portion  of  the  world,  pronounces  adultery  a  capital  of- 
fence, and  one  of  the  three  crimes  which,  according  to 
the  Prophet,  must  be  expiated  by  the  blood  of  a  Mus- 
sulman. 

In  our  own  country,  the  laws,  respecting  tliis  crime, 
have  varied  at  different  periods.  In  England,  during 
the  Saxon  heptarchy,  the  punishment  was  death ;  and 
by  the  laws  of  Ethelbert,  the  adulterer  was  obliged  to 
pay  a  fine  to  the  injured  husband,  and  to  purchase  him 
another  wife.  In  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century, 
banishment  was  inflicted  on  the  adulterer,  and  the  loss  of 
the  nose  and  ears  was  the  punishment  of  the  adulteress. 
In  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  this  crime  was  punished  by  the 
loss  of  eyes  and  genitals.  The  laws  at  present,  though 
severe,  are  almost  obsolete ;  and  the  punishment  com- 
monly inflicted  upon  adulterers  is  so  trivial,  and  so  in- 
adequate to  the  crime,  that  we  cannot  but  recognize  in 
it  a  near  approach  to  the  popish  practice  of  indulgences. 
The  adulterer  is  fined  at  the  discretion  of  a  jury,  and 
the  fine  is  given  to  the  injured  husband,  as  a  compen- 
sation for  the  loss  of  his  peace  and  honour.  The  of- 
fending wife  loses  nothing  but  her  dowry. 

In  Scotland,  a  distinction  is  made  between  notour  and 
simple  adulter}'.  Notour  is,  when  they  live  openly  to- 
gether at  bed  and  board,  and  beget  children.  By  a 
statute,  1551,  c.  20,  this  crime  was  punished  by  the  loss 
of  moveables;  but  afterwards,  by  an  act  in  1563,  cap.  74, 
it  was  rendered  capital ;  and  during  the  seventeenth 
century  in  particular,  several  persons  were  actually  ex- 
ecuted for  adultery.  Simple  adultery  is  left  to  the  dis- 
cretion of  the  judge,  who  gives  damages  to  the  injured 
husband,  as  in  England,  in  proportion  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  offender. 

In  both  countries,  this  crime  is  sufficient  ground  for 
the  injured  party  to  obtain  a  divorce.  In  England,  this 
is  done  by  an  act  of  parliament,  and  in  Scotland  by  a  more 
simple  proceeding  in  the  common  courts  of  law.  By  a 
divorce,  the  parties  are  placed  in  the  same  situation  in 
which  they  were  before  marriage ;  the  dowry  is  restored 
by  the  offending  husband,  and  (he  rank  or  title  acquired 
by  marriage  is  lost  by  the  offending  wife.  In  England, 
the  persons  divorced  may  marry  those  with  whom  the 
crime  was  committed;  but  this  is  prohibited  by  the 
law  of  Scotland. 

From  the  laws  at  present  in  force  against  adultery, 
we  cannot  but  i)erceive  how  far  disproportioned  they  are 
to  the  heinousness  of  the  crime.  We  cannot  boast  of 
their  having  been  at  all  efficient  for  the  i)urpose  for 
which  they  were  intended.  Adultery  prevails  in  an 
alarming  degree.  Actions  of  this  description,  which 
are  yearly  brought  into  our  courts  of  law,  seem  rather 
to  increase.  Adulterers  are  deprived  of  none  of  their 
former  privileges ;  they  enjoy  the  same  honours  with 
the  innocent,  and  instead  of  being  viewed  with  that  ab- 
horrence which  their  crime  is  calculated  to  excite,  the 
payment  of  a  paltry  sum  is  supposed  to  have  absolved 


152 


ADV 


^D 


Ihcm  from  public  reprobation,  and  ibe  oITenders  are 
again  admitted  into  the  bosom  of  virtuous  society.  See 
Paley's  Moral  Phil.  vol.  i.  p.  309.  12tii  ed.     (p) 

ADVOCATE,  a  Pleader.  In  England,  pleaders  arc 
styled  Barristers  at  Law.  The  qualification  for  admis- 
sion to  the  English  bar  is  eating  a  certain  number  of 
dinners,  at  the  common  table  of  one  or  other  of  the  Inns 
of  Court  in  London.  In  Scotland,  the  Faculty  of  Advo- 
cates enjoy  the  exclusive  privilege  of  pleading  before 
the  supreme  courts.  Candidates  for  admission  into 
this  body  must  undergo  an  examination  in  the  Latin 
language,  as  to  their  knowledge  of  the  Roman  law,  and 
afterwards,  at  the  distance  of  a  year,  they  undergo  a 
second  examination  on  the  law  of  Scotland.  They  then 
go  through  the  form  of  defending  a  thesis  in  Latin. 
Their  numbers  amount  at  present  to  278.  At  the  first 
institution  of  the  College  of  Justice,  in  the  year  1537,  the 
number  was  only  ten.  Till  that  time  it  was  common 
for  the  barons  to  appear  in  the  causes  of  their  vassals 
and  dependants.  Churchmen  too  were  frequently  em- 
ployed as  advocates.  In  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second, 
a  great  majority  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates  were  ban- 
ished to  the  distance  of  twelve  miles  from  Edinburgh, 
for  asserting  the  right  of  the  subject  to  appeal  to  Par- 
liament from  the  decrees  of  the  court  of  Session.  The 
consequence  of  this  tyrannical  measure  was,  an  almost 
total  surcease  of  justice  during  the  year  1674.  Besides 
the  exclusive  privilege  of  pleading  before  civil  and 
criminal  courts  in  Scotland,  advocates  have  a  right  to 
plead  in  all  other  courts  sitting  in  Scotland,  civil,  ec- 
clesiastical, and  martial.  They  possess  also,  in  common 
with  the  English  bar,  the  right  of  pleading  before  the 
two  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the  king  in  council. 
From  this  body,  the  jwlges  of  the  courts  of  Justiciary, 
Session,  and  Exchequer,  are  named.  The  sheriffs  of 
counties  must  be  advocates  of  three  years'  standing,  (a) 

ADVOCATES'  Library,  a  library  belonging  to  the 
Faculty  of  Advocates.  The  well-known  Sir  George 
M'Kenzie  founded  this  library ;  the  only  public  act  of 
his  that  was  not  pernicious  to  his  country.  The  whole 
collection  was  destroyed  by  fire,  in  the  year  1 700.  The 
number  of  volumes  is  supposed  now  to  be  about  70,000, 
and  is  increasing  rapidly.  Besides  other  funds,  lOOi.  of 
the  admission-money  of  each  new  member  of  Faculty 
is  allocated  to  the  purchase  of  books ;  and  by  the  act 
of  parliament,  establishing  the  copy-right  of  authors, 
the  Faculty  are  entitled  to  a  copy  of  every  new  book 
entered  at  Stationer's  Hall.  Besides  printed  books,  it 
contains  arich  collection  of  manuscripts,  relating  chiefly 
to  Scottish  history.  It  contains  also  a  cabinet  of  valu- 
able medals,  or  rather  is  supposed  to  contain  such  a  re- 
pository; for,  though  the  books  and  manuscripts  are 
shown  to  the  public,  and  submitted  to  the  perusal  of 
literary  men  with  commendable  liberality,  the  medals 
are  as  completely  hid  from  view,  as  if  they  were  still  in 
their  original  state  of  mineral  ore.     (a) 

ADVOCATE,  (Lord,  or  King's)  in  Scotland,  a  pub- 
lic officer,  who  prosecutes  crimes  before  the  Court  of 
Justiciary.  At  the  circuit  courts,  he  acts  by  deputy. 
He  possesses  powers  more  extensive  than  all  the  grand 
juries  in  England;  for  he  not  only  decides  whether 
parties  suspected  shall  be  prosecuted ;  but  in  capital 
crimes,  can  by  a  motion  before  trial,  restrict  the  sentence 
to  what  is  called  an  arbitrary  punishment ;  that  is,  a 
punishment  at  the  discretion  of  the  judge,  not  extending 
to  death,    (a) 

ADVOCATION,  in  the  law  of  Scotland,  a  form  of 


appealing  from  the  inferior  to  the  supreme  courts. 
If  the  sum  originally  demanded  by  the  pursuer,  (plain* 
tiff,)  amounts  to  less  than  twelve  pounds,  the  cause 
cannot  be  removed  from  the  inferior  court  by  advoc.ition, 
unless  on  the  score  of  the  inferior  judge's  incompetency. 
A  bill,  (petition,)  of  advocation  may  be  presented  at  any 
stage  of  the  proceedings  after  the  cause  is  called  in 
court.  Delay,  as  well  as  injustice  or  error,  is  a  sufR- 
cient  ground  of  advocation,     (a) 

ADVOWEE,  is  properly  the  advocate  of  a  church  or 
religious  house,  who  protects  it,  and  manages  its  tem- 
poral concerns;  though  it  is  sometimes  employed  to 
signify  a  person  who  has  a  right  to  ])reseut  to  a  church- 
living.  The  office  of  advowee  is  said  to  have  been  in- 
troduced during  the  fourth  century,  and  was  often  held 
by  men  of  the  highest  rank.  Wlien  Charlemagne  had 
protected  Italy  against  the  Lombards,  the  pope  con- 
ferred upon  him  the  title  of  advowee  of  St.  Peter's ;  and 
king  Edward  the  confessor  was  aj)pointed  by  pope 
Nicholas,  advowee  of  the  monastery  of  Westminster, 
and  of  all  the  churches  in  England.  The  monasteries 
had  sometimes  sub-advotvecs,  who  performed  the  func- 
tions of  the  advowees;  but  these  inferior  officers  com- 
mitted great  abuses,  and  contributed  to  the  ruin  of  the 
monasteries,     (w) 

ADVOWSON,  is  a  term  used  in  England,  to  denote 
the  right  of  presenting  to  a  vacant  living  in  the  church  ; 
and  is  synonymous  with  the  wortl  patronage,  which  is 
used  in  Scotland.  The  bishop  had  originally  the  right 
of  nominating  to  all  vacant  benefices;  but  when  the 
opulence  and  piety  of  some  individuals  prompted  them 
to  become  the  founders  of  churches,  the  bishops  wil- 
lingly permitted  them  to  appoint  persons  to  officiate, 
reserving  to  themselves  the  right  of  judging  of  their 
qualifications  for  the  office. 

An  advowson  is  said  to  be  presentative,  when  the 
patron  presents  a  person  to  the  bishop  to  be  instituted 
in  the  living.  It  is  said  to  be  collative,  when  the  bishop 
presents,  either  as  original  patron,  or  from  a  right  de- 
volved upon  him  by  the  negligence  of  the  patron  in  pre- 
senting at  a  proper  lime ;  and  it  is  said  to  be  donative, 
when  the  patron  by  a  single  donation  in  writing,  puts  the 
presentee  in  possession,  without  presentation,  institution, 
or  induction,     (w) 

ADZE,  or  Addice,  the  name  of  a  cutting  tool,  with 
a  thin  arched  blade,  like  a  portion  of  a  spherical  surface, 
and  with  its  edge  at  right  angles  to  the  handle.  The 
axe  is  capable  of  cutting  only  in  a  vertical  direction  ; 
but  the  adze  may  be  employed  either  in  a  horizontal  or 
in  a  vertical  direction,     (w) 

iE  ACEA,  the  name  given  to  the  feasts  and  combats 
which  were  celebrated  at  iEgina,  in  honour  of  king 
iCacus,  who  was  distinguinhed  by  bis  justice  and  other 
virtues.     (n») 

^DELITE,  a  name  applied  to  one  of  the  sub- 
species of  Zeolite.     See  Oryctognost.     (r) 

^DLIE,  a  Roman  magistrate,  to  whose  care  were 
intrusted  the  public  buildings,  and  from  which  he  de- 
rived his  name,  (a  ctira  <edmin.)  At  first,  there  were 
only  two  Kdiles,  called  JEdiles  plcbeii,  who  were  created 
A.  U.  260,  to  act  as  assistants  to  the  tribunes,  and  were 
in  some  measure  under  their  control.  They  were  ori- 
ginally chosen  in  the  comitia  curiata,  at  the  same  time 
with  the  tribunes  of  the  commons,  but  were  afterward* 
elected,  as  the  other  inferior  magistrates,  at  the  comitia 
tributa.  Their  office  was  to  take  care  of  the  city,  it» 
buildings,  temples,  aqueducts,  public  roads,  &c.,  espe- 


JEGE 


MGl 


153 


ci.iUy  before  the  creation  of  censors,  to  whose  office 
this  duty  afterwards  belonged.  They  superintended  the 
public  inarliets,  inspected  the  weights  and  measures, 
and  look  care  that  every  thing  which  was  tliere  exposed 
to  sale  should  be  of  good  quality.  They  took  cognizance 
of  all  immoral  practices ;  and  determined  certain  lesser 
causes,  which  were  committed  to  tliem  by  the  tribunes. 
They  were  strictly  enjoined  to  prevent  the  introduction 
of  any  new  gods  or  religious  ceremonies;  and  the  de- 
crees of  the  senate,  and  the  ordinances  of  the  people, 
which  were  deposited  in  the  temple  of  Ceres,  were 
intrusted  to  their  care.  Their  business  also,  was  to 
exhibit  public  games  at  (heir  own  expense,  by  which 
many  of  them  were  ruined.  But  we  learn  from  Livy, 
that,  on  a  certain  occasion,  this  part  of  their  duly  was 
taken  from  them.  After  the  violent  animosities  between 
the  patricians  and  plebeians  had  subsided,  the  senate 
decreed,  that  the  greatest  games  should  be  celebrated 
in  gratitude  to  the  immortal  gods.  The  aediles  refusing 
to  i)erform  their  part  of  tlie  festival,  the  patricians  de- 
clared, that  they  would  cheerfully  do  that  duty,  to  be 
honoured  with  the  office  of  Ktlile.  Their  otfer  being 
accejded,  two  a;diles  of  the  patrician  order  were  imme- 
diately created,  and  called,  acdilcs  atniks,  because,  when 
administering  justice  they  used  the  ndta  cunilis,  an  ho- 
nour not  permitted  to  the  plebeian  aediles.  Their  chief 
employment  was  to  exhibit  the  public  games  and  shows, 
which  they  sometimes  did  in  the  most  niHgnificent  and 
expensive  manner,  in  order  to  ingr.itiate  themselves 
with  the  people,  and  to  pave  the  way  for  future  jirefer- 
mcut.  They  were  appointed  toreview  newpublicalions; 
and  all  plays  were  submitted  to  their  inspection,  before 
they  were  brought  upon  the  stage.  In  these  cases  they 
were  bound  by  oath  to  give  the  palm  to  the  most  deserving. 

To  these  officers  Julius  Ca-sar  added  two  more,  called 
lediles  cereales,  chosen  from  the  patrician  order,  whose 
business  was  to  inspect  the  public  granaries.  See 
Adam's  Anliq.  p.  142.  Lhy.  Dionysius.     (p) 

iEGEA,  or  Edessa,  now  Vodena,  the  ancient  capital 
of  Macedonia,  w  hich  was  the  residence  of  Caranus,  first 
king  of  Macedon,  and  continued  the  burial  place  of  the 
Macedonian  kings,  till  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great. 
Caranus,  by  birth  an  Argive,  emigrating  from  his  native 
country  Avith  a  great  number  of  Greeks,  is  said  to  have 
been  directed  by  an  oracle  to  establish  his  empire  in  the 
place  to  which  he  should  be  conducted  by  a  flock  of  goats. 
On  coming  to  Macedonia,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  storm, 
and  observing  a  auml)cr  of  goats  running  for  shelter  to 
Edessa,  he  followed  them  with  his  men,  and  taking 
the  city  by  surprise,  became  master  of  the  whole  king- 
dom. In  gratitude  to  the  oracle  and  his  conductors,  he 
jchanged  the  name  of  the  city  into  jEgea,  and  intro- 
duced a  goat  into  his  standard.  Hence  the  lie-goat 
is,  in  the  book  of  Daniel,  the  symbol  of  Macedon.  (k) 

^GEAN  Sea,  the  ancient  name  of  the  Archipelago 
which  separates  Europe  from  Asia.  Pestus  has  men- 
tioned three  etymologies  of  its  name.  According  to  the 
first,  it  is  derived  from  the  number  of  islands  which  are 
scattered  over  its  surface,  ajipearing  at  a  distance  like  a 
herd  of  goats ;  according  to  the  second,  from  ^gea, 
queen  of  the  Amazons,  who  perished  in  this  sea;  and, 
according  to  the  third,  from  ^Egeus  the  father  of  The- 
seus, who  threw  liimself  headlong  into  it.  Other  ety- 
mologists suppose  it  to  be  derived  from  the  Doric  word 
atytf,  waves,  which  are  so  denominated  from  their  re- 
semblance to  the  leaping  motion  of  goats.  See  ^geus 
and  Archipelago.  (Ar) 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


iEGEUS,  in  fabulous  history,  was  one  of  the  Athe- 
nian kings.  After  a  just  and  successful  war  against  the 
Athenians,  Minos,  king  of  Crete,  imposed  upon  them 
the  severe  condition,  that  they  should  send,  every  year, 
seven  of  their  noblest  young  men  to  be  devoured  by 
the  Minotaur.  The  choice  happening  to  fall  upon  The- 
seus, his  father  jEgens  gave  orders  that  the  ship  slioutd 
have  black  sails;  that  it  should  return  with  these  em- 
blems of  sorrow  if  Theseus  was  killed ;  but  that  if  he 
was  crowned  with  victory,  they  should  be  changed  into 
white.  Theseus  had  the  good  fortune  to  kill  the  Mino- 
taur, but  neglected  to  remove  the  black  sails.  His  father, 
who  watched  the  return  of  the  vessel,  concluded  that  his 
son  had  been  slain,  and  immediately  threw  himself  into 
the  jEgean  sea,  w  hich  is  said  to  have  derived  its  name 
from  this  event,  (w) 

^GICERAS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Pentan- 
dria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,  (w) 

jEGILOPS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  tlie  class  Polygamia, 
and  order  Monoecia.     See  Botant.  (w) 

.£G1NA,  an  island  in  the  Saronicgulf,  or  bay  of  Engia, 
more  anciently  known  by  the  names  of  (Enone  and 
(Enopia.  .-Eacus,  one  of  its  kings,  gave  it  the  name  of 
^gina,  in  honour  of  his  mother,  who  being  seduced,  as 
fable  siiys,  by  Jupiter,  in  the  likeness  of  a  lambent  flame, 
was  removed  from  Epidaurus  to  this  desert  island.  It 
lies  between  Attica  and  Argolis,  18  miles  distant  from 
the  coast  of  Athens,  and  about  14  from  Epidaurus.  It 
is  about  72i  miles  in  circumference,  rendered  difficult 
of  access  on  every  side  by  concealed  rocks.  The  soil 
of  this  island  was  very  stony  and  barren,  till,  by  the  per- 
severing industry  of  the  inliabitants,  (who  were  thence 
called  Myrmidons,  or  Emmets,)  it  was  rendered  ex- 
tremely fertile.  Nor  was  their  industry  exerted  in  agri- 
culture alone.  Theircommerce  was  extensive, and  their 
nary  so  powerful,  as  to  enable  them  to  vie  with  the 
Athenians,  and  to  dispute  with  them  the  palm  of  victory 
in  the  naval  battle  at  Salamis.  On  that  occasion,  their 
fleet  was  more  numerous  than  that  of  any  other  nation  in 
Greece,  excepting  the  Athenians;  and  the  prize  of  va- 
lour was  decreed  to  them,  because  they  had  fought  witli 
the  greatest  bravery.  Money  is  said  to  have  been  first 
coined  in  iEgina;  and  such  was  at  one  time  the  opulence 
of  this  island,  that  it  maintained  420,000  slaves;  the 
pro];ortion  of  whom  to  free  men  in  the  ancient  repub- 
lics, is  computed  to  have  been  about  20  to  one.  ^gina 
had  a  capital  of  the  same  name,  which  was  destroyed  by 
an  earthquake  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius ;  and  two  magnifi- 
cent temples,  the  one  consecrated  to  Venus,  the  other 
dedicated  by  all  the  states  of  Greece  to  Jupiter,  who 
was  thence  called  Jupiter  Panhellenius.  According  to 
the  tradition  of  the  jEgineans,  Greece  was  distressed 
during  the  reign  of  jGacus  with  a  severe  drought,  and 
the  oracle  at  Delphi  declared,  that  jEacus  alone  could 
render  Jupiter  propitious.  At  the  common  request  of 
the  states,  he  prayed  fervently  for  rain;  his  prayer  was 
heard,  and  the  Greeks,  to  commemorate  their  deliver- 
ance, erected  a  temple  to  Jupiter  on  the  mountain,  from 
whose  summit  jEacus  had  oflered  up  his  intercession. 
The  temple  was  of  the  Doric  order ;  and  its  ruins  still 
indicate  its  ancient  magnificence.  The  stone  is  of  a 
light  brownish  colour,  in  many  places  much  corroded, 
and  presenting  a  claim  to  remote  antiquity  scarcely  to  be 
paralleled.  Placed  on  a  lonely  mountain,  at  a  distance 
from  the  sea,  the  changes  and  accidents  of  many  centu- 
ries have  not  been  able  to  reduce  it  to  total  demolition. 

The  JEgineaus  were  originally  subject  to  kings,  but 
U 


154 


MIS 


JEMl 


afterwards  adopted  the  republican  form  of  coTernment. 
All  irrcconcileabie  enmity  subsisted  between  them  and 
the  Athenians,  which  gave  rise  to  frequent  wars.  On 
one  occasion,  the  Athenians  having  subdued  them,  cut 
off  their  thumbs  to  disable  them  from  maritime  service. 
In  revenge  for  this  cruel  tre;itment,  they  joined  the  Co- 
rinthians in  instigating  the  Lacedemonians  to  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war.  At  length,  the  Athenians  h;iving  de- 
feated them  in  a  greiit  naval  battle,  landed  on  ^gina, 
expelled  the  inhabitants,  and  re-peopled  the  island  with 
a  colony  from  Athens.  When  the  Athenians  were  in 
their  turn  subdued  by  the  Lacedemonians,  the  jEgineans 
were  replaced  in  their  native  country,  and  soon  recover- 
ed their  former  power.  /Egina  was  subdued  by  the 
Turks  in  1536;  its  capital  plundered  and  burnt;  and 
its  inhabitants  who  survived  the  prodigious  carnage, 
were  reduced  to  slavery.  Its  revenue  is  at  present 
farmed  from  the  grand  signior,  by  a  waiwode  or  govern- 
or, for  12  purses,  or  6000  piastres.  The  most  remark- 
able circumstance  related  concerning  Angina  by  moilern 
travellers  is,  that  it  swarms  with  partridges  to  such  a 
degree,  that  the  inhabitants,  apprehensive  of  famine 
from  their  increase,  go  out  every  year  to  destroy  their 
eggs.  The  town,  now  called  Kngia,  has  a  castle  which 
contains  about  800  troops.  Instead  of  the  magnificent 
temples  of  Venus  and  Jupiter,  there  are  now  13  churches 
of  mean  structure ;  the  architrave  of  each  being  sup- 
ported by  two  Doric  columns.  The  ruins  of  a  magni- 
ficent theatre  are  still  to  be  seen ;  and  the  walls,  which 
belonged  to  the  ports  and  arsenal,  may  be  traced  to  a 
considerable  extent  above  the  water,  or  nearly  even 
with  its  surface,     (k) 

jEGINETI  A,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Didynamia,  and  order  Angiospermia.  See  Botant.  (w) 

j^GIFHILA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Tetrandria,  and  order  Monogynia      See  Botany,  (to) 

A^GIS,  from  a«|  «iy«(,  a  she-goat;  the  name  given 
to  the  shield  of  Jupiter  and  Minerva.  Upon  the  death 
of  the  goat  Amalthea,  which  had  suckled  Jupiter,  he 
covered  his  shield  with  its  skit^and  presented  it  to  Mi- 
nerva.    See  ^^.neid.  lib.  viii.  v.  435.     (w) 

^GOMANTIA,  the  prediction  of  future  events  by 
meaiit;  of  a  goat,     (w) 

iEGOPODlUM,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Pen- 
tandria,  and  order  Dyginia.     See  Botanv.     (w) 

i?EGOPRICON,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  MonoD- 
cia,  and  order  Monandria.     See  Botany,     (tv) 

^GGSPOTAMOS,  a  small  stream  in  the  Thracian 
Ghersonesus,  falling  with  a  south-east  course  into  the 
Hellespont,  to  the  north  of  Sestos.  At  the  mouth  of  this 
river  there  was  a  town  of  the  same  name,  and  a  road  for 
ships,  famous  in  history  for  the  victory  gained  by  Ly- 
sander,  the  Lacedemonian,  over  (he  Athenians  com- 
manded by  Conon.  For  the  particulars  of  this  victory, 
which  was  soon  followed  by  the  capture  of  Athens, 
which  put  an  end  the  Peloponnesian  war,  and  com- 
pletely destroyed  the  maritime  power  of  the  Athenians, 
we  must  refer  our  readers  to  Rollin's  Ant.  Hist.  vol.  iii. 
p.  284,  288.  8vo.  See  Mela,  ii.  c.  2 ;  Pausanias,  iii.  c. 
8.  1 1  ;  and  Pliny,  ii.  c.  58.     (it) 

/EGYPT.     See  Egypt. 

AIGYPTUS,  the  ancient  name  of  (he  Nile.  See 
Bruce's  Travch,  vol.  iii.  p.  65 ;  and  Phitarch,  torn.  ii. 
p.  1157.     (m) 

JEIN  AUTA;,  from  aii,alwai/.innii  t»v1»i, mariners,  a 
name  given  to  the  senators  of  Miletus,  who  held  their 
deliberations  on  board  of  a  ship  at  a  distance  from  the 


shore,  and  never  left  the  ship  till  they  had  come  to  some 
fixed  resolution.     See  Plutarch,  In  Quest.  Rmn.     (w) 

j^iLIA  Capitolina,  a  name  given  by  the  emperor 
Adrian  to  the  city  which  he  built  near  the  site  of  ancient 
Jerusalem.  On  his  visit  to  the  eastern  parts  of  his  em- 
pire, he  found  this  city  in  ruins.  Here  he  established  a 
Roman  colony ;  and,  in  place  of  the  Jewish  temple,  dedi- 
cated a  temple  to  Jupiter  Capitolinus.  This  profii na- 
tion of  the  holy  place  roused  the  Jews  to  frequent  re- 
bellions, which  involved  them  in  more  aggravated  cala- 
mities. They  once  more  took  and  burnt  the  city ;  but 
it  WHS  rebuilt  by  Adrian,  who  re-established  the  colony, 
and  ordered  a  marble  statue  of  a  hog,  to  the  Jews  an  ob- 
ject of  the  utmost  abhorrence,  to  be  set  up  over  the 
gate  which  opened  towards  Bethlehem ;  and  published 
an  edict  prohibiting  the  Jews,  on  pain  of  death,  from 
entering  the  city,  or  even  looking  towards  it  at  a  dis- 
tance. This  edict  continued  long  in  force ;  and  that 
unhappy  people  seem  to  have  made  no  effort  to  regain 
their  capital  till  the  time  of  Constantine,  when  they 
again  rose  in  rebellion.  The  emperor  easily  quelled  the 
insurrection :  and  with  a  cruelty  disgraceful  to  his  cha- 
racter, ordered  their  ears  to  be  cut  off;  and,  branding 
their  bodies  with  red  hot  iron,  dispersed  them,  as  fugi- 
tives and  slaves,  over  all  the  provinces  of  the  empire,  (k) 

jELIAN,  Claudius,  who  was  born  at  Prseneste,  in 
Italy,  and  lived  in  the  time  of  Adrian,  was  much  ad- 
mired for  his  learning,  wisdom,  and  eloquence.  Though 
himself  a  Roman,  he  decidedly  preferred  the  Greek  to 
the  Roman  authors,  and  was  able  bolh  to  write  and 
s|)eak,  with  the  greatest  readiness,  in  the  Greek  lan- 
guage. Greek  composition  w-as  his  darling  study; 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Isocrnles,  Homer,  Anacreon,  &c.  were 
his  constant  companions.  He  read  their  works  with 
avidity,  and  a  congenial  enthusiasm.  His  style  was  so 
remarkably  sweet,  that  he  was  surnamcd  McXiy^wTTei;,  or 
Honey-tongw.  Vossius  imagines,  that  Martial  alludes 
to  this  circumstance  in  these  well  known  lines  : 

O  jucunda,  Covine,  solittulo, 

Carrucft  magis,  csseijuqiie  gratum, 

Facuiidi  milii  muiius  it^iiaiii. — Lib.  xli.  Ep.  24. 

But  Perizonius  has  shown  that  the  poet  here  alludes  t* 
a  different  itilian,  whose  works  have  not  reached  our 
times.  The  most  celebrated  of  iElian's  works  are,  his 
Varice  Historiee,  his  seventeen  Iwoks  De  NtUura  AnimOr 
Hum,  and  his  Tactica.  All  these  treatises  were  written 
in  Greek,  and  are  still  extant.  He  died  A.  D.  140,  in 
the  60th  year  of  his  age.     (n) 

illLURUS,  the  name  given  by  the  Egyptians  to  the 
god  of  cats.  This  deity  was  sometimes  represented  in 
the  form  of  a  cat,  and  sometimes  with  the  head  of  that 
animal  united  to  the  body  of  a  man.     See  Egypt.  {n>) 

jtMILlUS,  Paulus,  born  in  224  A.  C.  was  an  emi- 
nent Roman,  son  of  Lucius  Paulus,  who  fell  at  the  battle 
of  Cannae.  He  had  the  honour  of  being  twice  elected 
consul.  Under  his  first  consulship,  he  triumphed  over 
the  Ligurians ;  and  in  his  second,  he  vanquished  Perses, 
king  of  Macedonia,  and  made  that  country  a  Roman 
province.  He  was  therefore  surnamed  Macedonicus. 
After  highly  distinguishing  himself,  both  by  his  courage 
and  abilities,  he  died  about  160  years  before  Christ. 
See  Plutarch,  In  j£mil.  Paul,  and  Aikin's  General  Bio- 
graphy,    (n) 

AlMlLlUS,  Paulus,  a  native  of  Verona,  and  a  much 
admired  historian.  So  splendid  was  his  fame,  that 
Stephen  Poncher,  bishop  of  Paris,  advised  king  Louis 


iENE 


^NE 


166 


XII.  to  request  him  to  write,  in  Latin,  the  history  of  tlie 
kings  of  France.  His  consent  being  obtained,  he  was 
invited  to  Paris,  and  presented  there  to  a  canonry  in  the 
cathedral.  He  afterwards  withdrew  to  the  college  of 
Navarre,  in  order  to  execute  this  projected  work,  and 
devoted  to  it  almost  thirty  years.  He  died  at  Paris  on 
the  5th  May,  1529,  and  was  buried  in  the  cathedral. 
(») 

jENARIA.     SeelscHiA. 

^NEAS,  a  Trojan  prince,  was  the  son  of  Anchiscs 
and  Venus.  He  claimed  his  descent  from  Tros,  tlie 
third  king  of  Troy,  from  whom  the  city  and  people  re- 
ceived their  name.  During  the  Trojan  war,  jEneas  and 
Antenor  were  the  only  two  who  were  incline<l  to  peace ; 
and  insisted  that  Helen  should  be  given  up.  For  this, 
they  have  been  unjustly  suspected  of  having  betrayed 
the  Trojan  cause.  When  Troy  was  taken  by  the  Greeks, 
^neas,  with  a  few  friends,  valiantly  opposed  them  in  the 
Btreefs :  but  finding  himself  unable  to  withstand  their 
number,  he  made  his  escape  amidst  the  llames,  carry- 
ing his  father  Anchises  upon  his  shoulders,  and  leading 
the  young  Ascanius  by  the  hand.  In  his  flight,  he  lost 
his  wife  Creusa,  who,  lingering  behind,  and  having  miss- 
ed her  way,  was  probably  slain  in  the  general  massacre, 
^neas,  having  collected  such  of  his  countrymen  as  had 
escaped  the  fury  of  the  enemy,  retired  to  Mount  Ida. 
There,  having  built  a  fleet,  he  embarked  his  family  and 
household  gods,  and  set  sail  in  search  of  new  settlements. 
After  having  encountered  vorious  dangers,  both  by  sea 
and  land,  and  having  lost  his  father  in  the  island  of  Sici- 
ly, he  was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  upon  the  coast  of 
Africa.  Here,  according  to  Virgil,  ^neas  was  hospita- 
bly received  by  Queen  Uido,  who  falling  violently  in 
love  with  him,  offered  to  share  with  him  the  govern- 
ment of  CarthHge.  But  as  historians  place  the  build- 
ing of  Carthage  three  centuries  later  than  the  destruc- 
tion of  Troy,  this  anachronism  must  be  considered  mere- 
ly as  an  embellishment  of  the  poet.  Leaving  Africa, 
he  landed  in  Italy,  and  married  Lavinia,  the  daughter  of 
Lalinus,  king  of  tlie  Aborigines.  He  then  built  the  city 
Lavinium,  near  the  place  where  he  had  landed,  intend- 
ing to  settle  in  it  with  his  countrymen.  But  Turnus, 
king  of  the  Rutuli,  to  whom  Lavinia  had  formerly  been 
betrothed,  enraged  that  a  stranger  should  be  preferred 
bel'ore  him,  made  war  upon  Latinus  and  ^neas.  A  bat- 
tle was  fought,  in  which  Latinus  was  slain,  and  the  army 
of  Turnus  completely  routed.  Upon  this,  ^neas  suc- 
ceeded to  the  throne  of  Latium  ,  and  the  better  to  secure 
the  affections  of  his  new  subjects,  united  both  nations 
under  the  name  of  Latins.  About  four  years  after  tlie 
death  of  Latinus,  jEneas  was  slain  in  battle,  fighting 
against  Mezentius,  king  of  the  Tuscans.  After  his 
death,  he  was  invoked  by  the  name  of  Jupiter  Indiges; 
and  from  him  the  Romans  pretended  to  derive  their  ori- 
gin. The  travels  and  misfortunes  of  this  prince  form 
the  subject  of  Virgil's  beautiful  [loem,  which,  from  his 
name,  is  called  the  Jlneid.  See  Dionysius  Hal.  i.  cap. 
11.  Livy,  i.  cap.  1.  Pbit.  in  Rmnul.  Strabo,  xiii. 
Floras,  i.  cap.  1.  Justin,  lib.  xx.  cap.  1. ;  lilt.  xxxi.  cap. 
8.  Dictys  Cret.  v.     (jp) 

JLNEATORES,  from  emeus,  brazen;  a  general  name 
given  to  the  musicians  in  the  Roman  armies,  who  play- 
ed upon  the  tuhve,  the  cortiua,  the  buccinm,  and  the  lilui, 
instruments  which  were  made  of  brass.  These  musi- 
cians were  also  distinguished  by  the  particular  name  of 
tubicines,  comicines,  buccinatores,  &c.     (w) 

^NEID,  the  titleof  a  celebrated  epic  poem,  in  twelve 


books,  written  by  Publius  Virgilius  Maro,  the  most  es- 
teemed of  all  the  Roman  poets.  The  subject  of  this 
poem  is,  the  establishment  of  iEneas  and  his  Trojan  fol- 
lowers in  the  kingdom  of  Latium,  in  Italy  ;  which  was, 
of  all  subjects,  the  best  adapted  to  interest  the  Roman 
people,  as  it  narrates  the  foundation  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire. The  action  of  the  jEneid  is,  on  the  whole,  ex- 
tremely well  managed,  and  sustains  a  lively  interest  in 
the  reader;  but  the  first  six  books,  which  relate  the 
travels  and  love-adventures  of  iEneas,  are  much  more 
interesting  than  the  remaining  books,  which  give  an  ac- 
count of  his  warfare  with  the  Italian  princes.  It  ii 
plain  that  the  Odyssey  of  Homer  afforded  the  prototype 
of  the  first  part  of  Virgil's  poem,  as  the  Iliad  did  of  tlie 
last;  and  it  is  generally  acknowledged,  that  he  had  as 
much  exceeded  the  former,  as  he  has  fallen  short  of  the 
latter.  It  is  believed,  however,  that  the  last  six  books 
never  received  the  finishing  polish  of  the  author;  and  it 
is  added,  that  he  was  so  conscious  of  their  imperfec- 
tions, as  to  leave  a  dying  request,  that  the  whole  might 
be  committed  to  the  flames.  If  this  be  the  case,  we 
have  reason  to  rejoice,  that  the  partiality  of  friends  pre- 
vented the  execution  of  so  severe  a  sentence. 

The  great  defect  of  the  jEneid  is  alleged  to  be  the 
%vant  of  a  just  discrimination  of  character;  and,  doubt- 
less, in  this  principal  requisite  of  the  epic  muse,  Virgil 
is  left  at  a  mighty  distance  by  Homer.  Yet  he  seems 
by  no  means  so  deficient  as  has  been  sometimes  assert- 
ed. Among  the  Trojans,  indeed,  there  is  scarcely  a 
single  character  that  is  marked,  not  even  excepting  the 
pious  jEneas  himself;  and  as  for  the  faithful  Achates, 
the  brave  Gyas,  and  the  brare  Cloanthes,  they  are  mere 
names  and  epithets  inserted  to  fill  a  vacant  space.  But  the 
character  of  the  love-sick  and  high-minded  Dido,  is  ex- 
quisitely drawn,  and  admirably  supported ;  and  the  pic- 
tures of  Nisus  and  Eurj'alus,  Pallas  and  Evander, 
Lausus  and  Mezentius,  are  in  the  highest  degree  inter- 
esting. 

In  respect  of  sentiment  and  style,  Virgil  stands  per- 
haps without  a  rival.  There  is  nothing  gross  or  low 
throughout  the  whole  poem;  we  every  where  discover 
a  rich  imagination,  a  correct  taste,  and  an  itmiable  heart. 
The  versification  is  melody  itself;  and  the  selection  of 
words  such  as  cannot  be  excelled.  It  has  been  said, 
that  it  were  as  easy  to  rob  Hercules  of  his  club,  as  to 
deprive  Homer  of  a  single  line ;  but  we  are  doubtful 
whether  this  assertion  be  not  more  applicable  to  the 
Roman  than  the  Grecian  bard.  Some  of  the  Latin  cri- 
tics indeed  have  accused  Virgil  of  numerous  plagiarisms 
of  whole  phrases  and  lines,  not  only  from  the  old  poets 
Ennius,  Pacuvius,  Accius,  and  Servius,  but  even  from 
his  own  illustrious  contemporaries  Lucretius,  Catullus, 
Varius,  and  Furius  :  and  Macrobius  speaks  of  it,  as  a 
thing  well  known  to  the  world,  that  the  second  book  of 
the  iEneid,  containing  the  so  universally  admired  des- 
cription of  the  sacking  of  Troy,  is  copied,  penimlvcr- 
bum,  from  a  Greek  poet  named  Pisander,  who  had  writ- 
ten a  collection  of  mythological  histories  in  verse.  We 
are  not  disposed  to  give  much  credit  to  these  imputa- 
tions, so  dishonourable  to  the  genius  of  Virgil,  and  which 
seem  advanced  on  very  frivolous  grounds,  in  those  cases 
where  we  have  it  in  our  power  to  jut^e  of  their  vali- 
dity :  as  in  the  examples  of  Lucretius  and  Catullus, 
whose  works  are  still  in  our  hands.  That  Virgil  bor- 
rowed from  some  of  the  older  poets,  he  does  not  himself 
deny  ;  but  it  was  that  kind  of  borrowing  which  so  great- 
ly enhances  the  value  of  the  original,  that  it  confers  ra- 
U2 


156 


^OL 


^OL 


Iher  than  receives  an  obligation.  It  was  in  this  way,  that, 
as  he  expresses  it  himself,  "  he  extracted  gold  from  the 
dunghill  of  Eunius."  See  La  Harpe's  Lycee.  Blair's 
Lectures.     Karnes's  Criticisfn,  &x.     (»») 

ii;NIGMA.     See  Enigma. 

^OLIAN  Harp,  Lyre,  or  Anemochord,  a  musical 
instrument,  first  described  by  Kircher,  which  produces 
the  most  delicate  and  enchanting  tones  merely  by  the 
impulse  of  the  wind.  It  is  composed  of  a  rectangular 
box,  madeof  very  thin  deal,  of  the  same  width  as  the  win- 
dow in  which  it  is  to  be  placed,  and  about  five  inches 
deep  and  six  inches  wide.  Over  the  upper  surface  of 
this  box,  which  is  pierced  with  sounding  holes,  like  the 
sounding-board  of  a  fiddle,  are  stretched  several  catgut 
or  wire  strings,  with  a  slight  degree  of  tension.  When 
these  strings  are  in  unison,  and  the  instrument  exposed 
in  the  window  to  the  action  of  a  gentle  breeze,  they  will 
emit  the  most  agreeable  combination  of  wild  and  melt- 
ing sounds,  changing  from  one  harmonic  of  the  string 
to  another,  according  to  the  varying  impulse  of  the 
wind,  and  its  unequal  action  on  the  diflercut  parts  of  the 
vibrating  string. 

In  the  jEolian  harp  constructed  by  the  Rev.  W.  Jones, 
the  strings,  instead  of  being  on  the  outside,  are  fasten- 
ed to  a  sounding-board  within  a  wooden  case,  and  the 
wind  is  conveyed  to  the  strings  through  a  horizontal 
aperture.  The  instrument  may  then  be  used  even  in 
the  open  air. 

The  effect  of  the  i^olian  harp,  we  imagine,  would  be 
much  increased  by  admitting  the  air  through  a  horizon- 
tal aperture,  whose  vertical  section  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  hearing  or  speaking  trumpets,  in  Plate  II.  Fig.  12; 
and  by  placing  the  strings  in  different  planes,  or  at  dif- 
ferent distances  from  the  axis  of  the  aperture. 

The  following  ingenious  theory  of  the  iEolian  lyre 
has  been  given  by  Dr.  Matthew  Young,  in  his  Inquiry 
into  the  principal  Phenomena  of  Sound  and  Musical 
Strings,  London,  1784 ;  and  as  it  is  the  only  satisfactory 
explanation  which  has  been  given  of  the  phenomena  of 
that  instrument,  we  make  no  apology  for  presenting  it 
nearly  in  his  own  words. 

"  To  remove  all  uncertainty  in  the  order  of  the  notes 
in  the  lyre,  I  took  off  all  the  strings  but  one ;  and,  on 
placing  the  instrument  in  a  due  position,  was  surprised 
to  hear  a  great  variety  of  notes,  and  frequently  such  as 
were  not  produced  by  any  ali(]uot  part  of  the  string ;  of- 
ten loo,  I  heard  a  chord  of  two  or  three  notes  from  this 
single  string.  From  observing  these  phenomena,  they 
appeared  to  me  so  very  complex  and  extraordinary,  that 
I  despaired  of  being  able  to  account  for  them  on  the 
principle  of  aliquot  parts.  However,  on  a  more  minute 
inquiry,  they  all  a|)peared  to  flow  from  it  naturally,  and 
with  ease. 

But  before  we  proceed  to  examine  the  phenomena, 
let  us  consider  what  will  be  the  effect  of  a  current  of 
air  rushing  against  a  stretched  elastic  fibre.     The  parti- 


cles which  strike  against  the  middle  point  of  the  string, 
will  move  the  whole  string  from  its  rectilineal  position  ; 
and  as  no  blast  continues  exactly  of  the  same  strength 
for  any  considerable  time,  although  it  be  able  to  remove 
the  string  from  its  rectilineal  position,  yet,  unless  it  be 
too  rapid  and  violent,  it  will  not  be  able  to  keep  it  bent ; 
the  fibre  will  therefore,  by  its  elasticity,  return  to  its 
former  position,  and  by  its  acquired  velocity  pass  it  on 
the  other  side,  and  so  continue  to  vibrate  and  excite 
pulses  in  the  air,  which  will  produce  the  tone  of  the  en- 
tire string.  But  if  the  current  of  air  be  too  strong  and 
rapid,  when  the  string  is  bent  from  the  rectilineal  posi- 
tion, it  will  not  be  able  to  recover  it,  but  will  continue 
bent  and  bellying,  like  the  cordage  of  a  ship  in  a  brisk 
gale.  However,  though  the  whole  string  cannot  perform 
its  vibrations,  the  subordinate  aliquot  parts  may,  which 
will  be  of  different  lengths  in  different  cases,  according 
to  the  rapidity  of  the  blast.  Thus,  when  the  velocity  of 
the  current  of  air  increases  so  as  to  prevent  the  vibra* 
tion  of  the  whole  string,  those  particles  which  strike 
against  the  middle  points  of  the  halves  of  the  stri.ng, 
agitate  those  halves,  as  in  the  case  of  sympathetic  and 
secondary  tones;  and  as  these  halves  vibrate  in  half  the 
time  of  the  whole  siring,  though  the  blast  may  be  too 
rapid  to  admit  of  the  vibration  of  the  whole,  yet  it  can 
have  no  more  effect  in  preventing  the  motion  of  the 
halves,  than  it  would  have  on  the  whole  string  were  its 
tension  quadruple ;  for  the  times  of  vibrations  in  strings 
of  different  lengths,  and  agreeing  in  other  circumstances, 
are  directly  as  the  lengths ;  and  in  strings  differing  in 
tension,  and  agreeing  in  other  circumstances,  inversely 
as  the  square  roots  of  the  tensions ;  (See  Acoustics,  p. 
190.  col.  1.)  and  therefore  their  vibrations  may  become 
strong  enough  to  excite  such  pulses  as  will  affect  the 
drum  of  the  ear;  and  the  like  may  lie  said  of  other  ali- 
quot divisions  of  the  string ;  in  the  same  manner  as 
standing  corn  is  bent  by  a  blast  of  wind,  and  if  the  wind 
be  sufficiently  rapid,  it  will  have  repeated  its  blast  bei'ore 
the  stem  of  corn  can  recover  its  per|)enuicular  position, 
and  therefore  will  keep  it  bent:  but  if  it  ilecays  in  ra- 
pidity or  strength,  the  stem  of  corn  will  have  time  to 
perform  a  vibration  before  it  is  again  impelled ;  and 
thus  it  will  appear  to  wave  backwards  and  forwards  by 
the  impulse  of  the  wind.  Those  particles,  which  strike 
against  such  (toints  of  the  string  as  are  not  in  the  middle 
of  aliquot  parts,  will  interrupt  and  counteract  each  other's 
vibrations,  as  in  the  case  of  sympathetic  and  secoiuhry 
tones,  and  therefore  will  not  produce  a  sensible  effect. 
That  «e  may  be  more  fully  persuaded  of  the  truth  of 
these  principles,  I  shall  here  set  down  the  order  of  the 
iEolian  notes,  as  accurately  as  a  good  ear  could  di^ 
cover. 

Observation  1 .  The  original  note  of  the  string  being 
the  grave  fifteenth  to  low  F  on  the  violin,  the  Aeolian  notes, 
as  given  in  the  annexed  note,*  were  distinctly  perceived, 
and  nearly  in  the  same  order  in  which  they  are  set  down. 


•  The  engraved  tabic  of  notes  consists  of  three  sets  ot  lines,  with  the  clilF  G  on  the  second  line  from  the  bottom,  as  usual.  In  these 
(lie  notes  are  written,  and  above  each  note  the  fraction  which  expresses  the  division  of  the  string.  As  all  these  fi-aclious  liave  1  for 
ttieir  numerator,  I  shall  here  give  the  letters  expressing  the  notes,  ami  the  denominator,  or  number  denoting  the  subdivision: — \;iil>lle 
C  6  ; — lower  F  4  j — mid.  A  5  ; — upper  G,  flat,  7,  nearly  ; — mid.  C  6  ; — mid.  A  5  ; — up.  D  7,  nearly  ; — up  K  8  ; — up.  D  7,  nearly  ; — raid. 
C  6  ; — raid.  A  5  j — up.  D  7,  nearly  ; — up.  F  8  ; — up.  F  8,  with  up.  D  7,  nearly  : — mid.  C  6  ; — up.  D  7,  nearly  ; — up.  E  flat,  7  nearly  ; — up. 
E  7,  nearly  ; — up.  F  8  ; — up.  A  10  ; — up.  G  9  ; — up.  F  8  ; — mid.  C  ti,  with  up  E.  flat,  7,  nearly  ; — raid.  C  8  ; — low.  F  4,  with  mid.  A  5  ;— 
mid.  A  5  ;— up.  E.  flat,  7,  nearly  ;— mid.  A  5  ;— up.  E.  flat,  7,  nearly  : — mid.  C  6  ;— up.  F  8  ;— up.  G  9  ;— up.  F  »  j— up.  E  sliding  to  up.  E, 
flat,  7,  nearly,  and  to  up.  D  ; — mid.  C  6  ; — up.  F  8  ; — up.  E,  flat,  7,  with  mid.  C  6  ; — mid  C  6  ; — up.  E,  flat,  7,  nearly  ; — mid.  A  5,  with 
mid.  C  6,  and  up.  E,  flat,  7,  nearly  ;— up.  E,  ffal,  7,  with  up.  F  8 ;— up.  F  8  ;— up.  B  II,  nearly  j— up.  A  10 ;— up.  F  8,  with  up.  G  9  i— 
»p.  E,  flat,  sliding  to  up.  1)  j— up.  C  6  ;— up.  D  7.  with  up.  F  8,  &c.  &e. 


uEOL 


/EOL 


157 


From  the  table  of  proportions  in  Smitli's  Harmonics, 
p.  10,  we  may  see,  that  these  notes  were  pro<luce<l  by 
Buch  aliquot  parts  of  the  string  as  are  denoted  by  the 
fractional  indexes,  which  are  written  over  them,  agree- 
ably to  the  theory  laid  down. 

Obs.  2.  W'liile  some  of  these  notes  were  sounding, 
I  applied  an  obstacle  indifferently  to  any  point,  which 
divided  the  string  into  such  aliquot  parts  as  would  pro- 
duce these  notes,  and  the  .Eolian  note  was  not  interrupt- 
ed ;  but  if  I  placed  it  in  any  other  part,  the  tone  was 
instantly  extinguished.  This  evidently  shows,  that  the 
entire  string  is,  in  fact,  resolved  into  such  parts,  as,  from 
the  preceding  chain  of  reasoning,  we  should  have  been 
induced  to  prescribe  for  it. 

Obs.  ,3.  I  applied  an  obstacle  slightly  against  the 
string,  so  as  that  its  distance  from  the  extremity  should 
be  an  aliquot  part  of  the  whole ;  and  the  iEolian  note 
was  that  whicli  would  be  produced  by  such  an  ali(|Uot 
part;  thus  we  may,  in  sreneral,  predetermine  what  note 
the  harp  shall  sound.  But  this  effect  will  not  invariably 
take  place ;  because,  though  the  obstacle  may  determine 
the  string  to  resolve  itself  into  such  aliquot  parts  rather 
than  any  others,  yet  the  blast  may  be  too  strong  or  too 
weak  to  admit  of  such  a  purt  vibrating  with  sutlicient 
strength  to  produce  a  sound;  ho\vever,  if  any  note  be 
produced  in  this  case,  it  must  either  be  that  of  this  very 
aliquot  part,  or  of  some  of  its  aliquot  divisions;  for  the 
obstacle  must  necessarily  determine  one  of  the  intersec- 
tions of  the  equal  indentures. 

Obs.  4.  When  the  blast  rises  or  falls,  we  find  the 
tone  also  gradually  rise  or  fall ;  because,  as  the  blast  ri- 
ses, it  grows  too  strong  to  admit  of  the  vibrations  of  the 
longer  aliquot  parts;  the  vibrations  of  the  short  aliquot 
parts  therefore  will  predominate,  and  will  gradually 
shorten,  as  the  blast  rises  in  strength.  But,  in  cases  of 
sudden  variations  in  the  strength  of  the  blast,  there  will 
be  also  sudden  transitions  in  the  tones. 

Obs.  5.  We  sometimes  hear  a  chord  consisting  of 
two  or  three  jEolian  notes ;  because  the  blast,  which  is 
of  such  a  degree  of  strength  as  to  admit  of  the  vibrations 
of  certain  aliquot  parts,  may  also  admit  of  the  vibrations 
of  other  parts,  if  they  be  not  very  different  in  length  ; 
for  their  vibrations  will  be  performed  in  times  not  very 
different.  But  if  the  length  of  these  parts,  and  conse- 
quently their  times  of  vibration,  be  very  different,  the 
blast  that  admits  of  the  vibration  of  the  one  will  prevent 
that  of  the  other.  Accordingly,  in  looking  over  the  fore- 
going note,  we  find  that  the  chords  consist  of  those  notes 
which  are  produced  by  such  different  aliqliot  parts  as 
are  least  unequal :  thus,  one  chord  consists  of  C  and 
E,  which  notes  are  produced  by  one-sixth  and  one-se- 
venth of  the  string.  Another  chord  consists  of  F  and  A, 
which  are  i)roduced  by  one-fourth  and  one-fifth  of  the 
string.  Another  consists  of  A,  C,  and  E,  which  notes  are 
produced  by  one-fifth,  one-sixth,  and  one-seventh  parts 
of  the  string. 

It  is  also  worthy  of  observation,  that,  in  long  strings, 
we  never  hear  the  original  note  and  its  octave  at  the 
same  time;  because,  though  they  are  the  next  aliquot 
parts,  yet  their  difference  is  so  great,  that  the  blast 
which  admits  of  the  vibration  of  one  of  them  will  ob- 
struct and  prevent  the  other.  It  is  only  in  the  higher 
divisions  of  the  string  that  the  chords  are  heard  at  all ; 
and  the  slacker  the  note,  the  more  frequent  are  the 
chords,  for  the  reasons  assigned  above ;  namely,  because 


the  different  aliquot  parts,  in  such  cases  approach  neap- 
er  to  equality. 

Obs.  0.  ^olian  tones  are  often  heard,  which  are  not 
produced  by  any  exact  sub-multiple  of  the  string ;  but 
such  notes  are  very  transitory,  and  immediately  vary 
their  pitch,  gradually  falling  or  rising  to  the  notes  next 
below  or  above  them,  which  are  produced  by  exact  ali- 
quot parts  of  the  whole  string.  This  arises  from  the 
transition  of  the  divisions  of  the  siring  from  one  number 
to  another;  for,  during  this  transition,  the  parts  of  the 
string,  whose  vibrations  produce  the  note,  are  gradually 
lengthening  or  shortening.  Thus,  suppose  the  i£olian 
tone  was  produced  by  one-third  of  a  string,  and  that  the 
breeze  so  varies  as  to  cause  this  tone  to  fall  into  the  oc- 
tave of  the  original  note,  the  points  of  quiescence  will 
gradually  run  along  the  strings,  and  by  so  doing  will 
produce  a  tone  gradually  flattening,  until  it  terminates 
in  the  octave  to  the  whole  string. 

Discords  are  also  often  heard  from  the  unison  strings 
of  this  instrument :  the  cause  of  this  is  also  evident  from 
the  manner  in  which  the  notes  are  generated;  for  the 
aliquot  parts  of  a  string  contain  in  themselves  an  infi- 
nite variety  of  discords." 

A  very  simple  i£olian  harp  has  been  recently  invent- 
ed by  Mr.  Crosthwaite.  It  has  no  sounding-box,  but 
consists  merely  of  a  number  of  strings,  extended  be- 
tween two  thin  deal-boards. 

See  Kircher's  Phonurgia,  p.  140,  1673 ;  and  his  ilfw- 
surgia,  lib.  ix.  Gilbert's  Journal  der  Physik,  vol.  xv.  p. 
305.  T.  Young's  Not.  Phil.  vol.  i.  p.  385,  399.  And 
Nicholson's  JoMniffl<,  4to,  vol.  ii.  p.  12,  note  ;  and  vol.  iii. 
p.  310,  which  contains  an  extract  from  Dr.  M.  Young's 
Inquiry,  <izc.  (»■) 

jEOLIAN  Islands,  are  seven  islands,  situated  be- 
tween Italy  and  Sicily,  now  called  the  Lipari  Islands. 
See  Justin,  lib.  iv.  cap.  1.    See  /Eons  and  Lipari.  (w) 

jEOLIC  Dialect,  one  of  the  five  dialects  of  the 
Greek  language,  very  much  resembling  the  Doric.  It 
was  first  used  in  Bceotia,  from  which  it  was  introduced 
into  jEolia.  (tv) 

jE(3LIPILE,  from  JEoli  umlpila,  the  ball  of  Aolus,  is 
a  hydraulic  vessel,  composed  of  a  hollow  ball  and  a  cy- 
lindrical pipe.  When  the  ball  is  filled  with  water  and 
the  pipe  screwed  into  it,  the  vessel  is  placed  upon  the 
fire,  and  as  soon  as  the  ^vater  is  converted  info  steam, 
the  steam  rushes  out  at  intervals  with  great  violence  and 
noise.  The  aeolipile  was  known  to  the  ancients,  and  has 
been  employed  for  several  purposes  by  the  moderns ; 
but  it  has  now  been  superseded  by  more  accurate  and 
useful  instnmietit?.  See  Vitruvius,  lib.  i.  cap.  6.  Des- 
cartes' Meteorology,  cap.  1.;  and  Leopold's  Thcatnim  Ma- 
chinarum,  iii. ;  Langsdorf's  Hydraul.  Plate  XXII.  which 
contains  an  engraving  of  Kempel's  rotatory  asolipile.  (»r) 

jEOLIS,  in  ancient  geography,  a  country  in  Asia  Mi- 
nor, formerly  inhabited  by  a  Grecian  colony,  who  emi- 
grated from  their  native  country  about  1 124  years  before 
Christ.  According  to  Ptolemy,  who  is  followed  by 
D'Anville,  it  lay  between  Caycus  and  Heuaus.  It  now 
forms  a  part  of  Anatolia. 

The  history  of  the  jEolians  is  not  pregnant  with  any 
events  of  interest  or  importance.  Unable  to  maintain 
their  own  independence,  they  gradually  sunk  into  the 
arms  of  Asiatic  indolence,  and  were  obliged  to  submit 
themselves  to  the  sway  of  the  different  conquerors,  by 
whom  that  part  of  the  world  was  successively  enslaved. 


158 


AER 


AER 


See  Strabo,  torn.  ii.  p.  872.  Herodotus,  lib.  i.  cap.  26. 
and  ii. ;  Diodorus  Siculus,  lib.  ii.  and  xiv. ;  Mela,  i.  cap. 
2. ;  Pliny,  v.  cap.  30.   {w) 

A;0LUS,  king  of  the  ^olian  islands,  ivas  the  son  of 
Hippotos.  Happening  to  land  at  Lipara,  he  was  kindly 
received  by  king  Liparus,  who  gave  him  his  daughter 
Cyane  in  marriage.  After  Liparus'  death,  he  succeed- 
ed to  the  throne,  and  gave  his  name  to  the  country. 
But  these  islands  have  in  modern  times  resumed  their 
original  name,  and  are  now  called  the  Lipari  Isles. 
^olus  was  a  good  and  wise  prince,  and  from  his  having 
invented  the  use  of  sails,  from  his  skill  in  astronomj-, 
and  in  prognosticating  the  weather,  he  was  denominat- 
ed, in  heathen  mythology,  the  god  of  the  winds.  Vir- 
gil represents  him  as  having  dominion  over  the  storms, 
and  confining  them  in  a  capacious  cave.  He  was  wor- 
shipped as  a  god  by  the  Romans,  and  was  said  to  have 
been  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Acesta.     (p) 

jEON,  a  word  em[)loyed  by  the  Platonists  to  denote 
any  perfection,  virtue,or  attribute,  and  hence  they  repre- 
sented the  Deity  as  an  assemblage  of  all  possible  aeons. 
This  term  was  afterwards  api)lied  to  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing himself,  and  also  to  the  angels.  The  seons  seem  to 
have  been  borrowed  from  the  eastern  philoso|)hy,  which 
waspartlyadoptedby  the  Gnosticsand  Valentinian3,who 
corrupted  the  purity  of  the  Christian  faith  by  the  base 
mixture  of  a  wild  philosophy,     (w) 

itR  A,  a  fixed  point  of  time,  distinguished  by  some  re- 
markable event,  to  which  both  preceding  and  future 
events  are  referred.     See  Chronologt.     (w) 

AERIAL  Perspective,  the  relative  colours  of  visible 
objects,  as  modified  by  distance,  by  accidental  varieties 
of  light,  and  by  the  intervention  of  atmosphere.  This 
term  is,  however,  more  generally  employed  to  signify 
the  art  of  imitating  these  colours  in  painting.  The  laws 
by  which  this  art  is  regulated,  by  no  means  admit  of 
that  precision  Avhich  accompanies  those  of  lineal  per- 
spective. In  the  latter  of  these,  which  has  for  its  object 
to  determine  the  apparent  form,  place,  and  bulk,  of  the 
various  parts  of  his  scene,  the  artist  avails  himself  of  in- 
Tariable  principles,  which  admit  of  mathematical  demon- 
stration ;  in  the  practice  of  the  former,  he  must  rely  al- 
most entirely  on  the  delicate  and  cultivated  accuracy  of 
Lis  immediate  perceptions.  How  very  far  these  perceji- 
tions  are  wide  of  the  truth,  till  corrected  by  the  closest 
attention,  and  by  long  practice,  every  artist  who  has  studi- 
ed to  detect  the  real  appearances  of  nature,  will  readily 
admit.  Habituated  from  our  earliest  years  to  correct 
the  information  of  the  senses  by  the  knowledge  we  have 
previously  acquired,  it  becomes  afterwards  a  difficult  ex- 
ertion to  give,  even  for  a  moment,  our  undivided  atten- 
tion to  the  real  sensation  communicated  by  the  exter- 
nal organ,  and  to  prevent  that  sensation  from  being  mo- 
dified by  the  insensible,  and  almost  mechanical  sugges- 
tions of  the  judgment.  It  is  by  means  of  this  habitual 
process  in  the  economy  of  our  perceptions,  that  we 
ascribe  the  same  colour  and  the  same  dimensions  to  any 
known  object,  although  seen  at  very  ditferent  distances ; 
a  process  which,  though  absolutely  essential  to  the  truth 
and  consistency  of  our  judgments,  it  is  the  business  of 
tbe  artist  to  counteract  and  suspend  at  will.    It  is  by 


this  acquired  faculty  that  he  is  enabled  to  look  at  nature 
under  that  aspect  which  his  art  demands,  and  to  mark, 
without  any  sensible  exertion,  those  delicate  and  evane- 
scent varieties  of  form  and  colour  which  escape  the  or- 
dinary observer. 

It  is  the  most  obvious  and  general  fact  in  aerial  per- 
spective, that  objects  assume  a  fainter  tone  of  colour, 
the  further  they  are  removed  from  the  eye  of  the  spec- 
tator. This  fact  is  founded  on  the  imperfect  transpa- 
rency of  the  atmosphere,  and  on  the  divergency  of  the 
rays  of  light  reflected  from  objects  of  an  unpolislied  sur- 
face. Among  objects  of  this  description,  we  find  that 
the  strong  opposition  of  light  and  shadow  which  they 
exhibit  when  near  the  eye,  is  gradually  reduced  nearer 
to  equality  as  we  recede  from  them.  The  shady  side 
becomes  lighter;  the  illuminated  part  of  it  becomes  less 
brilliant.  In  the  case  of  flat  polished  surfaces,  such  as 
that  of  still  water,  which  reflect  the  sun's  rays  without 
any  sensible  divergency,  we  find  that  the  light  loses  lit- 
tle of  its  force  and  brilliancy  by  distance,  except  when 
diminished  by  the  imperfect  transparency  of  the  me- 
dium through  which  it  is  transmitted.  But  as  to  all  the 
nicer  distinctions  exhibited  in  the  aerial  perspective  of 
nature,  it  is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  rule  which  ad- 
mits of  general  application.  Not  only  the  infinite  variety 
of  the  local  colours  of  objects  themselves,  but  every  ac- 
cidental distribution  of  light,  every  transient  change  in 
the  state  of  the  air,  creates  new  appearances,  and  forms 
new  relations  in  the  apparent  colouring  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  scene.  In  some  of  the  most  sublime  effects 
observable  in  nature,  we  occasionally  find  the  middle 
ground  of  a  lighter  hue  than  the  distance.  In  order  to 
assist  the  exertions  of  the  eye,  on  whieh  the  artist,  in  co- 
pying nature,  must  ultimately  depend,  it  may  be  recom- 
mended as  an  useful  practice,  to  hold  up  against  any  ob- 
ject another  resembling  it  in  real  colour,  and  thus,  by 
comparing  them  together,  we  shall  the  more  readily  dis- 
cover the  change  produced,  even  by  the  distance  of  a 
few  yanis.     (<) 

AERIAL  Acid,  a  name  given  by  Bergman  to  carbo- 
nic acid  gas.     (w) 

AERIAN8,  in  ecclesiastical  history,  a  species  of 
Arians,  who  took  their  name  from  Aerius,  an  Armenian 
priest  of  the  fourth  century.  Besides  adopting  the  pe- 
culiarities of  Arianism,  they  also  held  other  opinions, 
which  they  thought  of  great  importance  to  the  interests 
of  pure  Christianity.  They  had  the  misfortune  to  dis- 
approve of  prayers  and  oflerings  for  the  dead ;  to  repro- 
bate the  celebration  of  Easter,  and  other  rites  of  the  same 
nature.  They  zealously  maintained  too,  that  there  was 
no  scriptural  distinction  between  bishops  and  presbyters; 
and  that  all  ministers  of  the  gospel  should  be  equal  in 
rank  and  power.  This,  of  course,  mightily  provoked 
the  hierarchy  of  the  day ;  and  the  poor  Aerians  soon 
fell  easy  victims  to  mitred  bigotry,     (n) 

AERIFORM  Fluids,  a  name  given  to  the  different 
gases.     See  Chemistrv.     (»») 

AEROLITHS,  from  atif,  the  air,  and  a«<m,  a  stone,  a 
name  recently  and  very  improperly  given  to  the  mine- 
ral substances  which  have  fallen  from  the  atmosphere. 
See  Meteoric  Stones,    (w) 


159 


AERONAUTICS. 


Aeronautics,  from  «iif,  the  air,  and  lavtixti,  the  art  of 
navigation,  is  the  science  of  navigating  the  air  by  means 
or  balloons. 

This  science,  however  extravagant  it  might  at  first 
apijoar  as  an  object  either  of  philosophical  speculation 
or  probable  success,  has  l)een  prosecuted  with  increasing 
interest  and  attention  for  a  considerable  period  of  time. 
While  the  art  of  tniversiiig  the  air  was  unknown,  man- 
kind, guided  by  those  superstitious  notions  which  ac- 
company the  infancy  of  knowledge,  regarded  it  as  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  those  supernatural  agents,  who 
by  their  power  over  the  elements,  were  permitted  to 
penetrate  into  regions,  which  nature  had  prohibited  to 
man.  But  though  such  o|)inions  prevailed  from  periods 
of  the  remotest  antiquity,  they  began,  even  during  the 
darker  ages,  to  yield  to  more  rational  conceptions.  Ro- 
ger Bacon  was  among  the  first  philosophers  who  sug- 
gested the  possibility  of  traversing  the  air  by  means  of 
mechanical  contrivances :  He  mentions  a  machine  for 
flying,  as  in  his  time  certainly  known,  "  not  that  he  him- 
self hud  seen  it,  or  was  acquainted  with  any  person  who 
had  done  so,  but  he  knew  an  ingenious  person  who  had 
contrived  one."  It  is  evident,  however,  that  he  alludes 
to  some  method  of  putting  artificial  wings  in  motion. 
In  later  times,  .John  Wilkins,  bishop  of  Chester,  an  in- 
genious mechanic,  who  died  in  1672,  published  a  trea- 
tise Conccmins:  a  Nerv  World,  in  which  he  maintains  the 
possibility  of  reaching  the  moon,  provided  he  could  be 
conveyed  beyond  the  earth's  attraction.  He  supposes 
the  ditfercnt  strata  of  the  atmosphere  to  be  of  difl'erent 
densities ;  and  concludes,  that  a  vessel  filled  with  lighter 
air,  will  float  on  heavier  air,  just  as  a  ship  is  buoyed  up 
by  the  water.  In  the  siinie  work  he  asserts,  that  a  fly- 
ing chariot  might  be  consti-ucted  on  mechanical  princi- 
ples ;  and  in  his  Maihcmatical  Magic,  which  was  .i  sub- 
sequent publication,  after  specifying  various  artificial 
methods  of  flying,  he  gives  the  preference  to  the  flying 
chariot,  on  account  both  of  its  superior  utility,  and  the 
greater  probability  of  its  success. 

Nearly  about  the  same  period,  Francis  Lana,  a  Jesuit, 
suggested  a  method  of  traversing  the  air,  founded  on  the 
same  principles  as  those  which  are  at  present  adopted. 
He  proposed  to  provide  four  hollow  spheres  of  copper, 
each  20  feet  in  diameter,  and  so  thin,  th:it  on  exhausiug 
the  included  air,  they  would  float  in  the  atmosphere,  and 
be  capable  of  supporting  a  vessel  or  any  other  load. 
This  plan,  though  founded  on  strict  philosophical  prin- 
ciples, was  abandoned  on  account  of  its  practical  defects: 
Not  only  was  Lana's  method  of  procuring  a  vacuum  im- 
perfect, but  the  thickness  of  the  metal  being  necessarily 
reduced  to  /^  »f  a  line,  it  was  found  insufficient  to  resist 
the  external  pressure  of  the  surrounding  air.  This  con- 
trivance is  described  in  a  work,  entitled,  Prodromo  delV 
Arte  Mofstra  Brescia,  1670. 

It  has  been  said,  that  a  basket  of  wicker  work,  of  se- 
▼en  or  eight  feet  diameter,  which  was  constructed  at 
Lisbon,  was  exhibited  in  1736,  and  upon  trial  ascended 
to  the  height  of  200  feet.  But  we  have  been  able  to  ob- 
tain no  satisfactory  accounts  of  the  experiment. 

In  the  year  175a,  there  was  published  at  Avignon,  by 
Jose|)h  Galien,  a  small  work,  entitled,  "Vart  de  naviguer 
dans  les  airs,"  in  which  the  author  asserts,  that  a  bag  of 
clotb  or  leather,  filled  with  an  air  lighter  than  that  of  the 


atmosphere,  might  be  employed  with  perfect  security 
for  the  purpose  of  aerial  voyages.  But  though  Galien 
was  correct  in  the  principle  which  he  assumed,  he  seems 
to  have  been  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  any  lighterspe- 
cies  of  air,  except  what  is  to  be  found  in  the  higher  re- 
gions of  the  atmosphere. 

In  the  year  1782,  the  science  of  aeronautics  was  car- 
ried in  France  to  an  unexampled  degree  of  perfection. 
It  was  already  known,  that  air  was  an  elastic  fluid,  pos- 
sessing the  same  general  properties  as  other  fluids;  and 
tliat  if  a  certain  bulk  of  it  was  displaced  by  another  body 
of  the  same  bulk,  but  of  less  specific  gravity,  that  body 
would  float.  From  these  data,  Stephen  and  Joseph 
iMontgolfier,  two  brothers,  who  were  proprietors  of  a 
paper  manufactory  at  Annonai,  were  first  led  to  the  con- 
struction of  balloons.  Observing  the  natural  tendency 
of  smoke  an<l  clouds  to  ascend  in  the  air,  they  conceived 
it  practicable  to  confine  an  artificial  cloud,  which  would 
also  rise  and  carry  along  with  it  the  inclosing  substance. 
The  first  experiment  which  they  made  was  at  Avignon. 
They  prepared  a  bag  of  silk,  of  the  form  of  a  parallele- 
piped, containing  about  40  feet  when  inflated.  In  the 
lower  part  was  formed  an  aperture,  and  when  burning 
paper  was  applied  to  it,  the  bag  ex|)anded  by  the  rare- 
faction of  the  internal  air,  rose  rapidly,  and  struck  the 
ceiling  of  the  apartmentwhere  the  experiment  was  made. 
In  the  next  experiment,  it  ascended  70  feet  in  the  open 
air. 

Encouraged  by  this  success,  the  inventors  enlarged 
the  scale  of  their  experiments.  A  bag  containing  650 
cubic  feet  of  air,  rose  600  feet  high.  A  spherical  bal- 
loon, 35  feet  in  diameter,  was  next  prepared.  It  con- 
tained 23,000  feet  of  air,  and  was  capable  of  raising  a 
weight  of  500  pounds.  It  was  filled  with  rarefied  air, 
produced  by  the  combustion  of  chopped  straw  and  wool 
placed  below  the  aperture.  On  the  5th  June,  1 783,  when 
the  experiment  was  made,  a  crowd  of  spectators  assem- 
bled to  witness  this  new  and  interesting  invention,  and 
the  result  justified  their  most  sanguine  expectations. 
The  bag  ascended  6000  feet  into  the  atmosphere,  and 
fell  at  the  distance  of  7665  feet  from  the  place  of  ascent. 

Stephen  Montgolfier  arriving  soon  afterwards  in  Pa- 
ris, the  Royal  Academyof  Sciences,  with  a  laudable  libe- 
rality, invited  him  to  repeat  the  experiment  at  their  ex- 
pense. He  accordingly  constructed  a  large  balloon  of 
an  elliptical  form,  72  feet  in  height,  and  41  in  diameter. 
It  weighed  1000  pounds,  and  was  superbly  ornamented. 
In  a  preliminary  experiment,  it  raised  eight  men  from 
the  ground;  and  on  the  12th  September,  1783,  in  pre- 
sence of  the  members  of  the  Academy,  it  bore  up  a  load 
of  between  400  and  500  pounds,  but  was  accidentally 
damaged  by  a  violent  blast  of  wind.  A  new  balloon,  of 
nearly  the  same  dimensions,  was  therefore  constructed ; 
three  living  animals  in  a  wicker  basket  were  attached  to 
it,  and  it  ascended  in  presence  of  the  royal  family.  An 
accident  similar  to  the  former  unfortunately  affected  the 
success  of  this  experhnent,  and  the  balloon  did  not  rise 
above  1440  feet.  It  fell  at  the  distance  of  10,200  feet 
from  the  place  of  ascent,  without  any  injury  to  the  ani- 
mals. 

Another  balloon  was  prepared,  74  feet  high  and  48  in 
diameter,  with  which  M.  Pilatre  de  Rosier  offered  to 
make  an  aerial  voyage.     To  the  lower  part  of  it  was 


160 


AERONAUTICS. 


suspended  a  gallery  of  wicker  work,  three  feel  broad, 
with  a  balustrade  of  the  same  height.  The  iiitrrior  di- 
ameter was  about  1 6  feet,  and  the  aperture  of  the  bal- 
loon nearly  the  same.  Below  the  aperture  was  an  iron 
grate,  hung  by  chains  from  the  sides  of  the  balloon,  which 
the  aeronaut  could  easily  supply  with  fuel.  M.  Pilafre 
de  Rozier,  after  nrnking  several  successful  trials  with 
this  balloon,  while  restrained  by  ropes,  resolved  to  ven- 
ture on  an  aerial  voyage.  On  the  21st  November,  he 
look  his  place  on  one  side  of  the  gallery,  and  the  marquis 
d'Arlandes  occupied  the  other  side,  to  preserve  an  equi- 
librium. The  whole,  when  thus  loaded,  weighed  u])- 
wards  of  1600  pounds.  The  balloon  rose  majestically 
before  the  wondering  spectators,  above  3000  feet  in  the 
jiir ;  and  in  25  minutes  descended  above  five  miles  from 
the  place  of  its  outset  *. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  j-ear  1 784,  a  balloon  of  prodi- 
gious size  was  constructed  at  Lyons,  being  nearly  130 
feet  high,  above  105 in  diameter,  and  containing  540,000 
cubic  feet  of  rarefied  air.  This  immense  machine  re- 
quired more  than  50  men  to  retain  it  when  inflated  ;  and 
it  was  capable  of  raising  from  the  ground  six  persons, 
and  3200  pounds  of  ballast.  On  the  19th  January,  1784, 
after  being  filled  in  only  17  minutes,  it  ascended  up- 
wards of  3200  feet,  with  seven  aeronauts  in  the  gallery. 
But  a  rent  of  50  feet,  in  consequence  of  the  badness  of 
the  materials,  brought  it  to  the  ground,  in  15  minutes 
from  the  beginning  of  its  ascent;  the  aeronauts,  how- 
ever, suffered  no  injury  from  the  accident. 

In  February  1 784,  an  aerial  voyage,  made  from  Milan 
by  three  Italian  gentlemen,  in  a  balloon  C8  feet  in  di- 
ameter, was  attended  with  a  degree  of  success  which 
contributed  to  inspire  still  greater  confidence  in  this  sin- 
gular mode  of  conveyance. 

Such  were  the  lending  experiments  made  with  bal- 
loons filled  with  rarefied  air ;  but  the  science  was  des- 
tined to  undergo  still  greater  improvements. 

An  aeriform  fluid,  now  denominated  hydrogen  gas, 
had  been  long  known;  but  till  the  year  1706  its  pro- 
perties had  not  been  ascertained.  Mr.  Henry  Cavendish 
then  instituted  a  series  of  experiments  for  that  purpose, 
and  found,  among  other  properties,  that  it  was  oidy 
one-seventh  of  the  weight  of  common  atmospherical  air. 
It  immediately  occurred  to  )ihilosophers,  that  if  a  quan- 
tity of  hydrogen  gas  could  be  confined  within  any  light 
substance,  that  substance  would  rise  in  the  atmosphere. 
Dr.  Black,  about  1 767  or  1 768,  suggested,  that  the  allan- 
tois  of  a  calf  filled  with  this  gaseous  substance,  would 
rise  from  the  earth;  but  it  was  not  till  the  year  1782, 
that  hydrogen  gas  was  actually  employed  to  support 
bodies  floating  in  the  atmosphere.  Mr.  Tiberius  Cavallo 
raised  soap  bubbles  in  the  air,  by  filling  them  with  this 
gas ;  but  he  failed  in  his  application  of  the  gas  to  every 
other  substance. 

Since  balloons  filled  with  rarefied  air  had  ascended, 
it  was  evident  that  the  substitution  of  hydrogen  gas, 
whose  specific  gravity  was  much  less,  would  ensure 


*  About  the  termination  of  the  year  1 783,  the  late  in- 
genious Dr.  Rittenhouse,  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Hop- 
kinson,  instituted  a  number  of  exjieriments  with  bal- 
loonsat  Philadelphia,  in  America.  They  connected  to- 
gether several  of  them,  of  a  small  size,  and  thus  enabled 
amanto  ascend  tothe  height  of  about  100  feet.  Through 
timidity,  however,  he  would  not  allow  of  a  higher  eleva- 
tion.    HosACK  and  Francib. 


still  greater  success.  Two  brothers,  accordingly,  Messr?. 
Roberts,  and  Mr.  Charles,  professor  of  experimental  phi- 
losophy, constructed  a  balloon  at  Paris,  of  a  shperical 
form,  and  13  feet  in  diameter.  It  was  made  of  silk; 
and  in  order  to  render  it  impermeable  to  the  inflamma- 
ble air,  which  they  procured  from  sulphuric  acid  and 
iron  filings,  they  varnished  it  with  a  solution  of  elastic 
gum.  After  experiencing  much  difficulty  in  filling  it, 
they  found  its  ascensive  power  to  be  35  pounds.  On 
the  27th  August,  1783,  it  was  tried,  and  ascended  up- 
wards of  3000  feet,  in  the  short  space  of  two  minutes. 
After  traversing  a  space  of  15  miles,  it  was  brought  to 
the  ground  by  a  rupture,  which  was  probably  effected 
in  the  higher  regions  of  the  air,  by  the  expansion  of 
the  gas.  In  November,  1 783,  a  balloon,  10  feet  diame- 
ter, constructed  by  count  Zambeccari,  ascended  from 
London,  and  after  two  hours  and  a  half,  came  down  at 
the  distance  of  48  miles  from  the  place  of  ascent. 

Animated  by  these  successful  results,  J^Ir.  Charles 
and  the  two  Messrs.  Roberts  resolved  upon  attempting 
an  aerial  voyage,  in  a  balloon  filled  with  inflammable  air. 
One  was  accordingly  prepared  by  the  Messrs.  Roberts, of 
varnished  silk,  of  a  spherical  form,  27  feet  in  diame- 
ter, which  had  a  car  suspended  to  it,  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  two  adventurers.  To  prevent  any  danger  from 
the  expansion  of  the  air,  the  balloon  was  furnished  with 
a  valve,  formed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  permit  the  free 
discharge  of  gas  when  occasion  required.  On  the  1 7th 
December,  1783,  Mr.  Charles,  and  one  of  the  Roberts, 
having  previously  ascertained  the  direction  of  the  wind, 
by  launching  a  small  balloon,  ascended  from  Paris  to 
the  height  of  600  feet,  and  after  a  voyage  of  an  hour 
and  three  quarters,  descended  at  a  distance  of  27  miles 
from  the  place  of  their  departure.  The  balloon  being 
then  rendered  130  pounds  lighter  by  Mr.  Roberts  leaving 
his  station,  Mr.  Charles  set  out  alone  in  the  car,  and  in 
20  minutes  found  himself  elevated  9000  feet  above  the 
surface  of  the  earth.  At  this  immense  height,  all  ter- 
restrial objects  had  totally  disappeared  from  his  view. 
The  thermometer  stood  at  47o  when  he  left  the  earth; 
but  in  the  space  of  ten  minutes  it  fell  to  21o.  The  effects 
which  so  rapid  a  change  of  situation  produced  upon  his 
body,  were  violent  in  the  extreme.  He  was  benumbed 
with  cold,  and  felt  a  severe  pain  in  his  right  ear  and 
jaw.  The  balloon  passed  through  different  currents  of 
air;  and  in  the  higher  regions,  the  expansion  of  the 
gas  was  so  powerful,  that  Mr.  Charles  was  obliged  to 
allow  part  of  it  to  escape,  in  order  to  prevent  the  burst- 
ing of  the  balloon.  After  having  risen  to  the  height  of 
10,500  feet,  he  came  down  about  a  league  from  the 
place  of  ascent.  The  balloon,  including  the  two  aero- 
nauts, thermometer,  barometer,  and  ballast,  weighed 
640  pounds;  and  the  inflammable  gas  was  found,  on 
calculation,  to  be  about  5^  times  lighter  than  common 
air. 

M.  Jean  Pierre  Blanchard,  an  ingenious  French  gen- 
tleman, who  had  been  projecting  some  mechanical  con- 
trivances for  flying,  constructed  a  balloon,  27  feet  in 
diameter,  and  being  accompanied  by  a  Benedictine  friar, 
he  ascended  from  Paris  on  the  2d  March,  1 784.  After 
rising  15  feet,  the  balloon  was  precipitated  upon  the 
ground  with  a  violent  shock,  and  the  friar,  apprehen- 
sive of  his  safety,  was  induced  to  abandon  his  seal. 
Mr.  Blanchard  then  ascended  alone  to  the  height  of  9600 
feet.  He  met  with  different  currents  of  air.  He  felt 
extreme  cold,  and  being  oppressed  with  drowsiness,  he 
descended  after  a  voyage  of  an  hour  and  a  quarter.    In 


AERONAUTICS. 


161 


«rcler  <o  direct  his  conr«e,  he  employed  on  this  occa- 
sion ail  apparatus,  consisting  of  a  rudder  and  two  wings, 
Tvhich  were  attached  to  tlie  car,  but  found  that  it  exert- 
ed little  or  no  influence  over  the  balloon,  either  in  this 
or  subsequent  voyages. 

In  April,  1784,  Messrs.  Morveau  and  Bertrand  adopt- 
ed a  similiar  expedient,  wliich  they  found  to  operate  very 
sensibly  on  the  direction  of  their  balloon.  They  rose 
about  13,000  feet  high,  where  they  enjoyed  one  of  the 
most  sublime  and  magnificent  prospects  that  the  ima- 
gination could  conceive.  The  mass  of  clouds  that  float- 
ed in  silent  disorder  through  the  regions  below,  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  a  serene  and  boundless  ocean, 
while  a  beautiful  parhelion  of  concentric  circles,  that 
began  to  form  as  the  sun  was  going  down,  heightened 
the  grandeur  of  the  scene.  In  the  month  of  June  fol- 
lowing, M.deMorveau  undertook anothervoyage, which, 
as  well  as  the  former,  commenced  at  Dijon.  His  bal- 
loon was  25  feet  in  diameter,  and  made  of  varnished 
tafleta. 

A  similar  device  for  regtdating  the  course  of  the  bal- 
loon was  resorted  to  by  the  Messrs.  Roberts,  who  bad 
before  ascended  together.  Their  former  balloon  was 
converted  into  an  oblong  spheroid,  46  feet  by  27,  the 
longer  axis  being  parallel  to  the  horizon;  and  the  car, 
which  was  1 7  feet  long,  had  five  wings  or  oars  disposed 
around  it,  for  the  purpose  of  steering.  The  Messrs. 
Roberts,  and  M.  Collin  Hullin,  upon  entering  the  car, 
threw  out  24  pounds  of  ballast,  which  protluced  a  gen- 
tle ascent.  The  current  of  air  between  the  altitudes  of 
600  and  4200  feet,  was  uniform.  On  arriving  at  the 
height  of  14,000  feet,  they  encountered  some  stormy 
clouds,  which  they  endeavoured  to  avoid,  by  alternately 
ascending  and  descending.  In  three  hours  from  their 
ascent,  they  heard  two  peals  of  thunder,  when  the  ther- 
mometer fell  from  T?"  to .590.  Finding  themselves  soon 
afterwards  becalmed,  they  had  recourse  to  their  oars, 
by  the  exertion  of  which,  their  balloon,  in  35  minutes, 
described  an  elliptical  segment,  whose  shortest  diame- 
ter was  6000  feet-  After  travelling  150  miles,  in  the 
space  of  six  hours  and  a  half,  they  descended  in  safety. 

The  Messrs.  Roberts,  accompanied  by  the  late  duke 
of  Orleans,  and  a  fourth  person,  ascended  in  July,  1 784, 
in  a  balloon  different  in  its  structure  from  any  that  had 
hitherto  been  tried.  On  all  former  occasions,  aeronauts 
had  found  the  method  of  effecting  a  descent  by  a  dis- 
charge of  gas,  attended  with  inconvenience;  and  to 
obviate  this  difliculty,  the  Messrs.  Roberts  had  suspend- 
ed a  small  balloon  within  the  large  one.  The  interior 
balloon  was  to  be  filled  with  common  air,  by  means  of 
bellows  attached  to  it,  whenever  Ihey  wished  to  descend; 
it  being  justly  supposed,  that  the  addition  of  common 
air  would  increase  the  weight,  as  its  diminution  would, 
on  the  other  hand,  lighten  the  balloon.  This  expedient, 
however,  though  promising  in  theory,  did  not  answer  in 
practice.  In  the  space  of  three  minutes,  they  rose  to  a 
height  where  not  an  object  was  to  be  seen  but  the 
clouds  that  surrounded  them.  The  balloon,  no  longer 
obeying  their  management,  was  tossed,  with  the  most 
▼iolent  agitation,  as  if  from  one  whirlwind  to  another. 
The  cords,  by  which  the  interior  balloon  was  suspended, 
being  cut,  it  fell  down  in  such  a  position  as  com|)letely 
to  close  up  the  aperture  which  communicated  between 
the  large  balloon  and  the  car.  A  sudden  gust  of  wind 
next  drove  them  beyond  the  region  of  the  storm;  but 
the  expansion  of  the  inflammable  air  increasing,  they 
dreaded  the  bursting  of  the  bailpon ;  and  being  unable 

Vol.  I.     Part  I. 


to  remove  the  small  one,  which  obstructed  the  aperture, 
they  continued  to  ascend.  It  was  then  rent  in  two 
places;  and  notwithstanding  the  imminent  danger  to 
which  they  were  exposed,  from  the  rapidity  of  its  de- 
scent, they  all  landed  unhurt. 

Though  several  experiments  on  the  ascensive  power 
of  balloons  had  been  made  in  England,  during  the 
course  of  the  year  after  their  discovery,  the  first  aerial 
voyage,  which  was  undertaken  by  Vincent  Lunardi,  an 
Italian,  did  not  take  place  till  September,  1784.  His 
balloon  was  33  feet  in  diameter,  and  shaped  like  a  pear. 
It  was  made  of  oiled  silk,  with  alternate  stripes  of  blue 
and  red,  having  the  car  suspended  from  a  hoop  below 
the  balloon  by  45  cords. 

In  January,  1785,  an  aerial  voyage  across  the  Englisfc 
Channel,  the  most  adventurous  that  had  hitherto  been 
projected,  was  made  by  Mr.  Blanchard  and  Dr.  Jeffries. 
They  left  Dover  castle  on  the  7th  of  that  month,  atone 
o'clock.  The  balloon  for  some  time  rising  slowly  and 
majestically  in  the  air,  they  passed  over  several  ships, 
ami  enjoyed  a  grand  prospect  of  the  numerous  objects 
below  them.  They  soon,  however,  found  themselves 
beginning  to  descend,  and  were  under  the  necessity  of 
throwing  out  half  their  ballast,  when  they  were  about 
one-third  of  the  way  from  Dover.  When  half  way 
across  the  channel,  the  balloon  again  descended ;  upon 
which  they  threw  out  all  their  ballast,  and  also  some 
books,  which  they  had  carried  along  with  them.  At 
half  an  hour  after  two,  they  were  obliged  to  throw  away 
every  part  of  the  apjiaralus  that  could  possibly  be  want- 
ed ;  but  still  the  balloon  was  descending,  in  spile  of  all 
their  efforts.  The  anchors  and  cords  were  then  thrown 
out;  and,  as  the  last  expedient  in  their  power,  the 
aeronauts  stripped  themselves  of  their  own  clothes. 
This,  to  their  infinite  satisfaction,  changed  the  sinking 
tendency  of  the  balloon;  and  reaching  the  French  coast, 
they  passed  over  the  high  lands  between  cape  Blanc  and 
Calais,  and  landed  in  the  forest  of  Guiennes. 

Encouraged  by  the  successful  issue  of  this  enter- 
prise, M.  Pilatre  de  Rozier,  and  M.  Romaine,  ascended 
from  Boulogne,  in  July,  with  the  intention  of  crossing 
the  English  Channel.  To  ensure  the  power  of  ascent 
and  descent  at  pleasure,  they  availed  themselves  of  the 
combined  effect  of  two  balloons ;  one  filled  with  inflam- 
mable air,  about  37  feet  in  diameter,  and  another  with  ra- 
refie<l  air,  whose  ascensive  power  was  about  60  pounds. 
The  latter  was  suspended  below  the  other,  at  such  a  dis- 
tance as  precluded  all  apprehension  of  danger  from  the 
fire  which  was  under  it.  They  had  not,  however,  been 
long  in  the  air,  before  the  spectatore  perceived  (he  bal- 
loon swelling  very  quickly;  and  when  they  had  attain- 
ed the  height  of  nearly  three  quarters  of  a  mile,  the 
whole  apparatus  was  observed  to  be  in  flames.  This 
disaster  was  attended  with  fatal  consequences  to  the 
unfortunate  adventurers.  They  were  precipitated  from 
their  cir,  and  dashed  to  pieces  upon  the  ground.  See 
All  Excursion  from  Paris  to  Fmintainbleav.  London, 
1780. 

In  September  following,  Mr.  Baldwin  ascended  from 
Chester.  When  scarcely  a  mile  and  a  half  high,  the 
earth  appeared  to  be  seven  miles  distant ;  the  whole 
face  of  the  countrj'  seemed  a  perfect  plain,  and  the  liuild- 
ings  had  no  apparent  height.  After  passing  through 
various  currents  of  air,  he  saw  the  clouds  of  a  pure 
white  colour,  moving  in  detached  fleeces.  Aliove  these 
he  observed  a  vast  mass  of  dense  tliunder  clouds,  at 
unequal  distances,  resembling  in  colour  the  smoke  of 
X 


162 


AERONAUTICS. 


ordnance.  In  this  voyage  he  remarked,  as  had  been 
done  before,  that  the  progress  of  the  balloon  was  much 
affected  in  passing  over  water.  At  the  greatest  altitude, 
his  respiration  was  free,  and  he  felt  no  perceptible  in- 
crease of  cold. 

In  June,  1786,  M.  Testu  ascended  from  Paris  with  a 
balloon,  28  feet  in  diameter,  on  the  motion  of  which  he 
was  able  to  pro<luce  a  very  sensible  effect  by  the  manoeu- 
vring of  wings.  It  was  filled  only  f  with  gas;  but,  at 
2900  feet  high,  became  quite  full  by  the  expansion 
which  it  underwent  in  the  rarer  atmosphere.  Dreading 
the  bursting  of  the  balloon,  should  he  continue  to  as- 
cend higher,  he  applied  himself  vigorously  to  the  ma- 
nojiivring  of  the  wings ;  and  after  much  difficulty,  and 
severe  labour,  descended,  in  the  plain  of  Montmorency, 
to  take  in  ballast.  Here  he  procured  some  stones,  with- 
out leaving  the  car.  A  crowd  of  people,  impelled  by 
curiosity  to  see  him,  forced  their  way  through  a  field  of 
corn,  which  was  so  considerably  damaged,  that  the  pro- 
prietor seized  on  theaeronautforindemnificatiou.  Twen- 
ty persons  held  a  cord  which  was  fixed  to  the  car,  and 
conveyed  it  along,  the  balloon  floating  about  six  yards 
from  the  ground.  But  when  they  were  triumphantly 
entering  the  village  with  their  prisoner,  he  suddenly  cut 
the  conl  by  which  the  car  was  restrained,  and  made  his 
escape  into  the  air,  to  the  utter  amazement  of  his  cap- 
tors. After  descending  a  second  time,  he  rose  again, 
and  passed  through  clouds  which  emitted  vivid  flashes 
of  lightning,  accompanied  by  loud  peals  of  thunder.  The 
Bun  was  then  setting ;  and  shortly  afterwards  he  encoun- 
tered a  storm.  His  balloon  was  tossed  about  among 
clouds,  some  of  them  snowy,  and  others  charged  with 
rain.  An  iron  point,  fixed  to  his  car,  emitted  a  stream 
of  light  from  the  positive  electricity  of  the  atmosphere  ; 
and,  when  negative,  it  exhibited  a  luminous  spot.  His 
flag,  bearing  the  arms  of  France  in  gold,  sparkled  with 
fire  during  the  darkness  of  night,  while  the  thunder 
rolled,  and  the  lightning  flashed  around  him.  The  storm 
lasted  for  three  hours ;  and  during  all  that  time  the  aero- 
naut durst  not  allow  any  of  the  gas  to  escape,  lest  its 
communication  with  the  electric  matter  should  have  pro- 
duced an  explosion  of  the  balloon.  The  tempest  at 
length  abated,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  perfect  calm. 
From  a  sublime  elevation  he  beheld  the  sun  rising;  and 
after  being  twelve  hours  in  the  air,  descended  near  the 
village  of  Campremi,  25  leagues  from  Puns.  His  clothes 
and  balloon  were  impregnated  with  a  strong  sulphureous 
smell :  and  his  flag  had  been  rent  by  the  lightning. 

In  June,  1 794,  during  the  late  war,  M.  Coutel  ascend- 
ed in  the  Entreprcnant  balloon,  to  reconnoitre  the  hos- 
tile armies  at  the  battle  of  Fleurus,  accom|)anied  by  a 
general  and  an  adjutant.  They  rose  twice  to  the  height 
of  440  yards,  and  remained  four  hours  in  the  air ;  and  it 
is  said,  that  the  signals  which  they  communicated  to 
General  Jourdan  decided  the  fiite  of  the  engagement. 
The  enemy  fired  at  the  aeronauts,  and  one  ball  passed 
go  near,  that  they  thought  at  first  it  had  struck  tiie  car. 

In  June,  1802,  M.  Garnerin,  together  with  ca[)tain 
Sowden,  ascended  from  Ranelagh  Gardens  during  a 
etorm  of  wind.  They  soon  rose  above  the  clouds,  and 
lost  sight  of  the  earth.  In  their  descent,  they  had  to 
pass  through  thick  black  clouds,  where  the  balloon  suf- 
fered violent  agitations ;  and  in  three  quarters  of  an  hour 
from  their  departure,  they  landed  sixty  miles  from  Ra- 
nelagh, though  not  without  sustaining  much  injury  from 
sudden  (jusls  of  wind. 

On  the  4th  July,  M.  Garnerin,  attended  by  Mr,  Lock- 


er, ascended  again  during  a  heavy  gale.  On  this  oc- 
casion he  reachtd  a  height  of  7800  feet  in  fifteen  mi- 
nutes; the  balloon  came  down  nine  miles  distant  from 
the  place  of  ascent,  and  struck  the  ground  with  such 
violence  as  to  rebound  150  or  200  feet  into  the  air. 

A  discovery  which  enabled  men  to  visit  regions  of  the 
creation,  which  Nature  had  appropriated  to  another  part 
of  the  animal  system,  and  to  overcome  difficulties  which 
had  hitherto  defied  the  most  daring  speculations  of  phi- 
losophical enterprise,  excited  sensations  of  the  deepest 
wonder  and  interest  over  all  Europe,  and  called  forth  a 
degree  of  activity  and  zeal  in  the  improvement  of  aero- 
nautic machines,  which  had  seldomi  been  devoted  to 
the  other  sciences.  The  limits  of  our  work,  however, 
will  not  allow  us  to  describe  all  the  aerial  voyages  that 
have  been  undertaken,  and  the  various  peculiarities  by 
which  they  were  characterized;  but  we  shall  indulge 
our  readers  with  an  account  of  the  most  remarkable. 

The  fatal  accidents  to  which  the  aeronaut  might  some- 
times be  exposed,  induced  philosophers  to  devise  ex])e- 
dients  for  diminishing  the  danger.  So  early  as  the  year 
1783,  M.  le  Normand  made  the  experiment  of  leaping 
from  the  height  of  a  first  story  with  a  parachute,  30  in- 
ches in  diameter,  in  his  hand ;  and  so  much  did  it  break 
the  force  of  the  fall,  that  he  was  hardly  sensible  of  any 
shock  upon  reaching  the  ground.  He  thence  calculated, 
that  a  parachute,  14  feet  in  diameter,  attached  to  a  man, 
might  protect  him  against  all  possible  injury,  though  fall- 
ing from  the  regions  of  the  clouds.  During  M.  Blanch- 
ard's  ascent  from  Strasburg,  26th  August,  1787,  he 
dropped  a  dog,  connected  with  a  parachute,  from  the 
height  of  6000  feet.  A  whirlwind,  however,  interrupted 
its  descent,  and  bore  it  above  the  clouds.  M.  Blanrhard 
afterwards  met  the  parachute,  when  the  dog,  recogniz- 
ing his  master,  began  to  bark ;  and  just  as  M.  Blanch- 
ard  was  going  to  seize  it,  another  whirlwind  suddenly- 
carried  it  beyond  his  reach.  Having  passed  vertically 
over  Zell,  he  terminated  his  voyage; — the  parachute, 
still  waving  in  the  air,  came  down  twelve  minutes  after- 
wards. He  also  sent  up  several  small  balloons,  contain- 
ing parachutes,  to  which  dogs  were  attached ;  and  con- 
structed them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  burst  on  arriving  at 
a  very  great  height.  When  the  balloons  were  burst,  the 
parachutes  were  necessarily  set  at  liberty,  and  conveyed 
the  animals  in  perfect  security  to  the  ground.  In  a  dar- 
ing experiment,  however,  which  he  had  the  courage  to 
make  on  himself,  he  was  less  successful ;  for  on  hazc.rd- 
ing  a  descent  by  a  parachute  at  Basle,  he  unfortunately 
broke  his  leg. 

Notwithstanding  the  discouraging  termination  of  M. 
Blanchard's  attempt.  M.  Garnerin,  by  the  success  which 
followed  his  experiments  with  the  parachute,  gave  phi- 
losophers absolute  confidence  in  its  efhci.cy.  The  sixth 
occasion  on  which  he  trieti  it,  was  in  his  ascent  from 
Paris  on  the  21st  October,  1797.  Between  the  car  and 
the  balloon  was  placed  the  panchute,  half  expanded, 
and  forming  a  kind  of  tent  ur  canopy  over  his  head.  The 
weather  was  favourable,  and  the  balloon  made  a  rapid 
ascent.  When  nearly  2000  feel  high,  as  M.  Garnerin 
conjectured,  he  separated  the  parachute  from  the  bal- 
loon, while  he  himself  was  attiichecl  to  the  parachute. 
Its  descent,  as  it  gradually  unfolded,  was  slow  and  ver- 
tical ;  it  al'(er»vards  began  to  oscillate,  and  cicquire  a  ro- 
tatory motion,  and  soon  conducted  the  aeronaut  in  safety 
to  the  ground.  I  n  September,  1 802,  he  repeated  the  same 
experime'it  it  London.  M.  Garnerin,  as  had  been  pre- 
viously announced,  ascended  at  six  o'clock  of  a  clear  ge- 


AERONAUTICS. 


163 


rene  afternoon.  In  eight  minutes  lie  rose  8000  feet, 
when  he  cut  ;iway  the  parachute  from  the  balloon,  and 
descended  along  with  it.  During  the  first  thirty  seconds 
of  descent,  it  proceeded  with  astonishing  rapidity ;  but, 
undergoing  a  sudden  expansion,  it  assumed  a  more  gen- 
tle and  equable  motion.  Boon,  however,  it  began  to 
oscillnte,  like  a  pendulum,  with  such  a  degree  of  vio- 
lence, as  to  render  the  aeronaut  apprehensive  for  his 
own  safety.  His  fears  were  noon  dissijiiited,  by  its  be- 
ginning to  move  more  calmly ;  and  he  c;ime  to  the 
ground  without  any  hurt.  At  the  moment  of  separat- 
ing the  parachute,  the  balloon  took  an  ascending  direc- 
tion; and  was  found  next  day  12  miles  distant  from  the 
place  of  departure. 

In  July,  1803,  M.  Garnerin  made  his  thirty-third  aerial 
excursion  from  Petersburgh,  accompanied  by  Madame 
Garnerin,  and  his  thirty-fifth  from  Moscow.  During 
the  latter,  a  huntsman,  who  spied  him  hovering  over  a 
wood,  fired  at  him,  which  induced  him  to  descend. 

Oil  the  7th  of  October,  count  Zambeccari,  Dr.  Gras- 
«etti,  and  signor  Pascal  Andreoli,  ascended  from  Bologna. 
As  the  filling  of  the  balloon  could  not  be  com()leted  be- 
fore midnight,  the  count  was  desirous  of  postponing  the 
attempt  till  the  following  day ;  but  his  inclinations  were 
obliged  to  yield  to  the  clamour  of  the  iiopulace,  who 
would  not  permit  any  delay.  The  ballo«n  mounted  with 
great  velocity;  and  in  a  short  time  reached  an  elevation 
where  the  count  and  Dr.  Grassetti  were  benumbed  by 
the  intense  cold,  and  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  About  half 
past  two,  they  began  to  descend ;  and  signor  Andreoli, 
who  still  preserved  his  senses,  observing  the  waves  of 
the  Adriatic  dashing  against  the  coast  of  Romagna, 
awakened  his  companions ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
balloon  was  precipitated  into  the  sea.  The  aeronauts,  in 
the  utmost  consternation,  threw  out  their  ballast,  and 
every  thing  else  that  could  be  disposed  of;  on  which  it 
immediately  re-ascended,  and  passed  through  clouds 
where  their  clothes  were  covered  with  hoar  frost.  At 
three  o'clock  it  began  to  descend  again,  and  a  violent 
squall  drove  it  across  the  Adriatic  towards  the  coast  of 
Istria.  The  car  several  times  touched  the  waves;  and, 
during  four  or  five  hours,  the  aeronauts  were  on  the 
surface  of  the  sea,  without  any  hope  of  being  rescued 
from  the  terrors  of  their  perilous  situation.  But  at  eight 
in  the  morning,  at  the  distance  of  twenty  Italian  miles 
from  the  harbour  of  Veruda,  in  Istria,  they  were  acci- 
dentally delivered,  by  a  vessel,  from  the  fate  that  threat- 
ened them. 

Soon  after  this  period,  several  aerial  voyages  were 
undertaken  for  purposes  of  scientific  observation ;  among 
which  the  ascent  of  professors  Robertson  and  Saeharoff 
from  Petersburgh,  on  the  30th  June,  merits  particular 
notice.  Their  balloon  was  30  feet  in  diameter,  and  con- 
tained 9000  cubic  feet  of  hydrogen  gas.  The  whole 
apparatus,  including  ballast,  instruments,  and  the  aero- 
nauts themselves,  weighed  about  725  pounds.  A  small 
balloon  previously  launched,  was  first  driven  from  the 
eoast,  but  on  rising  higher  took  its  course  towards  the 
Eea.  Nevertheless,  the  aeronauts  embarked  a  little  past 
seven,  P.  M.  and  the  balloon  ascended  slowly.  On  pass- 
ing the  Neva  it  sunk ;  but  by  discharging  part  of  their 
ballast,  it  again  resumed  its  flight.  A  telescope  had 
been  fitte<l  in  the  bottom  of  the  car,  to  view  distinctly 
the  objects  over  which  they  passed ;  and  they  emploj'- 
ed  a  very  light  log,  consisting  of  two  sheets  of  paper 
susjiended  by  a  thread,  to  ascertain  the  rise  andfall  of  the 
balloon,  of  which  they  found  it  a  more  sensible  index 


than  the  barometer.  In  the  course  of  the  voyage,  the 
balloon  turned  round  several  times  slowly ;  and  during 
a  perfect  calm,  which  prevailed  for  some  time,  its  mo- 
tion was  imperceptible.  The  aeronauts  filled  empty 
vessels  with  air  at  different  heights  in  the  atmosphere. 
At  one  time,  they  proposed  to  continue  their  voyage  all 
night;  but,  from  their  ignorance  of  their  actual  situation 
in  the  sky,  and  from  total  want  of  ballast,  they  were  in- 
duced to  descend.  They  landed  accordingly,  before 
eleven,  without  the  smallest  shock,  40  miles  from  Pe- 
tersburgh. Professor  Robertson  ascended  again  from 
Riga,  in  the  same  month,  and  in  his  descent  threw  out 
hooked  anchors  to  secure  the  balloon,  instead  of  trusting 
to  the  uncertain  assistance  of  men  at  the  place  of  de- 
scent. H«  ascended  also  from  Vienna  in  October.  We 
avoid  detailing  the  voyage  which  professor  Robertson, 
along  with  Mr.  Lhoert,  accomplished  in  1803  :  because 
the  |)lienomena,  which  are  said  to  have  attended  that 
excursion,  have  not  received  confirmation  from  succeed- 
ing observations. 

In  August,  1804,  count  Zambeccari,  accompanied  by 
sig.  Andreoli,  made  another  ascent  from  Bologna.  They 
get  out  at  ten  in  the  morning;  and  at  one  o'clock,  when 
the  aeronauts  found  themselves  above  Capo  D'Arglne, 
six  Italian  miles  from  Bologna,  the  balloon  became  in- 
visible to  the  spectators.  The  count  having  then  at- 
tempted a  descent,  his  anchor  caught  a  tree-,  when  a 
lamp  in  the  car  being  overturned,  from  the  oblique  posi- 
tion of  the  balloon,  the  spirit  of  wine  which  it  contained, 
took  fire.  The  flames  communicated  with  a  vessel  con- 
taining 30  pounds  of  the  same  spirit,  and  as  this  immedi- 
ately burst,  the  fire  attacked  the  clothes  of  the  aero- 
nauts, which  instantly  called  their  whole  attention  to 
themselves.  The  count  succeeded  in  extinguishing  the 
flames  which  threatened  him,  and  sig.  Andreoli  having 
escaped  by  sliding  down  the  anchor-rope,  the  balloon 
was  thus  lightened  about  150  pounds,  and  with  the  count 
alone  sprung  rapidly  into  the  air,  and  soon  disappeared 
among  the  clouds.  In  this  situation  of  danger  and  alarm, 
it  was  by  his  great  presence  of  mind  and  laborious  ex- 
ertions alone,  that  he  was  able  to  exlinguish  tlie  fire  in 
the  car.  He  was  now  carried  by  a  strong  current  to- 
wards the  Adriatic,  and  could  very  faintly  distinguish 
the  coast  of  Comachio.  The  balloon  was  soou  afterwards 
precipitated  into  the  sea,  25  Italian  miles  from  the 
coast.  The  car,  which  was  half-burnt,  sunk  in  the  wa- 
ter :  and  the  couut,  then  holding  fast  by  the  ropes  of  the 
balloon,  was  frequently  up  to  the  neck.  Having  fast- 
ened one  of  them  rouud  his  body,  he  remained  in  this 
comfortless  and  hopeless  condition,  when  seven  fishing 
boats  came  in  sight  at  six  in  the  evening.  The  crews  of 
four,  terrified  at  the  strange  appearance  of  the  aero- 
naut with  the  balloon  floating  over  him,  conceived  it  to 
be  some  large  sea-monster,  and  fled ;  but  the  rest  less 
influenced  by  fear,  than  by  curiosity,  ventured  to  ap- 
proach, and  rescued  the  count,  after  he  had  been  four 
hours  in  the  water.  The  fishermen,  preparing  to  take 
in  the  balloon,  inadvertently  cut  the  rojies  below,  on 
which  it  rose  suddenly  into  the  air,  and  was  carried  to- 
wards the  Turkish  coast. 

On  the  27th  August,  1804,  Messrs.  Gay  Lussac,  and 
Biot,  ascended  at  Paris,  from  the  garden  of  the  Conser- 
vatoire des  Arts,  carrying  along  with  them  a  variety  of 
apparatus  for  the  purpose  of  observation.  The  clouds 
through  which  they  passed  resembled  light  fogs,  and 
excited  a  slight  sensation  of  humidity.  A  fter  surmount- 
ing them,  they  appeared  bluish,  the  same  as  whea 
X  2 


164 


AERONAUTICS. 


viewed  from  the  earth.  As  they  rose  higher,  the  hy- 
grometer indicated  increasing  dryness,  and  the  balloon 
assumed  a  slow  rotatory  motion,  but  not  always  in  the 
«anie  direction.  They  ascended  upwartls  of  13,000  feet, 
and  came  down  15  leagues  from  Paris. 

On  the  sixth  of  September,  about  ten  in  the  morning, 
M.  Gay  Lussac  set  out  on  a  voyage  by  himself  from  the 
same  place.  The  atmosphere  below  was  full  of  vapour, 
but  without  clouds,  and  when  the  balloon  was  above 
1900  feet  high,  he  perceived  a  light  vajwur  floating 
through  the  lower  regions,  which  allowed  him  an  indis- 
tinct view  of  distant  oltjects.  At  eleven  minutes  past 
three,  M.  Gay  Lussac  found  himself  22,905  feet  above 
Paris,  and  was  astonished  to  see  the  clouds  still  above 
him.  In  his  former  ascent  none  of  the  clouds  were 
higher  than  5100  feet,  and  the  sky  was  as  deeply  co- 
loured as  Prussian  blue  ;  but  in  this  instance  there  were 
no  clouds  below  him,  and  the  sky  was  dull  and  full  of 
vapours.  ^  He  now  reached  the  immense  height  of 
23,100  f^et  above  the  earth.  In  thirty-four  minutes 
after  the  {teiiod  of  ascending,  he  landed  without  injury 
six  leagues  north-west  of  Rouen. 

On  the  7th  April,  1806,  M.  Mosment,  an  experienced 
aeronaut,  undertook  an  aerial  voyage  from  Lisle.  He 
ascended  at  noon,  waving  a  flag  decorated  with  the  im- 
perial eagle  of  France,  amid  the  shouts  of  the  assembled 
spectators.  The  commencement  of  his  career  was  so 
rapid  as  to  bear  him  in  a  very  short  time  beyond  the 
vision  of  the  crowd.  During  his  ascent,  he  dropped  an 
animal  attached  to  a  parachute,  which  came  safely  to  the 
ground.  About  one  o'clock,  something  was  observed 
slowly  descentling  through  the  atmosphere,  which  prov- 
ed on  its  fall  to  be  the  flag  which  M.  3Iosment  had 
carried  along  with  him.  Very  soon  afterwards,  a  nmr- 
mur  circulated  through  the  crowd,  and  the  body  of  the 
unfortunate  aeronaut  was  discovered  in  one  of  the  fosses 
of  thecity  lifeless,  and  covered  with  blood.  The  balloon 
reached  the  ground  on  the  same  day,  at  the  distance  of 
25  leagues  from  Lisle ;  the  car  containing  nothing  ex- 
cept an  unloaded  pistol,  a  little  bread,  and  a  piece  of 
flesh.  M.  Garnerin  ascribes  this  melancholy  disaster  to 
the  extreme  shallowness  of  the  car,  and  the  too  great 
distance  between  the  cords  which  attached  it  to  the  bal- 
loon ;  and  is  of  opinion,  that  M.  Mosment,  wlien  leaning 
over  the  car  to  drop  the  animal,  had  lost  his  balance, 
and  was  precipitated  to  the  earth. 

Of  all  the  voyages  which  the  history  of  aeronautics 
presents  to  our  notice,  the  nocturnal  aerial  excursions 
of  M.  Garnerin  must  be  ranked  among  the  most  en- 
terjtrising  and  adventurous.  At  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
evening  of  the  4th  August,  1807,  he  ascended  from  Ti- 
•voli,  at  Paris,  under  the  Russian  fl;ig,  as  a  token  of  the 
peace  that  subsisted  between  France  and  Russia.  Hia 
balloon  was  illuminated  by  twenty  lamps ;  ami  to  obvi- 
ate all  danger  of  communication  between  these  and  the 
hydrogen  gas,  which  it  might  be  necessary  to  discharge 
in  the  course  of  the  voyage,  the  nearest  of  the  lamps  was 
14  feet  distiint  from  the  balloon,  and  conductors  were 
provided  to  carry  the  gas  away  in  an  opposite  direction. 
After  his  ascent,  rockets,  which  had  been  let  ofT  at  Tivo- 
li,  seemed  to  him  scarcely  to  rise  above  the  earth,  and 
Paris,  Avith  all  its  lamps,  appeared  a  plain  studded  with 
luminous  spots.  In  forty  minutes,  he  found  himself  at 
an  elevation  of  13,200  feet,  when  in  consequence  of  the 
dUatation  of  the  balloon,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of 
'^Bschargtng  part  of  the  inflanmiabic  air.  About  twelve 
o'clock,  when  3t>00  feet  from  the  earth,  he  beard  the 


barking  of  dogs ;  about  two,  he  saw  several  meteors  fly- 
ing around  him,  but  none  of  them  so  near  as  to  create 
apprehension.  At  half  past  three,  he  beheld  the  sua 
emerging  in  brilliant  majesty,  above  an  ocean  of  clouds, 
and  the  air  being  thereby  expamled,  the  balloon  soon 
rose  15,000  feet  above  the  earth,  where  he  felt  the  cold 
exceedingly  intense.  In  seven  hours  and  a  half  from  his 
departure,  M.  Garnerin  descemled  near  Loges,  45 
leagues  distant  from  Paris. 

The  same  intrepid  aeronaut  undertook  a  secoml  noc- 
turnal voyage,  on  the  21st  September,  1807,  in  the 
course  of  wliich  he  was  exposed  to  the  most  inmiinent 
danger.  M.  Garnerin  prognosticating  an  approaching 
storm,  from  the  state  of  the  almos|)here,  refused  to  be 
accompanied  by  M.  de  Chassenton,  who  earnestly  re- 
quested it.  He  ascended  therefore  alone  from  Tivoli, 
at  ten  o'clock,  and  was  carried  up  with  unexampled  ra- 
pidity to  an  immense  height  above  the  clouds.  The 
balloon  was  there  dilated  to  an  alarming  degree,  and 
M.  Garnerin,  having  been  prevented  by  the  turbulence 
of  the  mob,  before  his  ascent,  from  regulating  those 
parts  of  the  apparatus  which  were  meant  to  conduct  the 
gas  away  from  the  lamps  on  its  escape,  was  totally  inca- 
pable of  managing  the  balloon.  He  had  no  alternative 
left,  therefore,  but  with  one  hand  to  make  an  opening, 
two  feet  in  diameter,  through  which  the  inflammable  air 
was  discharged  in  great  quantities ;  and,  with  the  other, 
to  extinguish  as  many  of  the  lamps  as  he  could  possibly 
reach.  The  aeronaut  was  now  without  a  regulating 
valve ;  and  the  balloon,  subject  to  every  caprice  of  the 
whirlwind,  was  tossed  about  from  current  to  current. 
When  the  storm  impelled  him  downwartk,  he  was  forc- 
ed to  throw  out  his  ballast,  to  restore  the  ascending 
tendency ;  and  at  last,  every  resource  being  exhausted^ 
no  ex|)€dient  was  left  him  to  provide  against  future  exi- 
gencies. In  this  forlorn  condition,  the  Ixtlloon  rose 
through  thick  clouds,  and  afterwards  sunk  ;  and  the  car, 
having  struck  against  the  ground,  with  a  violent  im- 
pulse, rebounded  from  it  to  a  considerable  altitude.  The 
fury  of  the  storm  dashed  him  against  the  mountains  f 
and,  after  many  rude  agitations  and  severe  shocks,  he 
was  reduced  to  a  state  of  temporary  insensibility.  On 
recovering  from  his  perilous  situation,  he  reached  Mont 
Tonnerre  in  a  storm  of  thunder.  A  very  short  time 
after  his  anchor  hooked  in  a  tree ;  and,  in  seven  hours 
and  a  half,  after  a  voyage  which  had  nearly  proved  fatal 
to  him,  he  landed  at  the  distance  of  300  miles  from  Paris. 

Although  these  aerial  voyages,  which  we  have  thus 
briefly  narrated,  are  the  most  conspicuous  in  the  histo- 
ry of  the  science,  yet  many  others  have  been  under- 
taken,  both  in  Britain  and  on  the  continent,  which  the 
ingenuity,  and  the  enterprising  spirit  of  the  adventurers, 
the  circumstances  of  unforeseen  intricacy  and  danger 
they  had  to  encounter;  and,  above  all,  the  scenes  of  tem- 
)iestuous  grandeur  through  which  they  passed,  must  ren- 
der subjects  of  lively  interest  to  the  curious  :  and  wc 
regret  that,  solicitous  as  we  are  to  gratify  the  taste  of 
such  a  class  of  readers,  our  limits  prevent  us  from  de- 
tailing the  more  unimportant  aod  less  remarkable 
voyages  that  have  taken  place. 

Use  of  Balloons. 

The  advantages  hitherto  derived  from  aerial  naviga- 
tion have  by  no  means  proved  adecjuate  to  the  expecta- 
tions excited  by  the  novelty  and  promising  aspect  of  the 
science.  This  failure  in  their  utility  may,  in  a  great 
degree,  be  ascdbed  to  the  art  of  steering  balloons  being 


AERONAUTICS. 


160 


ItiU  undiscovered :  It  must  slsobe  Temembered,  that  by 
far  the  greiitest  number  of  aerial  voyages  which  have 
been  attempted,  were  undertaken  purely  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  curiosity ;  and  that  comparatively  few  of  them 
have  been  conducte<l  with  the  precaution  of  philosophi- 
cal inquiry,  or  for  the  purpose  of  scientific  discovery. 
In  choosing  the  figures  of  the  balloons,  likewise,  the 
admiration  of  the  multitude  seems  more  frequently  to 
have  been  consulted  than  the  fair  and  equable  movement 
of  the  machine,  or  the  safety  of  the  aeronaut.  A  bal- 
loon, constructed  in  imitation  of  the  human  figure, 
clothed  in  a  fliune-coloured  robej  or  of  a  Pegasus 
transporting  through  the  clouds  a  richly-accoutred  war- 
rior, could  not  fail  to  fascinate  the  senses  of  a  crowd. 
The  French,  indeed,  who  are  ever  ready  to  apply  the 
discoveries  of  science  to  objects  of  practical  utility, 
during  the  first  war  after  the  overthrow  of  the  monarchy, 
instituted  an  academy  for  the  express  piir|)ose  of  im- 
proving the  state  of  aeronautics.  This  institution  was 
established  at  the  Royal  Lodge  of  Mendon,  near  Paris, 
and  was  conducted  with  the  utmost  secrecy.  There 
was  a  corjis  of  aeronauts,  consisting  of  fifty  youths, 
trained  to  the  service ;  and  a  spherical  balloon,  32  feet 
in  diameter,  was  kept  constantly  prepared  for  exercis- 
ing, and  fastened  to  the  great  terrace  of  the  lodge,  in 
the  open  air.  In  favourable  weather  it  was  loosened : 
and  with  the  car,  which  contained  the  colonel  of  the 
corps  and  a  pu|)il,  attached  to  it,  it  was  allowed  to  as- 
cend from  160  to  240  yards;  but  it  was  still  restrained 
by  a  cord  fastened  from  below.  A  balloon, recently  fille.'l, 
required  twenty  people  to  hold  it ;  and,  even  after  the 
lapse  of  two  months,  notwithstanding  the  loss  of  gas 
that  had  taken  place,  it  could  su|)port  two  persons  and 
ballast  in  the  air.  Balloons  were  here  prepared  for  the 
service  of  the  different  armies;  the  EiUrcpicnant  for 
the  army  of  the  North,  the  Celeste  for  that  of  llie  Sam- 
bre  and  Meuse,  and  the  Hcrcule  and  hUrepidc  for  the 
army  of  the  Rhine  and  Moselle.  The  management  of 
the  institution  was  committed  to  men  of  eminent  repu- 
tation;  the  celebrated  chemist,  Guyton  Morveau,  ren- 
dered it  essential  advantages ;  and  M.  Conte  was  chief 
su|)erintendent.  It  was  reported,  some  years  ago,  to 
have  been  in  a  very  flourishing  condition ;  but  it  is  now 
said  to  be  entirely  abandoned.  M.  Lomet  has  been  very 
lately  employed,  by  the  French  government,  in  making 
experiments,  to  ascertain  whether  balloons  might  not  be 
advantageously  employed  in  the  survey  of  countries, 
for  the  construction  of  geographical  plans.  The  irre- 
gular motion  of  the  balloon  in  ascending  presented 
many  obstacles  to  the  success  of  his  experiments ;  but, 
nevertheless,  M.  Lomet  conceives  that  they  might  be 
used  with  great  benefit  for  that  pur[)ose.  It  has  like- 
wise been  proposed  to  make  an  aeronautic  telegraph, 
by  which  signals  might  be  commnnicaled  through  the 
medium  of  a  machine  attached  to  the  balloon.  The 
Abbe  Bertholon  has  used  balloons  in  electrical  experi- 
ments. Those  which  he  sent  up,  had  long  slender  wires 
proc*  eding  from  them,  with  the  end  terminating  in  a 
glsss-rod,  or  other  insulating  substance ;  and  from  the 
wires  he  procured  the  electric  spark. 

The  respiration  is  always  affected  by  ascending  high 
into  the  atmos|ihere,  probably  in  consequence  of  the 
rarefaction  of  the  air ;  the  pulsation  is  increased,  the 
heiii  is  sometimes  swelled,  and  the  throat  parched.  The 
temperature,  according  to  the  most  authentic  observa- 
tions, decreases  in  pro;-.oruon  to  the  height :  whence, 
in  great  altitudes,  a  numbness  is  felt,  and  the  propen- 


sity to  sleep  so  irresistibly  strong,  as  in  seme  cases  to 
have  actually  overpowered  the  aeronauts.  The  mag- 
netic power  was  found,  by  M.  Gay  Lussac,  to  prevail 
at  the  height  of  12,372  feet,  the  sjime  as  on  the  surface 
of  the  earth.  At  the  same  time,  other  aeronauts  have 
thought  it  very  sensibly  diminished ;  though  we  are  in- 
clined to  suppose,  that  this  opinion  may  have  possibly 
arisen  from  their  inattention  to  the  disturbing  causes. 
From  an  ex|)eriment  made  by  the  chemist  already  menr 
tioned,  electricity  seemed  to  increase  in  pro|)ortion  to 
the  height;  which  he  observes,  is  agreeable  to  the 
theory  of  M.  Valta  and  Saussure.  Sacharoff ascertained, 
that  a  bell  had  the  same  intensity  of  sound  when  the 
barometer  fell  to  23  inches,  as  it  had  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth ;  and,  when  it  had  sunk  to  22  inches,  the  w  ords 
spoken  downwards  from  a  speaking-trumpet,  were  re- 
verberated to  the  ears  of  the  aeronauts,  after  a  lapse  of 
10  seconds  before  their  return.  Some  time  after  the 
invention  of  balloons,  an  experiment  was  made  to  ascer- 
tain whether  the  sound  of  thunder,  rolling  among  the 
clouds,  was  only  an  echo  travelling  from  cloud  to  cloud, 
or  a  succession  of  distinct  explosions.  A  balloon,  five 
feet  in  diameter,  was  prepared  by  Mr.  Boulton  of  Bir- 
mingham, which  was  furnished  with  inflammable  mate- 
rials to  communicate  the  fire.  When  sent  into  the  air, 
accortlingly,  an  explosion  took  place ;  but  a  shout,  at 
that  moment,  from  the  crowd  assembled  on  the  occasion, 
rendered  it  impossible  to  distinguish  any  succeeding 
explosions.  M.  Testu,  who  in  one  of  his  ascents,  con- 
tinued for  a  long  time  amidst  a  thunder  storm,  says,  that 
the  hollow  sound  was  very  loud  but  short;  that  it  was 
preceded  and  followed  by  a  hissing  or  tearing,  resem- 
bling the  noise  of  something  rending  asunder. 

The  composition  of  the  air,  at  the  height  of  21,848 
feet,  has  been  found  to  be  the  same  as  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth.  Various  currents  prevail  at  different  alti- 
tudes, and  some  of  them  in  directions  diametrically  op- 
posite to  each  other.  Storms,  too,  are  frequently  local ; 
and,  when  the  aeronaut  surmounts  the  region  of  their 
influence,  he  is  safe.  The  velocity  with  which  a  bal- 
loon is  transported  in  the  fury  of  a  tempest,  if  not  so 
well  authenticated,  would  almost  stagger  our  belief;  in- 
stances have  occurred  where  it  has  not  been  less  than 
70  or  80  miles  an  hour.  The  structure  of  the  clouds 
has,  in  appearance,  been  compared  by  some  to  a  plain 
of  snow ;  and  by  others,  to  a  sea  of  cotton.  Some,  again, 
have  compared  those  charged  with  electricity  to  the 
smoke  of  ordnance.  Clouds  consisting  of  hail  or  snow 
are  frequently  met  with,  in  such  abundance,  that  these 
substances  may  be  gathered  in  handfuls  from  the  car. 
Others  consist  of  mist  or  rain,  in  which  the  aeronaut, 
who  is  every  moment  exposed  to  a  change  of  tempera- 
ture, is  copiously  drenched.  Notwithstanding  all  the 
changes  experienced  in  an  aerial  voyage,  the  gas  con- 
tained in  the  balloon  always  preserves  a  much  higher 
degree  of  heat  than  that  of  the  surrounding  atmos|)here ; 
a  fact  that  has  not  as  yet  been  satisfactorily  accounted 
for.  Birds,  or  other  winged  animals,  when  allowed  to 
escape  at  a  great  height,  either  fall  down  with  precipi- 
tation, on  finding  the  ipiality  of  the  fluid  different  from 
what  they  have  been  accustomed  to,  or  they  descend 
obliquely  in  their  flight,  describing  long  curves  similac 
to  those  of  birds  of  prey. 

Consti-uction  of  Balloons. 

In  the  formation  of  Balloons,  three  things  are  to  be  at- 
tended to :  the  structure  of  the  balloon  containing  the 


lee 


AERONAUTICS. 


air  which  produces  ifs  asceuf ;  thit  of  the  parachute ; 
and  of  the  car  or  boat,  which  receives  the  aeronaut. 
Balloons  are  either  spherical  or  elliptical ;  the  spherical 
form,  however,  has  been  almost  universally  adopted, 
probably  because  a  sphere  admits  the  greatest  capacity 
under  the  smallest  surface.  Balloons  filled  with  rare- 
fied air,  have  usually  been  made  of  common  linen, 
soaked  in  a  solution  of  alum  to  obviate  the  risk  of  fire, 
and  varnished  to  prevent  the  esca|)e  of  the  air.  It  is  of 
advantage  to  have  them  of  a  considerable  size,  because 
a  smaller  quantity  of  fire  will  produce  a  greater  propor- 
tional rarefaction,  and  it  is  besides  attended  with  less 
danger.  It  has  been  thought  that  the  most  eligible 
figure  for  a  balloon  with  rarefied  air,  is  an  inverted  cone, 
or  a  truncated  pyramid,  as  it  would  allow  the  heated 
air,  which  has  both  a  tendency  to  ascend  and  to  expand, 
to  occupy  the  wide  part  above,  while  the  lower  part 
would  contain  the  colder  air.  Experiments,  however, 
have  proved,  that  the  ascensive  power  depends  by  no 
means  on  the  figure  of  the  balloon.  Mr.  Cavallo  recom- 
mends, that  the  o])ening  of  a  rarefied  air  balloon  above 
the  fire,  should  be  one-third  of  the  diameter  of  the  bal- 
loon itself,  if  the  size  exceeds  50  feet ;  and  that  it  should 
project  from  the  balloon  by  a  cylindrical  neck.  The 
gallery  for  the  aeronauts  is  placed  on  the  outside  of 
this  neck,  and  the  fire-place  for  rarefying  the  air  within 
it.  Above  the  edge  of  the  gallery,  holes  are  cut  for 
introducing  fuel  to  the  fire.  Small  balloons  after  this 
method,  may  be  made  of  paper,  with  a  wire  round  the 
bottom.  Two  or  three  cross  wires  are  fixed  in  the 
centre  to  support  a  cup,  containing  cotton  and  spirits  of 
wine,  the  flame  of  which  rarefies  the  air,  and  produces 
the  ascent.  We  shall  now  proceed  to  consider  the  con- 
Btructiou  of  balloons  filled  with  inflammable  air,  whose 
superior  advantages  deserve  a  more  detailed  and  atten- 
tive descrijition. 

The  substance  uniformly  used  for  the  envelope  of  in- 
flammable air,  is  silk  lustring,  which,  from  its  close 
texture,  strength,  and  lightness,  is  peculiarly  suitable  for 
the  i)urpose.  The  price,  however,  of  this  material  is  so 
extremely  high  in  Great  Britain,  as  to  render  the  con- 
struction of  a  balloon  even  of  a  middling  size  very  ex- 
pensive. Hence  a  late  judicious  writer  on  this  subject 
suggests  the  expedient  of  substituting  strong  cambric 
muslin,  rinsed  in  drying  oil,  previously  to  the  junction  of 
the  separate  pieces.  In  calculating  the  weight  and 
quantity  of  cloth  requisite  for  constructing  a  balloon  of 
a  given  diameter,  we  have  only  to  multiply  the  square  of 
the  diameter  by  3.1416,  and  the  product  will  be  an  area 
of  the  surface  of  the  sphere,  or  the  quantity  of  cloth  ne- 
cessary for  its  formation.  Thus,  if  the  balloon  be  12  feet 
diameter,  we  have  12x12x3.1410=462  square  feet 
nearly,  or  50  square  yards  for  the  quantity  of  cloth.  The 
weight  of  this  quantity  of  cloth  will  be  found  by  multi- 
plying the  number  of  square  yards  by  the  weight  of  one 
yard  of  the  cloth.  The  solid  contents  of  the  balloon 
may  be  found  by  multiplying  the  cube  of  its  diameter  by 
0.5236. 

When  the  capacity  of  the  balloon  is  determined,  it 
will  not  be  difficult  to  ascertain  its  power  of  ascent.  A 
cubic  foot  of  atmospherical  air  weighs  aliout  1 .2  oz. ; 
whence  a  quantity  of  air,  equal  in  bulk  to  the  solid  con- 
tents of  a  spherical  balloon,  35  feet  in  diameter,  weighs 
26,950  ounces,  or  about  1684  pounds.  Suppose  the  in- 
flammable gas  in  the  balloon  is  six  times  lighter  than 
common  air,  then  the  weight  of  it  is  280  pounds,  which 
occupy  the  same  space  as  the  atmospheric  air  displaced ; 


to  this  add  428  pounds,  the  weight  of  the  bagorenrelope. 
and  the  whole  makes  708  pounds :  deducting  (his  num- 
ber from  1684,  the  weight  of  common  air  displaced,  there 
remain  976  pounds,  as  the  ascensive  power,  or  specific 
levity  of  the  balloon.  This  method  of  computation  will 
lead  to  the  proper  results,  whatever  be  the  dimensions  of 
the  balloon,  or  the  specific  levity  of  the  gas.  Thus,  a 
balloon  30  feet  in  diameter  requires  314  yards  of  cloth, 
and  its  ascensive  power  will  be  581  pounds.  One,  20 
feet  in  diameter,  requires  1 40  yards,  and  its  power  is  1 2? 
pounds. 

In  sewing  together  the  corresponding  edges  of  the 
separate  pieces  of  the  envelope,  one  is  left  half  an  inch 
broader  than  the  other,  and  is  turned  over  in  a  subse- 
quent row  of  stitches.  This  double  seam  is  put  be- 
tween two  pieces  of  brown  paper,  and  pressed  with  a 
fire-iron,  heated  just  enough  to  soften  the  drying  oil. 
One  or  two  tubes  of  the  same  material  as  the  balloon, 
are  used  for  introducing  the  gas,  and  these  are  tied  up 
whenever  it  is  filled.  .  A  balloon  of  30  feet  diameter  re- 
quires two  tubes  of  six  inches.  The  whole  external  sur- 
face is  covered  with  a  coat  of  varnish.  The  following 
composition,  prescribed  by  Cavallo,  is  the  best  for  this 
purpose.  "  Boil  a  pint  of  linseed-oil  with  two  ounces  of 
sugar-of-lead,  and  three  of  litharge ;  and  when  they  are 
dissolved,  put  a  pound  of  birdlime,  and  half  a  pint  of  the 
dry ing  oil ,  into  an  iron  or  copper  vesse I ,  and  al low  j  t  to  boil 
gently  over  a  slow  charcoal  fire  till  the  birdlime  ceases 
to  crackle,  which  may  require  about  half  nn  hour  or  three 
quarters.  Then  pour  two  pints  and  a  half  more  of  the 
drying  oil  upon  it,  and  let  it  boil  half  an  hour  longer, 
taking  care  to  stir  it  frequently.  It  will  be  found  to  be 
sufficiently  boiled,  when,  by  rubbing  a  little  of  it  between 
two  knives,  the  varnish,  on  their  separation,  draws  into 
threads.  After  it  is  removed  from  the  fire,  and  nearly 
cold,  add  about  an  equal  quantity  of  spirit  of  turpentine." 
When  the  varnish  is  to  be  used,  it  should  be  luke-warm, 
and  the  balloon  stretched  out.  It  dries  in  the  space  of 
24  hours.  Another  varnish  has  been  made  from  a  pre- 
paration of  caoutchouc,  or  Indian  rubber.  This  is  done 
by  dissolving  that  substance,  cut  into  very  small  pieces, 
in  five  times  its  weight  of  ethereal  spirit  of  turpentine, 
which  is  eflected  by  keeping  them  for  some  days  to- 
gether; then  boil  an  ounce  of  this  solution  a  few  minutes 
in  eight  ounces  of  drying  linseed  oil;  and  having  strained 
it,  apply  it  while  warm  to  the  balloon. 

As  the  balloon  would  be  in  danger  of  bursting,  by  the 
degree  of  expansion  which  the  included  air  undergoes 
in  the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  a  valve  is  em- 
ployed for  allowing  the  air  to  escape,  when  the  balloon 
is  too  much  distended.  It  has  generally  been  placed  at 
the  top  of  the  balloon,  though  the  equator  of  the  balloon 
has  been  recommended  as  the  best  position  for  the  valve. 

The  car,  whose  size  and  figure  are  quite  arbitrary,  is 
made  of  wicker,  covered  with  leather,  and  well  varnished. 
It  is  attached  to  the  balloon  by  cords,  proceeding  from 
a  net-work,  which  covers  the  upper  half  of  the  balloon. 
These  cords  are  collected  about  two  feet  below  the 
balloon,  in  the  circumference  of  a  circle,  from  which 
other  cords  are  distributed  down  to  the  edges  of  the  car. 
The  meshes  of  the  net-work  are  smaller  above,  because 
it  is  there  that  the  greatest  strength  is  required.  In 
some  instances,  it  is  connected  by  means  of  a  hoop, 
made  usually  of  wood  or  cane*  and  encircling  the  balloon. 
The  car  is  represented  in  Plate  III.  Fig.  3.,  and  also  in 
Plate  IV.  Fig.  1.  at  CI). 

The  exact  dimensions  which  a  parachute  ought  to 


AERONAUTICS. 


167 


liayp,  in  order  to  be  an  instrument  of  perfect  security  anil 
confidence,  have  not  yet  been  ascertained.  The  para- 
chute, by  which  M.  Garnerin  descended  at  Paris  in  1 797, 
was  25  feet  in  diameter,  and  was  made  of  cloth ;  and  that 
by  which  he  descended  at  London  in  1802,  is  said  to 
have  been  a  large  umbrella,  consisting  of  32  gores  of 
canvas,  23  feet  in  diameter,  and  without  ribs  and  handle. 
At  the  top  there  was  a  rouud  piece  of  wood,  10  inches 
in  diameter,  having  a  hole  in  the  centre,  which  was  fast- 
ened to  the  canvas  by  32  short  pieces  of  tape.  About 
four  feet  and  a  half  from  the  top  of  the  canvas,  a  wooden 
hooj),  eight  feet  wide,  was  put  on  and  tied  by  a  string 
from  each  seam.  Several  ropes,  about  30  feet  long,  pro- 
ceeding from  the  edge  of  the  parachute,  terminated  in 
a  common  joining.  From  this  point  there  issued  short- 
er ropes,  to  whose  extremities  was  fastened  a  circular 
basket,  in  which  M.  Garnerin  himself  was  stationed. 
The  parachute  and  basket  were  immediately  disunited 
from  the  balloon,  by  the  cutting  of  a  cord  which  com- 
municated with  the  net-work,  and  in  falling  downwards, 
the  parachute  naturally  expanded,  by  the  resistance  of 
the  air.  Several  improvements  on  the  parachute  have 
been  suggested ;  viz.  by  constructing  it  of  varnished 
cambric  muslin,  or  light  linen,  covered  externally  with 
a  netting  firmly  fixed  to  it;  by  making  the  diameter 
when  ex|)anded,  not  more  than  20  feet,  and  forming 
but  a  small  segment  of  a  sphere  ;  by  having  a  centra! 
aperture  in  the  segment,  fully  three  feet  in  diameter,  to 
allow  the  escape  of  the  air  as  it  descends ;  and  by  fur- 
nishing this  with  a  shutter  on  a  hinge,  which  the  aero- 
naut might  close  or  open,  according  to  circumstances, 
by  means  of  a  cord  connecting  the  shutter  with  the  bas- 
ket. The  parnchute,  when  open,  is  represented  in  Plate 
IV.  figure  2 ;  and  figure  3  represents  it  when  shut. 

Since  it  would  be  a  work  of  infinite  labour  to  collect 
hydrogen  gas  as  it  exists  in  its  original  and  natural 
stale,  the  method  of  procuring  it  from  the  chemical  ac- 
tion of  bodies  is  always  resorted  to  as  the  most  conve- 
nient and  productive.  It  may  sometimes  be  obtained  in 
such  purity,  as  to  be  twelve  times  lighter  than  connnon 
air,  but  in  general  its  specific  levity  is  only  five  or  sis 
times  greater.  It  is  usually  procured  from  a  solution 
of  iron  or  zinc  in  sulphuric  acid.  The  iron  best  ad  pt- 
ed  for  the  purjiose,  is  the  turnings  produced  by  the  bor- 
ing of  cannon ;  but  when  this  cannot  be  obtained,  chips 
of  iron  should  be  preferred  to  filings.  It  is  of  impor- 
tance to  attend  to  the  purity  of  the  metal;  for  rust  pro- 
duces liydrocarhonate,  a  gas  which  is  specifically  hea- 
vier than  atmospherical  air.  Grease  also  is  injurious, 
because  it  resists  the  action  of  the  acid.  The  sul- 
phuric acid  must  be  diluted  with  five  or  six  times  its 
weiglit  of  water.  Iron  yields  about  1700  times  its  own 
bulk  of  gis;  therefore,  4^  ounces  of  iron,  with  the  same 
weight  of  sulphurii!  acid,  and  22^  of  water,  will  produce 
a  cubic  foot  of  inflammable  air;  and  of  zinc,  6  ounces, 
with  the  same  qu, entity  of  acid,  and  30  ounces  of  wafer, 
will  produce  a  cubic  foot  of  air.  The  gas  is  collected 
into  a  number  of  casks,  which  are  disposed  round  a  I  irge 
cask  or  cooler;  the  cooler  contains  water  mixed  with 
nnslacked  lime,  and  receives  the  gas  from  the  sur- 
rounding casks  through  tin  tubes,  which  connect  them 
with  each  other;  anil  the  gas,  purified  from  any  carbo- 
nic acid  g.ts,  which  may  have  incor|)orated  with  it  be- 
fore it  passed  through  the  w.iter,  is  conveyed  by  a  silken 
tube  from  the  cooler  ifito  the  balloon.  The  smaller 
casks  in  which  the  solutloii  ,s  carried  on,  ought  to  be 
lined  with  tin,    M.  Garnenn,  in  1802,  used  36  casks, 


every  1 2  of  which  communicated  with  a  cooler,  and  three 
tubes  from  the  three  coolers  conveyed  the  gas  into  a 
large  tube,  which  was  joined  to  the  balloon.  Profes- 
sors Robertson  and  Sacharoff  had25  vessels  communicat- 
ing with  a  cooler,  into  each  of  which  they  put  120  pounds 
of  iron  filings,  (chiefly  from  cast-iron,)  along  with  600 
pounds  of  water,  and  1 20  pounds  of  sulphuric  acid  pour- 
ed over  it.  The  filling  of  the  balloon  occupied  five 
hours.  M.  Blanchard  filled  a  balloon  21  feet  in  diame- 
ter, from  only  four  casks,  each  holding  120  gallons.  Lu- 
nardi,  a  celebrated  aeronaut,  reducing  the  apparatus  to 
still  greater  simplicity,  employed  only  two  casks,  from 
which  the  gas  was  transmitted  into  the  balloon  without 
passing  through  water ;  and  in  the  short  space  of  half 
an  hour,  he  filled  the  balloon  in  which  he  ascended  from 
Edinburgh  and  Glasgow  ;  it  was  of  a  pear-shape,  23  feet 
in  diameter,  and  30  in  height.  31.  Blanchard  used  1000 
pounds  of  iron,  and  1250  of  sulphuric  acid,  for  producing 
the  gas  to  fill  a  balloon  of  21  feet.  Lunardi,  on  the  occa- 
sion we  have  just  now  mentioned,  employed  2000  pounds 
of  each,  and  12,000  of  water.  The  latest  writer  on  this 
subject  computes,  that  this  quantity  should  suflice  for  a 
balloon  of  30  feet  in  diameter,  which  is  14,137  in  capa- 
city. The  balloon  of  33  feet,  in  which  Lunardi  firet  as- 
cended in  England,  and  one  that  ascended  from  Nantz 
about  the  same  time,  were  filled  from  zinc  instead  of 
iron.  Making  allowance  for  the  expansion  of  the  gas 
during  the  ascent,  the  balloon  is  never  filled  above  three 
fourths.  There  is  also  a  method  of  procuring  hydrogen 
gas,  by  passing  water  over  metals,  or  through  tubes  pre- 
viously heated  to  redness.  Although  there  is  a  danger 
of  the  metal  running  to  a  slag  before  any  considerable 
quantity  of  gas  is  obtained,  the  aeronautic  institution  at 
Mendon,  erected  an  apparatus,  consisting  of  a  series  of 
red-hot  cylinders,  from  which  they  filled  their  balloon, 
32  feet  in  diameter,  in  the  space  of  eight  hours.  This 
method  is  found  sufficiently  productive,  and  is  more  eco- 
nomical than  the  former. 

In  filling  balloons,  great  care  should  be  taken  that 
they  be  fixed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent  them  from 
escaping  prematurely  into  the  air.  Instances  have  hap- 
pened, in  which  a  disregard  of  this  precaution  has  proved 
fatal  to  persons  who  were  holding  the  balloon  by  ropes ; 
the  balloon,  on  acquiring  a  sufficient  ascensive  power, 
suddenly  rose  into  the  air,  before  those  who  were  at- 
tempting to  restrain  it,  could  extricate  themselves  from 
their  hold.  The  exercising  balloon  at  Mendon  had  an 
ascensive  power  of  800  pounds,  which  is  equal  to  the 
strength  of  20  people,  and  it  was  retained  by  means  of 
a  capstan. 

We  shall  conclude  this  subject  by  observing,  that  sails 
and  oars,  which  have  both  received  the  proof  of  experi- 
ment, have  been  found  of  little  or  no  advantage  in  guid- 
ing balloons.  Wings  or  oars  have  indeed  in  some  rare 
instances  produced  an  impression  on  the  balloon's  course 
which  was  barely  sensible,  and  have  therefore  received 
no  sanction  from  general  use.  The  total  inability  of  the 
aeronaut  to  impress  on  the  balloon  a  determinate  direc- 
tion, is  the  greatest  defect  in  the  science  of  aeronautics. 

Explanation  of  the  Figures. 

Plate  III.  Pig.  1.  Father  Lana's  aeronautic  vessel. 
See  page  159.  col.  1. 

Fig.  2.  Rarefied  air  balloon,  with  which  Mr.  Pilalre 
de  Rozier  and  the  marquis  D'Arlandes  ascended.  See 
page  159.  col.  2. 

Fig-  2,    M.-  Blancbard's  balloon.    See  p.  1 60.  col.  2. 


168 


JESC 


iESC 


Fig.  4.  M.  Charles  and  Roberte'  balloofl.  Sec  p. 
160.  col.  1. 

Fig.  5.  Pattern  for  cutting  the  pieces  or  gores  to 
form  a  balloon.  These  gores  are  constructed  in  the  same 
manner  as  those  of  globes.  On  figure  5,  are  engraved 
the  breadths  of  the  gore  at  different  places,  the  greatest 
breadth  being  1.000. 

Plate  IV.  Fig.  1.  Operation  of  filling  balloons.  M,M, 
two  tubs  about  two  feet  in  diameter,  and  three  feet  deep, 
inverted  in  N,N,  two  casks  of  water.  A  tin  tube  T  is 
inserted  in  the  bottom  of  each  tub,  six  or  seven  inches 
in  diameter,  to  which  the  silken  tubes  conducting  the 
gas  to  the  balloon  are  fastened. 

The  casks  N,N,  are  surrounded  with  several  other 
casks,  containing  the  materials  producing  the  gas.  From 
the  top  of  each  of  these  a  tin  tube  introduces  the  gas 
into  the  central  casks,  from  which  it  passes  into  the  bal- 
loon. The  balloon,  when  it  is  in  its  flaccid  state,  is  sus. 
pended  at  F,  on  the  horizontal  rope  EFG.  The  net  is 
then  put  over  it,  and  the  common  air  expelled.  The 
strings  which  surround  the  balloon  are  fixed  to  the  hoop 
AB,  to  which  the  boat  CD  is  suspended ;  and  after  the 
balloon  is  about  three  quarters  full  of  the  gas,  the  silken 
tubes  are  taken  from  the  tin  ones  T,T,  the  lateral  ropes 
are  slipped  off,  and  the  aeronaut  is  abandoned  to  the 
mercy  of  the  element.     See  page  1 66.  col.  2. 

Fig.  2,  Represents  Garnerin's  parachute  when  es- 
panded.     See  page  167.  col.  1. 

Fig.  3.     Represents  the  same  parachute  when  shut. 

For  further  information  on  this  subject,  see  Roger  Ba- 
con, dc  his  ^ua  nuindo  mirabiliter  cvcniwU,  ct  tie  mirabili 


pHestate  ariis  a  mitira,  fol.  42.  Edit.  1542.  Lohmeicr 
de  artificio  navigandi  per  acrem,  1676.  Wilkin's  Dis- 
covery of  a  New  World,  his  Mathematical  Magic,  and  his 
Snrift  and  Secret  Messenger.  St.  Fond,  sur  ks  Experiences 
de  MotitgoljUr,  Paris,  1784.  Galien's  L'art  de  nariger 
dans  Us  airs  amusement  Physique  et  Geometrique,  pre- 
cede d'un  Memoire  sur  la  nature  ct  lafornudion  de  la  grele. 
Avignon,  1 755.  Bertholon,  De  tectricite  des  metearcs, 
fmA  sur  les globes  aerostatiqius,  1784.  C&v alio' s  Histon/ 
and  Practice  of  Aerostation,  1785.  Cavallo's  Natural 
Phihsophy,  vol.  iv.  p.  319,  331,  350,  354.  Journal  de 
Physique,  1676,  p.  426.  tom.  lix.  Annates  de  Chimie,  vol. 
xxxi.  p.  94.  vol.  xxxvi.  p.  94.  Nicholson's  Jourwo/,  8vo. 
vol.  vi.  p.  10, 11,12, 13.  Philosophical  Magazine,  vol.  It. 
p.  108;  vol.  xiv.  p.  337. ;  vol.  xix.  p.  371,  388.;  vol.  xx. 
p.  81.;  vol. xxi.p. 220.;  vol.  xxiv.p. 282,368. ;voI.xxxiT. 
p.  78.  Encyclopedie  Methodiqw,  art.  Ballon.  Southern 
on  Aerostatic  Machines,  1785.  Meyer's  Fragmetis  sw 
Paris,  tom.  ii.  p.  107.  Observations  par  Rosier,  tom.  iL 
p.  140.;  torn.  xxiv.  p.  64.  81,  156.;  tom.  xxv.  p.  39.  Bald- 
win's Acropaidie,  1 786.  Henzion  se^ra  k  Machiiu  Aeros- 
tatique,  Florence,  1788.  Hooke's  Phil.  Collect.  No.  i.  p. 
15,18.  Metn.  Acad.  Par.  n8\,  \}.  40.  Gilbert's  Jowr- 
nnl  der  Physik,  tom.  xvi.  Martin's  Hints  on  Aerostatic 
Globes,  1784.  Roberts,  sur  ks  Exper.  Aerostat.  1784. 
Excursion  from  Paris  to  Fountainbleau,  containing  an  ac- 
count of  the  ascent  of  Pilatre  de  Rozier,  1786.  Luuar- 
di's  Account  of  his  Five  Aerial  Voyages  in  Scotland,  1 786, 
Magasin  Encyckp.  tom.  v.  An.  II.  p.  289,  298.  Decade 
Philos.  tom.  iv.  An.  VI.  p.  570.  General  Money  on  the 
Use  of  Balloons  in  Military  Operations,  1803,     (c) 


AEROSTATION,  a  word  employed  to  denote  the 
science  of  navigating  the  air  by  means  of  balloons.  It  is 
compounded  of  «»{,  the  air,  and  <nit]tKn,  statics,  and  there- 
fore signifies  the  doctrine  of  the  pressure  and  equilibrium 
of  air.  For  this  reason,  we  have  preferred  the  word 
AERONAUTICS,  38  expressing  exactly  the  science  of  aeri- 
al navigation.     (»») 

^SCHINES,  a  distinguished  Grecian  orator,  the 
contemporary  and  rival  of  Demosthenes,  was  born  at 
Athens  about  the  year  390,  B.  C.  Though  his  parentage 
seems  to  have  been  but  humble,  his  talents  sooq  attract- 
ed the  notice  and  admiration  of  his  countrymen.  From 
exercising  in  the  gymnasium,  and  acting  as  a  tragedian, 
he  betook  himself  to  the  study  of  rhetoric,  under  the 
tuition  of  Isocrates  and  Plato,  or,  according  to  others,  of 
Alcidamas,  the  preceptor  of  Gorgias,  and  at  length  be- 
came the  competitor  of  Demosthenes,  the  prince  of  ora- 
tors. Their  jealousy  of  each  other  was  increased  by  the 
opposite  parts  which  they  took  in  the  affairs  of  the  repul)- 
lic,  with  respect  to  Philip  of  Macedon,  During  an  em- 
bassy for  negociating  with  that  prince,  iBschiues  is  said 
to  have  accepted  a  bribe,  in  consequence  of  which  he 
persuaded  the  Athenians,  contrary  to  the  remonstrances 
of  Demosthenes,  to  confide  in  the  perfidious  promises 
of  tliis  aspiring  monarch.  Through  the  same  influence 
Philip  was  chosen  generalissimo  of  the  Greeks  by  the 
council  of  the  Amphictyons,  and  invested  with  unlimit- 
ed power  to  act  as  their  leader.  Demosthenes,  aware  of 
the  danger  with  which  his  country  »vas  thus  threatened, 
immediately  roused  the  Athenians  by  the  thunders  of  his 
eloi^uence,  and  prevailed  with  them  to  join  the  Thebans 


in  resisting  the  Macedonian  king ;  but  having  fled  at  the 
battle  of  Cheronaea,  in  which  Philip  was  victorious,  his 
countrymen  ascribed  this  disaster  to  his  misconduct, 
and  ^schines  came  forward  as  his  public  accuser.  It 
was  on  this  occasion,  that  they  composed  their  two  cele- 
brated orations,  entitled,  n»f  i  m^aiu,  or  Concerning  the 
Crotmi,  because  il^schines's  accusation  of  Demosthenes 
was  directly  preferred  against  his  friend  Ctesiphon,  for 
having  moved  a  decree,  as  he  alleged,  contrary  to  the 
laws,  to  confer  a  golden  crown  on  Demosthenes,  as  a 
mark  of  public  approbation.  These  orations  have  al- 
ways been  regarded  as  the  noblest  specimens  of  ancient 
elo(iuence ;  and  in  estimating  their  comparative  merits, 
it  may  be  justly  said,  that  iEscJ.ines  was  only  inferior 
to  his  rival.  So  powerful  and  convincing  was  the  im- 
pression  which  Demosthenes  made,  that  .^schines  not 
only  lost  his  cause,  but  was  sentenced  to  banishment  for 
his  rash  accusation.  Demosthenes  felt  deeply  for  his 
rival ;  and,  forgetting  their  mutual  jealousy,  nobly  press- 
ed upon  him  the  acceptance  of  a  sum  of  money  to  soften 
the  hardships  of  his  exile;  on  which  Aischines  exclaim- 
ed, "  How  is  it  possible  for  me  not  to  regret  a  country, 
in  which  I  leave  an  enemy  more  generous  than  I  can  eSc- 
pect  even  a  friend  to  be  any  where  else  !"  During  hit 
exile,  he  opened  a  school  of  elo<|uence  at  Rhodes;  and  is 
said  to  have  commenced  his  lectures  with  reading  his 
oration  against  Demosthenes,  which  was  received  with 
unbounded  applause.  But  the  next  day,  having  read  the 
counter-oration  of  his  illustrious  rival,  the  applauses  of 
his  audience  were  redoubled ;  on  which,  with  the  most 
generous  liberality  of  sentiment,  he  sai<l,  "  How  much 


iESC 


^SC 


160 


more  would  you  have  admired  it,  if  you  liad  heard  it  from 
the  lips  of  Demothenes  himself."  From  Rhodes  he  re- 
moved (o  Samos,  where  he  died  at  the  age  of  75.  He  is 
thought,  by  some,  to  have  been  the  first  who  delivered 
extemporaneous  orations ;  but  by  others,  this  is  ascribed 
to  Gorgias.  His  style  is  perspicuous,  dignified,  and  for- 
cible ;  and  his  reasonings  are  subtile  and  persuasive  :  but 
they  by  no  means  possess  the  animation,  and  energy,  by 
which  the  orations  of  Demosthenes  are  distinguished. 
Only  three  of  the  orations  said  to  be  his  are  acknowledged 
to  be  genuine  by  the  ancients;  viz.  1.  Adversus  Timor- 
chum.  2.  De  FaLsa  Legatione.  3.  Adversus  Ctesiphon- 
tcm,  sive  De  Corona.  These  Photius,  and  after  him  Fa- 
bricius,  denominate  the  three  Graces.  Photius  also  at- 
tributes to  him  nine  epistles,  which  he  called  the  Muses, 
though  Wolfius  and  Taylor,  in  their  editions  of  his  works, 
have  published  twelve,  said  to  have  been  written  to  the 
Athenians  when  he  was  an  exile  at  Rhodes.  See  Plut. 
de  Vit.  X.  Orat.  aptid  oper.  tom.  ii.  p.  840.  Cicero,  Lib. 
de  opt.  gen.  Oratorum.  Cicero,  De  Orat.  lib.  iii.  Phil- 
ostrat  De  Vit.  Sophist,  p.  506.  Quinct.  Inst.  Orat.  lib. 
X.  c.  1.     Fabric.     Bibl.  Grcec.     (</) 

^SCHYLUS,  one  of  the  first  Grecian  tragic  poets 
and  reformers  of  the  stage.  The  accounts  of  the  life  of 
this  author,  as  of  most  of  the  early  Greek  poets,  have 
descended  to  us  in  a  very  questionable  shape.  In  the 
biography,  which  is  generally  prefixed  to  the  editions 
of  his  works,  he  is  said  to  have  been  contemporary  with 
Pindar,  the  celebrated  lyric  poet.  According  to  Herodo- 
tus. (Herodot.  ii.  156.)  he  was  the  son  of  Euphorion ;  but 
we  have  no  authentic  information  with  regard  to  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  parents,  or  the  exact  date  of  his  birth. 
This  much,  however,  is  certain,  that  he  was  present  at 
the  battle  of  Marathon,  {an.  490.  aiU.  Christ,  not.)  upon 
which  occasion  he  exhibited  proofs  of  uncommon  brave- 
ry, and  likewise  at  the  battles  of  Salamis  and  Plateea, 
{Pausan.  i.  14.)  He  pretended  to  have  been  encourag- 
ed in  a  dream,  by  Bacchus,  to  attempt  tragic  poetry. 
Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  he  withdrew  himself  from 
Athens,  to  the  court  of  Hiero,  tyrant  of  Syracuse.  Va- 
rious reasons  have  been  assigned  for  his  retreat.  Some 
assert,  that  he  was  unable  to  bear  the  preference  given 
to  his  rival  Sophocles,  who  at  this  time  began  to  rise  in 
fame ;  while  others  think  his  exile  was  the  effect  of  cha- 
grin, upon  being  obliged  to  yield  the  palm,  in  a  poetic 
contest,  to  some  younger  poet.  Plutarch,  in  vit.  Cimon. 
He  is  said  to  have  consulted  the  Delphic  oracle  with  re- 
gard to  the  time  and  manner  of  his  death,  and  to  have 
received  the  following  response  : 

OugstViSV  0"f  (^Of  XitTflUT«V«. 

Teliim  e  coelo  missum  tibi  maturablt  mortem. 
Accordingly,  it  is  reported,  that  he  died  in  consequence 
of  an  eagle  having  let  fall  a  tortoise  upon  the  bald  head 
of  the  poet,  which  he  had  mistaken  for  a  rock.     Plin.  x. 
3.     Val.  Max.  ix.  12.     Extern,  ii. 

Before  the  time  of  ^schylus,  the  Grecian  stage  had 
scarcely  emerged  from  its  primitive  state  of  simplicity. 
It  is  a  circumstance  well  known,  that  the  Grecian  drama 
derived  its  origin  from  the  different  species  of  choral 
songs  at  the  Dionysian  festivals.  The  dithyrambic,  or 
serious  chorus,  gave  birth  to  tragedy,  the  burlesque  cho- 
rus to  comedy.  The  commencement,  however,  was  ne- 
cessarily extremely  rude.  Their  tragedies,  at  first,  con- 
sisted of  a  numerous  dithyrambic  chorus,  which  was  ac- 
companied by  noisy  music,  sung  in  rapid  lyric  measures. 
This  exertion  on  the  part  of  the  chorus  was  found  to  be 

Vol.  I.  Part  I. 


extremely  fatiguing,  and  in  order  to  give  it  relief,  Thcs' 
pis,  the  first  reformer  of  the  stage,  during  the  time  of 
Solon,  assigned  pauses  to  the  chorus,  and,  during  these 
intervals,  a  person  appeared  upon  the  stage,  and  declaim- 
ed in  soliloquy.  This  was  the  first  attempt  to  separate 
the  narrative  of  action  from  the  chorus.  The  next  and 
most  important  improvements  were  made  by  JEschylus^ 
of  which  Horace  gives  this  account : 


persona  {lallxque  repertor  honestx, 
^schylus,  et  modicis  instravit  pulpita  tignis. 

HoKAT.  De  Art.  Poet.  278,  SJ9. 

Instead  of  the  soliloquy,  he  introduced  a  dialogue  of  two 
persons,  who  were  clothed  in  a  manner  suitable  to  their 
respective  characters,  {Aristot.  Poet.  c.  4.)  and,  on  this 
account,  he  may  be  considered,  in  some  measure,  as  the 
inventor  of  an  appropriate  apparatus  scenicus.  But  the 
chorus  still  continued  to  constitute  the  principal  part  of 
the  drama,  until  j^schylus  introduced  another  improve- 
ment, by  making  the  chorus  subordinate  to  the  dialogue, 
and  permitting  the  former  merely  to  fill  up  the  intervals, 
by  singing  a  train  of  reflections  upon  the  action  r«pre- 
sented. 

iEschylus  appears  to  have  paid  as  much  attention  to 
theatrical  decorations,  and  to  all  that  is  requisite  to  pro- 
duce stage-effect,  as  to  the  study  and  preparation  of  his 
dramatic  pieces.  Vitruvius  (lib.  vii.)  mentions,  Xh^iAga- 
iharchus,  at  the  desire  of  ^schylus,  first  constructed  a 
proper  stage  at  Athens,  for  the  better  representation  of 
his  tragedies. 

He  is  said  to  have  composed  80  or  90  tragedies,  of 
which  seven  only  are  extant.  These  tragedies,  accord- 
ing to  the  judgment  of  all  ancient  and  modern  critics, 
are  distinguished  by  an  uncommon  grandeur  of  style 
and  loftiness  of  thought.  Phrynichus  calls  him  "  t«» 
r(cfy lilt  |i4fy«x»(f«ii«T«To»;"  Horace  says, 

Et  docmt  magnumque  loqui,  rUtifiie  cothumo. 

De  Art.  Poet  280. 

And  Quinctilian  criticises  him  as  «  Sublimis  et  gravis,  tl 
grandiloquus  smpe  tuque  ad  vitium."  (Instil.  Orat.  lib. 
10.)  His  style,  indeed,  is  exceedingly  energetic,  and 
his  works  abound  in  bold  and  unusual  metaphors.  His 
tragedies,  in  respect  to  plan,  are  extremely  simple. 
There  is  little  action  or  plot ;  and  every  thing  is  brought 
about  in  the  most  common  and  natural  manner.  He  ex- 
hibits only  great  characters,  and  seems  to  wish  rather 
to  excite  Iwrror  and  admiration,  than  to  call  forth  the 
milder  emotions.  The  Greek  scholiasts  relate  some 
singular  stories  concerning  the  effects  produced  upon 
the  spectators,  by  the  representation  of  certain  parts  of 
his  tragedies.  Among  other  things  we  are  told,  that  at 
the  first  representation  of  his  Eumenides,  several  chil- 
dren were  thrown  into  fits,  and  died  of  terror;  and 
that  some  women  were  so  violently  agitated,  "  tU  ipsas 
oportucrit  in  ipso  theatre  parere." 

Our  limits  will  not  permit  us  to  enter  upon  an  ana- 
lysis of  each  of  the  tragedies  of  this  author.  The  charac- 
ter of  Prometheus,  in  the  piece  which  bears  that  name, 
is  strongly  drawn,  as  is  likewise  that  of  Eteocles,  in 
"  The  Seven  Heroes  of  Thebes."  The  speech  of  Cas- 
sandra, in  his  IrHgedy  of  Agamemnon,  is  said  to  have 
been  considered  by  the  ancients  as  his  cluf-iFeeuvre. 

The  modesty  of  .^schylus  seems  to  have  been  equal 

to  his  merit.     He  called  his  tragedies,  "  Fragments 

from   the   splendid  Banquets  of  Homer,"  {Athm.   lib. 

riii. ;)  and  if  his  epitaph  was  really  written  by  himself, 

Y 


170 


^SO 


^so 


38   Athenaeug  asserts,  (lib.  xir.)  he  considered  it  as 
more  glorious  to  have  contributed  to  the  victory  at  Mara-    . 
Ihon,  than  to  have  excelled  others  by  the  superiority  of 
bis  genius. 

An  admirable  edition  of  the  tragedies  of  jEschylus 
was  printed  at  Glasgow  in  1794,  under  the  direction  of 
the  late  learned  Mr.  Porson,  who  has  done  more  than 
any  other  editor  to  restore  the  text  of  ^schylus.  An- 
other excellent  edition  appeared  in  1805,  at  Leipsic, 
with  annotations  by  Fred.  H.  Bothe  of  Maajdeburg.  (s) 
jESCHYNOMENE,  or  the  bastard  sensitive  plant, 
a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Diadelphia,  and  order  De- 
candria.     See  Botany,  (m) 

jESCULAPIUS,  the  son  of  Apollo,  and  the  nymph 
Coronis,  was  worshipped  by  the  heathens  as  the  god  of 
physic,  on  account  of  his  wonderful  discoveries  in  that 
science.  He  is  said  to  have  received  his  medical  know- 
ledge from  the  centaur  Chiron,  who  had  the  charge  of 
his  education,  and  who  intrusted  him  with  the  secrets 
of  his  art.  He  at  last  became  so  skilful  in  his  profes- 
sion, that  he  is  believed  to  have  raised  many  from  the 
dead.  But  Pluto,  complaining  to  Jupiter  of  the  diminu- 
tion of  his  empire,  from  the  numerous  cures  of  ^scu- 
lapius,  Jupiter  struck  him  with  a  thunderbolt,  and  hurl- 
ed him  down  to  the  infernal  regions.  His  father  Apollo, 
however,  revenged  his  death,  by  killing  with  his  ar- 
rows, the  Cyclops  who  had  forged  the  thunderbolts. 
His  chief  temple  was  at  Epidaurus,  where  he  was  wor- 
shipped under  the  form  of  a  serpent ;  that  animal  being 
reckoned  medicinal  in  many  diseases.  He  was  also  re- 
presented as  an  old  man  with  a  long  beard,  dressed  in  a 
loose  robe,  and  holding  in  his  left  hand  a  rustic  staff,  en- 
twined with  serpents.  The  Epidaurians  instituted  games 
in  honour  of  .Esculapius,  which  were  celebrated  every 
five  years.  He  had  also  a  tem|)le  in  an  island  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Tiber,  which  the  Romans  built  to  receive 
his  statue ;  which,  by  the  advice  of  the  oracle,  they 
brought  from  Epidaurus,  to  allay  a  dreadful  pestilence 
that  was  ragjng  in  the  city,  ^sculapius  is  said  to  have 
communicated  the  secrets  of  his  art,  which  he  received 
from  Chiron,  to  his  two  sons,  who,  with  their  descend- 
ants, followed  the  profession  of  their  father.  See  Pau- 
.san.  ii.  cap.  1 1 .  and  27.  vii.  cap.  23.  VaUr.  Max.  i.  cap. 
8.  Cic.  de  Nat.  Dear.  iii.  cap.  22.     (p) 

.^SCULUS,  or  horse-chesnut,  a  genus  of  plants  of 
the  class  Heptandria,  and  order  Monogynia.  See  Bo- 
tany. (j») 

jESOP,  the  famous  fabulist,  was  bom  at  Cotyseum  in 
Phrygia,  in  the  condition  of  a  slave,  and  flourished  about 
;>70  years  before  the  Christian  era.  He  is  described  by 
many  authors  as  having  a  diminutive  stature,  a  deform- 
ed person,  and  a  distorted  countenance.  But  this  is  one 
i>f  the  many  fictions  which  are  confidently  ascribed  to 
Planudes,  an  eastern  monk,  who  wrote  a  romantic  life  of 
..Esop  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  whose  relation  has 
been  followed  by  moderns  for  want  of  better  information. 
Herodotus  seems  rather  to  be  of  an  opjiosite  opinion ; 
for  he  speaks  of  many  idle  stories,  which  were  pre- 
valent in  his  time,  concerning  ^Esop,  but  to  which  he 
paid  no  regard.  Indeed  all  that  we  know  of  him  con- 
sists merely  in  probabilities,  collected  from  ancient  his- 
torians. JE.SOP  remained  in  a  state  of  servitude  till  he 
was  well  advanced  in  life ;  and  it  was  during  this  time, 
we  are  told,  that  he  composed  his  fables,  as  an  allevia- 
tion  of  the  miseries  of  slavery.  His  first  master,  De- 
marchiis,  who  treated  him  rather  harshly,  and  sent  him 
to  labour  in  the  fiekls,  eold  him  to  Xanthus,  a  Samiao, 


from  whom  he  passed  into  the  service  of  a  philosopher, 
named  Idmon.  Here  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
famous  courtesan  Rhodope,  who  was  so  delighted  with 
the  liveliness  of  his  conversation,  and  his  excellent  un- 
derstanding, that  she  prevailed  upon  Idmon  to  restore 
him  to  liberty.  Being  now  his  own  master,  he  travelled 
over  most  of  the  Grecian  cities,  improving  himself  in  the 
language  and  sciences  of  the  Greeks;  and  instructing 
the  ignorant,  by  such  agreeable  and  simple  apologues  as 
could  be  understood  by  all.  When  at  Athens,  obsen-ing 
how  impatiently  the  Athenians  bore  the  usurpation  of 
Pisistratus,  who  had  abolished  the  popular  government, 
he  repeated  to  them  his  famous  fable  of  the  frogs,  that 
petitioned  Jupiter  for  a  king.  The  fame  of  his  wisdom 
having  reached  Croesus  king  of  Lydia,  this  monarch  in 
vited  him  to  his  court,  where  he  was  treated  with  that 
distinction  to  which  his  great  abilities  entitled  him.  Af- 
ter he  had  remained  at  Sardes  a  considerable  time,  he 
went  to  Delphi,  being  deputed  by  Crffisusto  offer  a  splen- 
did sacrifice  to  Apollo,  and  to  distribute  money  among 
the  inhabitants.  But  a  quarrel  arising  between  him  and 
the  Delphians,  jEsop  returned  the  money  to  Croesus,  in- 
forming him,  that  those  for  whom  it  was  intended  were 
unworthy  of  his  bounty.  The  people  of  Delphi  were  so 
enraged  at  thislproceeding,  that  they  charged  him  with 
sacrilege,  and  got  him  condemned  to  be  thrown  headlong 
from  the  rock  Hyampia.  Immediately  after  this  event, 
the  Delphians  were  visited  with  pestilence  and  famine  ; 
which  they  considered  as  a  punishment  for  their  injustice 
to  .^sop,  and  from  which  they  could  not  be  rescued,  un- 
til they  had  made  satisfaction  for  his  death. 

jEsop,  in  his  disposition,  was  lively  and  agreeable ; 
and  his  understanding  was  clear  and  acute.  The  sal- 
lies of  wit,%vhich  continually  enlivened  his  conversation, 
and  his  humorous  manners,  delighted  all  who  heard  him. 
But,  in  his  behaviour,  he  was  more  of  a  courtier  than  a 
philosopher.  That  pliancy  of  disposition  which  he  had 
acquired  when  a  slave,  and  which  he  retained  when 
free,  fitted  him  better  for  the  fawning  affability  of  the 
former,  than  the  stern  dignity  of  the  latter.  Happening 
to  be  at  Sardes  at  the  same  time  with  Solon,  and  though 
displeased  at  the  uncivil  treatment  which  Solon  re- 
ceived, yet  he  was  much  dissatisfied  at  the  mortifying 
indifference  with  which  that  philosopher  viewed  the 
treasures  of  Croesus,  and  told  him,  "  that  we  should  ei- 
ther not  come  near  kings,  or  speak  what  was  agreeable 
to  them."  "  Say  rather,"  rei)lied  Solon, "  that  we  should 
never  come  near  them  at  all,  or  speak  sucb  things  as 
may  be  for  their  good." 

That  the  collection  of  fables,  which  bears  his  name, 
was  written  by  him,  isan  opinion  which  is  now  generully 
exploded;  and  though  we  learn  from  Aristophanes,  (m 
avibtis,  V.  387,  a^  Atrturtr  !r(ir«r«ic<t;,)  that  a  collection 
of  his  fables  then  existed,  yet  we  are  inclined  to  believe 
that  he  did  not  commit  any  of  them  to  writing,  but 
merely  recited  them  upon  particular  occasions;  and 
that  they  were  for  some  time  preserved  by  oral  tradi- 
tion. 

The  great  variety  of  style  which  is  to  be  fonnd  in  this 
collection,  leads  us  also  to  suspect  that  they  cannot  have 
proceeded  from  the  same  author.  Yet  some  of  them 
bear  evident  marks  of  antiquity.  A  wonderful  sim- 
plicity of  expression,  and  a  delightful  blending  of  the 
agreeable  with  the  useful,  captivate  and  instruct  the  rea- 
der. Simplicity  of  thought,  and  purity  of  sentiment, 
seem  to  be  the  characteristics  of  his  fables  :  and  he  is 
allowed  on  all  liands  to  baTe  been  a  master  in  this  spe- 


^TH 


^TH 


171 


ci«9  of  instruction.  So  famed  were  these  compositions 
among  the  ancients,  that  Socrates  is  said  to  have  trans- 
lated them  into  verse  a  little  before  his  death ;  and  Pla- 
to wished  that  children  might  suck  them  in  with  their 
milk,  in  order  to  be  trained  up  to  wisdom  and  virtue. 

The  earliest  edition  of  iEsop's  fables  is  that  of  Milan, 
published  by  Bonus  Accursiiis,  without  a  date,  but,  ac- 
cording to  Lessing,  in  1478  ;  which  he  thinks  the  more 
probable,  as  it  is  printed  in  the  very  same  style  as  Las- 
carVs  Grammatka  of  that  year.  Hudson's  edition  was 
published  at  Oxford,  1718,  under  the  feigned  name  of 
Marianus,  from  St.  Mary's  Hall,  Oxford,  of  which  he  was 
principal.  See  Rollin,  v.  ii.  p.  880.  Bayle.  Phadnts, 
lib.  1.  fab.  2.  Herodotus,  lib.  2.  Phit.  In  Solon.  Qtiinc- 
tilian,  lib.  v.  c.  12.    (p) 

M80P,  Clodius,  a  celebrated  Roman  tragedian,  who 
was  contemporary  with  Cicero,  and  lived  about  the  year 
79  A.  C.  Valerius  Maximus,  in  one  passage,  seems  to 
say,  that  he  was  also  a  comic  actor;  but  it  is  rather  pro- 
bable that  he  means  an  actor  in  the  general  sense  of  the 
word.  According  to  Plutarch,  Cicero  being  solicitous 
of  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  gesture,  received  instruc- 
tions from  iEsop,  as  well  as  from  Roscius,  the  famous 
comedian.  We  are  informed,  by  the  same  author,  that 
iEsop  was  so  completely  absorbed  in  the  character  which 
he  represented,  that,  when  studying  how  to  be  revenged 
on  Thyestes,  while  he  was  performing  the  character  of 
Atreus,  he  smote  an  attendant  with  his  truncheon,  who 
was  accidentally  crossing  the  stage,  and  laid  him  dead  at 
his  feet,  ^sop  was  a  rare  instance  of  a  combination  of 
frugality  and  extravagance.  Notwithstanding  his  ex- 
treme luxury  and  voluptuousness,  he  kept  within  the 
bounds  of  his  income,  and  amassed  immense  wealth. 
Pliny  informs  us,  that  certain  singing  birds,  imitating  the 
human  voice,  were  served  up  at  his  table,  each  of  them 
being  valued  at  a  sum  equivalent  to  50  guineas  of  our 
nlone}^ 

4isop  had  a  son  no  less  luxurious  and  profuse ;  who, 
according  to  Horace,  Pliny,  and  Valerius  Maximus,  dis- 
solved pearls  in  vinegar,  and  gave  the  solution  to  his 
guests  to  drink.  See  Pliny,  lib.  ix.  cap.  35.  and  x.  cap. 
51 .  Valerius  Maximus.,  lib.  viii.  and  ix.  Horace  Epist.  lib. 
ii.  V.  82.  Sat.  iii.  v.  239.  Macrobius's  Saturnalia,  lib. 
ii.    Tertullian  de  Pallio.  Quinctilian.  lib.  xi.  cap.  3.  (c) 

^THER,  from  the  verb  aihiv,  to  burn  and  shine,  de- 
notes, in  ancient  physics,  that  subtile  lambent  fluid,  which 
was  supposed  to  circulate  above  the  region  of  our  at- 
mosphere, and  to  fill  the  whole  of  the  celestial  space. 

The  cosmological  systems  of  antiquity,  however  im- 
perfect in  their  composition,  were  the  offspring  of  a  bold 
and  vigorous  fancy.  Nothing,  unfortunately,  now  re- 
mains of  those  airy  speculations  but  a  few  scattered 
wrecks.  Formed  in  the  shade  of  retirement,  and  impart- 
ed under  the  seal  of  mystery,  the  loose  fragments  have, 
in  the  course  of  ages,  been  miserably  disfigured  by  the 
conceit  and  ignorance  of  grammatical  expounders.  Yet, 
amidst  the  darkness  which  envelopes  those  ruins,  we  are 
struck  witli  some  gleams  of  just  and  happy  conception. 
The  physical  notions  of  the  ancients  tinctured  the  whole 
of  their  philosophy,  became  intimately  blended  with  their 
elegant  mythology,  and  finally  gave  spirit  and  colouring 
to  their  poetical  descriptions.  The  influence  of  those 
opinions  has  extended  itself  even  to  our  own  times.    It 


is  visible  in  the  contexture  of  our  pliilosoidiical  tlieoricj, 
and  it  still  continues  to  enliven  the  language  of  poetry, 
which  fondly  retains,  and  seeks  to  perpetuate  the  ear- 
liest impressions.  A  liberal  curiosity  would  therefore 
prompt  us  to  survey  the  disjointed  fragments  with  a 
critical  eye,  and  to  endeavour,  by  the  light  of  modern 
science,  to  restore  what  appears  really  valuable  of  the 
original  edifice.  In  some  future  articles  we  may  per- 
haps attempt  to  illustrate  the  subject  of  ancient  physics ; 
but  for  the  present  we  shall  confine  our  views  to  a  par- 
tial and  rapid  sketch. 

The  sages  of  ancient  Greece  resolved  all  bodies  into 
four  primary  elements.  Earth,  Water,  Air,  and  Fire ; 
whicli,  in  their  natural  state,  were  conceived  to  hold  the 
same  order  of  arrangement ;  earth  being  the  lowest,  and 
fire  occupying  the  highest  place  in  the  universe.  To 
these  were  likewise  ascribed,  respectively,  the  qualities 
of  dry  and  wet,  of  cold  and  hot.  The  Stoics  considered 
earth  and  water  as  naturally  heavy,  and  air  and  fire  light ; 
but  the  Epicurians,  who,  in  objects  of  science  at  least, 
entertained  much  sounder  notions  than  the  other  sects 
of  philosophers,  contended^  that  all  matter  is  essentially 
ponderable,  though  in  different  degrees;  and  that  air 
and  fire  mount  upwards,  only  in  consequence  of  their  in- 
ferior relative  gravity.  Empedocles  imagined,  that  all 
the  various  modifications  of  those  elements  were  pro- 
duced by  the  operation  of  two  original  principles,  which 
he  termed  tpiM»,  and  n i«3s,  or  love  and  strife  ;  the  one 
tending  to  unite,  and  the  other  to  separate,  and  therefore 
corresponding  nearly  to  our  attraction  and  repulsion. 
Some  philosophers,  attempting  a  further  simplification, 
have  sought  to  reduce  the  several  elements  into  one. 
Thus,  Heraclitus  and  Hippasus  made  fire  the  original 
of  all  things.  The  universe,  they  said,  arose  out  of  lire, 
and  will  terminate  in  fire.  According  to  them,  the 
grosser  parts  of  that  element,  by  conglomerating,  form- 
ed earth,  which,  by  the  force  of  fire,  gave  out  water ; 
and  this  again  exhaling,  generated  air. 

^ther  was  generally  considered  as  only  fire  in  its 
most  dilute  attenuated  form.  It  was  believed  to  consti- 
tute the  highest  heavens,  and  to  revolve  continually 
about  our  globe.  Hence  the  exp  ession  used  by  Mil- 
ton, the  most  learned  of  all  our  poets,  "  the  flaming  bar- 
riers of  the  world ;"  corresponding  to  the  flammantia 
nuenia  mundi  of  Lucretius.  The  same  idea  is  more  ex- 
panded by  Manilius : 

Ignis  in  tetherias  voliicer  se  sustalit  oras  : 
Summaque  complexus  stellantis  culmina  c<eli, 
Flnmmarum  vallo  natune  moenia  fecit. 

This  uniform  circular  motion,  so  ]>Iacid  and  soft,  was 
esteemed  a  sort  of  eternal  repose,  and  therefore  believ- 
ed to  imply  a  divine  and  immortal  nature.  In  allusion 
to  that  opinion.  Homer  says,  tiTTiS'eitt  vZg,  and  aiSi^af 
tn^iin, ;  thus  making  cethcr  feminine,  as  embracinsc  and 
containing  the  universe.  Heraclitus  defined  the  Deify 
"  the  invisible  circulating  fire,"  t»  ingithx.ti  irZg  a'ihoi. 
And  Hippocratus,  the  father  of  medicine,  proceeds  fur- 
ther :  "  It  seems  to  me,"  he  says,  "  that  what  we  call 
warmth  is  immortal ;  knows  all  things,  and  sees,  hears, 
and  discerns  whatever  is  or  will  exist*."  These  fine 
conceptions  are  well  expressed  by  Cicero  :  "  Video  su- 
blime fusum  immoderatum  athera.    Qui  terram  tenero 


*  Aoxii  h  n»l  i  icitXttfitt  6s(fc»  aScctaltt  7i  ««»«»,  »«(  »««(»  iretiTci,  x«<  ifr,t,  net)  ukusii,  K«i  tiin»i  Trittlx  7<i  »tl»  Kcti 
5AtAA»|i7«  crtTlm, 

Y2 


m 


iETHER. 


\y 


circumjectu  ampltditur?  Hunt  stimmim  habeto  dimm, 
hutic  perhibeto  Jovcm*."  '  De  Nat.  Deorum,  ii.  /Ether 
was  not  only  held  to  be  divine,  but  regarded  as  the  prin- 
ciple of  life,  and  the  spring  of  action.  The  human  soul 
itself  was  deemed  "  a  vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame," 
and  was  believed  to  require  a  long  course  of  purgation 
in  the  shades  below,  to  expel  the  impurities  contracted 
upon  earth,  and  restore  it  to  the  brightness  of  its  celes- 
tial origin. 

Donee  longa  dies,  perfecto  temporis  orbi, 
Concrctam  exemit  labeni,  purumque  reliqoit 
^tbereum  sensum,  atqtie  aurai  siinplicis  ignem. 

JS.N.  vi.  745,  &c. 

Tt  was  imagined  that  the  stars  roll  or  swin  in  sether, 
and  that  the  gods  themselves  inhabit  that  blessed  region. 
The  divinity  of  Epicurus,  seated  on  his  "  empyreal 
throne,  far  above  the  din  and  stir  of  this  sin-worn  mould," 
enjoys,  beyond  the  hounds  of  our  clouded  atmosphere, 
a  perpetual  calm ;  and,  absorbed  in  the  delights  of  un- 
ceasing fruition,  remains  a  careless  and  indiflerent  spec- 
tator of  "the  toils  and  anxieties  which  agitate  unhappy 
mortals. 

Apparet  DivOm  numen  sedesqne  quietse  : 
Quas  neque  concutiunt-  venti,  neque  nubila  nimbis 
Adspergimt,  neque  nix  acri  concreta  pruina 
Cana  cadens  violat ;  semperque  innubilus  aether 
lotegit,  et  large  diffuso  lumine  ridet. 

Luci^ET.  lib.  iii.  T.  18. 

Omnia  enira  per  se  divum  natura  necessc  est 
Iminortali  aevo  summa  cum  pace  fruater 
Semota  ab  nostris  rebus,  sejunctaque  longe  ; 
!Nam  privata  dolore  omni,  privata  pericli 
Ipsa  suis  pollens  oplbus,  nihil  indiga  nostri 
Nee  bene  promeritis  capitur,  nee  tangiiur  ira. 

Id.  lib.  i.  T.  57. 

Pythagoras  held,  that  aither,  or  the  pure  portion  of  fire, 
really  constituted  a  distinct  element,  and  that  from  their 
^  Joint  operation,  this  universal  frame  arose.  Empedocles 
thought,  that  aither  was  first  separated,  next  fire,  and 
then  earth;  and  that,  this  being  compressed  by  violent 
circumagitation,  water  was  made  to  boil  out  of  it,  and 
the  exhalation  of  the  water  lastly  formed  air. 

Per  rara  foramina  terr» 
Partibus  erumpens  primus  se  sustulit  Kther 
Signifer,  et  multos  secum  levis  abstulit  ignes. 

III.  lib.  V. 

The  grosser  particles  of  fire,  collecting  into  a  mass,  were 
imagined  to  protluce  the  sun,  while  the  various  conglo- 
liations  of  the  diffused  sether  were  supposed  to  form  the 
v-elestial  bodies.  Manilius  beautifully  describes  that  ra- 
diant fluid,  studding  the  heavens  with  gems : 


-Primum  eandidus  tether 


Astrigeram  faciem  uitido  gemmarit  Olympo. 

The  gun  is  called,  in  the  hymn  of  Orpheus,  the  heaven- 
ly light,  «{«.«..  (f«5;  and  the  light  of  life,  ^unt  tp^f. 

In  every  hypothesis,  the  four  elements  are  considered 
as  passive,  and  subject  to  transmutation.    But  Aristotle 


held  the  divine  nature  of  aether  to  be  absolutely  ineoin> 
patible  <vith  any  disposition  to  change,  and  therefore  re- 
garded that  substance  as  a  certain  fifth  immutable  prin- 
ciple, we/t3r7«»  Ti  rSfuciiSfgi'f  «ft£T«SAi)7o».  Hence  the 
term  quintessence,  so  famous  once  in  the  schools. 

The  Pythagorians  believed,  that  our  atmosphere  ex- 
tends to  the  moon;  that  the  air,  which  surrounds  the 
earth,  is  inert  and  morbid,  liable  to  vicissitude  and  cor- 
ruption ;  but  that  the  higher  portions  of  a;ther  are  con- 
tinually in  motion,  pure  and  salubrious,  and  the  sjicred 
abodes  of  immortality ;  because  warmth,  the  source  of 
life,  prevails  in  these  resplendent  regionsf.  Below  the 
moon,  every  thing  is  mortal  and  transient,  except  the 
human  mind.  "  Infra  autem  eam,^^  says  Cicero,  "  nihil 
est  nisi  mortale  et  caducmn,  prater  amnios  muncre  dearwn 
homimim  generi  datos  ;  supra  lunam  sunt  atema  omnia." 
Such  is  the  origin  of  an  expression  of  singular  beauty, 
though  now  debased  by  vulgar  use, — this  sublunary 
scene. 

In  the  language  of  ancient  mythology,  cether  was  sy- 
nonymous with  Jupiter,  as  air  corresponded  to  Juno : 
and  the  combined  influence  of  heat,  air,  and  moisture, 
in  promoting  vegetation,  has  been  finely  described  by 
Virgil ; 

Turn  Pater  Omnipoterts  fecundis  irobribns  xther 
Conjugis  in  gremium  Ixtae  descendit  et  omnes 
Magnus  alit  magno  commLxtus  corpore  fostus. 

Georg.  ii.  324,  8tc. 

Such  were  the  opinions  commonly  held  by  the  ancient 
philosophers  respecting  the  nature  of  sether.  The  heat, 
however,  which  it  displays,  was  sometimes  considered 
as  merely  an  accidental  quality,  excited  in  the  fluid  by 
the  extreme  rapidity  of  its  circumvolution.  Others 
were  inclined  to  believe,  that  the  aethereal  expanse  had 
been  inflamed  by  its  vicinity  to  the  ?un,  the  great  foun- 
tain of  light  and  heat. 

The  Pythagoreans,  led  by  a  gross  analogy,  viewed  the 
world  as  one  vast  animal  of  a  hot  and  fiery  temperament ; 
and  thence  concluded,  that  a  void  space  must  necessari- 
ly exist  beyond  it  to  give  room  for  breathing,  and  to  re- 
ceive its  expirations,  atrf  aittrieh  rot  xtTfttt.  This 
strange  fancy  was  likewise  adopted  by  Aristotle.  But 
the  lambent  fluid  of  sether,  in  a  state  of  extreme  tenuity, 
was  believed  to  be  diOiised  through  the  vacuum. 

After  all,  may  it  not  be  fairly  questioned,  if  those  mo- 
dern philosophers  have  reasoned  better,  who,  at  this 
advanced  period,  have  laboured  to  revive  the  doctrine  of 
(ether,  and  have  ascribed  to  that  ideal  substance  still 
more  extensive  and  more  imaginary  powers  ?  It  is  cu- 
rious to  mark  the  relapses  of  natural  science.  Those 
aberrations  have,  in  general,  proceeded  from  unwise  at- 
tempts to  reconcile  the  primary  indications  of  the  senses 
with  the  results  of  matured  reflection.  Newton  had  ex- 
ploded the  vortices  of  Descartes,  had  revived  the  vacuum 
of  Epicurus,  and  triumphantly  established  the  system  of 
universal  attraction.  Nothing  seemed  then  wanting  but 
to  follow  out  the  consequences  of  that  simple  and  origi- 
nal fact.  To  countenance  the  sup|>osition  of  visionary 
agents,  was  to  desert  the  very  first  principles  of  induc- 


•  Imitated  or  translated  from  Euripide.:    'OjSt  t»,  i^n  ri,  fi  iwiif,  cc,9,.»  xcc)  y«  w,(,f  «v.,»'  t/ya/j  i,  ayK»>.m,t;   T«7o 
1»HIC,l  ^>!»»  T»»  ^    tiyn  tit,, 

f  Tor  re  vtfi  t».  y„,  <tifa,  «al  aruTTc.  k*i  toa-tgtt,  »«i  ar«»7«  T«  ».  etvlu  5«i)T<«.      T«»  ^f  «»«7«7«,  «tl»Jiii7«»  ll.<»#, 
(ciTic). — PnTA«CH.    i)9  J'latitit eUlotuphQium.  »   ■      '   s  »  s  > 


^TN 


^TN 


173 


tire  philosophy.  The  delasion  has  become  contagious, 
and  it  is  high  time  to  resist  the  progress  of  such  crude 
opinions.  Are  the  phantoms  of  certain  chemical  ex- 
perimentalists at  all  more  specious  oreeductive  than  the 
dreams  of  their  predecessors,  the  ancient  cosmologists  ? 
On  some  other  occasion,  we  propose  to  resume  the  dis- 
cussion ;  meanwhile  we  shall  conclude  with  an  extract 
from  professor  Leslie's  celebrated  work  on  Heat: — 

"  It  is  a  remarkable  and  instructive  fact,  in  the  history 
of  philosophy,  that  impulsion  should  have  been  at  one 
period  the  only  force  that  was  admitted.  The  motion  of 
a  falling  stone  was  certainly  not  less  familiar  to  the 
senses  than  that  of  a  stone  that  was  thrown ;  hut,  in  the 
latter  case,  the  contact  of  the  hand  was  observed  to  pre- 
cede the  flight  of  the  projectile,  and  this  circumstance 
seemed  to  1)11  up  the  void,  and  satisfy  the  imagination. 
Gravitation  sounded  like  an  occult  quality;  it  was  neces- 
sary to  assign  some  mechanical  cause,  and  if  there  were 
invisible  impulses  to  account  for  the  weight  of  a  body, 
might  not  that  office  be  performed  by  some  subtile  invi- 
sible agent  ?  Such  was  the  sway  of  metaphysical  pre- 
judice, that  even  Newton,  forgetting  his  usual  caution, 
suffered  himself  to  be  borne  along.  In  an  evil  hour,  he 
threw  out  those  hasty  conjectures  concerning  tether, 
which  have  since  proved  so  alluring  to  superficial  think- 


ers, and  which  have,  in  a  very  sensible  degree,  impeded 
the  progress  of  genuine  science.  So  far  from  resolving 
weight  or  pressure  into  impulse,  we  have  seen  that  the 
very  reverse  takes  place ;  and  that  impulse  itself  is  only 
a  modification  of  pressure.  This  statement  has  already 
some  distinguished  adherents,  and  must,  in  time,  become 
the  received  opinion.  Science  has  experienced  much 
obstruction  from  the  mysterious  notions  long  entertained 
concerning  causation." — P.  135,136.  See  Air,  Atmos- 
phere, Fire,  Fluid,  Heat,  Physics,  Vacuum,     (x) 

^THUSA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Pentandria, 
and  order  Digynia.     See  Botany,     (w)  ' 

AETIANS,  in  Ecclesiastical  History,  a  sect  that 
sprang  up  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  and 
whose  creed  very  much  resembled  that  of  the  modem 
Socinians.  Aetius,  their  founder,  was  a  native  of  An- 
tioch ;  and  as  some  say,  originally  a  physician.  He 
was  accounted  a  man  of  excellent  understanding,  and 
great  acuteness,  skilled  in  logic,  as  well  as  acquainted 
with  other  branches  of  science.  Because  he  disputed 
with  subtilty  concerning  the  nature  of  God,  his  enemies 
branded  him  with  the  name  of  atlteist.  He  was  severe- 
ly persecuted  by  Constantius,  aiid  died,  not  long  after,  at 
Constantinople,    (n) 


^TNA, 


Called  by  the  people  in  its  neighbourhood  Monte  Gibel- 
lo,  is  situated  on  the  eastern  side  of  Sicily,  in  a  district 
■which  the  superstitious  fears  of  the  inhabitants  have  de- 
nominated Vol  de  Demone. 

Various  conjectures  have  been  formed  respecting  the 
origin  of  the  name  jEtna.  In  the  Itineraries  it  is  usually 
written  Mthana.  Hence  some,  who  are  anxious  to  de- 
rive every  term  from  a  Greek  or  Hebrew  extraction, 
trace  its  origin  from  aiHiit,  to  burn,  or  the  Hebrew  Atha- 
tia,  a  furnace,  or  darkness.  But  whatever  may  be  the 
origin  of  the  name,  it  is  certain  that  this  mountain  has 
for  many  ages  attracted  the  notice  of  mankind.  Its  im- 
mense size  and  elevation,  the  beauty  and  magnificence 
of  the  surrounding  scenery,  and  the  terrific  grandeur  of 
the  convulsions  and  changes  to  which  it  is  subject,  have 
afforded  matter  of  description  both  to  the  poet  and  his- 
torian. Here,  according  to  ancient  mythology,  were 
erected  the  forges  of  the  Cyclops,  where,  under  the  di- 
rection of  Vulcan,  they  prepared  the  thunder-bolts  of 
Jupiter.  Here  was  raised  a  temple  to  Vulcan  himself, 
where,  as  in  that  of  Vesta,  the  fire  never  ceased  to  burn ; 
and  here  the  giant  Enceladus  was  condemned  by  Jupiter 
lo  expiate  his  imjiious  rebellion,  by  perpetual  imprison- 
ment. 

This  mountain,  when  viewed  at  a  distance,  presents 
the  appearance  of  an  obtuse  truncated  cone,  extended  at 
the  base,  and  terminating  in  a  bifurcated  vertex,  i.  e.  in 
two  eminences  at  a  considerable  distance  from  each 
Other.  Upon  approaching  nearer,  the  traveller  is  sur- 
prised and  astonished  at  the  wild,  grotesque  appearance 
of  the  whole  mountain;  while  he  is  delighted,  at  the 
same  time,  by  the  pleasing  variety  exhibited  on  particu- 
lar parts  of  its  surface.  Over  the  whole  of  the  immense 
declivity  of  jEtna,  but  especially  in  the  lower  region,  he 
beholds  innumerable  eminences,  or  small  conical  hills, 
gently  rising  from  its  surface,  covered  with  rich  verdure 
iklld  beautiful  trees,  and  adorned  with  towns,  villages, 


scattered  hamlets,  and  monasteries.  As  his  eye  ascends, 
he  discovers  an  immense  forest  of  oaks  and  pines,  sur- 
rounding the  mountain  on  every  side,  and  forming  a 
zone  of  beautiful  green  round  its  middle.  Next  appears 
the  hoary  head  of  the  mountain  itself,  boldly  projecting 
into  the  clouds,  and  covered  with  eternal  snow. 

These  general  characters,  so  distinctly  impressed 
upon  the  different  parts  of  its  surface,  have  induced 
travellers  to  divide  jEtna  into  three  regions,  viz.  II  Re- 
giotie  Culta,  the  fertile  region ;  II  Regione  Sylvosa,  the 
woody  region ;  and  II  Regione  Dcserta,  the  barren 
region.  Nor  are  these  regions  less  distinguished  by 
their  temperature,  than  by  their  external  appearance. 
The  traveller,  faint  and  oppressed  by  the  sultry  heat  of 
the  Regione  Piedmontcsc,  escapes  with  delight,  we  are 
told,  into  the  shade  of  the  woods,  where  the  air  is  cool 
and  refreshing;  but  upon  emerging  from  the  forests, 
the  temperature  rapidly  declines ;  and  to  all  the  dangers 
and  difficulties  attending  his  journey  to  the  summit, 
must  be  added,  the  inconvenience  arising  from  the  pierc- 
ing coldness  of  the  air,  and  the  chilling  blasts  from  the 
south,  to  which  these  higher  regions  are  constantly  ex- 
posed. Hence,  some  have  been  led  to  distinguish  those 
distinct  portions  of  the  surface  of  jEtna  by  the  names  of 
Torrid,  Temperate,  and  Frigid  Zones. 

In  presenting  to  our  readers  an  account  of  whatever 
may  deserve  further  notice  in  the  external  appearance  of 
jEtna,  we  shall  adoiit  the  common  division,  ?ind  begin 
with  stating  the  particulars  related  by  travellers  respect- 
ing the  lower  region,  or  Regione  Culta. 

In  ascending  Mount  Altna,  it  is  usual  to  begin  the 
journey  on  the  south  side,  near  the  city  of  Catania. 
From  this  place  to  the  mouth  of  the  great  crater,  the 
distance  is  supposed  to  be  nearly  10  leagues,  or  30 
miles.  Of  this  ascent,  about  15  miles  are  allotted  for 
the  breadth  of  the  first  zone,  or  Regione  Culta.  The 
circumference  of  this  region,  according  to  Recupero,  is 


174 


^TNA. 


1 83  miles ;  and  its  surface,  by  the  calculation  of  Enffoon, 
exceeds  220  square  leagues.  It  is  bounded  by  the  sea 
to  the  south  and  south-east,  and  on  all  its  other  sides  by 
the  rivers  Semetus  and  Alcantara. 

The  circumstance  thatgenerally  attracts  the  attention 
of  the  traveller,  in  passing  through  this  region,  is  the 
remarkable  inequality  of  its  surface,  occasioned  by  the 
immense  number  and  variety  of  conical  hills  which  rise 
around  him  on  every  side.  They  are  generally  about 
two  or  three  miles  in  circuit,  and  from  300  to  400  feet  in 
height.  Were  the  external  appearance  of  these  hills, 
(each  of  which  has  a  cup  or  small  crater,)  and  their  prox- 
imity to  the  great  gulf,  not  sufficient  to  demonstrate 
their  volcanic  origin,  we  are  happily  furnished  with  a 
direct  experiment  in  the  case  of  (he  foruialion  of  one  of 
them,  viz.  Monte  Rosso,  ^vhich  must  remove  every 
doubt  respecting  this  point.  In  the  year  1L'09,  this  hiH 
was  seen  to  rise  in  the  midst  of  a  plain,  and  to  discharge 
from  its  vertex  a  dreadful  torrent  of  lava,  which  flowed 
as  far  as  the  sea,  and  formed  a  kind  of  promontory. 

The  uncommon  fertility  of  the  soil  of  this  region,  the 
richness  of  the  pasture  grounds,  and  the  luxuriance  of 
the  vines  and  other  fruit-trees,  have,  from  the  earliest 
times,  afforded  matter  of  panegyric  to  tlje  traveller  and 
historian.  On  this  subject,  Strabo,  Fazello,  and  all  who 
have  visited  jEtna,  unite  their  testimony,  and  agree  at 
the  same  time  in  ascribing  this  superior  fertility  to  the 
decomposition  of  the  lava.  This  rich  scenery  is  some- 
limes  beautifully  diversified,  by  the  lava  appearing  above 
the  soil,  in  the  form  of  craggy  eminences.  Even  where 
tlie  lava  is  not  uncovered,  the  soil  in  some  places  is  so 
shallow,  that  the  roots  of  trees,  unable  to  penetrate  the 
hard  rock,  extend  their  fibres  horizontally,  and  are  seen 
creeping  along  the  surface.  It  must  be  peculiarly  in- 
teresting to  a  traveller  in  this  region,  to  reflect  that  he 
is  now  treading  on  the  ruins  of  extinguished  volcanoes, 
and  to  behold  cheerful  cottages  and  thriving  towns  situ- 
ated in  those  very  hollows  whence  the  destructive  fire 
formerly  issued.  No  fewer  than  77  cities,  towns,  and  vil- 
lages, are  said  to  be  scattered  over  the  sides  of  ^tna ; 
and  the  whole  population  is  calculated  to  be  100,000 
persons. 

As  those  whohave  visited  jEtna  have  taken  nearly  the 
same  route,  they  have  in  general  selected  the  same  sta- 
tions for  halting.  In  the  first  region,  two  resting  places 
are  particularly  noticed,  viz.  Nkolosi,  and  St.  Niccolo 
ileW  Arena. 

Nicolosi  was  formerly  a  convent  belonging  to  the  Be- 
nedictine friars  of  Catania.  It  is  now  a  place  of  enter- 
tainment to  travellers.  Here  a  solitary  brother  resides, 
to  take  care  of  the  house,  and  superintend  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  neighbouring  fields.  According  to  Brydone, 
this  station  is  twelve  miles  up  the  mountain,  and,  by 
Houel's  calculation,  2496  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
The  air  here  is  remarkably  pure ;  but  the  progress  of 
vegetation  is  less  rapid  than  in  the  plain  below ;  for,  as 
Brydone  informs  us,  the  com  is  often  green  at  Nicolosi, 
^vhen  the  harvest  is  over  at  Catania, 

From  Nicolosi,  travellers  usually  make  a  short  excur- 
sion to  Monte  Rosso,  or  the  Red  Mountain,  so  called 
from  the  red  colour  which  appears  on  some  parts  of  its 
surface.  The  origin  of  this  mountain,  as  we  formerly 
observed,  is  sufficiently  ascertained.  The  approach  to 
it  is  through  a  deep  bed  of  black  sand,  which  completely 
envelopes  the  base  of  the  mountain,  and  is  about  (wo 
miles  in  breadth.  This  sand  is  the  sad  remains  of  the 
^readfal  eruption  of  1609,  which  gave  birth  to  this  hill, 


and  buried  in  rains  the  flourishing  vinpyards  and  rich 
pastures  in  its  neighbourhood,  to  the  extent  of  15  miles. 
It  is  even  said,  that  some  of  the  finer  particles  of  this 
sand  reached  the  opposite  coast  of  Calabria.  Authors 
disagree  respecting  the  size  of  this  hill.  Borelli  is  ol 
opinion,  that  its  circumference  at  the  base  does  not  ex- 
ceed two  miles,  and  its  perpendicular  height  150  paces  ; 
whereas  sir  W.  Hamilton  allows  one  mile  for  the  height, 
and  three  miles  for  the  circuit.  It  has  a  number  of 
mouths  or  craters,  all  of  which  have  externally  the 
shape  of  a  funnel  or  mutilated  cone.  M.  Houel  went 
down  into  one  of  these  openings  with  torches,  but  could 
not  reach  the  bottom,  being  compelled  to  return  by  the 
severity  of  the  cold. 

After  visiting  Monte  Rosso,  the  traveller  proceeds  on 
his  journey,  and  soon  arrives  atS't.  Niccolo  delT  Arcna,Hn 
ancient  edifice,  which  formerly  belonged  to  the  Bene- 
dictine friars.  Here  are  seen  innumerable  monuments 
and  inscriptions,  which  record  the  history  of  former 
ruins,  particularly  the  eruption  of  1669.  After  this  dis- 
astrous event,  its  original  proprietors  judged  it  expe- 
dient to  abandon  this  station,  and  sought  a  more  secure 
residence  in  the  plain  below.  Few  traces  of  these  deso- 
lations, however,  remain  to  the  presentday.  The  black 
sand  thrown  out  in  this  memorable  eruption,  has  for 
many  years  been  converted  into  vegetable  earth,  and  is 
now  covered  ^vith  extensive  and  thriving  vineyards.  In 
this  neighbourhood  rises  MontepUeri,  another  of  those 
hills  which  diversify  and  adorn  the  sides  of  ^tna.  It  de- 
serves notice  merely  on  account  of  its  peculiar  shape, 
and  the  circumstances  which  attended  its  formation. 
It  is  of  a  spherical  form,  not  exceeding  300  feet  in  height, 
and  about  a  mile  in  circuit.  It  is  perfectly  regular 
on  every  side,  and  richly  overspread  with  fruits  and 
flowers ;  its  crater  is  so  completely  hollowed  out  as  to 
resemble  a  bowl  in  its  internal  structure.  But  what 
renders  this  mountain  chiefly  remarkable,  is,  that  from 
the  period  of  the  eruption  which  produced  it,  we  date 
the  ruin  of  the  far-famed  territory  of  Hybla ;  which  now 
retains  no  traces  of  its  former  importance,  except  what 
we  may  learn  from  the  name  Mel  passi ;  or  from  a  few 
verdant  hillocks  which  spot  the  surface  of  fields  of  black 
and  rugged  lava. 

After  leaving  this  hill,  nothing  occurs  worthy  of  no- 
tice, till  we  enter  iheRegioneSylvosa,  which  begins  about 
three  miles  above  this  place.  The  woody  region  ex- 
tends from  eight  to  ten  miles  in  a  direct  line  towards 
the  top  of  the  mountain.  Its  circumference  is  estimated 
by  Recupero  at  70  or  80  miles,  which  will  make  its  sur- 
face about  40  or  45  square  leagues.  The  first  circum- 
stance that  attracts  the  attention  of  the  traveller  upon 
entering  this  region,  is  an  agreeable  change  of  tempe- 
rature, accompanied  with  the  richest  odours  from  aro- 
matic plants.  "  Here,"  says  Brydone,  "  we  seemed  to 
have  got  into  another  world;  the  air,  which  was  before 
sultry  and  hot,  was  now  cool  and  refreshing;  and  every 
breeze  was  loaded  with  a  thousand  perfumes.  Here  we 
behold  the  most  delicious  fruit  rising  from  what  was 
lately  a  black  and  barren  rock.  Here  the  ground  is  co- 
vered with  every  flower;  and  we  wander  over  these 
beauties,  and  contemplate  this  wilderness  of  sweets, 
without  considering  that  hell,  with  all  its  terrors,  is  im- 
mediately under  our  feet." 

Nor  is  the  traveller  less  struck  with  the  grandeur  and 
magnificence  of  the  surrounding  scenery,  than  delighted 
with  its  richness  and  gayety.  The  verdure  of  the  ma- 
jestic forests  of  ^tua  is  more  lively  than  that  of  other 


iETNA. 


175 


countries,  and  the  trees  of  which  they  consist  are  of 
greater  height.  The  hawthorns  are  of  an  immense  size, 
the  beeches  appear  like  so  many  ramified  pillars,  and 
the  tufted  branches  of  the  oak  are  impenetrable  to  the 
rays  of  the  sun.  The  eastern  side  of  the  mountain  is 
covered  chiefly  with  chesnut  trees,  which,  affording  ex- 
cellent materials  for  hoo[)s,  are  cultivated  with  much 
care  by  the  iuhal)itHnts,  as  a  valuable  article  of  trade. 
The  roads  on  this  side  of  JiLtna.  are  so  rugged  and  pre- 
cipitous, that  few  would  undertake  the  journey,  unless 
prompted  by  curiosity  to  visit  the  celebrated  chesnut 
tree,  where,  according  to  fabulous  report,  the  queen  of 
Spain,  with  her  hundred  attendants,  found  shelter  from 
a  violent  stonn. 

The  site  of  this  tree  is  remarkably  picturesque,  and 
calculated  to  exhibit  its  immense  size  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. It  stands  upon  a  rising  ground,  and  is  surrounded 
by  an  open  pasture,  which  is  bounded  by  woods  and  vine- 
yards. According  to  Swinburne,  it  measures  190  feet 
in  circumference,  at  one  inch  above  the  ground.  Its 
height  is  of  a  corresponding  magnitude ;  though  of  late 
years  it  has  been  considerably  diminished,  from  an  at- 
tempt to  increase  its  fruitfulness,  by  lopping  its  branches. 
Its  great  trunk,  before  reaching  the  surface,  separates 
into  five  great  divisions,  which  gives  it  the  appearance 
of  several  trees  growing  together.  With  the  view  of 
ascertaining  how  far  this  might  be  the  case,  Swinburne 
and  Recupero  inform  us,  that  they  dug  round  it  to  a  con- 
siderable depth,  and  found  all  the  stems  uniting  in  one 
great  trunk.  It  is  remarkable  that  none  of  these  large 
branches  have  bark  in  the  inside.  This  circumstance 
led  M.  Houel  to  conclude,  that  they  once  constituted  one 
large  trunk,  which  being  rent  asunder,  the  divided 
parts  of  the  bark  seeking  to  reunite,  were  bent  inwards, 
so  as  to  form  circular  arcs,  presenting  the  appearance 
of  so  many  separate  trees.  But  this  deficiency  of  the 
bark  in  the  inner  side  will  be  more  easily  explained,  if 
we  only  consider,  that  in  the  circular  space  formed  by 
these  large  branches,  there  are  erected  a  hut  and  oven, 
lor  the  accommodation  of  those  who  collect  its  fruits ; 
and  that  its  inhabitants  with  the  most  thoughtless  in- 
gratitude, sometimes  supply  themselves  with  fuel  from 
the  tree  which  protects  them.  This  tree  formerly  be- 
longed to  St.  Agatha,  but  has  lately  been  declared  the 
property  of  the  crown. 

After  examining  the  chesnut  tree,  the  traveller  next 
proceeds  to  the  Snow  Grotto;  and  in  his  way  thither 
passes  through  a  forest  of  pines,  which  is  scarcely  ac- 
cessible on  account  of  the  rocks  and  precipices  which 
surround  it.  This  grotto  is  situated  in  a  mount  named 
Fennochio  :  it  is  merely  an  excavation  in  the  rock,  form- 
ed by  the  waters  carryingaway  a  bed  of  pozzolana  which 
lay  under  the  lava.  The  snow,  driven  by  the  winds 
from  the  higher  parts  of  the  mountain,  is  stopped  a  little 
above  the  cave,  by  a  wall  built  for  the  purpose.  It  is 
then  thrown  into  the  grotto  by  two  openings  from  above, 
where  a  thick  ceiling  of  lava  completely  protects  it  from 
the  summer  heats.  Before  removing  it  from  the  cave, 
it  is  first  carefully  wrapped  up  in  leaves,  and  afterwards 
forced  into  large  bags,  and  in  this  state  is  conveyed  to 
the  shore  on  mules.  This  trade  was  chiefly  carried 
on  by  the  knights  of  Malta,  for  the  use  of  their  own  isl- 
and. 

From  the  snow  cavern  the  traveller  proceeds,  in  his 
ascent,  to  the  Grotto  of  the  Goats,  where  he  usually  takes 
shelter  for  the  night.  This  cave  seems  to  have  been  form- 
ed, like  the  Snow  Grotto,  by  the  action  of  water  upon  a 


bed  of  sand.  It  affords  a  safe  retreat  for  the  goats  in 
severe  weather;  and  hence  obtains  its  name.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  stately  oaks,  the  leaves  of  which  are  employ- 
ed by  the  weary  traveller  as  a  bed ;  while  the  wood  sup- 
plies him  with  fuel.  This  place,  according  to  Saussure, 
is  about  5054  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Upon  leaving  the  Grotto  of  the  G  oats,  the  wood  begins 
to  open,  and  the  whole  scene  gradually  changes.  The 
tufted  oaks,  and  branching  chesnuts,  whose  umbrageous 
foliage  protected  the  traveller  upon  his  entrance  into  the 
woody  region,  from  the  violence  of  the  mid-day  sun,  now 
afford  him  but  a  feeble  shelter  from  the  piercing  blasts 
which  descend  from  the  higher  regions.  As  he  ascends, 
the  forest  becomes  thinner  at  every  step,  the  trees  ap- 
pear scattered,  and  at  the  same  time  diminished  in  size 
and  beauty.  Now  only  a  few  clumps  of  trees,  and  some 
tufts  of  odoriferous  herbs,  are  to  be  seen;  in  a  little  time, 
these  also  become  thinner,  and  assume  a  withered  and 
stunted  appearance.  Soon  after,  he  beholds  the  last  ef- 
forts of  expiring  vegetation,  and  passes  into  the  regioa 
of  snow  and  sterility. 

The  Rcgione  Dcserta,  or  Upper  Zone  of -^tna, reckon- 
ing from  the  total  disappearance  of  vegetation  to  the 
verge  of  the  great  crater,  includes  a  space  of  about  8  or 
10  miles.  The  surface  of  this  zone  is  for  the  most  part 
flat  and  even,  presenting  a  dreary  expanse  of  snow  and 
ice.  In  the  midst  of  this  desert,  the  lofty  summit  of  the 
mountain  is  descried  at  a  distance,  rearing  its  tremen- 
dous head  above  the  surrounding  snows,  and  vomiting 
out  torrents  of  smoke. 

The  traveller  has  now  passed  over  twenty  miles  of 
ascent ;  but  the  most  fatiguing  and  hazanlous  part  of 
his  journey  still  remains.  The  gusts  of  wind  common 
to  all  elevated  situations,  are  remarkable  for  their  vio- 
lence on  the  higher  regions  of  /Etna.  The  traveller, 
after  struggling  long  against  the  chilling  blasts,  is  often 
obliged  to  lie  down  quite  exhausted  with  fatigue,  but 
is  instantly  roused  to  exertion,  by  reflecting  upon  the 
fatal  effiects  of  resting  in  so  inclement  a  situation.  In 
the  commencement  of  his  journey  through  this  snowy 
desert  while  the  ascent  is  gradual,  and  while  the  snow 
still  feels  the  softening  efliects  of  the  sun's  rays,  he  is 
able  to  walk  with  tolerable  ease  and  security ;  in  a  little 
time,  however,  the  surface  becomes  hardened  to  such  a 
degree,  as  to  appear  one  continued  sheet  of  ice.  On 
some  occasions,  his  progress  is  interrupted  by  currents 
of  melted  snow,  produced  by  some  accidental  increase 
of  temperature  in  particular  parts  of  the  mountain.  In 
consequence  of  this  partial  heating  of  the  surface,  pools 
of  water  are  often  formed,  which  add  considerably  to  the 
hazards  of  the  journey.  As  he  approaches  the  great 
crater,new  difficulties  occur:  The  sand  and  ashes  which 
were  at  first  thinly  spread  over  the  surface  of  the  hard- 
ened snow,  now  cover  it  to  a  considerable  depth ;  and 
are  at  the  same  time  so  loose  as  to  endanger  the  tra- 
veller's being  swallowed  up  at  every  step  of  his  progress. 
But  the  most  formidable  impediment  to  the  progress  of 
adventurers,  in  this  perilous  journey,  arises  from  the 
sulphureous  exhalations  which  are  continually  emitted 
from  the  pores  of  the  mountain,  and  which  irritate  the 
lungs  to  such  a  degree  as  to  produce  incessant  cough- 
ing, and  sometimes  even  threaten  suffocation.  Nor  is 
it  by  the  exhalations  from  the  sides  of  the  mountain 
merely  that  the  traveller  is  annoyed ;  the  thick  clouds 
of  smoke  which  continually  issue  from  the  mouth  of  the 
volcano,  sometimes  roll  down  its  sides,  and  involve  him 
in  a  destructive  atmosphere.  To  at^d  to  tbe  borrors  of  tbe 


176 


^TNA. 


scene,  he  is  at  etery  instant  alanVied  by  terrific  sounds, 
which  seem  to  come  I'rom  the  centre  of  the  mountain. 
M.  Houel  compares  this  noise  to  a  discharge  of  cannon 
in  the  wide  abyss,  which  being  reflected  from  various 
caverns,  produces  reverberations  of  the  most  alarming 
kind,  if  any  thing  be  still  wanting  to  add  to  the  diffi- 
culties and  dangers  of  the  journey,  it  is  only  necessary 
fo  observe,  that  it  is  commonly  performed  during  the 
night.  After  taking  a  short  repast,  and  slumbering  for 
a  iittle  on  his  bed  of  leaves,  the  traveller  usually  sets 
out  from  the  Grotto  of  the  Goats  a  little  before  midnight, 
in  order  that  he  may  reach  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
before  sunrise.  About  an  hour  before  dawn,  he  arrives 
at  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  structure,  commonly  called 
the  Philosopher's  Tower.  This  is  supposed  by  some  to 
have  been  built  by  the  philosopher  Empedocles  for  his 
own  accommodation,  when  studying  the  nature  of  mount 
j4i;tna ;  by  others,  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  ruins  of  a  tem- 
ple of  Vulcan ;  while  some  imagine  it  to  have  been  a 
watch-tower  built  by  the  Normans.  M.  Houel  is  of  opi- 
nion, that  it  is  a  modern  structure ;  neither  the  mate- 
rials of  which  it  consists,  nor  the  mode  of  architecture, 
bearing  any  resemblance  to  those  of  the  Greeks  or  Ro- 
mans. Here  the  traveller,  sheltered  from  the  fury  of  the 
blasts,  sits  down  to  recruit  his  exhausted  strength,  and 
finds  leisure  to  examine  the  objects  around  him.  The 
forests  below  still  appear  like  a  black  gulf  encompass- 
ing the  mountain.  The  unclouded  sky  is  faintly  irra- 
diated; and  the  immense  vault  of  the  heavens  appears 
before  him  in  awful  majesty  and  splendour.  The  num- 
ber of  the  stars  seem  increased,  and  their  light  appears 
brighter  than  nsual.  The  milky  way,  says  Brydone, 
like  a  pure  flame,  shoots  across  the  heavens;  and  the 
meteors,  called  falling  stars,  seem  as  much  elevated 
above  us,  as  when  seen  from  the  plain. 

Warned  by  the  first  rays  of  the  dawn,  the  traveller 
hastily  bids  adieu  to  the  Philosopher's  Tower ;  and,  pro- 
ceeding on  his  journey  to  the  summit,  soon  arrives  at 
the  foot  of  lh«  great  crater.  This  is  a  hill  of  an  exact 
conical  figure,  and  rises  equally  on  all  sides.  It  is  com- 
posed solely  of  ashes  and  other  burnt  materials,  thrown 
out  from  the  mouth  of  the  crater.  Its  circumference, 
according  to  Brydone,  is  not  less  than  10  miles;  and  its 
peri)endicular  height,  according  to  sir  William  Hamil- 
ton, is  about  1  of  a  mile.  This  conical  hill,  if  we  credit 
the  accounts  of  the  people  of  Catania,  is  but  a  recent 
production.  Before  the  year  1 730,  the  mountain  termi- 
nated in  an  extensive  plain,  in  the  centre  of  which  ap- 
peared an  immense  opening,  constituting  the  mouth  of 
the  great  gulf. 

The  traveller  now  exults  in  the  nearprospect  of  finish- 
ing his  toils,  and  joyfully  anticipates  the  awful  and  sub- 
lime scenery  presented  on  the  top  of  the  mountain. 
But  considerable  fatigues  still  await  him.  1'he  mountain 
now  becomes  excessively  steep,  and  the  materials  of 
which  it  is  composed  are  so  loose,  that  he  sinks  at  every 
step,  and  is  often  compelled  to  throw  himself  flat  on  its 
surface.  By  persevering,  however,  he  is  able  to  over- 
come these  difficulties,  and  perhaps  arrives  in  time  to 
behold  the  most  wonderful  and  sublime  sight  in  nature. 
A  fiery  radiance  begins  to  appear  behind  the  Italian 
hills.  The  fleecy  clouds  are  tinged  with  purple.  The 
atmosphere  becomes  strongly  illuminated;  and,  reflect- 
ing the  rays  of  the  sun,  glows  with  a  bright  eflulgence. 
In  a  little  while  the  Ijody  of  the  sun  is  seen  rising  from 
the  ocean ;  the  highest  top  of  A^tna  catches  the  first 
tremulous  ray,  while  all  below  is  Avj^k  and  coufused. 


The  hills  immediaiely  below  the  highest  peak  are  ill* 
minated,  and  the  spectator  seems  as  if  seated  in  some 
desert  isle,  in  the  midst  of  the  %vatery  waste.  The  ra- 
diance is  now  rapidly  diffused.  The  forests  seem  a  new 
creation  rising  to  the  sight,  and  catching  life  and  beauty 
from  every  increasing  b«am.  Now  appear  the  extensive 
plains  of  ^tna,  with  its  towns,  hamlets,  and  monaste- 
ries ;  the  cities  of  Sicily,  and  its  parched  shores,  with 
the  dashing  waves  and  wide  expanse  of  the  ocean.  On 
the  south  are  seen  the  hills  of  Camerata  and  Traponi ; 
on  the  north,  the  mounts  Pelegrino  and  Thermini,  with 
the  celebrated  Enna.  Among  these  mountains,  the 
rivers  appear  like  lines  of  glittering  silver,  winding  their 
course  through  rich  and  fertile  ^elds,  and  washing  the 
walls  of  twenty  cities.  The  view  on  every  side  seems 
boundless.  On  the  north  side  are  seen  the  islands  of 
Lipari,  with  their  smoking  summits,  the  Straits  of  Mes- 
sina, and  the  coast  of  Calabria ;  and  on  the  south,  Malta 
is  descried  at  a  distance  in  the  very  edge  of  the  horizon. 
After  dwelling  upon  these  objects  for  some  time,  the 
traveller  next  attempts  to  explore  the  secrets  of  the  great 
abyss.  In  the  mid<lle  of  the  conical  mountain  formerly 
described,  appears  a  hollow  of  about  three  miles  in  cir- 
cumference. It  goes  shelving  down  from  the  top,  pre- 
senting the  appearance  of  an  inverted  cone.  Its  depth 
nearly  corresponds  to  the  height  of  the  conical  mountain. 
The  inside  of  this  cup  is  crusted  over  with  salts  and  sul- 
phurs of  different  colours,  and  from  difiierent  parts  of  its 
surface  issue  volumes  of  sulphureous  smoke,  which  be- 
ing heavier  than  the  surrounding  air,  instead  of  rising 
immediately,  on  reaching  the  verge  of  the  crater,  roll 
down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  shoot  off  horizontally 
in  the  direction  of  the  wind,  forming  a  large  track  in  the 
air.  In  the  centre  of  this  funnel  is  placed  the  mouth  of 
the  unfathomable  gulf,  whence  issue  confused  and  aw- 
ful sounds,  which  increase  in  loudness  on  the  eve  of  au 
irruption.  The  inside  of  the  crater,  according  to  Bry- 
done, is  remarkably  hot ;  and  the  surface  so  soft  and 
loose,  as  to  render  it  impossible  to  descend  into  it.  M. 
D'Orville,  however,  made  a  bold  attemjit  to  explore  the 
secrets  of  the  awful  abyss.  Having  fastened  himself  to 
a  rope,  which  several  men  lield  at  a  distance,  he  de- 
scended to  the  very  edge  of  the  oi)ening.  Here  he  be- 
held, in  the  middle  of  the  gulf,  a  mass  of  matter,  rising 
in  the  shape  of  a  cone,  the  height  of  which  appeared  to 
be  about  60  feet,  and  its  circumference  at  the  base  near 
600.  Around  this  conical  mass,  small  lambent  flames 
were  seen  to  rise  on  every  side,  accompanied  with  a 
noxious  kind  of  vapour,  and  ofiensive  smoke.  This  cir- 
cumstance, together  with  the  particular  form  of  the  mar- 
gin, which  is  incrusted  with  a  greenish  kind  of  sulphur 
and  pumice-stone,  prevented  him  from  having  a  full  view 
of  its  internal  structure ;  while  the  appearance  of  a  con- 
siderable commotion  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  gulf,  at- 
tended with  an  increased  loudness  of  the  noises,  warned 
him  to  escajjc  to  his  companions.  The  account  of  the  in- 
side of  the  crater,  given  by  Spallanzani,  diflers  from  this 
in  some  particulars.  Accoriling  to  him,  the  inner  sides 
of  the  crater,  instead  of  terminating  in  the  opening  into 
the  gulf,  lead  to  a  plain,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a  cir- 
cular aperture.  Within  this  cavity,  he  observed  liquid 
matter,  rising  and  falling,  and  exhibiting  all  the  appea> 
ances  of  ebullition.  In  order  to  ascertain  how  far  this 
appearance  was  real,  he  informs  us,  that  he  threw  down 
large  stones,  both  upon  tlie  bottom  and  Iwiling  matter; 
and  that  the  stones  which  fell  on  the  bottom  rebounded, 
wJiilc  those  tlirowu  iuto  the  aperture  seemed  as  if  tliey 


^TNA. 


177 


had  fallen  upon  tenacious  pilch.  Baron  Riedsdel,  who 
visited  the  crater  twenty  years  before  Spallanzani,  talces 
no  notice  of  this  bottom.  Indeed,  he  informs  us,  that, 
upon  throwing  large  stones  into  the  crater,  no  sound  was 
returned ;  but  that  he  lieard  issuing  from  the  gulf  a  noise, 
similar  to  that  of  the  waves  of  the  sea  when  agitated  by 
a  tempest.  Sir  William  Hamilton  describes  the  funnel 
as  terminating  in  a  point.  Mr.  Brydone  gives  nearly  the 
same  account  as  M.  D'Orville.  M.  Houel,  who  visited 
the  mountain  in  1 782,  describes  iEtna  as  having  tliree  em- 
inences, and  places  the  crater  in  the  middle  of  them. 
Vazello  relates,  that,  in  his  time,  a  small  conical  hill  rose 
in  the  centre  of  the  crater,  forming  the  vertex  of  the 
mountain ;  and  that  after  a  terrible  eruption  it  totally 
disappeared.  Strabo  describes  the  summit  of  ^tna  as 
a  level  plain,  having  a  smoky  hill  in  its  centre.  Bembo 
informs  us,  that  he  found  two  craters ;  but  was  prevented 
by  the  smoke  and  vapours  from  examining  their  internal 
structure.  From  all  these  accounts,  it  appears  obvious 
that  the  configuration  of  the  crater  is  subject  to  frequent 
changes. 

A  considerable  diversity  of  opinion  occurs  in  the  state- 
ments of  travellers  to  JEtna,  respecting  other  subjects 
of  |)erhapg  trifling  importance.  Some  represent  the 
gmoke  as  rising  with  difficulty  to  the  edge  of  the  crater, 
and  then  rolling  down  the  sides  of  the  mountain ;  while 
others  describe  it  ascending  perpendicularly  to  a  great 
height,  and  afterwards  falling  down  in  the  form  of  white 
flowers.  Without  questioning  the  accuracy  of  the  ob- 
servers, these  accounts  may  easily  be  reconciled,  by  re- 
flecting, that  the  smoke  at  diflerent  times  may  possess 
different  degrees  of  density,  according  to  the  nature  of 
substances  from  which  it  is  derived;  and  that  the  air  may 
vary  considerably  in  its  specific  gravity,  and  thus  be  ca- 
pable of  supporting  the  smoke  at  different  heights. 

Nor  have  travellers  differed  less  in  describing  the  ef- 
fects of  the  diminished  [iressure  of  the  air  on  the  summit 
of  jEtna.  Some  have  complained  of  great  dilficulty  in 
respiration  ;  while  others  have  declared,  that,  in  this  res- 
pect, they  felt  no  inconvenience  whatever.  That  at  cer- 
tain heights  the  air  becomes  so  much  rarefied  as  to  pro- 
duce difficulty  in  breathing,  appears  pretty  obvious  from 
the  accurate  observations  made  by  Saussure,  in  his  tra- 
vels on  the  Alps ;  but  it  appears  equally  obvious  from 
the  same  evidence,  that,  on  the  highest  point  of  jEtna, 
no  such  effects  ought  to  be  produced.  We  must  there- 
fore reconcile  the  accounts,  by  ascribing  the  difference 
of  statement  to  a  difference  in  the  strength  and  habit  of 
body  of  the  different  travellers. 

Authors  disagree  respecting  another  subject,  where 
it  is  not  so  easy  to  explain  the  origin  of  the  difference. 
Spallanzani  observes,  that  /Etna  has  at  all  times  been 
very  deficient  in  springs,  and  that  the  peasants  are  often 
seen  roaming  over  the  hill  in  every  direction,  in  search 
of  water ;  while  others  state,  that  JEtaa  abounds  with 
fountains  and  rivers  of  great  magnitude.  Mr.  Brydone 
describes  several  intermittent  springs,  which  flow  during 
the  day,  and  stop  during  the  night.  Others  describe 
springs  (hat  emit  a  noxious  vapour,  salt  springs,  and 
some  whose  waters  are  used  for  dyeing  particular  co- 
lours. We  are  also  told,  that  on  the  north  side  of  the 
snowy  region,  there  are  several  lakes  which  never  freeze. 
M.  Houei,  in  jjarticular,  relates,  (hat  streams  of  water 
are  seen  issuing  from  the  mountain  at  all  heights,  and 
continue  to  flow  even  during  the  sunmier ;  nay,  so  high 
tloes  he  rate  the  quantity  of  water  found  on  the  sidos  of 
.£tna,  as  to  suppose  that  (he  whole,  if  collected  together. 

Vol.  r.     Part  I. 


would  fill  the  cliannel  of  a  river  36  feet  broad,  and  six 
deep.  He  even  finds  considerable  difficulty  in  explain- 
ing the  source  of  so  much  water.  He  thinks,  that  the 
clouds,  and  the  melting  of  the  snow,  are  inadequate  to 
the  supply ;  and  therefore  ascribes  this  abundance  of  wa- 
ter to  tlie  condensation  of  aqueous  vapour,  which  he  sup- 
poses to  be  continually  rising  from  the  crater ;  water,  ac- 
cording to  him,  being  an  important  agent  in  the  produc- 
tion of  a  volcano.  We  must  therefore  conclude,  that 
Spallanzani's  observations  are  either  limited  or  inaccu- 
rate. Perhaps  a  particular  theory,  which  he  seems  to 
have  formed  on  this  subject,  may  have  misled  him.  Hav- 
ing observed  that  there  is  a  great  scarcity  of  springs  in 
the  islands  of  Lipari,  he  hastily  concludes,  that  all  volca- 
nic countries  are  subject  to  the  same  inconvenience;  and 
he  explains  it  in  this  manner : — When  rain  descends  on 
volcanic  mountains,  it  either  falls  on  tufas  and  scoriae,  or 
on  compact  and  solid  lava.  In  the  first  case,  it  sinks  into 
the  earth,  and  not  meeting  with  any  of  those  strata  which 
retain  it,  is  lost  for  ever ;  in  the  latter  case,  it  runs  down 
the  declivities,  forming  river-torrents,  and  hastily  disap- 
pears. 

We  shall  conclude  this  general  view  of  the  surface  of 
jEtna,  by  noticing  a  few  particulars  respecting  its  animal 
and  vegetable  productions.  Besides  the  trees  of  a  larger 
size,  which  we  have  already  described,  Mtna  produces  a 
great  variety  of  plants  and  flowers.  According  to  Dio- 
dorus  Siculus,  this  mountain  was  celebrated  by  the  an- 
cients for  its  otloriferous  productions.  (See  Diod.  Sic. 
torn.  i.  p.  322.)  Plutarch  and  Aristotle  somewhere  in- 
form us,  that  the  smell  of  plants  was  so  strong  on  some 
parts  of  its  surface,  as  to  render  it  impossible  to  hunt  in 
that  neighbourhootl.  Little,  however,  is  yet  known  res- 
peeling  the  flora  of  iEtna.  Mr.  Brydone  enumerates  the 
following  plants,  viz.  the  cinnamon,  sarsaparilia,  sassa- 
fras, rhubarb,  and  palma  Christi. 

The  animal  productions  of  jKtna  are  now  much  dimin- 
ished both  in  size  and  number.  Its  horses  and  cattle 
were  once  esteemed  the  best  in  Sicily ;  but  the  former 
are  greatly  degenerated.  The  race  of  stags  is  thought 
to  be  extinct;  but  several  species  of  wild  animals  still  re- 
main, as  the  Avild-boar,  the  roebuck,  and  wild-goat.  Spal- 
lanzani informs  us,  that  in  the  upper  extremity  of  (he  mid- 
dle region,  he  met  with  the  following  birds :  partridges, 
{tetrao  riiftis ;)  a  kite,  {falco  mili'iis  ;)  jays,  {corvtis  glan- 
(lularius  ;)  thrushes,  (tiirdtis  viscivonis ;)  several  ravens 
and  crows,  and  some  birds  of  the  titmouse  kind ;  but  iii 
the  higher  region  he  saw  no  other  animals  than  some  lion 
an(s,  {tiryrmclion  formicarum,')  which  made  their  pit-falls 
in  the  dust  of  the  lavas. 

After  examining  the  more  prominent  features  of  the 
surface  of  /Etna,  we  next  proceed  to  detail  the  opinion  of 
travellers,  respecting  its  heis^ht,  conslilucnl  parts,  and  the 
mode  of  its  formation.  On  these  subjecis,  however,  we 
have  to  regret,  that  our  information  is  both  scanty  and 
inaccurate. 

The  ancients,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  language  of 
their  poe(s,  and  the  allusions  made  to  this  mountain  in 
their  mythological  talcs,  regarded  /'Etna  as  a  mountain  of 
the  first  magnitude.  Pindar  s|)eaksof  it  as  the  pillar  of 
heaven ;  {Pythia.  Od.  i.  v.  30 ;)  and  Hyginus  makes  Deu- 
calion and  Pyrrha  flee  to  /Etna,  as  a  place  of  security 
amidst  the  wreck  of  the  general  deluge.  {Hysrin.  Fab. 
■133.)  In  modern  times,  however,  since  a  knowledge  of 
the  earth's  surface  has  been  more  generally  diffused,  and 
the  modf  of  measuring  heights  better  understood,  /Etna 
is  known  (o  be  a  mountain  of  but  secondary  importance. 


178 


iETNA. 


and  by  no  meanB  to  be  compared  in  point  of  height  with 
the  mountains  of  the  western  world,  or  even  with  those  of 
the  Alps.  As  the  statements  of  travellers  respecting  the 
height  of  ^i;tna  differ  widely  from  one  another,  we  shall 
present  our  readers  with  a  table  of  the  heights  given  by 
different  authors,  and  allow  them  to  judge  for  themselves, 
after  remiirking,  that  a  French  toise  is  a  little  more  than 
an  English  fatliom,  or  six  feet. 

Height  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 

according  to  Kircher, 4000  toises. 

llecupero, 2500  toises. 

Buffon, 2000  fatlioms. 

Brydone, 12,000  feet. 

Sir  G.  Shucksburgh,     .     .  10,954  feet. 
Saussure, 10,963  feet. 

When  we  reflect,  that  in  every  eruption  a  considerable 
quantity  of  new  matter  is  added  to  its  surface,  we  are  apt 
to  conclude,  that  jEtna  must  be  continually  increasing  in 
height.  There  is  one  circumstance,  however,  to  be  ta- 
ken into  account,  which  must  limit  to  a  considerable  de- 
gree, if  not  coanterbalance  entirely,  the  effect  of  this  ac- 
cumulation. If,  by  frequent  eruptions,  the  size  of  the 
mountain  is  increased  externally,  its  internal  parts  must 
suffer  a  corresponding  diminution ;  and  the  effect  of  this 
hollowing  out  of  the  body  of  the  mountain  must  evidently 
be,  to  occasion  a  falling  in  of  the  summit.  That  this 
event  frequently  occurs,  seems  more  than  probable,  from 
the  marked  difference  of  configuration  which  the  crater 
presents  at  different  times.  Some  have  ado])ted  an  opi- 
nion, the  very  opposite  of  this,  and  have  contended,  that 
jEtna  bears  evident  marks  of  decay  and  diminution.  M. 
Houel,  in  particular,  favours  this  opinion  ;  but  it  is  by  no 
means  a  modern  conjecture.  (Vide  Seneca,  Epist.  1 79, 
and  /Elian,  Far.  Hist.  1.  viii.  c.xi.)  In  support  of  this 
opinion,  it  is  alleged,  that  JEina  cannot  be  seen  now  at 
80  great  a  distance  as  formerly.  We  are  unable  to  de- 
cide between  these  contending  opinions.  That  this 
mountain,  in  common  with  others,  is  subject  to  continual 
waste,  in  consequence  of  the  constant  action  of  rains, 
mountain  torrents,  and  similar  causes,  appears  undenia- 
ble; but  whether  iEtna  contains  within  itself  any  pecu- 
liar causes  of  decay,  has  not  yet  been  clearly  made  out. 

Various  and  opposite  opinions  have  been  entertained 
by  naturalists,  respecting  the/wmaiionofyEtna.  Some 
have  contended,  that  it  existed  as  a  mountain  and  vol- 
cano from  the  creation;  while  others  maintain,  that  it  ex- 
hibited no  symptoms  of  a  volcano  till  long  after  that  pe- 
riod. A  third  party,  perhaps  with  belter  reason,  regard 
it  as  the  gradual  production  of  volcanic  eruptions. 

For  the  first  opinion  we  are  indebted  to  Buffon,  who 
admits,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  eruptions  ceased  for  a 
considerable  time,  upon  the  subsiding  of  the  waters 
which  covered  the  face  of  the  earth.  Nor  did  /Etna 
again  begin  to  emit  her  hidden  fires,  according  to  the 
same  author,  till,  by  the  bursting  open  of  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar  and  the  Bosphorus,  the  plains  of  -Etna  were 
deluged,  and  thus  a  new  supply  of  water  obtained  for 
maintaining  the  conflagration. 

The  second  opinion  is  founded  chiefly  upon  the  great 
height  at  which  beds  of  sea-shells  have  been  found  on 
the  sides  of  the  mountain.  Dolomieu  states,  that  he 
discovered  immense  heaps  of  these  shells  on  the  north- 
east flanks  of  the  mountain,  at  the  height  of  2000  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  that  regular  strata  of 
jray  clay,  filled  with  marine  shells,  are  found  at  a  stiJI 


greater  height.  He  further  adds,  that  in  several  parts 
of  the  mountain,  calcareous  strata  lie  under  the  lava. 
See  Kirwan's  Paper,  Irish  Tratisactions,  vol.  vi.  p.  306. 
From  these  facts  it  is  inferred,  that  ^tna  must  have  ex- 
isted as  a  mountain  of  considerable  height  before  it  was 
uncovered  by  the  sea,  and  that,  in  as  far  as  the  calcare- 
ous strata  and  shells  lie  under  the  lava,  the  eruptions 
must  have  taken  place  at  a  period  posterior  to  their  de- 
position. 

The  last  hypothesis,  or  that  which  regards  ^tua  as 
the  accumulated  effect  of  successive  eruptions,  has  been 
more  generally  received  than  the  others.  Indeed,  we 
know  from  observation,  and  the  most  authentic  records, 
that  by  many  of  the  great  eruptions,  new  hilU  tiave  been 
produced ;  and  that  the  greater  number  oi  the  conical 
mounts  which  diversify  the  surface  oC  /Etna,  bear  une- 
quivocal marks  of  the  same  origin.  It  is  not  witliout 
reason,  therefore,  that  some  have  been  led  to  regard 
jEtna,  not  as  a  single  volcano,  but  as  an  assemblnge  of 
volcanic  hills.  M.  Houel,  in  his  Voyage  Pittoresqiu, 
states  several  arguments  in  support  of  (his  opinion.  He 
indeed  asserts,  that  JFAna.  is  composed  entirely  of  ma- 
rine depositions,  ami  the  matter  discharged  from  the 
volcano  in  its  different  eruptions.  He  informs  us,  that 
the  base  of  the  mountain  consists  of  alternate  layers  of 
lava  and  marine  substances,  successively  deposited  upon 
one  another,  and  reaching  to  an  unknown  depth.  These 
alternate  layers,  according  to  this  author,  must  descend 
to  the  level  of  the  stratum  of  lava  which  was  discharged 
by  the  first  eruption.  The  last  layer  deposited  by  the 
sea  is  a  range  of  calcareous  eminences  of  considerable 
height,  placed  on  a  basis  of  lava.  Beneath  this  there  is 
another  stratum  of  sea  pebbles,  rounded  by  their  mutual 
attraction.  This  again  lies  upon  a  yellow  rock,  consist- 
ing of  what  is  usually  called  indurated  sand,  over  which 
the  river  Simeto  flows. 

Much,  however,  is  yet  to  be  learned  respecting  the 
structure  of  /Etna.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  that  ere  long,  some 
disci|)le  of  the  German  school,  less  eager  to  form  theo- 
ries than  to  discover  facts,  will  deem  this  mountain  wor- 
thy of  particular  investigation. 

The  facts  brought  to  light  in  examining  the  structure 
of  .£tna,  have  led  to  a  discussion  respecting  its  antiqui- 
ty, which  being  intimately  connected  with  our  present 
subject,  we  must  not  wholly  overlook.  This  question, 
in  itself  perhaps  of  no  great  importance,  has  acquired 
considerable  interest  from  the  attempts  made  by  some 
to  employ  the  conclusions  drawn  from  it,  as  an  argu- 
ment against  the  divine  origin  of  the  Scriptures.  The 
general  fact  has  already  been  alluded  to,  viz.  that  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  iEtna,  layers  of  lava  are  found  alternating 
with  b«ds  of  vegetable  mould ;  but  Canon  Recupero  has 
furnished  us  with  a  particular  fact  of  this  kind.  In  the 
neighbourhood  of  Jaci,  he  informs  us,  that  in  digging  a 
pit,  he  discovered  no  less  than  seven  distinct  layers  of 
lava,  each  of  which  was  covered  with  a  bed  of  rich  vege- 
table earth.  If  by  any  means,  therefore,  we  can  discover 
the  number  of  years  required  to  convert  lava  into  mould, 
or  to  cover  it  with  a  bed  of  vegetable  earth  of  a  certain 
thickness,  it  seems  but  fair  to  conclude,  upon  the  evi- 
dence of  this  fact  of  Recupero's,  that  the  mountain  has 
existed  at  least  seven  times  that  period.  Now  Recupero 
himself  furnishes  us  with  the  very  step  which  is  want- 
ing to  complete  this  argument.  He  points  out  a  bed  of 
lava,  which  he  conceives  to  have  been  deposited  about 
the  time  of  the  second  Punic  war,  so  thinly  covered  with 
soil,  as  to  be  still  unfit  for  produciflg  either  corn  or  vines. 


^TNA. 


179 


If  a  period  of  2000  years,  tlierefore,  be  required  for  con- 
verting lava  into  soil,  14,000  must  have  elapsed  since 
the  formation  of  the  lowest  bed  of  the  pit  at  Jaci :  and 
consequently,  the  mountain  must  have  existed  at  a  pe- 
riod still  more  remote. 

Before  inquiring  how  far  this  reasoning  is  correct,  it 
may  be  proper  to  observe,  that,  admitting  the  argument 
respecting  the  great  antiquity  of  the  world  to  be  conclu- 
sive, it  does  not  follow  that  the  Mosaic  account  is  either 
false  or  inconsistent  with  facts.  Moses  professes  to  give 
an  account  of  the  history  of  mankind  from  the  earliest 
period,  and  describes  the  manner  in  which  the  earth 
was  prepared  for  his  habitation;  but  he  no  where  pre- 
tends to  give  the  date  of  its  formation.  The  earth,  there- 
fore, may  have  existed,  and  undergone  various  revolu- 
tions, previous  to  the  period  at  which  the  Scripture  nar- 
ration commences. 

But  lest  this  mode  of  removing  the  difficulty  should 
appear  to  some  of  our  readers  not  altogether  satisfac- 
tory, we  shall  now  examine  the  argument  itself.  Its 
whole  force  seems  to  depend  upon  two  circumstances  : 
upon  the  accuracy  of  the  fact  respecting  the  bed  of  lava 
which  is  said  to  have  flowed  from  the  mountain  in  the 
time  of  the  second  Punic  war;  and  upon  the  correctness 
of  the  general  assumption,  that  all  lavas  require  the 
same  number  of  years  to  fit  them  for  supporting  vegeta- 
ble life.  With  regard  to  the  first  point,  we  have  no 
means  of  ascertaining  what  degree  of  credit  is  due  to 
the  opinion  of  Recupero.  He,  indeed,  speaks  of  it  as  a 
matter  clearly  made  out,  but  does  not  inform  us  from 
what  principles  he  derived  his  conclusion. 

But  admitting  that  this  particular  bed  of  lava  did  flow 
from  the  mountain  about  2000  years  ago,  and  that  it  is 
still  scarcely  fit  for  the  purposes  of  vegetable  life,  does  it 
follow  that  all  lavas  are  equally  refractory  ?  If  we  were 
entitled  to  decide  upon  the  qualities  of  lava,  from  what 
ha])pens  in  the  parallel  case  of  iron  slag,  we  might  with- 
out hesitation  affirm,  that  lavas  become  fertile  at  very 
different  periods,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  sub- 
stances from  which  they  are  derived,  the  consistency  of 
Iheir  parts,  the  position  of  the  bed,  and  their  degree  of 
exposure  to  those  agents  which  produce  a  disintegration 
of  their  parts.  But  fortunately  on  this  subject  we  are 
not  under  the  necessity  of  having  recourse  to  the  doubt- 
ful argument  of  analogy.  It  is  a  fact  well  ascertained, 
that  volcanic  ashes  and  pumice  vegetate  much  sooner 
than  compact  solid  lava.  But  even  lavas,  apparently  in 
similar  circumstances,  are  covered  with  vegetable 
mould  at  very  diflerent  periods.  Chevalier  Gioeni  in- 
forms us,  that  he  found,  in  1787,  lavas  which  had  been 
projected  only  21  years  before  that  period,  in  a  state  of 
vegetation ;  while  others  much  more  ancient,  remained 
barren. 

Count  Borch,  however,  the  chief  advocate  of  the  opi- 
nion which  we  are  now  combating,  produces  several 
facts  greatly  in  favour  of  his  own  hypothesis.  He  in- 
forms us,  that  he  examined,  in  1776,  lavas  of  the  follow- 
ing diffierent  periods — 1157,  1329,  1669,  1766.  The 
first  had  acquired  a  coating  of  earth  12  inches  thick; 
the  second,  one  of  eight  inches ;  the  third,  more  than 
one  inch ;  and  the  last  was  entirely  destitute  of  soil. 
Here  the  series  is  perfectly  regular,  and  the  quantity  of 
soil  formed  corresponds  exactly  to  the  age  of  the  lava ; 
but  the  Abbe  Spallanzani  very  pertinently  inquires.  If 
the  lava  which  flowed  in  1329,  and  ^vas  examined  by  the 
count  447  years  after,  had  acquired  a  covering  of  earth 
eight  inches  thick,  how  does  it  liappea  that  the  lava  of 


the  Arso  in  Ischia,  which  flowed  in  1302,  appeared,  in 
1788,  to  preserve  its  original  hardness  and  sterility? 
The  argument  derived  from  the  appearance  of  the  pit  at 
Jaci,  has  no  force,  unless  it  can  be  demonstrated,  that 
the  thickness  of  the  beds  of  vegetable  earth  corresponds 
exactly  to  the  period  between  the  eniptions.  But  it 
must  appear  perfectly  nugatory,  if  it  can  be  shown,  that 
an  appearance  exactly  similar  has  been  produced  within 
the  limits  of  authentic  history.  The  ruins  of  Hercula- 
neum  furnish  us  with  a  fact  of  this  kind.  The  eruption 
which  overwhelmed  this  once  flourishing  city,  is  known 
to  have  happened  in  the  reign  of  Titus,  little  more  than 
1 700  years  ago.  Upon  examining  the  ruins,  it  is  found 
that  six  different  eruptions  have  occurred  since  that  pe- 
riod, and  that  each  of  the  strata  of  lava  is  separated  by 
beds  of  rich  soil. 

We  shall  now  conclude  this  article  with  an  account  of 
the  different  eruptions  recorded  by  historians.  Spallan- 
zani estimates  the  whole  number  which  have  happened 
within  the  limits  of  authentic  history,  to  be  about  31,  of 
which,  says  Gioeni,  not  more  than  10  have  issued  from 
the  highest  crater.  It  is  happily  a  matter  of  small  mo- 
ment ;  otherwise  it  might  afford  considerable  difficulty 
to  determine  the  precise  number  of  eruptions  whicli 
have  happened,  even  within  this  period.  The  same 
eruption  is  often  renewed,  after  a  considerable  interval ; 
and  this  expiring  effort  may  sometimes  be  mistaken  by 
the  passing  spectator  for  the  commencement  of  a  new 
eruption.  Some  begin  to  entertain  the  opinion  that 
jEtna  has  now  nearly  exhausted  its  force,  and  that  its 
eruptions  are  not  so  frequent,  or  of  such  magnitude  as 
in  former  ages.  How  far  this  opinion  is  consistent  with 
facts,  we  pretend  not  to  determine;  but  certainly  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose,  that  every  new  eruption,  by  di- 
minishing the  quantify  of  volcanic  matter,  or  by  remov- 
ing it  further  from  the  focus,  and  thus  rendering  it 
more  difficult  to  be  elevated ;  by  excavating  the  moun- 
tain, and  enlarging  its  caverns  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
diminish  the  effect  of  the  vapour,  must  ultimately  tend 
to  lessen  the  number  and  violence  of  the  eruptions. 

The  phenomena  attending  an  eniption  have  been  fre- 
quently and  minutely  described  by  different  authors. 
The  pale  white  smoke,  which  continually  issues  from  the 
crater,  even  in  its  quietest  state,  begins  to  increase  in 
quantity ;  small  clouds  of  black  smoke  are  seen  at  short 
intervals,  shooting  up  through  the  centre  of  the  white 
column,  and  suddenly  losing  themselves  in  the  higher 
regions  of  the  air.  These  clouds  soon  increase  in  num- 
ber, and  at  last  the  whole  column  assumes  a  black  ap- 
pearance. During  the  night  this  black  smoke  resembles 
a  pillar  of  flame  ;  an  appearance  which  the  lowest  part 
of  the  column  retains  even  during  the  day.  This  smoke 
becomes  highly  electrical ;  and  continual  flashes  of 
forked  lightning  are  seen  darting  from  it  in  every  direc- 
tion. In  this  state  it  is  sometimes  carried  by  the  winds 
into  the  adjoining  countrj',  where  it  commits  the  most 
dreadful  ravages.  Mr.  Brydone  informs  us,  that  on  some 
occasions  it  has  been  known  to  extend  to  a  distance  of 
100  miles,  laying  waste  every  thing  around,  killing  the 
shepherd  and  his  flocks  on  the  mountains,  blasting  the 
trees,  and  setting  fire  to  the  houses.  In  this  state  of  the 
mountain,  showers  of  ashes  frequently  occur,  earth- 
quakes are  produced,  and  red  hot  stones  are  projected 
to  a  great  height  in  the  air.  Brydone  states,  upon  the 
authority  of  Recupero,  that  stones  of  immense  size  have 
sometimes  been  thrown  upwards  to  the  height  of  7000 
feet. 

Z  1 


180 


^TNA. 


These  appearances  generally  continue  for  three  or 
four  months,  after  which  the  lava  begins  to  boil  over 
the  top  of  the  crater,  or  bursts  from  some  part  of  the 
side.  The  violent  commotions  of  the  mountain  now 
cease,  and  the  lava  flows  down  its  sides  in  a  regular 
stream.  Sometimes,  however,  the  opening  proves  too 
small  for  the  full  discharge  of  the  lava,  and  then  the 
mountain  rages  with  increased  fury ;  nor  is  tranquillity 
restored,  till,  by  bursting  asunder  the  barriers,  a  free 
Tent  is  given  for  the  discharge.  During  the  uight,  the 
lava  appears  like  a  stream  of  fire,  and  in  the  day-time  is 
easily  recognized  at  a  distance,  by  the  white  smoke 
which  constantly  hovers  over  it. 

The  great  features  of  an  eruption  of  .^tna  are  thus 
delineated  by  Virgil,  in  the  third  book  of  the  ^neid : 

— ■  Horificis  juxta  tonat  Mtn&  minis, 
Interduinque  atram  prorumpit  ad  ajthera  nnbem. 
Turbine  fumantem  piceo  et  candente  favilla  ; 
Adtollitque  globos  flammarum,  el  sidera  lambit: 
Iiiterdum  scopulos,  avolsaque  viscera  montis 
Krigit  ertictans,  liquefactaque  saxa  sub  auras 
Cum  geuiitu  glomerat,  fundoque  exiestuat  imo. 

JExEiD,  b.  ill.  V/571. 

The  first  eruption  recorded  in  history,  is  that  men- 
tioned by  Diodorus  Siculus,  (lib.  v.  tom.  1.  p.  335.)  He 
does  not  fix  the  date,  but  informs  us,  that  in  consequence 
of  this  eruption,  the  Sicani  abandoned  the  eastern  side 
of  Sicily,  which  was  afterwards  occupied  by  the  Sici- 
lians, a  colony  from  Italy.  Thucydides  relates,  that  /Etna, 
at  three  different  times,  discharged  torrents  of  fire,  be- 
tween the  third  year  of  the  11th  olympiad,  (733  A.  C.) 
and  the  third  year  of  the  88th  olympiad,  (423  A.  C.)  See 
Thucydides,  b.  iii.  c.  110.  The  second  eruption,  or  the 
first  mentioned  by  Thucydides,  happened,  according  to 
Eusebius,  565  A.  C.  The  third  eruption,  or  the  second 
of  Thucydides,  happened  in  the  same  year  }n  wliich 
Mardonius  was  defeated  at  Plataea,  or  the  second  year  of 
the  'Sth  olympiad,  (476  A.  C.)  Both  the  victory  and  the 
eruption  are  commemorated  in  an  inscription  on  the 
Oxford  Marble.  This  eruption  is  distinguished  by  an 
act  of  filial  piety,  the  memory  of  which  the  inhabitants 
of  Catania  consecrated  by  a  temple ;  and  succeeding 
historians  have  preserved  in  a  record  still  more  durable. 
See  Strabo,  tom.  i.  p.  412.  Silius  Italicus,  lib.  xiv.  p. 
703.  Valerius  3Iaximu8,  lib.  v.  c.  4.  Seneca,  Aristo- 
tle, Claudian,  &c.  This  was  no  other  than  a  bold  and 
successful  attempt  of  two  Sicilian  youths,  Amphinomua 
and  Anapis,  to  rescue,  at  the  hazard  of  their  own  lives, 
their  aged  parents  from  the  devouring  flames.  The 
fourth  eruption,  or  the  third  mentioned  by  Thucydides, 
occurred  in  the  88th  olympiad,  A.  C.  425.  The  fifth 
happened  in  the  consulship  of  Sergius  Fulvius  Flaccus, 
and  Q.  Calpurnius  Piso,  (133  A.  C.)  according  to  Oro- 
sius.  Livy  mentions  an  eruption  in  the  consulate  of  C. 
Lcelius  and  Q.  Servilius,  A.  C.  140.  The  *!x</i  eruption 
happened  125  A.  C.  Orosius  relates,  that  a  prodigious 
quantity  of  fishes  were  destroyed  by  it,  and  that  the  in- 
iabitants  of  Lipari  suffered  exceedingly  by  eating  them. 
"The  sevnith  eruption  occurred  121  A.  C.  In  conse- 
quence of  the  damage  occasioned  by  this  eru|)tion,  the 
inhabitants  of  Catania  were  excused  by  the  Romans 
from  paying  taxes  for  10  years.  See  Livy,  lib.  Ixi.  c.  41. 
The  eighth  eruption  happened  43  A.  C.  and  was  regard- 
ed by  some  as  ominous  of  the  tleath  of  Cwsar.  The 
mnth  eruption  happened  40  A.  D.  and  caused  Caligula 
to  fly  precipitately  from  Messina.  Carera  mentions  two 


eruptions ;  one  in  the  year  253,  and  another  in  420.     In 
the  reign  of  Charlemagne,  812,  another  eruption  hap- 
pened. Geoffrey  of  Viterby  mentions  it  in  his  Chronicle. 
In  1169,  Sicily  was  disturbed  by  a  violent  earthquake. 
Catania  was  destroyed  by  it,  and  1 5,000  persons  perish- 
ed.    On  this  occasion,  old  rivers  disappeared,  and  new 
ones  burst  out,  and  the  ridge  of  jEtna  fell  in  on  the  side 
near  Taormino.     The  spring  of  Arethusa  became  mud- 
dy, and  the  fountain  of  Ajo  ceased  to  flow  for  two  hours, 
and  then  gushed  out  more  abundantly  than  before.  The 
sea  retired  within  its  usual  limits,  and  then  overflow  ed 
its  ordinary  banks,  and  swallowed  up  a  number  of  per- 
sons who  liad  fled  to  the  shore  for  safety.  Corn  and  trees 
of  all  sorts  were  destroyed,  and  the  fields  were  covered 
with  stones,  so  as  to  become  unfit  for  cultivation.     In 
1181,  streams  of  fire,  we  are  told,  ran  down  the  declivity 
of  the  mountain.     In   1329,  the  inhabitants  of  Sicily 
■H'ere  alarmed  by  the  noises  of  jEtna.     A  terrible  blaze 
of  fire  issued  from  the  southern  summit,  accompanied 
with  huge  stones.     The  fire  and  ashes  spread  to  a  con- 
siderable distance,  laying  waste  the  neighbouring  fields, 
destroying  the  buildings,  and  occasioning  the  death  of 
birds  and  quadrupeds,  and  the  fishes  of  the  rivers.    The 
ashes  were  carried  as  far  as  Malta ;  and  many  persona 
are  said  to  have  died  of  terror.      Eruptions,  attended  by 
no  remarkable  circumstances,  happened  in  the  following 
years,  1333,  1381,  1444,  1446,  1447;  but  after  a  cessa- 
tion of  near  100  years,  an  eruption  occun-ed  in  1536, 
which  was  dreadful  in  its  appearance  and  effects,  and 
which  lasted  a  considerable  time.  A  thick  cloud,  tinged 
with  red  in  the  middle,  hovered  over  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  which  was  attended  by  a  strong  west  wind, 
and  succeeded  by  the  discharge  of  a  large  quantity  of 
burning  materials,  that  rushed,  like  a  torrent,  down  the 
eastern  side  of  the  mountain,  destroying  every  thing  that 
came  in  its  way.  A  similar  stream  directed  its  course  to 
the  west,  and  did  great  d^image.     Chusms  were  opened 
ou  the  sides  of  the  mountain,  from  which  streams  of 
ignited  matter  were  thrown  up  to  a  great  height  in  the 
air.     A  learned  jihysician,  led  by  curiosity  to  examine 
this  eruption,  was  burned  to  ashes  by  a  volley  of  burning 
stones.     JEtna  continued  in  this  state,  with  little  inter- 
ruption, for  a  whole  year.  The  erujition  ended  with  the 
overflowing  of  the  river  Simetus.     The  effects  of  this 
inundation  were  peculiarly  disastrous.     The  country  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Paterno,  the  adjoining  castles,  and 
more  than  500  houses,  presented  one  scene  of  ruin  and 
desolation.     The  people  who  lived  on  its  banks,  with 
their  cattle,  and  all  their  property,  were  seen  floating 
down  the  stream.     On  this  occasion,  the  gardens  and 
vineyards  of  Nicolosi  and  St.  Niccolo  dclP  Arena  were 
laid  waste  by  the  torrents  of  lava  which  issued  from  the 
sides  of  the  mountain,  earthquakes  were  felt  throughout 
the  whole  Island,  and  the  summit  of  /Etna  fell  in  with  a 
tremendous  noise.  The  inhabitants  were  so  much  alarm- 
ed and  distressed,  that  they  wore  mourning  during  the 
greiiter  part  of  the  year.     In  1567  and  1579,  the  ravages 
of  JElMi  were  renewed;  and  from   1003  to  1636,  ita 
eruptions  were  occasionally  repeated,  and  torrents  of 
lava  flowed  from  it,  which  destroyed  the  woods  and  vine- 
yards within  their  reach.     In  1650,  Oldenburg  informs 
US,  that  the  mountain  burned  on  the  north  side,  and  pro- 
duced great  devastation.     Carera  relates,  that  he  wa8 
witness  of  a  dreadful  conflagration  in  1064,  which  lasted 
for  several  years.     But  of  all  the  eruptions,  that  of  1 069 
was  the  most  formidable  and  destructive.     It  was  pre- 
ceded for  eighteen  days  with  a  dark  sky,  thunder  and 


^TNA. 


J81 


Hglitnlng,  and  frequent  concussions  of  the  earth.  The 
old  crater  of  /ttna,  and  the  neighbouring  islands  of 
Stroniholi  and  Volcano,  hy  their  unusual  commotions, 
gave  signs  of  the  approi.ching  desolations.  In  the  even- 
ing of  the  llth  of  March,  a  chasm  was  opened  on  the 
east  side  of  the  mountiiin,  12  miles  in  length,  and  5  or  6 
wide,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Monte  Rosso.  On  the 
following  night,  a  new  chasm  was  formed  in  the  very- 
place  where  the  mountain  now  stands,  together  with 
others  in  different  parts  of  the  mountain,  from  all  of  which 
there  issued  huge  volumes  of  smoke.  From  the  princi- 
pal chasm  a  stream  of  lava  proceeded,  which  directed 
its  course  to  a  lake  called  Hardia,  about  six  miles  from 
Montepileri,  destroying  in  its  course  the  neighbouring 
vill  ige.  The  next  day,  it  laid  waste  Mai  Passo  and 
Montepileri.  On  the  23d  of  March,  the  stream  was  in 
Bonie  places  two  miles  broad ;  on  this  day  a  new  gulf 
was  opened,  from  which  were  discharged  sand  and  ashes, 
which  formed  a  hill  with  two  summits,  two  miles  in  cir- 
cumference, and  150  paces  high.  This  new  mountain 
continued  to  discharge  ashes  for  three  months,  in  such 
qur.ntity  as  to  cover  the  adjoining  tract  of  country  for 
15  miles.  It  is  even  said,  that  these  ashes  were  carried 
by  the  winds  as  far  as  Calabria.  On  the  25th  of  March, 
<he  whole  mountain  was  agitated  by  a  violent  earth- 
quake, the  summit  fell  in,  and  a  deep  gulf  was  opened, 
more  than  a  mile  in  extent,  from  which  was  discharged 
enormous  masses  of  stones  and  ashes.  It  is  said  that 
the  famous  block  of  lava  on  mount  Fnimento  was  dis- 
charged on  this  occasion.  The  torrent  of  lava  which 
still  continued  to  flow,  directed  its  course  to  Catania. 
It  passed  over  the  walls,  near  the  spot  occupied  by  the 
gardens  and  convent  of  the  Benedictines,  and  laid  waste 
the  greater  part  of  the  city.  After  this,  it  divided  into 
separate  channels,  and  proceeded  towards  the  sea.  For 
further  particulars,  see  Borei.i.i,  and  the  account  of  the 
English  merchants  in  the  Phil.  Trans.  No.  51.  Abr, 
vol.  ii.  p.  387.  The  following  additional  circumstances 
respecting  this  great  eruption  are  related  by  lord  Win- 
chelsea,  who  at  that  time  happened  to  be  at  Catania  in 
his  way  home  from  Constantinople.  The  stream  of  lava 
in  40  days,  destroyed  the  habitations  of  27,000  persons. 
In  its  progress  to  the  sea,  it  passed  through  a  lake  four 
miles  in  extent,  and  four  fathoms  deep,  which  it  not  only 
filled  up,  but  formed  into  a  hill.  He  saj-s  that  at  the 
distance  of  10  miles,  he  saw  the  torrent  begin  to  run 
down  the  mountain,  and  that  the  flame  which  accompa- 
nied it,  rose  to  a  height  equal  to  the  highest  steeples  in 
England ;  that  as  it  descended  the  mountain,  it  appear- 
ed of  a  fiery  red  colour,  bearing  on  its  surface  stones  as 
large  as  an  ordinary  table.  See  an  extract  of  this  account 
in  sir  W.  Hamilton's  Travels. 

In  1682,  a  new  gulf  was  opened  on  the  fop  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  spread  its  lava  over  the  hill  of  Mazara.  In 
1686,  another  eruption  happened,  which  consumed 
woods,  vineyards,  and  crops  of  grain  for  four  leagues 
round.  The  progress  of  the  lava  was  stopped  for  some 
time  in  the  valley  of  Muscali,  upon  which  some  persons 
ascended  a  hill  in  the  neighbourhood  to  mark  its  courses, 
and  were  buried  alive  by  the  hill  sinking  inwards.  Af- 
ter a  long  interval,  the  eruptions  of  Mina.  were  renewed 
in  1 755,  when  a  prodigious  torrent  of  water  issued  from 
the  crater.  The  discharge  of  water  was  ])receded  by 
smoke  and  flames,  subterraneous  noise,  and  concussions 
of  the  earth,  the  usual  signs  of  an  approaching  eruption ; 
at  length  the  torrent  burst  forth,  and  formed  tremen- 
dous cataracts  in  descending  from  one  chain  of  rocks  to 


another,  fill  it  reached  the  cultivated  plains,  which  it 
overspread  for  many  miles ;  and  after  separating  into 
several  deep  and  rapid  rivers,  it  discharged  itself  into 
the  sea.     The  ravages  of  this  inundation,  on  account  of 
both  the  quantity  and  heat  of  the  water,  was  very  cala- 
mitous; yet  the  discharge  did  not  continue  above  half 
an  hour.     When  it  ceased,  the  noise,  smoke,  and  com- 
motions continued,  and  two  new  chasms  were  opened, 
from  which  torrents  of  lava  issued.     In  a  few  days  after, 
a  violent  explosion  happened,  by  which  small  stones 
were  driven  as  far  as  the  hills  of  Mascali,  and  black  sand 
to  the  opposite  coast  of  Calabria.  In  two  days  the  moun- 
tain opened  again  and   discharged  a  torrent  of   lava, 
which  moved  towards  the  plain  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a- 
day,  and  continued  for  six  days.     Recupero,  who  exa- 
mined the  course  of  the   torrent  of  water  mentioned 
above,  informs  us  that  in  its  progress  it  tore  up  a  large 
forest  of  trees,  some  of  which  were  two  and  two  and  a 
half  feet  in  diameter :  that  the  main  torrent  divided  into 
four   principal  streams,  and  these  again  separated  into 
smaller  currents;  but  afterwards  reuniting,  they  formed 
islands,  and  large  rivers  about  900  feet  wide ;  that  frag- 
ments of  lava  and  huge  rocks  were  removed  by  the  cur- 
rent, and  valleys  filled  up  by  the  sand  which  the  waters 
de|)Osited.     When  Recupero  visited  the  mountain  after 
an  interval  of  ten  years  from  the  eruption,  the  whole 
side  of  the  hill  bore  marks  of  the  deluge.  In  1 763,  there 
was  an  eruption  which  continued  with  intermissions  for 
three  months.     The  flames  ^vhich  issued  from  the  cra- 
ter formed  a  noble  spectacle.     A  pyramid  of  fire  was 
seen  to  rise  to  a  prodigious  height  in  the  air,  like  an 
artificial  fire-work,  attended  with  the  explosion  of  a  for- 
midable battery,  which  shook  the  earth  under  those  who 
were  spectators  of  the  scene.     The  lava  that  flowed 
from  the  crater  yielded  a  very  brilliant  light,  retained  its 
heat,  and  exhaled  its  smoke  for  two  years,  nor  did  any 
snow  appear  on  the  summit  of  /Etna  for  five  j-ears.     In 
1 764,  a  new  crater  wasopened  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  ^tna;  and  in  1766,  another  was  opened  at  the 
grotto  of  Paterno,  which  formed  a  hill,  that  after  an  in- 
terval of  four  years  discharged  great  quantities  of  smoke, 
with  loud  explosions.  In  1780,  several  new  craters  were 
formed.     Another  eruption  happened  in   I787,«nd  has 
been  accurately  described  by  Gioeni;  it  was  preceded 
by  the  usual  signs   of  an  approaching  eruption,  after 
which,  the  lava  began  to  flow  from  the  hinder  part  of 
one  of  the  two  mountains  that  form  the  double  head  of 
jEfna.     On  the  next  day  a  shower  of  fine  black  brilliant 
sand  descended;  on  the  east  side  there  was  a  fall  of 
stones,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  were  seen  flashes 
of  fire,  with  a  deluge  of  scoriae  and  lava.     In  the  eve- 
ning conical  flames  appeared  alternately  to  rise  and  fall 
from  the  crater ;  at  three  the  next  morning  the  moun- 
tain seemed  to  be  cleft,  the  upper  part  resembling  a 
burning  mass.     Two  of  the  conical  flames,  viz.  one  on 
the  north  and  another  on  the  south,  were  of  an  immense 
extent;  where  these  separated,  another  cone  of  flame, 
composed  of  many  smaller  ones,  appeared  to  ascend 
above  the  mountain  over  a  base  of  about  a  mile   and  a 
half  in  diameter,  to  a  height  supposed  to  be  .about  two 
miles.     This  cone  was  covered  with  a  thick  smoke,  in 
which   were  seen  very   brilliant  flashes  of  lightning. 
Sounds  resembling  the  explosion  of  large  cannon  were 
aljo  occasionally  heard.     From  the  cone,  as  from  a  foun- 
tain, there  was  perceived  a  jet  of  many  flaming  volcanic 
matters,  which  were  thrown  to  the  distance  of  six  or 
sevea  miles  j  and  from  the  base  of  the  eoae,  there  is- 


183 


iETO 


AFE 


sued  a  thick  smoke,  -which  darkened  parls  of  Ihe  flame. 
This  beautiful  appearance  continued  for  three  quarters 
of  an  hour.  It  began  the  next  night  with  greater  force, 
but  lasted  only  for  half  an  hour.  In  the  intervals,  /Etna 
threw  out  llames,  smoke,  ignited  stones,  and  showers  of 
sand.  The  eruption,  as  usual,  ceased  with  the  flowing 
of  lava,  ^vliich  directed  its  course  towards  Bronte  and 
the  plains  of  Lago.  There  was  another  eruption  in  Oc- 
tober of  the  same  year,  wliich  has  been  described  by 
Spallanzani.  The  stream  of  lava  that  issued  on  this  oc- 
casion was  three  miles  in  length,  its  breadth  was  in 
some  places  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  in  others  one- 
third,  and  in  other  parts  still  greater ;  its  greatest  depth 
ivas  about  18  feet,  and  the  least  six;  and  it  directed  its 
course  along  the  west  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  last  eruption  happened  on  the  26th  or  27th  March, 
1 309.  It  burst  out  at  the  top  in  a  most  tremendous  man- 
ner. Soon  afterwards  twelve  new  craters  opened  about 
half  way  down  the  mountain,  and  have  continued  for 
several  weeks  to  throw  out  torrents  of  burning  lava, 
Tvhich  has  covered  several  estates  to  the  dejith  nf  30  or 
40  feet.  For  particulars  respecting  the  causes  and  pro- 
ducts of  volcanic  eruptions,  see  Basaltes,  Lava,  and 
Volcano. 

For  further  particulars  respecting  ^tna  in  general, 
our  readers  maj'  consult  the  following  authors  :  Borelli, 
Hist.  Jnccnd.  Etna.  An.  1 669 ;  Jac.  d'Orville's  Sicula  ; 
Brydone's  Tour,  vol.  i;  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  Campi  PhU- 
grmi ;  Philosophical  Transac.  1 669,  vol.  iv ;  Phil.  Trans. 
1 753,  p.  209,909, 1 028, and  PAi/.Tran*.  1071 ;  Riedsdel's 
Travels  in  Sicily  ;  Swinburne's  Travels,  vol.  iv ;  Spallan- 
7.ani's  Travels,  vol.  i;  Dolomieu  and  Houel's  Voyage 
Pittorcsque.  Faujas  de  St.  Fond  Mineralogie  des  Fair 
cans,  8vo.  Paris,  1785.     («) 

iETOLIA,  in  Geography  and  History,  a  province  of 
Greece  Proper,  and  corresponding  to  what  is  now  called 
the  Despotat  or  Little  Greece.  According  to  Strabo,  it 
derived  its  name  from  iEtolus  the  son  of  Endymion,  who, 
being  compelled  to  leave  Elis,  a  city  of  Peloponnesus, 
removed  to  this  country,  and  settled  among  its  early  in- 
liabitants.  It  was  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  river  Eve- 
iius,  on  the  west  by  the  Achelous,  on  the  north  by  the 
country  of  the  Dorians  and  part  of  Epirus,  and  on  the 
south  by  the  Corinthian  Gulf.  It  extended  from  north 
to  south  about  28  miles,  and  from  east  to  west  above  20. 
Like  many  of  the  states  of  Greece  prior  to  the  civili- 
zation which  was  introduced  by  the  Amphictyons,  the 
/Etolians  were  conspicuous  for  their  robberies  and  pre- 
datory invasions.  They  are  represented  by  Thucydides, 
as  more  addicted  to  inroads  and  rapine  than  any  of  the 
tribes  by  which  they  were  surrounded ;  as  turbulent  and 
haughty ;  seldom  agreeing  among  themselves,  and  often 
engaged  in  disputes  with  their  neighbours.  They  are 
said  to  have  worn  only  one  shoe  when  fighting ;  and 
hence  the  epithet  fLtttx^tiTri^ii;  has  been  applied  to  them 
by  several  historians  and  poets  of  Greece.  They  were 
jealous  of  their  liberties,  and  courageous  in  defending 
them ;  inured  to  hardship,  skilful  in  martial  exercises, 
and  inclined  to  war. 

The  form  of  governmentwhich  was  established  among 
the  iEtolians  «  as  that  of  a  republic.  The  chief  magis- 
trate was  the  pra;tor,  whose  ollice  it  was  to  lead  the 
troops,  to  convoke  the  general  assemblies,  and  to  pre- 
side in  them  :  the  inferior  magistrates  were  the  general 
of  the  horse,  the  ephori,  and  the  public  secretary  or  re- 
corder. The  people,  who  assembled  once  everj'  year, 
or  oftener,  as  circumstances  might  require,  had  the 


whole  legislative  authority  in  their  own  hands;  and  thej 
had  likewise  the  power  of  declaring  war,  of  making 
peace,  and  of  entering  into  alliances  with  other  states. 
Thus  accustomed  to  liberty,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that 
the  iEtolians  should  oppose  with  great  eagerness  and 
activity,  the  ambitious  designs  of  the  Macedonian  princes. 
They  kindled  the  social  war  in  the  heart  of  Peloponne- 
sus, with  a  view  to  humble  the  Acha;ans ;  and  having 
joined  their  forces  with  those  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
they  struggled  for  three  years  with  the  united  powers 
of  Achaia  and  Macedon ;  but  they  were  at  length  con- 
strained to  yield,  and  to  purchase  a  peace  by  the  surren- 
der of  Acarnania  to  Philip.  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  they  attempted  to  recover  the  province  which 
they  had  lost.  They  concluded  an  alliance  with  the 
Romans  A.  D.  211,  and  were  the  first  of  the  Greek 
states  who  entered  into  any  treaty  with  that  people. 
They  invaded  Acarnania  while  the  troops  of  Philip  were 
employed  at  Macedon ;  but  were  diverted  i'rom  the  pro- 
secution of  their  design,  by  the  unex])ected  resistance  of 
the  Acarnanians;  and  turning  their  arms  against  Anti- 
cyra,  a  city  of  the  Locri,  they  compelled  the  inhabitants 
to  surrender.  But  notwltlistauUing  their  success  in  this 
instance,  the  fortune  of  the  Macedonians  prevailed.  The 
jEtolians  were  twice  defeated  by  Philip,  and  were  at  last 
obliged  to  conclude  a  peace  with  that  monarch  on  terms 
very  unfavourable  to  their  independence.  The  peace 
was  but  of  short  duration,  and  the  jEtolians  were  speedi- 
ly in  arms.  After  a  long  war,  in  which  they  maintained 
their  fidelity  to  the  Romans,  and  were  enabled,  by  their 
assistance,  to  make  head  against  Philip,  they  worsted 
the  Macedonians  in  a  great  battle  at  Cynocephalae  ;  but 
urfortunately  arrogating  to  themselves  the  merit  of  the 
victory,  the  Roman  general,  in  order  to  humble  them, 
granted  a  truce  to  the  ambassadors  of  Philip,  without 
asking  their  advice.  They  afterwards  united  with  An- 
tiochus  against  their  former  allies,  but  fell  with  the  rest 
of  Greece  under  the  power  of  Rome,  and  "  the  majesty 
of  the  Roman  people  was  revered  in  all  ^Etolia." 

In  the  modern  history  of  ^tolia,  there  is  nothing  of 
sufficient  magnitude  to  deserve  a  place  in  this  work. 
See  Livy,  lib.  26,  27, 31,  32,  &c.  Polyb.  Hist.  lib.  2, 4— 
9.  Pausanias  in  Achaiam,  p.  521 .  Goldsmiths's  History 
of  Greece,     (h) 

AFER,  DoMiTius,  a  celebrated  orator,  was  born  at 
Nismes,  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  about  10  years  before 
Christ.  Having  obtained  the  prajtorship  of  Rome,  and 
aspiring  at  higher  honours,  he  turned  his  attention  to 
the  bar,  and  became  one  of  the  ablest  pleaders  of  his 
time.  Not  content  with  the  applause  which  he  acquired 
by  his  eloquence,  his  ambitious  mind  was  panting  after 
greater  advancement  in  the  state.  But  finding  that  he 
was  not  likely  to  succeed  by  honourable  means,  he  de- 
based himself  by  turning  informer.  His  first  victim 
was  Claudia,  the  cousin  of  Agrippina,  who  had  now  be- 
come obnoxious  to  Tiberius.  By  this  accusation,  he  so 
ingratiated  himself  with  the  emperor,  that  wealth  and 
honour  were  the  reward  of  his  villany.  Having  now 
discovered  a  way  to  preferment,  he  persevered  in  his 
wickedness ;  and  the  suspicions  of  Tiberius  and  his  suc- 
cessors never  left  him  without  employment.  But  his 
eagerness  at  one  time  to  obtain  the  favour  of  the  empe- 
ror had  nearly  proved  his  destruction.  Having  erected 
a  statue  in  honour  of  Caligula,  he  mentioned  by  way  of 
encomium,  that  the  emperor  had  been  twice  consul  at 
the  age  of  27.  Caligula,  blind  to  the  compliment,  con- 
sidered this  as  a  reQectiou  upon  bis  violation  of  tlic  laws 


ATF 


AFF 


183 


of  the  stale,  and  vehemently  declaimed  against  him  in 
the  senate.  Al'er,  instead  of  replying  to  the  emperor's 
speed),  fell  up«n  his  knees,  and  begged  for  mercy,  say- 
ing that  he  dreaded  the  elotiuence  of  Caligula  more 
than  his  power.  This  abject  submission  and  well-timed 
compliment  so  pleased  (he  emperor,  that  he  was  par- 
doned, and  immediately  advanced  to  the  consulship. 
When  age  had  enervated  his  eloquence,  his  ambition 
and  avarice  were  still  uusatiated,  and  disregarding  the 
advice  of  Horace, 

Solve  sencscciitera  mature  sanus  equum,  nc 
Feccet  ad  extremum  ritlendus,  et  ilia  ducat. 

Hob.  Ep.  1.  lib.  I. 

lie  continued  to  plead  in  spite  of  his  infirmities,  which 
excited  the  derision  instead  of  the  applause  of  his  hear- 
ers. He  is  said  to  have  died  of  eating  to  excess,  at  the 
age  of  75,  A.  D.  59. 

The  abilities  of  Afer  were  of  the  first  order,  and  had 
thry  been  exerted  in  a  good  cause,  would  have  entitled 
him  to  the  praise  and  esteem  of  his  countrymen.  His 
eloquence  is  highly  praised  by  Quinctiiian,  who  attended 
his  pleadings,  and  assiduously  cultivated  his  friendship. 
But  ambition  was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  mind,  and  he 
stopped  at  no  meanness  or  villany  in  order  to  gain  his 
puriose.  His  talents  were  pru»titutpil  to  support  the 
tyranny  and  cruelty  of  men  who  were  the  scourges  of 
his  country;  and  his  highest  ambition  was  to  obtain  their 
favour  and  regard.  Tacitus  Annal.  lib.  iv.  c.  66.  lib.  xvi. 
c.  19.     Quinctiiian  Inst,     (p) 

AFFECTION,  in  the  philosophy  of  mind,  denotes  a 
feeling  excited  by  some  external  cause  or  agent,  which 
is  accompanied  by  pleasure  or  pain,  and  prompts  us  to 
communicate  to  the  cause  of  the  feeling,  a  correspond- 
ing enjoyment  or  suffering.  Affection  may  be  distin- 
guished from  appetite  and  desire,  by  having  persons, 
and  not  things,  for  its  object;  yet  we  sometimes  extend 
affection  to  inanimate  objects,  as  to  a  book  which  we 
have  often  read,  or  a  tree  under  which  we  have  often 
reposed,  by  a  kind  of  sym|)athetic  personification ;  and 
ue  should  feel  something  like  the  loss  of  a  friend,  if  the 
one  were  destroyed,  or  the  other  wantonly  cut  down. 
Affection  is  chiefly  distinguishable  from  passion  by  its 
greater  moderation  and  tranquillity.  The  tender  regard 
between  husband  and  wife,  is  denominated  affection ; 
but  the  ardour  of  a  lover  towards  his  mistress,  is  called 
passion.  Affection  exhilarates  the  mind  without  de- 
stroying its  tranquillity ;  but  passion  disturbs  our  reason, 
deprives  us  of  self-command,  agitates  even  the  body, 
and  hurries  us  to  action,  by  an  almost  irresistible  im- 
pulse. 

No  writer  has  treated  of  the  affections  so  fully  and  ac- 
curately as  Dr.  Reid,  by  whom  they  are  divided  into  two 
classes,  the  Benevolent  and  Malevolent.  The  former 
dispose  us  to  do  good  to  our  fellow-creatures  ;  the  latter 
to  injure  them.  The  application  of  the  term  malevolent 
to  an  affection  may  seem  harsh,  but  it  is  justified  by  the 
common  usage  of  language,  according  to  which  we 
speak  of  being  well  or  ill  affected  towards  any  person. 
The  benevolent  affections,  according  to  this  author,  all 
agree  in  two  particulars,  viz.  that  they  are  accompanied 
by  an  agreeable  feeling,  and  that  they  imply  a  desire  of 
good  and  happiness  to  their  object.  The  most  remark- 
able of  this  class,  are  natural  affection,  pity,  friendship, 
love,  gratitude,  esteem,  and  public  spirit.  The  malevo- 
lent affections,  on  the  other  hand,  are  attended  with  a 

paiaful  emotiop,  euil  the  (Jesire  of  ctU  to  their  objects. 


Dr.  Reid  admits  only  of  two  legitimate'principles  of  this 
kind  in  the  human  constitution,  viz.  emulation  and  re- 
sentment. Reid's  Essai/s  on  the  Active  Powers  of  Man, 
Essay  iii.  c.  4. 

The  benevolent  affections  are  productive  of  some  of 
our  purest  pleasures;  they  compose  the  mind,  warm 
the  heart,  enliven  the  spirits,  and  brighten  every  feature 
of  the  countenance.  The  malevolent  affections,  on  the 
other  hand,  irritate  the  feelings,  disquiet  the  temper, 
and  even  give  deformity  to  the  countenance.  Here  na- 
ture gives  us  a  plain  and  friendly  admonition  to  cherish 
the  former,  and  to  suppress  as  much  as  possible  the  lat- 
ter. "  One  only  goo<l  purpose  which  resentment  can  an- 
swer," says  Butler,  "  is  to  prevent  or  remedy  injury.  If 
it  be  not  conducive  to  this  end,  it  must  necessarily  con- 
tradict not  only  the  general  obligation  to  benevolence, 
but  likewise  that  particular  end  itself."  Sermon  9.  See 
Moral  Philosophy,     (ot) 

AFFIDAVIT,  a  term  chiefly  used  in  English  law,  to 
signify  an  oath  in  writing  made  before  a  person  aulho- 
rized  to  administer  it.  In  Scotland,  affidavits  are  never 
admitted  as  grounds  of  evidence.  Some  statutes,  how- 
ever, make  an  exception  to  this  rule ;  for  the  bankrupt 
statute  requires  the  claimants  to  lodge  their  claims,  ac- 
compained  by  affidavits,  or  oaths  of  verity.  See  Belfs 
liict.  of  the  Jmiv  of  Scotland,  v.  1.  p.  21.  (w) 

AFFINITY,  in  the  language  of  Chemistry,  denotes 
that  s|)ecies  of  attraction  which  is  exerted  between  the 
particles  of  matter  when  they  are  placed  at  insensible 
distances,  and  which  gives  rise  to  the  greater  number  of 
chemical  phenomena.  The  phrase  chemical  attraction, 
is  employed  to  denote  this  po>ver,  considered  in  relation 
to  its  exertion  between  the  particles  of  different  kinds  of 
matter;  while  that  oi  affinity  of  aggregation  expresses  it 
as  exerted  between  particles  of  the  same  kind.  The 
term  affinity  appears  to  have  been  introduced  from  an 
hypothesis  which  once  prevailed,  that  some  hidden  re- 
semblance or  similarity  exists  among  those  substances 
(however  different  they  may  appear  to  be  in  their  pro- 
perties,) between  which  attraction  is  exerted  with  great- 
est force,  so  as  to  produce  their  intimate  union;  an  hy- 
pothesis without  any  foundation,  and  which  has  long 
been  exploded.  The  projiriety  of  using  a  word  in  sci- 
entific language,  which  thus  conveys  an  erroneous  idea, 
may  be  questioned ;  but  it  has  been  supposed  to  be  of 
some  anvantage  to  have  a  single  term  to  express  that 
species  of  contiguous  attraction,  w  hich  is  exerted  be- 
tween the  particles  of  matter  as  opposed  to  gravitation, 
and  the  attractive  forces  of  electricity  and  magnetism, 
and  hence  that  of  affinity  has  been  retained. 

The  relation  of  this  power  to  the  other  species  of  at- 
traction will  be  considered  under  the  article  Attrac- 
tion ;  and  the  consideration  of  the  phenomena  to  which 
it  gives  rise,  and  the  laws  it  obeys,  belong  to  the  science 
of  Chemistry.     (6) 

AFFINITY,  in  law,  is  that  degree  of  kindred  or  con- 
nexion which  subsists  between  one  of  two  married  per- 
sons, and  the  blood  relations  of  the  other.  It  is  only  by 
affection  that  this  tie  is  created ;  for  there  is  no  real 
kindred.  A  person  cannot,  by  legal  succession,  reap  an 
inheritance  from  relation  by  affinity,  be  it  ever  so  near ; 
neither  does  it  extend  to  the  nearest  relation  of  husband 
or  wife,  so  as  to  create  a  mutual  relation  between  them. 
The  degrees  of  affinity  are  computed  in  the  same  way 
as  those  of  consanguinity,  or  blood.  By  the  Jewish  law^ 
marriage  was  prohibited  within  certain  degrees  of  con- 
sanguinity, suctt  as  that  of  &n  uucle  to  a  niece,  of  a 


184 


AFG 


ATG 


grandfather  to  a  grand-daughter,  ol*  of  a  brother  to  a 
brother's  wife,  if  he  had  left  children.  The  same  limi- 
tations are  adopted  into  the  laws  of  this  country,  and  ap- 
ply also  to  affinity,  as  well  as  consanguinity.  Infringe- 
ments of  the  law,  however,  are  found  in  the  scripture 
itself,  such  as  the  marriage  of  Abraham,  and  also  that 
of  Jacob.  Though  it  is  understood  that  any  legal  im- 
pediments arising  from  affinity  cease  when  that  tie  is 
dissolved,  (for  instance,  by  decease  of  a  husband,)  those 
affecting  the  marriage  of  the  survivors  still  subsist. 

A  ju<lge  cannot  decide  in  the  cause  of  a  near  relation, 
if  an  objection  be  made  to  it,  whether  the  kindred  arise 
from  consanguinity  or  affinity.  Thus,  in  Scotland,  by  a 
special  statute,  he  cannot  try  the  cause  of  his  father's 
brother,  or  son,  by  affinity ;  but  he  may  decide  that  of 
his  nephew  by  affinity.  Some  lawyers  maintain,  that 
the  like  rules  apply  to  receiving  the  testimony  of  wit- 
nesses. Others  lay  it  down,  that  a  sister-in-law  may  not 
be  admitted  a  witness  during  the  husband's  life,  though 
this  may  be  done  after  his  death,     (c) 

AFFUSION,  in  Medicine,  a  term  at  present  much 
used  to  express  a  very  efficacious  method  of  applying 
cold,  by  dashing  cold  water  over  the  body,  lately  recom- 
mended and  practised  with  success  for  allaying  feverish 
heat,  by  Dr.  Wright  and  Dr.  Currie.  The  affusion  of 
tepid  and  warm  water  lias  also  been  successfully  employ- 
ed by  Dr.  Currie.  See  London  Medical  Journal,  1786. 
Currie's  Medical  Reports,  passim,  and  Medicine,     (f) 

AFGHANS,  in  History,  a  fierce  and  untractable  peo- 
ple, who  inhabit  the  mountainous  country  on  the  borders 
of  Persia,  and  occupy  a  region  extending  from  the  Cas- 
pian Sea  to  the  Indus  on  the  east,  and  from  the  same 
river  to  Cachmir  on  the  west.  This  region  comprehends 
four  grand  divisions  of  the  Persian  empire,  Daghistan, 
Khorasan,  Seghistan,  and  Candahar.     See  Persia. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  Afghans  derived 
their  origin  from  the  Arabs,  as  they  have  little  or  no  re- 
semblance to  the  Tartars,  in  their  persons,  habits,  or 
language.  Sir  William  Jones,  however,  is  inclined  to 
think,  that  their  descent  may  be  traced  with  greater 
propriety  from  the  Israelites  ;  and  he  adds,  that  the  best 
informed  of  the  Persian  historians  have  adopted  the 
■same  opinion.  The  Afghans  have  traditions  among 
themselves,  which  render  it  very  probable  that  this  is 
the  just  account  of  their  origin.  It  becomes  still  more 
likely  when  we  consider,  that  many  of  their  families 
are  really  distinguished  by  the  names  of  the  Jewish 
tribes,  though,  since  their  conversion  to  the  Islam,  they 
conceal  their  descent  with  the  most  studious  care ;  and 
the  whole  is  confirmed  by  the  circumstance,  that  the 
Pttshio  language  has  so  near  an  affinity  to  the  Chaldaic, 
that  it  may  justly  be  regarded  as  a  dialect  of  that  tongue. 
But  whether  the  Afghans  originally  sprung  from  the 
Israelites  or  not,  they  have  long  been  confounded  with 
the  Arabs ;  and  perhaps  there  may  be  no  great  mistake 
in  supposing  them  to  be  descended  from  tliat  numerous 
Und  powerful  people. 

The  inaccessible  nature  of  the  country  which  the  Af- 
ghans inhabit,  their  poverty,  and  the  fierceness  of  their 
disposition,  have  contributed  to  secure  their  indei)en- 
dence.  For  though  they  have  been  nominally  reduced 
to  subjection,  they  were  never  conquered  ;  and  safe  be- 
hind their  mountains,  or  having  nothing  to  excite  the 
ambition  or  the  avarice  of  princes,  they  have  retained 
many  of  their  early  customs,  and  preserved,  with  littl* 
deviation,  their  original  character,  it  is  known  that  the 


Arabs  were  acquainted  with  letters,  and  that  they  had 
made  considerable  progress  in  science,  at  a  time  when 
its  light  was  almost  extinguished  in  Europe.  From 
this  it  has  been  inferred  by  Dow,  {Hist,  of  Indostan,  vol. 
iii.)  that  the  Afghans,  w  hom  he  calls  "  a  literary  people, 
like  the  Arabs,"  must  have  among  them  records  of  an- 
cient times,  which  have  not  yet  been  opened  to  the  cu- 
riosity of  the  learned ;  and  sir  William  Jones  recom- 
mends an  inquiry  into  their  history  and  antiquities  ivith 
great  earnestness  and  expectation.  There  is  undoubted 
evidence  that  such  records  exist.  A  Persian  abridgment 
of  a  work  written  in  the  Pvshto  language,  and  entitled, 
"  The  Secrets  of  the  Afghans,"  was  communicated  by 
Henry  Vansittart,  Esq.  to  sir  William  Jones,  when  the 
latter  gentleman  was  president  of  the  Asiatic  Society  ; 
and  a  specimen  of  the  original  tongue  was  added  to  the 
abridgment.  But  whatever  records  of  antiquity  the 
Afghans  may  possess,  they  are  represented  as  wholly 
illiterate  at  present,  and  strangers  to  the  use  of  alpha- 
betical characters,  in  all  the  transactions  of  life.  See 
Vorslcrs  Journey  frmti  Bengal  to  England,  &c. 

The  Afghans  are  more  conspicuous  for  their  warlike 
and  restless  disposition,  than  for  their  attainments  in 
literature.  Under  Amir  Vaez,  a  leader  of  a  bold  and  en- 
terjjrising  spirit,  they  relinquished  all  connexion  with 
Persia, anil  advanced  into  Candahar,  about  the  year  1712; 
they  murtlered  the  Khan  of  that  place,  took  his  chief 
city,  and  aftervvards  kept  possession  of  the  whole  pro- 
vince. The  Abdollees,  another  tribe  of  the  Afghans, 
threw  off  the  Persian  yoke,  A.  D.  1717,  and  established 
themselves  as  an  independent  republic.  Availing  him- 
self of  the  confusion  to  which  that  event  had  given  rise, 
Mir  Mahmud  attempted  to  subdue  the  whole  kingdom 
of  Persia ;  and  having  united  his  forces  with  those  of 
the  Abdollees,  and  some  other  tribes,  he  laid  siege  to 
Ispahan.  The  Persian  ruler  made  a  vigorous  defence. 
The  siege  was  long,  and  the  famine  great,  through  all 
parts  of  the  capital ;  but  Hossein  was  at  last  betrayed  by 
his  officers,  and  forced  to  resign  the  empire,  after 
governingit  28  years,intothe  handsof  Mahmud.  "  From 
this  time,"  said  he,  to  the  victorious  chief,  "  I  will  un- 
dertake nothing  without  your  advice."  Mahmud  was 
succeeded  by  Ashrufif,  under  whose  conduct  the  Ab- 
dollee  Afghans  obtained  some  advantages  over  the 
Turks ;  but  they  concluded  a  peace  with  them  in  the 
year  1727,  and  acknowledged  the  Ottoman  emperor  as 
the  lawful  sovereign  of  Persia.  They  were  afterwards 
routed  in  several  great  battles,  and  driven  from  many  of 
their  possessions  by  Kouli  Khan,  or  Nadir  Shah.  This 
resistless  leader,  having  taken  Ispahan,  pursued  AshruflT 
from  one  province  to  another;  and,  notwithstanding  the 
obstinate  bravery  of  the  Abdollees,  they  were  totally  de- 
feated, and  obliged  to  renounce  all  their  claims  to  the 
government  of  the  Persian  empire.  Nadir  Shah  then 
established  himself  on  the  throne  A.  D.  1736,  and  in- 
vaded the  Afghans;  but  he  lost  so  many  of  his  troops  in 
skirmishes  with  these  hardy  mountaineers,  that  he  offer- 
ed them  peace,  and  invited  them  to  enlist  in  his  army. 
They  are  still  regarded  as  the  chief  strength  of  the 
Persian  forces.  See  Science  de  VHistoire  par  Chantreaux, 
torn.  iii.  pp.  40,  41.  Dow's  Hist,  of  Indostan,  vol.  iii. 
Asiatic  Rcsearclus,  vol.  ii.  Hanway's  Travels,  vol.  iii.  p. 
143.  Frazer's  Hist,  of  Nadir  Shah,  p.  91.  Raynal'a 
Revolut.  vol.  ii.  \i.  68.  Hanway's  Hist.  Ace.  of  the  Bri- 
tish Trade,  vol.  iii.  p.  27,  &c.    (*) 


185 


AFRICA. 


Africa,  one  of  the  four  great  continents  into  which  the 
world  has  heeu  <liviittd;  ranking  next  after  Asia  and 
Americii  in  point  of  size ;  but,  in  political  and  moral 
estimation,  the  meanest  quarter  of  the  globe.  It  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  which 
separates  it  from  Europe ;  on  the  west,  by  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  which  divides  it  from  America ;  on  the  south, 
by  the  Southern  Ocean;  and  on  the  east,  by  the  Indian 
Ocean,  the  Red  Sea,  and  part  of  Asia ;  forming  thus  an 
immense  peninsula,  united  to  the  continent  of  Asia  by 
the  isthmus  of  Suez,  a  neck  of  land  about  CO  miles  in 
breadth,  lying  between  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Ara- 
bian Gulf.  In  form  it  resembles  a  triangle,  of  which 
the  northern  part  is  the  base,  and  the  southern  extremi- 
ty the  vertex  ;  but  its  sides,  on  the  east  and  west,  are 
Tery  irregular.  From  Cape  Bona,  in  the  Mediterranean, 
to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  it  comprehends  about  70 
degrees  of  latitude,  or  4980  miles;  and  from  Cape 
Verd,  in  IT"  33'  W.  Long,  to  Cape  Guardafui,  51"  20' 
E.  Long,  somewhat  more  than  4790  miles. 

Various  etymologies  have  been  given  of  the  name 
Africa,  which  seems  at  first  to  have  been  confined  to 
that  northern  province,  denominated  by  the  ancients 
Africa  Propria.  According  to  Bochart,  it  is  derived 
homftric,  a.  Punic  word,  which  signifies  ««  ear  of  com; 
and  this  etymology  is  supposed  to  refer  to  the  fertility  of 
the  country.  Dr.  Hyde  deduces  it  from  the  Phceuician 
Havarca,  or  Avrcca  :  the  country  of  Barca,  which  Avas 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  parts  of  this  continent. 
But  the  most  plausible  etymology  seems  to  be  that  of 
Servius,  who  derives  it  from  «,  priv.  and  <ff  ix«,  cold; 
an  appellation  exceedingly  applicable  to  its  burning 
climate. 

The  striking  diversity  of  appearance  by  which  the  in- 
habitants of  different  parts  of  Al'rica  are  distinguished 
from  each  other,  and  the  Negroes  from  all  the  rest  of 
mankind,  would  naturally  lead  us  into  a  discussion  con- 
cerning its  original  population  ;  but  history  furnishes  no 
facts  sufficient  to  direct  us  in  this  interesting  inquiry. 
The  northern  and  eastern  regions  |)robably  received  their 
first  inhabitants  from  the  adjacent  coasts  of  Asia.  A 
general  resemblance  in  feature,  in  manners,  and  in  some 
of  their  religious  tenets,  seems  to  indicate  an  affinity 
between  the  Egj'ptians  and  the  natives  of  Hiudostan. 
The  Abyssinians,  as  Ave  have  already  shown,  are  of  Ara- 
bian extraction ;  Carthage,  or  Africa  Propria,  was 
peopled  by  a  colony  from  Tyre;  and  Sallust,  on  the  au- 
thority of  Punic  manuscripts,  informs  us,  that  other  parts 
of  the  African  coasts  were  colonized  by  Medes,  Per- 
sians, and  Armenians.  The  Romans,  who  extended  their 
conquests  in  Africa  as  far  as  the  river  Niger,  estal)lish- 
ed  in  those  fertile  regions  many  flourishing  colonies. 
When  their  empire  was  subverted  by  the  northern  bar- 
barians, the  Vandals  passed  from  S|)ain  into  Africa;  and, 
after  converting  one  of  the  richest  and  most  populous 
countries  in  the  world  into  a  barren  Avilderness,  erected 
there  a  kingdom  which  lasted  for  ui)wards  of  a  century. 
The  north  of  Africa  Avas,  after  that  interval,  subdued  by 
Mahometan  Arabs,  avIio,  under  the  name  of  Moors,  form 
noAv  a  great  proportion  of  its  population.  Among  the 
mountains  of  Barbary,  there  is  a  race  of  men  distinct 
from  the  Moors  in  the  plains,  of  a  fair  com((lexion,  thin, 
light,  and  active.    Though  a  pastoral  people,  their  sen- 

VoL.  I.  Part  I. 


tiraents  are  lofty,  their  manners  are  more  elegant,  and 
their  morals  less  licentious  than  tho-e  of  the  Moors, 
Berberia,  the  ancient  name  of  Barbary,  may  easily  be 
traced  to  Breber,  the  appellation  by  which  these  people 
are  still  distinguished;  and,  from  many  other  circum- 
stances, it  is  probable,  that  they  are  the  most  ancient  in- 
habitants of  this  part  of  Africa;  and  have  mingled  so 
little  with  foreigners,  that  they  retain  much  of  their 
original  appearance.  On  the  southern  frontiers  of  Mo- 
rocco, there  is  a  tribe,  apparently  the  same  Avith  the 
Brcbers,  knoAvn  by  the  name  of  Shellu,  Avho  speak  a 
language  of  their  own,  Avhich  is  supposed  to  be  derived 
from  the  ancient  Punic.  They  correspond  almost  ex- 
actly to  the  description  of  the  Mauritanians,  given  by  the 
Roman  Avriters ;  and  are  sai.d  still  to  denominate  Euro- 
peans by  a  name  that  sounds  like  Roumi.  The,  coun- 
tries south  of  the  Sahara,  or  Great  Desert,  are  inhabited 
by  the  negroes,  apparently  a  distinct  and  indigenous 
race.  No  cause,  but  an  original  dilTerence  of  conforma- 
tion, can  Avell  account  for  that  peculiarity  of  appearance 
Avhich  so  remarkably  distinguishes  them  from  the  inha- 
bitants of  every  other  country,  though  placed  under 
similar  latitudes,  and  as  burning  a  sun ;  and  Avhich  re- 
mains invariable  in  the  negro  race,  whatever  may  be  the 
change  of  their  situation,  or  their  mode  of  life.  Some 
nations  of  a  coppti"  colour,  Avith  lank  hair,  have  recently 
been  discovered  in  the  interior;  but  so  imperfectly  is 
this  country  known,  that  scarce  a  i)robable  conjecture 
can  be  given  concerning  their  origin. 

The  knowledge  Avhich  the  ancients  possessed  con- 
cerning Africa  Avas  extremely  limited.  Its  northern 
provinces,  indeed,  Avere  sufficiently  knoAvn,  and  Avere  at 
various  times  over-run  by  the  armies  of  Europe,  or 
peoi)led  by  its  colonies.  Herodotus  seems  to  have  been 
Avell  acquainted  Avith  this  country,  from  Mount  Atlas  to 
Ethiopia  above  Egy|)t ;  and  had  heard  of  the  central 
river  Niger,  Avhich  he  mentions  as  flowing  to  the  east. 
Egypt,  the  nursery  of  learning  and  civilization,  main- 
tained, at  an  early  period,  an  intercourse  AAith  Europe 
and  Asia;  and  continued  long  the  resort  of  the  intelli- 
gent and  curious,  from  both  these  continents  :  Yet  the 
adjacent  country  ofEthiopiaAvas  very  imperfectly  knoAvn. 

The  Carthaginians,  an  active  and  enterprising  people, 
penetrated  by  land  into  several  of  the  interior  iirovinces, 
Avith  some  of  Avhieh  they  established  a  commercial  in- 
tercourse, Avhile  others  they  subjected  to  their  empire. 
They  sailed  along  the  Avestern  coast  almost  to  the  tropic 
of  Cancer;  and,  planting  several  colonies,  endeavoured 
to  civilize  the  rude  natives,  and  accustom  them  to  trade. 
A  laudable  curiosity,  combined  Avith  the  desire  of  com- 
mercial advantage  in  prompting  them  to  extend  their 
discoveries  on  the  African  coast.  A  fleet,  equipped  by 
the  authority  of  the  senate,  and  at  the  public  ex()ensc, 
Avas  intrusted  to  Hanno,  Avho  Avas  directed  lo  steer  to- 
Avards  the  south,  along  the  coast  of  Africa ;  and  appears 
to  have  advanced  nearer  the  equinoctial  line  than  any 
former  navigator  of  that  nation.  The  periphis  of  his 
voyage  has  been  preserved,  and,  as  its  authenticity  has 
been  incontrovertibly  established,  (see  L'Esprit  desLoix. 
liv.  xxi.  c.  8.  and  Memoircs  de  VAcademie  tks  Inscrip- 
tions, tom.  xxvi.)  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  curious  monu- 
ment of  the  naval  skill  of  the  Carthaginians,  and  one  of 
the  most  valuable  remains  of  antiquity. 
A  a 


186 


AFRICA. 


A  still  more  wonderful  voyage  k  said  to  have  been  ac- 
complished some  time  before  by  a  Phoenician  fleet,  which 
was  fitted  out  by  Necho,  king  of  Egypt.     Sailing  by  his 
direction,  from  a  port  in  the  Red  Sea,  about  604  years 
before  the  Christian  era,  it  proceeded  along  the  eastern 
coast  of  Africa,  doubled  its  southern  promontory,  and  af- 
ter a  voyage  of  three  years,  returned  by  the  Straits  of 
Gades  to  the  mouth  of  the  Nile.  This  voyage,  which  is 
related  by  Herodotus,  who  regards  it  as  a  fabulous  tale, 
seems  to  derive  conformation  from  the  very  circum- 
stances which   appeared  to  him  the  most  incredible. 
"  The  relation  of  these  Phoenicians,"  says  he,  "  may  ob- 
tain credit  from  others — to  me  it  seems  unworthy  of  be- 
lief,— for  they  declared,  that,  when  sailing  round  Africa, 
they  had  the  siin  on  their  right  hand."     Their  account 
was  rejected  for  the  same  reason,  by  many  of  the  most 
eminent  historians  and  geographers  of  antiquity,  who 
deemed  it  impossible,  that  the  sun  could  any  where  as- 
sume a  position  so  different  from  that  in  which  he  had  al- 
ways appeared  to  themselves.     What  was  regarded  by 
the  ancients  as  a  convincing  proof  of  the  falsehood  of 
these  Phoenicians,  has  been  converted  by  modern  im- 
provements in  science,  into  the  most  irresistible  evidence 
of  their  veracity.     By  what  means,  if  not  from  actual 
observation,  could  they  learn,  that,  in  a  certain  latitude 
beyond  the  equinoctial  line,  the  shadow  of  bodies  falls 
to  the  south ;  and  that  Africa  is  an  immense  peninsula 
connected  with  no  other  continent,  except  at  the  isth- 
mus of  Suez  ?     It  is  idle  to  suppose,  that  they  were  led 
to  these  conclusions   by  ingenious  conjecture;  or  that, 
with  no  other  reason  than  vanity,  they  hazarded  them  as 
facts  to  give  an  air  of  miracle  to  their  voyage.     In  the 
state  of  astronomy,  when  thi;  voyage  was  untlertaken,  no 
conclusions  could  have  ap))eared  more  absurd ;  and  they 
must  have  been  but  awkward  blunderers  in  romance, 
had  they  endeavoured  to  excite  astonishment  by  fictions, 
which,  among  the  learned  at  least,  could  only  excite 
distrust.     Yet  we  must  not  dissemble  the  difficulty  of 
reconciling  our  belief  of  such  a  voyage  with  the  im- 
perfect state  of  ancient  navigation,  and  with  the  total 
ignorance  of  posterior  geographers  concerning  the  form 
or  extent  of  the  African  continent.     It  was  certainly 
possible,  however,  that  the  Phoenicians,  at  that  time  the 
most  skilful  and  enterprising  mariners  in  the   world, 
might,  by  their  usual  cautious  mode  of  coasting,  reach 
its  southern  extremity,  and  proceed  in  the  same  man- 
ner along  its  western  shores,  till  they  came  at  length 
into  »eas  with  which  they  Avere  better  acquainted.  Nor 
oan  it  be  wondereil,  if  the  perils  and  difliculties  which 
they  must  have  encountered  in  their  voyage,  and  which, 
on  their  return,  they  would  naturally  re|)resent  in  the 
strongest  terms,  should  have  deterred  future  navigators 
from  such  an  arduous  undertaking.     It  is  even  probable 
that  the  maritime  jealousy,  for  which  the  Phoenicians 
were  remarkable,  would  induce  them  to  magnify  their 
hardships  and  dangers,  and  to  give  such  an  imperfect 
account  of  their  discoveries  as  could  afford  no  direction 
to  adventurers  of  other  nations.     Certain  it  is,  that  the 
circumnavigation  of  Africa  was  regarded,  both  by  Greek 
and  Roman  geographers,  rather  as  an  amusing  fiction, 
than  as  a  real  transaction,  by   which  their  knowledge 
was  enlarged,  or  which  was  entitled  to  any  inlluence  on 
their  opinions.     So  inaccurate  were   the  ideas  of  this 
continent  entertained,  long  after  the  voyage  of  the  Phoe- 
nicians, even  by  m^n  of  extensive  erudition,  that  Poly- 
bius,  the  most  learned  and  intelligent  historian  of  an- 
tiquity, informs  us,  that,  in  his  time,  it  was  not  ascer- 


tained wlielhcr  Africa  Wfts  a  continued  continent,  stretch- 
ing towards  the  south,  or  whether  it  was  surrounded  by 
the  sea.  Strabo  was  equally  ignorant  of  its  form  ;  and 
Ptolemy,  the  most  inquisitive  and  best  informed  of  the 
ancient  geographers,  supposed,  that  it  stretched,  with- 
out interruption,  to  the  south  pole  ;  and  so  far  mistook 
its  true  figure,  that  he  describes  it  as  becoming  broader 
and  broader  towards  the  south.  Major  Rennell,  who 
has  investigated  the  subject  with  great  accuracy,  sup- 
poses, that  the  ancients  explored  the  western  shores  of 
Africa,  as  far  as  Sherboro  Sound ;  while  M.  Gosselin 
is  of  opinion,  that  they  penetrated  no  further  than  the 
cape  and  river  of  Non,  which,  according  to  him,  is  the 
Nia  of  Ptolemy.  The  opinion  of  Rennell  appears  more 
probable,  and  is,  besides,  supported  by  the  authority  of 
D'Anville,  who  supposed  the  mountains  of  Sierra  Leona 
to  be  those  which  were  denominated  by  the  ancients,  the 
Chariot  of  the  Gods.  Their  knowledge  of  the  eastern 
const  does  not  appear  to  have  extended  beyond  the  isle 
ofPemba,  inLat.  50S.  But  Ptolemy,  who  resided  in 
Egypt,  seems  to  have  possessed  a  more  perfect  acquaint- 
ance with  the  interior  parts  of  Africa,  than  has  ever  been 
attained  by  any  succeeding  geographer.  The  most  re- 
markable object  in  his  description  is  the  river  Gir,  which 
he  represents  as  equal  in  length  to  the  Niger,  but  flow- 
ing from  east  to  west,  till  it  is  lost  in  the  same  marsh, 
lake,  or  desert,  in  which  the  Niger  disappears.  It  seems 
to  be  the  same  river  which  Edrisi,  the  Arabian  geogra- 
pher, denominates  the  Nile  of  the  Negroes;  and  which 
he  describes  as  flowing  toivards  the  west,  and  disem- 
boguing itself  into  an  inland  sea. 

Africa  was  divided,  by  the  ancients,  into  two  great 
branches,  which  they  denominated  Africa  Propria,  and 
Africa  Interior.     With  regard  to  the  respective  limits 
of  these  divisions,  geographers  are  not  agreed.     Under 
the  name  of  Africa  Propria,or  the  territory  of  Carthage, 
Melo  and  Ptolemy  comprehend  all  the  countries  situated 
between  the  river  Arapsaga,  now  Sussegmar,  and  the 
borders  of  Cyrenaica;  thus  including  Numidia  and  the 
Regio  Syrtica.  countries  quite  distinct  from  the  proper 
territory  of  Carthage.     Other  geographers  have  more 
accurately  described  it  as  bounded  by  the  river  Tusca 
on  the  west;  on  the  north,  by  the  Mediterranean,  or 
African  sea ;  on  the  south,  by  the  frontiers  of  the  Gara- 
mantes  and  deserts  of  Libya  Interior;  and  on  the  east, 
by  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Lesser  Syrtis.    In  Africa 
Propria  were  comprehended  two  provinces,  called  Zen- 
gitana  and  Byzacium,  nearly  corresjronding  with  the 
summer  and  winter  circuits  of  the  modern  kingdom  of 
Tunis.    The  limits  of  Africa  Interior  were  less  accurate- 
ly defined.     This  vague  appellation  was  applied  in  ge- 
neral to  those  remote  and  southern  provinces  of  Africa, 
which  were  scarcely  known  either  to  the  Greeks  or  Ro- 
mans, but  by  fable  or  indistinct  report.     The  more  pre- 
cise divisions  of  this  continent,  so  far  as  it  had  been  ex- 
plored by  the  ancients,  were  Egypt;  Cyrenaica,  or 
Pcntapolis,  which,  with  Maumarica,  is  included  under 
the  modern  name  Barca;  Regio  Svrtica,  afterwards 
CR\\ei\  Tn'polis,  or  Tripolilana,  now  Tripoli;  Akrica 
Propria,  now  Tunis;  Numidia,   now  Algiers;  Mau- 
ritania, including  the  modern  kingdoms  of  Morocca 
and  Fez;  and  Getulia,  supposed  to  be  the  same  with 
Bildulgerid,  though  its  limits  have  not  been  exactly  as- 
certained.    Libya,  though  properly  applied  to  the  in- 
terior only,  was  frequently  used  as  the  name  of  Africa 
in  general ;  and  all  the  southern  regions  were  compre- 
hended under  the  appellation  of  Ethiopia. 


AFRICA. 


IS-JI 


After  the  downfal  of  the  Roman  empire,  Africa  was 
scarcely  known  to  Europeans,  till  the  accidental  disco- 
very of  the  Canary  Islands  excited  a  general  spirit  of 
adventure,  which  the  previous  invention  of  the  mariner's 
compass  |)owerfully  aided  and  increased.  In  the  year 
1344,  Clement  VI.  in  virtue  of  the  right  arrogated  by 
the  holy  see  to  dispose  of  all  countries  possessed  by  in- 
fidels, erected  these  islands  into  a  kingdom,  which  he 
bestowed  on  Lewis  de  la  Certb,  of  the  royal  family  of 
Castile.  But,  as  they  were  never  visited  by  that  un- 
fortunate prince,  a  grant  of  them  was  obtained  from 
Henry  III.  of  Castile,  by  .John  de  Bethencourt,  a  Nor- 
man baron,  who  succeeded  in  conquering  them;  and 
the  sovereignty  of  the  Canaries  remained  for  some  time 
in  his  family,  as  a  fief  held  of  the  crown  of  Spain.  Pre- 
vious to  that  event,  some  of  Betliencourt's  Countrymen, 
who  were  settled  in  Normandy,  are  said  to  have  visited 
the  coast  of  Africa,  and  to  have  advanced  far  to  the  south 
of  the  Canary  Isles.  But  these  voyages,  suggested  by 
no  public  plan  of  discoverj',  but  either  by  the  roving 
spirit  of  adventure,  which  they  inherited  from  their  an- 
cestors, or  by  the  enterprising  avarice  of  private  mer- 
chants, attracted  so  little  attention,  that  scarce  a  memo- 
rial of  them  has  been  transmitted  to  our  times. 

It  was  not  till  the  fifteenth  century,  that  the  boldness 
of  enterprise,  which  improved  skill  in  navigation  inspir- 
ed, and  the  ardent  curiosity  natural  to  minds  just  emerg- 
ing from  ignorance,  and  expanding  with  more  enlarged 
ideas,  suggested  regular  plans  of  discovery,  whicli  at 
length  conducted  the  navigator  to  a  new  world,  and  to 
regions  hitherto  unexplored.  The  Portuguese  took  the 
lead  in  this  glorious  career.  A  great  armament  was 
equipped  by  John  I.  of  Portugal,  destined  to  attack  the 
Moors  on  the  coast  of  Barbary.  Several  vessels  were 
appointed  to  sail  before  it,  to  the  western  shores  of 
Africa,  in  quest  of  countries  which  yet  remained  un- 
known. At  that  time,  navigation  was  still  very  imper- 
fect; the  voyages  of  the  Portuguese  had  hitherto  been 
limited  by  Cape  Non ;  but  the  vessels  sent  on  this  ex- 
pedition passed  thrit  dreaded  jiromontory,  and  proceeded 
as  far  as  Cape  Bojador,  160  miles  beyond  the  progress 
of  former  navigators.  The  breakers,  whicli  dashed  with 
tremendous  fury  over  the  cliffs  of  Bojador,  projecting 
far  into  the  Atlantic,  deterred  them  from  attempting  to 
sail  round  it ;  but  their  success  gave  new  ardour  to  the 
passion  for  discovery,  and  roused  the  emulation  of  suc- 
ceeding adventurers.  The  flattering  prospects  which 
now  began  to  ojjen  on  the  African  continent,  were  cher- 
ished with  enthusiasm  by  Henry,  fourth  son  of  John,  a 
prince  of  rare  talents,  enlightened  and  polished  beyond 
the  age  in  which  he  lived.  Capable  of  conceiving  the 
grandest  designs,  his  judgment  readily  discerned  how 
far  they  were  pr.icticable;  and  when  his  resolutions  were 
once  formed,  he  prosecuted  them  with  an  ardour  and  a 
decision  wliich  no  obstacle  could  withstand.  Geogr.iphy 
had  been  his  favourite  study.  He  had  accompanied  his 
father  on  his  expedition  to  Barbary ;  and  comparing  the 
discoveries  then  made  by  the  fleet,  with  the  accounts  of 
intelligent  travellers,  he  was  convinced  of  the  proba- 
bility of  finding  new  and  opulent  countries  in  the  more 
soulliern  I  liludes  of  Africa.  To  indulge  without  in- 
terruption these  enchanting  prospects,  and  to  mature 
his  schemes  ;or  realizing  them,  he  withdrew  from  court 
Oil  his  return  from  liarhary,  and  fixed  his  residence  at 
Sagres,  where  the  view  of  the  Atlantic  constantly  re- 
minikd  him  of  his  lavourile  project,  and  directed  all  his 
meditations  to  the  means  of  its  completion.     He  sooa 


fitted  out  a  single  vessel,  and  intrusting  the  command  of 
it  to  Gonzalez  Zarco  and  Tristan  Vaz,  two  gentlemen 
of  his  household,  who  voluntarily  undertook  the  enter- 
prise, he  instructed  them  to  endeavour,  by  all  means,  to 
double  Cape  Bojador,  and  advance  further  towards  the 
south.  The  timid  mode  of  coasting,  which  still  pre- 
vailed, would  probably  have  prevented  them  from  ac- 
complishing the  object  of  their  voyage;  but  their  ef- 
forts were  rewarded  by  an  accidental  discovery,  which 
proved  equally  satisfactory  to  their  master.  A  sudden 
squall  of  wind  drove  them  out  to  sea,  and  carried  them 
to  an  unknown  island,  which,  in  commemoration  of  their 
escape  from  ship^vreck,  they  named  Porto  Santo.  When 
they  returned  to  Portugal,  Henry  received  with  trans- 
port the  account  of  an  adventure  which  seemed  to  en- 
large the  field  of  discovery ;  and  pursuing  his  favourite 
project  with  keener  ardour  and  more  sanguine  hoi)e,  he 
next  year  sent  out  tiiree  ships,  under  the  same  command- 
ers, along  with  Bartholomew  Perestrello,  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  island  to  which  they  had  so  fortunately 
been  driven.  From  Porto  Santo  they  observed,  towartls 
the  south,  a  fixed  spot  in  the  horizon,  which  they  con- 
jectured to  be  land ;  and,  directing  their  course  towards 
it,  they  came  to  a  considerable  island,  uninhabited  and 
covered  with  wood,  which,  from  that  circumstance,  they 
called  Mtuleira.  Their  voyages  to  these  islands  accus- 
tomed the  Portuguese  to  a  bolder  navigation.  Gilianez, 
who  commanded  one  of  Henry's  ships,  venturing  intt> 
the  open  sea,  doubled  Cape  Bojador,  and  discovered  the 
vast  continent  of  Africa,  still  washed  by  the  Atlantic 
ocean,  and  stretching,  apparently  without  limits  to  the 
south.  These  successes  gave  a  stronger  impulse  to  the 
adventurous  curiosity  of  the  Portuguese.  In  a  few  years, 
they  advanced  withiu  the  tropics,  discovered  the  river 
Senegal,  and  explored  all  the  coast  of  Africa,  from  Cape 
Blanco  to  the  Cape  de  Verd. 

Henry,  now  comjiletely  convinced  of  the  importance 
of  those  projects,  which  he  had  so  successfully  pursued, 
obtained,  from  Pope  Eugene  IV.  a  grant  of  all  the  coun- 
tries already  known,  or  yet  to  be  discovered,  from  Cape 
Non  to  the  continent  of  India;  and  had  his  zeal  been 
seconded  by  that  skill  in  navigation,  which  was  after- 
wards attained,  he  would  probably  have  reaped  the  full 
advantage  of  that  liberal  donation.  A  modern  sailor 
would  hear  with  surprise,  that,  notwithstanding  all  his 
exertions,  not  more  than  fifteen  hundred  miles  of  the 
African  coast  were  in  his  days  explored.  Yet,  to  have 
passed  the  limits,  which  till  then  were  supposed  to  ter- 
minate the  continent  of  Africa ;  to  have  found  out  shores 
and  islands  unheard  of  before,  were  achievements  which 
drew  the  attention  of  all  Europe,  and  awakened  that  gen- 
eral spirit  of  curiosity,  which  has  since  been  rewarded 
with  the  discovery  of  another  continent,  and  which  was 
not  to  subside  while  one  sea  remained  untraversed,  or 
one  country  unknown.  The  Portuguese  eagerly  second- 
ed the  designs  of  their  prince.  The  whole  nation  seem- 
ed to  be  animated  with  the  same  enthusiasm.  Private 
companies  of  merchants  sent  out  fleets  in  quest  of  un- 
known countries ;  and  thus  the  Cape  de  Verd  islands 
were  discovered  in  the  year  1446,  and  the  Azores  sooa 
after. 

Alphonso,  who  occupied  the  throne  of  Portugal  after 
Henry's  death,  was  too  much  engaged  in  war  to  prose- 
cute with  much  ardour  the  discoveries  in  Africa.  Yet, 
during  his  reign,  the  Portuguese  ventured  to  cross  the 
line  ;  and  were  surprised  to  find  those  regions  populous 
and  fertile,  which  they  had  imagined  to  be  scorched  with 
Aa2 


18S 


AFRICA. 


intolerable  heat.  John  II.  who  succeeded  his  father 
Alphonso,  fully  aware  of  the  importance  of  these  new 
acquisitions,  entered  into  the  schemes  of  his  grand- 
uncle  Henry,  with  all  that  prince's  zeal,  and  with  very 
superior  advantages.  Under  his  patronage,  a  powerful 
fleet  was  sent  out,  which  discovered  the  kingdoms  of 
Benin  and  Congo,  and  advanced  fifteen  hundred  miles 
beyond  the  equinoctial  line ;  where  the  adventurers  be- 
held with  astonishment  a  new  heaven,  filled  with  stars 
which  they  had  never  before  seen.  Anxious  to  secure 
the  possession  of  those  countries  which  his  subjects 
had  discovered,  John  planted  colonies,  and  erected  forts 
on  the  coast  of  Guinea ;  entered  into  a  commercial  con- 
nexion with  its  more  j)owerful  sovereigns ;  rendered 
others  the  vassals  of  his  crown ;  and  by  a  regular  and 
well  digested  system  of  policy,  established,  upon  a  solid 
foundation,  the  power  and  commerce  of  the  Portuguese 
in  Africa.  Till  this  time  Ptolemy  had  been  the  oracle 
of  geographers,  and  Africa  was  supjjosed,  according  to 
his  doctrine,  to  become  broader  towards  the  south.  But 
the  Portuguese,  as  their  knowledge  of  (hat  continent  in- 
creased, found,  that,  beyond  the  Equator,  it  inclined  sen- 
sibly towards  the  east.  The  Phoenician  circumnaviga- 
tion, which,  on  the  authority  of  the  ancient  geographers, 
they  had  hitherto  reg;irde(l  as  fabulous,  now  ap|)eared 
probable ;  and  suggested  the  hope,  that,  by  following  a 
similar  route,  they  might  open  a  maritime  communica- 
tion with  India,  and  engross  the  lucrative  commerce  of 
Ihat  country. 

Jleanwhiie,  intelligence  had  been  received  from  va- 
rious nations  on  the  African  coast,  that  there  existed  a 
kingdom  in  the  east  of  that  continent,  governed  by  a 
powerful  monarch,  ^vho  professed  the  Christian  religion. 
John  immediately  concluded,  that  this  must  be  the  king 
of  Abyssinia ;  and,  hoping  to  receive  from  a  Chrislian 
prince  the  inibrmation  and  assistance  necessary  for  pro- 
moting his  schemes  of  discovery,  which  obviously  tend- 
ed to  propagate  their  common  faith,  he  was  desirous,  if 
possible,  to  open  an  intercourse  with  (his  unknown  and 
distant  court.  Two  men,  named  Covillan  and  Payva, 
well  skilled  in  the  Arabic  language,  were  appointed  am- 
bassadors to  thQ  Abyssinian  monarch;  with  particular 
directions  to  collect  whatever  information  they  could 
concerning  the  trade  of  India,  and  (he  possibility  of  sail- 
ing thither  by  the  way  of  Africa.  With  the  same  grand 
object  in  view,  he  sent  out  a  fleet  under  the  command  of 
Bartholomew  Diaz,  >vhom  he  directed  to  reach,  if  jios- 
sible,  the  southern  extremity  of  the  African  continent; 
and  exi)lore  that  passage,  which  it  was  now  his  highest 
ambition  to  ascertain.  The  experience  and  fortitude  of 
Diaz  eminently  qualified  him  for  an  undertaking  of  such 
difficulty  and  importance.  Undaunted  by  (he  tempests, 
which  he  encountered  in  those  unknown  seas ;  unmoved 
by  (he  frequent  mutinies  of  his  crew,  or  by  the  more 
dreadful  prospect  of  famine,  which  from  the  loss  of  his 
store-ship  he  had  reason  (o  fear,  he  resolutely  proceed- 
ed on  his  voyage,  till,  after  discovering  more  than  a 
thousand  miles  of  new  country,  he  at  length  descried 
the  lofty  promontory,  by  which  Africa  is  terminated  on 
the  south.  But  he  could  do  no  more  (han  descry  it. 
The  increasing  violence  of  (he  storms,  (he  shattered  s{ate 
of  his  ships,  and  the  turbulence  of  his  crew,  compelled 
him  to  return  ;  and  he  called  the  promontory,  in  search 
of  which  he  had  encountered  so  much  hardship  and  dan- 
ger, Cabo  Tonncnloso,  or  the  Stormy  Cape.  But  his  sove- 
reign, confident  that  he  had  now  found  the  long-wish- 
efl-for  passage  to  India,   gave  it  a  name  of  better 


omen,  which  It  has  ever  since  retained,  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope. 

The  intelligence  which  Covillan  transmitted  from 
Abyssinia,  confirmed  these  encouraging  hopes ;  and  the 
Portuguese  monarch,  as  he  approached  the  completion 
of  his  great  design,  was  so  totally  occupied  with  forming 
plans  for  (hat  purpose,  and  agitated  with  such  anxiety 
for  their  success,  that  he  could  bestow  no  attention  on 
the  other  duties  of  his  government.  At  length,  he 
equipped  a  powerful  squadron,  on  the  success  of  \\  hich 
(he  result  of  his  favourite  project  was  destined  to  de- 
pend. The  conduct  of  this  eventful  voyage  was  com- 
mitted to  Vasquez  de  Gama,  a  man  of  noble  birth,  pos- 
sessed of  talents  and  intrepidity  equal  to  such  an  arduous 
enterprise.  Not  yet  acquainted  with  the  proper  sesisons 
for  navigating  the  Atlantic  ocean,  he  set  sail  in  July,  and 
had  to  struggle  for  four  months  with  contrary  winds  be- 
fore he  reached  the  Cape.  A  calm  at  length  succeeded, 
which  enabled  him  to  accomplish  (he  important  object 
of  his  voyage.  He  passed  the  southern  extremity  of 
Africa;  explored  its  eastern  shores  as  far  as  Melinda, 
in  Zanguebar;  and,  sailing  thence  towards  India,  arriv- 
ed at  Calicut  on  the  22d  of  May,  1498.  Unprovided  with 
a  military  force  sufficient  to  attempt  a  settlement  on  that 
coast,  or  with  the  commodities  necessary  for  trading  with 
the  Indians,  he  hastened  to  return  to  Europe ;  and  laud- 
ed at  Lisbon  on  the  14th  of  September,  1499,  after  an 
absence  of  two  years,  two  months,  and  five  days.  To 
this  voyage,  the  longest,  the  most  difficult,  and,  next  to 
that  of  Columbus,  which  had  been  accomplished  about 
seven  years  before,  the  most  important  that  had  ever  been 
undertaken,  we  are  indebted  for  the  discovery  of  (he 
southern  and  eastern  boundaries  of  Africa  :  and  for  the 
origin  of  the  maritime  trade  with  India,  from  which 
Europe  in  general,  and  our  own  country  in  particular, 
has  since  derived  such  extensive  advantage. 

The  knowledge  of  Europeans,  with  regard  to  the  in- 
terior of  Africa,  did  not  keep  pace  with  the  <tiscoveries 
on  its  coasts.  Early  in  (he  sixteenth  century,  indeed, 
Leo  Africanus  had  given  an  ample  description  of  its 
northern  regions,  though  he  ajipears  to  have  been  im- 
perfectly acquainted  with  this  condnent  in  general.  Al- 
varez published  a  minute  account  of  Abyssinia,  which 
he  had  visited  in  1520,  and  in  which  he  had  resided  for 
a  considerable  time  :  and  the  Geography  of  that  country 
was  further  illuslratcd  by  the  .lournals  of  Lobo  and  Tel- 
lez.  From  the  Portuguese,  who  had  many  factories  and 
settlements  in  the  west,  and  whose  sovereigns  had  assum- 
ed the  additional  (itle  of  king  of  Guinea,  we  derive  our 
earliest  knowledge  of  some  of  its  interior  countries,  and 
of  its  most  considerable  kingdoms  and  empires.  Abys- 
SYNtA,  MocARANGA,  MoNOMUGi;  Oil  the  wcstem  coast, 
the  kingdoms  of  Benin,  Congo,  Angola,  Matamba, 
and  Loango;  on  the  eastern,  Sokala,  BIozambiquk, 
(^uiloa",  Mombaza,  and  Melinda,  were  first  made 
known  to  Europeans  by  the  Portuguese;  and  (heir  mis- 
sionaries collected  much  important  information  concern- 
ing the  cusloms,  laws,  governmeni,  and  religion  of  these 
various  kingdoms.  The  advantages  which  (he  Portu- 
guese derived  from  (heir  settlements  in  Africa,  would 
probablj'  have  directed  to  the  same  (piarter  (he  spirit  of 
enterprise  and  aclivity  which  then  liegan  to  prevail  in 
Europe,  and  (hat  vast  continent  might  have  been  long 
since  exploretl,  and  have  advanced  considerably  in  civi- 
lization, had  not  the  voyage  of  De  Gama  unfolded  to  (he 
merchant  richer  prospects  in  India;  while  (he  more 
splendid  discovery  of  Colunjbus  presented  a  new  world 


AFRICA. 


im 


(o  tlie  ambition  antl  cnriosify  of  the  adventurer.  The 
lucrative,  but  detestable  slave-trade  has  induced  some  of 
the  European  states  to  form  settlements  on  the  western 
coast  of  Africa.  A  few  factories,  for  this  purpose,  have 
been  established  to  the  north  of  the  Equator,  by  the  Eng- 
lish, French,  and  Spaniards.  The  Portuguese  have  si- 
milar establishments,  both  on  the  eastern  and  western 
shores,  from  the  Equator  to  the  tropic  of  Ca[iricorn  ;  and 
the  Dutch  have  regularly  colonized  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope.  But,  if  we  except  the  laudable  exertions  of  the 
Sierra  Leoua  Company,  and  the  benevolent  project  of  the 
Swedes  to  establish  an  agricultural  colony  in  Africa,  no 
attempt  has  yet  been  made  to  ojien  such  a  regular  and 
friendly  intercourse  with  the  natives,  as  might  lead  to 
a  more  extensive  knowledge  of  their  country ;  and,  by 
a  commerce  conducted  on  the  principles  of  humanity 
and  justice,  might  procure  to  Europeans  its  most  valu- 
able productions. 

From  the  first  voyages  of  the  Portuguese  till  near  the 
close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  our  knowledge  of  this 
continent  scarcely  extended  beyond  its  coasts.  Except  a 
few  lines  traced  on  its  margin,  the  map  of  Africa  was  a 
wide  extended  blank,  on  which  the  geograjiher,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  conjecture,  or  on  the  doubtful  authority 
of  the  Xerlff  Edrisi  and  Leo  Africanus,  delineated  the 
fancied  course  of  unexplored  rivers,  or  marked  the  posi- 
tion of  towns  and  nations  as  little  ascertained.  The  ef- 
forts of  De  la  Brue  and  of  Moore,  had  not  much  contri- 
buted to  remove  the  thick  darkness  which  covered  this 
quarter  of  the  globe.  More  than  half  a  century  had 
elapsed  since  the  period  of  their  travels,  before  the  Se- 
negal was  traced  higher  than  the  falls  of  Fein ;  or  the 
Gambia,  than  the  falls  of  Baraconda.  For  the  scanty 
knoivledge  which  was  obtained  of  the  interior,  we  are 
chiefly  indebted  to  a  few  spirited  individuals,  who,  with 
a  generous  ardour  in  the  cause  of  science,  had  penetrat- 
ed in  different  directions  these  unhospitable  regions, 
undeterred  by  the  variety  of  danger  which  they  had  con- 
stantly to  encounter  in  their  progress.  Sparrman  and 
Pr.terson  had  travelled  in  Caffraria,  which  was  after- 
wards more  fully  explored  by  Vaillant,  who  has  describ- 
ed the  situation,  political  state,  customs  and  manners  of 
various  nations,  till  then  unknown  to  Europeans  even  by 
name.  Morocco,  Algiers,  Tunis,  and  Tripoli,  had  long 
t)een generally  known;  and ouracquaintance  with Egj'pt, 
Nubia,  and  Abyssinia,  was  considerably  enlarged  by  the 
communications  of  Norden  and  Bruce. 

Such  was  the  state  of  African  geograjjhy,  when  a  few 
English  gentlemen  of  rank  and  learning,  considering 
our  ignorance  of  that  continent  as  a  reproach  upon  an 
age,  in  other  respects  so  enlightened,  formed  them- 
selves into  an  Association  for  promoting  the  Discovery 
of  the  Interior  Parts  of  Africa. 

Scarcely  \vas  this  society  instituted,  when  two  gentle- 
men were  engaged  in  the  advancement  of  these  schemes 
of  discovery,  whose  talents  and  courage  eminently  (pia- 
lified  them  for  such  an  arduous  service.  One  of  them 
named  Ledyard,  by  birth  an  American,  feeling  from  his 
earliest  youth  an  irresistible  desire  to  explore  those  re- 
gions of  the  globe,  which  were  yet  undiscovered,  or 
imperfectly  known,  had  passed  several  years  among  the 
Indians  in  America,  studying  their  manners  and  habits, 
and  had  thus  learned  how  to  recommend  himself  to  the 
favour  and  protection  of  savages.  He  had  accompanied 
captain  Cooke  in  his  voyage  round  the  world,  descend- 
ing to  the  humble  situatioa  of  corporal  of  marines,  ra- 


ther than  forego  an  opportunity  so  inviting  to  his  inquisi- 
tive and  adventurous  spirit.  He  nextresolved  to  traverse 
the  continent  of  America,  from  the  north-west  coast, 
which  Cooke  had  partly  explored,  to  the  eastern  coast, 
with  which  he  himself  was  already  perfectly  familiar. 
Disappointed  in  his  intention  of  sailing  on  a  voyage  of 
commercial  adventure  to  Nootka  Sound,  he  crossed  the 
British  channel  to  Ostend,  with  only  ten  guineas  in  his 
purse ;  determined  to  travel  overland  to  Kamschatka, 
whence  the  passage  is  short  to  the  western  coast  of 
America.  When  he  came  to  the  gulf  of  Bothnia,  he 
attempted  to  cross  it  on  the  ice,  that  he  might  reach 
Kamschatka  by  the  shortest  way ;  but  finding  that  the 
water  was  not  frozen  in  the  middle,  he  returned  to 
Stockholm  ;  travelled  northward  into  the  Arctic  circle  ; 
and  passing  round  the  head  of  the  gulf,  descended  on  its 
eastern  side  to  Petersburgh.  There  his  extraordinary 
appearance  attracted  general  notice.  Without  stock- 
ings or  shoes,  and  too  poorto  provide  himself  with  either, 
he  was  invited  to  dine  with  the  Portuguese  ambassador, 
who  supplied  him  with  twenty  guineas  on  the  credit  of 
sir  Joseph  Banks,  and  through  whose  interest  he  ob- 
tained permission  to  accompany  a  detachment  of  stores 
which  was  to  be  sent  to  Yakutz,  for  the  use  of  I\Ir.  Bil- 
lings, an  Englishman  who  was  intrusted  with  the 
schemes  of  northern  discovery,  in  which  the  empress 
was  then  engaged.  From  Yakutz,  which  is  situated  iiv 
Siberia  6000  miles  east  of  Petersburgh,  he  proceeded 
to  Oczakow,  on  the  Kamschatkan  Sea ;  but,  as  the  navi- 
gation was  completely  obstructed  by  the  ice,  he  return- 
ed to  Yakutz,  intending  to  wait  for  the  conclusion  of  the 
winter.  Here,  in  consequence  of  some  unaccountable 
suspicion,  he  was  seized  in  the  name  of  the  empress  by 
two  Russian  soldiers,  who  conveyed  him,  in  the  depth 
of  winter,  through  the  north  of  Tartary,  to  the  frontier 
of  the  Polish  dominions ;  assuring  him  at  their  depar- 
ture, that  if  he  returned  to  Russia,  he  should  certainly 
be  hanged,  but  if  he  chose  to  return  to  England,  they 
wished  him  a  pleasant  journey.  Poor,  forlorn,  and 
friendless,  covered  with  rags,  and  exhausted  by  hard- 
ship, disease,  and  misery,  he  proceeded  to  Koningsberg, 
where  the  interest  of  sir  Joseph  Banks  enabled  him  to 
procure  the  sum  of  five  guineas,  by  means  of  ivhich  he 
arrived  in  England. 

He  waited  immediately  on  sir  Joseph,  who  knowing 
his  disposition,  informed  him,  that  he  could  recommend 
him  to  an  adventure  as  perilous  as  that  from  which  he 
had  just  returned,  and  communicated  to  him  the  views 
of  the  Association  for  discovering  the  Inland  Countries 
of  Africa.  Ledyard  entered  with  enthusiasm  into  aa 
enterprise  which  he  had  already  projected  for  himself; 
and  receiving  from  sir  Joseph  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  one  of  the  members  of  the  committee  appointed  to 
direct  the  business,  and  promote  the  object  of  the  asso- 
ciation, he  went  to  him  without  delay.  The  description 
which  that  gentleman  has  given  of  their  first  interview, 
strongl}'  marks  the  character  of  this  hardy  traveller. 
"  Before  1  had  learned,"  says  he,  "  from  the  note,  the 
name  and  business  of  my  visitor,  I  was  struck  with  the 
manliness  of  his  person,  the  breadth  of  his  chest,  the 
openness  of  his  countenance,  and  the  inqinetude  of  his 
eye.  I  spread  the  map  of  Africa  before  him,  and  tracing 
a  line  from  Cairo  to  Sennaar,  and  from  thence  westward 
in  the  latitude  and  supposed  direction  of  the  Niger,  I 
told  him  that  was  the  route  by  which  I  was  anxious  that 
Africa  might,  if  possible,  be  explored.     He  said  he 


190 


AFRICA, 


should  think  himself  singularly  fortunate  to  be  intrusted 
with  the  adventure.  I  asked  him  when  he  would  set  out? 
To-morrow  morning,  was  his  answer." 

From  such  zeal,  decision,  and  intrepidity,  the  Society 
naturally  formed  the  most  sanguine  expectations.  Mr. 
Ledyanl  sniled  from  London  on  the  30th  of  June,  1 788, 
and  in  thirty-six  daj's,  seven  of  which  were  spent  in 
Paris,  and  two  at  Marseilles,  arrived  in  the  city  of  Alex- 
andria ;  and  having  there  assumed  the  dress,  and  been 
instructed  in  the  manners  requisite  for  an  Egyptian  tra- 
veller, proceeded  to  Cairo,  which  he  reached  on  the 
19th  of  August.  Ledyard  travelled  with  peculiar  ad- 
vantages. Endowed  with  an  original  and  comi)rehen- 
sive  genius,  he  behelil  with  interest,  and  described  with 
energy,  the  scenes  and  objects  around  him  ;  and  l>y  com- 
paring them  with  what  he  had  seen  in  other  regions  of 
the  globe,  he  was  enabled  to  give  his  narrative  all  the 
varied  effect  of  contrast  and  resemblance.  His  remarks 
on  Lower  Egypt,  had  that  country  been  less  generally 
known,  might  have  ranked  with  the  most  valuable  of 
geographical  records ;  and  greatly  heightened  the  opi- 
nion which  his  employers  already  entertained  of  his  sin- 
gular qualifications  for  the  task  which  he  had  under- 
taken. Nor  was  his  residence  in  Cairo  altogether  use- 
less to  the  association.  By  visiting  the  slave  markets, 
and  by  conversing  with  the  Jelabs,  or  travelling  mer- 
chants of  the  caravans,  he  obtained,  without  anyexpense, 
a  better  idea  of  the  people  of  Africa,  of  its  trade,  of  the 
position  of  places,  the  nature  of  the  country,  and  the 
manner  of  travelling,  than  lie  could,  by  any  other  means, 
have  acquired  :  and  tlje  communications  on  these  sub- 
jects, which  he  transmitted  to  England,  interesting  and 
instructive  as  they  were,  afforded  the  society  the  most 
gratifying  proofs  of  the  ardent  spirit  of  inquiry,  the  un- 
wearied attention,  the  persevering  research,  and  the  la- 
borious, indefatigable,  anxious  zeal  with  which  their  au- 
thor pursued  the  object  of  his  mission. — Proceedings  of 
the  African  Association  for  1790,  p.  40.  4to. 

He  had  announced  to  his  employers,  that  he  had  re- 
ceived letters  of  earnest  recommendation  from  theaga; 
that  the  day  of  his  departure  was  appointed;  that  his 
next  despatch  should  be  dated  from  Sennaar ;  and  the 
committee  expected  with  impatience  the  result  of  his 
journey.     But  that  journey  was  never  to  be  performed. 
The  vexation  occasioned  by  repeated  delays  in  the  de- 
parture of  the  caravan,  brought  on  a  bilious  comi)Iaint, 
which,  being  increased  at  first  by  incautious  treatment, 
baffled  the  skill  of  the  most  approved   physicians  of 
Cairo.     The  society  heard,  with  deep  concern,  of  the 
death  of  a  man,  whose  high  sense  of  honour,  magnani- 
mous contempt  of  danger,  and  earnest  zeal  for  the  ex- 
tension of  knowledge,  had  been  so  conspicuously  dis- 
played in  their  service;   whose  ardour,   tempered  by 
calm  deliberation,  whose  daring  spirit,  seconded  by  the 
most  prudent  caution,  and  whose  impatience  of  control, 
united  with  the  power  of  supporting  any  fatigue,  or  en- 
4luringany  suffering,  seemed  to  have  qualified  him, above 
all  other  men,  for  the  very  arduous  task  of  traversing 
the  widest  and  most  dangerous  jiart  of  the  continent  of 
Africa.     "  I  am  accustomed,"  said  he  on  the  morning 
of  his  departure  from  London,  "  1  am  accustomed  to 
hardships.  My  distresses  have  been  greater  than  I  have 
ever  owned,  or  ever  will  own  to  any  man.     Such  evils 
are  terrible  to  bear,  but  they  never  yet  had  power  to 
turn  me  from  my  purpose.     If  I   live,  I  will  faithfully 
perform,  in  its  utmost  extent,  my  engagement  to  the 
Society ;  and  if  I  perish  in  the  attemi)t,  my  honour  will 


still  be  safe,  for  dtalh  cancels  all  bonds."  Should  our 
readers  be  disposed  to  complain,  that  we  have  (hvelt  too 
long  upon  the  character  and  history  of  a  man  who  never 
penetrated  into  Africa  further  than  Cairo,  let  the  inter- 
esting nature  of  the  subject  plead  our  excuse.  As  the 
first  missionary  of  the  African  association,  he  had  an 
undoubted  claim  to  our  notice,  and  we  should  have 
thought  it  unjust  to  estimate  that  claim  merely  by  the 
extent  of  his  discoveries.  We  felt  a  melancholy  plea- 
sure in  contemplating  his  qualifications  for  the  most 
difficult  task  which  had  ever  been  assigned  to  any  indi- 
vidual; and  in  comparing  his  extraordinary  achievements 
with  what  he  might  still  have  performed,  had  he  lived 
to  prosecute  his  enterprise. 

Limited  as  his  progress  unfortunately  was,  he  yet 
found  means  to  extend  our  knowledge  of  the  countries 
and  manners  of  Africa.  He  remarked  that  the  Mahoni- 
medans  in  that  continent,  like  the  Russians  in  Siberia, 
were  a  trading,  enterprising,  superstitious  set  of  vaga- 
bonds, who  cannot  afford  to  traverse  Africa  without  trad- 
ing by  the  way,  and  therefore  made  no  journeys  or  voya- 
ges, either  merely  commercial,  or  merely  religious. 
They  pass  in  caravans  to  Sennaar,  Darftir,  Wangara, 
and  Abyssinia,  ignorant  of  geography,  which  they  have 
no  desire  to  learn,  for  they  can  sing,  and  dance,  and 
traftick  without  it.  For  gum,  ivory,  and  slaves,  they 
trade  to  Darfur,  the  inhabitants  of  which  country  he  re- 
presents to  be  in  as  savage  a  state  as  human  beings  cau 
be  :  they  are  a  sizeable,  well-formed  ])eople,  with  tlie 
true  Guinea  face,  and  curled  short  hair.  To  Sennaar  the 
Jelabs  carrj',  in  general,  trinkets;  for  which  they  bring 
in  return,  elephant's  teeth,  gum,  ostrich  feathers,  camels, 
and  slaves.  The  king  of  Sennaar  is  himself  a  merchant, 
and  is  not  only  concerned  in  the  trade  of  the  caravans, 
but  keeps  an  agent  or  i)rocurer  at  Cairo.  Wangara  was 
described  to  him  as  a  kingdom  aliounding  in  gold ;  of 
which  the  king  issues  sometimes  very  little,  and  some- 
times a  great  deal,  to  prevent  strangers  from  guessing 
at  the  extent  of  his  riches,  and  on  their  account  molest- 
ing his  peace.  A  caravan  goes  from  Cairo  to  Pezzan, 
which  is  reckoned  a  journey  of  fifty  days;  and  from 
Fezzan  to  Tombuctoo,  a  journey  of  ninety  days.  Ab 
the  caravans  travel  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  a  day, 
the  distance  from  Cairo  to  Fezzan  may  thus  be  comput- 
ed at  1000  miles,  and  from  Fezzan  to  Tombuctoo  1800 
miles.  From  Cairo  to  Sennaar  the  distance  is  600  miles. 
Such  are  the  principal  observations  made  by  Mr.  Led- 
yard while  in  Egypt.  They  display  the  energy  and  pene- 
tration of  a  mind  unbiassed  by  theory  or  prejudice,  and 
enlarged  by  an  extensive  intercourse  with  men. 

Mr.  Lucas,  another  gentleman  who  was  engaged  by 
the  Association  about  the  same  time  as  Ledyard,  had 
been  sent,  when  a  boy,  to  Spain,  to  be  there  educated 
as  a  merchant ;  and  being  captured  on  his  return  by  a 
Sallee  rover,  had  been  carried  as  a  slave  to  the  court  of 
Morocco.  After  three  years  of  captivity,  he  was  allow- 
ed to  depart  for  Gibraltar,  where  he  was  invested  with 
the  offices  of  Vice  Consul  and  Chargf  d' Affaires  in  the 
empire  of  Morocco;  and  thus  returned,  as  the  delegate 
of  his  sovereign,  to  the  very  kingdom  in  which  he  had  so 
long  been  detitined  as  a  slave.  Having  continued  for 
sixteen  j'ears  in  that  situation,  he  returned  to  England, 
and  was  soon  appointed  Oriental-Interpreter  to  the  Bri- 
tish court.  When  the  African  Association  was  formed, 
he  expressed  his  willingness,  provided  he  couhl  obtain 
his  Majesty's  apjirobation,  to  undertake  any  journey 
which  his  knowledge  of  the  maunere,  customs,  and  Ian- 


ATRICA. 


19l 


guage  of  the  Arabs,  might  qualify  him  to  perrorm.  His 
Majesty  not  only  allowed  him  to  engage  in  the  service  of 
the  Society,  but  continued,  during  his  absence,  his 
salary  as  Oriental  interpreter;  and  the  committee  allotted 
him  the  passage  of  the  Desert,  from  Tripoli  to  Pezzan, 
with  which  the  traders  of  Agadez,  Tombuctoo,  and 
other  towns  in  the  interior,  had  established  a  frequent 
and  regular  intercourse.  Whatever  intelligence  con- 
cerning the  inland  regions  he  could  receive  from  these 
merchants,  or  from  the  people  of  Fezzan,  he  was  to 
transmit  by  the  way  of  Tripoli ;  and  afterwards  to  re- 
turn by  Gambia,  or  the  coast  of  Guinea. 

With  these  instructions  he  sailed  from  Marseilles  on 
the  18th  of  October,  1788,  and  in  seven  days  after  arrived 
at  Tripoli.  The  Tripolinc  ambassador,  who  had  for- 
merly resided  in  England,  introduced  him  to  the  ba- 
shaw, who  eagerly  inquired  into  the  motives  of  his  in- 
tended journey  to  Fezzan,  a  journey  which  no  Christian 
had  ever  attempted.  Mr.  Lucas  told  him,  that  he  wished 
to  examine  various  Roman  antiquities,  which  he  had 
heard  existed  in  that  kingdom,  and  to  collect  some 
medicinal  plants  which  could  not  be  procured  in  Europe. 
The  bashaw  appeared  satisfied,  and  promised  to  forward 
his  journey.  Alter  some  delaj%  he  set  out  with  two 
shereefs,  who  had  come  from  Pezzan  with  slaves,  senna, 
and  other  articles  of  merchandise.  Descended  from 
Mahomet,  the  persons  of  these  shereefs  were  secure 
from  violence,  and  their  property  from  plunder.  One  of 
them,  named  Fawad,  was  brother-in-law  to  the  king,  of 
a  dignified  and  sedate  manner;  the  other,  named  Ini- 
liammed,  was  a  lively  old  man,  affable,  free,  and  enter- 
taining. They  offered  to  take  Mr.  Lucas  under  their 
protection ;  and  their  proposal  was  approved  of  by  the 
bashaw,  who  presented  him  with  a  handsome  mule  ; 
while  the  bey,  his  son,  presented  him  with  a  tent,  and 
gave  him  a  letter  of  recommendation  to  the  king  of 
Fezzan.  On  the  first  of  February,  1 789,  their  little  cara- 
van left  Tripoli,  and  proceeded  towards  Fezzan  by  the 
way  of  Mesurata ;  which,  though  less  direct,  is  safer 
than  the  passage  by  Guariano,  as  on  that  route  travellers 
are  not  exposed  to  the  rapacity  of  the  tribes  Hooled  Ben 
Soliman,  and  Benioleed.  After  passing  Tajarah,  a  wretch- 
ed collectiou  of  clay-built  huts,  they  encamped  for  the 
night  upon  a  sandy  eminence ;  and  piling  their  loads  in 
a  circle,  lighted  up  their  fires,  and  spread  their  mats 
within  it.  In  these  journeys  very  few  incumber  them- 
selves with  tents.  Without  any  covering  but  their  al- 
haiques,  or  blankets,  they  lie  down  amidst  the  heavy 
dews  and  occasional  rains;  and  such  is  the  salubrity  of 
the  air,  that  they  receive  no  injury  from  these  uncom- 
fortable exposures.  The  second  day  was  spent  in  tra- 
velling amidst  dreary  hills  of  loose  sand,  where  they  met 
neither  man  nor  beast;  neither  wood  nor  water  was  any 
where  to  be  seen.  They  encamped  in  a  small  valley 
between  the  hills,  over  which  the  sand  was  driven  with 
every  gale.  Next  day,  about  two  in  the  afternoon,  they 
emerged  from  these  hills  of  sand,  and  were  delighted 
with  the  distant  view  of  date  and  olive  trees,  white 
thorn,  and  Spanish  broom;  yet  the  soil  was  stony  and 
dry,  diversified  here  and  there  with  a  few  fields  of  grain, 
whose  scanty  and  meagre  appearance  markeil  an  un- 
gracious and  sullen  vegetation.  On  the  fourth  day, 
after  proceeding  for  three  hours  amidst  a  continued 
succession  of  rocky  hills,  the  caravan  came  to  the  en- 
trance of  an  extensive  plain,  where  the  olive  trees,  in- 
termingleii  with  dates,  rose  in  luxuriant  beauty.  Two 
hours  after  they  reached  the  town  of  Lebida,  on  tlie 


sea  coast,  where  the  ruins  of  a  temple,  and  of  several 
triumphal  arches,  recall  the  idea  of  Roman  magnifi- 
cence; while  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  adjoining 
plain,  and  the  remains  of  a  stupendous  aqueduct,  which 
once  conveyed  to  Lebida  the  water  of  a  distant  hill,  give 
a  pleasing,  though  melancholy,  interest  to  the  scene. 
As  they  advanced  towards  Mesurata,  on  the  sixth  day 
of  their  journey  they  were  alarmed  by  accounts  of  the 
depredations  committed  by  the  tribe  Hooled  Ben  Soli- 
man.  Next  day  they  fell  in  with  a  party  of  Arabs,  whom 
they  supposed  to  be  enemies,  and  resolved  to  attack ; 
but  to  their  great  joy,  as  they  were  just  levelling  their 
muskets,  the  Arabs  recognized  them  as  friends;  and 
their  mutual  terror  was  followed  by  the  most  extravagant 
marks  of  exultation.  They  ran  round  each  other  like 
frightened  sheep ;  and,  after  dancing,  shouting,  and 
twirling  their  muskets  round  their  heads  till  they  were 
tired,  they  sat  down,  and  began  reciprocal  congratula- 
tions on  their  safety.  The  caravan  proceeded,  and  at 
six  in  the  evening  arrived  at  Mesurata.  Mr.  Lucas  was 
received  with  great  i)oliteness  by  the  governor,  who 
had  long  resided  in  Italy ;  but  as  he  was  unable  to  pro- 
cure the  immber  of  camels  necessary  to  convey  their 
goods  to  Fezzan,  the  shereefs,  after  waiting  some  time 
at  Mesurata,  resolved  to  proceed  to  the  places  where 
they  intended  to  reside  during  summer;  and  3Ir.  Lucas, 
finding  it  impossible  to  advance  this  season  to  Fezzan, 
returned  to  Tripoli  about  the  end  of  March,  and  thence 
proceeded  by  the  way  of  Malta  and  Marseilles  for  Eng- 
land, where  he  arrived  on  the  26th  of  July. 

While  detained  at  Mesurata,  he  employed  himself  in 
procuring  from  Imhammed,  an  account  of  Fezzan,  and 
the  countries  beyond  it  towards  the  south,  which  the 
shereef  had  visited  as  a  factor  in  the  slave-trade.  Dis- 
playing before  him  a  map  of  Africa,  which  he  intended 
as  a  present  for  the  king  of  Fezzan,  he  requested  his 
assistance  to  render  it  more  correct ;  promising  him  at 
the  same  time  a  copy  for  himself,  when  it  should  be 
completed  according  to  his  information.  The  governor, 
to  whom  he  read  the  memorandums  which  he  jirocnred 
in  this  manner,  confirmed  the  accuracy  of  the  shereefs 
relation  ;  but  the  connnittee  had  obtained  a  more  deci- 
sive test  of  its  value,  by  procuring  from  Ben  Alii,  a  na- 
tive of  Morocco,  an  account  of  his  extensive  travels,  as 
a  merchant,  in  the  countries  south  of  the  Sahara. 
Though  the  remarks  of  Ben  Alii  seemed  those  of  a 
superficial  observer,  possessed  of  activity  of  spirit,  ra- 
ther than  strength  of  judgment ;  and  though  his  recol- 
lection of  the  scenes  which  he  described  was  impaired 
by  an  absence  of  twenty  years,  the  general  features  of 
his  narrative  coincided  so  exactly  with  that  of  the  she- 
reef,  as  fully  to  authenticate  the  information  which  the 
latter  had  imparted  to  Mr.  Lucas.  Their  accounts  ex- 
tended the  geography  of  Africa  from  Fezzan,  across  the 
eastern  division  of  the  Desert,  to  Borno.v,  Cashna,  and 
the  Niger. 

Two  years  elapsed  after  the  return  of  Mr.  Lucas,  be- 
fore the  Association  published  any  new  account  of  their 
proceedings ;  but,  during  that  interval,  they  had  received 
new  and  interesting  intelligence,  through  distinct  and 
unconnected  channels.  An  Arab,  named  Shabeni,  had 
excited  their  early  attention,  by  an  account  of  an  empire 
on  the  banks  of  the  Niger.  Its  capital,  Houssa,  where 
he  had  resided  two  years,  he  described  as  vying  with 
London  or  Cairo  in  extent  or  population.  The  govern- 
ment of  this  empire  he  represented  as  a  limited  monar- 
chy, whose  jurisdiction,  though  severe,  was  directed  by 


Id2 


AFRICA. 


written  lawB.  He  mentioned  an  institution  of  hereditary 
officers,  >vho  guarded  tlie  rights  of  landed  property,  and 
whose  complicated  and  important  duties,  resembling 
those  of  the  Canongoes  of  Hindostan,  implied  an  unu- 
sual degree  of  civilization  and  refinement.  He  extolled 
the  probity  of  their  merchants;  but  remarked  with  in- 
dignation, that,  as  the  women  were  admitted  to  society, 
the  honour  of  husbands  was  endangered.  Of  their  writ- 
ten alphabet,  he  only  knew  that  it  bore  no  resemblance 
to  the  Hebrew  or  Arabic  characters ;  the  art  of  writing 
lie  represented  as  common  in  Houssa ;  and  when  he 
related  the  manner  in  which  their  pottery  was  fabricated, 
he  described,  without  knowing  it,  the  ancient  Grecian 
wheel. 

Between  Houssa  and  Tombuctoo,  the  banks  of  the 
Niger,  according  to  his  account,  are  more  populous 
than  those  of  the  Nile  from  Alexandria  to  Cairo;  and 
to  his  mind,  the  emi)ire  of  Houssa  obviously  appeared 
to  exceed  in  opulence  and  grandeur  any  kingdom  that 
lie  had  ever  seen,  with  the  exception  of  England  alone. 
His  relation  was  strongly  confirmed  by  letters  which  the 
committee  received  from  the  British  consuls  at  Tunis 
and  Morocco ;  and  which  contained  this  additioual  infor- 
tnation,  that,  in  both  these  kingdoms,  the  eunuchs  of 
the  seraglio  were  brought  from  the  city  of  Houssa. 

Eager  to  investigate  the  truth  of  these  accounts,  and 
to  explore  the  course  and  origin  of  a  river,  which  might 
open  to  Britain  a  commercial  intercourse  with  rich  and 
l>opulou3  nations,  the  committee  gladly  accepted  the 
j)roposals  of  a  new  adventurer,  who  now  tendered  them 
his  semces.  His  name  was  Major  Houghton;  he  had 
formerly  been  a  captain  in  the  60th  regiment,  and  in  the 
j-ear  1779,  had  acted  as  Port-Major  in  the  island  of  Go- 
ree.  He  was  instructed  to  ascertain  the  course,  and,  if 
possible,  the  rise  and  termination  of  the  Niger;  and 
after  visiting  the  cities  of  Tombuctoo  and  Houssa,  to 
return  by  the  way  of  the  Desert,  or  by  any  other  route 
which  the  circumstances  of  his  situation  at  the  time 
should  recommend  to  his  choice. 

Having  sailed  from  England  on  the  16th  of  October, 
1790,  he  arrived  on  the  10th  of  November  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  Gambia.  He  was  kindly  received  by  the 
king  of  Barra,  to  whom  he  had  formerly  paid  a  visit  from 
the  island  of  Goree ;  and  who  now  in  return  for  a  present 
which  the  major  had  made  him,  offered  him  his  pro- 
tection and  assistance,  as  far  as  his  influence  extended. 
With  an  interpreter  whom  he  had  engaged  on  the  coast, 
he  proceeded  in  an  English  vessel  up  the  river  to  Jun- 
kiconda ;  and  having  there  purchased  a  horse  and  five 
asses,  prepared  to  pass,  with  the  merchandise  which 
constituted  his  travelling  fund,  to  Medina,  the  capital  of 
the  small  kingdom  of  Woolli.  A  few  words  accidentally 
dropped  by  a  negro  woman,  in  the  Mandingo  language, 
of  which  he  had  hastily  acquired  a  superficial  know- 
ledge, warned  him  of  a  conspiracy  formed  against  his 
life  by  the  negro  mistresses  of  the  traders,  who  dreaded 
from  the  major's  expedition  the  ruin  of  their  commerce. 
To  frustrate  their  machinations,  he  availed  himself  of 
the  opportunity  which  the  dry  season  and  ebb  tide  af- 
forded, of  swimming  his  horse  and  asses  a<rross  the 
stream ;  and  proceeding  with  much  difficulty  on  its 
f  outhern  bank,  to  that  district  of  Cantor  which  is  oppo- 
site the  kingdom  of  Woolli,  he  there  recrossed  the 
Gambia,  and  despatched  a  messenger  to  inform  the  king 
»f  his  arrival,  and  to  request  a  guard  for  his  protection. 
An  escort,  commanded  by  the  king's  son,  was  immcdi- 
Estely  sent,  and  the  major  was  graciously  received,  and 


hospitably  entertained  at  Medina.  The  happiness  and 
security  which  he  here  enjoyed,  contrasted  with  the 
dangers  from  which  he  had  just  escajjed,  excited  in  his 
mind  the  most  |)leasing  reflections ;  while  the  richness 
and  salubrity  of  the  country  inspired  him  with  the  most 
animating  hopes.  In  a  letter  to  his  wife,  he  expresses 
his  earnest  expectation  that  she  would  hereafter  accom- 
pany him  to  a  place  where  they  could  live  in  affluence  on 
ten  pounds  a  year,  and  where  they  could  not  fail  to  accu- 
mulate in  a  short  time  prodigious  wealth,  from  the  lu- 
crative commerce  which  the  country  would  aflbrd.  This 
flattering  dream  of  prosperity  was  soon  to  be  succeede«l 
by  accumulated  misfortunes : — A  fire  destroyed  his 
house,  and  consumed  several  of  the  articles  of  merchan- 
dise which  were  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  journey ; 
his  treacherous  interpreter  disappeared  with  his  horse, 
and  three  of  his  asses;  a  trade  gun,  which  he  had  pur- 
chased on  the  river,  burst  in  his  hands,  and  wounded  him 
in  the  face  and  arm.  With  the  wreck  of  his  fortune  he 
set  out  from  Medina,  on  the  evening  of  the  8th  of  May ; 
and  proceeding  by  a  north-east  course,  arrived  on  the 
fifth  day  at  the  uninhabited  frontier  which  separates  the 
kingdoms  of  Woolli  and  Bondou,  beyond  the  former  limits 
of  European  discovery.  In  this  unvisited  country,  which 
he  found  very  populous,  the  long  black  hair  and  cojjper 
complexion  of  the  natives,  indicated  their  Arab  original. 
They  belong  to  that  numerous  tribe,  which,  under  the 
name  of  Foulahs,  have  overspread  a  great  part  of  Sene- 
gambia,  and  like  the  inhabitants  of  Woolli,  are  divided 
into  Bushreens,  or  Mahommedans,  and  Sonikees,  or  men 
who  drink  strong  liquors — whose  mutual  harmony  is  un- 
disturbed by  the  difference  of  their  religious  opinions. 
After  a  journey  of  150  miles,  he  arrived  at  the  banks  of 
the  Faleme,  the  soulh-ivcstern  boundary  of  the  kingdom 
of  Bambouta.  The  woolly  hair  and  sable  complexion 
of  the  inhabitants  of  this  kingdom,  bespeak  them  of  the 
negro  race.  Chiefly  engaged  in  agriculture  and  pas- 
turage, they  have  yet  nitule  such  progress  in  the  manu- 
facturing arts,  as  to  be  able  to  smelt  their  iron  ore,  and 
to  fabricate  the  instruments  of  war  and  husbandry  ;  but 
they  weave  their  cotton  cloth  by  a  tedious  and  iliflicult 
process. 

On  arriving  at  the  banks  of  the  Faleme,  the  major 
found,  that,  in  consequence  of  a  war  which  had  lately 
subsisted  between  the  kings  of  Bondou  and  Bambouk, 
the  latter  had  ceded  the  lowland  part  of  his  dominions  to 
his  victorious  enemy,  who  had  taken  up  his  residence 
in  the  territories  which  he  had  thus  acquired.  1'he  ma- 
jor hastened  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  successful  sove- 
reign, who  received  him  in  the  most  ungracious  man- 
ner; sullenly  |)ermitted  him  to  leave  the  present  which 
he  had  brought  to  conciliate  his  favour  and  protection ; 
and  commanded  him  to  repair  to  the  frontier  town  from 
which  he  came,  telling  him  that  he  should  hear  again 
from  his  majesty.  Next  day,  the  king's  son,  with  an 
armed  attendance,  entered  the  house  in  which  the  ma- 
jor lodged,  rifled  his  baggage,  and  selected  whatever 
couhl  gratify  their  avarice,  or  please  their  fancy ;  and  to 
his  extreme  regret,  the  prince  took  from  him  (he  blue 
coat  in  which  he  intended  to  have  been  introduced  to 
the  sultan  of  Tombuctoo.  The  major  seized  the  first 
opportunity  of  escaping  from  these  barbarians,  and  was 
repairing  to  the  residence  of  the  king  of  Bambouk,  when 
he  lost  his  way  in  one  of  the  vast  forests  of  the  country. 
The  ground  on  which  he  passed  the  flight  was  deluged 
with  water,  for  the  rainy  season  had  now  commenced ; 
and  the  sky  was  fired  by  a  contiaued  blaze  of  lightninp- 


AFRICA, 


105 


Tkougli  seized  witli  a  smart  feTcr,  lie  conCinued  his  route 
nt  break  of  day.  A  river  crossed  his  way,  which  lie 
■waded  wi(h  much  difficulty  ;  and  when  he  reached  Fer- 
banna,  his  fever  increased  to  delirium.  But  his  strength 
was  soon  restored  by  the  kindness  of  the  negro  family  to 
which  bis  guide  had  conducted  him ;  and  the  friendly 
reception  which  he  met  with  from  the  king  of  Bamboiik 
compensated  for  the  distresses  of  his  journey.  The 
liing  told  him,  that  his  late  defeats  had  been  owing  to  liis 
want  of  ammunition ;  for,  since  the  French  traders  had 
abandoned  the  fort  St.  Joseph,  and  deserted  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  upper  part  of  Senegal,  he  had  no  means  of 
replenishing  his  stores ;  whereas  the  king  of  Bondou,  by 
means  of  his  agents  on  the  Gambia,  received  from  the 
English  a  constant  supply.  The  major  embraced  this 
ojiportunity  of  suggesting  to  the  king  the  advantage  of 
encouraging  the  English  to  open  a  trade  through  his  do- 
minions, with  the  opulent  cities  on  the  banks  of  the  Ni- 
ger ;  but  this  negociation  was  suspended,  by  the  arrival 
of  the  annual  presents  of  mead,  which  at  that  season  the 
people  of  Bambouk  are  accustomed  to  send  to  their  king ; 
and  which  are  always  followetl  by  several  successive 
days  of  intemperate  festivity. 

Meanwhile,  the  major  gladly  accepted  a  propositi 
made  by  an  old  and  respectable  merchant  of  Bambouk, 
to  conduct  him  on  horseback  to  Tombnctoo,  and  accom- 
pany him  back  to  the  Gambia.  II  was  stipulated,  that  on 
their  return  to  the  British  factory  at  Junkiconda,  the 
merchant  should  receive  a  reward  of  150/.  sterling;  and 
it  was  determined  that  the  major  should  be  |irovided 
with  a  horse,  in  exchange  for  his  asses,  and  should  con- 
vert into  gold  dust  the  scanty  remains  of  bis  merchan- 
dise. Major  Houghton's  last  despatch,  dated  the  2^1  (h  of 
July,  closed  with  an  account  of  these  preparations ;  and 
the  Association  formed  the  most  sanguine  hopes  of  the 
success  of  bis  journey.  The  dangers  and  obstacles 
■which  he  had  already  surmounted,  proved  the  intrepidity 
and  steadiness  of  his  character;  his  poverty  offered  no 
temptation  to  plunder ;  and  he  seemed  to  derive  addi- 
tional security  from  the  interest  which  his  guide  had  in 
his  safety,  and  from  his  dark  complexion,  which  could 
scarcely  be  distinguished  from  that  of  the  Moors  in  Bar- 
bary.  But  no  accounts  of  him  reached  Europe,  till  Mr. 
Park  learned  at  Simbing,  the  frontier  village  of  Ludamar, 
swme  particulars  of  his  unhap|)y  fate.  On  his  arrival  at 
Jarra,  he  had  met  with  some  Moorish  merchants,  who 
were  travelling  to  Tisheet  (a  place  near  the  salt  pits  in 
the  Great  Desert,  about  ten  days'  journey  northward)  to 
purchase  salt;  and  at  the  expense  of  a  musket  and  some 
tobacco,  he  engaged  them  to  convey  him  thither.  As 
Tisheet  lay  quite  out  of  his  route  to  Tombuctoo,  the 
Moors  evidently  deceived  him,  with  an  intention  to  plun- 
der him,  and  leave  him  in  the  Desert.  At  the  end  of 
two  days  he  suspected  their  treachery,  and  insiste<l  on 
returning  to  Jarra.  The  Moors,  fin<ling  him  persist  in 
this  resolution,  robbed  him  of  every  thing  he  possessed, 
and  went  off  with  their  camels;  while  this  unfortunate 
man,  deserted  and  destitute,  returned  on  foot  to  a  water- 
ing place  called  Tarra,  in  possession  of  the  Moors. 
Worn  out  wiih  fatigue,  and  faint  for  want  of  food 
(for  the  unfeeling  Moors  would  give  him  none)  he  sunk 
at  last  under  the  load  of  his  sufferings.  "  Whether," 
says  Park,  "  he  actually  perished  of  hunger,  or  was  mur- 
dered outright  by  the  savage  MalK>mn»edans,  is  not 
certainly  known  ;  his  body  was  dragged  into  the  woods, 
and  I  was  shown  at  a  distance  the  spot  where  his  re- 
mains were  left  to  parish." 

Vol.  I.     Part  I. 


Major  Houghton  has  enlarged  considerably  the  limits 
of  European  discovery ;  for  he  was  the  first  who  des- 
cribed the  kingdom  of  Bondou;  and  the  information 
which  he  received  from  the  king  of  Bambouk,  as  well  as 
from  the  native  merchants,  not  only  determined  the 
course  of  the  Niger,  but  furnished  the  names  of  the 
principal  cities  erected  on  its  banks. 

But  of  all  the  missionaries  of  the  Association,  none 
has  done  more  in  promoting  the  grand  object  of  dis- 
covery than  our  brave  and  ingenious  countryman,  Mr. 
Muiigo  Park.  The  route  prescribed  to  him  was  nearly 
the  same  with  that  which  major  Houghton  had  been 
directed  to  pursue.  He  was  to  proceed  to  the  river 
Niger,  either  by  the  way  of  Bambouk,  or  by  any  other 
route  which  he  should  tind  most  convenient;  to  ascer- 
tain the  course,  and,  if  possible,  the  rise  and  termination 
of  that  mysterious  river ;  to  use  his  utmost  exertions  to 
visit  the  principal  towns  in  its  neighbourhood,  particu- 
larly Tombuctoo  and  Houssa;  after  which  he  should  be 
at  liberty  to  return  to  Europe  by  the  way  of  the  Gam- 
bia, or  by  such  other  route  as  in  his  circumstances  at 
the  time  should  appear  most  adviseable.  Having  sailed 
from  Portsmouth  on  the  22d  of  May  1705,  he  arrived  at 
Jillifree,  a  town  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Gambia, 
after  a  pleasant  voyage  of  thirty  days.  Proceeding 
thence  to  Pisania,  he  was  received  with  great  kindness 
by  Dr.  Laidley,  with  whom  he  continued  for  five  months, 
studying,  during  that  interval,  the  language  of  the  Man- 
dingoes.  On  the  2d  of  December  following  he  left  the 
hospitable  mansion  of  Dr.  Laidley,  and  proceeded  on  his 
journey  through  the  interior.  For  eighteen  months  he 
travelled  in  the  hottest,  the  wildest,  and  most  unfriendly 
regions  of  Africa,  struggling  with  hardships,  encounter- 
ing dangers,  and  enduring  distresses,  under  which  a 
mind  less  firm,  or  a  constitution  less  vigorous,  must  in- 
evitably have  sunk.  To  accompany  him  in  his  progress, 
and  to  give  a  full  recital  of  his  sufferings,  would  lead  us 
far  beyond  the  bounds  prescribed  in  our  work  to  such 
articles  as  this ;  nor  could  any  abridgment  afford  satis- 
faction to  those  who  have  perused  his  own  simple  but 
interesting  narrative.  The  world  admired  him  on  his 
return  as  tlie  most  adventurous  and  intelligent  of  modern 
travellers ;  an<l  his  friends  received  him  as  one  restored 
from  the  dead.  Could  any  thing  have  given  us  a  more 
exalted  idea  of  heroism,  than  the  (lersevering  fortitude, 
and  magnanimous  regard  to  duty  and  to  fame,  which  he 
bad  dis|)layed  in  his  former  travels,  it  was  his  own  reso- 
lution to  return  to  a  country  in  which  he  had  already 
endured  sufferings  beyond  the  conception  of  those  who 
had  not  themselves  experienced  them ;  a  country  iu 
which  he  knew  Avell,  that  he  would  still  have  to  encoun- 
ter dangers  as  dreadful,  and  miseries  as  great,  as  those 
from  which  he  had  before  escaped,  only,  as  it  ivere,  by  a 
continued  miracle.  Would  to  heaven  that  his  friends 
w^ere  still  allowed  to  hope,  that  the  same  miraculous 
protection  might  yet  be  exerted  iu  his  behalf,  and  that 
men  of  science  could  still  look  forward  to  the  brilliant 
discoveries  which  his  tried  ability,  prudence,  aud  cou- 
rage, so  fully  warranted  them  to  expect ! 

His  former  journey  was  unquestionably  the  most  im- 
portant which  any  European  had  ever  performe<l  in  the 
interior  of  Africa.  He  has  established  a  number  of  geo- 
graphical positions  in  a  direct  line  of  1100  miles  from 
Cape  de  Verd ;  by  pointing  out  the  positions  of  the 
souMiesof  the  Senegal,  Gambia,  and  Niger;  he  has  given 
a  new  aspect  to  the  iihysical  geography  of  this  continent; 
be  hae  fixed  the  boundaries  of  the  Mooi-s  and  Negroes; 
Bb 


194 


AFRICA. 


unfolded  to  us  the  empire  of  Ludamar ;  and  described, 
from  personal  observation,  some  important  towns  on  the 
banks  of  the  Niger,  or  Joliba.  Sego,  one  of  these  towns, 
consisted  of  four,  divisions,  and  was  surrounded  with 
high  mud  walls.  It  covered  a  great  extent  of  ground, 
and  was  said  to  contain  30,000  inhabitants.  Yet  Sego 
was  much  smaller  than  Jenne,  Walet,  Tonibuctoo,  and 
Uoussa ;  four  other  cities  which  stood  on  the  banks  of  the 
Niger.  The  information  which  he  lias  communicated 
concerning  the  inhabitants  of  this  part  of  Africa,  and 
their  manners,  was  equally  new  and  interesting.  He 
has  traced  with  accuracy  the  distinction  between  the 
Mahommedans  and  Pagans  ;  a  distinction  wliich  does 
much  honour  to  the  simple  and  generous  Negro;  while 
it  places  in  the  most  detestable  poijjt  of  view  the  per- 
iidiousness,  the  bigotry,  and  the  cruelty  of  the  Moor. 
For  a  fuller  account  of  Mr.  Park's  adventures,  see  Ni- 
r.RiTiA  and  Park. 

The  next  adventurer  who  engaged  in  the  service  of 
the  Association,  was  Mr.  Hornemann,  a  young  German, 
possessed  of  every  quality  of  mind  and  body  requisite  for 
the  most  hazardous  expeditions.  He  was  recommend- 
ed to  the  Association  by  Dr.  Blumenbach,  professor  of 
natural  history  in  the  univei-sity  of  Gottingen,  who  de- 
scribed him  as  a  man  of  respectable  literary  attainments ; 
possessed  of  a  considerable  knowledge  of  theoretical  and 
practical  mechanics;  of  athletic  form,  and  patient  of  fa- 
tigue ;  temperate,  abstemious,  and  a  stranger  to  ilisease. 
When  Dr.  Blumenbach  communicated  to  Hornemann, 
who  was  tlicn  at  Hanover,  the  answer  of  the  Association, 
he  was  astonished  to  see  the  young  adventurer  in  his 
apartment  before  he  thought  it  possible  that  the  letter 
could  liave  reached  him.  In  the  course  of  one  night  he 
drew  up  an  excellent  plan  of  his  journey,  whicli  was 
transmitted  to  London  for  the  inspection  of  the  commit- 
tee. After  spending  some  time  at  Gottingen,  in  acquir- 
ing the  Oriental  languages,  he  came  to  London  in  Fe- 
bruary, 1 797,  and  was  introduced  to  the  Association,  who 
unanimously  confirmed  his  appointment.  In  August  fol- 
lowing, he  embarked  at  Marseilles  in  a  Cyprus  trader, 
and  arrived  at  Alexandria  on  the  10th  of  September.  In 
one  of  the  convents  of  that  city,  he  met  with  an  aged 
monk,  a  nativeof  Germany,  who  s|)oke  Arabic  more  flu- 
ently than  his  own  language,  and  was  going  to  reside 
some  months  at  Cairo.  Hornemann  accompanied  him, 
intending  to  wait  at  Cairo  for  the  departure  of  the  Cassi- 
na  caravan.  During  his  stay  in  that  city,  he  met  with 
an  Abyssinian  bishop,  wliose  father  had  been  intimately 
acquainted  with  Bruce.  He  described  that  traveller  as 
devoted  to  astronomy,  and  anxious  to  explore  the  sources 
of  the  Nile,  to  which  he  once  made  a  journej';  and  added, 
that  he  was  greatly  respected  by  the  king  and  nobles  of 
Abyssinia.  From  Cairo,  Mr  Hornemann  proceeded  to 
Fezzan ;  but  his  communications  have  added  little  to  our 
knowledge  of  Africa ;  and  from  the  long  suspension  of 
hia  correspondence,  it  is  much  to  be  feared  that  he  baa 
perished  in  attempting  to  penetrate  further  into  the. in- 
terior. 

In  this  account  of  the  travellers  who  hare  contributed 
to  enlarge  our  knowledge  of  Africa,  it  would  be  unpar- 
donable to  forget  Mr.  Browne,  a  gentleman  whose  inde- 
pendent love  of  Science  has  added  a  new  territory  to  the 
geography  of  Africa.  With  an  ardent  and  liberal  curiosi- 
ty, he  penetrated  farinto  the  iuteriorof  Africa  on  the  east; 
discovered  the  country  of  Darfdr,  in  which  he  resided  for 
a  considerable  time ;  aecertaiued  the  source  and  progress 
of  the  Bahr-el-Aljiad,  or  real  Nile ;  and  coasiderabJy 


elucidated  the  geography  towards  the  west,  partlcolarly 
by  describing  a  large  river  which  takes  its  rise  among 
the  mountains  of  Kumri,and  flows  in  a  north-west  course, 
apparently  coinciding  with  the  Gir  of  Ptolemy,  and  the 
Nile  of  the  Negroes  mentioned  by  Edrisi.  By  these 
discoveries,  which  strikingly  agree  with  the  general  fea- 
tures of  Ptolemy's  maps,  he  has  greatly  enhanced  the 
value  of  that  intelligent  geographer's  commuuications. 

But  though  these  travellers  have  thrown  much  light 
on  the  Geography  of  this  continent,  and  communicated 
much  interesting  information  concerning  the  condition 
and  character  of  its  inhabitants,  their  success  has  not 
equalled  the  sanguine  expectations  which,  at  the  first 
institution  of  the  Society,  were  generally  entertained. 
They  have  confirmed,  indeed,  many  facts  which  had  been 
mentioned  by  the  ancients ;  ascertained  many  circum- 
stances which  were  formerly  doubtful ;  and  introduced 
to  our  notice  several  new  countries  and  nations;  yet,  not- 
withstanding all  their  exertions,  there  is  a  space  of  780 
geographical  miles  in  the  interior  of  Africa,  north  of  the 
equator,  that  yet  remains  unexplored  ;  while  the  inland 
country  south  of  the  Line  is  almost  wholly  unknown. 

Africa,  as  it  is  at  present  known  to  Europeans,  may  be 
divided  in  general  into  North,  South,  West,  East,  ami 
Central  Africa.  Major  Rennell  has  considered  North 
Africa  as  composed  of  three  distinct  parts.  The  first 
and  smallest  is  that  fertile  region  along  the  Mediterra- 
nean, commonly  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Barbary, 
which  possesses  so  much  of  the  European  character, 
that  could  we  suppose  the  Mediterranean  to  have  beeu 
once  dry  land,  Barbary  might  be  regarded  as  part  of 
Europe.  The  second  part,  which  may  be  deemed  the 
body  of  North  Africa,  is  comprised  between  Cape  Verd 
and  the  Red  Sea,  on  the  east  and  west ;  having  the  Great 
Desert,  or  Sahara,  w  ith  its  memliers,  on  the  north ;  and 
South  Africa  and  the  Etiiiopic  Ocean,  on  the  opposite 
side.  Of  this  immense  region,  the  most  prominent  fea- 
ture is  a  vast  belt  of  elevated  land  of  great  breadth,  often 
swelling  into  lofty  mountains,  and  running  in  a  general 
direction  from  west  to  east,  about  the  tenth  degree  of 
latitude.  The  western  extremity  of  this  ridge  appears 
to  be  Cape  Verd  ;  on  the  east  it  terminates  in  the  moun- 
tains of  Abyssinia.  To  the  north  it  has  no  extensive 
ramification,  if  we  except  that  elevated  tract  of  land 
which  gives  the  Nile  a  northern  course  beyond  Abyssi- 
nia. From  its  southern  side  descend  a  multitude  of  ri- 
vers, some  of  them  very  large,  which  flow  into  the  At- 
lantic and  Ethiopic  seas,  from  the  Rio  Grande  on  the  west, 
to  Cape  Lopez  on  the  east.  South  Africa  is  pervaded  by 
a  similar  ridge,  which,  stretching  in  a  southern  direc- 
tion, forms  an  impenetrable  barrier  between  the  two 
coasts,  which  has  preventetl  the  Portuguese  in  Congo 
and  Angola  from  reaching  by  land  the  shores  of  the  In- 
dian ocean.  Mr.  Bruce  learned,  that  a  high  chain  of 
mountains  runs  southward,  from  the  sixth  degree  of  lati- 
tude, through  the  middle  of  Africa,  and  sujiposcs  that 
from  these  mountains  was  derived  the  gold  of  Sofala. 
To  the  north  of  the  belt,  which  runs  through  the  hotly 
of  North  Africa,  all  the  rivers,  except  the  Nile,  conform 
in  general  to  the  direction  of  the  high  land ;  passing  to 
the  right  and  left,  at  no  great  distance  from  its  base,  as 
if  the  surface  of  the  Sahara  had  a  general  dip  to  the 
southward.  These  rivers  receive  all  their  supplies 
from  the  south,  as  no  streams  of  any  magnitude  are  col- 
lected in  the  Desert.  From  this  circumstance,  major 
Rennell  infers,  that  there  must  he  a  vast  hollow  in  the 
interior  of  Africa,  between  Manding  on  the  west,  and 


AFRICA. 


195 


Iheliigh  land  oFNubia  on  the  east ;  wliile  the  mountains 
and  Desert  form  the  two  other  sides.  In  Asia  there  is 
a  hollow  no  less  extensive,  to  whose  waters  the  Caspian 
and  Aral  serve  as  recipients. 

The  third  part  in  this  distribution,  is  the  Great  Desert, 
or  Sahara,  and  its  members,  consisting  of  the  smaller 
deserts  of  Bornou,  Bilma,  Barca,  Sort,  &c.  The  Sahara 
may  be  considered  as  a  vast  ocean  of  sand,  equal  in  ex- 
tent to  one  half  of  Europe,  indented  with  gulfs  and  bays, 
and  containing  islands  or  oases,  whose  luxuriant  soil  and 
numerous  population  afford  to  the  traveller  an  agreeable 
relief  from  the  general  solitude  and  sterility  of  the  desert. 
The  western  division  of  this  ocean,  extending  from  Fez- 
zan  to  the  Atlantic,  is  fifty  caravans  journey,  or  about 
800  geograjjhical  miles  across,  from  north  to  south  ;  and 
double  that  extent  in  length,  containing  few  oases,  and 
those  but  small.  In  the  eastern  division,  however,  there 
are  many  islands,  some  of  them  of  great  extent.  The 
I)rinci|)al  of  these  are  Fezzan,  Gadamis,  Taboo,  Gha- 
TNAT,  AfiADEZ,  AuGELA,  and  Berdoa.  But  for  a  more 
particular  description  of  the  Sahara,  and  its  oases,  we 
tnust  refer  our  readers  to  the  articles,  Agadez,  Auoela, 
Berdoa,  Fezzan,  &c. 

The  great  ridge  of  mountains  with  its  different  rami- 
fications, are  said  to  abound  in  gold,  particularly  in  the 
%Test,  0|)posite  Bambouk  and  Manding,  and  in  the  east, 
opposite  to  Wangara.  From  Toml)uctoo,  which  is  the 
mart  of  the  Mandingo  gold,  it  is  distributed  over  the 
northern  quarters  of  Africa,  by  the  merchants  of  Tunis, 
Tripoli,  Fezzan,  and  Morocco.  Most'of  the  countries 
bordering  on  these  mountains,  are  supposed  to  partake 
of  the  gold  which  they  contain,  by  means  of  rivers  which 
carry  it  down  along  their  banks. 

1.  North  Africa  contains  the  following  countries, 
the  description  of  each  of  which  shall  form  a  separate 
article ;  Egypt,  Barca,  Ti'nis,  Tripoli,  Algiers,  Mo- 
rocco, Fez,  Tafilet,  Biled-ul-gerid,  and  the  Saha- 
ra. All  these  countries  are  inhabited  chiefly  b^  Moors 
descended  from  the  Arabs,  and  intermingled  with  the 
dilferent  nations,  who  at  various  times  have  established 
colonies  in  Africa.  These  Moors  have  overspread  the 
habitable  parts  of  the  Desert ;  extended  their  conquests 
and  colonies  towards  the  south,  and  driving  before  them 
the  Negro  Aborigines,  have  forced  them,  in  several  in- 
stances, to  retire  beyond  the  great  rivers.  Yet  the  Ne- 
groes, addicted  to  agriculture,  probably  never  possess- 
ed any  considerable  portion  of  the  Desert,  which  is  much 
better  adapted  to  the  wandering  and  pastoral  life  of  the 
Moors.  Even  Herodotus  fixes  the  boiindnries  pf  the 
Libyans  and  Ethiopians,  or,  in  other  words,  of  the  Moors 
and  Negroes,  near  the  river  Niger;  so  that  their  rela- 
tive situation  appears  not  to  have  undergone,  since  his 
days,  any  material  change. 

■  2.  Of  West  Africa,  the  two  great  divisions  are  Gui- 
nea and  Congo;  the  former  of  which  may  be  subdivi- 
ded into  North  Guinea  or  Senegal,  containing  the 
country  of  the  Jalops  and  Poulahs,  and  the  kingdom 
of  the  Mandingoes;  South  Guinea,  containing  the 
PepperCoast,  the  Ivory  Coast,  and  the  Gold  Coast; 
and  East  Guinea,  or  the  Slave  Coast,  in  which  are 
the  kingdoms  of  Whidah,  Ardra,  and  Benin.  In 
Congo  are  comprehended  the  kingdoms  of  Loango, 
Congo,-  Angola,  Matamba,  and  Benguela. 

3.  South  Africa,  or  Caffraria,  contains  the  coun- 
try of  the  Nama^uas,  the  country  of  the  Hottentots, 
and  the  colony  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  After 
doubling  the  Cape,  we  find  on  the  south-eastern  coast 


the  kingdoiBs  of  InhambaNe,  Manica,  Sabia,  Sopala, 
and  Mocaranga,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  Mono- 
motapa. 

4.  East  Africa  has  been  divided  into  the  coast  of 
Zanguebar,  the*  coast  of  Ajan,  and  the  coast  of  Adel. 
In  Zanguebar  are  comprehended  the  kingdoms  of  Mo- 
zambique, Mongalla,  QuiLOA,  Montbaza,  Melinda, 
and  the  country  of  the  Monoemugi.  Ajan  contains  the 
republic  of  Brava,  and  the  kingdom  of  Magadoxa. 
Adel  is  an  extensive  kingdom,  occupying  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  the  coast  to  which  it  gives  name.     See  Adel. 

5.  In  Central  Africa,  according  to  this  division,  are 
included  Nigritia,  or  Soudan,  Nubia,  and  Abyssinia. 
Under  the  name  of  Nigritia  is  included  that  extensive 
tract  of  country  south  of  the  Sahara,  which  stretches  al- 
most comjiletely  across  the  continent  of  Africa,  on  both 
sides  of  the  river  Niger.  It  contains  the  empires  of 
HoussA  and  Tombuctoo,  the  country  of  the  Agadez, 
the  kingdoms  of  Ludamar,  Bondou,  Bambouk,  and 
other  smaller  principalities  recently  discovered  by  Mr. 
Park;  and  towards  the  east,  the  kingdoms  of  Bornou 
and  Darfur,  of  which  an  account  has  lately  been  pul> 
lished  by  Mr.  Browne,  the  first  European  by  whom  it  was 
ever  visited.  Nubia,  an  entensive  country  between 
Egypt  and  Abyssinia  comprehends  Turkish  Nubia, 
with  the  kingdoms  of  Dongala,  and  Sennaar.  For  a 
minute  account  of  the  divisions  of  Abyssinia,  we  refer 
to  the  article  Abyssinia. 

Having  thus  given  a  general  outline  of  the  geography 
of  this  continent  we  shall  now  conduct  our- reader  once 
more  round  its  coasts,  and  point  out  to  him  the  capes  and 
promontories  which  we  meet  with  from  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean  to  the  Indian  ocean.  Proceeding 
along  the  northern  coast,  we  come  first  to  Cape  Bon, 
which  is  likewise  called  Ras-Addar,  in  the  kingdom  of 
Tunis;  next  to  Cape  Spartel,  on  the  western  shore  of 
Gibraltar  Straits;  then  sailing  southward,  we  discover 
in  the  Atlantic  Cape  Geer,  in  the  south-west  bound- 
ary of  Morocco,  from  which  commences  the  extensive 
ridge  of  Atlas;  Cape  Bojador,  first  doubled  by  the 
Portuguese  in  1433;  Cape  Blanc;  Cape  Verd,  east  of 
the  islands  of  that  name ;  C  ape  Mesurado,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Mesurado  river;  Cape  Palmas  on  the  west,  and 
the  Cape  of  the  Three  Points  on  the  south  of  the 
coast  of  Guinea ;  Cape  Formosa  about  the  middle  of 
the  Gulf  of  Guinea;  Cape  Negro  on  the  north-west, 
and  Cape  de  Labvoltas  on  the  south-west  of  Caffra- 
ria; Cape  of  Good  Hope,  the  most  southern  promon- 
tory of  Africa;  after  doubling  which,  we  come  to  Nf;E- 
DLE  Cape,  in  the  Indian  sea;  Cape  St.  Mary  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river  Manica ;  Cape  Corrientes  near  the 
tropic  of  Capricorn;  Cape  Delgado,  north  of  the  Co- 
moro Isles ;  Cape  Baxas  on  the  coast  of  Ajaii ;  and 
Cape  Guard afui,  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  Africa. 

The  only  Straits  belonging  to  Africa,  are  the  Straits 
of  Babel-mandeb,  which  unite  the  Red  Sea  with  the 
Eastern  Ocean  ;  and  the  Straits  op  Gibraltar,  which 
separate  this  continent  from  Europe.  Its  Gulfs  are  the 
Gulf  op  Sidra,  and  the  Gulf  of  Golpitta  in  the 
Mediterranean ;  the  Gulf  of  France  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Gambia;  the  Gulf  op  Guinea,  south  of  the  Gold 
Coast,  by  far  the  most  considerable;  and  the  Gulp  of 
Sofala,  near  the  southern  entrance  of  the  Mozambique 
Channel.  The  Mozambique  Channel,  between  the 
island  of  Madagascar  and  the  coast  of  Mozambique,  ii 
the  only  se^  which  may  be  said  to  be  ueculiar  to  Africa. 

This  continent  has  uo  inland  seas,  like  those  which 
Bb2 


ISQ 


AFRICA. 


jienetrate  into  Europe,  America,  and  Asia ;  nor  is  this 
deficiency  supplied  by  bold  navigable  rivers,  which,  by 
communicating  with  extensive  lakes,  might  promote 
commerce  and  civilization  througbiout  the  interior.  The 
few  lakes  of  which  it  can  boast,  are  'either  insulated 
sheets  of  water,  or  the  sources  or  reservoirs  of  insigni- 
ficant streams,  useless  for  all  the  purposes  of  navigation. 
When  the  inland  regions  are  more  fully  explored,  con- 
siderable lakes  may  probably  be  discovered  near  the 
ranges  of  mountains;  at  present  we  know  of  none  but  the 
Maberia  in  Nigritia,  from  which  flows  the  Senegal; 
the  Dembea,  or  Tzana,  in  Abyssiniii ;  lake  Menzaleh, 
in  the  east  of  Lower  Egypt ;  lake  Berelos,  in  tlie  west 
of  the  same  country ;  and  lake  Maravi,  called  by  the 
Arabs  Zam-bahr,  east  of  the  Lupata  mountains,  ten  de- 
grees south  of  the  equator,  which  is  said  to  be  more 
than  300  miles  long,  and  scarcely  45  in  its  greatest 
breadth. 

The  principal  rivers  of  Africa  are  the  Nile,  supposed 
to  have  its  source  in  the  Jibbel  Kumri,  or  mountains  of 
llie  Moon,  in  the  district  of  Donea,  N.  Lat.  8";  the  Ni- 
cer, called  by  the  Negroes  Joiiia,  or  the  Great  River; 
the  Senegal,  tlie  Gambia,  Marocco,  Sierra  Leona, 
Benin,  Congo,  Zuire,  or  Bahr  Ela,  Coantza,  Ma- 
NicA,  Zambezi  or  Cuama,  Coavo,  Zebee,  and  Maga- 
doxa. 

Africa  lias  many  extensive  ranges  of  mountains.  The 
Atlas  attracted  the  particular  attention  of  the  ancients, 
according  to  whose  fables  it  supported  (he  firmament. 
This  range  extends  in  a  north-east  direction  from  Cape 
Geer,  o'.i  the  Atlantic  ocean,  as  far  as  the  gulf  of  Sidra. 
The  mountains  of  Kong  stretch,  from  west  to  east, 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Gambia  to  23"  of  E.  Lon.  The 
Mountains  ok  the  Moon  seem  to  be  a  continujition 
of  the  mountains  of  Kong;  they  separate  Nigritia  from 
Catfraria,  into  which  they  run  in  an  easterly  direction. 
The  Mountains  ok  Lupata  are  an  extensive  chain  of 
rugged  uninhabitable  rocks,  which  extend  from  north 
to  south,  and,  as  it  were,  encircle  the  kingdom  of  BIo- 
carangH.  The  Chrtstal  Mountains  pervade  the  king- 
doms of  Congo,  Angola,  and  Benguela.  Besides  these, 
thf-re  are  others  less  important,  which  cannot  at  present 
be  particularly  mentioned. 

There  are  many  islands  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
African  coast,  both  in  the  Atlantic  and  Indian  oceans.  Of 
these  the  most  remarkable  is  Madagascah,  which  is 
340  geographical  miles  in  length,  and  about  220  in 
breadth ;  next  to  Papua  and  New  Holland,  the  largest 
island  in  the  world.  The  islands  next  in  consequence 
to  Madagascar,  are,  in  the  Indian  ocean,  Pemba,  Zan- 
zibar, and  MoNKiA,  opposite  the  coast  of  Zangueb:ir; 
the  Comoro  Islands,  west  of  Madiigascar;  the  islands 
of  Bourbon  and  Mauritius,  east  of  Madigasc;ir;  and 
the  island  of  St)coTHA,  opposite  Cape  Guardafui.  Far 
to  the  south  lies  an  island,  called,  from  a  late  French 
ni.vigator,  Kerguelen's  Lanh;  but  named  by  Captain 
Cooke,  from  its  wiidness  and  sterility,  the  Isle  of  De- 
solation. Proceedingnorthward  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
we  come  to  the  pleasant  island  of  St.  Helena,  which 
IB  frequented  by  our  homeward  bound  Indiamen.  We 
next  reach  the  Isle  of  Ascension,  the  Isles  of  St. 
Matthew,  Annobon,  St.  Thomas, and  Fernando  Po; 
further  north,  we  discover  the  distin:i;uished  group  of 
the  Cape  de  Verd  Islands,  and  proceeding  in  a  north- 
east direction,  wc  find  the  Canaries;  tiorlh  of  which 
lie  the  islands  of  Madeira  -inil  Porto  Sasto. 

Ac  Aliica  is  aewrly  divided  by  tJie  equator,  aod  the 


greater  part  of  it  lies  witiiin  the  tropics,  the  heat,  «. 
pecially  when  reflected  from  the  sands  of  the  IJesert,  can 
scarcely  be  endured  by  the  natives  of  Europe.  -In  the 
country  traversed  by  Mr.  Park,  when  in  the  dry  se.itott 
the  wind  blew  from  the  east  and  north-east,  the  ground 
became  so  hot,  that  even  the  negroes,  accustomed  as 
they  were  to  that  temperature,  could  not  bear  to  touch 
it  with  their  naked  foot.  Mr.  Park,  as  he  lay  listlessly 
along  in  his  hut  of  reeds,  could  not  hold  his  hand  against 
the  current  of  air  which  pierced  through  the  crevices, 
without  feeling  very  sensible  pain  from  its  scorching 
effect.  When  |)assing  through  the  southern  districts, 
which  abound  with  wood  and  water,  he  observetl  that 
the  climate  inijiroved ;  and  in  the  mornings  and  eve- 
nings, the  air  was  temiierate,  serene,  and  pleasant.  In 
the  northern  ])rovince8,  the  climate,  though  hot,  is 
friendly  to  Euro|)ean  constitutions ;  along  the  coast  it  is 
tempered  in  some  degree  by  the  sea  breezes;  and  in  the, 
vicinity  of  the  mountains  is  comjtaratively  cool.  The 
countries  south  of  the  equator,  too,  enjoy  a  milder 
temperature  than  those  at  the  same  distance  from  it  iu 
the  north ;  as  the  Antarctic  cold  has  a  more  powerful  in- 
fluence than  that  of  the  opposite  pole. 

The  soil,  when  well  watered,  is  luxuriant  beyond 
what  the  inhabitants  of  more  northern  climates  can  well 
conceive  ;  and  the  whole  of  this  continent,  except  what 
is  covered  with  sand,  might  be  greatly  improved  by  cul- 
tivation. 

None  of  the  other  continents  is  so  favourably  situated 
for  commerce  as*Africa.  Placed  almost  in  the  centre  of 
the  world,  it  enjoys  an  easy  communication  with  Eu- 
rope, Asia,  and  America.  For  almost  a  tliousaud  miles 
from  east  to  west,  its  northern  coast  is  opposite  to  Eu- 
rope ;  while  the  distance  is  nowhere  greater  than  a  hun- 
dred leagues,  and  sometimes  does  not  exceed  twenty. 
The  Arabian  Gulf  affords  it  a  communication  with  Asia, 
for  a  considerable  extent  from  north  to  south,  at  a  dis- 
tance of  from  five  to  fifty  leagues ;  and  though  sejiarated 
by  a  wider  interval  from  the  southern  coast  of  Asia,  the 
interposition  of  islands  from  Madagascar  to  Malabar,  as 
well  as  the  alternation  of  the  trade-winds,  render  that 
interval  particularly  advantageous  for  commerce.  Two 
thousand  miles  of  its  western  coast  lie  opposite  to  Ame- 
rica, and  the  western  islands,  at  the  distance  of  five 
hundred  to  seven  hundred  leagues.  Unfortunately, 
however,  those  advantages  are  more  thvin  counterbalanc- 
ed by  one  great  deficiency  peculiar  to  this  contiueut. 
Penetrated  by  no  inland  seas,  like  those  ol  Europe  and 
Asia ;_  overspread  by  no  extensive  lakes,  as  North 
America;  nor  containing,  like  the  other  continents,  na- 
vigable rivers,  which  flow  from  the  centre  to  the  ex- 
tremities, its  regions  are  separated  iVom  each  other  by 
the  least  surmountable  of  all  boundaries,  arid  deserts  of 
formidable  extent,  which  cannot  be  traversed  without 
the  most  imminent  danger,  and  the  severest  suffering. 

Hence  the  progress  of  civilization  in  Africa  has  been 
beyond  comparison  slower  than  in  any  other  quarter  of 
the  globe.  At  a  very  remote  period,  indeed,  some  of  its 
nations  were  eminent  for  their  opulence,  and  their  ac- 
quaintance with  the  liberal  arts.  Egypt  was  long  the  lu- 
minary of  the  world,  from  which  the  rays  of  knowledge 
diverged  in  various  clircctions,  enlightening  with  pecu- 
liar splendour  the  states  of  Greece.  Ancient  writers 
have  been  fond  of  celebrating  the  superior  refinem*  nt 
of  some  of  the  Ethiopian  nations.  Carthage  stood  long 
unrivalled  in  (lower,  in  opulence,  and  in  the  arts  of  ele- 
gance and  ingenuity,  to  which  exteneive  commerce 


AFR 


AGA 


197 


gives  birtli.  The  conqiiosts  of  tlie  Romans  extended 
the  civilization  of  the  north  ol'  Africa,  and  during  the 
period  of  Roman  dominion,  many  of  llie  natives  of  this 
country  rose  to  distinguished  eminence  in  the  various 
departments  of  literature.  The  unexpected  appearance 
of  wealth  and  refinement,  which  has  been  oliBcrved  in 
some  of  tlie  interior  nations,  and  the  superior  skill 
which  they  have  been  reported  to  possess  in  a  few  of 
the  arts  of  manufacture,  have  led  an  ingenious  writer  to 
suppose,  that  in  some  of  these  insulated  empires,  the 
knowledge  and  language  of  ancient  Egyi)tmay  still  im- 
perfectly survive ;  or  that  the  Carthaginians,  who  do  not 
ap[>ear  to  have  perished  with  their  cities,  may  have  re- 
tired to  the  southern  parts  of  Africa  :  and  tliougii  lost  to 
the  world  in  the  vast  oblivion  of  the  Desert,  may  have 
carried  wjth  them  to  the  new  regions  which  they  occupy, 
some  portion  of  tiiose  arts  and  sciences,  and  of  that  com- 
mercial kno\vledge,  for  which  the  inhabitants  of  Car- 
thage were  once  so  eminently  famed.  {l'roceedins;.s  of  tlie 
African  Associationfor  1 792.)  We  would  gladly  cherish 
such  a  ple.isiug  suppositiou ;  but  to  us,  we  own,  it  ap- 
pears improbable,  that  the  Carthaginians,  to  whom  the 
coasts  of  Africa,  with  which  they  were  already  acquaint- 
ed, ofTered  a  more  inviting,  and  almost  as  safe  an  asylum, 
should  ever  have  attempted  to  penetrate  the  Desert; 
not  to  mention,  that  our  ideas  of  the  magnificence  and 
civilization  of  the  empire  of  Houssa  have  been  consider- 
ably lowered  by  the  recent  communications  of  Mr. 
Hornemann,  who  represents  the  cultivation  and  natural 
abilities  of  the  Houssanians,  as  well  as  their  strength, 
and  the  extent  of  their  possessions,  as  far  below  the  de- 
scriptions which  had  been  given  of  them.  To  the  Afri- 
cans, in  short,  the  arts  which  improve  and  embellish 
life,  are  almost  wholly  unknown.  The  n  itions  in  the  in- 
terior have  scarcely  advanced  beyond  a  state  of  n«ture ; 
and  the  striking  ditference  which  travellers  remark  in 
their  manners  and  dispositions,  seems  wholly  to  re- 
sult, either  from  the  di.Terencc  of  their  religious  senti- 
ments, or  from  original  constitution.  The  natives  of 
Afrita  may  be  divided  into  two  great  classes,  the  Moors 
or  rtlahoirnnedans,  intolerant,  ))erridious,  and  sanguinary ; 
and  the  Negroes,  a  simple,  mild,  and  generous  race,  who 
need  only  to  be  enlightened  and  directed  by  the  gen- 
tle spirit  of  the  Gospel,  to  render  them  the  most  hap|iy 
and  amiable  of  mankind. 

It  will  rem.iin  an  indelible  reproach  on  the  name  of 
Euro|)eans,  that  for  more  than  three  centuries,  their 
intercourse  with  Africa,  instead  of  imparting  to  the  na- 
tives the  blessings  of  religion,  of  industry,  and  civiliza- 
tion, has  tended  only  to  destroy  their  happiness,  and  to 
debase  their  character.  The  accursed  slave  trade  has 
naturally  excited  their  detestation  against  Chrisli.ins; 
•wiiil"-  the  arts  of  the  slave  merchant  have  inflamed  the 
liostilit}'  of  their  various  tribes,  and  heightened  their 
ferocity,  by  increasing  the  frequency  of  their  wars.  I5ut 
we  must  not  now  enter  into  a  detail  of  the  enormities  to 
which  this  aliominable  traffic  has  given  rise.  At  present, 
■we  shall  only  congratulate  our  readers  on  the  aus[)icious 
prospects  wliich  begin  to  0|)en  on  this  unfortunate  con- 
tinent. The  persevering  and  godlike  benevolence  of 
Granville,  Siiarpe,  Clakksok,  and  Wilberforce, 
aided  by  the  powerful  influence  of  Fox  and  his  Irientis, 
men  whose  names  will  be  cherished  with  atfeclion  while 
any  generous  feeling  is  preserved  in  the  world,  has  at 
length  etfecled  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade.  A  few 
gentlemen,  actuated  by  the  same  spirit  of  humanity,  have 
wrmeil. themselves  into  an  lnnTiivjioa,  to  waicb  ever 


the  rights  and  interests  of  the  Negroes ;  to  teach  them 
the  arts  bl'  industry ;  and  to  dittuse  among  them  the 
blessings  of  knowledge  and  civilization.  Before  the 
close  of  another  century,  Africa  may  emerge  from  the 
darkness  in  which  it  is  now  involved ;  rise  to  its  due  im- 
portance among  the  great  continents  of  the  world;  and 
repay,  by  the  riches  of  its  commerce,  the  benevolent  ex- 
ertions which  are  now  making  in  its  behalf.     (A) 

AFRICAN  Association.     See  Association. 

AFRICAN  Institution.     See  Institution. 

AFRICANUS,  Julius,  a  learned  Christian  writer, 
who  flourished  in  the  beginning  of  the  third  century. 
The  period  of  his  birth,  and  the  events  of  his  life, 
have  not  been  transmitted  to  the  present  times.  We  are 
merely  iid'ormed,  that  he  was  sent  on  an  embassy  to  the 
emjieror  Heliogabi'.lus,  between  the  years  218  and  222, 
for  the  restoration  of  Einmaus  or  Nico[)plis;  that  he 
studied  at  Alexandria,  before  the  year  231 ;  and  that  he 
generally  resided  in  Palestine.  According  to  some,  he 
wrote  the  "  Cesti,"  containing  passages  from  dilferent 
authors,  chiefly  on  physical  subjects.  He  was  the  au- 
thor of  a  treatise  on  "  Chronology,"  extending  from  the 
creation  of  the  world  to  A.  D.  221  ;  of  two  letters  to  Ori- 
gen,  on  the  history  of  Susannah  ;  and  of  a  letter  to  Aris- 
tides,  reconciling  the  genealogies  of  our  Saviour,  &h 
given  by  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke.  See  Euseb.  Eccles. 
Hist.     Lartluer's  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  431.     (w) 

AFZIA.     See  Apiisia, 

AGA, a  name  of  distinction  given  in  Turkey,  Tartary^ 
and  Algiers,  either  to  men  of  rank  or  wealth,  or  to 
those  who  bold  particular  offices.  In  Turkey,  the  title 
of  aga  is  given  to  the  commander  of  the  janizaries,  to 
the  general  of  the  horse,  and  to  the  eunuchs  who  fill  the 
chief  oflices  in  the  seraglio.  The  principal  officers  unr 
der  the  khan  of  Tartary  are  called  agas;  and  the  Alge* 
rincs  confer  the  same  title  on  those  militarj'  officers, 
who  are  invested  with  the  government  of  towns  and 
garrisons,     (tv) 

AGADEZ,  a  province  of  Africa,  situated,  according 
to  major  Renne!,  in  the  eastern  part  of  Sahara,  or  the 
Great  Desert,  though  some  make  it  a  jirovince  of  the 
Cashna  emjiire.  This  province  is  divided  into  two  <lis- 
tricts:  the  northern,  which  is  completely  a  desert;  and 
the  southern,  which  jiroduces  grass  and  corn,  and 
abounds  in  cattle.  The  southern  district  contains  three 
considerable  towns;  A.o:ad,  the  capital,  and  Secmana 
and  Deyhir,  nearly  equal  to  it  in  wealth  and  population. 
The  natives  live  in  the  open  country, like  the  wandering 
Arabs,  and  trade  in  senna  and  manna.  Agad  is  situated 
between  two  high  mountains,  at  the  spring  of  a  consider- 
able river,  that  discharges  itself  into  the  Niger.  It  is 
encircled  with  walls,  and  the  houses  are  built  in  the 
Moresco  fashion.  This  province  was,  and  probably 
continues  to  be,  tributarj'  to  the  king  of  Tonibuctoo. 
Agad  is  situated  in  E.  Long.  IS"  14',  and  N.  Lat.  200  ]5'. 
See  Mod.  Tlnhrrs.  Hist.  vol.  xiv.  p.  260.     (ju) 

AG  ALM  ATOLITE,  or  Figure  Stone.    See  Oryc- 

TOGNOBY.       (r) 

AGAMEMNON,  king  of  Argos,  is  famous  in  histo- 
ry, as  the  commander  of  the  Greeks  in  the  Trojan  war. 
According  to  Homer,  he  was  the  son  of  Atreus  and 
iErope  f  but  Hesiod  makes  Flisthenes  his  father,  who, 
dying  young,  left  Agamemnon  and  his  brother  Menelaus 
to  the  care  of  their  uncle  Atreus,  by  whom  they  were 
brought  up  as  his  own  children.  Agamemnon,  after 
having  exi)elled  Tliyesles  and  his  son  .^.gisthus,  who 
had  assassinated  Atreas,  and  usurped  the  governBieft*, 


198 


AGA 


AGA 


ascended  ^ic  throne  of  Argos,  ami  married  Clytcmnes- 
tra,  daughter  of  Tyndarus,  king  of  Si)arta.  He  was  the 
most  wealthy  and  powerful  prince  in  all  Greece ;  and 
for  that  reason  was  chosen  commander  In  chief  of  the 
expedition  against  Troy.  He  is  said,  by  Homer,  to  have 
ruled  over  many  cities ;  and  to  have  furnished  more  men 
and  ships  to  that  expedition,  than  any  other  of  the  Gre- 
cian chiefs.  During  the  siege,  he  behaved  with  great 
courage,  enduring  severe  tolls,  and  persevering  under 
great  discouragements  from  the  factions  among  the 
other  princes.  When  Troy  was  taken,  and  the  spoils 
and  captives  divided  among  the  victors,  the  prophetess 
Cassandra,  one  of  the  daughters  of  Priam,  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Agamemnon.  She  warned  him  of  the  designs  of  his 
wife  Clyleninestra,  and  advised  him  not  to  return  to 
Mycena;.  But,  disregarding  her  advice,  he  was,  upon 
his  arrival  at  Mycenaj,  munlered  by  his  wife  and  her 
lover  ^Egisthus,  who,  during  his  absence,  had  taken 
possession  of  the  throne  of  Argos.     (p) 

AG  AP  ANTHUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hex- 
andria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

AGAPE,  or  the  Feast  of  Love  from  «y«ir«,  love, 
■was  a  religious  festival,  instituted  by  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians, in  memory  of  the  last  supper  which  our  Saviour 
ate  with  his  apostles.  It  was  early  introduced  into  the 
ehurch,  and  was  generally  celebrated  in  the  place  of 
worsliip,  when  Ihe  prayers  and  service  of  the  day  were 
over.  This  festival  consisted  of  an  entertainment  pre- 
pared by  the  rich  members,  to  which  the  poor  were  in- 
vited. There  they  testified  their  love,  by  mutual  acts 
of  kindness,  by  partaking  of  the  same  fare,  and  by  libe- 
rally supplying  the  necessities  of  their  indigent  brethren. 
During  the  repast,  the  greatest  decorum  was  observed ; 
and,  after  having  spent  the  night  in  religious  conversa- 
tion, and  in  exercises  of  devotion,  they  concluded  with 
prayer.  The  contributions,  which  were  made  by  the 
rich  at  these  feasts,  were  not  confined  to  the  relief  of 
their  own  members ;  but  their  charity  extended  even 
to  the  Heathens.  Julian  the  apostate  bears  remarkable 
testimony  to  this  fact,  in  his  forty-ninth  epistle  to  Arsa- 
oius  the  high  priest  of  Galatia.  "  H  Is  a  shame,"  says 
be,  "  that  the  impious  Galileans  (Christians)  should  not 
only  maintain  their  own  poor,  but  ours  also;  wherefore, 
let  us  not  suffer  them  to  out-do  us  in  this  virtue."  These 
feasts  generally  accompanied  the  celebration  of  the 
Lord's  Supper ;  but  whether  they  were  lield  before  or 
after  the  communion,  commentators  are  not  agreed. 
From  what  Pliny  says,  in  bis  epistle  to  the  emperor 
Trajan,  concerning  the  meetings  of  the  Christians,  it 
\vould  appear,  that  the  entertainment  succeeded  the 
dispensation  of  the  sacrament,  at  least  in  those  churches 
which  were  under  his  jurisdiction: — "  They  were  wont," 
says  he, "  to  meet  before  day,  and  sing  a  hymn  to  Christ, 
and  to  l3ind  themselves  by  a  solemn  oath,  or  sacrament, 
to  do  no  wickedness ;  and  these  things  being  performed, 
they  departed  and  came  again  to  partake  of  a  common 
and  innocent  meal."  The  manner,  however,  and  the 
time  of  celebrating  this  festival  was  different  in  different 
countries.  But  when  that  piety  and  virtue,  which  ren- 
dered these  meetings  so  useful  in  the  primitive  ages, 


AG  AMENTICUS,  a  mountain  of  considerable  height 
in  the  District  of  Maine.  It  is  about  eight  miles  from 
York  harbour,  and  is  a  well  known  landmark  for  sea- 
men, particularly  when  entering  the  Pascataqua  har- 
bour.   Lat.  43<>  16'  N.    HosACK  and  Frv^cih. 


began  to  decline,  abuses  soon  followed,  which  gave  oc- 
casion to  the  Heathens  to  tax  the  Christians  with  im- 
purity. On  this  account,  the  kiss  of  charity  between 
different  sexes  was  discontinued,  and  all  couches,  for  the 
convenience  of  those  who  wished  to  eat  more  at  their 
ease,  were  forbidden.  These  regulations,  however,  had 
very  little  effect ;  for  the  abuses  became  so  notorious, 
that,  at  the  council  of  Carthage,  in  the  year  397,  it  wa» 
ortlciined,  that  the  feasts  should  not  be  held  in  churches, 
except  in  cases  of  particular  necessity.  See  Tertullian, 
Apolos:.  c.  xxxix.  Calvert.  Fleury,  Hist.  Ecdesiast.  torn. 
1.  livfi.  p.  64.     (p) 

AG  ARICUS,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Cryplogamia,  and  ortler  Fungi.     See  Botanv.  (rv) 

AGARIC,  MiNERAi,,  or  Rock  Milk,  a  particular  spe- 
cies of  calcareous  mineral.     See  OaycTOGNosy.     (r) 

AGATE,  a  compound  mineral,  formed  of  different 
simple  minerals,  as  chalcedony,  carnelian,  jasper,  horn- 
stone,  quartz,  heliotrope,  amethyst,  indurated  lilho 
marge,  and  opal,  joined  together  irregularly,  or  in  lay- 
ers.    See  Geognosy  and  Oryctogmost.     (r) 

AGATE  signifies  also  an  antique  gem  of  this  kind  of 
mineral,  on  which  are  engraven,  with  the  most  exqui- 
site skill,  events  connected  with  the  mythology  and  his- 
tory of  the  ancients.  See  Hist.  Acad.  Jnscript.  torn.  i. 
p.  337.     (w) 

AGATHO,  the  disciple  of  Prodicus  and  Socrates, 
flourished  about  417  A.  C.  was  the  author  of  several 
tragedies  and  comedies,  which  have  not  descended  to 
our  times.  His  compositions  were  elegant,  though 
highly  antithetical,  as  appears  from  the  detached  frag- 
ments of  his  writings,  which  the  ancients  have  preserved. 
He  obtained  the  prize  for  his  first  tragedy,  and  was 
crowned  in  the  presence  of  30,000  spectators.  Agatho 
was  the  contemporary  and  friend  of  Euripides.  Aristo- 
phanes, in  one  of  his  comedies,  censures  him  for  immo- 
rality ;  yet  the  same  poet,  in  another  of  his  plays,  repre- 
sents him  as  a  gootl  poet,  and  as  the  great  favourite  of 
all  who  knew  him.  Plato  praises  Agatho  for  his  beauty 
and  virtue ;  and  supposes  the  discourses  on  love,  given 
in  his  Convivium,  to  have  been  spoken  at  the  second 
feast  which  Agatho  gave  after  his  coronation.  Agatho 
was  so  much  attached  to  Pausanias  the  Ceramian,  that 
he  accompanied  him  to  the  court  of  Archelaus,  king  of 
Macedon,  where  he  continued  till  his  death.  Agatho 
had  frequent  quarrels  with  Pausanias;  and,  when  Ar- 
chel'aus  asked  him  the  cause  of  their  dissention,  he  re- 
plied, that  they  arose  solely  from  a  desire  to  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  a  reconciliation.  See  Plato,  Dial.  I'rota^. 
p.  220.  Aristophanes,  Rantt,  act.  1,  and  ThesmophO' 
riasitsa.     {rv) 

AGATHO,  (Pope)  was  born  at  Palermo,  and  raised 
to  the  see  of  Rome  in  A.  D.  679.  See  Bower's  Hist,  of 
ihe  Popes.  Dupiu's  Hist.  Seventh  CetU.  vol.  iii.  p. 
37.     (rv) 

AGATHOCLES,  the  Sicilian  tyrant,  was  born  at 
ThermK,  in  Sicily,  B.  C.  361.  He  was  of  mean  parent- 
age, and  even  followed  the  occupation  of  a  potter.  After 
various  adventures,  in  which  he  was  a  soldier,  a  robber, 
and  a  pirate,  we  find  him  at  last  commander  in  chief  of 
the  Syracusan  army.  Upon  the  death  of  Timoleon,  who 
had  expelled  the  tyrants,  and  restored  lil)erty  to  Sicily, 
Agatliocles  aspired  at  the  sovereignty  of  Syracuse.  But 
his  intention  being  discovered,  he  was  compelled  to 
swear,  that  he  would  preserve  the  democracy  inviolate. 
Reg.xrdless  however  of  his  o^lh,  he  ordered  all  the  no- 
bles and  chief  citizens  to  be  massacred,  to  the  number 


AG1> 


AGE 


199 


t»r  4000,  proclaimed  hiinsell'  kins^j  and  was  immediately 
acknowledged  by  the  people.     Having  now  obtained  the 
government,  he  exercised  his  authority  with  the  most 
vanton  cruelty  ;  and  not  content  with  his  high  station, 
he  (limed  at  the  reduction  of  the  whole  island.     But  the 
Carthaginians,  already  Jealous  of  his  growing  power, 
and  tremblins;  tor  their  own  possessions  in   Sicily,  de- 
clared war  against   him.     A  battle  being  I'ought,   Aga- 
tliocles  was  completely  defeated  by  Hamilcar,  and  com- 
pelled to  retire  within  the  city.     He  now  saw  himself 
forsaken  by  his  allies,  and  reduced  to  all  the  miseries  of 
a  siege.     Yet  his  spirit  was  still  undaunted,  and  though 
Unable  to  make  head  against  the  enemy  at  home,  his  en- 
terprising mind  formed  one  of  the  boldest  designs  Ihat 
has  been  recorded  in  history.     Leaving  the  care  of  the 
city  to  his  brother  Antandes,  with  60  galleys,  he  trans- 
ported an  army  into   Africa,  burnt  his  fleet  u])on  his 
arrival,  and  carried  (error  and  desolation  to  the  walls  of 
Carthage.  But  his  success  was  of  short  duration.  When 
absent  in  Sicily,  the  Africans,  who  had  flocked  to  his 
standard  when  victorious,  now  deserted  him  for  his  per- 
fidy and  cruelty ;  and  his  troops,  weakened  by  frequent 
skirmishes,  were  compelled  to  retreat  and   evacuate 
their  strongest  positions.     Agatliocles  hastened  back  to 
their  assistance ;  but  all  his  endeavours  to  turn  the  for- 
tune of  the  war  were  ineffectual.     His  little  army  were 
unable  to  defend  themselves  against  the  numbers  of  the 
Carthaginians,  and  he  had  no  ships  to  carry  them  back 
to  Sicily.     Lost,  however,  to  all  sense  of  humanity  and 
justice,  and  regardless  even  of  the  ties  of  kindred  and 
aflection,  he  thought  only  of  providing  for  his  own  safety. 
He  basely  abandoned  his  army  to  the  mercy  of  an  in- 
sulted foe  ;  and  exposed  his  family  to  the  fury  of  an  ex- 
asperated and  disafipoiuted  soldiery.  His  trooi)s,  seeing 
themselves  thus   betrayed,  nuirdered  his  children,  and 
surrendered  to  the  Carthaginians.     Agatliocles  himself 
arrived  at  Syracuse,  with  a  few  attendants,  and  revenged 
the  death  of  his  family,  by  murdering  all  the  relations  of 
those    soldiers  whom  he  had  deserted    and  betrayed. 
He  was  soon  after  poisoned,  at  the  instigation  of  his 
grandson  Acagathus,  and  ended  a  cruel  life  by  a  mise- 
rable and  excruciating  death,  in  the  28th  year  of  bis 
reign,  B.  C.  289. 

Agathocles  owed  his  advancement,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, to  the  beauty  of  his  person,  his  courage,  and  en- 
terprising genius ;  but  chiefly  to  his  wickedness,  treache- 
ry, and  cruelty.  He  [lossessed  a  magnanimity,  which 
made  him  not  ashamed  of  his  mean  extraction ;  and 
while  his  guests  feasted  out  of  silver  and  gohl,  he  con- 
tented himself  with  vessels  of  earthen  ware.  The  great 
Scipio,  who,  in  the  third  Punic  war,  made  a  descent  upon 
Africa,  pronounces  an  eulogium  upon  Agathocles  wor- 
thy of  a  better  object.  "  He  was,"  says  he,  "  the  most 
prudent  man  in  the  conduct  of  his  affairs,  and  most  ju- 
diciously bold  in  the  execution  of  his  designs."  But 
craftiness  and  cruely  were  the  business  of  his  life ;  and 
all  the  enormities  which  the  Syracusans  experienced 
from  their  former  tyrants,  were  far  exceeded  by  those 
of  the  tyrant  Agathocles.  See  Diodorus  Siculus.  Jus- 
tin, lib.  xxii.  Polyh.  lib.  xv.  Rollin,  vol.  i.  p.  1 72.  (p) 
AG  ATHOPHYLLUM,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class 
Bodecandria,  and  order  Monogyuia  See  Botany,  (w) 
AGAVE,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hexaudria, 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,  (w) 

AGDE,  a  small  city  in  the  department  of  Herault,  in 
France,  the  capital  of  the  diocese  of  the  same  name. 
The  vicinity  of  this  place  abounds  with  extinguished 


volcanoes,  one  of  which  is  Cap  d'Agdc.  The  rock  of 
Agde  consists  of  black  indurated  lava,  with  which  the 
town  is  built  and  paved.  See  Buflbn,  Nat.  Hist,  by 
Smellie,  vol.  ix.  p.  201.  E.  Long.  3°  28'  10".  N.  Lat. 
43°  13'  43".   (w) 

AGE,  in  the  most  general  sense  of  the  word,  signi- 
fies any  period  of  lime  attributed  to  something  as  the 
whole,  or  part  of  its  duration.  It  is  also  used  in  the 
same  sense  with  century.,  to  denote  a  duration  of  an  hun- 
dred years.  (?j) 

AGEMOGL  ANS,  or  Agia-Moglans,  a  word  of  Ara- 
bic origin,  signifying  the  children  of  barbarians,  or  those 
who  are  not  born  of  Turkish  parents.  "The  Agemoglana 
are  young  children,  whom  the  grand  signior  purchased 
from  the  Tartars,  or  whom  he  seizes  in  war,  or  levies 
from  the  Christians  who  are  subject  to  his  power.  The 
officers  «  ho  make  this  infamous  requisition,  carry  off,  by 
violence,  every  third  child  belonging  to  the  Christians, 
always  selecting  those  who  are  most  active  and  hand- 
some. The  young  captives  are  then  carried  to  Gallipoli, 
or  Constantinople,  where  they  undergo  circumcision, 
and  are  instructed  in  the  religion,  language,  and  mili- 
tary exercises  of  the  Turks.  When  the  Agemoglans 
become  of  age,  those  who  are  qualified  enter  into  the 
order  of  Janizaries.  (»y) 

AGEN,  a  city  of  France,  the  capital  of  the  province 
of  Agenois,  in  the  department  of  Lot  and  Garonne.  It 
contains  several  remains  of  edifices  built  by  the  Romans; 
and  the  gales  and  ruins,  which  are  still  visible,  mark 
the  antiquity  and  former  extent  of  this  city.  The  castle 
of  Montravel,  where  the  sessions  are  held,  is  without 
the  walls  of  the  old  city ;  and  another  castle,  called  La 
Sagne,  exists  in  ruins.  A  shower  of  meteoric  stones 
fell  near  this  city  on  the  24th  of  July,  1 790.  See  Izarn's 
Lithologie  Atmosplurique,  Paris,  1803,  and  Meteoric 
Stones.  Agen  contains  10,820  inhabitants,  and  is  si- 
tuated 142  leagues  south-west  of  Paris.  E.  Long.  0" 
36' 35".  N.  Lat.  44"  12' 22".     (w) 

AGENOIS,  the  name  of  a  province  in  France,  which 
now  forms  the  department  of  the  Lot  and  Garoime.  The 
valley,  watered  by  the  rivers  from  \yhich  the  department 
takes  its  name,  is  exceedingly  fertile ;'  and  though  the 
higher  part  of  the  country,  formerly  called  Haut  Agenois, 
is  not  so  fruitful  as  this  valley,  yet  the  province  abounds 
in  corn,  hemp,  wines,  and  every  species  of  fruit.  The 
province  contains  309  square  leagues,  and  352,908  in- 
habitants.    See  Agen.   (w) 

AGERATUM,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  io  the 
class  Syngenesia,  and  order  Polygamia  8?qualig.  See 
Botany,     (rv) 

AGESILAUS,kingof  Sparta,  a  younger  son  of  Archi- 
damus,  who,  chiefly  by  the  influence  of  Lysander,  it  is 
said,  obtained  the  crown  in  preference  to  his  nephew 
Leotychidas,  the  sonof  an  elder  brother.  Agesilaus  was 
born  about  the  year  444  before  Christ.  The  Persians 
having  invaded  the  Greek  cities  in  Asia,  and  prepared 
to  dispute  the  power  of  the  sea  with  the  Lacedemonians, 
Agesilaus  marched  at  the  head  of  an  army  against  them, 
and  obtained  several  signal  victories.  He  over-ran 
Phrygia,  entered  Lydia,  and  defeated  the  Persian  ge- 
neral Tissaphernes  near  Sardis.  In  the  course  of  this 
expedition,  the  Spartan  government  invested  him  with 
the  supreme  command,  both  by  sea  and  land,  an  office 
which  had  never  been  conferred  before.  Pharnabazus, 
governor  of  Phrygia,  an  illustrious  Persian,  having  de- 
manded an  interview  with  Agesilaus,  found  him  sitting 
on  the  grass,  under  a  tree.    The  attendants  of  Pharna- 


^09 


AG! 


AGI 


bazus  had  brought  rich  carpels  for  tlieir  master;  l»ui 
struck  with  tlie  simple  manners  of  so  valiant  a  prince  as 
Agesilaus,  be  seated  himself  on  the  grass  by  his  side, 
and  they  soon  contracted  an  intimate  friendshij).  Th 
return  of  Agesilaus  to  his  own  kingdom  was  rendered 
necessary,  from  a  league  entered  into  between  the  Athe- 
nians and  Thebans.  On  reaching  Greece,  he  found  an 
order  by  the  ejjhori,  who  ^vere  magistrates  appointed  to 
control  the  regal  pover  in  Sparta,  to  invade  Bojotia. 
On  the  plains  of  Chffronxa,  he  encountered  the  Greeks 
and  Thebans,  when  he  was  severely  ^vouulled.  H,e  be- 
sieged Corinth,  but  was  obliged  to  retire,  after  laying 
waste  the  surrounding  country.  The  Spartans,  at  this 
time,  began  to  commit  acts  of  oppression  on  their  less 
powerful  neighlMJurs :  But  the  Tliebans,  in  a  few  years, 
became  formidable  under  Epaminondas,  and  defeated 
them  with  great  loss  at  the  battle  of  Leuctra ;  and  Agesi- 
laus received  another  defeat  from  the  same  commander, 
at  the  battle  of  Mantinaea. 

A  contest  for  the  throne  of  Egypt  had  arisen  between 
Tachos  and  Nectanebis.  Agesilaus  proceeded  with  the 
oomraand  of  an  army  into  that  country,  as  an  auxiliary 
to  the  former.  His  fame  was  well  known  before  he  ar- 
rived ;  but  when  the  Egyptians,  who  crowded  to  see  him, 
beheld  a  little  old  man,  sitting  on  the  sesi-shore,  clad  in 
homely  attire,  they  could  scarcely  conceal  their  disap- 
pointment. In  consequence  of  some  personal  affront 
from  Tjichos,  Agesilaus  sullied  the  honour  of  his  coun- 
try, by  deserting  Tachos,  and  supporting  the  interests 
of  Nectanebis,  the  other  competitor  for  the  crown.  Af- 
ter establishing  Nectanebis  on  the  throne  of  Egypt, 
Agesilaus  returned  homewards;  and,  in  the  course  of 
the  voyage,  was  driven  into  the  port  of  Menelaus,  on  the 
coast  of  Africa,  where  he  ilied,  in  the  84th  year  of  his 
age,  and  42d  of  his  reign,  360  B.  C. 

The  life  of  Agesilaus  has  been  recorded  by  several 
historians,  who  rei)resent  him  as  a  great  general,  and  an 
illustrious  statesman;  simple  and  unassuming  in  his 
manners,  and  possessing  all  the  domestic  virtues.  He 
was  an  enemy  to  luxury,  and  supported  himself  and  his 
family  in  a  style  strictly  conformable  to  Spartan  frugali- 
ty. See  Univers.  Hist.  vol.  v.  ji.  400 ;  Rollin's  Aiic.  Hist. 

(0 

AGGERHUUS,  the  name  of  a  fortress  in  the  diocese 
of  Aggerhuus,  or  Christiana,  one  of  the  four  dioceses  of 
Norway.  It  is  situated  on  the  Avest  side  of  the  bay, 
near  which  is  the  ciiy  of  Christiana.  The  diocese  of 
Aggerhuus  is  the  richest  in  the  kingdom,  and  its  govern- 
or is  the  chief  governor  of  Norway.  He  presides  in  the 
liigh  court  of  justice,  and  gives  a  final  judgment  in  all 
civil  causes  below  a  certain  value.  The  population  of 
the  diocese  is  215,043  souls.  E.  Long.  10"  20'.  N.  Lat. 
SO"  6'.     (to) 

AGGREGATE  Flowers,  are  those  composed  of 
parts  or  florets,  which  are  incorporated  by  means  either 
of  the  receptacle  or  calyx.     See  Botanv.     (»») 

AGGREGATION,  in  chemistry.  See  Affinitt, 
and  Attraction. 

AGIMERE,  a  country  in  the  East  Indies,  bounded  by 
Agra  on  the  east,  by  Delhi  on  the  north,  by  Guzcrat  on 
the  south,  ami  on  the  west  by  the  great  sandy  desert  of 
Agiinere,  stretching  along  the  eastern  banks  of  the  In- 
dus for  nearly  5000  British  miles,  with  a  brejullh  varying 
fi-om  00  to  1 50  miles.  It  contains  the  districts  of  Agirnere 
Proper,  Rampour,  loodpour,  Rantampur,  loinagur.  Ban- 
swatch,  Nagore,  and  Bickaneer.  Agirnere,  the  capital 
«{ this  country,  is  situated  in  a  delightful  valley,  aur- 


rounded  by  mountains.  It  is  six  miles  in  circumference, 
and  guarded  by  walls,  towers,  and  a  strong  fortress.  E. 
Long.  75"  20'  N.  Lat.  2C'  24'.     (w) 

AGINCOURT,a  small  village  in  the  French Nethep- 
lands,  situated  in  the  county  of  St.  Pol,  celebrated  for  a 
victory  obtained  over  the  French  in  1415,  by  Henry  V. 
of  England. 

Henry,  in  support  of  his  claims  on  France,  had  landed 
at  Harfleur,  with  a  force  consisting  of  6000  nien-at-arins, 
and  24,000  foot ;  and  after  reducing  that  place,  which 
was  defendcil  with  great  valour,  he  found  his  army  so 
much  wasted  by  the  fatigues  of  the  siege,  and  the  unu- 
sual heat  of  the  climate,  that  he  was  obliged  to  think  of 
returning  to  England.  Having  dismissed  his  transports, 
he  had  no  alternative  but  to  march  by  land  to  Calais, 
through  difficulties  apparently  insurmountable.  An  ar- 
my of  100,000  men  was  ready  to  oppose  his  progress; 
a  force  which,  if  properly  conducted,  might  have  com- 
pletely destroyed  the  small,  though  valiant,  band  of  Eng- 
lish, now  scarcely  amounting  to  10,000  men.  It  is  said 
that  Henry,  aware  of  his  danger,  offered  to  resign  his 
conquest  of  Harfleur,  for  permission  to  conduct  his  army 
unmolested  to  Calais ;  but  his  proposal  was  haughtily 
rejected  by  the  French  leaders,  who  were  already  confi- 
dent of  victory.  He  therefore  continued  to  advance,  by 
slow  and  easy  marches ;  encouraging  his  troops  by  his 
cheerful  and  engaging  manner,  and  patiently  submitting 
to  all  the  toils  and  privations  of  the  meanest  soldier.  He 
wished  to  pass  the  Somme  at  the  ford  of  Blanquelague, 
where  Edward,  in  a  similar  situation,  had  escaped  from 
Philip  de  Valois;  but  finding  that  pass  rendered  im- 
practicable by  sharp  stiikes,  and  defended  by  a  strong 
force  on  the  opposite  side,  he  marched  higher  up  the 
river,  till  he  came  to  a  ford  near  St.  Quinlin,  which  was 
not  sufficiently  guarded,  and  led  over  his  army  in  safety. 
When  he  arrived  at  the  village  of  Agincourt,  on  the 
evening  of  the  24th  of  October,  he  observed  the  whole 
French  army  posted  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  could 
not  proceed  without  giving  them  battle.  As  the  moon 
shone  clear,  he  carefully  reconnoitred  the  ground;  and 
having  discovered  a  narrow  plain,  flanked  by  two  woods, 
he  resolTed  to  expect  there  the  attack  of  the  enemy. 
The  evening  preceding  the  engagement  was  spent  liy 
the  two  armies  in  a  very  dilTerent  manner.  By  the 
French,  who  exulted  in  their  numbers,  and  were  con- 
fident of  victory,  it  was  spent  in  noise  and  revelry,  or  in 
forming  schemes  for  the  division  of  the  plunder;  while 
the  English,  after  retiring  to  their  tents,  employed  the 
remainder  of  the  night  in  devotion,  commending  them- 
selves to  the  protection  of  the  Got!  of  battles.  At  break 
of  day,  the  two  armies  prepared  for  the  engagement. 
Their  situation  naturally  reminded  the  English  of  the 
battles  of  Cressy  and  Poictiers,  and  inspired  them  with 
the  hope  of  equal  success;  while  Henry,  riding  along 
the  lines  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  animate<l  them  by 
the  promise  of  rewards  and  honours,  and  exhorted  I'icib 
to  emulate  the  valour  of  their  ancestors.  He  arranged 
his  troops  in  a  manner  admirably  calculated  to  make  up 
for  his  defect  of  numbers.  His  first  line  consisted  of 
archers,  four  in  file ;  each  of  whom,  besides  his  bows 
and  arrows,  wasjprovided  with  a  sword,  a  Ijallle-axe,  and 
a  stake  pointed  with  iron  at  l)Olh  emU,  which  he  fixed 
before  him  in  the  ground,  to  protect  him  from  the  caval- 
ry. Four  hundred  pikemen  were  concealed  in  a  wood 
on  the  left  of  the  field  of  battle;  and  200  archers  lay  in 
ambush  in  a  small  meadow  on  the  right.  The  comuii.nd 
of  the  first  line  was  given  to  the  duke  of  York,  with 


AGI 


AGF 


m 


the  lords  BeaBmont,  Willoughby,  and  Panhope.  ITeniy 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  second,  attended  by. his 
youngest  brother,  the  duke  of  Gloucester.  The  third 
was  conducted  by  the  duke  of  Exeter,  the  king's  uncle. 

When  the  armies  were  arranged  for  battle,  they  paus- 
ed for  some  time,  gazing  at  each  other  in  solemn  si- 
lence;  till  Henry,  fearing  lest  the  French  should  discover 
their  danger,  and  decline  the  engagement,  ordered  the 
charge  to  be  sounded.  Before  beginning  the  attack,  the 
archers  kneeled  down  and  kissed  the  ground  :  then  in- 
stantly starting  up,  discharged  a  volley  of  arrows,  which 
prodigiously  galled  the  crowded  ranks  of  the  enemy. 
On  a  signal  given,  the  archers  in  ambush  arose,  and 
levelling  their  arrows  at  the  flank  of  the  French  line, 
threw  it  into  some  disorder.  The  deep  clay  soil,  mois- 
tened by  late  rains,  and  the  pallisadoes  fixed  in  front  of 
the  English  archers,  occasioned  the  complete  confusion 
of  the  French  cavalry ;  the  narrow  compass  in  which 
"^hey  were  confined  prevented  them  from  recovering  any 
order ;  consternation  became  general  through  the  army  : 
and  Henry,  perceiving  his  advantage,  ordered  his  ar- 
chers to  advance,  and  seize  the  moment  of  victory.  Hav- 
ing expended  their  arrows,  they  threw  away  their  bows, 
and  falling  with  their  battle-axes  upon  the  French,  hew- 
ed them  down  with  resistless  fury.  The  first  line  of 
the  enemy  being  thus  cut  to  pieces,  the  second  advanc- 
ed to  the  charge,  and  was  encountered  by  the  line  which 
Henry  commanded  in  person.  A  furious  conflict  ensued. 
The  (hike  of  Gloucester  was  wounded,  and  thrown  to  the 
•round ;  and  the  king,  while  protecting  his  fallen  bro- 
ther, was  assailed  with  great  violence  by  the  duke 
d'Alengon.  Henry,  recovering  from  the  shock,  struck 
his  antagonist  to  the  ground ;  and  the  French,  disheart- 
ened by  (he  fall  of  their  leader,  made  no  more  resistance. 
The  English  had  now  leisure  to  make  prisoners,  and  had 
ndvauced  without  interruption  to  the  open  plain,  when 
they  observed  the  remains  of  the  enemy's  rear-guard 
still  maintaining  the  appearance  of  a  line  of  battle.  An 
alarm  at  the  same  time  was  heard  from  the  camp,  which 
Tvas  attacked  by  600  peasants,  led  on  by  some  gentlemen 
of  Picardy  ;  and  Henry,  beginning  to  entertain  appre- 
hensions from  his  prisoners,  issued  general  orders  for  put- 
ting them  to  death.  He  soon  discovered,  however, 
the  true  cause  of  the  alarm,  and  stopping  the  slaughter, 
was  yet  able  to  save  a  great  number  of  the  prisoners. 
"  No  battle,"  says  Hume, "  was  ever  more  fatal  to  France, 
by  the  number  of  princes  and  nobility  slain  or  taken 
prisoners." 

The  French  are  said  to  have  left  10,000  on  the  field, 
among  whom  were  many  persons  of  the  highest  distinc- 
tion ;  and  14,000  prisoners  fell  into  the  hads  of  the  Eng- 
lish. Henry  is  said  to  have  lost  only  40  men ;  but 
among  these  was  the  duke  of  York,  who  perished  fight- 
ing by  the  king's  side ;  a  death  too  honourable  for  his 
infamous  life.  The  victorious  monarch  was  received 
"with  transport  by  his  subjects,  many  of  whom  leaped  in- 
to the  sea  to  meet  his  barge  as  it  approached  the  shore. 
(A:) 

AGIS  IV.  king  of  Lacedemon,  and  colleague  of  Leo- 
nidas,  in  the  government  of  Sparta,  was  the  son  of  Eu- 
damidas,  and  the  sixteenth  lineal  descendant  from  Agesi- 
laus.  Historians  affirm,  that  he  was  a  youth  of  singular 
promise;  and  that  in  maturer  age,  he  pre|)ared,  by  the 
introduction  of  new  laws,  to  correct  all  the  abuses  that 
had  crept  into  the  Spartan  government.  This  he  found 
a  measure  of  particular  difficulty,  from  the  interested 
views  of  individuals ;  bat  he  was  enpported  by  his  ms' 

Vol.  I.    Part  I. 


temal  uncle  Agesilaus,  though  with  a  selfish  design,  and 
likewise  by  many  of  the  citizens.  They  obtained  a 
law  for  the  equalization  of  property;  and  Agis  himself, 
as  an  example  of  disinterested  liberality,  shared  a  valua- 
ble estate  with  the  community.  In  consequence  of  his 
exertions,  Leonidas  was  deposed  and  banished.  The  in- 
troduction of  mortification  and  self-denial  among  a  peo- 
ple that  had  advanced  far  in  luxury,  was  soon  found  to 
be  a  chimerical  plan.  They  became  dissatisfied  with  the 
projected  novelties ;  and  while  Agis  was  leading  an  ar- 
my to  aid  the  Achseans,  the  indiscretion  of  his  uncle 
Agesilaus  during  his  absence,  occasioned  a  conspiracy 
for  the  restoration  of  Leonidas.  The  conspirators  hav- 
ing succeeded  in  their  object,  forced  Agis,  upon  his  re- 
turn, to  take  sanctuary  in  a  temple,  which  he  never  left 
but  for  the  purpose  of  bathing.  On  one  of  these  occa- 
sions, he  was  surprised,  from  the  treachery  of  Ampharea 
and  Demochares,  and  dragged  to  a  prison,  which  Leoni- 
das surrounded  with  a  band  of  soldiers.  The  ephori 
having  then  questioned  him  respecting  his  views  in  al- 
tering the  laws,  he  answered,  that  it  was  for  the  restora- 
tion of  those  of  Lycurgus.  Sentence  of  death  was  [)ass- 
ed  upon  him ;  but  the  attending  ministers  of  the  law, 
until  forced  by  Demochares,  refused  (o  conduct  him  to 
a  chamber  reserved  for  the  execution  of  criminals.  He 
was  there  strangled,  and  he  submitted  to  his  sentence 
with  the  most  heroic  firmness.  The  grandmother  of 
Agis  shared  the  same  fate  with  her  son ;  and  the  sena- 
tors, not  satiated  with  the  blood  which  they  had  shed,  or- 
dered Agistrata,  the  mother  of  Agis,  to  enter  the  dun- 
geon which  contained  the  bodies  of  her  mother  and  her 
son,  and  condemned  her  to  the  same  ignominious  death, 
which  she  suffered  with  Spartan  fortitude.  See  Plu- 
tarch, and  Rollin's  Ancient  History,  vol.  v.  p.  425.  (c) 

AGITATION  of  the  waters  of  lakes,  &c.  a  natural 
phenomenon,  which  generally  accompanies  earthquakes, 
though  agitations  have  sometimes  been  perceived  when 
no  motion  of  the  earth  was  felt.  A  very  remarkable 
phenomenon  of  this  kind  was  observed  by  Dr.  Fleming, 
on  the  morning  of  the  12th  September,  1784,  in  Loch 
Tay,  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  The  water  of  a  bay 
in  this  lake  was  observed  to  retire  above  five  yards  with- 
in its  ordinary  Iwundary,  and  in  four  or  five  minutes  re- 
sumed its  former  level.  This  agitation  was  repeated 
three  or  four  times  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  all  oq 
a  sudden,  the  water  rushed  from  the  east  and  west  in 
opposite  currents  across  the  bay;  and  near  the  margia 
of  the  deep  part  of  the  bay  it  rose  in  the  form  of  a  great 
wave,  leaving  the  bottom  of  the  bay  dry,  at  the  distance 
of  about  100  yards  from  its  natural  boundary.  When  the 
opposing  currents  met,  they  made  a  clashing  noise ;  and 
as  the  strongest  impulse  was  from  the  east,  the  wave 
rolled  slowly  ivestward,  gradually  diminishing  for  the 
space  of  five  minutes,  when  it  wholly  disappeared.  The 
%vater  continued  to  ebb  and  flow,  in  about  the  space  of 
seven  minutes,  for  two  hours,  when  the  agitation  ceased. 
At  the  same  time,  a  river  north  of  the  bay  ran  back- 
wards, and  retired  about  12  feet  from  its  opposite  banks. 
For  five  succeeding  days  the  ebbing  and  flowing  conti- 
nued, and  similar  agitations  were  occasionally  observed 
till  the  15th  of  October,  since  which  they  have  never 
returned.  Dr.  Fleming's  paper  will  be  found  in  the 
Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh,  vol.  i, 
p.  200.  For  an  account  of  similar  phenomena,  see  Phil, 
Trans.  1756,  p.  521,  523,  530,  54.  W.  vol.  xlix.  p.  642. 
Id.  1762,  p.  477.     Phil.  3Iag.  vol.  xi.  p.  163.     (w) 

AGNANO,  a  circular  lake,  about  three-fourths  of  a 
C  c 


202 


AGN 


AGN 


mile  in  diameter,  near  Pozzuolo,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Naples.  Its  shape  is  that  of  an  inverted  funnel,  hav- 
ing its  sides  and  bottom  formed  of  tufa,  mixed  with  frag- 
ments of  lava  and  pumice-stone,  and  has  the  appearance 
of  having  been  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  There  is  some- 
times an  ebullition  of  the  Water  of  this  "lake,  which  rises 
to  the  height  of  two  inches,  but  without  any  perceptible 
heat.  It  contains  great  quantities  of  tench  and  frogs. 
See  Spallanzani's  Travels,  vol.  i.  p.  125;  and  Keysler'a 
Travdi,  vol.  iii.  p.  113.     (j») 

AGNES,  St.  or  the  Light  House  Island,  one  of  the 
Scilly  isles.  It  is  well  cultivated,  and  fertile  in  corn  and 
grass.  The  light-house  stands  on  the  highest  ground, 
and  is  built  with  stone  from  the  foundation  to  the  lan- 
tern, which  is  51  feet  high.  W.  Long.  6»  46'.  N.  Lat. 
49°  56'.     (w) 

AGNESI,  Mabia  Gaetana,  a  lady  of  extraordinary 
genius,  and  most  extensive  acquirements,  was  born  at 
Milan  on  the  16th  of  May,  1718.  Her  father,  Pietro 
Agnesi  of  Milan,  was  royal  feudatory  of  Monteveglia 
and  its  dependencies ;  and  being  a  man  of  some  rank 
and  consequence,  he  was  disposed,  from  paternal  affec- 
tion, to  provide  suitably  for  the  education  of  his  infant 
daughter,  who  gave  the  most  striking  indications  of  ta- 
lent. From  her  tendercst  years,  she  discovered  a  won- 
derful aptness,  and  a  vehement  desire,  for  acquiring  lan- 
guages. Under  the  direction  of  proper  masters,  she 
studied  at  the  very  same  time  the  Latin  and  Greek,  the 
French  and  German  ;  and  while  the  rapidity  of  her  pro- 
gress excited  astonishment,  such  were  the  prodigious 
powers  of  her  memory,  that  she  could  easily  pursue 
those  diversified  objects  without  feeling  the  smallest  de- 
gree of  confusion.  When  yet  scarcely  nine  years  old, 
this  surprising  child  delivered  a  Latin  oration,  to  prove 
that  the  cultivation  of  letters  is  not  inconsistent  with  the 
female  character,  before  an  assembly  of  learned  persons, 
invited  to  her  father's  house. 

At  the  age  of  eleven,  the  young  Agnesi  could  not 
only  read  Greek,  and  translate  it  instantly  into  Latin,  but 
could  even  speak  that  refined  language,  and  with  the 
same  apparent  ease  and  fluency  as  if  it  had  been  her 
native  tongue.  Nor  did  these  acquisitions  absorb  her 
whole  attention  ;  a  nobler  field  was  opened  to  the  exer- 
cise of  her  mental  faculties.  She  now  began  to  read 
Euclid's  elements,  and  proceeded  in  algebra  as  far  as 
quadradic  equations.  Thus  prepared,  she  advanced 
with  ardour  to  the  study  of  natural  philosoi)hy;  but  not 
content  with  the  sober  truths  there  unfolded,  she  soared 
to  the  heights  of  metajihysics,  and  engaged  in  the  most 
abstruse  and  intricate  disquisitions  of  ttiat  contentious 
science. 

After  the  young  lady  had  attained  the  age  of  14,  her 
father,  anxious  to  forward  her  ardour  for  im|)rovement, 
and  willing  to  gratify  her  ambition  for  literary  distinc- 
tion, invited  occasionally  to  his  house  a  number  of  ]>er- 
sons,  the  most  respectable  in  Milan  by  their  rank  and 
learning.  In  the  midst  of  this  grave  auditory.  Donna 
Agnesi  made  her  appearance,  and  without  resigning  the 
native  delicacy  of  her  sex,  she  maintained  a  succession 
of  new  theses  on  various  dilBcult  parts  of  philosophy, 
and  handled  the  arguments  with  such  dexterity  and 
commanding  eloquence,  as  singly  to  vanquish  every 
op|)onent  that  entered  the  field  of  controversy.  These 
disputations  were  carried  on  all  of  them  in  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, which  she  spoke  with  the  utmost  ease,  purity, 
and  copious  elegance.  Every  thing  conspired  to  heighten 
the  impreesiou  produced  on  the  admiring  spectators.  In 


the  full  bloom  of  youth,  her  person  agreeable,  her  man- 
ner graceful,  an  air  of  gentleness  and  modesty  gave  ir- 
resistible charms  to  her  whole  deme:  nour. 

Such,  for  several  years,  was  the  great  theatre  of  her 
glory.  But  having  nearly  completed  the  circle  of  phi- 
losophy, and  exhausted  the  chief  topics  of  discussion, 
she  resolved  at  length  to  close  that  career  with  a  solem- 
nity suitable  to  the  occasion.  In  the  year  1738,  Agnesi 
made  her  last  brilliant  dis|>lay,  before  an  august  assem- 
bly, composed  of  the  most  learned  and  illustrious  of  the 
Milanese  nobility,  the  senators,  and  foreign  ministers, 
with  the  most  distinguished  professors  in  all  the  branches  ' 
of  science  and  literature.  The  substance  of  these  philo- 
sophical conferences  was  afterwards  published  in  a 
quarto  volume,  entitled  Propositiones  Philosophicce,  quas, 
crebris  Disputalionibus  domi  habitis,  coram  clarissimis  vi- 
ris,  explicahat  extempore,  et  ah  ohjectis  vindicabat  Maria 
Cajetana  de  Agnesiis  Medlolanensis. 

Agnesi  now  bent  her  whole  attention  to  the  culture  of 
mathematics;  and,  without  guide  or  assistance,  she 
composed  a  very  useful  commentary  on  L'Hospital's 
Conic  Sections,  which  is  said  to  exist  still  in  manuscript. 
In  the  sublimer  departments  of  that  science,  her  studies 
were  directed  by  the  matured  experience  of  Rampinelli, 
professor  of  mathematics  in  the  university  of  Pisa ;  l)ut 
she  soon  gave  proofs  of  her  amazing  proficiency,  in  di- 
gesting a  complete  body  of  the modern  calculus.  This 
excellent  work,  entitled,  "  Analytical  Institutions,  for 
the  use  of  the  Italian  Youth,"  appeared  in  1748,  in  two 
volumes  quarto,  and  was  highly  esteemed  by  the  best 
judges,  and  justly  regarded  iis  exhibiting  the  fullest  and 
clearest  view  of  the  state  of  the  science  at  that  period. 
She  was,  in  consequence,  elected  by  acclamation  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Institute  of  Sciences  of  Bologna ;  and  the 
pope  further  conferred  on  her  the  title  of  Professor  of 
Mathematics  in  the  university  of  that  city. 

But  Agnesi  was  already  sated  with  literary  fame.  That 
sun,  which  in  its  ascent  had  shone  forth  with  such  daz- 
zling radiance,  was,  through  the  rest  of  its  course, 
shrouded  in  clouds  and  darkness.  The  fever  of  genius 
had  preyed  on  her  mind,  aud  the  high  fit  of  excitement 
was  quickly  succeeded  by  a  hopeless  depression  of  spi- 
rits. She  repelled  the  seductions  of  human  learning, 
and  abandoued  for  ever  her  favourite  mathematical  pur- 
suits. Renouncing  the  vanities  of  this  world,  she  with- 
drew from  society,  embraced  a  life  of  rigid  seclusion, 
and  sunk,  by  degrees,  into  the  languor  of  religious  me- 
lancholy. She  studied  nothing  but  Hebrew,  aud  the 
rhapsodies  of  the  Greek  fathers  of  the  church.  For  up- 
wards of  twenty  years  she  denied  all  access  to  strangers. 
The  famous  Lalande  complains,  in  his  "  Travels  through 
Italy,"  that  he  was  not  allowed  the  honour  of  visiting 
that  prodigy ;  and  father  Boscovich  himself,  whose  reli- 
gious principles  must  have  been  unexceptionable,  expe- 
rienced, notwithstanding  his  repeated  importunities,  a 
similar  refusal.  Indulging  that  gloomy  temper,  she  re- 
tired into  a  convent,  and  assumed  the  habit  of  a  blue  nun. 
She  sought  to  forget  the  world,  and  was  herself  forgot- 
ten. She  died  about  the  year  1770,  though  we  have 
not  been  able,  with  all  our  diligence,  to  discover  the 
precise  period  of  her  demise. 

The  Institvzioni  Aiudytiche  of  Agnesi  were  translated 
into  English  many  years  ago,  by  Mr.  Colson,  Lucasian 
professor  of  mathematics  at  Cambridge.  The  transla- 
tion was  discovered  among  the  papers  of  that  ingenious 
mathematician,  by  the  learned  baron  Museres,  who  put 
the  manuscript  into  the  bands  of  Mr.  Hellins,  as  editor, 


AGO 


AGR 


20S 


and  generously  defrayed  the  expenses  attending  the  pub- 
ic dtion.    (x) 

AG  NUS  D  EI,  or  Lamb  of  God,  is  a  cake  of  wax,  hav- 
ing the  figure  of  a  lamb,  which  supports  the  banner  of 
the  cross.  After  having  been  consecrated  by  the  poi)e, 
they  are  distributed  in  donations  to  the  people,  who  re- 
gard them  as  powerful  charms,  capable  of  protecting 
them  from  every  thing  that  is  dangerous,  and  of  prompt- 
ing them  to  every  thing  that  is  good.  The  nuns  of 
Prance,  and  other  Catholic  countries,  ornamented  their 
Agni  dei  by  strewing  over  them  a  shining  kind  of  talc. 
See  Beckman's  Hist,  of  Inventions,  vol.  ii.  p.  170.  See 
Journal  des  Sfavans,  torn.  xxxi.  p.  252.  Act.  Lips.  Slip. 
vol.  iv.  p.  224.     (w) 

AGONNA,  or  Agwana,  in  Africa,  a  small  territory 
on  the  Gold  Coast,  extending  along  the  shore,  from  the 
Devil's  Mount,  which  separates  it  from  Acron,  to  Ano- 
nea,  a  village  on  the  frontiers  of  Aquamboe ;  bounded 
on  the  north  by  Sanguay,  and  on  the  south  by  the  Atlan- 
tic ocean.  Its  towns  and  villages  are  numerous.  In 
extent  and  population,  it  surpasses  Acron ;  vying  with  it 
in  beauty  and  richness  of  soil.  Particles  of  gold,  min- 
gled with  the  sand,  after  a  heavy  fall  of  rain,  indicate  the 
riches  of  its  mines ;  but  the  natives  wisely  prevent  their 
being  opened,  lest  the  Europeans  should  seize  on  their 
territory  to  obtain  possession  of  its  treasures.  It  is  wa- 
tered by  a  large  river,  which  abi)unds  with  fish  and  oys- 
ters. In  the  middle  of  Agonna,  (he  English  have  erect- 
ed an  inconsiderable  fort,  at  a  village  called  Simpa,  or 
Winiba ;  near  which  is  Barku,  a  village  once  frequented 
by  the  French.  The  langUMge,  which^is  thus  far  uni- 
form along  the  Gold  Coast,  changes  at  Barku  into  a  dif- 
ferent dialect;  and,  as  we  advance  a  little  further,  be- 
comes altogether  new.  This  town,  which  is  accounted 
the  capital  of  Agonna,  stands  in  the  middle  of  a  fertile 
and  pleasant  country.  Here  the  English  once  possessed 
great  influence:  but  the  Dutch  have  now  gained  the 
ascendency,  and  have  erected  a  triangular  fort,  mounted 
with  twelve  pieces  of  cannon.     (A) 

AGOWS,  a  people  in  Abyssinia,  who  are  divided  into 
two  nations ;  the  one  called  the  Agows  of  Damot,  from 
their  vicinity  to  that  province ;  the  other  the  Tcheratz 
Agows,  from  Tchera,  a  town  and  district  near  Lasta  and 
Begemder.  (See  Abyssinia.)  Though  possessed  of  a 
country  abounding  with  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  the 
Agows  are  reduced,  by  taxes  and  oppression,  to  extreme 
penury  and  wretchedness.  Mr.  Bruce  saw  a  number  of 
their  women  so  wrinkled  and  sun-burnt,  as  hardly  to  ap- 
pear human  creatures,  wandering  with  children  on  their 
bncks,  under  the  noon-day  heat,  and  gathering  the  seeds 
of  bent-grass  to  make  bread.  Their  territory  is  only  60 
miles  long  and  about  30  miles  broad,  yet  it  8up|)lies  Gon- 
dar,  and  all  the  neighbouring  country,  with  provisions 
and  luxuries.  They  preserve  their  butter,  which  they 
carry  to  a  great  distance,  by  means  of  a  yellow  root  call- 
ed mocmoco,  resembling  a  carrot.  The  dress  of  the 
Agows  consists  of  hides,  tanned  and  softened  by  an  art 
peculiar  to  themselves.  These  hides  hang  down  to  their 
feet,  in  the  form  of  a  shirt,  and  are  girded  with  a  belt 
about  the  middle ;  the  lower  part  resembles  a  large  dou- 
ble petticoat,  one  ply  of  which  is  turned  back  over  the 
shoulders,  and  fastened  with  a  broach  or  skewer,  across 
their  breast,  before  :  in  this  fold  the  married  women 
carry  their  children  at  their  backs.  The  Apcows  are 
below  the  middle  size :  tlieir  women  are  marriageable 
at  nine,  and  continue  to  bear  children  till  thirty.  Bar- 
renness is  unknown  among  the  Agows ;  and  their  coun- 


try is  so  popnToUS,  that  it  can  send  to  the  field  4000 
horse,  besides  a  numerous  infantry.  But  as  the  Abyssi- 
nian princes  depend  upon  this  nation  chiefly  for  the  pro- 
duce of  their  country,  they  generally  compound  with 
them  for  an  additional  tribute,  instead  of  their  services 
in  the  field. 

In  religion,  the  Agows  are  grossly  idolatrous  and  su- 
perstitious. The  Genius  of  the  Abay,  or  Abyssinian 
Nile,  is  the  object  of  their  adoration,  whom  they  address 
by  the  titles  of  "  The  Light  of  the  World,  The  Father 
of  the  Universe,  their  Saviour,  The  God  of  Peace,  and 
The  Everlasting  God."  Among  the  supplications,  pre- 
ferred to  this  deity,  is  one  for  the  preservation  of  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  serpents,  which  are  supposed  to  prognos- 
ticate the  approach  of  good  or  evil.  Before  undertaking 
a  journey,  or  any  affair  of  consequence,  they  feed  these 
serpents  with  butter  and  milk  ;  and  their  refusal  to  eat 
is  regarded  as  a  certain  omen  of  calamity.  Before  an 
invasion  of  the  Gallas,  they  pretend  that  these  sagacious 
serpents  disappear.  They  deprecate  thunder,  because 
it  is  hurtful  to  the  bees ;  and  honey  and  wax  constitute, 
the  principal  part  of  their  revenue.  On  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  the  Dogstar,  they  have  an  annual  festival  of 
peculiar  solemnity.  A  black  heifer  is  sacrificed,  and 
distributed  among  the  several  clans,  who  eat  the  car- 
cass raw,  and  then  drink  of  the  water  of  the  Nile.  The 
bones  of  the  heifer  are  burnt  to  ashes ;  and  its  head  is 
carried  to  a  cavern,  said  to  reach  below  the  fountains  of 
the  river,  where  they  perform  a  mysterious  worship, 
which  it  is  unlawful  to  divulge. 

The  Agows  of  Lasta  have  a  language  difierent  from 
that  of  the  other  Agows,  and  are  said  to  live  in  caverns. 
Indeed,  all  the  mountains,  in  the  territories  of  the  Agows 
are  jterforated  by  caves,  which  have  been  once  used, 
either  as  habitations,  or  as  places  of  retreat  from  their 
enemies.  Some  of  them,  as  that  of  Geesh,  are  now  the 
scenes  of  their  religious  mysteries,     (k) 

AGRA,  the  most  extensive  province,  or  soubah,  in 
Hindostan;  bounded  on  the  north  by  Delhi,  on  the  cast  ' 
by  Oude,  on  the  south  by  Malwa,  and  on  the  west  by 
Agimere.  It  contains  thirteen  circars,  or  counties, 
which  again  are  subdivided  into  203  pergunnahs,  or  hun- 
dreds. Agra  yields  a  revenue  of  16,156,237  rupees; 
and  possesses  a  military  force  of  30,600  cavalry,  577,570 
infantry,  and  221  elephants.  Its  indigo,  which  isgathered 
at  Bianes,  about  two  leagues  distant  from  the  town  of 
Agra,  is  esteemed  the  most  valuable  in  the  East  Indies; 
and  it  produces,  besides,  lemons,  oranges,  rice,  and  cot- 
ton. White  cloth,  silken  stuffs,  silver  and  gold  lace,  are 
its  staple  manufactures. 

This  province  contains  forty  large  towns,  and  340 
villages.  Agra,  its  capital,  stands  on  the  river  Jumnah, 
about  30  miles  above  its  confluence  with  the  Tehnmu, 
and  300  miles  east  of  Surat.  It  was  once  an  inconsidera-" 
ble  town,  with  a  small  castle  of  earth,  till  it  was  enlarged 
and  adorned  by  the  emperor  Akbar,  who  made  it  the 
seat  of  his  court  and  empire.  In  the  course  of  his  long 
reign,  and  that  of  his  son,  it  became  the  first  city  in  In- 
dia for  wealth  aad  magnificence,  and  still  displays  nnny 
striking  monuments  of  its  former  splendour.  This  city 
is  very  long,  but  by  no  means  broad ;  built  in  the  form  of 
a  crescent,  and  surrounded  by  a  w.ill  of  red  stone  and  a 
ditch  a  hundred  feet  wide.  The  streets  are  in  general 
narrow  and  irregular,  the  houses  are  low  and  mean; 
but  the  space  within  the  wall  is  laid  out  in  gardens  and 
palaces,  which  give  it  a  grand  and  beautiful  appearance. 
The  castle  and  palace  are  structures  of  amazing  extent 
Cc2 


.204 


AGB 


AGR 


and  grandeur.  The  walls  of  the  castle  consist  of  brick 
and  stone,  terrassed  in  several  places,  and  200  cubits 
high.  An  ani|>le  lawn  extends  from  the  castle  to  the 
riTer  where  the  troops  are  exercised,  and  various 
amusements  are  exhibited  in  the  emperor's  view.  The 
palace,  which  is  said  to  have  occupied  1000  workmen  for 
twelve  years,  and  to  have  cost  three  millions  of  rupees, 
stands  within  the  castle,  and  contains  three  courts  en- 
compassed with  porticoes  and  galleries,  all  painted  and 
gilt.  Agra  contains  more  than  60  caravanseras,  800 
public  baths,  and  a  great  number  of  mosques  and  mag- 
nificent sepulchres.  Among  these  is  the  mausoleum  of 
Akbar;  and  one  erected  by  Shah-jehan  to  his  empress 
Mahd-alia,  or  Taje-mehalle,  which  cost  60  lacks  of 
rupees,  equivalent  to  750,000/.  sterling. 

From  Agra  to  Lahore,  in  the  Panjab,  a  distance  of 
500  miles,  the  road  is  shaded  on  both  sides  by  rows  of 
lofty  trees,  forming  a  kind  of  grove,  which,  for  extent, 
beauty,  and  utility  in  that  burning  climate,  is  altogether 
unequalled.  N.  Lat.  27"  15'.  E.  Long.  7S»  29'.  A  com- 
plete account  of  the  splendid  mausoleum  of  Taje-mehalle 
may  be  seen  in  Bernier's  Voyage  to  Sural,  &c.  or  in 
Osborne's  Voyages,  vol.  ii.  p.  194,  195.     (A) 

AGRARIAN  Laws,  from  agar,  a  field,  are  those  laws 
which  were  enacted  at  Rome,  relative  to  a  division,  or 
partition  of  lands.  The  most  celebrated  of  these  laws 
is  that  which  was  published  by  Spuriiis  Cassius,  in  the 
year  of  Rome  268,  and  A.  C.  486,  for  dividing  the  con- 
quered lands  among  the  citizens,  and  for  prohibiting 
each  person  from  possessing  more  than  a  certain  number 
of  acres.  There  were  about  fd'teen  or  twenty  agrarian 
laws,  the  chief  of  which  are  the  Lex  Licinia,  in  386 
U.  C. ;  the  Lex  Flaminia,  in  525 ;  two  Sempranian  Laws, 
in  C20;  the  Lex  Apuleia,  in  653;  the  Lex  Bmbia ;  the 
Lex  Cornelia,  in  673;  the  7>ex  Serviiia,  in  690  ;  the  Ijtx 
Julia,  in  691  ;  the  Jjex  Mlia  Licinia  ;  the  Lex  Livia  ; 
the  Lex  Marcia ;  the  Lex  Roscia,  passed  after  the 
taking  of  Carthage ;  the  Lex  Floria  ;  and  the  Lex  Tilia. 

AGRICOLA,  Cneius  Julius,  a  celebrated  Roman 
general,  who  long  waged  war  against  the  ancient  inha- 
bitants of  Britain.  He  was  the  son  of  Julius  Griecinus, 
and  born  in  the  year  40.  His  father  was  put  to  death  by 
Caligula,  and  his  mother  afterwards  murdered  in  a  pira- 
tical excursion  by  the  fleet  of  Otho.  Agricola  stmlied 
law  and  philosophy  at  Marseilles,  and  then  served  in 
Britain  under  Suetonius  Paulinus,  who  admitted  him  to 
the  most  intimate  confidence.  On  returning  to  Rome 
he  was  made  quKstor  of  Asia;  where,  though  under 
an  avaricious  proconsul,  Titius  Salvianus,  his  integrity 
was  preserved  uncorrupted.  During  the  reign  of  Galba, 
he  was  appointed  to  investigate  the  gifts  and  riches  of 
the  temples.  Immediately  on  Vespasian's  assumption 
of  the  empire,  Agricola  resolved  to  support  him ;  in 
consequence  of  which  he  was  elevated  to  the  patrician 
rank,  and  constituted  governor  of  Aquitania.  He  then 
obtained  the  consulship  along  with  Domitian ;  when  he 
agreed  to  bestow  his  daughter  on  Tacitus  the  famous 
historian,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  memoirs  of 
his  life, 

The  Romans  had  never  been  able  to  conquer  Britain; 
their  partial  successes  were  counteracted  by  continual 
revolts ;  and  hence  the  presence  of  a  skilful  commander 
was  required.  This  important  charge  was  conferred  on 
Agricola;  who,  in  the  year  78,  arrived  in  Britain,  and 
first  attacked  the  Ordovires,  or  inhabitants  of  North 
Wales,  who  had  recently  cut  olf  a  fqiiadroa  of  Roman 


horse.  Having  carried  on  several  successful  campaigns 
in  this  island,  he  endeavoured  to  secure  his  conquests, 
by  inculcating  a  desire  for  peace  among  the  inhabitants, 
instead  of  keeping  them  in  a  state  of  constant  warfare. 
He  exhorted  them  to  become  more  civilized,  and  to  aban- 
don hostilities,  and  live  in  tranquillity.  Tacitus  affirm;, 
that  in  consequence  of  this,  many  acquired  the  Roman 
language,  and  adopted  the  garb  of  their  invaders.  But 
their  pacific  intentions  were  of  short  duration,  and  Agri- 
cola, in  the  third  year  of  his  residence,  extended  his 
inroads  as  far  as  the  river  Tay.  He  crossed  the  Forth  at 
Queensferry,  A.  D.  84,  and  subdued  whole  regions 
formerly  unknown  to  the  Romans.  In  the  sixth  summer, 
which  he  spent  in  Britain,  the  natives  surprised  his 
camp,  and  broke  in  upon  the  ninth  legion;  but  the  Ro- 
mans having  found  means  to  attack  them  in  the  rear, 
they  were  forced  to  retreat  with  great  loss,  and,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  intervening  woods  and  morasses,  this 
battle  would  have  terminated  the  war. 

The  following  summer  was  most  disastrous  to  the 
Caledonians.  In  consequence  of  their  late  defeat,  they 
had  conveyed  their  wives  and  children  to  places  of  secu- 
rity. They  now  armed  their  youth,  collected  all  their 
forces,  and  prepared,  under  Galgacus,  their  renowned 
leader,  to  resist  the  Roman  general,  who  approached  to 
attack  them  on  the  Grampian  hills.  Their  army,  consist- 
ing of  30,000  men,  was  drawn  up  on  the  declivity  of  a 
hill,  and  chariots  and  horsemen  occupied  the  centre. 
The  Romans  having  only  11,000  men,  Agricola  com- 
menced the  engagement  cautiously.  His  troops,  ad- 
vancing close  to  the  Caledonians,  rendered  their  small 
shields  and  unwieldy  swords  of  little  avail ;  and  hence, 
after  a  keen  encounter,  they  were  completely  routed. 
When  the  Caledonians  first  gave  way,  the  chariots, 
■mingling  with  them,  and  the  horses  without  riders,  oc- 
casioned great  destruction.  They  experienced  a  signal 
defeat,  leaving  10,000  men  on  the  field,  while  the  Romans 
lost  only  340. 

Agricola  communicated  his  success,  to  Domitian,  who, 
with  affected  regard,  obtained  him  a  triumph,  and  had  a 
statue  erected  to  him  :  but  he  was  soon  after  recalled 
from  Britain.  Domitian  led  his  subjects  to  expect  that 
Agricola  should  be  appointed  governor  of  Syria ;  he 
contrived,  however,  to  evade  his  |)romise,  and  also  in- 
duced Agricola  to  decline  the  proconsulate  of  Asia  or 
Africa.  Agricola  seems  now  to  have  lived  in  retirement. 
He  died  soon  afterwards;  but  not  without  suspicion  of 
))oison,  and  of  Domitian  being  accessory  to  it.  By  his 
will,  he  made  this  emperor  a  co-heir  along  with  his  wife 
and  daughter,  by  which  he  was  extremely  gratified ; 
from  his  ignorance,  as  Tacitus  wisely  observes,  that  a 
good  father  never  gave  his  inheritance  to  any  prince  but 
a  bad  one.     See  Tacitus  in  Vila  Agricolm.  (c) 

AGRICOLA,  Gkorce,  was  born  at  Glauchen,  in 
Upper  Saxony,  24th  March,  1494.  He  received  the 
medical  part  of  his  education  in  Italy,  and,  returning  to 
his  native  country,  settled  as  a  physician  at  Joachimsted. 
He  afterwards  accompanied  the  dukes  Maurice  and 
Augustus  in  their  march  to  join  the  army  of  Charles  V. 
in  Bohemia ;  and  it  is  probable,  that  he  there  contracted 
that  ardent  desire  of  examining  fossils,  which  remained 
with  him  through  life,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  his 
future  greatness.  After  his  return  from  JBohemia,  he 
continued  to  prosecute  his  favourite  study  with  increas- 
ing ardour,  till  it  became  at  U  ngth  the  sole  object  of 
liis  attention.  Regardless  of  interest,  he  relinquished 
hj»  profession;  and  having  removed  to  Chemnitz,  he 


AGR 


AGR 


im 


tegan,  at  liis  own  expense,  those  interesting  and  soc- 
cessrul  experiments,  which  so  eminently  advanced  the 
science  of  mineralogy.  He  published  the  result  of  his 
labours  in  several  elegant  treatises,  remarkable  for  the 
ease  and  simplicity  of  their  diction,  and  more  particu- 
larly for  that  vivacity  of  expression,  so  pleasing  in  the 
page  of  experimental  philosophy.  Although  he  had 
lived  for  many  years  among  Lutherans,  he  still  remain- 
ed faithful  to  the  Papal  religion.  In  his  latter  days,  he 
is  said  to  have  attacked  the  Protestants  with  considera- 
ble severity,  which  very  much  exasperated  his  towns- 
men, the  Lutherans ;  and  to  such  an  unreasonable  length 
did  they  carry  this  hatred  against  him,  that  on  his  death, 
ivhich  happened  at  Chemnitz  on  the  21st  November, 
1555,  they  denied  his  bwly  the  last  office  of  humanity, 
and  sufifered  it  to  lie  for  several  days  unburied;  a 
striking  example  of  that  blind  and  superstitious  bigotry, 
which  has  too  frequently  disgraced  the  annals  of  Chris- 
tianity. It  was  at  length  found  necessary  to  remove  it 
to  Zeits,  where  it  received  an  honourable  interment  in 
the  principal  church,     (d) 

AGRICOLA,  John,  a  native  of  Eisleben,  and  remark- 
able as  the  founder  of  Antinomianism,  was  born  on  the 
20th  April,  1492.  He  was  a  friend  and  disciple  of  Lu- 
ther, the  celebrated  German  reformer,  and  attained  to 
considerable  eminence  in  the  Lutheran  church.  Vanity 
anil  ambition  formed  the  leading  features  of  his  charac- 
ter. Although  he  enjoyed  the  dignities  of  minister  and 
principal  of  a  college,  his  aspiring  and  restless  disposi- 
tion did  not  long  permit  him  to  continue  in  this  situa- 
tion. He  quitted  his  country,  and  arrived  at  Wittemberg 
in  1536,  where  hp  was,  in  a  short  time,  promoted  to  the 


office  of  a  professor.  In  matters  of  a  religious  nature, 
he  had  hitherto  appeared  in  the  humble  station  of  a 
follower,  and  was  but  little  known  in  the  world.  Hia 
independent  spirit,  however,  now  began  to  vindicate  its 
freedom ;  and,  instead  of  tamely  submitting  to  publish 
the  sentiments  of  others,  he  ventured  to  think  for  him- 
self, and  to  propagate  his  own  opinions.  While  Luther 
was  representing  the  merits  of  Christ  as  the  only  source 
of  salvation,  and  eagerly  contending  against  thatdoctrine 
of  the  Romish  church,  which  holds  out  heaven  as  the 
reward  of  legal  obedience,  Agricola  extended  his  doc- 
trine still  further,  and,  throwing  aside  the  law,  boldly 
asserted,  that  the  gospel  itself  was  fully  sufficient,  both 
as  a  rule  of  conduct  and  a  mean  of  instruction.  He  con- 
sidered it  as  substituted  in  place  of  the  law,  and  as  com- 
prehending not  merely  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  merits, 
but  also  those  sublime  precepts  of  morality,  which  he 
and  his  apostles  inculcated  as  rules  of  obedience.  The 
chief  fault  of  Agricola  was  the  inaccurate  and  unguard- 
ed manner  in  which  he  expressed  his  doctrine,  and  thus 
rendered  it  capable  of  the  most  dangerous  interpreta- 
tion. Of  this  his  adversaries  took  advantage ;  and  Lu- 
ther, in  particular,  by  his  own  zeal  and  activity,  second- 
ed by  the  authority  of  the  electors  of  Saxony  and  Bran- 
denberg,  compelled  him  at  length  to  renounce  his 
pernicious  system.  This  recantation,  however,  arose 
more  from  the  absolute  necessity  of  Agricola's  circum- 
stances, than  from  any  real  change  in  his  sentiments  ; 
for  these  he  openly  resumed  after  the  death  of  Luther, 
and  gained  proselytes  to  his  doctrine.  He  acquired  great 
reputation  at  Berlin,  where  he  assisted  in  composing 
The  Interim;  and  died  in  1566.  See  Antinomians.  {vj 


AGRICULTURE. 


Agriculture  claims  a  pre-eminence  above  manufac- 
tures and  commerce,  from  its  seniority  and  superior 
usefulness;  and,  to  use  an  expression  of  the  celebrated 
Sully,  may  be  regarded  as  the  breasts  from  which  the 
state  derives  its  support  and  nourishment.  Manufac- 
tures and  commerce  originally  owed  their  existence  to 
agriculture,  and  the  people  employed  in  carrying  them 
on  must  constantly  be  fed  by  tliose  who  are  engaged  in 
the  parent  art.  Agriculture,  therefore,  may  be  consider- 
ed as  of  the  first  importance  to  mankind ;  because  their 
temporal  welfare  and  prosperity  depend  upon  receiving 
a  regular  and  sufficient  supply  of  the  various  articles 
cultivated  by  the  agriculturist. 

In  an  age  like  the  present,  when  the  utility  of  agri- 
culture is  so  fully  recognized,  it  would  be  unnecessary 
to  insist  at  any  length  upon  the  advantages  Aviiich  every 
nation  must  enjoy,  when  that  art  is  sufficiently  under- 
stood, and  skilfully  practised.  The  territory,  possessed 
by  any  people,  is  the  original  property,  or  capital  stock, 
from  which  they  are  supplied,  not  only  with  the  necessa- 
ries, but  also  with  the  comforts  of  life ;  and  in  direct 
proportion  as  their  territory  is  improved,  their  prosperi- 
ty will  be  advanced.  It  is  from  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
that  timber,  cordage,  and  sails  are  procured  for  our 
navy ;  and  that  flax  and  wool,  hides  and  tallow,  madder 
and  other  dye-stuffs,  are  obtained  for  home  and  foreign 
consumption.  If  we  penetrate  into  the  interior  parts  of 
the  earth,  we  find  either  limestone,  marl,  or  other  sub- 
stances for  invigorating  the  surface,  and  rendering  it 
constantly  prolific.    It  u  likewise  from  the  bowels  of 


the  earth,  that  copper,  lead,  tin,  iron,  and  coaI»,  are  pro- 
cured, and  employment  given  to  another  part  of  the 
community.  But  the  remark,  which  of  all  others  de- 
serves attention,  is,  that  it  is  only  by  cultivating  the 
soil,  and  raising  as  large  a  store  of  provisions  as  possi- 
ble, that  labourers,  manufiicturers,  and  artisans,  can  live 
comfortably,  or  proceed  with  spirit  in  their  several  oc- 
cupations. 

The  utility  of  agriculture  is  also  manifest,  from  the 
following  considerations : — In  the  first  place,  where 
agriculture  is  neglected,  population  must  be  scanty, 
because  the  necessaries  of  life  are  wanting ;  and  the; 
great  body  of  the  people  must  be  miserable,  because 
regular  employment  cannot  be  furnished  to  them.  Per- 
haps at  no  period  has  husbandry  been  more  perfectly 
cultivated  in  Great  Britain,  than  at  the  present;  hence 
the  lower  rank  are  better  paid,  better  fed,  better  cloth- 
ed, and  in  every  respect  more  comfortably  situated,  than 
in  former  times.  To  territorial  improvement  may  also 
be  attributed  the  increased  and  increasing  strength  of 
the  British  empire,  and  the  capability  of  sustaining  bur- 
dens, which,  not  twenty  years  ago,  would  have  ruined 
every  description  of  its  inhabitants.  But,  by  the  ex- 
tension of  agricultural  improvement,  by  the  meliorations 
made  on  the  capital  stock  of  the  country,  the  numbers 
of  the  people  have  increased,  manufactures  have  pros- 
pered, and  both  inland  and  foreign  commerce  have  been 
carried  on  with  vigour  and  success. 

In  the  second  place,  were  not  agriculture  carried  on  as 
a  separate  trade,  and  a  quantity  of  provisions  thereby 


206 


AGRICULTURE, 


raised,  which  exceeded  the  wants  of  agriculturists, 
every  other  art  would  not  only  be  at  a  stand,  but  every 
science,  and  every  kind  of  mental  improvement,  would 
be  neglected.  In  the  first  stages  of  civilization,  the  la- 
bour of  each  individual  is  barely  sufficient  to  procure  a 
scanty  and  precarious  subsistence  for  himself;  and  cir- 
cumstances so  adverse,  not  only  form  a  bar  to  the  in- 
tHxIuction  of  other  arts,  but  also  chill  and  render  tor- 
pid every  faculty  of  the  human  mind.  When  these  fa- 
culties are  blunted  by  the  cravings  of  nature,  or  wasted 
by  the  exercise  of  corporeal  employment,  man  discovers 
little  of  those  rational  powers,  by  which  he  is  distinguish- 
ed in  the  more  advanced  stages  of  society.  It  is  only 
in  situations,  where  the  means  of  subsistence  are  am- 
ple, where  the  labour  of  a  certain  part  of  the  communi- 
ty is  sufficient  to  provide  the  necessaries  of  life  for  the 
whole,  and  where  a  considerable  proportion  of  the  re- 
maining population  are  placed  beyond  the  necessity  of 
manual  labour  to  procure  these  necessaries,  that  the 
powers  of  the  mind  develope  themselves,  and  show  what 
man  is  really  capable  of  performing.  Hence,  since  the 
art  of  agriculture  came  to  be  so  well  understood,  and 
subsistence,  of  course,  to  be  secured  to  mankind,  with- 
out the  necessity  of  bodily  labour  from  all,  the  miud  of 
man  has  expanded,  other  arts  and  sciences  have  been 
successfully  cultivated,  and  man,  from  being  not  much 
above  the  irrational  animals,  now  fills  a  dignified  place  in 
the  scale  of  created  beings, 

HiSTOHT. 

Though  agriculture  may  be  considered  as  of  great  an- 
tiquity, and  in  some  respects  as  coeval  with  the  first 
formation  of  society,  yet  materials  are  wanting,  from 
which  a  progressive  history  of  the  art  can  be  composed. 
It  is  probable,  however,  that  mankind,,  in  the  early  ages, 
derived  their  subsistence  from  hunting  in  the  forests, 
and  fishing  in  the  rivers,  and  from  the  milk  and  flesh  of 
such  domestic  animals  as  they  possessed ;  but  how  long 
they  continued  in  this  situation,  it  is  impossible  to  form 
any  conjecture.  From  the  sacred  writings,  however, 
we  learn  that  husbandry  was  understood  by  Noah,  who 
of  course  taught  it  to  his  sons,  by  whom  it  is  likely  the 
art  was  spread  over  the  world.  The  history  of  the  an- 
cientEgyptians  informs  us,  that  they  were  well  acquaint- 
ed with  agriculture  ;  and  perhaps  the  people  of  Italy,  un- 
der the  Roman  government,  understood  all  the  branches 
of  husbandry  much  better,  and  practised  them  more 
successfully,  than  the  present  inhabitants  of  that  coun- 
try. There  is  sufficient  authority  for  maintaining,  that 
an  enlightened  system  of  rural  economy  had  become 
prevalent  during  the  Augustan  age,  and  perhaps  long 
before ;  for  the  Georgics  of  Virgil,  and  the  other  pro- 
ductions of  the  Roman  authors,  show,  that  husbandry 
was  not  only  well  understood  by  the  Romans,  but  cor- 
rectly and  successfully  practised. 

In  Britain,  at  the  period  of  the  Roman  invasion,  there 
is  reason  to  presume,  that  husbandry  was  hardly  known, 
except  in  the  southern  districts ;  and  that,  even  there, 
it  was  very  imperfectly  executed.  But  whatever  might 
be  the  situation  of  Britain  when  invaded  by  the  Romans, 
it  is  certain,  that  the  husbandry  of  the  island,  from  the 
Lands-End  to  the  Frith  of  Forth,  was  greatly  improved 
by  the  Roman  soldiers;  and  that  all  the  grains  that  are 
now  cultivated,  were  then  raised  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent. In  support  of  this  assertion,  could  the  smallest 
doubt  be  entertained  of  its  truth,  we  might  refer  to  the 
immense  quantities  of  grain  exported  from  Britain  when 


in  possession  of  the  Romans,  and  the  ohvions  marks  of 
improvement  left  by  that  celebrated  people  when  they 
quitted  the  island.  The  Roman  conquests,  instead  of 
desolating  the  earth,  as  too  often  has  been  the  case  in 
similar  instances,  ensured  the  improvement  of  every 
country  that  was  subdued ;  and  the  soldiers  of  that  na- 
tion, being  drawn  from  the  plough,  spread  a  knowledge 
of  husbandry  through  every  country  which  came  under 
their  dominion.  To  benefit  mankind,  and  increase  their 
comfort  and  happiness,  seemed  to  be  the  invariable 
wishes  of  the  Roman  commanders.  They  seldom  or 
never  burned  or  laid  waste  the  country  which  they  con- 
quered, but  rather  strained  every  nerve  to  civilize  the 
inhabitants,  and  introduce  the  arts  necessary  for  pro- 
moting their  comfort  and  happiness.  To  facilitate  com- 
munication from  one  district  and  town  to  another,  seems 
to  have  been  a  primary  object  with  the  Romans ;  and 
the  works  of  this  kind,  accomplished  by  them,  are  still- 
discernible  in  numerous  places.  By  employing  their 
troops  in  this  way,  when  not  engaged  in  more  active- 
service,  the  Roman  commanders  seem  to  have  had 
greatly  the  advantage  over  our  modern  generals.  In- 
stead of  sulfering  their  soldiers  to  loiter  in  camps,  or 
riot  in  towns,  and  thus  enervate  their  strength  and  relax 
their  morals,  the  Roman  commanders  kept  their  sol- 
diers regularly  at  work,  and,  what  was  still  better,  at 
work  on  objects  highly  beneficial  to  the  interests  of 
those  whom  they  subjugated. 

When  the  Romans  finally  withdrew  from  Britain,  the 
country  southward  of  the  Frith  of  Forth  had  attained  a 
considerable  degree  of  cultivation  and  improvement; 
but  it  does  not  appear,  that  the  inhabitants  had  acquire*) 
much  of  the  martial  spirit  of  their  former  masters  and 
instructors.  The  progress,  however,  which  was  made, 
was  soon  obstructed,  particularly  in  the  districts  between 
the  two  walls,  in  consequence  of  the  ravages  of  the 
northern  tribes,  then  known  under  the  names  of  the 
Maaeatas  and  the  Caledonians.  These  fierce  plunder- 
ers prevailed  so  far  over  the  unhappy  Britons,  as  to  in- 
duce that  enervated  people  to  invite  the  Saxons  to  their 
assistance,  who,  in  their  turn,  became  masters  of  the 
greatest  part  of  the  island.  Excepting  Wales,  and  the 
western  part  of  Scotland,  then  known  under  the  name 
of  Strath  Cluyid,  the  -whole  island,  south  of  the  Frith  of 
Forth,  continued  in  the  possession  of  Saxons  for  several 
centuries. 

But  the  state  of  South  Britain  was  not  completely 
settled  till  the  Norman  invasion,  when  customs  and  ha- 
bits were  introduced,  which,  to  this  day,  remain  too 
firmly  established,  to  be  removed  without  the  special 
interposition  of  the  legislature.  TohisNonnan  barons, 
William  the  Conqueror  assigned  great  estates  almost  in 
every  country,  as  a  reward  of  their  services;  and  these 
grants  were  afterwards  enlarged,  when  forfeitures  oc- 
curred from  the  rebellion  of  the  ohl  Saxon  possessors. 
The  estates  so  bestowed  were,  by  the  great  barons,  or 
officers,  in  some  measure  divided  among  their  retainers, 
or  dependents,  under  the  burden  of  military  service,  ami 
in  this  way  feudal  tenure  was  introduced,  and  created 
into  a  regular  system. 

Before  the  Conquest,  the  country  situated  befwceu 
the  Forth  and  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  then  known  under 
the  general  name  of  Laudonia,  or  Lothian,  had  been  ac- 
quired by  the  Scottish  nation,  though  afterwards  the 
limits  of  the  two  countries  were  nearly  the  same  as  they 
stood  at  the  memorable  period  of  their  union.  The 
Sa&on  government  was  favourable  to  internal  improve- 


AGRICULTURE. 


207, 


hieirt,  or  rather  it  continued  the  system  introduced  by 
the  Romans ;  but  the  Norman  conquest,  by  introducing 
the  feudal  system,  checked  the  progress  of  cultivation, 
and  contributed  to  the  decline  of  husbandry.  From  the 
Conquest  to  the  days  of  Henry  VIII.  the  practice  of 
agriculture  had  received  little  improvement;  and  as  for 
theoretical,  or  scientific  knowledge,  there  is  not  the 
slightest  vestige  of  any  being  acquired,  or  even  sought 
after,  during  the  long  period  of  five  centuries.  To  the 
taughty  feudal  baron,  who  reigned  in  a  castle,  and  was 
provided  with  an  abundant  supply  of  the  necessaries  of 
life  from  his  extensive  domains,  the  improvement  of  the 
country  was  a  trifling  object ;  and  as  his  dependents  held 
by  military  tenure,  they  considered  husbandry  as  unwor- 
thy of  their  notice.  Hence  agriculture  was  carried  on 
only  by  the  lowest  of  the  people,  and  in  such  hands,  the 
art  necessarily  declined.  The  unhappy  wars  between 
the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster  gave  husbandry  also 
a  severe  shock,  one  half  of  the  country  being  desolated 
and  laid  waste  by  the  contending  factions. 

Sir  Anthony  Fitzherbert,  one  of  the  judges  in  the 
court  of  common  pleas,  was  the  first  i^erson  on  record 
who  attempted  to  enlighten  English  husbandmen,  by 
writing  on  the  art  of  agriculture.  In  1534,  he  published 
a  treatise  called  The  Book  of  Husbandry,  and  another 
in  1 539,  entitled.  The  Book  of  Surveyittg  and  improve- 
ment. The  Book  of  Husbandry  contains  minute  direc- 
tions for  ploughing,  managing,  and  cropping  land,  to- 
gether with  a  full  account  of  the  diseases  whicli  affect 
Lorses  and  other  animals,  and  the  method  of  curing  them. 
The  Book  of  surveying  relates  to  castles,  woods,  parks, 
wills,  and  other  branches  of  properly  ;  and  also  contains 
numerous  advices  concerning  the  best  way  of  improv- 
ing arable  land. 

Sir  Anthony  Fitzherbert,  laying  it  down  as  a  primary 
principle,  that  the  majority  of  husbandmen  live  by  the 
plough,  describes  the  several  implements  generally 
used  in  his  time  for  tilling  the  ground.  He  then  points 
out  the  other  articles  that  belong  to  a  team  of  horses ; 
and  when  speaking  of  carts  and  wagons,  very  properly 
recommends  that  the  wheels  on  which  they  are  mount- 
ed should  be  shoed  or  bound  about  with  iron ;  whence 
it  may  be  inferred,  that  wheels  altogether  composed  of 
wood  were  at  that  time  commonly  used.  It  would  ap- 
pear, that  the  liusbandman,  in  Fitzherbert's  days,  com- 
bined a  knowledge  of  every  profession ;  for  among  the 
appendages  of  a  plough,  we  find  an  axe,  hatchet,  hedge- 
bill,  auger,  flail,  spade,  and  shovel,  particularly  enumerat- 
ed. It  is  also  recommended,  that  young  husbandmen 
should  learn  to  make  their  yokes,  oxbows,  stools,  and  all 
manner  ofgeare,  lest  the  purchase  of  these  articles  should 
be  too  costly  for  them.  Fitzherbert  seems  to  have 
preferred  oxen  above  horses  in  executing  rural  labour, 
though  he  frankly  admits  that  horses  will  go  faster 
than  oxen  on  even  and  light  ground,  and  that  they  are 
quicker  for  all  sorts  of  carriage  work. — "  And  ouer  and 
beside  all  this  boke,"  says  he,  "  I  will  aduise  him  to 
rise  betime  in  the  morning,  according  to  the  verse  be- 
fore spoke  of,  Sanat,  sanctificat,  et  ditat  surgere  nume, 
and  to  go  about  his  closes,  pastures,  fields,  and  spe- 
cially by  the  hedges,  and  to  haue  in  his  jjurse  a  payre 
of  tables,  and  whan  he  seeth  any  thing,  that  wolde  be 
amended,  to  wryte  it  in  his  tables ;  as  if  he  fynde  any 
horses,  mares,  beastes,  shepe,  swyne,  or  geese,  in  his 
pastures,  that  be  not  his  ownc :  and  perauventure 
thoughe  they  be  his  owne,  he  would  not  haue  them  to 
goo  there,  or  to  fynde  a  gap,  or  a  sherde  id  his  hedge,  or 


any  water  standynge  in  his  pastures  uppon  his  grasce, 
wherby  he  may  take  double  burte,  bothe  losse  of  his 
grasse,  and  rotting  of  his  shepe  and  calues.     And  also 
of  standynge  water  in  his  corne  fieldes,  at  the  landes 
endes  or  sydes,  and  howe  he  wold  haue   his  landes 
plowed,  donged,  sturred,  or  sowen;  and  his  corne  wed- 
ed  or  shorne,  or  his  cattell  shifted  out  of  one  pasture 
into  another;  and  to  loke  what  dyching,  quicsettyng,  or 
plashing,  is  necessary  to  be  hacl ;  and  to  ouersee  his 
shepeherd,  how  he  handleth  and  ordreth  his  shepe,  and 
his  seruantes,  howe  they  plowe  and  do  theyr  workcs ; 
or  if  any  gate  be  broken  down,  or  want  any  staues,  and 
go  not  lyghtly  to  open  and  tyne,  and  that  it  do  not  traise, 
and  that  the  windes  blowe  it  not  open,  with  many  mo 
necessary  thyngs  that  are  to  be  loked  upon.     For  a 
man  alwaye   wanderynge   or  going  about  somewhat, 
fyndeth  or  seeth  that  is  amysse,  and  wolde  be  amended. 
And  as  soone  as  he  seeth  any  suche  defautes,  than  let 
hym  take  oute  his  tables,  and  write  the  defautes.     And 
whan  he  commeth  home  to  diner,  supper,  or  at  nyght, 
than  let  hym  call  his  bayly,  or  his  heed  seruant,  and  soo 
shewe   hym  the  defautes,  that  they  may  be   shortly 
amended.     And  whan  it  is  amended,  than  let  him  put  it 
out  of  his  tables.     For  this  used  I  to  doo  x  or  xi  yeres 
and  more ;  and  thus  let  hym  usp  dayely,  and  in  shorte 
space  he  shall  sette  moche  thyngea  in  good  order,  but 
dayely  it  wyll  haue  mendynge.     And  yf  he  canne  not 
wryte,  lette  him  nycke  the  defautes  vppon  a  stycke,  and 
to  shewe  his  bayely,  as  I  sayde  before.     Also  take  hede, 
bothe  erly  and  late,  at  all  tymes,  what  nianer  of  people 
resorte  and  comme  to  thy  house,  and  the  cause  of  ther 
comynge,   and  specially  if    they   brynge   with   thera 
pytchers,  Cannes,  tancardes,  bottelles,  bagges,  walleltes, 
or  bushell  pokes  :  for,  if  thy  seruauntes  he  not  true, 
they  njaye  doo  thee  great  hurte,  and  them  selfe  lyttel 
auauntage  :  wherfore  they  would  be  well  loked  vppon. 
And  he  that  hath  ii  true  seruauntes,  a  man  seruaunle, 
and  an  other  woman  seruaunte,  he  hath  a  great  trea- 
sure; for  a  trewe  seruaunte  wyi   do  justly  hym  self, 
and  if  he  se  his  felowes  do  amysse,  he  wyl  byd  them 
do  no  more  so,  for,  if  they  do,  he  wyll  shewe  his  master 
thereof;  and  if  he  do  not  this,  be  is  not  a  trewe  ser- 
uant." 

An  hundred  years,  however,  elapsed,  after  the  publi- 
cation of  sir  Anthony  Fitzherbert's  book,  before  any 
thing  further  appeared  really  deserving  the  attention  of 
husbandmen.  During  the  commonwealth,  a  period 
favourable  to  genius  and  enterprise,  and  wlien  numbers 
of  persons  appeared  upon  the  stage  of  life,  whose  names 
would  never  have  been  heard  of  had  not  such  a  change 
of  government  occurred,  Walter  BIythe,  Gabriel  Piattes, 
and  other  enlightened  men,  illustrated  the  art  of  hus- 
bandry in  the  most  satisfactory  manner.  Biythe's  writ- 
ings, in  particular,  contain  a  great  deal  of  sound  sense, 
and  not  badly  expressed,  on  almost  every  branch  of 
husbandry.  The  first  part  of  his  Improver  Improved, 
published  1G52,  contains  what  he  calls  six  pieces  of  im- 
provement:  ).  On  floating  and  watering  land;  2.  On 
draining  fen  and  boggy  land,  and  regaining  land  from  the 
sea;  3.  On  such  enclosures  as  prevent  depoj)ulation, 
and  advance  all  interests ;  4.  On  tillage  of  land  kept  too 
long  in  the  grass,  and  pasturing  others  destroyed  with 
ploughing;  5.  Discovery  of  all  sorts  and  composts, 
with  their  nature  and  use ;  6.  On  doubling  the  growth 
of  wood  by  new  plantations. — The  second  part  contaius 
six  newer  pieces  of  improvement :  1.  On  the  husbandry 
of  clover  and  St.  Foyn ;  2,  On  lessening  the  charge  and 


208 


AGRICULTURE. 


burthen  of  the  plongli,  with  divers  fignres  thereof;  3. 
On  planting  wildwoad  and  madder ;  4.  On  planting  hops, 
eaffron,  and  liquorice;  5.  On  planting  of  rape,  coleseed, 
hemp,  and  flax,  and  the  profit  thereof;  6.  On  the  great 
advance  of  land  by  divers  orchard  and  garden  fruits. 
Bating  the  dedication  to  my  Lord  Protector,  and  other 
public  bodies,  the  whole  of  the  Improver  Improved,  (now 
become  a  scarce  book,)  might  be  reprinted  with  mani- 
fest advantage.  Blythe's  principles,  which  are  very 
correct,  will  be  ascertained  by  perusing  the  first  chapter 
of  his  Fourth  Piece  of  Improvement,  wherein  he  directs 
how  to  plough  and  crop  old  pasture  land. 

In  this  chapter,  Mr.  Blythe  shows,  in  forcible  terms, 
the  immense  benefit  which  would  accrue  to  the  country 
from  breaking  up  old  pasture  lands,  and  proves,  in  a 
satisfactory  manner,  that  constant  pasturage  is  highly 
detrimental  to  the  interest  of  proprietors  and  occupiers. 
His  sentiments  are  correct,  and  very  applicable  to  the 
rural  system  of  many  English  counties  at  the  present 
day.  It  applies,  in  fact,  to  the  husbandry  of  all  the  mid- 
land counties,  and,  generally  speaking,  to  the  whole  of 
England,  the  counties  of  Northumberland,  Norfolk, 
Suffolk,  Essex,  and  Kent  excepted.  In  the  last  men- 
tioned counties,  old  pasturage,  except  in  situations  con- 
tiguous to  the  houses  of  gentlemen,  is  not  frequent, 
though  in  a  few  instances,  alternate  husbandry,  or 
changing  from  grass  to  corn,  and  vice  versa,  may  not  be 
regularly  followed. 

Blythe  seems  to  have  entertained  correct  views  of  the 
benefits  accompanying  alternate  husbandry,  and  demon- 
strates, in  strong  language,  the  numerous  advantages  of 
such  a  system.  In  fact,  all  sour,  rushy,  or  clay  soils, 
should  be  frequently  broken  up  by  the  plough,  and  ex- 
posed to  atmospherical  influence.  Grasses  upon  such 
soils  thrive  best  at  first,  and  gradually  fall  off  in  after 
seasons.  To  keep  soils  of  these  descriptions  constantly 
in  grass,  is  therefore  detrimental  to  the  public  interest, 
because  produce  of  every  kind  is  thereby  greatly  lessen- 
ed. Were  such  fields  renovated  by  tillage,  and,  after 
being  cropped  five  or  six  years,  sown  down  with  grass 
seeds,  along  with  a  crop  of  grain  upon  land  that  had  been 
summer  fallowed,  incalculable  advantages  would  follow 
both  to  the  public  and  individuals. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Blythe  appears  to  have  pos- 
sessed just  views  of  the  evils  flowing  from  over  plough- 
ing, or  in  other  words,  from  keeping  land  constantly 
imder  tillage,  a  system  too  prevalent,  even  now,  in  many 
English  counties.  In  his  time,  as  well  as  at  present,  a 
very  large  portion  of  English  soil  was  regularly  subject- 
od  to  the  plough,  and  of  course  was  worn  out  and  ex- 
hausted by  constant  tillage.  A  system  of  this  nature 
has  prevailed  upon  the  open  and  common  lands  of  Eng- 
land since  the  days  of  William  the  Conqueror,  and 
must  remain  in  force  till  some  strong  measure  is  adopted 
by  .the  legislature  of  the  country,  capable  of  putting  an 
end  to  it.  In  short,  the  losses  sustained  from  constant 
pasturage  of  a  great  jiart  of  the  soil,  and  constant  tillage 
of  another  great  part,  were  as  correctly  ascertained  and 
described  by  Blythe  as  by  any  of  our  modern,  and  ap- 
parently more  enlightened,  writers. 

After  the  restoration,  various  improvements  were 
brought  to  England  by  refugees,  who  had  resided  on  the 
continent  during  the  government  of  the  commonwealth. 
It  has  been  generally  understood,  that  sir  Richani  Wes- 
ton, one  of  these  refugees,  introduced  clover ;  but  it  is 
certain  that  this  valuable  variety  of  grass  was  sown  in 
England  before  that  period ;  for  Blythe  treats  both  of  it 


and  St.  Foyn  in  a  systematic  manfier.  It  is  more  likely 
that  turnips  were  then  first  cultivated;  because  Blythe 
does  not  say  a  word  concerning  this  valuable  esculent, 
the  introduction  of  which  occasioned  almost  a  total 
change  in  the  English  agricultural  iiystem  of  treating 
light  soils. 

Before  clover  and  turnips  were  cultivated  on  a  great 
scale,  the  husbandry  of  Britain  was  necessarily  imper- 
fect. The  scourging  crops  much  exceeded  the  melio- 
rating ones ;  of  course  the  j)roduce  of  the  ground  was 
considerably  inferior  in  quantity  to  what  it  is  now,  and  a 
great  loss  was  sustaine<l  by  the  public  from  not  receiving 
through  the  whole  year  a  regular  supply  of  butcher 
meat,  with  which  they  are  now  fortunately  provided. 
Another  circumstance,  which  accompanied  the  old  sys- 
tem, was,  that  light  soils  could  rarely  be  cleaned  without 
suffering  them  to  be  unproductive  for  a  year,  when  they 
were  summer  fallowed  :  whereas  since  turnips  were  in- 
troduced, these  light  soils  are  much  more  effectually 
cleaned  than  formerly,  whilst  a  valuable  crop  is  obtain- 
ed in  the  same  year.  Summer  fallow  has  long  been  ex- 
tensively practised  in  England,  and  at  this  day  jjerhaps 
more  so  than  is  necessary,  especially  upon  common  field 
land,  as  will  be  more  particularly  noticed  in  another 
place.  With  all  fields  held  in  severalty,  the  introduction 
of  clover  and  turnips  has  proved  of  singular  advantage, 
not  only  in  a  private,  but  also  in  a  public  point  of  view. 
A  judicious  rotation  of  cropping  may  therefore  be  exer- 
cised, insomuch  that  one  culmiferous  crop  may  not 
follow  another,  which  could  not  formerly  be  avoided, 
whilst  the  culture  of  leguminous  crops  enriches  the 
soil,  increases  the  stock  of  manure  for  rendering  it  pro- 
ductive, and  furnishes  the  means  of  supplying  the  mar- 
kets with  fat  cattle  and  sheep  through  every  month  of 
the  year. 

The  improvement  of  the  English  rural  system  was 
in  some  degree  promoted  by  tlie  exertions  of  Jethro 
Tull,  an  inventive  genius,  who  possessed  more  imagi- 
nation than  solid  sense  to  direct  it.  By  him  the  drilling 
or  row  system  of  husbandry  was  brought  into  practice ; 
and  so  eager  was  he  in  its  support,  that  he  altogether 
neglected  to  take  into  account  the  impracticability  of 
executing  it  in  numberless  situations.  But  the  strongest 
proof,  that  the  imagination  of  Tull  was  more  brilliant 
than  his  judgment  was  profound,  may  be  gathered  from 
his  hostility  to  manures,  and  from  his  always  substitut- 
ing additional  tillage  in  their  place.  The  doctrines  of 
Tull  were,  however,  like  those  of  every  plausible  theo- 
rist, adopted  by  several  people;  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
are  even  fashionable  at  this  day.  The  utility,  nay,  the 
necessity  of  manures,  is  now  acknowledged  by  every 
person ;  but  his  plan  of  drilling  every  kind  of  grain 
continues  to  be  supported,  though  it  is  demonstrable  that 
this  mode  of  sowing  is  chiefly  applicable  to  leguminous 
crops ;  and  is  only  in  a  few  soils  and  situations  practica- 
ble with  culmiferous  ones. 

The  plan  of  cultivating  the  fields  in  the  same  regular 
manner  which  is  followed  in  garden  husbandry,  is  no 
doubt  very  desirable,  did  circumstances  suffer  it  to  be 
executed  ;  but  we  are  apprehensive  that  physical  impe- 
diments are  in  the  way  of  such  a  plan,  which  will  not 
easily  be  removed.  These  shall  be  noticed  in  the  sec- 
tion where  Drill-Husbandry  is  treated  of. 

Little  further  alteration  in  the  rural  economy  of 
England  occurred,  except  in  the  superior  attention 
bestowed  on  live-stock,  by  Mr.  Bakewell  and  others, 
till  the  establishment  of  (he  national  Board  of  Agri- 


AGRICULTURE. 


209 


Culture,  when  a  general  desire  ^ized  all  ranks  to  pro- 
mote internal  improvements.  Hartlib,  a  century  and 
a  half  before,  and  lord  Karnes,  in  his  Gentleman 
Farmer,  had  pointed  out  the  utility  of  such  an  esta- 
blishment; but  it  was  left  to  sir  John  Sinclair  to 
carry  their  ideas  into  execution.  To  the  unwearied 
endeavours  of  sir  John  are  the  public  indebted  for 
this  admirable  institution,  which  has  certainly  done 
much  good, 'and  may  still  do  a  great  deal  more.  Two 
advantages,  among  many,  may  be  mentioned :  1st,  A 
great  number  of  new  men  were  brought  forvvard  by  the 
Board,  whose  names  otherwise  would  probably  never 
have  been  heard  of;  and  these  being  chiefly  practical 
people,  who  were  professionally  concerned  in  farm- 
management,  agriculture,  by  their  endeavours,  was 
rescued  from  the  hands  of  theorists,  and  a  revolution  of 
no  small  extent  accomplished  in  rural  affairs  :  2dly,  Be- 
fore the  Board  was  instituted,  the  bond  of  connexion 
amongst  agriculturists  was  slender,  and  served  few 
useful  purposes.  Each  trusted  to  his  own  information, 
and  knew  little  more  about  the  practices  of  contermin- 
ous districts,  than  those  of  China  or  the  most  distant 
countries.  The  establishment  of  the  Board  removed  at 
once  all  these  evils  and  difficulties.  A  common  fortress, 
erected  for  the  benefit  of  all  agriculturists,  and  to 
which  each  might  resort  for  advice  and  protection,  was 
immediately  recognized.  It  made  farmers,  who  resided 
in  the  most  distant  quarters  of  the  kingdom,  acquainted 
with  one  another ;  and  caused  a  rapid  dissemination  of 
knowledge  amongst  the  whole  profession.  The  art  of 
agriculture  was  brought  into  fashion  ;  old  practices  were 
amended ;  new  ones  introduced,  and  a  degree  of  exer- 
tion manifested  which  had  never  before  been  exemplified 
in  this  island. 

But  the  numerous  agricultural  surveys,  executed  un- 
der the  authority  of  the  Board,  were  of  singular  advan- 
tage also,  because  they  brought  to  light  the  practice  of 
every  county ;  and,  while  they  pointed  out  the  obstacles 
which  lay  in  the  way  of  improvement,  they  stated  the 
most  effectual  methods  of  removing  them.  The  very 
collision  of  argument  which  such  discussions  occasion- 
ed, incited  agriculturists  to  investigate  the  principles 
of  the  art  which  they  professed,  and  induced  them  to 
search  after  new  channels  of  improvement. 

That  the  first  measure  adopted  by  the  Board,  name- 
ly, a  general  survey  of  the  island,  was  a  useful  one,  has 
been  acknowledged  by  every  person ;  but  doubts  have 
been  entertained  by  many,  concerning  the  utility  of  seve- 
ral subsequent  measures,  which  deserve  some  consi- 
deration. It  has  been  urged,  and  with  some  degree  of 
justice,  that  the  endeavours  of  a  public  Board  should  be 
limited  to  such  objects  as  exceed  the  powers  of  an  indi- 
vidual to  accomplish;  and  that  a  Board,  composed  of 
materials  like  the  present  one,  ought  not  to  interfere 
with  the  minulias  or  practice  of  farming;  but  leave  these 
matters  entirely  to  the  management  or  direction  of  per- 
sons by  whom  the  art  is  exercised.  Under  these  im- 
pressions, it  has  been  stated,  that  the  Board  were  dis- 
charging their  duty,  when  they  recommended  to  par- 
liament a  division  of  common  and  waste  land ;  and,  in 
like  manner,  that  their  efforts  would  constantly  be  of  ad- 
vantage, when  directed  to  a  removal  of  obstructions  to 
improvement,  which  required  legislative  interference. 
A  recommendation  from  a  jiublic  Board  carries  a  weight 
along  with  it,  ensuring  a  degree  of  success  not  to  be 
obtained  by  the  petition  or  complaint  of  one  or  two  in- 
dividuals.    Hence  the  propriety  of  originating,  at  the 

Vol,.  L  Pari  L 


Board  of  Agriculture,  all  laws  and  regulations  influen- 
cing or  operating  upon  rural  economy,  because  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Board  may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  pos- 
sess a  degree  of  knowledge  in  rural  science,  rendering 
them  sufficiently  qualified  to  judge  of,  and  determine 
upon  the  measures  to  be  adopted. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  urged,  that  the 
practice  of  husbandry  ought  not  to  be  included  in  their 
deliberations ;  and  that  every  thing  of  that  kind  may 
safely  be  left  to  professional  people,  who  are  morally 
and  physically  better  qualified  to  investigate  and  ascer- 
tain what  is  right  to  be  executed.  It  has  been  further 
urged,  that  when  a  Board  of  Trade  acted  in  this  coun- 
try, its  measures  were  confined  to  the  great  and  leading 
objects  of  commerce,  without  descending  to  minutia;, 
or  interfering  with  the  business  of  individuals.  In  short, 
it  has  been  supposed  almost  as  preposterous  for  the 
BoanI  of  Agriculture  to  meddle  with  ploughing,  sowing, 
planting  potatoes,  building  cottages,  &.e.  &c.  as  it  would 
have  been  for  the  Board  of  Trade  to  issue  directions  to 
apprentices  concerning  the  best  way  of  folding  and  tj'- 
ing  parcels.  Though  inclined  to  think  that  there  is 
some  weight  in  the  arguments  urged,  we  adhere  to  the 
opinion  already  given,  that  much  good  has  been  done 
by  the  Board,  and  that  a  great  deal  more  may  still  be 
accomplished.  The  scantiness  of  their  funds,  however, 
is  a  reproach  to  the  nation,  and  calls  loudly  for  additional 
aid  to  such  a  meritorious  establishment.  If  the  gene- 
rous spirit  which  animated  the  Persian  kings  had  per- 
vaded our  rulers,  when  the  Board  was  established,  or 
even  had  the  latter  estimated  agriculture  as  of  the  same 
value  as  it  was  appreciated  by  the  former,  a  complaint 
of  this  kind  would  have  been  superfluous.  At  the  an- 
nual festival  in  April  each  year,  in  honour  of  agriculture, 
the  Persian  king  was  in  use  to  address  the  farmers  to 
the  following  effect :  "  I  am  one  of  you.  My  subsistence, 
and  that  of  my  people,  rests  on  the  labour  of  your  hands; 
the  succession  of  the  race  of  man  depends  on  the  plough, 
and  without  you  we  cannot  exist.  But  your  dependence 
upon  me  is  reciprocal.  We  ought  therefore  to  be  bro- 
thers, and  live  in  perpetual  harmony." 

We  now  come  to  this  northern  part  of  the  island, 
where  husbandry  was  long  unknown,  and  still  longer  im- 
perfectly exercised.  There  is  sufficient  evidence,  that 
husbandry  was  introduced  into  Britain  at  the  south-east 
corner,  and  travelled,  by  slow  and  gradual  steps,  to 
other  quarters ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  trace  the  progress  of 
the  art,  or  to  discover  how  far  it  had  advanced  when 
this  island  was  evacuated  by  the  Romans.  When  Seve- 
rus  invaded  Scotland,  A.  D.  207,  we  are  told  "  that  the 
Maaeataj  and  Caledonians,  who  possessed  all  the  island 
beyond  Hadrian's  Wall,  inhabited  barren  uncultivated 
mountains,  or  desert  marshy  plains;  that  they  had  nei- 
ther towns  nor  cultivated  lands,  but  lived  on  the  milk 
and  flesh  of  their  flocks  and  herds,  on  what  they  got  by 
plunder,  or  catched  by  hunting,  and  on  the  fruit  of  trees." 
These  barbarous  nations,  however,  being  obliged  by 
Severus  to  yield  up  a  part  of  their  country  to  the  Ro- 
mans, that  industrious  people,  in  the  course  of  the  third 
century,  built  severtti  towns  and  stations,  constructed 
highways,  cut  down  woods,  drained  marshes,  and  intro- 
duced agriculture  info  the  districts  south  of  the  Frith  of 
Forth,  which  are  generally  well  calculated  for  tillage. 
Though  the  Romans  never  formed  auy  lasting  station 
north  of  the  Forth,  yet  many  of  them  and  of  the  provin- 
cial Britons,  retired  into  Caledonia  at  different  times, 
particularly  about  the  end  of  the  third  century,  to  escape 
D  d 


210 


AGRICULTURE. 


from  the  Dioclesian  persecution.  It  is  probable  these 
refugees  instructed  the  natives ;  and  as  the  eastern  coast 
of  Caledonia  was  also  well  adapted  for  cultivation,  there 
is  little  doubt  but  that  the  Pictish  nation,  who  inhabited 
it,  were  early  initiated  into  the  art  of  agriculture.  Even 
the  Caledonians  of  the  west,  who  in  the  fourth  century 
began  to  be  called  Scots,  were  not  altogether  ignorant  of 
husbandry  in  this  period ;  for  St.  Jerom  reproaches  Ce- 
lestius,  who  was  a  Scotchman,  "  That  his  belly  was 
swelled  or  «Ustended  with  Scots  pottage,  or  hasty-pud- 
ding." This  is  at  least  a  proof,  that  in  the  beginning 
of  the  fifth  century,  the  Scots,  or  western  Caledonians, 
lived  partly  on  oat-meal,  a  kind  of  food  to  which  they 
Jiad  been  absolute  strangers  about  two  hundred  years 
before,  when  invaded  by  the  emperor  Severus. 

Till  the  reign  of  Malcolm  Canmore,  in  the  eleventh 
century,  the  |)rogre9s  of  husbandry  was  very  slow;  but 
during  his  reign,  a  greater  degree  of  attention  was  paid 
to  the  cultivation  of  the  country.  This  increased  atten- 
tion arose  from  the  number  of  Anglo-Saxons  who  mi- 
grated at  that  time  into  Scotland,  by  whose  endeavours 
the  face  of  the  country  was  changed  from  that  of  a  bar- 
ren wilderness,  to  that  of  a  well-regulated  and  cultivated 
territory.  During  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries, 
the  lowlands  of  Scotland  were  improved  considerably, 
and  their  inhabitants  were  prosperous  and  happy.  As 
a  proof  of  their  internal  prosperity,  it  was  in  these  cen- 
turies that  all  the  religious  houses  were  erected ;  and  it 
is  plain,  that  before  any  nationcan  be  munificently  pious, 
it  must  be  flourishing  and  rich.  In  these  periods  the 
greiitest  part  of  our  modern  towns  and  villages  were 
also  built;  and  it  was  then  that  the  people  began  to  be 
civilized,  and  society  to  assume  something  of  its  present 
shape.  Circumstances,  however,  soon  occurred,  which 
blasted,  and  in  a  manner  destroyed,  all  these  fair  pros- 
pects; and  Scotland,  from  continuing  flourishing  and 
prosperous,  was  so  comi)letely  wasted  by  civil  broils 
and  foreign  wars,  that  the  efforts  of  the  people  during 
the  four  succeeding  centuries,  were  scarcely  sufficient  to 
restore  matters  to  their  former  footing. 

These  civil  broils  originated  in  a  contested  succession 
to  the  crown,  wherein  the  parties  in  the  first  instance 
were  nearly  matched;  but  afterwards,  by  the  interference 
of  Edward  of  England,  the  scale  was  turned,  and,  as 
generally  happens  in  such  cases,  the  country  was  brought 
under  the  dominion  of  a  foreign  invader.  The  death  of 
Alexander  III.  in  1286,  was  the  source  of  all  these  evils. 
It  occasioned  a  contest  concerning  the  succession  be- 
tween John  Baliol  and  Robert  Bruce,  which  almost 
ruined  Scotland,  and  ultimately  brought  destruction 
upon  the  followers  of  Baliol,  and  those  who  adhered  to 
Edward  of  England,  who  claimed  the  sovereignty  as  lord 
paramount  of  the  country.  This  contest,  which  lasted 
for  many  years,  stO|)ped  the  growing  prosperity  of  the 
country,  occasioned  the  towns  and  villages  to  he  de- 
stroyed, turned  the  people's  attention  from  internal  im- 
provement to  resisting  external  attacks,  and  rendered 
them  as  barbarous  and  uncivilized  as  they  were  before 
the  days  of  Malcolm  Canmore.  The  baneful  conse- 
quences which  flowed  from  a  disputed  succession,  were 
hardly  overcome,  when  England  and  Scotland  were 
iiniied  under  the  government  of  one  sovereign;  nor  did 
they  altogether  disappear  till  the  middle  of  the  1 8th  cen- 
tury. Before  that  time  the  internal  improvement  of  the 
country  was  neglected  and  overlooked,  whilst  the  great 
bulk  of  the  inhabitants  continued  in  an  abject  and  mise- 
rtble  gtate,  imperfectly  fed,  destitute  of  other  comforts, 


without  the  means  of  hnprdvement,  and  altogether  in  a 
situation  which  can  hardly  be  described  even  at  the  pre- 
sent moment,  when  all  these  circumstances  are  complete- 
ly reversed. 

Without  insisting  upon  these  points,  it  may  only  be  ad- 
ded, that  the  large  armies  brought  into  the  field  by  the 
partizans  of  Baliol  and  Bruce,  chiefly  drawn  Irom  the 
low-country  districts,  furnish  incontestible  |)roof,  that 
the  population  of  the  country  was  at  that  time  numerous. 
Now,  as  population  and  food  must  always  go  hiind  in 
hand,  or,  speaking  more  correctly,  food  must  alwa3's 
precede  population ;  a  sure  evidence  of  agricultural  pros- 
perity at  the  end  of  the  13th  century  is  thence  furnished. 
Indeed,  independent  of  abstract  reasoning,  we  have  con- 
clusive proof  of  the  flourishing  state  of  agriculture  in 
Scotland  from  other  sources.  According  to  Heraing- 
ford,  a  writer  of  no  mean  authority,  it  appears  that  the 
English  army,  when  besieging  the  castle  of  Dirleton,  in 
East  Lothian,  A.  D.  1299,  subsisted  upon  the  pease  and 
beans  growing  in  the  adjoining  fields.  Every  agricul- 
turist knows  well,  that  these  grains  cannot  be  success- 
fully cultivated,  till  husbandry  has  reached  a  pretty  ad- 
vanced state ;  and  therefore  it  may  be  presumed,  that  the 
agriculture  of  the  <listrict  alluded  to,  was  at  that  period 
very  much  improved.  But  another  circumstance,  still 
more  decisive,  may  be  gleaned  from  the  wardrobe  ac- 
count of  Edward  I. ;  wherein  it  appears,  that  when  that 
monarch  invaded  Galloway  in  1300,  he  purchased  and 
exported  from  Kirkcudbright  to  Whitehaven,  and  other 
parts  of  Cumberland,  greater  quantities  of  wheat  than 
perhaps  the  modern  agriculture  of  that  province  could 
supply  at  the  present  d;.y. 

But  the  most  precise  and  correct  account  of  Scottish 
agriculture,  during  the  Anglo-Saxon  government,  or 
from  the  reign  of  Edgar,  who  mounted  the  throne  in 
1097,  to  the  decease  of  Alexander  III.  1286,  may  be 
found  in  Mr.  Chalmers' Caledonia,  recently  published, 
wherein  the  most  diligent  research  is  displayed,  and 
every  statement  supported  by  respectable  authorities. 
The  authorities  cited  by  Mr.  Chalmers  are  numerous 
and  decisive.  Without  trusting  to  former  writers,  who 
rarely  took  the  trouble  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  what 
was  asserted,  this  gentleman  sedulously  consulted  the 
ancient  records,  both  of  public  liodies  and  private  indi- 
viduals, and  has  thereby  thrown  a  light  upon  the  ancient 
history  of  this  country,  sufficiently  bright  to  illuminate 
the  dark  periods  which  he  treated  of,  and  enlighten  the 
peo|)le  of  the  |)resent  day,  resi)ecting  the  former  state  of 
their  native  country,  and  the  progress  of  agriculture^ 
and  other  useful  arts. 

According  to  Mr.  Chalmers,  agriculture,  during  the 
period  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  dynasty,  was  the  universal 
object  of  pursuit,  from  the  prince  to  the  peasant.  The 
king  possessed  manors  in  every  shire,  and  managed  and. 
cultivated  them  by  thanes,  or  baililfs.  The  nobles  fol- 
lowed the  king's  example,  and  had  many  manors  in  their 
proper  demesne.  The  bishops  and  abbots  emulated  the 
nobles,  in  the  extent  of  their  possessions,  and  the  great- 
ness of  their  husbandry  establishments;  and  next  to  the 
kings,  they  may  be  considered  as  the  greatest  farmers 
of  these  times.  At  that  period,  wool  and  skins  were 
the  only  articles  of  foreign  traffic,  the  export  commodi- 
ties of  Scotland,  as  happens  with  every  country  in  a  state 
of  commercial  infancy,  being  confined  within  a  very  li- 
mited sphere. 

At  the  period  under  consideration,  the  great  body  of 
cultivators  were  bonilmep  and  vilayns,  rather  than  free- 


AGBICULTTJRE, 


211 


men  and  farmew,  not  Laving  any  property  of  their  own. 
But  many  free  tenants  were  also  settled  in  the  agricul- 
tural villages,  who  paid  services  to  their  lords;  and  many 
cottars,  who,  besides  helping  to  cultivate  the  ground, 
followed  some  domestic  trade,  and  yielded  much  assist- 
ance to  their  superiors.  When  the  kings  and  barons, 
the  bishops  and  abbots,  began  to  emanci|)ate  their  men, 
leases  were  first  granted,  not  only  of  the  land  itself,  but 
also  of  the  stock  employed  in  its  cultivation.  The  stock, 
which  thus  accommodated  both  parties,  was  called  the 
Steelbotv  ;  in  other  words,  it  was  a  stock  which  was  to 
be  restored  to  the  proprietor  at  a  future  period,  in  the 
same  value  and  condition  as  when  it  was  leased.  It  is 
understood,  that  William  the  Lion,  and  Alexander  II. 
made  various  regulations  for  promoting  agriculture,  and 
securing  the  rights  of  those  employed  in  carrying  it  on; 
but  of  these  matters  it  is  difficult  to  speak  with  any  pre- 
cision. It  has  been  asserted  with  more  confidence  than 
knowledge,  that  Scotlaud  was  formerly  wholly  naked, 
and  destitute  of  woods ;  whereas  there  is  every  sort  of 
proof,  that  nearly  the  whole  of  the  country,  in  ancient 
times,  was  covered  with  timber  trees.  The  numerous 
mosses  of  Scotland  were  originally  so  many  wowls, 
wliich  is  evident  from  the  number  of  trees  dug  up  in 
them,  and  from  other  circumstances  handed  down  both 
by  traditionary  and  written  authority.  The  black  and 
barren  moors,  which  now  disfigure  the  face  of  the  coun- 
try, were  formerly  clothed  with  woods,  and  furnished 
useful  timber,  and  excellent  pasturage.  Oak  appears, 
in  those  times,  to  have  been  tlie  wood  of  most  general 
use.  The  bridges,  the  castles,  the  churches,  and  the 
towns,  were  built  with  this  sort  of  timber.  The  waste 
made  in  the  course  of  different  wars,  added  to  the  quan- 
tity used  for  domestic  purposes,  lessened  the  extent  of 
wowl-land ;  and  as  no  steps  were  taken  to  supply  the 
vacancies  which  daily  occurred,  the  whole,or  nearly  the 
whole,  was,  in  the  course  of  time,  consumed  and  ex- 
hausted. There  are,  in  the  old  maps  of  Scotland,  many 
names  of  places  derived  from  woods,  of  which  the 
slightest  trace  or  information  cannot  now  be  gained.  In 
the  chartularies,  numerous  notices  of  forests  we  given 
in  counties  where  a  single  tree  is  not  now  to  be  seen. 

The  lawless  habits  which  too  generally  prevailed  dur- 
ing the  Anglo-Saxon  dynasty,  made  it  necessary  for  the 
people  to  live  in  collected  bodies;  in  villages  and  ham- 
Jets,  rather  than  in  farms,  so  that  their  mutual  comfort 
and  security  might  be  preserved.  To  each  of  these  vil- 
lages was  annexed  a  district  of  land,  which  was  cultivat- 
ed by  husbandmen  and  their  cottagers,  in  different  pro- 
portions. The  pasture-liinds,  ^md  the  wood-lnnds,  were 
enjoyed  in  common ;  each  of  the  villagers  having  a  right 
of  pasturrige  for  a  certain  number  of  domestic  animals, 
according  to  the  extent  of  arable  land  possessed  within 
fJie  territory.  These  villages  were  of  different  sizes, 
according  to  the  size  of  the  est:ite  upon  wliich  they  were 
situated,  and  the  fertility  of  the  adjoining  lauds.  Some 
of  them  had  a  church,  others  a  mill,  and  all  of  them  had 
jnalt-kilns  and  brew-houses,  as  may  be  distinctly  ob- 
served from  a  perusal  ot  the  aucieut  chartularies. 

Whatever  disadvantages  attended  the  practice  of 
sgrieujture  in  those  dnys,  husbandmen  enjoyed  many 
benefits,  which  farmers  at  this  time  cannot  expect  to  pos- 
sess. The  vast  wood-lands,  which  skirled  arable  ground 
on  all  sides,  gave  a  shelter  to  the  corn  crops  that  greatly 
promoted  their  growth,  and  augmented  their  iwoduee. 
While  the  wood-lands  served  to  dhellt-r  the  couii'Lry, 
■they  also  furnished  pasturage  for  oumerotis  herds  of 


cattle,  and  of  course  rendered  the  condition  of  husband- 
men comfortable  and  advantageous.  In  fact,  the  wood- 
land not  only  contributed  to  increase  the  produce  of  ara- 
ble ground,  but  also  to  rear  and  maintain  a  larger  num- 
ber of  swine,  cattle,  and  horses,  than  will  easily  be  be- 
lieved under  the  prejudices  of  modern  times. 

Scotland  at  that  time  produced  all  the  kinds  of  grain 
cultivated  in  the  present  day,  though,  perhaiis,  in  differ- 
ent proportions  than  those  which  are  supplied  by  modern 
husbandry.  Oats  were  cultivated  in  a  much  greater, 
and  barley  in  a  much  smaller  proportion  than  at  present. 
Oats  were  chiefly  used  by  the  lower  orders,  furnishing 
both  meat  and  drink  to  them.  Much  of  this  grain  was 
malted  and  afterwards  brewed,  as  was  also  part  of  the 
barley.  The  consumption  of  ale  was  immense,  as  may 
be  seen  from  the  number  of  malting  and  brewing  houses 
in  every  part  of  the  country.  Wheat  was  also  cultivated 
to  a  great  extent  in  all  the  south  and  east  counties; 
even  in  Galloway,  as  already  noticed,  this  grain  appears 
to  have  been  raised  in  considerable  quantities.  Pease 
and  beans  were  only  raised  in  particular  situations.  Be- 
sides corn,  little  else  was  produced  in  the  fields.  Lint 
was  certainly  cultivated  at  the  time  we  are  treating  of, 
because  it  is  known  to  have  paid  tythe  in  the  twelfth 
century.  Though  artificial  grasses  were  not  then  intro- 
duced, yet  the  natural  meadows  and  forests  supplied 
much  grass  for  making  hay,  as  we  learn  from  the  char- 
tularies. 

In  the  early  ages  of  Scottish  history,  cheese  was  an 
article  manufactured  in  great  abundance ;  and  as  the 
lieople  lived  much  on  animal  food,  the  herds  of  black 
cattle  were  consumed  at  home,  while  their  hides  formed 
a  considerable  article  of  export  to  foreign  countries. 
Sheep  were  then  numerous  in  every  district,  and  wool 
and  skins  were  great  objects  of  agricultural  revenue. 
Goats  were  also  kept  in  many  places,  and  swine  were 
reareil  in  great  numbers  by  every  husbandman,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest.  Poultry  also  was  an  object  of  at- 
tention  Under  Malcolm  IV.  the  monks  of  Scone  re- 
ceived from  every  plough-land  which  belonged  to  them, 
no  fewer  than  ten  hens  at  the  feast  of  All  Saints, — a 
burden  which  at  this  time  would  be  considered  as  in- 
tolerably oppressive  by  any  husbandman. 

Many  of  our  readers  may  be  desirous  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  value  of  land,  at  the  jieriod  we  are  treating 
of.  During  the  reign  of  Alexander  II,  a  meadow  at 
Farningdun,  containing  nine  acres,  was  sold  by  Richard 
Bnrnard,  to  the  monks  at  Melrose,  for  thirty-five  marks. 
In  1223,  Adam  de  Sfowel  sold  to  Ermengard,  the  queen- 
dowager,  the  lands  of  Balmerinoch,  Ardin,  and  Cultruth, 
for  one  thousand  merks,  li'g:il  sterlings.  From  these 
instances  it  may  be  inferred,  that  land  was  plenty,  and 
money  scarce.  The  ordinary  circulating  medium  be- 
twixt buyers  and  sellers,  was  then  little  known  in  Scot- 
land, the  greatest  part  of  trade  being  carried  on  by  bar- 
ter, as  has  uniformly  taken  place  in  every  nation,  before 
trade  and  manufactures  are  introduced. 

In  these  early  ages,  the  dwellings  of  the  Scottish  peo- 
ple were  both  mean  and  inconvenient.  The  kings,  no 
bles,  and  bishops,  dwelt  in  castles,  built  with  a  view  to 
the  protection  of  tliose  who  resided  in  them  ;  while  the 
lesser  barons  lived  in  square  towers,  constructed  more 
for  defence  than  comfort.  The  hovels  of  the  lower 
ranks  were  generally  slight  erections  of  twigs  or  turfi 
and  may  be  considered  merely  as  temporary  accommo- 
d.itions,  seeing  that  they  were  so  frequently  laid  wjste 
and  destrored  by  foreign  war  and  intestine  divislons- 
Dd2 


212 


AGRICULTURE. 


Even  houses  in  towns  were  chiefly  huilt  with  wood ; 
hence  followed  the  dreadful  devaslations  iu  those  peri- 
ods. The  cathedrals  and  abbeys,  however,  were  struc- 
tures of  great  labour  and  expense,  as  may  be  perceived 
on  contemplating  their  ruins.  The  strong-holds  built  in 
Scotland  by  the  Anglo-Normans  and  Flemings,  were  so 
firmly  cemented  with  lime,  as  to  appear  in  many  instances 
like  solid  rocks.  Indeed  it  is  often  easier  to  dig  stones 
in  a  quarry,  than  to  procure  them  from  these  ancient 
buildings ;  hence  many  of  them  have  been  suffered  to 
remain  monuments  of  past  greatness,  which  would  have 
been  demolished  and  taken  down,  had  not  the  expense 
of  the  task  exceeded  the  value  of  the  materials  which 
would  have  been  acquired  from  their  destruclion. 

The  towns  gradually  increased  in  their  population  and 
Irade  durins  the  Scoto-Saxon  period.  A  comparison 
betwixt  their  state  and  condition  in  the  twelfth  century 
on  the  one  hand,  and  in  the  fifteenth  on  the  other,  would 
evince  their  gradual  progress.  In  the  twelfth  century, 
the  revenue  drawn  from  the  towns  was  inconsiderable ; 
but  during  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  many 
annuities  and  pensions  were  granted  by  the  Scottish 
kings  to  their  children  and  favourites,  out  of  the  mails 
of  the  burghs,  and  custom  of  their  parts,  both  of  which 
had  greatly  increased  during  these  ages,  notwithstand- 
ing that  adversity  and  happiness  alternately  prevailed. 
The  towns,  however,  even  in  the  fifteenth  century,  were 
but  hamlets  compared  with  those  of  the  present  times, 
when  industry  has  invigorated  and  enriched  the  inhabit- 
ants, and  stimulated  all  ranks  to  provide  more  comfort- 
able accommodation. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  though  the  people,  generally 
speaking,  were  but  indifferently  lodged,  yet  they  were 
upon  the  whole  well  fed,  except  in  those  years  of  dearth 
and  famine,  which  so  often  recurred  in  ancient  times. 
In  the  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  centuries,  the 
lower  classes  enjoyed  a  larger  proportion  of  animal  food 
than  they  do  at  present ;  whilst  their  chief  beverage  was 
beer  and  ale,  brewed  from  the  malt  of  oats.  In  these 
times,  cattle,  sheep,  swine,  and  poultry,  were  raised  in 
abundance,  and  mostly  consumed  at  home ;  whereas  in 
our  day,  from  the  increase  of  population,  these  articles 
are  chiefly  consumed  in  towns,  modern  prices  exceeding 
the  means  of  purchase  in  the  hands  of  tlie  country  la- 
bourer. The  quantify  of  malt  ground  at  the  mills,  and 
the  number  of  breweries  in  every  part  of  the  country, 
attest  the  great  quantities  of  ale  made  and  consumed. 
None  of  the  malt  was  manufactured  into  ardent  spirits ; 
but  ale-houses  in  the  different  villages  were  so  early  as 
the  reign  of  llavid  I.  under  the  regulation  of  assize, 
which  is  an  evidence,  that  their  numbers  were  great, 
and  that  the  consumption  of  ale  was  extensive  in  these 
primitive  periods. 

During  the  Scoto-Saxon  period,  the  kings  were  the 
greatest  improvers  of  land,  and  afforded  everj"^  degree 
of  encouragement  to  those  who  forwarded  the  rural  im- 
provement of  the  country.  This  is  attested  by  the  char- 
tularies.  The  barons  partially  followed  their  example, 
but  the  monks  were  the  most  skilful  and  diligent  im- 
provers. Being  mostly  bronght  from  England,  and 
other  countries,  they  possessed  more  knowledge  of  rural 
matters  than  the  native  inhabitants,  and  having  greater 
capital,  and  enjoying  more  quiet,  they  were  naturally 
better  fitted  and  disposed  for  agricultural  exertions. 
They  brought  waste  lands  into  an  arable  state,  subdued 
wood-lands,  made  enclosures,  and  |>raclised  drainage, — 
iinproveiu«uts  much  wanted  in  the  then  state  of  the 


countrj-.  Possessing  the  teind,  or  tenth  sheaf  of  the 
crop  in  many  cases,  the  quantity  of  manure  made  on 
their  lands  was  necessarily  increased,  and  this  increase 
of  itself,  independent  of  the  knowledge  and  capital  which 
they  undoubtedly  [jossessed,  was  sufficient  to  bring  about 
a  material  change  in  the  value  of  all  lands,  held  by  the 
regular  and  irregular  clergy  of  Scotland,  at  the  period 
under  consideration. 

From  what  we  have  stated,  it  may  be  inferred,  that 
the  rural  economy  of  Scotland,  at  the  end  of  the  13th 
century,  was  in  a  rapid  state  of  improvement,  especially 
in  the  low  country  districts  to  the  south  of  the  river 
Forth.  It  must,  however,  be  remarked,  that  little  of  that 
improvement  was  owing  to  the  Celtic  natives,  nearly  the 
wole  of  it  being  attributable  to  those  foreigners  intro- 
duced by  the  Scoto-Saxon  kings.  From  the  reign  of 
Edgar  to  the  conclusion  of  the  Saxon  dynasty,  nume- 
rous bodies  of  Anglo-Saxons,  Anglo-Normans,  and  Fle- 
mings, settled  in  Scotland,  and  from  the  generosity  of 
the  several  monarchs,  acquired  vast  possessions  iu  many 
districts.  Edgar,  the  first  of  the  Saxon  dynasty,  forced 
his  way  to  the  throne  by  the  decisive  aid  of  an  English 
army,  and  afterwards  gradually  brought  in  a  new  people, 
whose  polity  was  widely  different  from  that  of  the  abo- 
riginal inhabitants.  Alexander  I.  who  married  an  Eng- 
lish princess,  likewise  encouraged  settlers  of  that  na- 
tion; but  the  reign  of  David  I.  was  most  propitious  to 
adventurers  from  foreign  countries.  That  prince,  hav- 
ing married  an  English  countess,  who  had  numerous 
vassals,  was  attended  to  the  throne,  in  1124,  by  a  thou- 
sand Anglo-Normans,  to  whom  he  distributed  extensive 
landed  possessions,  and  otherwise  afforded  protection 
and  encouragement. 

Numerous  colonies  of  Flemings  also  settled  in  Scot- 
land, and  from  this  stock  several  of  the  first  families  of 
the  country  have  sijmng.  The  Celtic  people  had  their 
hamlets,  to  which  tl.ey  gave  descriptive  names  in  their 
own  language  ;  but  when  the  Anglo-Normans  were  in- 
troduced, their  first  object  was  to  build  a  strong-hold  or 
castle,  around  which  the  followers  of  the  chief  settled, 
and  thus  formed  a  village,  and  in  some  cases  a  town ;  in 
which  practice  they  were  much  encouraged  by  the  seve- 
ral sovereigns,  who  wished  to  bridle  and  restrain  the 
ferocity  of  the  natives.  The  policy  of  the  Scotch  kings, 
during  the  Saxon  dynasty,  promptetl  the  building  of  cas- 
tles in  every  place  where  a  convenient  site  occurred;  and 
it  was  under  the  protection  of  these  strong-holds,  that 
towns  arose,  and  industry  began  her  career.  Such  a 
system  of  policy,  however,  was  viewed  by  the  aborigines 
with  indignation.  Insurrections  were  often  raised,  and 
attempts  made  to  burn  and  destroy  the  towns  that  were 
erected,  and  to  lay  waste  the  lands  which  belonged  to 
the  inhabitants.  After  the  capture  of  king  William,  in 
1174,  when  anarchy  prevailed  for  some  time,  the  new 
settlers  fled  to  the  king's  castles  for  shelter;  and  such 
had  been  the  progress  of  colonization,  that  the  towns 
and  boroughs  of  Scotland  were,  at  that  period,  chiefly 
inhabited  by  foreigners. 

A  policy  of  a  different  kind,  but  equally  beneficial, 
contributed  much  to  the  improvement  of  the  country. 
The  erection  of  such  a  number  of  religious  houses,  in 
the  twelfth  centurj-,  was  attended  with  salutary  effects; 
because  the  monks  were  drawn  from  England  and  fo- 
reign countries,  and  of  course  brought  along  with  them 
the  arts  exercised  in  these  countries,  to  the  great  bene- 
fit of  the  kingdom  in  which  they  are  now  settled.  These 
ecclesiastics  had  their  dependents,  to  whom  they  grant- 


AGRICULTUKE. 


213 


ed  parcels  of  \&i\A  on  the  condition  of  service ;  and  it 
must  be  confessed,  that  tlie  church  lands  were  the  first 
that  were  improved,  and  in  such  a  substantial  way,  that 
miiny  of  them  to  this  day  continue  to  yield  more  produc- 
tive crops  than  the  lands  then  in  the  hands  of  the  barons, 
though  at  first  sight  there  may  appear  no  difference  in 
their  natural  value.  The  monks  l)rought  along  with 
them  many  craftsmen  or  artisans  from  foreign  coun- 
tries, and  in  this  way  the  settling  of  every  religious 
house  may  he  considered  as  the  plantation  of  a  new  co- 
lony of  tlie  Teutonic  race,  amidst  the  Celtic  inhabitants 
of  North  Britain. 

The  Succession  War  gave  a  shock  to  the  prosperity 
of  Scotland,  from  which  it  had  not  altogether  recover- 
ed, when  the  whole  island  was  incorporated  under  one 
government.  Were  there  the  smallest  doubt  respect- 
ing the  consequence  of  the  wars,  which,  with  short  in- 
termissions, prevailed  from  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  to 
the  middle  of  the  fourtef  nth  century,  it  might  be  re- 
moved by  a  reference  to  the  two  valuations,  called  the 
Old  and  New  Extent,  in  which  full  evidence  is  disclosed 
concerning  the  deterioration  or  waste  which  had  taken 
place  in  North  Britain.  The  old  extent,  taken  in  the 
reign  of  William  the  Lion,  is  nearly  double  the  sum 
returned  under  the  new  extent  made  up  in  I3G9,  after 
the  capture  of  David  Bruce.  But  this  difference  of  va- 
lue will  excite  no  surprise,  when  it  is  considered  that 
the  business  of  the  inhabitants  had  been  chiefly  restrict- 
ed to  fighting  and  destroying  one  another,  and  to  burn- 
ing and  |)lundering,  instead  of  meliorating  and  enriching 
the  country.  The  same  conduct  repeated  in  our  day 
would  lend  to  similar  consequences;  for  internal  im- 
provement is  incompatible  with  a  state  of  warfare.  Pew 
countries  of  Europe  were  more  jirosperous  and  happy 
than  Scotland  at  the  death  of  Alexander  III.  and  few 
have  suffered  more  calamities  than  devolved  on  that 
kingdom  by  bis  premature  decease.  The  loug  and  inve- 
terate hostilities  which  followed,  wasted  the  opulence 
of  the  country,  and  entailed  a  degree  of  penury  on  its 
iidiahitants,  which  has  only  of  late  been  completely  sur- 
mounted. 

During  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  rural 
economy  continued  to  languish,  especially  upon  the 
estates  of  the  barons,  where  the  profession  of  a  soldier 
was  regarded  as  of  greater  importance  than  that  of  a 
cultivator  of  the  ground ;  but  the  ecclesiaslical  lands 
were  considerably  improved,  and  the  tenants  of  them 
were  generally  much  more  comfortable  and  hapjiy  than 
those  upon  the  estates  of  laymen.  The  reformation  of 
religion,  beneficent  as  it  was  in  other  respects,  rather 
checked  than  promoted  agricultural  improvement;  be- 
cause the  change  of  property,  which  then  occurred,  oc- 
casioned a  similar  change  of  tenantry,  and  almost  took 
husbandry  out  of  the  hands  of  the  only  class  of  people 
by  whom  it  was  practised  upon  correct  principles.  The 
dissolution  of  the  monasteries  and  other  religious  houses, 
was  also  attended  by  religious  consequences  in  the  first 
instance;  though  latterly  the  greatest  benefit  has  been 
derived  from  tythes  and  church  lands  having  come  into 
the  hands  of  laymen.  It  is  probable,  had  not  these  cir- 
cumstances occurred,  that  the  tythe  system  would  have 
still  remained  in  force,  and  Scottish  husbandry  have 
continued  under  a  burden,  which  sinks  and  oppresses 
the  cultivator  of  the  sister  country.  But  tythes  having 
got  into  the  hands  of  lay  titulars,  or  impropriators,  were 
in  general  collected  or  farmed  with  such  severity  as  to 
occasion  the  most  grievous  complaints,  not  only  from 


the  tenantry,  but  also  from  the  numerous  class  of  pro- 
prietors, who  had  not  been  so  fortunate  as  to  procure 
a  share  of  the  general  spoil.  This,  added  to  the  desire 
shown  by  the  crown,  to  resume  the  grants  made  when 
its  power  was  comparatively  feeble,  occasioned  the 
celebrated  submission  to  Charles  I.  which  ended  in  a 
settlement,  that  in  modern  times  has  proved  highly  bene- 
ficial, not  only  to  the  interest  of  proprietors,  but  like- 
wise to  the  improvement  of  the  nation.  Tythes  in  fact 
are  a  burden,  which  to  all  intents  and  purposes  operate 
as  a  tax  upon  industry,  though  it  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore the  beneficial  consequences  of  withdrawing  them 
were  fully  understood,  or  even  discerned  in  thig  coun- 
try. 

The  accession  of  James  to  the  crown  of  England,  is 
understood  to  have  been  unfavourable  to  the  agricultural 
interest  of  Scotland  ;  inasmuch  as  the  nobles  and  gentry 
being  by  that  event  led  into  great  expenses,  raised  the 
rents  of  the  tenantry  considerably,  whilst  the  very  cir- 
cumstance which  occasioned  the  rise,  contributed  to 
lessen  the  means  of  the  tenant  for  fulfilling  his  engage- 
ments. Scotland,  however,  was  much  benefited  by  the 
soldiers  of  Cromwell,  who  were  chiefly  English  yeomen, 
not  only  well  acquainted  with  husbandry,  but,  like  the 
Romans  at  a  former  period,  studious  also  to  improve  and 
enlighten  the  nation  which  they  had  subdued.  The 
soldiers  of  Cromwell's  army  were  regularly  paid  at  the 
rate  of  8d.  per  day,  a  sum  equal  at  least  to  the  money 
value  of  two  shillings  our  currency ;  and  as  this  army 
lay  in  Scotland  for  many  years,  there  was  a  great  circu- 
lation of  money  through  the  country.  Perhaps  the  low 
country  districts  were  at  that  time  in  a  higher  state  of 
improvement  than  at  any  period  since  the  demise  of 
Alexander  III.  The  improvement  then  introduced,  does 
not  altogether  rest  upon  conjecture,  but  is  supported  by 
many  facts.  In  the  counties  of  Lanark,  Renfrew,  Ayr, 
and  Kirkcudbright,  the  rentals  of  various  estates  were 
greater  in  1 6G0  than  they  were  70  years  afterwards ;  and 
the  causes  which  brought  about  a  declension  in  value 
are  ascertained  without  difficulty.  The  large  fines  ex- 
acted from  country  gentlemen  and  tenants  in  these  coun- 
ties, during  the  reigns  of  Charies  II.  and  his  brother 
James,  were  almost  sufficient  to  impoverish  both  proprie- 
tors and  cultivators,  had  they  even  been  as  wealthy  as 
they  are  at  the  present  day.  In  addition  to  those  fines, 
the  dreadfid  imprisonments,  and  otiier  oppressive  mea- 
sures pursued  by  those  in  power,  equally  contrary  to 
sound  policy  and  to  justice  and  humanity,  desolated 
large  tracts,  drove  the  oppressed  gentry,  and  many  of 
their  wealthy  tenants,  into  foreign  countries  and  extin- 
guished the  spirit  of  industry  and  improvement  in  the 
breasts  of  those  who  were  left  behind.  A  succession 
of  bad  seasons  soon  after  the  revolution,  heightened 
these  calamities.  It  is  well  known,  that  innumerable 
farms  at  that  period  remained  unoccupied ;  proprietors 
having  to  search  after  tenauts,  who  were  able  to  stock 
and  cultivate  the  ground,  with  almost  the  same  assiduity 
that  must  now  be  displayed  by  tenants  who  are  out  of 
possession. 

It  would  be  unpardonable  to  omit  noticing  the  active 
efforts  of  a  Society,  formed  in  1723  for  the  improvement 
of  agriculture,  consisting  of  the  principal  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  of  Scotland,  who  continued  their  labours  for 
more  than  twenty  years,  greatly  to  their  own  credit,  and 
to  the  public  benefit.  Ofthis  we  have  sufficient  evidence 
from  a  volume  of  their  Transactious,  published  in  1 743 
by  Mr.  Maxwell  of  Arkland,  under  the  auspices  of  the 


214 


AGRICULTURE. 


celebrated  Mr.  Hope  of  RankeilloP,  One  of  the  most  in- 
telligent gentlemen  of  that  period.  The  dedication  to 
that  volume  shows  something  of  the  state  ol  Scotland  at 
that  period,  and  proves  that  the  endeavours  of  the  nu- 
merous members  of  the  Society  were  of  immense  bene- 
fit to  the  improvement  of  the  country.  In  fact,  the  seed 
was  at  that  time  sown  ;  and  though  the  soil,  in  which  it 
was  deposited,  was  of  a  sterile  nature,  yet  an  abundant 
crop  was  in  due  time  reaped. 

The  most  active  and  indefatigable  member  of  that  So- 
ciety was  Mr.  Hope  of  Rankeitlor.  This  patriotic  and 
well-informed  gentleman  had,  at  an  early  period,  studied 
agriculture,  not  only  in  England,  but  also  in  several 
foreign  countries;  and  being  enthusiastically  fond  of  this 
primitive  art,  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  communicating 
his  knowledge,  not  only  to  his  brethren  of  the  Society, 
but  also  to  every  other  person  who  took  the  trouble  of 
soliciting  information.  It  is  well  known  that  the  mea- 
dow walks  of  Edinburgh  were  designed  and  laid  out  by 
this  distinguished  personage.  The  madowsj  originally 
a  morass,  and  called  Straiton's  Loch,  were  held  by  him, 
upon  a  lease,  from  the  city  of  Edinburgh  ;  and  upon  them 
he  executed  improvements  which  excited  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  his  contemporaries.  At  that  periotl 
the  situation  of  Edinburgh  was  very  different  from  what 
it  is  at  present.  Bounded  by  the  North  Loch,  then  a 
sheet  of  water,  and  obstructed  from  all  communication 
with  the  north,  except  by  Leilh  Wynd  and  the  West 
Church,  the  citizens  could  not  take  a  walk,  or  breathe 
the  fresh  air,  without  being  put  to  considerable  incon- 
venience. Moved  by  these  circumstances,  Mr.  Hope 
projected  the  walks  upon  the  south  side  of  the  city,  and 
actually  superintended  their  execution.  These  walks, 
at  tliat  time  crowded  by  multitudes,  are  now  in  a  manner 
deserted  in  favour  of  other  places  of  public  resort;  but 
this  circumstance  iloes  not  lessen  the  merits  of  Mr. 
Hope's  benevolent  and  patriotic  endeavours  to  serve 
the  public.  In  short,  Mr.  Hope  was  one  of  those  public- 
spirited  men  who  rarely  appear.  He  was  gifted  by  na- 
ture with  a  well-informed  mind,  and  constantly  exprted 
himself  to  promote  rural  improvement,  justly  consider- 
ing it  as  the  true  source  of  national  prosperity. 

The  endeavours  of  Mr.  Hope  were  warmly  seconded 
by  the  dukes  of  Hamilton  and  Athole,  lords  Stair, 
Hopeton,  Islay,  and  other  members  of  the  Edinburgh 
Society.  Indeed  the  condition  of  Scotland  at  that  time 
called  for  the  utmost  exertion  of  all  its  proprietors. 
Agriculture  was  in  the  most  languid  and  feeble  state. 
Occupiers  of  the  ground  were  generally  destitute  of  capi- 
tal stock  for  currying  on  improvements,  and  few  of  them 
were  qualified  for  introducing  them  with  success,  even 
bad  the  means  been  within  their  reach.  Trades  and 
manufactures  were  then  in  their  infancy,  and  money  was 
such  a  scarce  article,  that  the  circulating  medium  of  the 
two  Edinburgh  banks,  whose  capital  was  below  200,000/., 
was  quite  sufficient  for  every  useful  purpose.  Under 
these  circumstances,  the  situation  of  Scottish  agricul- 
ture, when  this  patriotic  Society  commenced  their  pro- 
ceedings, may  be  easily  ascertained.  In  short,  rents 
were  low,  and  the  people  were  poor,  being  imperfectly 
fed,  badly  clothed,  and  often  without  employment.  If 
the  picture  is  brought  for^vard,  and  made  to  include  the 
slate  of  the  country  at  the  period  we  are  now  writing, 
it  will  at  once  be  discerned,  Ihnt  a  complete  alteration 
has  taken  place  in  all  these  cii-cumstanccs ;  and  (hough 
it  would  be  going  too  far,  to  place  the  whole  alteration 
to  the  <;rc«Ut  of  (he  Edinburgh  ooci«;ty,  yet  a  doubt  can- 


not be  entertained  concerning  the  Utility  of  their  mear 
sures,  or  the  effects  whicii  followed  them. 

But  the  merits  of  another  individual,  who  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Edinburgh  Society,  cannot  be  passed  over  on 
this  occasion.  This  individual  is  John  Cockburn,  Esq. 
heritable  proprietor  of  the  lands  of  Ormiston,  in  the 
county  of  Haddington,  who  is  descended  from  a  family 
known  for  many  ages  to  be  firm  friends  to  the  liberty  of 
the  subject,  and  always  disposed  to  promote  every  mea- 
sure which  had  for  its  object  the  improvement  of  the 
country. 

John  Cockburn,  Esq.  of  Ormiston,  was  born  in  the 
year  1 085,  and  was  the  eldest  son  of  Adam  Cockburn  of 
Ormiston,  Justice  Clerk  of  Scotland  during  the  reigns 
of  kiug  William  and  queen  Anne.  Mr  Cockburn.  with 
the  estate  of  Ormiston,  inherited  a  large  portion  of  gen- 
uine patriotism,  and  warmly  supported  the  Hanoverian 
succession,  considering  that  family  as  well  disposed  to 
promote  constitutional  freedom.  During  his  father's 
lifetime,  he  sat  as  a  member  of  the  last  Scottish  parlia- 
ment, in  which  England  and  Scotland  were  united  under 
one  government,  and  took  an  active  part  in  all  the  pro- 
ceedings which  happily  terminated  in  connecting  North 
and  South  Britain  in  the  closest  bond  of  union.  After- 
wards he  was  successively  elected  from  1707  to  1741  to 
represent  the  county  of  Haddington  in  the  British  Par- 
liament, and  for  many  years  occupied  the  office  of  a 
lord  of  the  admiralty,  which,  of  course,  occasioned 
him  to  reside  much  in  England,  and  to  become  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  rural  practices  of  our  southern 
neighbours.  Though  the  low  country  districts  of  Scot- 
land are  at  this  day  equally  as  well  improved  and  cultiva- 
ted as  any  of  the  English  counties,  yet  their  state  was 
very  different  at  the  period  under  consideration.  Lord 
Kames,  that  excellent  judge  of  mankind,  and  sound 
agriculturist,  declares,  in  strong  terms,  that  the  tenantry 
of  Scotland,  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  and  beginning 
of  the  eighteenth  ccntur)',  were  so  benumbed  with  op- 
pression or  poverty,  that  the  most  able  instructor  in  hus- 
bandry would  have  made  nothing  of  them.  Fletcher  of 
Salton,a  contemporary  of  Mr.  Cockburn,  describes  their 
situation  as  truly  de|)lorable.  In  fact,  many  farms  re- 
mained unoccupied ;  even  tenants  rarely  accepted  of  lea- 
ses, at  least  they  were  shy,  and  unwilling  to  accept  them 
foranyconsiderablenuniberof years;  hence  improvement 
of  every  kind  was  totally  neglected,  and  the  general  po- 
verty of  the  tenantry  necessarily  occasioned  landed  pro- 
perty to  be  of  little  value;  because,  while  rents  were 
trifling,  they  were  also  ill  paid,  which  of  course  placed 
many  proprietors  in  something  like  a  state  of  mendicity. 

At  the  beginning  of  last  century,  the  tenaulry  of  Scot- 
land, those  of  a  few  fertile  spots. excepted,  were  nearly 
ruined  by  the  calamitous  seasons  which  had  previously 
occurred.  Capital  stock  was  thereby  wrested  from  them, 
and  |)roj)rietors,  generally  speaking,  were  still  too  proud, 
perhaps  too  ignorant,  to  interest  themselves  about  the 
melioration  of  their  own  domains.  The  qualities  sufi- 
posed  to  compose  (he  character  of  a  feudal  chieftain  are 
badly  calculated  for  promoting  internal  improvement; 
and  it  may  be  remarked,  tbat  feudalism  has  been  gra- 
dually undermined,  in  proportion  as  improvements  hav«^ 
been  introduced.  Such  sentiments  seem  to  have  influ- 
enced Mr.  Cockburn;  for  all  his  words,  all  his  actions, 
were  dictated  by  a  spirit  which  wished  to  increase  the 
prosperity  of  the  middling  ranks.  In  fact,  the  middling 
ranks  are  the  strength  and  support  of  every  nation.  !■ 
former  times,  what  we  now  call  middle  classes  were  not 


AGRICITLTUKE. 


215. 


fenown,  or  at  least  little  known  in  this  country ;  hence 
the  feudal  system  reigned  longer  in  Scotland  than  in  Eng- 
land. After  trade  was  introduced,  and  agriculture  im- 
proved, (he  feudal  system  was  necessarily  overturned, 
and  proprietors,  like  other  men,  came  to  be  estimated 
according  to  their  respective  merits,  without  receiving 
support  from  the  adventitious  circumstances  under  which 
they  were  placed. 

When  Mr.  Cockhurn  succeeded  to  the  estate  of  Or- 
miston  in  1714,  the  art  of  agriculture  was  imperfectly 
understood,  and  the  condition  of  the  tenantry  was  so 
reduced,  that  it  could  not  be  expected  to  see  improve- 
ments undertaken,  unless  the  strongest  encouragement 
was  previously  held  out.  This  was  done  by  Mr.  Cock- 
burn,  even  in  his  father's  lifetime.  As  Robert  Wight, 
one  of  the  Ormiston  tenants,  had  early  shown  an  un- 
common spirit  to  enter  into  Mr.  Cockburn's  views,  being 
probably  the  first  farmer  in  Scotland  who  enclose<l  by 
ditch  and  hedge,  and  planted  hedge-row  trees  on  his  own 
proper  charge,  he  was  singled  out  for  favour,  and  in 
1713  received  a  lease  of  the  Murrays,  or  Muirhouse 
farm,  of  an  uncommon  long  endurance.  The  lease  was 
for  38  years,  and  the  rent  730/.  Scottish  money;  but 
upon  i)aying  a  fine  or  grassum  of  1200/.  Scots,  at  the 
expiration  of  that  term,  a  renewal  of  the  lease  was  to  be 
granted  for  19  years  more,  and  so  on  from  19  to  19 
years  in  all  time  coming.  The  two  subscribing  wit- 
nesses to  the  deed  were  sir  John  Inglis  of  Cramond, 
Bart,  and  John  Hepburn,  Esq.  of  Humble,  gentlemen 
invited  on  the  occasion  by  Mr.  Cockburn,  in  order  that 
his  example  might  animate  them  with  the  like  liberal 
and  patriotic  desire  to  improve  the  agriculture  of  their 
respective  properties. 

Alexander  Wight,  eldest  son  of  Robert  above  named, 
possessed  the  house  of  Muir  farm  by  tacit  relocation 
till  1725,  at  which  period,  agreeably  to  the  plan  adopted 
for  encouraging  substantial  improvements,  a  lease  was 
granted  to  him  for  38  years,  and  three  lives  therein 
named.  This  tenant,  like  his  father,  having  entered 
warmly  into  Mr.  Cockburn's  measures,  got  that  lease 
cancelled  in  1734,  when  a  new  one  was  granted  for  19 
years,  renewable  for  every  19  years  in  all  lime  coming, 
upon  payment  of  a  fine  equal  to  one  year's  rent  of  the 
premises.  These  were  leading  examples  to  Scottish 
landlords,  and  held  out  to  other  tenants  of  the  estate  a 
noble  encouragement  to  undertake  improvements,  see- 
ing th:it  their  benevolent  landlord  was  so  ready  to  re- 
ward them. 

In  this  way  the  foundation  of  Scottish  improvement 
was  laid  by  granting  long  leases.  Many  people  at  this 
lime  may  think,  that  such  a  length  of  lease  was  unne- 
cessary, and  that  the  distinguished  personage  of  whom 
we  are  speaking,  might  have  accomplished  his  object, 
by  granting  leases  of  a  more  limited  endurance.  We 
would  request  such  persons  to  reflect  upon  the  state  of 
the  country,  and  the  actual  condition  of  the  tenantry  at 
the  period  under  consideration.  We  ought  not  to  judge 
of  the  propriety  of  measures  then  employed,  to  intro- 
duce and  encourage  improvement  according  to  the  rules 
of  the  present  day,  when  tenants  possess  knowledge  and 
capital  sufficient  for  carrying  through  the  most  difficult 
and  arduous  undertiikings.  Let  it  also  be  remembered, 
that  both  knowledge  and  capital  were  the  undoubted 
result  of  the  meliorated  system  then  introduced.  Mr. 
Cockburn  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  system  ;  his  brethren 
in  different  quarters  assisted  in  rearing  the  fabric, 
though  perhaps  their  aid  v/as  not  in  one  Instance  so  mu- 


nificent. The  success  which  acconipanied  it,  served, 
however,  to  convince  almost  the  whole  landholders  of 
Scotland,  that  the  surest  way  of  extending  improve- 
ments was  to  give  the  tenantry  an  interest  in  their  ac- 
complishment. Hence  the  bond  of  connexion  betwixt 
proprietors  and  tenants  in  Scotland  is  formed  upon  more 
liberal  principles  than  prevail  in  any  other  country  with 
which  we  are  acquainted.  No  man  in  Scotland,  at  least 
very  few  men,  will  enter  to  the  possession  of  land  unless 
the  security  of  a  lease  is  previously  granted ;  and  pro- 
prietors in  general  are  so  sensible  of  the  benefit  of  that 
tenure,  that  few  of  them  refuse  to  grant  it  for  such  a 
number  of  years  as  both  parties  may  consider  best 
adapted  to  the  system  of  management  meant  to  be  exer- 
cised. 

Notwithstanding  that  few  improvements  were  intro- 
duced during  the  seventeenth  century,  several  legisla- 
tive enactments  were  then  made,  which  latterly  have 
produced  much  benefit  to  agriculture.  Independent  of 
the  regulation  of  tythes,  a  measure  of  primary  import- 
ance to  husbandmen,  the  laws  relative  to  the  enclosing 
of  land,  and  the  division  of  mixed  possessions,  may  be 
ranked  as  peculiarly  calculated  to  excite  improvement, 
in  so  far  as  the  trouble  of  accomplishing  these  objects 
was  greatly  lessened,  whilst  precise  rules  were  laid 
down,  by  which  these  improvements  might  be  carried 
into  effect.  In  these  branches  of  rural  legislation,  Scot- 
tish practice  holds  out  a  judicious  pattern  for  the  imita- 
tion of  our  southern  neighbours,  who  are  confessedly 
behind  in  every  one  of  them,  and,  in  fact,  cannot  take  a 
single  step  without  the  aid  of  the  legislature.  Want 
of  capital  stock  was  the  greatest  im|)ediment  to  Scottish 
agriculture;  but  this  was  partly  removed  by  the  rebel- 
lion of  1745,  when  vast  sums  of  money  were  poured 
into  the  country;  and,  since  that  period,  the  husbandry 
of  Scotland  has  progressively  improved,  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  bear  comparison,  local  circumstances  consider- 
ed, with  that  of  any  country  in  Europe.  Even  the  legal 
abrogation  of  the  feudal  system,  by  passing  the  Juris- 
diction Act,  was  of  material  advantage,  in  so  far  as  the 
security  of  cultivators  was  thus  increased,  and  their  si- 
tuation rendered  infinitely  more  independent  than  in 
former  times.  Since  the  conclusion  of  the  American 
war  in  1782,  improvement  has  proceeded  with  singular 
rapidity  in  every  district;  and  while  the  rental  rolls  of 
proprietors  have  been  doubled,  tripled,  and  quadrupled, 
the  condition  of  the  tenantry,  and  of  the  lower  ranks, 
has  been  meliorated  almost  in  a  proportional  degree. 
These  circumstances  are  sure  tokens  of  agricultural 
prosperity,  and  demonstrate,  in  the  most  forcible  terms, 
that  husbandry  is  a  main  pillar  of  the  state ;  and  that  the 
hajipiness  and  welfare  of  the  community  depend  great- 
ly ui)on  the  manner  in  which  the  art  is  executed.  No 
nation,  whose  husbandry  is  feeble  and  imperfect,  can  be 
regarded  as  really  prosperous,  however  considerable  be 
the  advances  which  they  have  made  in  other  arts;  be- 
cause, when  the  art  of  raising  food  is  neglected,  all 
others  must  ultimately  be  forsaken.  In  short,  to  pro- 
mote and  encourage  husbandry,  to  remove  every  obsta- 
cle that  stands  in  the  way  of  exercising  it,  and  to  secure 
those  concerned  in  carrjing  on  the  art,  are  duties  obli- 
gatory upon  the  government  of  every  country ;  and  ac- 
cording as  these  duties  are  discharged,  so  will  the  wis- 
dom of  such  a  government  be  estimated  by  every  man, 
who  feels  for  the  prosperity  of  the  state,  or  is  attentive 
to  the  sources  from  which  that  prosperity  proceeds. 

Having  thus  given  a  concise  history  of  agriculture, 


.21« 


AGRICULTURE. 


from  such  materials  as  were  witliin  our  reach,  we  shall 
proceed  to  investigate  the  tlieory  and  practice  of  the  art. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  art  of  agriculture  b  confined  to 
the  cultivation  of  the  earth,  and  does  not  include  several 
other  branches  of  work,  which  appertain  to  the  general 
situation  of  husbandmen  ;  but,  in  a  work  of  this  kind,  it 
may  be  proper  to  consider  agriculture  in  a  more  exten- 
sive sense,  and  to  embrace  every  subject  connected  with 
rural  economy,  or  which  serves  to  promote  or  impede 
agricultural  improvement.  To  cultivate  the  soil,  in  a 
aufiicient  manner,  is  certainly  a  primary  object  with  the 
agriculturist;  but  other  objects  equally  claim  his  atten- 
tion, as  by  neglecting  them  the  primary  object  may  be 
imperfectly  obtained. 

CHAP.  I. 

On  the  Theoey  of  Agriculture. 

Though  agriculture  is  an  art  which  has  been  carried 
on  from  the  earliest  ages,  by  a  greater  number  of  peo- 
ple than  are  concerned  in  any  other,  yet,  even  at  this 
advanced  period,  the  agriculturist  may,  in  some  mea- 
sure, be  viewed  as  remaining  without  any  fixed  princi- 
ples for  governing  his  mind  and  regulating  his  practice. 
Instead  of  resorting  to  practice,  and  thence  forming  a 
satisfactory  theory,  writers  on  agriculture  have,  in  num- 
berless instances,  amused  themselves,  without  instruct- 
ing their  readers,  by  presenting  opinions  purely  specu- 
lative upon  this  important  subject ;  not  reflecting,  that 
every  kind  of  theory,  which  is  not  built  upon  extensive 
practice  and  observation,  is  preposterous  and  absurd. 
According  to  the  mode  adopted  by  these  gentlemen,  he, 
who  argues  most  ingeniously,  must  necessarily  be  re- 
ceived as  coming  nearest  to  the  truth,  and  his  doctrine 
be  considered  as  the  standard,  till  some  competitor  ap- 
pears, whose  eloquence  is  more  persuasive,  and  whose 
opinions  are  more  plausible.     This  has  been  the  fate  of 
all  speculative  opinions,  since  the  earliest  ages;  and  will 
continue  to  be  so  upon  every  subject,  where  no  certain 
data  can  be  found  to  direct  the  research  of  inquirers. 
For  instance,  how  numerous  and  diversified  are  the 
sentiments  of  theorists  concerning  the  food  of  plants ; 
a  subject  not  to  be  comprehended  by  the  human  mind 
in  its  present  state,  and  uiion  which  the  wisest  of  men 
have  done  little  more  than  display  their  presumption  and 
their  ignorance.     It  is  a  certain  fact,  that  the  most  acute 
philosopher  can  no  more  account  for  the  germination  of 
a  single  grain  of  corn,  than  he  can  explain  the  mysteri- 
ous manner  in  which  he  enjoys  rational  existence.  With- 
out therefore  stopping  to  inquire,  whether  fire,  or  air, 
or  water,  or  earth,  constitute  the  food  of  plants,  or  no- 
ticing the  numberless  hypotheses  that  have  been  pre- 
sented on  that  abstruse  topic,  it  may  be  remarked,  that 
the  dullest  farmer  knows  sufliciently,  that  if  he  cleans, 
and  drains,  and  manures  his  land  in  a  proper  manner,  it 
will  yield  him  as  good  a  crop  as  the  soil  is  constitution- 
ally capable  of  producing,  provided  physical  circum- 
stances, such  as  heavy  rains,  excessive  droughts,  furi- 
ous winds,  and  similar  evils,  do  not  intervene  and  pre- 
vent nature  from  performing  her  usual  functions,  and 
returning  a  crop  equal  to  the  trouble  and  expense  be- 
stowed in  cultivating  it.     Allowing  for  a  moment,  that 
we  were  able  to  ascertain  Avhicli  of  the  above  elements 
constitute  the  food  of  plants,  the  question   Cm  bono  ? 
still  remains  to  be  answered.     As  we  have  neither  the 
command  of  fire,  air,  or  water,  nor  can  order  the  sun  to 
display  his  beams,  the  air  to  blow  geaial  gales,  or  the 


clouds  to  drop  refreshing  showers,  little  benefit  would 
accrue  were  even  the  curtain  of  nature  withdrawn,  and 
our  eyes  allowed  to  roam  at  large  over  a  field,  which 
may  justly  be  considered  as  forbidden  to  man.  Under 
these  impressions,  we  are  disposed  to  consider  disquisi- 
tions, respecting  the  food  of  plants,  and  even  concern- 
ing the  principles  of  vegetation,  as  quite  foreign  to  a 
treatise  on  agriculture.  The  operative  farmer  could  not 
thereby  be  benefited  in  the  smallest  degree,  nor  would 
any  part  of  his  practice  be  illustriited  or  improved. 
Perhaps,  on  the  contrary,  he  might  be  led  out  of  the 
right  path  into  the  vortex  of  delusion,  and  induced  to 
forsake  that  system  of  practice  which  is  sanctioned  by 
experience,  and  which  ought  to  be  his  only  guide  in  such 
disquisitions. 

Notwithstanding  that  such  are  our  sentiments  on  what 
has  been  erroneously  called  the  theory  of  agriculture, 
yet  we  are  inclined  to  believe,  that  a  degree  of  certainty 
is  already  attained,  concerning  the  real  and  efficient 
theory  of  the  art,  sufficient  either  to  guide  or  to  deter- 
mine the  conduct  of  those  engaged  in  carrying  it  on. 
If  the  earth  is  enriched  by  generous  manures,  or  sti- 
mulated by  powerful  cordials,  as  circumstances  may  re- 
quire; if  it  is  laid  dry,  or  drained  of  superfluous  water; 
if  the  soil  is  sufficiently  cultivated,  and  its  aboriginal  in- 
habitants, namely,  quickens,  and  all  other  weeds,  remov- 
ed ;  and  if,  in  naked  and  exposed  situations,  shelter  is 
afforded,  by  making  enclosures,  then  every  thing,  that 
man  is  capable  of  doing  to  forward  the  productive  powers 
of  the  earth,  is  completely  executed.  Here  the  true 
theory  of  agriculture  is  to  be  found ;  and  a  due  know- 
ledge of  these  practices,  carried  properly  into  execu- 
tion, distinguishes  the  good  farmer  from  the  bad.  In 
short,  the  man  who  is  governed  by  these  principles,  may 
be  pronounced  to  possess  more  knowledge  of  the  art 
than  the  most  scientific  agriculturist.  The  one  acts 
upon  principles  which  never  can  fail,  and  which  uni- 
formly lead  to  the  same  issue ;  the  other  is  guided  by 
no  certain  principle  whatever,  but  led  by  an  isnis 
faluus,  whose  delusions  may  draw  him  into  hogs  and 
quagmires,  where  he  may  flounder  for  a  while,  and  at 
last  be  ruined  and  made  miserable,  both  in  fortune  and 
reputation. 

The  theory  of  agriculture,  which  we  lay  down,  is 
therefore  built  upon  the  following  fundament;'!  prin- 
ciples; and  with  one  or  other  of  them  every  part  of 
rural  practice  is  more  or  less  connected  : — First,  That 
the  soil  ought  to  be  kept  dry ;  or,  in  other  words,  free 
of  all  superfluous  moisture.  Secondly,  That  it  ought  to 
be  kept  clean ;  or,  in  other  words,  free  of  noxious  weeds. 
Thirdly,  That  it  ought  to  be  kept  rich ;  or,  in  other 
words,  that  every  particle  of  manure,  which  can  be  col- 
lected, ought  to  be  applied,  so  that  the  soil  may  be  kept 
in  a  state  capable  of  yielding  good  crops.  Every  per- 
son, possessed  of  a  sufficient  capital  stock,  may  act  ac- 
cording to  the  first  and  second  principles ;  but  it  is 
only  where  local  circumstances  are  favourable,  that  the 
last  can  be  carried  completely  into  effect.  No  more, 
however,  being  required  of  the  farmer,  than  that  h« 
shall  make  the  most  of  his  situation,  the  principle  ap- 
plies equally  to  all ;  and,  in  like  manner,  is  equally  cor- 
rect and  beneficial  in  all  situations  and  circumstances. 

Holding  these  principles  in  view,  and  assuming  them 
as  the  basis  of  what  is  meant  to  be  inculcated,  we  pro- 
ceed to  illustrate  them  in  a  more  particular  manner. 

In  the  first  place,  the  utility,  nay,  the  necessity,  of 
keeping  land  dry,  and  preserving  it  from  being  inun- 


AGRICULTURE. 


217 


i&M  of  floodeJ!  With  water,  \s  to  abvione,  that  few  ar- 
guments will  be  required  in  su|)[)ort  of  this  primary 
principle.  When  land  is  allowed  to  remain  in  a  state  of 
wetness,  which  may  either  be  occasioned  by  spouts  or 
springs  in  the  under  soil,  or  by  rain-water  stagnating 
•n  the  surface,  the  earth  gets  into  a  sour  state,  which 
afterwards  is  detrimental  to  the  growth  of  plants ;  and 
often,  in  the  first  instance,  prevents  either  ploughing  or 
harrowing  from  being  successfully  effected.  Under 
such  circumstances,  the  young  j)lants,  either  of  corn  or 
grass,  get  yellow  and  sickly,  and  never  assume  that 
Tigorous  thriving  aspect,  which  they  maintain  upon 
fields  differently  circumstanced.  Besides,  manure  has 
not  the  same  effect  when  the  earth  is  drowned,  or  even 
injured  with  wetness,  as  when  it  is  kept  dry  and  free 
from  superfluous  moisture.  Under-draining  is  the  only 
method  of  correcting  the  evils  arising  from  spouts  or 
springs,  as  will  afterwards  be  more  distinctly  stated,  and 
digging  out  the  head-land,  and  what  are  provincially  call- 
ed gmt-Jurroms,  the  only  preventive  against  surface-wa- 
ter, when  heavy  falls  of  rain  or  snow  storms  ensue.  In 
fkct,  without  attention  to  these  important  operations, 
arable  land  can  neither  be  perfectly  managed,  nor  full 
crops  reaped.  Perhaps,  the  goodness  or  badness  of 
farm-management  may  be  as  correctly  estimated  by  the 
attention  shown  to  drainage,  as  by  any  other  mark  what- 
ever. Where  drainage  is  neglected,  a  sure  proof  is 
furnished,  that  many  other  branches  of  the  art  are  im- 
perfectly executed.  Unless  this  branch  of  rural  eco- 
nomy is  assiduously  attended  to,  the  advantages  arising 
from  ploughing  and  manuring  are  only  i)artially  ob- 
tained. 

In  the  second  place,  the  benefit  arising  from  keeping 
the  land  clean  is  sufficiently  discernible.  Weeds,  whe- 
ther of  the  annual  or  perennial  sorts,  may  be  regarded 
as  preferable  creditors  of  the  soil,  who  will  reap  the 
first  advantage  of  manure,  if  allowed  to  remain  in  pos- 
session :  their  removal  therefore  forms  an  important 
object  of  the  husbandman's  attention.  Without  detail- 
ing, in  this  place,  the  most  suitable  means  of  removing 
them,  it  may  be  stated,  that,  according  to  the  degree  of 
success  that  follows  the  means  em|)loyed,  so  will  the 
goodness  or  badness  of  the  husbandman's  crops  be  re- 
gulated. If  the  strength,  or  nutritive  powers,  of  the 
soil  be  exhausted  or  drawn  forth  by  weeds,  or  such 
plants  as  the  soil  naturally  produces,  it  is  impossible 
that  artificial  plants  can  prosper.  It  rarely  happens,  to 
be  sure,  that  the  aborigines  are  altogether  extirpated ; 
but  upon  the  smallness  of  their  number  depends  the  re- 
turn which  the  soil  can  make  to  man,  for  the  labour  be- 
stowed upon  its  cultivation. 

In  the  third  place,  the  necessity  of  restoring  to  the 
soil,  in  the  shape  of  manure,  the  powers  drawn  from  it 
by  artificial  crops,  is  acknowledged  by  almost  every 
person.  No  doubt,  some  heretical  opinions  have,  at 
different  times,  been  broached,  concerning  the  utility  of 
feeding  land  by  generous  manures ;  but  these  never  had 
many  votaries,  and  are  no«^  become  so  obsolete,  that  it 
would  only  be  a  waste  of  time  to  notice  them.  Manure, 
in  fact,  is  the  most  powerful  agent  in  the  hands  of  the 
farmer,  and  the  attention  bestowed  upon  collecting,  i)re- 
paring,  and  ap|)lying  it,  constitutes  an  important  branch 
of  the  art  which  he  practises.  Perhaps  agriculturists 
are  more  behind,  in  the  points  connected  with  this  third 
general  principle,  than  in  the  others;  and  here  the  uti- 
lity of  chemical  knowledge  may,  in  some  respects,  be 
estimated  and  recognized. 

Vol..  I.     Part  I. 


These  three  fundamental  prineiples  liang  or  fall  to- 
gether. Without  liiying  land  dry,  neither  the  advanta- 
ges of  good  ploughing,  nor  the  benefits  arising  from 
manure,  can  be  fully  obtained.  When  any  of  the  other 
principles  are  neglected,  similar  defects  will  necessarily 
ensue.  But  when  they  are  all  acted  upon  ;  when  the 
land  is  kept  dry,  clean,  and  in  good  heart,  the  husband- 
man may  expect  a  suitable  reward  for  the  trouble  and 
expense  bestowed  on  its  cultivation.  An  agricultural 
code  of  this  kind  is  not  only  a  true  one,  but  has  the  par- 
ticular merit  of  being  simple  and  distinct ;  nay,  it  has  an 
advantage  which  few  creeds  possess ;  it  may  be  under- 
stoo<l  by  the  dullest  capacity.  Were  it  carried  into  ex- 
ecution, were  the  operations  of  farmers  regulated  by  its 
tenets,  were  their  endeavours  constantly  directed  to  keep 
the  lands  in  their  possession  dry  and  clean,  aud  as  rich  as 
possible,  then  the  country  would  be  progressively  im- 
I)roved.  In  a  word,  these  are  the  fundamental  princi- 
ples of  agriculture,  though  several  other  things,  such 
as  rotations  of  crops  and  the  like,  may  be  regarded  a« 
minor  or  inferior  ones.  All  of  them,  however,  are  de- 
pendent upon  the  principles  already  noticed,  because, 
were  the  fundamental  principles  neglected,  the  minor 
or  dependent  ones  could  never  be  successfully  carried 
into  execution. 

CHAP.   11. 

On  Soils. 

Sect.  I. 

Soil,  strictly  speaking,  is  the  ground  or  earth  whersiu 
crops  of  every  kind  are  produced ;  and  we  notice  it  in 
this  way,  merely  to  distinguish  the  surface  from  the 
under  stratum  or  subsoil,  on  which  the  surface  is  in- 
cumbent. The  value  or  worth  of  that  part  of  the  earth, 
which  is  the  object  of  cultivation,  depends  materially 
upon  the  nature  of  the  under  stratum ;  because,  when 
the  latter  is  close  or  extremely  retentive  of  moisture, 
the  expense  and  hazard  of  cultivating  the  surface  is 
considerably  increased,  whilst  the  growth  of  plants  cul* 
tivated  ui)on  it  is  much  abridged  and  impeded,  particu- 
larly in  adverse  seasons. 

The  nomenclature  of  agriculturists,  with  regard  to 
soils,  being  variable  and  indistinct,  it  is  a  ditJicult  task 
to  describe  them,  or  to  mark  with  any  degree  of  accur.icy 
the  shades  which  distinguish  one  from  another,  so 
nearly  are  many  of  them  connected.  Generally  speak- 
ing, the  component  parts  of  soil,  whatever  may  be  the 
colour,  are  argill,  sand,  water,  and  air ;  for  into  these 
original  principles  may  all  earths  be  reduced,  hoivever 
blended  with  apparently  foreign  substances.  Argill  is 
the  soft  and  unctuous  part  of  clay.  The  primitive 
earths,  argill  and  sand,  contain  each,  perhaps  in  nearij'- 
eqrial  degrees,  the  food  of  plants ;  but  in  their  union  the 
purposes  of  vegetation  are  most  completely  answered. 
The  precise  quantifies  of  each  necessary  to  make  this 
union  perfect,  and  whether  they  ousjht  to  be  equal,  it 
is  neither  very  easy  nor  very  material  to  ascertain,  since 
that  point  is  best  determined  in  practice,  when  the  soil 
proves  to  be  neither  too  stiff  nor  adhesive,  from  the 
super-abundance  of  clay,  nor  of  too  loose  and  weak  a 
texture,  from  an  over  (piantity  of  sand  in  its  composi 
tion.  The  medium  is  undouliledly  best;  but  an  excess 
towards  adhesion  is  obviously  most  safe.  A  stiff  or 
strong  soil  holds  the  water  which  falls  upon  it  for  a  long 
time,  and,  being  capable  of  much  ploughing,  is  natu- 


218 


AGRICULTURE, 


rally  well  qualitied  lor  cai-ryiiig  the  most  valuable  ara- 
ble crops.  A  light  soil,  or  one  of  a  texture  feeble  and 
easily  broken,  is,  on  the  contrary,  soon  exhausted  by 
aration,  and  requires  renovation  by  grass ;  otherwise  it 
cannot  be  cultivated  to  advantage. 

Dr.  W.  Dickson,  in  his  excellent  treatise  on  agricul- 
ture, says,  with  much  truth,  that  the  soils  of  this  coun- 
try have  been  described  under  numerous  heads,  and 
particularized  by  an  useless  variety  of  vague  local  terms. 
According  to  him,  however,  they  may  be  considered  and 
characterized,  as  far  at  least  as  is  necessary  for  practi- 
cal purposes,  under  the  distinctions  of  Clayey,  Loamy, 
Chalky,  Sandy,  Gravelly,  and  Peaty  or  Mossy.  Each 
of  these  diversities  of  course  comprehends  several 
varieties,  according  to  the  nature  and  preponderance 
of  the  dififerent  sorts  of  materials  of  which  they  are 
composed. 

Other  writers  speak  of  a  soil  which  they  call  garden 
mould;  but  this,  being  entirely  of  artificial  creation, 
ought  not  to  be  ranked  amongst  the  natural  or  origi- 
nal soils. 

In  a  work  of  this  kind,  it  may  be  proper  to  arrange 
British  soils  into  four  different  classes,  namely,  clay, 
sand,  gravel,  and  peat  earth;  as  to  one  orother  of  these 
classes  each  of  the  numerous  varieties  in  the  British 
isles  is  allied,  though  in  many  cases  the  degree  of 
affinity  is  not  easily  ascertained.  Loam  has  generally 
been  considered  as  an  original  earth,  though  we  are  dis- 
posed to  view  it  as  an  artificial  soil,  produced  by  calca- 
reous matters,  and  animal  and  vegetable  manures.  The 
strongest  clay  may,  in  process  of  time,  be  converted 
intoaloam,  by  repeated  applications  of  these  substanct-s; 
and  the  richness  or  freeness  of  that  loam  will  depend 
entirely  upon  the  quantity  of  manure  with  which  it  has 
been  supplied.  Sandy  soils  may  also  be  converted  into 
light  loams,  by  the  application  of  lime,  chalk,  marl,  and 
especially  claj-.  Even  peat  may  be  converted  into  a 
black  soft  loam,  and  in  various  ways  rendered  fertile 
and  productive.  From  these  circumstances,  a  degree 
«f  confusion  prevails  respecting  the  nature  and  proper- 
ties of  soils,  which  renders  the  subject  more  ditlicult 
than  at  first  sight  might  be  expected.  Even  the  admix- 
ture of  surface  and  subsoil,  by  deep  ploughing,  creates  a 
change  of  considerable  magnitude. 

A  clay  soil,  though  distinguished  by  the  colour  which 
it  bears,  namely,  black,  white,  yellow,  and  red,  differs 
.from  all  other  soils,  being  tough,  wet,  and  cold,  and  con- 
sequently requiring  a  good  deal  of  labour  from  the  hus- 
bandman before  it  can  be  sufficiently  pulverized,  or 
placed  in  a  fit  state  for  bearing  artificial  crops  of  corn 
•r  grass.  Clay  land  is  known  by  these  qualities,  or 
properties.  It  holds  water  like  a  cup,  and  once  wet- 
ted, does  notsoon  dry.  In  like  manner,  when  thoroughly 
dry,  it  is  not  soon  wetted ;  if  we  except  the  varieties 
which  have  a  thin  surface,  and  are  the  worst  of  all- to 
manage.  In  a  dry  summer,  clay  cracks,  and  shows  a 
lurface  full  of  small  chinks,  or  openings.  If  ploughed 
in  a  wet  state,  it  sticks  to  the  plough  like  mortar,  and 
.  in  a  dry  summer  the  plough  turns  it  up  in  great  clods, 
scarcely  to  be  broken  or  separated  by  the  heaviest 
-  roller. 

Sandy  soils  next  come  under  consideration.  Soils  of 
this  description  are  managed  with  infinitely  less  trouble, 
and  at  an  expense  greatly  inferior  to  what  clays  re- 
l|uire ;  but  at  the  same  time,  the  crops  produced  from 
ihein  are  generally  of  smaller  value.  There  are  many 
Tarieties  of  sasd,  however,  aa  well  as  of  clay ;  and  in 


some  parts  of  the  island,  the  sin-face  is  little  belter  thao 
a  bare  barren  sand,  wherein  artificial  plants  will  not 
take  root,  unless  a  dose  of  clay  or  good  earth  is  pre- 
viously administered.  This  is  not  the  soil  meant  by  the 
farmer  when  he  speaks  of  sands.  To  speak  practically, 
the  soil  meant  is  one  where  sand  is  predominant, 
although  there  be  several  other  earths  in  the  mixture. 
From  containing  a  great  quantity  of  sand,  these  soils 
are  all  loose  and  crumbling,  and  never  get  into  a  clod, 
even  in  the  dryest  weather.  This  is  the  great  article 
of  distinction  betwixt  sands  and  sandy  loams.  A  sandy 
loam,  owing  to  the  clay  that  is  in  it,  does  not  crumble 
down,  or  become  loose  like  a  real  sand,  but  retains  a 
degree  of  adhesion  after  wetness  or  drought,  notwith- 
standing the  quantity  of  sand  that  is  mixed  with  it. 
Perhaps  a  true  sandy  loam,  incumbent  upon  a  sound 
subsoil,  is  the  most  valuable  of  all  soils.  U|>on  such, 
every  kind  of  grain  may  be  raised  with  advantage,  and 
no  soil  is  better  calculated  for  turnips  and  grass. 

The  real  sands  are  not  favourable  to  the  growth  of 
■wheat,  unless  when  preceded  by  clover,  which  biuds  ' 
the  surface,  and  confers  a  temi)orary  strength  for  sus- 
taining that  grain.  Much  of  the  county  of  Norfolk  is 
of  this  description  ;  and  it  is  well  known  that  few  dis- 
tricts of  the  kingdom  yield  a  greater  quantity  of  pro- 
duce. Till  Norfolk,  however,  was  invigorated  by  clay  and 
marl,  nearly  one  half  of  it  was  little  belter  than  waste ; 
but  by  the  success  which  accompanied  the  use  of  these 
auxiliaries,  a  new  soil  was  in  a  manner  created ;  which, 
by  a  continuation  of  judicious  management,  has  given  a 
degree  of  fame  to  the  husbandry  of  that  county,  far 
surpassing  that  of  other  districts  naturally  more  fer- 
tile. 

We  have  now  to  speak  of  gravelly  soils.  The  open 
porous  nature  of  these  soils,  disposes  them  to  imbibe 
moisture,  and  to  part  with  it  with  great  facility ;  from 
the  latter  of  which  circumstances  Ihey  are  subject  to 
burn,  as  it  is  termed,  in  dry  seasons.  The  main  differ- 
ence between  gravel  and  sand  is,  that  the  former  is 
chiefly  composed  of  small  soft  stones;  though,  in  some 
instances,  the  stones  are  of  the  silicious  or  flinty  nature, 
and,  in  others,  of  the  calcareous  and  chalky.  From 
these  constitutional  circumstances  arise  the  pro[)riely 
of  deepening  gravelly  soils  by  coats  of  marl  or  earth, 
and  of  keeping  them  fresh  by  frequent  returns  of  grass, 
and  repeated  a])plications  of  manure.  Gravelly  soils, 
from  the  lightness  of  their  texture,  are  not  expensive  Or 
difficult  in  the  means  of  cultivation.  All  the  necessary 
business  required  for  gravels  may  be  carried  forward 
with  ease  and  expedition ;  and  such  soils  are,  in  general, 
soon  brought  into  a  proper  state  for  the  reception  of 
crops. 

From  what  is  said  respecting  gravels,  it  will  appear, 
that  naturally  they  arc  barren,  unless  when  mixed  with 
other  earths;  and  that  the  surface  of  most  of  them 
would  exhibit  the  same  appearance  as  the  subsoil,  or 
what  is  beyond  the  reach  of  the  plough,  w  ere  it  not 
changed  amd  meliorated  by  vegetable  matters.  The 
constitutional  qualities  of  gravels  also  point  out  the  pro- 
priety of  ploughing  them  deep,  so  that  the  surface  soil 
may  be  augmented,  and  greater  room  given  to  the 
growth  of  the  plants  cultivated  on  them.  A  shallow- 
ploughed  gravel  can  stand  no  excess  of  weather,  how- 
ever enriched  by  manure.  It  is  burnt  up  by  a  day  or 
two  of  dro\ight,  and  it  is  almost  equally  injured  by  an 
excessive  fall  of  rain.  Hnle?s  the  pan  or  firm  bottom, 
which   such  soils  easily  gain,   be   frequently  broken 


AGTIICTJLTURE. 


219 


Cbrougli  by  <leep  ploughing.  Accordhi*  to  an  old  adage, 
the  top  of  clay,  and  bottom  of  gravel,  are  best)  but 
though  we  cannot  subscribe  to  the  first  part  of  the  adage, 
beiug  satisfied  that  deep  ploughing  is  highly  beneficial, 
except  where  the  subsoil  is  of  a  poisonous  nature,  we 
are  certain  that  the  latter  is  well  founded,  and  ought 
never  to  be  overlooked. 

Peat  earth,  or  moss,  is  the  next  kind  of  soil  which  we 
have  to  treat  of;  though  we  are  very  uncertain  whether, 
like  loam  and  garden  mould,  it  ought  not  to  be  viewed 
as  an  artificial  soil,  made  and  produced  by  certain  sub- 
atances  deposited  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  not 
one  originally  created,  or  to  be  found  in  the  early  ages. 
On  these  points  philosophers  are  much  at  variance ;  and 
the  discordant  opinions  entertained  by  them,  induce  us 
to  think,  that  very  little  real  knowledge  of  the  nature  and 
properties  of  moss  has  hitherto  been  acquired.  By  one 
we  are  told,  that  peat  is  a  primitive  earth,  of  antediluvian 
Origin ;  by  another,  that  it  is  a  vegetable,  which  grows 
and  increases,  and  may  continue  to  increase,  till  it  swal- 
lows up  and  destroys  all  other  soils  :  by  another,  that  it 
consists  of  ligneous  and  aquatic  plants,  brought  into  ac- 
tion by  the  destruction  of  extensive  forests,  which 
abounded  in  Europe  in  former  times;  these  forests 
having  been  either  destroyed  by  the  Romans,  or  by  tem- 
pests, or  having  fallen  into  decay  from  natural  causes. 
We  are  much  inclined  to  adopt  this  last  hypothesis,  as 
it  seems  supported  by  the  appearance  which  peat  moss 
presents;  by  facts  which  may  be  gathered  from  the  his- 
tory of  Britain ;  and,  in  particular,  by  the  state  and  con- 
dition of  the  very  places  where  peat  moss  is  now  the  pre- 
dominant soil.  It  is  truly  wonderful,  that  so  little  is 
known  on  a  subject  of  so  much  importance,  not  only  to 
the  prosperity  of  Britain,  but  even  to  that  of  the  world. 
Mosscovers,  perhaps,  one  fourth  of  the  habitable  globe; 
and  surely  few  subjects  better  deserve  consideration, 
than  its  removal,  or  improvement.  We  have  lately  re- 
ceived much  information  concerning  the  origin  of  moss, 
from  some  essays  published  by  the  reverend  Mr.  Rennle 
at  Kilsyth  ;  and  we  indulge  a  hope,  that  when  these  es- 
says are  finished,  the  public  will  have  in  their  possession 
more  satisfactory  accounts  concerning  the  formation 
of  moss,  and  the  uses  to  which  it  may  be  applied,  than 
have  hitherto  been  offered  by  the  several  writers  who 
have  attempted  to  investigate  the  origin  of  moss,  and  to 
illustrate  the  means  of  removing  it. 

Sect.  II. 

On  tlie  Uses  to  rvhich  each  Soil  may  be  most  advantage- 
ously applied. 

Clay  soils,  when  sufficiently  enriched  with  manures, 
are  naturally  well  qualified  for  carrying  crops  of  wheat, 
oats,  beans,  and  clover :  but  are  not  fitted  for  barley, 
turnips,  potatoes,  &c.  or  even  for  being  kept  under  grass 
longer  than  one  year.  Perhaps  such  soils  ought  to  be 
regularly  summer-fallowed  once  in  six,  or  at  the  most 
once  in  eight  years,  even  when  they  are  comparatively 
in  a  clean  state,  as  they  contract  a  sourness  and  adhesion 
from  wet  ploughing,  only  to  be  removed  by  exposure  to 
the  sun  and  wind  during  the  dry  months  of  summer. 
Soils  of  this  kind  receive  little  benefit  from  winter 
ploughiug,  unless  so  far  as  their  surface  is  thereby  pre- 
sented (o  the  frost,  which  mellows  and  reduces  them  in 
a  manner  infiuitely  superior  (o  what  could  be  accom- 
plished by  all  the  oiieratjons  of  man.     Still  they  are 


not  cleaned  or  made  free  of  weeds  by  winter  ploughing ; 
and  therefore  this  operation  can  only  be  considered  as 
a  good  mean  for  procuring  a  seed-bed,  in  which  the 
seeds  of  the  future  crop  may  be  safely  deposited.  Hence 
the  necessity  of  cleaning  clay  soils  during  the  summer 
months,  and  of  having  alwa}''s  a  large  part  of  every  clay 
farm  under  summer  fallow.  All  clay  soils  require  great 
industry  and  care,  as  well  as  a  considerable  portion  of 
knowledge  in  the  dressing  or  management,  to  keep  them 
in  good  condition ;  yet  when  their  natural  toughness  is 
got  the  better  of,  they  always  yield  the  heaviest  and  most 
abundant  crops.  One  thing  requisite  for  a  clay  soil, 
is  to  keep  it  rich  and  full  of  manure ;  a  poor  clay  being 
the  most  ungrateful  of  all  soils,  and  hardly  capable  of 
repaying  the  expense  of  labour,  after  being  worn  out 
and  exhausted.  A  clay  soil  also  receives,  comparative- 
ly, small  benefit  from  grass ;  and  when  once  allowed  to 
get  into  a  sterile  condition,  the  most  active  endeavours 
will  with  diflicuKy  restore  fertility  to  it,  after  the  lapse 
of  many  years. 

U[)on  light  soils,  the  case  is  very  different.  These 
flourish  under  the  grass  husbandry ;  and  bare  summer 
fallow  is  rarely  required,  because  they  may  be  cleaned 
and  cropped  in  the  same  year,  with  that  valuable  escu- 
lent, turnip.  Upon  light  soils,  however,  wheat  can  sel- 
dom be  extensively  cidtivated  ;  nor  can  a  crop  be  ob- 
tained of  equal  value,  either  in  respect  of  quantity  or 
quality,  as  on  clays  and  loams.  The  best  method  of  pro- 
curing wheats  on  light  lands,  is  to  sow  upon  a  clover 
stubble,  when  the  soil  has  got  an  artificial  solidity  of 
body,  and  is  thereby  rendered  capable  of  sustaining  this 
grain  till  it  arrives  at  maturity.  The  same  observation 
a|)plies  to  soils  of  a  gravelly  nature ;  and  upon  both,  bar- 
ley is  generally  found  to  be  of  as  great  benefit  as  wheat. 
The  facility  with  which  every  variety  of  light  soil  is  cul- 
tivated, furnishes  great  encouragement  to  keep  thena 
under  the  plough,  though  it  rarely  happens,  that  when 
more  than  one  half  of  such  soils  are  kept  in  aration,  the 
possessors  are  greatly  benefited. 

Thin  clays,  and  peat  earths,  are  more  friendly  to  the 
growth  of  oats  than  of  other  grains,  though  in  favour- 
able seasons  a  heavy  crop  of  wheat  may  be  obtained 
from  a  thin  clay  soil,  when  it  has  been  completely  sum- 
mei^lallowed,  and  enriched  with  dung.  A  first  applica- 
tion of  calcareous  manure  is  generally  accompanied 
with  great  advantage  upon  these  soils;  but  when  once 
the  effect  of  this  application  is  over,  it  can  hardly  be  re- 
peated a  second  time,  unless  the  land  has  been  very  cau- 
tiously managed  after  the  first  dressing.  Neither  of 
these  soils  is  friendly  to  grass,  yet  there  is  a  neces- 
sity of  exercising  this  husbandry  with  them,  because 
they  are  incapable  of  standing  the  plough  more  than  a 
year  or  two  in  the  course  of  a  rotation.  When  we 
come  to  that  branch  of  our  article  which  treats  of  crop- 
ping, we  shall  notice  these  matters  at  greater  iensrlh ; 
but  in  this  place  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  wheat 
ought  to  be  the  predominant  croji  upon  all  the  rich  ckya 
and  strong  loams,  and  that  light  soils  of  every  kind  are 
well  qualified  for  turnips,  barley,  &c.  U|)on  the  thin  and 
moorish,  soils,  oats  must  necessarily  jireserve  a  pro- 
minent rank  ;  and  grass  seeds  may  b(  cultivated  upoa 
every  one  of  them,  though  with  different  degrees  of  ad- 
vantage, according  to  the  natural  and  artificial  richness 
of  t';ich  soil,  or  to  the  qualities  winch  it  possesses  for  en- 
couniging  the  growth  of  clover,  in  the  first  instance,  and 
preserving  the  roots  of  the  plant  afterwards. 
E  e  2 


,220 


AGRICULTURB. 


CHAP.  III. 

On    the    St8TEM  of  Farming   practised  in  Great 
Britain. 

Sect.  I. 
On  the  Ancient  State  of  Farming  in  Great  Britain. 

In  ancient  times,  when  agriculture  was  little  under- 
stood, and  still  worse  executed,  the  ground  was  chiefly 
cultivated  on  account  of  the  proprietors,  by  persons  re- 
tained in  their  service,  who  enjoyed  or  received  a  cer- 
tain part  of  the  produce,  as  a  reward  for  their  labour, 
and  for  the  support  of  the  stock  eni))loyed  in  its  cultiva- 
tion. A  system  of  this  kind,  it  is  believed,  prevailed 
less  or  more  over  all  Europe  for  many  centuries,  and 
was  gradually  abandoned,  as  cultivators  gathered  stock 
of  their  own,  and  were  enabled  to  rent  land  from  the  ac- 
tual proi)rietors.  This  rent,in  thefirst  instance, consisted 
chiefly  of  services,  something  similar  to  what  prevails  in 
many  parts  of  the  highlands  and  isles  of  Scotland  at 
this  day;  it  was  afterwards  changed  into  tlie  pay- 
ment of  a  certain  quantity  of  grain,  or  articles  of  pro- 
duce, as  agreed  upon  between  the  parties ;  and  finally, 
as  improvements  were  introduced,  and  the  circulating 
medium  became  more  plentiful,  rent  was  changed  into 
a  money  payment ;  a  mode  of  settling  that  matter  now 
generally  practised,  and  certainly  more  convenient  and 
agreeable  than  any  other,  both  for  proj)rietor  and  te- 
nant. 

From  this  succinct  statement,  it  must  be  obvious  that 
the  size  of  farms,  in  the  first  instance,  would  be  small 
and  confined,  while  the  condition  of  the  tenant  would  be 
abject  and  poor.  A  tenant  just  emancipated  from  a  state 
of  bondage  and  villeinage,  could  not  easily  throw  off 
the  chains  which  formerly  shackled  his  mind,  and  pre- 
Tented  his  natural  independence  from  coming  inlo  ac- 
tion ;  hence  many  generations  would  pass  away  before 
tenants  were  capable  of  asserting  their  just  and  lawful 
rights,  or  even  before  they  could  fin4  out  that  a  single 
right  appertained  (o  them  independent  of  the  will  of  their 
landlords.  This  is  so  well  known  to  have  been  the  ancient 
state  of  British  tenants,  that  there  is  no  need  of  enlarging 
upon  it.  They  were  obliged  to  follow  their  chief  into 
the  field,  when  called  upon,  or  they  were  removed  from 
his  estate.  In  fact,  before  14-49,  no  tenant  in  Scotland 
was  secure  of  possession,  as  upon  the  entrance  of  a  new 
proprietor,  he  could  be  effectually  removed  without  the 
formality  of  law ;  security  being  obtainable  only  by  the 
most  slavish  and  implicit  obedience.  The  general 
situation  of  the  tenantry,  under  these  circumstances, 
may  be  easily  conceived;  and  it  is  wonderful  that  the 
country  attained  such  a  degree  of  improvement,  when 
the  condition  of  those  by  whom  it  was  to  be  carried  on 
was  so  abject  and  miserable.  Exceptions,  however,  must 
be  made;  and  these  were  numerous  amongst  (he 
tenants  of  church  lands,  who  were  treatetl  much  more 
kindly  and  affectionately  than  their  brethren,  who  occu- 
pied the  lands  of  the  barons.  It  deserves  also  to  be  no- 
ticed, that  the  general  state  of  Scotland  under  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  kings,  as  already  mentioned,  was  comparatively 
peaceable,  and  that  the  people  were  allowed  to  remain 
at  home,  employed  in  their  domestic  occupations ;  and 
were  rarely  called  out  to  meet  a  foreign  invader,  or  to 
repel  the  attacks  of  a  domestic  enemy.  These  circum- 
•tances,  however,  were  changed  after  (he  decease  of 
-Alexander  III.  the  last  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings.  Du- 


ring a  period  not  shorter  than  seyenty  years,  thecountry, 
with  little  cessation,  was  engaged  in  the  most  cruel  wars, 
which  put  a  stop  to  every  kind  of  internal  improvement, 
and  disposed  the  people  to  the  practice  of  rapine  and 
plunder,  instead  of  an  honest  and  industrious  life.  Nor 
did  the  termination  of  these  succession  wars,  and  the 
establishment  of  the  Stuart  family  on  the  throne,  restore 
domestic  tranquillity.  The  different  chiefs,  acting  some- 
what like  rival  monarchs,  destroyed  and  wasted  the  do- 
mains of  each  other  with  fire  and  sword;  and  their  te- 
nantry, obliged  to  assist  them  in  these  ravages,  were 
exposed  in  their  turn  to  similar  treatment  from  their  an- 
tagonists. In  such  circumstances,  husbandry  could  not 
flourish ;  nor  could  those  engaged  in  it  be  either  pros- 
perous or  happy.  In  fact,  internal  peace  was  not  re- 
stored till  near  the  end  of  the  1 6th  century,  when  James 
VI.  was  firmly  seated  on  the  throne,  and  when  law  as- 
sumed its  just  control  over  the  inhabitants. 

In  England,  the  situation  of  affairs  was  scarcely  more 
flourishing.  Till  the  end  of  the  13th  century,  or  the 
reign  of  Henry  VII.  our  sister  kingdom  bad  continued 
in  a  state  either  of  domestic  or  foreign  warfare;  during 
which  the  tenantry  were  called  into  the  field  at  the  plea- 
sure of  their  respective  chiefs,  and  expose<i  to  death  and 
destruction,  without  having  any  real  interest  in  the  ((uar- 
rels  in  which  they  engaged.  The  tenantry  of  England, 
however,  were  better  off  than  those  in  Scotland,  because 
civil  disturbances  did  not  prevail  so  often,  nor  was  their 
country  invaded  and  ravaged,  as  Scotland  repeatedly  was 
during  the  reigns  of  the  three  Edwards.  It  was  only 
the  northern  counties  of  England  that  were  exposed  to 
the  partial  inroads  of  the  Scotch,  and  these  were  the 
most  barren  and  uncultivated  of  the  whole;  whereas 
the  best  parts  of  Scotland,  lying  nearest  to  the  enemy, 
always  suffered  most,  whilst  the  northern  and  uncultivat- 
ed districts  generally  escaped.  The  lord  protector 
Somerset,  in  one  of  his  marches  through  East  Lothiao, 
burned  one  half  of  the  villages  and  farm-houses,  carried 
off  all  the  horses  and  cattle  within  his  reach,  and  reduc- 
ed the  country  to  a  state  of  misery,  from  which  it  did  not 
recover  for  many  years. 

Under  these  adverse  circumstances,  husbandrj',  which 
is  of  all  arts  most  exposed  to  the  destroying  hanil  of  an 
enemy,  could  not  prosper,  nor  could  those  who  practised 
it  advance  far,  either  in  political  or  moral  improvement. 
Farms  continued  to  be  of  small  size,  aud  perhaps  were 
preserved  in  that  state,  in  order  that  the  number  of  fol- 
lowers might  be  increased  as  much  as  possible.  The  in- 
troduction of  summer  fallow  inlo  the  country,  at  so  late 
a  period  as  the  end  of  the  17th  century,  furnishes  a 
strong  proof  that  agriculture  long  remained  in  a  neglect- 
ed state. 

Sect.  II. 
Causes  of  the  Superiority  of  British  Fanning. 

British  farming,  though  far  from  being  perfect,  may 
be  considered  as  much  superior  to  that  of  the  continent. 
This  superiority  arises  from  the  more  general  security 
of  property;  from  the  beneficial  nature  of  the  tenures 
under  which  land  is  occupied;  from  the  greater  diffusion 
of  wealth  among  agriculturists;  from  Ihc  jiartial  use  of 
machinery,  and  the  general  attention  paid  to  the  con- 
struction of  implements  for  agricultural  operations ;  from 
the  education  bestowed  upon  agriculturists;  from  the 
intimate  union  betwixt  gr.iss  and  corn  husbandry,  by 
which  both  are  greatly  benefited ;  and  from  the  gooii- 


AGRICULTURE. 


221 


"Bess  and  steadiness  of  markets,  where  tLe  several  arti- 
cles of  protluce  are  converted  into  money.  Each  of  these 
causes  has  assisted  in  promoting  British  farming,  though 
in  dilferent  degrees,  according  as  they  have  been 
brought  into  action,  or  in  proportion  to  the  force  with 
which  they  operated.  The  first,  fourth,  and  last,  are  ge- 
neral causes,  whose  effects  are  alike  beneficial  in  every 
situation  ;  but  the  others  are  effected  by  local  circum- 
jstances,  and  vary  considerably  in  different  districts, 
especially  in  South  and  North  Britain.  We  shall  en- 
large a  little  upon  these  causes  of  superiority,  and  illus- 
trate their  effects  in  promoting  the  husbandry  of  Great 
Britain. 

In  the  first  place,  the  security  given  to  property 
through  the  whole  of  the  British  empire,  ensures  to 
every  man  the  complete  possession  of  what  his  industry 
acquires,  with  the  exception  of  that  portion  of  it  which 
is  necessarily  taken  for  the  |)rotection  and  defence  of  the 
empire.  When  mankind  are  subject  to  arbitrary  exac- 
tions, or  when  their  property  is  wrested  from  them  at  the 
pleasure  of  another,  industry  never  can  flourish.  Under 
such  circumstances,  labour  may  be  exerted  to  a  degree 
sufficient  to  procure  the  necessaries  of  life,  but  it  rarely 
goes  further.  In  Britain,  however,  every  man  may 
be  said  to  possess  the  full  fruits  of  his  industry  and  ex- 
ertion, and  may  use  and  appropriate  these  fruits  in  any 
manner  he  thinks  fit,  provided  it  is  not  injurious  to  his 
neighbour,  or  the  welfare  of  the  community  of  which  he 
is  a  member. 

In  the  second  place,  the  tenures  under  which  land  is 
cccupied,  are  favourable  to  improvement.  Here  we  are 
well  aware,  that  a  general  extension  of  the  leasehold 
system  would  contribute  much  to  the  prosperity  of 
agriculture ;  because,  where  leases  are  withheld,  a 
strong  encouragement  is  manifestly  wanting.  On  tbis 
point,  however,  we  shall  not  now  insist:  though  it  de- 
serves attention,  that  to  the  tenure  of  holding  by  lease, 
may  be  attributed  the  striking  and  manifold  improve- 
ments accomplished  by  British  tenantry.  Their  exer- 
tions were  stimulated  by  the  conviction  that  they  were 
improving  for  themselves,  and  that  none  could  step  be- 
iween  them  and  the  proposed  benefit,  so  long  as  they 
acled  agreeably  to  the  obligations  of  the  tenure,  in  vir- 
tue of  which  they  had  possession  for  a  limited  term. 
Leases  have  long  been  more  prevalent  in  Scotland  than 
in  England  ;  and  to  this  i)revalence  may  be  imputed  the 
superiority  of  improvements  discernible  in  the  former 
country.  One  hundred  years  ago,  England  was  in  every 
respect  the  better  cultivated  country,  though  in  modern 
times  the  husbandry  of  Scotland  has  advanced  with  such 
rapidity,  as  now  to  equal  that  of  England,  local  circum- 
stances considered.  The  leasehold  tenure  has  of  late 
been  discouraged  in  England,  and  the  tenantry  forced 
to  trust  to  the  generosity  of  the  proprietors.  According 
to  our  principles,  a  manifest  obstruction  to  improve- 
ment is  thereby  created ;  because  the  most  implicit  con- 
fidence does  not  furnish  the  same  security  that  is  con- 
ferred by  a  lease.  Allowing  that  confidence  may  be 
safely  reposed  in  the  honour  of  the  existing  proiirietor, 
what  is  to  become  of  the  tenant  in  the  event  of  his  de- 
cease, when  the  estate  goes  into  other  hands  ?  Here 
honour  does  not  interfere,  and  the  occupier  may  be  turn- 
ed from  his  farm,  without  any  violation  of  that  sacretl 
principle. 

In  the  third  place,  the  general  diffusion  of  wealth  in 
Great  Britain  is  of  vast  imsiorlance  to  the  art  of  hus- 
fcamiry.    It  is  an  oW  saying,  though  not  the  less  true  on 


that  account,  that  the  poor  farmer  is  always  a  bad  one. 
Though  wealth  does  not  necessarily  cause  the  farmer 
to  excel  in  professional  practice,  yet  without  it  the  most 
scientific  knowledge  may  be  useless  and  unavailing. 
The  British  farmer  being  therefore  in  general  cases  bet- 
ter supplied  with  capital  stock  than  farmers  on  the  con- 
tinent, he  is  enabled  to  exceed  their  exertions  both  in 
the  execution  of  old  practices,  and  in  searching  after 
new  ones. 

In  i\\e  fourth  place,  the  partial  use  of  machinery,  and 
the  general  attention  paid  to  the  construction  of  im- 
plements for  executing  agricultural  work,  are  circum- 
stances of  infinite  advantage  to  British  farming.  Ma- 
chines for  thrashing  grain  from  the  straw,  whereby  the 
6e|)aration  is  more  completely  performed  than  by  hand- 
labour,  or  any  other  method,  are  now  become  very  com- 
mon ;  whilst  fanners  for  dressing  the  grain  are  in  the 
possession  of  almost  every  farmer.  Machinery  for  break- 
ing or  grinding  grain  for  horse  food  is  likewise  erect- 
ed on  the  majority  of  great  farms.  But  the  general  at- 
tention shown  to  the  construction  of  the  other  imple- 
ments used  in  carrj'ing  on  the  operations  of  husbandry, 
such  as  ploughs,  harrows,  rollers,  tlrills,  carts,  wagons, 
and  the  like,  is  of  incalculable  benefit  to  British  farming; 
and  enables  those  who  carry  it  on  to  execute  every 
branch  of  work  in  the  most  perfect  and  profitable  man- 
ner. With  respect  to  these  necessary  implements,  per- 
haps no  country  in  the  world  furnishes  tradesmen,  or 
artificers  capable  of  constructing  them,  with  greater 
dexterity,  and  at  so  small  an  expense  as  those  of  Britaiu. 
With  respect  to  thrashing  machines,  the  remark  is  par- 
ticularly appropriate :  those  erected  on  the  continent 
being  in  every  respect  defective  in  strength,  and  incapa- 
ble of  executing,  at  the  same  expense,  and  witli  thn 
same  eftect,  the  important  work  of  separating  corn  from 
the  straw;  a  work  which  husbandmen  in  all  ages  have 
considered  as  the  most  arduous  connected  with  their  pro- 
fession. 

Even  the  general  conveniency  of  farm-buildings,  and 
the  comfortable  accommodation  provided  almost  in  every 
situation,  not  only  for  the  husbandman,  but  also  for  hia 
servants  and  live-stock,  furnish  great  encouragement  to 
British  farming.  When  we  see  a  country  naked  and 
bare  from  a  want  of  enclosures ;  when  we  notice  that 
farm-houses  are  small,  badly  constructed,  and  imjier- 
fectly  finished;  when  we  observe  that  the  other  buildings 
are  mean,  irregular,  and  unfit  for  the  reception  of  live- 
stock ;  very  little  consideration  is  required  to  ascertain 
the  existing  state  of  husbandry  in  a  district  or  country 
to  which  such  a  description  is  applicable.  Generally 
speaking,  under  such  circumstances  agriculture  will  al- 
ways be  found  defective,  wbile  the  condition  of  the  hus- 
bandman, and  those  dependent  on  him,  will  likewise  he 
found  poor  and  uncomfortable.  The  British  farmer, 
however,  is  rarely  unprovided  with  suitable  accommoda- 
tion for  himself,  his  servants,  and  his  live-stock,  and  thus 
enjoying  sufficient  encouragement  to  execute  the  duties 
of  his  profession.  Exceptions  there  are  to  this  rule,  and 
these  exceptions  will,  in  the  nature  of  things,  remain  iu 
some  degree;  but  they  do  not  invalidate  the  truth  of 
what  we  are  inculcating,  namely,  that  British  farming  is 
greatly  supported  by  the  comfortable  and  substantial 
buildings  generally  erected  for  the  accommodation  of 
those  engaged  in  that  profession. 

In  the  fifth  place,  the  great  body  of  cultivators  in 
Great  Britain,  whose  farm?  are  of  any  considerable  ex- 
tent, have  generally  received  a  suitable  education,  by 


222 


AGRICULTURE. 


which  their  minds  are  enlarged ;  animated  with  a  de- 
sire to  improve  their  condition  in  the  world,  and  ren- 
dered equally  quick  to  perceive,  and  ready  to  adopt,  such 
improvements  as  may  occasionally  be  proposed.  In 
former  times  it  was  objected,  that  farmers  were  an  ob- 
stinate and  bigoted  class  of  men,  areri^e  to  every  kind 
of  innovation  upon  established  f.ractice,  and  persisting 
in  ancient  systems,  even  after  their  deficiency  and  in- 
utility had  been  ascertained  in  the  most  decisive  man- 
ner. Whatever  truth  there  might  formerly  be  in  the 
objection,  its  force  is  now  completely  removed ;  there 
being  no  set  of  men  whatever  more  open  to  convictiou, 
or  more  willing  to  adopt  new  practices  than  British  far- 
mers of  the  present  day.  This  chani^e  of  disposition 
bas  been  accomplished  by  a  general  circulation  of  agri- 
cultural knowledge,  since  the  national  Board  of  Agri- 
Culture  was  established ;  by  numerous  jieriodical  |)ub- 
lications  upon  rural  economy ;  and  by  that  increase  of 
wealth  which  flowed  from  the  exertions  of  the  farmer, 
and  which  naturally  stimulated  a  search  after  new  im- 
provements. According  to  the  measure  of  attention 
bestowed  u|)on  the  education  of  farmers,  it  may  be  ex- 
pected that  improvement  will  hereafter  advance.  A 
man  of  uncultivated  mind  may  hold  a  plough,  or  drive 
a  harrow,  in  a  sufficient  manner ;  but  he  will  seldom  in- 
troduce an  improvement,  or  be  the  means  of  eft'ecting 
any  change  in  the  estaljlished  system  of  rural  economy. 
In  the  sixth  place,  the  intimate  connexion  betwixt 
grass  and  corn  husbandry  has  been  of  high  advantage 
to  British  farming.  This  union  is  closer  in  Britain  than 
in  any  country  in  Europe,  Flanders  excepted,  and  might 
still  be  more  firmly  cemented,  were  alternate  husl)andry 
brought  into  general  practice.  This  cannot  happen, 
liowever,  in  many  districts  of  England,  till  all  land  be 
held  in  severalty,  and  the  range  of  old  pastures  and  mea- 
dows be  sulyected  to  the  plough.  There  is  little  ap- 
pearance at  present  of  these  beneficial  alterations  be- 
ing soon  adopted,  though  few  arguments  are  required 
to  prove  that  numerous  advantages  would  follow,  were 
alternate  husbandry  generally  introduced. 

The  kinds  of  land  on  which  alternate  husbandry  can- 
not be  exercised  under  present  circumstances,  were  the 
occupiers  ever  so  willing  to  ado|)t  it,  are,  Ist,  what  is 
called  Common  Field,  where  property  is  mixed ;  and, 
2d,  what  is  called  Waste  Common,  where  the  subsoil 
belongs  to  the  lord  of  the  manor,  and  the  surface  to  a 
class  of  peo|)Ie  having  servitude  u|)on  it.  According  to 
the  common  field  tenure,  no  new  practice  can  be  intro- 
duced, unless  with  the  approbation  of  every  one  con- 
cerned ;  and  it  would  be  saying  too  much  for  the  good 
sense  of  mankind,  to  reckon  upon  such  a  degree  of 
unanimity  in  a  single  instance.  As  for  the  waste  land, 
it  is  condemned  to  sterility,  by  the  laws  of  the  country 
supporting  a  mode  of  tenure  inconsistent  with  national 
prosperity.  Various  attempts  have  been  made  by  the 
Board  of  Agriculture,  to  procure  a  law  for  regulating  a 
general  division  of  common  and  waste  land,  though, 
from  the  clashing  of  various  interests,  unfortunately 
without  success.  The  advantages  which  would  follow 
a  law  of  this  kind  are  so  numerous,  that  a  wise  legis- 
lature would  rather  cut  a  knot  that  cannot  be  loosened, 
than  suffer  the  nation  to  remain  without  sueli  advan- 
tages. 

When  a  question  of  this  nature  ie  under  discussion, 
the  proper  way  of  arguing  it  is  to  inquire,  whether  the 
holding  of  land  in  commonty,  or  severalty,  is  most  con- 
dacire  to  the  public  good  1  or,  in  other  words,  whether 


the  ground  is  most  productive  under  the  one  tenure  or 
the  other  ?  It  is  the  improvement  of  the  country  which 
we  ought  to  have  in  view,  and  not  the  augmentation  of 
individual  property ;  and,  even  supposing  that  private 
rights  may  be  partially  injured,  yet  if  a  general  division 
of  these  common  fields  and  wastes  will  increase  the 
quantity  of  corn  or  live-stock,  the  interest  of  the  country 
is  thereby  promoted.  Now,  as  no  land  can  be  improved 
when  lying  in  commonty,  it  follows,  that  putting  it  in  that 
state  which  allows  the  proprietor  to  cultivate  and  ma- 
nure it  as  he  pleases,  must  be  a  necessary  measure,  and 
that  the  oliject  justly  deserves  the  most  serious  atteutioit 
of  the  legislature. 

The  common  fields  cannot  be  considered  as  yelding 
one  half  of  their  natural  value,  in  the  way  they  are 
managed.  They  are  exhausted  by  long  and  continued 
tillage;  the  same  rotation  of  crops  h<is  been  followed 
out  for  time  immemorial ;  and  in  their  present  situation, 
improvement  is  impracticable.  To  remove  every  obsta- 
cle to  their  melioration,  is  the  duty  of  the  legisl.ture ; 
and  experience  has  ascertained,  that  without  one  general 
bill,  which  must  operate  upon  all,  and  which  in  many- 
instances  will  cut  the  knot  that  cannot  be  untied,  the 
public  interest  must  continue  to  suffer  from  the  unpro- 
ductive state  of  these  lands. 

The  situation  of  the  waste  lands  reflects  shame  on 
the  policy  of  England ;  for,  while  they  continue  in  their 
present  state,  the  country  derives  scarcely  any  benefit 
from  them.  Many  of  them  are  susceptible  of  great 
improvement,  provided  the  owners  were  emancipated 
from  those  legal  obstructions  which  have  hitherto  pre- 
vented them  from  cultivating  what  ought  to  be  their 
own  property.  If  the  waste  lands  of  Britain  were  cul- 
tivated in  a  wise  and  judicious  manner,  they  would  be 
of  more  solid  value  to  the  nation,  than  the  whole  of  our 
West  India  possessions;  and  it  j)resent«  a  melancholy 
picture,  that  while  we  have  eagerly  contended  for  the 
possession  of  distant  countries,  we  have  carelessly  ne- 
glected the  melioration  of  at  least  one  sixth  part  of  oup 
home  territories,  which  were  undoubtedly  of  much  more 
importance. 

But  there  is  another  description  of  lands,  where  alter- 
nate husbandry  cannot  be  exercised ;  and  that  is  the  old 
pastures,  which  are  preserved  from  the  plough  with  as 
much  care,  as  if  the  proprietors  held  their  estates  under 
that  limitation.  As  this  exclusive  system,  which  pre- 
vails very  extensively,  is  of  great  detriment  to  the  public, 
it  may  be  shown,  that  breaking  up  these  pastures  would 
in  no  shape  hurt  the  proprietor,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
that  the  measure  would  greatly  ))romote  his  interest. 

Does  ploughing  the  ground  in  a  proper  manner  re- 
duce tlie  natural  value  of  the  soil  ?  or,  in  other  words, 
will  it  hinder  land  from  carrying  grass  of  good  quality 
when  it  is  laid  down  again  ?  So  far  from  that,  it  is  often 
necessary  to  convert  pasture  into  tillage,  merely  that 
better  crops  of  grass  may  be  afterwartls  produced.  Land, 
when  uniformly  kept  ia  one  course,  tires  for  want  of 
variety  ,  and  a  farmer  might  as  well  expect  his  laud  to 
carry  good  wheat  every  year,  by  the  force  of  manure, 
as  look  for  grass  of  equal  value  for  a  continued  space  of 
time.  It  is  found  that  the  two  first  years  of  grass,  when 
the  land  is  sown  jiroperly  down,  affonl  a  greater  return 
than  the  same  number  of  subsequent  years.  The  grass 
is  considerably  earlier,  and  therefore  of  greater  value  ; 
while,  from  the  natural  vigour  of  the  i)lanta,  a  largo 
additional  quantity  of  pasture  is  procured. 

B«t  allowiuf,  for  argument's  sijie,  that  land  when 


AGRICULTURE. 


223 


In  grass  continues  iu  a  pr-ogressiTe  state  of  iniprove- 
ment,  still  a  considerable  sum  is  lost  to  the  proprietor 
from  not  ploughing  his  fields.  We  maintain  that  land, 
after  it  has  laid  a  certain  number  of  years  in  grass,  is 
able  to  pay  an  extra  rent.  This,  by  continuing  it  in  the 
same  state,  is  totally  lost ;  because,  if  it  were  ploughed 
for  some  years,  and  then  sown  down  clean  and  in  good 
heart,  it  would  carry  more  grass  than  ever. 

A  very  great  loss  is  sustained  by  the  public  from  the 
practice  of  this  exclusive  system.  It  requires  no  calcu- 
lation to  show,  that  by  breaking  up  land,  at  proper  inter- 
vals, a  great  deal  more  corn  would  be  raised,  an  addition- 
al quantity  of  manure  procured  for  enriching  barren  soils, 
and  much  employment  consequently  given  to  the  people 
at  large.  Tliese  are  important  matters,  and  should  be 
seriously  weighed  by  every  proprietor  who  kee|is  his 
estate  principally  in  grass. 

■  It  may  be  asked,  if  the  grass  grounds  are  broken  up, 
how  are  cattle  to  be  fed  for  supplying  the  butcher  .'  We 
answer,  by  laying  down  the  old  ploughed  fields,  which 
would  be  as  much  benefited  by  a  cessation  from  plough- 
ing, as  the  others  would  be  renovated  by  tillage.  We 
apprehend  as  much  grass  would  be  raised  in  this  way 
as  ever,  «liile  at  the  same  time  the  quantity  of  corn 
would  be  greatly  increased. 

In  a  word,  the  benefits  which  would  follow  from  a 
general  introduction  of  alternate  husbandrj',  are  almost 
incalculable.  Those  districts  where  it  is  already  intro- 
duced, are  by  far  the  richest  and  most  populous.  It  is 
only  in  them  that  farmers  can  be  considered  as  having 
arrived  at  any  degree  of  perfection.  The  common  field 
husbandry  may  l)e  regarded  as  a  remnant  of  feudal  prac- 
tice, not  worthy  of  existing  in  these  enlightened  times, 
when  the  true  principles  of  agriculture  are  so  well  un- 
derstood. 

In  the  last  place,  the  goodness  a,nd  steadiness  of  mar- 
kets in  Britain,  for  disposing  of  the  articles  of  produce 
raised  by  the  British  farmer,  may  be  mentioned  as  a 
principal  mean  of  securing  the  superiority  of  our  hus- 
bandry over  that  of  other  nations.  We  need  hardly 
employ  a  single  minute  iu  illustrating  this  position,  be- 
cause its  truth  is  abundantly  manifest.  No  trade  can 
prosper  when  its  articles  are  not  in  demand ;  or,  more 
properly  gj)eaking,  when  the  market  demand  for  the 
article  to  be  vended  is  inferior  to  the  quantity  oflered 
lor  sale.  With  respect  to  the  articles  produced  by  the 
Sritish  farmer,  the  demand  generally  equnls,  and  often 
exceeds  the  quantity  which  he  rears ;  he  has  eveiy  en- 
couragement to  increase  the  quantity  of  his  produce, 
as  it  may  be  instantly  disposed  of  at  market  for  money, 
without  lying  upon  his  hands,  or  giving  him  unnecessary 
trouble.  Hence  a  degree  of  encouragement  is  given  to 
British  farmers,  far  exceeding  what  is  enjoyed  by  those 
of  the  continent,  where  prices  are  not  only  more  un- 
bteady,  but  where  a  regular  demand  is  also  wanting  for 
the  productions  of  the  agriculturist. 

From  these  considerations  it  will  in  some  measure 
appear,  that  the  British  farmer  is  placed  in  a  preferable 
situation  to  that  of  his  brethren  on  the  continent.  Fo- 
reigners, who  visit  this  countrj%  are  often  puzzled  to 
assign  reasons  for  the  superiority  of  British  farming, 
when  compared  with  that  of  other  countries.  They  at 
once  unnnimously  acknowledge,  that  greater  energy  is 
displayed  by  the  British  farmer;  that  the  land  is  better 
ploughed;  that  it  is  more  regularly  and  systematically 
cultivated ;  that  tUe  crops  raiecd  are  heavier,  and  appa- 


rently more  productive;  and  in  short,  that  the  agricul- 
turist appears  in  a  more  elevated  situation  than  with 
them ;  but  of  the  causes  which  occasion  the  diflFerence 
betwixt  British  and  foreign  agriculture,  they  at  the  same 
time  candidly  acknowledge  themselves  totally  ignorant. 
We  have  stated  these  causes,  therefore,  in  a  cursory 
manner:  and  are  confident  that  the  difference  might 
still  be  rendered  wider,  were  the  obstacles  to  the 
improvement  of  British  husbandry,  hitherto  slightly 
noticed,  completely  done  away,  or  suffered  gradually 
to  diminish. 

Sect.  Ill, 
Ok  the  Size  of  Faittis. 

Where  farming  is  carried  on  as  a  separate  profession, 
and  those  engaged  in  it  are  provided  with  an  ample 
capital  stock,  it  is  plain  that  a  farm  ought  to  be  of  such 
a  size  as  to  furnish  regular  employment,  not  only  to  the 
master  farmer,  but  also  to  servants  of  every  description 
kept  on  the  premises,  so  that  the  greatest  possible  re- 
turn may  l)e  made  to  their  labour,  anil  at  the  least  pos- 
sible expense.  The  inunense  advantages  of  a  regular 
division  of  labour,  in  the  process  of  manufactures,  has 
been  long  well  understood ;  but  it  is  only  of  late  that  it 
was  thought  practicable  to  extend  these  advantages  to 
the  business  of  agriculture.  Formerly,  the  man  who 
held  the  plough  wrought  with  the  sickle  in  harvest,  and 
wielded  the  flail  through  the  winter  season.  At  one 
time  he  cut  grass  with  the  sithe,  and  at  another  digged 
ditches  with  the  spade ;  putting  his  hand  to  every  l)ranch 
of  labour,  while  his  horses  cooled  their  heels  in  the 
stable,  or  ranged  the  scanty  pastures  in  search  of  food. 
This  is  a  just  representation  of  the  ploughman's  avoca- 
tions iu  former  times;  ami  it  is  only  of  late  that  his 
labour  has  been  more  correctly  arranged.  He  is  now 
limited  to  his  proper  department;  and  in  all  well-regu- 
lated farms,  servants  are  provided  for  executing  other 
branches  of  work,  by  which  means  the  charge  of  labour 
is  not  only  lessene<l,  but  the  several  processes  are  exe- 
cuted with  greater  perfection  than  was  practicable  under 
the  ancient  system. 

Prom  these  preliminary  remarks,  it  will  be  discovered, 
that  a  farm  must  necessarily  be  of  considerable  extent 
before  the  benefits  arising  from  a  division  of  labour  can 
be  fully  obtained.  Upon  a  farm  comparatively  small, 
these  advantages,  under  the  best  arrangement,  can  only 
be  partially  gained,  because  regular  employment  cannot 
be  furnished  there  to  any  servant  except  the  plough- 
man ;  labour,  therefore,  cannot  be  suitably  divided,  or 
even  executed,  at  the  same  expense  as  if  the  concern 
were  of  a  more  extensive  nature.  In  this  point  of  view, 
the  public  interest  seems  benefited  by  large  farms, 
though  theorists  have  long  contended  that  such  should 
be  expressly  prohibited  by  legislative  enactments.  The 
opinion  v.hich  we  have  formed  on  this  question  differs 
from  that  entertained  by  these  gentlemen ;  and  being 
founded  on  practical  principles,  may  be  of  use,  when 
tliis  im|)ortant  question  comes  under  consideration.  We 
are  not  advocates  for  monopoly ;  but  we  are  convinced, 
that  an  extensive  farm,  provided  the  capital  stock,  and 
the  abilities  of  the  occupier  are  adequate,  operates  not 
only  as  a  spur  to  activity  and  diligence,  but  may  be  ma- 
naged at  less  expense,  and  in  a  more  perfect  way,  than 
is  i)racticable,  were  the  same  quantity  of  ground  divided 
into  a  number  of  email  farms.    The  justness  of  these 


224 


AttRICtLTlTRE. 


oninions  may  appear  from  the  followiug  considera- 
tions. 

An  improved  system  of  husbandry  requires,  that  the 
farm  upon  which  it  is  to  be  carried  on  should  be  of  some 
extent,  otherwise  room  is  not  afforded  lor  the  ilifferent 
crops  necessary  to  complete  a  perfect  rotation  of  manage- 
ment The  farmer,  who  practises  husbandry  upon  pro- 
per principles,  should  not  only  have  his  fields  under  all 
sorts  of  grain,  but  likewise  a  sufficient  quantity  of  grass 
and  winter  crops,  for  maintaining  his  stock  of  cattle  and 
sheep  through  all  the  different  seasons  of  the  year.  By 
laying  out  land  in  this  style,  the  economy  of  a  farm  is 
so  regulated,  that  while  improvements  progressively  go 
forward,  too  much  work  does  not  occur  at  one  time,  nor 
occasion  for  idleness  at  another.  When  the  expenses 
of  farm-culture  are  so  extravagant  as  at  present,  this 
deserves  particular  attention ;  but  cannot,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  be  justly  and  accurately  arranged,  where  the 
farm  is  of  small  size. 

It  may  be  imagined,  that  the  arrangement  of  farm- 
labour,  and  that  the  cultivation  of  the  ground,  whatever 
the  size  of  the  farm  may  be,  is  a  matter  of  simjjle  ques- 
tion ;  and  that  the  smallness  of  the  possession  only  re- 
duces the  scale  upon  which  improvements  are  to  be  car- 
ried on.  This  may  in  part  be  true;  but  will  the  result 
of  the  question  be  favouralile  to  improvements  ?  Upon 
50  acres,  labour  may  not  be  afforded  for  half  a  team; 
the  enclosures  would  perhaps  be  a  few  acres,  and  the 
farmer  would  go  to  market  and  buy  a  single  beast,  thus 
affording  opportunity  for  spending  half  the  year  in  idle- 
ness, wasting  the  ground  by  a  number  of  fences,  and  oc- 
casioning more  expense  than  the  whole  profit  would  re- 
pay. These  things  are  the  necessary  consequences  of 
arranging  farm  management  by  an  arithmetical  opera- 
tion, and  are  great  drawbacks  upon  the  profits  of  farm- 
ing. 

With  regard  to  the  question,  whether  large  or  small 
farms  are  generally  best  managed  ?  we  apprehend  very 
few  words  will  suffice.  Who  keeps  good  horses,  and 
feeds  them  well  ?  Who  makes  the  completes!  fallow, 
takes  the  deepest  furrow,  and  ploughs  best  ?  Who  has 
the  greatest  number  of  hands,  and  sufficient  strength  for 
catching  the  proper  season,  by  which  the  crop  upon  the 
best  of  grounds  is  often  regulated?  Who  purchases  the 
most  manure,  and  raises  the  weightiest  cro[)s  ?  We  be- 
lieve, that,  in  general,  these  questions  must  be  answer- 
ed in  favour  of  the  large  farmer. 

It  is  a  popular  doctrine,  that  large  farms  are  unfriend- 
ly to  population,  and  that  they  ought  to  be  discouraged. 
We  suspect  this  doctrine  is  founded  in  prejudice,  and 
•will  not  stand  the  test  of  accurate  examination.  No 
doubt,  if  farms  are  increased  in  size,  the  number  of  far- 
mers is  lessened ;  this  is  granted ;  but  with  regard  to 
the  great  scale  of  population,  we  arc  clearly  of  opinion 
it  is  not  affected.  If  a  better  practice  is  carried  on  upon 
a  large  farm  than  a  small  one,  this  must  be  accomplish- 
ed by  employing  a  greater  number  of  hands.  What, 
therefore,  is  lost  in  one  class,  is  gained  in  another.  Be- 
sides, we  have  often  noticed,  that  upon  large  farms,  most 
married  servants  are  kept,  which  affords  encouragement 
to  the  increase  of  population.  Upon  a  small  farm,  from 
50  to  100  acres,  what  is  the  farmer  to  do  ?  he  has  not 
sufficient  business  for  employing  his  attention,  and  the 
smallness  of  his  possession  will  not  allow  him  to  be  idle. 
He  therefore  must  work  with  his  hands,  which  brings 
the  question  precisely  to  the  same  issue,  as  if  all  work 
•was  performed  by  hired  servants ;  independent  of  the 


arguments  we  have  adduced,  that  more  work  la  execut- 
ed, and  more  hands  employed,  upon  a  l.irge  farm,  than 
upon  the  same  extent  of  laud  divided  into  small  ones. 

It  has  surprised  us  to  observe  many  persons  taking  it 
for  granted,  that  by  increasing  the  size  of  a  farm  you 
necessarily  decrease  the  number  of  the  people ;  without 
considering  that  if  the  management  is  equal  in  every 
respect,  the  population  must  be  exactly  the  same,  with 
the  exception  of  one  or  two  farmers'  families.  They 
tell  you  that  cottages  are  pulled  down;  whereas  the 
large  farmer  has  occasion  for  more  cottages  than  the 
small  farmer,  as  he  cannot  keep  so  many  house  servants, 
and  is  often  under  the  necessity  of  buildiug  new  houses, 
in  order  that  the  number  of  servants  he  keeps  may  be 
accommodated.  An  attentive  observer  will  smile  at  th« 
doleful  pictures  often  exhibited  by  sucli  alarmists,  which, 
to  do  them  justice,  are  not  original  ones,  as  they  have 
been  borrowed  from  former  times.  In  a  word,  wherever 
work  is  carried  on,  it  must  be  done  by  employing  hands, 
and  wherever  work  is  executed,  in  the  most  perfect 
manner,  the  greatest  number  of  hands  must  be  employ- 
ed. If  the  system  carried  on  upon  the  premises  is  im- 
proved, the  population  must  of  course  be  increased;  the 
one  is  the  cause,  the  other  is  the  effect,  and  practice  and 
daily  experience  justify  these  conclusions. 

Sect.  IV. 

On  Hiring  or  Renting  a  Farm. 

Tlie  Farmer,  who  wishes  to  hire  or  rent  a  farm,  should,, 
upon  such  an  occasion,  call  forth  all  his  abilities.  He 
should  equally  attend  to  the  disadvantages  and  to  the 
advantages  of  the  farm,  that  he  may  be  able  to  draw  a 
balance,  and  compare  that  balance  with  the  rent  demand- 
ed. Let  him  remember,  (hat  he  must  equally  discard  a 
too  solicitous  prudence,  which  doubts  every  benefit,  and 
a  too  daring  courage,  which  overlooks,  or  lessens  every 
evil. 

It  must  be  obvious  to  almost  every  person,  (hat  com* 
mon  farmers  often  lose  themselves  in  deliberating  con* 
cerning  a  farm.  They  have  so  many  mistaken  rules  of 
judging,  that  they  often  reject  farms,  that  soon  after 
make  the  fortunes  of  those  who  rent  them.  In  particu- 
lar, they  are  very  apt  to  take  one  false  guide, — the  sue 
cess  of  the  last  tenant.  If  a  man  makes  a  good  deal  of 
money  upon  a  farm,  or  leaves  it  for  a  much  larger  one, 
numbers  will  immediately  apply,  almost  without  view- 
ing it ;  but,  if  a  tenant  fails,  most  of  the  neighbours  t:tke 
it  for  granted,  without  further  considenition,  that  his  farm 
was  a  bad  one.  They  attribute  all  to  the  land,  and  avoid 
it,  under  an  idea,  lh;it  without  a  reduction  of  rent,  (he 
farm  cannot  be  profitable.  These  notions  are  absurd  in 
the  extreme ;  for  the  management  of  various  farmers  is 
80  essentially  different,  that  success  often  depends  very 
little  on  rent.  A  farmer,  with  a  proper  sum  of  mon'/y 
in  his  pocket,  hires  a  farm,  and  thrives  upon  it;  another, 
with  a  hundred  pounds  less,  hires  it,  and  starves.  Sup- 
pose two  farmers  of  the  same  substance,  and  living  upon 
similar  farms:  one  manages  his  laud  with  judgment  and 
spirit :  makes  all  the  manure  he  can,  sells  no  h..y  or 
straw;  does  not  injudiciously  crop  his  land;  drains  his 
fields,  and  keeps  bis  fences  in  good  order.  This  man 
grows  rich.  The  other,  a  sloven  in  these  particular^, 
dwindles  into  poverty.  These  are  the  circumstances 
that  make  one  man  rich,  and  the  other  poor  :  and  surely 
it  must  be  apparent,  that  gicceoding  occupiers,  judging 


AGRICULTURE. 


225 


of  the  respecfire  Tarnifi,  by  the  success  of  others,  are 
taking  as  false  a  criterion  as  they  can  possibly  (ix  upon. 

Let  the  farmer  who  is  debating  whether  he  should 
hire  a  farm  that  is  offered  him,  examine  the  soil  well, 
that  he  may  be  enabled  to  determine  its  nature,  with 
respect  to  stiffness,  moisture,  exposure,  levelness,  slope, 
etoniness,  &e.  Let  him  estimate  the  expense  of  drain- 
ing, manuring,  and  fencing,  that  will  be  required  :  let 
him  lake  into  consideration  the  roads,  distance  of  mar- 
kets, prices  of  commotlities,  labour,  Arc.  The  compact- 
ness of  the  farm,  and  the  situation  of  the  homestead, 
should  also  be  well  considered ;  together  with  the  pub- 
lic burdens,  and  all  out-goings.  Let  him  deliberate  upon 
all  covenants  relating  to  the  manner  of  croi)ping  the 
lands  :  for  these  are  often  in  direct  opposition  to  im- 
provement. One  general  rule,  in  hiring  a  farm,  should 
never  be  forgotten:  The  farmer  should,  if  possible,  tix 
upon  good  land,  and  he  can  scarcely  pay  too  much  for  it ; 
but,  for  poor  land,  the  least  rent  is  too  high.  By  good 
land,  however,  we  are  not  to  understand  that  which  has 
the  command  of  lasting  manures,  as  marl,  &c. ;  neither 
are  we  to  consider  lands  as  unprofitable  which  pass  un- 
derthedenominationorri)(M/c,forsuch  are  often  ver3'  rich. 

These  are  considerations  of  great  importance.  It  may 
also  be  added,  that  the  mellow,  rich,  crumbling  claj^s.  or 
rather  clayey  loams,  are,  of  all  soils,  the  most  profitable. 
Regard  such  as  best,  which  will  admit  of  being  ploughed 
soon  after  rain,  and  do  not  cake  on  hot  gleams  of  sun 
coming  soon  after:  lands  of  that  quality  are  of  the 
greatest  value,  and  to  be  preferred  by  every  judicious 
husbandman. 

Another  consideration  of  great  importance  is,  not  to 
take  a  farm  that  may  require  more  money  to  stock  it 
well,  than  the  farmer  is  in  possession  of.  Farmers  are 
usually  very  eager  after  quantity ;  the  certain  conse- 
quence of  which  is,  a  slovenly  system  of  management. 
A  farmer  loses  much  when  he  is  obliged  to  desist  from 
a  work,  which  he  knows  to  be  right,  in  consequence  of 
a  want  of  money ;  and  he  can  only  prevent  such  a  loss, 
by  hiring  no  jnore  land  than  he  can  manage  in  a  mas- 
terly manner.  Let  any  one  consider  the  difference  be- 
tween good  and  bad  husbandry  in  all  its  branches.  The 
one  is  a  certain  loss;  the  other  a  certain  gain.  A  pro- 
fitable and  proper  use  of  natural  manures,  as  marl,  clay, 
lime,  &c.  can  only  be  made  by  those  farmers  who  have 
money  at  command.  In  the  neighbourhood  of  great 
cities  and  towns,  a  variety  of  manures  are  to  be  had,  and 
in  some  places  at  a  reasonable  |)rice ;  but  without  the 
command  of  money,  how  are  they  to  be  obtained  ? 

As  in  land,  so  in  manures,  quality  is  to  be  considered 
above  quantity;  but  this  is  a  distinction  that  many  far- 
mers are  unable  to  make,  and  yet  it  is  a  thing  of  the 
utmost  im|)ortance.  Animals  require  food  of  a  good 
quality,  and  they  reject  that  which  is  bad ;  but  vegeta- 
bles being  of  a  passive  nature,  they  can  only  show  their 
dislike  by  a  feeble  and  unhealthy  ajjpearance  when 
growing. 

Let  the  farmer  ever  hold  in  remembrance,  that  ma- 
nure is  the  life  and  soul  of  husbandry;  and  he  that 
knows  how  to  prepare  it,  and  afterwards  how  to  apply  it, 
cannot  fail  of  being  a  successful  farmer  in  any  situation. 

Sect.  V. 

On  the  Occupation  of  the  Soil. 

The  portion  of  landin  Britain  kept  in  the  hands  of  pro- 
prietors, is  comparatively  very  small,  ninety-nine  parts 
Vol.  L    Part  L 


out  of  a  hundred  at  lenst  being  demised  by  lease  or 
agreement  to  tenants  for  a  greater  or  lesser  number  of 
years,  under  certain  conditions  or  prestations,  which 
govern  their  management,  and  ascertain  the  terms  un- 
der which  possession  is  to  be  held  during  the  years 
agreed  upon.  This  is  a  wise  system  for  proprietors  to 
act  upon,  because  without  the  aid  of  the  tenantry  it  is 
morally  and  physically  impracticable  to  procure  a  suit- 
able return  from  their  estates,  or  even  to  have  them  cul- 
tivated or  improved  to  an  extent  in  any  measure  ade- 
quate to  their  natural  value.  There  are  exceptions, 
however,  to  this  rule,  but  they  are  not  numerous.  We 
have  seen  some  proprietors  improve  lands  in  their  pos- 
session as  well  as  could  have  been  done  by  the  most  cor- 
rect farmer,  though  perhaps  at  a  greater  expense.  This 
must  necessarily  happen  from  the  latter  being  always  at 
the  head  of  affairs,  whereas  the  other  must  depute  the 
management  to  a  bailiff  or  steward,  whose  interest  is 
not  materially  concerned  in  the  issue. 

Agriculture  in  Britain  is  therefore  carried  on  by  far- 
mers, who  rent  the  land  on  such  terms  as  can  be  agreed 
upon,  and  in  most  cases  upon  a  lease  of  longer  or  shorter 
dia-ation,  as  is  customary  ujion  the  estate,  or  agreeable 
to  the  wishes  of  the  proprietor.  Generally  speaking, 
the  length  of  a  lease  is  from  19  to  21  years.  In  some 
cases  it  is  not  so  long ;  but  it  is  evident,  that  when  land 
is  in  an  unimproved  condition,  a  greater  number  of  years 
is  necessary  to  excite  the  tenant  to  make  improvements, 
because  he  cannot  otherwise  reap  the  fniit  of  his  labours. 
The  value  of  land,forthe  lasttwenfy  years,  has  increased 
so  rapidly,  that  most  proprietors  are  averse  to  grant  a 
long  lease,  though  it  is  demonstrable,  that  by  shorten- 
ing the  period  the  permanent  interest  of  the  property  is 
not  advanced.  A  greater  or  less  number  of  restrictive 
covenants  are  usually  inserted  in  leases,  many  of  them 
undoubtedly  detrimental  to  the  tenant,  without  being  of 
the  slightest  benefit  to  the  proprietor.  When  leases  are 
from  year  to  year,  or  the  tenant  is  removeable  upon  six 
months'  warning,  a  practice  very  frequent  in  England, 
strict  covenants  may  be  necessary;  because  the  tenant, 
having  no  more  than  an  annual  interest  in  the  premises, 
might  be  led  to  sacrifice  every  principle  of  good  hus- 
bandry, and  to  ruin  the  ground  committed  to  his  ma- 
nagement; but  where  the  lease  is  for  19  or  21  years, 
covenants  of  any  kind,  except  the  one  relative  to  annual 
rent,  seem  altogether  useless,  unless  in  so  far  as  relates 
to  the  four  last  years,  when  the  interest  of  the  parties 
clash  or  interfere.  Even  then,  nothing  more  is  neces- 
sary than  covenants  respecting  grass  and  fallow,  houses 
and  fences ;  for  in  the  other  years,  the  interest  of  the 
tenant  is  a  stronger  motive  to  the  performance  of  duty 
than  the  most  express  written  obligations. 

The  growing  of  corn  may  be  considered  as  the  chief 
object  of  British  farmers :  though  in  many  of  the  inland 
districts,  the  grazing  system  is  more  extensively  follow- 
ed, and  little  grain  cultivated,  except  what  is  required 
for  the  consumption  of  the  neighbouring  inhabitants. 
Perhaps  the  most  perfect  system  of  husbandry  is  that 
which  conjoins  the  corn  and  grazing  trade,  usually  called 
the  alternate  husbandrj',  where  two  culmiferous  crops 
do  not  follow  in  the  rotation,  but  grass,  or  one  or  other 
of  the  leguminous  varieties,  succeeds  each  corn  crop. 
If  this  system  be  diligently  exercised,  it  is  a  matter  of 
little  importance  to  the  soil  what  varieties  either  of  cul- 
miferous or  leguminous  articles  are  cultivated,  because 
it  will  be  equally  benefited;  though  local  circumstances 
may  render  it  for  the  interest  of  the  tenant  to  cultivate 
F  f 


226 


AGRICULTURE. 


one  kind  in  preference  to  another.  The  alternate  hus- 
bandry prevails  more  in  Britain  than  in  any  part  of  Eu- 
rope, Flanders  excepted,  and  is  rapidly  spreading  in 
every  district.  In  fact,  a  sj'stem  of  that  nature  is  emi- 
nently beneficial  to  every  soil,  and  most  advanta^ous 
for  the  tenant  in  every  situation,  though  the  proper  crops 
to  be  cultivated  depend  entirely  upon  soil  and  climate. 
These  vary  so  much  in  Britain,  as  to  preclude  didactic 
rules  concerning  the  crops  which  may  be  most  profit- 
ably cultivated;  but  where  the  soil  and  climate  are  fa- 
vourable, and  manure  is  at  the  command  of  the  tenant, 
wheat  always  forms  a  prominent  article  of  British  cul- 
ture. So  much  of  the  soil,  however,  is  of  inferior  qua- 
lity, and  the  climate  in  many  districts  is  so  unfavourable 
to  the  growth  of  that  grain,  as  to  render  the  culture  of 
oats  in  many  cases  more  beneficial.  Wheat  is  indeed 
now  cultivated  in  Britain  to  an  extent  almost  equal  to 
the  consumption  of  the  inhabitants,  notwithstanding  the 
general  predilection  for  bread  made  from  that  grain, 
•which  furnishes  a  good  reason  for  bringing  waste  ground 
scattered  up  and  down  the  island  into  immediate  culti- 
vation. Without  adopting  a  measure  of  this  nature,  the 
country  cannot  be  furnished  with  a  regular  supply  of 
grain  indejiendent  of  the  aid  of  foreign  nations;  and 
this  aid,  under  existing  circumstances,  must  be  viewed 
not  only  as  precarious  and  uncertain,  but  as  placing  the 
country  in  a  state  of  dependence,  which  every  consider- 
ate person  must  certainly  deprecate. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  advantages  which  are  en- 
joyed, perfect  husbandry  is  not  to  be  looked  for  in 
Great  Britain,  unless  leases  are  more  generally  granted, 
and  a  greater  degree  of  liberty  allowed  to  the  tenant 
than  has  been  hitherto  enjoyed  under  the  customary 
covenants.  Perhaps  the  lease-hold  tenure  is  more  fre- 
quent in  Britain,  and  discretionary  management  more 
prevalent  than  in  other  countries.  To  these  things, 
and  the  security  afforded  to  property  by  a  wise  system 
of  laws,  may  the  superiority  of  British  husbandry  be  at- 
tributed. Several  other  minor  advantages  have  been 
noticed,  and  the  whole  connected  together  are  eminent- 
ly beneficial  to  the  prosperity  of  the  state.  A  wise 
economist  would,  however,  study  to  improve  all  these 
advantages.  To  do  away  every  obstacle  in  the  road  of 
improvement,  would  by  him  be  considered  as  an  impor- 
tant service  to  the  community.  The  art  of  agriculture 
has  been  viewed  as  the  parent  from  whence  all  others 
spring;  and  the  more  the  parent  art  is  improved,  so  much 
more  encouragement  will  be  afforded  to  the  increase  of 
the  inferior  ones.  This  island  has  already  derived  nu- 
merous advantages  from  the  increased  attention  shown 
to  the  improvement  of  its  agriculture;  audit  is  to  be 
hoped  this  attention  will  continue  to  increase,  and  be 
thereby  a  constant  aid  furnished  to  national  prosperity. 
The  decline  of  agriculture  would  lie  the  surest  symp- 
tom of  national  ruin.  Britain  hitherto  has  matched  any 
part  of  the  world  in  a  knowledge  of  the  arts,  and  in  the 
practice  of  trade  and  manufactures.  The  origin  of  that 
knowledge,  and  the  source  of  these  practices,  m;"y,  in 
gome  measure,  be  traced  to  the  improvement  of  its  agri- 
culture. This  art  forms  the  basis  or  foundation  on 
which  all  others  are  reared  ;  and  as  it  is  more  perfect  in 
Britain  than  in  other  countries,  commerce  and  manu- 
factures have  risen  to  proportional  excellence. — The 
subject  might  be  enlarged  upon  much  further,  but  what 
we  have  said  in  a  preceding  Section,  will  showsutticient- 
ly  the  causes  of  the  guperiBrity  of  British  husbandry  to 


that  of  foreign  countries,  and  the  advantages  which  are 
derived  to  the  nation  from  that  superiority. 

CHAP.  IV. 

On  the  System  of  Connexion  hetwixt  Proprietors 
and  Tenants  hi  Great  Britain. 

The  bond  of  connexion  between  proprietors  and  ten- 
ants, or  the  nature  of  the  system  which  connects  these 
two  classes  together,  is  of  much  more  importance  to  the 
cause  of  agriculture,  than  many  of  our  writers  on  rural 
economy  seem  to  imagine.  In  fact,  the  moral  excite- 
ment, or  degree  of  encouragement  given  to  the  tenant 
for  improving  the  ground  put  under  his  occupation,  is 
regulated  entirely  by  the  terms  or  conditions  of  the 
lease  under  which  he  holds  possession.  If  the  condi- 
tions be  liberal  and  judicious,  and  accommodated  to  the 
soil  and  situation  of  the  land  thereby  demised  to  the 
tenant,  all  that  is  obligatory  upon  the  proprietor  is  faith- 
fully discharged.  But,  when  matters  are  otherwise, 
when  the  tenant  jiossesses  under  a  short  lease ;  when 
the  covenants  or  obligations  are  severe  in  the  first  in- 
stance, and  ultimately  of  little  avail  towards  forwarding 
improvement,  it  may  reasonably  be  inferred,  that  the  con- 
nexion is  improperly  constituted,  and  that  little  benefit 
will  thence  follow,  either  to  the  public  or  to  the  pKrties 
concerned. 

Sect.  I. 
On  Leases. 

Holding  land  under  a  lease  is  a  very  ancient  tenure 
in  Britain,  though  the  obligations  of  that  instrument  have 
varied  and  altered  materially  since  the  tenure  was  first 
established.  We  have  already,  in  a  cursory  manner, 
pointed  out  the  utility  of  leases,  and  described  the  an- 
cient state  of  the  agriculturists  of  this  country.  We 
have  described  the  original  cultivators  as  persons  who 
managed  the  ground  in  behalf  of  the  projmetors,  and  to 
whom  a  certain  proportion  of  the  jiroduce  was  allotted 
for  maintenance  of  themselves  and  those  under  them. 
They  did  not  possess  any  stock  of  their  own,  but  acted 
merely  as  servants  of  the  proprietors,  who  furnished  the 
means  by  which  cultivation  was  carried  on,  and  to  whom 
they  were  liable  for  the  value  of  stock  put  into  their 
hands,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  produce  after  their 
own  allowance  and  the  expense  of  management  were 
defrayed.  This  view  of  the  husbandman's  situation  in 
ancient  times,  accords  with  the  accounts  given  of  it  by 
the  late  lord  Karnes,  an  authority  of  no  small  considera- 
tion, and  indeed  is  analogous  with  the  state  of  property 
and  society  at  the  time,  and  quite  consistent  with  the 
records  transmitted  to  us.  His  lordship  says,  that  "  lands 
were  originall)'  occupied  by  bondmen,  who  were  the 
property  of  the  landlord,  and  consequently  were  not  ca- 
pable to  hold  any  property  of  their  own  ;  but,  such  per- 
sons who  had  no  interest  to  be  industrious,  and  who 
were  under  no  compulsion  when  not  under  the  eye  of 
their  master,  were  generally  laxy,  and  always  careless. 
This  made  it  eligible  to  have  a  free  man  to  manage  the 
farm,  who,  probably,  at  first  got  some  acres  set  apart  to 
him  for  his  maintenance  and  wages.  But  this  not  being 
a  sufficient  spur  to  industry,  it  was  found  a  salutary  mea- 
sure to  assume  this  man  as  a  partner,  by  communicating 
to  him  a  proportion  of  the  product,  in  place  of  wages,  1^ 


AGRICULTURE. 


227 


which  he  came  to  manage  for  his  own  Interest  as  well 
as  that  of  his  master.  The  next  step  had  still  a  better 
effect,  entitling  the  master  to  a  yearly  quantity  certain, 
and  the  overplus  to  remain  with  the  servant.  By  this 
contract,  the  benefit  of  the  servant's  industry  accrued 
wholly  to  himself,  and  his  indolence  or  ignorance  hurt 
himself  alone.  One  further  step  was  necessary  to  brint; 
the  contract  to  its  due  perfection,  which  is,  to  give  the 
servant  a  lease  for  years,  without  which,  he  is  not  se- 
cure that  his  industry  will  turn  to  his  own  profit.  By  a 
contract  in  these  terms,  he  acquired  the  name  of  tenant, 
because  he  was  entitled  to  hold  the  possession  for  years 
certain." 

The  slightest  trace  of  security  being  attained  in  the 
possession  of  landed  property  in  Britain,  cannot  be  found 
earlier  than  the  reigns  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  monarchs  of 
Scotland,  and  after  the  Norman  conquest  of  England  ; 
since  which  periods,  property  has  been  possessed  nearly 
under  the  same  tenures,  though  not  under  the  same 
burdens,  as  at  this  day.  But  though  the  possession  of 
pro|ierty  may  be  considered  as  uniformly  held  under  the 
crown,  yet  the  situation  of  those  who  bore  (he  heat  and 
burden  of  the  day,  those  who  laboured  the  ground  and 
made  it  productive,  was  vastly  dissimilar.  Originally 
there  was  no  description  of  property  in  the  country,  ex- 
cept the  soil  and  the  animals  reared  upon  it ;  therefore, 
when  the  soil  was  portioned  out  and  allocated  amongst 
those  to  whom  the  sovereign  was  pleased  to  grant  it,  the 
remainder  of  the  peo|)le,  left  improvided,  were  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  entirely  dependent  upon  those  on 
whom  land  had  been  bestowed ;  because,  from  the  situa- 
tion of  the  country  at  the  time,  no  other  resource  or 
means  of  support  was  to  be  found.  The  proprietors 
who  obtained  grants  of  land  from  the  crown,  conveyed 
part  of  it  to  their  principal  dependents,  as  feudatories  or 
vassals,  and  from  the  circumstances  of  charter  and  seisin 
being  taken  upon  these  conveyances,  it  has  been  suppos- 
ed that  leasehold  was  a  tenure  of  very  ancient  date. 
There  is  reason,  however,  to  assert,  that  leases  were 
unknown,  at  least  in  Scotland,  till  the  clergy  obtained 
landed  possessions ;  and  that  the  like  tenure  was  after- 
wards extended  to  the  tenants  of  the  lay  proprietors,  as 
the  country  increased  in  wealth,  and  as  the  circum- 
stances and  condition  of  the  actual  cultivators  were  im- 
prov:ed  and  meliorated.  Not  sooner  than  1J49,  how- 
ever, was  any  tenant  secure  of  possession,  though  the 
clauses  of  his  lease  were  ever  so  strong ;  nor  was  he  se- 
cured against  the  claims  of  the  proprietor's  creditors 
till  twenty  years  afterwards,  when  an  act  passed  freeing 
him  from  all  claims  exceeding  the  actual  rents  due  by 
Mm.  In  England,  the  tenant  seeins  to  have  remained 
longer  in  an  insecure  and  precarious  state  than  even  in 
Scotland;  for  till  the  act  201  h  Henry  VIII.  was  passed, 
any  tenant  might  be  ejected  by  the  form  of  process,  call- 
ed a  common  recovery.  From  these  circumstances, 
the  degraded  condition  of  cultivators  or  farmers  in  an- 
cient times  will  easily  be  ascertained;  and  from  what 
will  afterwards  appear,  their  condition  does  not  seem  to 
be  so  much  improved  as  imperiously  called  for  upon 
principles  calculated  to  promote  the  public  interest. 
The  prosperity  of  the  state  is  at  all  times  intimately 
connected  with  the  successful  cultivation  of  the  soil,  and 
the  increase  of  agricultural  produce ;    every  circum- 


stance, therefore,  prejudicial  to  the  one,  is  necessarily 
prejudicial  to  the  other. 

Viewing  farmers  as  standing  in  the  condition  of  pro- 
prietors, and  exposed  to  the  same  ditliculties  that  would 
occur  to  the  latter,  were  the  cultivation  of  the  ground 
to  be  carried  on  at  their  risk  and  expense,  we  must  con- 
sider every  unnecessary  hardship  imposed  upon  them, 
and  every  obstruction  thrown  in  the  way  of  spirited  cul- 
tivation, as  tending  for  the  time  to  lessen  the  real  value 
of  the  property,  and  as  injurious  to  the  interest  of  the 
state.  If  a  certain  number  of  years  must  elapse  before 
the  best  concerted  plan  can  be  carried  fully  into  execu- 
tion ;  and  if  another  number  of  years  must  expire  before 
the  fruits  of  that  plan  can  be  reaped  or  obtained,  then  it 
would  appear  that  the  proprietor,  who  cither  obstinately 
refuses  to  set  his  land  upon  lease,  or  to  grant  lo  the 
tenant  such  a  lease  as  shall  ensure  him  a  reasonable  term 
of  possession  for  reaping  (he  fruits  of  improvement, 
must  be  considered  not  only  as  highly  culpable,  but 
guilty  of  a  kind  of  high  treason  against  the  prosperity 
of  the  state.  On  the  other  hand,  proprietors  who  grant 
leases,  and  include  in  them  covenants  or  obligations  that 
obstruct  the  operations  of  the  farmer,  or,  which  is  the 
same  thing,  prevent  him  from  raising  the  greatest  pos- 
sible quantity  of  produce  for  the  use  of  the  community, 
must  also  be  regarded  as  enemies  of  the  public  welfare. 
If  agriculture  is  a  main  pillar  of  the  state,  every  measure 
•ending  to  injure  or  reduce  its  strength,  must  be  con- 
sidered as  hostile  to  the  community,  and  deserving  of 
the  severest  censure  and  reprobation. 

Before  a  farm  can  be  put  in  proper  order,  a  considera- 
ble time  must  elapse,  and  much  money  must  be  ex- 
pended. The  fruits  of  improvements  are  not  gained  all 
at  once,  and  a  number  of  years  are  required  to  accom- 
plish the  best  digested  plan.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a 
person  entering  to  a  farm  that  was  worn  out  and  ex- 
hausted by  long  and  successive  tillage,  and  that  he 
wishes  to  refresh  the  land  by  laying  it  down  in  grass ;  it 
will  be  six  years  at  least  before  he  can  go  over  it  all 
with  fallow ;  and  unless  he  sow  it  down  clean,  he  is  nei- 
ther doing  the  land  nor  himself  justice.  If  he  continues 
it  in  grass  five  or  six  years  more,  which  is  little  enough 
time  for  ground  so  exhausted,  it  will  be  found  that  near 
twenty  years  must  take  place  before  he  receive  (he  re- 
ward of  his  improved  cultivation ;  and  to  receive  this  re- 
ward he  has  a  claim  both  from  his  superior  management, 
and  as  an  incitement  to  his  future  industry :  but  what 
security  has  he  for  this  reward,  or  what  incentive  ha» 
he  to  industry,  if  he  sits  ujjon  the  premises  by  virtue  of 
an  annual  lease  ?  In  the  midst  of  his  career  he  may  be 
interrupted  by  a  six  months'  warning,  and  the  toil  of  his 
hands,  and  the  fruits  of  his  improvements,  be  transfer- 
re«l  to  another.  These  are  not  imaginary  apprehensions, 
but  are  founded  upon  real  and  solid  principles ;  and  will 
operate  less  or  more  upon  every  farmer,  according  to 
his  situation  and  circumstances. 

Many  cases  of  a  similar  nature  might  be  put;  but 
from  the  above  we  hope  it  will  appear,  that  before  any 
substantial  improvements  can  be  expected  from  the  far- 
mer, he  must  have  the  security  of  a  lease,  for  affording 
him  time  to  reap  the  fruits  of  these  improvements. 
There  is,  in  the  course  of  farming,  as  much  often  laid 
out  in  one  year,  as  many  succeeding  croj)s  can  repay  ;* 


•  We  shall  give  one  instance  to  corroborate  what  is  here  said.  A  farmer  of  our  acquaintance  hail  an  acre  of  rich  mossy  meadow 
ground,  which  was  totally  unfit  for  ploughing,  and  could  scarce  carry  tlie  weight  of  a  beast  in  the  driest  summer  months.  In  onlef 
to  mRke  it  crop  with  the  rest  of  the  field,  he  drained  it  completely ;  aud  a»,  from  the  strength  of  the  roots  of  the  herbage,  it  would 

F  f  2 


228 


AGRICULTURE. 


in  this  case,  where  (he  farmer  has  a  lease,  he  looks  to  a 
future  periotl  for  being  reimbursed  :  if  he  has  none,  can 
it  ever  be  expected  that  any  man  of  common  sense  will 
throw  away  his  money  by  improving  another  person's 
estate,  and  cast  himself  U|)0n  the  mercy  and  discretion 
of  his  landlord  for  time  and  opiiortunity  to  gain  it  back 
again  ?  Tlie  farmer  who  would  do  this,  is  not  guided 
by  those  principles  which  influence  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. 

The  more  a  farm  is  improved,  the  greater  the  quantity 
of  manure  laid  upon  it,  the  cleaner  the  fields,  the  richer 
the  pastures  and  meadows,  the  completer  the  fences,  and 
the  more  convenient  the  buildings  and  oflices,  the  more 
uncertain  is  the  situation  of  the  farmer  who  has  no  lease, 
and  the  greater  are  the  allurements  held  out  to  a  covet- 
ous neighbour  to  attempt  to  wrest  his  possession  from 
liim,  or  to  a  designing  steward  to  increase  his  rent. 
Such  being  the  case,  every  considerate  man  is  deterred 
from  expending  more  than  he  is  necessarily  obliged  to 
do;  and  therefore  it  follows,  that  the  withholding  leases 
is  a  real  and  certain  obstacle  to  further  improvements. 

We  might  also  mention  arguments  of  a  different  kind 
for  granting  leases ;  which,  however  contemptuously 
they  may  be  viewed  by  others,  have  great  weight  with 
us.  The  farmer  who  sits  without  a  lease,  has  not  the 
privilege  of  thinking  and  acting  for  himself;  it  is  need- 
less to  bring  forward  arguments  in  support  of  this  i)ropo- 
£ition,  for  it  cannot  be  contradicted.  We  have  often 
he:ml  it  said,  that  the  liberty  enjoyed  by  the  farmer,  and 
the  security  afforded  by  the  constitution  to  his  projjerty, 
were  the  principal  causes  why  agriculture  flourished 
more  in  this  island  than  in  other  nations.  We  beg  leave 
to  inquire,  where  is  the  liberty  enjoyed  by  the  farmer 
wlio  sits  without  a  lease  ?  His  words  and  actions  are 
under  the  most  absolute  subjection  to  another,  who  car- 
ries along  with  him  a  never-failing  argument  u|)on  all 
occasions.  Let  the  abject  situation  of  such  a  man,  placed 
under  a  capricious  landlord,  be  considered.  His  best 
actions  may  be  misinterpreted ;  he  is  exposed  to  every 
indignity  without  daring  to  complain :  or  if  the  spirit  of 
a  man  rises  within  him,  what  security  does  the  constitu- 
tion afford  to  his  situation  ?  If  he  has  made  improve- 
ments, the  fruits  of  them  are  wrested  from  him  by  an 
arbitrary  removal.  Another  farm  cannot  always  be  ob- 
tained, and  he  may  be  turned  upon  the  wide  world, 
without  the  hopes  of  redress.  A  prudent  man  Avijl  re- 
flect upon  these  things;  and  if  he  is  so  critically  tituatcd, 
will  often  rather  part  with  his  natural  rights  than  ex- 
pose himself  to  misery.  He  may  have  a  numerous 
family;  his  farm  may  be  doing  well  with  him;  he  may 
have  contracted  an  affection  for  his  natale  solum,  and  be 
uncertain  what  will  be  the  issue.  The  picture  may  be 
still  more  highly  coloured ;  but  from  the  above  we  con- 
tend, that  the  want  of  a  lease  precludes  the  farmer  from 
acting  as  a  free  agent,  and  renders  his  property  insecure 
and  precarious. 

Without  insisting  further  in  favour  of  leases,  it  may 
only  be  added,  that^this  salutary  tenure  prevails  almost 


through  the  whole  of  Scotland,  and  perhaps  one  half  ot' 
England.  If  it  is  true,  as  stated  by  Mr.  Arthur  Voung, 
"  That  the  improvenunts  which  have  taken  place  in  Eng- 
land, have  bien  altnost  otvin^  to  the  custom  of  granting 
leases,  and  that,  in  those  cotinttes,  tvhi  re  it  is  tmusual  to 
grant  them,  agriatlture  continues  much  inferioi-  to  what  it 
is  to  be  found  rvhere  they  are  usual,""  the  question  con- 
cerning their  utility  is  at  an  end;  and  the  culpability  of 
every  [proprietor  who  refuses  to  invest  bis  tenant  with 
such  a  security,  is  completely  ascertained.  The  proprie- 
tor who  acts  iu  such  a  way  lessens  the  value  of  his  estate, 
in  the  first  instance,  and  ultimately  injures  the  interests 
of  the  community,  in  so  far  as  the  improvement  of  agri- 
culture is  thereby  retarded.  The  subject  is  of  such 
importance  as  to  deserve  the  attention  of  the  legislature. 
Assuredly  no  object  is  more  worthy  of  notice  from  the 
guardians  of  the  state,  than  one  which  atl'ects  its  vital 
interests;  and  thougli  a  commendable  delicacy  prevails 
against  any  interference  with  the  management  of  private 
property,  yet  there  are  certain  bounds  within  which 
that  delicacy  ought  to  be  confined,  and  beyond  which 
the  conduct  of  proprietors  should  be  investigated  and 
restricted.  Those  who  persist  in  a  refusal  of  leases,  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  impede  the  progress  oi'  im- 
provements, deserve  to  be  viewed  as  persons  unfriendly 
to  the  national  welfare. 

The  benefit  of  leases  has  been  strikingly  exemplified 
in  the  low-country  districts  of  Scotland.  There  the 
tenantry,  one  or  two  estates  excepted,  are  secured  in 
possession  either  for  19  or  21  years,  and  sometimes  for  a 
longer  period.  Hence  a  rapid  improvement  of  the  coun- 
try has  taken  place,  and  great  and  substantial  undertak- 
ings have  been  executed,  which  no  man  in  his  senses 
would  have  planued,  had  the  security  of  a  lease  been 
withheld.  Excellent  farm-houses  and  offices  have  been 
erected,  open  fields  have  been  enclosed,  wet  lands  have 
been  drained,  and  unproductive  wastes  brought  into  a 
high  state  of  cultivation.  From  these  circumstances, 
the  rentals  of  proprietors  have  increased  at  an  amazing 
rate,  without  their  being  subjected  to  any  expense  in 
procuring  the  increase.  Since  1 790,  the  rent  of  land 
in  Scotland  has  increased  in  a  two-fold  degree  above 
that  of  England ;  solely  because  the  system  of  connexion 
between  the  proprietor  and  the  occupier  is  formed  u|iou 
more  liberal  terms  in  the  one  country  than  in  the  other. 
Were  the  liberal  system  of  Scotland  to  be  imitated  in 
England,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  consequent  ad- 
vantages would  be  greater;  because  soil,  climate,  mar 
kets,  and  other  local  circumstances,  are  more  favourable 
to  agriculture  in  the  latter  than  iu  the  former  country. 
To  grant  leases  is  one  step  towards  procuring  these 
advantages,  but  more  is  still  required,  namely,  that  a 
kind  of  discretionary  management  be  intrusted  to  the 
tenant.  If  this  be  not  done,  his  mind  will  be  fettered, 
and  his  operations  confined  to  the  beaten  path  of  ancient 
usage. 

After  all,  though  long  leases  can  alone  lead  to  im- 
provements of  permanent  duration ;  yet,  nevertheless, 


not  plough  to  adrantage,  he  digged  the  whole  of  it  vith  the  ipade,  SDd  proposes  to  lime  it  when  the  ground  becomes  comoUdated. 

The  expenses  were. 

Casting  drains,         -  -  .  .  .  .  .  .  «  L.4150 

Gathering  stones,  driving  them,  and  filling  up  the  drains,         -  -  -  .  -  *  18     0 

digging  the  ground,  which,  from  the  strength  ofthe  root*,  was  a  severe  operation,     -  -  4  10    0 


Setides  tlie  expense  of  lime,  which  will  be  6/.  more. 

Query,  Would  he  bare  improved  Uiit  meadow  without  a  lease  ? 


Total  cxpcDsc,    I<.  13  3    0 


AGRICULTURE. 


229 


towards  the  close  of  every  lease,  there  must  be  an  un- 
iinproving  iieriod,  during  which  melioration  on  the  part 
of  the  ten.int  will  cease,  anil  where  the  compulsion  of 
regulation  must  be  sulstituted  to  enforce  iinprovenient. 
A  compulsion  ol  this  kind,  however,  generdly  (iroves  a 
Weak  and  inetllcient  substitute  for  the  more  powerful 
motive  of  private  interest,  and  seldom  accomplishes  the 
benefit  intended  to  be  produced. 

To  remedy  this  defect,  lord  Kames,  who  probably  wag 
the  first  mau  in  Britain  who  considered  farming  in  the 
liew  of  its  |,ro]ier  moral  excitements,  suggested  the  in- 
definite, or  perpetual  lease.  His  lordship  proposed  that 
the  lease  should  extend  to  an  indefinite  number  of  years, 
consisting  of  fixed  periods,  at  the  end  of  each  of  which 
a  rise  of  rent  should  take  place,  with  permission  for  the 
tenant,  at  the  period  of  each  of  these  rises  of  rent,  to 
give  up  his  farm  if  he  shall  see  proper,  and  granting  a 
similar  power  to  the  landlord,  upon  projier  terms,  to  re- 
sume his  land  if  he  shall  think  fit.  The  particulars  of 
this  contract,  and  the  grounds  oa  which  they  rest,  are 
as  follows. 

His  lordship  assumes  it  as  a  principle,  that  a  landlord 
and  a  tenant  are  capable  of  forming  a  tolerably  just  esti- 
Diate  of  the  value  of  the  land  in  question,  for  a  short 
period  of  years ;  such  as  it  is  customary  to  grant  leases 
for  in  Scotland ;  say  21  years  :  and  having  agreed  upon 
these  terms,  which,  for  the  present,  we  shall  call  lOOZ. 
rent,  the  tenant  expresses  a  wish  to  have  his  lease  ex- 
tended to  a  longer  period.  To  this  the  proprietor  oh- 
jects,  on  the  principle  that  it  is  not  possible  to  form  a 
precise  estimate  of  what  value  the  ground  may  be  at 
the  end  of  that  period.  He  has  already  seen  that  ground 
for  the  last  21  years  has  increased  much  more  in  value 
than  any  |ierson  at  the  beginning  of  that  period  could 
easily  have  conceived  it  would  have  done,  and  therefore 
he  cannot  think  of  extending  the  lease  for  a  longer  pe- 
riod, as  a  similar  rise  of  value  may  be  expected  to  take 
place  in  future.  This  reasoning  appears  to  be  well 
founded,  and  therefore,  to  give  the  landlord  a  reasonable 
gratification,  he  proposes  that  it  should  be  stipulated, 
that  if  the  tenaht  should  agree  to  give  a  certain  rise  of 
rent  at  the  end  of  that  periwl,  suppose  20/.  the  landlord 
should  consent  that  the  lease  should  run  on  for  another 
periotl  of  21  years;  unless  in  the  cases  to  be  hereafter 
mentioned. 

But  as  it  may  happen  that  this  20Z.  now  stipulated  to 
be  paid  at  so  distant  a  period,  may  be  more  than  the  far- 
mer will  find  he  is  aide  to  pay,  an  option  shall  be  given 
to  him  to  resign  his  lease,  il  he  should  find  that  this  is 
the  case,  bj-  giving  the  landlord  legal  notice  one  year  at 
least  before  the  exi>iry  of  the  lease ;  but  if  that  notice  be 
omitted,  it  shall  be  understootl  that  the  tenant  is  bound 
to  hold  the  lease  for  the  second  21  years,  at  the  rent 
specified  in  the  contract.  And  if  (he  landlord  does  not 
give  the  tenant  warning  within  one  month  after  that  pe- 
riod, it  shall  be  understood,  that  he  too  is  bound  to  ac- 
cept of  the  stipulated  additional  rent  for  the  21  years 
that  are  to  succeed. 

It  may,  however,  also  happen,  that  the  sum  specified 
in  the  lease  may  be  a  rent  considerably  below  the  then 
present  value  of  the  farm ;  or  the  proprietor  may  have 
very  strong  reasons  for  wishing  to  resume  the  posses- 
sion of  that  land,  or  to  obtain  an  adequate  rent  for  it;  a 
power  therefore  should  be  given  to  him  in  either  ease  (o 
resume  the  lands,  if  he  should  so  incline.  But  as  a  great 
part  of  that  present  value  m-<y  be  owing  to  thp  exertions 
of  the  iarmer,  who  bas  laid  out  money  upon  the  farm,  in 


the  hopes  of  enjoying  it  for  a  second  period  of  21  years, 
it  would  be  unjust  to  deprive  him  of  his  benefit  without 
giving  him  a  valuable  compensation  for  that  improved 
value.  On  this  account  it  should  be  stipulated,  that  in 
case  the  proprietor  at  this  time  resumes  the  farm,  he 
shall  become  bound  to  pay  to  the  tenant  ien  years'  pur- 
chaseof  the  additional  rent  he  had  agreed  to  pay;  which, 
in  the  example  above  stated,  would  be  200Z. 

But  tlie  land  may  be  worth  still  more  than  the  200/. 
rise  mentioned  in  the  lease,  and  the  tenant  may  be  con- 
tent to  pay  more,  say  10/.  rather  than  remove;  and  he 
makes  offer  accordingly  to  do  so.  In  that  case  the  land- 
lord should  be  bound,  either  to  accept  that  additional 
olTer,  or  to  pay  ten  years'  purchase  of  that  also ;  and  so 
on  for  every  other  offer  the  tenant  shall  make  before  he 
agrees  to  remove  from  the  farmi 

In  this  way  the  landlord  is  always  certain  that  he  can 
never  be  precluded  from  obtaining  the  full  value  for 
his  land,  whatever  circumstances  may  arise.  And  if  the 
tenant  shall  prove  disagreeable,  so  that  he  would  wish 
rather  to  put  another  in  his  [ilace  upon  the  same  terms, 
it  never  can  be  any  hardship  upon  the  landlord  to  pay  the 
stipulated  sum ;  l>ecause  it  would  be  the  same  thing  to 
liim  as  if  he  bought  a  new  estate  at  ten  years'  purchase 
free  of  taxes  :  a  thing  not  to  l)e  expectetl.  It  is  indeed 
true  that  it  would  be  more  advantageous  for  him  to  allow 
the  present  tenant  to  continue;  therefore  this  alternative 
will  be  always  accepted  of,  unless  in  very  extraordinary 
cases,  as  it  ever  ought  to  be;  and  thus  the  tenant's 
mind  is  impressed  with  a  conviction  that  he  will  con- 
tinue in  his  possession ;  a  conviction  that  ought  ever  to 
prevail,  because  it  stimulates  to  industry  in  the  highest 
degree. 

And  as  the  tenant  is  thus  certain,  that,  at  the  very 
worst,  his  family  must  be  entitled  to  draw  a  reasonalde 
remuneration  for  the  exertions  of  his  industry,  he  can 
never  find  the  smallest  tendency  to  relax  ui  his  endea- 
vours. 

By  stipulating  in  the  original  lease  in  the  same  man- 
ner, that  at  the  end  of  the  second  21  years,  the  lease 
shall  be  continued  for  21  years  more;  and  so  on  at  the 
end  of  the  third,  and  fourth,  ami  any  further  number  of 
periods  of  21  years,  on  agreeing  to  pay  a  specified  rise 
of  rent ;  reserving  to  each  party  the  same  privileges  as 
above  described,  the  lease  might  be  continued  to  per- 
petuity, without  either  party  ever  being  in  danger  of 
having  an  undue  advantage  over  the  other.  The  tenant 
will  always  be  certain  of  having  a  preference  given  him 
over  every  other  person,  and  will  of  course  go  on  with 
unceasing  exertions  to  better  his  land,  which  will  of  ne- 
cessity tend  to  augment  the  income  of  the  proprietor 
much  more  than  could  have  happened  under  any  other 
system  of  management. 

Such  are  the  outlines  of  that  plan  of  a  lease  which  his 
lordship  has  proposed.  By  this  plan  the  tenants'  hands 
are  not  tied  uj)  by  restrictive  clauses,  dictated  by  ignor- 
ance, under  the  pretext  of  securing  the  interest  of  the 
landlord.  His  interest  is  secured  in  a  much  more  effec- 
tual manner,  while thetenant  is  left  at  full  liberty  toavail 
himself  of  his  knowledge,  his  skill,  and  his  industry. 
Instead  of  ceasing  to  begin  any  arduous  uiulertaking,  as 
he  must  ever  do  where  he  has  no  lease,  or  of  beginning 
to  improve  for  a  few  years  only  at  the  commencement 
of  his  lease,  but  stopping  in  a  short  while  in  the  midst 
of  his  career,  and  then  running  it  down  in  the  same 
exhausted  state  ms  it  wns  at  its  commencement,  he  con- 
tinues to  push  forward  witiout  ever  stopping ;  and  ad- 


230 


AGRICULTURE. 


vances  even  with  an  accelerating  progress  for  an  end- 
less period  of  years.  No  person  but  an  experienced 
farmer  can  conceive  the  difference  that  would  exist  be- 
tween the  productiveness  of  the  same  land  under  this 
management,  at  the  end  of  a  hundred  years,  from  what 
it  would  have  been  if  let  even  for  detached  periods  of 
21  years  each.  In  unimproved  waste  lands,  the  differ- 
ence would  approach  almost  to  infinity.  In  lands  which 
were  originally  very  rich,  the  difference  would  be  less 
considerable  :  but  in  all  places  where  cultivation  could 
take  place,  the  difference  would  be  very  great. 

Sect.  II. 

Oti  Covenants  in  Leases  tvhich  restrict,  and  interfere  with, 
the  TciianVs  Operations. 

In  Scotland,  where  the  custom  of  granting  leases  is 
in  general  use,  the  restrictive  clauses  are  few,  being 
chiefly  confined  to  the  latter  period  of  the  lease,  and 
seldom  even  then  of  any  injury  to  agriculture.  The 
restrictions  on  management,  which  then  take  place,  re- 
late to  the  mode  of  cropping,  to  the  quantity  of  land 
that  is  to  be  kept  in  grass,  and,  finally,  to  the  dung  on 
the  farm,  and  to  the  land  which  is  to  be  left  in  fallow 
in  the  waygoing  ero)».  These  may  be  said  to  be  the 
only  restrictions  on  the  management  of  the  tenantry ; 
and  taking  human  nature  as  it  is,  they  are  obviously 
necessary.  This  is  not  the  case,  however,  with  the  re- 
strictive covenants  of  the  majority  of  English  leases. 
These  operate  from  the  outset,  and  interfere,  almost  in 
every  case,  with  the  tenant's  management.  There  are 
numerous  exceptions,  no  doubt;  but,  in  most  cases,  the 
slightest  discretionary  management  is  not  permitted. 
In  fact,  the  tenant,  in  many  instances,  cannot  be  view- 
ed as  a  free  agent,  but  as  one  under  the  government  of 
a  second  person,  who  prescribes  his  o|)eration8,  and 
punishes  any  neglect  or  tlisobedience  of  which  he  may- 
be guilty. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive,  that  such  a  system  must  be 
totally  adverse  to  improvement.  In  fact,  the  mind,  un- 
der its  influence,  sinks  into  apathy,  and  is  contented 
with  the  portion  of  knowledge  already  gained,  without 
endeavouring  to  search  after  additional  information.  The 
common  and  ordinary  operations  of  a  farm  may  be  suffi- 
ciently executed  by  those  so  circumstanced ;  but  im- 
provement must  be  at  an  end,  when  there  is  no  room 
for  the  exertion  of  ingenuity.  The  very  interference  of 
stewards  with  the  tenant's  management  is  sufficient  to 
deaden  his  exertions ;  at  all  events,  their  interference 
crushes  his  independence,  renders  him  obsequious  to 
those  above  him,  and  careless  about  all  future  improve- 
ment. 

Here  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  primary  error  of 
this  system  consists  in  not  giving  the  tenant  a  security  of 
possession  for  a  reasonable  time ;  and  the  second,  and 
no  less  important  error,  arises  from  the  restrictions  im- 
posed during  the  time  he  occupies  his  farm,  which  pre- 
vent him  from  changing  his  management,  or  of  adapt- 
ing his  crops  to  the  nature  of  the  soil  which  he  pos- 
sesses. Agriculture  is  a  living  science,  which  is  jiro- 
gressively  improving;  consequently,  what  maybe  es- 
teemed a  good  course  of  cropping  at  one  time,  may, 
from  experience  and  observation,  be  afterwards  found 
defective  and  erroneous. 

That  particular  covenants  in  a  lease  are  obstacles  to 
improvements,  cannot  bo  disjiuted ;  for  the  very  nature 


of  a  restrictive  covenant  supposes,  that  the  practice  (o 
be  regulated  by  it  had  arrived  at  its  ne  plus  ultra,  and 
could  not  be  mended.  These  covenants,  or  restric- 
tions, subsist  more  or  less  in  every  English  lease ;  and 
the  shorter  the  lease  the  more  numerous  they  are.  In 
annual  leases  there  appears  an  absolute  necessity  for 
them ;  as  the  farmer,  from  having  no  certain  prospect 
of  enjoying  his  possession,  would  otherwise  be  tempted 
to  disregard  every  branch  of  gootl  husbandry. 

It  will  hardly  be  alleged  in  defence  of  this  practice, 
that  agriculture  has  already  arrived  at  its  utmost  pitch 
of  perfection,  and  that  improvements  in  that  art  can  be 
carried  no  further.  We  will  not  suppose  that  any  per- 
son acquainted  with  the  subject  can  maintain  such  an 
opinion.  But  hoiv  is  this  to  be  done,  if  the  farmer,  who 
is  the  first  wheel  of  the  agricultural  machine,  be  re- 
stricted in  his  management  ?  If  the  crops  he  is  to  sow 
be  marked  out  by  the  drawer  of  his  lease,  how  are  more 
approved  rotations  to  be  intro<luced  ?  The  fact  is,  that 
all  good  farming  is  local,  and  must  in  a  great  measure 
be  regulated  by  the  soil  and  the  weather.  It  is  there- 
fore absurd  to  lay  down  in  a  lease  particular  niles  for  a 
number  of  years'  practice ;  as,  from  circumstances,  many 
fields  are  often  both  richer  and  cleaner  after  carrying 
five  or  six  crops,  than  others  are  after  two;  consequently, 
without  leaving  these  things  to  the  wisdom  and  judg- 
ment of  the  farmer,  the  ground  can  never  be  properly 
cultivated,  nor  made  to  produce  its  greatest  value. 

Restrictions  in  a  lease  necessarily  suppose  that  the 
framer  cf  them  possessed  more  knowledge  of  farming, 
than  he  whose  operations  are  thus  to  be  directed.  We 
leave  the  public  to  judge  whether  this  can  actually  be 
the  case  or  not.  Leases  in  many  counties  are  often 
co))ied  from  one  generation  to  another,  without  paying 
any  attention  to  recent  improvements.  How  is  it  possi- 
ble for  an  attorney,  or  his  clerk,  to  lay  down  rules  for 
the  farmer's  direction  ?  Allowing  it  is  the  steward,  or 
even  the  proprietor  himself,  that  dictates  these  rules, 
we  are  warranted  to  say,  it  is  naturally  impossible  they 
can  be  wisely  and  judiciously  framed.  Laying  aside 
the  consideration  of  their  fettering  the  farmer's  mind, 
and  clogging  his  operations,  such  restrictions  or  rulea 
may,  from  alteration  in  markets,  be  unprofitable ;  and, 
from  the  vicissitudes  of  seasons,  improper  to  be  ex- 
ecuted. 

Every  farmer  knows  from  experience,  that  the  pro- 
per manner  of  cultivating  land  is  only  to  be  learned 
from  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  nature  of  its 
soil,  and  that  what  is  very  good  management  upon  one 
farm,  is  often  very  bad  upon  another.  Restrictive  cove- 
nants suppose  all  to  be  alike,  that  grass  is  of  equal 
benefit  on  all  lands,  and  that  the  same  quantity  of  lime 
should  be  administered  to  a  light  loam  as  to  a  strong 
clay.  Besides,  in  framing  these  covenants,  it  is  taken 
for  granted,  that  a  person,  from  a  cursory  view,  is  at 
once  able  to  determine  upon  the  best  mode  of  manage- 
ment for  the  endurance  of  a  whole  lease;  or,  in  other 
words,  that  his  judgment  is  equal  to  that  of  the  whole 
tenantry  of  an  estate.  In  short,  restrictions  are  inimical 
to  gootl  husbandry ;  they  sink  the  farmer  into  a  state  of 
insignificance  ;  they  contract  his  mind,  and  lock  up  his 
ideas  from  searching  after  new.  schemes,  which  is  the 
only  method  by  which  improvements  can  ever  he  found 
out;  and  therefore  it  follows,  that  a  continuation  of  cove- 
nants is  highly  detrimental,  not  only  to  the  public  good, 
but  even  to  the  interest  of  the  projirietor  hiniself,  by 


AGllICULTURE. 


231 


lessening  the  rent  that  a  superior  cultiyatioD,  arising 
from  a  spirit  of  improvement,  would  be  able  to  pay. 

We  are  ready  to  admit  that  general  rules  of  manage- 
ment are  very  proper  in  leases,  such  as,  to  keep  the  farm 
in  good  order,  to  consume  all  the  straw  raised  upon  it, 
and  to  sell  no  dung.  These  restrictions  we  will  allow  ; 
and  every  good  farmer  will  follow  them,  whether  he  is 
bound  to  do  so  or  not.  Nay,  we  will  go  further  : — If 
leases  of  a  proper  duration  were  granted,  it  is  very 
reasonable  that  the  property  of  the  landlord  should  be 
protected  by  restricting  clauses,  for  the  three  years 
previous  to  their  expiration.  But  after  all,  it  will  be 
found  that  no  clause  can  be  inserted,  besides  the  general 
ones  already  mentioned,  that  will  serve  to  enhance  the 
Talue  of  the  land,  except  obliging  the  farmer  to  leave  a 
proportional  quantity  of  such  land  in  grass  at  the  expira- 
tion of  the  lease,  and  specifying  the  manner  in  which 
that  land  is  to  be  sown  down.  Other  clauses  serve  only 
to  distress  the  Farmer,  but  will  never  promote  the  in- 
terest of  the  landlord. 

In  a  word,  as  the  landed  proprietor  can  rarely  farm 
liis  own  lands  to  advantage,  it  is  necessary  when  he  puts 
them  under  the  management  of  others,  to  invest  these 
persons  (generally  called  tenants)  with  discretionary 
powers,  or,  in  other  words,  with  powers  to  do  every 
thing  respecting  their  cultivation  which  he  himself  could 
have  done,  otherAvise  he  cannot  expect  to  receive,  under 
the  name  of  rent,  the  full  natural  value  of  his  property. 
It  must  be  remarked,  however,  that  proprietors,  in  gene- 
ral cases,  consent  with  reluctance  to  part  with  the  com- 
mand and  management  of  their  land  when  conveyed  for 
a  temporary  period,  reserving  as  much  control  over  it 
as  possible ;  though  it  is  plain  that  every  reservation 
made  lessens  the  tenant's  power  to  pay  them  a  high 
rental.  This  is  not  the  case  with  the  monied  man ;  he 
does  not  understand,  nor  pretends  to  understand,  the 
secrets  of  the  trade,  or  manufacture,  in  which  his  xno- 
iiey  is  invested,  and  therefore  places  his  confidence  in 
the  man,  and  not  in  his  measures.  Why  should  the 
landholder  act  ditTerently  ?  or  why  should  he  affect  to 
direct  the  whole  farming  operations  during  the  course 
of  a  lease  ?  A  resident  proprietor,  who  has  paid  atten- 
tion to  farming,  may  attempt  such  direction  without  any 
great  degree  of  absurdity,  though  never  without  lessen- 
ing the  sum  of  rent  covenanted  to  be  paid ;  but  it  is 
ridiculous  to  see  such  direction  claimed  by  law-agents, 
to  whom  the  management  of  large  estates  is  chiefly 
intrusted,  and  who  know  little  more  about  farming,  than 
the  monied  man  does  about  the  manufacture  of  muslin, 
or  linens.  The  utility  of  some  restrictions  at  the  con- 
clusion of  a  lease,  we  have  already  admitted,  chiefly  be- 
cause without  them  a  farm  might  be  throAvn  out  of  shape, 
and  the  management  of  the  succeeding  tenant  embarras- 
sed for  several  years.  As  for  the  injury  alleged  to  be 
committed,  by  what  is  called  cross  cropping,  we  are 
rather  skeptical  on  that  point,  and  confess  it  to  be  our 
opinion,  that  the  real  value  of  the  soil  cannot  be  lessen- 
ed by  any  mode  of  cropping,  though  undoubtedly  its 
artificial  value,  namely,  that  which  it  gains  from  being 
grazed  and  manured,  may  in  that  way  be  dissipated. 
Taking  a  broad  view  of  the  matter,  we  are  inclined  to 
consider  restrictive  covenants  as  totally  superfluous, 
unless  so  far  as  they  tend  to  maintain  a  regular  course 
of  cropping  at  the  conclusion  of  the  lease,  and  preserve 
the  farm  in  a  husbandman-like  condition,  at  the  entry  of 
the  succeeding  tenant. 


Sect.  III. 

On  the  Rent  of  Land,  or  tlu  Considerations  given  by  the 
Occupier  for  the  Land  in  his  possession. 

In  ancient  times,  the  rent  of  land  consisted  in  a  cer- 
tain part  of  the  articles  which  it  produced,  and  in  servi- 
ces often  unfixed  and  undetermined.  Money  in  these 
pepiods  was  scarce,  and  markets  for  the  sale  of  produce 
were  irregular,  and  in  many  places  not  to  be  found ; 
therefore  the  scarcity  of  circulating  medium,  and  the 
general  want  of  markets,  rendered  a  payment  or  rent  in 
kind  a  necessary  measure.  In  proportion,  however,  as 
the  country  increased  in  prosperity,  the  necessity  of  pay- 
ing rent  in  this  manner  was  gradually  obviated,  till  at 
last  it  was  almost  quite  done  away,  and  a  fixed  payment 
in  money  substituted  in  its  place.  Latterly,  an  inclina- 
tion to  return  to  the  ancient  practice  has  been  manifested 
by  several  proprietors ;  but  whether  such  a  return  would 
be  of  advantage  to  agriculture,  scarcely  requires  to  be 
discussed.  In  fact,  a  rent,  either  partially  or  wholly 
paid  in  corn,  must  necessarily  be  disadvantageous  to  the 
tenant ;  because  the  money  value  of  the  payment  is 
always  greatest  when  the  means  of  paying  it  are  lessen- 
ed or  curtailed.  The  price  of  grain  in  Britain  is  rarely 
high,  unless  when  adverse  seasons  intervene,  and  cause 
a  scarcity  of  farm  produce.  When  the  tenant  pays  in 
money,  the  augmented  price  compensates  the  deficiency 
of  quantity :  but  when  in  corn,  the  whole  disposeabie 
produce  may  be  insufficient  for  discharging  the  contract- 
ed obligation;  consequently  the  tenant  may  thus  he 
brought  under  great  difficulties. 

Besides  what  is  properly  called  rent,  several  public 
burdens  are  borne  by  the  tenant,  in  virtue  of  his  lease, 
or  by  act  of  the  legislature.  In  Scotland  these  are  not 
of  much  importance,  being  only  one  half  of  the  school- 
master's salary,  one  half  of  poor's-rates,  and  the  commu- 
ted value  of  work  statuated  to  be  performed  on  the  public , 
roads;  the  amount  of  these  is  trifling,  rarely  exceeding 
two  per  cent,  of  the  rental .  But  in  England  the  case  is 
different.  There  the  whole  public  burdens,  to  which 
landed  property  is  subject,  are  defrayed  by  the  tenant, 
with  the  exception  of  the  new  property  tax,  from  the 
landlord's  share  of  which  he  is  expressly  relieved.  These 
burdens  are,  1.  The  land  tax;  2.  Poor-rates ;  3.  Tythes, 
where  not  purchased  or  commuted ;  4.  Road  work;  5. 
Church  and  constables'  dues,  &c.  often  amounting  to  a 
greater  sum  than  the  nominal  rent  stipulated  betwixt 
the  parties,  though  they  are  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
a  part  of  the  real  rent.  Most  of  these  being  unfixed, 
and  some  of  them  regulated  by  the  mode  of  manage- 
ment, (such  as  tythes,)  render  the  situation  of  the  tenant 
vexatious  and  unpleasant.  Were  all  land  tythe  free ; 
were  the  public  burdens  to  which  it  is  liable  uniformly 
defrayed  by  the  proprietor;  were  rent  to  be  a  fixed  and 
determinate  sum  during  the  years  of  (lossession,  and  the 
tenant  relieved  from  all  arbitrary  claims;  then  the  art 
of  agriculture  would  be  exercised  with  pleasure  and 
satisfaction.  It  is  owing  to  the  greater  freedom  enjoyed 
by  the  cultivators  of  Scotland,  and  to  the  superiority  of 
the  system  which  connects  them  with  proprietors,  that 
the  art  has  progressively  advanced  with  greater  rapidity 
to  perfection  in  the  one  country  than  in  the  other.  The 
same  principles  which  have  proved  so  beneficial  to  Scot- 
tish agriculture,  must  necessarily  produce  equal  advan- 
tages, were  they  acted  upon  in  other  places.  Physical 
circumstances  are   more  favourable  to  agriculture  ia 


232 


AGRICULTURE. 


England  than  In  lier  sister  counliy,  though  it  is  to  be 
lamented  that  the  benelit  of  these  circumstances  is  more 
than  counteracted  by  an  accumulated  quantity  of  moral 
evils,  ■which  might  be  removed,  were  the  legislature  to 
bestow  on  these  matters  a  portion  of  that  attention, 
which  it  often  bestows  upon  the  melioration  or  improve- 
ment of  foreign  possessions. 

CHAP.  V. 

Oti  Tillage. 

Tillage  may,  in  general  terms,  be  described  as  an 
operation  whereby  the  soil  is  either  cleared  from  nox- 
ious weeds,  or  prepared  for  receiving  the  seeds  of  plants 
cultivated  by  the  husbandman.  When  this  operation  is 
neglected,  or  even  partially  executed,  the  soil  becomes 
foul,  barren,  and  unproductive;  hence,  upon  arable 
farms,  tillage  forms  the  prominent  branch  of  Avork ; 
and,  according  to  the  perfection  or  imperfection  with 
which  it  is  executed,  the  crops  of  the  husbandman, 
whether  of  corn  or  grass,  are  in  a  great  measure  regu- 
lated. 

Tillage,  in  the  early  ages,  was  performed  by  hand 
labour ;  but  in  modern  times,  the  plough  has  been  the 
universal  instrument  used  for  executing  this  necessary 
and  important  branch  of  rural  work.  In  no  other  way 
can  large  fields  be  turned  over,  because  the  expense  of 
digging  with  the  spade,  the  only  other  method  of  turn- 
ing over  the  ground,  would  much  exceed  any  profit  that 
could  be  reaped.  Spade-work,  however,  is  almost  uni- 
versally used  in  garden  culture,  where  the  plants  raised 
are  of  greater  value  than  those  cultivated  in  the  fields; 
though  the  nearer  that  field  culture  can  be  brought  to 
what  is  exercised  in  a  garden,  so  much  more  may  the 
practice  of  the  art  be  considered  as  approximating  in 
perfection  to  that  of  the  other. 

Sect.  I. 

Obstructions  to  Tillage. 

In  a  work  of  this  kind,  it  is  unnecessary  to  enlarge 
upon  the  way  by  which  tillage  may  be  successfully  ex- 
ecuted. It  is  proper  to  state,  however,  that  stones  lying 
above  or  below  the  surface  are  the  most  formidable 
obstruction  to  perfect  tillage.  On  stony  ground,  the 
work  is  not  only  imperfectly  executed,  but  in  many  cases 
the  implement  is  broken  to  pieces,  and  a  considerable 
portion  of  time  lost  before  it  is  repaired,  and  put  in 
order.  The  removal  of  stones,  therefore,  especially  of 
such  as  are  below  the  surface,  ought  to  be  a  primary 
object  with  every  agriculturist;  because  a  neglect  of 
this  kind  may  afterwards  occasion  him  considerable  loss 
and  inconvenience.  In  our  practice  we  have  ascertain- 
ed, that  rocky  fields  are  ploughed  at  an  expense  nearly 
double  of  what  was  required  upon  others  under  different 
circumstances ;  because  the  ploughman,  from  necessity, 
is  obliged  to  go  slowly  and  with  caution.  In  such  situ- 
ations the  evil  hardly  admits  of  correction,  because  the 
substratum  is  almost  of  the  same  nature ;  and  the  rocks 
which  aj)pcar  may  be  considered  in  the  light  of  excres- 
cences from  the  substratum ;  but  where  single  fixed 
stones  appear  in  an  arable  field,  they  ought  to  be  re- 
moved immediately,  although  the  closeness  of  their 
texture  may  render  the  assistance  of  gunpowder  neces- 
sary. It  deserves  attention,  that  very  fine  soil  is  always 
in  contact  with  rocks  of  this  description;  and  that  by 


gaining  the  use  of  it,  much  benefit  Is  derived,  inde- 
pendent of  the  facility  which  is  thus  aflbrded  to  the 
ploughman's  operations. 

To  drain  the  ground,  in  other  words,  to  lay  it  dry, 
also  facilitates  tillage  exceedingly;  for  ploughing  can- 
not be  performed  with  advantage,  where  either  the 
surface  or  the  subsoil  is  wet.  In  fact,  every  branch  of 
good  husbandry  is  intimately  connected  with  another; 
and  the  practice  of  one  branch  is  necessarily  much  afr 
fected  by  the  way  in  which  others  are  executed.  To 
drain  land  well,  therefore,  materially  promotes  good 
tillage;  and  by  good  tillage  the  beneficial  effects  of 
manures  are  cousiderably  increased.  To  discharge  one 
of  these  fundamental  duties  of  the  husbandman,  while 
the  o'.hers  are  neglected,  can  only  be  regarded  as  per- 
forming a  duty  which  will  yield  small  benefit  to  fhosn 
concerned ;  but  to  fulfil  the  whole  duties  incumbent  on 
the  husbandman,  namely,  to  keep  his  land  dry,  clean, 
and  rich,  must  be  estimated  as  the  acme  of  perfection 
in  the  rural  art. 

Sect.  II. 
On  the  Utility  of  Summer  Fallorv. 

To  return  to  our  first  definition  of  tillage,  wherein  it 
is  characterized  as  the  operation  by  which  the  soil  is 
cleaned  or  rendered  free  of  weeds,  we  must  observe, 
that  the  only  sure  and  certain  way  of  accomplishing 
this  object  is  by  ploughing  in  the  summer  months,  when 
the  ground  is  dry,  and  when,  by  the  influence  of  sun 
and  air,  the  weeds  may  be  destroyed  with  facility.  Sel- 
dom at  any  other  period  is  the  soil  much  benefited  by 
ploughing,  unless  so  far  as  a  seed-bed  is  thus  j)rocured 
for  tfic  succeeding  crop;  and  though  the  situation  or 
state  of  the  ground,  when  these  intermediate  ploughings 
are  bestowed,  is  of  importance  in  judging  of  their  uti- 
lity, yet  the  radical  process  of  summer  fallow  cannot, 
by  any  means,  be  altogether  dispensed  with.  Though, 
if  the  winter  and  spring  ploughings  are  executed  under 
favourable  circumstances,  and  plenty  of  manure  is  at 
liand,  it  may  be  delayed  for  a  greater  number  of  years 
than  is  otherwise  practicable,  if  good  husbandry  is  to 
be  maintained. 

In  judging  of  these  things,  an  extensive  practice,  in 
almost  every  kind  of  soil,  has  been  our  guide ;  and, 
though  free  from  prejudice,  we  are  compelled  to  declare, 
that  without  summer  fallow,  or  which  is  the  same 
thing,  without  working  the  ground  in  the  summer 
months,  perfect  husbandry  is  unattainable  on  all  heavy 
or  cold  soils,  and  upon  every  variety  incumbent  on  a 
close  or  retentive  bottom.  No  doubt  a  bare  or  naked 
fallow  is  not  necessary  upon  light  free  soils;  because 
such  may  be  ^vorked  in  the  months  of  May  and  June, 
an<l  afterwards  cultivated  with  turnips.  This  exception 
we  have  uniformly  allowed,  but  furtlier  we  cannot  go. 
Even  the  potatoe  husbandry  on  such  soils  is,  to  a  certain 
degree,  imperfect,  as  may  easily  be  ascertained  by  ex- 
amining land  so  cultivated,  after  the  crop  is  taken  up. 

To  keep  his  land  clean  will  always  be  a  principal  ob- 
ject with  every  good  farmer ;  for,  if  this  is  neglected, 
in  place  of  carrying  rich  crops  of  corn  or  grass,  the 
ground  will  be  exhausted  by  croi)s  of  weeds.  Where 
land  is  foul,  every  operation  of  htisbandry  must  be  pro- 
portionally non-effective  ;  and  even  the  manures  applied 
will,  in  a  great  measure,  be  lost. 

If  the  season  of  the  year,  and  the  state  of  the  weather, 
when  the  ground  is  ploughed,  preparatory  to  receiving 


AGRICULTURE, 


23ii 


(!ie  iaeA,  he  duly  ftonsidered,  U  xvi'l  be  found,  that  at 
that  time  it  can  neither  be  properly  divided  by  the  action 
of  the  plough,  nor  can  root  weeds,  or  annual  weeds,  be 
then  extirpated.  Hence  arises  the  necessity  of  working 
it  in  summer,  when  the  weather  is  favourable  (or  the 
purpose  of  ploughing,  and  \vlien  root  weeds  may  be  drag- 
ged to  the  surface.  It  is  only  at  that  time  the  full  ad- 
vantages of  ploughing  are  attainable;  for  summer  fallow 
may  with  pro|)riety  be  styled  ploughing  in  perfection. 

The  necessity  of  summer  fallow  depends  greatly  upon 
tlie  nature  and  quality  of  the  soil;  iis,  upon  some  soils, 
b  repetition  of  this  practice  is  less  frequently  required 
than  upon  otliers.  W  herever  the  soil  is  incumbent  upon 
elay  or  till,  it  is  more  disposed  to  get  foul,  than  wlien 
incumbent  upon  a  dry  gravelly  bottom ;  besides,  wet 
soils,  from  being  [ilouglied  in  winter,  contract  a  stitfness 
which  lessens  the  pasture  of  artificial  plants,  and  pre- 
vents tliem  from  receiving  sufficient  iiourishnieJit — • 
When  land  of  a  dry  gravelly  quality  gets  foul,  it  mny 
easily  be  cleaned  without  a  plain  summer  fallow;  since 
crops,  such  as  turnips,  etc.  may  be  substitiiled  in  its 
place,  which,  when  drilled  at  proper  intenalf,  admit  of 
l«;ing  i>loughed  as  often  as  necessary;  whereas  v. et 
Boils,  which  are  naturally  luifit  for  carrying  such  crojie, 
must  be  cleaned  and  brought  into  good  order,  by  fre- 
quent ploughings  and  iiarrowings  during  the  summer 
inonths. 

.  it  is  from  neglecting  to  make  these  distinctions,  that 
Hiimy  iR'ople  have  pronounced  erroneous  opinions  con- 
cerning summer  ftillow. 

Thesuhstance  of  the  arguments  generally  used  against 
fallow,  may  be  comprised  under  four  heads : 

1st,  Nature  does  not  require  any  jiause  or  rest,  and 
the  earth  was  evidently  designed  to  yield  a  regular  un- 
Juterrupled  produce. 

2dly,  As  the  productive  quality  of  the  earth  never 
ceases,  if  corn  is  not  sown,  weeds  will  be  produced; 
therefore  it  is  our  business  to  expel  the  unproductive 
plant,  and  to  introduce  others  that  are  beneficial. 

3dly,  That  the  idea  of  leaving  land  to  rest  is  ridicu- 
lous ;  for,  by  keeping  it  clean,  and  by  a  judicious  inter- 
mixture of  crops,  it  may  be  managed  like  a  garden,  and 
Bown  from  one  generation  to  another. 

4thly,  That  thefallows  in  England  exhibit  nothing  but 
R  conflict  betwixt  the  farmer  and  his  weeds,  in  which  the 
Jatter  generally  prevail ;  for  at  the  best  they  are  only 
lialf  stifled,  and  never  eflectually  killed. 

The  most  of  these  arguments  may  be  granted,  and 
yet  the  utility,  nay,  the  necessity  of  summer  fallow  be 
consistently  maintained. 

It  is  already  acknowledged,  that  it  is  only  upon  wet 
soils,  or,  in  other  words,  upon  land  unfit  for  the  turnip 
husbandry,  that  a  plain  summer  fallow  is  necessary ;  and 
this  we  suppose  includes  three-fourths  of  the  island. 
The  utility  of  summer  fallow  upon  such  soils  is  not  con- 
tended for,  because  Nature  requires  h  pause  to  invigo- 
rate her  to  carry  fresh  crops,  but  solely  because  it  is  im- 
possible to  kee|)  them  clean  without  this  auxiliary  pro- 
cess. To  speak  of  following  Nature  in  farming  is  ridi- 
culous; for  if  we  were  to  imitate  Nature,  we  would  not 
cultivate  land  at  all.  Nature  is  often  improved  by  art, 
:ind  fallowing  is  the  means  employed  for  removing  a  host 
of  enemies,  which  prevent  her  from  being  fertile  and 
productive. 

As  a  field  filled  with  root  weeds  must  be  in  a  state 
.of  greater  exhaustion,  than  if  it  carried  a  heavy  crop  of 
■corn,  so  the  productive  quality  of  the  earth  must  neccs- 

VoL.  I.     Paet  J. 


sarily  decrease  in  proportion  (o  the  qtiantity  of  weeds 
which  it  brings  forth.  But  because  corn  is  not  sown,  it 
does  not  follow  that  weeds  of  any  kind  should  be  suf- 
fered to  grow.  The  object  of  allowing  the  ground  to 
remain  a  year  under  fallow,  is  to  afford  time  and  oppor- 
tunity for  expelling  the  unproductive  plant,  and  to  pre- 
pare it  for  the  reception  of  others  which  are  beneficial. 

The  most  judicious  intermixture  of  crops  upon  clay 
soils  will  not  preclude  the  necessity  of  summer  fallow;^ 
although  it  will  go  a  great  way  to  prevent  a  frequent 
repetition  of  it.  An  eighth  course  shift,  such  as  fallow, 
wheat,  beans  drilled  and  horse-hoed,  barley,  grass-seeds, 
oats,  beans,  and  wheat,  is  as  much  as  can  be  recom- 
meuded ;  and  it  is  only  upon  rich  clay,  or  deei)  loam, 
where  such  an  extensive  rotation  is  admissible.  A 
shift  of  this  kind,  when  dung  is  applied  twice  in  the 
course  of  it,  will  pay  the  farmer  more  handsomely  than 
the  most  judicious  intermixture  of  crops,  where  fallow- 
ing is  neglected. 

Again,  no  ndes  drawn  from  garden  practice  can  ap- 
ply to  operations  carried  on  in  the  field;  the  soils  are 
generally  very  different,  and  any  comparison  that  can  be 
made,  must  be  with  those  rich  sandy  loams,  u|K)n  which 
we  have  allowed  fallowing  to  Ite  unnecessary.  The 
crops  in  the  garden  are  reaped  at  so  many  different 
times,  and  often  so  early  in  the  seai-on,  that  opportunity 
is  always  gained  for  working  the  ground  in  the  comple- 
test  manner;  while  the  immense  difference  betwixt 
working  with  the  plough  and  the  spade  renders  every 
comparison  ridiculous. 

A  fallow  field,  which  exhibits  a  conflict  betwixt  the 
farmer  and  his  weeds,  does  not  deserve  that  appellation  ; 
f»r  the  intention  of  the  fallow  is  to  extirpate  these 
weeds.  We  are  inclined  to  think,  that  the  miserable 
situation  of  many  English  fallows  may  be  attributed  to 
the  feeding  and  folding  them  with  sheep.  The  farmer, 
from  being  obliged,  by  the  conditions  of  his  lease,  or  the 
rules  of  common  field  management,  to  fallow  every  third 
or  fourth  year,  is  tempted  to  draw  something  from  them 
when  in  this  un|n-oductive  state;  and,  to  gratify  his 
avarice  in  the  first  instance,  sacrifices  the  good  hus- 
bandry which  it  is  his  ultimate  interest  to  practise.  A 
well  managed  fallow  should  be  wrought  as  early  in  the 
season  as  possible,  and  continually  turned  over  so  long 
as  the  least  particle  of  quickens  appears.  It  is  no  ar- 
gument against  the  utility  of  fallows,  that  they  are  often 
managed  in  a  different  way;  this  militates  only  against 
the  impropriety  of  the  management,  but  not  against  the 
practice  itself. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  necessity  of  summer  fallow  tume 
upon  this  single  point : — Can  wet  lands  be  advantage- 
ously employed  in  raising  turnips  or  cabbages ;  a  ques- 
tion which  the  practical  farmer,  who  is  sufficiently  ac- 
quainted with  the  nature  of  such  soils,  and  the  immense 
labour  required  to  bring  them  into  proper  tilth,  will  have 
no  difficulty  to  answer  in  the  negative.  It  is  not  dispn- 
ted  that  turnips  and  cabbages  will  grow  upon  these  soils ; 
but  the  question  is,  whether  the  extraordinary  labour 
they  require,  and  the  damage  sustained  by  the  ground, 
during  tlie  consumption  or  carrying  off  the  crops,  will 
not  ex(^ed  the  value  of  the  produce  ?  Surely  few  per- 
sons will  recommend  the  turnip  husbandry  under  such 
circumstances  ?  If  they  do,  the  recommendation  fur- 
nishes a  presumption  that  they  are  unacquainted  with  the 
cultivation  of  wet  lands.  If  they  do  not,  how  is  the 
ground  to  be  kept  clean,  and  eaa.blod  to  yield  a  regular 
uninterrupted  produce  ?  ^ 


234 


AGRICULTURE. 


Nothing  tliat  is  said  in  defence  of  fallow,  is  meant  in 
vindication  of  the  absurd  system  of  taking  only  two  crops 
to  one  fallow,  as  practised  upon  many  English  common 
fields.  It  is  only  meant  to  show,  that  clay  soils,  and 
every  soil  incumbent  upon  a  wet  bottom,  cannot  be  kept 
clean  without  the  assistance  of  this  radical  and  ancient 
practice.  How  often  it  should  be  used,  must  in  a  great 
measure  be  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  farmer,  who 
will  repeat  it  when  necessary,  if  he  knows  his  own  in- 
terest. 

As  many  different  opinions  prevail  relative  to  the  man- 
ner ill  which  a  fallow  should  be  conducted,  our  senti- 
ments upon  that  head  may  be  acceptable. 

Upon  all  clay  soils,  (and  upon  such  only,  we  under- 
stand a  complete  summer  fallow  to  be  necessary,)  the 
first  ploughing  ought  to  be  given  during  the  winter 
months,  or  as  early  in  the  spring  as  possible ;  which 
promotes  the  rotting  of  the  sward  and  stubble.  This 
should  be  done  by  gathering  up  the  ridge,  which  both 
lays  the  ground  dry,  and  rips  up  the  furrows.  As  soon 
as  seed-time  is  over,  the  ridge  should  be  cloven  down, 
preparatory  to  cross  ploughing ;  and  after  lying  a  proper 
lime,  should  be  harrowed  and  rolled  repeatedly,  and 
every  particle  of  quickens  that  the  harrows  have  brought 
above  should  be  carefully  picked  off  with  the  hand.  It 
is  then  proper  to  ridge  or  gather  it  up  immediately, 
which  both  lays  the  land  in  proper  condition  for  meet- 
ing bad  weather,  and  opens  up  any  fast  land  that  may 
have  been  missed  in  the  furrows  when  the  cross  plough- 
ing was  given.  After  this,  harrow,  roll,  and  gather  the 
root  weeds  again ;  and  continue  so  doing  till  the  field 
is  perfectly  clean. 

Mr.  Marshall,  in  his  Treatise  upon  the  Yorkshire 
Husbandry,  recommends  a  practice  quite  different.  In 
his  opinion,  ploughing  is  only  necessary' ;  and  taking  out 
live  roots  by  the  harrow,  and  carrying  them  off,  is  an 
evident  impropriety. 

Here  it  may  be  remarked,  that  frequent  turning  over 
the  ground,  although  absolutely  necessary  while  the 
process  of  fallowing  is  going  on,  can  never  eradicate 
quickens,  couch-grass,  or  other  root  weeds.  In  all  clay 
soils,  the  ground  turns  up  in  lumps,  which  the  severest 
drought  v/ill  not  penetrate,  or  at  least  not  so  far  as  to 
lull  the  plant  contained  in  the  heart  of  them.  When  the 
land  is  ploughed  again,  tliese  lumps  or  clods  are  simply 
turned  over,  and  no  more ;  and  the  action  of  the  plough 
serves  in  no  shape  to  reduce  them,  or  at  least  in  a  very 
imperceptible  manner.  If  ever  there  was  a  season  for 
making  good  fallow  by  ploughing,  it  was  that  of  1 793  ; 
there  was  hardly  a  drop  of  rain  during  the  whole  sum- 
mer ;  the  drought  was  excessive,  and  attended  with  an 
almost  continued  simshine.  Notwithstanding  all  these 
advantages,  the  fallowswhich  were  not  properly  reduced 
in  the  beginning  of  the  season,  took  on  a  growth  as  soon 
as  moisture  came,  about  the  beginning  of  harvest.  Even 
when  they  were  completely  harrowed  and  rolled,  it  was 
found  difficult  to  extirpate  couch,  as  the  dryness  of  the 
ground  did  not  allow  it  to  part  so  well  from  the  clod  as 
io  seasons  more  moist. 

If  this  were  the  case  in  such  a  dry  season  as  179.3, 
what  would  the  consequences  be  if  the  fallows  were  at 
all  times  to  be  wrought  with  the  plough,  without  attempt- 
ing to  drag  the  roots  to  the  surface  by  the  operation  of 
harrowing  ?  In  wet  weather,  the  land  might  appear 
black  above  for  a  few  days;  but  the  enemy  being  still  in 
the  house,  would  soon  make  his  appearance.  By  care- 
fully gathering  all  the  root  weeds,  when  the  land  is  re- 


duced by  harrowing,  which  on  many  soils  is  only  prac- 
ticable after  the  roller  is  used,  an  enemy  is  converted 
into  a  friend;  for  if  the  stuff,  thus  gathered,  is  dc- 
cumulated  into  a  heap,  frequently  turned  over,  till  it  rots, 
and  mixed  with  lime,  a  most  excellent  compost  is  pro- 
duced. 

There  is  little  danger  that  clay  land  will  ever  be  too 
much  reduced  by  the  different  harrowings  and  rollings 
proposed  to  be  given  ;  as  the  last  furrow,  if  taken  deep, 
will  raise  a  mould  sufficiently  rough  for  covering  the 
se«d,  and  for  protecting  the  wheat  during  the  winter. 
Upon  such  soils,  nothing  but  frost  will  reduce  and  mel- 
low the  land  perfectly ;  and  we  have  seen  the  necessity 
of  leaving  fields  of  this  description  to  be  wrought  in  the 
spring  from  the  absolute  im|>ossibility  of  eradicating  or 
killing  the  couch,  till  reinforced  by  this  powerful  auxi- 
liary. 

We  may  mention  another  argument  in  favour  of 
gathering  root  weeds  : — That  in  no  other  way  can  the 
purpose  for  which  fallow  is  intended  be  so  cheaply  at- 
tained. Every  furrow  that  is  given  will  at  least  stand 
the  farmer  1 2s.  per  acre ;  and  if  hand  gathering  will 
save  one  single  ploughing,  its  expense  is  amply  repaid  ; 
while  at  the  same  time  we  contend,  that  more  root  weeds 
are  taken  off  by  gathering  them  once,  than  will  be  de- 
stroyed by  a  couple  of  ploughings,  allowing  the  season  to 
be  ever  so  favourable. 

IVe  have  heard  of  other  writers  that  condemn  clean 
summer  fallow  altogether,  as  an  unnecessary  waste  of 
rent  and  labour;  which,  in  their  opinion,  might  be  saved, 
and  the  ground  kept  in  perfect  good  order  by  a  proper 
rotation  of  crops.  We  apprehend  upon  all  clay  soils 
this  is  impossible  :  as  every  farmer  who  possesses  such 
soils  knows,  by  experience,  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
them  clean,  even  with  the  assistance  of  summer  fallows. 
They  are  so  often  ploughed  wet,  from  necessity,  that  a 
sourness  and  adhesion  are  contracted,  which  cannot  be 
corrected,  without  exposing  it  to  the  hot  summer  sun, 
and  reducing  it  by  frequent  |)loughings  and  harrowings. 
No  crop  can  be  substituted  in  place  of  fallow,  for  turnips 
are  destruction  itself.  Drilled  beans,  as  is  already  said, 
will  do  well  as  an  assistant  to  fallow  ;  but  however  much 
this  crop  may  tend  to  keep  land  clean  that  is  already  iu 
good  order,  we  apprehend,  from  the  necessity  of  sow- 
ing them  early,  that  they  will  never  answer  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  one  of  the  most  radical  of  all  improvements, 
— a  clean  summer  fallow. 

A  general  introduction  of  the  row  or  drill  husbandry 
has  been  proposed  by  some  writers,  particularly  by  the 
author  of  the  New  Farmer's  Calendar,  as  a  substitute 
for  summer  fallow ;  and  many  ingenious  reasons  have 
been  urged  to  prove  the  inutility  of  the  practice,  anrf 
the  folly  of  those  who  adhere  to  it.  The  author  of  the 
Calendar  even  goes  so  far  as  to  maintain,  that  fallowists 
can  bring  forward  no  arguments  liut  hypothetical  ones, 
in  defence  of  the  system  which  they  support.  These 
matters  being  of  great  importance  to  the  cause  of  agri- 
culture, we  cannot  refrain  from  noticing  them  in  a 
cursory  manner. 

In  the  first  place,  let  any  person  reflect  on  the  con- 
dition of  all  land  incumbent  on  a  retentive  subsoil,  in  an 
average  of  years,  when  spring  seeds  are  sown.  Land 
of  this  description,  which  has  been  ploughed  in  winter. 
Mill,  in  the  spring  season,  when  ploughed  a  second  time, 
turn  up  raw  and  wet,  even  when  the  surface  is  tolerably 
dry,  and  iu  u  workable  state.  The  new  turned  up  fur- 
row is  tough  and  waxy  in  the  fir^t  instance,  but  after- 


AGBICULTUKE. 


235 


Trar  Js,  especially  if  a  hot  son  prevails,  the  surface  be- 
comes hard  like  a  brick,  even  before  the  bottom  or 
subsoil  is  free  of  the  superabundant  moisture  there  ac- 
cumulated. Under  these  circumstances,  the  processes 
of  drilling  cannot  be  executed  upon  clay  soils  with  the 
slightest  prospect  of  advantage.  It  is  even  difficult  to 
form  drills  for  beans,  in  many  seasons,  though  this  grain 
is  generally  drilled  at  wide  intervals.  To  drill  wheat, 
barley,  or  oats,  upon  clay  soils,  in  the  spring  months, 
may  be  regarded  as  a  measure  physically  impossible  to 
be  executed.  Such  grains  must  necessarily  be  drilled 
with  narrow  intervals,  9  or  12  inches  for  example ;  and 
though  practicable  on  light  soils  during  dry  weather, 
could  not,  with  the  slightest  prospect  of  success,  be  un- 
dertaken upon  those  of  a  different  description.  The  cor- 
rectness or  justice  of  these  arguments,  will  not  be  ques- 
tioned by  any  person  versant  in  the  culture  of  heavy 
lands,  or  by  those  who  have  paid  attention  to  the  diffi- 
culties of  performing  seed-work  upon  them  in  the 
majority  of  seasons. 

In  the  second  place,  were  we  to  allow,  for  argument's 
sake,  that  the  drilling  of  all  grain  was  a  practicable 
measure  upon  wet  lands,  still  it  remains  to  be  inquired, 
Jiow  such  soils  could  be  cleaned  in  a  satisfactory  manner, 
when  the  intervals  betwixt  the  drills  must  necessarily 
|je  narrow  and  confined,  admitting  little  more  than  a  nar- 
row hand  hoe,  which  never  could  extirpate  the  root 
weeds,  or  free  the  ground  of  its  aboriginal  inhabitants. 
Were  a  horse-hoe  to  be  used,  the  surface  would  break 
up  in  lumps,  or  massy  pieces,  to  the  destruction  of  the 
grain  plants,  whilst,  after  all,  a  hoeing  of  a  deepness 
sufficient  to  destroy  the  weeds  could  not  be  given.  If 
the  intervals  were  wide  enough  to  allow  a  horse-hoe 
room  for  work,  the  [iroduce  oftlie  crop  would  be  propor- 
tionally curtailed,  while  the  quality  of  the  grain  would 
be  materially  injured  from  a  continuance  of  tillering,  till 
a  very  late  period.  With  beans  this  does  not  happen ; 
for  the  i)ods  being  placed  upon  the  under  and  middle 
parts  ol  the  stalk,  the  introduction  of  air  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  increase  their  number,  and  to  bring  the 
grain  to  maturity^  Wheat,  barley,  and  oats,  are  dif- 
ferently circumstanced.  With  them  the  grain  is  placed 
upon  the  top  of  the  stalk,  consequently  the  introduction 
of  air  is  less  necessary.  At  all  events,  we  are  confident 
that,  with  equal  management,  a  greater  produce  may  be 
gained  from  culmiferous  crops  upon  clay  soils,  accoixiing 
to  the  old  husbandry,  than  can  possibly  be  gained  by  the 
introduction  of  row  culture.  That  the  southern  dis- 
tricts of  England,  and  many  kindly  soils  in  other  dis- 
tricts, may  be  drilled  with  safety  and  advantage,  we  do 
jiot  mean  to  dispute ;  but  betwixt  these  and  the  gene- 
rality of  soils  which  prevail  in  the  island  of  Britain,  a 
distinction  must  be  drawn,  the  husbandry  eligible  for  the 
one  being  inadmissible  for  the  other. 

In  the  third  place,  what  is  summer  fallowing  but 
merely  tilling  the  ground  at  a  proper  season,  and  free- 
ing it  from  ^veeds,  at  a  time  when  the  operations  of 
))loughingand  harrowing  can  only  be  successfully  execu- 
ted ?  If  we  had  no  wet  weather,  and  no  winter  months, 
then  constant  cropping  would  certainly  be  practicable, 
and  an  extra  stock  of  men  and  horses  would  be  all  that 
was  required ;  but  in  the  present  state  of  British  climate, 
(nnd  we  know  not  how  it  is  to  be  avoided,)  little  or  no 
work  can  be  done  from  aiitunin  to  the  first  of  April, 
which  can  materially  tend  to  clear  the  ground,  or  free 
it  of  root  weeds.  The  sole  object  of  ploughing  in  win- 
ter is  to  rot  the  stubble,  and  prepare  a  seed-bed  for 


spring  seeds.    Even  with  every  degree  of  attention, 
ploughing  is  often,  from  necessity,  performed  in  the  win- 
ter season  under  such  favourable  circumstances,  as  to 
hasten  a  return  of  summer  fallow  sooner  than  could  be 
wished.     The  anti-fallowists  allege,  "  that  the  earth  is 
destined  by  nature  to  an  everlasting  round  of  vegetation;" 
but  there  is  not  much  sense  in  the  position,  when  ap- 
plied to  practical  husbandry.     Will  the  earth  produce 
ever  crops  unless  the  seed  is  sown  ?  or  ought  corn  to 
be  sown  unless  the  earth  is  pro|)erly  prepared  for  its  re- 
ception ?  The  natural  vegetation  of  the  earth  is  a  thing 
assuredly  very  different  from  what  man  wishes  it  to  be, 
and  his  constant  object  therefore  is  to  destroy  natural, 
and  substitute  artificial  vegetation  in  its  place.     In  a 
word,  to  free  the  earlh  from  the  vegetation  which  it  na- 
turally produces,  ought  to  be,  and  is  the  steady  object 
of  every  good  husbandman  ;  and  the  sole  subject  for  dis- 
pute is,  how  and  in  what  way  can  that  free<lom  be  most 
substantially  and  effectually  gained  ?  Upon  all  clay  soils, 
and,  generally  speaking,  upon  soils  of  every  description, 
incumbent  upon  a  wet  bottom,  the  best  time  of  cleaning 
them  is  in  the  summer  months;  and  in  this  opinion  we 
are  decidedly  supimrted  l>y  the  respectable  author  of 
the  Staffordshire  Survey.     That  gentleman,  in  his  re- 
port to  the  Board  of  Agricidture,  says,  "  Fallowing  for 
wheat  on  cold,  wet,  or  strong  lan(ts,  and  on  all  such  as 
are  unfit  for  turnips,  is  absolutely  necessary ;  and  he 
who  attempts  to  manage  such  land  without  fallowing, 
will  have  occasion  to  re|>ent  his  mistake.     Mixed  soils 
which  are  too  moist  for  turni[)s,  have  a  parlicul<ar  pro- 
pensitj'  to  the  production  of  root  grasses.     Summer  fal- 
low therefore  becomes  absolutely  necessary,  and  every 
attempt  to  crop  without  it,  for  any  length  of  time,  on 
such  land,  has  terminated  to  the  injury  of  the  land,  and 
the  loss  of  the  occupier." 

Before  we  leave  the  subject  of  summer  fallow,  it  may 
be  remarked,  that  the  ancients  seem  to  have  been  very 
sensible  of  its  utility ;  for,  instead  of  recommending 
fallowing  at  periods,  three,  four,  six,  or  eight  years, 
from  each  other,  as  is  commonly  done  by  modern  wri- 
ters, they  mention  it  as  a  necessary  preparation  for  a  crop 
in  ordinary  soils.  In  S^vitzerland,  and  some  parts  of 
France,  they  crop  and  fallowaltemately;  and  this  seems 
to  have  been  the  common  practice  among  the  Romans, 
from  whom,  no  doubt,  other  nations  received  it.  If  the 
Romans,  who  enjoyed,  from  the  early  season  of  harvest, 
great  advantages  over  us,  fallowed  so  frequently;  if 
they  seldom  had  a  crop  of  any  kind  immediately  after  a 
crop  of  wheat  and  barley ;  if  they  even  seldom  sowed 
these  grains  upon  lands  that  had  carrie<l  a  crop  in  the 
preceding  year,  excepting  when  such  was  cut  green 
for  cattle,  certainly  the  late  season  of  harvest  in  Britain, 
and  the  difficulty  of  preparing  land  after  it  for  winter 
grain,  should  engage  us  to  fallow  much  more  frequently 
than  we  do.  , 

Although  agricidture,  and  other  arts,  may  have  now 
arrived  at  greater  perfection  than  under  (he  Roman 
government,  we  are  not  sure  but  that  much  benefit  may 
be  gained  from  a  studious  examination  of  the  Komati 
agricultural  system.  Good  ploughing  seems  to  have 
been  an  object  of  their  particular  attention;  and  with 
respect  to  industry  in  collecting  and  preparing  manure, 
the  most  assiduous  British  husbandman  falls  far  short 
of  the  ancient  cultivators.  If  the  ancients  were  iufprior 
iu  theoretical  knowledge  to  our  modern  improvers,  yel, 
in  attention  to  circumstances,  and  exactness  of  execu- 
tion, they  seem  to  have  been  greatly  superior.  Nor 
G  g  2 


2m 


AGRICULTURE. 


need  this  supeiiority  excite  surprise ;  because  the  great- 
est and  wisest  men  among  the  Romans  applied  them- 
selves to  the  study  and  practice  of  agriculture.  la  the 
hands  ol'  such  |)ersons,  agriculture  was  brought  to  the 
greatest  perfection,  and  all  its  operations  were  performed 
with  the  greatest  economy  and  exactness.  Pliny  assigns 
this  as  the  reason,  that,  in  ancient  times,  there  was  such 
plenty  of  corn  in  Rome. — "  What,"  says  he,  "  was  the 
cause  of  this  fruitfulness  ?  Was  it  because,  iu  tlwse 
times,  the  lands  were  cultivated  l)y  the  hands  even  of 
generals;  the  earth,  as  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  delight- 
ing to  be  ploughed  with  a  share  adorned  with  laurels, 
and  by  a  ploughman  who  had  been  honoureil  with  a 
triumph  ?  or  was  it  because  these  men  ploughed  their 
fields  with  the  same  diligence  that  they  pitched  their 
camps,  and  secured  their  corn  with  the  same  care  that 
(hey  formed  their  armies  for  battle  ?" 

Though  we  entertain  a  favourable  opinion  of  the  rural 
economy  of  the  Romans,  and  believe  that  much  may  be 
learned  from  it,  we  are  far  from  recommending  it  as  a 
pattern  to  be  imitated  by  British  husbandmen.  We  view 
it,  however,  as  a  ground-work,  on  which  a  good  fabric 
may  be  reared ;  because  the  fundamental  principles  of 
agriculture  were  carried  into  practice  by  that  j)eople, 
with  a  degree  of  diligence  and  method  well  worthy  of 
general  imitation.  Agriculture  is  a  living  science,  and 
susceptible  of  improvement  in  every  age.  In  our  times, 
when  the  implements  of  husbandry  are  more  perfectly 
formed,  and  when  more  suitable  motles  of  cropping, 
than  were  used  by  the  ancients,  are  adopted,  it  is  altoge- 
ther unnecessary  to  crop  and  fallow  alternately;  because 
it  is  completely  ascertained,  that,  by  diligent  cultivation 
given  to  intermediate  crops,  summer  fallow  may  be  de- 
layed for  four,  six,  or  eight  years,  according  to  soil, 
seasons,  and  other  circumstances.  But,  though  from 
these  considerations  it  appears  abundantly  evident,  that 
a  repetition  of  fallow,  as  recommended  by  the  Roman 
writers,  would  be  unnecessary  under  our  improved  mode 
of  cropping,  yet  it  does  not  hence  follow,  that  the  prac- 
tice of  working  land  in  the  summer  months,  in  other 
■words,  of  fallowing  it,  should  be  given  up,  merely  be- 
cause the  necessity  of  repeating  it  so  frequently  which 
formerly  existed,  is  now  superseded  by  superior  ma- 
nagement. Every  argument  in  support  of  fallowing, 
where  the  laud  is  foul,  remains  in  full  force,  or  on  its 
original  footing,  although  there  may  not  be  the  same 
jiecessity  for  repeating  it  so  frequently,  as  was  customa- 
ry in  former  times. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Dickson,  late  of  Whittingham,  the  best 
practical  writer  on  husbandry  since  the  days  of  Walter 
BIythe,  seems  to  hold  similar  sentiments  with  those 
which  we  are  now  maintaining.  In  his  Husbandry  of  the 
Ancients,  a  work  which  displays  great  genius  and  ac- 
quaintance with  the  present  and  former  state  of  rural 
aflairs,  after  stating  the  predilection  of  the  Romans  for 
summer  fallow,  and  describing  the  various  ways  in' 
■which  it  was  executed,  he  says : — "  I  am  sensible,  that 
the  practice  here  insisted  upon  and  recommended,  in 
imitation  of  the  ancients,  is  not  agreeable  to  the  most 
fashionable  modes  of  husbandry.  Our  latest  improvers, 
or  rather  our  latest  writers  on  agriculture,  declare,  that 
he  is  a  slothful  or  ignorant  farmer,  who  does  not  raise 
upon  his  fields  at  least  one  crop  every  year.  When  land 
is  very  rich,  and  the  fanner  remarkably  skilful  and  at- 
tsntive,  and  has  it  in  his  power,  by  a  command  of  hands, 
to  introduce  the  garden  culture  into  his  corn  fields,  it  is 
possible,  tliat  tlte  schemes  proposed  by  tiieae  geutlemca 


may  be  prosecuted  with  success.  But,  taking  ouf  for- 
mers and  land  as  they  are  in  fact,  and  cousideri-ts  1m>w 
much  weeds  still  prevail  in  our  fields,  and  hew  difficult  it 
is,  even  for  the  most  attentive  farmers,  to  firevent  tiieir 
crops  being  hurt  by  them,  frequent  fallowing,  as  the 
most  proper  metho<l  of  destroying  these  enemies,  can- 
not as  yet  be  too  much  recommended.  W  hen  we  have 
arrived  at  greater  perfection  in  the  several  operations  o£ 
agriculture,  and  brought  our  lands  to  a  higher  degree 
of  fertility  than  at  present,  then,  and  indeed,  in  my  opi- 
nion, not  till  then,  should  we  think  of  introtlucing 
schemes  of  perpetual  cropping."  Much,  however,  a* 
Britain  is  improved,  still  improvement  is  not  so  forward 
as  to  sanction  any  scheme  of  perpetual  cropping ;  and 
were  it  more  advanced,  we  question  whether,  in  such  a 
variable  climate  as  that  of  the  British  isles,  perpetual 
cropping  can  ever  be  successfully  exercised. 

A  mode  of  executing  summer  fallow,  and  procuring 
a  crop  of  turnips  in  the  same  year,  comes  now  to  be  no- 
ticed. In  this  way  the  land  may  be  completely  cleaned, 
perhaps  more  so  than  by  a  bare  fallow ;  but  it  is  only  on 
light  dry  soils,  that  such  a  mode  of  cleaning  is  eligible, 
or  can  be  executed  with  advantage.  The  culture  of 
turnips  will  be  noticed  in  a  more  particular  manner, 
when  we  treat  of  leguminous  crops. 

The  second  object  of  tillage  is  to  prepare  the  ground 
for  receiving  the  seeds  of  plants  cultivated  by  the  hus- 
bandman; and  here,  in  general,  it  may  be  remarked, 
that  the  object  is  most  completely  accomplished,  when 
the  ground  is  ploughed  deep  and  equal,  while  the  bot- 
tom of  the  furrow  immediately  above  the  subsoil  is  per- 
fectly loosened,  and  turned  equally  over  with  the  part 
which  constitutes  the  surface.  In  many  places,  these 
properties  are  altogether  neglected,  the  ground  being 
ploughed  in  a  shallow  way,  while  the  bottom  of  the 
ploughed  land  remains  something  like  the  teeth  oC  a 
saw,  having  the  under  part  of  the  furrow  untouched,  and 
consequently  not  removed  by  the  action  of  the  |)lough. 
While  these  things  are  suffered,  the  object  of  tillage  is 
only  partially  gained.  The  food  of  plants,  (whatever  it 
may  be,)  can  only  be  imperfectly  procured ;  and  the 
ground  is  drenchetl  and  injured  by  wetness;  these 
bridges,  or  pieces  of  land,  which  are  not  cut,  preventing 
a  descent  of  the  moisture  from  above  to  the  open  fur- 
rows left  for  carrying  it  oft'.  Where  the  seed-bed  is 
prei)ared  by  one  ploughing,  the  greatest  care  ought  to 
be  used  in  having  it  closely  and  equally  performwl. 
When  two  are  given,  they  should  be  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, so  that  any  firm  land  left  in  the  first  may  be  cut 
u|)  in  the  second  ploughing.  It  is  not  profitable  to 
plough  twice  one  way,  if  it  can  be  safely  avoided. 

Another  important  point,  towards  procuring  good 
tillage,  is  never  to  plough  the  land  when  in  a  wet  stale; 
because  encouragement  is  thus  given  to  the  growth  of 
weeds,  while  a  sourness  and  adhesion  is  communicated 
to  the  ground,  which  is  rarely  got  the  better  of  till  the 
operations  of  a  summer  fallow  are  agai«  reiieated.  The 
Roman  writers  are  very  particular  against  ploughing 
land  when  wet.  It  is  reprobated,  in  fact,  by  every  one 
of  them.  Columella  justly  represents  wet  ploughing  as 
most  dangerous  to  the  ground: — "  When  we  plough," 
says  he,  "  we  must  not  touch  wet  land;  for  the  fields, 
which  are  ploughed  wet,  cannot  be  touched  for  the 
whole  year,  and  are  fit  neither  for  being  sown,  harrow- 
ed, nor  planted."  Palladius  gives  a  similar  caution,  and 
takes  notice  of  the  same  bad  consequences : — "  It  ought 
ta  be  obBcrred,"  says  he,  "  that  land  ought  pot  to  (je 


AGRICULTURE. 


93? 


ploughed  wbeft  wet ;  fsf  land,  which  receives  the  first 
ploughing  when  wet,  c-^hiot  be  touched  for  a  whole 
season."  From  this  passage,  it  appears,  that  it  was 
reckoned  particularly  dangerous  to  give  the  fallow  the 
first  ploughing  when  in  a  wetstite  ;  and  that,  when  this 
-was  done,  it  was  impossible,  by  any  operations  atter- 
•wards,  to  bring  it  to  a  right  tilth  that  seed-time.  Pliny 
does  no  more  llian  mention  the  received  maxiin  : — "  Do 
not,"  says  he,  "  touch  wet  land." 

Before  we  tjnish  this  chapter,  it  is  proper  to  remark, 
that  all  soils  ought  not  to  be  wrought,  or  ploughed,  in 
one  manner.  Each  kind  has  its  particular  and  appro- 
priate qualities;  and  therefore  each  requires  a  particular 
and  appropriate  mode  of  tillage.  Ploughing,  which  is 
the  capital  operation  of  husbandry,  ought,  on  these  ac- 
counts, to  be  administered  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  soil  which  is  to  be  operated  upon,  and  not  executed 
agreeably  to  one  fixed  and  determined  principle.  On 
strong  clays  and  loams,  and  on  rich  gravels  and  deep 
sands,  the  plough  ought  to  go  as  deep  as  the  cattle  are 
able  to  work  it ;  whereas,  on  thin  clays  and  barren  sands, 
the  benefit  of  deep  ploughing  is  very  questionable, 
especially  when  such  are  incumbent  on  a  till-bottom,  or 
where  the  subsoil  is  of  a  yellow  ochre  nature ;  such, 
when  turned  up,  being  little  better  than  poison  to  the 
surface,  unless  highly  impregnated  witli  alluvial  com- 
post, the  effect  of  which  expels  the  poisonous  substance 
contained  in  this  kind  of  subsoil,  and  gives  a  fertility 
to  the  whole  mass,  more  decisive  iind  permanent  than 
would  follow  a  heavy  application  of  the  best  rotten 
dung. 

On  clay  soils,  where  the  ridges  must  be  considerably 
accliviited,  so  that  the  cround  may  be  preserved  in  some- 
thing like  a  dry  condition,  the  plough,  used  for  tillage, 
ought  to  have  a  mould-board  considerably  wilier  set  than 
is  required  for  light  soils,  in  order  that  the  furrow  may 
be  close  cut  below  and  duly  turned  over.  This  method 
of  constructing  the  plough  necessaril.v  makes  a  heavier 
draught  than  would  be  the  case  were  the  mould-board 
placed  differently,  though  if  good  and  sufficient  work 
be  wanted,  the  necessity  of  constructing  the  implement 
in  the  way  mentioned,  is  absolute  and  indispensable. 
The  plough  to  be  used  on  light  soils,  or  on  all  soils  that 
admit  what  is  technically  called  crown  and  furrow 
ploughing,  may  be  made  much  straiter  below,  and  yet 
be  capable  of  executing  the  work  in  a  perfect  manner. 
Perhaps  on  every  farm  consisting  of  mixed  soils,  two 
sets  of  ploughs  ought  to  be  kept,  otherwise  proper  w  ork 
cannot  be  performed.  All  land  ought  to  be  ploughed 
with  a  shoulder,  a  i)hrase  well  understood  by  plough- 
men, though  not  easily  explained  ;  and  the  advantiiges 
of  ploughing  in  this  way  are,  that,  if  ploughed  before 
winter,  the  surface  is  enabled  to  resist  the  winter  rains, 
and  afterwards  to  present  a  face  on  which  the  hari'ows 
can  make  a  proper  impression,  when  the  seed  process 
18  to  be  executed.  This  deseWes  jtarticula.^  attention 
when  old  grass  fields  are  to  be  broken  up;  as,  by  ne- 
glecting it,  the  harrows  often  are  unable  to  cover  the 
seed.  It  is  perfectly  practicable  to  plough  land  with  a 
tolerably  broad  furrow,  say  10, 1 1,  or  12  inches,  and  yet 
to  plough  it  clean,  provided  the  implement  used  is 
properly  constructed ;  but,  then,  care  must  be  taken 
that  the  furrow  be  of  proportional  deepness,  otherwise 
it  will  be  laid  on  its  back,  instead  of  being  deposited 
at  an  angle  proper  for  undergoing  the  harrowing  pro- 
cess. 


CHAP,  VI. 

On  the  Implements  of  Husbandrt. 

No  country  in  the  world  is  better  provided  with  im- 
plements for  executing  rural  labour  than  Great  Britain; 
and  to  this  superiority  may,  in  some  measure,  be  attribu- 
ted the  increased  and  increasing  perfection  of  agricul- 
ture over  the  whole  island.  We  have  ploughs  of  all  the 
different  kinds  that  ever  were  constructed  ;  and,  as  for 
wheel  carriages,  the  variety  is  immense ;  whilst  har- 
rows, and  other  common  implements,  of  various  con- 
structions and  dimensions,  are  equally  numerous.  But 
it  is  in  the  articles  more  properly  allied  to  machinery, 
that  the  superiority  of  British  rural  implements  is  most 
conspicuous.  Drills  for  sowing  grain  and  small  seeds 
with  regularity,  have  been  constructed  upon  scientific 
principles ;  and  machines  for  separating  grain  from 
straw  have  been  invented,  and  brought  to  a  degree  of 
■  perfection  which  few  people  expected,  when  these  ma- 
chines were  first  introtluced. 

Imperfect  labour  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  de- 
fective implements ;  but  where  attention  is  bestowed  in 
constructing  implements,  tlie  different  processes  of  la- 
bour in  which  they  are  employed,  may,  with  justice,  be 
considered  as  perfectly  executed,  or  at  least  as  executed 
in  a  better  manner  than  in  those  places  where  attention 
to  their  construction  is  neglected  and  overlooked.  In 
former  times,  the  construction  of  rural  implements  was 
left  almost  entirely  to  rude  and  ignorant  artisans,  whose 
operations  were  guided  by  no  fixed  principle,  and  with 
whom  improvement  was  left  out  of  sight,  the  beaten 
path  being  only  followed.  To  those  who  remember  the 
ploughs  that  were  used  in  Scotland,  at  a  period  not  more 
distant  than  thirty  years  from  the  present  date,  or  who 
have  viewed  many  of  the  implements  still  used  in  Eng- 
land for  tilling  the  ground,  the  justice  of  the  above  re- 
mark will  appear  unquestionable.  At  this  time,  however, 
the  remark  does  not  generally  apply;  for  the  true  prin- 
ciples on  which  ploughs  and  other  implements  should 
be  constructed,  have  recently  been  ascertained  with 
mathematical  precision,  whilst  artisans  have  been  ena- 
bled to  imitate  what  they  had  not  abilities  to  invent. 
The  assistance  thus  furnished  to  the  husbandman  has 
been  considerable ;  whilst  great  benefit  has  flowed  to 
the  public,  and  in  particular  to  the  proprietors  of  land  in 
Great  Britain.  The  husbandman,  in  the  first  place,  was 
enabled  to  execute  every  branch  of  work  in  a  more  per- 
fect manner,  and  thus  causing  the  soil  to  produce  great- 
er crops ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  proprietors  and  the 
public  received  equal  benefit;  the  proprietor  by  an  im- 
mense increase  of  his  rent-roll,  and  the  public  by  an 
increased  supply  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  without  which 
neither  manufactures  nor  commerce  could  have  been 
carried  on  so  extensively  as  they  have  been. 

Sect.  I. 

Of  the  Plough. 

The  plough  is  an  instrument  of  such  importance  in 
agriculture,  that,  in  all  ages,  it  has  held  the  first  place 
among  the  implements  of  that  art ;  nor  is  there  any  na- 
tion mentioned  in  history,  who  have  attempted  to  culti- 
vate the  ground  without  it,  excepting  some  barbarians 
destitute  of  every  art  acd  science.  And  even  these  have 


238 


AGRICULTURE. 


I ,     used  something  equivalent ;  soffle  {uming  up  the  ground 
^.     with  the  horns  of  oxen,   and  some  with  other  things 

tf^  equally  unfit  for  the  purpose.  These  rude  and  barbar- 
ous attempts  only  show  the  great  usefulness  of  the  in- 
strument proposed  to  be  treated  of. 

In  modem  times,  the  operation  of  tilling  the  ground 
may  be  considered  as  wholly  performed  by  the  plough, 
though  of  this  implement  the  varieties  are  numerous, 
the  construction  of  each  being  in  some  respects  analo- 
gous to  the  kind  of  husbandry  practised,  and  to  the  ex- 
tent of  mechanical  knowledge  possessed  by  the  artisan. 
In  ancient  times,  it  would  appear  that  the  plough  was 
considered  as  a  rude  instrument,  requiring  little  art  in 
the  construction,  and  unworthy  of  philosophical  atten- 
tion. It  was  judged  that  any  thing  would  do  for  execut- 
ing such  a  clumsy  operation  as  turning  over  the  ground, 
and  that  little  nicety  was  required  to  form  an  implement 
which  was  to  be  guided  and  directed  by  ignorant  pea- 
sants. Under  these  impressions,  this  useful  utensil  was, 
for  many  centuries,  made  at  random,  and  without  the 
slightest  attention  to  principles,  as  is  evident  from  the 
'  difference  of  impelling  power  called  for  when  different 
ploughs  were  employed.  The  kind  of  work  performed 
was  equally  diversified.  In  many  cases  the  furrow  was 
imperfectly  turned  over,  or  laid  up ;  and  in  others,  the 
under  part  of  the  slice  was  balked,  or  raftered,  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  deprive  the  seeds  that  were  sown  of  their 
necessary  nourishment.  The  expense  of  working  defec- 
tive implements  was  also  an  evil  of  magnitude  ;  it  being 
now  sufficiently  ascertained,  that  the  improved  ploughs 
may  be  wrought  at  one  half  of  the  cost  w  liich  attended 
the  barbarous  and  cumbersome  implements  of  former 
times. 

The  Roman  people  were  excellent  farmers,  and,  of 
course,  attentive  to  the  construction  of  ploughs;  but 
after  the  northern  nations  over-ran  and  subjugated  all 
Europe,  we  do  not  find  that  any  improvement  was  at- 
tempted upon  husbandry  implements  till  the  seventeenth 
century,  when  BIythe  and  others  took  the  subject  under 
consideration.  In  one  of  Blythe's  pieces  of  improve- 
ment, he  discovers  much  knowledge  of  the  several 
liloughs  then  used  in  England ;  and  demonstrates,  in  a 
forcible  manner,  the  best  way  of  making  a  plough,  so 
that  the  implement  may  be  easily  drawn,  while  the 
ground  is  sufficiently  \vorked.  By  that  accurate  agri- 
culturist, a  correct  and  minute  account  of  the  double 
plough  then  used  is  also  given.  Many  of  our  readers 
will  remember,  that  lord  Homerville,  some  years  ago, 
attempted  to  bring  the  double  plough  into  (ashion ;  but 
few  of  them  perhaps  know,  that  such  an  implement  was 
well  known  1 50  years  before  his  lordshi])  recommended 
it.  We  mention  these  circumstances,  not  with  a  view  of 
recommending  double  ploughs,  but  entirely  to  show  the 
knowledge  which  BIyilie  posseaseti  of  the  subject.  A 
double  plough  can  liardly,  in  ajjy  respect,  be  equal  to 
two  swing  ploughs  of  the  improved  kind,  and  in  many 
respects  is  vastly  inferior,  especially  upon  clay  soils, 
ivhere  the  ground  is  wet,  and  the  ridges  acclivated. 
Upon  soft  dry  lands,  a  double  plough  may  be  employed 
without  loss,  though  without  any  benefit  to  those  who 
use  it,  if  the  comparison  is  made  mth  well  constructed 
swing  ploughs.  A  great  variety  of  ploughs  are  used  in 
England,  many  of  lliem  confessedly  of  the  same  kinds 
which  have  been  employed  for  centuries  past,  and  gene- 
rally worked  to  the  immense  loss  and  disadvantage  of 
those  who  persist  in  the  use  of  such  implements.  The 
Jlotherham  i)Iough  ivas  the  first  deviation  from  the  prac- 


tice of  ancient  times,  Wng  ft  Tieat,  handy,  implement, 
easily  worked,  and  calculated  for  tilling  almost  every 
kind  of  soil ;  though  still  capable  of  being  much  im- 
proved, as  may  afterwards  be  noticed.  This  plough  is 
used  in  most  of  the  English  northern  counties ;  and  from 
being  generally  called  the  Dutch  plough,  we  are  led  to 
believe  must  originally  have  been  imported  from  Hol- 
land. It  was  first  constructed  in  Yorkshire,  by  Mr.  Jo- 
seph Foljambe  of  Eastwood,  in  the  West  Riding,  who,: 
in  1 720,  obtained  a  patent  for  the  invention,  which  he 
afterwards  sold  to  Mr.  Staniforth  of  Firbeck.  This  gen- 
tleman for  some  years  gave  liberty  to  farmers  to  con- 
struct ploughs,  upon  paying  liim  2.?.  6d.  for  each ;  but 
afterwards  attempting  to  raise  the  premium  to  7s.  or  7«. 
6rf.,  the  validity  of  the  patent  was  combated  and  set 
aside,  on  the  ground  of  its  not  being  for  a  new  invention, 
but  only  for  a  plough  improved. 

The  dimensions  and  constniction  of  this  plough  will 
appear  sutficiently  evident  from  the  following  descrip- 
tion, and  from  Fig.  5.  in  Plate  V. 

Dimensions  of  the  Rotherham  Plough. 

a.  inch. 
From  the  end  of  stilt  B6,  to  point  "\ 

of  the  share  G 74f,,,       ,. 

From  the  end  of  beam  Aa,  to  P^°'^  '"'^th- 

ditto  of  ditto  G 3     0  ) 

Length  of  the  beam  AA      ..60 
Width  of  the  head  in  the  widest 

part  D 14 

Ditto  of  ditto  at  E 0     9  N 

Ditto  of  share  behind  the  wing  g 

at/ 0     3iy  bottom  work-  < 

Length  of  surface  on  which  the  /"ing  surface,      f 

plough    touches   the   ground  V 

EG 2  10|J 

Height  from  ground  to  top  of 

beam     wiiere     coulter    goes 

through 18 

Width  between  stilts  at  the  end 

BB 2     6 

Height  of  ditto  from  the  ground  111 

AV eight  of  wood  and  iron  work,  about  1  i  cmt. 

From  this  description,  it  will  appear,  that  the  Rother- 
ham plough  differs  very  much  from  the  old  common 
ploughs;  being  more  lightly  and  neatly  constructed,  ami 
having  the  coulter  and  share  formed  and  placed  so  as  to 
raise,  and  then  gradually  turn  over  the  new  cut  furrow 
much  cleaner,  and  with  less  resistance  than  the  others. 
It  is  not  only  capable  of  being  worked  with  two  horses 
abreast,  as  is  common  in  most  counties  where  it  is  used, 
but  doos  the  work  in  a  superior  way  than  when  three  or 
more  hordes  are  yoked  in  a  line,  which  is  a  custom  too 
prevalent  in  many  places.  The  faults  of  this  plough  be- 
long more  !o  the  manner^n  which  it  is  wrought,  than 
to  the  principles  o:i  which  it  is  constnicted;  for,  where 
the  horses  rrre  yoked  in  a  line,  it  is  necessary  to  turn  the 
beam  considerably  to  the  furrow,  in  order  to  give  the 
plough  what  is  technically  called  lund.  Owing  to  this 
erroneous  way  of  placing  the  beam,  the  horses  <lr<(w  in  a 
contrary  direction  to  the  share  and  coulter,  which  makes 
the  i)l(>ugh  go  unsteady ;  and  from  the  difference  be- 
twixt the  direction  of  the  draught,  and  the  head  on 
which  the  share  is  fixed,  the  force  of  the  resistance 
must  necessarily  be  increased,  and  the  work  be  imper- 
fectly fierfprmcd. 


AGRICULTURE. 


239 


Notwithiilainling  that  the  necessity  of  turning  the 
beam  towards  the  furrow  is  solely  owing  to  the  custom 
of  yoking  horses  in  a  line,  it  may  be  observed,  that,  when 
liorsoa  are  yoked  abreast,  the  ploughs  have  all  more  or 
less  of  the  same  direction.  The  sock  or  share  is  much 
broader  in  the  point  than  is  necessary,  which  makes 
them  difficult  to  work  on  gravelly  soils,  and  even  in 
clay,  when  the  ground  is  dry. 

The  practice  of  yoking  horses  in  a  line  is  truly  ab- 
surd. Horses  never  work  so  easy,  or  draw  so  equal,  as 
when  yoked  abreast,  or  in  pairs,  nor  will  the  work  be 
done  well  in  any  other  manner ;  if  the  ground  is  in  such 
a  situation  as  not  to  bear  a  liorse  on  the  unploughed  part, 
it  is  unfit  for  labouring,  and  ought  not  to  be  touched. 
But  this  cannot  be  sustained  as  a  reason  for  this  prac- 
tici.-,  as  it  is  customary  in  many  places  to  employ  three 
horses  in  a  line,  sometimes  even  four,  ploughing  tender 
clover  leys.  The  plea  of  custom  and  prejudice  is  well 
known,  and  can  alone  be  assigned  for  such  an  absurd 
and  unprofitable  practice. 

We  are  clearly  of  opinion,  that  every  part  of  plough- 
work  may  be  executed  by  two  good  horses,  if  they  are 
j)roperly  maintained.  There  is  no  question  but  where 
land  is  hard  and  stiff,  so  much  work  cannot  be  done  in  a 
given  time  as  upon  lighter  soils.  But  this  argument 
Vi'M  have  the  sjime  weight,  whatever  number  of  horses 
are  yoked  :  All  we  contend  for  is,  that  two  good  horses 
yoked  abreast,  in  a  plough  properly  constructed,  are 
able  to  plough  any  ground  when  it  is  in  a  proper  situa- 
tion for  being  wrought. 

The  Rotherham  plough  was  introduced  into  Scotland 
so  early  as  1 730,  by  a  Mr.  Loniax,  or  Lummis,  who  was 
patronized  by  the  Society  of  Scotch  Improvers,  and  was 
afterwards  constructed  by  a  Mr.  Dal/.iel,  near  New  Lis- 
ton,  in  West  Lothian ;  a  person  sent,  by  the  great  John 
Earl  of  Stair,  to  England,  where  he  was  taught,  ;<t  his 
lordship's  expense,  the  best  and  most  improved  method 
of  constructing  ploughs,  and  other  husbandry  imple- 
ments. Prom  a  plate  and  explanation  annexed  to  Max- 
•well's  Collections,  it  appears,  in  the  clearest  manner, 
that  the  plough  introduced  by  Mr.  Lummis  was  exactly 
similar  to  the  one  used  in  Yorkshire  at  this  time,  which 
is  usually  called  the  Rotherham  plough,  a  description  of 
which  is  already  given.  This  is  evident  from  Maxwell's 
])late  and  explanation. 

Fig.  1.  Represents  the  left  or  land-side  of  the  plough, 
in  which  AB  is  the  beam,  CD  the  shealli,  EBD  the  big 
ttilt,  FR  the  little  stilt,  GH  the  coulter,  KI  the  sock  or 
share,  NP  the  bridle,  S  the  slyband,  ML  a  piece  of 
wood  in  the  place  of  a  head.  The  figures  of  all  these 
different  parts,  as  they  appear  on  this  side  of  the  plough, 
are  here  represented. 

Fig.  2.  Represents  the  right  side  of  the  plough,  wilh 
all  the  parts  that  can  be  seen  on  this  side,  in  v^■hich  TV 
is  the  mouldy  board,  &c. 

Fig.  3.  Represents  the  under  part  of  the  plough,  in 
which  may  he  seen  the  shape  and  size  of  the  share,  and 
how  it  is  fixed  on  the  sheath  and  mouldy  board,  plough 
eole,  and  mouldy  board,  &c.  as  they  appear  below,  or 
looking  on  the  under  side  of  the  plough. 

Fig.  4.  Represents  the  upper  view  of  the  plough  or 
as  she  tills,  in  which  may  be  seen  the  several  parts,  as 
Ihey  appear  on  this  side,  the  bridle  NP,  mouldy  board 
TV,  <fec.  in  their  several  sha;)es  and  sizes. 

Fig.  6.  a.  The  upper  part  of  the  stock,  or  share. 
i    0,  The  sock,  as  it  is  fixed  on  the  end  of  the  sheath 
and  mouldy  board. 


c.  The  perspective  of  the  bridle. 

Fig.  7.  Represents  tin?  higher  part  of  the  plough,  in 
which  are  seen  the  two  stilts  EF,  hinder  part  of  the 
mouldy  board  TV,  and  a  jtiece  of  wooti  in  place  of  the 
head  LM,  in  their  proper  shapes  and  sizes. 

The  whole  of  this  plough  ought  to  he  made  of  ash  or 
elm ;  the  irons  should  be  steeled  and  well  tempered ; 
and  that  part  of  the  plough  which  is  under  ground  in 
tilling  ought  to  be  covered  with  plates  of  iron. 

The  difference  between  this  and  the  common  ploughs, 
seems  to  consist  in  the  bridle  at  the  end  of  the  beam, 
by  which  the  [iloughman  can  give  the  plough  more  or 
less  land  by  the  notches  at  N  in  Fig.  3  and  4,  or  make 
her  plough  deeper  or  shallower  Ijy  the  holes  at  P  in 
Fig.  1.  and  2. ;  in  the  coulter  and  share,  which  are  made 
and  set  so  as  to  cut  off  the  new  furrow  without  tearing ; 
and,  in  the  mould-board,  which  is  of  such  a  fashion  as 
first  to  raise  a  little,  and  then  gradually  turn  over  the 
new-cut  furrow  with  the  least  resistance  :  and  the  advan- 
tage attending  such  ploughs  must  be  an  easy  draught; 
so  that  two  horses  are  able  to  do  the  work  of  four, 
^vhich  is  found  by  experience  to  be  the  case  on  all  ara- 
ble grounds. 

We  have  been  thus  particular  in  otir  accounts  of  the 
Rotherham  plough,  because  its  construction  was  the 
first  attempt  to  depart  from  the  ancient  system  of  work- 
ing the  soil,  at  a  heavy  expense,  with  large  and  cumber- 
some implements.  But  though  the  Rotherham  plough 
was  brought  to  Scotland  only  ten  years  posterior  to  the 
date  of  Mr.  Foljambe's  patent  in  England,  yet  the  use 
of  it  was  adopted  by  very  few  people,  till  1 764,  when  it 
underwent  several  alterations,  and  gradually  came  into 
general  practice.  The  first  alterations  were  not  of  much 
importance ;  in  fact,  the  chief  one  consisted  in  using  a 
chain,  which  at  the  best  answered  no  purpose  unless  to 
strengthen  (he  beam  at  a  place  where  it  seldom  was 
damaged.  The  head,  and  every  part  of  the  implement, 
except  the  chain,  muzzle,  soclt,  and  coulter,  were  of 
wooil,  with  the  addition  of  a  covering  of  thin  plated  iron, 
upon  the  mould-board,  to  prevent  it  from  wearing.  The 
mould-board,  from  being  straight,  gradually  assumed  a 
curved  figure,  till  finally  that  im|)ortant  member  of  the 
implement  was  made  of  cast  metal,  prepared  at  founde- 
ries  upon  principles  which,  from  practice,  may  be  pro- 
nounced correctly  adjusted.  The  head,  which  was 
formerly  constructed  of  wood,  and  constantly  needing 
repair,  is  now  also  made  of  iron ;  hence  the  share,  or 
sock,  is  kept  steadily  fixed  when  at  work,  which  was 
not  the  case  when  wooden  heatk  were  used. 

These  improvements  were  chiefly  devised,  and,  in 
the  first  instance,  executed  by  3Ir.  James  Small,  a  per- 
son to  whom  the  agricultural  interest  of  the  country  is 
under  great  obligations  ;  he  l)eing,  with  the  exceptions 
of  Messrs.  Lununis  and  Dalziel,  the  first  artisan  who 
attempted  to  im|)rove  ploughs  in  Scotland  upon  mathe- 
matical principles.  The  sock,  or  share,  is  made  with 
a  fin,  or  feather,  whereby  the  firm  earth  at  the  bottom 
of  the  furrow  is  cut  more  completely  than  was  practi- 
cable by  the  sock  of  the  old  |)lougbs,  which  acted  more 
in  the  way  of  mining  and  forcing,  than  cutting  and  re- 
moving the  earth  with  facility  or  ease  ,•  and  the  mould- 
board  being  of  cast  metal,  may  be  set  wider  or  closer 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  soil  on  which  the  plough 
is  to  be  used,  or  the  height  of  the  ridges  that  are  to  be 
ploughed.  This  implement  is,  therefore,  the  best  con- 
structed swing  plough  in  the  island ;  and  by  means  of 
it  a  mau  and  two  liorsee  >vill,  with  all  ease,  plough  an 


•24d 


AGRICULTURE. 


English  acre  per  day,  except  iii  fiarlicular  seasons, 
when  the  soil  iVoiu  »li  ought  has  become  hard  and  obsti- 
nate. We  have  often  seen  a  Scotch  acre,  (one  fifth 
lai^er  than  English  measure,)  ploughed  in  two  jour- 
neys, or  nine  hours'  worli  ;  but  this  Avas  either  when  the 
land  was  seed  furroned,  or  uith  a  soil  of  a  loose  and 
friable  nature. 

The  late  lord  Kames,  in  his  Gentleman  Farmer,  say?, 
'■  I  boldly  rtcommend  a  plough  introduced  into  Scot- 
■  land  about  twelve  years  ago,  by  James  Small,  which  is 
now  ill  great  request.  This  plough  may  be  considered 
as  a  ca[>ital  improvement."  Had  his  lordship  lived  a 
few  years  longer,  and  noiiced  the  improvement  since 
made  on  this  valuiib'e  and  useful  ini|ilenienl,  he  would, 
with  greater  justice,  have  been  warranted  to  recom- 
mend Mr.  Small's  plougli  in  the  warmest  manner.  lu 
short,  no  kind  of  plough  will  cut  the  furrow  so  clean, 
or  turn  it  so  nicely  over  for  receiving  benefit  from  the 
atmosphere,  and  etVect  from  the  harrowing  process; 
and,  what  is  of  greater  importance,  none  are  more  easily 
drawn,  taking  into  account  the  quality  of  work  that  is 
performed,  than  the  one  of  which  we  are  now  speaking. 
A  great  deal  of  its  utility  is  determined  by  the  strength 
of  the  animals  employed  in  the  draught ;  by  the  dexte- 
rity of  the  man  to  whom  the  inanageuient  is  committed, 
nnd  by  the  order  and  condition  in  w  hich  the  coulter  and 
share  are  preserved :  For  the  best  constructed  imple- 
ment will  make  bad  work,  when  strength  and  dexterity 
are  wanting  in  the  operator.  But,  under  a  parity  of  cir- 
cumstances, it  may  be  affirmed,  that  the  swing  plough, 
brought  into  practice,  and  afterwards  improved  by  Wr. 
Small,  is  fitted  for  executing  work  to  better  purpose 
than  any  other  of  the  numerous  varieties  of  that  imple- 
ment employed  in  the  several  districts  of  Great  Britain. 
Fig.  8.  plate  V.  represents  this  implement  as  used  with 
SI  chain ;  though  this  appendage  is  new  generally  out  of 
use. 

The  mould-board,  as  well  as  the  shealh,  or  head,  is 
now  generally  made  of  cast-iron,  on  the  inside  of  which 
is  an  inscription,  bearing  JMr.  Small's  name,  the  name 
of  the  founders,  (Cooiier  and  Barker,)  and,  what  is  prin- 
cipally intended,  the  approbation  of  the  Dalkeith  Far- 
iiier  Society.  It  is  now  universal  over  Scotland,  and, 
perhaps,  were  it  better  known  in  England,  it  might 
come  to  displace  the  complicated  ploughs,  with  wheels 
and  other  trumperj',  with  which  agriculture  there  is  at 
present  encumbered ;  as  it  is  not  apt  to  be  put  out  of 
order,  but,  simple  in  the  construction,  and  effective  in 
operation,  it  is  adapted  to  almost  every  situation.  The 
chain  connected  with  the  muzzle  by  which  it  is  drawn, 
fixed  as  far  back  as  the  coulter,  is  not  essential  to  its 
formation,  serving  merely  to  strengthen  the  beam, 
which  may  be  made  stronger  of  itself  at  less  expense, 
while  the  tillage  is  as  accurately  performed  with  plouglis 
that  have  none.     The  price  is  from  50s.  to  60s. 

Mr.  James  Veitch,  of  Inchbonny,  near  Jedburgh,  an 
ingenious  artisan,  has  mfule  very  considerable  improve- 
ments on  the  plough,  of  which  he  has  favoured  the  Edi- 
tor with  the  following  account: — "It  is  well  known 
to  every  practical  farmer,  that  land,  when  properly 
ploughed,  must  be  removed  from  a  lioriKontal  position, 
and  twisted  over  to  a  certain  angle,  so  that  it  may  be 
left  in  that  inclining  state,  one  furrow  leaning  upon  ano- 
ther, till  the  whole  field  be  completely  ploughed.  The 
depth  and  width  of  the  furrow  which  is  most  approved 
of  by  farmers,  and  commoidy  to  be  met  with  in  the  best 
ploughed  field?,  are  iji  the  proportion  of  2  to  3,  or  if 


the  furrow  be  IffO  Teel  «e6p,  it  laUst  I)e  iiire^  Vi  Wc,  rind 
left  in  an  inclining  position  from  45"  to  46".  Various 
forms  have  been  given  to  the  different  parts  of  the  plough 
by  ingenious  gentlemen  and  workmen,  according  to 
tlieir  different  fancies,  in  order  to  diminish  the  weight  of 
draught,  and  to  turn  over  the  furrow,  and  leave  it  in  its 
proper  position  without  tearing  or  breaking  it,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  preserve  nearly  the  original  form  of 
the  instrument ;  but,  unfortunately,  no  person  has  been 
able  sufficiently  to  accomplish  these  eiuls.  Mr.  Small's 
plough  is  by  fiir  the  best  known  in  this  countrj-,  but  the 
perpendicular  position  of  the  sheath,  and  the  too  sud- 
den twist  of  the  sock  and  mould-board,  together  with 
the  mould-board  not  being  a  propter  curve  with  res|)ect 
to  the  different  resistance  that  the  sock  and  mould- 
board  will  meet  m  ith  in  ploughing  stiff  land,  reifder  it. 
in  many  respects,  not  so  |)erfect  an  instrument  as  could 
be  Avished  for.  As  the  sock  and  forepart  of  the  mould- 
board,  entering  first  into  the  stiff  land,  meet  with  tlie 
greatest  resistance,  and  consequently  must  wear  soon- 
est; to  remedy  this,  I  begin,  for  instance,  at  the  point  of 
the  sock,  and  bring  it  a  great  way  further  forward  than 
that  of  Small's,  and  by  this  means  give  it  a  more  oblique 
position ;  which  diminishes  the  angle  of  the  furrow's 
ascension  from  the  horizontal  to  the  vertical  position. 
The  more  this  angle  is  diminished,  where  it  meets  with 
the  greatest  resistance,  the  less  apt  will  the  plough  be 
to  tilt  out  of  the  land  ;  nnd  the  nearer  to  the  perpendicu- 
lar the  sheath  and  sock  are  with  respect  to  the  sole  of 
the  plough,  the  less  hold  will  it  take  of  the  land,  and  it 
will  be  more  apt  to  start  out.  If  the  point  of  the  sock 
be  not  made  to  project  a  great  way  below  the  plane  of 
the  sole,  or  point  downwards  toward  the  bottom  of  the 
furrow,  the  ploughs  that  are  made  in  this  fashion  grind 
away  the  point  of  the  sock  below  ;  and,  as  this  point  is 
BO  much  inclined,  and  removed  from  a  parallel  [)ositioa 
with  respect  to  the  sole  of  the  plough,  it  increases  the 
friction  on  that  part,  and  makes  the  plough  a  great  deal 
more  difficult  to  draw.  This  parallel  i)osition  1  have 
jireserved  in  my  plough,  as  far  as  the  strength  of  cast- 
iron  will  admit ;  and,  as  the  furrows  are  laid  parallel  one 
to  another,  1  have  formed  the  sock,  and  that  part  of  the 
mould-l)oard,  (where  the  furrow  by  twisting  over,  is 
brought  to  the  perpendicular.)  by  cutting  away  the 
mould-board  pattern,  in  parallel  lines,  frofii  the  sole  of 
the  plough  to  the  top  of  the  mould-board ;  and,  by  these 
means,  I  both  procure  a  steadier  motion  for  the  plough, 
and  also  diminish  the  friction,  by  diminishing  the  an- 
gle ;  and  consequently  render  it  easier  drawn,  and  less 
apt  to  break  the  furrow  by  a  sudden  twist.  It  is  of 
great  importance,  in  the  formation  of  a  plough,  to  have 
the  line  of  draught  at  right  angles  to  the  horses'  shoul- 
ders; a  circumstance  of  which  the  greater  part  of 
plougli-makers  are  totally  ignorant,  although  it  is  well 
known  to  every  one  that  has  the  least  knowledge  of  me- 
chanics. If  we  take  the  angle  that  the  horses'  shoul- 
ders make  with  a  perpendicular  from  the  horizon,  and 
continue  another  line  at  right  angles  to  it,  or  parallel  to 
the  draught-chain,  tlie  length  of  this  line,  from  the 
horse's  shoulder,  to  where  it  meets  or  crosses  the  coul- 
ter, at  half  the  depth  of  the  furrow,  will  be  1 3  feet  2 
inches  for  ordinary  sized  horses.  If  the  plough  be  pro- 
perly made,  the  line  of  tiraught  should  pass  through  the 
middle  hole  of  the  plough-bridle,  at  the  point  of  the 
beam.  This  requires  the  beam  (as  will  be  seen  by  the 
figure,)  to  be  no  less  than  7  feet  long,  to  give  it  a  proper 
height  at  the  bridle.  Tliis  property  I  have  Btricllyatteud- 


AGRICULTURE. 


^41 


•>(}  to  in  all  the  ploughs  that  I  make ;  although,  in  gene- 
ral, plough-beams  are  only  C  feet  in  length,  and  some  of 
them  still  shorter,  which  renders  them  very  difficult  to 
hold,  and  inferior,  in  other  respects,  to  ploughs  of  a  pro- 
jier  length.  I  have  likewise  made  that  part  of  the  plough 
next  the  solid  land  a  perfect  plane,  and  to  run  parallel 
with  the  line  of  draught ;  whereas  some  of  the  common 
ploughs  are  completely  twisted  in  that  part,  and  deviate 
more  than  2  inches  from  the  line  of  draught:  This  throws 
the  plough  to  the  left,  and  causes  the  hinder  part  of  (he 
mould-board  to  press  hard  against  the  furrow,  and  crush 
and  break  it ;  besides  increasing  the  labour  of  the  cattle. 
The  position  of  the  coulter  must  not  deviate  much  from 
the  angle  of  45°;  for,  if  we  make  it  more  oblique,  it 
causes  the  plough  to  choke  up  with  stubble  and  grass- 
roots, by  throwing  them  up  against  the  beam ;  and  if 
less  oblique,  it  is  apt  to  drive  the  stones  or  other  obsta- 
rles  before  it,  and  make  it  heavier  to  draw. 

"  In  the  framingof  thisplough,  I  have  proportioned  one 
part  to  another,  so  that  all  parts  of  it  may  wear  alike  : 
the  iron-work  is  fixed  on  the  plough  simply,  and  at  the 
game  time  perfectly  secure.  I  have  likewise  made  a 
spring-steelyard,  somewhat  after  the  form  of  Regnier's, 
to  determine  the  difference  of  draught  between  Small's 
plough  and  the  one  which  I  have  constructed.  A  trial 
was  made  on  the  1 81h  of  May  last,  on  a  piece  of  exceed- 
ing stiff  spratty  lee,  with  two  ploughs  of  Small's  con- 
struction, and  one  of  mine,  from  which  it  appeared  that 
the  weight  of  the  draught  of  one  of  these  ploughs  was  36 
stones  English  weight,  and  of  the  other  32,  and  that  of 
mine  was  28.  To  account  for  ihe  difference  of  draught 
of  these  two  ploughs  of  Small's  construction,  I  can  only 
say,  that  the  one  must  either  have  been  longer  used  than 
the  other,  or  that  they  have  been  made  by  different 
workmen*." 

As  many  of  our  readers  may  be  unacquainted  with 
Ihe  old  Scots  plough,  the  following  description  of  that 
ancient  and  unwieldy  implement  may  not  be  unaccepta- 
ble. Its  several  parts  consisted  of  a  head,  a  beam,  a 
sheath,  a  wrest,  a  mould-board,  two  handles  or  stilts, 
which  were  connected  by  two  sticks  or  pieces  of  wooil, 
called  rungs  ;  all  these  were  of  wootl,  but  the  sock  and 
coulter,  with  two  shoes  on  the  sole  and  side  of  the  wrest, 
were  of  iron.  The  purposes  of  these  different  parts 
were  as  follows :  The  head  and  sock  opened  the  land 
below,  the  coulter  cut  the  surface,  the  wrest  and  mould- 
board  raised  the  earth,  and  turned  it  over,  the  beam  fix- 
ed the  draught,  and  kept  the  several  parts  together,  and 
by  the  handles  the  plough  was  managed  and  directed. 
The  sock,  or  share,  was  of  a  spiked  form,  and  acted  as  a 
miner,  not  cutting  the  furrows  square  in  the  bottom,  as 
must  be  the  case  with  the  ploughs  now  in  use,  when  pro- 
perly constructed. 

From  this  description,  the  defects  of  the  old  Scots 
plough  may  easily  be  ascertained.  Owing  to  the  way 
in  which  the  sock  or  share  operated,  a  great  deal  of  the 
ground  was  left  to  be  turned  over  by  the  wrest ;  and 
this  part  acted  as  a  forcer,  without  having  influence  to 
accomplish  the  operation,  unless  when  impelled  by  con- 
siderable strength.  The  necessity  of  having  a  strong 
impelling  power  to  execute  the  work  sufficiently,  in- 
fluenced the  ploughman,  in  most  cases,  to  keep  the 
wrest  upwards,  by  which  means  he  lessened  the  quan- 
tity of  power  that  was  required  to  carry  forward  the 


draught,  though  by  acting  in  this  way  he  rendered  the 
work  executed  proportionably  defective ;  as  in  such  in- 
stances it  was  baulked  below,  and  imperfectly  shoulder- 
ed upon  the  surface.  These  defects  were  sufficiently 
ascertained,  when  attempts  were  made  to  lessen  the  size 
of  the  old  Scots  plough,  and  to  work  the  implement 
with  two  horses  instead  of  three  or  four,  the  number 
usually  employed  in  former  times.  Even  the  improved 
Rotherham  plough  was  in  some  respects  similarly  defi- 
cient, till  the  mould-board  received  a  greater  curve,  and 
was  placed  lower  down,  and  more  upon  a  level  with  the 
heel,  than  was  usually  the  case  at  its  first  introduction. 
Bad  and  lazy  ploughmen  at  all  times  are  disposed  to  keej) 
the  furrow  side  up,  thereby  baulking  the  ground  less  or 
more,  merely  that  the  draught  may  sit  easier  upon  the 
horses,  without  reflecting;  upon  the  serious  injury  occa- 
sioned to  the  soil,  and  consequently  to  the  crops. 

The  old  Scots  plough  was,  however,  favourable  for 
working  strong  land,  and  for  all  lands  recently  brought 
under  cultivation.  At  the  time  it  was  used,  therefore, 
no  other  could  be  worked  perhaps  with  equal  advantage. 
From  this  consideration,  it  may  be  retained  with  pro- 
priety in  certain  parts  of  the  country,  where  improve- 
ments are  only  in  their  infancy;  though  in  every  other, 
where  any  thing  like  perfect  cultivation  has  been  intro- 
duced, the  improved  Rotherham  plough  may  be  used 
with  infinitely  greater  advantage.  It  will  be  attended 
with  a  saving  to  the  farmer,  and  io  the  countrj',  of  no 
small  importance.  Two  horses  in  the  latter  will  nearly 
plough  as  much  ground  as  four  in  the  former,  and  in  our 
opinion  to  much  better  purpose  when  the  implement  is 
properly  constructed.  Now,  the  expense  of  keeping  two 
horses  is  not  less  than  sixty  pounds  per  annum,  besides 
the  wages  and  board  of  a  driver,  which  at  least  will 
amount  to  twenty  pounds  more.  It  is  more  owing  to 
causes  of  this  nature,  than  to  any  increase  in  (be  price 
of  produce,  that  the  rent  of  land  has  increased  so  pro- 
digiously. The  plough  and  thrashing  machine  are  the 
two  capital  implements  of  husbandry ;  and  to  the  im- 
provement upon  the  one,  and  the  introduction  of  the 
other,  the  proprietors  of  land  are  in  a  great  measure  in- 
debted for  the  increased  value  of  their  property.  How 
much  is  it  to  be  lamented,  that  the  merits  of  (he  (wo 
men  who  improved  and  introduced  these  implements 
have  not  been  duly  considered  and  rewarded !  Had 
this  been  done,  a  debt,  not  recoverable  in  a  law  court, 
would  have  been  discharged,  and  encouragement  held 
out  to  other  ingenious  mechanics  or  artisans  to  exert 
their  endeavours  in  making  improvements  upon  every 
implement  already  in  use,  and  in  devising  new  ones  of 
greater  powers  and  capacities  for  executing  the  ditTer- 
ent  branches  of  rural  labour.  »- 

Wheel  ploughs  are  much  in  vogue  in  several  English 
counties,  though  not  used  in  Scotland,  except  in  some 
parts  of  Kincardine  and  Aberdeen  shires,  where  they 
were  introduced  by  the  late  Mr.  Barclay  of  Urie.  That 
ploughs  of  this  description  may  do  very  well  upon  flat 
sandy  soils,  we  entertain  no  doubt ;  nay,  that  they  may 
be  guided  by  ploughmen  less  skilful  than  those  intrust- 
ed with  the  management  of  swing  or  sledge  ploughs, 
we  mean  not  to  question.  Still  it  has  always  appeared 
to  us,  that  so  much  additional  resistance  must  be  created 
by  the  action  of  the  wheels,  especially  when  the  surface 
is  soft,  as  is  sufficient  to  counteract,  and  even  to  exceed 


*  Mr.  Veltch's  plough  has  been  examined  by  a  eomroittee  of  the  HigWand  Society  of  ScoOanJ,  who  were  SO  satisfied  of  its  supet<^or 
merits,  as  to  adjudge  a  handsome  premium  to  the  inventor.    Ed.  ' 

V  OL.  I.    Paet  I.  H  b 


242 


AGRICULTURE. 


any  benefit  gained  from  the  steadiness  of  draught,  or 
the  equality  of  breadth  and  depth  of  the  furrow  taken. 
With  respect  to  wheel  ploughs,  our  opinion  is  not  very 
difterent  from  the  one  given  by  lord  Kames.  That 
respectable  agriculturist  viewed  thera  as  trifles,  de- 
scribing the  pivots  of  the  wheels  as  constantly  going 
wrong,  and,  ou  account  of  their  being  frequently  choked 
with  earth,  as  increasing  the  friction  instead  of  dimin- 
ishing it. 

Besides  the  improved  Rotherham  jilough,  now  in  ge- 
neral use,  and  worked  by  two  horses,  another  imple- 
ment, constructed  upon  the  same  principle's,  but  of 
smaller  dimensions,  and  considerably  lighter,  is  used  for 
cleaning  beans,  potatoes,  and  turnips.  This  plough, 
(See  Fig.  10.  Plate  V.)  wrought  by  one  horse,  does  the 
business  completely.  It  is  of  advantage  to  put  a  piece 
of  plate  iron  betwixt  the  coulter  and  sheath  or  head, 
that  the  loose  earth  may  not  fall  through  upon  the  young 
plants.  A  horse  hoe,  called  a  scraper,  is  also  used  to 
clean  drilled  crops  on  light-soils,  and  is  very  etiicacious 
when  annual  weeds  are  to  be  destroyed;  but  when  quick- 
en or  other  root  weeds  are  in  the  ground,  a  deeper  fur- 
row is  required,  and  in  that  case  the  liglit  Rotherham 
plough  becomes  necessary. 

Mr.  Jefferson,  president  of  the  United  States  of  Ame- 
rica, who  has  cultivated  the  study  of  agriculture  with 
considerable  success,  has  given  the  following  descrip- 
tion of  a  plough-ear,  which  we  shall  lay  before  our  rea- 
ders in  his  own  words. 

The  body  of  a  plough  ought  not  only  to  be  the  con- 
tinuation of  tlie  wing  of  the  sock,  beginning  at  its  poste- 
rior edge,  but  it  must  also  be  in  the  same  plane.  Its 
first  function  is  to  receive  horizontally  from  the  sock 
the  earth  to  raise  it  to  the  height  proper  for  being 
turned  over ;  to  present  in  its  passage  the  least  possible 
resistance,  and  consequently  to  require  only  the  mini- 
mum of  moving  power.  Were  its  functions  confined  to 
this,  the  wedge  would  present,  no  doubt,  the  properest 
form  for  practice* ;  but  the  object  is  also  to  turn  over  the 
sod  of  earth.  One  of  the  edges  of  the  ear  ought  then 
to  have  no  elevation,  to  avoid  an  useless  wasting  of 
force ;  the  other  edge  ought,  on  the  contrary,  to  go  on 
ascending  until  it  has  ])assed  the  perpendicular,  in  or- 
der that  the  sod  may  be  inverted  by  its  own  weight;  and 
to  obtain  this  effect  with  the  least  possible  i«esistance, 
the  inclination  of  the  ear  must  increase  gradually  from 
the  moment  that  jt  has  received- the  sod. 

In  this  second  function  the  ear  acts  then  like  a  wedge 
situated  in  an  oblique  direction  or  ascending,  the  7>oint 
of  which  recedes  horizontally  on  the  earth,  while  the 
other  end  continues  to  rise  till  it  passes  the  jierpendicu- 
lar.  Or,  to  consider  it  under  another  point  of  view,  let 
us  place  on  the  ground  a  wedge,  the  breadth  of  which  is 
«qual  to  that  of  the  sock  of  the  plough,  and  which  in 
length  is  equal  to  the  sock  from  the  wing  to  the  poste- 
rior extremity,  and  tlie  height  of  the  heel  is  equal  to  the 
thickness  of  the  sock  :  draw  a  diagonal  on  tlie  upper  sur- 
face from  the  left  angle  of  the  point  to  the  angle  on  the 
right  of  the  upper  part  of  the  heel ;  slope  the  face  by 
making  it   bevel  from  the  diagonal  to  the  right  edge, 


which  touches  the  earth  :  this  half  will  evidently  be  the 
properest  form  for  discharging  the  required  functions, 
namely,  to  remove  and  turn  over  gradually  the  sod,  and 
with  the  least  force  possible.  If  the  left  of  the  diagonal 
be  sloped  in  the  same  manner,  that  is  to  say,  if  we  sup- 
pose a  straight  line,  the  length  of  which  is  equal  at  least 
to  that  of  the  wedge,  applied  on  the  face  already  sloped, 
and  moving  backwardsou  that  face,  parallel  to  itself,  and 
to  the  two  ends  of  the  wedge,  at  the  same  time  that  its 
lower  end  keeps  itself  always  along  the  lower  end  of  the 
right  face,  the  result  will  be  a  curved  surfacej  the  essen- 
tial character  of  which  is,  that  it  will  be  a  combination 
of  the  principle  of  the  wedge,  considered  according  to 
two  directions,  which  cross  each  other,  and  will  give 
what  we  require,  a  plough-ear  presenting  the  least  pos- 
sible resistance. 

This  ear,  besides,  is  attended  with  the  valuable  advan- 
tage, thiit  it  can  be  made  by  any  common  workman  by  a 
process  so  exact  that  its  form  will  not  vary  the  thickness 
of  a  hair.  One  of  the  great  faults  of  this  essential  part  of 
the  plough  is  the  want  of  precision,  because  workmen 
having  no  other  guide  f  han  the  eye,  scarcely  two  of  them 
are  similar. 

It  is  easier,  indeed,  to  construct  with  precision  the 
plough-ear  in  question,  when  one  has  seen  the  method 
which  furnishes  the  means  once  put  in  |)ractice,  than  to 
describe  the  method  by  the  aid  of  language,  or  to  repre- 
sent it  by  figures.  I  shall,  however,  try  to  give  a  de- 
scription of  it. 

Let  the  proposed  breadth  and  depth  of  the  furrow,  as 
well  as  the  length  of  the  head  of  the  plough,  from  its 
junction  with  the  wing  to  its  posterior  end,  be  given,  for 
these  data  will  determine  the  dimensions  of  the  block 
from  which  the  ear  of  the  plough  must  be  cut.  Let  us 
suppose  the  breadth  of  the  furrow  to  be  9  inches,  the 
depth  6,  and  the  length  of  the  head  two  feet ;  the  block 
then  (Plate  VI.  Fig.  1.)  must  be  9  inches  in  breadth  at 
its  base  b  c,  and  13J  inches  at  its  summit  a  d ;  for,  if  it 
had  at  the  top  only  the  breadth  a  e  equal  to  that  of  the 
base,  the  sod,  raised  in  a  perpendicular  direction,  would, 
by  its  own  elasticity,  fall  back  into  the  furrow.  The  ex- 
perience which  I  have  acquired  in  my  own  land,  has 
proved  to  me,  that  in  a  height  of  12  inches  the  elevation 
of  the  ear  ought  to  go  beyond  the  perpendicular  4^ 
inches,  which  gives  an  angle  of  about  20J<>,  in  order  that 
the  weight  of  the  sod  may  in  all  cases  overcome  its  elas- 
ticity. The  block  must  be  1 2  inches  in  height ;  because 
if  the  height  of  the  ear  were  not  equal  to  twice  the  depth 
of  the  furrow,  when  friatile  and  sandy  earth  is  tilled,  it 
would  pass  the  ear,  rising  up  like  waves.  It  must  be  in 
length  3  feet,  one  of  wliich  will  serve  to  form  the  tail 
that  fixes  the  ear  to  the  stilt  of  the  plough. 

The  first  operation  consists  in  forming  this  tail  by 
sawing  the  block  (Fig.  2.)  across  from  a  to  6  on  its  left 
side,  and  at  the  distance  of  12  inches  from  the  ead  fg  ; 
then  continue  the  notch  perpendicularly  along  b  c  till 
within  an  inch  and  a  half  of  its  right  side;  then  taking 
d  i  and  e  h,  each  equal  1^  inch,  make  a  mark  with  the 
saw  along  the  line  d  e,  )>arallel  to  the  right  side.  The 
piece  abed  efg  will  fall  of  itself,  and  leave  the  tail 


•  If  the  oTjjcct  were  merely  to  raise  the  sod  of  earth  to  a  given  height  by  a  determinate  length  of  car,  without  turning  it  over,  the  form 
■which  would  give  the  least  resistance  would  not  be  exactly  that  of  the  wedge  with  two  plain  faces ;  but  the  upper  face  ouglit  to  be  curvi- 
linear, according  to  the  laws  of  the  soKd  of  least  resistance  described  by  raatheraaticians.  But  in  this  case  the  difference  between  the 
effect  of  the  wedge  with  a  curved  face,  and  tliat  of  a  wedge  with  a  ptane  face,  is  so  small,  and  it  would  be  so  difficult  for  workmen  to 
construct  the  former,  that  the  vedge  with  K  plane  face  oi^ht  to  be  preferccil  in  practice,  as  the  first  element  of  oar  method  of  constrno 
tion. 


AGRICULTURE. 


24^ 


c  dell  i  k,  an  incli  and  a  half  In  thickness.  It  is  of  the 
anterior  part  a  b  c  k  I  mn  of  the  block  that  the  ear  must 
be  formed. 

By  means  of  a  square,  trace  out  on  all  the  faces  of  the 
block  lines  at  an  inch  distance  from  each  other,  of  which 
there  will  necessarily  be  23 :  then  draw  the  diagonals 
Am  (Fig.  3.) on  the  upper  face,  and  A;  o  on  that  which 
is  situated  on  the  right ;  make  the  saw  enter  at  the  point 
m,  directing  it  towards  k,  and  making  it  descend  along 
the  line  m  I  until  it  mark  out  a  straight  line  between  k 
and  I  (Fig.  3.) ;  then  miike  the  saw  enter  at  the  point  o, 
and,  preserving  the  direction  o  k,  make  it  descend  along 
the  line  o  I  until  it  meet  with  the  central  diagonal  k  I, 
which  had  been  formed  by  the  first  cut :  the  |)yramid 
kmnol  (Fig.  4.)  will  fall  of  itself,  and  leave  the  block 
in  the  form  represented  by  Fig.  5. 

It  is  here  to  be  observed,  that  in  the  last  operation,  in- 
stead of  stopping  the  saw  at  the  central  diagonal  k  I,  if 
we  had  continued  to  notch  the  block,  keeping  on  the 
same  plane,  the  wedge  Imnokb  (Fig.  3.)  would  have 
been  taken  away,  and  there  would  have  remained  ano- 
ther wedge  I  0  k  b  a  r,  which,  as  I  observed  before,  in 
speaking  of  the  principle  in  regard  to  the  construction 
of  the  ear,  would  exhibit  the  most  perfect  form,  were 
the  only  object  to  raise  the  sod ;  but  as  it  must  also  be 
turned  over,  the  left  half  of  the  upper  wedge  has  been 
preserved  in  order  to  continue,  on  the  game  side,  the 
bevel  to  be  formed  on  the  right  half  of  the  lower  wedge. 

Let  us  now  proceed  to  the  means  of  producing  this 
bevel;  in  order  to  obtain  which,  we  had  Ihe  precaution 
to  trace  out  lines  around  tlie  block  before  we  removed 
the  pyramid  (Fig.  4.)  Care  must  be  taken  not  to  con- 
found these  lines  now  (hat  they  are  separated  by  the 
vacuity  left  by  the  suppression  of  that  pyramid  (Fig.  5.) 
Make  the  saw  enter  in  the  two  points  of  the  first  line 
situated  at  the  places  where  the  latter  is  interrupted, 
and  which  are  the  two  points  where  it  is  intersected  by 
(he  external  diagonals  o  k  and  m  k,  continuing  the  stroke 
on  that  first  line  till  it  reach  on  the  one  hand  the  central 
diagonal  k  I,  and  on  the  otlier  the  lower  right  edge  o  h, 
of  the  block  (Fig.  3.) :  the  posterior  end  of  the  saw  will 
come  out  at  some  point  situated  on  the  upper  trace  in  a 
straight  line  with  the  corresponding  points  of  the  edge 
and  the  central  diagonal.  Contiime  to  do  the  same  thing 
on  all  the  jjoints  formed  by  the  intersection  of  the  exte- 


rior diagonals  and  lines  traced  out  avouiul  the  block, 
taking  always  the  central  diagonal,  and  the  edge  o  h  a» 
the  term,  and  the  traces  as  directors :  the  result  will  be, 
that  when  you  have  formed  several  cuts  with  the  saw, 
the  end  of  that  instrument,  which  came  out  before  at  the 
upper  face  of  the  block,  will  come  out  at  the  face  situa- 
ted on  the  left  of  the  latter ;  and  all  these  different ' 
cuts  of  the  saw  will  have  marked  out  as  many  straight 
lines,  which,  extending  from  the  lower  edge  o  h  of  the 
block,  will  proceed  to  cut  the  central  diagonal.  Now, 
by  the  help  of  any  proper  tool,  remove  the  sawn  parts, 
taking  care  to  leave  visible  the  traces  of  the  saw,  and 
this  face  of  the  ear  will  be  finished*.  The  traces  will 
serve  to  show  how  the  wedge  which  is  at  the  right  angle 
rises  gradually  on  the  direct  or  lower  face  of  the  wedge, 
the  inclination  of  which  is  preserved  in  the  central  dia- 
gonal. One  may  easily  conceive  and  render  sensible 
the  manner  in  which  the  sod  is  raised  on  the  ear,  which 
we  have  described,  by  tracing  out  on  the  ground  a  pa- 
rallelogram two  feet  long  and  nine  inches  broad,  as  ab  od 
(Fig.  6.)  :  then  placing  in  the  point  6  the  end  of  a  slick 
27i  inches  in  length,  and  raising  the  other  end  12  inches 
above  the  point  e  ;  (the  line  d  c,  equal  to  i\  inches,  re- 
presents the  quantity  which  the  height  of  the  ear  ex- 
ceeds the  perpendicular.)  When  this  is  done,  take  ano- 
ther stick  12  inches  in  length,  and,  placing  it  on  a  b, 
make  it  move  backwards,  and  parallel  to  itself  from  a  b 
to  c  rf,  taking  care  to  keep  one  of  its  ends  always  on  the 
line  ad ;  while  the  other  end  moves  along  the  stick 6c, 
which  here  represents  the  central  diagonal.  The  mo- 
tion of  this  stick  of  12  inches  in  length  will  be  that  of 
our  ascending  weilge,  and  will  show  how  each  trans- 
verse line  of  the  sod  is  carried  from  its  first  horizontal 
position,  until  it  be  raised  to  a  height  which  exceeds  the 
per^jendicular  so  much  as  to  make  it  fall  inverted  by  ita 
own  weight. 

But  to  return  to  our  operation  :^it  remains  to  con- 
sti-uct  the  lower  part  of  the  ear.  Invert  the  block,  and 
make  the  saw  enter  at  the  points  where  line  a  I  (Fig.  9.) 
meets  with  the  traces,  and  continue  your  stroke  along 
these  traces  until  bothends  of  the  saw  approach  within 
an  inch,  or  any  other  convenient  thickness,  of  the  oppo- 
site face  of  the  ear.  When  the  cuts  are  finished,  re- 
move, as  before,  the  sawn  pieces,  and  the  ear  will  be 
finishedf. 


*  A  better  idea  of  the  result  of  the  operation  here  described,  may  be  conceived  from  the  two  figures  9  and  10,  which  were  originally 
drawn  in  perspective  by  M.  Valencienne,  assistant  naturalist  to  the  Museum  J^ational  cPHistoire  J\~aturflle.  Sap\mse  the  saw  cuts  the 
lines  m  k,  0  k  (Fig.  9.)  in  the  points  x  and  /,  taken  in  the  traces  xf  and  (  s,  situated  in  the  same  plane,  p.-irallel  to  4  a  a  r,  and  the  pi-o- 
longations  of  which,  on  the  triangles  m  k  I  and  o  k  I,  are  the  lines  a  z  and  t  z  ;  the  saw  must  then  penetrate  the  block  remaining  in  the 
plane  in  question  until  its  edge  has  arrived  at  the  point  s,  and  at  the  same  time  touch  the  jioint  z  of  the  central  diagonal  k  I.  The  same 
edge  of  the  saw  will  come  out  at  some  point  y  of  the  face  m  k  I,  so  that  the  three  points  s,  z,  y,  will  be  In  the  same  straight  line.  Hut  if 
this  operation  be  repeated  in  different  places  of  the  lines  m  k,  o  k  b  from  *;  to  a  certain  height,  the  points  of  tlie  face  m  k  b,  at  wliich  the 
saw  comes  out,  will  form  a  curve  k  y  n.  Beyond  this  height  the  saw,  always  directed  in  such  a  manner  that  at  the  end  of  its  motion  it 
shall  touch  at  the  same  time  the  edge  o  h  and  the  central  diagonal  k  I,  will  come  out  at  other  points  situated  on  the  posterior  face  ab  m  I,- 
and  the  scries  of  these  points  will  form  a  second  curve  n  /,  which  will  meet  the  first  in  the  point  n.  These  two  curves  being  traced  out, 
let  us  suppose  straight  lines  drawn  to  the  places  where  the  saw  stopped  each  time  that  it  touched  the  diagonal  k  I,  and  of  which  one,  ai 
already  said,  passes  through  the  points  t,  z,  y  ;  and  let  us  conceive  a  surface  touching  all  these  straight  lines,  and  whose  limits,  on  the 
one  hand,  shall  be  the  curves  k  y  n,  n  I,  and  on  the  other  the  edge  o  h,  this  surface,  which  must  be  uncovered  by  sections  made  with  a 
proper  instrument,  will  form  one  of  the  faces  of  the  ear.  The  latter  is  represented  Fig.  10.  and  the  face  in  question  is  that  which  ap- 
pears before,  and  which  is  indicated  by  j  n  /  o  r.  It  will  be  remarked,  that  the  angle  situated  towards  A  (fig.  9.)  on  the  part  k  c  di  e  K 
of  the  block  has  also  been  cut  off  by  a  section  made  from  d  to  r,  agreeably  to  what  will  be  said  hereafter. 

\  We  shall  here  add  to  this  description  an  illustration  similar  to  that  given  in  regard  to  the  antciMor  face  of  the  ear.  The  thickness' 
of  the  latter  being  determined  by  that  of  the  part  k  c  di  e  h  (Fig.  9. ),  or,  what  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  by  the  length  of  the  lines  c  k, 
d  i,  e  h,  let  us  first  conceive  that  there  has  been  traced  out,  proceeding  from  the  point  c  the  curve  cup  parallel  to  k  y  7i,  and  then  pro- 
ceeding from  the  point/),  the  curve  p  5  parallel  to  I  n.  Let  us  next  suppose  that  the  saw  cuts  the  edge  a  I  of  the  face  a  b  m  I'm  the 
point  J",  situated  in  the  same  plune  as  x  ^  and  t  s,  which  plane  has  been  taken  for  example  in  regard  to  the  anterior  face  of  the  ear.  The 
saw  must  be  directed  along  the  traces  .f  ^  and  Js  in  such  a  manner,  that  its  motion  shall  stop  at  the  term  where  its  edge  on  the  one  hand 
sliall  touch  the  curve  c pin  the  point  u  situated  on  the  trace  x  z,  and  on  the  other  shall  be  situated  parallel  to  the  line  t  i  j/  nt  which  the  ' 
saw  stopped  on  the  other  side  of  the  ear.  The  edge  of  the  saw  will  then  cut  the  face  a  I  o  r  in  some  point  s,  so  situated  that  the  straight 
(ine  drawtj  througli  that  point  and  the  point  «  shall  be  parallel  to  tlie  straight  line  which  passes  Uirough  the  point  »,  i,  y.    If  you  conti- 

H  h  2 


244 


AGRICULTURE. 


It  Is  Gxed  f<J  the  piougJi  oy  Hiortisjng  the  fore  part 

0  b  (Fig.  3.  and  10.)  into  the  postenor  end  of  the  sock, 
which  must  be  made  double,  like  the  case  of  a  comb, 
that  it  may  receive  and  secure  this  fore  part  of  the  ear- 
A  screw-nail  is  then  made  to  pass  through  the  ear  and 
the  handle  of  the  sock  at  the  place  of  their  contact,  and 
two  other  screw-nails  pass  through  the  tail  of  the  ear 
and  the  right  handle  of  (he  plough.  The  part  of  the 
tail  which  passes  beyond  the  bnmlle  must  be  cut  dia- 
gonally, and  the  work  will  be  finished. 

In  describing  this  operation  I  have  followed  the  sim- 
plest course^  that  it  may  be  more  easily  conceived ;  but 

1  have  been  taught  by  practice  that  it  requires  somo 
useful  modifications.  Thus,  instead  of  beginning  to 
form  the  block  as  represented  ab  c  «/(Fig.  7.),  where  a  b 
is  12  inches  in  length,  and  the  angle  at  6  is  a  right  one, 
I  cut  oil'  towards  the  bottom,  and  along  the  whole  length 
6  c  of  the  block,  a  wedge  bee,  the  line  I  being  equal  to 
the  thickness  of  the  bar  of  the  sock  (which  I  suppose  to 
be  1  i  inch) ;  for  as  the  face  of  the  wing  inclines  from 
the  bar  to  the  ground,  if  the  block  were  placed  on  the 
sock,  without  taking  into  the  account  this  inclination, 
the  side  a  b  would  lose  its  perpendicular  direction,  and 
the  side  a  d  would  cease  to  be  horizontal.  Besides,  in- 
stead of  leaving  at  the  top  of  the  block  a  breadth  of  IStJ- 
inches  from  m  to  n  (Fig.  8.),  I  remove  from  the  riglit 
side  a  kind  of  wedge  n  k  i  c  p  n  of  1^  inch  in  thickness; 
because  experience  has  shown  me,  that  the  tail,  which 
by  these  means  has  become  more  oblique,  as  c  i  instead 
of  k  i,  fits  more  conveniently  to  the  side  of  the  handle. 
The  diagonal  of  the  upper  face  is  consequently  removed 
back  from  A;  to  c ;  and  we  have  m  c  instead  of  m  k,  as 
above.  These  modifications  may  be  easily  comprehend- 
ed by  those  acquainted  with  the  general  principle. 

In  the  different  experiments  to  which  ears  have  been 
subjected,  to  determine  the  quantity  by  which  the  right 
upper  side  of  the  block  passes  beyond  the  perpendicu- 
lar, and  to  fix  the  relation  between  the  height  and  the 
depth  of.the  furrow,  they  were  made  only  of  wood;  but 
since  my  experiments  have  convinced  me,  that  for  a 
furrow  9  inches  broad  and  6  in  depth,  the  dimensions  I 
have  given  are  the  best,  I  propose  in  future  to  have  the 
ears  made  of  cast  iron. 

To  any  one  who  has  been  in  the  habit  of  seeing  every 
kind  of  soil  ploughed  in  the  completest  manner,  by  an 
improved  sowing  plough,  drawn  by  two  horses,  it  must 
appear  highly  absurd,  that  the  lightest  soils  of  Middle- 
sex, Surry,  and  many  other  English  counties,  should  be 
worked  by  5  or  6  strong  horses,  yoked  to  a  ponderous 
Unwieldy  implement,  whilst,  after  all,  the  furrow  taken 
by  an  implement  provided  with  an  impelling  power  of 
such  magnitude  is  generally  of  less  depth  than  the  one 
taken  by  the  improved  |)lough  drawn  only  by  two  horses. 
The  difference  of  expense  in  these  two  cases,  must  at 
least  amount  to  twenty  shillings  per  acre  in  favour  of 
farmers  who  use  the  improved  sowing  plough ;  and  this 
may  be  given  as  one  of  many  reasons,  why  the  rent  of 
Jand  is  so  much  lower  in  England  than  in  Scotland. 
There  are  several  obstacles  to  the  improvement  of 
agriculture  which  farmers  cannot  remove ;  but  to  pur- 
chase proper  implements,  and  to  work  them  in  a  suitable 
manner,  is  certainly  within  the  power  of  every  one*  It 


therefore  appears  surprising,  that  a  great  properlion  of 
English  farmers  are  so  obstinately  wedded  to  ancient 
customs  and  prejudices,  as  to  persist  in  a  practice, 
%vhich,  whilst  it  does  no  good  to  themselves,  is  highly 
pernicious  to  the  interests  of  agriculture  and  the  pros- 
perity of  the  state.  A  spirit  of  inquiry,  however,  has 
now  gone  abroad,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped,  that  the  conse- 
quences thereof  will  serve  to  correct  the  above  !ind  other 
errors.  So  many  English  farmers  have  of  late  visited 
Scotland,  and  made  sedulons  inquiries  resi>ecting  the 
practical  husbandry  of  that  country  as  inclines  us  to  be- 
lieve, that  improvements  in  one  part  of  the  island  will 
soon  be  diffused  over  the  whole.  But  a  stronger  reason 
for  inducing  us  to  think  that  the  number  of  horses  used 
in  a  plough  will  shortly  be  lessened,  may  be  gathered 
from  the  desire  manifested  by  many  English  proprietors 
to  obtain  rents  of  a  similar  extent  to  those  paid  to  their 
Scottish  brethren.  It  is  obvious  that  this  cannot  happen, 
so  long  as  the  produce  of  land  is  wasted  and  consumed 
by  a  parcel  of  idle  or  superfluous  horses;  therefore  it 
will  not  give  us  surprise  to  be  informed,  that  long  teams 
were  interdicted  by  English  proprietors,  and  that  they 
refused  to  accept  of  a  tenant,  who  did  not  i)reviously 
bind  and  oblige  himself  to  use  the  improved  sowing 
plough  drawn  by  two  horses ;  which  implement,  will* 
the  exception  of  the  thrashing  machine,  may  justly  be 
reckoned  the  greatest  boon  hitherto  bestowed  ou  British 
agriculture. 

Sect.  II. 
Harrows. 

These  beneficial  implements  are  of  various  sizes  and 
dimensions ;  but  the  harrow  most  commonly  used  con- 
sists of  four  bulls,  with  cross  mortised  sheaths,  each  bull 
containing  five  teeth,  of  from  five  to  seven  inches  in 
length  below  the  bulls,  the  longest  being  placed  for- 
wards. Harrows  of  this  kind,  drawn  by  one  horse,  are 
generally  used  on  most  farms  for  all  purposes,  though 
on  others  large  brake  harrows  consisting  of  five  bulls, 
each  containing  six  teeth,  and  worked  by  two  horses,  are 
employed  during  the  fallow  process,  and  for  reducing 
rough  land.  Some  of  these  brake  harrows  are  con- 
structed with  joints,  so  as  to  bend,  and  accommotlafe 
their  shape  to  the  curvature  of  ridges.  A  small  har- 
row with  short  teeth  is  also  used  for  covering  grass 
seeds,  though  we  have  rarely  seen  any  detriment  from 
putting  grass  seeds  as  deep  into  the  ground  as  the  teeth 
of  ordinary  sized  harrows  are  capable  of  going. 

The  object  of  harrowing  being  both  to  drag  out 
quicken  weeds,  and  to  cover  the  seed  when  sown,  it  is 
obvious  that  implements  of  different  sizes  are  not  only 
necessary,  but  even  that  these  implements  should  be 
worked  in  different  ways,  according  to  the  strength  and 
condition  of  the  soil  on  which  they  are  employed,  and 
the  nature  of  the  work  to  be  executed.  When  employed 
to  reduce  a  strong  obdurate  soil,  not  more  than  two 
should  be  yoked  together,  because  they  are  apt  to  ride 
and  tumble  upon  each  other,  and  thus  impede  the  work, 
and  execute  it  imperfectly.  It  may  also  be  remarked, 
that  on  rough  soils,  harrows  ought  to  be  driven  as  fast 
as  the  horses  can  walk;  because  their  effect  is  in  direct 


itue  in  the  tame  manner,  cutting  viilt  the  saw  (liffercnt  points  of  the  edge  a  I,  those  hy  which  it  comet  out  will  form  on  the  face  alo  r 
a  curve  t/u  ^i  and  if  through  these  points,  ami  those  corresponding  to  them  in  the  lines  c  p,  p  ^,  there  will  l>e  drawn  straight  lines,  snch 
as  that  whioti  passes  through  the  points  i,  ii,  and  wliicli  we  have  taken  as  an  example,  the  surface  touching  these  straight  lines,  and  un- 
cOTered  by  means  of  anj  sharp  itistrtituent,  wiH  form  the  remainder  eho  i^  /^t  e  ef  the  plane  a  I  o  r,  the  pusleiior  tice  of  the  car,  such  as 
is  repreretUed  Fig.  10. 


AGRICULTURE. 


24$ 


proportion  lothe  degree  of  velocity  with  which  they  are 
driven.  In  0".dinary  cases,  and  in  every  case  where  har- 
rowing is  meant  for  covering  the  seed,  three  harrows 
are  the  best  yoke,  because  they  fill  up  the  ground  more 
eflectually,  and  leave  fewer  vacancies,  than  when  a 
smaller  number  is  employed.  The  harrow-man's  at- 
tention, at  the  seed  process,  should  be  constantly  direct- 
ed to  prevent  these  implements  from  riding  upon  each 
other,  and  to  keep  them  clear  of  every  impediment, 
from  stones,  lumps  of  earth,  or  clods,  and  quickens  or 
grass  roots ;  for  any  of  these  prevents  the  implement 
from  working  with  perfection,  and  causes  a  mark  or 
trail  upon  the  surface,  always  unpleasing  to  the  eye,  and 
generally  detrimental  to  the  braird  or  vegetation  of  the 
seed.  Harrowing  is  usually  given  in  ditferent  directions, 
first  in  length,  then  across,  and  finally  in  length  as  at 
first.  Careful  husbandmen  study,  in  the  finishing  part 
of  the  process,  to  have  the  harrows  drawn  in  a  straight 
line,  without  suffering  the  horses  to  go  in  a  zig-zag 
manner,  and  are  also  attentive  that  the  horses  enter 
fairly  upon  the  ridge,  without  making  a  curve  at  the 
outset.  In  some  instances,  an  excess  of  harrowing  has 
been  found  very  i)rejudicial  to  the  succeeding  crop ;  but 
it  is  always  necessary  to  give  so  much  as  to  break  the 
ftirrow,  and  level  the  surface,  otherwise  the  operation  is 
imperfectly  performed. 

Sect.  III. 

On  Hollars. 

The  roller  is  an  implement  frequently  used  for 
smoothing  the  surface  of  land  when  in  tillage,  especial- 
ly when  the  processes  of  summer  fallow  are  going  forward. 
Several  kinds  of  rollers  are  used  in  Britain.  Some  are 
made  of  stone,  others  of  wood,  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  operation  intended  to  be  performed.  The  only 
material  difference  in  rollers  is  their  weight ;  but  it 
ehould  be  attended  to,  when  a  roller  is  made  of  large 
diameter,  that  its  weight  ought  to  be  the  greater;  for 
in  proportion  (o  the  largeness  of  its  diameter,  will  be  the 
extent  of  surface  upon  which  tlie  roller  rests.  The 
weight  of  a  roller  ought  therefore  to  be  in  proportion  to 
its  diameter,  otherwise  its  effect  will  be  proportionably 
diminished. 

Rolling,  however,  is  a  modern  improvement,  and  used 
for  different  purposes.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  of  great 
advantage  to  roll  young  grasses  after  the  ground  is 
stoned,  because  the  sithe  can  then  be  placed  nearer 
the  surface,  and  the  crop  cut  more  equally  than  when 
the  operation  is  neglected.  2dly,  Land  on  which  tur- 
nips are  to  be  cultivated  can  rarely  be  made  fine  enough, 
without  the  repeated  use  of  this  implement.  And,  3dly, 
The  process  of  summer  fallow,  upon  strong  soils,  is 
much  advanced  by  rolling,  because,  without  its  aid,  the 
large  and  obdurate  clods  cannot  be  reduced,  or  couch 
grass  eradicated.  From  these  circumstances,  it  will 
readily  appear,  that  rollers  of  various  sizes  and  dimen- 
eions  are  required  on  every  farm,  for  accomplishing  dif- 
ferent purposes.  Wooden-  rollers,  drawn  by  one  horse, 
answer  very  well  for  grass  and  turnip  land ;  but  massy 
stone  rollers,  drawn  either  by  two  or  three  horses,  are 
absolutely  necessary  on  clay  soils.  Most  farms  are  im- 
perfectly provided  with  these  implements.  Every  one 
may  have  them  smaller  or  larger,  but  few  are  provided 
■fi'ith  a  sufficient  number.  It  is  obvious,  that  when  a 
fcrge  field  is  to  be  rolled,  a  number  of  rollers  ought  at 
-once  to  be  set  at  work,  otherwise  an  opportunity  may  be 


lost,  never  to  be  regained.  The  deficiency  is  most  con- 
spicuous, when  barley  is  taken  after  turnips  in  a  dry 
season.  From  poaching  the  ground  with  carts,  in  or- 
der to  carry  off  the  crop,  and  even  by  the  treading  of 
sheep,  a  degree  of  stiffness  is  contracted,  which  requires 
the  use  of  the  roller  before  grass  seeds  can  be  sown. 
Suppose  that  a  field  so  circumstanced  should  have  got 
two-thirds  of  the  intended  harrowing,  and  that  the  re- 
mainder is  reserved  till  rolling  is  given,  a  delay  takes 
place  at  all  events  before  grass  seeds  can  be  sown ;  and 
where  only  one  roller  is  emploj'ed,  that  delay  may  be  in- 
creased to  such  a  length  as  to  endanger  both  barley  and 
seeds,  should  wetness  intervene  before  the  whole  opera- 
tions are  completed. 

On  all  occasions  it  is  most  beneficial  to  roll  across, 
because,  when  going  in  length,  the  implement  is  of 
small  benefit  to  the  furrows,  the  slightest  acclivation  of 
the  ridges  preventing  the  work  from  being  equally  per- 
formed. The  expedition  which  takes  place  when  roll- 
ers are  used,  compared  with  the  tedious  and  expensive 
progress  of  breaking  clods  with  malls,  formerly  the  gene- 
ral custom,  sufficiently  proves  the  importance  of  these 
implements,  though  it  deserves  to  be  remarked,  that, 
when  rolling  is  bestowed  upon  a  spring-sown  field,  har- 
rowing it  afterwards  is  of  great  advantage.  By  harrow- 
ing when  the  clods  are  reduced,  the  earth  stands  the 
effects  of  rain  better  afterwards,  and  does  not  consoli- 
date so  firmly  as  when  that  process  is  neglected. 

Sect.  IV. 

On  JVheel  Carriages  used  in  Husbandry. 

To  drive  out  manure,  bring  home  corn  from  the  field, 
and  carry  it  out  to  market,  after  being  separated  from  the 
straw,  are  operations  which  on  arable  farms  occu|)y  one- 
fourth  of  the  labour  at  least.  To  employ  carriages, 
therefore,  that  are  calculated  to  execute  these  opera» 
tions  with  the  greatest  facility,  and  at  the  least  pos- 
sible expense,  would  seem  to  be  a  matter  of  rural 
economy  highly  deserving  of  serious  consideration. 
This  circumstance,  however,  does  not  weigh  so  much 
with  the  farmer  as  it  ought  to  do ;  hence  we  notice,  ill 
many  districts,  that  wheel-can-iages  are  clumsily  con- 
structed, often  of  inconvenient  dimensions,  and  rarely 
adapted  to  the  nature  of  the  work  to  be  executed,  or  the 
condition  of  the  roads  over  which  they  are  conveyed. 
In  England  this  is  particularly  the  case ;  heavy  wagons 
being,  in  numerous  instances,  employed  to  perform 
branches  of  rural  laljour,  which  would  be  much  mor« 
easily  and  cheaply  executed  by  small  carts.  In  fact, 
wagons  are  of  no  benefit  in  agriculture,  unless  a  long 
drive  is  to  be  taken.  To  load  and  unload  them  is  dif- 
ficult. Much  time  is  unnecessarily  consumed,  especial." 
ly  when  the  taking  out  of  manure  is  the  work  to  be  per' 
formed ;  while  in  every  case  these  heavy  carriages  prove 
destructive  to  the  roads,  and  entail  an  expense  on  thtf 
public,  chiefly  on  agriculturists,  of  incalculable  magni-' 
tude. 

Even  the  long  carts,  mounted  on  narrow  wheels,  and 
seven  feet  long,  often  used  in  England,  are  inconvenient 
for  husbandry  purposes,  and  detrimental  to  the  roadsJ 
These  carts,  which  are  drawn  by  three  horses,  generally- 
yoked  in  a  line,  cannot  be  set  up,  when  loaded  with 
manure,  half  so  easily  as  the  coiip  carls  of  Scotland; 
indeeil,  in  many  cases  it  is  never  attem[)ted  to  draw  the 
manure  out  of  them  ;  the  driver,  mounted  on  the  top,  dis- 
loading  the  carriage  with  a  grape  or  shovel,  according  to 


246 


AGRICULTURE. 


circumstances.  It  is  not  necessary  to  enlarge  on  these 
inconveniences,  because  every  agriculturist,  not  obsti- 
liately  bigoted  to  ancient  usages,  will  at  once  discern 
their  extent,  and  acknowledge,  that  a  remedy  would  be 
highly  desirable. 

The  most  useful  kind  of  carts,  for  the  general  pur- 
poses of  farming,  are  those  used  in  the  low  country  dis- 
tricts of  Scotland.  These  carts  contain,  within  the 
boards,  somewhat  more  than  a  cubic  yard ;  but  when 
heaped  with  dung,  will  carry  1 J  yards  with  ease.  The 
wheels,  generally  54  inches  in  height,  are  mounted  upon 
iron  axle-trees,  which,  by  diminishing  the  friction,  and 
lessening  the  resistance,  renders  them  more  easily 
drawn.  Formerly,  the  wheel,  from  a  mistaken  principle, 
■»vas  much  dished ;  but  a  better  knowledge  of  mechanics 
has  occasioned  that  error  to  be  rectified ;  the  spokes  of 
the  wheel  being  perpendicular  to  the  axis,  and  the  cir- 
cumference pressing  in  that  direction  from  all  sides 
towards  the  centre,  and  wheels  move  equally  and 
smoothly  round ;  whereas  formerly,  when  the  circum- 
ference was  so  much  without  the  centre,  the  wheels,  in 
place  of  touching  the  axle-tree  equally,  and  moving 
round  smoothly,  formed  a  kind  of  angle  with  it,  which 
considerably  increased  the  resistance,  and  destroyed  the 
axle  and  bushes.  See  Ferguson's  Lectures,  Appendix, 
vol.  ii;  p.  295. 

When  corn  or  hay  is  to  be  brought  home  from  the 
field,  a  long  cart,  open  spoked,  and  lightly  constructed, 
is  placed  upon  the  wheels  of  the  cart  already  mentioned ; 
and  none  seems  better  adapted  for  such  purposes,  be- 
cause none  are  better  calculated  to  admit  of  a  large  load 
with  the  least  possible  trouble  to  the  driver,  and  to  the 
horses.  The  only  improvement  called  for  on  these  carts, 
is  lining  them  close  on  the  bottom,  and  partially  on  the 
sides,  with  thin  boards,  whereby  much  grain  would  be 
saved  that  is  now  dropped  on  the  road,  or  wasted  in  the 
stack-yard.  The  exjiense  of  lining  them  in  this  way 
would  be  trifling,  and  the  additional  weight  thereby 
given  to  the  horses  inconsiderable. 

The  carts  which  we  have  described  as  used  for  farm 
purposes  in  Scotland,  are  almost  in  every  case  wrought 
by  two  horses,  though  several  farmers  employ  smaller 
ones,  drawn  by  one  horse,  for  driving  corn  to  market, 
which  is  considered  as  being  the  most  profitable  method. 
Though  little  doubt  can  be  entertained  on  this  point, 
when  the  cart  is  to  travel  on  a  regular  made  road,  yet 
it  may  safely  be  questioned,  whether  one-horse  carts  can 
•with  propriety  be  recommended  for  the  general  home 
work  of  a  farm,  where  roads  are  generally  bad,  where 
often  none  are  made,  and  where  the  cart  has  to  travel 
pver  a  ploughed  field,  sinking  four  or  five  inches  at  one 
pjace,  and  impeded  by  large  clods  at  another.  Under 
such  circumstances,  an  additional  horse  seems  to  be  re- 
quisite, especially  when  the  weight  of  the  draught  sinks 
the  carriage  down,  and  thus  lessens  the  powers  of  the 
shaft  horse,  and  renders  him  unable  to  get  forward.  Un- 
der these  circumstances,  the  second  horse,  if  yoked  in  a 
line,  is  able  to  do  more  than  the  one  in  the  shafts,  be- 
cause, when  the  carriage  sinks  into  the  soil,  the  line  of 
direction  of  the  draught  is  materially  altered.  In  every 
other  case,  wc  are  quite  satisfied  that  one-horse  carls 
deserve  to  bo  preferred ;  not  only  because  a  propor- 
tionally greater  loading  will  be  carried  by  them,  over  a 
road  decently  repaired,  but  also,  because  less  damage 
is  done  to  the  roads  than  when  heavier  draughts  are 
taken,  and  more  horses  employed. 
Broad  wheels  are  pretty  common  in  England,  but  not 


much  used  in  Scotland,  Ihotigb  it  is  evident  that  their 
general  introduction  would  be  attended  wHh  many  ad- 
vantages.    It  is  easy,  however,  to  account  for  their 
being  hitherto  neglected,  though,  perhaps,  the  very  cii^ 
cumstances  which  produced  that  neglect  will,  in  some 
measure,  occasion  its  continuance.— Roads  in  Englanit 
were  repaired  at  an  earlier  period  than  in  Scotland ;  and 
unless  a  public  road  is  previously  put  in  good  order,  it 
is  impracticable,  or  at  least  attended  with  much  incon- 
venience, to  pass  over  it  with  broad  wheels,  so  long  as 
the  majority  of  carriages  ^vhich  travel  that  way  are 
mounted  upon  narrow  wheels.     The  latter  make  a  rut 
or  track  into  w'hich  the  former  cannot  go,  and  hence 
they  are  impeded  at  ever}'  step,  and  made  to  go  un- 
steady.    Were  all  wheels  of  the  broad  kind,  and  were 
they  all   shod  in  a  suitable  manner,  (for  in  some  cases 
we  have  seen  wheels  apparently  with  broad  felloes,  shod 
in  such  a  way  as  to  do  equal  injury  to  the  road,  as  those 
which  in  reality  were  constructed  with  narrow  ones,) 
the  public  would  be  eminently  benefited.    The  expense 
of  supporting  the  roads  of  tlie  kingdom,  from  an  in- 
crease of  trade,  and  an  increase  of  improvement,  has 
of  late  been  augmented  prodigiously.     Perhaps  the  ex- 
pense is  not  short  of  three  millions  per  annum ;  and 
there  seems  to  be   no  method  of  lessening  it,   but  by 
resorting  to  a  general  use,  either  of  broad   wheels  or 
one-horse  carts,  which  undoubtedly  would  cause  a  con- 
siderable reduction  in  the  expense.     The  legislature, 
sensible  of  the  benefit  derived  from  broad  wheels,  has 
given  a  premium  upon  their  use,  by  lessening  the  rate 
of  tolls  50 per  cent,  in  their  favour.  This  is  an  apparent 
advantage  to  be  sure,  though  in  reality  no  important 
benefit  can  be  gained,  either  by  the  public  or  indi- 
viduals, so  long  as  narrow  wheels  are  in  general  use. 
It  would  seem  that  nothing  short  of  a  compulsory  act 
can  bring  broad  wheels  into  universal  practice,  because 
the  individual  who  wishes   to  use  them   is  deterred  hy 
the  unavoidable  loss  which  he  must  sustain,  when  the 
great  majority  of  wheels  are  of  a  different  construction. 
It  is  impracticable  to  make  good  work  in  one  rigg,  with 
two  ploughs,  one  of  which  is  narrow  set  and  the  other 
wide  set  in  the  mould-board ;  and  it  is  equally  imprac- 
ticable to  travel  a  public  road  with  broad  wheels,  if 
narrow  wheels  are  permitted,  especially  if  the  majority 
of  wheels  are  of  that  description.     The  introduction  of 
broad  wheels  can  therefore  only  be  accomplished,  by 
taking  it  up  as  a  general  measure.     Were  ca|)rice,  or 
obstinacy,  suffered  to  act,  individuals  would  be  found 
influenced  by  these  principles,  and  of  sufficient  number 
to  prevent  tlie  improvement  from  being  accomplished. 
We  therefore  repeat,  that  a  compulsory  measure  seems- 
to  be  the  only  effectual  way  of  introducing  this  manifest 
improvement;  and  were  an  exception  made  in  favour 
of  one-horse  carts,  the  improvement  would  not  be  much 
less. 

Before  concluding  this  Section,  we  may  state,  that  if 
a  fair  comparison  is  made  between  the  wagon  loads  of 
England,  and  the  cart  loads  of  Scotland,  it  will  be  found, 
that  the  cart,  in  point  of  economy,  is  the  preferable 
carriage.  It  is  well  known,  that  the  main  objection  to 
two  horse  ploughs  in  England,  is  the  dislike  shown  by 
the  wagoners  to  have  their  teams  broken  or  separated. 
We  remember  well  of  a  gentleman  in  Hertfordshire  in- 
forming us,  that  his  carter  would  not  take  more  hay  to 
the  London  market  with  five  horses  than  a  load,  (90 
stone  Scottish  weight,)  and  cannot  forget  the  surprise 
he  expressed  at  being  informed,  that  the  writer  of  this 


AGRICULTURE. 


247 


article  had  actually  ilriven  one-fourth  more  to  market 
with  a  single  horse.  The  foregoing  objection  would  cer- 
tainly be  instantly  removed^  were  double  carts  com- 
monly used,  and  every  ploughman  employed  to  keep 
and  work  his  own  pair  of  horses.  Under  a  system  of 
this  kind,  a  saving  to  the  public  would  be  gained,  the 
extent  of  which  cauuot  be  calculated. 

Sect.  V. 
On  Drilling  Machines. 

The  most  perfect  husbandry  is  practised  where  gar- 
den ciilture  can  be  imitated;  and  the  greatest  attention 
is  paid  to  the  management  of  the  field,  when  the  seed 
process  is  regularly  executed.  These  principles,  ab- 
stractly considered,  may  be  regarded  as  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  practice  of  rural  economy,  though  they 
are  not  to  be  received  as  applicable  in  every  case 
respecting  the  seed  of  plants,  or  the  motle  in  which  it 
is  to  be  deposited  in  the  field.  Regularity  ought  to  be 
studied  at  all  times,  but  regularity  may  be  sufficiently 
followed,  without  imitating  at  all  times  the  husbandry 
of  a  garden,  or  acting  according  to  the  rules  which  in- 
fluence cultivators  in  that  department.  The  superiority 
ofganlen  soil,  the  attention  paid  in  cultivating  it,  and 
the  value  of  the  crops  raised,  atford  every  encourage- 
meiit  to  a  refinement  of  management,  greatly  exceeding 
what  can  be  executed  in  the  field,  where  a  deficiency 
prevails  in  each  of  these  particulars ;  but  even  were 
the  garden  and  the  field  of  similar  richness,  and  were 
the  crops  that  are  cultivated  in  each  of  equal  value,  still 
we  apprehend  that  the  i)roper  culture  is  dissimilar,  and 
that  practices,  good  in  a  garden  where  small  seeds  and 
leguminous  crops  only  are  cultivated,  may  be  improper 
and  unprofitable,  when  the  cultivation  of  corn  is  to  be 
attempted. 

The  Row  Husbandry,  or  the  method  of  cultivating 
crops  of  wheat,  barley,  and  oats,  according  to  the  drill 
system,  has  many  votaries,  and  is  less  or  more  followed 
in  the  arable  districts  of  Great  Britain.  We  apprehend, 
that  in  this  way  the  greatest  number  of  British  soils 
cannot  be  successfully  cultivated,  and  shall  briefly  state 
our  reasons  for  entertaining  this  opinion.  1 .  The  climate 
of  Britain  being  very  variable,  sufficient  time  is  seldom 
to  be  got  for  accomplishing  the  previous  operations  of 
the  row  husbandry;  therefore,  when  the  seed  season 
arrives,  drilling  is  either  imperfecfly  executed,  or  de- 
layed so  long  as  to  render  the  after  crop  precarious 
and  uncertain.  2.  The  soil  of  Britain,  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten,  is  unfit  for  the  row  husbandry,  being  too  wet, 
too  poor,  too  stiff,  and  therefore  not  to  be  cultivated  or 
sown  with  the  implements  used  in  the  row  husbandry. 
3.  The  culmiferous  grains  of  wheat,  harley,  oats,  and 
rye,  may  be  raised  more  abundantly,  and  at  less  expense, 
according  to  the  old-fashioned  or  broad-cast  system,  than 
by  what  is  called  the  row  husbandry.  When  these 
grains  are  drilled,  they  are  greatly  exposed  to  the  wea- 
ther, and  liable  to  be  hashed  and  broken  down  by  every 
gale  of  wind.  They  also  tiller  or  stool,  so  long  as  any 
interval  remains  for  the  spreading  of  their  roots,  which 
occasions  an  inequality  in  the  ripening  of  the  grain,  of 
considerable  importance  to  the  manufacturer.  Prom 
these  circumstances,  we  are  led  to  believe,  that  the  row 
husbandry  cannot  be  profitably  exercised  with  any  of 
the  culmiferous  varieties,  though  with  tlie  leguminous 
ones  of  beans,  turnips,  potatoes,  <fcc.  (plants  which  pro- 
bably derive  a  jlarge  portion  of  nourishment  from  the 


air,  or  at  least  Cannot  be  cultivated  with  advantage 
where  the  free  circulation  of  air  is  wanting,)  the  row 
husbandry  is  not  only  beneficial  in  the  first  instance, 
but  of  important  use  towards  cleaning  the  ground,  and 
preserving  it  in  good  condition  afterwards. 

In  the  new  Farmer's  Calendar,  an  attempt  has  been 
made  to  defend  drill  husbandry  in  every  case;  but  we 
apprehend  the  defence  is  executed  with  more  zeal  than 
judgment.  Mr.  Tull  was  the  father  of  this  husbandry 
in  Britain,  and  supported  it  by  many  strong  arguments; 
but  it  is  notorious,  that  neither  he  nor  any  of  his  disci- 
ples served  themselves  by  following  it.  We  are  not 
hostile,  however,  to  this  mode  of  husbandry  in  certain 
situations,  and  under  certain  circumstances,  that  is, 
where  soil  and  climate  are  favourable  to  the  several 
operations  which  belong  to  it.  In  our  opinion,  the  chief 
merit  of  drilling  consists  in  the  regularity  with  which 
the  seed  may  be  sown,  and  the  equal  depth  at  which  it 
may  he  jleposited  in  the  earth.  Having  made  these 
admissions,  we  cannot  go  further  in  support  of  a  system 
utterly  impr.icticable  under  the  physical  circumstances 
in  which  Britain  is  generally  placed.  Soil  and  climate, 
in  a  few  districts,  may  render  the  row  husbandry  par- 
tially eligible,  but  we  repeat,  that  it  never  can  become 
generally  prevalent. 

We  are  eagerly  disposed  to  promote  the  drilling  of 
turnips,  potatoes,  beans,  and  all  the  varieties  of  the 
leguminous  tribe,  but  cannot  go  one  step  further  in  re- 
commending the  drill  husbandry  upon  general  princi- 
ples. We  acknowledge,  that,  upon  certain  soils,  wheat, 
barley,  and  oats,  may  be  successfully  cultivated,  accord- 
ing to  the  row  husbandry ;  and  we  have  seen  that  system 
exercised  to  the  manifest  benefit  of  the  persons  by  whom 
it  was  executed.  Still,  as  applying  to  the  great  majority 
of  British  soils,  the  row  husbandry  is  inexpedient  and 
unprofitable,  and  with  them  the  culture  of  culmiferous 
crops,  according  to  the  broad  cast  system,  must,  by 
every  practical  agriculturist,  be  received  as  most  bene- 
ficial and  advantageous. 

Having  said  so  much  concerning  the  inexpediency  of 
drilling  all  crops,  we  shall  now  say  a  few  words  concern- 
ing the  drills  that  are  used,  and  the  advantages  which 
may  be  derived  from  these  implements. 

The  drills  first  used,  were  constructed  upon  simple 
principles,  and  wrought  in  the  wheel-barrow  way,  by 
a  person  who  pushed  them  in  the  furrow,  when  beans 
were  to  be  sown,  aikl  on  the  top  of  a  small  narrow  ridge 
of  ground,  when  turnips  were  cultivated.  A  drill  of  this 
kind  is  generally  used  for  beans  at  this  day,  though 
larger  ones,  sowing  two  or  three  drills  at  a  time,  and 
drawn  by  a  horse,  have  lately  been  brought  into  prac- 
tice. The  hand  turnip-drill,  however,  is  almost  laid 
aside,  as  it  has  been  found  that  the  seed  sown  by  it  did 
not  vegetate,  from  not  being  put  deep  enough  into  the 
earth.  Hore-drills  were  then  resorted  to ;  and  these  are 
constructed  with  such  precision,  as  not  only  to  distri- 
bute the  seed  with  mathematical  exactness,  but  also  to 
ensure  vegetation  in  the  driest  seasons,  unless  the 
moisture,  from  negligence,  has  been  suffered  to  cva|>o- 
rate.  We  are  convinced  that  these  large  drills  arc  infi- 
nitely better  calculated  for  the  turnip  husbandry  than 
small  ones ;  but  the  same  superiority  is  not  discernible 
in  the  husbandry  of  beans,  because  in  many  soils  and 
situations  it  is  impracticable  to  form  a  drill  at  seed-time ; 
therefore  the  single  row  barrow  is  run  in  the  furrow- 
after  the  third  plough,  circumstances  not  permitting 
the  eeed  process  to  be  more  accurately  executed.  Where 


248 


AGRICULTURE. 


drills  can  be  made  up,  that  uiethotl  ought  undoubtedly 
to  be  followed ;  but  the  real  bean  soils  being  generally 
of  a  wet  and  tenacious  nature,  it  rarely  happens,  unless 
in  favourable  seasons,  that  it  is  practicable. 

That  ingenious  and  well-informed  agriculturist,  Mr. 
Baily  of  Chillinghani,  in  Northumberland,  has  done 
much  to  render  drills  more  jierfect  than  formerly ;  and 
being  intimately  acquainted  with  mechanics,  as  well  as 
good  husbandry,  he  has,  in  the  instances  alluded  to, 
availed  himself  of  bis  extensive  information,  and  brought 
these  implements  to  a  degree  of  perfection  not  to  be 
expected  from  the  lal  ours  of  the  mere  mechanic.  In 
the  survey  of  Northumberland,  written  by  this  gentle- 
man and  his  friend  George  Culley,  esq.  we  observe  the 
following  account  of  drills,  which  cannot  fail  to  be  read 
with  interest  by  every  agriculturist,  especially  if  situa- 
ted in  a  district  where  these  implements  are  not  com- 
monly used. 

"  A  Drill  for  sawing  Turnips  on  the  tops  of  onc-btnii 
Ridges. — When  this  mode  of  cultivating  turnips  was 
first  introduced,  the  only  drill  used  was  a  hollow  cylin- 
der of  tin,  with  a  small  hole  in  the  bottom,  through 
which  the  seed  was  shook :  If  this  orifice  be  made  of 
such  a  size  as  to  deposit  a  proper  quantity  of  seed,  it  is 
very  liable  to  stop,  and  of  course  large  spaces  are  to- 
tally missed ;  if  made  so  wide  as  to  prevent  this  incon- 
Tenience,  it  then  sows  fartoo  much  :  This  defect  induced 
me,  some  years  since,  to  construct  one  upon  different 
principles,  which  is  no^v  coming  into  general  use. 

The  most  essential  parts  of  this  drill  consist  of  a 
solid  cylinder  C,  (Plate  VII.  Fig.  2.)  of  iron  or  brass  2 
inches  diameter,  and  one  inch  broad ;  on  the  surface  are 
made  or  punched  1 3  cavities,  of  the  form  of  a  semi-egg, 
cut  lengthways,  and  so  deep  as  to  hold  4  or  5  seeds 
each.  On  the  back  part  of  this  cylinder,  (a  little  below 
the  top,)  is  placed  the  hind  part  of  the  hopper,  to  which 
is  fixed  a  piece  of  iron  or  brass,  (GA,)  1  inch  long,  and 
3  broad,  hollowed  on  the  inside  into  the  form  of  a  Gothic 
arch,  (as  in  Fig.  4.)  the  sides  of  which  meeting  the  sides 
of  the  cavities  in  an  oblique  angle,  prevent  the  seeds 
from  bruising ;  at  the  lower  end  of  this  piece  of  iron, 
(which  may  be  called  a  gatherer,)  is  made  a  slit,  J^  of 
an  inch  long,  and  yV  ^^itle ;  and  at  the  back  of  it,  a  thin 
flat  piece  of  iron,  (TE)  moves  up  and  down,  by  means 
of  a  screw  S,  at  the  top  of  the  hopper,  which  enlarges 
or  lessens  the  orifice  O,  directly  above  the  cavities,  and 
increases  or  diminishes  the  quantity  of  seed  delivered, 
as  the  operator  thinks  necessary.  This  slip  of  thin 
iron,  (which  may  be  called  a  regulator,)  is  let  into  a 
groove  made  in  the  bqard  which  forms  the  back  part  of 
the  hopper. 

This  cylinder,  CY,  before  the  cavities  are  made,  is 
fixed  on  an  iron  axle,  LL,  one  inch  square,  and  turned 
very  true,  as  well  as  are  those  parts  of  the  axle  which 
turn  in  the  collars,  or  thimbles,  fixed  in  the  shafts  or 
handles  DD,  (Plate  VII.  Fig.  .3.)  To  the  ends  of  the 
axle  are  fixed  two  wheels  WW,  26  inches  diameter, 
that  turn  the  axle  and  cylinder  round ;  which,  in  passing 
through  the  hopper  H,  (filled  with  turnip  seed,)  bring 
forward  in  each  cavity  a  number  of  seeds,  and  drop 
them  into  the  spout  P,  which  are  conveyed  by  it  to  the 
coulter  C,  that  forma  a  channel  on  the  top  of  the  one- 
bout  ridge,  SD,  (Plate  VII.  Fig.  5.)  for  receiving  them, 
where  S  is  the  channel,  and  D  the  dung  directly  under 
the  seeds. 

If  the  cavities  be  made  to  bold  5  seeds,  when  the  re- 
gulator or  tongue  is  screwed  close  down,  and  there  be 


12  cavitie's,  it  will  then  deposit  CO  seeds  in  one  revolu  ' 
tion  ;  and  as  the  diameter  of  the  wheel  is  26  inches,  the 
circumference  will  be  81i;  in  this  case  60  seeds  will  be 
deposited  in  811  inches,  or  nearly  9  in  a  foot.  From  this 
minimum  quantity,  by  screwing  up  the  regulator,  the 
number  may  be  increased  gradually  to  30  or  40  in  a 
foot ;  which  is  far  too  much,  unless  in  very  particular 
and  unfavourable  situations. 

We  shall  now  give  a  description  of  a  drill,  upon  a 
new  construction,  for  sowing  all  kinds  of  grain,  in  any 
quantity,  and  at  any  distance. 

The  inside  part  of  the  drill,  by  which  the  quantity  of 
seed  is  regulated,  is  represented  by  Plate  VII.  Fig.  1. 
where  AX  is  au  iron  axle,  1  or  li  inch  square,  upon 
which  are  fixed,  at  9  or  10  inches  distance,  five,  six,  or 
more,  brass-fluted  cj'linders,  the  flutes  being  rather  more 
than  a  semicircle  f  of  an  inch  diameter,  or  f  wide,  and 
f  deep. 

RiVI  are  hollow  cylindrical  rims  of  hammered  iron, 
which  have  segments  turned  down  at  right  angles,  to  fit 
exactly  the  flutes  of  the  brass  cylinders ;  the  cavities  of 
which  are  increased  or  diminished  by  the  segments  of 
the  iron  cylindrical  rims  sliding  backwards  or  forwards 
in  the  flutes.  This  is  performed  in  all  the  cylinders  at 
the  same  time,  by  a  rectangular  space  (n)  being  made 
in  the  brass  cylinders,  through  which  passes  a  straight 
piece  of  iron  IN,  moving  on  friction  wheels  at  I,  and 
fastened  to  the  places  at  LK,  and  also  to  the  cylindrical 
rims,  RM. 

LV  is  a  lever,  the  fulcrum  of  which  is  P,  and  moved 
by  a  screw  S  passing  through  the  frame  at  V.  The  end 
at  LK  is  forked,  in  which  are  fixed  two  friction  wheels, 
made  to  fit  exactly  the  sides  of  the  collar,  or  plates  of 
iron  JK. 

By  turning  the  screw  S,  the  lever  moves  the  whole  of 
the  rims  at  once,  and  the  cavities  are  increased  or  dimi- 
nished at  pleasure,  and  almost  instantaneously,  to  sow 
any  kind  of  grain,  andm  any  proportion,  which  is  shown 
upon  the  scale  EOP. 

Since  the  first  invention  of  this  drill,  some  improve- 
ment and  alterations  have  been  made,  particularly  in 
hanging  the  coulters,  so  as  to  act  entirely  independent 
of  each  other,  and  deposit  the  seed  properly  on  the  most 
uneven  ground ; — a  drill  of  this  kind,  to  sow  seven  rows, 
is  represented  on  Plate  VI.  Fig.  12.  The  seed  is  con- 
veyed from  the  cylinder  down  the  tin  funnels  F,  to  the 
coulter  CL ;  this  coulter  is  fixed  by  a  hinge  at  H,  and  is 
kept  in  its  proper  position  by  the  iron  bar  BD,  which  is 
fixed  to  the  coulter  at  C  by  a  bolt,  andplays  up  and  down 
the  sloping  board,  EG,  to  which  it  is  confined  by  the  iron 
staples  SS  : — These  coulters  are  easily  set  to  any  width 
of  interval,  by  taking  out  the  staples,  and  placing  them 
in  their  proper  holes  in  the  slope-board  EG  ;  these  holes 
are  usually  made  to  answer  the  intervals  of  9,  10|,  and 
12  inches.  The  hinges  H  remove  with  equal  readiness 
to  answer  the  above  intervals. 

The  iron  bars  have  several  square  holes  in  them 
for  inserting  spring  colterels,  by  which  aiij'  degree  of 
play  is  given  to  the  coulters  that  may  be  thought  ne- 
cessary. 

The  index,  or  scale,  for  regulating  the  quantity,  is 
seen  through  the  arched  space  at  I. 

When  the  machine  is  drawn  by  two  horses,  the  shaft- 
horse  is  yoked  at  N,  and  the  other  at  M ;  but  when 
drawn  by  one  horse,  the  bar  MN  takes  off  by  loosening 
the  screw  O,  and  the  shafts  arc  fixed  to  the  middle  of 
the  bar,  the  end  of  which  is  seen  at  H.    Any  particular 


AGRICULTURE. 


249 


row  is  prevented  from  Mwing,  by  putting  in  the  slots, 
T ;  anil  the  whole  are  prevented  from  sowing,  by  a  small 
pinion,  N,  being  detached  from  another  placed  upon  the 
nave  of  the  wheel ;  tlris  is  done  in  an  instant  by  moving 
the  small  lever,  or  key  K. 

For  Turnips. — The  large  hopper  is  taken  off,  and  a 
set  of  small  ones  fixed  upon  the  half-egg  cavities  at  the 
end  of  the  brass  cylinders  :  the  quantity  is  regulated  by  a 
tongue  screwing  up  and  down,  as  described  in  the  turnip 
drill,  (Plate  VII.  Fig.  1.) 

For  sowing  beans  or  pease  at  wide  intervals,  viz. 
from  27  to  30  inches,  I  use  a  drill  with  only  one  wheel 
and  one  cylinder,  which  a  man  wheels  before  him  in  the 
furrow,  or,  (what  I  find  much  l>etter,)  it  may  be  tixed  in 
the  body  of  a  small  plough,  with  one  stilt,  that  passes  be- 
tween the  wheel  and  seed-box,  (Plate  VII.  Fig.  6.) 
By  this  means  the  wheel  moves  along  a  smooth  surface 
between  the  land-side  and  mould-board  M,  and  the  seed 
is  deposited  at  a  regular  depth  :  two  inches  answer  very 
well  for  beans.  With  the  same  small  plough  and  drill 
I  have  sown  both  wheat  and  barley,  at  ditferent  inter- 
vals, from  0  to  12  inches,  and  H  or  2  inches  deep,  with 
good  success;  and  for  small  concerns,  this  cheap  and 
simple  apparatus  will  probably  be  found  the  most  eligi- 
ble. 

It  is  fixed  to  the  plough  by  two  pieces  of  iron  going 
fi-om  the  ends  of  the  drill ;  one  to  the  beam  at  B,  and 
the  other  to  the  stilt  at  C,  and  moving  round  on  bolts, 
allow  the  wheel  W  to  fall  and  rise  with  every  accidental 
hollow  or  eminence. 

The  low  part  of  the  coulter  is  kneed  or  bent,  to 
bring  it  to  the  same  plane  with  the  land-side  of  the 
plough. 

Sect.  VI. 
Of  a  Machine  f<rr  Reaping  Corn. 

The  aid  furnished  to  husbandry  by  mechanical  inven- 
tion has  been  already  noticed :  but  many  people  have 
deemed  it  practicable  to  extend  that  aid  to  one  of  the 
most  important  branches  of  rural  economy;  namely, 
that  of  reaping  corn,  which,  at  the  current  rate  of  la- 
bour, is  become  a  most  expensive  process.  This  deside- 
ratum, however,  has  not  hitherto  been  obtained,  though 
several  unsuccessful  attempts  have  been  made  by  inge- 
nious artisans  to  construct  an  implement  capable  of  exe-i 
cuting  the  reaping  process.  One  of  these  implements 
has  been  constructed  by  Mr.  Gladstones  at  Castle  Dou- 
glas, and  though  found  imperfect  upon  trial,  may  proba- 
bly have  laid  the  foundation  of  a  more  successful  attempt 
at  some  future  period. 

To  reap  the  crop  of  a  large  corn  farm,  since  labour 
became  so  high  priced,  proves  a  burden  of  great  magni- 
tude ;  therefore,  we  are  disposed  to  believe,  that  every 
scheme,  which  has  for  its  object  a  reduction  of  manual 
labour,  by  introducing  machinery  in  its  stead,  must  ne- 
cessarily be  favourably  received  by  cultivators  of  every 
description,  and  particularly  bj*  those  extensively  em- 
barked in. rural  undertakings.  We  all  know  what  ad- 
vantage the  thrashing  machine  has  proved  to  the  corn 
farmer;  indeed,  without  this  machine,  it  is  probable,  the 
expense  of  sejiarating  corn  from  the  straw  would  by  this 
time  have  amounted  to  nearly  the  value  of  one-tenth  of 
the  crop.  Be  this  as  it  may,  as  manufactures  have  reach- 
ed their  present  flourishing  state  entirely  through  the  aid 
of  machinery,  there  can  be  not  doubt  but  that  agriculture 
may  be  equally  benefited  by  assistance  of  the  like  kind. 

Voi,.  I.    Part  I. 


Those  who  remember  the  general  opinion  when  the 
thrashing  machine  was  first  advertised,  will  not  be  skep- 
tical concerning  the  success  of  a  machine  for  reaping 
corn  ;  though  no  doubt  the  latter,  like  as  it  happened  to 
the  former,  will  require  many  years,  and  many  altera- 
tions, before  it  can  be  brought  to  be  completely  and  ge- 
nerally useful. 

Without  further  preamble,  we  proceed  to  describe  Mr. 
Gladstones's  machine. 

A  A  are  the  shafts,  in  which  a  horse  is  yoked.  BB  are 
two  wheels,  which  support  the  machine,  and,  revolving 
upon  the  ground,  when  the  horse  goes  forward,  give  mo- 
tion to  the  machine.  Upon  the  axle  C  of  the  wheels, 
the  large  cog-wheel  D  is  fixed,  acting  in  the  pinion  E ; 
upon  the  axle  of  which  is  fixed  the  breast-wheel  F,  and 
the  pulley  G.  The  breast-wheel  P,  by  acting  in  the  pi- 
nion R,  gives  motion  to  the  breast-wheel  H.  The  cutter 
K  is  fixed  on  the  lower  end  of  a  spindle,  coming  up 
thi-ough  the  middle  of  the  iron  bar  LLL ;  and  upon  the 
top  of  this  spindle  the  small  pinion  M  is  fixed,  which 
acts  in  the  breast-wheel  H. 

The  pully  G,  by  means  of  a  pitch-chain,  sets  in  mo- 
tion the  small  pinion  N,  which  acts  in  the  large  gather- 
ing wheel  O  ;  and  on  this  wheel  the  large  cross-arm  PP 
is  fixed,  to  the  one  end  of  which  the  gatherer  Q  is  at- 
tached, with  another  gatherer  at  the  end  of  it,  if  found 
necessary.  The  gathering  wheel  O,  with  its  cross-arm 
PP,  and  gatherer  Q,  revolves  round  the  cast-iron  bar 
LLL,  as  its  centre,  or  axis. 

It  is  evident,  when  the  machine  is  drawn  fonvard, 
the  cutting  wheel  K  will  be  put  into  a  very  rapid  mo- 
tion, while  the  gathering  apparatus  will  go  compara- 
tively slow.  SS  is  a  circular  table  of  woo<i,  with  strong 
wooden  teeth,  notched  below  ill  around,  in  front  of  it. 
The  table  is  fixed  upon  the  cast-iron  bar  LLL  ;  and,  as 
the  cutter  works  immediately  below,  or  rather  betwixt 
the  wooden  teeth,  as  may  be  seen  at  T,  they  not  only 
hold  the  corn  from  flying  the  cutter,  but  prevent  it  from 
being  hurt  or  damaged ;  and  the  table  serves  to  sui)port 
the  corn  when  cut,  till  the  gatherer  oomes  round. 

W  is  a  spindle  through  the  cross-arm  P ;  a  tail  V  is 
fixed  to  the  bottom  of  it;  and  the  gatherer  Q,  fixed  to 
the  top  of  thi^  spindle,  has  liberty  to  turn  backward  and 
forward  u|)on  it,  as  a  centre.  W  is  a  segment  of  wood, 
by  which  the  tail  and  gatherer  are  supported.  This  tail 
keeps  the  gatherer  in  its  proper  position,  until  it  comes 
round  below  the  large  cross-beam  X.  A  piece  of  wood 
is  fixed  below  this  beam,  which  takes  the  corn  out  of  the 
gatherer,  and  leaves  it  in  small  sheaves,  or  handfuls. 
This  it  does  easily ;  as  the  tail  of  the  gatherer  being  no 
longer  supjjorted  by  the  segment  of  wood  W,  the  gath- 
erer falls  back,  and  continues  in  the  position,  as  at  M, 
till  it  comes  round  to  N,  when  the  tail  rests  on  the  piece 
of  wood  W,  and  brings  the  gatherer  again  into  its  pro- 
per position.  The  gatherer  can  be  let  out  and  taken  in, 
as  necessary,  by  means  of  the  slide  groove  seen  at  W. 
a  a  arc'Small  circular  pieces  of  wood,  coated  with  some- 
thing that  has  a  tendency  to  niake  iron  sharp  by  rubbing 
upon  it ;  but  the  name  thereof  I  have  forgotten.  These 
circular  pieces  of  wood  are  put  into  a  rapid  motion  by 
the  rope  b,  over  the  pulley  c  and  d.  They  are  so  con- 
structed as  to  be  put  in  motion  and  stopped  at  pleasure, 
\^'ithout  interrupting  the  progress  of  the  machine.  They 
also  sharp  the  edge  of  the  cutter,  m  is  a  small  handle, 
which  turns  a  screw,  that  sets  the  piuion  E  out  of  the 
large  cog-wheel,  and  admits  the  machine  to  be  drawn  as 
easily  as  a  common  cart,  without  putting  the  machinery 
li 


2^ 


AGRICULTURE. 


in  motion,  g  g  are  two  liantHes,  by  means  of  »vhich  the 
cutter  can  be  made  either  to  cut  low  or  high,  as  circum- 
stances may  require. 

Fig.  1 .  gives  a  side  view  of  the  machine ;  Pig.  2.  a 
horizontal  view  of  it;  Fig.  3.  is  a  view  of  the  cutting- 
wheel  by  itself,  with  separate  cutters,  or  sithes,  bolted 
to  it,  as  at  n  n  n  n  n  ;  Fig.  4.  is  a  view  of  the  cast-iron 
bar  LLL  ;  and  Fig.  5.  is  a  view  of  the  cutting-wheel.  I 
am  well  aware  of  the  difficulty  which  attends  a  descrip- 
tion of  this  nature,  and  how  imperfectly  it  may  be  under- 
stood by  the  great  body  of  those  who  are  interested ; 
but  if  1  have  made  myself  intelligible  to  mechanics,  or 
such  cultivators  asare  tolerably  well  acquainted  with  the 
first  principles  of  the  art,  my  object  will  be  completely 
gained. 

We  may  add,  that  several  years  have  elapsed  since 
Mr.  Gladstones  constructed  the  main  parts  of  the  ma- 
chine which  we  have  attempted  to  describe;  and,  about 
two  years  ago,  he  made  a  model  thereof,  which  was 
mentioned  to  the  Highland  Society,  by  sir  Alexander 
Gordon,  Bart.  That  respectable  body  at  first  seemed 
anxious,  that  Mr.  Gladstones  should  construct  a  com- 
plete machine,  so  as  its  powers  and  uses  might  be  suffi- 
ciently ascertained ;  but  latterly,  for  reasons  best  known 
to  themselves,  their  supjjort  has  been  withdrawn ;  and 
the  design  likely  would  have  been  given  u[),  had  not  a 
public-spirited  gentleman,  sir  Edward  Crofton,  happen- 
ed to  see  the  model,  and  ordered  cue  to  be  made  on  bis 
account. 

This  machine  has  been  greatly  improved  by  Mr.  Glad- 
stones, who  has  favoured  the  Editor  with  a  drawing  of 
liis  improved  machine,  which  we  shall  give  under  the 
article  Reaping  Machine,  where  we  shall  have  an 
opportunity  of  discussing  this  subject  at  length,  and 
of  describing  the  ingenious  Reaping  Machine  recently 
invented  by  Mr.  Alexander  Scott  of  Ormiston,  which 
has  met  with  the  approbation  of  the  Dalkeith  Farming 
Society. 

.       Sect.  VIL. 
Of  Thrashing  Machines^ 

We  now  come  to  treat  of  Thrashing  Machines,  the 
most  valuable  instrument  in  the  farmer's  possession, 
and  one  which  adds  more  t»  the  general  produce  of  the 
country,  than  any  invention  hitherto  devised.  The  sav- 
ing of  manual  labour  thereby  obtained  is  almost  incal- 
culable ;  while  the  work  is  performed  in  a  much  more 
perfect  manner  than  was  formerly  practicable,  even 
when  the  utmost  care  and  exertion  were  bestowed.  In 
fact,  had  not  the  thrashing  machine  been  invented,  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  conceive  what  would  have  been  the 
rate  or  expense  of  thrashing,  or  even  whether  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  hands  could,  at  any  rate  of  expense, 
bare  l>een  obtained  for  thrashing  the  grain  of  the  coun- 
try. Thrashing  wasalwaysanunpopular  branchof  work, 
and  seldom  was  undertaken  where  other  jobs  could  be 
procured.  Iflhis  was  the  case  in  former  times,  when 
hands  were  more  plentiful  than  work  ;  what  would  have 
been  the  case  now,  when  tlie  labour  of  the  country  ex- 
ceeds the  means  by  which  it  is  to  be  executed  ?  Either 
corn  ^ould  have  remained  unthrashed ;  or  the  charge  of 
doing 'it  would  have  greatly  diminished  the  profits  of 
the  farmer,  and  consequently  the  value  of  land  would 
have  been  considerably  alTected. 

Nothing  caused  so  much  loss  and  vexation  to  the 
ftirmer  in  former  times,  as  the  process  of  separating  the 


corn  from  the  straw ;  and  various  methods,  in  different 
ages,  were  adopted  for  accomplishing  this  operation. 
The  ancient  inhabitants  of  Asia  and  Egyi)t,  where  agri- 
culture is  supposed  to  have  had-  its  origin,  knew  no 
other  method  than  that  of  enclosing  a  spot  iu  the  open 
air,  and  smoothing  it  with  clay  rolled  hard  ;  this  wss  the 
thrashmg-floor.  The  corn  being  next  spread  in  sheaves, 
oxen  were  turned  in,  and  kept  in  motion  till  the  business 
was  done.  "  Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox,  that  treadeth 
out  the  corn."  Ueut.  xxv.  4. 

If  iElian  may  be  believed,  the  Greeks  were  neither 
so  merciful  nor  cleanly  in  this  circumstance.  They 
besmeared  the  niouliis  of  the  poor  animals  with  dung, 
to  keep  them  from  tasting  the  corn  under  their  feet. 
Hist.  Animal,  lib.  iv.  cap.  25. 

Machines  were  next  invented,  in  different  countries, 
made  of  planks  or  beams,  stuck  over  with  flints  or  hard 
pegs,  to  rub  the  ears  between  them ;  others  to  bruise 
out  the  grain  by  sledges,  or  trail-carts. 

Dicendum  et  qiioe  sint  Juris  agrestibus  arma 
Tribula,  trabseque,  eliniquo  pondere  rastri. 

The  translators  of  Virgil  from  Father  Ogilvie  down- 
wards, have  included  the  flail  in  this  description : 

The  sled,  the  tumbril,  hurdles,  and  the  flail. 

Drydejt. 

Tribulum,  however,  was  certainly  the  machine  first 
described  for  the  single  purpose  of  separating  the  grain 
from  the  husk,  or  chaff.  At  what  period  of  time  the 
flail  took  place  of  the  former  awkward  machine  is  not 
known  with  certainty.  President  Goguet  says,  that  the 
Turks,  and  many  of  the  Italiaus,  have  not  yet  adopteil 
it.  The  barbarous  Celts,  accustomed  to  fire  and  sword, 
made  short  work.  They  burned  the  straw,  and  instantly 
devoured  the  grain ;  and,  it  is  said,  this  custom  con- 
tinues in  some  parts  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  to 
Uiis  day. 

In  Britain  till  within  these  twenty  years,  the  flail 
may  be  said  to  have  been  the  only  instrument  em- 
j>loyed  for  thrashing  corn.  But,  previous  to  that  period, 
several  attempts  were  made  to  construct  machines  for 
performing  that  laborious  work.  The  first  attempt  was 
made  by  an  ingenious  gentleman  of  the  county  of  East 
Lothian,  Mr.  Michael  Menzies,  who  invented  a  machine 
that  was  to  go  by  water,  upon  the  princi|)le  of  driving  a 
number  of  flails  by  a  water-wheel ;  but,  from  the  force 
with  which  they  wrought,  the  flails  were  soon  broken  to 
pieces,  and  consequently  the  invention  did  not  succeed. 

Another  thrashing  machine  was  invented  about  1 758, 
by  Mr.  Michael  Stirling,  a  farmer  in  the  parish  of  Uum- 
blaiu,  Perthshire.  This  machine  was  nearly  the  8.ame  as 
the  common  mill  lor  dressing  flax,  being  a  vertical 
shaft  with  four  cross-arms,  enclosed  in  a  cylindrical  case, 
three  feet  and  a  half  high,  and  eight  feet  diameter. 
Within  thb  case,  the  shaft  with  its  arms  were  turned 
witli  considerable  vel(jcity  by  a  water-wheel,  and  the 
sheaves  of  corn  being  let  down  gradually  through  an 
opening  for  the  purpose  on  the  top  of  the  box,  the  grain 
was  beat  ofl"  by  the  arms,  and  pressed  with  the  straw, 
through  an  opening  in  the  floor,  from  which  it  was 
separated  by  riddles  shaken  by  the  mill,  and  then  clear- 
ed by  fanners,  also  turned  by  it.  The  great  defect  of 
this  machine  was,  that  it  broke  off  the  cars  of  barley  or 
wheat,  instead  of  beating  out  the  grain,  and  was  only  fit 
for  oats. 


AGRICtrLTURE. 


251 


Several  other  maclilnes  Wel-e  afierwards  invented  by 
different  persons,  for  accomplishing  tliis  important  opera- 
tion; but  none  of  them  answered  the  purpose,  till  one 
was  constructed  at  Houston  Mill,  near  Haddington, 
Scotland,  by  Mr.  Andrew  Meikle,  whose  family  possess 
a  kind  of  hereditary  right  to  genius  and  invention.  Mr. 
Meikle,  who  for  several  years  had  been  attempting  to 
bring  these  machines  to  perfection,  ascertained,  after 
much  investigation,  that  they  had  all  been  constructed 
upon  wrong  princi|»les,  and  that  bmting  must  be  had 
recourse  to,  instead  of  ruhbing,  otherwise  the  i>ork 
could  not  be  performed  in  a  sufficient  manner.  He 
therefore,  in  1 785,  made  a  working  model,  turned  by 
water,  in  which  the  grain  was  beat  out  by  the  dnim,  after 
passing  through  two  rollers,  used  for  feeding  or  drawing 
the  grain  into  the  machine.  Mr.  George  Meikle,  son  of 
the  former,  being  at  Kilbegie,  the  residence  of  Mr.  Stein, 
agreed  to  erect  a  machine  of  this  nature  for  that  gentle- 
man, upon  condition  of  Mr.  Stein  furnishing  all  the  ma- 
terials, and  paying  him  for  the  work  only  in  case  the 
machine  answered  the  desired  purpose.  This  was  agreed 
to,  and  the  machine  was  completed  in  February  1786, 
being  the  first  of  the  kind  ever  made.  It  ivas  found  to 
work  exceedingly  well ;  and  the  only  alteration  made 
from  the  alwve  mentioned  model  was,  that,  instead  of 
plain  rollers,  fluted  ones  were  substituted.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  successful  attempt,  a  patent  for  the  in- 
vention was  applied  for,  which,  after  a  considerable  op- 
position from  a  person  no  ways  concerned  in  the  inven- 
tion, was  obtained  in  April  1788. 

Since  the  erection  of  this  machine,  Mr.  Meikle  has 
progressively  introduced  a  variety  of  improvements,  all 
tending  to  simplify  the  labour,  and  to  augment  the  quan- 
tity of  the  work  performed.  When  first  erected,  though 
the  corn  was  equally  well  separated  from  the  straw,  yet 
as  the  whole  of  the  straw,  chaff,  and  corn,  were  indis- 
criminately thrown  into  a  confused  heap,  the  work 
could  only  with  propriety  be  considered  as  half  exe- 
cuted. By  the  addition  of  rakes,  or  shakers,  and  two 
pair  of  fanners,  all  driven  by  the  same  machinery,  the 
different  processes  of  thrashing,  shaking,  and  winnow- 
ing, are  now  all  at  once  performed,  and  the  corn  im- 
mediately prepared  for  the  public  market.  When  it  is 
added,  that  the  quantity  of  corn  gained  from  the  supe- 
rior powers  of  the  machine  is  fully  equal  to  a  twentieth 
part  of  the  crop,  and  that,  in  some  cases,  the  expense  of 
thrashing  and  cleaning  the  corn  is  consideralily  less 
than  what  was  formerly  paid  for  cleaning  it  alone,  the 
immense  savings  arising  from  the  invention  will  at  once 
be  seen. 

Where  farms  are  of  a  small  size,  it  would  be  impro- 
per to  recommend  the  erection  of  large  machines,  as 
the  interest  of  the  original  purchase  would  be  a  heavy 
drawback  from  the  advantages ;  but,  under  contrary  cir- 
cumstances, we  are  decidedly  of  opinion,  that  a  machine 
of  great  powers,  provided  with  two  rakes,  or  shakers, 
and  two  pair  of  fanners,  is  the  most  profitable  one 
for  the  possessor.  By  a  machine  of  this  kind,  when 
wrought  by  horses,  the  grain  is  complete!}'  thrashed 
and  cleaned  at  little  more  expense  than  is  paid  for  clean- 
ing it  alone,  when  thrashed  by  the  flail,  independent  of 
the  additional  quantity  of  corn  produced  bythe  powers  of 
the  machine;  and,  when  wind  or  water  is  substituted 
instead  of  horses,  the  saving  is  considerably  increased. 

A  horse-machine  of  the  greatest  powers,  with  the 
appendnges  of  rakes  and  fanners,  may  be  erected  for 
.150?;  and,  when  wrought  by  wind,  for  SOOl.  independent 


of  the  buildings  and  fixlures  which  are  required.  It 
would  be  unfair,  however,  to  charge  these  to  the  account 
of  the  thrashing  machine,  as,  even  upon  a  middle-sized 
farm,  a  much  greater  extent  of  building  is  required  for 
barn-work,  when  the  corn  is  separated  from  the  straw 
by  the  flail,  than  when  the  operation  is  performed  by  the 
thrashing  machine. 

From  the  most  minute  attention  bestowed  on  this  sub- 
ject, we  are  confident  that  an  extra  quantity  of  corn, 
equal,  in  ordinary  years,  to  5  per  cent,  will  he  given  by 
the  thrashing  machine,  more  than  by  the  flail ;  besides 
innumerable  other  advantages  which  accompany  that 
machine.  Indeed,  the  loss  by  the  flail  has  long  been 
proverbial,  and  the  best  of  farmers  were  obliged  to  sub- 
mit to  losses  of  this  nature,  because  they  could  not  be 
remedied;  but,  with  the  thrashing  machine,  no  corn 
need  be  lost,  as  every  particle  of  grain  is  scutched  olT, 
when  the  machine  is  constructed  upon  right  i)rlnciples. 

The  expense  of  horse  labour,  from  the  increased  value 
of  the  animal,  and  the  charge  of  his  keeping,  being  an 
oliject  of  great  importance,  it  is  recommended,  that,  upon 
all  sizeable  farms,  that  is  to  say,  where  two  hundred 
acres  or  upwards  of  corn  are  sown,  the  machine  should 
be  wrought  by  wind,  unless  where  local  circumstances 
aflbrd  the  conveniency  of  water. 

Wind  machines  were,  till  lately,  exposed  to  danger- 
ous accidents,  as  the  sails  could  not  be  shifted  when  a 
brisk  gale  suddenly  arose,  which  is  often  the  case  in  the 
variable  climate  of  North  Britain.  These  disagreeable 
circumstances  are  now  effectually  prevented,  by  the  in- 
ventive genius  of  Mr.  Meikle ;  and  the  machine  may 
be  managed  by  any  person  of  the  smallest  discernment 
or  attention. 

The  whole  sails  can  be  taken  in,  or  let  out,  in  half  a 
minute,  as  the  wind  requires,  by  a  person  pulling  a  rope 
within  the  house,  so  that  an  uniform  motion  is  preserved 
to  the  machine,  and  the  danger  from  sudden  squalls 
prevented. 

Where  coals  are  plenty  and  cheap,  steam  may  be  ad- 
vantageously used  for  working  the  machine.  A  respect- 
able farmer  in  the  county  of  East  Lothian  works  his 
machine  in  this  way;  and,  being  situated  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  a  colliery,  he  is  enabled  to  tlirash  his  grain 
at  a  trifling  expense. 

The  quantity  of  grain,  thrashed  in  a  given  time,  must 
depend  upon  its  quality,  on  the  length  of  the  straw,  and 
upon  the  numlier  of  horses,  or  strength  of  the  wind,  by 
which  tlie  machine  is  wrought ;  but,  under  favourable 
circumstances,  from  70  to  80  bushels  of  oats,  and  from 
30  to  50  bushels  of  wheat,  maj'  be  thrashed  and  cleaned 
in  one  hour.  But  it  is  from  clean  dry  grain  only  that  go 
much  will  be  done  in  that  period. 

In  a  word,  the  thrashing  machine  is  of  the  greatest 
utility  to  the  farmer;  and  Irom  it  the  |iublic  derives  a 
vast  additional  quantity  of  food  for  man  and  beast.  If 
five  per  cent,  is  added  to  the  national  produce,  it  is  as 
great  a  gain  to  the  public,  as  if  the  national  territories 
were  increased  one-seventh  more  than  their  present  size; 
for  this  additional  produce  is  gained  without  any  other 
expense,  than  the  money  laid  out  in  erecting  the  ma- 
chines :  no  more  seed  is  sown  than  formerly,  nor  more 
labour  employed,  and  these  articles  have  alwaj's  been 
estimated  as  equal  to  two-fifths  of  the  produce. 

As  a  farmer's  capital  ought  never  lo  be  laid  out  in 

expensive  building,  or  works  of  an  extraordinary  kind, 

we  ar~  of  opinion,  that  the  sums  necessary  for  erectWig 

Diachiues  should,  in  the  first  instance,  be  expended  by 

Ii2 


MB 


AGRICULTURE. 


Ihe  landlord,  and  the  tenant  bound  to  leave  them  in  a 
norkahlc  condition  at  his  departure.  Many  farmers  have 
capitals  sufficient  for  undertaitings  of  this  Ivind;  but  the 
^reat  body  of  that  profession  would  be  injured  by  such 
an  expense,  as  they  would  thus  be  deprived  of  the 
means  of  improving  their  farms  in  other  respects.  Be- 
sides, as  every  improvement,  at  the  long  run,  centres  in 
the  pocket  of  the  proprietor,  it  is  but  fair  and  reason- 
able lie  should  contribute  his  moiety  of  the  expense 
laid  out  in  procuring  it ;  and,  in  many  cases,  he  would 
be  benefited,  in  the  first  instance,  by  the  erection  of 
thrashing  machines,  particularly  where  new  farm-stead- 
ings are  to  be  built,  as  fewer  buildings  would,  of  course, 
be  necessary. 

AV^e  shall  now  ofTer  some  calculations  relative  to  the 
probable  amoimt  of  the  savings  which  might  accrue  to 
the  public,  if  thrashing  machines  were  universally  used. 
We  do  not  affect  accuracy  in  these  calculations,  which 
cannot  be  expected  before  facts  are  sufficiently  ascertain- 
ed ;  but,  to  borrow  the  words  very  properly  used  by 
the  president,  in  his  speech  to  the  Board  of  Agricul- 
ture, July  29,  1 794,  "  to  be  enabled  to  form  some  gene- 
ral idea  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  public  improvement, 
is  a  great  stej)  gained." 

The  extent  of  ground,  annually  employed,  in  Great 
Britain,  in  the  raising  of  corn,  may  be  computed  at 
seven  millions  five  hundred  thousand  acres,  and  the 
average  proiluce  of  the  different  grains  at  three  quar- 
ters per  acre,  as  below  that  increase  no  farmer  can 
raise  it  with  profit.  We  observe  in  the  president's 
speech  to  parliament,  when  he  moved  the  establishment 
of  the  Board,  that  he  supposed  there  ivere  only  five 
millions  of  acres  annually  employed  in  raising  of  grain. 
But  there  is  reason  to  think,  that  this  is  a  mistake  ;  for, 
if  the  population  of  the  island  be  ten  millions,  the  pro- 
duce of  these  acres  would  be  far  below  what  is  required 
for  the  su[)port  of  that  number  of  people,  independent 
of  what  is  necessary  for  the  feeding  of  horses,  and 
sowing  the  next  crop.  We  observe  also,  in  the  re- 
printed Surrey  of  the  County  of  Stafford,  a  pretty  just 
calculation  of  the  number  of  acres  annually  sown  in  that 
county,  amounting  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
acres.  Now,  as  Stafford  is  not  a  corn  county,  much 
latitude  is  not  taken  in  fixing  it  io  average  the  whole 
counties  of  England ;  this  would  make  the  total  quan- 
tity sown  in  that  kingdom  amount  to  six  millions 
of  acres.  The  remaining  one  million  five  hundred 
thousand  acres  we  suppose  to  be  sown  in  Scotland  and 
Wales,  which  makes  their  produce  only  equal  to  that  of 
ten  English  counties. 

If  seven  millions  five  hundred  thousand  acres  be  an- 
nually sown  in  Britain,  and  the  average  iiroduce  amount 
to  three  quarters  per  acre,  then  the  total  quantity  of 
grain,  annually  raised  in  Britain,  would  be  twenty-two 
millions  five  hundred  thousand  quarters. 

It  has  been  already  said  that  the  thrashing  machine, 
from  its  superior  powers,  will  give  one-twentieth  more 
grain,  than  when  the  operation  of  thrashing  is  jierformed 
by  the  flail.  This  furnishes  an  increased  quantity  of 
one  million  one  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  five  hun- 
dred quarters,  which,  taken  at  the  low  average  of  forty 
sbillings  per  quarter,  for  all  grains,  amounts  to  2,225,000/. 
Add  to  this,  the  difference  of  expense  between  thrash- 
ing with  the  above  machine  and  the  flail,  which  may  be 
stated  at  Is.  per  quarter;  although,  when  the  machines 
are  wrought  by  wind  or  water,  the  difference  is  more 
than  double  that  »inn.    This,  on  twenty-two  million 


five  hundred  thousand  quarlere,  is,  1,250,000/.;  the 
whole  amounting  to  3,350,000/. 

We  can  scarcely  expect  to  be  credited,  when  it  is 
maintained  that  the  above  enormous  sum  would  annu- 
ally be  saved  to  the  public,  if  the  mhoU  com  raised  in 
Britain  were  separated  from  the  straw  by  these  ma- 
chines; and  yet  few  political  calculations  admit  of  such 
certain  demonstration.  Let  us  only  suppose,  that  one 
half  of  our  corn  is  thrashed  in  that  way,  and  still  the 
saving  is  immense.  If  any  person  doubts  the  princi- 
ples upon  which  these  calculations  are  built,  Ave  have 
only  to  request  he  would  pay  strict  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject, being  pretty  positive  he  will  soon  acknowledge 
they  are  not  over-stretched.  The  only  deduction  neces- 
sary to  be  made,  is  for  the  interest  of  the  money  expend- 
ed in  erecting  the  machines,  the  principal  sum  of  which, 
especially  upon  large  farms,  will  be  repaid  by  the  sav- 
ings of  three  years'  crops. 

In  a  word,  the  invention  of  this  implement  may  be 
considered  as  the  greatest  improvement  that  has  been 
introduced  into  Britain  during  the  present  age.  The 
toil  of  human  labour  is  by  this  means  lessened,  the  stock 
of  agriculture  produce  is  greatly  increased,  and  the  fa- 
cility of  managing  large  concerns  wonderfully  promoted. 
The  duty  of  rewarding  the  inventor  is  a  debt  incumbent 
upon  the  whole  landed  interest  of  the  island,  and,  by 
discharging  it,  they  will  stimulate  ingenious  mechanics, 
of  all  descriptions,  to  exert  their  talents  in  making  use- 
ful discoveries. 

In  the  above  account,  Mr.  Menzies's  attempt  to  thrash 
grain  by  the  use  of  a  machine  is  slightly  noticed.  Though 
the  attempt  was  unsuccessful  at  the  time,  there  is  no 
doubt  but  it  afterwards  proved  of  public  benefit ;  be- 
cause the  attention  of  the  ingenious  artisans  was  there- 
by turned  to  the  same  subject,  till  at  last  a  perfect  ma- 
chine was  constructed.  The  like  result,  we  hope,  may 
follow  endeavours,  hitherto  abortive,  of  artisans  to  con- 
struct reaping  machines ;  and,  lor  their  encouragement, 
a  description  of  Mr.  Menzies's  machine,  extracted  from 
the  Select  Transactions  of  the  Society  of  Improvers  in 
Scotland,  shall  now  be  presented. 

Mr.  Michael  Blenzies,  advocate,  having  invented  a 
machine  for  thrashing  of  grain,  and  obtained  a  patent 
for  the  sole  disposal  of  it,  upon  a  representation  made  to 
the  Society,  that  it  Avas  to  be  seen  going  in  several  pla- 
ces, and  that  the  said  machine  saved  labour,  and  thrashed 
the  grain  cleaner  than  the  ordinary  way,  they  appointed 
Mr.  Alexander  Boswell,  and  Mr.  Charles  Maitland,  ad- 
vocates, to  visit  it,  make  their  observations  and  remarks 
thereupon,  and  to  rejiort. 

"  Their  Report. — In  obedience  to  the  appointment,  we 
went  to  Rosehurn,  near  Edinburgh,  where  one  of  the 
machines  is  set  up,  and  is  moved  by  water.  We  were 
there  a  considerable  time,  and  examined,  with  all  the 
exactness  we  could,  the  structure  thereof.  Thereafter 
we  saw  it  thrash  for  some  time;  and  that  the  power  and 
exactness  of  it  might  the  better  appear,  straw,  that 
seemed  to  be  well  thrashed  before,  and  to  be  as  clean 
of  grain  as  straw  thrashed  in  the  common  way  generally 
is,  was  put  into  this  machine ;  and  out  of  twelve  bottles 
of  this  straw  there  >vas  thrashed  v  ery  near  the  fourth 
part  of  a  peck;  and  the  grain  thus  thrashed  out  was 
good,  and  no  ways  bruised  or  hurt.  After  we  had  seen 
the  large  machine,  which  is  moved  by  a  great  wntei^ 
wheel  and  triddles,  we  went  and  saw  another,  which  is 
moved  by  a  little  wheel  of  three  feet  diameter,  moved 
by  a  small  quantity  of  water;  which  last  would  be  use- 


AGRICULTURE. 


253 


ful,  where  tliere  is  not  conveniently  to  be  had  a  suffi- 
cient quantity  of  water  lor  moving  a  large  wheel,  and 
might  serve,  almost  at  every  place  in  the  winter  time, 
being  suiiplied  from  the  small  currents  occasioned  by  the 
land-floods.  And  it  is  our  humble  opinion,  that  the  ma- 
chine would  be  of  great  use  to  farmers  both  in  thrash- 
ing the  grain  cleaner  from  the  straw,  and  in  saving  a 
great  deal  of  labour;  for  one  man  would  be  sufficient  to 
manage  a  machine  which  would  do  the  work  of  six ;  and 
that  therefore  the  Society  should  recommend  the  use  of 
the  same,  and  give  all  the  encouragement  they  can  to  so 
beneficial  an  invention,  which,  being  simjjle  and  plain  in 
the  machinery,  may  be  of  universal  advantage. 

"  The  Society  approved  of  the  report,  and  recom- 
mended the  said  machine  to  all  gentlemen  and  far- 
mers." 

The  ingenious  Mr.  Bailey  gives  an  excellent  descrip- 
tion of  the  thrashing  machine,  in  the  Northumberland 
Survey,  which,  with  the  greatest  liberality,  he  allows  us 
to  use  on  the  present  occasion. 

A  Description  and  Calculation  of  a  Thrashing  Machine 
erected  at  Chillingham. 

"In  Plate  IV.  Fig.  1,  BB  is  a  horizontal  board,  or 
table,  5  feet  long,  by  3  feet  4  inches  broad,  on  which  the 
corn  CC  is  evenly  spread,  and  presented  to  the  cast- 
metal  fluted  rollers  RR,  (4  inches  diameter,)  which  take 
it  regularly  in,  and  by  their  weight  and  sharp  edges 
hold  fast  the  straw,  while  it  is  struck,  switched,  or 
thrashed,  by  the  switchers,  or  pieces  of  wood  SSSS, 
fixed  in  the  cylinder  DD,  and  projecting  3  inches  from 
its  surface  *  ;  these,  when  they  strike  the  corn,  move  in 
an  upward  direction  R  E,  with  great  velocity,  and  throw 
the  corn  as  it  is  thrashed,  and  the  straw  as  if  leaves  the 
fluted  rollers,  against  the  circular  rake  K  K,  and  ujjou 
the  wire  skreen  G,  from  whence  the  straw  is  taken  by 
the  rake,  and  delivered  upon  the  sloping  board  L,  down 
which  it  slides  to  the  floor  N,  while  the  corn  passes 
through  the  skreen  G  into  the  hopper  H,  and  from 
thence  to  the  inclined  board  I ;  but,  in  falling  from  H  to 
I,  a  strong  current  of  air,  raised  by  the  fanners  FFP, 
blows  the  chaff  over  the  sloping  board  O,  and  the  light 
corn  against  it,  which  falls  into  the  space  P,  and  the 
chafl"into  M,  while  the  good  grain  slides  down  the  in- 
clined board  II,  to  the  floor  at  Q,  from  whence  it  is  taken 
and  put  into  a  second  winnowing  machine,  in  which  are 
placed  proper  riddles  to  suit  diflerent  kinds  of  grain. 
This  second  machine  is  moved  by  a  rope  going  over  a 
pulley,  fixed  in  the  axle  T,  and  is  set  a  going,  or  stopped, 
at  pleasure,  by  a  stretching  pulley,  as  occasion  re- 
quires. 

Where  the  situation  will  admit  of  the  board  II  being 
placed  about  4  feet  from  the  floor,  the  second  winnow- 
'ing  machine  may  be  placed  directly  under  it,  and  save 
the  trouble  of  lifting  the  corn. 

To  find  the  velocity  of  the  particular  parts,  we  must 
divide  the  product  of  the  number  of  cogs  in  the  driving 


wluels,  by  the  product  of  the  number  of  cogs  in  the 
driven  wheels,'&'nA  the  quotient  will  be  the  number  of 
revolutions  made  by  the  last  moved  part,  for  one  of  the 
first  moving  part. 

The  whole  is  put  in  motion  by  an  overshot  water 
wheel  14  feet  diameter,  which  makes  from  five  to  six 
revolutions  per  minute,  according  to  the  supply  of  water. 
On  the  axle  of  this  water  wheel  is  fixed  a  large  spur 
wheel,  a  a  of  160  cogs,  (152J  inches  diameter,)  which 
drives  a  cast-metal  pinion  ft  of  10  cogs,  (15.28  inches 
diameter,)  on  the  axis  of  which  is  placed  another  spur 
wheel  c  of  63  cog?,  (60.1  inches  diameter,)  that  drives 
the  cast-metal  pinion  rf  of  10  leaves,  (15.28  inches 
diameter,)  on  the  axis  of  which  is  fixed  the  cylinder 
DD,  (4  feet  diameter,  and  5  feet  long,)  with  the  four 
projecting  pieces  of  wood,  or  switchers,  SSSS,  that 
switch  or  thrash  the  corn,  as  described  above. 


which  multiplied  by 


gives 

this,  multiplied  by 


gives 


:    39.375,  the  revolutions   of  the 
cylinder  for  one  of  the 
water  wheel, 
5.5,  the      medium      revolu- 
tions of  the  water  wheel 

per  minute, 

21 6.562,  the  revolutions  of   the 
cylinder  per  minute ; 
4,  the    number  of  switch- 

ers, 

866.25,  the    number  of  strokes 
per  minute. 

And,  as  the  diameter  of  the  cylinder  is  4   feet,  the 
circumference  will  be     12.56; 
therefore  210.5625,  the   revolutions  of  the 

cylinder  per  minute, 
multiplied  by  12.56  feet,  the  circumference 

of  the  cylinder, 

gives  2720  feet,  the  velocity  of  the 

switchers  per  minute. 
The  large  spur  wheel  a  also  drives  the  light  cog 
wheel  e  of  63  cogs,  (80.1  inches  diameter,)  fixed  on 
the  axis  kloi  the  rake  for  taking  away  the  straw. 
Then  VV   =   2.54.     the     number    of    rev^utions 
which  the  rake  makes  Tor  one 
of  the  water  wheel, 
multiplied  by  5.5,  the   revolutions  of  the  water 

wheel  per  minute, 

gives  13.97,  nearly  14,the  revolutions  of  the 

rake  per  minute;  which,having 
4  arms,  will  clear  the  skreen 
of  straw  56  times  per  minute. 

The  rollers  are  moved  by  the  pinion  ^of  1 C  leaves, 
working  into  the  slight  cast-melaf  wheel/,  fixed  on  the 
iron  axis  ii  of  the  lower  roller,  on  which  axis  is  also  fixed 
a  small  pinion  g  of  eight  leaves,  working  into  another  h 
of  equifl  number,  fixed'on  the  axisf  of  the  upper  roller, 
which  gives  the  two  rollers  an  equable  motion  for  taking 
in  the  corn. 


•  This  «)Iinder  is  made  with  strong  anns,  on  which  arc  fixed  the  switchers,  and  cased  round  with  narrow  inch  deals,  the  whole  se- 
eured  from  fljing  off  liy  strong  iron  hoops,  surrounding  them  at  each  end.  The  switchers  are  covered  with  plate  iron,  to  prevent  their 
■wearing. 

f  This  axis  is  fixed  into  the  upper  roller,  either  by  an  universal  joint,  or  with  a  square  tapering  end,  to  allow  the  upper  roller  to 
rise  and  fall,  Meordtng  M  tl>«  eorn  is  fed  io  thieker  or  tUuner,  and  the  coaeave  board  U£  is  hang  on  a  bolt  to  allow  it  to  rise  and  fall  with 
the  roller. 


254 


AGRICULTURE. 


Then  't^"  x  J-|  =  4.444.,  tlie  rfivolution  of  the  rol- 
lers for  one  of  the  water 
wheel, 
multiplied  by  5.5, 


gives 


24.44,  the    revolutions   of  the 
rollers  per  minute. 
Ami  the  diameter  of  the  rollers  being  4  iaches,  the 
circumference  will  be  12.566  inches; 
therefore  12.566  inches,    the    circumfer- 

ence of  the  rollers, 
multiplied  by  24.44,  the   revolutions   of  the 

rollers  per  minute, 

gives  3071.  inches  of  straw,  passing 

through  the  rollers  per 
minute;  which  307  in- 
ches receive  866  strokes 
of  the  switchers  in  that 
time,    or    nearly    three 
strokes  to  an  inch. 
When  the  rollers  are  required  to  move  swifter  or 
slower,  they  may  be  driven  very  conveniently  from  the 
end  of  the  axle  of  the  rake,  by  fixing  a  cast-metal /accrf 
ivhcd  on  it,  with  three  rows  of  cogs,  (8,  10,  and  13,) 
working  into  a  shilling  pinion  of  8  leaves,  fixed  on  an 
iron  axle ;  at  the  other  end  of  which  is  jjut  a  small  bevel 
wheel  of  12  teeth,  working  into  another  of  8  teeth,  at 
the  end  of  the  axle  of  the  lower  roller. 

TTu  fanners  are  moved  by  a  crossed  rope,  passing 
over  a  pulley  T,  10  inches  diameter,  fixed  on  the  axis 
of  the  cylinder,  and  another  V  of  3  inches  diameter,  on 
the  axis  of  the  fanners.  Then,  as  the  axis  of  the  cy- 
linder makes  216.56  revolutions  per  minute,  we  have 
216.56  X  V  =  270.7  revolutions  of  the  fanners  per  mi- 
nute. 

From  the  above  it  appears,  tjiat  when 
The  water  wheel  makes        5|  revolutions  in  one   mi- 
nute. 
The  cylinder  will  make     21 6^  ditto. 
The  rollers  24^  nearly. 

The  rake  14    ditto,    and    clears    the 

skreen  of  straw  56  times 
per  minute. 
The  fanners  270S  ditto, 

The  switchers  make  866    strokes  per  mimite, 

and  move  ^vith  a  velo- 
city of  2720  feet  per  mi- 
nute. 
The  rollers  take  in  nearly  300  inches  of  corn  per 
minute.     The  medium  length  of  good  oats  is  about  30 
inches ;  and,  supposing  half  a  sheaf  put  in  at  a  time,  a 
whole  sheaf»will  then  be  equal  to  60  inches  :    There- 
fore \y  =  5  sheaves  per  minute,  which  agrees   with 
the  usual  rate  of  going  of  this  machine,  when  supplied 
with  a  medium  quantity  of  water.     From  some  expe- 
riments lately  made,  120  sheavss  of  oats  were  thrashed 
in  22  minutes,  and  yielded  1 2  bushels,  which  is  at  the 
rate  of  33  bushels  per  hour,  or  264  per  day  of  eiglit 
hours. 

The  expense  for  the  attendance  of  the  thrashing  and 
dressing  part  of  this  machine,  is  only  that  of  three  wo- 
men ;  viz.  one  to  feed-in,  another  to  hand  the  sheaves 
to  the  feeder,  and  the  third  to  take  away  and  riddle  the 
corn  after  it  is  winnowed :  of  course,  the  expense  of 
thrashing  and  dressing  264  bushels  is  only  1*.  6rf. 

The  expense  of  thrashing  (he  same  quantity  by  the 
Bail  would  be  one  twenty-fifth  part,  or  10|  bushels. 


which,  at  2*.  per  biishel,  is  21s.  to  wliich  mast  be  aJ- 
ded  2s.  the  expense  of  a  man  and  two  women  to  assist 
in  winnowing,  making  in  all  23s. 

The  expense  of  erecting  a  thrashing  machine  of  this 
kind  was  from  70/.  to  80/.  but  since  the  advance  of  wood, 
iron,  and  wages,  it  will  be  now  near  100/. 

Machines  of  small  dimensions  are  erected  for  about 
50/.  which,  with  two  horses,  will  thrash  and  dress  120 
bushels  of  oats,  or  60  of  wheat,  iu  eight  hours. 

Rollers,  or  small  millstones,  are  added  to  many  of 
these  machines,  for  crushing  or  grinding  grain  for 
horses,  swine,  <fcc.  Knives  for  cutting  straw,  and  many 
other  useful  appendages  might  be  added. 

Small  machines  are  used  for  thrashingin  many  places; 
but  we  have  doubt  respecting  the  advantages  of  such 
implements.  Allowing,  that  the  work  is  equally  well 
performed  with  a  small  machine  as  with  a  large  one, 
still  it  is  unquestionably  true,  that  the  expense  of 
thrashing  must  be  greater  when  the  farmer  is  employ- 
ed ;  because  the  time  of  one  person  must  be  occupied 
in  feeding  the  machine,  whether  one  boll  or  ten  bolls  of 
grain  be  thrashed  within  the  hour.  This  is  an  objec- 
tion to  small  machines,  which  cannot  be  gotten  over, 
even  were  it  allowed  that  the  grain  is  equally  well 
thrashed ;  a  circumstance  concerning  which  we  have 
considerable  doubts.  It  is  one  of  the  defects,  however, 
which  attend  small  farms ;  for  it  is  almost  impossible 
upon  them  to  make  a  suitable  division  of  labour  in  any 
case.  The  best  machine  is  that  which  is  impelled  by 
a  six-horse  power;  because  such  a  machine  is  well 
qualified  to  thrash  every  kind  of  grain  perfectly,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  full  employment  is  given  to  the  feeder. 
On  small  farms,  we  have  always  considered  the  flail  to 
be  the  most  profitable  imitlement  for  thrashing  grain ; 
because  the  expenditure  incurred  in  erecting  a  suitable 
machine,  would  exceed  the  probable  benefit.  Perhaps 
thrashing  machines  can  rarely  be  worked  with  advantage 
upon  a  farm  where  less  than  one  hundred  acres  are  an- 
nually cultivated ;  and,  it  is  evident,  without  demonstra- 
tion, that  the  benefit  of  using  them  is  in  direct  propor- 
tion to  the  quantity  of  corn  that  is  cultivated.  If  we 
shall  suppose  that  the  interest  upon  outlay,  and  the 
tear  and  wear  of  a  thrashing  machine,  is  fifteen  pounds 
per  annum  ;  and  that  800  bolls  of  grain  are  raised,  when 
100  acres  are  cultivated,  the  charge,  on  these  account?, 
is  precisely  fourpence  halfpenny  per  boll.  If  the  farm 
is  of  such  a  size  as  to  admit  the  raising  of  sixteen  hun- 
dred bolls,  the  charge  is  reduced  to  twopence  farthing 
per  boll ;  but  should  the  return  amount  to  two  thousand 
four  hundred  bolls,  the  charge  will  be  no  more  than 
three  halfpence  per  boll.  This  is  a  true  view  of  the 
business,  when  interest  on  outlay  and  tear  and  wear  are 
to  be  considered ;  and  proves,  what  has  seldom  been 
questioned  by  those  who  have  studied  the  science  of  ru- 
ral economy,  that  a  large  farm  may  be  managed  com- 
paratively at  much  less  expense  than  a  small  one. 

The  scarcity  of  labourers  in  many  districts,  owing  to 
the  increase  of  trade,  and  the  immense  number  of  hands 
employed  in  the  army  and  navy,  furnishes  another  argu- 
ment for  the  general  introduction  of  thrashing  machines. 
It  is  a  circumstance  which  cannot  fail  to  excite  surprise, 
that  those  machines.are  scarcely  known  in  many  of  the 
best  cultivated  English  counties,  notwithstanding  that 
their  utility  is  universally  acknowledged  wherever  they 
have  been  erected.  Some  objections  have  been  offered 
by  English  ftirmers,  as  if  the  saving  in  one  way  would  be 
compensated  by  the  increased  expense  in  anotlier  j  in 


AGRICULTURE. 


2^5. 


other  words,  that  if  thrashing  machines  were  brought 
into  general  use,  a  great  many  labourers  would  be  thrown 
out  of  employment,  which,  of  course,  would  serve  to  raise 
the  poor  rates.  Esperieuce,  however,  is  in  every  case, 
the  surest  guide.  The  very  same  argument  was  used 
in  Scotlnnd  when  machines  were  introduced ;  and  yet  it 
has  been  lound  that  the  savings  made  by  the  farmer  in 
this  way,  enabled  him  to  employ  more  labourers  than  be- 
fore. A  similar  objection  was  urged  against  two  horse 
ploughs  at  their  introduction,  as  if  these  implements 
would  prevent  young  men  from  being  trained  to  husband- 
ry, and  cause  the  number  of  ploughmen  to  fall  below 
the  actual  demand.  Time  has,  however,  shown  the  weak- 
ness of  these  objections.  Ploughmen  are  as  plentiful  as 
formerly  ;  and,  what  is  of  greater  importance,  they  are 
better  qualified  for  executing  their  work.  Every  inven- 
tion that  lessens  the  expense  of  farm  labour,  enables  the 
farmer  to  employ  additional  hands  in  carrying  on  other 
works ;  and,  in  all  improved  farms,  these  works  are  so 
numerous,  that  employment  can  never  be  wanting  for 
labourers,  as  long  as  the  means  of  paying  them  remain 
with  the  employer. 

The  mode  of  harvcaling  corn  in  England,  however,  is 
much  agaiust  the  use  of  thrashing  machines;  and  in- 
deed it  is  against  the  process  of  thrashing  in  whatever 
way  it  is  performed.  In  many  counties,all  the  grain,  with 
the  exception  of  wheat,  is  cut  by  the  sithe,  and  of  course 
is  not  bound  up  into  sheaves  in  that  regular  way,  as  when 
it  is  cut  by  the  sickle.  Oat?,  in  particular,  cannot  be 
thrashed  clean  with  a  machine,  unless  the  heads,  or  ears, 
are  fairly  and  equally  exposed  to  the  beaters,  or  scut- 
chers. If  either  this  grain,  or  wheat,  passes  irregularly 
or  unequally  through  the  feeding  rollers,  the  beaters 
have  little  power,aud  are  unfit  for  accomplishing  the  pro- 
cess of  separation.  Barley  and  beans  are  grains  more 
easily  thrashed,  the  latter  especial  ly,  than  wheat  and  oats ; 
though,  after  all,  the  more  regular  that  unthrashed  grain 
is  presented  to  the  machine,  so  much  more  will  the 
grain  be  completely  separated  from  tlie  straw. 

Before  closing  this  article,  we  would  have  been  hap- 
py, had  it  been  in  our  power,  to  have  stated,  that  the 
worthy  inventor  of  the  thrashing  machine  had  received 
a  remuneration  in  the  slightest  degree  commensurate 
with  the  merits  of  the  invention,  which  he  brought  to 
perfection,  thereby  rendering  to  the  public  a  benefit  of 
the  greatest  magnitude.  A  patent  was  obtained  for  him, 
in  the  first  instance ;  but  circumstances,  unnecessary  to 
mention  in  this  place,  prevented  him  from  deriving  any 
benefit  from  it ;  and  thus  the  man  whose  labours  have 
been  in  so  remarkable  a  degree  useful  to  society,  has  al- 
most been  the  only  person  in  the  island  who  has  not  re- 
ceived benefit  from  this  meritorious  and  highly  estima- 
ble invention.  Upon  the  feelings  of  a  great  and  generous 
nation,  ever  ready  to  patronize  and  reward  genius,  it  is 
hoped  the  history  given  of  Mr.  Meikle's  invention  of 
the  thrashing  machine  will  not  be  lost ;  and  that  he  will 
still  have  the  satisf;iction  of  knowing,  that  his  country- 
men are  not  insensible  of  the  advantages  derived  from 
his  labours.  Should  any  measure  of  remuneration  be 
adopted,  it  will  perhaps  give  the  promoters  an  additional 
interest  in  its  success,  when  they  learn,  that  this  re- 
spectable and  truly  worthy  man,  though  in  the  ninetieth 
year  of  his  age,  is  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties,  and 
likely  to  live  many  years. 

In  Virginia,  an«l  other  countries,  wheat  is  trodden  out 
by  horses,  aearly  in  the  same  way  as  it  was  formerly 


done  in  Palestine  by  oxen.     A  short  account  of  this 
practice  cannot  be  unacceptable  to  our  readers. 

The  treading  floors  are  generally  from  sixty  to  a  hun- 
dred feet  diameter;  but  the  larger  their  diameter  is,  so 
much  easier  is  the  work  to  the  horses.  The  track,  or 
path,  on  which  the  sheaves  are  laid,  and  on  which  the 
horses  walk,  is  from  twelve  to  twenty-four  feet  wide,  or 
more.  The  floors  are  commonly  enclosed  by  fences ; 
and  the  horses  are  generally  driven  between  them  pro- 
miscuously and  loose,  each  pressing  to  be  foremost,  so 
that  fresh  air  may  be  obtained, — biting,  jostling,  and 
kicking  each  other  with  the  greatest  fury.  The  labour 
in  this  way  is  extremely  severe.  Upon  some  small 
floors,  a  centre  stick  is  placed,  to  which  hangs  a  rope, 
or  u  pole  and  swivel,  and  four  or  five  horses  being  fas- 
tened together,  travel  round  upon  the  sheaves  with  the 
utmost  regularity.  Previous  to  laying  down  the  wheat 
sheaves,  the  state  of  the  air,  and  the  probability  of  its 
continuing  dry  through  the  day  is  fully  considered.  If 
they  resolve  to  tread,  the  morning  is  suffered  to  pass 
away  till  the  dew  is  removed.  A  row  of  sheaves  is  first 
laid  upon  the  floors  with  the  heads  and  butts  in  a  line 
across  the  track  of  it  as  a  bolster  for  receiving  other 
sheaves ;  and  these  sheaves  range  with  the  path,  or  cir- 
cle, the  butts  resting  on  the  floor.  Other  sheaves  are 
ranged  in  like  manner,  with  the  heads  raised  on  the 
former,  till  the  whole  floor  is  filled,  when  it  appears  to 
be  filled  with  nothing  but  ears  of  wheat,  sloping  a  little 
upwards.  Upon  laying  down  each  sheaf  the  band  there- 
of is  cut  with  a  knife.  A  west  wind  is  always  desirable 
while  treading  is  going  on,  as  when  wind  is  from  the 
eastward  dampness  generally  prevails. 

In  some  instances,  twenty-four  horses  are  formed  at 
some  distance  from  the  floor  into  four  ranks ;  and  whea 
the  floor  is  ready  laid,  the  word  is  given  to  advance. 
For  the  sake  of  order  and  regular  work,  a  boy  mounted 
on  one  of  the  foremost  horses  advances  in  a  walk  with 
the  whole  rank  haltered  or  tied  together,  and  enters 
uj)on  the  bed  of  wheat,  walking  the  horses  slowly  over 
it;  another  rank  is  ordered  to  follow,  as  soon  as  the  first 
is  suj)posed  to  have  obtained  a  distance  equal  to  a  fourth 
part  of  the  circumference  of  the  bed,  and  in  the  same 
manner  the  other  ranks  proceed.  They  are  forbidden 
to  go  past  a  walk,  till  they  have  proceeded  five  or  six 
rounds,  when  the  word  is  given  to  move  at  a  sober  trot, 
and  to  keep  their  ranks  at  a  full  distance  from  each 
other,  regularity  and  deliberate  movement  being  neces- 
sary for  preventing  confusion.  The  gentle  trot  is  con- 
tinued till  it  may  be  supposed  the  horses  have  travelled 
eight  or  nine  miles,  which  is  the  extent  of  their  first 
journey ;  they  are  then  led  off  to  be  foddered  and  water- 
ed, when  the  trodden  light  straw  is  taken  olTas  deep  as 
the  place  where  the  sheaves  lie  close,  and  are  but  par- 
tially bruised. 

As  soon  as  this  first  straw  is  removed,  one-third  of 
the  width  of  the  bed  is  turned  over  on  the  other  two- 
thirds  from  the  inner  side  or  circle  of  the  bed,  which 
narrows  the  circle  of  the  next  journey.  The  horses 
are  again  led  on,  and  trot  out  their  second  journey,  till 
the  sfraw  be  clear  of  wheat.  The  outer  part  of  the  bed 
is  then  turned  upon  the  middle  part,  when  the  horses 
take  another  journey.  The  loose  straw  being  then  ta- 
ken off,  the  whole  remaining  bed  is  turned  up  from  the 
floor,  and  shaken  with  forks  and  handles  of  rakes,  after 
which  the  horses  give  another  tread,  which  finishes  the 
work.     The  grain  is  then  shoved  up  from  the  floor  with 


26^ 


AGRICULTURE. 


heads  of  rakes  turned  downwards,  and  put  into  heaps  of 
a  conical  form,  in  wliich  situation  it  often  remains  ex- 
posed to  tlte  weather  for  several  days.  The  correct 
American  agriculturists,  however,  have  houses  adjoin- 
ing to  the  treading  floor,  ivhere  the  grain  is  deposited 
till  it  is  cleared  from  the  chatT  and  offal ;  though  as 
most  of  them  continue  treading,  if  the  weather  be  fa- 
vourable, till  the  whole  crop  is  se|)arated  from  the  straw, 
it  is  pretty  obvious  that  the  grain  stands  a  considerable 
chance  of  being  damaged  before  the  several  processes 
are  concluded. 

Were  we  to  make  any  comparison  betwixt  thrashing 
with  a  machine  and  treading  by  the  feet  of  horses,  the 
result  would  be  entirely  in  favour  of  the  former.  Lay- 
ing aside  the  great  damage  which  the  grain  must  re- 
ceive when  treading,  by  the  dung,  <fcc.  of  the  horses 
during  the  process,  we  are  almost  sure  that  the  ex- 
pense of  treading  must  be  as  great  as  that  of  thrash- 
ing, independent  of  the  consideration  that  the  latter 
process  must  more  generally  separate  the  grain  from 
the  straw,  than  possibly  can  be  accom])lished  by  the 
other.  For  further  information  on  the  construction  of 
thrashing  machines,  see  Ferguson's  Lectures,  Appen- 
^x,  vol.  ii. 

Sect.  VIII. 
Of  Fanners. 

If  thrashing  machines  are  of  much  advantage  to  the 
public,  by  separating  corn  completely  from  the  stra^v, 
the  introduction  of  fanners,  or  the_  machine  by  which 
corn  is  cleaned  from  chaff,  and  all  sorts  of  offal,  may, 
with  justice,  be  considered  as  proportionally  of  equal 
benefit  to  the  practical  agriculturist.  At  this  day  it 
can  hardly  be  conceived  what  difficulties  the  farmers 
of  ancient  times  were  put  to  before  the  cleaning  pro- 
cess was  accomplished ;  though  it  may  easily  be  ascer- 
tained that  much  loss  was  sustained,  in  numerous 
instances,  from  corn  remaining  amongst  the  chatf,  upon 
the  floor  of  a  damp  barn,  till  a  natural  wind  rose  suf- 
ficient for  accomplishing  the  necessary  separation. 
Since  Ihe  introduction  of  artificial,  wind,  these  inconve- 
niences and  losses  are  completely  removed,  to  the  great 
accommodation  of  the  farmer,  and  preservation  of  his 
property. 

To  one  of  the  same  family,  who  afterwards  invented 
the  thrashing  machine,  we  arc  indebted  for  the  intro- 
duction of  fanners  into  this  country,  as  can  be  proved 
by  the  most  satisfactory  written  evidence.  In  the  year 
1710,  James  Meikle,  father  of  the  inventor  of  the  thrash- 
ing machine,  was  sent  to  Holland  at  the  expense  of  the 
celebrated  Andrew  Fletcher,  Esq.  of  Salton  (a  charac- 
ter well  known  in  the  annals  of  that  period,)  to  learn 
the  art  of  making  pot-barley,  and  constructing  barley- 
mills;  both  of  which  arts  were  then  utterly  unknown  in 
this  country.  As  a  preliminary  to  these  purposes,  ar- 
ticles of  agreement  were  entered  into  betwixt  Mr.  Hen- 
ry Fletcher,  brother  of  the  gentleman  above-mentioned, 
as  taking  part  for  his  said  brother,  and  James  Meikle, 
which  articles  are  still  extant,  together  with  a  lettet 
from  Andrew  Fletcher,  Esq.  to  the  said  James  Meikle, 
dated  "  Hague,  18th  June,  1710,"  giving  him  directions 
about  making  and  purchasing  several  articles  necessary 
to  be  used  in  the  erection  of  the  barley-mill.  This  mill, 
like  every  other  barley  mill,  had  a  pair  of  fanners  an- 
nexed, and  these  fanners  were  the  first  ever  employed 
in  Scotland.    From  being  used  at  the  barley-mill,  they 


were  afterwards  constructeil  upon  a  larger  scale,  an<l 
employed  for  winnowing  corn  many  years  before  the 
thrashing  machines  were  introduced.  The  tirst  barley- 
mill  erected  in  Scotland  was  at  Salton,  in  the  county  of 
Haddington ;  and  it  is  not  many  years  since  the  original 
pair  of  fanners,  constructed  and  erected  by  James  Meikle, 
were  laitl  aside,  being  then  worn  out  and  exhausted  by 
continual  application. 

It  is  not  more  than  fifty  years  since  fanners  came  to 
be  generally  used  in  Scotland ;  before  that  time,  graia 
being  separated  from  the  chaff  by  the  action  of  wind 
operating  between  the  two  doors  of  a  barn.  In  the 
windward  door,  a  person  stood  dropping  the  grain  from 
a  sieve,  or  riddle,  and  in  quantities  proportioned  to  the 
force  of  the  wind  at  the  time ;  a  process  not  imperfect, 
when  a  good  steady  wind  blowed,  but  not  to  be  depend- 
ed upon  in  many  instances,  when  the  grain  was  wanted 
for  seed,  horse-corn,  or  the  purpose  of  marketing.  In 
short,  the  inconveniences  of  that  process  of  winnowing 
are  so  evident,  that  they  do  not  require  to  be  enumerat- 
ed. They  were,  however,  completely  removed,  in 
consequence  of  the  introduction  of  fanners,  by  which 
the  husbandman  might  clean  his  corn  when  he  pleasecL 
Since  thrashing  machines  were  introduced,  fanners  al- 
most in  every  case  are  annexed  to  them,  and  in  some 
instances,  where  powerful  machines  are  used,  fitted  in- 
ternally with  suitable  riddles,  it  is  perfectly  practicable 
to  measure  and  market  the  grain  immediately  as  it  comes 
from  the  machine. 

CHAP.  VII. 

On  Manures. 

The  practical  farmer,  without  troubling  himself  con- 
cerning the  principles  of  vegetation,  or  inquiring  about 
the  food  of  plants,  is  perfectly  satisfied,  that  by  col- 
lecting and  applying  what  are  called  manures  to  the 
land  which  he  occupies,  the  fertility  of  the  same  is 
augmented,  and  greater  crops,  either  of  corn  or  grass, 
returned  to  him  in  the  subsequent  years,  or  so  long  as 
the  strength  of  the  manure  is  not  exhausted ;  but  he  is 
equally  satisfied,  when  the  strength  of  the  manure  is 
exhausted,  that  a  repetition  becomes  necessary,  other- 
wise the  ground  would  become  sterile  and  unproduc- 
tive. It  is  our  intention  to  treat  of  manures  in  this 
plain  and  expressive  way,  and  chiefly  to  limit  our  in- 
quiries to  what  may  be  of  practical  advantage.  Manure 
is  of  the  first  importance  to  the  farmer;  and  according 
to  the  quantity  which  he  collects,  and  the  judgment 
which  guides  the  appropriation,  his  success  will  as- 
suredly be  regulated. 

The  term  manure  is  applied  indiscriminately  to  all 
substances,  which  are  known  from  experience  either  to 
enrich  the  different  soils,  or  contribute  in  any  other  way 
to  render  them  more  favourable  to  vegetation. 

Though  little  doubt  can  be  entertained  of  the  utility 
and  necessity  of  such  substances,  yet  the  progress  hi- 
therto made,  in  ascertaining  the  mode  in  which  they 
ought  to  be  applied,  the  quantity  that  should  be  mad« 
use  of,  and  the  soils  for  which  they  are  respectively  best 
adapted,  has  not  yet  reached  that  perfection  or  certainty 
that  could  be  wished. 

The  most  superficialobservation  will  servetoconvincf 
any  intelligent  person,  that,  in  an  agricullural  point  of 
view,  the  subject  of  manures  is  of  the  first  magnitude. 
To  correct  what  is  hurtful  to  vegetation  in  the  different 


AGRICULTURE. 


257 


soils,  and  to  restore  what  is  lost  by  exhausting  crops, 
are  operations  in  agricuKure  which  may  be  compared  to 
the  curing  of  diseases  in  the  animal  body,  or  supplying 
the  waste  occasioned  by  labour,  or  the  ordinary  evacua- 
tions of  nature. 

The  Htility  of  manuring  has,  however,  been  question- 
ed in  some  instances,  |)articularly  by  Tull  and  his  disci- 
ples, who  assert  that  tillau:e  alone,  frequently  and  judi- 
ciously applied,  will  produce  every  effect  that  can  be 
exjiected  from  that  practice. 

That  tillage  is  essential  to  the  success  of  agricultural 
operations,  is  a  point  in  which  all  good  husbandmen  are 
agreed;  but  that  by  tillage  alone  the  earth  should  be 
made  to  produce  a  succession  of  valuable  crops  of  grain 
or  vegetables,  is  a  doctrine  which,  foitunately  for  the 
advancement  of  agriculture,  has  met  with  very  few  con- 
verts. By  such  management  poor  lands  would  never 
Jjeeome  productive,  and  the  richest  soils  would  soon  be 
exhausted. 

Another  opinion  hag  been  held  forth  to  the  public, 
that  when  land  has  once  been  put  into  good  heart,  it 
may  be  preserved  in  a  state  of  constant  fertility,  merely 
by  a  proper  rotation  of  crops,  without  any  foreign  ma- 
nure. 

In  some  particular  spots,  where  the  soil  is  uncom- 
monly rich,  and  has  been  long  undisturbed  by  the  plough, 
and  when  great  quantities  of  animal  and  vegetable  mat- 
ter have  been  accumulating  for  ages,  this  may,  for  a 
considerable  space  of  time,  be  the  case.  But  if  the 
advocates  for  such  a  system  assert,  that  any  land,  when 
once  put  into  good  order,  will  continue  to  pour  forth  an 
endless  succession  of  valuable  crops,  by  means  of  ju- 
dicious rotations  alone,  without  any  manure  being  made 
use  of,  we  pronounce  the  idea,  with  but  vei-y  few  ex- 
ceptions, impossible.  Indeed,  it  might  as  well  be  su[i- 
posed,  that  any  animal,  after  having  made  a  full  meal, 
would  continue  to  live,  and  perform  every  kind  of  la- 
bour, without  any  further  supply  of  food.  The  con- 
trary certainly  is  the  case,  both  with  regard  to  animals 
and  vegetables;  for  if  the  nourishment  supplied  is  less 
than  the  waste,  the  animal  will  die,  and  the  soil  become 
barren. 

We  need  not  extend  our  observations  upon  this  sulj- 
ject  further;  for  a  good  farmer,  who  wishes  to  avail  him- 
self of  every  advantage  which  experience  points  out, 
will,  to  a  certain  degree,  adopt,  1st,  Tht  tillage  recom- 
imndtil  by  Tull,  for  the  pur|)ose  of  pulverizing  the  soil, 
and  extirpating  the  weeds  with  which  it  may  be  infest- 
ed ;  2d,  A  regular  rotation  of  crops,  in  order  that  the  va- 
rious sorts  of  earth  may,  in  the  ir  turn,  according  as  they 
are  calculated  for  different  plants,  become  productive ;  _ 
and,  3d,  Endeavour  to  gather  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
manure,  not  only  to  prevent  the  soil  from  being  exhaust- 
ed, but,  if  jiossible,  annually  to  make  some  addition  to 
its  fornjer  sources  of  fertility. 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  insist  on  this  subject,  as  all 
agriculturists  are  now  agreed  with  regard  to  the  utility 
of  niauures.  It  is  of  more  importance  to  give  direc- 
tions respecting  theij'  collection,  preparation,  and  ap- 
jilication,  as  in  these  matters  husbandmen,  in  many  dis- 
tricts, are  evidently  deticieut.  Manure  has  been,  and 
not  unaptly,  characterized  as  the  magic  wand  of  the 
farmer;  therefore  every  improvement  in  the  processes 
connected  with  its  collection  and  appropriation,  must 
be  regarded  as  eminently  conducive  to  agricultural  pros- 
.perity. 

Vol.  I.    Part  I, 


Sect.  I. 

On  the  Management  of  Dung. 

Manure,  taking  the  word  in  its  broadest  sense,  be- 
ing the  first  requisite  of  good  husbandry,  it  shall  be 
our  business,  in  this  Section,  to  speak  in  a  particular 
manner  of  the  best  methods  of  collecting,  preparing,  and 
applying  that  portion  of  it  cuMed  farm-yard  iluiig,  which, 
in  most  instances,  may  be  considered  as  the  chief  ma-, 
nure  used  by  the  great  body  of  British  husbandmen. 
In  discussing  this  subject,  our  observations  shall  be  re- 
stricted to  matters  of  practice,  which  are  within  the 
reach  of  every  farmer,  in  every  situation,  and  under 
every  circumstance.  Such  practical  details  are  better 
calculated  to  convey  useful  information,  than  abstract 
disquisitions  concerning  the  food  of  plants,  and  the  like. 
If  manure  is  necessary  for  promoting  the  growth  of 
plants,  it  is  of  small  importance  to  the  farmer  liotv,  and 
in  what  manner,  the  benefit  is  communicated.  Manure 
is  beneficial,  and  that  is  sufficient.  All  that  is  further 
required,  is  knowledge  concerning  the  best  and  most 
approved  way  of  increasing  the  quantity,  and  of  using  it 
in  the  most  tvdvantageous  manner. 

The  most  superficial  observer  in  rural  economics 
must  have  often  noticed,  that  a  considerable  number  of 
practical  agriculturists  are  inattentive,  not  only  to  the 
gathering  of  the  raw  materials,  but  also  defective  in  the 
several  steps  of  preparatory  process,  before  dung  can 
be  thriftily  and  suitably  applied.  With  such,  very  little 
care  is  used  in  cutting  the  corn  crops,  which,  (iroperly 
speaking,  is  the  only  source  whence  raw  materials  can 
be  got.  They  are  also  too  apt  to  dispose  of  any  hay 
which  may  be  raised  upon  their  farms,  even  when  prices 
are  not  so  high  as  to  tempt  a  breach  of  good  husbandry. 
They  often  keep  more  beasts  on  the  premises  than  is 
consistent  with  the  quantity  of  provender  iu  hand,  thus 
reducing  the  stock  of  manure  in  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree. Besides,  seUloin  is  any  care  bestowed  in  laying  up 
the  dung,  in  a  regular  and  careful  way,  during  the  win- 
ter months,  and  still  less  upon  its  state  during  the  ex- 
hausting spring  winds,  or  tlie  parching  heat  of  the  sum- 
mer months.  Instead  of  storing  it  up  with  regularity, 
and  mixing  the  different  kinds  in  a  compact  heap,  it  is 
suffered  to  remain  as  tossed  from  the  stable  and  byre ; 
continues  exposed,  iu  its  rough  state,  to  the  weather; 
often  inundated  with  water,  and  rarely  touched  till  the 
cart  arrives  to  drive  it  to  the  field. 

As  straw  is  the  basis  of  manure,  it  might  be  expected 
that  every  good  husbandman  would  bestow  the  most  se- 
dulous attention  upon  the  shearing  or  cutting  of  his 
crop,  so  that  the  greatest  possible  quantity  of  the  raw 
material  may  be  procured.  Very  different,  however,  is 
the  conduct  of  farmers  in  general ;  as  over  one  half  of 
Britain,  it  may  be  safely  estimated,  that  at  least  one- 
fourth  of  the  straw  is  left  in  the  field,  where  its  strengUi- 
is  wasted  and  dissipated  by  the  rains  and  storms  that 
connnonly  j)revail  at  the  conclusion  of  autimin.  In 
some  districts  a  stricter  attention  is  now  paid  to  this 
important  operation,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  such  an 
improvement  will  gradually  extend.  Independent  of 
the  additional  grain  which  is  gained,  the  increase  of 
manure  will  more  than  compensate  the  increased  ex- 
pense of  reaping  the  crops  in  an  accurate  manner. 

While  it  is  recommended,  that  the  crop  should  be  cut 
low,  in  order  that  niateriais  for  making  manure  fliay  be 


268 


AGRICULTURE. 


increased,  we  by  no  means  contend  for  that  degree  of 
accuracy,  which  requires  that  not  one  stalk  of  the  stub- 
ble shall  be  of  greater  height  than  its  neighljour;  a 
degree  of  perfection  accomjilished,  perhaijs,  at  a  greater 
expense  than  can  be  repaid  by  the  benefit  derived,  espe- 
cially when  the  value  of  labour  is  so  enormously  advan- 
ced. This  kind  of  cutting  can  only  be  obtained  from 
putting  a  very  small  quantity  into  the  hook  at  once,  and 
rarely  makes  a  perceptible  increase  upon  the  bulk ; 
whereas,  by  running  the  sickle  u|)on  the  ground,  draw- 
ing a  level  stroke,  and  gathering  no  more  into  the  hand 
than  can  be  fairly  cut,  all  the  advantages  of  low  shearing 
are  obtained  at  a  very  trifling  increase  of  expense.  By 
a  steady  perseverance  in  this  practice,  from  one  to  two 
tons  of  manure  (per  acre,)  may  be  annuallj^  gained,  more 
than  was  procured  in  former  times,  especially  where  the 
crops  arc  good.  This  annual  increase  must  operate 
powerfully  upon  the  improvement  of  the  country,  the 
effects  being  precisely  similar  to  those  of  adding  com- 
pound interest ;  and,  of  course,  furnishes  the  means  of 
gradually  rendering  every  acre  of  land  in  the  kingdom 
fertile  and  productive. 

The  usual  modes  of  converting  straw  into  dung,  hard- 
ly require  to  be  mentioned.  A  good  deal  is  consumed 
in  the  house  by  draught-horses  and  milch-cows ;  much 
is  applied  to  the  littering  of  turni|)-cattle  ;  and  the  re- 
mainder is  used  by  lean  cattle,  kept  in  the  fold-yard. 
Though  these  are  the  general  methods  of  consumption, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  divide  the  subject  into  two  parts, 
viz.  The  management  of  dung  upon  light  lands  and 
heavy  lands ;  because  manure  on  each  is  prepared  in 
different  ways,  used  in  different  seasons,  and  applied  to 
different  crops.  For  light  soils,  manure  requires  to  be 
much  more  highly  prepared  than  is  necessary  for  clay 
soils ;  and  every  step  of  the  [jrevious  preparation,  in  or- 
der to  be  perfect,  ought  to  be  executed  in  a  quite  dif- 
ferent manner. 

For  soils  of  the  first  descri|)lion,  where  turnips  arc 
taken  as  a  first  crop,  dung  can  hardly  be  too  well  pre- 
pared ;  because  the  nature  of  the  cro|)  to  which  it  is  ap- 
plied, renders  a  complete  incorjjoration  with  the  ground 
absolutely  necessary ;  without  which  the  young  plants 
might  be  starved  at  their  very  entrance  into  life.  In 
the  best  farmed  English  counties  which  have  come  un- 
der our  observation,  dung  is  often  kept  more  than  a 
year,  in  order  that  it  may  be  perfectly  rotted  :  and  the 
late  Mr,  Bakewell  was  in  the  habit  of  not  applying  it  till 
reduced  to  a  state  something  like  black  snuff.  Manage- 
ment of  this  kind,  however,  cannot  be  approved  of;  for 
if  the  preparatory  steps  are  conducted  with  judgment, 
there  is  rarely  any  necessity  for  keeping  dung  over  the 
year  upon  turnip  farms ;  besides,  such  a  delay  causes  a 
ivaste  of  the  article,  and  serves  to  dissipate  its  strength  ; 
nt  all  events,  a  year's  interest  of  the  value  of  the  in- 
creased pro«luce  must  be  lost.  In  general  cases  there 
is  not  much  difficulty  in  preparing  dung  upon  turnip 
farms ;  because,  in  the  driest  season,  from  the  nature  of 
the  food  used,  such  a  quantity  of  Kquid  passes  from  the 
animals  a:  to  prevent  burning,  provincially_/irc/aH|:irtg-, 
the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  rotting  of  dung  that  can  be 
<?xperienced.  If  turni|)  dung  is  regularly  removed;  if 
it  is  properly  mixed  with  the  horse  litter,  and  other  cx- 
trementitious  matter  accumulated  upon  the  farm,  it  will 
be  found  an  easy  task  to  prepare  all  that  is  made  by  the 
middle  of  April ;  at  which  time  the  fold-yard  should  be 
cleared.  What  is  produced  after  that  time  should  be 
stored  np  eeparately ;  receive  waterings,  if  Uie  weather 


is  dry;  and  be  reserved  for  clover-stubbles,  or  otber 
fields  that  are  to  be  dunged  in  autumn. 

The  middle  of  April  is  mentioned  as  a  good  time  for 
clearing  the  fold-yard ;  but  this  does  not  prevent  the 
work  from  going  partially  forward  through  the  winter, 
when  suitable  opportunities  occur.  When  driven  out  of 
the  fold-yard,  the  dung  should  be  laid  up  in  a  regular 
heap  or  pile,  not  exceeding  six  quarters,  or  four  feet 
and  a  half  in  height ;  and  care  should  be  taken  not  to  put 
either  horse  or  cart  upon  it,  which  is  easily  avoided,  by 
backing  the  cart^o  the  pile,  and  laying  the  dung  com- 
pactly together  with  a  grape  or  fork.  It  is  also  useful 
to  face  up  the  extremities  with  earth,  \vhich  keeps  in 
the  moisture,  and  prevents  the  sun  and  wind  from  doing 
injury.  Perhaps  a  small  quantity  of  earth  strewed  upon 
the  top  might  also  prove  useful.  Dung,  when  managed 
in  this  manner,  generally  ferments  very  rapidly ;  but  if 
it  is  discovered  to  be  in  a  backward  state,  a  complete 
turn  over,  about  the  first  of  May,  when  the  weather  be- 
comes warm,  will  quicken  the  process ;  and  the  better 
it  is  shaken  asunder,  the  sooner  will  the  object  in  view 
be  accomplished. 

A  secluded  spot  of  ground,  not  much  exposed  tft 
wind,  and  perfectly  secure  from  being  floated  with  wa- 
ter, ought  always  to  be  chosen  for  the  site  of  such  piles 
or  heaps.  If  the  field  to  which  it  is  to  be  applied  is 
at  hand,  a  little  after-trouble  may  be  saved,  by  deposit- 
ing it  there  in  the  first  instance  :  But  it  is  found  most 
convenient  to  reserve  a  piece  of  ground  adjacent  to  the 
homestead  for  this  purpose.  There  it  is  always  under 
the  farmer's  eye,  and  a  greater  quantity  can  be  moved  in 
a  shorter  time  than  when  the  situation  is  more  distant- 
Besides,  in  wet  weather,  and  this  is  generally  the  time 
chosen  for  such  an  operation,  the  roads  are  not  only  cut 
up,  by  driving  to  a  distance,  but  the  field  on  which 
the  heap  is  made  may  be  poached  and  injured  consider' 
ably. 

The  above  is  the  most  approved  method  of  preparing 
dung  upon  turnip  or  light  laud  farms ;  and  a  few  words 
shall  now  be  said  respecting  the  management  necessary 
upon  those  of  a  different  description. 

Upon  clay  soils,  where  wheat  forms  a  principal  part 
of  the  crop,  where  great  quantities  of  beans  are  Cultiva- 
ted, and  few  turnips  sown,  unless  for  the  use  of  milch=» 
cows,  the  rotting  of  dung  is  not  only  a  troublesome,  but 
an  expensive,  affair.  Independent  of  what  is  consumett 
by  the  ordinary  farm-stock,  the  overplus  of  the  straw 
must  somehow  or  other  be  rotted  by  lean  cattle  kept  in 
the  fold-yard,  who  either  receive  the  straw  in  racks,  or 
have  it  thrown  across  the  yard  to  be  eaten  and  trodden 
down  by  them.  According  to  this  motte  of  consum|)tioD, 
it  is  evident  that  a  still  greater  necessity  arises  for  a 
frequent  removal  of  this  unmade  dung,  otherwise,  from 
the  trampling  of  beasts,  and  the  usual  want  of  moisture, 
it  would  conqiress  so  much  as  altogether  to  prevent 
putrefaction.  To  jirepare  dung  sufficiently  upon  farms 
of  this  description,  is  at  all  times  an  arduous  task ;  but 
scarcely  practicable  in  dry  seasons  ;  for  if  it  once  gets 
humt,  (ftrc-fanged,)  it  is  almost  physically  impossible  t» 
bring  it  into  a  suitable  state  of  preparation  afterwards  ; 
and,  at  all  events,  its  virtues  are  thereby  considerably 
diminished.  The  year  1 803  furnished  strong  proofs  in 
support  of  what  is  here  maintained;  for,  owing  to  the 
goodness  of  the  weather  during  the  winter  and  spring 
months,  less  dung  was  driven  out  than  usual;  and  the 
conseciuence  was,  that  on  few  clay  farms  %va3  the  dung 
jb.alf  rotted,  even  where  the  most  {inxioua  ell'orta  were 


AGRlCtLTl/ttE. 


259 


■bestowed  upon  •watering  ami  iUnilug  it  when  the  season 
advanced.  Ttie  continued  dryness  of  the  weather  was, 
no  doubt,  an  exception  to  that  of  common  seasons,  and 
increased  the  difficulties  which  at  all  times  are  under- 
gone in  such  situations ;  but,  had  it  been  equally  wet  as 
it  was  dry,  the  [)ropriety  of  frequent  removals  would  not 
have  been  less  urgent.  Straw  flung  out  in  considerable 
portions  to  the  fold-yard,  after  b«ing  compressed  by  the 
trampling  of  cattle,  becomes  rather  like  a  well-packed 
stack,  than  a  mass  of  dung  in  a  preparatory  state.  The 
small  quantity  of  water  and  dung  made  by  the  animals,  is 
barely  sufficient  to  cause  a  slight  fermentation  ;  and  this 
slight  fermentation,  when  the  heap  gets  into  a  com- 
pressed state,  is  sure  to  bring  on _/ir«^'an^iH^,  as  already 
said  ;  after  which  its  original  i)0wers  can  rarely  be  re- 
stored. To  prevent  such  an  injury,  no  measure  can  be 
so  successfully  used,  as  a  frequent  removal  of  this  un- 
made dung,  especially  if  the  weather  is  wet  at  the  time. 
If  people  can  stand  out  to  work,  there  cannot  be  too 
much  wetness  when  executing  this  operation  :  for  there 
is  always  such  a  quantity  of  the  straw  that  has  not  passed 
through  (he  entrails  of  the  cattle,  as  renders  it  almost 
impossible  to  do  injury,  in  the  first  instance,  by  an  ex- 
cess of  moisture. 

It  is  therefore  recommended,  upon  every  chiy-land 
farm,  especially  those  of  considerable  size,  that  the  fold- 
yard  be  frequently  cleared ;  and  that  the  greatest  care 
be  taken  to  mix  the  stable  or  horse  dung  in  a  regular  way 
with  what  is  feathered  in  tlie  fold-yard,  or  made  liy  other 
animals,  in  order  that  a  gradual  heat  or  fermentation 
may  be  speedily  i)ro(luced.  Where  the  materials  are  of 
the  sorts  now  described,  (that  is,  a  small  quantity  of 
dung,  or  excrementilious  matter,  and  a  large  store  of 
unrotten  straw,  only  partially  moistened,)  no  damage  can 
ensue  from  putting  horses  and  carts  upon  the  heap ;  nay, 
a  positive  benefit  will  be  gained  from  this  slight  com- 
pression. At  the  same  time  we  are  aware,  that  the 
sentiments  of  many  able  and  judicious  farmers  are  dif- 
ferent on  this  point :  it  being  their  opinion,  that  the 
natural  pressure  of  the  materials  is  quite  sufficient,  and 
that  any  additional  pressure  is  accompanied  with  inju- 
rious consequences.  We  are,  however,  satisfied,  that 
such  ideas  are  unfounded ;  having  tried  botli  methods 
upon  an  extensive  scale,  and,  from  the  results,  we  feel 
ourselves  justified  in  recommending  the  above  mode  of 
management.  Perhaps  this  difference  of  sentiment  may 
arise  from  not  attending  to  the  very  different  qualities  of 
dung  on  different  farms ;  for  the  propriety  of  abstaining 
from  putting  horses  and  carts  upon  such  heaps  or  piles, 
containing  materials  which  can  be  called  dung,  even 
though  it  may  be  in  an  unripe  state,  is  already  allowed. 
It  is  contended,  however,  that  no  injury  is  sustained  from 
slightly  compressing  a  mass  of  rough  materials;  nay, 
that  such  is  attended  with  beneficial  effects ;  for,  if  the 
materials  were  laid  up  with  a  fork  or  grape,  as  recom- 
mended in  the  case  of  turnip  or  half  rotten  dung,  the 
small  portion  of  moisture  therein  contained  would 
speedily  be  wasted  or  evaporated ;  a  circumstance  which 
often  occurs,  especially  when  dry  weather  succeeds  the 
period  when  the  heap  is  made  up.  Besides,  driving  a  one- 
horse  cart  over  a  surface  of  materials  only  one  stage  re- 
moved from  the  condition  of  dry  straw,  will  never  pre- 
vent fermentation.  If  left  in  the  fold-yard,  the  constant 
treading  of  the  cattle  therein  confined,  and  the  daily 
increased  weight  of  the  heap,  may  undoubtedly  pro- 
duce that  evil ;  but  this  is  effectually  prevented,  by  fre- 
quent reiiiorals,  especially  if  raipy  weather  prevails  at 


the  time.  Few  objects  deserve  to  be  more  sedulously 
attended  to  by  every  farmer  who  studies  his  otvn  inter- 
est. 

The  heap  or  pile,  as  already  recommended,  in  the  case 
of  turnip  dung,  should  be  formed  in  a  secluded  snot,  if 
such  can  be  got  at  hand  ;  because  the  less  it  is  exposed 
to  the  influence  of  the  sun  and  wind,  so  much  faster  will 
fermentation  proceed.  It  should  be  constructed  on  a 
broad  basis,  which  lessens  the  bounds  of  the  extremi- 
ties ;  and  several  separate  heaps  are  necessary,  so  that 
too  much  may  not  be  deposited  at  once,  which,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  would  bring  on  the  very  evil  we  have  all 
along  been  endeavouring  to  avert.  By  shifting  the  scene 
frequently,  and  allowing  each  covering  or  coat  to  settle 
and  ferment  before  laying  on  any  more,  the  most  happy 
effects  will  follow,  and  these  heaps,  (at  least  all  such  as 
are  completed  before  th«  first  of  May,)  may  reasonably 
be  expected  to  be  in  a  fit  condition  for  applying  to  the 
summer  fallow  fields  in  the  end  of  July  or  first  of  Au- 
gust. If  the  external  parts  get  dry  at  any  time  during 
the  process,  it  will  be  proper  to  water  them  thoroughly, 
and  in  many  cases  to  turn  over  the  heap  completely.  It 
may  be  added,  that  much  benefit  has  been  experienced 
from  laying  a  thick  coating  of  snow  upon  such  heaps, 
as,  by  the  gradual  melting  thereof,  the  whole  moisture 
is  absorbed,  and  a  strong  fermen  tation  immediately  fol- 
lows. 

The  same  method  of  management  may  be  continued 
•  during  the  summer  months,  so  far  as  circumstances  per- 
mit, though  it  rarely  happens  that  dung  collected  at 
this  advanced  period  is  fit  for  use  in  the  same  season, 
unless  it  be  such  as  is  made  by  keejiing  horses  and  cat- 
tle in  the  house  upon  green  food.  Perhaps,  as  a  gene- 
ral principle,  it  is  proper  to  thrash  out  all  grain  before 
summer  arrives,  (a  small  quantity  for  litter  and  other 
necessary  purposes  excepted,)  in  order  that  the  full  va- 
lue of  the  raw  materials,  when  converted  into  manure, 
may  be  gained.  Straw  thrashed  in  the  summer  months 
always  wants  a  good  deal  of  its  original  strength ;  it  is 
broken  and  hashed  by  the  mills ;  therefore  a  large  por- 
tion must  at  once  be  thrown  to  the  fold-yard,  where  its 
strength  is  still  more  exhausted  and  dissipated.  Even 
when  stacked  carefully,  it  will  be  found  next  winter  to 
produce  much  less  bulk  of  dung  than  if  it  had  been 
used  at  the  proper  time  ;  and  interest  of  the  amount  for 
one  year  is  lost; — all  which  things,  added  together,  will 
be  found  equal  to  one  half  of  the  original  worth. 

Upon  large  farms,  where  the  n-anagement  of  manure 
is  sulficiently  understood  and  practised,  it  is  an  impor- 
tant matter  to  have  dunghills  of  all  ages,  and  ready  for 
use  whenever  the  situation  of  a  field  calls  for  a  restora- 
tive. No  method  of  application  to  clay  soils,  however, 
is  so  beneficial  as  during  the  year  of  summer  fallow, 
though  in  such  situations  a  greater  stock  of  manure  is 
often  gathered,  than  is  required  for  the  fields  under  this 
process. 

After  all,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that,  under  every 
exertion,  it  seldom  happens  that  dung  on  clay  farms, 
where  turnips  are  not  grown,  can  be  so  well  prepared 
as  upon  those  employed  in  the  culture  of  that  beneficial 
root.  This  has  induced  many  farmers  to  cross  nature, 
and  attempt  the  cultivation  of  turnips  upon  soils  phy- 
sically unfit  for  producing  them  with  advantage;  and 
perhaps  much  money  has  been  lost  in  carrying  such 
schemes  into  execution.  Perhaps  a  claj'-land  farmer 
had  better  submit  to  all  the  disadvantages  accompanying 
the  preparation  of  manure  in  his  particular  situation, 
Kk2 


sdo 


AGRICULTURE. 


than  try  to  get  free  of  them  by  the  culture  of  turnips. 
It  is  a  consolatory  circumstance,  however,  that  clay 
soils  have  a  good  digestion ;  they  are  not  so  nice  in 
their  food  as  gravels  and  sands,  requiring  only  a  good 
bellyful,  and  frequent  meals.  It  likewise  deserves  at- 
tention, that  dung  applied  to  a  clay  fallow  at  the  end  of 
summer  has  full  time  to  incorporate  with  the  ground 
before  the  crop  sown  thereupon  stands  much  in  want 
of  its  invigorating  support;  consequently,  though  of 
apparent  inferior  quality  at  the  time  of  application,  may, 
in  reality,  be  possessed  of  equal  powers  for  fructifying 
the  ground  as  if  it  had  reached  a  higher  state  of  pre- 
paration. 

We  may  now  notice  some  instances  of  slovenly  ma- 
nagement in  our  sister  kingdom,  respecting  the  manage- 
ment of  manure,  particularly  in  the  midland  counties, 
where  grass  husbandry  is  extensively  practised.  In 
these  districts,  it  is  very  common  to  use  a  considerable 
proportion  of  their  hay  in  the  fields,  during  the  winter 
months,  instead  of  consuming  it  in  the  house  or  fold- 
yard  where  the  manure  produced  could  readily  be  col- 
lected, and  properly  managed.  Sloth  aud  waste  are  the 
parents  of  this  custom ;  a  custom  which  ought  to  be  in- 
terdicted by  every  proprietor  who  is  disposed  to  regard 
either  his  own  interest  or  that  of  the  country  ;  much  of 
the  article  being  absolutely  rendered  useless  by  the  feet 
of  the  beasts  so  maintained,  while  the  ground  is  most 
unequally  and  partially  dunged;  that  is  to  say,  the  rich- 
est aud  driest  parts  are  sure  to  receive  the  greatest 
store. 

Some  thoughts  relative  to  the  application  of  dung,  a 
subject  of  as  much  importance  as  the  collecting  and 
■preparing  of  it,  shall  now  be  oflered.  According  to  the 
plan  suggested,  the  subject  may  be  considered  in  two 
points  of  view,  viz.  as  connected  with  light  aud  clay 
soils;  or,  more  particularly,  as  relative  to  soils  on  which 
turnips  constitute  the  first  or  leading  crop ;  and  those 
where  naked  summer  fallow  is  the  preparatory  step  of 
the  subsequent  rotation.- 

Some  previous  remarks,  connected  with  the  right 
management  of  dung  in  all  soils,  and  in  every  situation, 
are  however  necessary,  so  as  repetition  may  be  after- 
wards avoided :  these  are,  that  no  greater  quantity  ought 
to  be  given  at  one  time  than  is  sufficient  to  fructify  the 
ground ;  in  other  wonls,  to  render  it  capable  of  proiluc- 
ing  good  crops,  before  the  time  arrives  when  a  fresh 
dose  can  be  administered.  In  a  rotation  oi  four,  one 
dunging  is  supi)osed  to  be  necessary,  it  being  understooil 
that  two  culmiferous  crops  are  only  taken ;  but  in  rota- 
tions of  sixes  and  eights,  the  common  ones  followed  by 
good  farmers  on  heavy  or  wet  soils,  two  dungings  are 
necessary ;  othenvise  the  crops  raised  will  prove  pro- 
portionally defective,  before  the  expiration  of  the  courses. 
It  is  evident  that,  under  the  common  resources  of  ara- 
ble land,  such  rei^etitions  are  impracticable,  unless  the 
.  utmost  frugality  is  studied  in  the  distribution  ;  but  where 
this  is  neglected,  a  regular  system  can  seldom  be  ad- 
hered to.  The  errors  of  former  times  consisted  in  giv- 
ing too  great  a  quantity  at  once,  thereby  depriving  the 
ground  of  its  regular  nourishment;  in  other  words,  the 
soil  rioted  in  the  midst  of  plenty  for  two  or  three  years, 
anil  fasted  and  starved  for  several  succeeding  ones. 
Hence  the  generality  of  fields  were  either  too  rich,  or 
too  poor;  either  saturated  with  manure,  or  completely 
barren  from  the  want  of  it;  where.is,  had  supplies  been 
furnished  in  an  economical  manni'r;  had  the  quantity  of 
mauure  ea  band  been  distributed  with  judgment,  a  more 


uniform  produce  would  have  been  the  consequence. 
The  new  system  of  applying  mauure  corrects  all  these 
errors,  in  so  far  as  local  circumstances  will  permit.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  small  quantity  is  now  bestowed  at  once,  and 
the  dose  frequently  repeated.  The  ground  is  regulurly 
fed;  but  never  surfeited  with  a  profusion  of  victuals. 
Hence  the  crops  constituting  a  regular  rotation  are  more 
uniformly  goo<l,  and  a  greater  proportion  of  the  valuable 
grains  are  raised  than  could  be  accomplished  in  former 
times. 

Though  land  can  rarely  be  rendered  too  rich  for  car- 
rying greeu  crops,  yet  it  is  well  known  that  the  same 
observation  will  not  hold  gootl  when  applied  to  wheat, 
barley,  and  oats  :  but  that  such  may  be,  and  often  have 
been,  materially  injured  in  consequence  of  heavy  ma- 
nuring. Look  at  the  site  of  a  dunghill,  and  it  Will 
rarely  be  found  that  a  crop  of  good  grain  is  produced 
upon  it.  There  is  a  great  flush  of  straw,  often  of  bad 
quality,  and  a  small  quantity  of  inferior  grain,  little  bet- 
ter than  if  the  labours  of  nature  had  ended  in  an  abor- 
tion. The  like  consequences,  though  certainly  in  a  less 
degree,  generally  took  place  with  the  first  crops  of  for- 
mer times,  after  summer  fallow  and  dung,  especially  if 
the  weather  proved  wet  when  the  grain  was  filling;  and 
to  avoid  such  evils,  many  farmers,  at  this  day,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  great  towns,  decline  laying  manure 
upon  their  fallows,  knowing  that  the  vegetable  food  con- 
tained in  these  lands,  if  reinforced  with  an  additional 
supply,  would,  in  nine  cases  out  often,  prove  destructive 
to  the  ensuing  wheat  crop.  It  is  also  often  observed, 
that  where  a  heavy  coat  of  dung  has  been  given  to  a 
well  wrought  fallow,  such  a  degree  of  fermentation 
takes  place  in  the  succeeding  spring,  as  altogether  to 
free  the  roots  of  young  wheat  from  their  natural  hold ; 
thus  occasioning  them  to  starve  for  want  of  nourishment, 
though  surrounded  with  abundance  of  food. 

But,  passing  over  these  evils,  am!  even  upon  the  sup- 
position that  they  never  existed,  still  the  practice  of  ad- 
ministering manure  in  an  economical  manner  may  be 
supported  by  arguments  of  a  different  nature.  If  a  quan- 
tity is  bestowed  sufficient  to  impregnate  the  grounil,  alt 
above  that  quantity  deserves  to  be  considered  as  pro- 
fusely thrown  away ;  at  least  tlie  benefit  of  it  is  in  a  great 
measure  sacrificed.  Manure,  upon  many  soils,  is  soon 
deprived  of  its  enriching  powers;  upon  all,  its  strength 
is  dissipated  and  carried  off  by  heat,  wind,  and  rain ; 
therefore  the  oftener  it  is  repeated,  the  greater  will  be 
the  benefit  derived  from  the  application.  Let  us  not  be 
mistaken  here.  We  are  not  arguing  on  the  supposition, 
that  the  farmer  has  it  in  his  power  todung  land  at  his  plea- 
sure, as  may  be  the  case  in  the  vicinity  of  great  towns. 
Our  arguments  merely  relate  to  the  situation  of  the  or- 
dinary farmer,  who  must  act  upon  his  own  supplies ;  who 
possesses  but  a  limited  |)ortion  of  manure,  ami  whose 
care  shoidd  be  directed  to  manage  that  portion  in  such 
a  way  as  to  derive  from  it  the  greatest  possible  advan- 
tage. To  make  our  meaning  clear : — If  one  hundred 
carts  of  dung,  each  containing  one  ton,  or  thereby,  are 
laid  upon  four  acres  of  land,  and  the  same  quantity,  and 
of  similar  quality,  is  laid  upon  eight  acres,  we  maintain 
that  a  very  considerable  advantage  will  be  derived  in 
the  latter  way,  more  than  in  the  former ;  independeut  of 
the  stress  that  might  be  laid  upon  the  circumstance  of 
keeping  a  great  part  of  every  farm  in  a  penurious,  con- 
sequently in  an  unproductive  state,  when  a  profuse  sys- 
tem is  adopted. 

Another  general  Kmark  occurs  4  that  is,  couceroing 


AGRICULTURE. 


m 


the  utility  oT  spreading  dung  with  accuracy  ^  in  other 
words,  dividing  it  into  the  minutest  particles,  thereby 
giving  every  part  of  the  ground  an  equal  supply  of  food. 
This  practice  was  miserably  neglected  in  former  times, 
and  is  slili  less  attended  to  than  its  importance  deserves. 
Iti  fisct,  few  operations  call  more  loudly  for  the  atten- 
tion of  the  farmer;  ami  none  in  which  a  more  general 
improvement  has  taken  place.  The  superficial  and  slo- 
venly »vay  ill  which  dung  was  formerly  spread,  must  be 
fresh  in  the  memories  of  most  people.  In  many  instan- 
ces, the  big  heap  was  only  broken  down,  as  it  were,  into 
a  number  of  small  ones;  and  as  for  tearing  or  shaking 
the  dung  asunder,  such  an  idea  then  rarely  entered  into 
the  head  of  any  man ;  though  it  is  obvious,  that  without 
making  a  complete  separation,  the  article  could  neither 
be  sufficiently  covered  in,  nor  its  virtues  be  conveyed  to 
the  soil.  Perhaps  the  increased  attention  now  bestowed, 
in  all  the  cultivated  districts,  to  the  spreading  of  dung, 
originated  from  the  measure  of  limiting  the  quantity  ap- 
plied. When  forty,  fifty,  nay,  even  sixty  double  loads 
were  applied  to  an  acre,  it  was  not  very  difficult  to  cover 
its  surface,  even  with  an  imperfect  separation,  though  it 
certainly  was  impracticable  to  bury  the  big  lumps  with 
a  furrow  of  ordinary  size ;  but  when  the  quantity  was 
brought  down  to  eighteen  and  twenty  loads,  and,  more 
so,  when  twelve  or  fourteen  loads  were  thought  suffi- 
cient, a  different  conduct  became  absolutely  necessary. 
Another  improvement  also  followed,  viz.  spreading  dung 
when  raw  or  green,  that  is,  immediately  after  the  carts ; 
in  which  way,  at  least  during  summer,  it  will  be  sepa- 
rated at  one  half  of  the  expense-,  and  to  much  better 
purpose  than  when  it  is  suffered  to  lie  in  the  heap  for  a 
day  or  two.  In  short,  it  is  a  sure  mark  of  a  slovenly 
farmer,  to  see  dung  remain  unspread  in  the  field,  unless 
it  be  in  the  winter  months,  when  it  may  happen  that 
hands  cannot  be  got  for  carrying  on  such  operations 
with  the  usual  regularity.  At  that  time  the  injury  sus- 
tained by  losing  a  few  days  is  not  great,  though,  as  a 
general  rule,  it  will  be  found  that  the  expense  is  always 
smallest  when  the  carts  are  regularly  followed  up. 

Having  made  these  preliminary  remarks,  we  proceed 
to  say  a  few  words  on  the  application  of  dung. 

When  turnip  husbandry  forms  the  chief  branch  of 
fallow  process,  dung  is  naturally  of  a  superior  quality, 
and  requires  little  artificial  management  for  bringing  it 
to  a  proper  state  of  preparation.  In  the  greatest  part  of 
Scotland,  and  even  in  England,  where  (he  drill  and 
horse-hoeing  system  is  practised,  the  common,  and 
undouiitedly  the  most  approved  way  of  applying  dung 
to  turnips,  is  by  laying  it  in  the  intervals  of  the  drills 
or  small  ridges,  which  are  previously  made  up  by  a 
bout,  or  two  furrows  of  the  plough.  These  drills  or 
ridges  are  formed  at  a  distance  of  from  24  to  30  inches 
from  the  centre  of  each ;  and  by  driving  the  horses  and 
cart  along  the  middle  one  of  the  space  iutended  to  be 
manured,  the  dung  is  drawn  out  either  by  the  carter, 
or  by  another  man  specially  appointed  for  that  purpose, 
in  such  proportions  as  the  poverty  of  the  soil,  or  the 
disposition  of  the  occupier,  may  reckon  necessary.  If 
the  breadth  of  three  drills  are  only  taken  at  a  time,  the 
dung  stands  a  better  chance  of  being  regularly  adminis- 
tered ;  for  it  often  happens,  that  when  a  greater  number 
are  included  in  oue  space,  the  two  outside  drills  receive 
a  less  quantity  than  the  intervening  ones.  Those,  there- 
fore, who  limit  themselves  to  these  drills,  generally 
divide  the  spreaders ;  as  it  requires  six  hands,  women 
or  boya,  to  follow  up  what  is  usually  called  a  head  of 


carts,  the  number  of  carts  to  a  head  being  regulated  by 
the  distance  of  the  dunghill,  or  the  kind  of  road  over 
which  it  is  to  be  carried.  Others  again,  thinking  that 
by  manuring  only  three  drills  at  a  time,  the  travel  of 
the  horses  is  greatly  increased,  and  time  wasted  when 
it  is  particularly  precious,  take  five  drills  into  one  space, 
and,  by  putting  the  strongest  hands  to  the  two  outside 
drills,  making  these  go  in  front,  thereby  getting  the 
first  of  each  heap,  and  placing  an  able  confidential  ser- 
vant to  assist  and  superintend  the  whole,  consider  that 
the  work  is  equally  well  performed,  while  a  greater 
quantity  is  put  through  their  hands  in  a  given  time. 
Both  plans  have  their  votaries,  though  the  difference 
between  them  is  not  of  much  consequence.  The  main 
objects  are,  to  provide  a  proper  bed  for  the  dung,  which 
is  easily  done  by  holding  a  deep  furrow  when  the  drills 
are  first  made  up ;  and  to  shake  it  well  asunder,  or  di- 
vide it  into  the  smallest  parts,  so  that  an  instant  and 
comiilete  separation  may  take  place.  To  accomplish 
this  in  the  most  perfect  manner,  hand-work  iu  some 
places  is  resorted  to ;  hut  the  common  custom  is  to  do 
it  with  small  light  grapes,  or  forks ;  and  it  is  wonderful 
how  adroitly  the  spreading  is  performed  by  small  boys 
and  girls,  after  they  are  a  little  time  accustomed  to  the 
task. 

The  quantity  of  dung  usually  given  for  turnips  is 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  double  cart-loads,  of  one  and  a 
half  cubic  yards  to  a  Scots  acre.  In  some  cases  only 
ten  loads  are  given ;  but  the  land  ought  to  be  in  high 
condition  where  such  a  small  quantity  is  bestowed.  In 
fact,  no  soil  can  be  made  too  rich  for  turnips  or  other 
green  crops,  pease  excepted ;  but  the  object  to  be  at- 
tended to  in  this,  and  every  other  case,  is  an  allotment 
of  the  manure  collected  ujjon  the  premises,  in  such  a 
way  as  that  the  greatest  possible  return  over  the  whole 
farm,  not  from  a  particular  field,  may  be  gained  by  the 
occupier. 

As  to  the  mode  of  applying  dung  to  potatoes,  a  few- 
particulars  may  be  stated.  The  culture  of  this  esculent 
is  in  several  respects  similar  to  that  of  turnips,  but  in 
others  it  differs  materially.  Potatoes  are  planted  earlier 
in  the  season  than  turnips ;  the  ground  rarely  receives 
BO  much  work ;  the  soils  upon  which  they  are  cultivated 
are  more  variable  ;  and  the  dung  considered  to  be  most 
suitable  for  promoting  their  growth,  does  not  require 
such  high  preparation.  Many  farmers,  notwithstanding 
these  circumstances,  follow  out  the  same  process  as 
described  under  the  head  of  turnips.  After  the  ground 
receives  three  or  at  most  four  ploughings,  the  drills 
are  made  up,  dung  deposited  in  the  intervals,  the  seed 
planted  above  the  dung,  and  the  drills  reversed;  after 
which,  say  at  the  distance  of  two  or  three  weeks,  a  slight 
harrowing  is  given.  Several  objections  occur  to  this 
mode ;  such  as,  that  the  seed  is  generally  kept  too  near 
the  surface,  which,  in  diy  seasons,  proves  unfavourable 
to  the  crop ;  the  dung,  unless  it  be  very  short,  is  apt 
to  be  drawn  up  by  the  harrows,  and  the  seed  removed 
from  its  original  birth.  These  things  induce  other  far- 
mers (and  probably  they  are  right)  to  adopt  a  different 
system:  They  avoid  niakii)g  up  drills,  but  dung  the 
ground  in  what  may  be  called  the  broad-cast  way ;  and, 
entering  the  plough,  plant  the  seed  in  every  third  fur- 
row, into  which  only  the  dung  is  raked  ;  and  so  on  till 
the  whole  is  finished.  Before  the  young  plants  appear, 
or  even  after  they  are  above  the  surface,  a  complete 
harrowing  is  given,  which  is  considered  as  equal  to  a 
hand-hoeing;  and  from  the  dung  being  completely  co- 


2^ 


AGRICULTURE. 


vered,  scarce  any  of  it  is  dragged  up,  while  the  seed, 
being  undermost,  none  of  it  is  disturbed  by  tlie  opera- 
tion. Both  modes  have  their  advantages  and  disadvan- 
tages. The  first  is  carried  on  with  less  trouble,  and 
more  regularity ;  the  last,  perhaps  with  most  advantage 
to  the  crop,  especially  on  heavy  soik' — the  seed  furrow 
loosening  the  ground  more  effectually  than  can  he  done 
by  the  forming  of  drills.  Several  farmers  do  not  dung 
their  potatoe  fields;  but,  reserving  the  manure  till  the 
crop  is  removed,  find  the  remainder  of  the  rotation 
greatly  benefited.  Potatoes  scourge  severely,  and,  in 
general  cases,  require  a  larger  quantity  of  dung  than 
turnips ;  but  as  the  extent  of  land  under  this  culture 
is  not  great  in  common  farming,  few  people  grudge 
this  extra  quantity,  because,  except  in  a  few  favoured 
situations,  a  good  crop  cannot  othertvise  be  reasonably 
expected. 

We  come  now  to  the  second  branch  of  the  subject, 
the  manuring  of  clay  soils,  or  those  where  turnips  are 
not  taken  as  a  first  crop.  Such,  it  is  presumed,  include 
at  least  three-fourths  of  Great  Britain,  though  recent 
circumstances  may  have  lessened  their  extent  conside- 
rably. 

Upon  all  soils  incumbent  on  a  wet  or  close  bottom, 
■^vhether  characterized  as  clay,  loam,  or  moor,  it  may  be 
laid  down  as  a  primary  principle,  that  dung  cannot  be 
BO  profitably  applied,  as  while  the  ground  is  under  the 
process  of  summer  fallow.  Theorists,  and  half-bred 
agriculturists,  may  reason  as  they  please  against  a 
continuation  of  this  ancient  practice ;  they  may  assert, 
with  the  utmost  confidence,  that  immense  benefit  would 
be  gained  by  laying  it  aside,  and  resorting  to  the  drill 
system  ;  but  their  arguments  will  have  little  effect  upon 
people  practically  acquainted  with  the  management  of 
argilaceous  soils,  who  do  not  take  one  season  as  a  rule, 
but  are  guided  by  the  dictates  of  common  sense,  ac- 
quired, during  successive  years,  in  the  school  of  expe- 
rience. AVhatever  dispute  may  have  happened  on  this 
subject  among  theorists,  the  opposite  side  of  the  ques- 
tion is  rarely  espoused  by  actual  farmers,  who  have 
farmed  wet  lands ;  even  those  whose  ])ractice  in  some 
degree  sanctioned  a  contrary  opinion,  or  had  been  in- 
fluenced to  make  temporary  deviations  by  motives  of 
expedience,  not  by  general  principles.  It  is  sometimes 
necessary  for  such  to  raise  a  few  turnips,  in  order  that 
live-stock  may  be  enabK-d  to  meet  a  market,  or  be  pre- 
served at  a  critical  period ;  others  have  partially  resorted 
to  this  culture  as  the  means  of  rotting  dung,  but,  under 
whatever  impressions  they  acted,  few  or  none  ever 
judged  that  such  deviations  could  be  defended  upon 
abstract  principles,  though  certainly  they  might  be  sup- 
ported by  expediency  and  existing  circumstances.  In- 
clined to  believe  that  such  are  the  ruling  sentiments 
of  British  agriculturists,  we  shall  enter  upon  the  im- 
portant question,  How,  and  in  what  manner,  can  dung 
be  most  profitably  applied  to  clay  lands,  or  those  of 
whatever  variety  they  may  be  composed,  as  are  incum- 
bent upon  a  close  bottom  or  subsoil  ? 

It  has  already  been  noticed,  that  when  the  ground  is 
under  the  process  of  summer  fallow,  it  is  then  the  best 
and  most  appropriate  time  for  applying  manure  to  clay 
soils.  When  under  this  process,  the  soil,  comparatively 
speaking,  is  reduced  into  minute  particles,  which  af- 
fords an  opportunity  of  conveying  the  virtues  of  manure 
through  the  veins  or  pores  of  all  its  parts.  The  soil, 
at  that  time,  is  also  freed  from  its  aboriginal  inhabitants, 
^ckeus  and  other  root-weeds,  who  claim  a  preferable 


right  of  support ;  lience  the  artificial  plants,  afterwardt 
cultivated,  possess,  ^vithout  a  rival,  such  supplies  as 
have  been  granted,  without  any  deduction  whatever.  Is 
short,  without  laying  any  stress  upon  elementary  effects 
during  the  process,  it  does  not  admit  of  a  doubt,  that 
the  same  quantity  of  manure  bestowed  upon  the  ground 
when  summer  fallowed,  will  produce  a  greater  return 
to  the  occupier,  than  if  it  had  been  applied  at  any  other 
stage  of  the  rotation. 

Under  these  impressions,  it  appears  that  dung  should 
not  be  laid  upon  fallows  before  they  are  completely 
cleaned ;  though,  no  doubt,  in  wet  summers,  that  ope- 
ration is  not  easily  accomplished.  To  make  sure  work, 
the  fallows,  if  possible,  should  be  early  stirred,  and  no 
opportunity  slipped  of  putting  them  forward  with  the 
utmost  expedition ;  for  it  rarely  happens,  at  least  in 
Scotland,  that  much  good  can  be  done  towards  the  de- 
struction of  root-weeds  after  the  month  of  July.  Before 
that  time,  a  judicious  farmer  will  have  his  fallow  dressed 
up,  and  in  a  suitable  state  for  receiving  dung.  It  should 
be  well  harrowed,  if  (he  weather  is  favourable,  previous 
to  the  dung  being  laid  on ;  and  if  rolled,  or  made  smooth, 
the  spreaders  will  be  enabled  to  perform  their  task  with 
much  more  precision. 

At  the  proper  season,  every  other  operation  ought  to 
be  laid  aside,  so  that  dung  may  be  expeditiously  drove 
out.  To  do  it  in  wet  weather  is  attended  with  perni- 
cious effects ;  the  horses  are  ojipressed,  a  longer  time 
is  required,  the  land  is  poached,  and  in  some  measure 
deprived  of  all  benefit  from  the  previous  fallow.  These 
circumstances  will  be  reflected  upon  by  the  attentive 
farmer;  they  will  stimulate  him  not  to  lose  a  moment 
when  the  weather  is  favourable,  and  prevent  him  from 
forcing  on  the  work,  when  injury  rather  than  benefit 
may  be  expected.  After  all,  seasons  are  sometimes  so 
perverse  as  to  render  every  rule  nugatory.  These  must, 
however,  be  taken  as  they  come ;  avoiding  at  such  times 
to  break  the  land  down,  acclivating  the  ridges  suffi- 
ciently, and  keeping  the  water-furrows  completely  clear. 
By  attending  to  these  matters,  opportunity  may  be  laid 
hold  of  by  the  active  farmer  several  days  sooner  than 
by  his  slovenly  neighbour;  or  at  least  the  work  will  be 
executed  in  a  much  more  perfect  way  than  if  they  had 
been  neglected. 

The  quantity  of  dung  usually  applied  to  fallows  in 
ordinary  condition,  is  from  •  fourteen  to  twenty  double 
loads  per  Scottish  acre ;  though  often  good  crops  are 
reaped  when  twelve  loads  only  had  been  given.  So 
much,  however,  depends  upon  the  condition  of  the  land, 
upon  the  quality  of  the  dung,  and  the  way  in  which  the 
carts  are  loaded,  that  no  precise  meaning  can  be  com- 
municated by  such  expressions.  A  decent  load  may 
contain  one  cubic  yard  and  three-fourths,  and  weigh  a 
ton,  or  thereby.  It  also  deserves  notice,  that  less  dung 
will  serve  some  lands  than  others,  especially  if  they 
have  lately  been  ploughed  from  grass ;  but,  at  all  events, 
sixteen  such  loads  as  are  mentioned  will  answer  for  any 
sort  of  soil,  unless  it  has  been  previously  quite  wrought 
out.  Even  if  it  were  in  this  forlorn  state,  it  is  bet- 
ter management  to  dung  upon  the  stubble  of  the  first 
crop,  than  to  give  an  over  dose  when  under  summer 
fallow. 

All  dung  laid  upon  summer  fallow  ought  to  be  spread 
the  moment  it  is  pulled  out  of  the  cart.  It  can  at  no 
other  time  be  done  so  well,  or  so  cheap ;  though  on 
many  farms,  small  ones  especially,  where  a  full  supply 
of  hands  are  wanting,  this  beneficial  practice  is  much  ne- 


AGHICULTURE. 


263 


glected.  Four  spreaders,  boys  or  girls,  with  an  atten- 
tive oversman  to  follow  up,  anil  supjtly  any  omissions, 
are  sufficient  l"<*  one  head  of  carts ;  the  number  includ- 
ed in  a  head  being  regulated  by  the  distance  of  the  field 
from  the  dunghill.  Some  farmers  employ  a  person  on 
whom  they  can  depend  to  draw  thfe  dung  from  the  cart, 
who  has  judgment  to  proportion  it  according  to  circum- 
stances, and  is  responsible  for  any  failure  in  the  execu- 
tion ;  but  the  carter  is  the  person  usually  employed, 
though  unless  a  boy  is  given  him  to  drive,  a  regular 
distribution  can  hardly  be  expected.  To  insure  accu- 
racy in  laying  down,  fields  are  sometimes  thrown  in  a 
dam-broad  figure ;  and  a  heap  being  drawn  out  into  each 
square,  you  could  have  nearly  ascertained  the  quantity 
required  for  the  whole.  The  great  object,  after  a  regu- 
lar and  economical  distribution,  is  to  shake  and  part  the 
whole  com[)letely;  as,  by  minute  attention  to  this  cir- 
cumstance, a  much  greater  efl'ect  is  necessarily  pro- 
duced. 

After  the  fallows  are  dunged,  the  remainder  in  hand 
is  reserved  for  what  may  be  called  the  intermediate 
dunging,  generally  bestowed  either  upon  clover  stub- 
bles, upon  wheat  stubbles  previous  to  taking  beans,  or 
upon  bean  stubbles  before  the  seed  furrow  is  given  for 
wheat.  It  is  obvious  that  the  farmer  must  be  regulated, 
in  this  intermediate  dunging,  by  the  weather  at  the 
time,  though  it  rarely  happens  but  that  dung  may  be  got 
out  upon  clover  stubbles  at  one  time  of  the  winter  or 
other.  When  applied  to  beans,  a  beneficial  practice, 
the  dung,  as  we  said  above,  is  by  some  people  laid  upon 
the  wheat  stubble,  and  ploughed  down  before  winter ; 
hence  it  is  in  full  action  in  the  spring,  when  the  seed 
furrow  is  given.  Others  make  up  drills  at  seed  time, 
depositing  the  dung  in  the  intervals  as  for  turnips  or 
potatoes ;  but  it  seldom  occurs  that  weather  can  then  be 
got,  at  least  on  real  bean  soils,  for  executing  this  ma- 
nagement. 

It  remains  only  to  be  stated,  that  many  arable  farms, 
tinder  the  strictest  economy,  are  unable  to  furnish  sup- 
plies for  an  iutermediate  dunging,  at  least  to  its  full  ex- 
tent ;  but  persons  so  circumstanced  have  it  always  in 
their  power  to  overcome  this  defect,  and  preserve  fi  re- 
gular rotation,  by  keeping  certain  fiehls  longer  in  grass ; 
which  of  course  will  yield  weightier  croi)s  when  broken 
up,  and  stand  less  in  need  of  manure  during  the  after 
rotation.  As,  for  instance,  in  a  rotation  of  six,  and  it  is 
here  that  the  greatest  short-coming  is  felt,  grass  seeds 
to  a  certain  extent,  say  ahalf,  may  be  ihrown  in  with  the 
crop  of  wheat  taken  after  fallow,  which  is  the  second 
year  of  the  rotation ;  this  part  may  be  pastured  for  three 
years,  and  broken  up  in  the  sixth  for  oats,  which  con- 
cludes the  course.  Again,  in  a  rotation  of  eight,  grass 
seeds,  in  like  manner,  may  be  sown  with  a  part  of  the 
fallow  wheat,  which  part  can  be  pastured  for  three  years, 
then  broken  up  for  oats,  succeeded  by  beans  and  wheat. 
By  such  arrangements,  made  according  to  circumstan- 
ces, it  is  an  easy  matter  to  preserve  a  regular  rotation, 
and  to  proportion  the  corn  crops  to  the  quantity  of  ma- 
nure collected  upon  the  premises. 

We  may  add,  that  the  practice  of  soiling  or  feeding 
horses  and  cattle  in  the  house  or  farm-yard,  is  eminently 
calculated  to  increase  the  quantity  of  manure  upon  every 
farm,  and  to  improve  its  quality. 

The  soiling  of  horses,  in  the  summer  months,  on 
green  clover  and  rye-grass,  is  a  [iractice  which  prevails 
in  every  corn  district  where  farm  labour  is  regularly 
executed.     The  utility  of  the  practice  does  not  need  tlie 


support  of  argument ;  for  it  is  not  only  economical  to 
the  farmer,  but  saves  much  fatigue  to  the  poor  animal : 
besides,  the  quantity  of  dung  thereby  gathered  is  consi- 
derable. 

Reflecting  upon  the  advantages  of  this  practice,  it  has 
often  occurred  to  us,  that  cattle,  i.  e.  oxen  and  cows  of 
all  sorts,  might  be  supported  and  fed  in  like  manner 
during  the  whole  of  the  grass  season.  It  is  well  known 
that  milch-cows  have,  in  several  instances,  been  so  kept; 
but  it  has  rarely  happened,  that  other  descriptions  of 
cattle  have  been  fed  for  the  butcher  according  to  this 
mode,  though  it  is  perfectly  practicable.  No  doubt  a 
considerable  degree  of  trouble  necessarily  attends  the 
measure,  but  this  is  an  objection  that  may  be  urged 
against  every  scheme  for  improvement.  It  was  urged 
against  summer-fallow  at  its  introduction,  and  is  still 
urged  in  several  districts  against  the  drilling  of  turnips. 
If  the  advantages,  however,  which  would  attend  a  gene- 
ral soiling,  exceed  the  trouble  which  it  occasions,  we 
apprehend  the  measure  is  not  to  be  combated  en  this 
ground. 

Let  anj'  person,  for  a  moment,  view  a  field  of  grass 
depastured  with  cattle,  especially  if  the  weather  is  wet, 
and  he  will  soon  be  convinced  of  the  great  loss  sustained 
from  the  feet  of  the  animals,  and  of  the  waste  which  is 
made  in  consequence  of  their  roaming  at  large.  Per- 
haps it  may  be  estimated,  that  in  general  cases  near 
one  half  of  the  grass  is  by  this  means  rendered  use- 
less ;  at  least  we  are  certain,  from  feeding  milch-cows 
in  the  house,  that  one  half  of  the  extent  of  land  wiU 
suffice  for  house-feeding,  that  is  required  when  depas- 
turing is  practised.  Probably  another  advantage  would 
follow.  The  land,  from  being  covered  with  grass,  would 
not  only  producean  increased  quantity,  but  also  be  great- 
ly benefited  by  the  exclusion  of  air  before  the  grass  was 
cut  or  removed.  When  dejiastured,  it  is  obvious  that 
none  of  these  things  can  happen.  If  the  grass  was  eaten  • 
any  thing  bare  in  the  beginning  of  the  season,  its  futur? 
growth  must  be  stopped  by  the  drought  which  usually 
prevails  in  the  early  part  of  summer ;  and  when  the 
ground  is  not  fully  covered  with  plants,  the  benefit  of  the 
grazing  system,  towards  the  improvement  of  land,  is 
only  partially  experienced. 

But  the  chief  benefit  of  soiling  may  be  considered  as 
arising  from  the  immense  quantity  of  fine  dung  which 
would  thus  be  accumulated,  and  which  can  be  returned 
to  the  ground  in  the  succeeding  season,  after  being  pro- 
perly fermented  and  pre|)ared.  In  all  corn  farms,  at  least 
those  of  clay  soils,  it  is  a  work  of  great  difficulty  to  rot 
the  straw  produced  upon  it ;  and  much  of  it  is  misap- 
plied in  consequence  of  such  soils  being  naturally  unfit 
for  raising  green  winter  crops.  A  sense  of  this  has  in- 
duced many  farmers  to  attempt  turnips  in  situations  not 
qualified  for  raising  them  with  profit ;  but  even  these 
attemi)ts,  though  in  some  respects  useful,  by  converting 
a  part  of  the  straw  into  dung,  do  not  fully  answ  er  the  in- 
tended purpose.  The  superfluity  which  remains  after 
the  turnip  season  is  over,  (and  this  upon  corn  farms  often 
exceeds  a  third  of  the  crop,)  is  seldom  used  in  a  benefi- 
cial way.  If  stacked  in  the  yard,  it  is  bleached  and  dried 
by  the  sun  and  wind ;  and  when  used  in  the  next  season, 
is  found  to  be  unfit  for  the  support  of  animals,  being 
divested  of  the  powers  which  it  originally  possessed.  If 
a  numerous  stock  of  cattle  were  kept  either  in  the  house, 
or  in  separate  divisions  of  the  fold-yard,  all  the  straw 
thrashed  in  the  summer  months  might  be  immediately 
converted  into  dung,  the  quality  of  which  would  be  equal. 


iM 


AGRICULTURE. 


if  not  superior,  to  what  is  made  from  turnips  consumed 
at  the  stake. 

To  carry  on  this  mode  of  feeding  in  a  regular  way, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  have  a  considerable  quantity 
of  tares  sown  at  different  times,  so  that  the  interval 
betwixt  the  first  and  second  crop  of  clover  might  be 
filled  up.  Perhaps  early  sown  turnips  might  prove  an 
useful  substitute.  A  stack  of  hay  would  also  be  neces- 
sary, in  the  event  of  bad  weather  setting  in,  or  circum- 
stances occurring  to  prevent  a  regular  supply  of  green 
food. 

From  considering  the  time  taken  to  cut  and  bring 
home  grass  for  farm  horses,  we  are  led  to  think,  that 
one  man  and  a  boy,  with  a  single  horse  cart,  would  be 
able  to  sup\)ly  thirty  head  of  ordinary  sized  cattle  with 
cut  grass,  if  the  crop  was  middling  good,  say  one  that 
would  yield  two  hundred  stones  of  hay  per  acre,  and 
the  distance  of  the  field  from  the  homestead  not  exceed- 
ing half  a  mile.  If  the  beasts  were  tied  to  a  stake,  it 
tvould  require  an  additional  hand  to  litter  and  clean 
them;  but  in  small  fold-yards,  well  sujiplied  with  wa- 
ter,  and  |)rovided  with  a  shade  to  whicli  the  animals 
might  retire  in  a  hot  sunny  day,  this  mode  of  feeding 
would  be  most  eligibly  executed.  Perhaps  the  number 
put  into  each  yanl  should  not  exceed  six  or  eight,  and 
they  should  be  as  equally  matched  as  possible. 

In  this  way  the  farmer  of  clay  soils  may  be  equally 
benefited  by  green  crops,  as  those  of  a  light  and  gravelly 
nature,  where  turnips  are  generally  raised.  The  only 
difference  would  be,  that  they  would  feed  at  different 
seasons,  or  at  the  time  best  suited  to  the  circumstances 
in  which  they  are  placed.  Dung,  as  has  been  already 
said,  is  the  mother  of  good  crops;  and  it  appears  that  no 
plan  can  be  devised  by  which  a  large  quantity  can  be  so 
easily  and  cheai)!y  gathered,  or  by  which  straw  can  be 
so  etiectually  rotted  and  rendered  beneficial  to  the  oc- 
'cupier  of  a  clay  land  farm,  as  the  soiling  of  grass  in  the 
summer  season.  The  author  of  this  article  here  speaks 
from  experience,  having  practised  the  soiling  system  for 
several  years ;  and  without  saying  more  in  its  favour, 
can  safely  state,  that  the  quantity,  and,  what  i»  still  of 
greater  importance,  that  the  qualify  of  liis  dung  has 
thereby  been  greatly  extended  and  improved.  In  a 
word,  the  dung  of  animals  fed  upon  green  clover,  may 
justly  be  reckoned  the  richest  of  all  clung.  It  may,  from 
the  circumstances  of  the  season,  be  rapidly  pre|)ared, 
and  may  be  applied  to  the  ground  at  a  very  early  period, 
much  earlier  than  any  other  sort  of  dung  can  l)e  used 
with  advantage.  The  subject  will  afterwards  be  noticed, 
when  the  management  of  grass  land  is  under  considera- 
tion, and  the  advantages  arising  from  it  will  be  more 
particularly  described. 

Sect.  II. 
Of  Compost  Middens. 

The  use  of  manure  in  the  shape  of  compost,  or  ingre- 
dients of  various  qualities,  mixed  together  in  certain 
proportions,  has  long  been  a  favourite  practice  with 
many  farmers ;  though  it  is  only  in  particular  situations 
that  the  practice  can  be  extensively  or  profitably  exe- 
cuted. The  ingredients  used  in  these  composts  are 
chiefly  earth  and  lime ;  sometimes  dung,  where  the  earth 
is  poor ;  but  lime  may  be  regarded  as  the  main  agent  of 
the  process,  acting  as  a  stimulus  for  bringing  the  powers 
of  the  heap  into  action.  Lime,  in  this  view,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  kind  of  yeast,  operating  upon  a  heap  of  earth 


as  yeast  does  upon  flour  or  Meal.  It  is  obvious,  there- 
fore, that  unless  a  sufRcient  quantity  is  given,  the  heap 
may  remain  unfermented ;  in  which  cate  little  benefit 
will  be  derived  from  it  as  a  manure. 

The  best  kind  of  earth  for  compost  is  that  of  the  allu- 
vi;d  sort,  which  is  always  of  a  rich  greasy  substance, 
often  mixed  with  marl,  and  in  every  respect  well  calcu- 
lated to  enrich  and  invigorate  barren  soils,  especially  if 
they  are  of  a  light  and  open  texture.  Old  yards,  deep 
head-lands,  and  scourings  of  ditches,  offer  themselves 
also  as  the  basis  of  compost  middens  ;  but  it  is  proper  to 
summer-fallow  tliem  beforehand,  so  that  they  may  be 
entirely  free  of  weeds.  M'hen  the  lime  is  mixed  with 
the  soil  of  these  middens,  repeated  turnings  are  necessa- 
ry, that  the  whole  may  be  suitably  fermented ;  and  some 
care  is  required  to  apply  the  fermented  mass  at  a  pro- 
per time  to  the  field  on  which  it  is  to  be  used. 

The  formation  and  conveyance  of  compost^being  ex- 
pensive, it  becomes  an  important  object  to  save  labour  in 
the  previous  steps  of  preparation,  and  in  the  concluding 
one  of  applying  it  to  the  soil.  The  first  part  of  the  ob- 
ject is  gained  by  using  horse  instead  of  manual  labour, 
when  the  lime  is  incorporated  with  the  earth,  and  when 
the  after  turnings  are  bestowed;  and  the  other  is  lessen* 
ed  considerably  when  the  com|)Ost  is  laid  on  a  field  ad- 
joining the  one  where  it  is  prepared. 

A  few  words  may  be  necessary  with  respect  to  the 
quantity  of  lime  required  to  produce  a  suitable  fermen- 
tation, though  here  ive  can  at  best  but  speak  at  random, 
because  the  proper  quantity  falls  to  be  regulated  by  the 
nature  of  the  earth  which  is  meant  to  be  used  as  the  ba- 
sis of  the  future  compost.  As  the  quantity  of  the  com- 
post to  be  after^vards  applied  to  the  soil  must,  however, 
be  ascertained  by  its  quality,  and  as  sixty  cubic  yards  of 
alluvial  compost  may  be  viewed  as  containing  the  same 
portion  of  nutritive  substance,  as  one  hundred  yards  of 
headlands  and  ditch  scourings,  we  shall  assume  eighty 
yards  as  a  medium  dose  for  a  Scotch  acre  of  ground,  and 
from  this  datum  endeavour  to  fix  the  ([uantity  of  lime 
that  is  required,  From  trials  that  we  have  frequently 
made,  it  appears,  that  two  bushels  of  lime  shells,  Win- 
chester measure,  will  sufficiently  ferment  a  cubic  yard  of 
earth  of  a  medium  quality;  therefore,  that  forty  bolls  of 
lime-shells,  wheat  measure,  or  twenty-six  and  two-thirds 
barley  measure,  are  required  to  ferment  compost  for  an 
acre  of  ground,  where  the  basis  consists  of  ordinary  ma- 
terials. This  goes  upon  the  supposition  that  an  adjnix- 
ture  is  regularly  conducted,  and  that  eighty  cubic  yards 
of  the  compost  is  sufficient  to  impregnate  or  enrich  the 
field  on  which  it  is  to  be  applied. 

The  benefit  of  such  a  compost  in  nourishing  soils  is 
even  greater  than  what  is  gained  by  dressing  them  with 
dung ;  though  it  is  to  be  regretted,  that  it  rarely  happens, 
where  such  soils  are  predominant,  that  materials  such  as 
we  have  recommended  can  be  procured  in  any  quantity. 
Another  sort  of  compost  has  therefore  been  recently 
tried,  and  with  tolerable  success.  Should  a  repetition 
prove  equally  successful,  or  the  first  trials  be  fully  con- 
firmed by  the  experience  of  others,  agriculture  will  be 
benefited  in  a  quarter  where  the  art  was  hitherto  consi- 
dered as  naturally  incapable  of  improvement. 

On  this  subject,  lord  Meadowbank,  one  of  our  su- 
preme judges,  has  lately  favoured  the  public  with  a  small 
pamphlet,  containing  directions  for  making  compost 
dunghills  of  peat-moss.  We  therefore  use  the  freedom 
of  borrow  ing  his  lordship's  directions,  trustingthat  there- 
by the  public  good  may  in  some  measure  be  promoted. 


AGRICULTURE. 


265 


"  Let  the  peat-rao3s  of  which  compost  is  to  be 
formed  be  thrown  out  of  the  pit  for  some  weeks  or 
months,  in  order  to  lose  its  redundant  moisture.  By  this 
means  it  is  rendered  the  lighter  to  carry,  and  less  com- 
pact and  weighty,  when  made  up  with  fresh  dung  for 
fermentation ;  and,  accordingly,  less  dung  is  required 
for  the  purpose  than  if  the  preparation  is  made  with 
peat  taken  rec«ntly  from  the  i)it.  The  peat  (alien  from 
near  the  surface,  or  at  a  considerable  depth,  answers 
equally  well. 

"  Take  the  peat-moss  to  a  dry  spot,  convenient  for 
constructing  a  dunghill  to  serre  the  field  to  be  manur- 
ed. Lay  tlie  cart-loads  of  it  in  t(\o  rows,  and  of  the 
dung  in  a  row  betwixt  them.  The  dung  thus  lies  nearly 
on  area  ol'  the  future  compost  dunghill,  and  the  rows 
of  peat  should  be  near  enough  each  other,  that  work- 
men,in  makinguptheconipost,may  Ijeable  to  throw  them 
together  by  the  spade.  In  making  u|),  let  the  workmen 
begin  at  one  end ;  and  at  the  extremity  of  the  row  of 
dung,  (which  should  not  extend  quite  so  far  at  that  end 
as  the  rows  of  peats  on  each  side  of  it  do,)  let  them  lay 
a  bottom  of  peat  six  inches  deep  and  tifleen  feet  wide, 
if  the  grounds  admit  of  it;  then  throw  forward,  and  lay 
on,  about  ten  inches  of  dung  above  the  bottom  of  peat ; 
then  adil  from  the  side  rows  about  six  inches  of  peat; 
then  four  or  five  of  dung,  and  then  six  more  tf  peat ; 
then  another  thin  layer  of  dung ;  and  then  cover  ii  over 
witfi  peat  at  the  end  where  it  was  begun,  at  the  two 
sides,  and  above.  The  compost  shoukl  not  be  raised 
above  four  f^et,  or  four  feet  and  a  half  high;  other- 
wise, it  is  apt  to  press  too  heavily  on  (he  under  partg, 
and  check  the  fermentHtion.  When  a  beginning  is  thus 
made,  the  workmen  will  proceed  working  backwards, 
and  adding  to  the  column  of  compost,  as  they  are  fup- 
nished  with  the  three  rows  of  materials  directed  to  be 
laid  down  for  them.  They  must  take  care  not  to  tread 
on  the  compost,  or  render  it  too  compact ;  and  of  con- 
sequence, in  proportion  as  the  peat  is  wet,  it  should  be 
made  up  in  lumps,  and  not  much  broken. 

"  In  mild  weather  seven  cart-loads  of  common  farm- 
dung,  tolerably  fresh  made,  is  sufficient  for  twenty-one 
cart-loads  of  peat-moss ;  but  in  cold  weather  a  larger 
proportion  of  dung  is  desirable-  To  every  twenty-eight 
carts  of  the  compost,  when  made  up,  it  is  of  use  to  throw 
on  above  it  a  cart-load  of  ashes,  either  made  from  coal, 
peat,  or  wood ;  or,  if  these  cannot  be  had,  half  the  quan- 
tity of  slacked  lime  may  be  used;  the  more  finely 
powdered  the  better.  But  these  additions  are  nowise 
essential  to  the  general  success  of  the  compost. 

"  The  dung  to  be  used  should  either  have  been  re- 
cently made,  or  kept  fresh  by  compression ;  as  by  the 
treading  of  cattle  or  swine,  or  by  carts  passing  over  it. 
And  if  there  is  little  or  no  litter  in  it,  a  smaller  quantity 
will  serve,  [)rovided  any  spongy  vegetable  matter  is 
added  at  making  up  the  compost,  as  fresh  weeds,  the 
rubbish  of  a  st.ick-yard,  potatoe-shaws,  sawings  of  tim- 
ber, &c.  And  as  some  sorts  of  dung,  even  when  fresh, 
are  much  more  advanced  in  decomposition  than  othei-s, 
it  is  material  to  attend  to  this;  for  a  much  less  propoi^ 
tion  of  such  dung  as  is  less  advanced  will  serve  for  the 
compost,  provided  care  is  taken  to  keep  the  mass  suffi- 
ciently open,  either  by  a  mixture  of  the  above  mentioned 
eubstauces,  or,  if  these  are  wanting,  by  adrling  the  peat 
piece-meal ;  that  is,  first  making  it  Uj)  in  the  usual  pro- 
portion of  three  to  one  of  dung;  and  tijc'i,  inter  a  time, 
adding  an  equal  quantity,  more  or  losS;  of  mosi.     The 

Vol.  I.     Part  F 


dung  of  this  character,  of  greatest  quantity,  is  shamble 
dung,  with  which,  imder  the  above  precautions,  six 
times  the  quantity  of  pea(,  or  more,  may  be  prepared. 
The  same  holds  as  to  pigeon  dung,  and  other  fowl  dung; 
and,  to  a  certain  extent  also,  as  to  that  which  is  collect- 
ed from  towns,  and  made  by  animals  that  feed  on  grains, 
refuse  of  distilleries,  &c. 

"  The  compost,  after  it  is  made  up,  gets  into%  general 
heat,  sooner  or  later,  according  to  the  weather  and  the 
condition  of  the  dung  :  In  summer,  in  ten  days  or  sooner; 
in  winter,  not  perhaps  for  many  weeks,  if  the  cold  is 
severe.  It  always,  however,  has  been  found  to  come  ou 
at  last ;  and,  in  summer,  it  sometimes  rises  so  high  as 
to  be  mischievous,  by  consuming  the  materials  (fire- 
fanging.)  In  that  season,  a  stick  should  be  kept  in  it  in 
dilferent  parts,  to  pull  out  and  feel  now  and  then  ;  for,  if 
it  approaches  to  blootl-beat,  it  should  either  be  watered 
or  turned  over;  and  on  such  an  occasion  advantage 
may  be  taken  to  mix  it  with  a  little  fresh  moss.  The 
heat  subsides,  after  a  time,  and  with  great  variety,  ac- 
cording to  the  weather,  the  dung,  and  the  perfection  of 
the  making  up  of  the  compost;  which  then  should  be 
allowed  to  remain  untouched,  till  within  three  weeks  of 
using,  when  it  should  he  turned  over  upside  down,  and 
outside  in,  and  all  lumps  broken :  then  it  comes  into  a 
second  heat ;  but  soon  cools,  and  should  be  taken  out  for 
use.  In  this  state,  the  whole,  except  bits  of  the  old  de- 
cayed wood,  appears  a  black  free  mass,  and  spreads  like 
garden  mould.  Use  it,  weight  for  weight,  as  farm-yard 
dung;  and  it  will  be  found,  in  a  course  of  cropping, 
fully  to  stand  the  comparison. 

"  Let  it  be  observed,  that  (he  object  in  making  up  the 
compost,  is  to  form  as  large  a  hot-bed  as  the  quantity  of 
Jung  employed  admits  of,  and  then  to  surround  it  on  all 
sides,  so  as  to  have  the  whole  benefit  of  the  heat  and  ef- 
fluvia. Peat  nearly  as  dry  as  gartlen-mould  in  seed-time 
may  be  mixed  with  the  dung,  so  as  to  double  the  volume 
and  more  of  it.  Workmen  must  begin  with  using  lay- 
ers; but,  when  accustomed  to  the  just  proportions,  if 
they  are  furnished  with  peat  motlerately  dry,  and  dung 
not  lost  in  litter,  they  throw  it  up  together  as  a  mixed 
mass;  and  they  improve  in  the  art,  so  as  to  make  a  less 
proportion  of  dung  serve  for  the  preparation, 

"  The  addition  recommended  of  ashes  or  lime  to  the 
compost,  is  thought  to  favour  the  general  perfection  of 
the  preparation,  and  to  hasten  the  second  heat.  The 
lime  laid  on  above  the  dunghill,  as  directed,  is  rendered 
raihl  by  the  vapours  that  escape  during  the  first  heat. 

"  Compost,  made  up  before  January,  has  hitherto  been 
in  good  order  for  the  spring  crops ;  but  this  may  not  hap- 
pen in  a  long  frost.  In  summer,  it  is  ready  in  eight  or 
tei)  weeks ;  and  if  there  is  an  anxiety  to  have  it  soon 
prepared,  the  addition  of  ashes,  or  of  a  little  lime  rub- 
bish of  old  buildings,  or  of  lime  slacked  with  foul  water, 
applied  to  the  dung  used  in  making  up,  will  quicken  the 
process  considerably. 

"  Lime  has  been  mixed  previously  with  the  peat ;  but 
the  compost  prepared  with  that  mixture,  or  with  the 
simple  peat,  seemed  to  produce  equally  good  crops. 
All  the  land,  however,  that  it  has  been  tried  on,  has  been 
limed  more  or  less  within  these  twenty-five  yearsv 

"  The  rich  coarse  earth  which  is  frequently  found  on 

the  surface  of  peat  is  too  heavy  to  be  admitted  into  this 

compost;    but  it  makes  an  excellent  top-dressing,  if 

previously  mixed  and  turned  over  with  liiiie. 

"  Peat  prepared  with  linie  alone  has  not  been  found 

LI 


266 


AGRICULTURE. 


to  answer  as  a  good  manure.  In  one  instance,  viz.  on  a 
bit  of  fallow,  sown  with  wheat,  it  was  manifestly  per- 
nicious."' 

Sect.  III. 

Of  Lime. 

Lime  has  been  regarded  by  some  as  a  manure,  by 
others  as  a  stimulus,  which  can  only  be  profitably  ap- 
plied where  the  soil  possesses  some  dormant  principle 
of  fertility  that  needs  to  be  roused  into  action.  In  fact, 
the  modus  operandi  of  lime  is  imperfectly  understood, 
though  the  greater  part  of  agriculturists  seem  pretty 
well  acquainted  with  its  effects.  It  is  sufficiently  un- 
derstood that  land  which  has  been  long  in  grass  contains 
much  vegetable  matter,  and  that  the  trouble  and  ex- 
pense of  liming  it  will  be  amply  repaid  to  the  cultivator; 
but  the  propriety  of  applying  lime  on  old  arable  lands 
has  been  questioned,  and  with  much  justice,  by  the  most 
part  of  practical  agriculturists ;  and  their  doubts  on  that 
head  are  confirmed  by  the  fullest  experience.  If  lime 
were  a  manure,  then  it  would  be  a  noble  substance  for 
enriching  and  restoring  fertility  to  lands  that  were  worn 
out  by  a  succession  of  corn  crops ;  but  as  worn  out  land 
is  not  restored  to  fertility  by  the  application  of  lime,  we 
are  warranted  to  rank  it  in  a  ditTerent  class,  or  to  speak 
more  correctly,  as  an  article  cafculated  to  bring  certain 
principles  into  action  which  were  previously  possessed 
by  the  soil.  This  conclusion  is  sanctioned  by  experience; 
and  experience  is  a  far  better  guide  than  the  most  plau- 
sible theory. 

Lime  has  been  used  with  very  great  success  in  every 
part  of  Great  Britain,  though  it  is  evident  that  the  gross- 
est errors  have  been  committed  in  the  after  manage- 
ment of  land  to  which  lime  has  been  applied  :  and,  what 
is  worse,  that  the  extent  of  these  errors  was  in  direct 
proportion  to  the  effect  produced  upon  the  soil  by  the  ap- 
plication. This  remark  applies  more  to  the  former 
state  of  husbandry  than  to  the  present  practice,  because 
the  former  rule  was  to  crop  so  long  as  the  earth  would 
make  a  good  return,  without  considering  that  a  field  so 
treated  was  not  to  be  recovered  for  a  century  afterwards. 
Indeed,  when  lime  duly  operates,  the  whole  powers  of 
the  soil  are  put  in  a  state  of  requisition,  and  may  be  forc- 
ed to  act  till  the  very  soul  of  vegetation  is  extracted. 
It  is  scarcely  practicable  to  restore  fertility  to  land,  even 
of  the  best  natural  quality,  which  has  been  thus  abused ; 
at  least  a  considerable  period  must  elapse  before  it  can 
be  restored  to  its  original  fertility ;  but  thin  moorish  soils, 
after  being  exhausted  by  lime,  are  not  to  be  restored. 
To  lime  them  a  second  time,  is  not  only  a  useless  expen- 
diture of  labour  and  money,  but  also  productive  of  se- 
rious mischief.  Soils  of  this  description,  after  a  second 
iiming,  are  apt  to  singe  and  burn  the  grain  that  is  sown 
upon  them,  and  even  when  dunged,  not  to  make  such  a 
return  as  would  have  been  rendered  under  different  cir- 
cumstances. 

It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  say  at  wliat  period  the  use  of 
lime  was  first  introduced  into  Britain  ;  but  as  it  was  well 
known  to  the  Romans,  there  is  good  reason  to  believe 
that  by  this  ingenious  people  the  use  of  it  was  first 
brought  into  practice  in  this  island.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
this  mineral,  after  undergoing  the  |irocess  of  calcination, 
has  long  been  applied  by  British  husbandmen  as  a  stimu- 
lus to  the  soil,  and,  in  consequence  of  such  an  applica- 
tion, luxuriant  crops  have  been  produced,  even  upon 
soils  apparently  of  inferior  quality,  and  which  would 


have  yielded  crops  of  trifling  value,  had  this  auxiliary 
been  withheld.  In  fact,  the  majority  of  soils  cannot  be 
cultivated  with  advantage  till  they  are  dressed  with 
lime ;  and  whether  this  beneficial  effect  shall  be  con- 
sidered as  an  alterative,  or  as  a  stimulant,  or  as  a  ma- 
nure, it  will  be  found  to  be  the  basis  of  good  husbandry, 
and  of  more  use  than  all  other  manures  put  together. 
Wherever  lime  has  been  properly  applied,  it  has  con- 
stantly been  found  to  prove  as  much  superior  to  dung,  as 
dung  is  to  the  rakings  of  roads,  or  the  produce  of  a 
peat  mire. 

From  a  pretty  long  experience,  and  considerable  at- 
tention to  the  operation  of  lime,  we  are  inclined  to  think, 
that  it  acts  both  as  an  alterative  and  a  stimulant,  opera- 
ting in  the  one  case  as  a  medicine  that  changes  the  na- 
ture of  the  soil,  and  in  the  other,  as  rousing,  or  bringing 
into  action,  the  vegetable  powers  contained  in  the  soil, 
which,  without  such  an  ai)plication,  would  have  remained 
dormant  and  inactive.  These  opinions,  we  know,  are 
ditTerent  from  what  have  been  maintained  by  several  in- 
genious men  on  the  subject;  but  they  are  supported  by 
the  result  of  numerous  trials,  undertaken  to  ascertain 
how,  and  in  what  manner,  lime  operated  upon  the  soil, 
and  whether  it  could  be  used  in  a  hot  or  effete  state  with 
the  most  advantage.  On  these  points,  theoretical  writers 
are  apt  to  fall  into  mistakes ;  and  therefore  every  theory 
not  formed  from  facts,  must  be  viewed  as  a  romance 
which  may  amuse,  but  cannot  instruct  agriculturists. 

The  writer  of  this  article,  for  a  period  of  thirty  years, 
has  been  in  the  regular  habit  of  applying  considerable 
quantities  of  lime ;  indeed  few  of  his  profession  have 
used  more  of  this  useful  article.  In  the  majority  of 
cases,  the  application  has  been  highly  beneficial  to  his 
interest,  changing  in  a  manner  the  very  nature  of  the 
soil,  and  causing  it  to  produce  the  most  abundant  crops; 
whereas  in  others  the  article  has  been  altogether  use- 
less, and  in  some  instances  the  a|)plication  has  been 
followed  by  mischief  instead  of  benefit.  As  most  of  these 
trials  were  executed  upon  a  large  scale,  and  upon  soils 
of  almost  every  dilTerent  quality,  more  benefit  may  be 
gathered  from  a  succinct  account  of  them  than  from  a 
long  chain  of  argument.  The  trials  are  fairly  stated, 
and  the  results  may  perhaps  throw  some  light  upon  this 
abstruse  subject. 

It  is  proper  to  premise  that  a  good  deal  of  uncertainty 
prevails  with  agriculturists  respecting  the  application 
of  this  article ;  and  that  much  dispute  has  taken  place 
among  those  who  have  applied  it  only  to  one  kind  of 
soil,  or  who  have  not  used  it  under  different  circumstan- 
ces. Some  have  contended  that  lime  ought  to  be  ap- 
plied only  when  it  is  in  a  hot  powdered  state  ;  and  that 
when  it  becomes  effete  the  effects  are  comparatively 
trifling  and  unavailing.  Others  maintain,  that  grass 
land  is  the  hest  bed  for  the  rece|)tion  of  lime,  while  many 
of  our  most  enlightened  farmers  strenuously  affirm  that 
it  is  most  judiciously  used  when  the  land  gets  a  complete 
summer-fallow.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  prove 
that  each  class  of  disputants,  in  the  view  they  take  of  the 
subject,  are  equally  in  the  right ;  and  that  they  only  con- 
demn the  system  of  others  because  their  own  has 
turned  out  to  be  successful.  Our  opinion  is,  that,  in 
every  case  where  the  land  is  constitutionally  disposed  to 
receive  benefit  from  a  calcareous  dressing,  that  is,  when 
it  is  refreshed  by  grass,  or  enriched  by  dung,  it  is  of 
little  importance,  in  respect  of  operation,  whether  lime 
is  applied  hot  or  effete  ;  upon  grass  land,  or  upon  fallow  ; 
and  that  conveiBJence  ought  chiefly  to  be  studied,  when 


AGRICULTURE. 


267 


tlie  most  proper  time  for  applying  Uie  article  is  to  be 
ascertained.  In  point  of  economy,  tliere  can  be  no 
doubt,  but  that  lime  is  most  economically  used,  when 
laid  upon  land  hot  from  the  kiln  :  this  mode  also  lessens 
the  expense  of  labour  considerably  ;  consequently  the 
practice  of  using  it  when  effete  is  more  expensive.  It 
is  obvious,  however,  that  a  choice  of  season  is  not  al- 
ways in  the  farmer's  power ;  and  that  imposing  neces- 
sity often  obliges  him  to  lay  on  lime  when  com|)letely 
effete.  Repeated  trials,  however,  have  convinced  us, 
that  its  operations  are  efjually  beneficial  in  the  one  state 
as  in  the  other;  though  the  expense  in  the  last  case,  as 
already  said,  is  greater  than  in  the  former.  With  regard 
to  the  other  branch  of  dis|mte,  whether  land  in  grass  or 
land  in  fallow  is  the  most  proper  bed  for  the  reception 
of  lime,  we  are  of  opinion  that  the  dilTerence  is  imma- 
terial. If  grass  land  is  clean,  and  if  lime  can  be  got  for- 
ward at  the  time,  the  application  will  be  as  efficacious 
upon  it  as  upon  the  richest  and  best  wrought  summer- 
fallow. 

That  these  things  are  not  matter  of  opinion,  we  mean 
to  show,  by  detailing  the  results  of  the  trials  made  to 
ascertain  the  facts.  To  render  these  details  more  per- 
fect, we  shall  mention  the  nature  of  the  surface  and  sub- 
soil upon  which  the  several  trials  were  made,  and  ex- 
plain the  state  of  the  ground  at  the  time ;  and,  when 
necessary,  the  management  practised  for  a  series  of 
years  afterwards. 

Field,  No.  1.  was  soil  chiefly  composed  of  tiiin  clay, 
some  of  it  approaching  to  a  moorish  qualify,  i.  e.  mixed 
with  peat  earth  ;  the  whole  incumbent  upon  a  subsoil 
retentive  of  moisture. 

■  This  field  had  been  in  grass  for  several  years,  but 
yielded  very  poor  returns.  It  was  fallowed  without 
taking  any  corn  crop ;  and  the  lime  which  was  brought 
ft)rward  during  the  summer  months,  was  aj>plied  in  the 
following  spring,  previous  to  the  seed  furrow  being 
s;iven.  At  that  time,  it  was  completely  effete,  and  would 
hardly  go  from  the  shovels.  About  45  Linlithgow  bar- 
ley bolls,  or  280  Winchester  bushels,  as  originally  laid 
down,  were  applied  to  each  Scottish  statute  acre. 

First  year — The  crop  was  oats,  but  little  benefit  was 
discovered  from  the  lime. 

Second  year — The  ground  began  to  ferment,  which 
showed  that  the  lime  was  in  action.  The  husbandry 
of  flax  being  then  in  vogue,  it  was  tried  upon  this  field  ; 
and  the  crop  was  excellent,  both  in  respect  of  flax  and 
seed. 

Thirdycar — It  was  sown  with  gray  pease  after  two 
furrows,  which  returned  a  great  bulk  of  straw,  but  not 
much  grain.  The  clay  part  of  the  field  was  now  quite 
Joose  and  free,  while  the  moorish  soil  seemed  more 
compact  and  firm. 

Fourlhycar — Red  wlieat  was  sown,  which  turned  out 
a  bulky  crop,  though  the  season  was  adverse.  The  straw 
was  hard,  bright,  reedy,  and  of  great  length.  Perhaps 
the  greatest  quantity  of  dung  applied  at  once  would 
not  have  produced  such  a  crop. 

Fifth  year — The  field  was  summer-fallowed,  but  no 
dung  was  applied. 

Here  it  may,  with  justice,  be  urged,  that  a  great 
error  was  committed  in  withholding  dung  at  this  stage  ; 
and  it  is  acknowledged,  that  a  dose  of  manure,  had  cir- 
cumstances permitted,  could  not  have  been  more  bene- 
ficially bestowed.  In  vindication  of  the  management 
practised,  we  may  only  state,  that  at  the  period  in  ques- 
(ioii  dung  was  a  very  scarce  article  upon  the  farm; 


and  that  many  fields  would  not  crop  at  all  if  it  was  with- 
held. The  one  under  consideration  appeared  quite 
capable  of  carrying  several  more  crops,  without  assist- 
ance ;  consequently,  viewing  the  economy  of  the  farm 
as  a  whole,  it  was  thought  preferable  to  act  in  the  man- 
ner described.  Many  things  are  eligible  in  general 
management  which  cannot  be  individually  executed ; 
and,  as  in  public  aflairs,  a  partial  evil  must  often  be  com- 
mitted to  promote  the  general  good. 

Sixth  year — The  field  was  sown  with  oats,  and  pro- 
duced a  heavy  crop,  both  of  straw  and  corn.  Grass 
seeds  were  sown  with  the  oats. 

Seventh  year — The  field  was  depastured  with  cattle. 
The  grass  was  but  inditferent,  which  is  a  common  cir- 
cumstance upon  new  limed  land ;  at  least  where  a  heavy 
dose  is  given.  This  induced  us  to  plough  it  again  in 
the  succeeding  spring. 

Eighth  year — Oats  were  sown,  which  yielded  a  de- 
cent crop. 

Ninth  year — The  field  was  thoroughly  summer  fal- 
lowed and  dunged,  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  double  loads  to 
the  Scottish  acre.     Wheat  was  sown. 

Tenth  year — The  crop  of  wheat  was  excellent,  being 
not  only  bulky,  but  of  fine  quality. 

Eleventh  year — Oats  and  grass  seeds  were  sown,  and 
the  ground  surrendered  to  pasture.  Since  that  time 
it  has  been  a  few  years  under  corn ;  and  though  the 
produce  of  these  crops  cannot,  by  any  exertion,  be  made 
to  equal  those  which  are  enumerated;  yet  the  soil  is 
evidently  much  improved  in  every  respect,  when  com- 
pared with  its  original  state,  previous  to  the  lime  be- 
ing applied. 

Field,  No.  2.  was  a  real  moorish  soil,  incumbent  upon 
a  close  bottom,  which  had  been  over-cropped  after 
lime,  by  a  former  tenant. 

We  began  with  a  summer-fallow,  and  applied  a  part 
of  the  same  kind  of  lime  which  answered  so  well  upon 
field  No.  1.  The  lime  was  laid  on  during  a  hard  black 
frost,  at  the  rate  of  35  bolls,  or  210  bushels  per  acre, 
and  was  then  effete.  Oats  were  sown ;  but  the  crop 
was  a  i)oor  one,  and  the  after  attempts  were  not  more 
successful.  The  stalk  of  the  plant  generally  sm^crf  and 
decayed,  after  the  strength  of  the  seed  pickle  was 
gone ;  which  is  a  sure  proof  of  ground  being  ivorn  out 
with  lime.  This  will  always  happen,  though  in  different 
degrees,  upon  all  such  land,  unless  a  considerable  quan- 
tity of  dung  is  bestowed ;  which,  unfortunately,  in  this 
instance,  was  not  the  case. 

Field,  No.  3. — The  soil  was  of  a  moorish  quality,  but 
superior  to  that  of  No.  2. 

We  fallowed  the  field  out  of  grass,  and  applied  lime 
Iiot  from  the  kiln ;  but  the  consequences  were  much  the 
same  as  mentioned  in  the  preceding  instance.  The 
oat-croi)  looked  brisk  at  first,  but  decayed  daily,  as  the 
strength  of  the  pickle  was  exhausted.  Tried  dung 
with  a  second  fallow,  when  the  lime  appeared  to  ope- 
rate in  a  trifling  degree,  but  not  to  that  extent  as  to 
repay  the  expense  incurred. 

Field,  No.  4. — The  soil  was  partly  thin  clay,  the  re- 
mainder of  a  soft  sandy  nature,  but  all  upon  a  wet 
bottom. 

This  field  had  lain,  for  a  great  many  years,  in  grass, 
ana  displayed  no  signs  of  having  been  previously  limed. 
We  applied  the  lijne  upon  the  grass  surface,  when  it 
was  effete,  and  ploughed  for  oats  :  the  crop  good.  The 
lime  did  not  come  into  full  action  till  the  third  year, 
when  pease  were  sown ;  and,  for  a  number  of  yeare 
L12 


^s» 


AGRICULTURE. 


aftenvarils,  the  different  crops  taken  were  not  inferior  to 
those  of  the  best  in   field. 

Field,  No.  5. — Tlie  goil  was  chiefly  a  soft  loam  upon 
a  wet  bottom ;  which,  at  any  rate,  had  not  been  limed 
since  the  ridges  were  levelled  and  straiglhened. 

We  summer  fallowed  this  field,  after  a  crop  of  wheat, 
and  dutiged  it  substantially,  as  it  appeared  to  be  in  an 
exhausted  state.  We  applied  lime  hot  from  the  kiln, 
at  the  rate  of  40  bolls,  or  240  bushels  per  acre,  wliich 
operated  immediately.  It  is  now  sixteen  years  since 
tlie  application;  during  which  time  the  field  has  been 
only  three  years  in  grass,  and  yet  its  eflects  have  not 
ceased. 

Field,  No.  6.— The  soil  was  a  strong  loam  incumbent 
upon  clay,  which  had  carried  five  crops  of  grain  after 
being  ploughed  from  old  grass. 

We  summer  fallowed  and  dunged  this  field ;  applied 
lime  also,  which  was  laid  on  hot  from  the  kiln,  in  the 
month  of  August,  after  six  |)loughings  were  given. 
The  quantity  applied  was  forty  barley  bolls  per  acre ; 
which,  in  less  than  a  month,  occasioned  a  fermentation 
of  the  soil,  something  similar  to  what  is  produced  by 
yeast  upon  uubaken  bread.  In  one  respect,  the  improve- 
ment made  upon  this  field  by  lime  was  conspicuous. 
Barley  could,  with  difficulty,  be  raised  before  lime  was 
used;  whereas,  afterwards,  fine  crops  of  this  grain  were 
procured  with  facility.  The  ground  was  likewise 
much  easier  ploughed  and  harrowed  than  formerly, 
which  is  always  a  sure  token  of  an  improvement  being 
accomplished. 

Field,  No.  7. — The  soil  was  generally  a  thin  shaq> 
loam,  a  great  part  of  it  incumbent  upon  a  close  bottom. 
It  had  been  three  years  in  grass,  and  was  sown  down  in 
gootl  order;  and,  therefore,  was  a  proper  subject  for 
receiving  lime  upon  the  sward.  There  was  reason  to 
believe  that  lime  had  been  applied  by  a  former  tenant, 
but  this  was  not  certain.  Alter  harvest,  we  laid  on 
from  thirty-five  to  forty  bolls  per  acre,  not  thinking  the 
soil  required  a  heavy  dose.  It  was  partly  hot,  and 
partly  effete,  as  generally  happens  at  that  season  of  the 
year. 

First  year,  oats  were  taken ;  the  crop  good.  Second 
year,  drilled  beans,  with  intervals  of  twenty-seven  in- 
ches; the  ground  being  twice  ploughed  before  sowing, 
and  four  times  horse-hoed;  croi>  middling.  Third 
year,  wheat  after  one  ploughing,  which  yielded  a  full 
average  crop.  Fourth  year,  it  was  under  summer-fal- 
low ;  to  which  12  double  loads  of  dung  per  acre  were 
given.  Fifth  year,  in  wheat;  crop  excellent.  Sixth 
year,  in  drilled  beans,  which  were  managed  as  above. 
Seventh  year,  wheat;  croj)  above  mediocrity.  Eighth 
year,  barley,  with  grass  seeds,  after  three  rlousliings: 
which,  though  the  season  was  adverse,  (1799,)  turned 
out  a  decent  crop.  Ninth  year,  under  grass,  which 
was  pastured  with  cattle,  and  not  inferior  to  any  in  the 
country. 

It  may  be  objected,  that  the  above  is  hard  cropping. 
This  may  be  the  case;  but  we  are  far  from  acknowledg- 
ing that  hard  cropiting,  in  certain  cases,  is  inconsistt  nt 
with  good  farming.  The  expense  of  lime  in  general 
is  so  great,  that  a  necessity  for  hard  cropping  may  be 
said  to  be  thereby  created.  Besides,  this  necessity  is 
increased  by  the  general  shortnes^s  of  leases,  which  im- 
peiles  every  permanent  improvement;  and,  in  the  usage 
of  lime,  calls  for  the  utmost  exertion  of  the  tenant,  that 
lie  may  be  reimbursed  bis  extraordinary  outlay  awl 
trouble. 


Field,  No.  8. — The  soil  waa  chiefly  loam,  tkougb 
of  different  varieties,  and  mostly  incumbent  upon  a 
close  bottom. 

This  field,  which  consisted  of  fifty  acres,  had  been 
cropped  for  time  imuKmorial;  and,  when  we  entered  to 
the  farm,  was  so  tired  with  carrying  wheat,  that  it  was 
scarcely  worth  the  ploughing.  It  was  therefore  laid 
down  to  grass  with  all  convenient  speed.  In  this  state 
it  remained  five  years,  when  It  was  broken  up  again; 
thirty  acres  having  been  limed  upon  the  sward,  at  the 
rate  of  forty  barley  bolls  per  acre.  Some  of  the  lime 
was  laiil  on  three  years  liefore  [)loughiug,  some  of  it 
two  years,  and  the  remainder  a  few  days  before  the 
ploughs  entered.  Part  of  it  was  hot,  part  of  it  effete  ; 
but  the  elTects  over  the  whole  field,  even  in  the  first 
year,  were  nearly  the  same ;  if  there  was  any  diflerence, 
the  ridges  last  limed  fermented  most,  but  the  crop  waa 
equally  bulky  wherever  the  lime  had  been  applied; 
though,  upon  the  twenty  acres  uulimed,  tlie  inferiority- 
was  evident.  From  this  it  appears  that  it  was  not  ne- 
cessary to  apply  lime  to  grass  land  one  or  two  years  be- 
fore it  was  broken  up,  as  inculcated  by  several  writers 
upon  husbandry ;  a  practice,  at  any  rate,  not  reconcilea- 
ble  with  economy,  as  much  of  the  lime  is  washed  off 
the  surface,  and  carried  away  by  rain  before  the  ground 
b  ploughed. 

Field,  No.  9. — The  soil  was  chiefly  thin  clay,  incum- 
bent upon  a  bottom  of  till;  consequently  subject  to 
receive  injury  from  wetness.  This  field  had  been 
severely  scourged  by  the  preceding  tenant;  had  been 
injudiciously  straigthened,  which  is  a  fatal  measure  l& 
such  soils ;  had  been  limed  previous  to  the  straigthen- 
ing ;  but,  at  our  entry,  was  wholly  under  crop,  and  in  ait 
exhausted  state. 

After  being  summer  fallowed,  in  as  perfect  a  way  as 
circumstances  permitted,  this  field  was  laid  down  ia 
grass,  and  depastured  with  cattle  for  several  years. 
Lime,  (the  greatest  part  of  which  was  in  an  effete  state,) 
was  applied  upon  tlie  sward  during  the  winter  months; 
and,  in  February  following,  the  field  was  ploughed  for 
oats.  The  crop  was  middling  good ;  but,  in  the  six 
subsequent  years,  it  did  not  appear  that  much  benefit 
was  gained  from  the  application.  In  the  eighth  year, 
however,  the  lime  acted  vigorously ;  a  small  part  of 
the  field  which  remaineil  unlimed,  being  at  least  30  per 
cent,  inferior  in  crop,  though  the  management,  in  every 
other  respect,  bad  'oeen  similar. 

It  is  difllcult  to  account  for  this  cessation  of  action- 
during  so  long  a  period,  though  it  is  believed  that  in- 
stances of  the  like  nature  arc  not  unfrequent  upon  secon- 
dary soils.  Whether  a  deeper  ploughing  had  been  given 
in  the  preceding  season,  which  might  bring  the  lime  to- 
the  surface;  or  whether  the  original  poverty  of  the  soil 
preclmled  the  lime  from  operating,  till  it  was  assisted  by 
a  copious  ap!>lication  of  dung,  are  circumstances  not 
easily  ascertained.  In  our  opinion,  the  lime  was  brought 
into  action  by  the  dung  bestowed;  thoughit  would  be 
rash  to  state,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  what  at  best  is  only  & 
prolia!)le  conjecture. 

Field,  No.  10. — The  soil  was  of  various  qualities. 
Part  of  it  a  thin  loam  ;  part  ef  a  sanily  nature,  :ind  the 
renriinder  approacliine;  to  a  tbin  clay  ;  but  all  upon  a  bot- 
tom retentive  of  moisture.  Alter  pasturing  the  field  for 
one  yc.ir,  we  applied  lime  iqion  the  sward,  at  the  rate  of 
40  Linlithgow  barley  bolls,  or  240  bushels  per  ScotB 
acre.  The  liuie  was  partly  hot;  but  the  greatest  part 
of  it  was  effete,  which  must  necessarily  be  the  case  when 


AGRICULTURE. 


269 


lime  is  hutted,  unless  the  huts  are  completely  covered. 
No  ilirt'ereuce,  however,  was  discovered  in  the  operation, 
from  the  state  in  which  tlie  article  was  applied. 

First  year — The  crop  was  oats.  The  season  being 
escesfcively  dry,  little  benefit  was  got  from  the  lime. 

Second  year — We  fallowed  the  field  comi)letely,  and 
dressed  it  uith  dung,  at  the  rate  of  fourteen  double  loads 
per  Scots  acre. 

Third  year- — We  sowed  barley  and  grass  seeds.  The 
crop  ol  barley  was  very  good. 

Fourth  year — The  field  was  depastured  with  cattle. 

Fifth  year — It  was  ploughed  for  oats.  Crop  excellent. 

Sixth year~—W e  drilled  the  field  with  pease  and  beans, 
after  two  ploughings,  which  were  managed  as  already 
described;  the  crop  was  of  great  bulk,  and  produced 
fully  nine  bolls  per  acre. 

Seventh  year — Wheat  was  sown,  and  the  crop  was  ex- 
cellent. 

Field,  No.  11. — 'The  soil  was  of  an  inferior  kind  of 
loam,  u|Jon  a  close  bottom.  The  year  when  this  field 
was  last  under  summer  fallow,  we  applied  lime  to  a  part 
of  it,  by  way  of  trial.  Uung  was  given  likewise.  We 
sowed  barley  and  grass  seeds.  We  took  a  crop  of  hay, 
and  ploughed  for  oats.  Every  one  of  these  crops  was 
strikingly  superior,  where  lime  had  been  given ;  indeed, 
the  superiority  was  recognizable  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance. 

Field,  No.  12. — The  soil  was  chiefly  a  heavy  deep 
loam  ;  some  of  it  a  strong,  tenacious  red  clay,  but  almost 
wholly  incumbent  upon  a  close  boltom. 

AVe  ploughed  this  field  from  old  grass,  and  sowed  it 
with  oats.  It  was  summer  fnllowed  in  the  second  year, 
and  dressed  with  lime,  which  was  nioslly  applied  hot 
from  the  kiln;  being  drawn  from  the  cart  in  regular 
sized  heaps  of  five  pecks  each,  or  thereby,  and  spread 
the  moment  it  was  slaked  by  rain,  or  atmospherical 
moisture.  About  two-thirds  of  the  field  received  50 
barley  bolls,  or  300  bushels  per  acre;  the  remainder 
from  60  to  70  bolls  per  acre ;  and  the  operation  appear- 
ed to  be  in  direct  proportion  to  the  quantity  applied; 
nor  was  there  any  distinction  discernible  betwixt  what 
was  applied  hot,  and  what  was  comi)letely  effete  ;  some 
of  it,  indeed,  the  season  being  remarkably  wet,  was 
nearly  in  a  mortar  state  :  the  wliole  answered  well,  and 
operated  immediately. 

It  was  noticed  in  this  field,  that  a  few  ridges,  on  which 
the  lime  was  s(iread  in  a  windy  <lay,  carried  crops  rather 
inferior  to  those  of  the  contiguous  ones-  we  apprehend 
that  the  most  valuable  particles  of  the  lime  had  been 
carried  oil";  and  would  recommend,  that  spreading  should 
be  discontinued,  when  a  high  wind  arises. 

Much  differenceof  opinion  having  prevailed,  relative  to 
the  quality  of  the  several  limestone  quarries  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, a  trial  was  made  of  lime  from  each  of  them, 
upon  six  adjoining  ridges  of  the  above  field.  Though 
a  difference  to  the  eye  was  visible  in  almost  every  one  of 
these  samples,  yet  the  eifect  upon  (he  ground  was  from 
all  of  tliem  preciselj'  similar;  nor  could  the  most  accu- 
rate judge  say  which  was  the  greatest.  The  quantity 
applied  in  each  case  was  the  same  ;  and  the  operations 
of  layiug  on  (iie  lime,  spreading  it,  and  ploughing  the 
grouni',  were  all  carried  o;i  in  an  uniform  manner. 

Field,  No.  13.' — Consisted  of  loam  of  different  varie- 
ties, upon  a  I  ottom  inclined  to  wetness,  and  the  ridges 
lying  in  a  broad  and  serpentine  state. 

We  ploughed  for  oats,  and  then  took  drilled  beans, 
which  were  succeeded  by  wheat     The  first  and  last 


crops  suffered  much  from  the  grub.  We  followed  the 
field  in  the  fourth  year,  cleaving  in  different  breadths, 
and  cross-ploughing  the  ridges,  alternately,  till  the  sur- 
face was  com|)Ietely  levelled  ;  then  formed  the  ground 
into  eighteen  feet  ridges,  ajiplied  twelve  double  cart 
loads  of  dung,  about  one  ton  each,  and  fifty  barley  bolls 
of  lime  to  the  Scots  acre.  The  lime  was  laid  on  hot 
from  the  kiln,  and  spread  as  fast  as  it  was  pulverized. 
This  quantity  was  found  rather  too  much  for  the  softest 
part  of  the  field,  which,  after  all,  is  a  circumstance 
that  rarely  happens  :  but  on  the  remainder  the  fermen- 
tation was  not  greater  than  necessary ;  and  from  this 
part  of  the  field,  the  best  crops  have  been  procured, 
though  the  ridges  were  both  higher  and  broader,  and 
required  more  levellings  than  the  other. 

We  may  now  draw  a  few  plain  and  practical  inferen- 
ces from  what  is  stated. 

1st,  That  lime  operates  equally  well,  whether  applieil 
in  a  Iwt  or  effete  state,  provided  the  condition  of  the 
ground  upon  which  it  is  used,  be  such  as  to  render  a 
calcareous  application  beneficial. 

2dly,  That,  in  respect  of  operation,  it  is  immaterial 
whether  lime  be  used  upon  grass  land  or  summer-fal- 
low, and  that  objects  of  conveuiency  ought  chiefly  to 
weigh  with  the  farmer  in  ascertaining  the  most  projier 
time  for  applying  this  article.  Upon  old  grass  land,  it 
is  perhaps  best  to  plough  first,  and  to  summer-fallow  in 
the  second  year,  when  lime  can  be  applied.  On  new 
and  clean  grass  land,  hesitation  is  superfluous ;  it  may 
be  limed  at  the  outset,  that  is,  before  the  plough  is  ad- 
mitted. 

3dly,  That  to  lime  moorish  soils  is  a  hazardous  busi- 
ness, unless  dinig  is  likewise  bestowed  ;  but  to  repeat 
the  application  upon  such  soils,  especially  if  they  have 
been  severely  croijped,  is  almost  a  certain  loss,  and  that 
a  com|)03t  of  lime  and  rich  earth  is,  in  such  cases,  the 
only  substitute. 

4thly,  That  strong  loams  and  claj's  require  a  full  dose 
to  bring  them  into  action  ;  such  soils  being  capable  of 
absorbing  a  great  quantity  of  calcareous  matter.  Lighter 
soils,  however,  require  less  lime  to  stimulate  them,  and 
may  be  injured  by  administering  a  quantity  that  would 
prove  moderately  beneficial  to  (hose  of  a  heavy  nature. 

5thly,  That  upon  fresh  land,  or  land  in  a  proper  state 
for  calcareous  application,  lime  is  much  superior  to  dung. 
Its  effects  continue  for  a  longer  period ;  while  the  crops 
produced  are  of  a  superior  kind,  and  less  susceptible 
of  injury  from  the  excesses  of  drought  and  moisture. 
P'inally,  (he  ground,  particularly  what  is  of  a  strong  na- 
ture, is  much  easier  wrought  ;  and,  in  many  instances, 
the  saving  of  labour  would  almost  tem|)t  a  judicious 
farmer  to  lime  his  land,  were  no  greater  benefit  derived 
from  the  application,  than  the  opportunity  thereby  gain- 
ed of  working  it  in  a  perfect  manner. 

It  may  be  added,  that  though  strong  soils  require  to 
be  animated  with  a  good  dose  of  lime,  those  of  a  light 
texture  will  do  equally  well  with  little  more  than  half 
the  quantity  requisite  on  the  others,  especially  if  they 
are  fresh,  or  have  not  already  received  an  application 
of  calcareous  matter.  In  every  case,  it  is  the  farmer 
only  who  can  judge  of  the  quantity  to  be  given;  but, 
as  a  general  principle,  it  is  safer  to  exceed  the  proper 
quantity  than  to  be  below  it.  In  the  latter  case  the  ap- 
plication may  prove  useless,  and  the  whole  expense  be 
lost;  whereas  it  rarely  happens  that  injury  is  sustained 
from  an  excess,  especially  if  more  or  less  dung  is  soon 
after  administered. 


270 


AGRICULTURE. 


Sect.  IV. 
On  Marl. 

Marl,  like  lime,  may  be  viewed  as  a  stimulant,  forcing 
the  soil  to  produce  crops  of  corn  and  grass,  which  other- 
wise would  not  have  been  obtained.  Marl  has  been  long 
known  to  the  husbandmen  of  Great  Britain ;  and,  if  we 
give  credit  to  Pliny,  this  article  was  used  prior  to  the 
Roman  invasion.  Several  kinds  are  enumerated  by  the 
ancient  Latin  writers,  and  all  of  them  declare,  that  the 
soil  was  greatly  enriched  by  the  application  of  marl. 

In  many  parts  of  this  Island  the  value  of  land  has 
been  much  augmented  by  the  application  of  marl.  Treat- 
ing of  this  article,  in  a  practical  way,  it  may  be  divided 
into  shell-marl  and  earth-marl.  Shell-marl  is  composed 
of  animal  shells  dissolved ;  earth  marl  is  a  fossil.  The 
colour  of  the  latter  is  various ;  white,  black,  blue,  red, 
and  its  hardness  is  as  various  as  its  colour;  being 
sometimes  soft  and  ductile  like  clay,  sometimes  hard 
and  solid,  like  stone,  and  sometimes  it  is  extended 
into  thin  beds,  like  slate.  Shell-marl  is  easily  distin- 
guished by  the  shells,  which  always  appear  in  it ;  but 
the  similarity  betwixt  earth-marl  and  many  other  fossil 
substances,  renders  it  diflicult  to  distinguish  them. 

Shell-marl  is  very  different  in  its  nature  from  clayey 
and  stone  marls,  and,  from  its  effects  upon  the  soil,  is 
commonly  classed  among  the  animal  manures.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Dickson  states,"  That  it  does  not  dissolve  with 
water,  as  the  other  marls  do.  It  sucks  it  up,  and  swells 
■with  it  like  a  sponge.  It  is  a  much  stronger  attractor 
of  acids  than  they."  Dr.  Home  says,  that  it  takes  six 
times  more  of  acids  to  saturate  it  than  any  of  the  other 
maris  which  he  had  met  with.  But  the  greatest  differ- 
ence betwixt  the  shell-marl  and  the  other  marls  consists 
in  this  :  the  shell-marl  contains  oils.  It  is  uncertain  if 
the  other  marls  contain  any  oils ;  but  this  kind,  it  is  said, 
«:ontains  them  in  great  plenty. 

This  marl,  it  would  seem,  from  the  qualities  which  it 
possesses,  promotes  vegetation  in  all  the  different  ways. 
Jt  increases  the  food  of  plants;  it  communicates  to  the 
soil  a  power  of  attracting  this  food  from  the  air;  it  enlar- 
ges the  pasture  of  plants ;  and  it  prepares  the  vegetable 
food  for  entering  their  roots. 

The  shelly  sand,  often  found  deposited  In  beds  in  the 
crevices  and  level  parts  of  tl>e  sea  coasts.  Is  another 
Bubstance  capable  of  being  employed,  both  as  a  manure 
and  stimulant,  not  only  on  account  of  its  containing  cal- 
careous matter  in  greater  or  less  proportions,  but  also 
from  the  mixture  of  animal  and  vegetable  substances 
that  are  found  in  it.  The  portion  of  calcareous  matter 
contained  in  these  substances  must  vary  according  to 
circumstances ;  but  when  the  quantity  is  any  way  large 
and  in  a  reduced  or  attenuated  state,  the  quality  is  so 
much  the  more  valuable.  On  that  account,  the  quantity 
which  ought  to  be  applied  to  the  soil  must  be  regulat- 
ed entirely  by  the  extent  of  calcareous  matter  supposed 
or  found,  upon  trial,<to  be  contained  in  the  article,  which, 
as  already  said,  is  very  variable. 

The  clayey  and  stone  marls  are  distinguished  by  their 
colours :  viz.  white,  black,  blue,  and  red.  The  white, 
being  of  a  soft  crumbly  nature,  is  considered  to  be  the 
best  for  pasture  land  ;  and  the  blue,  Avhich  is  more  com- 
pact and  firm,  for  corn  land.  In  the  districts  where 
marl  is  much  used,  these  distinctions  of  management 
are  attended  to,  though  either  of  the  kinds  may  be  em- 
ployed with  advantage,  if  the  following  rules  are  ad- 
hered to. 


If  marl  is  of  a  blue  kind.  Or  of  any  kind  tliat  is  com- 
pact and  firm,  lay  it  upon  the  land  early  in  the  season, 
go  as  the  weather  may  mellow  it  doivn  before  the  last 
plough ;  and,  if  on  [jasture  land,  let  it  also  be  early  laid 
on,  and  si)read  very  thin,  breaking  any  lumps  afterwards 
which  are  not  coni|»letely  separated  hy  the  first  s])read-' 
ing.  If  marl  is  of  the  white,  or  any  of  the  loose  or  crum- 
bling sorts,  it  need  not  be  laid  on  so  early ;  because  those 
varieties  break  and  dissolve  almost  as  soon  as  exposed 
to  the  weather. 

There  are  many  kinds  of  impure  and  mixed  marls, 
such  as  sandy,  clayey,  loamy,  and  stony  marls,  accord- 
ing as  these  varieties  of  soil  are  incorporated  or  mixed 
with  the  principal  substance.  These  sorts,  of  course, 
are  inferior  to  the  pure  marls;  but  the  stony  kind  is 
considered  to  be  the  best,  because  its  efficacy  is  more 
lasting,  though  the  fat  and  crumbling  kinds  enrich  or 
operate  more  speedily.  The  hard  marls,  however,  in 
every  case,  operate  for  the  greatest  length  of  time,  and 
are  often  followed  with  bad  consequences  to  the  soil,  un- 
less good  management,  with  regard  to  cropping,  is  ex- 
ercised during  the  period  of  their  operation.  After  be- 
ing long  excessively  fruitful  and  productive,  the  soil 
will  gradually  become  so  sterile  and  barren  as  scarcely 
to  be  worth  cultivating ;  in  which  case,  the  greatest 
exertion  can  hardly  procure  a  return  of  fertility.  In 
this  respect,  the  effect  of  over-cropping  land  that  has 
been  marled,  is  precisely  the  same  as  takes  place  with 
lime.  An  uncommon  exertion  is  made,  occasioning  a 
proportionable  debility,  though,  were  good  husbandry 
studiously  practised,  the  exertion  would  neither  be  so 
excessive,  in  the  first  instance,  nor  the  after-conse- 
quences so  mischievous.  In  numerous  instances,  land 
has  been  reduced  so  much,  as  to  be  thought  little  l)etter 
than  useless,  by  the  effects  of  lime  and  marl.  Both, 
however,  are  excellent  agents  in  forwarding  agriculture, 
though  often  their  agency  has  been  misapplied,  and  used 
for  mischievous  purposes.  Under  a  correct  rotation  of 
cropping,  and  with  a  suitable  supply  of  dung,  neither 
lime  nor  marl  Is  injurious.  Reverse  these  circum- 
stances, and  the  contrary  effect  must  necessarily  be  pror 
tluced. 

Sect.  V, 

Oh  Sea-Weed,  or  Alga  Marina. 

Sea-weed,  a  plant  that  grows  upon  rocks  within  the 
sea,  is  driven  ashore  after  storms,  and  is  found  to  be  an 
excellent  article  for  manuring  light  and  dry  soils,  though 
of  little  advantage  to  those  of  a  clayey  description.  This 
article  may  be  applied  on  the  proper  soil  with  advantage 
to  any  crop,  and  its  effects  are  immediate,  though  rarely 
of  long  continuance.  As  the  coast-side  lands  of  the 
island  are,  in  every  case,  of  superior  fertility  to  those 
that  are  inland,  we  may  attribute  this  superior  fertility 
to  the  great  quantity  of  manure  found  upon  their  shores 
after  every  storm  or  high  tide,  whereby  the  resources 
of  the  ocean  are  in  a  manner  brought  forward  for  the 
enrichment  of  the  lands  locally  situated  for  participa- 
ting in  such  benefits.  The  utmost  attention  has  long 
been  paid  to  the  gathering  and  laying  on  of  this  valuable 
manure ;  and,  from  the  extensive  line  of  British  shores, 
both  of  the  main  sea  and  of  the  numerous  estuaries  which 
indent,  and  as  it  were  divide  the  main  land,  an  immense 
quantity  of  sea-weed  must  annually  be  collected  from 
them. 

Sea-weed  is  applied  at  all  seasons  to  the  surface,  and 
sometimes,  though  not  so  profitably,  it  is  mixed  with 


AGRICULTURE. 


271 


uarotlen  dung,  that  the  process  of  putrefaction  may  be 
hastened.  Generally  speaking,  it  is  at  once  applied  to 
the  soil,  which  saves  labour,  and  prevents  that  degree 
of  waste  which  othenvise  would  necessarily  happen. 
Sea-weed  is,  in  one  respect,  preferable  to  the  richest 
dung ;  because  it  does  not  produce  such  a  quantity  of 
weeds.  Some  have  thought  that  the  weeds  upon  land 
which  has  received  dung  are  produced  by  seeds  mixed 
with  the  dung;  but  it  is  reasonable  to  presume,  that  the 
salts  contained  in  sea-weed,  and  applied  with  it,  may  be 
the  real  cause  of  the  after-cleanliness.  This  may  be  in- 
ferred from  the  general  state  of  coast-side  lands,  where 
sea-weed  is  used.  These  lands  are  almost  constantly 
kept  in  tillage,  and  yet  are  cleaner  and  freer  from  weeds, 
than  those  in  inland  situations  where  corn  crops  are  not 
so  often  taken. 

Clay  soils  are  not  so  much  benefited  by  sea-weed  as 
those  of  a  light  nature ;  but  whether  this  is  owing  to  the 
properties  of  clay  being  unfriendly  to  the  admission  of 
the  salts  contained  in  sea-weed,  or  to  soils  of  that  des- 
cription being  generally  in  a  state,  when  this  substance 
is  thrown  ashore,  which  physically  unfits  them  for  par- 
ticipating of  benefit  from  the  application,  is  not  com- 
pletely ascertained.  The  fact,  however,  is  certain,  that 
clay  soils  are  little  benefited  by  sea-weed,  though  per- 
haps the  poaching  of  carts  and  horses  upon  them  in  wet 
stormy  weather,  may  in  some  measure  be  assigned  as 
the  true  cause  why  the  same  benefit  is  not  gained. 
When  dung  is  carted  out  on  clay  soils,  in  a  wet  state, 
we  know  that  the  advantage  from  it  is  not  so  great  as 
when  the  surface  is  in  condition  to  bear  the  pressure  of 
the  carriages ;  though,  from  that  result,  no  person  would 
be  justified  in  maintaining  that  these  soils  were  con- 
stitutionally disqualified  to  receive  benefit  from  dung. 
When  a  coast-side  farm  contains  mixed  soils,  the  best 
management  is  exercised  by  applying  sea-weed  to  dry, 
and  dung  to  clay  land.  In  this  way,  the  full  advantage 
of  manure  may  be  obtained,  and  a  farm  so  circum- 
stanced is  of  infinitely  greater  value,  with  respect  to  ma- 
nuring and  labouring,  than  one  which  contains  no  such 
variety. 

It  has  lately  beensuggested  by  Sir  John  Sinclair,  Bart, 
and  other  eminent  agriculturists,  that  sea-weed  pos- 
sesses a  virtue  not  formerly  assigned  lo  it ;  namely,  that 
it  is  eminently  beneficial  in  preserving  wheat  from  be- 
ing mildewed,  which,  were  the  fact  sufficiently  ascer- 
tained, would  be  an  addition  to  our  stock  of  agricultural 
knowledge,  of  great  importance.  Where  sea- weed  is 
applied,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  soil  is  thereby 
greatly  strengthened,  becoming  firmer,  and,  of  course, 
better  adapted  for  preserving  the  roots  of  the  plant  from 
injury,  and  for  furnishing  a  regular  supply  of  food.  This 
length  we  can  safely  go,  as  we  believe  that  such  an  opinion 
accords  entirely  with  the  general  sentiments  of  agricul- 
turists. Thinking,  however,  that  mildew  proceeds  en- 
tirely from  a  diseased  atmosphere,  we  are  at  a  loss  lo 
find  out  how  sea-weed,  at  the  root  of  the  plant,  can  act 
as  a  preventative  against  that  disease  in  any  other  way 
than  what  is  alre;idy  mentioned  ;  that  is,  by  consolidating 
the  surface,  and  giving  greater  strength  to  the  plants,  in 
consequence  of  which  they  are  enabled  to  resist  the  un- 
healthincss  of  the  atmosphere.  Comparing  the  opera- 
tion of  sea-weed  with  that  of  dung,  it  will  be  found  that 
the  effect  of  the  latter  is  to  loosen  ti.e  soil,  and  to 
make  it  more  friable :  consequently,  as  always  happens, 
fields  which  have  received  thegreatest  quantity  of  dung 
are  always  most  susceptible  of  mildew. 


Sect.  VI. 

On  Paring  and  Burning  the  Surface,  and  using  the  Ashes 
as  a  Manure. 

The  practice  of  burning  the  surface,  and  applying  the 
ashes  as  manure  to  the  soil  that  remains,  has  been  long 
prevalent  in  Britain ;  and  though  it  has  been  condemned, 
nay,  reprobated,  by  many  chemical  writers,  and  prohib- 
ited in  numerous  instances  by  proprietors,  yet,  by  pro- 
fessional people,  who  judged  of  the  utility  of  the  prac- 
tice from  the  nature  and  consequences  of  its  effects,  it 
has,  almost  in  every  case,  been  supported,  and  considered 
as  the  most  advantageous  way  of  bringing  in  and  im- 
proving all  soils,  where  the  surface  carried  a  coarse 
sward,  and  was  composed  of  peat-earth,  or  other  inactive 
substances.  The  burning  of  this  surface  has  been  view- 
ed as  the  best  way  of  bringing  such  soils  into  action ;  the 
ashes  furnished  by  the  burning  serving  as  a  stimulant 
to  raise  up  their  dormant  powers,  thereby  rendering 
them  fertile  and  productive  in  a  superior  degree,  than 
could  otherwise  be  accomplished. 

These  have  been  the  sentiments  of  husbandmen  for 
many  generations,  and  arc  not  to  be  overturned  by  the 
force  of  abstract  reasoning,  however  plausibly  and  for- 
cibly urged.  Were  a  field  to  be  burned,  and  the  ashes 
thus  produced  to  be  removed  to  another,  the  objections 
of  chemists  would  be  well  founded  ;  but  so  long  as  these 
ashes  are  spread  upon  the  surface,  and  an  elTect  pro- 
duced upon  the  remainder  of  the  soil  and  subsoil  equal, 
if  not  superior,  to  that  which  is  occasioned  by  calcareous 
manure,  no  evil  can  be  dreaded.  The  soil,  in  place  of 
being  thinned  by  the  burning,  is,  in  fact,  thickened ;  be- 
cause a  portion  of  the  subsoil  is  impregnated  and  brought 
into  action,  whereby  the  staple  is  deepened,  and  its  pro- 
ductive powers  increased.  It  must  be  remarked,  how- 
ever, that  as  the  effects  of  burnt  ashes,  though  instan- 
taneous, are  not  of  long  duration,  a  dressing  of  dung  in 
the  third  year  becomes  highly  necessary,  after  which, 
land  so  treated  should  be  restored  to  grass.  The  great 
object  to  be  attended  to,  when  stimulants  are  employed, 
is  to  use  gentle  and  lenient  cropping  afterwards ;  other- 
wise, what  with  justice  might  have  been  considered  as  a 
meritorious  improvement,  may  turn  out  to  deserve  a  con- 
trary character. 

What  we  have  said  relates  to  what  is  generally  called 
paring  and  burning;  that  is,  paring  the  surface  to  the 
deepness  of  one,  two,  or  three  inches,  gathering  it  into 
heaps  and  burning  it.  We  shall  now  speak  of  ashes 
burnt  and  used  in  a  different  manner;  that  is,  when  peat- 
earth  is  digged  and  burnt  in  quantities,  and  afterwards 
applied  to  a  field  of  a  different  sort  of  soil  or  quality. 
The  effects  of  ashes,  used  in  this  way,  are  precisely  the 
same  with  those  of  lime,  though  their  operation  is  more 
violent,  and  therefore  sooner  over.  The  first  crop  is 
comi^only  very  luxuriant;  but,  unless  dung  is  after- 
wards administered,  the  soil  will  be  rather  exhausted 
than  enriched  by  the  application  of  the  ashes. 

In  the  agricultural  memorandums  of  Robert  Ainslic, 
land-steward  to  the  celebrated  John  earl  of  Stair,  on  his 
estate  of  Culhorn,  in  Wigfonshire,  some  account  of  the 
operation  of  ashes,  and  (he  method  of  making  them 
from  peat-earth,  is  described. 

According  to  Mr.  Ainslie,  it  appears,  that  Lord  Stair, 
in  1 728,  sent  several  barrels  of  earthy  ashes  from  Lon- 
don, of  a  kind  much  used  by  farmers  in  the  south  of 
England  as  a  top  dressing  for  their  grass  and  tillage 
lands.     These  ashes,  agreeably  to  bis  lordship's  direc- 


272 


AGRICULTURE 


tions,  were  sown  iipou  two  difl'crent  pieces  of  ground ; 
viz.  on  a  piece  intended  for  ha3%  and  on  a  piece  sown 
■»vith  barley,  while  a  proportion  of  tlieni  was  reserved 
till  their  qualities  were  analyzed  and  ascertained.  Both 
the  grass  and  barley  were  greatly  improved  by  the  dres- 
sing of  ashes  bestowed ;  and  upon  analyzing  the  part 
reserved,  it  was  found  that,  with  a  great  proportion  of 
earthy  substance,  the  ashes  contained  many  particles  of 
lime  or  shelly  matter.  Hence  Mr.  Ainslie  concluded, 
that  these  ashes  were  either  made  by  carefully  burning 
moss  that  was  strongly  incorporated  with  shell  marl, 
or  that  lime  had  been  mixed  with  them ;  by  means  of 
which,  and  the  salts,  natural  to  all  ashes,  it  was  sup- 
posed that  their  great  fertilizing  quality  was  produced. 

Mr.  Ainslie  received  certain  directions  for  burning 
moss  along  with  the  ashes,  which  are  of  considerable 
importance.  He  was  directed  to  begin  the  fire  with  dry 
facgols,  furze,  or  straw,  then  to  ])ut  on  dried  moss  tinely 
minced  and  well  beaten- with  a  clapper  ;  and  when  that 
was  nearly  burnt  down,  to  put  on  moss  less  dry,  but  well 
minced  and  clapped,  making  holes  with  a  prong  to  carry 
on  the  fire,  and  so  adding  more  moss,  till  a  hill  of  ashes 
something  of  the  size  of  a  wagon  load  was  accumulated, 
which,  when  cold,  he  was  directed  to  carry  to  the  bins, 
or  store  heaps,  before  the  ashes  got  wet.  Agreeably  to 
these  directions,  a  good  deal  of  moss  was  burnt  by  Mr. 
Ainslie  at  a  very  small  expense,  the  people  employed 
soon  becoming  very  expert  in  the  several  operations  of 
cutting  and  burning  the  moss,  and  of  managing,  in  the 
most  advantageous  manner,  the  kilns  in  which  it  was 
prepared. 

"The  generality  of  agricultural  writers,  in  treating  of 
manures,  have  given  innumerable  directions  for  the  ma- 
nagement of  the  several  varieties,  as  if  the  farmer  had  a 
store-bouse,  or  repository,  into  which  each  could  be  de- 
posited. We  have  spoken  of  them  in  such  a  way  as  may 
serve  every  nseful  purpose ;  and,  without  troubling  the 
reader  with  instructions  which  cannot  be  carried  into 
execution,  we  have  restricted  our  details  to  matters  that 
are  practicable  by  every  farmer.  We  have  directed  his 
attention  to  the  management  and  application  of  dung, 
because  this  article  may  be  considered  as  the  magic 
wand  which  influences  every  rural  operation.  Instead 
of  troubling  him  with  speculative  opinions  on  the  prin- 
ciples of  vegetation,  and  the  pasture  of  plants,  subjects 
of  an  abstruse  nature,  and  on  which  the  best  informed 
can  only  form  crude  and  uncertain  notions,  we  have 
pointed  out  the  manner  in  which  the  greatest  quantity 
of  dung  may  be  collected,  and  have  described  the  most 
Buitable  and  profitable  method  of  applying  it  to  the  land. 
We  have  treated  of  lime  and  other  stimulants  in  the 
same  manner;  every  kind  of  theory  being  avoided,  un. 
less  sanctioned  by  experience, — the  only  schoolmaster 
deserving  of  attention,  when  the  art  or  science  pf  rural 
economy  is  to  be  illustrated. 

CHAP.  VIII. 

On  the  Management  of  Arable  Land,  and  the  Hus» 
BANDKY  best  adapted  to  different  Soils. 

If  tlie  landed  property  possessed  by  any  nation  is  to 
be  considered  as  the  capital  stock  of  that  nation,  then  it 
becomes  an  important  question,  how  and  in  what  manner 
shall  the  capital  stock  be  managed  to  the  best  advantage, 
80  that  the  nation  may  derive  from  it  the  greatest  possi- 
ble public  benefit  ?  This  is  a  branch  of  political  econo- 


my seldom  much  attended  to,  lliough  it  obviously  de- 
serves the  most  minute  and  serious  investigation.  In 
fact,  it  is  only  of  late  years  that  the  art  of  agriculture 
has  been  reckoned  worthy  of  public  notice.  Individuals 
might,  and  many  of  them  actually  did,  consider  it  as  a 
parent  art;  liut  the  great  body  of  the  community  were 
disposed  to  estimate  manufactures  and  commerce  as  of 
greater  iuiportaiice :  Hence  the  British  nation  were 
generally  more  desirous  of  gaining  new  territories,  than 
improving  what  they  already  possessed  :  hence  millions 
were  expended  in  defending  and  improving  distant  colo- 
nies, when  a  small  part  of  that  money  would  have  ren- 
dered every  quarter  of  our  own  island  like  a  garden. 
I'here  are  numerous  and  extensive  tracts  in  every  part 
of  the  country  which  greatly  need  improvement;  and, 
notwithstanding  the  high  pitch  to  which  improvement 
has  been  carried  in  some  districts,  perhaps  in  every  one 
of  them  the  national  capital  might  be  considerably  in- 
creased, ^vere  suitable  means  devised,  and  proper  en- 
couragement given.  To  investigate  these  matters,  how- 
ever, would  lead  us  into  a  wider  field  than  is  consistent 
with  the  object  of  this  article.  On  that  account  we  re- 
frain from  such  inquiries,  and  proceed  to  illustrate  the 
management  of  arable  land,  and  the  husbandry  which 
is  best  adapted  to  different  soils. 

Sect.  I. 
On  Rotation  of  Crops. 

Referring  to  Chap.  I.  wherein  the  great  and  funda- 
mental principles  of  agriculture  are  described,  we  en- 
ter upon  the  consideration  of  a  minor  principle,  viz.  the 
most  suitable  Rotation  of  Crops.  Though  we  are  per- 
fectly satisfied,  that  in  the  variable  state  of  British  soil 
and  climate  no  fixed  rotation  can  be  prescribed,  and 
even  th;it  the  real  value  of  every  rotation  dejiends  in  a 
great  measure  upon  the  fidelity  shown  in  executing  the 
several  processes  of  labour  which  belong  to  it ;  yet, 
abstractly  speaking,  some  rotations  must  be  viewed  as 
of  more  value  than  others,  because  the  crops  therein 
included  may  be  most  suitable  for  the  particular  soil  or 
soils  on  which  they  are  to  be  cultivated,  or  better  adapt- 
ed to  the  market  demand  of  the  country,  which  ultimate- 
ly must  regulate  the  kind  of  produce  most  deserving 
of  cultivation.  Holding  these  things  in  view,  alternate 
husbandry,  or  the  system  of  having  leguminous  and  cul- 
miferous  crops  to  Ibllow  each  other,  must  be  reckoned 
most  judicious,  and  deserving  of  recommendation.  This 
system,  with  some  modifications,  is  practicable  on  every 
soil.  According  to  its  rules,  the  land  would  rarely  get 
into  a  foul  and  exhausted  state ;  at  least,  if  foul  and  ex- 
hausted under  alternate  husbandry,  matters  would  be 
much  worse,  were  any  other  system  followed.  The  rota- 
tion may  be  long  or  short,  as  is  consistent  mth  the  rich- 
ness of  the  soil  on  which  it  is  executed,  and  other  local 
circumstances.  The  crops  cultivated  may  be  any  of  the 
varieties  which  compose  the  two  tribes,  according  to  the 
nature  of  soil  and  climate  of  the  district  where  the  rota- 
tion  is  exercised;  and  where  circumstances  render 
ploughing  not  so  advantageous  as  i>asturing,  the  land 
may  remain  in  grass  till  these  circumstances  are  obvia- 
ted; care  lieing  always  taken,  when  it  is  broken  up,  to 
follow  alternate  husbandry  during  the  time  it  is  under 
tillage. 

In  this  way,  we  think  it  perfectly  practicable  to  follow 
the  alternate  system  in  every  situation ;  nor  do  we  con- 
sider the  land  being  in  grass  lor  two,  tliree,  or  four  years.. 


AGRICULTURE. 


2li 


as  a  departure  from  fliat  system,  if  called  for  by  a  gear- 
city  of  manure,  poverty  of  soil,  want  of  markets  for 
corn,  or  other  accidental  circumstances.  The  basis  of 
every  rotation  we  iiold  to  be  either  a  bare  summer  fal- 
low, or  a  fallow  on  which  drilled  turnips  are  cultivated, 
and  its  conclusion  to  be  with  the  crop  taken  in  the  year 
preceding  a  return  of  fallow  or  drilled  turnips,  when,  of 
course,  a  new  rotation  commences. 

Rotation,  No.  I. 

According  to  this  rotation,  wheat  and  drilled  beans 
are  the  crops  to  be  cultivated,  though  clover  and  rye- 
grass may  be  taken  for  one  year,  in  place  of  beans,  should 
such  a  variety  be  viewed  as  more  eligible.  The  rotation 
begins  with  summer  fallow,  because  it  is  only  on  strong 
deep  lands  that  it  can  be  profitably  practised ;  and  it 
may  go  on  for  any  length  of  time,  or  so  long  as  the  land 
can  be  kept  clean,  though,  it  ought  to  stop  the  moment 
that  the  land  gets  into  a  contrary  condition.  A  considera- 
ble quantity  of  manure  is  required  to  go  on  successfully  ; 
perhaps  dung  should  be  given  to  each  bean  crop ;  and 
if  this  crop  is  drilled,  and  attentively  horse-hoed,  the 
rotation  may  turn  out  to  be  one  of  the  most  profitable 
that  can  be  exercised. 

Rotation,  No.  II. 

Upon  loams  and  clays,  where  it  may  not]be  adviseable 
io  carry  the  first  rotation  into  execution,  a  different  one 
can  be  practised ;  pccording  to  which  labour  will  be 
more  divided,  and  the  usual  grains  more  generally  culti- 
vated ;  as,  for  instance, 

1.  Fallow,  with  dung. 

2.  Wheat. 

3.  Bems,  drilled  and  horse-hoed. 

4.  Barley. 

5.  Clover  and  Rye-grass. 

6.  Oats  or  Wheat. 

7.  Beans,  drilled  and  Iiorse-hoed. 

8.  Wheat. 

This  rotation  is  excellently  calculated  to  ensure  an 
abundant  return  through  the  whole  of  it,  provided 
dung  is  administered  upon  the  clover  stubble.  With- 
out this  supply,  the  rotation  would  be  crippled,  and 
inferior  crops  of  course  produced  ia  the  concluding 
years. 


Rotation,  No.  III. 

This  rotation  is  calculated  for  clays  and  loams  of  an 
inferior  description  to  those  already  treated  of. 

1.  Fallow,  with  dung. 

2.  Wheat. 

3.  Clover  and  Rye-grass. 

4.  Oats. 

5.  Beans,  drilled  and  horse-hoed. 

6.  Wheat. 

According  to  this  rotation,  the  rules  of  good  husband- 
ry are  studiously  practised,  while  the  sequence  is  obvi- 
ously calculated  to  keep  the  land  in  good  order,  and  in 
such  a  condition  as  to  ensure  crops  of  the  greatest  va- 
lue. If  manure  is  bestowed,  either  upon  the  clover 
stubble,  or  before  the  beans  are  sown,  the  rotation  ia 
one  of  the  best  that  can  be  devLsed  for  the  soils  men- 
tioned. 

Vol.  I.    Part  I, 


RotalicH,  No.  IV. 

On  thin  clays,  gentle  husbandry  is  indispensably  nc- 
cessarj',  olhenvise  the  soil  may  be  exhausted,  and  the 
])roduce  unequal  to  the  expense  of  cultivation.  Soils  of 
this  description  will  not  improve  much  while  under 
grass ;  but,  unless  an  additional  stock  of  manure  can  be 
procured,  there  is  a  necessity  of  refreshing  them  in  that 
way,  even  though  the  produce  should,  in  the  mean  time, 
be  comparatively  of  small  value.  The  followng  rotation 
is  not  an  improper  one  : 

1 .  Fallow,  with  dung. 

2.  Wheat. 

3.  Grass,  pastured,  but  not  too  early  eaten. 

4.  Grass. 

5.  Grass. 

6.  Oats. 

This  rotation  may  be  shortened  or  lengthened,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances,  but  should  never  extend  fur- 
ther in  point  of  ploughing  than  when  dung  can  be  given 
to  the  fallow  break.  This  is  the  key-stone  of  the  whole  ; 
and  if  it  is  neglected,  the  rotation  is  rendered  use- 
less. 


Rotation,  No.  V. 

Peat-earth  soils  are  not  friendly  to  wheat,  unless  aided 
by  a  quantity  of  calcareous  matter.  Taking  them  in  a 
general  point  of  view,  it  is  not  adviseable  to  cultivate 
wheat ;  but  a  crop  of  oats  may  almost  be  depended  upon, 
provided  the  previous  management  hag  been  judiciously 
executed.  If  the  subsoil  of  peat -earth  lands  be  reten- 
tive of  moisture,  the  process  ought  to  commence  with  a 
bare  summer  fallow;  but  if  such  are  incumbent  on  free 
and  open  bottoms,  a  crop  of  turnips  may  be  substituted 
for  fallow,  according  to  which  method  the  surface  will 
get  a  body  which  naturally  it  did  not  possess.  Grass  on 
such  soils  must  always  occupy  a  great  s])ace  of  every 
rotation,  because  physical  circumstances  render  regular 
cropping  utterly  impracticable. 

1.  Fallow,  or  Turnips,  With  dung. 

2.  Oats,  of  an  early  variety. 

3.  Clover,  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  peren- 
nial Rye-grass. 

4.  Pasture  for  several  years,  till  circumstances 
permit  the  land  to  be  broken  up,  when  oats 
are  to  be  repeated. 

Rotation,  No.  VI, 

Light  soils  are  easily  managed,  though  to  procure  a 
full  return  of  the  profit  which  they  are  capable  of  yield- 
ing, requires  generally  as  much  attention  as  is  neces- 
sary in  the  management  of  those  of  a  stronger  descrip- 
tion. Upon  light  soils,  a  bare  summer  fallow  is  seldom 
called  for,  as  a  cleanliness  may  be  preserved  by  otow- 
ing  turnips,  and  other  leguminous  aKicles.  Grass  also 
is  of  eminent  advantage  upon  such  soils,  often  yielding 
a  greater  profit  than  what  is  afforded  by  culmiferou? 
crops. 

1.  Turnips. 

2.  Spring  Wheat,  or  Barley. 

3.  Clover  and  Rye-grass. 

4.  Oats,  or  Wheat. 

This  is  a  fashionable  rotation ;  but  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  a  continuance  of  it  for  any  considerable  period 
M  m 


)iU 


AGRICULTURE. 


is  adviseable,  because  both  turnips  and  clover  are  found 
to  fall  off,  when  repeated  so  often  as  once  in  four  years. 
Perhaps  the  rotation  would  be  greatly  improved,  were 
it  extended  to  eight  years,  whilst  the  ground,  by  such 
an  extension,  would  be  kept  fresh,  and  constantly  in 
good  condition.  As  for  instance,  were  seeds  for  pas- 
ture sown  in  the  second  year,  the  ground  kept  three 
years  uudcr  grass,  broke  up  for  oats  in  the  sixth  year, 
drilled  with  beans  and  pease  iu  the  seventh,  and  sown 
uith  wheat  in  the  eighth,  the  rotation  would  be  com- 
plete ;  because  it  included  every  branch  of  husbandry, 
and  admitted  a  variety  in  management  generally  agree- 
able to  the  soil,  and  always  favourable  to  the  interest  of 
cultivators.  The  rotation  may  also  consist  of  six  crops, 
were  the  land  only  one  year  in  grass,  though  few 
eitualions  admit  of  so  much  cropping,  unless  additional 
manure  is  within  reach. 


Rotation,  No.  VII. 

Sandy  soils,  when  properly  manured,  are  well  adapted 
to  turnips,  though  it  rarely  happens  that  wheat  can  be 
cultivated  on  them  with  advantage,  unless  they  are 
dressed  with  alluvial  compost,  marl,  clay,  or  some  such 
substances  as  will  give  a  body  or  strength  to  them  which 
they  do  not  naturally  possess.  Barley,  oats,  and  rye,  the 
latter  especially,  are,  however,  sure  crops  on  sands ;  and 
in  favourable  seasons  will  return  greater  profit  than  can 
be  obtained  from  wheat. 

1.  Turnips,  consumed  on  tl)e  ground. 

2.  Barley. 

3.  Grass. 

4.  Rye  or  Oats. 

By  keeping  the  land  three  years  in  grass,  the  rota- 
tion would  be  extended  to  six  years,  a  measure  highly 
adviseable. 

From  what  is  stated  in  this  Section,  every  person 
capable  of  judging  will  at  once  perceive  the  facility 
of  arranging  husbandry  upon  correct  principles,  and 
of  cropping  the  ground  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it 
produce  abundant  returns  to  the  occupier,  whilst  at 
the  same  time  it  is  preserved  in  good  condition,  and 
never  impoverished  or  exhausted.  All  these  things 
are  perfectly  practicable  under  the  alternate  system, 
though  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  can  be  gained  un- 
der any  other.  Cross  cropping,  in  some  cases,  may 
perhaps  be  justifiable  in  practice ;  as,  for  instance,  we 
have  seen  wheat  taken  after  oats  with  great  success, 
when  these  oats  had  followed  a  clover  crop  on  rich  soil  ; 
but  after  all,  as  a  general  measure,  that  mode  of  crop- 
ping cannot  be  recommended.  We  have  heani  of  an- 
other rotation,  which  comes  almost  under  the  like  pre- 
dicament, though,  as  the  test  of  experience  has  not  yet 
been  applied,  a  decisive  opinion  cannot  be  pronounced 
upon  its  merits.  This  rotation  begins  with  a  bare 
fallow,  and  is  carried  on  with  wheat,  grass  for  one  or 
more  years,  oats,  and  wheat,  where  it  ends.  Its  sup- 
porters maintain  that  beans  are  an  uncertain  crop,  and 
cultivated  at  great  expense ;  and  that  in  no  other  way 
ivill  corn  in  equal  quantity,  and  of  equal  value,  be  cul- 
tivated at  so  little  expense,  as  according  to  tlie  plan 
mentioned.  That  the  expense  of  cultivation  is  much 
lessened  we  acknowledge,  because  no  more  than  se- 
ven ploughings  are  given  through  the  whole  rotation ; 
but  whether  the  crops  will  be  of  equal  value,  and  whe- 
ther fhe  ground  will  be  preserved  in  eqiially  good  con- 


dition, are  points  which  remain  to  be  ascertained  by  ex- 
perience. 

It  may  be  added,  before  we  finish  this  Section,  that 
winter-sown  crops,  or  crops  sown  on  the  winter  furrow, 
are  most  eligible  on  all  clay  soils.  Spring  ploughing  on 
such  soils  is  a  hazardous  business,  and  not  to  be  prac- 
tised where  it  can  possibly  be  avoided.  Except  in  the 
case  of  drilled  beans,  there  is  not  the  slightest  necessity 
for  ploughing  clays  in  the  spring  months ;  but  as  land  in- 
tended to  carry  beans  oiighl  to  be  early  ploughed,  so 
that  the  benefit  of  frost  may  be  obtained ;  and  as  the 
seed  furrow  is  an  ebb  one,  rarely  exceeding  four  inches 
in  deepness,  the  hazard  of  spring  ploughing  for  this  ar- 
ticle is  not  of  much  consequence.  Ploughing,  with  a 
view  to  clean  soils  of  the  description  under  considera- 
tion, has  little  effect, unless  given  in  the  summer  months. 
This  renders  summer  fallow  indispensably  necessary; 
and  without  this  radical  process,  none  of  the  heavy  and 
wet  soils  can  be  suitably  managed,  or  preserved  in  a  good 
condition. 

To  adopt  a  judicious  rotation  of  cropping  for  every 
soil,  requires  a  degree  of  judgment  in  the  farmer  which 
can  only  be  gathered  from  observation  aud  experience. 
In  fact,  it  is  hardly  to  be  learned  in  any  other  school, 
though,  when  attained  by  one,  he  thinks  it  attainable  by 
all,  with  little  difficulty.  The  old  rotations  were  calcu- 
lated to  wear  out  the  soil,  and  to  render  it  unproductive. 
To  take  wheat,  barley,  and  oats  in  succession,  a  practice 
very  common  thirty  years  ago,  was  sufficient  to  im- 
poverish the  best  of  land,  while  it  put  little  into  the 
pockets  of  the  farmer ;  but  the  modern  rotations,  such 
as  those  which  we  have  described,  are  founded  on  prinr 
ciples  which  ensure  a  full  return  from  the  soil,  with- 
out lessening  its  value,  or  impoverishing  its  condi- 
tion. Much  depends,  however,  upon  the  manner  in 
which  the  different  processes  are  executed ;  for  the 
best  arranged  rotation  may  be  of  no  avail,  if  the  pro- 
cesses belonging  to  it  are  imperfectly  and  unreasonablj; 
executed. 

Sect.  II. 
Oh  the  Cultivation  of  Culmifcrmis  Crops. 

The  varieties  of  corn  ranked  as  culmiferous,  or  rob' 
bing  ones,  are  Wheat,  Barley,  Oafs,  and  Rye.  These 
varieties  we  are  inclined  to  consider  as  bearing  equally 
hard  upon  the  soil ;  and  we  think  it  does  not  matter 
much  which  of  them  are  taken,  because  all  are  robbers 
of  the  ground,  and  tend  to  exhaust  it  of  its  pro<luctive 
powers.  No  doubt  some  soils  are  more  favoural)le  for 
one  sort  of  corn  than  for  another ;  as,  for  instance,  clays 
and  loams  are  better  adapted  for  wheat  than  sands  and 
gravels;  while,  vice  versa,  the  latter  are  better  calcula- 
ted for  barley  than  the  heavy  soils.  It  is  by  fixing  upon 
the  most  proper  of  each  for  the  soil  cultivated,  that  the 
judgment  of  the  farmer  is  correctly  ascertained.  In 
other  respects,  such  as  the  exhaustion  of  the  ground,  we 
view  it  as  a  matter  of  no  importance  which  of  them  is 
preferred. 

The  most  valuable  grain  is  wheat,  and  it  has  been  so 
since  the  earliest  period  to  which  history  reaches.  This 
grain  now  constitutes  the  chief  footi  of  the  British  na- 
tion ;  and  ifs  abundance  or  scarcity  regulates,  in  a  great 
measure,  the  welfare  and  prosperity  of  fhe  inhabitants. 
Notwithstanding  its  manifest  utility  as  a  necessary  of 
life,  and  its  iBiportancc  to  fhe  farmer,  as  being  the  arli- 


AGRICULTURE. 


276 


c'.e  from  wliicli  rent  in  many  districts  is  altogether  paid, 
landed  proi)rietors  have,  in  numerous  instances,  attempt- 
ed io  interdict  its  culture,  or,  at  least,  they  have  stu- 
diously endeavoured  to  lessen  the  quantity  cultivated, 
by  restrictions  or  penalties  upon  the  grower,  if  a  cer- 
tain stipulated  quantity  was  exceeded  in  any  one  year ; 
and  more  particularly,  if  that  quantity  was  exceeded  in 
the  latter  years  of  a  lease.  Whether  proprietors  acting 
in  this  way  were  moved  by  wise  and  useful  reasons, 
needs  no  inquiry ;  because  it  is  evident,  that  the  great- 
er the  value  of  produce  raised  upon  a  farm,  so  much 
more  rent  is  the  farmer  enabled  to  pay  the  proprietor; 
and  though  this  increased  rent  may  lie  delayed  for  a  few 
years,  namely,  to  the  end  of  the  current  lease,  the  pro- 
prietor is  sure  to  obtain  it  at  that  period.  Proprietors, 
however,  have  hitherto  thought  differently,  and  their 
errors  have  been  sanctioned  by  the  courts  of  law,  who 
have  not  been  slow  in  punishing  farmers  considered  by 
them  as  deviators  from  the  rules  of  good  husbandry. 
Notwithstanding  the  impediments  in  the  way,  both  legal 
and  conventional,  the  culture  of  wheat  has  of  late  pro- 
digiously increased,  and  now  constitutes  a  prominent 
branch  of  British  husbandry.  Landed  proprietors,  it  is 
believed,  are  now  almost  satisfied,  that  tlie  growth  of 
this  grain  does  not  deteriorate  or  waste  'their  lands, 
though  formerly  not  a  few  of  them  thought  that  the 
vegetative  powers  of  their  estates  might  be  sold  in  the 
public  market  in  the  shape  of  wheat, — an  idea  hand- 
ed down  from  father  to  son  for  successive  genera- 
tions, though  now  in  some  measure  renounced  and  aban- 
doned. 

As  wheat  is  the  most  valuable  grain  cultivated  in 
the  British  isles,  we  shall  treat  of  the  several  processes 
connected  with  its  culture  in  a  more  particular  manner 
than  may  afterwards  be  required,  when  other  grains 
occupy  our  attention.  We  shall  first  speak  of  the  soils 
best  adapted  to  the  growth  of  wheat;  2.  Of  the  cul- 
ture required  for  that  grain ;  3.  Of  the  varieties  of 
seed;  4.  Of  the  way  in  which  it  is  sown;  5.  Of  pick- 
ling the  seed,  so  that  it  may  be  preserved  from  be- 
ing smutted  or  blacked ;  6.  Of  the  diseases  to  which 
wheat  is  liable  in  different  stages ;  7.  Of  harvest  ma- 
nagement ;  8.  Of  thrashing  the  grain,  and  preparing  it 
for  market. 

1 .  On  the  soils  best  adapted  for  the  Growth  of  Wheat. 
— Rich  clays  and  heavy  loams  are  naturally  well  calcu- 
lated for  producing  Avheat;  but  any  kind  of  clay  and 
loamy  soils,  situated  in  a  proper  climate,  may  be  artifi- 
cially adapted  to  the  growth  of  that  grain,  by  enriching 
it  with  a  sufficient  quantity  of  manure.  On  soils  of  the 
first  description,  wheat  may  be  cultivated  almost  every 
second  year,  provided  due  care  is  taken  to  keep  the  land 
clean,  and  in  good  condition.  A  summer  fallow  once 
in  four,  six,  or  eight  years,  according  to  seasons  and 
circumstances,  is,  however,  necessary;  and  manure 
should  either  be  applied  on  that  fallow  for  the  first  crop 
of  wheat,  or  what  some  people  think  preferable,  should 
be  laid  on  the  wheat  stubble  for  a  crop  of  drilled  beans, 
which  ensures  the  succeeding  crop  of  wheat.  If  the  first 
crop  of  beans  has  been  completely  cleaned,  there  is  no 
difficulty  of  repeating,  and  even  of  extending  the  course ; 
and  the  crops  will  be  little  inferior  to  those  gained  at 
the  beginning  of  the  rotation,  provided  manure  has  been 
bestowed  to  each  crop  of  beans.  In  this  way,  when  the 
ground  is  fallowed  every  fourth  year,  two  crops  of  wheat 
and  one  of  beans  are  gained  from  manuring  once ;  when 
fallowed  every  sixth  year,  three  crops  of  wheat  ami  two 


of  beans  are  gained  from  manuring  twice ;  and,  when  fal 
lowed  every  eighth  j-car,  four  crojjs  of  wheat  and  three 
of  beans,  from  manuring  thrice.  In  the  first  mentioned 
shift,  less  manure  is  bestowed  than  in  any  of  the  other 
two;  and  if  the  soil  is  gootl  quality,  it  will  support  it- 
self;  whereas,  in  the  shifts  of  six  and  eight,  unless  foreign 
manure  is  procured,  it  rarely  ha|>|)en9  that  they  can  go 
on  successfully  for  any  length  of  time,  without  abstract- 
ing dung  from  other  parts  of  the  farm  on  which  they  are 
practised. 

With  regard  to  thin  clays,  the  shifts  nientionnd  above 
are  inapplicable.  A  six-course  shift  of  a  different  kind 
has,  however,  been  successfully  followed  by  many  peo- 
ple; but  it  requires  every  branch  of  the  work  to  be  well 
executed.  1.  A  summer  fallow,  dunged  at  the  rate  of 
12  or  14  double  loads  per  acre;  2.  Wheat;  3.  Grass; 
4.  Oafs ;  5.  Pease  and  Beans  drilled ;  0.  Wheat.  If 
manure  can  be  given  in  the  middle  of  the  shift,  every 
one  of  the  crops  may  be  expected  good;  but  if  that  is 
withheld,  there  will  necessarily  be  a  proportionatde  fall- 
ing off  in  the  two  last  crops.  Husbandmen  must,  how- 
ever, regulate  their  practice  according  to  their  means ; 
though  it  deserves  to  be  remarked,  that  if  greater  atten- 
tion were  paid  to  the  collecting  of  materials,  which  ulti- 
mately are  converted  into  manure,  many  deficiencies  in 
the  article  would  be  fully  supplied. 

Light  soils,  though  they  will,  Avith  the  exception  of 
soft  sands,  produce  wheat  of  excellent  quality,  are  not 
constitutionally  disposed  to  the  growth  of  that  grain; 
nor  will  they,  under  any  management,  bear  such  a  fre- 
quent repetition  of  it  as  those  already  mentioned.  Sum- 
mer fallow  on  them  may  safely  be  dispensed  with  ;  be- 
cause a  crop  of  turnips,  which  admits  every  branch  of 
the  cleaning  process  to  be  more  perfectly  executed  than 
even  a  naked  or  bare  fallow  does,  may  be  profitably 
substituted.  Wheat  here  comes  in  with  propriety  af- 
ter turnips,  though,  in  general  cases,  it  must  be  sown  in 
the  s|)ring  months,  unless  the  turnips  are  stored;  in  which 
case  it  may  be  sown  in  November;  or  it  may  be  sown 
after  clover,  for  the  fourth  crop  of  the  rotation  ;  or  in  the 
sixth  year,  as  a  way  going  crop,  after  drilled  pease  and 
beans,  if  the  rotation  is  extended  to  that  length.  But, 
take  it  any  way,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  raise  wheat  so 
extensively  upon  light  soils,  even  where  they  are  of  tho 
richest  quality,  as  is  practicable  upon  clays;  nor  will 
a  crop  of  equal  bulk  upon  the  one,  return  so  much  pro?' 
duce  in  grain  as  may  be  got  from  the  other.  To  enlarge 
upon  this  point  would  only  serve  to  prove  what  few  hus- 
bandmen will  dispute,  though  it  may  be  added,  that  oa 
real  sands  wheat  ought  not  to  be  ventured,  unless  they 
are  either  completely  clayed  or  marled,  as  it  is  only 
with  the  help  of  these  auxiliaries  that  such  a  soil  can 
gain  stamina  capable  of  producing  wheat  with  any  de- 
gree of  success. 

2.  On  the  ciUture  requiredfor  JVIuat. — On  soils  really 
calculated  for  wheat,  though  in  different  degrees,  sum- 
mer fallow  is  the  first  and  leading  step  to  gain  a  good 
crop  or  crops  of  that  grain.  The  first  furrow  should  be 
given  before  winter,  or  so  early  as  other  operations 
upon  the  farm  will  admit ;  and  every  attention  should 
be  used  to  go  as  deep  as  possible ;  for  it  rarely  happens 
that  any  of  the  succeeding  furrows  exceed  the  first  one 
in  that  respect.  The  number  of  after  ploughings  must 
be  regulated  by  the  condition  of  the  ground  and  the 
state  of  the  weather ;  but,  in  general,  it  may  be  observed, 
that  ploughing  in  length  and  across,  alternately,  is  the 
way  by  which  the  ground  will  be  most  completely  cut, 
M  m  2 


276 


AGRICULTURE. 


and  the  intention  of  fellowina;  accomplished.  It  has. 
lieen  argued,  that  harrowing  clay  soil?,  when  summer 
fallowed,  is  prejudicial  to  tlie  wheat  crop ;  but,  without 
discussing  this  point,  (such  a  discussion  being  unneces- 
sary,) it  maj'  merely  l-e  stated,  that  in  a  dry  season  it  is 
almost  im])racticablc  to  reduce  real  clays,  or  to  work 
them  too  small ;  and  that,  even  in  a  wet  one,  supposing 
they  are  made  surface  smooth,  they  will,  when  ploughed 
up  again,  consolidate  into  clods  or  big  lumps,  alter  forty- 
eight  hours  drought,  and  become  nearly  as  obdurate  as 
ever.  It  is  only  on  thin  soils,  which  have  a  mixture  of 
peat-earth,  and  are  incumbent  on  a  bottom  impervious 
to  water,  that  damage  is  at  any  time  sustained  from  over 
harrowing.  Such  are  generally  of  a  weak  texture,  and 
may  be  broken  down  with  facility  by  the  roller  and  har- 
row. If  caught  by  umch  rain  before  the  pores  are  in 
some  measure  closed,  the  moisture  is  greedily  absorbed ; 
and  being  prevented  from  going  downwards,  by  the 
hardness  of  the  subsoil,  the  whole  surface  becomes  a 
kind  of  mortar  or  paste,  unless  previously  ^ve\l  ridged 
up,  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  prevents  the  consequences 
from  being  dangerous.  These  evils,  however,  must 
be  submitted  to  by  the  possessors  of  such  soils,  if  they 
want  to  have  them  sufficiently  fallowed  and  prepared  in 
a  proper  manner ;  for,  without  reducing  them,  couch- 
grass,  and  especially  moor  fog,  with  which  they  are 
commonly  stored,  cannot  be  eradicated.  If  they  are 
reduced  in  the  early  part  of  the  season,  the  danger  is 
small ;  but  to  break  them  down  in  the  latter  part  ought 
always  to  be  avoided,  unless  called  for  by  imperious 
necessity. 

Some  people  think  it  improper  to  dung  rich  clays  or 
loams  when  fal!o>ved,  and  choose  rather  to  reserve  that 
restorative  till  the  succeeding  season,  when  they  are  pre- 
pared for  a  crop  of  drilled  beans.  Delaying  the  manur- 
ing process  for  a  year  is  attended  with  many  advan- 
tages ;  because  good  land,  fully  wrought,  contains  such 
a  principle  of  action  within  itself,  as  often  causes  the 
first  wheat  crop  to  be  lodged  before  it  is  filled;  under 
which  circumstance  the  produce  is  diminished  both  in 
quantity  and  quality.  This  delay  in  manuring  is,  how- 
ever, attended  with  disadvantages ;  because,  w  hen  dung 
is  kept  back  till  the  end  of  autumn  or  beginning  of  win- 
ter, to  be  laid  on  the  stubbles,  the  weather  is  often  so 
wet  that  it  cannot  be  carted  out  without  subjecting  the 
land  to  injury  from  poaching,  whilst  the  labour  in  laying 
it  on  is  also  increased.  On  thin  clays,  or  even  upon 
soils  of  the  other  description  not  in  high  condition,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  end  of  summer,  and  upon 
iiummer  fallow,  is  the  most  proper  time  for  manuring 
them,  though  it  will  be  found  that  an  improvident  ex- 
penditure of  dung,  on  such  occasions,  ought  always  to 
be  steadily  avoided. 

When  wheat  is  sown  after  beans,  it  rarely  happens, 
in  this  northern  climate,  that  more  than  one  ploughing 
can  successfully  be  bestowed.  Before  this  is  given,  it 
is  advantageous  to  cross-harrow  the  land,  which  levels 
the  drills,  and  permits  the  ]>loughing  process  tu  be  exe- 
cuted with  precision.  Almost  in  every  case  the  ridges 
thould  be  gathered  up,  so  that  the  furrows  may  be  well 
cleared  out,  and  the  plants  preserved  from  iujuiy  dur- 
ing the  inclement  winter  season.  CMover  land  should  be 
neatly  ploughed  and  well  laid  over,  so  that  the  roots 
of  the  grasses  may  be  buried  and  destroyed ;  for  it  fre- 
quently happens  that  crops  of  wheat,  after  clover  ami 
rye-grass,  are  greatly  injured  by  inattention  to  the 
ploitghiUg  process.    In  short,  sowing  wheat  after  cl9rer, 


may  he  consideretl  as  the  most  hazardous  way  in  which 
that  grain  can  be  cultivated. 

3.  Oil  the  Varieties  of  Seed. — Wheat  may  be  classed 
under  two  principal  divisions,  though  each  of  these  ad- 
mits of  several  subdivisions.  The  first  is  composed  of 
all  the  varieties  of  red  wheat;  but  as  such  are  now  rarely 
sown  in  North  Britain,  being  at  least  151.  per  cent,  in- 
ferior in  value  to  those  which  are  generally  cultivated, 
it  is  unnecessary  to  say  any  thing  about  them.  The  se- 
cond division  comprehends  the  whole  varieties  of  white 
wheat,  which  again  may  be  arranged  under  two  distinct 
heads,  namely,  thick  chaffed  and  thin  chaffed.  The  thick 
chaffed  varieties  were  formerly  in  greatest  repute,  gene- 
rally jielding  the  whitest  and  finest  flour,  and  in  dry 
seasons,  not  inferior  in  pro<luce  to  the  other ;  but  since 
1  799,  when  the  disease  called  mildew,  to  which  they  are 
constitutionally  predisposed,  raged  so  extensively,  they 
have  gradually  been  going  out  of  fashion,  at  least  is 
North  Britain  ;  and  for  two  years  past,  a  field  of  thick 
chaffed  wheat  has  scarcely  been  seen  in  any  of  the  wheat 
districts.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  seems  unne- 
cessary  to  notice  them  more  particularly. 

The  thin  chaffed  wheats  are  a  hardy  class,  and  seldom 
mildewed,  unless  the  weather  he  particularly  inimical 
during  the  stages  of  blossoming,  filling,  and  ripening, 
though  some  of  them  are  rather  better  qualified  to  resist 
that  destructive  disorder  than  others.  In  1799,  few  thiu 
chafifed  wheats  were  seriously  injured;  and  instances 
were  not  wanting  to  slww,  that  an  acre  of  them,  with 
respectto  value,  exceeded  an  acre  of  thick  chaffed  wheat, 
quantity  and  quality  considered,  not  less  than  50Z.  per 
cent.  Since  that  time,  therefore,  their  culture  has  ra- 
pidly increased ;  and  to  this  circumstance  may,  in  a 
great  measure,  be  attributed  ihe  high  character  which 
thin  chaffed  wheats  noiv  bear.  A  nomenclature  of  thin 
chaffed  wheats  might  be  useful ;  but,  at  present,  any 
thing  of  that  nature  is  an  impossible  tusk ;  because,  even 
with  agriculturists,  their  names  are  altogether  arbitrary. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  the  best  variety  now  known, 
is  one  selected  and  reared  by  Mr.  William  Hunter,  far- 
mer at  Knows,  in  East  Lothian,  which,  for  soundness  of 
constitution,  and  prolificness  of  produce,  exceeds  any 
other  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  Perhaps  the  pret- 
tiest sample  is  not  affonled  by  this  variety ;  but  millers 
antl  bakers  are  now  satisfied,  that  the  whitest  and  fairest 
wheats  externally,  are  not  those  which  are  most  pnxluc- 
tive  of  the  perfect  article.  It  has  been  often  noticed,  that 
this  wheat  preserves  a  green  healthy  aspect  during  the 
coldest  weather,  when  other  varieties  assume  a  sickly 
and  jaundiced  hue.  The  resistance  which  it  shows  to 
the  effects  of  inclement  weather,  perhaps  proceeds  from 
the  strength  of  its  roots,  though  the  effect  may  be  easier 
described  than  the  cause  accounted  for. 

4.  On  seed  Work. — Sowing  in  the  broad-cast  way  may 
be  said  to  be  the  mode  universally  practised  in  North 
Britain ;  for  the  trifling  deviations  from  it  can  hardly  bo 
admitted  as  an  exception.  Upon  well  prepared  lands, 
if  the  seed  be  distributed  equally,  it  can  scarcely  be 
sown  too  thin ;  |>eri)aps  t»vo  bushels  per  acre  are  suffi- 
cienl ;  for  the  heaviest  crops  at  autumn  are  rarely  those 
which  show  the  most  vigorous  ap|)earance  through  the 
winter  months.  Bean  stubbles  require  more  seed  than 
summer  fallows;  because  the  roughness  of  their  sur- 
face prevents  such  an  equal  distrihutiou ;  ami  clover  leas 
ought  to  be  still  thicker  sown  than  bean  stubbles.  Thin 
sowing  in  spring  ought  not  to  be  practised,  othenvise 
tbo^rop  will  be  late,  and  imperfectly  ripened.  Noipofe 


AGRICULTURE. 


277 


Ijarrowlng  should  be  given  to  fields  tliat  have  been  fal- 
lowed, than  what  is  necessary  to  cover  the  seed,  and 
level  the  surface  sufficiently.  Ground  which  is  to  lie 
in  a  broken  down  state  tlirough  the  winter,  suffers  se- 
verely when  an  excessive  harrowing  is  given,  especially 
if  it  is  incumbent  on  a  close  bottom ;  though,  as  to  the 
quantity  necessary,  none  can  give  an  opinion,  except 
those  who  are  ))ersonally  present. 

5.   On  Pickling  the  Seed. — This  process  is  indispen- 
sably necessary  on  every  soil ;  otherwise,  smut,  to  a 
greater  or  less  extent,  will,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  as- 
suredly follow.     Though  almost  all  practical  farmers 
are  agreed  as  to  the  necessity  of  pickling,  yet  they  are 
not  so  unanimous  as  to  the  modus  operandi  of  the  pro- 
cess, and  the  article  which  is  best  calculated  to  answer 
the  intended  purpose.     Stale  urine  may  be  considered 
as  the  safest  and  surest  pickle ;  and,  where  it  can  be 
obtained  in  a  sufficient  quantity,  is  commonly  resorted  to. 
The  mode  of  using  it  does  not,  however,   serni  to  be 
agreed  upon ;    for,  while  one  party  contends  that  the 
grain  ought  to  be  steeped  in  the  urine,  anullier  parly 
considers  it  as  sufficient  to  sprinkle  the  urine  ujion  it. 
Some,  again,  are  advocates  for  a  pickle  made  of  salt  and 
■water,  sufficiently  strong  to  buoy  up  an  egg,  in  which 
the  grain  is  to  be  thoroughly  steeped.     But  whatever 
difference  of  opinion  there  may  be  as  to  the  kind  of 
pickle  that  ought  to  be  used,  and  the  mode  of  using  it, 
all  admit  the  utility  of  mixing  the  wetted  seed  with  hot 
lime  fresh  slaked ;  and  this,  in  one  point  of  view,  is  ab- 
solutely necessary,  so  that  the  seed  may  be  equally  dis- 
tributed.    It  may  be  remarked,  that  experience  justi- 
fies the  utility  of  all  these  modes,  provided  they  are 
attentively  carried  into  execution.     There  is  some  dan- 
ger from  the  first;  for,  if  the  seed  steeped  in  urine  is 
not  immediately  sown,  it  will  infallibly  lose  its  vegeta- 
tive power.     1'he  second,  viz.  sjirinkling  the  urine  on 
the  seed,  seems  to  be  the  safest,  if  performed  by  an  at- 
tentive hand;  whilst  the  last  may  do  equallj'  well,  if  such 
a  quantity  of  salt  be  incorporated  with  the  water  as  to 
render  it  of  sufficient  strength.     It  may  also  be  remark- 
ed, that  this  last  mode   is  oftener  accompanied  with 
amut,  OAving  no  doubt  to  a  deficiency  of  strength  in  the 
pickle ;  whereas  a  single  head  with  smut  is  rarely  dis- 
covered when  urine  has  been  used. 

6.  Diseases  of  Wheat. — Wheat  is  subject  to  more  dis- 
eases than  other  grains,  and  in  some  seasons,  especially 
in  wet  ones,  heavier  losses  are  sustained  from  those  dis- 
eases, than  are  felt  in  the  culture  of  any  other  culmife- 
rous  crop  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  Wheat  may 
suffer  from  the  attack  of  insects  at  the  root ;  from  blight, 
which  primarily  affects  the  leaf  or  straw,  and  ultimately 
deprives  the  grain  of  sufficient  nourishment ;  from  mil- 
dew on  the  ear,  which  operates  thereon  with  the  force 
of  an  apoplectic  stroke ;  and  from  gum  of  different 
shades,  which  lodges  on  the  chaff  or  cups  in  which  (he 
grain  is  deposited.  Theorists  often  neglect  these  dis- 
tinctions, or  confound  the  different  disorders  to  which 
this  valuable  grain  is  exposed ;  but  the  practical  farmer, 
who  sedulously  examines  his  crop  in  every  stage  of  its 
growth,  will  not  readily  fall  into  such  errors. 

It  has,  without  inquiry,  been  taken  for  granted  by 
some  i)eople,  that  blight,  mildew,  and  rust,  are  the  same 
disorder,  though  most  agriculturists  have  hitherto  reck- 
oned them  separate  diseases,  brought  on  at  different  pe- 
riods, and  occasioned  by  different  causes.  It  may  be 
laid  down  as  a  primary  principle,  that  the  proximate 
cause  of  every  disease  which  attacks  the  stalk  and  ear 


of  wheat  plants,  may  be  found  in  the  stale  of  the  weA- 
ther  at  the  time,  conjoined  with  the  circumstances  of 
soil,  situation,  and  the  seed  that  has  been  used.  It  is 
difficult  to  classify  these  diseases,  or  describe  them  in 
a  distinct  manner;  because  the  sentiments,  or  rather  the 
language  of  agriculturists  on  this  subject,  is  arbitrary 
and  indistinct.  Notwithstanding  that  they  are,  by  the 
great  body  of  farmers,  attributed  to  atmospherical  influ- 
ence solely,  yet  much  confusion  arises  in  their  nomen- 
clature ;  for  many  people  use  the  terms  of  blight,  niildeiv, 
and  rust,  as  synonymous,  though  io  us  they  appear  to 
be  distinct  diseases. 

Blight,  according  to  our  ideas,  originates  from  moist 
or  foggy  weather,  and  from  hoar-frost,  the  effects  of 
which,  when  expelled  by  a  hot  sun,  are  first  discernible 
on  the  straw,  and  afterwards  on  the  ear,  in  a  greater  or 
lesser  degree,  according  to  local  circumstances.  Let  a 
field  be  examined  in  a  day  or  two  after  such  weather, 
and  a  careful  observer  will  soon  be  satisfied  that  the 
fibres  and  leaves  of  the  plants  are  contracted  and  enfee- 
bled, in  consequence  of  what  may  be  called  a  stoppage 
of  perspiration.  This  disorder  may  take  place  either 
earlier  or  later,  but  is  most  fatal  when  it  ajjpears  at  the 
time  the  grain  is  forming  in  the  ear.  It  may  appear  at 
an  earlier  stage ;  and  though  the  productive  powers  of 
the  plant  will  thereby  be  lessened,  yet,  if  circumstances 
are  afterwards  favourable,  the  quality  of  the  grain  pro- 
duced may  not  be  much  impaired ;  or  it  may  appear  af- 
ter the  grain  is  fully  formed,  and  then  very  little  damage 
will  be  sustained,  except  by  the  straw. 

Mildew,  again,  strictly  speaking,  may  be  ranked  as  a 
disease  which  affects  the  ear,  and  is  brought  on  by  causes 
somewhat  similar  to  those  which  occasion  blight,  though 
at  a  more  advanced  period  of  the  season.     If  this  dis- 
order comes  on  immediately  after  the  first  ajjpearance 
of  the  ear,  the  straw  will  also  be  affected;  but  if  the 
grain  is  nearly  or  fully  formed,  then  injury  on  the  straw 
is  not  much  discernible.     We  have  seen  a  crop  which 
carried  wheat  that  was  mildewed  where  the  straw  was 
perfectly  fresh,  though  indeed  this  rarely  happens.      A 
severe  mildew,  however,  effectually  prevents  both  corn 
and  straw  from  making  any  further  progress,  the  whole 
plant  apparently  going  backward  every  day,  till  exist- 
ence in  a  manner  ceases  altogether.     Something  akin 
to  mildew  is  the  gum  or  red  ochre,  which,  in  all  warm 
moist  seasons,  attaches  itself  to  the  ear,  and  often  occa- 
sions considerable  damage.     All  these  different  disor- 
ders are  generally  accompanied  by  insects ;  which  ani- 
malcula,  by  many  people  who  take  the  effect  for  the 
cause,  are  considered,  though  without  the  least  founda- 
tion, as  the  authors  of  the  mischief  that  follows.     Their 
appearance,  however,  may  justly  be  attributed  to  the 
diseased  state  of  the  plant ;  for  wherever  putrefaction 
takes  place,  either  in  animal  or  vegetable  substances, 
the  presence  of  these  insects  will  never  be  wanting. 

Another  disorder  which  affects  wheat,  and  by  several 
people  denominated  the  real  rust,  is  brought  on  by  ex- 
cessive heats,  which  occasion  the  plants  to  suffer  from  a 
privation  of  nourishment,  and  become  sickly  and  feeble. 
In  (his  atrophical  state,  a  kind  of  dust  gathers  on  the 
stalk  and  leaves,  which  increases  with  the  disease,  till 
the  plant  is  in  a  great  measure  worn  out  and  exhausted. 
The  only  remedy  in  this  case,  and  it  is  one  that  cannot 
easily  be  administered  by  the  hand  of  man,  is  a  plentiful 
supply  of  moisture,  by  which,  if  it  is  received,  before 
consumption  is  too  far  advanced,  (he  crop  is  benefited 
in  a  degree  proportional  to  the  extent  of  nourishment 


278 


AGRICULTURE. 


received,  and  the  stage  at  which  tlie  dUease  has  arrived. 
We  have  reason  to  believe  that  rust  is  less  frequently 
discerned  in  Scotland  than  in  England,  because  our  sum- 
mers are  neither  so  warm  nor  so  early  as  those  of  our 
southern  neighbours.  Neither  is  blight  very  prevalent 
in  this  northern  climate.  Mildew,  in  fact,  is  the  dis- 
order which  Scottish  agriculturists  have  most  to  dread, 
and  the  only  preventive  is  the  use  of  thin-chaffed  wheats; 
these,  even  in  the  worst  seasons,  being  only  partially 
injured. 

There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  believe  that  para- 
sitical auimalcula  are  the  agents  of  these  diseases,  be- 
cause the  wholeof  them  may  be  imputed  to  atmospherical 
influence  ;  yet  it  is  not  easily  ascertained,  whether  ex- 
cessive drought  or  excessive  rains  are  most  pernicious. 
Perhaps  both  may  have  an  influence,  as  the  plant  being 
stinted  and  debilitated  by  drought,  in  the  first  instance, 
is  afterwards  unable  to  bear  up  and  flourish  when  visit- 
ed with  heavy  rains,  especially  if  these  set  in  at  a  period 
■when  the  crop  is  in  a  critical  stage.  This  conclusion 
will,  without  difficulty,  be  admitted  by  every  farmer 
much  concerned  in  the  growing  of  wheat,  who  has  at- 
tentively observed  his  crops  in  the  various  stages  of 
their  growth,  and  compared  the  extent  of  produce  in 
different  years  with  the  weather  when  the  filling  and 
ripening  processes  were  going  forward. 

Whether  blight  and  mildew  be  considered  separately, 
or  viewed  as  one  and  the  same  disorder,  appearing  at 
different  periods  of  the  plant's  growth,  we  are  convinced 
that  both  may  with  truth  be  reckoned  to  proceed  from 
an  unhealthy  atmosphere,  when  the  crop  is  in  certain 
stages  of  its  progress  to  maturity.  Every  farmer  is 
satisfied,  that  not  only  the  extent,  but  the  very  appear- 
ance of  blight  and  mildew  are  entirely  governed  by  the 
seasons;  and  that,  with  respect  to  wheat,  the  kind 
sown,  namely,  whether  thin  or  thick  chaffed,  has  a  very 
considerable  effect  in  lessening  or  increasing  the  effects 
of  these  baneful  disorders  ;  and  that  even  soil,  culture, 
and  situation,  have  each  their  respective  influence.  It 
rarely  occurs  that  either  blight  or  mililew  are  felt  in 
dry,  warm  seasons,  except  in  close  confined  fields,  where 
the  evening  dews  stagnate,  and  remain  till  they  are 
removed  by  the  meridian  sun.  Hence  the  wheat  crops, 
in  such  situations,  seldom  or  never  escape  a  partial  or 
general  injury.  On  the  other  hand,  in  every  moist  sea- 
son, whether  cold  or  warm,  blight,  mildew,  and  gum, 
on  the  ear,  are  experienced  in  a  greater  or  lesser  de- 
gree. In  such  seasons,  thin-chaffed  wheals  are  much 
less  injured  than  those  that  are  thick-chaffed,  which 
circumstance  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  doctrine  that 
blight,  mildew,  and  rust,  are  brought  on  by  parasitical 
plants  or  fungi.  Among  many  others  in  our  power  to 
state,  a  convincing  instance  occurred  in  the  fatal  year 
1 709,  when  few  fields  escaped  mildew  of  the  worst  kind. 
On  a  field  carrying  both  kinds,  sowed  in  one  day,  and 
and  harvested  in  like  manner,  we  had  not  only  one-third 
more  produce  from  the  part  which  carried  thin-chaffed 
grain,  but  actually  sold  it  two  shillings  and  sixpence 
per  bushel  higher  in  the  public  market,  than  the  other 
would  fetch.  Soil,  culture,  and  situation,  have,  in  an 
inferior  degree,  an  influence  in  the  growth  and  pro- 
gress of  diseases.  Some  soils  are  naturally  so  moist 
at  bottom,  that  dampness  issues  from  them  at  all  times. 
Superior  culture,  and  excessive  manuring  are  apt  to 
cause  a  crop  to  be  early  lodged,  in  which  case,  one 
disease  or  other  is  sure  to  seize  upon  it ;  and  a  southern 


aspect,  and  every  confined  situation,  are  much  more 
hazardous  than  those  of  a  northern  or  western  expo- 
sure, and  where  the  air  has  free  egress.  In  a  word, 
when  hoar-frost  or  vapour  of  any  kind  is  dispelled  by 
wind,  no  danger  will  follow  to  the  crop ;  but,  where  a 
hot  sun  is  the  agent,  we  have  repeatedly  noticed  the 
most  serious  losses. 

The  opinions  already  expressed,  respecting  the  dis- 
eases of  wheat,  receive  considerable  support  from  what 
happened  last  season,  since  the  first  edition  of  this  work 
went  to  press.  That  mildew  acted,  in  numerous  in- 
stances, as  the  destroying  agent  of  crop  1808,  is  univer- 
sally acknowledged ;  but  that  the  defectiveness  of  that 
crop  was  entirelj'  owing  to  mildew,  may  safely  be  ques- 
tioned. In  fact,  the  chief  injury  proceeded  from  an 
unhealthy  or  pestilential  atmosphere,  at  the  time  when 
the  grain  was  in  an  embryo  or  imperfect  state.  Owing 
to  that  unhealthiness,  something  like  abortion  seemed 
to  take  place  in  the  parent  plant,  after  the  fostus  of  the 
young  grain  was  formed,  as  was  evident  from  more  than 
one  half  of  the  cups  or  vessels  prepared  by  nature  for 
its  reception,  being  totally  void  of  substance,  notwith- 
standing that  every  part  of  the  ear  had  blossomed 
equally  well,  and  promised  to  furnish  a  numerous  and 
healthy  progeny.  Even  the  grain  which  remained  ia 
life,  proved  afterwards  to  be  of  perfect  or  imperfect 
quality,  according  to  the  nature,  situation,  and  condition 
of  the  soil  upon  which  it  was  produced.  Upon  sound 
healthy  soils,  where  the  plants  were  provided  with 
strong  seminal  and  coronal  roots,  the  grain  was  more 
deficient  in  quantity  than  defective  in  quality.  In  situ- 
ations where  abortion  did  not  take  place  in  the  first  in- 
stance, the  young  grain,  from  receiving  a  regular  supply 
of  food,  was  enabled  to  resist  the  storms  which  beat 
upon  and  destroyed  its  weaker  and  worse  supplied  neigh- 
bours. As  happens  with  persons  of  sound  constitutions, 
disease  was  successfully  resisted  in  many  instances; 
and  though  the  healthiest  plants  had  fewer  grains  in 
their  ears  than  usual,  being  constantly  defective  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  ear,  yet  these  grains  which  remained 
in  life  were  ripened  and  harvested,  after  passing  through 
the  process  of  maturation,  in  the  most  satisfactory  man- 
ner. 

It  may  now  be  inquired,  how  this  abortion  was  brought 
about,  which  we  have  stated  as  so  destructive  to  the 
wheat  crop  of  1 808.  This  may  be  satisfactorily  eluci- 
dated by  a  reference  to  the  weather  which  prevailed 
through  the  months  of  July  and  August,  as  it  is  in  these 
months  that  the  diseases  of  wheat  always  appear,  that 
of  smut  excepted,  which  is  not  generated  by  an  unheal- 
thy atmosphere. 

The  month  of  July  was  excessively  warm,  more  so 
than  remembered  by  the  oldest  man  living ;  and  from 
the  beginning  to  the  20th  of  the  month,  the  slightest 
moisture,  even  in  the  mornings  and  evenings,  was  not 
perceivable.  Owing  to  thisuncoramon heat,  wheat  plants 
upon  all  soils  not  composed  of  clay  or  strong  loam,  were, 
in  a  manner,  at  a  stantl  with  respect  to  growth,  being 
enfeebled  by  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun,  while  any  wind 
that  blew  was  so  sultry,  that  the  evil  was  rather  in- 
creased by  its  effects.  The  ground,  in  consequence  of 
this  intense  sun-shine,  felt  something  like  burnt-brick 
when  taken  from  the  kiln ;  of  course,  when  the  rains 
fell,  smoke  issued  from  the  surface,  something  like  what 
proceeds  from  lime-shells  when  water  is  thrown  upon 
them;    and  this  exhalation  of  vapour  continued  in  a 


AGRICULTURE. 


279 


greater  or  lesser  degree,  till  (he  soil  was  completely 
saturated  with  moisture,  wheu  the  air  became  cooler 
and  Diore  temperate. 

Under  these  circumstances,  when  putrid  effluvia  is- 
sued from  every  pore  of  the  soil,  it  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  the  wheat  crop  could  escape  from  the  danger 
with  which  it  was  encompassed.  Apprehensions,  there- 
fore, were  entertained,  that  the  fields  already  in  a  sickly 
and  declining  state,  would  soon  fall  victims  to  the  pes- 
tilence which  raged  in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  result 
soon  showed  that  these  apprehensions  were  too  well 
founded.  With  the  exception  of  the  lands  upon  the  sea- 
shore, preserved,  we  presume,  by  refreshing  lireezes 
from  the  sea,  every  field  was  discovered  to  be  more  or 
less  injured.  Those  soils  composed  of  sand,  soft  loam, 
and  thin  clays,  mixed  with  peat  earth,  were  almost  in 
every  case  attacked  with  mildew,  while  the  healthier 
and  sounder  soils,  where  mildew  was  rarely  discernible, 
fulfered  considerably  by  having  the  young  grain  destroy- 
ed in  the  cup,  and,  of  course,  yielded  crops  generally 
one-third  or  one-fourth  short  of  the  usual  produce.  Had 
not  thin  or  smooth  chaffed  wheats  been  generally  sown, 
it  is  almost  certain  that  a  single  field  would  not  have 
escaped  mildew.  We  know  of  no  field  sown  with  the 
thick  chaffed,  or  woolly  eared  varieties,  that  esca|)ed 
mildew  in  its  most  aggravated  shape.  Even  the  smooth 
chaffed  varieties  depended  for  safety  entirely  upon  the 
nature  of  the  soil  which  they  occupied,  and  their  condi- 
tion at  the  time  when  rainy  weather  commenced. 

Here  it  may  be  remarked,  that  though  mildew  is  a 
disease  altogether  unknown  during  dry  weather,  yet  it 
is  only  in  seasons  when  the  weather  has  been  very  warm 
and  dry  that  its  effects  are  most  strikingly  displayed. 
In  such  seasons  rust  often  appears  upon  the  straw  of 
wheat,  produced  upon  dry  and  light  soils,  and  upon  all 
soils  which  have  not  good  stamina,  brought  on,  it  would 
seem,  by  the  plants  being  stunted  of  nourishment.  Now, 
if  humid  weather  sets  in  when  the  plants  are  in  this 
atrophical  state,  and  continues  for  any  length  of  time, 
the  disease  called  mildew,  which  completely  checks 
the  circulation  of  the  plant,  immediately  follows,  as  was 
produced  last  season  in  numberless  instances.  In  a 
word,  had  we  been  at  the  West  Indies  at  the  time,  and 
learned  that  the  weather  from  24th  July  to  13th  August 
was  almost  incessantly  wet,  we  at  once  would  have  pre- 
dicted that  the  wheat  crop  would  be  a  failing  one ;  and 
on  the  truth  of  that  prediction  would  have  confidently 
relied,  because  similar  ones,  in  the  course  of  a  pretty 
lengthened  experience,  had  invariably  been  verified  by 
the  produce  of  wheat  crops  so  circumstanced. 

Some  people  have  recommended  the  sowing  of  blight- 
ed and  mildewed  wheat,  because  it  will  vegetate;  though 
certainly  the  recommendation,  if  carried  into  practice, 
would  be  attended  with  imminent  danger  to  those  who 
attempted  it.  That  light  or  defective  wheat  will  vege- 
tate and  produce  a  plant,  we  are  not  disposed  to  con- 
tradict ;  but  that  it  will  vegetate  as  briskly,  or  put  out 
a  stem  of  equal  strength,  and  capable  of  withstanding 
the  severe  winter  blasts,  as  those  produced  from  sound 
seed,  we  must  be  excused  for  not  believing.  Let  it  only 
be  considered,  that  a  plant  of  young  wheat,  unless  when 
very  early  sown,  lives  three  or  four  months,  in  a  great 
measure,  upon  the  nourishment  which  it  derives  from 
the  parent  seed ;  and  that  such  nourishment  can,  in  no 
view  of  the  subject,  be  so  great,  when  the  parent  is  lean 
and  emaciated,  as  when  sound,  healthy,  and  vigorous. 
Let  it  also  be  remembered,  that  a  plant  produced  from 


the  best,  and  weightiest  seed,  must,  in  every  case,  under 
a  parity  of  other  circumstances,  have  a  stronger  consti- 
tution at  the  outset,  which  necessarily  qualifies  it  to  push 
on  with  greater  energy  when  the  season  of  growth  ar- 
rives. Indeed  the  economy  of  nature  would  be  over- 
turned, had  any  other  result  followed.  A  breeder  of 
cattle  or  sheep  would  not  act  more  foolishly,  who  trusted 
that  a  deformed  diminutive  bull  or  ram  would  produce 
him  good  stock,  than  the  corn  farmer  does  who  uses 
unsound  or  imperfect  seed.  Without  reasoning,  how- 
ever, on  these  matters,  it  may  be  stated,  that  we  have 
seen  fields  which  were  partly  sown  with  sound,  partly 
with  mildewed  seed,  and  the  diflerence  was  discernible 
at  one  glance  through  the  whole  winter  months. 

We  have  in  substance  admitted,  that  mildewed  seed 
will  vegetate,  though  in  one  instance  we  remember  Of 
a  field  sown  with  such  seed,  where  three-fourths  of  the 
grain  at  least  lay  altogether  dormant;  but  we  contend, 
even  under  the  above  admission,  that  such  seed  ought 
not  to  be  trusted,  since  it  furnishes  plants  unable  to 
withstand  the  severe  blasts  of  winter  and  spring.  It  is 
well  known  that  in  some  seasons,  even  the  strongest 
rooted  wheat  suffers  severely;  and  there  is  no  doubt 
but  that  the  weak  and  feeble  plants  always  perish  first. 
But  what  may  be  expected  when  the  whole  plants  are 
weak  and  debilitated,  as  necessarily  must  be  the  case 
with  those  produced  from  light  grain,  till  the  coronal 
roots  are  formed,  and  able  to  search  for  food  ?  When 
that  period  arrives,  perhaps  the  battle  is  in  a  great 
measure  won ;  but  how  many  thousands  may  be  slain 
before  that  stage  is  reached.  That  there  is  a  danger 
from  weak  see(l,  and  not  a  small  one,  we  presume  will 
not  be  disputed  ;  and  that  the  farmer  who  exposes  him- 
self to  such  a  danger  does  not  act  wisely,  requires  no 
demonstration. 

But  another  reason  operates  with  us  against  the  use 
of  mildewed  wheat,  which  at  least  deserves  considera- 
tion : — Is  there  not  some  risk  that  the  disease  may  be 
conveyed  from  the  parent  to  the  crop,  and  that  the  pro- 
duce may  thereby  be  lessened  ?  We  do  not  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  this  disease,  like  smut,  begets  its  like, 
though  there  is  a  degree  of  risk  in  the  use  of  mildewed 
seed,  which  no  prudent  farmer  would  choose  to  hazard, 
who  could  avoid  it.  On  this  point  we  have  the  respect- 
able support  of  sir  John  Sinclair,  baronet,  who,  in  an 
address  to  the  members  of  the  Board  of  Agriculture, 
September  1795,  says, — "Every  exertion  ought  to  be 
made  to  secure  an  abundant  supply  of  wheat ;  and,  for 
the  purpose  of  effecting  so  desirable  an  object,  it  is 
essentially  necessary  that  none  but  the  best  seed  should 
be  made  use  of.  In  some  parts  of  the  kingdom,  parti- 
cularly in  Yorkshire,  the  mildew  has  been  much  com- 
plained of.  Any  seed  infected  with  that  disorder  ought 
to  be  avoided  as  much  as  possible,  and  tintainted  seed,  at 
any  expense,  ought  to  he  procured.''''  Sir  John,  in  this 
advice,  displays  a  correctness  of  opinion,  which  we  trust 
will  never  be  lost  sight  of  by  the  farmers  of  Great 
Britain. 

7.  On  Harvest  Management — It  is  advantageous  to 
cut  wheat  before  it  is  fully  ripe ;  but  in  ascertaining 
the  proper  state,  it  is  necessary  to  discriminate  betwixt 
the  ripeness  of  the  straw  and  the  ripeness  of  the  grain ; 
for  in  some  seasons  the  straw  dies  upwards;  under 
which  circumstance,  a  field,  to  the  eye,  may  appear  to 
be  completely  fit  for  the  sickle,  when  in  reality  the 
grain  is  imperfectly  consolidated,  and  perhajjs  not  much 
jemoved  from  a  milky  state.    Though  it  is  obvious  that, 


280 


AGRICULTURE. 


•under  such  clrcuiBBtanccs,  no  further  benefit  can  be  con- 
veyed from  the  root,  and  that  nourishment  is  withheld 
the  moment  that  the  roots  die  ;  yet  it  does  not  follow, 
that  grain  so  circumstanced  should  be  immediately  cut, 
because,  after  that  operation  is  performed,  it  is  in  a 
great  measure  necessarily  deprived  of  every  benefit  from 
the  sun  and  air,  both  of  which  have  greater  influence  in 
bringing  it  to  maturity,  so  long  as  it  remains  on  foot, 
than  when  cut  down,  whether  laid  on  the  ground  or 
bound  up  in  sheaves.  The  state  of  the  weather  at  the 
time  also  deserves  notice ;  for,  in  moist,  or  even  variable 
iveather,  every  kind  of  grain,  when  cut  prematurely,  is 
more  exposed  to  damage  than  when  comidetely  ripened. 
All  these  things  will  be  studied  by  the  skilful  husband- 
man, who  will  also  take  into  consideration  the  dangers 
which  may  follow,  were  he  to  permit  his  wheat  crop  to 
remain  uncut  till  completely  ripened.  The  danger 
from  wind  will  not  be  lost  sight  of,  especially  if  the  sea- 
son of  the  equinox  approaches ;  even  the  quantity  drop- 
ped in  the  field  and  in  the  stack-yard,  when  wheat  is 
over  ripe,  is  an  object  of  consideration.  Taking  all 
these  things  into  view,  it  seems  prudent  to  have  wheat 
cut  before  it  is  fully  ripe,  as  less  damage  will  be  sustain- 
ed from  acting  in  this  way  than  by  adopting  a  contrary 
practice. 

If  the  weather  be  dry,  and  the  straw  clean,  wheat  may 
be  carted  to  the  stack-yard  in  a  few  days ;  indeed,  if 
quite  ripe,  it  may  be  stacked  immediately  from  the 
fcickle,  especially  when  not  meant  for  early  thrashing. 
So  long,  however,  as  any  moisture  remains  in  the  straw, 
the  field  will  be  found  to  be  the  best  stackyard^  and 
where  grass  or  weeds  of  any  kind  are  mixed  ivith  the 
crop,  patience  must  be  exerted  till  they  are  decayed  and 
dried,  lest  heating  be  occasioned ;  which,  independent 
of  the  loss,  is  to  the  farmer  a  most  disgraceful  affair. 

8.  Oil  Thrashing  Wheat.- — Before  thrashing  machines 
were  introduced,  the  task  of  separating  wheat  from  the 
Btraw  was  arduous  and  difficult.  The  expense  was  very 
considerable,  whilst  the  severity  of  the  labour  almost 
exceeded  the  power  of  the  strongest  man,  especially  in 
unfavourable  seasons,  when  the  grain  adhered  perti- 
naciously to  the  ear,  and  could  not,  without  difficulty,  be 
completely  loosened  and  removed.  In  such  seasons, 
expense  was  the  smallest  consideratijMi  which  influencei^ 
the  liusbandman ;  it  was  the  quantity  of  grain  unavoida- 
bly lost  which  occupied  his  attention;  and, as  it  appeared 
difficult  to  find  out  a  remedy,  most  people  considered  it 
as  an  evil  which  could  scarcely  be  avoided.  In  short, 
the  loss  was  great  in  almost  every  case,  but  greater  with 
wheat  than  any  other  grain.  Every  thing  of  this  nature, 
however,  may  be  prevented,  now  that  thrashing  ma- 
chines are  introduced,  provided  the  feeder  is  careful, 
and  proportions  the  quantity  on  the  board  to  the  strength 
of  the  impelling  power.  Wheat,  in  fact,  is  now  the 
cleanest  thrashed  grain ;  because  the  length  of  the  straw 
allows  it  to  be  properly  beat  out  before  it  passes  the 
machine,  which  sometiiries  is  not  the  case  with  sliort 
oats  and  barley.  If  horses  are  used  as  the  impelling 
power,  tliin  feeding  is  necessary,  otherwise  the  animals 
may  be  injured ;  but  ivhere  wind  or  water  is  employed, 
the  business  of  thrashing  is  executed  speedily,  com- 
pletely, and  economically. 

The  late  Benjamin  Bell,  Esq.  of  Hunthill,  made  va- 
rious experiments,  to  ascertain  whether  light  or  imper- 
fect seed  would  vegetate,  and  produce  a  crop  equal  to 
what  might  be  obtained  from  seed  perfectly  ripened  and 
aafeiy   harvested.    The   result  of  these   experiments 


strongly  confirms  what  wehareurged  with  respect  to  th« 
use  of  mildewed  or  diseased  grain  for  seed;  and  had  it 
not  been  rather  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  this 
work,  we  would  have  extractetl  from  his  statement  the 
whole  particulars  connected  with  the  subject  under  con- 
sideration. 

We  may  only  mention,  that  Dr.  Bell,  in  October  1 783, 
sowed  a  field  of  twelve  acres  with  nine  bolls  of  wheat, 
of  which  an  English  quarter,  or  something  less  than 
two  bolls,  was  the  best  that  could  be  procured  in  the 
London  market  of  crop  1783.  Five  bolls  of  the  produce 
of  East  Lothian  crop  1783  was  also  used,  and  one  boll 
of  the  best  wheat  in  the  London  market  of  crop  1782; 
and  one  boll  of  the  produce  of  wheat  near  Edinburgh, 
in  the  same  year,  made  out  the  total  quantity.  Here 
it  must  be  remarked,  that  1782  was  a  season  generally 
unfavourable  to  raising  wheat  in  perfection,  but  that 
in  1 783  grain  was  sound,  and  of  excellent  quality. 

The  field  upon  which  the  above  parcels  of  wheat  were 
sown  was  well  fallowed,  and  equally  manured  with 
dung,  and  the  whole  seeds  were  sown  in  the  beginning 
of  October,  after  each  of  them  had  been  washed,  in 
strong  brine,  and  afterwards  dried  with  new  slaked  lime. 

The  English  seed  of  crop  1 783  was  sown  on  one  side 
of  the  field,  and  half  a  boll  of  the  Mid  Lothian  seed  of 
crop  1 782  on  three  ridges  next  to  it.  To  this  succeeded 
the  English  wheat  of  the  same  crop;  then  the  East  Lo- 
thian wheat,  and  next  to  it  the  other  half  boll  of  Mid  Lo- 
thian wheat  of  1 782. 

The  field  being  all  in  good  condition,  the  wheat  ap- 
peared early  above  the  surface,  and  the  shoots  were 
every  where  strong,  excepting  on  those  ridges  sown  with 
Mid  Lothian  wheat  of  crop  1 782,  on  which  the  plants 
were  weak,  and  not  very  numerous.  Neither  did  they 
spread  or  tiller  like  the  others ;  so  that  during  the  win- 
ter and  spring  months  the  wheat  on  these  ridges  had  a 
weak  appearance,  and  in  harvest  the  straw  was  not  only 
thin  and  of  little  length,  but  the  ears  were  short  and 
small,  and  the  grain  on  this  part  of  the  field  was  not  so 
large  or  heavy  as  on  other  parts. 

It  was  also  found,  on  being  thrashed  and  measured, 
that  the  protluce  of  the  wheat  of  crop  1782  was  only 
eleven  bolls,  or  five  and  a  half  for  one ;  whereas  the  pro- 
duce of  the  rest  of  the  field  was  fully  fifteen  for  every 
boll  of  seed  sown.  The  difference  in  value  was  also 
considerable,  the  produce  of  the  Mid  Lothian  wheat 
selling  five  shillings  per  boll  lower  than  the  others. 

From  the  above  statement,  a  powerful  motive  occurs 
for  using  only  the  best  corn  for  seed,  the  truth  of  which 
cannot  be  too  strongly  inculcated.  Indeed,  we  have  al- 
ways considered  the  doctrine  broached  by  Sir  Joseph 
Banks,  Bart,  some  years  ago,  as  inimical  to  the  true  in- 
terests of  agriculture.  That  light  or  imperfect  seed 
will  vegetate  and  send  forth  a  stalk  or  plant,  may  easily 
be  admitted ;  but  that  the  produce  of  that  stalk  or  plant 
will  be  so  healthy  or  great  as  what  may  be  obtained  from 
plump  well  filled  seed,  willscarcely  bequeslioned  by  any 
one  who  is  not  a  slave  to  system.  Very  great  pains 
have  lieen  used  by  British  breeders  to  procreate  animaU 
from  the  best  and  most  approved  kinds  of  cattle  and 
sheep;  but  were  it  admitted  that  light,  diseased,  and 
imperfect  grain,  was  cajiable  of  making  an  equal  return 
to  the  grower,  quantity  and  quality  being  taken  into  con- 
sideration, it  is  plain  that  the  breeders  of  live-stock  are 
demonstrably  wrong  in  selecting  the  strongest  and  best 
proportioned  animals  as  the  basis  of  their  breeding 
stock.   In  making  these  selections,  however,  oreiy  man 


AGRICULTURE. 


281 


tvill  acknowled8;e  that  they  acted  with  judgment;  there- 
fore it  necessarily  follows,  that  the  growers  of  corn,  who 
make  use  of  defective  grain  for  seeding  their  fields, 
neither  consult  their  own  interest,  nor  act  with  that  de- 
gree of  judgment  and  understanding  which  ought  to  in- 
(iuence  and  govern  every  good  husbandman. 

On  Barley. 

Next  to  wheat,  the  most  valuable  grain  is  barley, 
especially  on  light  and  sharp  soils.  This  grain,  how- 
ever, is  less  cultivated  than  in  former  times;  because 
the  immense  taxation  on  it,  when  made  into  malt,  in 
the  first  instance,  and  afterwards  when  hrewetl  or  dis- 
tilled into  ale  or  spirits,  has  contributed  to  decrease 
the  demand,  and  consequently  to  diminish  the  value  of 
this  article.  Another  reason  for  its  decreased  culture 
may  be  assigned,  namely,  that  the  quantity  used  as 
bread-corn  is  now  very  trifling.  These  circumstances 
conjoined,  have,  for  several  years,  rendered  the  cul- 
tivation of  barley,  unless  in  situations  extremely  fa- 
vourable, of  less  advantage  to  the  farmer  than  any  other 
grain. 

Besides,  barley  is  a  tender  grain,  and  easily  hurt  in 
any  of  the  stages  of  its  growth,  particularly  at  seed  time  ; 
a  heavy  shower  of  rain  will  then  almost  ruin  a  crop  on 
the  best  prepared  land;  and  in  all  the  after-processes, 
greater  pains  and  attention  are  required  to  ensure  suc- 
cess, than  in  the  case  of  other  grains.  The  harvest 
process  is  difficult,  and  often  attended  with  danger; 
even  the  thrashing  of  it  is  not  easily  executed  with 
machines,  because  the  awn  generally  adheres  to  the 
grain,  and  renders  separation  from  the  straw  a  trouble- 
some task.  Barley,  in  fact,  is  raised  at  greater  expense 
than  wheat,and,  generally  speaking,  is  a  more  hazardous 
crop.  Except  upon  rich  and  genial  soils,  where  climate 
will  allow  wheat  to  be  perfectly  reared,  it  ought  not  to 
be  cultivated. 

Barlej'  may  be  divided  into  two  sorts,  early  and  late  ; 
to  which  may  be  added  a  bastard  variety,  called  bear,  or 
bigg,  which  aflbrds  similar  nutriment,  or  substance, 
though  of  inferior  qualitj'.  Early  barley,  under  various 
names,  was  formerly  sown  in  Britain  upon  lands  that 
had  been  previously  summer  fallowed,  or  were  in  high 
condition ;  but  this  mode  of  culture  being  in  a  great 
measure  renounced,  the  common  sort,  which  admits  of 
being  sown  either  early  or  late,  is  now  generally  used. 
The  most  proper  seed-seasons  is  any  time  in  April, 
though  we  have  seen  good  crops  produced,  the  seed  of 
which  was  sown  at  a  much  later  period  Bear,  or  bigg, 
may  be  sown  still  later  than  common  barley  ;  because  it 
ripens  with  greater  rapidity.  But,  as  a  general  prin^ 
ciple,  where  land  is  in  order,  early  sowing,  of  every  vari- 
ety, is  most  desirable. 

Preparation. — Barley  is  chieHy  taken  after  turnips, 
sometimes  after  pease  and  beans,  but  rarely,  by  good 
farmers,  either  after  wheat  or  oats,  unless  under  special 
circumstances.  When  sown  after  turnips,  it  is  generally 
taken  with  one  furrow,  which  is  given  as  fast  as  the 
turnips  are  consumed,  the  ground  thus  receiving  much 
benefit  fi-om  the  spring  frosts.  But  often  two  or  more 
furrows  are  necessary  for  the  fields  last  consumed  :  be- 
cause, when  a  spring  drought  sets  in,  the  surface,  from 
being  poached  by  the  removal  or  consumption  of  the 
crop,  gets  so  hardened  as  to  render  a  greater  quantity 
of  i)loughing,  harrowing,  and  rolling,  necessary,  than 
would  otherwise  be  called  for.     When  sown  after  beans 

Vol.  I.     Part  I. 


and  pease,  one  winter  hnd  one  spring  ploughing  are 
usually  bestowed ;  but,  when  after  wheat  or  oats,  three 
jdoughings  are  necessary,  so  that  the  ground  may  be 
liut  in  proper  condition.  These  operations  are  very 
ticklish  in  a  wet  and  backward  season,  and  rarely  in  that 
case  is  the  grower  paid  for  the  ex|)ense  of  his  labour. 
Where  land  is  in  such  a  situation  as  to  require  three 
ploughings  before  it  can  be  seeded  with  barley,  it  is 
better  to  summer  fallow  it  at  once,  than  to  run  the  risk« 
which  seldom  fail  to  accompany  a  quantity  of  spring 
labour,  if  the  weather  be  dry,  moisture  is  lost  during- 
the  different  processes,  and  an  imperfect  braird  neces- 
sarily follows  :  if  it  be  wet,  the  benefit  of  ploughing  is 
lost,  and  all  the  evils  of  a  wet  seed-time  are  sustained  by 
the  future  crop. 

QtiaiUiti/  of  Seed. — The  quantity  sown  is  different  iu 
different  cases,  according  to  the  quality  of  the  soil,  and 
other  circumstances.  Upon  very  rich  lands,  eight 
pecks  per  acre  are  sometimes  sown ;  twelve  is  very 
common  ;  and,  upon  |>oor  land,  more  is  sometimes  given- 
Among  the  t)est  farmers,  it  seems  a  disputed  point, 
whether  the  practice  of  giving  so  small  a  quantity  ol 
seed  to  the  best  lands  is  advantageous.  That  there  is 
a  saving  of  grain,  there. can  be  no  doubt;  and  that  the 
bulk  may  be  as  great  as  if  more  seed  had  been  sown, 
there  can  be  as  little  question.  Little  argument,  how- 
ever, is  necessary  to  prove  that  thin  sowing  of  barley 
must  be  attended  with  considerable  disadvantage  ;  for, 
if  the  early  part  of  the  season  be  dry,  the  plants  will  not 
only  be  stinted  in  their  growth,  but  will  not  send  out  off- 
sets ;  and,  if  rain  afterwards  fall,  an  occurrence  that 
must  take  place  some  time  during  the  summer,  often  at 
a  later  period  of  it,  the  plants  begin  to  stool,  and  send 
out  a  number  of  young  shoots.  These  young  shoots, 
unless  under  very  favourable  circumstances,  cannot 
be  expected  to  arrive  at  maturity ;  or,  if  their  ripen- 
ing is  waited  for,  there  will  be  a  great  risk  of  losing 
the  early  part  of  the  crop,  a  circumstance  that  fre- 
quently happens.  In  almost  every  instance  an  unequal 
sample  is  produced,  and  the  grain  is  for  the  most 
part  of  an  inferior  quality.  By  good  judges,  it  is 
thought  preferable  to  sow  a  quantity  of  seed  sufficient 
to  ensure  a  full  crop,  without  depending  on  its  sending 
out  offsets ;  indeed,  \vhere  that  is  done,  few  offsets  are 
jiroduced,  the  crop  grows  and  ripens  equally,  and  the 
grain  is  uniformly  good- 

Harvesting. — More  care  is  required  in  the  harvesting 
of  barley  than  any  of  the  other  white  crops,  even  in  the 
best  of  seasons ;  and  in  bad  years  it  is  often  found  very 
difficult  to  save  it.  Owing  to  the  brittleness  of  the  straw, 
after  it  has  reached  a  certain  period,  it  must  be  cut 
down ;  as  (vhen  it  is  suffered  to  stand  longer,  much  loss 
is  sustained  by  the  breaking  of  the  heads.  On  that  ac- 
count, it  is  cut  at  a  time  when  the  grain  is  soft,  and  the 
straw  retains  a  great  proportion  of  its  natural  juices, 
consequently  requires  a  long  time  in  the  field,  before 
either  the  grain  is  hardened,  or  the  straw  sufficiently 
dry.  When  put  into  the  stack  sooner,  it  is  apt  to  heat, 
and  much  loss  is  frequently  sustained.  It  is  a  custom 
with  many  farmers  to  have  an  opening  in  the  middle  of 
their  barley  stacks,  from  top  to  bottom.  This  opening 
is  generally  made  by  placing  a  large  bundle  of  straw  in 
the  centre  of  the  stack  when  the  building  counnences, 
and,  in  proportion  as  it  rises,  the  straw  is  drawn  upwards, 
leaving  a  hollow  behind;  which,  if  one  or  two  openings 
are  left  in  the  side  of  the  stack  near  the  bottom,  en- 
sures so  comi)lete  a  circulation  of  air,  as  not  only  to 
Nn 


282 


AGRICULTURE. 


prevent  heating,  but  to  preserre  the  grain  from  becom- 
ing musty. 

On  Oats. 

Of  this  grain  the  varieties  are  more  numerous  than 
of  any  other  of  the  culmiferous  tribe.  These  varieties 
consist  of  what  is  called  the  common  oat;  the  Angus 
oat,  which  we  consider  as  an  improved  variety  of  the 
other;  the  Poland  oat;  the  Friesland  oat ;  the  red  oat ; 
the  dun  oat;  the  Tartar,  or  Siberian  oat;  and  the  potatoe 
oat.  The  Poland  and  potatoe  varieties  are  best  adapted 
to  rich  soils ;  the  red  oat,  for  late  climates;  and  the  other 
varieties,  for  the  generality  of  soils,  of  which  the  Bri- 
tish isles  are  composed.  The  Tartar,  or  Siberian  kind, 
though  very  hardy  and  prolific,  is  much  out  of  use,  be- 
ing of  a  coarse  substance,  and  unjjroductive  of  meal. 
The  dun  oat  has  never  been  much  cultivated ;  and  the 
use  of  Poland's  and  Friesland's  is  now  much  circum- 
iscribed,  since  potatoe  oats  were  introduced,  the  latter 
being  considered,  by  the  most  discerning  agriculturists, 
as  of  superior  value,  in  every  respect,  where  the  soil  is 
rich  and  properly  cultivated. 

Preparation. — Oats  are  chiefly  sown  after  grass; 
sometimes  upon  land  not  rich  enough  for  wheat  that  had 
been  previously  summer  fallowed,  or  had  carried  tur- 
nips ;  often  after  barley,  and  rarely  after  wheat,  unless 
cross-cropping,  from  particular  circumstances,  becomes 
a  necessary  evil.  One  ploughing  is  generally  given  to 
the  grass  lands,  usually  in  the  month  of  Januarj',  so  that 
the  benefit  of  frost  may  be  gained,  and  the  land  suffi- 
ciently mellowed  for  receiving  the  harrow.  In  some 
cases  a  spring  furrow  is  given,  when  oats  succeed  wheat 
or  barley,  especially  when  grass  seeds  are  to  accompany 
the  crop.  The  best  oats,  both  in  quantity  and  quality, 
are  always  those  which  succeed  grass;  indeed,  no  kind 
of  grain  seems  better  qualified  by  nature  for  foraging 
upon  grass  land  than  oats ;  as  a  full  crop  is  usually  ob- 
tained in  the  first  instance,  and  the  land  left  in  good  or- 
der for  succeeding  ones. 

Quantity  of  Seed.'— From  twelve  to  eighteen  pecks  of 
seed  is  generally  allowed  to  the  Scottish  acre  of  ground, 
according  to  the  richness  of  the  soil  and  the  variety 
that  is  cultivated.  H«re  it  may  be  remarked,  that  land 
sown  with  potatoe  oats  requires  much  less  seed,  in  point 
of  measure,  than  when  any  of  the  other  sorts  are  used  ; 
because  potatoe  oats  both  tiller  well,  much  better  than 
Poland  ones,  and  have  not  an  awn,  or  tail,  like  the  ordi- 
nary varieties.  On  that  account,  a  measure  contains 
many  more  seeds  of  them  than  of  any  other  kind.  If 
land  is  equally  well  cultivated,  we  have  little  doubt  but 
that  the  like  quantity  of  seed  given  when  barley  is  cul- 
tivated, may  be  safely  trusted  to  when  potatoe  oats  are 
1o  be  raised. 

Harvesting. — Oats  are  a  liardy  grain,  and  rarely  get 
much  damage  when  under  the  harvest  process,  except 
from  high  winds,  or  from  shedding,  when  opened  out 
after  being  thoroughly  wetted.  The  early  varieties  are 
much  more  liable  to  these  losses  than  the  late  ones ; 
because  the  grain  parts  more  easily  from  the  straw,  an 
evil  to  which  the  best  of  grain  is  at  all  times  subject. 
Early  oats,  however,  may  be  cut  a  little  quick,  which,  to 
a  certain  extent,  lessens  the  danger  to  which  they  are 
exposed  from  high  winds;  and,  if  the  sheaves  be  made 
small,  the  danger  from  shedding  after  rains  is  consider- 
ably lessened,  because  they  are  thus  sooner  ready  for 
thestack.  Under  every  mauagementj  however,  agreater 


quantity  of  early  oats  will  be  lost  during  the  harvest 
process  than  of  late  ones ;  because  the  latter  adhere 
firmly  to  the  straw,  and  consequently  do  not  drop  so 
easily  as  the  former. 

Produce.'— Oais  are  generally  supposed  to  be  more 
productive  in  Scotland  than  in  England ;  and  the  qua- 
lity of  the  produce  is  also,  in  like  manner,  supposed  to 
be  considerably  superior.  Were  it  necessary  to  assign 
reasons  for  the  difference,  the  following  might  be  men- 
tioned : — 1.  In  Scotland,  this  grain  gets  an' equal  share 
of  good  soil  with  others ;  whereas,  in  England,  the  worst, 
or  inferior  soils,  are  usually  allotted  for  the  growth  of 
oats,  the  best  being  reserved  for  wheat  and  barley.  2. 
The  climate  of  Scotland  may  be  considered  as  more 
favourable  to  oats  than  that  of  England,  being  of  a  mois- 
ter  nature,  and  rarely  so  warm,  consequently  better  cal- 
culated to  bring  this  grain  to  perfection.  When  a  dry 
summer  occurs  in  Scotland,  it  rarely  happens  that  oats 
yield  well,  either  in  the  barn  or  the  mill,  being  of  a 
smaller  size,  thicker  in  the  husk,  and  with  a  longer 
awn,  or  tail,  than  they  usually  are  in  moist  seasons. 
Though  we  do  not  urge  these  reasons  as  sure  and  cer- 
tain ones,  why  the  produce,  as  to  quantity  and  quality, 
is  ditTerent  in  the  two  countries,  yet  we  are  much  ih- 
clined  to  tliink  that,  to  one  or  other  of  them,  or  to 
them  both  conjoined,  the  difference  may  be  fairly  as- 
cribed. 

Before  we  finish  this  part  of  the  subject,  it  may  be 
necessary  to  urge  a  few  >vords  more  in  favour  of  the 
potatoe  oat,  one  of  the  most  valuable  varieties  cultivated 
at  this  time  in  the  island.  The  origin  of  this  variety 
cannot  be  easily  traced;  but  it  was  pretty  generally  in- 
troduced over  all  Scotland  in  >801  and  1802,  and  is  now 
the  oat  most  generally  cultivated  upon  all  soils  of  decent 
quality,  or  in  good  condition.  It  is  not  a  favourite  with 
some  people  upon  shallow  soils,  as  it  yields  less  fodder 
Uian  other  varieties ;  but  upon  all  deep  or  tender  loams, 
especially  such  as  have  been  taken  up  from  gr;iss,  no 
kind  of  oat  will  make  such  an  abundant  return  to  the 
farmer,  whether  the  number  of  bolls  per  acre,  or  the 
quantity  of  meal  produced  from  these  bolls,  be  consider- 
ed. Perhaps  this  variety  has,  in  some  respects,  dege- 
nerated already,  owing  to  the  farina  of  other  oats  having 
communicated  with  it;  but  this  remark  was  more  ap- 
plicable when  potatoe  oats  were  first  introduced,  and 
sown  in  small  quantities  in  the  same  field  with  other 
varieties,  than  at  this  time,  when  whole  fields  are  occu- 
pied with  them.  Still  it  is  allowed,  that  degeneracy  has 
taken  place,  to  a  certain  extent ;  but  it  is  presumed  that 
the  consequences  might  be  removed  with  ease,  were 
first  principles  returned  to.  To  make  a  selection  of  the 
strongest  ears,  wliich  carried  the  purest  grain,  is  not  a 
difficult  business-;  and  were  this  selection  attended  to 
by  half  a  dozen  farmers  in  a  district,  it  is  obvious  that 
the  breed,  or  variety,  might  be  preserved  pure  and  un- 
contaminated.  If  slovenly  farmers  were  not  provided 
with  good  seed,  it  would  be  their  own  fault,  since,  if  they 
would  not  tiike  the  trouble  to  select  and  breed  for  their 
own  use,  they  might  always  be  provided  for  by  those 
who  were  either  better  qualified  for  making  the  selec- 
tion, or  were  more  attentive  to  the  interests  of  agri- 
culture. 

On  RifC. 

Rye  was  much  more  extensively  cultivated  in  Britain 
in  ancient  than  in  modern  timeS)  being  then  a  general 


AGRICULTURE. 


2Sd 


article  of  bread-com,  though  now  only  partially  used  in 
certain  distrirte  for  that  purpose,  or  in  the  distillation  of 
spirits.  Perhaps  to  change  of  taste,  or  want  of  con- 
sumption, may  be  attributed  the  great  decrease  of  this 
grain  ;  for,  upon  sandy  soils,  none  are  more  productive, 
nor  will  any  pay  the  farmer  better  for  the  expense  of 
cultivation  than  this  unfashionable  grain. 

Rye  ought  never  to  be  sown  upon  wet  soils,  nor  even 
upon  sandy  soils  where  the  subsoil  is  of  a  retentive  na- 
ture. Upon  downs,  links,  and  all  soft  lands,  which  have 
received  manure,  this  grain  thrives  in  perfection,  and 
if  once  covered  in,  will  stand  a  drought  afterwards  that 
would  consume  any  of  the  culmiferous  tribe.  The  seve- 
ral processes  may  be  regarded  as  nearly  the  same  with 
those  recommended  for  wheat,  with  the  single  exception 
of  pickling,  which  rye  does  not  require.  Rye  may  be 
sown  either  in  winter  or  spring,  though  the  winter- 
seeded  fields  are  generally  bulkiest  and  most  produc- 
tive. It  may  succeed  either  summer  fallow,  clover,  or 
turnips ;  even  after  oats,  good  crops  have  been  raised, 
and  where  such  crops  are  raised,  the  land  will  always 
he  found  in  good  condition. 

Sect.  III. 

On  the  Cultivation  of  Leguminous  Crops, 

Though  culmiferous  crops  have,  in  all  ages,  been 
regarded  as  most  profitable  for  the  husbandman,  there 
is  no  doubt  but  that  rural  management  is  most  suitably 
exercised,  when  due  attention  is  paid  to  the  preparative 
crops,  or  those  which  are  naturally  calculated  to  enrich 
or  fertilize  the  soil,  and  to  furnish  an  increased  stock  of 
manure  for  supporting  and  invigorating  its  powers, 
after  having  carried  culmiferous  crops.  These  prepara- 
tive or  enriching  crops  are  usually  called  leguminous 
ones;  and  here  we  shall  rank  under  that  head,  1. 
Beans;  2.  Pease;  3.  Tares;  4.  Potatoes;  5.  Turnips; 
0.  Ruta  Baga;  7.  Cabbages;  8.  Carrots.  Clover  and 
rye-grass  might,  with  propriety,  have  also  been  includ- 
ed ;  but  these  we  shall  reserve  as  subjects  for  the  next 
Chapter. 

On  Beans. 

Beans  are  a  grain  long  known  in  Britain;  but  it  is 
only  of  late  years  that  they  were  extensively  cultivat- 
ed upon  general  soils,  being  formerly  considered  as 
adapted  only  to  rich  and  moist  clays.  At  that  time 
they  were  all  sown  according  to  the  broad-cast  system ; 
in  which  way,  instead  of  benefiting  the  ground,  they 
.were  of  incalculable  detriment.  M^eeds  got  away  at 
the  outset,  and,  in  dry  seasons,  often  ruined  the  crop ; 
whilst,  in  every  season,  the  grass  or  perennial  weeds, 
which  happened  to  be  in  the  ground,  increased  in 
strength  and  in  quantity,  the  openness  of  the  bean 
crop  at  bottom  allowing  them  to  thrive  without  inter- 
r^iption. 

The  drilling  of  beans  with  a  small  mixture  of  pease  is 
now  become  a  general  practice,  iu  every  well  cultivated 
district,  more  particularly  in  those  where  soil  and  cli- 
mate permit  the  practice  to  be  successfully  executed. 
In  this  way,  not  only  heavy  crops  are  raised,  but,  what 
is  of  great  importance,  the  ground  is  kept  constantly  in 
gootl  order,  provided  suitable  attention  is  bestowed  upon 
the  ciejining  process.  This  is  generally  carried  on  by 
horse-hoeing  the  crop  at  different  times,  so  long  as  the 
feoe  can  be  used  without  doing  dairage ;  and  in  this  way 


an  able  auxiliary  is  brought  forward  to  the  assistance  of 
summer  fallow,  whereby  less  stress  may  be  laid  upon 
that  radical  process  than  otherwise  would  be  indispensa- 
bly necessary. 

The  different  branches  of  bean  culture  may  be  divid- 
ed into, — preparation,  mode  of  sowing,  quantity  of  seed 
required,  hoeing  process,  harvest  management,  and  pro- 
duce.    These  particulars  shall  be  briefly  illustrated. 

Preparation. — Beans  naturally  succeed  a  culmiferous 
crop  ;  and  we  believe  it  is  not  of  much  importance  which 
of  the  varieties  are  followed,  providing  the  ground  is  in 
decent  order,  and  not  worn  out  by  the  previous  crop.  The 
furrow  ought  to  be  given  early  in  winter,  and  as  deep 
as  possible,  that  the  earth  may  be  sutficienlly  loosened, 
and  room  afforded  for  the  roots  of  the  plant  to  search 
for  the  requisite  nourishment.  This  first  furrow  is 
usually  given  across  the  field,  which  is  the  best  method 
when  only  one  spring  furrow  is  intended  ;  but  as  it  is 
now  ascertained,  that  two  spring  furrows  are  highly  ad- 
vantageous, perhaps  the  one  in  winter  ought  to  be 
given  in  length,  which  lays  the  ground  in  a  better  situa- 
tion for  resisting  the  rains,  and  renders  it  sooner  dry  in 
spring,  than  can  be  the  case  when  ploughed  across.  On 
the  supposition,  that  three  furrows  are  to  be  given,  one 
in  winter  and  two  in  spring,  the  following  is  the  most 
eligible  preparation. 

The  land  being  ploughed  in  length  as  early  in  winter 
as  is  practicable,  and  the  gaw  and  head-land  furrows 
sufficiently  digged  out,  take  the  second  furrow  across 
the  first  as  soon  as  the  ground  is  dry  enough  in  spring 
to  undergo  the  operation  ;  water-furrow  it  immediately, 
and  dig  again  the  gam  and  head-land  furrows,  otherwise 
the  benefit  of  the  second  furrow  may  be  lost.  This 
being  done,  leave  the  field  for  some  days,  till  it  is  suffi- 
ciently dry,  when  a  cast  of  the  harrows  becomes  neces- 
sary, so  that  the  surface  may  be  levelled.  Then  enter 
with  the  ploughs,  and  form  the  drills,which  are  generally 
made  up  with  an  interval  of  27  inches.  In  the  hollow 
of  this  interval  deposit  the  seed  by  a  drill-barrow, 
and  reverse  or  slit  out  the  drills  to  cover  the  seed, 
which  finishes  the  process  for  the  time.  In  ten  or 
twelve  days  afterwards,  according  to  the  state  of  the 
weather,  cross-harrow  the  drills,  thereby  levelling  the 
field  for  the  hoeing  process.  Water-furrow  the  whole 
in  a  neat  manner,  and  spade  and  shovel  the  gam 
and  head-land  furrows,  which  concludes  the  whole  pro- 
cess. 

This  is  the  most  approved  way  of  drilling  beans, 
though  in  some  seasons,  upon  wet  soils,  such  a  method 
cannot  be  practised.  The  next  best  mode  is  therefore  to 
give  only  one  spring  furrow,  and  to  run  the  drill-barrow 
after  every  third  plough,  in  which  way  the  intervals  are 
nearly  of  the  same  extent  as  already  mentioned.  Har- 
rowing is  afterwards  required,  before  the  young  plants 
reach  the  surface,  and  water-furrowing,  (fee.  as  formerly 
described.  In  this  manner,  heavy  crops  havebeen  raised, 
though  not  with  such  exactness  as  is  practicable  in  the 
other.  The  ground  is  also  left  in  a  worse  condition,  con- 
sequently the  hoeing  process  is  performed  with  greater 
difficulty,  and  rarely  executed  in  a  perfect  manner. 
These  inconveniences,  however,  must  be  submitted  to 
in  adverse  seasons;  indeed,  they  often  cannot  be  avoid- 
ed by  the  most  dexterous  husbandman,  unless  seed-time 
is  put  so  far  back  as  to  render  the  after  crop  an  unpro- 
ductive one. 

Dung  is  often  given  to  beans,  especially  when  they 
succeed  wheat  which  had  not  received  manure.      The 
Nn2 


284 


AGRICULTURE. 


best  way  is  to  apply  the  dung  on  the  stubble  before  the 
winter  furrow  is  given,  which  greatly  facilitates  the 
after  process.  Used  in  this  way,  a  fore  stock  must  be  in 
hand;  but  where  the  farmer  ia  not  so  well  provided, 
spring  dunging  becomes  necessary,  though  evidently  of 
less  advantage.  At  that  season,  it  may  either  be  put 
into  the  drills  before  the  seed  is  so\\n,  or  spread  upon 
the  surface  and  ploughed  down  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  drilling  process  which  is  meant  to  he  adopted. 
Land  dunged  to  beans,  if  duly  hoed,  is  always  in  high 
order  for  carrying  a  crop  of  wheat  in  succession.  Per- 
haps better  wlieat,  both  in  respect  of  quantity  and  qual- 
ity, may  be  cultivated  in  this  way  than  any  other  mode 
of  sowing.  Different  machines  have  been  invented 
for  drilling  beans  ;  but  the  most  common  and  handy 
implement  is  one  of  the  barrow  form.  This  hand-drill 
is  pushed  forward  by  a  man  or  woman,  and  will,  accord- 
ing as  the  brush  or  director  is  lowered  or  heightened, 
sow  thicker  or  thinner,  as  may  be  expedient  and  neccs- 
aary.  Another  machine  drawn  by  a  horse,  and  sowing 
three  drills  at  a  time,  has  been  constructed,  and,  upon 
flat  lands,  will  certainly  distribute  the  seed  with  the  most 
minute  exactness.  Upon  unequal  fields,  and  even  on 
those  laid  out  in  high  ridges,  the  use  of  this  machine  is 
attended  with  a  degree  of  inconvenience  sufficient  to 
balance  its  advantages.  The  hand-drill,  therefore,  in 
all  probability,  will  be  retained  for  general  use,  though 
the  other  is  capable  of  performing  the  work  with  minu- 
ter regularity. 

Quantity  of  Seed. — In  England  beans  are  usually 
sown  much  thinner  than  repeated  trials  which  have 
been  made  will  authorise  in  Scotland.  The  English 
writers  speak  of  two  or  three  bushels  as  a  sufficient 
([Uantity  to  seed  an  acre  ;  whereas  less  than  five  cannot 
be  used  in  Scotland,  without  protlucing  a  small  crop  and 
a  foul  field.  As  the  English  acre  is  one-fifth  less  than 
the  Scottish,  it  would  appear  that  less  than  four  bushels 
ought  not  to  be  hazarded,  if  a  full  crop  is  expected. 
We  seldom  have  seen  thin  beans  turn  out  well,  unless 
the  soil  is  particularly  rich ;  nay,  unless  the  rows  close, 
weeds  will  get  away  after  the  cleaning  process  isfinished, 
thereby  disappointing  the  object  of  drilling,  and  ren- 
dering the  system  of  little  avail  towards  keeping  the 
ground  in  good  condition. 

Hoeitig  Process. — Beans  are  cleaned  in  various  ways ; 
1.  By  the  hand-hoe.  2.  By  the  scraper  or  Dutch  hoe. 
3.  By  a  plough  of  small  dimensions ;  but  constructed 
upon  the  principles  of  the  approved  swing  plough. 
Ploughs  with  double  moidd-boards  are  likewise  used  to 
rarth  them  up ;  and,  with  all  good  managers,  the  weeds 
in  the  drills  which  cannot  be  touched  by  the  hoe  are 
pulled  out  by  the  hand,  otherwise  no  field  can  be  consi- 
dered as  duly  cleaned. 

In  treating  of  the  cleaning  process,  without  noticing 
further  the  various  ways  in  which  it  is  executed,  we  shall 
confine  ourselves  to  the  one  which  we  have  found  most 
suited  to  the  generality  of  bean  soils.  About  ten  or 
twelve  days  after  the  young  plants  have  appeared  above 
the  surface,  enter  with  the  scraper,  and  loosen  any  weeds 
that  may  have  vegetated.  At  this  time  the  wings  or 
cutters  of  the  implement  ought  to  be  particularly  sharp, 
so  that  the  scraper  )nay  not  run  too  deep,  and  throw  the 
earth  upon  the  plants.  In  about  ten  days  after  the  ground 
is  scraped,  accortling  to  the  state  of  the  weather,  and 
other  circumstances,  use  the  small  swing  plough  to  lay 
the  earth  away  from  the  sides  of  the  rows ;  and,  in  doing 
80,  go  as  near  to  the  plants  as  possible ;  taking  care, 


at  the  same  time,  not  to  loosen  their  roots.  If  any 
weeds  stand  in  the  rows,  pull  them  out  with  the  hand: 
afterwards  earth-up  the  plants  with  the  small  swing 
plough,  or  run  the  scraper  in  the  intervals,  as  may  seem 
expedient.  Both  ways  are  eligible;  but,  when  properly 
earthed  up,  some  people  are  of  opinion  that  the  plants 
are  nourished  by  the  operation ;  while  others  thinlv 
that  the  benefit  gained  in  that  way  is  counterbalanced 
by  the  extra  trouble  attendant  upon  cutting  the  crop, 
the  bottom  being  necessarily  more  unequal  than  when 
the  scraper  is  employed  to  conclude  the  cleaning  pro- 
cess. 

Hanest  Management. — Before  beans  are  cut,  the 
grain  ought  to  he  tolerably  well  ripened,  otherwise  the 
quality  is  impaired,  whilst  a  long  time  is  required  to  put 
the  straw  in  such  a  condition  as  to  be  preserved  in  the 
stack.  In  an  early  harvest,  or  where  the  crop  is  not 
weight}-,  it  is  an  ea»y  matter  to  get  beans  sufficiently 
ripened ;  but,  in  a  late  harvest,  and  in  every  one  where 
the  crop  takes  on  a  second  growth,  it  is  scarcely  practi- 
cable to  get  them  thoroughly  ripened  for  the  sickle.  Un- 
der these  circumstances,  it  is  unnecessary  to  let  beans 
stand  uncut  after  the  end  of  September  or  the  first  of 
October ;  because  any  benefit  that  can  be  gained  after- 
wards is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  disadvantages 
that  accompany  a  late  wheat  seed-time.  Beans  are  usu- 
ally cut  with  the  sickle,  and  tied  in  sheaves,  either  with 
straw  ropes  or  with  ropes  made  from  pease  sown  along 
with  them.  It  is  proper  to  let  the  sheaves  lie  untied 
several  days,  so  that  the  winning  process  may  be  hast- 
ened, and,  when  tied,  to  set  them  up  on  end,  in  order 
that  full  benefit  from  the  air  may  be  obtained,  and  the 
grain  kept  off  the  ground.  In  building  bean  stacks,  it 
is  an  useful  measure,  for  preserving  both  grain  and 
straw  from  injury,  to  keep  an  opening  in  the  centre,  and 
to  convey  air  from  the  extremity  by  a  bole,  or  funnel. 
Beans,  on  the  whole,  are  a  troublesome  crop  to  the 
farmer,  though  of  great  utility  in  other  respects.  With- 
out them  heavy  soils  can  scarcely  be  managed  with  ad- 
vantage, unless  summer  fallow  is  resorted  to  once  in  four 
jears;  but,  by  the  aid  derived  from  drilled  beans, 
summer  fallow  may  be  avoided  for  eight  or  ten  years, 
whilst  the  ground,  at  that  period,  will  be  found  in  equal, 
if  not  superior  condition. 

Produce. — Beans,  where  proper  management  is  exer- 
cised, and  natural  diseases  avoided,  are  generally  a  cro|) 
of  considerable  value,  yielding  from  32  to  40  bushels 
per  Scottish  acre.  The  straw,  especially  when  mixed 
with  pease,  is  also  of  great  advantage  to  the  working 
stock,  affording  almost  as  much  nourishment,  when  pro- 
perly harvested,  as  is  gained  from  hay  of  ordinary  qual- 
ity. The  broad-cast  crops  are  sometimes  of  equal  value 
with  those  that  are  drilled ;  but  the  true  object  of  beans 
being  to  prepare  the  ground  for  the  admission  of  another 
crop  of  much  greater  value.  It  follows,  of  course,  that 
every  mode  of  cultivating  them,  which  precludes  the 
ground  from  being  suitably  cleaned,  ought  to  be  repro- 
bated and  condemned  by  the  practical  agriculturist,  who 
wishes  to  keep  his  laud  constantly  in  good  order,  and 
under  a  rotation  of  crops  capable  of  yielding  the  larg- 
est return  at  the  least  possible  expense. 

It  has  been  disputed,  whether  broad  or  narrow  inter- 
vals are  most  advantageous,  and  the  latter  mode  ha» 
been  chiefly  adopted  in  the  English  bean  districts,  though 
evidently  hostile  to  perfect  culture.  Hand-hoeing  is 
therefore  generally  resorted  to,  though  that  operation,  at 
the  best,  is  of  small  avail  on  clay  soils.    Whether  by  the 


AGRICULTURE. 


285 


use  of  narrow  or  broad  intervale  the  weightiest  crop 
can  be  raised,  seems  at  first  siglit  problematical ; 
doubts  on  this  point  occasioned  lis  many  years  ago  to 
make  trials  to  ascertain  the  most  proper  distance,  and 
the  result  of  these  (rials  shall  now  be  detailed. 

We  marked  off  au  acre  of  ground,  the  soil  a  light 
free  loam,  which  had  carried  a  crop  of  oats  the  preced- 
ing year.     It  was  deep  ploughed  in  winter,    and  re- 
ceived dung  previous  to  the  seed-furrow,  ^vhich  was 
given  as  shallow  as  possible,  in  order  that  the  plants 
might  have  sufficient  soil  to  strike  down  their  roots.     It 
was  divided  into  three  parts.     Part  No.  1 .  was  drilled 
with  intervals  of  27  inches,  or,  in  other  Avords,  the  bar- 
row followed  every  third  j)Iough.     No.  2.  ivas  drilled  af- 
ter the  second  plough,  which  reduced  the  intervals  to 
20  inches,  or  thereby.     No.  3.  had  intervals  of  the  same 
breadth  as  No.  1 . ;  but  two  rows  stood  together,  or  in 
each  furrow,  which  gave  about  the  same  number  of  drills 
as  stood  on  part  No.  2.  and  about  one-third  more  than 
part  No.  1.     They  were  sufficiently  harrowed  immedi- 
ately before  brairding,  carefully  hand-hoed  afterwards, 
and  finally  bulked  up  with  a  neat  double  moulded-board 
plough,  which  performed  the  Avork  in  a  very  perfect 
manner.     The  crop  at  harvest  was  good ;  but,  when  cut, 
the  stalk  was  smaller,  and  the  pods  not  so  well  filled, 
upon  those  which  occupied  No.  2.  as  upon  the  other 
two  divisions,  where  the  intervals  were  wider,  and  con- 
sequently a  freer  admission  given  to  the  air,  which  we 
have  since  found  to  be  necessary  in  the  culture  of  every 
article  of  the  leguminous  kind.     When  the  crop  was 
thrashed,  it  was  found  that  one  firlot  more  beans  were 
upon  No.  1.  than  upon  No.  2.;  and  No.  3,  only  returned 
the  same  ])roduce  as  No.  1.  (hough  it  contained  several 
more  drills;  besides,  owing  (o  the  double  rows,  it  was 
uothing  like  so  well  cleaned.     The  inferences  drawn  at 
the  time,  and  which  have  since  guided  our  conduct  in 
this  branch  of  husbandry,  were,  \st,  That  a  certain  por- 
tion of  air  was  required  to  bring  beans  to  perfection ; 
and  that  the  quantity  to  be  procured,  when  the  intervals 
were  only  18  or  20  inches,  was  not  sufficient  for  that  pur- 
pose.    2d,  That  intervals  less  than  27  inches  would  not 
admit  the  full  benefit  of  ploughing,  which  is  a  chief  ob- 
ject in  the  drill  husbandry.     And  lastly.  That  double 
rows,  with  wide  intervals,  were  not  advantageous,  as 
they  neither  re(urned  a  greater  produce,  nor  allowed 
the  ground  to  be  so  well  cleaned  as  single  rows. 

Since  the  above  trial,  we  have  uniformly  drilled  beans 
upon  a  great  scale,  according  to  the  first  mentioned  me- 
thod, with  this  single  alteration,  that  the  hand-hoe  is 
laid  aside,  and  the  whole  operation  performed  by  horse 
labour.  The  different  ploughings  are  given  with  one 
horse,  and  repeated  according  to  the  nature  of  (he  soil 
and  the  dryness  of  the  weather.  This  is  the  cheapest 
and  most  effectual  way  of  cultivating  beans ;  and  indeed 
it  is  now  very  generally  practised. 

The  following  paper,  by  Mr.  Robert  Dudgeon,  late 
farmer  at  Tyningham,  extracted  from  the  Transactions 
of  the  Society  of  Arts,  &c.  shows,  in  the  strongest  light, 
(he  utility  of  taking  beans  as  a  preparatory  crop  for 
wheat. 

"  Having  been  in  the  practice  of  sowing  wheat  after 
drilled  beans,  I  take  the  liberty  of  laying  before  the  So- 
ciety for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts,  Manufactures,  and 
Commerce,  an  account  of  three  fields,  containing  nearly 
twenty-three  and  a  half  acres,  (English  statute  measure,) 
drilled  with  beans  in  the  spring  of  1797,  and  sown  with 
-wheat  the  same  year. 


One  hundred  and  twenty-six  bushels  of  tick  beans 
were  sown,  which,  at  an  average,  isfive  bushels  one  peck 
and  a  half  of  seed  per  acre.  The  total  produce  was  one 
hundred  and  thirteen  quarters,  five  bushels,  and  three 
pecks ;  that  is,  thirty-eight  bushels  three  pecks  per 
aci'e,  average  produce. 

The  field  marked  No.  1.  in  the  surveyor's  certificate, 
contained  8.26  acres,  is  part  strong  red  clay,  upon  a 
limestone  bottom,  and  part  a  mixed  soil  of  clay  and 
loam,  upon  the  same  bottom ;  but  the  soil  is  of  a  greater 
depth.  This  field  was  twice  ploughed.  The  first  fur- 
row was  given  in  October  1790.  In  February  1707,  it 
was  dunged  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  cart-loads  per  acre, 
(containing  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  hundred  weight 
each,)  and  immediately  got  a  second  ploughing,  (he 
beans  being  drilled  into  the  bottom  of  the  furrow  be- 
hind the  plough.  Two  acres  and  a  half  were  drilled  at 
the  distance  of  every  third  furrow,  making  an  interval 
of  twenty-four  inches  between  the  rows ;  but  this  being 
too  wide,  the  remaining  part  of  the  field  was  drilled  at 
the  distance  of  two  furrows,  making  eighteen  inches 
width  between  the  rows.  The  same  quantity  of  seed 
per  acre,  viz.  five  bushels  and  three  pecks,  was  sown 
in  both  cases ;  and  at  harvest  no  apparent  difference 
could  be  observed  in  the  crop.  The  beans  were  drilled 
on  the  27fh  and  28th  of  February,  and  the  1st  of  March, 
and  the  field  completely  harrowed.  Some  days  after- 
wards, having  had  a  frost,  which  made  the  soil  crumble 
and  fall,  it  was  harrowed  a  second  time,  to  reduce  the 
mould  to  as  fine  a  state  as  possible.  This  field  was 
reaped  on  the  6th,  7(h,  and  8(h  of  October;  and  once 
ploughed  and  sown  with  wheat  on  the  10th  and  11th  of 
November,  1797.  The  produce  of  beans  was  forty-se- 
ven quarters,  or  forty-five  bushels  two  pecks  per  acre. 

"  The  field  No.  2.  containing  10.88  acres,  is  part  clay, 
the  same  as  No.  1.  upon  a  limeslone  bottom,  at  a  consi- 
derable depth,  and  part  a  light  deep  gravelly  soil,  with  a 
subsoil  of  red  clay.  It  was  twice  ploughed,  first  in  Oc- 
tober 1 796,  and  lastly  in  February  1 797,  immediately  af- 
ter which  it  was  formed  into  ribs  of  twenty  inches  width, 
by  making  the  horse  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  plough 
go  in  the  last  drawn  furrow.  The  beans  were  drilled 
between  these  ribs  on  2d,  3d,  and  11th  of  March,  and 
covered  by  harrowing  first  along  the  drills,  and  then, 
across  with  a  common  harrow,  till  the  surface  was  per- 
fectly flat,  and  the  mould  fine,  the  beans  being  left  at  a 
depth  of  four  inches.  The  quantity  of  seed  per  acre 
was  five  bushels.  This  field  was  reaped  on  the  4th,  5th, 
and  6th  of  October;  dunged  on  the  bean  stubble,  at  the 
rate  of  fifteen  cart-loads  per  acre ;  once  ploughed,  and 
sown  with  wheat,  on  the  13th,  14th,  and  22d  of  Novem- 
ber, and  the  21st  of  December,  1797.  The  produce  of 
beans  was  fifty-one  quarters  four  bushels,  or  thirty-se- 
ven bushels  two  pecks  per  acre. 

The  field  No.  3.  containing  4.22  acres,  is  a  light 
gravelly  soil,  upon  a  subsoil  of  sand  mixed  with  small 
gravel.  It  was  twice  ploughed,  first  in  October  1 796, 
and  lastly  in  February  1797.  It  was  afterwards  ribbed 
in  the  same  manner  as  No.  2,  and  the  beans  drilled  on 
the  16th  and  17th  of  March,  at  the  rate  of  five  bushels 
two  pecks  per  acre,  and  covered  by  harrowing  the  same 
as  No.  2.  This  field  was  reaped  on  the  21st  of  Septem- 
ber, and  one  half  of  it  ploughed.  1 1  was  then  dunged  at 
the  rate  of  eighteen  cart-loads  per  acre,  and  the  whole 
field  ploughed  over ;  and  sown  with  wheat  on  the  28th  of 
December,  1 797.  But  the  cropof  wheat  uponthat  part  of 
the  field  which  got  two  furrows,  was  much  inferior  to  that 


286 


AGRICULTURE 


where  it  got  only  one;  wliicli  shows  the  impropriety  of 
loosening  soils  of  this  quality  by  repeated  ploughing,  par- 
ticularly where  the  subsoil  is  so  little  calculated  for  the 
retention  of  moisture.  The  produce  of  beans  upon  this 
field  was  fifteen  quarters  one  bushel,  or  twenty-eight 
bushels  two  pecks  per  acre. 

"  Remark. — The  superior  produce  of  field  No.  1,  is 
not  to  be  attributed  to  its  being  drilled  in  a  different 
manner  from  No.  2.  and  3.  but  to  its  being  dunged  pre- 
vious to  the  bean  crop,  and  to  the  frost  happening  so 
opportunely  after  drilling  for  getting  the  mould  brought 
to  a  fine  state.  Indeed,  the  mode  of  drilling  pursued  in 
this  field,  is  what  1  never  practise,  but  where  local  cir- 
cumstances prevent  the  other  from  being  adopted ;  for 
if  the  furrows  are  taken  so  as  to  stir  the  soil  to  a  proper 
depth,  the  seed  is  then  laid  at  too  great  a  distance  from 
the  surface ;  in  which  case  it  generally  sends  up  a  weak 
plant.  And  if  such  a  furrow  is  only  taken  as  will  place 
the  seed  at  a  proper  depth,  the  bottom  soil  is  then  left 
unstirred,  whereby  the  pasture  of  the  plant  is  greatly 
circumscribed.  The  tap  root  may  indeed  penetrate  the 
substratum,  but  the  small  lateral  fibres  are  prevented 
from  spreading  as  they  ought  to  do. 

The  drill  employed  was  the  common  hand-drill  used 
in  this  country,  which  is  pushed  along  by  two  handles, 
like  a  wheelbarrow,  and  sows  one  row  at  a  time.  The 
wheel  is  about  twenfy-two  inches  diameter,  of  solid  deal, 
upon  the  axle  of  which  is  also  fixed  a  notched  roller  of 
two  inches  and  three  quarters  diameter,  and  two  inches 
long,  which  turns  in  the  fore-part  of  the  drill-box.  The 
quantity  of  seed  is  regulated  by  a  slider,  which  moves  up 
and  down  in  the  fore  part  of  the  box,  by  an  adjusting 
screw  fixed  at  top ;  the  slider  having  a  strong  brush  pro- 
jecting from  its  lower  end,  which  sweeps  upon  the 
notched  roller.  There  is  also  a  sluice  or  slider  that  lies 
flat  upon  tlie  bottom  on  the  inside  of  the  drill-box.  This 
slide  projects  between  the  two  handles  of  the  drill,  so  as 
to  be  within  reach  of  the  person  lliat  guides  it ;  who,  by 
pushing  the  slide  forward,  completely  covers  the  notched 
roller,  and  prevents  any  of  the  beans  getting  out  while 
the  drill  is  turning  at  the  end  of  the  ridges.  A  woman 
or  boy  will  drill  from  two  to  two  acres  and  a  half  per 
day,  when  the  rows  are  at  twenty  inches  distance. 

AH  the  fields  were  harrowed  into  a  fine  mould  after 
sowing ;  and  when  the  beans  had  got  above  the  ground, 
and  the  first  leaves  were  fairly  opened  and  green,  they 
were  again  harro%ved  with  a  common  harrow,  which  des- 
troyed a  crop  of  annual  weeds,  and  saved  a  great  deal  of 
hand-weeding.  The  bean,  at  this  stage  of  its  growth,  is 
l<ossessed  of  a  toughness  tijat  prevents  it  from  receiving 
any  injury  by  the  harrow,  provided  the  land  has  been 
previously  brought  to  a  fine  mould,  and  the  operation 
performed  in  dry  weather.  But  if  the  surface  is  rough, 
the  young  plants  are  in  danger  of  being  covered  by  the 
clods ;  and  if  the  harrowing  is  given  at  an  early  period, 
before  the  leaf  has  acquired  a  green  colour,  the  bean  is 
then  in  so  tender  a  state  as  to  be  broken  and  destroyed 
by  the  harrow. 

Hofse-hoeing. — The  intervals  were  horse-hoed  at  the 
proper  season  with  a  small  plough,  which  is  so  construct- 
ed as  to  prevent  any  of  the  mould  falling  to  the  left- 
hand  side.  This  plough  was  run  close  along  side  of  one 
row,  by  which  the  mould  was  turned  over  to  the  root  of 
the  next.  The  whole  having  been  gone  over  in  this 
way,  making  one  furrow  in  each  interval,  the  fields  were 
allowed  to  lie  in  that  state  for  a  week,  in  order  to  give 
the  weeds  time  to  wither.   The  hoeing  was  then  revers- 


ed, and  the  mould  turned  back  again  to  the  other  sidey 
which  completely  destroyed  every  weed  between  the 
rows. 

Expense  of  Cultivation,  per  Acre. 

s.  d. 

Ploughing, 5  3  per  acre. 

Ribbing, 3  2  ditto. 

Sowing, 3  2  ditto. 

Covering  the  seed, 18  ditto. 

Harrowing  to  kill  weeds,  ....  1  0  ditto. 

Horse-hoeing, 3  0  ditto. 

Hand-weeding, 2  4  ditto. 

Application  of  the  Straw. — The  bean  straw  was  used 
as  fodder  for  the  working  horses  in  winter ;  for  which 
purpose  it  is  fully  equal  to  pea  straw,  commonly  used  in 
this  part  of  the  country  ;  and  when  it  is  well  got,  the 
horses  are  fonder  of  it  than  they  are  of  pea  straw. 

Theseed-wheat,sown  after  the  twenty-three  acres  and 
a  }ialf  of  drilled  beans  before  mentioned,  was  raised  by 
me  from  a  single  grain ;  the  produce  of  which,  viz.  five 
hundred  and  forty  grains,  I  planted  in  the  spring  of 
1793.  In  the  spring  of  1794,  I  planted  the  returned 
produce  upon  a  clover  lay,  after  once  ploughing,  in  rows 
twelve  inches  wide,  and  four  inches  between  the  plants, 
two  gritins  being  put  into  each  hole ;  but  from  being 
planted  in  the  spring,  and  a  great  drought  following,  the 
return  was  very  small.  This  produce  was  sown  broad- 
cast, in  the  ordinary  way,  and  produced  in  1795,  twelve 
bushels  three  pecks.  This  was  likewise  sown  in  the 
same  manner,  and  produced  in  1706,  fifteen  quarters; 
which  being  also  sown  broad-cast,  produced  in  1 797, 
more  than  I  had  occasion  to  use  as  seed  that  season. 

1  have  for  some  time  practised  the  raising  of  njy  seed- 
corn  from  the  produce  of  a  single  grain,  picked  while 
growing  in  the  field,  and  find  it  a  considerable  improve- 
ment, as  it  equalizes  the  period  of  ripening,  and  pro- 
duces a  better  sample  at  market,  the  grain  being  all 
nearly  of  a  size. 

As  the  Society  wish  for  accounts  of  wheat  sown  after 
drilled  beans,  I  take  the  liberty  of  stating,  (in  addition 
to  the  above,)  the  following  crops,  which  I  have  raised 
in  that  rotation. 

In  1792,  I  drilled  forty-six  acres  with  beans,  from  the 
1 4th  to  the  28th  of  March,  the  land  being  all  ribbed  at 
twenty  inches  wide,  after  being  most  of  it  twice  ploughed; 
the  crop  was  reaped  from  the  22d  of  September  to  the 
1 0th  of  October,  but  the  extreme  wetness  of  the  season 
prevented  the  beans  being  cleaned  off  the  land  till  the 
10th  of  November,  which  was  sown  with  wheat  from  tlie 
18th  of  February  to  the  14th  of  March,  1793. 

In  1793,  I  drilled  sixteen  acres  and  a  (juarter  with 
beans ;  in  1 794,  twenty -six  acres  and  a  quarter ;  in  1 795, 
twenty-one  acres  and  a  quarter;  aud  in  1796,  three 
acres,  all  which  were  followed  by  wheat  in  their  respec- 
tive years.  And  the  bean-straw  of  these  several  crops 
was  uniformly  applied  as  fodder  for  the  working  horses. 

As  the  early  season  at  which  beans  are  generally 
sown,  prevents  the  soil  from  being  so  well  prepared  us 
for  the  later  sown  spring  grains,  in  order  to  uncertain 
how  late  they  would  admit  of  being  sown,  I  drilled  a 
bushel  so  late  as  the  19th  of  April  in  1792.  The  crop 
was  reaped  on  the  lOlh  of  October,  and  produced 
twelve  bushels  two  pecks ;  but  the  grain  was  of  an  in- 
ferior quality. 


Ai^^ilCULTURE. 


287 


We  have  a  species  of  pea  in  this  county  which  admits 
of  being  sown  so  late  as  the  month  of  May,  antl  ripens 
at  the  usual  season.  If  a  bean  with  the  same  pro- 
perties could  be  procured,  it  would  be  a  most  desirable 
acquisition;  as  the  land  would  be  so  completely  pre- 
pared before  the  time  of  sowing,  that  with  proper  horse- 
hoeing  the  bean  fields  would  be  as  clean  and  fit  for 
wheat  as  a  complete  summer  fallow. 

The  procuring  of  a  species  of  bean  possessing  such 
qualities,  would  be  an  inquiry  not  unworthy  of  a  Society 
so  eminent  for  their  patriotic  exertions  in  the  improve- 
ment of  the  country." 

Impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  advantages  resulting 
from  bean  husbandry,  when  the  land  is  properly  drilled 
and  cleaned,  and  considering  it  as  equally  beneficial  upon 
loams  and  clays  v/ith  the  husbandry  of  turnips  upon 
soft,  dry,  or  kindly  soils,  the  writer  of  this  article  has 
persevered  for  many  years  in  making  beans  a  regular 
article  in  his  rotation  of  husbandry.  In  the  course  of 
his  practice  he  has  found  them  an  excellent  assistant  to 
fallow,  and  their  culture  a  good  preparation  for  wheat. 
Several  years  ago,  when  that  useful  institution,  the  So- 
ciety of  Arts  in  London,  offered  a  premium  for  the  cul- 
ture of  beans,  to  be  succeeded  by  wheat  sown  in  the 
same  season,  he  appeared  as  a  competitor  for  that  pre- 
mium, and  it  was  decerned  in  his  favour.  The  substance 
of  his  competition  essay,  delivered  to  the  secretary  of 
the  Society,  may,  perhaps,  not  be  unacceptable  to  the 
readers  of  this  work. 

"  I  take  the  liberty  of  transmitting  to  you  an  account 
of  eighty-eight  and  a  half  acres  of  land  drilled  with  beans 
in  the  months  of  February  and  March  1708,  among  which 
a  few  pease  were  mixed,  in  order  to  improve  the  straw 
as  fodder  for  horses,  and  for  making  ropes  to  tie  the 
crop.  The  whole  of  the  said  lands  was  sown  with  wheat 
in  the  month  of  October  the  same  year.  I  shall  shortly 
state  the  mode  of  managing  the  beans,  being  ready  to 
give  any  further  information  that  may  be  required. 

The  land  was  first  cross-ploughed  during  the  preced- 
ing winter,  and  about  twenty  acres  were  dunged  previ- 
ous to  this  furrowing  being  given,  and  ten  acres  more  in 
the  spring,  when  the  beans  were  drilled.  The  quantity 
of  dung  applied  to  the  acre  was  about  twelve  cart-loads, 
each  drawn  by  two  horses,  the  weight  of  which  might 
be  about  a  ton.  The  land  at  seed  time  was  clean  plough- 
ed over,and  the  drill-barrow  followed  every  third  plough, 
which  gave  an  interval  between  the  rows  of  twenty-six 
or  twenty-seven  inches.  The  quantity  of  seed  sown  was 
from  seventeen  to  nineteen  pecks  per  acre,  as  those  who 
managed  the  drill  sometimes  from  inattention  allowed  it 
to  sow  a  degree  thicker  at  one  time  than  another.  The 
kind  of  beans  sown  was  the  common  horse  bean,  mixed, 
as  I  have  already  said,  with  a  trifling  quantity  of  pease ; 
and  the  average  produce  per  acre  of  the  whole  fields 
sown  was  nearly  thirty-six  bushels  [ler  acre,  the  produce 
being  altogether  32.58  bushels,  Winchester  measure. 
They  were  reaped  from  the  first  to  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember, and  the  straw  was  used  for  supporting  the  work- 
ing-horses during  the  winter  months. 

It  is  now  proper  I  should  explain  my  method  of  clean- 
ing or  ploughing  the  land,  when  the  crop  was  on  the 
ground,  which  was  eliected  by  a  one-horse  plough,  with- 
out any  hand-hoe  being  used.  I  first  harrowed  it  com- 
pletely before  the  beans  appeared  above  ground,  and  wa- 
ter-furrowed and  griped  it.  As  soon  as  the  beans  would 
etand  the  plough,  a  gentle  furrow  was  given,  and  women 
Tvere  employed  to  turn  any  of  the  earth  from  the  plants 


which  might  have  been  thrown  upon  tlieui.  Every  suc- 
ceeding furrow  was  taken  deeper,  and  the  last  was  used 
for  laying  the  earth  up  close  to  the  plants,  which  I  con- 
sider as  of  gicnt  importmice.  They  were  ploughed  four 
times :  and  I  estimated  the  whole  expense  of  cleaning 
them  at  four  shillings  per  acre,  and  that  of  drilling  and 
harrowing  at  one  shilling  and  fourpence.  In  no  other 
way  can  the  ground  be  cleaned  at  a  less  expense. 

The  soil  upon  which  they  were  sown  was  a  loam  of 
different  varieties.  I  have  for  many  years  practised  this 
mode  of  husbandry  for  raising  beans,  which  have  uni- 
formly been  succeeded  by  wheat,  and  shall  be  happy  to 
give  you  any  information  in  my  power  respecting  the 
culture  of  them.  This  year  I  have  1  10  acres,  all  ma- 
naged in  the  way  described.  I  enclose  two  certificates, 
one  of  the  measurement,  and  the  other  from  two  farmers 
of  character,  that  1  had  such  fields  in  beans  anil  wheat." 

It  need  only  be  added,  that  since  this  communication 
was  made  to  the  Society  of  Arts,  various  improvements 
have  been  introduced  into  this  important  branch  of  hus- 
bandry, particularly  in  the  culture  given  to  the  land  be- 
fore receiving  the  seed,  as  described  in  the  account  al- 
ready given.  Indeed,  the  bean  system  has  now  arrived 
at  a  considerable  degree  of  perfection ;  though  system 
is  of  little  importance,  unless  the  processes  which  belong 
to  it  are  attentively  executed. 

Of  Pease. 

The  culture  of  pease  is  now  much  out  of  use  in  va- 
rious parts  of  Britain,  being  found  unprofitable,  and  tend- 
ing greatly  to  injure  the  ground  by  the  quantity  of  an- 
nual and  perennial  weeds  which  accompanied  the  crop, 
or,  more  strictly  s[)eaking,  which  were  allowed  to  grow 
and  come  to  perfection,  from  the  nature  of  the  culture 
usually  given  to  pease.  Drilling  has  been  resorted  to 
for  the  purpose  of  removing  that  defect,  but  seldom  with 
much  advantage,  as  the  plant  dropt  early  down,  and  thus 
prevents  the  necessary  hoeing.  Pease,  however,  are 
partially  sown  with  beans  to  great  advantage;  and,  when 
cultivated  in  this  way,  the  same  system  of  preparation, 
&c.  described  under  the  head  of  beans,  is  to  be  adopted. 
Indeed,  upon  many  soils  not  deep  enough  for  beans,  a 
mixture  of  pease  to  the  extent  of  one-third  of  the  seed 
sown,  proves  highly  advantageous.  The  beans  serve  as 
stabs  or  props  to  the  ])ease,  and  the  latter,  being  thus 
kept  off  the  ground,  and  furnished  with  air,  and  other 
atmospherical  nutriment,  l)lossom  and  pod  with  much 
greater  effect  than  when  sown  according  to  the  broad- 
cast system. 

Pease  agree  well  with  lime  and  other  calcareous  sti- 
mulants, and  can  hardly  be  reaped  in  perfection  where 
these  are  wanting.  The  varieties  cultivated  are  nume- 
rous; but  those  adapted  to  lield  culture  may  be  divided 
into  two  kinds,  namely,  early  and  late,  though  these 
branch  out  again  into  several  varieties.  We  have  white 
pease  both  early  ami  late,  and  likewise  gray  pease,  pos- 
sessed of  similar  properties.  The  nomenclature  is  en- 
tirely arbitrary,  and  therefore  not  to  be  illustrated.  As  a 
general  rule,  the  best  seed-time  for  late  pease,  is  either 
in  February  or  March,  though  early  ones,  such  as  the 
Hasting  or  Magbiehill  pea,  may  be  sown  successfully 
after  the  first  of  May.  Pease  ought  to  be  sown  tolera- 
bly thick,  so  that  the  ground  may  be  covered  as  early  as 
possible.  Perhaps  less  than  five  bushels  of  firlots  ought 
not  to  be  sown  upon  a  Scotch  acre,  because  the  plants 
nevef  do  much  good  till  they  begin  to  lock  or  twist 


-2SS 


AGRICULTURE 


together.  Eroad-cast  pease,  however,  are  now  rarely 
seen,  except  in  upland  districts,  where  soil  and  climate 
render  beans  unfit  to  be  cultivated.  One  furrow  is  ge- 
nerally bestowed  upon  the  crop)  on<l  the  seed  »owu  is, 
for  the  most  part,  one  or  other  of  the  early  varieties. 
White,  or  boiling  pease,  are  sown  in  several  of  the  Eng- 
lish counties ;  but  as  they  do  not  come  regularly  under 
the  husbandman's  notice,  it  is  unnecessary  to  treat  of 
(hem  in  this  article. 

Both  pease  and  beans  are  taken  in  England  after 
grass ;  but  this  system  ^vc  must  condemn  as  a  departure 
from  the  principle  which  considers  the  alternate  mode 
of  cropping  as  most  wise  and  beneficial.  Perhaps  we 
have  too  few  of  the  leguminous  articles ;  none  of  them, 
therefore,  should  be  taken  in  succession.  If  grass  is 
broke  up  with  oats,  then  |)ease  and  beans  follow  with 
propriety ;  but  to  take  the  latter  in  the  first  place,  is 
setting  system  at  defiance,  and  introducing  confusion 
into  the  after  rotation. 

Of  Tares. 

Tares,  vetches,  and  Scotch  gray  pease,  are  all  mem- 
bers of  the  same  family.  Possessing  similar  properties, 
and  yielding  similar  nourishment,  they  are  capable  of 
being  used  for  the  same  purposes  at  different  seasons. 
Taking  tares  to  be  the  father  of  the  family,  and  esti- 
mating it  of  vast  advantage  when  used  as  an  article 
of  green  food,  we  shall  restrict  our  observations  to  this 
plant;  though  each  of  them  is  equally  applicable  to 
vetches,  and  those  sorts  of  gra}'  pease  cultiviited  in 
many  districts  for  the  use  of  the  working  stock,  particu- 
larly at  that  critical  period  which  ensues  betwixt  the 
two  crops  of  grass,  when,  if  drought  sets  in,  green  food 
cannot  otherwise  be  procured. 

The  tare  is  a  plant  of  a  hardy  growth,  and,  when 
sown  upon  rich  land,  will  return  alar«;e  supply  of  green 
fodder,  for  the  consumption  of  horses,  or  for  fattening 
cattle.  When  intended  for  this  use,  the  seed  ought  to 
be  sown  tolerably  thick,  perhaps  to  the  extent  of  four 
bushels  per  Scots  acre,  though,  when  intended  to  stand 
for  seed,  a  less  quantity  is  required  ;  because  otherwise 
the  thickness  of  the  crop  will  prevent  the  plants  from 
blossoming  and  podding  in  a  sufficient  way.  When 
meant  for  seed,  early  sowing  ought  to  be  studied, 
otherwise  the  return  will  he  imperfect ;  but  when  for 
green  fowl,  any  time  betwixt  the  first  of  April  and  the 
latter  end  of  May  will  answer  well,  provided  cro|)s  in 
succession  from  the  first  to  the  last  mentioned  period 
be  regularly  cultivated.  Instances  are  not  wanting  of 
a  full  crop  being  obtained  even  when  the  seed  was 
sown  so  late  as  the  middle  of  June,  though  sowing  so 
lute  is  a  practice  not  to  be  recommended.  After  the 
«ced  is  sown,  and  the  land  <rarefully  harrowed,  a  light 
roller  ought  to  be  drawn  across,  so  that  the  surface 
way  be  smoothed,  and  the  sithe  permitted  to  work 
without  interruption.  It  is  proper  also  lo  guard  the 
field  for  several  days  against  the  depredations  of  pi- 
geons, who  are  remarkably  fond  of  tart  s,  and  will  j)ick 
up  a  great  part  of  the  seed,  unless  constantly  watched. 

Horses  thrive  very  well  upon  tares,  even  better  than 
they  do  upon  clover  and  rye-grass ;  and  the  same  re- 
mark is  applicable  to  fattening  cattle,  who  feed  faster 
upon  this  article  of  green  fodder  than  upon  any  kind  of 
grass  or  esculent  with  which  we  are  acquainted. 
i)anger  often  arises  from  their  eating  too  many,  espe- 
cially when  podded ;  as  colics,  and  other  stomach  dis- 


orders, are  apt  to  be  produced  by  tlie  excessive  loads 
which  they  devour.  Perhaps  a  great  quantity  of  fixed 
air  is  contained  in  this  vegetable;  and  as  heavy  crops 
are  rarely  dry  at  the  root  when  cut,  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered that  accidents  often  happen  when  the  animal  is 
indulged  with  the  unrestrained  consumption  of  them. 
Were  oat  straw  mixed  with  the  tares  in  the  racks  or 
stalls  in  which  they  are  deposited,  it  is  probable  that 
fewer  accidents  would  follow,  (hough  this  assistant  is 
only  required  when  the  tares  are  wet,  foul,  and  over 
succulent.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  utility  of  tares  is 
abundantly  evident;  because  they  are  furnished  at  a 
time  when  often  no  other  green  food  can  be  obtained. 
It  is  only  by  using  a  large  quantity  of  green  food  that  a 
sufficient  slock  of  dung  can  be  gathered  for  carrying 
forward  a  profitable  system  of  management  upon  arable 
land.  With  clover  and  rye-grass,  tares,  turnips,  and 
ruta  baga,  it  is  perfectly  practicable  to  feed  through  the 
whole  season ;  thereby  causing  an  arable  farm  to  feed  a 
great  number  of  cattle,  whilst  the  corn  land  is  supported 
and  enriched  by  the  offal  or  dung  produced  by  these 
cattle.  This  is  a  subject,  however,  which  falls  more 
particularly  to  be  treated  of  in  the  succeeding  Chapter ; 
we  shall  therefore  reserve  what  ive  mean  to  say  upon  it 
till  the  Grass  Husbandry  comes  under  consideration. 

Of  Potatoes. 

Potatoes,  as  an  article  of  human  food,  are,  next  to 
wheat,  of  the  greatest  importance  in  the  eye  of  a  poli- 
tical economist.  From  no  other  crop  that  can  be  culti- 
vated will  the  public  derive  so  much  food  as  from  this 
valuable  esculent;  and  it  admits  of  demonstration,  that 
an  acre  of  potatoes  will  feed  double  the  number  of  peo- 
ple that  can  be  fed  from  an  acre  of  wheat.  Potatoes  are 
also  a  nourishing  and  healthy  food,  relished  almost  by 
every  palate;  and  without  them  it  is  believed  there  is 
hardly  a  dinner  served  up  for  six  months  of  the  year,  in 
any  part  of  the  kingdom.  Notwithstanding  all  these 
things,  and  they  arc  of  great  importance  in  one  point  of 
view,  we  are  doubtful  wliether  potatoes  can  be  placed  so 
high  in  the  scale  as  several  other  articles  of  protluce, 
when  the  profit  and  loss  account  of  the  agriculturist  is 
to  be  ascertained.  They  require  a  great  deal  of  manure 
from  the  farmer,  while,  generally  speaking,  little  is  re- 
turned by  them;  they  are  a  bulky  unhandy  article,  trou- 
blesome in  the  lifting  and  carrying  processes,  and  inter- 
fering with  the  seed  season  of  wheat,  the  most  important 
one  to  the  farmer.  After  all,  from  particular  circum- 
stances, they  cannot  be  vended  unless  when  raised  in  the 
vicinity  of  large  towns ;  hence  they  are  in  every  respect 
an  unprofitable  article  to  the  agriculturist.  To  him  the 
real  criterion  is  the  profit  which  potatoes  will  return  in 
feeding  beasts ;  and  here  we  apprehend  the  result  will 
altogether  be  in  favour  of  turnips,  and  ruta  baga,  as  the 
most  profitable  articles  for  that  [lurpose. 

But,  laying  that  criterion  aside,  and  considering  pota- 
toes as  an  article  useful  to  mankind,  and  consequently 
beneficial  in  a  public  point  of  view,  it  is  proper  to  illus- 
trate the  culture  of  this  esculent  in  the  various  stages, 
from  preparing  the  ground,  till  the  crop  is  digged  up 
and  ready  for  market.  The  subject  has  been  so  amply 
discussed  in  many  recent  publications,  that  it  is  unne- 
cessary in  this  place  to  enlarge  upon  the  several  pro- 
cesses. 

Preparation  of  the  Ground. — To  work  the  ground  till 
it  is  completely  reduced  and  free  from  root-weeds,  may 


AGRICULTURE. 


289 


l>e  considered  R3  a  desideratum  in  [jotatoe  husbandry; 
though  in  many  seasons  these  operations  cannot  be  per- 
fectly executed  without  losing  the  proper  time  for 
planting,  which  never  ought  to  be  beyond  the  first  of 
May,  if  circumstances  do  not  absoUitely  interdict  it. 
Three  ploughings,  with  frequent  harrowings  and  roll- 
ings, are  necesearj',  in  most  cases,  before  the  land  is  in 
suitable  condition.  When  this  is  accomplished,  form 
tlie  drills  as  if  they  were  for  turnips ;  cnrt  out  the  ma- 
nure, which  ought  not  to  be  sparingly  applied,  ])lant  the 
seed  above  the  manure,  reverse  the  drills  for  covering 
it  and  the  seed,  then  harrow  the  drills  in  length,  which 
completes  the  preparation  and  seed  procf  se. 

Quaiitilt)  of  Seed. — It  is  not  advantageous  to  cut  the 
seed  into  small  slijis ;  for  the  strength  of  the  stem  at 
the  outset  depends  in  direct  proportion  upon  the  vigour 
and  power  of  the  seed-plant.  The  seed-plant,  therefore, 
ought  to  be  large,  rarely  smaller  than  the  fourth  part  of 
the  potatoe  ;  and  if  the  seed  is  of  small  size,  one  half  of 
the  |)Otatoe  may  be  profitably  \\sei\.  At  all  evenfs,  rather 
err  in  giving  over  large  seed  than  in  making  it  too  small ; 
because,  by  the  first  error,  no  great  loss  can  ever  be  sus- 
tained ;  whereas,  by  the  other,  a  feeble  and  late  crop 
may  be  the  consequence.  When  the  seed  is  properly 
cut,  it  requires  from  ten  to  twelve  hundreil  weight  of 
potatoes  to  plant  a  Scottish  acre  of  ground,  where  the 
rows  are  at  27  inches  distance ;  but  this  quantity  de- 
pends greatly  upon  the  size  of  the  i)otatoes  used ;  if  they 
;ire  large,  a  greater  weight  may  be  refjuired,  but  the 
extra  quantity  will  be  abundantly  repaid  by  the  supe- 
riority of  crop  which  large  seed  usually  produces. 

Of  the  kind  cf  potatoes  which  can  be  most  profitably 
ctiUivated. — The  varieties  of  this  excellent  root  culti- 
vated in  Britain  are  become  so  numerous,  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  treat  of  each,  or  even  to  give  a  list  of  their 
names  or  particular  properties.  It  is  almost  certain, 
that  a  new  variety  may  be  propagated  at  any  time,  by 
mixing  contrary  sorts  in  the  same  drill ;  and  if  these  are 
allowed  to  come  to  maturity,  a  kind  of  a  connexion  takes 
place  betwixt  the  blossoms  of  each,  which  protluces  a 
new  race  or  variety.  In  this  way,  the  numerous  varie- 
ties of  the  potatoe  root  now  prevailing  in  Britain  have 
been  procreated  and  introduced.  The  leading  and  pre- 
vailing variety  of  field  potatoes,  is  the  yellow  kidney, 
which,  though  not  the  most  prolific,  is  the  most  gene- 
rally relished  potatoe  that  is  cultivated.  The  black  po- 
tatoe is  the  next  favourite;  though  it  deserves  to  be  re- 
marked, that  this  kind  being  rarely  taken  up  in  a  ripe 
state,  is  not  fit  for  use  till  the  spring  months,  when  it 
gets  a  closeness  of  texture  and  mellowness  which  it 
does  not  possess  at  an  earlier  period.  These  two  varie- 
ties, therefore,  serve  every  useful  purpose  ;  the  yellow 
kidney  for  winter  use,  and  the  black  afterwards.  It  is 
unnecessary,  in  a  work  of  this  kind,  to  enter  upon  the 
early  sorts  of  potatoes,  because  they  are  hardly  known 
in  common  husbandry. 

What  is  called  the  yam,  or  Surinam  potatoe,  is  oT 
more  importance  to  the  farmer,  because  with  this  vari- 
ety he  has  an  excellent  assistant  to  his  turnip  crop,  or 
rather  a  succedaneum,  which  is  of  material  benefit  when 
turnips  are  consumed.  Perhaps  this  root  may  be  culti- 
vated with  greater  advantage  than  ruta  baga  upon  many 
.<5oils,  as  the  precariousness  of  ruta  baga  has  been  ac- 
knowledged by  almost  every  one  who  has  treated  upon 
the  suliject.  It  requires  soil  of  the  best  quality,  and  a 
large  dose  of  rich  dung,  to  ensure  even  a  middling  crop 
of  ruta  baga;  therefore,  it  can  never  be  generally  nor 
Vol.  1.  Part  I. 


profitably  cultivated  by  common  faj-iners.  We  are  well 
aware,  that  a  root  of  the  same  size  is  nearly  of  one-third 
more  weight  than  one  of  turnips,  and  that  in  point  of 
nourishment  there  is  also  a  very  considerable  diiference. 
Still,  after  all,  when  we  look  aliroad,  and  view  the  small 
crojjs  that  are  commonly  raised,  and  lake  into  account 
the  superior  care  bestowed  upon  this  root,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  necessity,  not  profit,  is  the  impelling 
cause  of  its  culture. 

On  the  other  hand,  yams  present  every  advantage 
which  can  he  got  from  ruta  baga,  and  are  not  so  pettish 
in  their  growth.  Their  culture  is  a  matter  of  far  lesg 
difficulty,  as  such  will  grow  upon  soils  where  ruta  baga 
would  starve.  They  require  less  manure,  and  may  be 
planted  as  late  in  the  season  as  the  other,  thereby  ena- 
bling the  farmer  to  bestow  the  like  previous  preparation 
upon  the  ground,  the  want  of  whirh  is  a  general  argu- 
ment agiiinst  ordinary  potatoe  husbandry.  By  taking 
them  up  in  (ictobrr  and  November,  they  may  be  safely 
housed,  and  the  ground  directly  ridged  up  and  sown 
with  wheat.  No  doubt,  ruta  baga  may  be  removed  at 
the  same  period ;  but  it  often  happens  that  the  root  has 
not  then  reached  maturity;  its  growth  being  rarely  im- 
peded till  frost  sets  in. 

It  is  believed  that  very  few  crops  of  rutabaga  ex- 
ceeding ten  tons  per  Scottish  acre  have  been  got  in  this 
country,  and  that  many  do  not  exceed  one  half  of  that 
weight ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  pretty  certain 
that  sixty  bolls  of  yams,  which  amount  exactly  to  twelve 
tons,  may  be  got,  were  such  planted  upon  land  similar 
to  what  is  usually  assigned  to  ruta  baga;  and  presume 
that  the  nutritive  substance  contained  in  a  ton  of  each 
is  not  materially  different.  Even  under  the  supposition 
that  fifty  bolls,  or  ten  tons  only,  were  gained,  still  the 
preference  ought  to  be  assigned  to  yams,  on  account  of 
the  reasons  already  mentioned. 

If  potatoes  are  ever  to  be  extensively  introduced  as 
an  article  of  fallow  crop,  it  must  be  with  a  view  of  oc- 
cupying the  place  of  ruta  baga,  or  as  the  means  of  car- 
rying on  live  stock,  after  turnips  are  consumed,  till  the 
grass  season  arrives.  During  the  ordinary  season  of 
winter  feeding,  neither  potatoes  nor  ruta  baga  can  be 
furnished  to  stock  on  the  same  terms  with  turnips ; 
though,  when  turnips  are  gone,  the  next  best  resource 
must  be  sought  after.  This,  in  our  opinion,  can  he 
gained  with  more  facility  by  raising  yams,  which,  as  al- 
ready said,  are  not  so  shy  in  growing,  do  not  require  so 
much  manure,  and  thrive  on  soils  where  ruta  baga 
would  not  yield  a  root  much  exceeding  a  common  sized 
egg. 

Though  yams  are  not  to  be  ranked  in  value  with  tur- 
nips, as  an  article  of  winter  feeding,  it  deserves  attention 
that  they  may  be  successfully  cultivated  on  soils  physi- 
cally unfit  for  the  former  root.  In  fact,  the  greatest 
crops  of  yams  are  procured  from  heavy  lands ;  the  soft 
kindly  soils,  generally  considered  most  adapted  to  pota- 
toe culture,  being  unfriendly  to  the  growth,  or  rather  to 
the  productiveness  of  the  variety  which  we  are  recom- 
mending. 

Cle(aiing  of  Potatoes. — After  having  detailed  the  me- 
thod of  cleaning  beans  so  circumstantially,  it  appear* 
unnecessary  to  enter  at  much  length  upon  what  is  pe-^ 
quired  for  potatoes,  because  one  and  all  of  the  green 
crops  require  somewhat  similar  management,  when  cul- 
tivated according  to  the  drill  system. — The  only  diflfer- 
ence  is,  that  hand  hoeing  is  uecessaiy  betwixt  the  plants    \ 
but  in  other  respects  every  part  of  the  cleaning  process    ) 
Oo 


290 


AGRICULTURE. 


may  be  most  successfully  executed  by  the  horse-hoe. 
Once  for  all,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  green  crops  of 
every  kiml  are  greatly  benefited  by  frequent  hoeings, 
and  that  their  growth,  in  some  measure,  is  regulated  by 
the  extent  of  labour  bestowed  on  them.  When  treated 
in  a  slovenly  manner,  or  left  to  fight  with  weeds,  or  even 
to  encounter  a  firm  soil,  the  plants  are  deprived  of  nou- 
rishment, and  unable  to  procreate  their  kind  in  due 
abundance ;  on  the  contrary,  when  the  soil  is  sufficient- 
ly stirred  up,  and  kept  free  of  weeds,  nature  will  return  a 
iTop  in  direct  proportion  to  the  quality  of  the  soil,  and 
the  quantity  of  manure  bestowed  upon  it  by  the  cultiva- 
tor. Nature  may  be  improved  by  art,  but  ivhen  her 
bounties  are  neglected,  and  not  improved,  she  generally 
turns  aside,  and  repays  the  contempt  with  interest. 

Disease  which  affects  potatoes.' — The  disease  which 
peculiarly  att'ecls  potatoes,  is  called  the  airl,  the  real 
cause  of  which  has  not  yet  been,  and  probably  never  will 
be,  ascertained.  It  seems  to  be  one  of  those  secrets  of 
nature  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  man ;  and  though 
many  plausible  and  ingenious  theories  have  been  offered 
to  the  public  concerning  it,  we  are  just  as  much  in  the 
dark  with  respect  to  this  abstruse  subject,  as  when  the 
evil  was  first  discovered. 

Lancashire  was  the  first  district  of  the  kingdom  in 
which  potatoes  were  extensively  cultivated ;  and  it  was 
there  that  the  curl  first  made  its  appearance,  in  1778; 
before  which  period  it  was  altogether  unknown.  The 
disease,  however,  rapidly  spread  over  all  the  low  coun- 
try, or  earliest  districts,  and  threatened  to  put  an  end 
to  the  culture  of  a  root  confessedly  of  manifest  utility  in 
supporting  the  inhabitants.  Roused  by  such  an  evil,  se- 
veral societies  offered  premiums  for  discovering  the 
most  proper  means  of  averting  the  threatened  danger ; 
and  the  pens  of  hundreds  of  agricultural  theorists  were 
put  in  requisition,  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  disease, 
and  the  most  efficient  and  salutary  remedies  for  remov- 
ing it.  The  nature  or  cause  of  the  disease,  as  already 
said,  remains  unknown  ;  though  it  is  sufficiently  ascer- 
tained, that,  by  procuring  seed-plants  from  the  upland 
districts,  the  disorder  may  be  averted  for  one  season  at 
least.  The  theory  which  would  seem  to  follow  from 
this  result  of  practice  is,  that  the  eurl  is  occasioned  by 
an  over-ripeness  of  the  plant,  whereby  its  strength,  or 
procrealive  power,  is  so  much  debilitated,  as  to  render 
it  unable  to  bring  forward  a  healthy  plant  afterwards. 
We  by  no  means  consider  this  theory  as  incontroverti- 
ble, though  undoubtedly  it  rests  ujjon  as  strong  a  basis 
as  many  others  that  have  been  offered.  The  fact  is,  as 
we  have  stated,  that  seed  from  uplaml  districts  will  not 
curl  in  the  first  year,  when  planted  in  tJie  low  districts, 
though  the  lowland  seed,  carried  to  the  first  mentioned 
districts,  are  affected  as  speedily  with  the  disorder  as  if 
they  had  been  planted  at  home.  When  this  baneful  dis- 
ease can  be  so  easily  prevented,  it  is  very  foolish  to  risk 
suspected  seed ;  and  the  increased  expense  of  purchas- 
ing from  the  late  districts  is  of  small  consequence,  when 
compared  with  the  danger  encountered  by  the  use  of 
old  seed.  The  benefit  of  such  a  change  is,  however,  so 
generally  understood,  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  insist  fur- 
ther upon  it. 

Method  of  taking  up  the  crop,  and  storing  it  for  con- 
sumption.— Potatoes  are  generally  digged  up  with  a 
tfaree.prong  grape,  or  fork ;  but  at  other  times,  when 
the  weather  is  dry,  the  plough  is  used,  which  is  the 
most  expeditious  implement.  After  gathering  the  in- 
terral)  the  furrow  taken  by  the  plough  is  broken  and 


separated ;  in  which  way  the  crop  may  be  more  tom- 
pletely  gathered  than  when  taken  up  by  the  grape.  The 
potatoes  are  then  stored  up  for  winter  and  spring  use : 
and  as  it  is  of  importance  to  keep  them  as  long  through 
summer  as  possible,  every  endeavour  ought  to  be  made 
to  preserve  them  from  frost,  and  from  sproliting  in  the 
spring  months.  The  former  is  accomplished  by  cover- 
ing them  well  with  straw,  when  lodged  in  a  house,  and 
by  a  thick  coat  of  earth,  when  deposited  in  a  pit ;  and 
the  latter,  by  picking  them  carefully,  at  different  times, 
when  they  brgju  to  sprout,  drying  th»ni  sufficiently  by 
exposure  to  the  sun,  or  hj-  a  gentle  toast  on  a  kiln.  Care- 
ful people  often  preserve  potatoes  in  perfection  till  the 
succeeding  crop  is  fit  for  use ;  though  it  rarely  happens 
that  they  possess  their  original  qualities  after  summer 
commences. 

Of  Turnips. 

The  introduction  of  turnips  into  the  husbandry  of  J3ri- 
fain,  occasioned  one  of  those  revolutions  in  rural  art 
which  are  constantly  occurring  among  husbandmen  : 
and  though  the  revolution  came  on  with  slow  and  gra- 
dual steps,  yet  it  may  now  be  viewed  as  completely  and 
thoroughly  established.  Before  the  iiitroduclion  of  this 
root,  it  was  impossible  to  cultivate  light  soils  succest- 
fully,  or  to  devise  suitable  rotations  for  cropping  them 
with  advantage.  It  was  likewise  a  difficult  task  to  sup- 
port live  slock  through  the  winter  and  spring  months; 
and  as  for  feeding  and  preparing  cattle  and  sheep  for 
market  during  these  inclement  seasons,  the  practice  was 
hardly  thought  of,  and  slill  more  rarely  attempted,  unless 
Avhere  a  full  stock  of  hay  was  provided,  Avhicb  only  hap- 
pened in  a  very  few  instances.  The  benefits  derived 
from  tuinip  husbandry  are,  therefore,  of  great  magni- 
tude ;  light  soils  are  now  cultivated  with  profit  and  fa- 
cility ;  abundance  of  food  is  provided  for  man  and  beast ; 
the  earth  is  turned  to  the  uses  for  which  it  is  pJiysically 
calculated;  and,  by  being  suitably  cleaned  with  this 
preparatory  crop,  a  l)ed  is  provided  lor  grass  seeds, 
wherein  they  flourish  and  prosper  with  greater  vigoiu- 
than  after  any  other  preparation. 

Turnips  nre  cultivated  in  two  ways,  viz.  in  the 
broad-cast  and  drilled  melliod.  In  the  first  way,  we 
view  the  benefit  of  tliis  root  as  but  partially  and  in- 
completely gained ;  for  though  a  full  crop  may  be  ob- 
tained, the  ground  cannot  be  cleaned  sufficiently  jis 
when  the  drill  system  is  adopte<l.  The  great  body  of 
cultivators  being  of  this  opinion,  it  is  unnecessary  to 
discuss  the  merits  of  the  two  systems;  tlierelbre  Ave 
shall  proceed  to  tietail  the  various  processes  which  be- 
long to  the  culture  of  this  inestimable  root,  from  the 
preparatory  process,  till  the  period  when  the  crop  is  to 
be  used. 

Freparation.^The  first  ploughing  is  given  imme- 
diately after  harvest,  or  as  soon  as  the  wheat-seed  is 
finished,  either  in  length  or  across  the  field,  as  circuii.- 
stances  may  seem  to  require.  In  this  state  the  ground 
remains  till  the  oat-seed  is  finished,  when  a  second 
ploughing  is  given  to  it,  usually  in  a  contrary  direc- 
tion to  the  first.  It  is  then  repeatedly  harrowed,  of- 
ten rolled  between  the  harrowings,  and  every  particle 
of  root  weeds  carefully  picked  off  with  the  hand  ;  a  third 
ploughing  is  then  bestowed,  and  the  other  operations 
are  repeated.  In  this  stage,  if  the  ground  has  not 
been  very  foul,  the  seed  process  generally  oommences; 
but  often  a  fourth  plouglnng,  sometimes  a  fifth,  is  ne- 
cessary, before  the  ground  is  sufficiently  cleauetU     Les-' 


AGRICULTURE. 


mt 


labour,  however,  is  necessary  now  than  iu  former  tiiijcs, 
wlien  a  more  irregular  mode  of  cropping  was  conmouly 
followed. 

iMa/H/rmjg-.— Turnip  land  cannot  be  made  too  rich, 
for  in  fact  tlie  weight  of  (he  crop  depends  in  a  great 
measure  upon  its  condition  in  this  respect.  Manure  is 
sometimes  applied  to  the  cro|)  which  immediately  pre- 
cedes the  turnips;  but,  to  answer  well  in  this  way,  the 
land  must  naturally  be  of  an  excellent  quiility.  In  other 
cases,  where  the  laud  is  in  good  order,  it  is  laid  on  the 
stubble  jjrevious  to  the  tirst  ploughing.  But  generally 
the  dung  is  laid  on  immediately  before  the  seed  is  sown; 
the  ground  is  formed  into  drills  or  ridges,  and  the  ma- 
nure spread  in  the  intervals  between  them;  the  drills 
are  then  split  by  the  plough,  the  earth  on  each  side 
covers  the  dung,  forms  a  drill  where  the  interval  for- 
merly was,  and  furnislies  a  bed  for  the  seed.  These 
operations  are  now  so  well  understood,  that  it  is  unne- 
cessary to  describe  them  more  particularly. 

Sorvins^- — The  next  part  of  the  process  is  the  sowing 
of  the  seed;  this,  abno.^t  in  every  ciise  since  turnips 
were  introduced  into  Scoiland,  has  Ijcen  perforinod  by 
drilling  machines,  of  difi'erent  sizes  and  constructions, 
though  all  acting  on  the  same  principles.  At  tliis 
time,  the  fashionable  ruachine  is  drawn  by  a  horse  iu  a 
pair  of  shafts,  sows  two  drills  at  a  time,  and  answers  ex- 
tremely well  where  the  ground  is  flat  and  the  drills 
properly  made  up.  The  weight  of  the  machine  ensures 
a  regularity  -of  sowing  hardly  to  be  gained  by  those  of  a 
different  size  and  construction.  From  two  to  three 
pounds  of  seed  are  sown  upon  the  acre,  though  the 
smallist  of  these  quantities  will  give  many  more  plants, 
inordinary  seasons,  than  are  necessary;  but  as  the  seed 
is  not  an  expensive  article,  the  greater  part  of  farmers 
incline  to  sow  thick,  which  both  provides  against  the 
danger  of  part  of  the  seed  perishing,  and  gives  the 
young  (ilants  an  advantage  at  the  outset. 

Time  of  Sowins;. — 'J'urnips  are  sown  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end  of  June ;  but  the  second  and  third  weeks 
of  the  month  are,  by  Judicious  farmers,  accounted  the 
most  proper  time.  Some  people  have  sown  as  early  as 
>[ay,  and  with  advantage;  but  these  early  fields  are  apt 
to  run  to  seed  before  winter,  especially  if  the  autumn 
be  favourable  to  vegetation.  As  a  general  rule,  it  may 
he  laid  down,  that  the  earliest  sowing  should  be  on  the 
hilest  soils;  plants  on  such  soils  are  often  long  before 
ihey  make  any  great  progress ;  and,  in  the  end,  may  be 
Ihr  behind  those  in  other  situations  which  were  much 
later  sown.  The  turnip  plant,  indeed,  does  not  thrive 
rapidly  till  its  roots  reach  the  dung;  and  the  previous 
nourishment  nflbrded  tl>eni  is  often  so  scanty  as  to  stunt 
(hem  altogether  before  they  get  so  far. 

Cleaning  Process. — The  first  thing  to  lje  done  in  this 
process  is  to  ruu  a  horse-hoe,  provincially  called  a  scra- 
per, along  the  intervals,  keeping  at  such  a  distance  from 
the  young  plants  tliat  they  shall  not  be  injured ;  this 
operation  destroys  all  the  annual  weeds  which  have 
Sj)ruug  up,  and  leaves  the  plants  standing  in  regular 
stripes  or  rows.  The  band-hoeing  then  commences, 
r).v  which  the  turnips  are  all  siugled  out,  at  a  distance 
ol  from  eight  to  twelve  inches,  and  the  redundant  ones 
dra^vn  into  the  spaces  between  the  rows.  The  singling 
out  of  the  young  plants  is  an  operation  of  great  impor- 
tance, for  an  error  committed  in  this  process  can  hardly 
be  afterwards  rectified.  Boys  and  girls  are  always  em- 
ployed as  hoersj;  but  a  steady  au«l  trusty  man-servaut  is 


usually  set  over  thani,  to  see  that  tlie  work  be  properly 
executed. 

in  eight  or  ten  days,  or  such  a  length  of  time  as  cir- 
cumstances may  require,  a  horse-hoe  of  a  diflerent  con- 
ftruction  from  the  scraper  is  used.  Tin.",  in  fact,  is  ge- 
nerally a  small  plough,  of  the  same  kind  with  that  com- 
monly wrought,  but  of  smaller  dimensions.  By  this  im- 
plement the  earth  is  pared  away  from  the  sides  of  the 
drills,  and  a  sort  of  new  ridge  formed  in  the  middle  of 
the  former  interval.  The  hand-hoers  are  i^gain  set  to 
work,  and  every  weed  and  superfluous  turnip  is  cut 
up ;  afteifwards  the  horse-hoe  is  employed  to  separate 
the  earth,  whicli  it  formerly  threw  into  the  furrows, 
and  lay  it  back  to  the  sides  of  the  drills.  On  dry 
lands  tins  is  done  by  the  scraper;  but,  where  the  least 
tendency  to  moisture  prevails,  the  small  plough  is  used, 
in  order  that  the  furrows  may  lie  perfectly  cleaJied 
out.  This  latter  mode,  indeed,  is  very  generally  prac- 
tised. 

ConsumplloH. — A  great  part  of  turnips  are  consumed 
by  sheep,  lecause  the  feeding  with  these  animals  can  be 
carried  on  n[>on  a  much  larger  scale,  and  at  less  expense, 
than  iu  must  cases  with  cattle.  It  is  customary,  how- 
ever, with  many  people,  to  consume  their  turnips  both 
ways;  they  draw  a  certain  number  of  drills,  generally 
three  or  four  rn  one  place,  and  leave  as  many,  or  more, 
to  lie  eaten  with  the  sheep ;  by  which  method  the  w  hole 
ground  is  equuriy  benefite<l  by  the  urine  and  dung  of 
the  flock.  S*)me  farmers  give  their  turni[is  to  the  win- 
tering cattle,  kept  in  the  fold-yard  upon  straw,  which 
causes  them  to  feed  very  rapidly,  when  put  to  the  grass 
in  the  succeeding  season;  others  give  them  to  young 
stock,  and  probably  with  much  advantage.  Both  these 
last  plans  are  eminently  beneficial  to  such  farmers  as  are 
disabled,  by  local  circumstances,  from  cultivating  this 
root  extensively. 

What  is  stated  concerning  turnips  applies  to  the  white 
or  common  kind;  but  there  are  other  varieties  of  equal 
importance  to  the  farmer,  which  ought  not  to  be  unno- 
ticed. These  are  yellow  and  Swedish  turnips;  articles 
of  eminent  benefit  to  feeders  in  the  latter  end  of  spring, 
when  common  turnips  are  useless. 

Yellow  Turnifi. 

This  variety,  as  now  cultivated  in  the  field,  is  quite 
different  from  the  yellow  ganlen  turnip,  liei.ig  larger  in 
size,  containing  more  juice  or  nutritive  substance, much 
easier  cultivated,  and  preserving  its  powers  till  themhl- 
dle  of  May,  when  the  grass-season  may  be  expected. 
Upon  ordinary  soils  it  is  superior  to  ruta  haga,  because 
it  will  grow  to  a  considerable  weight,  where  the  other 
would  be  stunted  or  starved;  and  it  stands  the  frost  equal- 
ly well.  No  farmer  who  keejis  stock  to  any  extent 
should  be  witliout  it.  The  mode  of  culture  required  is 
in  every  respect  similar  to  what  is  stated  <!oncerning 
common  turnips,  with  these  exceptions,  that  earlier 
sowing  is  necessary,  and  that  the  plants  need  not  be  set 
out  so  wide,  as  they  do  not  swell  to  such  a  size. 

Ruta  Baga,  or  Sivedish  Turnip. 

This  is  another  article  of  great  importance  to  the  far- 
mer, affording  green  food  of  the  choicest  quality,  highly 
relished  by  every  kind  of  stock,  and  of  incomparable  ad-^ 
vantage  in  a  late  season,  when  either  cattle  or  sheep  are 
Oo2 


292 


AGRICULTURE. 


to  be  carried  on  for  a  market,  or  till  grass  is  furnished. 
Indeed,  to  procure  such  an  article  of  green  food,  where- 
by stock  could  be  supported  between  the  turnip  and 
grass  seasons,  was  long  a  desideratum  with  agricultu- 
rists. But  this  desirahle  otiject  has  been  completely 
gained  by  the  introduction  of  yellow  turnips  and  ruta 
iNiga,  either  being  admirably  calculated  for  filling  up 
that  blank  in  the  year  which  farmers  looked  fo  with  so 
much  anxiety.  The  process  of  management  is  precise- 
ly the  same  with  that  of  turnips,  with  this  addition,  that 
jnore  dung  is  required,  and  that  seed-time  ought  to  be 
three  or  four  weeks  earlier.  Rirh  soil,  however,  is  re- 
quired for  this  article ;  for  it  will  not  grow  to  any  size 
worth  while  oji  soils  of  middling  quality,  whatever  quan- 
tity of  dung  may  be  applied. 

Kuta  bas;a  is  also  of  great  advantage  in  the  feeding 
of  horses,  either  when  given  raw  or  boiled,  or  with  bro- 
ken corn.  If  a  sufficient  quantity  were  cultivated,  it  is 
plain  that  a  great  deal  of  grain  might  be  saved,  while 
the  health  and  condition  of  the  working  stock  would 
be  invigorated  and  augmented.  An  evening  feed  of 
this  nutritious  article  would  be  of  incalculable  benefit ; 
even  the  most  of  horses  are  fond  of  common  turnip 
in  a  raw  state;  and  it  is  a  subject  well  worthy  of  every 
farmer's  attention,  whether  it  would  not  be  for  his  in- 
terest to  raise  these  esculents  in  such  a  quantity  as 
to  serve  them  during  the  long  period  when  grass  can- 
not be  obtained.  That  the  health  of  the  animals  would 
thereby  be  benefited  is  unquestionable;  and  perhaps 
the  saving  of  grain  would  greatly  exceed  the  trou- 
ble occasioned  by  furnishing  a  daily  supply  of  these 
roots. 

Every  farmer  who  wishes  to  have  any  of  the  va- 
rieties of  turnip  of  a  right  kind,  ought  to  save  seed 
for  himself.  It  is  unnecessary  to  expect  pure  seed 
from  the  shops,  unless  an  attention  is  bestowed  in  the 
rearing  and  winning  processes,  exceeding  what  is  usu- 
ally given  by  those  concerned  in  these  processes.  Hence 
heavy  losses  are  often  sustained  l)y  cultivators  who 
trust  to  these  agents;  and  this  has  been  the  case  par- 
ticularly with  ruta  baga.  A  few  years  ago,  this  excel- 
lent root  was  nearly  given  up  by  many  farmers,  because 
a  spurious  seed  was  furnished  by  the  shops.  However, 
by  the  attention  of  some  respectable  agriculturists,  seed 
of  a  better  kiiid  has  again  been  obtained,  which  may 
restore  the  credit  of  this  valuable  root.  This  credit, 
however,  is  only  to  be  preserved  by  a  continuance  of  the 
sedulity  which  caused  its  renovation  ;  or,  in  other  words, 
by  keeping  ruta  baga  at  a  distance  from  every  other  va- 
riety of  the  turnii)  and  cabliage  tribes,  when  forming  its 
floorers,  and  procreating  its  successors. 

We  now  come  to  another  branch  of  this  subject,  not 
of  less  importance  in  many  districts  than  the  raising  of 
the  crop;  and  that  is,  the  way  of  preserving  turnips 
through  the  winter  months,  and  having  them  at  all  times 
at  hand,  and  in  condition  for  feeding  cattle  and  sheep 
even  during  the  severest  storms.  With  those  who  are 
acquainted  with,  or  pay  attention  to  the  variable  cli- 
mate of  Britain,  this  part  of  our  subject  will  appear  in- 
teresting, and  of  material  consequence  to  the  breeders 
and  feeders  of  live-stock. 

In  treating  of  this  subject,  we  cannot  do  better  than 
submit  to  the  consideration  of  our  readers  one  of  the 
flssays  presented  to  the  conductor  of  the  Farmer's 
Magazine,  when  a  premium  was  offered  by  that  re- 
apectable  agriculturist,  sir  George  Stuart  Mackenzie, 


of  Coul,  Bart,  for  the  best  essay  on  storing  turnips- 
for  winter  consumption.  Though  this  essay,  from 
particular  circumstances,  did  not  gain  the  |)remium 
offered,  yet  it  contains  an  extent  of  valuable  informa- 
tion on  the  question  agitated,  highly  interesting  to 
agriculturists,  and  particularly  those  placed  in  situa^ 
tions  where  the  practice  of  storing  is  expedient  and 
necessary. 

"  The  introduction  of  turnips  into  the  regular  rota- 
tion of  crops,  is  the  most  important  improvement  which 
agriculture  has  received  in  modern  times.  Previous  to 
that  event,  the  live  stock  were  maintained,  during  sum- 
mer, on  the  herbage  which  nature  si)onlaneously  produ- 
ced on  land  exhausted  by  a  previous  succession  of  white 
crops,  and  overrun  with  the  accumulation  of  weeds  lor 
ages;  during  winter,  on  the  slriiw  andchatf  of  the  preced- 
ing crop,  with  an  occasional  allowance  of  oats.  Underthat 
system,  the  fattening  season  was  confined  within  the 
narrow  limits  of  the  luxuriance  of  the  natural  grass; 
no  animal  was  fit  for  the  shambles  till  the  wane  of  sum- 
mer; and  as  soon  as  the  pasturage  began  to  decline  in 
autumn,  the  whole  fattening  stock  was  hurried  indis 
criminately  to  the  market ;  and  their  half-fed  carcasses, 
carefully  salted,  and  frugally  consumed,  satisfied  the 
simple  desires  of  our  forefathers  till  the  return  of  veaF 
and  lamb  in  spring.  The  condition  of  the  breeding 
stock,  on  their  winter  fare,  was  truly  deplorable.  If 
the  season  was  unusually  severe,  or  if  the  spring  was 
unfavourable  to  vegetation,  vast  numbers  of  cattle  were 
literally  starved  to  death;  and  those  which  survived, 
had  become  so  feeble  and  emaciated  at  the  approach  of 
summer,  as  to  require  no  small  assistance  to  lift  them, 
set  them  on  their  legs,  and  support  them  to  the  nearest 
field  which  happened,  in  the  fashion  of  those  days,  to 
be  most  grass-proud. 

But,  since  the  intro<luction  of  turnips,  the  grand  dc- 
sideralurn  in  the  former  practice  of  husbandry  has  been, 
supplied.  From  this  ini|rrovement  of  their  food,  young 
stock  continue  their  growth,  and  fat  cattle  are  prepared 
for  the  market  during  every  seasou  of  the  year.  Tur- 
nips succeed  the  decline.of  the  grass,  and  afford  succu- 
lent and  nutritious  food  till  the  return  of  summer.  Our 
farmers  seem  to  brave  the  disadvantages  of  their  nor- 
thern situation  ;  to  emulate,  by  their  iudustrj',  the  natu- 
ral resources  of  happier  climes ;  and  to  compensate,  by 
the  succulence  of  their  turnip  crops,  the  want  of  peren- 
nial verdure  oa  their  fields.  But  turnips,  though  pos- 
sessing this  invaluable  excellence,  are  in  some  respects 
a  precarious  crop.  After  escaping  the  ravages  of  the 
fly  and  caterpillar,  after  arriving  at  their  full  size  to- 
w.irds  the  close  of  autumn,  they  are  liable  to  be  injured, 
sometimes  to  be  destroyed,  by  the  severities  of  the  en- 
suing winter.  Storing  is  said,  by  its  advocates,  to  allbrd 
complete  security  against  these  calamities.  In  the  pre- 
sent paper  1  shall  describe  the  most  approved  metliods 
of  storing,  and  afterwards  estimate  the  peculiar  advan- 
tages of  that  ])ractice. 

Though  turnips  have  been  cultivated  in  this  country 
to  a  considerable  extent  for  upwards  of  thirty  years, 
yet  storing  is  a  practice  of  a  much  later  origin,  ami  is 
still  circumscribed  within  narrow  bounds.  From  the 
first  introduction  of  that  vegetable,  some  intelligeut 
farmers  regularly  carried  off  the  field,  and  laid  up  under 
cover,  a  quautity  of  turnips  sufficient  for  two  or  three 
weeks' consumption.  That  practice,  affording  provision 
against  the  contingency  of  frost,  has  extended  itself  into 
every  district  where  the  turnip  huebandry  is  pro|)erly 


AGRICULTURE. 


293 


understood.  But  the  plan  of  raising  and  storing  the 
whole  crop,  immediately  after  harvest,  seems  to  liav« 
been  adopted  first  in  the  Upper  Ward  of  Clydesdale, 
«nd  to  have  thence  travelled  slowly  into  the  adjoining 
counties.  Even  in  the  place  of  its  origin,  this  practice 
faas  met  with  opposition;  and  in  no  other  has  it  yet  gained 
a  complete  establishment. 

There  is  considerable  latitude  in  the  season  of  storing. 
In  wet  and  clay  soils,  to  avoid  the  inconveniences  of 
winter  poaching,  the  ground  must  be  cleared  of  the 
turnips  immediately  after  harvesting  the  potatoes ;  but, 
in  other  soils,  they  may  be  allowed,  with  advantage,  (o 
remain  on  the  ground  some  weeks  later,  as  they  continue 
to  swell  till  overtaken  by  frost.  The  ordinary  time  is 
about  the  beginning  of  November.  It  is  of  considerable 
importance  to  raise  them  on  a  dry  day,  that  as  little 
earth  as  possible  may  a<lhere  to  their  roots,  and  to  se- 
cure them  in  the  store-heap  as  they  are  raised,  as  a 
slight  degree  of  frost  is  then  found  to  be  highly  inju- 
rious. As  the  month  of  November  is  proverbial  for 
gloom  and  rain,  it  may,  however,  sometimes  be  neces- 
sary to  raise  them  when  the  weather  is  wet,  or  when  the 
ground  is  n>oist;  and,  in  this  case,  the  following  prac- 
tical hint  m^y  be  of  advantage.  Grasp  the  turnips  by 
the  leaves,  give  them  a  smart  turn  about  half  round, 
and  then  pull  them  upright  from  the  ground.  During 
this  operation,  the  bulbs  revolve  on  the  tap-root  as  on 
an  axis;  the  rotatory  motion  breaks  the  lateral  tibres, 
and  rubs  oiff  the  adhering  earth.  It  is  obvious  that  this 
method  is  much  preferable  to  the  common  way  of  raising 
a  turnip  clumsily  in  each  hand,  and  of  knocking  their 
bulbs  together  till  the  adhering  earth  fall  off. 

Experience  has  amply  demonstrated  the  necessity  of 
cnttiog  off  the  leaves  and  tap-root  (provincially  called 
topping  and  tailing,)  and  ascertained  the  place  where 
those  operations  should  be  performed.  The  section 
should  be  made  close  to  the  bulb.  If  the  bulb  itself  be 
wounded,  rottenness  is  then  apt  to  ensue,  and,  though 
it  should  be  prevented,  a  quantity  of  the  juices  oozes 
out  proportioned  to  the  extent  of  the  wound.  The  root 
is  disliked  by  all  animals,  as  its  acrid  quality  occasions 
an  immoderate  discharge  of  bile,  with  its  natural  eon- 
sequences,  gripes  and  looseness.  When  any  part  of 
the  leaves  is  left,  turnips  are  liable  to  vegetate  on  receiv- 
ing a  slight  degree  of  beat.  And  as  it  is  impossible,  in 
practice,  always  to  hit  the  point  of  excellence,  and  to 
perform  the  section  with  mathematical  exactness,  the 
operators  should  be  careful  to  err  on  the  safe  side,  to 
leave  part  of  the  leaves  or  root,  rather  than  to  injure 
the  bulb,  as  it  is  wiser  to  run  the  hazard  of  a  slight  ve- 
getation than  of  entire  putrefaction. 

1.  The  earliest  methoil  of  storing  turnips,  was  to 
secure  them  under  roof,  as  it  seemed  but  an  extension 
of  a  practice,  previously  common,  of  laying  in,  in  fresh 
weather,  a  quantity  of  turnips  sufficient  for  the  con- 
sumpt  of  several  weeks.  The  disadvantages  of  that 
method  soon  became  evident.  It  was  necessary  to  pile 
lal-ge  quantities,  to  find  house-room  for  the  produce  of 
an  inconsiderable  field;  and  turnips  in  that  situation 
spontaneously  heated  and  putrefied.  There  is  even 
danger  in  housing  small  quantities.  The  heat  commu- 
nicated through  a  p.trtifion  wall  from  the  fire  of  an 
adjoining  apartment,  and  the  breath  of  cattle,  if  they 
Lave  access  to  the  store  of  turnips,  are  sufiicieut  to 
commence  and  to  support  a  vigorous  vegetation.  The 
sprouts  exhaust  the  substance,  and  corrupt  the  juices 
of  those  turnips  from  which  they  rise ;  and,  pushing  up 


between  those  turnips  wiiich  are  laid  upperraont,  sioist- 
en  them  with  their  succulent  stems,  exclude  fresh  air, 
by  filling  u[)  the  interstices,  and  speedily  reduce  the 
whole  heap  to  a  putrid  mash. 

2.  It  is  well  known,  that  by  pitting  potatoes  in  the 
field,  their  flavour  is  better  preserve<l,  and  their  vege- 
tation is  longer  prevented,  than  by  storing  them  in  the 
house.  From  the  resemblance  between  them  and  tur- 
nips, it  has  been  analogically  conclmled,  thnt  the  same 
practice  might  advantageouslj'  be  extended  to  the  latter. 
Mr.  Findlater  of  Newlands,  to  whose  depth  of  reasoning 
and  accuracy  of  observation  his  wiitings  bear  ample 
testimony,  is  the  only  person  we  know  who  has  fairly 
made  the  experiment,  and  candidly  declared  the  result. 
The  situation  which  he  chose  was  perfectly  dry ;  the 
pit  was  about  five  feet  in  breadth,  and  three  in  depth; 
the  turnips  were  raised  into  a  ridge  of  the  usual  form 
alwve  the  mouth  of  the  pit;  one  end  was  filled  with 
common  and  the  other  with  Swedish  turnips;  the  pit 
was  finally  secured  with  a  thick  cover  of  straw  and 
earth.  A  few  weeks  after  Hallowday,  when  the  turnips 
were  stored,  the  middle  of  the  ridge  began  to  subside; 
the  do))ression  continually  increased,  and  soon  became 
so  great  as  to  create  apprehensions  for  the  safety  of  the 
contents  :  the  pit  was  opened  in  the  beginning  of  Febru- 
ary, an<l  it  was  found  that  almost  the  whole  of  the  com- 
mon turnips  were  destroyed,  and  that  about  one  half  of 
the  Swedish  only  were  preserved.  A  Roxburghshire 
correspondent,  in  the  nineteenth  number  of  the  Far- 
mer's Magazine,  mentions,  that  turnips  may  be  preser- 
ved in  the  field  as  well  as  in  the  house,  if  three  or  four 
cart-loads  only  are  laid  together,  and  afterwards  covered 
with  a  layer  of  earth,  or  of  straw  and  earth.  This  mode 
of  pitting  has  been  carried  to  a  much  greater  extent, 
and  employed  for  the  preservation  of  Iiis  whole  crop,  by 
Mr.  Aitken  of  Cullands,  in  the  parish  of  Newlands.  The 
depot  is  placed  on  a  level  with  the  surface  of  the  ground; 
its  dimensions  are  rather  smaller  than  those  of  the  com- 
mon practice,  afterwards  to  be  described;  anil  their 
cover  consists  of  successive  layers  of  straw,  earth,  and 
straw.  In  a  late  conversation  which  we  had  with  Mr. 
Aitken,  junior,  on  this  subject,  we  found  that  this  mode, 
though  affording  complete  security  to  the  turnips,  po-- 
sessed  no  advantage  over  the  common  practice,  in  pre- 
serving their  succulence,  or  in  retarding  their  vegeta- 
tion at  the  approach  of  spring. 

3.  From  those  experiments  this  conclusion  results, 
that  turnips,  to  be  preserved  during  winter  from  run- 
ning into  the  extremes  of  vegetation  or  putrefaction, 
require  a  considerable  exposure  to  the  air.  On  this 
princi|de  is  founded  the  present  common  practice  of 
placing  the  depot  in  a  welt-aired  situation,  adjoining  to 
the  feeding  byre,  and  of  protecting  it  with  nothing  but 
a  covering  of  straw.  The  store-hea|>s,  for  conveniency, 
are  commonly  placed  in  the  barn-yard.  The  turnijis  are 
laid  down,  cart  thick,  in  the  form  of  a  narrow  tapering 
ridge ;  the  breadth  is  about  five  feet,  the  height  is  about 
four,  and  the  length  is  perfectly  immaterial ;  the  depot 
is  covered  with  a  thick  thatch  of  straw,  and  this  thatch 
is  finally  secured  with  ropes.  Common  turnips  stored 
in  this  manner,  are  kept  in  good  preservation  till  the 
middle  of  April.  Some  intelligent  farmers  have  begun 
to  make  alterations,  and,  it  is  asserted,  improvements, 
on  this  practice.  They  pay  more  attention  to  the  dry- 
ness of  the  situation  than  to  its  nearness  to  the  feeding 
byre,  in  choosing  a  spot  for  the  dep6t ;  bed  the  bottom 
well  with  straw ;  erect  a  three-bar  paling,  or  place  sheep- 


294 


AGRICULTURE. 


flakes  all  around,  inclining  outwards,  that  the  water-drop 
may  be  set  off;  raise  the  top  of  the  heap  as  high  as  Uie 
turnips  will  lie,  and  thatch  the  whole  with  straw  in  the 
usual  manner.  In  this  case  the  angle  at  the  top  is  acute, 
as  the  turnips  can  easily  be  jiiletl  up  considerably  above 
Avhat  is  called  the  square  of  a  house  roof.  The  depot 
is  about  seven  or  eight  feet  in  breadth  at  the  base,  and 
may  safely  be  continued  to  any  length  required  for  hold- 
ing the  whole.  In  recommendation  of  lliis  plan,  there 
is  a  probability  that  turnips  are  better  preserved,  and  a 
certainty  that  less  straw  is  required  for  thatch  in  it  than 
in  the  common  practice. 

AVith  regard  to  Swedish  turnijw,  the  same  principles 
are  applicable  to  them,  and  they  are  stored  in  a  similar 
ni.'imier.  From  their  superiority  in  hardness,  they  admit 
of  considerable  latitude  in  the  season  of  s^toring,  and  in 
the  dimensions  of  the  store-heap.  Under  this  treatment 
they  are  easily  preserved  incorruptible  for  a  great  length 
of  time. 

4.  The  only  deviation  on  principle  from  the  common 
method  of  storing  Swedish  turnips,  took  place  last  win- 
ter at  Scotstown.  Captain  Rlackay,  who  combines,  in 
an  uncommon  degree,  an  extensive  knowle<lge  of  agri- 
culture with  an  accurate  superintendance,  and,  conse- 
quently, -a  successful  management  of  his  farm,  aware 
Ihat  Swedish  turni!)s  on  the  ground  are  indestructible 
by  our  severest  /"rests,  and  that  they,  in  common  with 
every  other  species,  require  in  the  store-heap  a  consiile- 
rable  exposure  to  the  air,  resolved  to  try  how  far  this 
principle  extended ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  formed  of 
them  a  depot  of  the  ordinary  dimensions,  in  a  dry,  well- 
aired  corner  of  his  barn-yard,  Avithout  any  covering,  but 
branches  of  spruce  fir,  to  protect  them  from  the  depre- 
dations of  poultry.  The  turnips  were  stored  in  the 
beginning  of  January.  Towards  the  end  of  March  about 
one  half  had  been  taken  away  for  the  feeding  cattle. 
Excepting  those  in  the  Ceptre  and  bottom  of  the  heap, 
none  were  at  that  time  in  good  preservation.  The  ap- 
pearance of  those  on  the  outside  seemed  to  be  an  ex- 
emplification of  the  law  of  piiliafaction  in  vegetables 
of  a  firm  texture ;  those  parts  of  the  bulbs  which  formed 
the  interstices  were  perfectly  safe,  w4iile  the  points  of 
contact,  similar  to  the  joints  in  carpentry,  discovered 
evident  signs  of  incipient  putrefHction.  Prom  the  fail- 
ure of  this  experiment,  it  may  be  concluded  that  Swe- 
dish, as  well  as  common  turnips,  become  more  delicate 
on  being  raised  from  the  ground,  and  require  a  layer  of 
thatch  to  protect  them  from  the  inclemencie*  of  the 
weather. 

The  advantages  which  attend  the  storing  of  turnips 
jn-iy  now  be  described. 

1 .  Storing  as  a  security  against  frost. — That  turnips 
are  overtaken  by  frost,  and  congealed  into  a  lump  of 
ice  during  winter  and  spring,  is  a  frequent  occurrence. 
it  is  well  known  that  cattle,  with  no  other  food  but 
frozen  turnips,  are  in  great  danger  of  falling  off,  instead 
of  improving.  They  are  difliculted  to  make  an  inipres- 
gion  with  theirteeth;  and  no  sooner  have  they  swallowed 
h  mouthful,  than  they  discover  symptoms  of  universal 
uneasiness,  raise  their  backs,  draw  in  their  feet,  and  fall 
a  trembling  as  if  seized  with  the  cold  fit  of  an  ague.  It 
is  universally  admitted  that  the  storing  system  affords 
complete  security  against  those  evils :  but  it  is  equally 
certain,  that  the  same  advantage  is  attained  in  many 
•situations  without  storing,  and  without  any  great  degree 
of  foresight  or  management. 

In  the  beginning  of  winter,  turnips  are  not  affected  by 


a  slight  degree  of  frost.  Before  it  produces  on  them 
any  sensible  elTect,  the  cold  must  be  so  intense  as  to 
form  on  water  a  pretty  thick  film  of  ice.  The  cause 
of  this  is  obvious.  By  the  close  of  autumn,  if  the  tur- 
nips have  been  properly  set  out  by  hand-hoeing,  their 
leaves  must  form  a  close  mantle  over  the  whole  field ; 
and  this  natural  covering  protects  the  bulbs  from  the 
first  attacks  of  frost.  From  this  circumstance  it  follows, 
that  the  most  improvident  farmer,  whose  cattle  are  only 
supplied  day  by  day  from  the  field,  will  sustain  little  da- 
mage from  the  transient  frosts  which  usually  precede 
Christmas.  After  that  time,  he  will  be  compelled  to 
adopt  the  precautions  employed  by  his  wiser  neightjours, 
of  laying  in  during  fresh  weather  a  quantity  of  tur- 
nips that  will  supply  his  consumption  for  two  or  three 
weeks.  It  is  seldom  that  our  frosts  outlast  that  period. 
If  they  should  continue  longer,  and  if  the  stock  of  tur- 
nips is  exhausted,  it  will  be  necessary  to  adopt  a  prac- 
tice often  successfully  tried  in  Tweeddale,  and  almost 
universal  in  the  more  southern  counties,  of  raising  them 
frozen  as  they  are  in  the  ground,  and  of  thawing  them 
in  a  running  stream,  or  in  a  drinking  [)ool.  The  turnips 
are  raised  with  an  instrument  formed  for  the  purpose,  a 
fork  with  two  prongs,  slightly  curved  inwards,  and  set 
perpendicular  to  the  handle.  Towards  evening  fhev 
arc  carted  from  the  field  and  emptied  into  the  pool.  'JMie 
common  practice  is  to  leave  tlicm  under  water  till  next 
morning :  but  an  immersion  for  tu'o  hours  is  found  suffi- 
cient. When  taken  out,  they  are  as  fresh  and  sound  as 
if  they  hr.d  never  been  frozen. 

From  the  preceding  statement,  it  may  be  concluded, 
that  in  the  most  fertile  districts  of  Scotland,  wliere  the 
climate  is  more  genial,  and  the  weather  more  uniform, 
the  storing  system  possesses  little  essential  advantage, 
in  |)oint  of  security  against  frost,  over  the  practice  of 
leaving  turnipi  on  the  ground.  A  little  foresight  will, 
in  most  cases,  super.^ede  the  necessity  of  raising  them 
in  a  frozen  state,  and,  even  then,  immersion  in  water  is 
an  easy  and  elVectual  remedy.  It  is  impossible,  however, 
to  adopt  this  practice,  probably,  in  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  and  in  many  districts  of  the  southern  coun- 
ties. The  frosts  there  set  in  early,  are  severe  and  last- 
ing. During  the  whole  winter,  there  are  almost  oon- 
timied  storms  of  frost  and  snow,  which  must  prevent 
turnips  from  being  regularly  carried  off  the  field  to  the 
bestial.  It  is  found  that  turnips  piled  together  in  a 
house  begin  to  decay  after  three  weeks;  and  therefore, 
a  stock  of  turnips,  equal  to  the  consumpt  of  that  period, 
is  the  utmost  that  a  fj>rmercan  provide  against  the  con- 
tingency of  frost.  If  the  frost  outlast  that  lime,  (which 
is  not  an  uncommon  event,)  recourse  must  be  had  to  tur- 
ni])son  the  ground;  !nit  it  is  very  difficult  to  raise  them 
during  intense  frost,  such  as  often  occurs  in  winter,  in 
elevated  districts.  A  turnip  thoroughly  congealed, 
when  struck  with  an  iron  tool,  wil!  fly  into  splinters.  A 
pick-axe  is  necessary  to  raise  it  from  the  gnnrnd,  and, 
even  with  it,  great  care  is  required  to  raise  the  turnip 
Avhole.  We  have  been  informed  that  a  farmer,  in  an 
elevated  district  of  Tweeddale,  beingunderl  he  necessity 
of  recurring  to  his  turnip  field  during  an  intense  frost, 
found  as  mucb  difficulty  in  raising  the  prwiuce  <)f  a  few 
yanis,  as  he  woidd  hai  e  had  in  storing  Ilia  whole  crop 
at  the  ])ro))er  season,  ft  may  thence  be  concluded,  that 
though  the  storing  system  is  not  so  necessarj'  in  low- 
lying  districts,  as  a  security  against  frost,  it  is  eminently 
advantageous  in  more  elevated  and  exposed  situations, 
by  Tenderiiig  the  farmer  independent  of  the  severities  ui" 


AGRICULTURE. 


295 


Ihe  iveadier,  by  enabling  him  at  all  times  to  supply  Ms 
vattle  with  sound  and  nutritivo  food. 

2.  Storing  as  a  preventive  of  pulrefuclion. — Turnips, 
left  on  the  ground,  are  liable  not  only  to  be  congealed 
into  a  lump  of  ice,  but  also  to  be  reduced  into  a  putrid 
mash  by  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather.  The  i)rac- 
tice  of  storing,  since  it  has  been  rightly  understood, 
prevents  any  loss  from  putrefaction  :  it  has  thence  been 
concluded,  that  tliis  circumstance  is  a  decided  advan- 
tage in  favour  of  that  system.  On  examining  the  mat- 
ter more  closely,  and  contrasting  the  loss  on  the  ground 
with  the  loss  in  Ihe  process  of  storing,  there  will  apjiear 
abundant  reason  to  modify,  perhaps  to  reject,  this  con- 
clusion. 

It  is  impossible  to  form  a  general  estimate  of  the  quan- 
tity of  tiirnijis  annually  destroyed.  The  loss  is  so  vari- 
able, being  affected  considerably  by  the  soil  and  expo- 
sure of  the  field,  though  regulate(l-  principally  by  the 
climate  anil  the  season,  as  to  defy  Ihe  most  sanguine 
calculator.  It  is  even  difHcult  to  approximate  to  the 
truth;  as  the  opinions  of  farmers  on  this  subject,  from 
the  difference  of  their  circumstances,  are  vague  and 
contradictory.  A  member  of  the  Eddlestoue  Club  has 
declared  that,  in  two  years  out  of  three,  all  our  turnips 
on  the  ground  at  Christmas  are  entirely  lost  by  the 
frost.  Having  unbounded  confidence  in  the  veracity  of 
this  declaration,  we  readily  acquit  him  of  all  intention  to 
mislead :  but,  as  his  statement  is  (juile  different  from 
the  general  sentiment  of  his  neighliours,  we  are  inclined 
to  suspect  a  mistake  of  the  pen,  or  a  slip  of  Ihe  memory. 
An  intelligent  farmer  has  assured  me  that  the  annual 
loss  which  he  sustains  is  seldom  considerable;  and  that 
the  whole  quantity  destroyed  in  the  course  of  eight  or 
ten  years  will  not  amount  to  the  produce  of  an  ordinary 
crop.  We  have  been  also  informed  by  the  Rev.  flir. 
Robertson  of  Eddlestone,  who  has  the  merit  of  founding 
the  Farmer's  Club,  which  bears  the  name  of  his  parish, 
and  who  has  cultivated  turnips  to  a  considerable  extent 
for  nearly  30  years,  that  he  has  lost  only  two  crops  in 
that  period;  and  that  the  loss  in  both  cases  took  place 
in  spring.  From  my  own  observation,  I  am  convinced 
that  the  loss  is  not  so  great  and  so  early  as  has  been 
stated.  It  consists  with  Ihe  experience  of  every  farmer, 
that  turni|)s  suffer  little  or  no  injury  till  the  approach  of 
spring.  We  are  convinced  that  we  do  not  underrate  Ihe 
effects  of  tjie  weather,  when  we  state,  that,  on  an  ave- 
rage of  jears,  even  in  an  elevated  district,  one-third  of 
the  turnips  on  the  ground  at  Candlemas  only  is  destroj-- 
ed  by  frost.  It  is  presumed,  that  two-thirds  of  the  crop 
are  consumed  during  the  tliree  months  of  winter,  and 
without  any  material  loss.  The  third,  which  remains  on 
the  ground  till  spring,  is  the  only  part  which  suffers; 
consequently  the  annual  loss,  at  an  average,  may  be  stat- 
ed at  one-third  of  one-third,  o»  at  one-ninth  of  the  w  hole 
crop. 

There  is  every  probability  that  a  considerable  loss  is 
sustained  by  the  practice  of  storing.  After  lying  some 
time  in  the  store-heap,  turnips  show  evident  indications 
of  decay.  To  the  eye  they  seem  shrivelled ;  to  the 
hand  they  feel  lighter.  It  is  the  common  sentiment  of 
all  who  have  tried  Ihe  experiment,  that  turnips  in  a 
storeheap  lose  one  third  of  their  weight  before  spring 
: — a  loss  equal  to  what  may  be  estimated  as  sustained  by 
turnips  when  left  in  Ihe  field.  Besides  this  inevitable, 
there  is  another  probable  disadvantage  attendant  upon 
storing.  The  turnips  must  be  carried  off  the  field  soon 
^fter,  commonly  immediately  after  harvesting  the  potit- 


toes;  their  further  growth  is  preveute<l:  whereas,  had 
they  been  left  on  the  ground,  they  woulil  certainly  have 
increased  in  size,  probably  matured  and  irai>roved  their 
juices,  till  interrupted  l>y  the  severity  of  winter.  But, 
perhaps,  the  strongest  objection  to  the  storing  system 
is  Ihe  circumstance,  that  turnips,  however  carefully 
stored,  are  less  palatable  to  cattle,  than  when  taken  fresh 
from  the  ground.  That  this  inferiority  is  real,  and  con- 
siderable, was  salisfiictorily  evinced  by  an  experiment 
made  in  presence  of  the  Eddlestone  Farmer's  Club,  at 
their  meeting  in  the  first  week  of  March  last.  They 
produced  two  turnips,  the  one  from  a  sound  store-heap, 
and  the  other  fresh  from  the  field.  Several  cows  were 
turned  out  successively  to  prove  them,  and  all,  after 
smelling  at  both,  began  to  eat  the  turnip  from  the  field 
till  it  was  finished,  Uie  other  not  being  touche<l.  This 
inferiority  eannot  be  referred  to  a  diminution  of  succu- 
lence, (for  it  was  discovered  by  the  sense  of  smelling,) 
but  to  a  putrescent  flavour,  arising  probably  from  the 
operations  of  topping  and  tailing.  Tlwugh  the  leaves* 
and  tap-root  were  cut  off  a\  ith  mathematical  precision, 
still  two  consideraljle  wounds  must  be  made  on  each 
turnip.  The  juices  ooze  out  at  those  wounded  parts; 
and  lluids,  when  partly  exiravasated,  (if  we  may  adopt 
medical  language,)  lose  their  vitality,  and  run  into  putre- 
faction. A  putrid  crust  is  thus  formed  on  the  surface  of 
each  wound,  and  must  be  eaten  by  cattle  before  they  ar- 
rive at  the  sound  interior.  Of  Ihe  nature  of  this  injury, 
some  conception  may  be  formed  by  those  persons,  who, 
from  the  carelessness  of  their  cook,  have  accidentally 
seen,  or  tasted,  a  potatoe  that  had  been  wounded  in  the- 
process  of  harvesting. 

From  these  observations  it  is  reasonable  to  conclude, 
in  general,  that  the  severities  of  the  weather  occasion 
less  loss  than  the  practice  of  storing.  In  favour  of  the 
latter,  however,  there  is  this  great  advantage,  that  Ihe 
loss  is  always  uniform,  and  can  be  foreseen,  and  provided 
for;  while,  in  regard  to  Ihe  former,  the  loss  is  perfectly 
uncertain,  being  regulated  by  causes  which  we  cannot 
anticipate,  and  over  w  hich  we  have  no  control.  This 
circumstance  is  often  very  embarrassing  to  farmers  in 
exposed  situations.  In  some  years,  if  the  weather  be 
favourable,  the  whole  crop  may  escape  unhurt  by  frost ; 
and  tliere  maj'  lie  a  superabundance  in  spring,  with  no 
adequate  stock  of  cattle  to  consume  it.  On  the  contrary, 
if  the  weather  be  very  severe,  almost  the  v.liole  turnips 
intended  for  spring  food  are  destroyed,  and  the  farmer 
will  find  great  difficulty,  as  well  as  sustain  considerable 
loss,  in  disposing  of  his  cattle  before  they  are  fully 
fattened.  It  may  therefore  be  imagined,  that,  in  exposed 
situations,  Ihe  practice  of  storing  is  adviseable  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  say  one  third  of  the  crop,  that  there  may  he 
always  a  certain  supply  for  spring  consumpt ;  but  a  prac- 
tice has  bee» introduced,  which  promises  to  rentier  even 
that  extent  of  storing  unnecessary,,  of  earthing  up  the 
turnips  in  the  drills,  with  a  double  mould-board  plough, 
at  the  end  of  autumn. 

The  cause  of  putrefaction  does  not  seem  to  be  pre- 
cisely understood.  It  certainly  is  not  the  frost  per  se. 
Turnips  congealed  into  a  lump  of  ice,  are  perfectly 
fresh  after  being  thawed  in  water.  In  the  beginning  of 
winter,  they  are  scarcelyaffeeted  by  a  black  frost,  though 
very  severe;  and  even  when  the  season  is  further  ad- 
vanced, they  remain  safe  during  every  degree  of  frost,  if 
the  ground  is  covered  with  snow.  It  has  also  been  ob- 
served, that  a  turnip  field,  with  a  northern  exposure,  iu 
all  cases,  sustains  less  injury  than  a  field  with  any  other 


296 


AGRICULTURE. 


aspect.  From  these  hieU  it  may  be  inferreil,  that  the 
siin  acts  a  part  in  the  tlestriiction  of  turnips,  and  that  his 
influence  is  injurious,  by  producing  a  sudden  transition 
from  cohl  to  heat.  Turnips,  in  the  lieginning  of  winter, 
sulTer  little  during  black  frost,  because  their  leaves,  then 
succulent  and  expanded,  intercept  completely  the  rays 
of  the  sun ;  and  at  the  approach  of  spring  the  same 
event  hajtpens,  though  the  leaves  are  destroyed,  if  snow 
afford  a  covering  to  (he  bulbs  in  their  stead.  But  if  a 
black  frost  occur  at  that  season,  turnips  suffer  an  irrepa- 
rable injury.  They  freeze  every  night ;  the  sun,  then 
pretty  high  and  powerful,  thaws  them  every  day.  In 
(he  morning  there  is  a  rapid  transition  from  cold  to  heat ; 
and  in  the  evening  there  is  a  similar  transition  from  heat 
to  cold.  It  is  well  known  that  a  turnip,  when  wounded, 
speedilj'  decays  :  probably  those  frequent  vicissitudes  of 
heat  and  cold,  by  producing  sudden  alternations  of  ex- 
pansion and  contraction  in  turnips,  destroy  their  texture, 
reduce  them  to  (he  state  of  dead  matter,  and  subject 
them  to  the  general  law  of  putrefaction. 

From  this  explanation,  it  will  easily  be  discovered  in 
what  respect  earlhing-up  is  beneficial  to  turnips.  In 
spring  frosts,  it  shields  (hem  from  the  burning  rays  of 
the  sun,  supplying  the  place  of  (heir  natural  covering  of 
leaves,  or  of  (he  accidental  protection  of  snow.  A  spi- 
rited farmer,  in  an  elevated  district  of  Clydesdale,  has 
carried  successfully  this  principle  to  its  utmost  extent, 
by  ploughing-under,  and  whelming  in  the  bottom  of  the 
furrow,  that  part  of  his  turnips  intended  for  spring  con- 
sumption. It  is  believed  that  the  thick  incumbent  fur- 
row-slice, and  the  reversed  jiosition  of  the  turnips,  con- 
.•»iderably  retard  vegetation  at  the  approach  of  spring; 
but  this  advantage,  if  it  really  exist,  is  certainly  coun- 
terbalanced by  the  difficulty  of  raising  them  from  so 
great  a  depth.  Even  earthing  up  is  sometimes  produc- 
tive of  inconvenience  in  this  respect.  If  the  frost  be 
severe,  it  becomes  laborious  to  raise  (hem  with  a  pick- 
axe; if  the  ground  be  wet,  it  is  dillicult  to  free  them 
from  the  adhering  earth.  It  seems  necessary,  there- 
fore, ((o  supersede,  entirely,  not  only  the  necessity,  but 
also  the  convenience,  of  the  storing  system,)  that  a  spe- 
cies of  turnip  were  discovered  passessing  a  degree  of 
hardiness  sufficient  to  resist  every  inclemency  (.f  our 
northern  climate,  and  every  vicissitude  of  our  variable 
weather.  In  the  sequel,  some  reasons  will  be  produced 
to  show  that  this  discovery  is  now  made. 

3.  Storins:,  as  utlinilling  the  adltire  of  the  more  valua- 
ble species  of  turnips. — Before  (he  introduction  of  the 
storing  system,  i(s  advocates  argue,  fanners  were  oblig- 
ed, in  exposed  situations,  (o  cultivate  not  the  most 
valuable,  but  the  most  hardy  species  of  t\irnips.  The 
yellow  garden  varitly  was  foun(l  to  possess  this  pro|)erty, 
and  notwith^tiindiug  the  smallncss  of  its  size,  was  cul- 
tivated to  a  considerable  extent,  to  secure  a  certainty  of 
spring  fond.  Bu(,  under  the  system  of  s(oring,  while 
tliis  advBn(a?:;e  is  obtained  in  its  fidl  extent,  the  greatest 
latitude  of  selection  is  admitted,  either  as  to  (he  greater 
size  of  the  turnips,  or  as  to  their  greater  palatableness 
to  cattle.  This  argument  seemed  conclusive.  The 
yellow  garden  species  was  laid  aside,  and  (he  common 
wtite,  which  is  much  more  valuable,  was  sul)g(itu(ed  in 
i(s  stead.  From  recent  discoveries  i(  sernis  probable, 
however,  (hat  the  storing  system  is  unneces?ary  to  (he 
guccefisful  cuKure  of  (he  more  valuable  variclir s.  The 
prejudice  in  favour  of  the  delicate  and  eye-pleasing 
bulk  of  comuiou  turnips,  is  on  (he  decline.     Experience 


has  shown,  that  (he  ej'e  is  not  the  best  judge,  and 
(hat  hulk  is  not  the  surest  criterion  of  excellence  in 
turnips.  Fact's  are  rapidly  accumulating  to  encourage 
a  belief  that  a  species  is  discovered,  hardy,  yet  valua* 
ble,  equal  to  the  common  in  size,  and  superior  to  it  in 
nutriment. 

The  first  improvement  on  the  old  species,  was  the 
introduction  of  the  Swedish  turnip,  about  twelve  years 
ago.  Its  culture  soon  became  frequent,  from  the  notice 
t-aken  of  it,  and  the  recommendations  bestowed  on  it  in 
the  Bee,  a  perio<lical  miscellany  then  published  in  Edin- 
burgh, by  Dr.  Anderson,  most  meritorious  in  its  design, 
and  very  extensive  in  its  circulation.  In  the  contermin- 
ous parts  of  Clj'desdale  and  Tweeddale,  where  it  has 
been  cultivated  for  a  number  of  years,  its  habits  and  its 
excellencies  are  well  ascertained.  Its  superiority  in 
feeding,  its  vigorous  resistance  to  every  inclemency  of 
the  weather,  and  its  obstinate  retention  of  succulence 
after  vegetation  commences  in  spring,  entide  it  indispu- 
tably (o  rank  as  the  farmer's  latest  spring  food ;  while 
its  affection  for  a  soil  rich  by  nature,  or  enriched  by- 
manure  ;  its  inferiority  as  a  fallow  crop,  from  requiring 
to  be  early  sown,  and  from  covering  imperfectly  the 
ground  with  its  kaves;  its  deficiency  of  produce,  even 
after  making  every  allowance  for  the  richness  of  its 
juices,  and  the  density  of  its  texture,  render  it  an  object 
not  so  much  of  choice  as  of  necessity,  and  limit  its  cul- 
ture to  the  extent  of  a  succedaneum,  when  every  other 
species  is  shrivelled  or  putrefied.  It  is  possible  fo  pre- 
serve common  turnips  in  tolerable  condition  till  the 
middle  of  April ;  but,  as  they  lose  greatly  when  the 
season  is  so  far  advanced,  and  as  they  are  preserved  with 
difficulty  if  the  weather  be  genial,  it  may  be  more  ad- 
viseable  to  have  all  of  them  consumed  a  month  earlier, 
and  to  raise  of  Swedish  turnips  as  many  as  shall  be  re- 
quired to  supply  the  consumpt  from  the  middle  of  ftliirch 
till  (he  end  of  spring.  In  exposed  situations  they  may 
advantageously  be  cultivated  to  the  further  extent  of 
atTording  partial  aid  to  milch  cows  in  the  beginning  of 
May,  as  the  pasturage  is  then  seldom  forward  enough  to 
supply  them  with  succulent  food.  When  preserved  to 
very  late,  even  Swedish  turnips  are  apt  (o  decay,  and,  in 
consequence,  to  communicate  a  disagreeable  flavour  to 
milk  and  butter,  uidess  they  are  topped  and  tailed  when 
raised  from  the  field,  and  immediately  housed  in  a  cool 
situation. 

Another  species  has  lately  been  introduced,  which 
promises  to  be  of  incalcubtble  advantage,  as  they  seem 
to  i)Ossess,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  characteristic  ex- 
cellencies of  (he  common  and  Swedish  turnips.  They 
resemble  (he  yellow  garden  variety  in  colour,  and,  as 
already  stated,  are  superior  to  ruta  baga,  because,  with 
e((unl  properties  they  may  be  raised  on  inferior  soil,  and 
at  the  expense  of  less  dung  than  is  required  for  that  va- 
luable esculent.  This  species  has  of  late  been  cultivated 
extensively  in  many  counties,  and  promises  to  be  of  im- 
portant advantage  in  every  one  of  them,  where  phj-sical 
circumstances  are  unfavourable  to  (he  culture  of  ruta 
baga.  Perhaps,  in  a  general  point  of  viciv,  storing  is 
not  required  either  ftir  ruta  baga  or  yellow  (urnips,  be- 
cause, imder  a  suitable  arrangement,  neither  of  (hcsr 
esculenls  should  be  used  (ill  alter  the  firfl  of  April,  when 
(lie  inconvenience  of  cardng  from  the  field,  and  danger 
from  frost,  is  little  (o  be  dreaded.  The  greatest  injury 
which  both  ruta  baga  and  yellow  turnips  are  exposed  to 
ill  the  winter  mouths,  is  from  the  depredations  of  hares, 


AGMCULTimE. 


29* 


V?1iO  are  tancoiMinonly  fond  of  lliem  as  food,  and  will  not 
taste  the  common  white  turnip  where  others  can  be  pro- 
cured. Storing  is,  no  doubt,  a  complete  preventive 
against  their  attacks ;  but,  unless  a  removal  is  made 
solely  with  a  view  of  sowing  wheat  in  November,  we 
cannot  recommend,  that  either  ruta  baga  or  yellow  tur- 
nips should  be  stored.  With  regard  to  white  turnips,  a 
very  different  opinion  must  be  given,  the  general  seve- 
rity of  winter  in  North  Britain,  and  the  utter  impracti- 
cability of  providing  a  regular  supply  of  this  esculent  to 
winter  stock  in  every  high  district,  rendering  it  prudent 
and  expedient  to  keep  a  depot  at  home  for  supply,  even 
in  every  season. 

4.  Storing,  as  achnitting  the  introduction  of  rvhtat  on  a 
turnip  fallow. — From  the  preceding  observations,  it 
seems  evident,  that  the  storing  of  turnips  is  necessary 
only  in  exposed  and  elevated  districts,  to  attain  security 
against  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather;  and  that,  in 
every  more  favoured  situation,  it  is  directly  injurious, 
from  requiring  turnips  to  be  raised  from  the  ground  be- 
fore they  have  attained  their  full  growth  ;  from  the  eva- 
poration of  their  juices  while  they  lie  in  the  store-heap ; 
and  from  their  acquiring  a  putrescent  flavour,  and  be- 
coming unpalatable  to  cattle.  Even  in  the  latter,  how- 
ever, that  system  is  attended  with  one  advantage,  which 
more  than  compensates  its  numerous  evils, — the  facility 
with  which  it  enables  the  farmer  to  introduce  Avheat  on 
a  turnip  fallow. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  turnip  fallow,  in  most 
cases,  is  a  sufficient  preparation  for  wheat.  A  bare 
fallow  seems  indispensably  necessary  only  on  wet  and 
stubborn  clays  :  but  this  is  a  species  of  soil  most  unfa- 
vourable to  the  culture  of  turnips.  If  they  are  forced 
to  grow  in  such  a  situation,  they  cannot  serve  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  summer  fallow ;  and  the  storing  system  must 
be  recurred  to  immediately  after  harvest,  not  to  make 
way  for  sowing  wheat,  but  because  it  is  impossible,  in 
our  moist  climate,  to  carry  off  turnips  from  such  lands 
during  winter.  But  on  a  dry  soil  of  every  species,  from 
a  light  sand  to  a  rich  loam,  which  turnips  chiefly  affect, 
every  advantage  of  a  summer  fallow  is  obtained  by 
cropping  with  turnips  :  The  frequent  ploughings  before 
the  seed  process,  and  the  various  hoeings  alter  the  plants 
appear  above  ground,  till  they  cover  it  with  their  leaves, 
effectually  pulverize  the  soil,  and  clear  it  of  weeds.  On 
light  lands  of  this  description,  if  wheat  is  intended  to 
follow  turnips,  it  may  be  sown  at  an  early,  and  at  its  pro- 
jier  season.  If  the  process  of  storing  commence  im- 
mediately after  harvesting  the  potatoes,  the  ground  may 
be  cleared  to  receive  the  wheat  in  the  beginning  of 
November.  When  it  is  wished,  however,  to  obtain  the 
full  benefit  of  the  turnip  crop,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
<lelay  storing  some  time  longer,  1^11  the  bulbs  arrive  at 
their  full  size  :  Yet,  even  in  this  case,  it  will  be  easy  to 
put  the  ground  in  order  during  the  course  of  winter, 
and  to  embrace  the  most  favourable  season  of  so^ving  it 
with  spring  wheat.  It  is  obvious  that,  if  storing  be 
omitted,  wheat  after  turnips  is  a  precarious  crop.  If 
the  ground  is  only  cleared,  as  turnips  are  required  for 
the  consumpt  of  cattle,  they  must  be  regularly  carried 
off  during  the  whole  of  winter,  and  the  beginning  of 
spring.  The  carriage  of  such  a  bulky  crop,  in  our 
moist  climate,  and  during  our  wettest  season,  inevitably 
occasions  a  degree  of  poaching  on  almost  every  soil, 
and  greatly  retards  the  operations  of  ploughing,  sowing, 
and  harrowing,  in  spring.  Unless  the  weather  be  very 
favourable,  the  season  is  too  late  for  sowing  wheat ;  and 

Vol.  I.     Part  I. 


it  is  considered  as  ftiore  advantageous,  in  general,  to  in- 
troduce barley  or  oats  after  a  turnip  fallow.  The  stor- 
ing system,  therefore,  is  advantageous  in  the  exact  pro- 
l)ortion  that  a  crop  of  wheat  is  superior  to  a  crop  of  bar- 
ley ;  and  this  profit  must  greatly  overbalance  the  vari- 
ous losses  which  turnips  sustain  in  that  process. 

The  result  of  the  preceding  observations  is,  that  the 
storing  of  turnips,  abstractedly  considered,  is  attended 
with  direct  and  unavoidable  loss;  but,  when  viewed  in 
reference  to  the  climate  and  agriculture  of  Scotland,  is 
necessary  in  unfavourable  situations,  and  eventually  ad- 
vantageous in  every  other ; — necessary  in  high  lands, 
where  the  severities  of  winter  prevent  turnips  from  be- 
ing regularly  carried  off  the  ground  to  supply  the  con- 
sumpt of  cattle;  and  advantageous  in  low  lands,  by 
enabling  the  farmer  to  introduce  wheat  after  turnips, 
where  he  could  otherwise  obtain  only  a  crop  of  oats  or 
barley. 

On  Cabbages. 

Though  we  have  advocated  the  cause  of  turnips  with 
a  degree  of  keenness  adequate  to  the  merits  of  the  se- 
veral varieties  of  which  the  family  is  composed,  yet  it 
is  out  of  our  power  to  bestow  the  like  support  upon  cab- 
bage culture,  because  we  view  it  as  much  more  hazard- 
ous, far  less  profitable,  and  at  teniled  with  infinitely  more 
trouble  than  that  of  turnips,  ^vhile  the  advantages  to  be 
derived  from  them  are  not,  in  our  opinion,  of  a  descrip- 
fion  to  compensate  (he  extra  hazard  and  trouble  thereby 
incurred.  Cabbages  have  always  l)een  a  rare  article 
with  the  farmer,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  they  will  long  con- 
tinue to  be  so.  Scarcely  any  plant  requires  more  ma- 
nure ;  and  none  will  scourge  the  ground  more  effect- 
ually. Not  wishing,  therefore,  to  encourage  the  cul- 
tivation of  cabbages,  except  in  gardens,  we  shall  dis- 
miss the  subject  without  any  further  investigation. 


On  Carrots. 

We  cannot  say  much  more  in  favour  of  the  carrot 
than  we  have  done  of  the  cabbage  husbandry.  In  fact, 
both  are  troublesome  articles,  and  not  to  be  thought  of 
by  actual  farmers,  who  must  remember  term-time; 
though  both  may  be  highly  amusing  and  inte/esting  to 
gentlemen  who  have  no  rent  to  pay,  and  whose  welfare 
depends  little  upon  the  profit  or  loss  arising  from  the 
mode  of  cropping  exercised,  or  the  value  of  the  crops 
obtained.  To  ttus  class  of  agriculturists  we  may  say, 
that  carrots  require  a  rich  and  soft  soil;  that  deep 
ploughing  ought  to  be  given  to  the  ground  before  the 
seeds  are  sown,  and  that  they  ought  to  be  drilled  and 
carefully  hoed. 

On  Lucem,  Burnet,  and  St.  Poiji. 

These  green  crops  have  often  been  greatly  extolled; 
but  the  small  progress  hitherto  made  in  their  cultivation, 
abundantly  justifies  the  conclusion  meant  to  be  drawn, 
viz.  that  the  climate  of  the  British  isles  is  unfriendly  to 
their  growth.  In  fact.  With  none  of  them  will  the  like 
weight  of  crop  be  obtained  as  with  good  clover  and  rye- 
grass ;  and,  this  being  the  case,  it  need  not  excite  won- 
der that  agriculturists  should  continue  to  use  the  plants 
which  yield  them  the  most  bountiful  return,  and  avoid 
esoticg  not  suited  to  our  climate. 


298 


AGRICULTURE. 


The  ancient  Roman  writers  speak  much  in  commen- 
dation of  lucern,  by  them  called  Medica  ;  but  whether 
it  got  this  name  from  being  used  as  a  medicine  for  sick 
cattle,  or  because  it  was  originally  brought  from  the 
kingdom  of  Media,  is  uncertain.  Columella  states,  that 
one  sowing  will  last  lor  ten  years,  and  that  it  ought  to 
be  cut  four,  often  six  times  in  a  season.  He  adds,  that 
it  enriches  the  land,  fattens  all  kinds  of  lean  cattle,  is  a 
remedy  for  those  that  are  sick ;  and  that  one  jugerum 
(three-fourths  of  an  English  acre,)  will  completely  feed 
three  horses  for  a  whole  year.  Palladius  speaks  nearly 
to  the  same  purpose  in  its  praise ;  and  so  does  Pliny, 
with  this  difference,  that  he  asserts  it  will  last  thirty 
years.  These,  to  be  sure,  are  important  matters,  though 
we  entertain  doubts  whether  such  crops  as  are  mention- 
ed by  these  writers  could  at  this  time  be  realized  in  the 
Himate  Of  Italy,  far  less  in  the  inferior  one  of  Great 
Britain.  When  Mr.  Du  Hamel,  a  great  admirer  of 
lucern,  speaks  of  feeding  horses  of  an  ordinary  size, 
with  five  or  six  |)0und  weight  of  it  per  day,  we  are  al- 
most tempted  to  smile.  The  writings  of  this  gentleman, 
and  his  friend  M.  LuUi  de  Chauteauvieux,  are  amply 
filled  with  commendations  of  lucern  ;  but  we  must 
leave  such  people  as  are  fond  of  exotic  grasses  to  learn 
from  these  writers  what  are  their  respective  merits  and 
properties. 

In  favour  of  burnet  not  much  more  can  be  said  than 
of  lucern.  San-Foin  has,  however,  been  sown  more  ex- 
tensively than  burnet,  and  mth  much  greater  success. 
Chalky  loams  and  gravelly  soils  on  a  calcareous  bottom, 
are  most  proper  for  this  grass.  It  is  more  adapted  to 
hay  than  pasture ;  and  much  heavier  crops  of  this  grass 
are  obtained  from  thin  lands  than  when  clover  is  sown. 
In  short,  we  consider  San-Foin  to  be  a  hardy  kind  of 
grass,  well  worth  the  attention  of  cultivators  in  upland 
districts,  where  the  soil  is  obdurate  and  shallow,  and 
where  clover  and  rye-grass  can  with  difficulty  be  raised 
lo  such  a  height  as  to  stand  the  sithe.  When  sown, 
fresh  seed  ought  constantly  to  he  used,  as  the  vegeta- 
tion of  old  seed  cannot  be  depended  upon.  Four  bush- 
els may  b<!  used  for  an  acre ;  and  great  care  ought  to  be 
taken  to  cover  the  seed  well,  and  to  put  it  deeper  into 
the  ground  than  the  seeds  of  other  grasses. 

Sect.  IV. 

On  Crops  to  be  used  in  Manufactures. 

Three  other  green  crops  remain  to  be  treated  of; 
namely,  hemp,  flax,  and  hops.  None  of  these,  however, 
can  be  viewed  as  improving  crops ;  on  the  contrary, 
they  may  be  characterized  as  robbers,  that  exhaust  the 
«oil,  and  return  little,  or  rather  no  manure  for  restoring 
it  to  fertility.  They  are,  however,  all  necessary  articles, 
and  in  the  present  state  of  public  affairs,  the  culture  of 
the  two  first,  viz.  hemp  and  flax,  may  be  considered  as 
materially  connected  with  national  prosperity. 

On  Hemp. 

This  18  a  plant  of  the  herbaceous  fibrous-rooted  kind, 
which  hag  a  thick  strong  stem,  that  rises  to  a  consider- 
able heieht,  and  affords  a  rind  or  covering  of  a  firm 
strone  texture,  that  is  valuable  for  the  purpose  of  being 
manufactured  into  cloth,  cordage,  &c. 

The  soils  most  suited  to  the  culture  of  this  plant,  are 
ihoEC  of  the  deep,  black,  putrid,  Tegetable  kind,  that  are 


low,  and  rather  inclined  to  moisture,  and  those  of  the 
deep,  mellow,  loamy,  or  sandy  descriptions.  The  quan- 
tity of  produce  is  generally  much  greater  on  the  Ibnner 
than  on  the  latter ;  but  it  is  said  to  be  greatly  inferior  in 
quality.  It  may,  however,  be  grown  with  success  on 
lands  of  a  less  rich  and  fertile  kind,  by  proper  care  and 
attention  in  their  culture  and  preparation. 

In  order  to  render  the  grounds  proper  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  crop,  they  should  be  reduced  into  a  fine  mel- 
low state  of  mould,  and  be  perfectly  cleared  from  weeds, 
by  repeated  ploughing.  When  it  succeeds  grain  crojis, 
the  work  is  mostly  accomplished  by  three  ploughings, 
and  as  many  harrowings ;  the  first  being  given  imme- 
diately after  the  preceding  crop  is  removed,  the  second 
early  in  the  spring,  and  the  last,  or  seed  earth,  just  be- 
fore the  seed  is  to  be  put  in.  In  the  last  ploughing,  well 
rotted  manure,  in  the  proportion  of  fifteen  or  twent}',  or 
good  compost,  in  the  quantily  of  twenty-five  or  thirty- 
three  horse-cart  loads,  should  be  turned  into  the  land ; 
as  without  this  it  is  seldom  that  good  crops  can  be  pro- 
duced. 1'he  surface  of  the  ground  being  left  perfectly 
flat,  and  as  free  from  furrows  as  possible ;  as  by  these 
means  the  moisture  is  more  effectually  retained,  and  the 
growth  of  the  plants  more  fully  promoted. 

Seed,  and  Method  of  Sowing. — It  is  of  much  import- 
ance in  the  cultivation  of  hemp  crops,  that  the  seed  be 
new,  and  of  a  good  quality,  which  may  in  some  measure 
be  known  by  its  feeling  heavy  in  the  hand,  and  being 
of  a  bright  shining  colour. 

The  proportion  of  seed  that  is  most  commonly  em- 
ployed, is  from  two  to  three  bushels,  according  to  the 
quality  of  the  land ;  but,  as  the  cro])S  are  greatly  injured 
by  the  plants  standing  too  closely  together,  two  bushels, 
or  two  bushels  and  a  half,  may  be  a  more  advantageous 
quantity. 

As  the  hemp  plant  is  extremely  tender  in  its  early 
growth,  care  should  be  taken  not  to  put  the  seed  into  the 
ground  at  so  early  a  period,  as  that  it  may  be  liable  to 
be  injured  by  the  effects  of  frost ;  nor  to  protract  the 
sowing  to  so  late  a  season,  as  that  the  quality  oi  the  pro- 
duce may  be  affected.  The  best  season,  on  the  drier 
sorts  of  land,  in  the  southern  districts,  is,  probably,  as 
soon  as  possible  after  the  frosts  are  over  in  April,  and, 
on  the  same  descriptions  of  soil  in  the  more  northern 
ones,  towards  the  close  of  the  same  month,  or  early  in 
the  ensuing  one.  But  when  the  ground  is  more  inclined 
to  moisture,  it  may  be  a  better  practice  to  delay  the 
sowing  to  a  later  period  in  both  cases,  choosing,  if  pos- 
sible, a  time  when  the  land  is  neither  too  dry  nor  too 
moist  for  performing  the  business.  Sowing  as  early  as 
possible  is,  however,  in  general,  to  be  preferred ;  as, 
where  this  is  the  case,  by  the  crops  becoming  more 
strong  and  vigorous  in  the  early  part  of  their  growth,  the 
hemp  is  found  to  wilnstand  the  various  operations  that 
are  afterwards  to  be  performed  upon  it  in  a  better  manner. 

The  most  general  method  of  putting  crops  of  (his 
sort  into  the  soil  is  the  broadcast,  the  seed  being  dis- 
persed over  the  surface  of  the  land  in  as  even  a  man- 
ner as  possible,  and  afterwards  covered  in  by  means  of  a 
very  light  harrowing.  It  is  probable,  however,  that,  in 
many  cases,  especially  where  the  crops  are  to  stand  for 
seed,  the  drill  method,  in  rows  at  small  distances,  might 
be  had  recourse  to  with  advantage ;  as,  in  this  way  the 
early  gn)wth  of  the  plants  would  be  more  effectually 
promoted,  and  the  land  be  kept  in  a  more  clean  and  per- 
fect state  of  mould,  which  are  circumstances  of  imgiort- 
ance  in  such  crops,    la  whatever  method  the  seeri  is 


AGRICULTURE. 


209 


put  in,  care  must  constantly  be  taken  to  keep  the  birds 
from  it  for  some  time  afterwards. 

Tliis  sort  of  crop  is  frequently  cultivated  on  the  same 
piece  of  ground  for  a  great  nurabpr  of  years,  without  any 
ether  kind  intervening;  but  in  such  cases  manure 
must  be  applied,  with  almost  every  crop,  in  pretty  large 
proportions,  to  prevent  the  exhaustion  that  must  other- 
wise take  place.  It  may  be  sown  after  most  sorts  of 
grain  crops,  especially  where  the  land  possesses  suffi- 
cient fertility,  and  is  in  a  proper  state  of  tillage. 

After  Culture.' — As  hemp,  from  its  tall  growth  and 
thick  foliage,  soon  covers  the  surface  of  the  land)  and 
prevents  the  rising  of  weeds,  little  attention  is  neces- 
sary after  the  seed  has  been  put  into  the  ground,  espe- 
cially where  the  broadcast  method  of  sowing  is  prac- 
tised ;  but,  when  put  in  by  the  drill  machine,  a  hoeing  or 
two  may  be  had  recourse  to  with  advantage  in  the  early 
growth  of  the  crop. 

In  the  culture  of  this  plant,  it  is  particularly  neces- 
sary, that  the  same  piece  of  land  contains  both  tnale  and 
female,  or  what  is  sometimes  denominated  simple  hemp> 
The  latter  kind  contains  the  seed. 

When  the  crop  is  ripe,  which  is  known  by  its  becom- 
ing of  a  whitish  yellow  colour,  and  a  few  of  the  leaves 
beginning  to  drop  from  the  stems,  which  happens  com- 
monly about  thirteen  or  fourteen  weeks  from  the  period 
of  its  being  sown,  according  as  the  season  may  be  dry 
or  wet,  the  first  sort  being  mostly  ripe  some  weeks  be- 
fore the  latter; — the  next  operation  is  tliat  of  taking  it 
from  the  ground,  whicli  is  eftected  by  pulling  it  up  by 
the  roots,  in  small  parcels  at  a  time,  by  the  hand,  taking 
care  to  shake  off  the  mould  well  from  them  before  the 
handl'uls  are  laid  down.  In  some  districts,  the  whole 
crop  is  ]iulled  together,  without  any  distinction  being 
made  between  the  different  kinds  of  hemp;  while  in 
others,  it  is  the  practice  to  separate  and  pull  them  at 
different  times,  according  to  their  ripeness.  The  latter 
is  obviously  the  better  practice ;  as  by  pulling  a  large 
proportion  of  the  crop  before  it  is  in  a  proper  state  of 
maturity,  the  quantity  of  produce  must  not  only  be  con- 
siderably lessened,  but  its  quality  greatly  injured,  by 
being  rendered  less  durable.  The  expense  of  this  ope-- 
ration  varies  considerably  in  different  districts;  in  some 
it  amounts  to  eighteen  or  twenty  shillings,  while  in 
others  it  is  e<|ually  well  performed  for  eleven  or  twelve. 
After  being  thus  pulled,  it  is  tied  up  in  small  parcels,  or 
what  are  sometimes  |)rovincially  termed  baits. 

Where  crops  of  this  kind  are  intended  for  seeding, 
they  should  be  suffered  to  stand  till  the  seed  becomes 
in  a  perfect  state  of  maturity,  which  is  easily  known  by 
the  appearance  of  it  on  inspection.  The  stems  are 
then  pulled  and  bound  up,  as  in  the  other  case,  the 
bundles  being  set  up  in  the  same  manner  as  grain,  until 
the  seed  becomes  so  dry  and  firm  as  to  shed  freely.  It 
is  then  either  immediately  thrashed  out  upon  large 
cloths  for  the  purpose  in  the  field,  or  taken  home  to  have 
the  operation  afterwards  performed. 

The  after-management  of  hemp  crops  varies  greatly 
in  different  places  where  their  culture  is  encouraged. 
In  some,  it  is  the  practice  only,  to  what  is  called  deni' 
ripen,  or  ret,  the  produce,  while  in  others  the  general 
custom  is  to  water-ret  it. 

In  the  former  method,  the  hemp,  immediately  after 
being  pulled,  is  carefully  spread  out  in  a  very  even,  re- 
gular, and  thin  manner,  on  a  piece  of  level  old  pasture, 
on  which  it  is  to  remain  for  five,  six,  or  more  weeks,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances,  being  occasionally  turned  du- 


ring the  time.  When  the  weather  is  sho\very,  this  is 
mostly  done  three  times  in  the  week;  but  in  other  cases 
twice  is  commonly  sufficient.  When  the  rind  or  hempy 
substance  becomes  easily  separable  from  the  woody 
part,  or  stem,  it  is  taken  up  and  tied  into  bundles,  either 
to  be  stacked  up  on  the  spot,  or  carried  home  and 
placed  in  some  convenient  situation,  where  it  may  re- 
main until  it  can  be  manufactured.  In  this  process, 
which  is  termed  grassing,  great  attention  is  requisite  to 
prevent  the  texture  of  the  hemp  from  being  injured  by 
its  remaining  too  long  on  the  grass. 

But  the  latter  practice  is  much  better,  and  more  expe- 
ditious, as  well  as  more  general.  In  this,  the  hemp,  as 
soon  as  pulled,  is  tied  up  in  small  bundles,  frequently  at 
both  ends.  It  is  then  conveyed  to  pits,  or  ponds  of  stag- 
nant water,  about  six  or  eight  feet  in  depth,  such  as 
have  a  clayey  soil  being  in  general  preferred,  and  de- 
posited in  beds,  according  to  their  size  and  depth ;  the 
small  bundles  being  laid  both  in  a  straight  direction  and 
crosswise  of  each  other,  so  as  to  bind  perfectly  together; 
the  whole  being  loaded  with  timber,  or  other  materials, 
so  as  to  keep  the  beds  of  hemp  just  below  the  surface  of 
the  water :  the  quantity  of  an  acre,  or  three  small  wag- 
on-loads, being  in  some  instances  piled  in  one  bed. 
But  as  the  action  of  the  atmospheric  air  is  essentially 
necessary  to  produce  that  degree  of  putrefaction  which 
is  requisite  for  destroying  the  small  fibres  and  vegetable 
gluten,  by  which  the  bark  or  hempy  substance  adheres 
to  the  bwi,  or  stem,  it  may  be  more  advantageous  to  build 
them  in  much  smaller  beds;  as  by  such  means  the  busi- 
ness may  not  only  be  more  expeditiously  accomplished, 
but  the  danger  of  rotting  the  hemp  too  much  prevented. 
On  the  same  principle,  the  depth  of  the  ponds  should 
not  exceed  the  dimensions  given  above.  It  is  not  usual 
to  water  more  than  four  or  five  times  in  the  same  pit, 
till  it  has  been  filled  with  fresh  water.  Where  the  ponds 
are  not  sufficiently  large  to  contain  the  whole  of  the  pro- 
duce at  once,  it  is  the  practice  to  pull  the  hemp  only  as 
it  can  be  admitted  into  them,  it  being  thought  disadvan- 
tageous to  leave  the  hemp  upon  the  ground  after 
being  pulled.  It  is  left  in  these  pits,  four,  five,  or 
six  days,  or  even  more,  according  to  the  warmth  of  the 
season,  and  the  judgment  of  the  ojjerator,  on  his  ex- 
amining whether  the  hempy  material  readily  separates 
from  the  reed  or  stem ;  and  then  taken  up  and  conveyed 
to  a  pasture  field,  which  is  clean  and  even,  the  bundles 
being  loosed,  and  spread  out  thinly  stem  by  stem,  turning 
it  every  second  or  third  day,  especially  in  damp  weather, 
to  prevent  its  being  injured  by  worms,  or  other  insects. 
It  should  remain  in  this  situation  for  two,  three,  four,  or 
more  weeks,  according  to  circumstances,  and  be  then 
collected  together  when  in  a  perfectly  dry  state,  tied  u|i 
into  large  bundles,  and  placed  in  some  secure  building 
until  an  opportunity  is  afforded  for  breaking  it  in  order 
to  sejjarate  the  hemp.  By  this  means,  the  process  of 
grassing  is  not  only  shortened,  but  the  more  expensive 
ones  of  breaking,  scutching,  and  bleaching  the  yarn, 
rendered  less  violent  and  troublesome.  Besides,  the 
hemp  managed  in  this  way,  sells  much  dearer  than  when 
the  former  method  is  adopted.  After  the  hemp  has 
been  removed  from  the  field,  and  the  business  of  ^ra**- 
ing  properly  performed,  it  is  in  a  st^te  to  be  broken  and 
swingled,  o|)erations  that  are  mostly  performed  liy  com- 
mon labourers,  by  means  of  machinery  for  the  pur|)ose, 
the  produce  being  tied  up  in  stones.  The  refuse  col- 
lected in  the  latter  processes,  is  denominated  sheaves, 
and  is  in  some  districts  eniployed  for  the  purposes  of  fuel, 
Pp2 


300 


AGRICULTURE. 


being  sold  at  two  pence  the  stone.  After  having  under- 
gone these  different  operations,  it  is  ready  for  the  pur- 
poses of  the  manufacturer. 

On  Flax. 

Flax  has  been  sown  in  Britain  from  time  immemorial, 
though  a  sufficient  quantity  has  not  hitherto  been  culti- 
Tated  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  inhabitants.  Whether 
the  British  climate  is  unfavourable  to  the  growth  of  this 
article,  or  whether  the  constant  demand  for  bread-corn 
prevents  a  due  space  of  ground  from  being  devoted  to 
its  growth,  are  questions  unnecessary  to  be  discussed  in 
this  work;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  notwithstanding  national 
liberality  has  stepped  forward  to  promote  tlie  growth  of 
flax,  and  offered  piemiums  of  considerable  value  both 
upon  flax  and  the  seed  produced,  still  the  trade  is  un- 
prosperous,  and  not  carried  on  to  such  a  length  as  to 
supply  one  half  of  the  demands  of  our  manufacturers. 
That  this  is  the  fact  cannot  be  denied ;  though  it  is 
equally  true,  that  a  great  part  of  British  soil,  the  allu- 
vial sort  particularly,  is  well  qualified  for  raising  this 
crop  in  perfection,  were  the  genius  and  disposition  of 
cultivators  bent  that  way,  and  no  impediments  allowed 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  its  culture. 

Flax  is  not  a  severe  crop  on  the  soil,  when  pulled 
green,  as  it  ought  to  be,  if  an  article  of  good  quality  is 
wished  for;  though  when  allowed  to  stand  for  seed,  it 
is  as  severe  a  scourge  as  can  be  inflicted.  The  soils 
most  suitable  for  flax,  besides  the  alluvial  kind  already 
mentioned,  are  deep  and  friable  loams,  and  such  as  con- 
tain a  large  proportion  of  vegetable  matter  in  their  com- 
position. Strong  clays  do  pot  answer  well,  nor  soils  of 
a  gravelly  or  dry  snncljf  nature.  Bnt  whatever  be  the 
kind  of  soil,  it  ought  neit&er  to  be  in  too  poor  nor  in  too 
rich  a  condition ;  because,  in  the  latter  case,  the  flax  is 
apt  to  grow  too  luxuriant,  and  to  produce  a  coarse  sort ; 
and,  in  the  former  case,  the  plant,  from  growing  weakly, 
affords  only  a  small  produce. 

Preparation. — When  grass  land  is  intended  for  flax, 
it  ought  to  be  broke  up  as  early  in  the  season  as  possi- 
ble, so  that  the  soil  may  be  duly  mellowed  by  the  winter 
frosts,  and  in  good  order  for  being  reduced  by  the  har- 
rows, when  the  seed  process  is  attempted.  If  flax  is  to 
succeed  a  corn  crop,  the  like  care  is  required  to  procure 
the  aid  of  frost,  without  which  the  surface  cannot  be  ren- 
dered fine  euough  for  receiving  the  seed.  Less  frost, 
however,  will  do  in  the  last  than  in  the  first  case ;  there- 
fore the  grass  land  ought  always  to  be  earliest  |)loughed. 
At  seed  time,  harrow  the  land  well  before  the  seed  ia 
distributed,  then  cover  the  seed  to  a  sufficient  depth, 
by  giving  a  close  double  time  of  the  harrows.  Water- 
furrow  the  land,  and  remove  any  stones  and  roots  that 
may  remain  on  the  surface,  which  finishes  the  seed 
process. 

QjuatUity  of  Seed. — When  a  crop  of  seed  is  intended 
to  be  taken,  (bin  sowing  is  preferable,  in  order  that  the 
plants  may  have  room  to  fork  or  spread  out  their  leaves, 
and  to  obtain  air  in  the  blossoming  and  filling  seasons. 
But  it  i«  a  mistake  to  sow  thin  when  flax  is  intended  to 
be  taken ;  for  the  crop  then  becomes  coarse,  and  often 
unproductive.  From  eight  to  ten  pecks  per  acre  is  a 
proper  quantity  in  the  last  case ;  but  when  seed  is  the 
object,  six  pecks  will  do  very  well. 

Time  of  Pulling. — Different  opinions  are  held  with 
respect  to  the  period  when  flax  can  be  most  profitably 
pulled ;  but,  generallf  ^speaking,  it  is  the  safest  course 
to-take  it  a  little  early,  any  thing  wanting  in  quantity 


being,  in  this  way,  made  up  by  superiority  of  quality  j 
besides,  when  pulled  in  a  green  state,  flax  is  not  » 
scourge,  though  this  objection  has  been  urged  a  hun- 
dred times  against  its  culture.  When  suffered  to  ripen 
its  seed  sufficiently,  there  is  no  question  but  that  flax  is 
a  severe  croj),  though  not  much  more  so  than  rye-grass, 
when  allowed  to  stand  till  the  seed  is  perfectly  ripened. 
But  as  there  is  no  necessity  for  allowing  any  great 
breadth  of  flax  to  remain  for  seeil,  the  benefits  to  be  de- 
rived from  this  crop  are  numerous,  while  the  evils  at- 
tending it  are  only  partial :  and,  were  sufficient  care 
bestowed,  even  these  evils  might  he  done  away  almost 
altogether.  Were  flax  for  seed  only  sown  on  particular 
soils,  for  example,  on  new  broke  up  moors,  no  detriment 
would  follow ;  because  these  soils  are  fresh,  and  in  the 
first  instance  will  produce  excellent  seed,  even  of  supe- 
rior quality  to  what  can  be  raised  on  lands  of  three  times 
more  value,  when  ap|)lied  to  corn  culture.  We  have 
repeatedly  ascertained  the  fact  by  experiment,  and 
found  the  seed  to  be  excellent,  when  sown  upon  other 
soils,  where  flax  was  taken  as  a  crop. 

Method  of  Watering. — When  flax  is  pulled  it  ought 
to  be  immediately  put  into  the  water,  so  that  it  may  part 
with  the  rind  or  shaw,  and  be  fit  for  the  manufacturer. 
Standing  pools,  for  many  reasons,  are  most  proper  for 
the  purpose,  occasioning  the  flax  to  have  a  better  colour, 
to  be  sooner  ready  for  the  grass,  and  even  to  be  of  su- 
perior quality  in  every  respect.  When  put  into  the  wa- 
ter, it  is  tied  up  in  beets,  or  small  sheaves  ;  the  smaller 
the  better,  because  it  is  then  most  equally  watered. 
These  sheaves  ought  to  be  built  in  the  pool  in  a  reclin- 
ing upright  posture,  so  that  the  weight  placed  above 
may  keep  the  whole  firm  down.  In  warm  weather,  tea 
days  of  the  watering  process  is  sufficient;  but  it  is  pro- 
per to  examine  the  pools  regularly  after  the  seventh 
day,  lest  the  flax  should  putrefy  or  rot,  which  sometimes 
happens  in  very  warm  weatlier.  Twelve  days  will  an- 
swer in  any  sort  of  weather ;  though  it  may  be  remark- 
ed, that  it  is  better  to  give  rather  too  little  of  the  water 
than  too  much,  as  any  deficiency  may  be  easily  made  up 
by  sufl'ering  it  to  lie  longer  on  the  grass,  whereas  an 
excess  of  water  admits  of  no  remedy.  After  lying  on 
the  grass  for  a  due  time,  till  any  defect  of  the  watering 
process  is  rectified,  flax  is  taken  up,  tied  when  dry  in 
large  sheaves,  and  carried  to  the  mill  to  be  switched  and 
prepared  for  the  heckle.  Switching  may  also  be  per- 
formed by  hand-labour ;  though  in  this  case  it  is  rarely 
so  perfectly  accomplished  as  when  machinery  is  em- 
ployed. 

From  the  details  already  given,  it  appears  that  the  flax- 
trade  is  attended  with  many  difficulties,  and  that  consi- 
derable labour  and  industry  must  be  bestowed  betwixt 
the  sowing  of  the  8ee<l  and  the  periotl  when  the  article 
is  fitted  for  disposal  in  the  market.  These  operations^ 
perhaps,  are  inconsistent  with  the  ordinary  occupations 
of  a  farmer,  and  suggest  the  propriety  of  dividing  labour, 
and  separating  the  raising  of  flax  from  the  culture  of 
otlier  crops.  The  farmer  may  sow  the  land ;  but  there 
his  labours  ought  to  cease.  The  assistance  of  another 
person  ought  then  to  be  employed,  and  the  processes  of 
pulling,  watering,  and  switching,  be  executed  under  his 
management.  This  we  believe  to  be  the  Dutch  and 
Flanders  method ;  and  unless  some  system  of  that  na- 
ture is  adopted  in  Britain,  flax  husbandry  will  never 
thrive,  nor  become  a  staple  trade,  in  the  hands  of  a  com 
farmer. 

About  twenty-five  years  ago,  this  article  was  ext«n- 


AGRICULTURE. 


;iOl 


Sirely  raised  in  East  Lothian  merely  for  the  seed,  which 
ivas  sold  to  other  districts.  It  was  Cor  that  purpose 
sown  upon  fresh  moors,  and  a  handsome  return  was 
generally  received  from  land  comparatively  ol'  little  va- 
lue. The  zeal,  however,  of  those  who  attempted  this 
new  method  of  raising  llax,  was  damped  by  the  difficulty 
which  often  occurred  of  finding  purchasers ;  and  it  does 
not  appear  that  it  will  t-oon  be  revived.  Seed,  however, 
was  raised  of  a  quality  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  that 
im|)orted  from  Holland ;  but  the  prejudice  in  favour  of 
foreign  seed  must  be  removed,  belore  that  which  is 
raised  at  home  can  find  a  ready  market.  That  a  partial 
renewal  of  seed  may  be  necessary,  will  not  be  disputetl; 
but  that  it  ought  to  be  imported  every  year,  seems 
highly  absurd.  Some  fanners  have  sown  flax-seed, 
raised  on  their  own  land,  for  ten  successive  years,  with- 
out perceiving  any  degeneracy ;  and  why  it  should  be 
otherwise  with  this,  and  not  with  seeds  of  otlier  kinds, 
canuot  be  explained.  When  a  degeneracy  takes  place, 
in  this  as  in  other  seeds,  a  change  is  certainly  requisite; 
but  an  annual  importation  of  what  we  might  raise  for 
ourselves,  must  be  regarded  as  a  public  loss.  The  mo- 
ney which  is  in  this  manner  sent  out  of  the  country 
might  be  applied  to  a  better  puqiose. 

Before  we  leave  this  article,  an  observation  may  be 
offered,  which  most  of  our  readers  will  agree  to  be  well 
founded  ;  namely,  that  the  legislature  of  the  country  has 
l)aid  more  attention  to  framing  laws,  or  regulations  re- 
garding the  husbandry  of  flax,  than  to  any  otlier  branch 
of  rural  economics.  It  is  well  known  that  the  venders 
of  flax-seed  in  this  country  are  obliged,  by  law,  to  pro- 
duce certificates  to  a  purchaser,  that  the  seed  sold  is 
not  only  the  growth  of  a  particular  country,  but  also  that 
it  was  produced  in  a  jiarticular  year;  and,  should  any 
fraud  be  discovered  on  the  part  of  the  vender,  he  is  se- 
verely punishable,  according  to  certain  laws  cuacted  for 
that  express  purpose.  All  this  may  be  very  well,  and 
we  find  no  fault  with  it ;  but  if  these  statutory  enact- 
ments are  right  with  regard  to  flax-seed,  why  are  they 
not  extended  to  seeds  of  every  description  ?  Considering 
the  immense  quantities  of  seed  grain  and  seed  grasses 
sent  from  London  annually  to  every  part  of  the  king- 
dom, and  the  great  losses  which  farmers,  in  numerous 
instances,  have  sustained,  from  receiving  grain  or  grass- 
seeds  of  bad  or  imperfect  qualities,  it  would  be  equally 
good  policy,  were  the  legislature  to  establish  some  re- 
gulations, whereby  evils  so  great,  and  so  generally  com- 
plained of,  might  in  future  be  avoided.  W  by  attention 
has  not  been  paid  to  these  matters,  whilst  the  growth 
and  sale  of  flax-seed  has  been  thought  worthy  of  being 
regulated  by  particular  statutes,  can  alone  be  attributed 
to  the  predilection  long  shown  by  the  government  of 
Britain  to  every  thing  connected  with  trade  and  manu- 
facture. Perhaps  the  value  of  grass-seeds  sent  annually 
from  London,  <m  times  exceeds  that  of  all  the  flax-seeds 
vended  in  the  island ;  and  yet  the  greatest  trade  is  open 
•and  unprotected  from  frauds,  whilst  the  inferior  one  is 
guarded  and  protected  on  every  hand.  The  way  of  car- 
rying on  the  grass-seed  trade  of  London  is  well  known 
to  most  persons.  The  old  seeds  on  hand,  some  of  them 
even  two,  three,  and  four  years  of  age,  are  mixed  and 
remixed  together,  till  qualities  of  every  kind  are  there- 
by produced.  Sales  in  the  market  are  never  at  a  stand, 
even  in  the  heat  of  summer ;  and  the  purchaser  to-day, 
after  making  a  suitahle  intermixture,  will  appear  in  the 
market  to-morrow,  and  endeavour  to  gain  a  profit  from 
the  article  thus  jnanuiactured  and  prepared.      Were 


.certificates  required  of  the  age  of  grass-seeds,  matters 
could  not  be  conducted  in  this  manner,  provided  that 
the  sellers  were  liable  to  heavy  penalties,  when  these 
certificates  were  contrary  to  truth.  We  by  no  means 
recommend,  that  the  growers  and  sellers  of  grass-seeds 
should  be  exposed  to  unnecessary  trouble ;  but  surely  it 
can  be  no  hardship  upon  any  man,  when  he  sells  an  ar- 
ticle, to  certify  the  year  of  its  growth.  If  the  purchaser 
is  pleased  to  consider  the  seed  that  is  of  the  greatest 
age  as  the  preferable  sort,  then  he  has  only  hiniself  to 
blame  in  the  event  of  his  money  being  thrown  away ; 
but  give  him  fair  play.  Let  him  know  the  year  of  ita 
growth,  iiiid  whether  it  is  British  or  foreign  seed,  and 
he  must  trust  to  his  senses  for  the  rest.  A  very  con- 
siderable number  of  farjners  are,  at  the  best,  but  im- 
perfect judges  of  the  quality  of  grass-seeds ;  hence  they 
are  entitled  to  some  share  of  legislative  protection. 

When  on  this  subject,  another  nearly  connected  with 
it  may  be  noticed,  namely,  the  trade  in  the  different 
varieties  of  turnip-seede.     It  is  well  known,  that  four 
or  five  years  ago  it  was  scarcely  practicable  to  obtain  a 
pound  weight  of  ruta  baga,  or    Swedish   turnip-seed, 
pure  and  uncontaminated,  from  any  shop  whatever,  as, 
owing  to  the  negligence  of  growers,  some  communication 
or  otlier  had  always  taken  place  with  other  plants,  whea 
ihe  blossoming  process  was  going  forward.     Owing  to 
this  negligence,  heavy  losses  were  sustained  by  many 
farmers,  till  at  last  some  of  them,  more  sagacious  than 
others,  found  that  the  only  remedy  was  to  raise  seed  for 
their  own  supply,  in  which  way  the  true  species  of  ruta 
baga  has  again  been  happily  restored  to  agriculturists. 
Perhaps  a  recent  decision  of  the  supreme  court  in  Scot- 
land will  be  of  eminent  advantage  to  the  farming  in- 
terest.     The   principles  adopted  by  the  court,  when 
deciding  up.on  the  cause  alluded  to,  were,   that  if  the 
purchaser  could  not  make  the  seller  liable  for  selling 
seeds  of  a  different  description  from  what  he  bargained 
for,  the  public  could  have  no  security  whatever  that 
they  would  get  the  article  they  were  in  want  of  from 
the  seedsmen.     Besides,  the  court  seems  to  have  held 
it  to  be  agreeable   to  the  principles  of  strict  law,  that 
every  man,  who  sells  a  commodity  to  another  at  a  fair 
price,  virtually  warrants  the  commodity  as  of  good  qual- 
ity ;  and  that,  if  one  commodity  is  sold  under  the  name 
of  another,  the  seller  must  be  answerable  for  the  conse- 
quences. 

In  the  proceedings  alluded  to,  the  supreme  court  ap- 
pears to  have  been  guided  by  sound  and  correct  prin- 
ciples ;  and  their  decision,  we  have  no  doubt,  will  be 
attended  with  the  most  happy  consequences.  The  ex- 
ternal appearance  of  many  seeds,  does  not  furnish  a 
proof  of  their  particular  qualities,  as  evidenced  in  the 
fullest  manner  by  what  has  happened  w  itli  some  farmers 
of  the  first  rate  abilities,  who,  even  for  a  great  many 
years,  have  been  in  the  regular  practice  of  saving  these 
very  seeds  in  considerable  quantities.  We  have  seen 
seed  sold  for  that  of  turnip,  and  apparently  of  excellent 
quality,  which  in  fact  turned  out  to  be  a  weed  of  an  un- 
describable  nature,  and  of  a  species  hitherto  unknown 
in  this  country.  In  a  word,  tliere  is  no  other  method 
of  making  the  grower  attentive  to  the  article  which  he 
disposes  of,  but  the  one  lately  adopted  by  the  su;)reme 
court,  which,  we  trust,  will  be  followed  by  the  happiest 
effects. 

On  Hops.. 
Hops  are  a  necessary  article  in  brewing,  but  not  ad- 
vantageous in  an  agricultural  point  of  view ;  because 


302 


AGRICULTURE. 


much  manure  is  abstracted  by  tliem,  ^vbile  little  or  none 
is  returned.  They  are  an  uncertain  article  of  growth, 
often  yielding  large  prolits  to  the  cultivator,  and  as  often 
making  an  imperfect  return,  barely  sufficient  to  defray 
the  expenses  of  labour.  In  fact,  hops  are  exposed  to 
many  more  diseases  than  any  other  plant  with  which 
we  are  acquainted ;  and  the  trade  affords  a  greater  room 
for  speculation  than  any  other  exercised  within  the  Bri- 
tish dominions. 

When  a  piece  of  land  is  intended  to  be  planted,  the 
first  thing  is  to  plough  the  land  as  deep  as  possible, 
early  in  October,  and  to  harrow  it  level :  it  is  then  me- 
ted each  way  with  a  four  rotl  chain,  placing  pieces  of  reed 
or  stick  at  every  tenth  link,  to  mark  the  place  of  the 
hills,  which  makes  1000  per  acre.  This  is  the  general 
method;  but  some  few  grounds  are  planted  800,  and 
some  1 200  per  acre ;  some  are  planted  wider  one  way 
than  the  other,  in  order  to  admit  ploughing  between  the 
hills,  instead  of  digging.  But  this  practice,  although  it 
has  been  tried  many  years,  does  not  seem  to  increase,  on 
account  of  the  difficulty  of  digging  along  the  rows,  where 
the  plough  cannot  go ;  that  part,  being  much  trwlden 
with  the  horses  in  ploughing,  digs  so  much  the  worse, 
that  an  extra  expense  is  incurred,  which  in  some  mea- 
sure defeats  the  economy  of  the  plan.  When  the  hills 
nre  marked  out,  holes  are  dug  about  the  size  of  a  gal- 
Ion,  which  are  filled  with  fine  mould,  and  the  nursery- 
plants  placed  in  them. 

Some  put  three  plants,  others  two,  and  some  only  one 
good  plant  to  each  hole.  If  the  land  is  plantetl  with 
cuttings,  instead  of  nursery-plants,  the  holes  are  dug  in 
the  spring,  as  soon  as  cutting  time  commences.  Some 
fine  mould  is  provided  to  fill  up  the  holes,  in  which  are 
placed  four  or  five  cuttings,  each  about  three  or  lour 
inches  in  length.  They  are  covered  about  an  inch  deep 
with  fine  mould,  and  pressed  down  close  with  the  hand. 
When  the  land  is  ])lanted  with  cuttings,  no  sticks  are 
required ;  but  if  nursery-plants  are  used,  they  require 
sticks,  or  small  poles,  six  or  seven  feet  high  the  first 
year.  In  both  cases,  the  land  is  kept  clean  during  the 
summer  by  horse  and  hand  hoeing;  the  next  winter 
dug  with  a  spade ;  and  early  in  the  spring  the  old  binds 
are  cut  off  smooth,  about  an  inch  below  the  surface  ;  a 
little  fine  mould  is  then  drawnover  the  crown  of  the  hills. 
As  soon  as  the  young  shoots  appear,  so  that  the  hills 
may  be  seen,  they  are  stuck  with  small  poles,  from  se- 
ven to  ten  feet  long,  in  proportion  to  the  length  it  is  ex- 
pected the  bind  will  run.  These  poles  are  called  se- 
conds, and  are  generally  bought  in  the  woods,  at  from 
5*.  to  8*.  per  hundred,  and  three  of  them  are  placed  to 
each  hill.  As  soon  as  the  binds  get  about  two  feet  in 
length,  women  are  employed  to  tie  them  to  (he  \w\es. 
The  land  is  kept  clean  during  the  summer,  by  horse 
and  hand  hoeing,  as  before  mentioned.  The  proper 
time  for  gathering  them  is  known  by  the  hop  rubbing 
freely  to  pieces,  and  the  seed  beginning  to  turn  brown. 
They  are  picked  in  baskets,  containingfive  bushelseach, 
and  are  carried  to  the  oast  in  bags,  at  noon  and  eve- 
ning, for  drying.  Great  care  and  skill  are  necessary  in 
this  branch  of  the  business;  the  smallest  neglect  or 
ignorance  in  the  management  of  the  fires,  will  spoil  the 
hops,  and  occasion  great  loss  to  the  planter.  When 
dried,  and  sufficiently  cool  to  get  a  little  tough,  so  as 
not  to  crumble  to  powder,  they  are  put  into  bags,  or 
pockets,  the  former  containing  two  hundred  weight  and 
a  half,  and  the  latter,  an  hundred  and  a  quarter :  they 


are  then  trodden  very  close,  and  weighed  by  the  ei-, 
ciseman. 

The  second  year  after  planting,  full-sized  poles,  from 
15  to  20  feet  in  length,  according  to  the  strength  of  the 
land,  which  cost  from  1 6s.  to  30s.  per  hundred,  are  plac- 
ed to  the  hills  instead  of  the  seconds,  which  are  re^ 
moved  to  younger  grounds.  Here  great  care  is  neces- 
sary not  to  over-pole,  for  by  that  means  young  grounds 
are  often  much  weakened;  and  it  is  equally  so  not  to 
over-dung  them,  as  that  will  make  them  mouldy.  Fifty 
cart-loads  of  well  rotted  farm-yard  dung  and  mould, 
once  in  three  years,  are  generally  esteemed  sufficient  for 
an  acre  of  land. 

Productions. — There  can  be  no  certain  report  made 
of  the  produce  of  the  hop  plantations ;  because,  in  some 
years,  the  growth  is  less  than  two  hundred  weight  per 
acre,  and  in  others  it  is  fourteen  or  fifteen ;  the  average 
may  be  seven  or  eight. 

CHAP.  IX. 

On  Grass  Husbandry. 

If  the  introduction  of  turnips  occasioned  a  revolution 
in  the  rural  art  of  Britain,  that  of  artificial  grasses  pro- 
duced a  change  of  no  less  importance  at  an  earlier  pe- 
riod. It  is  difficult  to  fix  upon  the  time  when  clover 
and  other  artificial  grasses  were  introduced  into  this  isl- 
and ;  though  it  may  reasonably  be  inferred,  that  the  pe- 
riod was  during  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  the 
nationhad  almost  a  constantand  regular  intercourse  with 
Holland,  and  the  provinces  of  the  Netherlands;  at  least, 
we  are  certain  that,duringthe  Protectorate,  when  Blythc 
published  his  treatise  on  agriculture,  artificial  grasses 
were  well  known  in  England.  Many  years,  however, 
elapsed  before  they  travelled  northward  to  Scotland, such 
articles  being  hardly  known  by  the  husbandmen  of  that 
country  when  the  two  nations  were  united  into  one  em- 
pire; nay,  it  is  not  more  than  forty  years  since  they  came 
to  be  generally  used ;  though,  at  this  time,  they  are 
sown  in  greater  quantities  by  the  farmers  of  Scotland 
than  by  those  in  the  neighbouring  country. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  account  for  the  predilection  of 
Scottish  farmers  for  artificial  grasses.  The  alternate 
husbandry  is  more  sedulously  followed  out  by  them  than 
by  the  great  bo<ly  of  farmers  in  England.  Compara- 
tively speaking,  there  is  a  small  quantity  of  old  pas- 
ture or  meadow  land  in  Scotland ;  whereas,  in  England, 
immense  tracts  of  old  grass  are  to  be  found  almost  in 
every  district.  Besides,  the  soil  and  climate  of  Scot- 
land require  that  grasses  be  often  renovated,  othertvise 
the  produce,  in  most  cases,  is  regularly  lessened,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  age  of  the  particular  grasses  cultivated. 
These  things,  duly  considered,  will  account  for  the 
strong  |)redilection  shown  by  Scottish  farmers  for  ar- 
tificial grasses,  and  why  alternate  husbandry  is  more 
assiduously  exercised  by  them  than  by  the  English  hus- 
bandman. 

Sect.  I. 

On  Grasses  for  Cutting. 

We  are  unacquainted  with  any  variety  of  grass  that 
will  yield  a  greater  return  to  the  farmer,  when  cut  by  the 
sithe,  than  broad  or  red  clover  mixed  with  a  small  quan- 
tity of  rye-grass.     The  first  mentioned  may  be  regard- 


AGRICULTURE. 


303 


ed,  in  most  cases,  as  Ihe  parpiit  which  produces  the 
crop,  and  the  other  only  in  tiie  light  of  an  assistant,  or 
nurse,  which  serves  to  train  up  the  crop  to  maturity, 
and  to  protect  it  from  rude  blasts  and  inclement  storms. 
Fine  soils  alone  are  calculated  to  (-.roduce  a  heavy  crop 
of  grass,  when  clover  is  only  used  as  the  seed  plant ; 
but  when  a  small  quantity  of  rye-grass  is  sown  along 
with  the  clover,  it  is  wonderful  what  weight  of  crop 
may  i.e  obtained,  even  from  inferior  soils,  when  the  seeds 
are  sown  at  a  proper  season,  on  land  in  good  order  and 
condition.  Some  people  make  a  greater  mixture,  and 
add  a  portion  of  white  and  yellow  clover;  but  the  addi- 
tion is  unnecessary,  when  a  cutting  crop  only  is  meant  to 
be  taken ;  and  we  are  convinced  that  grass  cut  in  one 
year  ought  to  be  ploughed  in  the  next,  otherwise  a  crop 
of  inferior  value  will  certainly  be  obtained.  Laying 
this  down  therefore  as  a  fixed  rule,  we  consider  sixteen 
pounds  weight  of  red  or  broad  clover,  and  two  pecks  of 
rye-grass  seed,  as  a  full  allowance  for  a  Scottish  acre  of 
ground,  which,  as  already  stated,  is  one  fifth  larger  than 
English  statute  measure.  The  seeds,  to  ensure  a  good 
crop  of  grass,  ought  always  to  be  sown  with  a  fallow 
crop ;  and,  if  with  winter  wheat,  great  care  ought  to  be 
used  to  cover  them  properly,  even  though  the  welfare  of 
the  wheat  should  be  hazarded  by  the  harrowing  pro- 
cess; if  with  spring  wheat  or  barley,  the  grass-seeds 
should  be  sown  at  the  same  time  with  these  crops,  none 
of  which  ought  to  be  thickly  seeded,  so  that  the  grasses 
may  not  be  smothered  or  destroyed.  Unless  in  very 
favourable  seasons,  and  when  the  grass  has  grown  to  a 
great  length  at  harvest,  neither  sheep  nor  cattle  ought 
to  be  allowed  to  set  a  foot  upon  the  stubbles;  and  next 
spring  the  ground  should  be  carefully  stoned,  and  after- 
wards rolled,  so  that  the  sithe  may  run  smoothly  upon 
the  surface,  and  cut  the  crop  as  close  as  possible.  The 
closer  the  lirst  crop  is  cut,  so  much  faster  will  the  se- 
cond one  rush  up,  and  so  much  thicker  will  the  roots 
set  out  fresh  stems,  and  thus  produce  a  weighty  after- 
math. To  cut  the  aftermath  with  the  sithe  is  also  the 
most  profitable  way  of  using  it ;  because  a  great  quan- 
tity of  food  is  thereby  provided  for  live-stock,  and  a  large 
increase  made  to  the  dung-hill.  It  must  be  remembered, 
however,  that  after  these  cuttings,  it  is  necessary  to 
plough  the  land  again ;  because  the  roots  of  the  plants 
will  rot  in  the  succeeding  winter,  at  least  many  of  them 
will  ilo  so,  and,  of  course,  a  small  crop  of  grass  will 
afterwards  be  obtained,  whether  the  sithe  is  used  again, 
or  pasturing  resorted  to. 

Sect.  II. 
On  the  Method  of  consuming  cut  Grass. 

Clover  and  rye-grass,  sown  for  a  cutting  crop,  may 
be  used  in  various  ways  :  1.  As  green  food  for  the  work- 
ing stock.  2.  For  fattening  the  cattle,  either  put  up  to 
the  stake,  or  kept  in  a  court  or  farm-yard.  3.  For  hay. 
On  each  of  these  points  we  shall  say  a  few  words. 

1.  As  green  food  for  the  working  stock,  clover  and 
rye-grass  may  be  used  with  great  advantage,  when  in  a 
succulent  state ;  and  when  cut  fresh,  and  furnished  re- 
gularly, the  animals  will  thrive  equally  well  as  if  allowed 
to  roam  at  large,  while  at  least  one-half  less  ground  is 
required  to  support  them  in  the  former  case  than  in  the 
latter.  Besides,  horses  kept  in  this  way  are  always  at 
hand,  and  ready  for  service.  They  are  not  injured  as 
in  the  field  by  galloping  about  and  kicking  at  each 
other;  nor  is  their  duug  lost,  as  it  is  in  a  great  measure 


when  the  field  is  depastured ;  but  it  is  preserved  in  a 
moist  heap,  the  straw  used  for  litter  being  saturated 
with  the  water,  which,  when  on  this  food,  they  make  in 
great  quantities.  Indeed,  the  practice  of  soiling  horses 
is  now  so  firmly  established  in  all  well  cultivated  dis- 
tricts, that  to  say  more  in  support  of  it  would  be  altoge- 
ther unnecessary. 

2.  The  next  way  of  using  clover  and  rye-grass  cut  by 
the  sithe,  is  to  feed  cattle  upon  the  grass  by  tying 
them  up  in  a  shade,  or  allowing  them  to  run  at  large  in 
a  farm-yartl.  This  is  a  practice  of  more  recent  date 
than  that  of  feeding  horses,  though,  by  analogy,  it  may 
be  inferred,  that  if  this  mode  of  feeding  answers  in  the 
one  case,  it  will  do  equally  well  in  the  other.  It  is  ob- 
vious, that  any  quantity  of  grass  may  be  consumed  in 
this  way,  to  the  great  benefit  of  the  corn  farmer,  who 
generally  stands  in  need  of  more  dung  than  can  be  ac- 
cumulated from  the  straw  of  his  corn  crops ;  and  it  is 
plain,  that  in  no  other  way  can  a  greater  ((uantity  of  dung 
be  collected  than  where  this  method  is  adopted,  whilst, 
at  the  same  time,  it  is  of  superior  quality  to  every  other 
kind,  that  from  turnip  cattle  excepted.  The  practice, 
to  be  sure,  is  attended  with  some  degree  of  trouble ; 
but  this  objection  will  not  be  urged  against  its  utility  by 
any  real  husbandman ;  for,  as  man  must  live  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  the  best  management  necessarily 
includes  the  greatest  portion  of  trouble,  and,  vice  versa, 
slovenly  and  imperfect  management  is  most  easily  exe- 
cuted. 

But  as  experience  and  practice,  in  all  such  cases,  are 
the  best  guides,  we  shall  offer  to  the  consideration  of  our 
readers  the  result  of  a  trial  made  at  Markle,  in  the 
county  of  Haddington,  to  ascertain  the  advantages  of 
home-feeding  in  tlie  summer  months,  which  seems  to 
be  decisive  in  favour  of  the  practice  of  using  grass  in 
the  farm-yard,  instead  of  depasturing  it  with  cattle,  ac- 
cording to  the  ordinary  method.  This  mo<le  of  feeding 
has  been  regularly  continued  since  the  experiment  was 
made,  and  the  advantages  have  been  so  extensive  as  to 
justify  its  continuance. 

Mr.  Brown,  tenant  of  that  farm,  having  purchased,  in 
October,  1804,  at  Falkirk  tryst,  48  Aberdeenshire  stots, 
mostly  of  a  full  age,  which  were  wintered  in  the  farm- 
yard, divided  them,  on  the  4th  of  May,  1805,  into  two 
lots,  when  one  lot  was  put  to  grass  and  the  other  into 
the  farm-yard,  where  they  got  a  tasting  of  ruta  baga  in 
addition  to  their  usual  fare  of  straw,  till  the  clover  field 
was  fit  for  cutting.  Before  the  division,  a  few  turnips 
had  been  given  to  30  of  the  best  and  largest  cattle  in  a 
separate  court;  but,  as  that  parcel  was  equally  divided 
previous  to  the  remaining  18  being  examined,  the  re- 
sult is  not  thereby  alfected,  especially  as  the  turuips  and 
ruta  baga  are  charged  against  the  clover-fed  cattle  in  the 
after  statement. 

On  the  1st  of  June  clover  was  given  to  the  cattle  in 
troughs  and  cribs ;  though,  for  a  week  at  least,  to  save 
danger,  the  quantity  given  was  much  less  than  they 
could  have  consumed.  After  that  time,  a  full  supply 
was  allowed,  and  the  offal  or  waste  furnished  main- 
tenance for  a  large  parcel  of  swine  of  different  ages. 
Till  the  grass  got  hard  and  withered,  the  cattle  in  ge- 
neral, after  the  first  fortnight,  throve  amazingly  well,  par- 
ticularly those  who  had  got  a  few  turnips  in  March  and 
April.  Exceptions  there  were,  even  amongst  them;  for 
the  strongest  and  boldest  cattle  generally  took  posses- 
sion of  the  cribs,  and  would  not  resign  them  till  their  ap- 
petite was  satisfied.    This  evil  must  necessarily  hajipen 


804 


AGRICULTURE, 


ivhere  any  considerable  number  arc  kept  together,  and 
can  only  be  avoided  by  having  several  courts  or  feeding 
places,  and  selecting  the  cattle  for  each,  according  to 
their  size  and  disposition. 

About  the  end  of  July,  when  the  grass  was  fully 
ripened,  the  food  was  changed,  and  tares,  which  were 
son'n  in  March,  were  given,  and  continued  till  the  se- 
cond crop  of  clover  was  ready  for  the  sithe.  On  the 
28th  of  August,  ten  of  the  lops  were  sold,  which  allowed 
more  Justice  to  be  done  to  those  who  had  hitherto  been 
second  in  hand.  On  the  24th  Se[)tember,  the  remainder 
tvere  disposed  of;  though,  unfortunately,  one  of  them 
died  of  a  surfeit  on  the  preceding  day,  which  reduced 
the  account  of  profits  nearly  at  the  rate  of  10  per  cent. 

It  should  have  been  mentioned,  that  the  farm-yard 
or  courline  was  regularly  littered  with  straw,  which 
occasioned  much  excellent  dung  to  be  collected.  A 
plentiful  supply  of  water  was  also  at  band  ;  and  the  cat- 
tle reposed,  during  the  heat  of  the  day,  in  oj)en  sheds 
around  the  yard  much  more  comfortably  than  they  could 
have  done  in  any  field  whatever.  This  circumstance  is 
mentioned,  because  several  dealers  sagaciously  con- 
cluded, that  the  confiined  air  of  the  court,  and  the  reflec- 
tion of  sunshine  from  the  houses,  would  keep  the  cattle 
so  warm  as  to  prevent  tallow  from  being  gathered  in  any 
quantity.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  better  tallowed 
than  beasts  of  their  size,  fed  for  the  like  time,  generally 
are.  The  one  which  died  of  a  surfeit  had  4  stone  01b. 
Troy,  or  961b.  Avoirdupois  of  tallow,  and  the  weight  of 
the  carcass  was  only  34  stone  Dutch. 

The  profit  and  loss  account  of  this  parcel,  which  was 
made  up  with  every  possible  attention  to  accuracy.  May 
now  be  stated,  and  it  is  presented,  merely  that  the  result 
of  the  experiment  may  be  sufiSciently  understood. 

Cattle  fed  at  Markle  on  clover  and 

tares,  1805.  Br. 

To  prime  cost  at  Falkirk,  and  ex- 
penses .     - L.227    11  0 

To  wintering  on  straw,  at  15s.  each      .     .       18      0  0 

To  proportion  of  turnips  in  March  and 

April 600 

To  Ifacreofruta  baga,  at  5/.  per  acre  8   15  0 


second  crop  of  clover,  owing  to  the  scvcte  drought,  wa« 
very  light, 

"MorA-fe,  2d  October,  1805.— These  certify,  that  I 
have  this  day  measured  the  clover  and  tare  ground  be 
longing  to  Mr.  Brown,  the  produce  of  which  was  con- 
sumed by  cattle  in  the  yard,  betwixt  the  first  of  June  and 
this  date,  and  find  the  contents  of  the  clover  to  be  eight 
acres,  and  one  hundredth  part  of  an  acre;  and  the  tares, 
two  acres,  and  ninety-six  hundredth  parts  of  an  acre, 
Scotch  measure. 

William  Dickinson." 

The  net  profit,  106/.  7s.  may  be  classed  as  follows: 

6  Acres  of  clover,  at  12/ L.72     0     0 

2  Acres         do.  8/ 16     0     0 

1  Acre  of  tares 8     7     0 

2  Acres        do.  5/ 10    0     0 


Total  charge  when  clover-feeding  com- 
menced L.260      6  0 

Cattle  fed  at  Markle  on  clover  and 

tares,  1805  Cr. 

By  10  sold  Aug.  28,  at  17/ 13s.     .     .     .  I-.177  io  0 

By  13  sold  Sept.  24,  at  14/  5s.       ...  185     5  0 
By  hide  and  tallow  of  the  beast  that  died     .     3  18  0 


L.366  13  0 


Deducting  the  200/.  6.9.  when  the  cattle  were  put  to 
grass,  the  net  profit  was  106/.  7s.  besides  what  was  ob- 
tained from  swine  maintained  on  the  ofial. 

The  clover  and  tare  land,  which  yielded  food  for  the 
cattle,  extended  nearly  to  eleven  acres,  viz.  eight  of 
clover  and  three  of  tares ;  but  the  surveyor's  certificate, 
given  below,  will  be  the  best  evidence  on  this  point.  It 
may  be  added,  that  six  acres  of  the  clover  were  good, 
and  would  have  produced  300  stone  of  hay  per  acre ; 
the  other  two  were  only  middling,  and  could  not  be  es- 
timated as  exceeding  200  stone.  Of  the  tares,  one  acre 
or  thereby  was  good,  the  remainder  indiflferent.     The 


L.106     7     0 


It  may  be  objected,  that  nothing  is  stated  for  the 
trouble  of  cutting  and  carting  the  clover  and  tares ;  but 
it  is  presumed,  this  was  much  more  than  compensated 
by  the  great  quantity  of  fine  manure  accumulated  dur- 
ing the  process.  Had  the  advice  of  some  people  been 
taken,  the  profit  account  might  have  been  considerably 
augmented,  by  taking  credit  on  that  head ;  but  it  was 
not  wished  to  state  it  a  halfpenny  higher  than  could  be 
sufficiently  instructed.  Indeed,  whoever  reflects  upon 
the  difficulty  of  converting  straw  into  dung  on  clay  soils, 
where  turnips  cannot  be  raised  with  advantage,  must  al- 
low, that  a  benefit  of  no  small  importance  is  gained  from 
using  grass  in  this  manner,  independent  of  the  direct 
profit  arising  from  the  bestial. 

Had  it  been  practicable  to  run  a  comparison  betwixt 
the  lot  depastured  in  the  field,  and  the  one  fed  at  home, 
the  advantages  of  the  latter  mode  would  have  been  more 
strikingly  displayed ;  but  as  the  former  were  mixed 
with  other  parcels  purchased  at  different  periods,  it  was 
impracticable,  to  present  a  comparative  statement,  which 
would  have  any  pretension  to  correctness.  Both  lots, 
however,  were  sold  exactly  at  the  same  price,  and  on  the 
same  day,  which  affords  a  sufficient  foundation  for  two 
inferences,  vis.  1.  That  cattle  will  feed  equally  well  on 
cut  meat,  if  eare  is  taken  to  furnish  them  with  a  full 
supply  in  a  regular  manner,  as  they  will  do  in  the  field, 
when  allowed  to  roam  at  large  :  2.  That  the  saving  of 
grass  must  be  considerable,  though  we  are  unable,  frohi 
the  above  circumstance,  to  ascertain  the  extent  of  it  with 
precision.  However,  from  the  total  result  on  the  dif- 
ferent parcels  of  cattle,  and  other  stock  depastured,  we 
are  inclined  to  believe,  that  the  saving  per  acre  will 
amount  to  50  per  cent,  or,  in  other  words,  that  a  field 
of  clover  and  rye-grass  will  feed  one  half  more  beasts, 
when  cut  by  the  sithe,  than  when  it  is  depastured.  A 
caution  must,  however,  be  offered,  to  such  people  as 
may  attempt  to  feed  in  the  former  way,  that  a  very 
great  degree  of  attention  is  necessary  in  every  step, 
otherwise  loss,  instead  of  gain,  may  eventually  follow. 
The  yard  in  which  the  cattle  are  fed  ought  to  be  com- 
modiously  fitted  up ;  a  plentiful  supply  of  water  kept 
within  its  bounds;  a  careful  servant  provided  for  man- 
agement ;  tares  sown  in  different  successions,  to  come 
in  when  the  grass  arrives  at  maturity;  and  fresh  pro- 
vision furnished  regularly,  at  least  five  times  per  day. 
Unless  tares  are  pro»'ided  when  the  clover  becomes 
hard  and  unpalatable,  cattle  will  make  no  further  pro- 


AGRICULTURE. 


305 


gress ;  but  having  that  article  of  different  ages,  the 
process  of  feeding  went  regularly  forward  in  the  instance 
mentioned.  Some  may  object,  that  such  a  mode  of  feed- 
ing is  a  troublesome  one,  and  that  the  old  way  of  allow- 
ing the  cattle  to  seek  their  own  food  is  much  more  easy 
and  convenient.  We  grant  that  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
accompanies  home-feeding;  but  are  yet  to  learn  the 
branch  of  good  management,  which  can  be  executed 
with  as  little  trouble  as  is  sustained  when  the  system 
is  slovenly  and  improvident.  The  like  objection  was 
urged  against  summer  fallow  on  its  first  introduction  ;  it 
was  afterwards  repeated  against  the  drilling  of  turnips ; 
and,  in  short,  every  perfect  plan  is  of  consequence  ex- 
posed to  it.  Perhaps  a  general  adoption  of  home-feed- 
ing would  be  the  greatest  improvement  that  can  be  in- 
troduced on  clay  soils,  which  naturally  are  unfit  for  the 
growth  of  turnips.  All  such  soils  require  a  good  deal  of 
manure  before  they  can  be  farmed  successfully;  and 
where  situated  at  a  distance  from  a  large  town,  no  ad- 
ditional supply  can  be  procured.  To  use  resources  within 
their  bounds,  seems  therefore  to  be  sound  wisdom,  even 
laying  aside  all  consideration  of  profit  in  the  first  in- 
stance. If  the  clover-brake,  where  a  six-course  shift  is 
followed,  were  regularly  cut  with  the  sithe,  and  con- 
sumed at  home,  perhaps  every  farmer  would  manure 
one-sixth  more  ground  annually,  ihan  what  he  is  at  pre- 
sent capable  of  doing. 

One  observation  occurs,  with  which  these  remarks 
shall  be  concluded.     Cattle,  intended  for  home-feeding, 
should  be  in  decent  condition  when  grass  is  first  given 
them ;  for,  if  otherwise,  the  best  part  of  the  season, 
namely,  the  month  of  June,  when  grass  is  richest,  is 
over  before  much  alteration  can  be  discovered.  It  would 
also  be  a  desirable  circumstance  to  liave  the  main  part 
ready  for  the  butcher  by  the  time  that  the  first  crop  of 
grass  becomes  hard  and  unpalatable ;  for  though  tares 
are  an  excellent  succedaneum,  yet,  considering  the  dif- 
ference ftf  produce  on  a  given  spot,  they  are  more  ex- 
pensive food  :  and  the  second  crop  of  clover  contains 
much  less  feeding  matter,  even  from  the  same  bulk, 
than  is  yielded  from  the  first  one. 
.    3.  To  convert  clover  and  rye-grass  into  hay,  or  dry 
fodder,  for  winter  consumption,  is  another  way  in  which 
these  grasses  may  be  profitably  used.     It  is  well  known, 
that  in  common  seasons,  the  process  of  winning  -clover 
and  rye-grass,  and  making  them  into  excellent  hay,  is  a 
very  simple  matter,  and  that  with  no  other  grasses  can 
the  hay  process  be  so  easily  or  speedily  executed.     To 
cut  the  plants  a  little  quick,  is  obviously  the  best  method 
of  procuring  good  hay,  and  likewise  of  the  most  advan- 
tage to  the  ground  ;  becnuse  the  plants,  not  having  per- 
fected their  seeds,  extract  from  the  groimd  much  less  of 
its  strength  x>t  substance  than  would  undoubtedly  be 
drawn  out,  were  they  suffered  to  stand  till  they  arrived 
at  maturity.     Clover  and  rye-grass  are  great  improvers 
of  the  soil,  when  cut  at  an  early  |)eriod  of  the  season ; 
but  if  allowed  to  occupy  the  ground  till  their  seeds  are 
fully  ripened,  a  different  character  must  be  bestowed. 
In  fact,  improvement  from  Ihese  varieties  of  grass  is 
regulated  entirely  by  tlie  time  of  tlieir  cutting;  and 
as  it  is  early  or  late  in  the  season  when  the  cutting 
process  is  performed,  so  will  the  advantage  to  be  de- 
rived from  these  grasses  fall  to  be  ascertained.     We 
here  speak  of  the  soil,  not  of  the  weight  of  the  crop 
which  may  be  reaped  from  it;  though,  when  the  first 
crop  is  late,  or  stands  long  uncut,  the  second  is  rarely 
of  much  value. 
Vol.  I.    Part  I. 


Grass,  when  cut  for  hay,  ought  to  be  quickly  raked,  in 
order  that  its  powers  may  neither  be  exhausted  by  the 
sun,  nor  dissipated  by  the  air.  In  the  first  stage,  small 
cocks  are  preferable ;  and  on  after  days  these  may  be 
gathered  into  larger  ones,  or  haud-ricks,  by  which  me- 
thod the  hay  is  equally  made,  and  properly  sweeted. 
After  standing  eight  or  ten  days  in  these  rirks,  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  the  weather,  hay  may  be  carted 
home,  and  built  in  stacks  of  sufficient  size  for  standing 
through  the  winter  months.  In  ordinary  weather,  the 
processes  of  preparing  hay  and  bringing  it  into  good 
condition  are  easily  executed,  though  in  bad  weather 
few  branches  of  rural  economy  are  attended  with  more 
vexation,  or  performed  with  more  difficulty.  If  this  is 
the  case  with  clover  and  rye-grass,  the  hazaVd  and  trou- 
ble are  ten  times  greater  when  natural  or  meadow 
grasses  are  made  into  hay.  In  a  wet  season,  these  are 
rarely  preserved  in  a  healthy  condition  ;  and  in  the  very 
best,  much  more  attention  and  work  are  required,  than 
when  artificial  grasses  are  to  be  harvested. 

Sect.  III. 

0/  Grass,  when  consumed  by  Live  Stock. 

Pasturage  is  the  ancient  anil  common  method  of  con- 
suming grass;  and  as  many  soils  do  not  yield  crops  which 
can  be  consumed  in  any  other  way,  it  obviously  must 
continue  to  be  followed  as  the  best  way  in  which  live 
stock  can  in  general  cases  be  fed  or  supported.  We 
are  decided  advocates  for  the  soiling  system,  in  certain 
situations,  but  not  so  bigoted  as  to  contend  for  the  use 
of  that  system  ui)on  every  soil,  and  in  every  situation ; 
because  natural  impediments  are  oftenin  the  way,  which 
render  the  system  unprofitable  and  inexpedient.  Upon 
certain  soils,  and  in  particular  situations,  pasturage  must 
be  adopted,  because  the  grasses  raised  are  unfit  for  the 
sithe,  and  will  not  defray  the  trouble  and  expense  of  ga- 
thering them  together,  preparatory  to  being  used  ill 
home  feeding. 

This  is  the  case  with  many  of  the  upland  districts, 
and  with  thin  soils,  wherever  they  are  situated.  To 
land  under  these  circumstances,  the  preceding  observa- 
tions are  confined ;  but  there  are  many  fields  of  old  grass 
in  the  richest  districts,  where  cutting  by  the  sithe 
cannot  be  recommended.  It  is,  however,  a  very  com- 
mon practice  in  England  to  hay  such  fields,  though  no 
doubt  can  be  entertained  concerning  the  iraproi)riety 
of  the  practice.  The  soil  is  not  only  robbed  thereby 
of  its  powers,  but  the  roots  of  the  plants  are  exposed 
to  destruction  in  the  subsequent  winter  season.  In  a 
word,  h.iying  and  pasturing  of  land  are  practices  dia- 
metrically at  variance  with  each  other;  and  the  sithe 
ought  never  to  enter  a  pasture  field,  unless  it  be  to  cut 
weeds.  Were  artificial  grasses  sown  in  the  districts 
where  hay  is  taken  on  old  pasture  lands,  there  wc-uld 
not  be  the  slightest  necessity  for  cutting  them  with  the 
sithe;  but  as  one  defect  generally  causes  another,  so 
the  neglect  of  artificial  grasses  is  the  real  cause  why 
the  o!d  pastures  are  so  grossly  mismanaged,  in  order 
that  the  first  omission  may  in  some  measure  be  recti- 
fied and  supplied. 

Besides,  tlie  grasses  most  fit  for  the  sithe  are  not  best 
calculated  to  make  a  good  pasturage ;  nor  ought  seeds 
in  the  first  mentioned  instance  to  be  sown  so  thick  as  is 
necessary  when  the  grazing  sj'stein  is  to  be  adopted. 
Wo  have  already  said,  that  rod  clover  and  rye-grass  are 
the  proper  seeds  for  a  crop,  either  to  be  used  iu  soilins. 


306 


AGRICULTURE. 


or  to  be  manufactured  into  hay ;  but  when  pasture  is  in- 
tended, wliite  clover  should  be  liberally  used.  A  pas- 
ture field  can  scarcely  be  too  thick  planted  at  the  out- 
set ;  because,  being  constantly  eaten  down  by  the  cattle, 
the  thickness  of  bottom  is  not  detrimental,  nay,  rather 
advantageous  to  its  after  growth.  It  is  of  importance, 
however,  not  to  put  beasts  too  early  in  the  season  upon 
new  grass,  and  particularly  to  keep  them  off  when  the 
weather  is  wet.  After  the  surface  is  consolidated,  less 
risk  of  damage  is  encountered,  though  at  all  times  pas- 
turing by  heavy  cattle  is  attended  with  evil  consequences 
during  wet  weather. 

We  are  friends  to  alternate  husbandry,  and  therefore 
hostile  to  every  scheme  calculated  to  keep  land  in  grass 
constantly,  or  for  any  period  comparatively  long.  A 
few  old  pastures  may  be  useful  for  particular  purposes ; 
but,  generally  speaking,  none  should  exceed  the  age  of 
five  or  six  years,  in  a  country  like  Great  Britain,  where 
bread-corn  is  so  much  in  demand,  and  where  a  return 
of  value  is  generally  obtained,  sutficient  to  defray  the 
expenses  incurred  by  alternate  husbandry.  Perhaps, 
in  many  cases,  one  year  iu  grass  is  sufficient  for  every 
useful  purpose  ;  and  we  are  almost  certain  that  this  sys- 
tem, upon  a  good  soil,  is  the  most  profitable  one  that 
can  be  adopted,  when  discretionary  management  is  per- 
mitted. There  are  many  soils,  however,  which  require 
to  be  longer  grazed,  not  on  account  of  the  profit  obtain- 
ed by  allowing  them  to  remain  in  that  state,  but  en- 
tirely because  they  will  not  pay  for  ploughing,  unless 
freshened  and  invigorated  by  grass.  The  most  suitable 
way  of  accomplishing  these  objects  is  to  understock ;  for 
the  extent  of  improvement  by  grass,  upon  such  soils  as 
those  alluded  to,  is  regulated  entirely  by  the  way  in 
which  they  are  depastured.  If  eaten  bare,  and  left  ex- 
posed to  a  hot  sun,  or  a  scourging  wind,  the  roots  of  the 
plants  are  enfeebled  and  prevented  from  flourishing, 
whilst  the  surface,  deprived  of  a  cover  whereby  it  may 
be  warmed  and  fructified,  continues  equally  barren  and 
unproductive  as  when  the  grasses  were  originally  sown. 
Another  evil  of  overstocking  such  soils,  and  that  not 
a  trifling  one,  is,  that  whenever  artificial  grasses  be- 
come languid  and  feeble,  their  place  is  supplied  by 
the  aboriginal  inhabitants.  Moor-fog,  that  bane  of 
grass  upon  thin  soils,  is  sure  to  take  possession  of  the 
surface,  and  to  put  the  ground  into  a  worse  condition 
when  ploughing  is  again  attempted,  than  it  was  when 
grass  seeds  were  sown. 

From  these  things  it  will  appear,  that  a  considerable 
share  of  judgment  is  required  to  manage  grass  land,  so 
that  the  soil  may  be  improved,  and  the  occupier  benefit- 
ed. The  last  object  cannot  be  accomplished,  if  the  first 
is  neglected ;  hence  it  often  happens,  that  the  grazing 
trade  becomes  a  bad  one,  when  in  the  hands  of  injudi- 
cious persons.  The  radical  error  lies  in  overstocking ; 
and  it  is  even  attended  with  great  risk  to  stock  any  way 
fully,  till  the  nature  of  each  season  is  in  some  measure 
ascertained.  From  inattention  to  these  matters,  a  crop 
of  grass  may  be  consumed,  without  benefiting  the  owner 
one  half  so  much  as  it  might  have  done  under  diflerent 
management.  Nay,  in  some  instances,  grass  has  been 
lost  altogether  by  overstocking,  the  cattle  depastured 
thereon  being  little,  if  at  all,  iniproved  at  the  end  of  the 
season.  To  keep  a  full  bite,  is  the  maxim  of  every  good 
grazier;  but  this  cannot  be  obtained  without  uuder- 
ttockiiig,  because  an  adverse  season  may  come  ou,  and 
hiast  the  fairest  prospect. 

Upon  thin  soils  of  every  deeeription,  sheep  are  a  safer 


stock  than  black  cattle,  because  the  former  will  thrive 
where  the  latter  will  starve.  An  annual  stock  may  also 
be  considered  as  preferable  to  a  breeding  or  standing 
one  in  all  low  country  districts ;  and  perhaps  rearing  of 
lambs  for  the  butcher,  and  feeding  their  dams  after- 
wards, is  the  most  profitable  way  of  keeping  sheep. 
These  things,  however,  will  be  treated  of  with  more 
propriety  iu  the  next  chapter. 

Sect.  IV. 

On  Breaking  up  old  Grass  Land  by  the  Plough,  and  the 
most  proper  way  of  managing  it  aftcnvards. 

There  is  not  a  single  branch  of  rural  practice  in  which 
the  farmers  of  Great  Britain  are  more  defective,  than 
the  culture  of  land  broken  up  from  old  grass,  or  one 
where  greater  improvement  may  be  introduced,  than  in 
the  several  processes  necessary  before  the  roots  of  these 
grasses  can  be  sufficiently  destroyed,  so  that  crops  of 
grain  and  artificial  grasses  may  be  successfully  cultiva- 
ted. By  old  ^rass  land,  we  mean  land  that  has  remain- 
ed twenty,  thirty,  fifty,  or  a  greater  number  of  years, 
without  being  turned  up  by  the  plough.  Grass  land  of 
such  ages  rarely  falls  to  be  broken  up  by  many  farmer?, 
and  those  who  are  concerned  in  that  process,  seldom 
have  an  opportunity  of  repeating  any  improvement  made 
during  the  course  of  their  first  attempt  to  cultivate  old 
grass  land.  Hence,  though  few  branches  of  husbandry 
afford  room  for  more  successful  cultivation  than  the 
breaking  up  of  old  grass  land ;  yet  it  generally  happens, 
that  those  so  engaged  seldom  gain  much  profit  to  them- 
selves, or  convey  any  benefit  to  the  land  under  their 
management.  It  is  presumed,  that  to  the  imperfect 
nnode  of  culture  often  practised  when  the  plough  was 
introduced  into  old  grass  lands,  may  be  attributed  the 
strong  antipathy  which  influences  the  majority  of  pro- 
prietors against  renovating  them  by  tillage.  In  fact,  it 
is  consistent  with  our  personal  knowledge,  that  many 
fields  of  such  land  have  been  considerably  injured  in 
consequence  of  the  plough  being  used,  which  was  en- 
tirely owing  to  the  proper  mode  of  destroying  the  abo- 
riginal inhabitants  being  omitted.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, the  antipathy  of  proprietors  against  breaking 
up  their  grass  lands,  need  not  excite  surprise.  A  field 
of  old  grass  land  is  a  treasure  which  deserves  to  be 
guarded,  and  ought  not  to  be  wantonly  broken  up,  un- 
less it  can  be  shown  that  the  introduction  of  tillage  will 
not  deteriorate  its  value,  or  lessen  its  ability  to  carry 
good  crops  of  grass  afterwards.  The  object  of  this  Sec- 
tion is,  therefore,  to  show  that  it  is  perfectly  practica- 
ble to  plough  such  lands  without  dissipating  the  trea- 
sure contained  in  them,  and  to  restore  them  to  grass  af- 
ter carrying  a  round  of  crops,  and  being  cleaned  by  bare 
summer  fallow  or  drilled  turnips,  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  their  soils  respectively,  or  to  the  climate  in  which 
they  are  situated,  and  other  local  circumstances.  Plough- 
ing the  land  at  proper  intervals,  will  never  reduce  the 
natural  value  of  any  land,  provided  the  management  ia 
the  interim  is  well  executed. 

Land  which  has  laid  fur  a  considerable  time  in  grass 
is,  iu  every  situation,  brought  with  difficulty  into  a  pro- 
per arable  state ;  because  the  roots  of  the  natural  grasses 
retain  such  a  hold  of  the  soil,  tliat  artificial  plants 
cannot  either  thrive  or  prove  productive,  till  the  former 
are  completely  eradicated  or  destroyed.  This  difficulty 
prevails  iu  different  degrees,  according  to  the  nature  of 


AGRICULTURE. 


307 


llie  soil  cultirateil;  for,  upon  soils  of  a  light  or  mellow 
nature,  grass  roots  may  he  tlestroyetl  with  greater  facili- 
ly,  and  corn  crops  gained  for  a  series  of  years  at  much 
less  expense  than  is  practicable  upon  soils  that  are  com- 
posed of  clay,  or  incumbent  upon  a  retentive  bottom. 
But,  though  corn  crops  may,  in  the  first  instance,  be 
easier  cultivated  upon  some  soils  than  upon  others;  yet 
110  soil  whatever  can  be  successfully  restored  to  grass  in 
a  suitable  manner,  without  being  previously  completely 
summer  fallowed,  or  sufficiently  cleaned  by  a  fallow  crop, 
according  to  its  nature,  and  other  circumstances.  It  is 
from  neglecting  these  radical  operations,  that  the  con- 
version of  grass  land  to  tillage  so  often  proves  injurious 
both  to  proprietors  and  occujjiers.  The  general  rich- 
ness of  such  lands,  holds  out  a  strong  temptation  to  per- 
sist in  ploughing  till  the  soil  is  completely  possessed  by 
root  weeds.  In  this  state  it  is  not  one  year  of  summer 
fallow  which  will  clean  it  effectually, and,  of  course,  even 
when  that  radical  operation  is  administered,  it  too  often 
proves  defective.  What  is  worse,  in  many  cases  the 
disposition  of  the  soil  to  produce  the  natural  grasses, 
sometimes  influences  the  possessors  to  continue  the  an- 
cient practice  of  allowing  it  to  seed  itself;  and,  in  others, 
to  dubb  it  with  a  thick  covering  of  what  is  called  hay 
seeds,  which  are  seldom  calculated  to  stock  the  ground 
with  plants  for  returning  a  suitable  produce.  The  good 
husbandman  will  not,  however,  follow  any  of  these  plans. 
He  will  fallow  or  clean  the  ground  broke  up  from  old 
grass  as  early  as  |>ossible,  and  the  proper  time  is  gene- 
rally in  the  second  year,  immediately  after  a  crop  of  corn 
has  been  taken.  By  taking  one  corn  crop,  which  serves 
to  rot  the  surface  grasses,  and  fallowing  in  the  second 
year,  when  these  grasses  are  in  a  weak  and  debilitated 
state,  he  can  with  ease  i)ut  the  ground  in  a  husbandman- 
like condition ;  and,  by  fallowing  a  second  time  after 
four  or  six  crops  of  grain  have  been  taken,  the  ground 
will  be  brought  into  the  most  appropriate  condition  for 
being  seeded  with  grasses,  and  of  producing  double  the 
quantity  of  food  for  cattle  or  sheep  as  could  be  procared 
from  it  previous  to  its  renovation  by  tillage. 

In  order  that  our  sentiments  on  these  important  mat- 
ters may  be  perlectly  comprehended,  we  are  under  the 
necessity  of  entering  at  some  length  upon  the  several 
processes  requisite  from  breaking  up  the  ground  in  the 
first  instance,  till  it  is  again  restored  to  grass,  and  also 
of  speaking  upon  these  i)rocesses  as  applicable  to  differ- 
ent soils;  for  what  is  good  management  upon  one 
Tariety  of  soil,  may  deserve  a  different  character  when 
applied  to  another.  It  is  in  such  matters  that  theorists 
chiefly  act  erroneously ;  for,  like  the  physician  in  the 
play,  these  gentlemen  loo  often  bleed  the  westward,  and 
jalap  the  eastward,  indiscriminately,  without  investiga- 
ting the  situation  of  the  patient,  or  ascertaining  whether 
these  remedies  ought  to  he  administered. 

We  shall  first  treat  of  clay  soils,  because  this  variety 
prevails  to  a  greater  extent  in  Britain  than  any  other; 
and  with  them  may  be  included  all  these  soil«  incumbent 
upon  a  retentive  bottom,  and  which  of  course  may  be 
considered  as  too  wet  for  allowing  turnip  husbandry  to 
be  exercised  with  advantage. 

Every  variety  of  clay  is  difficult  to  cultivate,  though 
in  favourable  seasons,  under  the  management  of  an 
expert  cultivator,  some  of  them  are  more  productive 
than  the  richest  free  soil.  The  grain  produced  upon 
clay  land  is  generally  of  good  qualify,  and  wheat  may 
be  raised  to  a  greater  extent  than  is  practicable  upon 
light  lands.     The  management,   however,  of  clays  is 


always  expensive,  and,  in  particular  years,  crops  are 
exposed  to  much  hazard  and  danger.  Hence,  less  rent 
can  be  paid  for  them  in  proportion  to  the  gross  value  of 
produce,  than  from  soils  of  a  less  expensive  and  hazard- 
ous nature. 

No  kind  of  soil  requires  to  be  oftener  renovated  by 
the  plough  than  clay,  especially  if  it  be  of  a  thin  nature. 
The  best  grass  is  always  obtained  in  the  first  year  after 
being  sown  down,  while  the  roots  are  creeping  upon 
the  surface,  and  not  obstructed  by  the  poverty  or  steri- 
lity of  the  subsoil.  Rich  clays  will  progressively  im- 
prove while  kept  in  grass,  though  in  an  inferior  degree 
to  those  soils  of  a  drier  and  less  obstinate  nature.  Hence 
the  great  propriety  of  exercising  alternate  husbandry 
upon  clay  soils ;  in  other  words,  of  breaking  them  fre- 
quently up  with  the  plough,  and  restoring  them  again 
to  grass,  after  being  cropjied  for  five  or  six  years. 

When  grass  land  of  a  clay  soil  is  converted  to  tillage, 
the  first  crop,  in  every  case,  ought  to  be  oats ;  there 
being  no  other  grain  that  forages  so  well,  and  conse- 
quently makes  a  greater  return  of  produce  at  the  outset 
when  the  surface  is  obstinate,  and  the  natural  grasses 
unsubdued.  To  procure  a  full  crop,  both  good  plough- 
ing and  plentiful  harrowing  are  necessary.  The  plough 
should  go  deep,  lay  the  furrow  well  over,  and  at  the 
same  time  leave  it  with  a  strong  shoulder,  so  that  the 
harrow  may  have  a  face  to  work  upon.  In  harrowing, 
the  horses  ought  to  be  driven  lengthwise,  till  the  surface 
is  in  some  measure  broken,  when  cross  harrowing  may 
be  resorted  to.  We  have  frequently  seen  old  grass  land 
that  required  eight  or  nine  double  lines  of  harrows  be- 
fore it  could  be  considered  as  in  any  thing  like  a  finished 
stale;  but  this  seldom  happens,  unless  in  seasons  when 
little  frost  is  obtained,  or  where  the  surface  is  strongly 
bound  with  grass  roots,  and  other  rubbish. 

The  most  advantageous  practice  is  to  summer  fallow 
all  such  lands  in  the  second  year,  and  this  jjractice  is 
decisively  recommended  as  being  most  conducive  to  the 
interest  of  the  tenant,  and  the  future  management  of 
the  ground.  Repeated  trials  confirm  the  sentiments 
formed  on  this  point,  and  we  are  fully  satisfied,  that 
heavy  land  cannot  be  brought  into  a  right  cultivable 
state,  or  corn  crops  successfully  raised,  unless  this  radi- 
cal measure  is  resorted  to.  Besides,  the  grub-worm  is 
often  a  dangeroHS  foe  to  corn  crops  on  clay  soils  newly 
broken  up  from  grass,  especially  in  the  second  and  third 
year,  and  indeed  during  every  subsequent  year  fill  the 
land  is  fallowed ;  and  we  know  no  other  method  of  ex- 
tirpating this  mischievous  insect,  but  repeatedly  plough- 
ing the  ground  in  the  summer  months,  or  paring  anil 
burning  the  surface.  Another  circumstance  which  ren- 
ders an  early  fallow  highly  necessary,  is  the  quantity  of 
thistles  and  other  rubbish  usually  infesting  grass  land, 
which,  if  allowed  to  remain  undestroyed,  will  effectually 
prevent  artificial  crops  from  thriving.  It  may  only  be 
added,  that  the  fallow  should  be  executed  in  the  most 
perfect  style ;  perhaps  seven  or  eight  furrows  may  be 
required,  -with  rolling,  harrowing,  and  hand-picking,  till 
the  soil  is  sufficiently  cleaned  and  pulverized.  A  dressing 
with  lime  will  also  be  highly  advantageous,  as  all  old 
grass  land,  when  first  ploughed,  is  eminently,  benefited 
by  calcareous  matter.  Dung  will  rarely  be  required  in 
the  first  instance,  the  quantity  of  animal  and  vegetable 
substances  accumulated  in  former  years,  being  sufficient 
for  carrying  on  the  growth  of  plants  for  a  considerable 
time. 

If  the  several  operations  of  fallowing  are  completed 
Qq2 


308 


AGRICULTURE. 


in  due  time,  and  the  season  be  favourable,  wheat  may 
be  sown ;  but  if  circimistances  prevent  seed  work  from 
being  executed  before  the  middle  of  October,  it  will  be 
better  to  delay  that  process  till  the  spring  months,  as 
all  land  fresh  broken  up  from  grass,  after  being  com- 
pletely vvrought,  is  apt  to  throw  out  the  young  plants, 
unless  they  are  well  rooted  before  the  winter  frosts  set 
in.  From  repeated  trials,  February  is  recommended 
as  a  good  month  for  sowing  such  lands,  when  a  proper 
autumnal  season  has  been  lost ;  and,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  chance  of  missing  good  weather  in  the  above  month, 
we  should  say,  that  the  sowing  of  wheat  upon  fellows, 
under  the  circumstances  described,  ought  always  to  be 
delayed  till  the  arrival  of  the  spring  quarter. 

After  wheat,  beans  drilled  and  horse-hoed  are  tlie 
most  eligible  third  crop,  as  the  work  necessaiy  will  re- 
store the  land  to  the  same  good  condition  in  which  it 
was  after  being  summer  fallowed.  Barley,  with  grass 
seeds,  ma^  follow  the  beans;  though,  as  grass  seeds, 
particularly  clovers,  seldom  thrive  well  so  easily  upon 
land  which  has  been  depastured  for  any  length  of  lime, 
we  are  inclined  to  recommend  a  second  wheat  crop, 
after  which,  that  summer  fallow  should  be  repeated : 
and  if  dung  is  applied  in  this  stage,  the  ground  will  be 
in  excellent  order  for  being  seeded  with  grass,  whether 
it  is  previously  sown  either  with  wheat  or  barley,  both 
these  grains  being  good  forerunners  of  grass  seeds. 

According  to  the  above  plan,  we  are  certain  that  there 
is  not  a  piece  of  old  grass  land  in  the  island  but  what 
may  be  safely  broken  up,  provided  the  several  operations 
are  executed  in  a  husbandman-like  manner.  Nay,  what 
is  better,  we  are  almost  confident  that  such  land,  after 
being  renovated  by  the  plough,  would  carry  more  grass 
than  it  did  before  aration  was  introduced ;  while,  in  the 
time  it  remained  under  tillage,  weighty  crops  of  corn 
might  be  obtained  at  no  greater  expense  than  called 
for  by  the  arable  husbandry  of  the  old  ploughed  lands. 
Further,  as  the  old  arable  lands  are  worn  out  and  ex- 
hausted by  perpetual  tillage,  the  breaking  up  of  the  old 
grass  land  would  furnish  an  opportunity  for  laying  down 
the  other  with  grass  seeds,  and  restoring  them  to  pri- 
mitive vigour.     In  this  way  a  very  large  part  of  British 
soil  might  be  doubled  in  value ;  at  least  the  quantity  of 
grass  and  corn  raised  thereupon  might  be  vastly  in- 
creased, and  a  full  supply  of  the  necessaries  of  life  pro- 
cured for  the  people,  without  being  dependent  upon 
other  nations,  as  Britain  for  many  years  has  been,  for 
wheat,  oats,  tallow,  butter,  cheese,  flax,  and  hemp,  arti- 
cles which  must  be  imported  under  the  present  state 
of  British  agriculture;  though  it  is  obvious,  that  the 
whole  of  them  might  be  cultivated  and  produced  at 
home,  were  due  attention  bestowed  ujion  the  resources 
of  the  country. 

We  have  now  stated  our  sentiments  respecting  the 
best  mode  of  managing  clay  soils  recently  broken  up 
from  old  grass,  and  described  some  of  the  numerous 
advantages  which  the  country  would  derive,  were  old 
grass  land  of  this  kind  brought  under  alternate  husband- 
ry. It  shall  now  be  our  business  to  speak  of  other  soils, 
particularly  loams,  which  being  naturally  most  eongenial 
to  the  growth  of  grass,  may  be  considered  as  the  soil  of 
the  great  majority  of  the  old  grass  land. 

Loam  consists  of  several  varieties,  according  to  the 
quantity  of  manure  bestowed  in  former  times,  and  the 
nature  of  the  subsoil  on  which  it  is  incumbent.  Heavy 
loam  must  be  treated  in  every  respect  as  if  it  were  a 
<Slay,  because  it  is  disqualified  by  nature  from  carrying 


a  crop  of  turnips  with  advantage ;  but  light  loams,  or 
those  placed  upon  a  dry  bottom,  are  very  fit  for  turnip 
husbandry,  and  therefore  may  be  included  with  gravels 
and  sands,  because  a  similar  rotation  may  be  practised, 
though  no  doubt  with  different  degrees  of  success. 

When  any  of  these  varieties  are  broken  up  from  old 
grass,  the  succeeding  rotation  ought  to  be  oats,  barley, 
turnips,  spring  wheat,  or  barley,  according  to  the  time 
that  the  turnips  are  consumed.     With  either  of  these 
last  mentioned  grains,  grasses  ought  to  be  sown,  which 
may  remain  for  one  year,  when  wheat  may  be  taken, 
and  the  rotation  commence  again  with  a  turnip  crop. 
It  is  proper,  however,  to  explain  why  barley  is  recom- 
mended as  the  second  crop  of  the  first  rotation,  because 
such  a  recommendation  is  contrary  to  the  rules  of  alter- 
nate husbandry,  which,  in  general  cases,  we  wish  should 
be  steadily  adhered  to.     Every  person  acquainted  with 
the  breaking  up  of  old  grass  land,  must  be  aware  that 
the  surface  grass  and  roots  of  different  kinds,  which  all 
land  long  under  grass  is  apt  to  produce,  will  not  be 
destroyed  by  the  culture  given  to  the  first  crop,  and  of 
course  be  sensible  of  the  trouble  and  difficulty  which 
attends  the  working  of  such  land  in  the  second  year. 
In  most  instances,  when  reduced  by  harrowing,  the  land 
may  be  said  to  be  covered  with  such  a  quantity  of  grass 
roots,  as  to  render  it  totally  unfit  for  carrying  a  crop  of 
turnips ;  but,  if  barley  is  taken  as  a  second  crop,  the 
greatest  part  of  these  roots  will  be  destroyed  by  the 
weight  of  the  crop,  while  the  soil  will  be  greatly  enriched 
by  their  destruction.     It  is  obvious,  that  couch  grass  or 
quickens  are  not  included  in  this  description,  for  such 
are  not  to  be  destroyed  in  this  way,  but  must  be  ga- 
thered by  the  hand,  otherwise  the  ground  would  suffer 
considerably.     It  is  the  roots  of  ordinary  pasture  grasses 
which  are  alluded  to,  and  these  undoubtedly  may  be 
brought  to  a  state  of  putrefaction  in  the  way  above  de- 
scribed. 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  state,  that  barley  on  old 
grass  land,  unless  lime  is  applied,  is  usually  inferior  in 
quality  to  what  is  produced  upon  old  cultivated  land, 
and  of  course  yields  a  smaller  produce  than  what  the 
appearance  or  bulk  of  the  crop  upon  the  ground  would 
seem  to  indicate.  In  fact,  barley  of  good  quality  is 
not  to  be  obtained  without  an  application  of  calcareous 
matter. 

The  third  crop  which  ought  to  be  taken  is  turnips, 
drilled,  and  completely  hand  and  horse  hoed.  This  root 
may  now  be  raised  with  success,  as  any  of  the  surface 
grasses  which  may  remain  in  life  after  the  barley  crop^ 
will  be  weak  and  feeble,  and  easily  destroyed  by  the 
work  pven  to  the  turnip  crop.  The  intervals  of  the 
drills  ought  not  to  be  less  than  30  inches,  which  will 
admit  horse  labour  with  effect,  and  probably  secure  a 
weightier  crop  than  could  be  gained  from  narrower  in- 
tervals. The  seed  ought  to  be  sown  tolerably  thick, 
perhaps  not  less  than  31b.  per  acre,  and  the  plants  set 
out  at  8,  10,  or  12  inches  from  each  other,  according  to- 
the  earliness  of  the  season,  state  of  the  weatlier,  fertility 
of  the  soil,  and  other  circumstances. 

If  turnips  are  consumed  at  a  jiroper  time,  say  by  the- 
first  of  March,  spring  wheat  may  be  taken  as  the  fourth 
crop,  i)rovided  the  weather  permits  the  land  to  be  duly 
harrowed ;  but  failing  wheat,  bariey  may  be  substituted 
in  its  place.  If  the  ground  is  ridged  up  as  the  turnips 
are  consumed,  wheat  may  be  sown  every  day,  taking 
care  to  protect  it  from  rooks  and  pigeons,  who,  at  that 
swsoDjORea  occasion  considerable  damage.  Wheat  may 


AGRICULTURE. 


309 


be  sown  with  safety  upon  well  prepared  land  till  the  end 
of  March,  but  so  late  a  time  cannot  be  recommended 
as  a  general  practice.  Grass  seeds  to  be  sown,  whatever 
grain  may  be  cultivated,  and  the  land  to  be  al'terwardo 
pastured  (or  one  or  more  years,  as  circumstances  may 
render  necessary.  When  broken  up  a  second  time, 
oats,  beans,  and  wheat,  may  follow  in  succession,  and 
the  rotation  be  concluded. 

'  As  many  old  grass  lands  consist  of  what  is  called  ftti 
soil,  a  few  words  may  be  necessary  on  this  branch  of  the 
sulyect.  Fen  land  is  generally  incumbent  upon  clay  or 
moss.  If  upon  the  .former,  they  are  a  valuable  concern, 
after  being  drained ;  but  if  incumbent  upon  moss,  it  is 
scarcely  practicable  to  drain  them  in  a  complete  manner. 
In  draining  clay  fens,  which  is  necessary  before  they  can 
be  duly  cultivated,  the  preliminary  business  is  to  cut  off 
all  the  water  that  issues  from  the  adjoining  higher 
grounds,  whether  flowing  from  springs,  or  falling  from 
the  clouds.  This  being  attained,  the  deepness  of  the 
fen  ought  first  to  be  ascertained,  which,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, will  point  out  the  number  and  dimension  of  the 
drains  that  are  required.  The  most  accurate  levels 
ought  also  to  be  taken,  as  any  defect  here  will  injure 
all  the  subsequent  operations.  These  preliminary  steps 
being  executed,  a  main  drain  or  drains,  according  to 
the  extent  of  the  fen,  should  be  digged,  into  wMch  the 
water  from  the  smaller  drains  may  be  disgorged.  The 
number  and  size  of  the  small  drains  must  be  propor- 
tioned to  the  quantity  of  water  accumulated  in  the  fen, 
and  by  the  deepness  of  the  surface  soil  f  but  the  safe 
extreme  is,  to  increase  the  size  and  number  of  the 
drains ;  for,  if  limited  or  superficial,  the  whole  business 
must  prove  abortive.  The  main  drain  or  drains  may 
be  arched  with  brick,  but  land  stones  will  do  best  for 
filling  the  smaller  ones,  or  brush-wood  might  be  used 
in  case  stones  cannot  be  procured.  When  the  fen  is 
in  this  way  laid  comi)Ietely  dry,  ploughing  may  be  at- 
tempted, which  is  commonly  severe  work  at  the  outset. 
It  is  proper  to  take  two  crops  of  oats  in  succession,  in 
order  that  the  strong  sward  of  all  fen  lands  may  be  rot- 
ted. A  complete  summer  fallow,  with  a  strong  dose  of 
lime,  is  then  necessary.  In  this  manner,  the  valuable 
matter  deposited  for  ages  in  all  fen  soils,  may  be  brought 
into  action,  and  abundant  crops  of  grain  and  grass  in 
consequence  procured.  Every  thing,  however,  depends 
upon  putting  and  preserving  the  land  in  a  dry  state, 
which  will  not  be  difficult,  if  the  intercepting  drain  and 
the  main  leader  or  leaders  are  kept  in  good  condition. 

Having  now  shown  the  most  appropriate  methods  of 
introducing  alternate  husbandry  into  those  districts 
where  old  grass  is  prevalent,  it  remains  to  give  a  ge- 
neral statement  concerning  the  atlvantages  which  might 
reasonably  be  expected  from  its  introduction. 
t>  The  first,  and  certainly  a  very  important  advantage, 
resulting  from  ploughing  old  grass  land,  is,  that  a  full 
»upi)ly  of  the  necessaries  of  life  would  be  obtained  by 
the  public,  in  consequence  of  that  measure.  It  is  com- 
puted, by  those  versant  in  such  inquiries,  that  good 
pasture  land  does  not  furnish  above  12  stones  (161b. 
avoirdupois  each)  of  beef  or  mutton  per  ^cre per  amium, 
above  the  weight  of  the  animal  or  animals  when  laid 
Hlton  the  grass;  which,  upon  the  supposition  that  a 
healthy  person  requires  one  and  a  half  pound  per  day 
to  support  him,  would  he  consumed  exactly  in  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-eight  days.  If  this  land,  however,  is 
converted  into  tillage,  more  than   triple  the   number 


may  be  fed  upon  its  produce,  as  will  appear  from  llie 
following  calculations.  Suppose  the  crop  to  be  only 
six  quarters  per  acre,  which  is  a  low  estimate  upon  the 
lands  under  consideration,  and  that  four  bushels  are  re- 
quired for  seed,  and  six  bushels  to  the  horses  employ- 
ed, there  remains  a  disposable  quantity  of  four  quarters 
six  bushels,  which,  at  the  average  weight  of  four  hun- 
dred pounds  per  quarter,  gives  nineteen  hundred  pounds 
weight  of  bread  corn  for  the  use  of  the  people.  If  we 
shall  estimate  that  one-fourth  of  that  weight  goes  for 
pollard,  seeds,  or  waste  in  the  manufacturing,  which  is 
a  great  allowance,  the  remainder  amounts  to  fourteen 
hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds  weight  of  meal  or  flottt" 
to  be  used  for  bread  ami  other  purposes,  which,  at  three 
pounds  weight  per  head,  per  day,  will  supply  the  con- 
sumption of  475  people  for  one  day,  instead  of  128,  who 
procured  food  for  the  same  time  from  the  beef  or  mut- 
ton produced  upon  an  acre  of  grass  land.  The  compa- 
rison would  still  be  more  striking,  were  it  extended  to 
potatoes  and  other  esculents,  which,  of  course,  would 
form  a  part  of  every  rotation,  were  convertible  hus- 
bandry introduced. 

But  it  may  be  alleged,  that  a  general  introduction  of 
the  alternate  hnsbandry  would  occasion  a  scarcity  of 
butcher  meat,  and  that  an  exchange  of  difficulties  would 
be  the  consequence  of  adopting  the  system  recommend- 
ed. To  this  it  may  be  answered,  that  if  alternate  hus- 
bandry were  practised,  the  quantity  of  butcher  meat 
would  be  immediately  increased,  to  the  great  advantage 
both  of  the  public  and  individuals.  After  what  has  al- 
ready been  repeatedly  urged  in  this  article,  it  need 
hardly  be  stated,  that  a  considerable  quantity  of  land  in 
England  is  oppressed  by  the  plough,  and  that  a  very 
great  improvement  would  be  accomplished,  were  it 
rested  and  invigorated  under  pasture,  after  being  com- 
pletely summer  fallowed,  and  laid  down  with  suitable 
grass  seeds.  If  the  like  quantity  of  this  old  tillage  land 
was  annually  sown  with  grass  seeds,  as  was  broken  up 
from  old  pasture,  perhaps  one  fourth  more  cattle  and 
sheep  might  be  fed  for  the  butcher  than  is  practicable 
under  the  present  system.  None  but  those  who  have 
tried  it,  can  be  sensible  of  the  vast  improvement  made 
by  grazing  old  ploughed  land.  If  one  million  of  acres 
of  old  tillage  land  were  sown  down  in  a  gradual  man- 
ner, and  the  like  extent  of  old  pasture  broken  up,  it  i» 
probable  that  an  additional  annual  supply,  not  less  than 
two  million  of  stones  of  beef  and  mutton,  and  three  mil- 
lions of  quarters  of  grain,  would  be  thrown  into  the 
public  market.  In  short,  were  alternate  husliandry  ge- 
nerally exercised  in  Britain,  we  are  satisfied,  that  dou- 
ble the  extent  of  its  present  population  might,  with 
ease,  be  maintained  ;  and  this  might  be  proved  in  the 
most  satisfactory  manner,  by  an  appeal  to  the  quantity 
of  grain  and  butcher  meat  produced  upon  those  farms 
where  that  system  has  been  adopted  and  followed. 

Another  advantage  of  great  magnitude  would  neces- 
sarily be  obtained,  were  the  old  pasture  lands  con- 
verted to  tillage,  vis.  the  immense  quantity  of  manures 
which  would  thereby  be  furnished  for  enriching  the 
poorer  soils,  and  meliorating  the-  old  tillage  field?,  be- 
fore they  were  laid  down  with  grass  seeds.  Every 
three  acres  of  old  grass  land  broken  up,  would,  with 
ease,  furnish  dung  for  one  acre;  consequently  the 
ploughing  of  one  million  of  acres  would  return  dung 
for  three  hundred  and  thirty-three  thousand,  acres  of 
barren  or  unproductive  land,  per  anman,  for  three  or 


3tO 


AGRICULTURE. 


four  years  afterirards.  An  additional  increase  of  one 
quarter  and  a  half  of  produce  might  reasonably  be  ex- 
jiected  to  follow  from  the  manure  thus  afforded  to  the 
unproductive  lands,  while  the  original  stock  of  manure, 
like  money  vested  at  compound  interest,  would  accumu- 
late and  increase  from  year  to  year,  till  the  country  was 
improved  to  the  greatest  degree  w'hich  physical  circum- 
stances permitted. 

We  have  been  more  particular  upon  this  branch  of 
our  subject,  than  at  first  sight  may  seem  to  be  neces- 
sary ;  but  an  attentive  examination  of  the  rural  economy 
of  the  sister  kingdom  convinced  us,  that  the  exclusive 
system  generally  followed,  was  attended  with  effects 
pernicious  and  destructive  to  the  public  interest.  At 
the  same  time,  as  the  great  body  of  farmers  in  every 
district  are  more  defective  in  the  management  of  land 
newly  broken  up  from  grass,  than  in  any  other  branch 
of  practice,  it  occurred,  that  too  much,  if  it  was  right 
said,  could  not  be  urged  in  elucidation  of  the  several 
processes  which  ought  to  be  executed,  when  converti- 
ble husbandry  is  introduced. 

We  cannot  close  this  branch  of  our  subject,  without 
urging  the  utility  and  advantage  of  conjoining  live  stock 
and  corn  together,  and  of  making  the  management  of 
the  one  subservient  to  the  growth  of  the  other.  How- 
ever much  the  general  system  of  agriculture  may  have 
been  amended  of  late  years,  there  are  comparatively 
few  arable  lands  where  double  the  quantity  of  live  stock 
might  not  be  kept,  without  lessening  the  annual  pro- 
duce of  grain.  By  a  proper  combination  of  green  crops, 
such  as  tares  and  clover  for  summer,  turnips  for  win- 
ter, and  potatoes  and  ruta  baga  for  spring,  the  tillage 
farmer  may  fatten  a  quantity  of  stock  equal  to  the  gra- 
zier. No  doubt  a  considerable  capital  is  required  to 
set  such  a  system  on  foot,  besides  a  good  deal  of  trou- 
ble in  its  execution;  but  these  are  indispensable  requi- 
sites in  every  improved  system.  What  we  chiefly  con- 
tend for  is,  that  alternate  husbandry  is  most  beneficial 
to  cultivators,  and  to  the  public ;  that  a  farm  managed 
according  to  its  rules  will  yield  a  greater  quantity  of 
produce  than  if  any  other  system  is  adopted  ;  that  if  one 
lialf  of  the  farm  is  kept  under  artificial  grasses,  and 
other  green  crops,  as  much  live  stock  may  be  support- 
ed and  fattened  upon  their  produce  as  if  the  whole  farm 
w  as  kept  in  old  pasture ;  and  that  the  other  half,  from 
the  large  quantity  of  dung  produced  from  the  consump- 
tion of  green  crops,  will  furnish  as  much  disposable 
produce  for  supplying  the  market,  as  if  the  whole  farm 
bad  been  kept  in  a  regular  sequence  of  corn  crops.  All 
these  advantages  may  be  gained  from  a  conjunction  of 
stock  and  corn  husbandry ;  and  it  is  from  this  conjunc- 
tion that  the  superiority  of  British  over  Continental  hus- 
bandry, already  illustrated  in  another  Chapter,  chiefly 
proceeds. 

CHAP.  X. 

On  Live  Stock. 

Though  horses,  neat  cattle,  sheep,  and  swine,  are  of 
squal  importance  to  the  British  farmer  with  corn  crops, 
yet  we  have  few  treatises  concerning  these  animals, 
compared  with  the  immense  number  that  have  been 
written  on  the  management  of  arable  land,  or  the  crops 
produced  upon  it.  Whether  this  difference  of  attention 
proceeds  from  an  erroneous  preference  of  the  plough, 
or  whether  it  is  •wing  to  the  ignorance  of  agricaltu- 


rists  respecting  the  properties  of  live  stock,  vre  shall  not 
stop  to  consider.  The  fact  is,  however,  as  we  have 
stated  it;  though,  according  to  the  present  improved 
system  of  farming,  there  is  such  a  connexion  between 
the  cultivation  of  the  ground  and  the  breeding,  rearing, 
and  fattening  of  domestic  animals,  that  the  one  cannot 
be  neglected  without  injury  to  the  other. 

Though  so  little  has  been  written  concerning  the  do- 
mestic animals  of  Britain,  it  deserves  to  be  remarked, 
that  the  improvement  of  those  animals  has  not  been  ne- 
glected ;  on  the  contrary,  it  has  been  studied  like  a  sci- 
ence, and  carried  into  execution  with  the  most  sedulous 
attention  and  dexterity.  We  wish  it  could  be  stated, 
that  one  half  of  the  care  had  been  applied  to  the  select- 
ing and  breeding  of  wheat  and  other  grains,  which  has 
been  displayed  in  selecting  and  breeding  the  best  pro- 
portioned and  most  kindly  feeding  sheep.  A  comparison 
cannot,  however,  be  made  with  the  slightest  degree  of 
success ;  the  exertions  of  the  sheep-farmers  having,  in 
every  point  of  view,  far  exceeded  what  has  been  done  by 
the  renters  of  arable  land.  Even  with  cattle,  considera- 
ble improvement  has  taken  place.  With  horses,  those 
of  the  racing  kind  excepted,  there  has  been  little  im- 
provement ;  and  as  to  swine,  an  animal  of  great  benefit 
to  the  farmer,  in  consuming  offal  which  would  other- 
wise be  of  no  value,  matters  remain  pretty  much  on  their 
former  footing. 

Having  made  these  general  remarks,  we  proceed  to 
illustrate  the  several  Sections  of  this  Chapter.  These, 
of  course,  are  limited  to  the  four  kinds  of  animals  al- 
ready mentioned  ;  and  on  each  of  these  we  shall  treat  at 
some  length,  considering  the  live  stock  of  Britain  to  be 
a  subject  of  vast  importance  to  the  national  welfare, 
when  the  demand  for  horses  is  so  extensive,  and  a  full 
supi)ly  of  butcher  meat  so  necessary  for  public  comfort 
and  luxury. 

Sect.  I. 

Of  Horses. 

Mr.  Culley  is  of  opinion,  that  there  are  three  distinct 
breeds  of  horses  in  the  island,  viz.  the  heavy  Blacks,  th« 
Racers,  and  the  Shetland  Ponies.  We  should  suspect, 
however,  that  there  are  many  more,  though  it  is  not 
easy  to  say  any  thing  about  the  origin  of  these  breeds, 
and  whether  they  have  been  occasioned  by  crosses  at 
different  periods,  till  a  new  breed  or  variety  was  actually 
produced.  The  horses  in  the  low-country  districts  of 
Scotland  are  evidently  of  many  breeds ;  and  from  what 
we  have  seen  in  England,  the  breeds  are  innumerable ; 
and  in  shaiie,  size,  action,  and  other  properties,  are  as 
incongruous  and  separate  as  the  breeds  of  sheep  in  the 
different  districts.  What  a  difference,  for  instance,  is 
there  between  the  Suffolk  Punches  and  the  Cleveland 
Bays  ?  If  the  latter  are  compared  with  the  Northamp- 
tonshire horses,  it  can  hardly  b©  said  that  there  is  the 
slightest  affmlly,  as  to  size,  shape,  and  action ;  and  the 
most  that  can  be  advanced  is,  that  both  belong  to  the 
tribe  of  animals  called  horses.  Again,  view  the  Welch 
horses,  a  hardy  breed,  no  doubt,  though  of  a  size  capa- 
ble of  bring  contained  in  (he  inside  of  the  Northampton- 
shire animal.  In  short,  so  many  breeds  prevail  in  the 
island,  and  these  are  so  frittered  down  and  intermixed, 
that  it  is  harldly  practicable  to  distinguish  the  source 
from  which  each  proceeded.  That  there  are  good 
horses  in  all  breeds,  is  indisputable ;  and  the  ol>ject  of 


AGRICULTURE. 


311 


the  farmer  is  therefore  to  select  such  as  are  best  qualified 
for  the  uses  to  which  they  are  to  be  appro|)riated.  For 
Ihe  plough,  both  strength  and  agility  are  required;  a 
dash  of  blood,  therefore,  is  not  disadvantageous. 

It  is  not  size  that  confers  strength,  the  largest  horses 
being  often  soonest  worn  out.  A  clever  step,  an  easy 
movement,  and  a  good  temper,  are  qualities  of  the  great- 
est importance  to  a  working  horse ;  and  the  possession 
of  them  is  of  more  avail  than  big  bones,  long  legs,  and 
a  lumpy  carcass.  To  feed  well  is  also  a  property  of 
great  value ;  and  this  property,  as  all  judges  know,  de- 
pends much  upon  the  shape  of  the  barrel,  deepness  of 
chest,  strength  of  back,  and  size  of  the  hips  or  hooks 
with  which  the  animal  is  furnished.  If  straight  in  the 
back,  and  not  over  short,  high  in  the  ribs,  and  with  hooks 
close  and  round,  the  animal  is  generally  hardy,  capable 
of  undergoing  a  great  deal  of  fatigue,  without  lessening 
his  appetite,  or  impairing  his  working  powers ;  whereas, 
horses  that  are  sharp  pointed,  flat  ribbed,  hollow  backed, 
and  wide  set  in  the  hoofs,  are  usually  bad  feeders,  and 
soon  done  up  when  put  to  hard  work.  The  moment  that 
a  horse  loses  appetite,  he  must  suffer  by  hard  labour; 
it  is  therefore  a  matter  of  serious  consideration,  to  breed 
only  from  the  hardy  and  well-proportioned  tribes ;  these 
being  supported  at  the  least  expense,  and  capable  of 
undergoing,  without  injury,  a  degree  of  labour  which 
would  disable  those  of  a  different  constitution. 

The  value  of  horses  being  now  much  more  augment- 
ed than  that  of  other  animals,  it  appears  that  greater  en- 
couragement is  thereby  offered  for  breeding  the  best 
sorts  than  was  formerly  the  case,  and  that  regular  Ijreed- 
ing  farms  would  be  of  benefit  to  the  public,  and  advan- 
tageous to  those  concerned  iu  them.  Hitherto,  it  has 
been  usual  to  work  breeding  mares  through  the  greatest 
part  of  the  year,  laying  them  aside  only  for  a  week  or 
two  before  foaling,  and  during  the  summer  season, 
when  giving  suck  to  the  young  foal.  In  this  way,  the 
strength  and  vigour  of  the  mother  is  not  only  weakened, 
but  the  size  and  powers  of  the  foal  stand  a  great  chance 
of  being  diminished  by  the  exertions  of  the  mother 
when  kept  at  work.  Under  these  impressions,  we  are 
led  to  consider  the  working  of  breeding  mares  as  an  un- 
profitable practice.  Were  they  suffered  to  remain  at 
ease,  to  roam  upon  coarse  pastures,  where  shades  were 
erected  in  which  they  might  find  shelter  during  incle- 
ment weather,  we  are  almost  certain  that  their  progeny 
would  enter  upon  action  with  increased  abilities.  The 
expense  of  a  breeding  mare  kept  iu  this  way  would  not 
be  great,  while  the  advantages  would  be  innumerable. 
But  were  the  expense  even  greater  than  is  incurred  iu 
the  ordinary  way,  the  su])eriority  of  the  stock  thus  pro- 
duced, would  much  more  than  compensate  it.  A  pound 
of  horse-flesh  is  more  than  double  the  value  of  that  of 
neat  cattle  and  sheep ;  and  being  as  easily  reared  and 
produced  as  the  others,  great  encouragement  is  thus 
offered  for  carrying  on  the  breeding  trade  as  a  separate 
establishment.  It  is  highly  inconvenient  for  corn  far- 
mers to  want  the  use  of  any  part  of  their  working  stock 
during  the  summer  season;  the  plan,  therefore,  that  we 
have  recommended, seems  well  calculated  to  avoid  every 
inconvenience  of  this  nature,  and  to  place  the  breeding 
trade  upon  a  proper  footing.  In  short,  we  are  satisfied, 
that  unless  some  such  plan  is  adopted,  breeding  can 
never  succeed  in  the  arable  districts,  though  it  is  evi- 
dently in  the  power  of  every  fanner  so  situated  to  breed 
horses  with  the  same  facility  as  he  breads  cattle  aud 
skeep,  were  the  like  measures  resorted  to. 


Horses  are  generally  put  to  work  when  five  years  of 
age,  though  it  is  probable  they  might  be  worked  a  year 
sooner,  were  the  same  attention  paid  to  their  keeping- 
as  is  bestowed  by  the  improved  breeders  of  cattle  and 
sheep.  We  are  not  advocates  for  giving  much  grain  to 
young  horses,  thinking  it  expensive,  and  not  so  condu- 
cive to  their  health  as  when  they  are  supported  on  green 
food.  In  the  winter  and  spring  months,  a  few  turnips 
are  eminently  beneficial  to  young  horses,  by  keepino- 
their  blood  in  good  order,  swelling  their  bone,  and  has- 
tening their  growth.  A  plentiful  supply  of  grass  iu 
summer  ought  always  to  be  allowed,  as  their  condition 
through  the  winter  dej>ends  greatly  upon  that  circum- 
stance. It  is  an  object  deserving  of  attention,  that  flesh 
once  gained  ought  never  to  be  lost,  but  that  every  ani- 
mal whatever  should  be  kept  in  a  progressive  state  of 
improvement,  and  not  sutfered  (o  take  a  retrograde 
course,  which  afterwards  must  be  made  up  by  extra 
feeding,  or  a  loss  be  sustained,  in  direct  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  retrogradation  that  has  actually  occurred. 

The  diseases  of  horses  are  numerous,  generally  vio- 
lent, soon  reaching  a  crisis,  and  often  mortal,  unless  ta- 
ken at  the  beginning.  The  most  fatal  of  these  are  dis- 
orders provincially  called  bats,  or  colics,  arising,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  from  an  accumulation  of  excrement  iu 
the  intestines.  The  symptoms  of  this  disorder  scarcely 
re((uire  description ;  cold  dew  at  the  ear-roots  and 
flanks,  frequent  pointing  to  the  seat  of  complaint,  and  a 
tlesire  to  lie  down  and  roll ;  sudden  rising,  a  great  agi- 
tation. To  obtain  a  cure  requires  prompt  and  vigorous 
measures,  and  plenty  of  assistants  to  conduct  them.  A 
separate  stable  or  out-house,  well  littered  with  straw,  is 
necessary,  so  that  the  horse  may  have  room  to  roll  him- 
self without  injury.  A  man  should  attend  the  head,  that 
it  be  not  beat  against  the  pavement  or  wall ;  another  to 
rub  the  belly  at  every  quiet  interval,  which  is  a  more 
effectual  help  than  is  generally  imagined.  Bleed  in  the 
neck  veins,  if  possible ;  and  whilst  medical  remedies  are 
I)repa*ing,  walk  the  horse  about,  but  do  not,  on  any  pre- 
tence, drive  him  so  fast  as  to  harass  him.  Back  rake 
with  a  small  hand,  well  oiled,  and  give  the  common  gruel 
clyster  of  oil  and  salt;  pour  down  by  the  mouth  some 
gruel,  mixed  with  a  glass  or  two  of  Geneva,  and  half  an 
ounce  of  beat  saltpetre;  keep  the  horse  on  his  legs,  if 
possible,  and  exercise  himin  a  moderate  manner.  These 
remedies  are  generally  successful,  when  applied  in  time, 
but  a  few  hours'  delay  is  commonly  fatal;  the  poor  ani- 
mal generally  falling  a  sacrifice  to  this  dreadful  and  ex- 
cruciating disorder. 

The  flatulent,  or  wind  colic,  is  known  by  a  great  ful- 
ness and  tension  of  the  belly,  from  rarefaction  of  the  air 
contained  in  the  intestines,  and  frequently  by  the  stran- 
guary  ocTcasioned  by  the  pressure  of  the  straight  gut 
upon  the  neck  of  the  bladder :  this  last  is  denoted  by 
the  horse  rolling  on  his  back,  and  attem])ting  to  stale. 
The  method  of  cure  plainly  consists  in  a  speedy  admin- 
istering of  diuretic  and  laxative  medicines,  both  in  the 
form  of  clysters,  and  by  the  mouth.  0|iiates  for  allav- 
ing  the  pain  may  also  be  used;  but  much  attention "ii 
required  for  regulating  the  quantity,  and  hitting  the' 
critical  period  when  they  should  be  administered.  If 
the  opiate  is  too  weak,  the  pain  will  be  augmented ;  and 
if  too  powerful,  death  will  be  hastened.  Anafher  species 
of  colic  is  the  inflammatory,  or  red  one,  supposed  to 
originate  in  some  internal  injury,  brought  on  by  over- 
strained exertion.  The  flatulent,  or  spasmodic  colic,  is 
by  far  the  aio gt  frequent  with  horses;  and  it  is  in  treat- 


312 


AGRICULTURE. 


ing  this  species,  that  common  farriers  do  most  mischief. 
In  fact,  to  ascertain  the  specific  disorder,  and  find  out 
the  proper  remedies,  requires  a  greater  share  of  know- 
ledge and  judgment  than  usually  belongs  to  common 
farriers.  To  learn  veterinary  science  requires  years  of 
study,  an  intimate  knowledge  of  anatomy,  and  a  great 
deal  of  practice ;  and  to  the  want  of  these  requisites 
may  be  attributed  the  general  ignorance  of  country 
practitioners. 

We  have  mentioned  the  prominent  diseases  which  cut 
off  horses ;  but  were  we  to  analyze  and  describe  the  ca- 
talogue of  disorders  to  which  that  useful  animal  is  ex- 
posed, tliis  article  would  be  swoln  beyond  the  limits 
"assigned  to  it.  It  may,  however,  be  added,  that  cold,  or 
catarrh,  seems  to  be  the  proximate  «ause  of  them. 
This  cold  is  either  general  or  epidemic,  producing  fever, 
glanders,  rheumatism,  asthma,  broken  wind,  pleurisy, 
and  often  disorders  in  the  intestines.  To  avoid  the 
proximate  cause  of  these  evils,  regular  treatment  seems 
to  be  the  surest  course.  The  kind  of  treatment  which 
deserves  this  character  is,  never  to  heat  nor  fatigue 
horses  more  than  is  necessary  ;  and  if  they  are  at  any 
time  over-heated  and  fatigued,  to  cool  them  in  a  gra- 
dual manner,  rubbing  them  well  down,  so  that  perspira- 
tion may  not  be  obstructed,  and  administering  a  warm 
mash  of  Iwiled  food,  so  that  the  intestines  may  be  kept 
open,  and  the  consequent  disorders  avoided.  The  horse 
is  a  most  useful  animal,  and  deserves  to  be  treated  with 
every  degree  of  care.  Laying  that  consideration  aside, 
it  is  an  object  of  imi)ortance  to  every  farmer  to  have 
his  woriiing  slock  preserved  in  a  sound,  healthy,  and 
able  condition,  as  his  prosperity  and  success  depend,  in 
some  measure,  upon  their  capability  of  performing  rural 
labour  with  despatch.  To  be  often  in  the  market,  is  an 
expensive  trade ;  and  the  only  way  to  avoid  it  is  to  feed 
horses  regularly,  and  to  exceed  as  seldom  as  possible 
their  ordinary  working  hours.  Good  stable  manage- 
ment is  also  of  essential  service  to  promote  the  health 
of  the  animals ;  and  this  every  farmer  should  attend  to 
with  a  degree  of  diligence  proportional  to  tlie  concomi- 
tant advantages. 

Sect.  IL 

On  Neat  Caltk. 

Of  this  species  of  domestic  animals  we  have  various 
breeds,  though  the  whole  may  be  arranged  into  four 
classes:  1.  The  short-horned;  2.  The  long-horned,  or 
Lancashire;  3.  The  Galloway,  or  polled  breed;  4.  The 
Kyloesi  or  Highland  breed.  Though  the  several  breeds 
may  witli  propriety  be  classed  in  this  way,  yet  it  must 
not  be  underst(K)d  that  the  breeds  so  classed  are  in  every 
respect  alike  in  size,  shape,  and  dis|)osition  t<J  fatten. 
In  each  of  these  circumstances,  the  last-mentioned  class 
in  particular  are  widely  ditferent ;  for  the  West  High- 
land cattle  have  separate  properties  from  those  reared 
in  the  Northern  districts;  while  again  tliere  is  a  wide 
distin<;tion  between  both  these  and  the  breed  which  pre- 
vails in  the  slihcs  of  Banff  and  Aberdeen.  The  very 
texture  and  (!m)earance  of  the  perfect  article  are  dissi- 
milar; though  these  things  may  depend  as  much  upon 
tlie  mode  of  feeding  when  young,  as  upon  the  original 
constitution  of  the  animal. 

On  Short-homed  CaUlc. 

There  is  reason  (o  suppose,  tliat  short-horned  cattle 
are  not  a  native  breed  of  Britain,  but  one  imported  from 


the  continent;  because  they  are  chiefly  found  on  the 
eastern  coast,  and  because  in  many  places  they  retain  at 
this  day  the  name  of  Dutch  cattle.  This  breed  differs 
from  others  in  the  shortness  of  their  horns,  and  in  being 
wider  and  thicker  in  their  form  or  mould,  consequently 
feeding  to  the  most  weight,  and  yielding  the  greatest 
quantity  of  tallow.  With  regard  to  coBstitution,  they 
are  not  so  hardy  as  the  long-horned  cattle,  being  thinner 
in  the  skin  or  hide,  and  requiring  better  food.  They 
excel,  however,  in  three  valuable  particulars,  viz.  in  af- 
fording the  greatest  quantity  of  beef,  butter,  and  milk. 
This  breed,  however,  like  all  otliers,  is  better  or  worse 
in  different  districts,  according  to  the  attention  of  the 
breeders.  In  Lincolnshire  they  are  in  general  more 
subject  to  Iyer  or  black  flesh  tluin  they  are  in  the  dis- 
tricts which  lie  further  to  the  north ;  and  this  evil  was 
originally  introduced  by  an  importation  of  a  bad  sort  of 
bulls  from  Holland,  by  persons  who  desired  to  improve 
the  breed,  but  were  not  possessed  of  the  skill  that  is  re- 
quisite for  making  a  suitable  selection.  The  country  on 
both  sides  of  the  river  Tees  contains  the  short-horned 
breed  in  perfection.  The  usual  management  there,  is 
to  give  haj'  and  turnip  the  first  winter,  coarse  pasture 
through  the  following  summer,  straw  in  the  fold-yard, 
and  a  few  turnips  in  the  second  winter,  good  pasture  ia 
the  second  summer,  and  as  many  turnips  as  they  can 
eat  in  the  third  winter,  when  they  are  treated  in  every 
respect  as  fattening  cattle. 

The  Sussex,  Hereford,  and  Devon  cattle,  are  varieties 
of  the  short-horned  breed,  though  probably  with  a  little 
dash  of  the  Lancashire  kind.  They  are  generally  of  a 
red  colour,  fine  in  the  bone,  clean  in  the  neck,  horns 
bent  upwards,  generally  well  made  in  the  hind-quarters, 
%vide  across  the  hips,  rump,  and  sirloin,  but  narrow  on 
the  chine.  These  breeds  are  often  used  for  work,  and, 
when  six  or  seven  years  of  age,  are  turned  off  for 
feeding. 

On  Hu  Lancashire,  or  long-homed  Cattle. 

The  Lancashire,  or  long-homed  breed,  is  distinguish- 
ed from  every  other  by  length  of  horns,  thickness  of 
skin,  large  size  of  hoof,  and  coarseness  of  neck.  They 
are  deeper  in  the  fore,  and  lighter  in  the  hind  quarter, 
than  other  breeds;  likewise  narrower  in  shape,  and 
less  in  point  of  weight,  than  the  sliort-horned,  though 
better  weighers  in  proportion  to  their  size.  Cows  of 
this  kind  are  not  good  milkers ;  but  the  milk  which  they 
produce  yields  cream  in  greater  abundance,  and  of  a 
richer  quality,  than  what  is  got  from  short-horned  cows. 

It  has  been  generally  imagined,  that  long-horned  cat- 
tle are  the  native  or  original  lireed  of  the  island;  but  this 
is  a  matter  which  cannot  be  ascertained.  Lancashire, 
and  the  western  parts  of  Yorkshire,  have  long  been  con- 
sidered as  the  mother  district  of  this  breexl,  though  now 
spread  over  many  of  the  midland  counties.  Long  hom- 
ed cattle,  however,  are  usually  viewed  as  dull  feeders; 
and,  when  used  in  the  dairy,  give  less  milk  than  the 
sliort-homed  kind.  By  Mr.  Bakewell  and  others,  much 
improvement  was  made  in  long-horaed  cattle.  That 
enterprising  and  judicious  breeder,  searched  the  north- 
ern district  for  the  best  bulls,  as  he  did  Lancashire  for 
rams;  and  owing  to  his  exertions,  something  like  a 
new  breed  was  created.  This  variety  differs  from  other 
long-horned  cattle,  in  having  very  fine,  clean,  small 
bones  in  their  legs,  and  thinner  hides.  They  are  also  of 
less  size,  and  rounder  in  the  carcass  than  the  old  long 


AGRICULTURE. 


313 


liovnfd  breed,  vrhicli  generally  were  ill  formed,  big  bon- 
ed, flat  ribbed,  and  in  sliort  a  very  unsiglitly  sort  of 
cattle. 

0«  the  Polled,  or  Gdllonay  Cattle. 

The  Galloway  cattle,  though  less  in  weight  than 
those  already  treated  of,  sell  higher  in  Smithfield  mar- 
ket, per  stone,  than  any  other  breed,  owing  to  the  fat 
being  laid  upon  the  most  valuable  parts;  which  seems 
to  be  a  quality  of  the  greatest  excellence,  when  the  va- 
lue of  feeding  cattle  is  to  be  ascertained.  As  their 
name  denotes,  (hey  are  without  horns;  a  circumstance 
Which  fiuzzled  the  learned  Dr.  Johnson,  who  was  greatly 
at  a  loss  whether  to  assign  the  deficiency  to  a  natural  or 
an  artificial  cause.  The  hides  of  this  breed  are  not  so 
thick  as  those  of  the  long-horned,  nor  so  thin  as  those  of 
tlie  short-horned  breed  ;  but  their  beef  is  well  marbled 
or  mixed  with  fat,  and  therefore,  in  point  of  quality, 
much  superior  to  that  of  either.  Hence  the  demand 
for  Galloway  cattle  is  always  very  considerable ;  and  it 
is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  one  of  these  little  bullocks 
sell  for  as  much  money  in  Smithfield  as  a  Lincolnshire 
ox  of  double  its  weight.  The  cows  of  this  breed  are 
good  milkers,  and  the  milk  which  they  yield  is  of  a  very 
rich  quality.  Several  unsuccessful  attempts  have  been 
made  to  amend  this  breed,  by  crossing  with  bulls  from 
other  counties ;  hut  the  result  has  satisfactorily  shown, 
that  the  real  original  polled  breed  can  only  be  preserved 
in  perfection  by  selecting  bulls  at  home,  of  the  best  figure 
and  properties.  By  these  attempts,  the  breed  has,  in 
some  respects,  been  injured;  though  there  is  little 
doubt  but  that  the  measures  recently  taken  will  soon 
restore  it  to  its  original  purity  and  perfection. 

The  Suffolk  thins  are  said  to  he  a  variety  of  the  Gal- 
loway breed.  Cows  of  this  kind  are  particularly  calcu- 
lated for  dairy  management,  giving  a  great  quantity  of 
milk,  and  producing  butter  of  the  finest  quality.  Suf- 
folk butter  is  well  known  to  be  the  richest  in  the  island ; 
though  it  is  a  curious  circumstance,  that  the  cheese  of 
that  district  is  the  poorest  of  any  made  in  the  whole 
kingdom  of  Great  Britain. 


Oil  the  Kyloe,  or  Highland  Breed. 

The  variety  of  this  breed  which  prevails  in  Argyle- 
shire,  and  several  of  the  Western  islands,  has  all  the 
properties  possessed  by  the  Galloway  cattle,  so  far  as  re- 
spects the  quality  of  beef;  though,  having  horns,  a 
rougher  pile  or  coat  of  hair,  and  being  differently  pro- 
portioned, they  are  evidently  a  distinct  breed.  The 
Argyleshire  cattle  of  the  right  sort  always  sell  nearly  as 
high  as  the  Golloways,  and  are  much  in  demand  with 
those  who  fatten  well,  or  wish  to  present  the  l)est  stock 
in  the  public  market.  For  private  use  none  are  better 
calculated,  the  coarse  parts  being  inconsiderable,  and 
the  principal  pieces,  when  duly  fattened,  of  the  finest 
quality,  and  delicious  to  the  appetite ;  while,  from  small- 
ness  of  bone,  the  quantity  of  offal  or  waste  is  altogether 
trifling. 

The  Northern  breeds  of  cattle  are  neither  so  valuable 
with  regard  to  an  equal  weight  of  the  perfect  article; 
nor  are  they  so  clever  feeders,  even  when  put  on  the 
same  pastures.  Perhaps  this  arises  from  their  being 
stunted  in  growth  at  the  outset,  and  limited  as  to  winter 
feeding  during  the  time  they  are  kept  at  home,  till  of 

Voi..  I.     Part  I. 


snlTicient  age  for  being  sold  to  the  grazier,  who  is  to 
fatten  them.  The  prevalent  colour  of  Kyloes  is  black ; 
and  it  may  be  remarked,  that  those  of  every  other  colour, 
black-brown,  or  what  is  called  berried,  excepted,  are 
generally  bad  feeders,  tender  and  delicate  in  constitu- 
tion ;  and  never  purchased  by  good  judges  of  caKle 
when  they  can  be  avoided.  Innumerable  are  the  cattle 
of  the  Kyloe  sort  every  year  brought  southward ;  and 
when  properly  wintered,  and  afterwards  |)ut  upon  good 
pasture  through  the  simimer  months,  it  is  wonderful  to 
what  a  size  they  will  grow,  and  to  what  a  degree  of  fat- 
ness they  may  be  carried.  They  are  always  sure,  ivhen 
fat,  to  sell  in  the  public  market  in  preference  to  (he 
large  breetls ;  and  this  of  itself  affords  great  encourage- 
ment to  the  purchasers. 

The  Aberdeen  and  Banffshire  cftttle  are  the  next  va- 
riety of  the  Kyloe,  or  Highland  breed,  which  is  to  be 
treated  of.  In  these  counties  the  size  of  cattle  is  larger, 
probably  occasioned  by  the  superior  keep  given  when 
they  are  young;  which  no  doubt  swells  the  bones  of  the 
animals,  and  increases  their  size.  A  good  many  turnips 
are  raised  in  these  districts,  and  by  the  use  of  that  root 
the  cattle  are  certainly  highly  benefited.  This  sort  is 
undoubtedly  the  best  for  wintering  in  the  straw-yard,  be- 
cause few  of  the  others  have  lieen  accustomed  to  this 
mode  of  treatment,  being  generally  suffered  to  roam  at 
large  upon  the  hills  for  the  greatest  part  of  the  season, 
and  only  brought  home  during  severe  storms,  when  food 
cannot  be  ))rocured  in  the  open  field.  The  Aberdeea 
and  Banffshire  cattle,  however,  are  seldom  treated  in 
that  way ;  hence  they  are  well  calculated  for  winter- 
ing in  the  low  country  districts,  and,  if  well  chosen, 
either  for  feeding  upon  (he  pastures,  or  for  receiving 
cutting  grass  in  the  fold-yard  during  the  succeeding 
summer. 

Several  other  kinds  of  Scots  cattle  might  be  mention- 
ed, particularly  the  Pileshire  breed,  which  would  seem 
to  be  a  kind  of  cross  betwixt  the  Kyloes  and  (he  south 
country  breeds.  The  Fife  cattle  have  upright  white 
horns,  are  thin-thighed,  light-lyered,  and  excellent  feed- 
ers. It  appears  from  Dr.  Thomson's  excellent  Survey  of 
Fife,  that  they  are  highly  esteemed  in  Smithfield  mar- 
ket, where  they  bid  fair  to  rival  the  Galloway  cattle;  a 
circumstance  which  affords  a  good  proof  of  their  intrin- 
sic quality  being  high  in  the  scale  of  public  opinion. 
Other  kinds  might  be  mentioned,  particularly  the  Alder- 
ney  or  French  cattle;  but  so  few  of  these  are  kept  ia 
Britain,  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  enter  upon  a  de- 
scription of  them.  Sutfice  it  to  say,  that  any  of  this 
breed  which  have  come  under  our  notice,  are  of  so  ten- 
der and  delicate  a  constitution,  that  we  venture  to  pre- 
dict that  the  breed  will  never  become  prevalent  in  Great 
Britain. 

Sect.  III. 

Oh  Sheep. 

Of  all  the  domestic  animals,  sheep  are  of  the  greatest 
consequence,  l)Oth  to  the  nation  and  to  the  farmer ;  be- 
cause they  can  be  reared  in  situations,  and  upon  soils, 
where  other  animals  would  not  live ;  and,  in  general, 
afford  greater  profit  than  can  be  obtained  either  from  the 
rearing  or  feeding  of  cattle.  The  very  fleece  shorn 
annually  from  their  backs  is  of  itself  a  matter  worthy  of 
consideration,  affording  a  partial  return  not  to  be  ob- 
tained Irom  any  other  kind  of  stock.  Woal  has  long 
R  r 


314 


AGRICULTURE. 


been  the  staple  commodity  of  this  island,  giving  bread 
to  thousands  who  are  employed  in  manufacturing  it  into 
innumerable  articles  for  home  consumption  and  foreign 
exportation.  In  every  point  of  view,  sheep  husljandry 
deserves  to  be  esteemed  as  a  chief  branch  of  rural  eco- 
nomy, and  claims  the  utmost  attention  of  agriculturists. 
For  many  years  back  it  has  been  studied  with  a  degree 
O'  diligence  and  assiduity  not  infeior  to  its  merits; 
and  the  result  has  been,  that  Ibis  branch  of  rural  ma- 
nagement has  reached  a  degree  of  perfection  honoura- 
ble to  those  who  exercised  it,  and  highly  advantageous 
to  the  public. 

The  varieties  of  sheep  spread  over  the  island  of  Great 
Britain  are  so  numerous,  that  it  is  hardly  within  the 
power  of  the  greatest  connoisseur  to  class  them  regu- 
larly, or  to  illustrate  their  different  properties.  Every 
useful  purpose,  however,  may  be  attained,  by  classing 
them  into  long  and  short  woolled  breeds,  and  into  the 
■breeds  which  have  horns,  and  those  that  are  without 
that  appendage.  Ol  the  long-woolled  kind  we  have  the 
Tees  Water,  the  Old  and  New  Leicesters,  the  Dartmore 
Nots,  the  Exmoor,  and  the  Heath  sheep  ;  and  of  the 
short-woolled  kind,  we  have  the  Dorsetshire,  Hereford 
or  Ryeland,  the  Southdown,  the  fvorfolk,  the  Cheviot, 
and  the  Shetland  sheep.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Tees 
Water,  Old  and  New  Leicesters,  Dartmore  Nots,  Here- 
ford, Southdown,  Cheviot,  and  Shetland  breeds,  are 
without  horns;  while  the  Exmoor,  Dorsetshire,  Nor- 
folk, and  Heath  sheep  have  horns,  though  of  different 
sizes.  From  this  classification,  it  will  appear,  that  horns 
are  not  necessarily  connected  eitlier  with  one  kind  of 
wool  or  another,  being  fouud  upon  the  heads  both  of 
long  and  short  woo'.led  sheep.  The  Norfolk  sheep, 
which  are  slow  dull  feeders,  have  long  horns,  though 
they  carry  upon  their  backs  fine  short  wool,  of  great 
value  to  the  manufacturer.  This  breed,  however,  is  on 
the  decline,  and  seldom  kept,  unless  where  the  folding 
system  is  retained,  being  supplanted  by  the  Leicesters 
and  Southdowns,  both  quicker  feeding  animals,  and  the 
latter  yielding  wool  of  a  quality  not  much  inferior  to 
what  is  imported  from  Spain. 

To  treat  of  the  several  kinds  now  mentioned,  would 
lead  us  into  a  field  of  greater  extent  than  circumstances 
will  permit;  our  illustration,  therefore,  shall  be  restrict- 
ed to  the  Southdown,  Old  and  New  Leicester,  Cheviot, 
and  Heath  breeds ;  these  being,  in  fact,  the  kinds  chiefly 
reared  and  fed ;  though  even  of  these  there  are  many 
varieties,  according  to  the  mixture  of  blood  communi- 
cated by  crossing  with  different  tups. 

On  the  Southdown  Shtep. 

This  breed  have  gray  faces  and  legs,  fine  bones,  and 
long  small  necks ;  are  low  before,  and  light  in  the  fore 
quarter.  Their  flesh  is  fine  in  the  grain,  and  of  an  ex- 
cellent flavour.  The  defect  of  this  kind  arises  from 
their  standing  higher  behind  than  before,  whereby  the 
hind  quarters  are  heaviest;  which  defect  might  cer- 
tainly be  remedied  by  the  use  of  fine  woolled  tups,  suit- 
ably pro|M>rtioned.  At  this  time  the  Southdown  sheep 
are  getting  into  fashion,  being  a  quick-feeding  breed ; 
the  wethers  are  capable  of  being  disposed  of  at  an  early 
age,  being  seldom  kept  longer  than  two  years,  and  of- 
ten sold  fat  when  only  eighteen  months  old.  Prom  trials 
made  in  Norfolk,  they  are  reported  to  stand  the  fatigues 
of  lolding  equally  well  with  the  old  breed  of  that  coun- 
ty, whicb,  as  already  said,  is  going  out  of  repute. 


On  the  Old  Leicester,  or  Lincolnshire  Sheep. 

The  Lincolnshire  sheep,  for  distinction's  sake  called 
the  Old  Leicesters,  because  the  Disldey,  or  improved 
breed  selected  from  them,  are  generally  denominated 
New  Leicesters,  have  white  faces,  long,  thin,  and  weak 
carcasses,  and  no  horns;  they  have  thick,  rough,  white 
legs,  large  bones,  thick  pelts,  and  long  wool,  measuring 
from  ten  to  eighteen  inches,  and  weighing  from  eight 
to  fourteen  pounds  per  fleece.  This  kind  are  naturally 
dull  feeders;  and,  even  when  fat,  the  carcass  is  coarse 
grained,  and  of  inferior  value.  The  great  quantity  of 
wool  clipped  from  this  breed  has,  however,  kept  it  long- 
er in  reputation  than  otherwise  might  have  been  ex- 
pected ;  though  it  is  only  in  such  a  county  as  Lincoln, 
where  innumerable  grass  fields  of  the  richest  quality 
are  every  Avhere  to  be  found,  that  sheep  of  this  kind  can 
be  fattened.  After  this  character,  it  will  appear  sur- 
prising that  Mr.  Bakewell  resorted  to  this  very  county 
for  selecting  the  tups  and  ewes  from  which  his  improv- 
ed breed  were  raised.  Strange  as  this  may  appear,  it 
is  not  the  less  true  on  that  account ;  for  the  Lincolnshire 
breeders,  being  led  astray  by  long  wool  and  big  bones, 
suflered  themselves  to  be  deprived  of  their  most  valua- 
ble sheep  before  they  were  sufficiently  sensible  of  their 
value.  The  prejudices  which  long  prevailed  against  the 
new  breed  being  now,  however,  greatly  removed,  the 
ancient  stock  is  fast  wearing  out,  whilst  its  place  is  sup- 
plied by  quicker-feeding  animals,  to  the  great  advan- 
tage of  the  owners,  and  to  the  benefit  of  the  public. 
Lincolnshire  is  naturaUy  a  most  valuable  grazing  dis- 
trict; therefore,  in  every  point  of  view,  it  is  a  matter 
of  serious  consideration,  that  the  natural  advantages 
which  it  offers  should  not  be  misapplied  by  improper 
management. 

On  the  Ifetv  Leicester  Sheep. 

This  valuable  breed  claims  our  particular  attention, 
being  the  easiest  fed,  and  brought  sooner  to  perfection 
than  any  other  in  the  island.  It  was  originally  selected 
by  Mr.  Bakewell,  from  the  best  of  the  old  Lincolnshire 
stocks;  and,  being  crossed  and  recrossed,  till  something 
like  perfection  as  to  shape,  size,  and  disposition  for 
feeding  cleverly,  was  attained,  a  new  breed  was  thus 
formed,  capable  of  giving  the  greatest  return  to  the 
feeder  and  breeder,  and  consequently  of  the  greatest 
benefit  to  the  public. 

The  new  Leicester,  or  Dishley  breed',  are  spread  so 
extensively  over  the  whole  island,  and  their  properties 
are  so  well  known,  that  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  say 
one  word  on  their  merits,  or  to  insist  on  the  benefit 
which  the  public  would  derive,  were  this  breed  brought 
into  general  use  in  all  the  lower  districts,  where  tur- 
nips can  be  raised  for  their  wiuter  and  spring  consump- 
tion, and  good  grass  for  their  summer  pasture.  AVe 
are  almost  certain,  that  no  breed  whatever  will  make  a 
greater  return  to  the  farmer  for  the  ineat  that  is  coiv- 
sumed;  and  this  we  consider  to  be  the  true  criterion 
which  ought  to  influence  the  actual  cultivator.  If  this 
breed,  at  two  years  of  age,  is  e<iual  in  value  to  other 
breeds  at  three  years  of  age,  the  keep  being  alike,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  respecting  its  superior  advantages. 
On  these  matters  hardly  any  doubt  can  be  entertained, 
as  they  have  been  repeatedly  ascertained  by  the  cx|>e- 
riments  of  practitioners.  We  do  not  mean  to  say,  that 
the  luuttoa  will  be  equally  delicious  to  the  palate  of 


AGRICULl^URE. 


315 


Uie  epicure  as  that  of  tlie  slower  feeding  breeds,  which 
is  altogether  a  diiierent  question  :  all  that  is  meant  is, 
that  a  given  quantity  of  grass  will  make  a  greater  re- 
turn to  the  occupier  when  depastured  with  the  new  Lei- 
cester sheep,  than  with  any  other  of  the  varieties  with 
which  we  are  acquainted.  This  is  the  true  criterion  for 
the  farmer,  the  taste  of  the  consumer  being  with  him 
only  an  object  of  secondary  consideration. 

On  the  Cheviot  Sheep. 

This  is  a  valuable  breed,  carrying  on  their  baclis  wool 
of  fine  quality,  which  always  bears  a  high  price  in  the 
market,  and  therefore  lornis  an  object  of  great  impor- 
tance to  the  breeder.  Perhaps  a  small  mixture  of  the 
Uishley  blood  with  the  original  Cheviot  sheep  is  of 
material  advantage  to  that  breed,  not  in  respect  of  wool, 
which  certainly  is  not  meliorated,  but  merely  because 
the  size,  shape,  and  disposition  of  the  animal,  would 
thus  be  greatly  improved.  The  Cheviot  sheep  have  a 
great  affinity  with  the  Southdown  breed ;  and  we  are 
much  inclined  to  think  that  both  originally  descended 
from  the  same  parents.  By  covering  them  with  a  Dish- 
ley  tup,  the  deficiency  in  the  fore-quarters  of  each  would 
be  amended,  though  we  do  not  say  that  the  quality  of 
the  wool  would  be  improved.  The  farmer,  in  managing 
this  breed,  must  therefore  be  guided  by  the  relative 
advantages  of  wool  and  carcass.  If  the  first  prepon- 
derates, then  no  cross  should  be  resorted  to  which  would 
lessen  the  value  of  the  fleece  ;  and  if  the  other,  then 
the  shape,  size,  and  disposition  of  the  carcass  to  fatten, 
will  necessarily  claim  a  priority  of  attention.  In.  the 
present  state  of  British  markets,  meat  is  an  object  of 
greater  consideration  than  wool ;  every  farmer's  atten- 
tion ought,  therefore,  to  be  directed  more  to  the  im- 
provement of  carcass  than  to  the  fleece  with  which  it 
is  covered. 

On  the  Heath,  or  Mountain  Sheep. 

This  is  a  hardy  breed,  having  spiral  horns,  black 
faces,  black  legs,  wild-looking  eyes,  and  short  firm  car- 
casses. T'he  sheep  of  this  breed  are  covered  with  coarse 
shaggy  ■wool, and  are  exceetlingly  active,and  well  adapt- 
ed to  the  mountainous  districts  in  which  they  are  reared. 
They  are  seldom  fed  till  three  years  of  age,  generally 
when  they  are  four,  but  sometimes  kept  till  they  are 
five,  at  which  time  they  feed  well,  and  afford  mutton  of 
the  richest  flavour.  This  hardy  tribe  is  first  met  with 
in  the  north-west  of  Yorkshire,  and  are,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, in  possession  of  the  hills  in  the  northern  parts  of 
Scotland.  Perhaps  there  may  be  different  varieties  of 
thisbreed,  particularly  in  Galloway  and  Ayrshire, owing 
to  crosses  with  the  Cheviot  sheep ;  but  none  are  better 
calculated  to  thrive  in  the  mountain  districts  than  the 
original  heath  sheep;  because  none  are  so  constitu- 
tionally disposed  to  encounter  the  hardships  which 
must  be  undergone  in  such  situations.  Their  wool  is 
certainly  of  small  value,  but  might  be  improved  by 
crosses  with  other  breeds  ;  though  there  is  a  considera- 
ble danger  that  what  was  gained  on  the  fleece  might  be 
lost  upon  the  carcass. 

Having  now  detailed  the  properties  of  the  chief  breeds 
of  sheep  kept  in  the  island,  it  remains  to  notice  the 
management  exercised  with  these  animals,  whether 
considered  as  breeders  or  feeders.  The  object  is,  in 
every  case,  to  prepare  them  for  the  butcher ;  though 


this  object  is  obtained  in  various  ways,  and  at  very 
different  periods. 

In  the  upland,  or  breeding  districts,  sheep  are  dispos- 
ed of  at  various  ages,  and  for  various  purposes.  A 
draught  of  ewes  is  annually  made  for  the  lowland  feed- 
ers, who,  after  taking  a  lamb  and  selling  it  to  the 
butcher,  feed  the  dams,  and  disposes  of  them  in  like 
manner.  A  draught  of  wether  sheep  is  also  annnaliy 
made  to  the  lowland  farmers,  and  these  are  fed  either 
upon  grass  or  turnips,  according  to  the  season  in  which 
they  are  purchased.  It  is  generally  believed,  that  ewes 
and  lambs  are  the  most  profitable  stock  in  the  lowland 
districts,  because  the  profits  of  feeder  and  breeder  are 
thus  combined.  This  branch  of  stock  is  usually  pur- 
chased at  the  end  of  autumn,  wintered  on  the  stubliles 
and  aftermath,  and  receives  a  few  turnips  in  the  spring 
previously  to  the  period  of  lambing.  Afterwards,  the 
ewe  and  lamb  are  fed  upon  early  grass ;  and  often  in  this 
way  both  are  ready  for  the  butcher  at  the  same  time; 
though,  in  general  cases,  a  month  or  two  more  is  re- 
quired to  prepare  the  dam  for  market  after  the  lamb  is 
removed.  In  this  case  the  fleece  is  obtained,  which,  if 
the  breed  is  of  a  suitable  kind,  is  an  important  matter 
to  the  farmer.  Lambs  in  this  way  are  prepared  for  the 
market  from  Candlemas  to  Lammas ;  though  it  may  be 
remarked,  that  those  sold  about  the  term  of  Whitsun- 
day generally  yield  more  profit  than  what  is  gained  at 
an  earlier  period.  The  price  per  pound  weight  is  then 
certainly  reduced ;  but  taking  it  according  to  carcass 
weight,  and  the  expense  of  feeding,  the  profit  will  be 
found  of  equal  advantage  to  the  feeder  as  if  the  animal 
had  been  marketed  earlier  in  the  season. 

Wether  sheep  are  partly  fed  upon  grass,  but  more 
generally  upon  turnips.  The  new  Leicesters  are  oft«n 
fed  in  this  way  when  only  eighteen  months  old,  seldom 
when  they  exceed  thirty  months ;  but  the  upland  breed 
of  sheep  are  genera'.ly  lour  years  of  age  before  they  are 
considered  fit  for  turnip  feeding.  Much  depends,  how- 
ever, upon  the  manner  in  which  each  of  the  several 
varieties  have  been  guided  in  the  early  stages  of  growth, 
as  their  progress  to  maturity  may  be  hastened  or  re- 
tarded by  the  quality  of  the  food  then  bestowed  upon 
them.  With  sheep  the  feeding  in  early  years  has  more 
effect  than  with  any  other  kind  of  animals. 

Sect.  IV. 

On  Swine. 

This  species  of  live  stock  may  be  regarded  as  of  con- 
siderable importance  to  farmers,  consuming  the  oflal  of 
corn,  and  searching  the  dung-hills  for  every  kind  of 
substance  which  may  therein  be  gathered.  To  swine 
the  refuse  of  the  fields  and  the  scullery  is  a  feast,  and 
their  stomachs  are  a  receptacle  for  many  substances 
which  every  other  animal  would  reject. 

Many  varieties  of  this  animal  prevail  in  the  island, 
but  without  discussing  them,  it  may  be  observed,  in 
general,  that  the  small  breeds  are  most  beneficial  to  the 
farmer,  because,  such  may  be  fed  upon  ordinary  ma- 
terials without  putting  him  to  any  extraordinary  expense 
to  prepare  them  for  market.  In  fact,  swine  are  the 
only  variety  of  granivorous  animals  that  can  be  fed  upon 
the  olfal  of  grain,  or  such  articles  as  would  otherwise 
go  to  waste  about  a  farm  steading.  Since  the  erection 
of  thrashing  maclii-.n^s.  p.  much  greater  quantity  of  light 
grain  is  beat  from  tue  strew  than  was  gained  when  the 
Rr2 


316 


AGRICULTURE. 


Sail  was  employed.  To  use  this  extra  quantity  to  ad- 
vantage becomes  an  important  concern  to  the  occupiers 
of  laud ;  and  the  using  of  it  in  raising  and  supj.orting 
Ewine  is  by  far  the  most  prolitable  mode  of  consuming 
an  article  wliich,  in  other  respects,  is  comparatively 
of  little  value. 

Ifpon  a  tillage  farm  consisting  of  300  acres,  whereof 
200  are  kept  under  the  plough,  it  may  he  reckoned 
that  a  sum  not  less  than  100/.  sterling  may  be  annually 
gained  from  keeping  swine,  were  the  management  ar- 
ranged in  a  systematic  njanntr.  One  main  advantage 
of  such  a  branch  of  rural  economy  arises  from  little  or 
no  capital  being  required  to  carry  it  on,  while  the  trou- 
ble and  outlay  attending  it  scarcely  deserve  notice.  With 
the  addition  of  one  acre  of  broad  clover,  and  one  acre  of 
tares,  lor  the  summer  and  autumn  months,  and  the  like 
extent  ol  ground  for  turnips  and  yams  during  the  win- 
ter and  spring  months,  the  whole  not  exceeding  20/.  in 
Talue,  the  stock  of  swine  that  we  are  to  recommend  may 
be  amply  supported. 

Were  two  breeding  sows  kept  on  a  farm  of  the  size 
mentioned,  and  their  produce  reared  by  the  farmer,  it 
may  be  calculated,  that  40  swine  would  be  annually  fed 
oft",  the  value  of  which,  in  the  months  of  January  and 
February  each  year,  the  time  when  pork  is  much  in  de- 
mand, would  be  50a'.  each,  even  granting  that  the  price 
of  pork  was  much  lower  than  at  present,  the  total 
amount  being  equal  to  the  sum  already  mentioned.  That 
such  a  number  of  swine  can  be  supported  and  fed  upon 
the  otlals  of  a  300  acre  farm,  and  the  other  auxiliary  ar- 
ticles specified,  may  be  pronounced  a  certain  fact.  We 
have  tried  it,  though  rather  upon  a  smaller  scale,  and 
the  profit  gaine<l  has  been  fully  more  than  is  here  stat- 
ed. Where  such  a  system  of  management  is  pursued, 
we  decidedly  recommend  the  small  breed  of  swine,  be- 
cause they  will  feed  in  a  shorter  period,  and  thrive  upon 
articles  that  would  starve  the  larger  sized  animals. 
When  speaking  of  a  small  breed,  we  do  not  mean  those 
that  pass  by  the  name  of  Chinese  or  pot-bellied  swine. 
The  kind  in  view  is  swine  that  will  feed  upon  common 
fare  to  7  or  8  stones  Amsterdam,  when  11  or  12  months 
old,  or  to  9  or  10  stone  when  put  up  in  the  house  to  re- 
ceive better  fare.  We  are  sorry  that  this  breed  cannot 
be  classified,  but  it  is  by  far  the  best  for  going  on  a  far- 
mer's dunghill,  and  will  thrive  where  fiuer  and  larger 
breeds  would  be  stunted  and  starved. 

The  mode  of  management  which  we  recommend  is, 
that  a  boar  and  two  good  sows  of  a  proper  age  should 
constantly  be  kept,  and  that  one  young  sow  shall  annual- 
ly be  reared,  in  order  to  supply  the  others  when  they  pass 
maturity.  We  would  cast  olf  the  oldest  sows,  i.  e.  feed 
them  when  they  arrive  at  3  years  of  age,  which  of  course 
would  cause  four  sows  to  be  in  hand  at  one  time.  These 
annually  would  produce  more  than  40  pigs,  which  are  to 
be  held  on ;  but  the  remainder  might  be  sold  as  they 
are  weaned,  there  being  a  regular  and  steady  demand 
in  the  country  for  young  pigs. 

It  is  obvious  that,  at  the  present  rate  of  markets,  40 
swine,  weighing  7  or  8  stone  each,  are  worth  more 
money  than  here  stated ;  but,  even  upon  the  supposition 
that  markets  may  fall  considerably,  the  net  profit  will 
still  be  as  much  as  is  described.  We  apprehend  that 
people  would  be  readier  to  admit  the  truth  of  this  part 
of  the  statement,  than  that  such  a  number  can  be  sup- 
ported at  so  little  expense ;  but  this  point  can  only  be 
Mitisfactorily  elucidated  by  an  appeal  to  experience. 

We  have,  for  a  number  of  years,  kept  a  stock  of  swine 


in  the  way  now  recommended.  They  go  at  large  in  the 
court  or  yard  I  ( 'or.g'ing  to  the  farm,  and  receive  a 
feeding  of  oflal  grain  in  the  morning,  and  of  yams  or 
turnips  in  the  evening;  and  the  meat  fed  in  this  way 
has  constantly  drawn  the  highest  price.  They  get  also 
the  dish-washings  of  the  house,  any  milk  or  whey  that 
remains  unconsumed,  and  have  the  dunghill  to  roam 
upon,  where  perhaps  more  food  is  to  fe  gathered,  es- 
pecially if  the  horses  are  led  on  unbroken  grain,  than 
commonly  imagined. 

It  will  readily  be  conceived,  that  under  this  mode  of 
management,  tlie  latter  end  of  summer  and  the  harvest 
months  is  the  critical  period  for  carrying  on  a  stock  of 
swine.  During  these  months  little  thrashing  goes  for- 
ward, and  horses  seldom  receive  any  corn  for  aliment; 
hence,  all  that  can  be  consistently  attempted  is  to  keep 
the  animals  in  a  growing  state,  and  prepare  them  for  fat- 
tening cleverly,  when  food  of  a  more  nutritious  quality 
can  be  procured.  Clover  and  tares  will  do  this  effectu- 
ally, the  last  particularly  so  Avhen  in  a  podded  state. 
Turnips  can  also  be  got  by  the  end  of  September ;  and 
it  must  be  recollected,  that  through  the  summer  months 
a  considerable  quantity  of  milk  and  whey  can  be  given 
U|)on  which  swine  will  be  found  to  thrive  heartily. 

That  swine  can  be  supported  upon  clover  during  sum- 
mer is  not  a  new  doctrine.  The  practice  has  long  pre- 
vailed in  England,  and  ought  to  be  adopted  extensively 
in  this  country.  We  once  enclosed  a  small  part  of  a 
field  with  boards,  into  which  swine  stock  was  i)ut,  taking 
care  to  put  a  ring  into  tlieir  nose  beforehand,  so  that 
they  might  not  injure  the  ground,  and  they  throve  very 
well. 

In  short,  a  more  beneficial  stock  cannot  be  kept  upoa 
a  farm  than  swine,  so  long  as  the  quantity  kept  is  in  pro- 
portion to  Ihe  extent  of  otfals  about  the  premises.  The 
other  articles  recommended  are  merely  meant  to  render 
the  consumption  of  offals  more  beneficial,  or  to  carry  on 
the  stock  at  periods  when  such  offals  are  scarce.  The 
charge  of  attendance  is  very  small ;  indeed  the  benefit 
gained  by  the  dunghill  will  more  than  compensate  the 
expenses  incurred.  To  make  as  much  profit  from  cattle 
or  sheep  as  is  mentioned,  requires  a  great  advance  of 
money  ;  but  in  the  article  of  swine  hardly  any  is  neces- 
sary, while  the  most  part  of  the  articles  consumed  can- 
not, in  any  other  way,  he  converted  to  such  beneficial 
purposes. 

Like  other  writers,  we  might  have  treated  of  rabbits, 
poultry,  pigeons,  bees,  and  other  minor  branches  of  live 
stock ;  but  considering  that  none  of  them  are  objects  of 
much  advantage  to  the  farmer,  nay,  rather  that  almost  all 
of  them  are  attended  with  positive  loss,  we  shall  not  say 
a  word  about  them.  It  is  more  important  to  remark, 
that  the  attention  lately  paid  to  the  useful  animals  ia 
highly  creditable  to  the  British  farmer,  and,  in  particu- 
lar, that  the  utmost  gratitude  of  the  public  is  due  to 
Messrs.  Bakewell,  Culley,  and  other  agriculturists,  who 
have  brought  the  horses,  neat  cattle,  and  sheep,  of  this 
island,  to  a  pitch  of  improvement  not  to  be  equalled,  far 
less  surpassed,  by  that  of  other  countries.  These  gentle- 
men have  benefited  themselves,  as  was  justly  their  due, 
by  such  meritorious  exertions  ;  but,  in  ancient  Rome, 
they  would  have  received  rewards  of  a  different  kind^ 
when  in  life,  their  heads  would  have  been  crowned  with 
laurels;  and,  after  their  death,  statues  would  have 
been  erected  to  their  memories.  In  Britain,  however, 
the  possession  of  merit  is  generally  the  sole  reward  of 
ttie  owner j  though  we  sUtc  with  pleasure,  that  are- 


AGRICULTURE. 


an 


ward  of  a  different  kind  has  not  only  been  deserved,  but 
also,  ill  some  resi>ect,  obtained,  l)y  the  gentlemen 
wlio  h:ive  improved  tlie  live  stock  of  Britain  so  much 
above  that  of  every  other  country  in  the  world. 

Sect.  V. 

On  the  use  of  Oxen  and  Horses  in  Rural  Labour. 

Before  closing  this  Chapter,  it  is  proper  to  say  a  few 
words  on  a  subject  much  agitated ;  namely,  whether 
oxen  or  horses  are  the  most  profitable  animals  for 
executing  rural  labour;  in  other  words,  which  of  these 
varieties  of  live  stock  are  best  calculated  for  that  work, 
and  to  promote  the  public  interest.  On  these  points, 
very  different,0])inions  have  been  entertained,  though,  ac- 
cording to  our  views,  the  real  merits  of  the  subject  lie 
in  a  very  narrow  compass. 

During  the  rude  state  in  which  husbandry  long  re- 
mained in  this  island,  oxen  were  generally  employed  as 
beasts  of  labour ;  but  progressively  were  laid  aside,  and 
horses  used  in  their  room,  almost  in  direct  proportion  as 
improvements  were  introduced.  This  is  a  fact  which 
ought  to  go  a  great  length  in  determining  the  question, 
whether  oxen  or  horses  are  the  most  useful  animals  for 
carrying  on  farm  labour;  because  mankind  are  generally 
pretty  sharp-sighted  in  every  matter  which  affects  their 
interest,  and  seldom  lay  aside  an  established  practice, 
unless  the  one  to  be  substituted  is  completely  ascertained 
to  be  more  profitable  ami  advantageous.  Independently 
of  this  fact,  which  is  incontrovertible,  practical  agricul- 
turists are  fully  sensible,  that  the  operations  of  plough- 
ing and  carting  are  more  ex(»editiously  performed  with 
horses  than  with  oxen;  and  this  of  itself,  in  such  a  va- 
riable climate  as  that  of  Great  Britain,  merits  serious 
consideration.  When  despatch  is  to  be  used  in  tiuishing 
a  field,  or  carting  home  corn  in  harvest,  horses  may  be 
pushed  at  a  good  step,  without  doing  them  much  injury ; 
but  oxen,  at  least  those  of  Great  Britain,  are  unable 
to  undergo  such  a  measure  of  fatigue.  They  must  be 
worked  at  a  regular  step ;  for,  if  pushed  beyond  it,  they 
will  be  completely  disabled.  On  these  accounts,  we 
have  always  considered  horses  as  the  most  suitable 
animals  for  farm-labour,  especially  since'farms  were  en- 
larged, and  work  regulariy  executed.  In  small  farms, 
where  circumstances  are  different,  where  the  plough- 
man is  employed  in  every  thing,  in  the  field  to-day  and 
in  the  barn  to-morrow,  oxen  may  be  employed  with  ad- 
vantage ;  because  such  an  irregular  system  of  working 
affords  that  rest  from  labour  which  the  animals  confess- 
edly require :  but  in  a  large  farm,  where  the  plough- 
man has  little  to  do  but  to  manage  his  team,  and  where 
nine  or  ten  hours'  labour  must  each  day  be  regulariy  per- 
formed, the  case  is  materially  altered.  Oxen  will  not 
suit  with  such  a  system  of  management,  nor  would  it  be 
possible  to  execute  the  same  work  as  is  done  by  a  pair 
of  horses,  without  keeping  three  pair  of  oxen  in  their 
stead.  Two  pair  are  necessary  at  all  events,  so  thatthey 
may  get  sufficient  rest,  and  the  other  pair  would  be 
necessary  to  make  up  the  deficiency  of  labour  occasioned 
by  their  slow  motion. 

Most  ol  these  positions  will  be  admitted  by  the  sup- 
porters of  oxen  ;  but,  under  the  admission,  they  contend, 
that  the  great  superiority  of  oxen  over  horses  consists 
in  the  difference  betwixt  their  keep  when  worked,  and 
the  difference  of  their  values  it  the  conclusion,  when 
they  are  unfit  for  work.    Oxep,  it  is  said,  can  be  worked 


without  corn  ;  whereas,  one-eighth  of  the  corn  produced 
is  consumed  upon  every  farm  where  horses  are  em- 
ployed. Again,  it  is  alleged  that  oxen  improve  under 
the  yoke,  and  at  the  age  of  six  or  seven  years,  are  fitter 
for  fattening  than  at  an  earlier  period;  whereas  horses 
gradually  decline,  and  at  last  are  worth  no  more  than 
can  be  got  for  their  skins.  We  have  stated  the  argu- 
ments fairly  in  support  of  oxen,  and  shall  now  ofifer  our 
opinion  with  as  much  brevity  as  [lossible. 

In  the  first  place,  two  horses  may  be  supported 
through  the  season  on  the  protluce  of  six  acres,  viz. 
three  acres  of  grass  and  hay,  and  the  corn  and  straw  of 
three  acres  of  oats;  whereas  six  oxen  will  require  four 
acres  of  grass,  at  least,  through  the  summer  months, 
with  six  acres  of  hay  and  two  acres  of  turnii)s  for  their 
winter  support,  amounting  in  all  to  twelve  acres,  leaving 
a  balance  of  six  acres  on  the  side  of  horses.  The  value 
of  these  six  acres  may  be  moderately  estimated  at 
thirty  pounds  per  annum,  which  certainly  gives  a  large 
sinking  fund  for  defraying  the  tear  and  wear  of  the 
horses.  Suppose  a  pair  of  horses  to  be  worth  one  hun- 
dred pounds,  the  tear  and  wear  of  them,  at  1 2-J-  per  cent., 
the  usual  allowance,  is  only  twelve  pounds  fen  shillings 
per  annum,  which  leaves  the  sum  of  seventeen  pounds 
ten  shillings  for  profit.  Perhaps  it  is  a  new  state  of 
the  case,  though  it  is  a  fair  one,  and  will  be  realized  in 
every  situation,  where  the  active  and  regular  ivork  is 
executed. 

In  the  second  place,  the  difference  of  value  betwixt 
oxen  and  horses,  at  the  end  of  their  labour,  does  not  in- 
validate what  we  have  stated  in  the  slightest  manner; 
because  we  have  shown,  that  the  horse  farmer  has  ti 
sinking  fund  in  his  hand,  out  of  which  a  total  loss  may  bo 
amply  supplied.  But  setting  accidents  aside,  (and  to 
these  the  ox  farmer  is  equally  liable  with  the  other,)  a 
total  loss  will  rarely  be  sustained  by  a  judicious  farmer  ; 
because,  when  he  finds  a  horse  failing,  he  will  send  him 
to  market  immediately,  there  being  always  a  great  de ; 
mand  for  half-wrought  horses  to  supply  carriers,  higlers, 
and  common  carters,  from  whom  full  value  may  be  ob- 
tained. If  we  suppose  three-fourths  of  the  original  pur- 
chase money  to  be  lost  in  general  cases ;  that  is,  when 
horses  are  seasonably  cast,  we  shall  not  be  wide  of  the 
mark ;  l)ut  in  a  comparative  view,  between  oxen  and 
horses,  this  loss  is  am[)ly  compensated  by  the  difference 
of  keep,  when  the  animals  are  employed,  which  we  have 
in  no  shape  exaggerated. 

Ujjon  the  whole,  it  would  seem  that  oxen,  in  the 
natural  course  of  things,  ought  to  be  fattened  for  the 
butcher  as  early  as  possible ;  and  that  horses  are  the 
most  useful  and  the  cheapest  animals  for  performing 
farm-labour.  Were  oxen  to  be  universally  employed,  it 
is  plain,  the  produce  of  the  earth  would,  in  a  great 
measure,  be  consumed  by  the  animals  kept  to  work  it, 
whilst  mankind  would  suffer  materially  by  adopting  a 
system  erroneously  recommended  by  some  well  design- 
ing men,  as  eminently  conducive  to  their  comfort  and 
happiness. 

CHAP.  XI. 

On  Dkatnage  and  Irrigation. 

The  objects  of  this  Chapter  may,  at  first  sight,  ap- 
pear to  be  at  variance ;  as  by  the  one,  superfluous  mois- 
ture is  meant  to  be  removed;  whereas,  by  the  other, 
water  is  artificially  thrown  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth. 


ai8 


AGRICULTURE. 


and,  of  course,  a  proportion  thereof  received  into  its 
bowels.  Tlie  utility  of  the  operations  to  be  treated 
of  will,  liowever,  remove  the  apparent  incongruity,  lioth 
being  useful,  though  in  different  places  and  situatio)is, 
and  ensuring  important  advantages  to  the  husbandman. 

Sect.  I. 

On  Draining. 

Few  improvements  are  attended  with  more  salutary 
effects,  than  those  accomplished  by  the  removal  of  su- 
perfluous moisture  from  arable  land ;  because,  when 
such  moisture  is  sufi'ered  to  remain,  ploughing  can  only 
be  imperfectly  performed,  whilst  the  benefit  of  manure 
is  in  a  great  measure  lost.  To  carry  otf  superfluous 
water  is,  therefore,  an  important  object  in  the  sight  of 
every  good  farmer,  meriting  at  all  times  his  most  assi- 
duous attention. 

Without  stopping  to  make  any  inquiry  concerning  the 
nature  and  inclination  of  the  various  strata  which  com- 
pose the  interior  parts  of  the  earth,  and  which  serve  to 
direct  or  impede  the  passage  of  water  accumulated,  or 
deposited  within  its  bowels ;  it  will  be  sufficient  to  state 
the  most  approved  modes  of  carrying  off  that  water  in 
an  artificial  manner,  and  thus  freeing  the  part  affected 
tff  the  evils  resulting  to  the  surface  from  these  internal 
stores. 

Wherever  a  hurst  of  water  appears  in  any  particular 
spot,  the  sure  and  certain  way  of  getting  quit  of  such  an 
evil  is  to  dig  liollow  drains,  to  such  a  depth  below  tlie 
surface  as  is  required  by  the  fall  or  level  that  can  be 
gained,  and  by  the  quantity  of  water  expected  to  pro- 
ceed from  the  burst  or  spring.  Having  ascertained  the 
extent  of  water  to  be  carried  off",  taken  the  necessary 
levels,  and  cleared  a  mouth,  or  leading  passage  for  the 
water,  begin  the  drain  at  the  extremity  next  to  that  lead- 
er, and  go  on  with  the  work  till  the  top  of  the  spring  is 
touched,  which  probably  will  accomplish  the  intended 
object.  But  if  it  should  not  be  completely  accomplish- 
ed, run  off  from  the  main  drain  with  such  a  number  of 
branches  as  may  be  required  to  intercept  the  water,  and 
in  this  way,  disappointment  will  hardly  be  experienced. 
Drains,  to  be  substantially  useful,  should  seldom  be  less 
than  three  feet  in  depth,  20  or  24  inches  thereof  to  be 
close  packed  with  stones  or  wood,  according  to  circum- 
stances. The  former  are  the  best  materials,  but  in  many 
places  are  not  to  be  got  in  sufficient  quantities;  re- 
course therefore  must  often  be  made  to  the  latter,  though 
not  so  effectual  or  durable. 

It  is  of  vast  importance  to  fill  up  drains  as  fast  as  they 
are  dug  out ;  because,  if  left  open  for  any  length  of  time, 
the  earth  is  not  only  apt  to  fall  in,  but  the  sides  get  into 
s.  broken  irregular  state,  which  cannot  afterwards  be 
completely  rectified.  It  also  deserves  attention,  that  a 
jiroper  covering  of  straw  or  sod  should  be  put  upon  the 
top  of  the  materials,  to  keep  the  surface  earth  from  mix- 
ing with  them ;  and  where  wood  is  the  material  used 
for  filling  up,  a  double  degree  of  attention  is  necessary, 
otherwise  the  proposed  improvement  may  be  efTectually 
frustrated. 

The  pit  method  of  draining  is  a  very  effectual  one,  if 
executed  with  judgment.  When  it  is  sufficiently  as- 
certained where  the  bed  of  water  is  deposited,  which 
can  easily  Ite  done  by  boring  with  an  auger,  sink  a  pit 
into  the  place,  of  a  size  which  will  allow  a  man  freely 
tQ  work  within  its  Iwupds,  Dig  this  pit  of  such  a  dejith 


as  to  reach  the  bed  of  the  water  meant  to  be  carried 
off;  and  when  this  depth  is  attained,  which  is  easily  dis- 
cerned by  the  rising  of  the  water,  till  up  the  pit  with  big 
land-stones,  and  carry  off  the  water  by  a  stout  drain  to 
some  adjoining  ditch  or  mouth,  whence  it  may  proceed 
to  the  nearest  river.  We  have  tried  this  method  re- 
peatedly, and  were  never  disappointed.  Indetd,  if  the 
I)roper  spot  is  pitched  upon  for  putting  down  the  pit, 
the  object  must  be  attained ;  because  the  water  being 
there  stopped  or  impeded  by  a  close  substratum,  is  im- 
mediately set  at  liberty,  when  that  substratum  is  pierced 
and  cut  through.  But,  without  detailing  any  part  of  our 
own  experience  in  such  matters,  which,  of  course,  is  of 
a  limited  nature,  it  may  be  more  useful  to  give  a  general 
statement  of  the  way  in  which  drainage  is  executed  in 
the  different  districts  of  the  island. 

The  following  directions  are  given  by  T.  B.  Bayley, 
Esq.  of  Hope,  near  Manchester  : — First  make  the  main 
drains  down  the  slope  or  fall  of  the  field.  When  the 
land  is  very  wet,  or  has  not  much  fall,  there  should  in 
general  he  two  of  these  to  a  statute  acre ;  for  the  shorter 
the  narrow  drains  are,  the  less  liable  they  will  be  to 
accidents.  The  width  of  the  trench  for  the  main  drains 
should  be  30  inches  at  top,  but  the  width  at  the  Ijottom 
must  be  regulated  by  the  nature  and  size  of  the  materi- 
als intended  to  be  used.  If  the  drain  is  to  be  made  of 
bricks  10  inches  long,  3  inches  thick,  and  4  inches  in 
breadth,  then  the  l)ottom  of  the  drain  must  be  12  inches; 
but  if  the  common  sale  bricks  are  used,  then  the  bottom 
must  be  proportionably  contracted.  In  both  cases  there 
must  be  an  interstice  of  one  inch  between  the  bottom 
brick  and  the  sides  of  the  trench,  and  the  vacuity  must 
be  filled  up  with  straw,  rushes,  or  loose  mould.  For  the 
purpose  of  making  these  drains,  the  bricks  should  be 
moulded  10  inches  long,  4  broad,  and  3  thick;  which 
dimensions  always  mcike  the  best  drain. 

The  method  which  this  gentleman  pursues  in  con- 
structing his  main  drains  is  stated  by  him  to  be  the  fol- 
lowing:  When  the  ground  is  soft  and  spongy,  the  bot- 
tom of  the  drain  is  laid  with  bricks  placed  across.  On 
these,  on  each  side,  two  bricks  are  laid  flat,  one  upon 
the  other,  forming  a  drain  six  inches  high,  and  four 
broad,  which  is  covered  with  bricks  laid  flat. — Wlien 
the  bottom  of  the  trench  is  found  to  be  a  firm  and  solid 
body,  such  as  clay  or  marl,  he  formerly  thought  that 
it  might  not  be  necessary  to  lay  the  bottom  with  brick; 
but  in  this  he  has  candidly  acknowledged  that  he  was 
quite  wrong.  By  the  runs  of  water,  the  alternate  changes 
from  wet  to  dry,  and  the  access  of  air,  these  hard  bot- 
toms were  rendered  friable,  crumbled  away,  and  allowed 
the  drains  to  fall  in  and  to  choke  up,  that  were  not  sup- 
ported by  a  bottom  laid  with  brick  or  stone.  When 
stones  are  used  instead  of  bricks,  Mr.  Bayley  thinks  that 
the  bottom  of  the  drain  should  be  about  eight  inches 
in  width ;  and  in  all  cases  the  bottom  of  main  drains 
ought  to  be  sunk  four  inches  below  the  level  of  the  nar- 
row ones  whose  contents  they  receive,  even  at  the  point 
where  the  latter  fall  into  them. 

The  main  drains  should  be  kept  open  or  uncovered 
till  the  narrow  ones  are  begun  from  them,  after  which 
they  may  be  finished ;  but  before  the  earth  is  returned 
upon  the  stones  or  liricks,  it  is  adviseable  to  throw  in 
straw,  rushes,  or  brushwootl,  to  increase  the  freedom  of 
the  drain.  The  small  narrow  drains  should  be  cut  at  the 
distance  of  10  or  18  feet  from  each  other,  and  should 
fall  into  the  main  drain  at  very  acute  angles,  to  prevent 
any  stoppage.     At  the  point  wliere  they  fall  in,  and  8  or 


agriculture; 


3391 


10  inches  above  it,  they  should  be  made  firm  with  brick 
or  .-<tone.  Tliese  dniiiis  should  be  18  inches  wide  at  the 
toj.,  i.nd  16  at  bottom. 

A  mode  of  draiuing  clay  soils  wet  by  rain  or  surface 
water,  practised  by  the  late  Sir  Henry  Fletcher,  Bart, 
with  great  success,  seems  worthy  of  being  stated.  The 
up;  er  soil  is  of  good  quality;  but,  being  situated  in  a 
muuntHinous  part  of  the  country,  the  frequent  rains  kept 
it  fO  full  oi  water,  that  it  produced  only  a  coarse  grass, 
worth  3*.  per  acre.  The  inferior  soil  of  clay  was  of  great 
dei.lh.  Til*  mode  of  draining  which  has  been  practised 
upon  it  is  the  following : — On  grass  lands  he  digs  22 
inches,  or  2  feet  dee|);  the  first  spadeful  is  of  th^  turf, 
taken  so  deep,  as  where  it  separates  from  the  clay,  the 
turf  is  dug  carefully  out  and  preserved  unbroken  with 
its  grass  side  up,  and  laid  on  one  side  of  the  cut ;  then 
with  a  very  strong  spade,  18  inches  long,  6  inches  wide 
at  top,  and  2  at  the  bottom,  he  digs  a  spadeful  in  the 
clay,  which  the  men  spread  about  the  land,  on  the  side 
of  the  drain  oi)posite  to  where  the  turfs  were  laid,  as  far 
as  i>ossible  from  the  drain,  so  that  none  may  get  in 
again.  A  scoop  follows  to  clear  out  the  fragments  in 
the  bottom,  which  are  also  spread  in  like  manner.  They 
are  then  ready  for  filling;  and,  in  doing  this,  he  takes 
three  stones  of  a  thin  flat  form,  two  of  which  are  placed 
against  the  sides  of  the  drain,  meeting  at  bottom  ;  and 
the  third  caps  the  other  two.  Thus,  a  hollow  triangular 
space  is  left  to  convey  the  water,  which  is  subject  to  no 
accidents  that  can  fill  it  up,  or  impede  the  current. 
Stones  always  sink  deeper  in  the  ground ;  and  in  the 
common  method,  this  frequently  causes  stoppages,  by 
their  being  partly  buried  in  the  clay  ;  but  the  triangle, 
when  it  subsides,  does  it  regularly,  and  keeps  its  form 
and  the  passage  for  the  water  clear.  One  cart-load  of 
stones  in  this  way  will  do  a  considerable  length  of  drain. 
They  are  carefully  laid  down  by  the  side  of  the  cut,  with 
a  sho>  el  or  basket ;  and  if  there  are  any  small  refuse 
stones  left  on  the  ground  after  the  drain  is  set,  they  are 
thrown  in  al;ove.  The  stones  being  thus  fixed,  the  sods 
are  then  trimmed  to  the  shape  of  the  drain,  and  laid  on 
them  with  the  grass  side  downwards,  ami  none  of  the  clay 
used  in  filling  up. 

Not  only  stones  and  bricks,  but  also  wood  and  other 
materials  have  been  used  for  filling  drains.  Upon  this 
point,  Lord  Petre  expresses  himself  thus  :  "  The  drains 
filled  with  wood,  and  covered  as  usual  with  straw  or 
rushes,  are  ;, referable  to  stones  or  any  other  kind  of 
materials ;  for  as  the  wood  deca3's,  the  water  continues 
to  pass.  When  filled  with  stones,  and  the  drains  stopt 
up,  which  must  be  expected  to  take  place  in  time,  the 
earth  l.ecomes  quite  solid  rouiul  the  stones,  and  as  they 
do  not  decay,  the  filtering  of  the  water  is  for  ever  ob- 
structed. But  this  is  not  the  case  when  bushes  or 
wood  are  used ;  continual  filtering  and  draining  are  then 
for  ever  to  be  perceived ;  and,  I'y  repeating  the  0|)eration 
a  second  time,  cutting  the  drains  transversely  of  the  old 
ones,  the  benefit  of  the  filterings  through  the  rotten 
wood  is  secured,  and  the  s|)ewing  up  of  old,  broken,  and 
damaged  drains,  corrected  and  carried  oflT.  Besides,  as 
bushes  fojm  a  much  greater  number  of  cavities  than 
either  stones  or  poles,  they  are  less  liable  to  stop  up,  and 
encourage  filtering  more  than  large  and  more  solid  bo- 
dies. A  load  of  bushes  containing  120  faggots,  will  do 
about  360  rods;  and  a  load  of  straw  containing  120  bot- 
tles the  same ;  the  lo;id  of  bushes  is  generally  worth 
about  14g.  and  the  straw  18s.  per  load.    I  therefore 


calculate  this  expense  about  12s.  per  acre,  ditches  a  rod 
apart." 

Richard  Preston,  Esq.  ofBlackmore,  prefers,  on  twen- 
ty years  experience,  black  thorns  to  every  other  mate- 
rial for  fiUbig  drains.  Wood  is  sometimes  used  with 
this  view,  in  the  following  manner:  Two  billets  are 
placed  at  opposite  sides  of  the  drain,  and  each  is  made 
to  rest  upon  the  opposite  side  to  that  on  which  its 
lower  part  stands,  so  as  to  form  with  each  other  a  St. 
Andrew's  cross.  The  upper  part  of  the  cross  is  filled 
with  brushwood,  laid  longitudinally,  above  which  straw  is 
j)laced  cross-ways,  and  the  mould  is  thrown  in  over  all. 
This  kind  of  drain  is  said  to  have  continued  running  in 
Berwickshire  for  thirty  years ;  and  it  is  recommended 
by  the  author  of  the  Agricultural  Report  of  the  county 
of  Caermarthen,  in  Wales.  He  says,  "  The  completest 
method  I  have  yet  known,  is  to  cutthestrongestwillov.'s, 
or  other  aquatic  brushwood,  into  lengths  of  about  20 
inches,  and  place  them  alternately  in  the  drain,  with  one 
end  against  one  side  of  the  bottom,  and  the  other  lean- 
ing against  the  opposite  side.  Having  placed  the  strong, 
wood  in  this  manner,  I  fill  the  space  left  between  them, 
on  the  U[)per  side,  with  the  small  brushwood,  upou 
which  a  few  rushes  or  straw  being  laid,  as  before  men- 
tioned, the  work  is  done.  Willow,  alder,  asp,  or  beech 
boughs,  are  exceedingly  durable  if  put  into  the  drain 
green,  or  before  the  sap  is  dried  ;  but  if  they  are  suflfer- 
ed  to  become  dry,  and  then  laid  under  ground,  a  rapid 
decay  is  the  consequence.  I  have  seen  willow  taken  out 
of  a  bog,  after  lying  there  thirty  years,  and  its  bark  was 
as  fresh  and  sappy  as  if  it  had  been  recently  cut  from  the 
hedge;  and  it  is  well  kno\vu,  that  beech  laid  green  in 
the  water,  will  continue  sound  lor  any  length  of  time."' 

Another  method  of  using  wood  consists  of  fixing  at 
every  foot  distance  in  the  drain,  a  stick  in  the  form  of  a 
semicircular  arch,  and  of  laying  upon  these  longer 
branches  or  twigs  longitudinally.  Thus  is  a  curved  ca- 
vity, or  arch,  formed  beneath,  capable  of  supporting  any 
weight  of  earth.  For  this  purpose  young  wood  is  re- 
commended, and  in  particular,  the  prunings  of  larch. 

Instead  of  wood  or  stone,  in  many  places  it  has  of  late 
become  customary  to  fill  the  lowest  part  of  drains  with 
straw,  and  with  that  view  to  make  use  of  wheat-stubble 
as  the  cheapest.  On  this  subject,  Mr.  Vancouver,  in  bis 
Re|)ort  of  the  Essex  husbandry,  remarks,  that  when  the 
soil  is  a  very  close  and  retentive  clay,  the  drains  should 
be  made  proportionally  near  to  each  other,  shallow,  and 
filled  with  straw  only;  it  being  totally  unnecessary  to 
use  wood,  or  any  more  durable  material. upon  land  where 
the  sides  of  the  drains  are  not  likely  to  crum!)le  in.  He 
asserts,  that  drains  formed  in  this  manner  through  the 
tough  and  retentive  clays,  will  be  found  in  a  short  time 
after  the  \vork  is  finished,  to  form  over  the  straw,  tvith 
which  the  drain  was  filled,  an  arch  of  sutficient  strength 
to  support  the  incumbent  weight  of  the  soil,  and  the 
casual  traffic  of  the  field.  "  In  twelve  or  eighteen 
months,  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  straw  being  of  one 
uniform  substance,  is  all  rotted,  and  carried  away,  leav- 
ing a  clear  pipe  through  the  land  in  every  drain,  into 
which  the  passage  of  the  water  may  have  been  much 
facilitated,  by  a  due  attention  to  the  filling  of  the  drains 
with  the  most  friable  and  porous  parts  of  the  surface 
the  field  might  have  afforded." 

As  in  some  situations  it  is  an  object  of  great  imi>or- 
tance  to  save  the  expense  of  materi  j!s  commonly  used 
in  filling  drains,  a  variety  of  devices  have  with  that  view 


320 


AGRICULTURE. 


been  adoijtod.  Coe  of  these  is  of  the  following  nature  : 
A  drain  is  first  dug  to  tlie  necessary  depth,  narrow  at 
hottom.  Info  the  trench  is  laid  a  smooth  tree,  or  cylin- 
drical piece  of  wood,  12  feet  long,  6  inches  diameter  at 
(he  one  end,  and  5  at  the  other,  having  a  ring  fastened 
into  the  thickest  end.  After  strewing  a  little  sand  upon 
the  upper  side  of  the  tree,  the  clay,  or  toughest  part  of 
the  contents  of  the  trench,  is  first  thrown  iu  upon  it, 
and  after  that  the  remainder  of  the  earth  is  fully  trodden 
down.  By  means  of  a  rope  through  the  ring,  the  tree 
is  then  drawn  out  to  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  smaller 
or  binder  end;  and  the  same  operation  is  repeated  till 
the  whole  drain  is  complete.  Such  a  drain  is  said  to 
hare  conducted  a  small  run  of  water  a  considerable  way 
under  ground,  for  more  than  20  years,  without  any  sign 
of  failure. 

What  is  called  the  sod  or  pipe  drain,  consists  of  a 
trench  dug  to  a  proper  depth ;  after  which  a  last  spade- 
ful is  taken  out  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  a  narrow 
channel,  which  can  be  covered  by  a  sod  or  turf  dug  in 
grass  land,  and  laid  over  it,  the  grass  side  downwards. 
Buch  drains  are  said  to  continue  hollow,and  to  discharge 
well  for  a  great  number  of  years.  Mosses  are  said  to 
be  drained  in  Lancashire  nearly  in  the  same  manner,  by 
leaving  shoulders  about  a  foot  and  a  half  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  trench,  and  laying  across  these  pieces  of 
dried  peat  or  turf,  cut  into  lengths  of  1 6  inches,  and  8 
or  9  inches  in  breadth. 

In  Buckinghamshire,  in  grass  lands,  the  sod  drain  is 
thus  made:  When  the  line  of  drain  is  marked  out,  a 
sod  is  cut  in  the  form  of  a  wedge,  the  grass  side  being 
the  narrowest,  and  the  sods  being  from  12  to  18  inches 
in  length.  The  drain  is  then  cut  to  the  dejith  required, 
but  is  contracted  to  a  very  narrow  bottom.  The  sods 
are  then  set  in  with  the  grass  side  downwards,  and  press- 
ed as  far  as  they  will  go.  As  the  figure  of  the  drain 
does  not  suffer  them  to  go  to  the  bottom,  a  cavity  is  left 
which  serves  as  a  water  course ;  and  the  space  above  is 
filled  with  the  earth  thrown  out. 

Another  invention  for  draining  land  is  described  in 
the  Agricultural  Report  of  the  County  of  Essex.  It 
consists  of  a  draining  wheel  of  cast  iron,  that  weighs 
about  4  cwt.  It  is  4  feet  in  diameter,  the  cutting  edge 
or  extremity  of  the  circumference  of  the  wheel  is  half 
an  inch  thick,  and  it  increases  in  thickness  towards  the 
centre.  At  15  inches  deep  it  will  cut  a  drain  half  an 
inch  wide  at  the  bottom,  and  4  inches  wide  at  the  top. 
'I'he  wheel  is  so  placed  in  a  frame,  that  it  may  be  loaded 
at  pleasure,  and  made  to  operate  to  a  greater  or  less 
depth,  according  to  the  resistance  made  by  the  ground. 
It  is  used  in  winter  when  the  soil  is  soft ;  and  the  wheel 
tracks  are  either  immediately  filled  with  straw  ropes, 
and  lightly  covered  over  with  earth,  or  they  are  left  to 
crack  wider  and  deeper  till  the  ensuing  summer ;  after 
which  the  fissures  are  fille<l  with  ropes  of  straw  or  of 
twisted  twigs,  ami  lightly  covered  with  the  most  porous 
earth  that  is  at  hand.  Thus,  upon  grass  or  ley  lands, 
hollow  drains,  which  answer  extremely  well,  are  formed 
at  a  trifling  expense.  It  is  said  that  12  acres  may  be 
fully  gone  over  with  this  draining  wheel  iu  one  day,  so 
as  to  make  cuts  at  all  necessary  distances. 

On  sheep  pastures  a  still  simpler  mode  of  removing 
surface  water  is  practised  in  some  places.  Wherever  the 
water  is  apt  to  stagnate,  a  deep  furrow  is  turned  up  with 
a  stout  plough.  After  this,  a  man  with  a  spade  pares 
off  the  loose  soil  from  the  inverted  sod,  and  scatters  it 
orer  the  field,  or  casts  it  into  hollow  places.    The  sod 


thus  pared,  and  brought  to  the  thickness  of  about  three 
inches,  is  restored  to  its  original  situation,  with  the 
grassy  side  uppermost,  as  if  no  furrow  had  been  made. 
A  pipe  or  opening  is  thus  formed  beneath  it  two  or  three 
inches  deep  in  the  bottom  of  the  furrow,  which  is  suffi- 
cient to  discharge  a  considerable  quantity  of  surface 
water,  which  readily  sinks  into  it.  These  furrows,  in- 
deed, are  easily  chokedup  by  any  pressure,  or  by  the 
growth  of  the  roots  of  the  grass ;  but  they  are  also  easily 
restored,  and  no  surface  is  lost  by  means  of  them. 

With  regard  to  the  duration  of  hollow  drains,  or  the 
length  of  time  that  the  water  will  continue  to  flow  in 
them,  and  preserve  the  soil  in  a  proper  state  of  dryness, 
it  must  necessarily  depend,  in  a  great  degree,  upon  the 
nature  of  the  materials  with  which  they  "are  filled,  and 
the  care  that  has  been  taken  to  prevent  their  being 
choked  up  by  any  accession  of  soft  soil.  Independent 
of  this  last  circumstance,  a  drain  filled  with  stones,  like 
the  channel  which  supplies  a  natural  spring,  may  endure 
for  ever,  \^'ood,  with  which  many  drains  have  of  late 
years  been  filled,  perishes  at  certain  periods  according 
to  its  nature;  but  it  does  by  no  means  follow,  that  the 
drain  should  lose  its  effect  in  consequence  of  the  de- 
struction of  the  wood.  If  the  earth  over  it  form  itself 
into  an  arch,  the  water  will  still  continue  to  flow.  Ac- 
cordingly, drains  filled  with  bushes  and  straw  have  been 
known  to  run  well  after  forty  years. 

Though  many  of  the  above  methods  of  draining  are 
confessedly  of  a  superficial  nature,  and  only  calculated 
to  serve  for  a  short  period,  yet  a  proof  is  furnished 
from  them,  that  agriculturists  in  every  quarter  consider 
drainage  as  a  most  useful  and  necessary  measure.  Per- 
haps an  over-abundance  of  water  is  no  less  pernicious 
to  many  plants  than  the  total  want  of  it.  At  all  events, 
when  water  stagnates  upon  the  soil,  the  roots  of  plants 
will  be  rotted  and  destroyed.  Even  a  temporary  stagna- 
tion renders  land  unproductive ;  and  the  merits  of  every 
farmer  may  be  completely  ascertained,  by  the  degree  of 
attention  employed  to  prevent  such  an  evil. 

SucT.  II. 

On  Irrigation,  or  the  method  of  imp-oving  Land  by  flood' 
ing  it  with  Water. 

This  mo<1e  of  improving  land  was  practised  in  Eng- 
land so  early  as  the  days  of  queen  Elizabeth,  and  pro- 
bably was  brought  from  Italy,  where  it  had  long  been 
successfully  practised.  It  has  been  tried  in  Scotland  to 
a  considerable  extent,  on  the  estates  of  that  excellent 
nobleman,  the  duke  of  Buccleugh ;  and  though  the  im- 
provement made  in  consequence  has  not  been  so  great 
as  what  attended  similar  attempts  in  England,  yet  a 
benefit  has  been  derived  sufficiently  extensive,  not  only 
to  defray  the  expenses  incurred,  but  to  aflbrd  a  hand- 
some return  to  the  occupiers.  These  observations  will 
be  sufficiently  understood  from  extracts  from  the  paper 
of  the  rev.  Dr.  Singers,  Kirkpatrick-juxta,  on  the  Prin- 
ci))les  and  Practice  of  Irrigation,  and  from  his  Report 
made  to  the  Highland  Society  of  Scotland  in  1804,  con- 
cerning the  watered  meadows  on  or  near  the  rivers  Esk, 
Ewes,  Teviot,  Ettrick,  and  Yarrow.  From  these  two 
papers  the  practical  farmer  may  derive  more  informa- 
tion than  from  any  other  source. 

"  The  quality  of  the  water,"  says  Dr.  Singers,  "  may 
be  ascertained  by  experiment.  Let  a  small  portion  of 
land  be  floated  with  it  for  a  month,  about  the  latter  end 
of  harvest ;  and  afterwards  for  a  week  or  two,  about  the 


AGRICULTURE. 


?^\ 


nid  or  spring.  The  effects  of  this  easy  experiment  will 
appear  on  tlie  grass ;  either  in  respect  of  quantity  or 
quality,  or  both :  and  the  warmth  of  the  water  may  be 
sufficiently  discovered,  by  its  power  of  resisting  early 
frosts,  a  matter  of  importance  in  irrigation. 

The  appearance  of  the  water  is  not  sufficient  to  deter- 
mine its  qualities.  Thick  muddy  rivers,  enriched  in 
their  passage  through  towns  and  fertile  soils,  are  not 
Bo  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  Scotland  as  the  friends 
of  irrigation  wonld  wish.  When  these  can  be  obtained 
the  operator  may  depend  on  their  efficacy.  But  clear 
alpine  streams  differ  essentially  in  their  qualities ;  and 
these  are  safest  and  most  certainly  ascertained,  by  ob- 
serving the  effect  of  the  water  and  the  periods  of  its 
freezing,  as  recommended  above.  With  regard  to  those 
waters  which  are  knoAvn  to  flow  through  beds  of  marl, 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  much  advantage  may  be 
obtained  from  the  use  of  them,  in  a  sweet  and  rich  ver- 
dure, valuable  for  pasturage.  Warm  rivulets,  contain- 
ing great  quantities  of  spring  water,  and  resisting  early 
frosts,  may  be  expected  to  encourage  an  early  pasturage, 
and  probably  also  tolerable  crops  of  hay.  But  mossy  wa- 
ters, darkened  by  the  tincture  of  peat  bogs,  are  very 
unpromising  for  the  purposes  of  irrigation  :  though  it  is 
proper  to  give  them  a  trial ;  and  if  mixed  with  marl 
waters,  or  conducted  upon  soils  abounding  with  calca- 
reous matters,  they  may  be  productive  of  benefit. 

It  is  of  importance,  in  many  dry  pastures,  to  water 
lands  covered  with  fog  (moss,)  or  with  broom,  heath,  or 
other  plants  of  less  value  to  the  farmer,  for  the  purpose 
of  extirpating  these  plants,  and  encouraging  palatable 
grasses.  On  Jstore  farms,  which  have  no  tendency  to 
produce  the  rot,  this  practice  may  prove  useful ;  but 
when  there  is  any  degree  of  risk  from  this  distemper, 
the  farmer  will  be  cautious ;  he  will  suflFer  no  summer 
watering ;  and  he  will  allow  no  water  to  stagnate  any 
where. 

When  lime  and  marl  are  very  expensive,  or  difficult 
to  be  obtained,  and  water  is  at  command,  farmers  in 
Scotland  sometimes  water  dry  slopes,  with  a  view  to 
enrich  them  for  crops  of  grain.  This  practice  is  ancient, 
and  has  often  succeeded.  But  it  is  admitted  that  water 
enriches  the  soil  for  grass  belter  than  for  corn. — The 
grain  is  often  late  and  husky. 

A  flat  meadow  can  only  be  watered  in  ridges,  and 
requires  a  man  of  skill  to  lay  it  out  in  proper  form,  and 
the  work  is  accomplished  at  a  considerable  expense.  A 
slope  may  generally  he  watered  in  catch  work,  at  much 
less  expense,  and  with  much  less  water.  It  is  an  error 
to  prefer  the  flat  grounds  to  the  gentle  slopes  for  water 
meadows,  unless  there  be  ample  command  of  water, 
and  skill  and  money,  to  go  through  the  necessary  oj)e- 
rations.  The  most  rational  method  of  improving  flat 
grounds,  is  generally  by  draining,  and  then  giving  them 
a  top  dressing.  Yet,  if  they  can  be  formed  into  ridges 
by  the  plough,  they  may  be  converted  into  meadows  at 
much  less  expense  than  is  necessary  if  they  shouhl 
require  levelling  with  the  spade.  This  distinction  may 
be  kept  in  view. 

A  gentle  declivity,  which  can  be  watered  in  catch- 
work,  is  rn  inviting  subject.  It  perhaps  (jrotluces  little 
in  the  state  of  nature,  but  it  may  become  productive  by 
the  application  of  water. 

The  quality  of  the  soil  is  of  little  importance,  when 


the  water  deposits  a  great  deal  of  enriching  sediment ; 
for  by  means  of  that  substance  any  soil  is  rendered 
productive.  This  observation  very  commonly  a|>plies 
to  the  water  meadows  in  England;  but  it  will  seldom 
be  found  applicable  to  Scotland.  And  in  this  latter  coun- 
try, loam  appears  always  to  repay  the  irrigator  with  the 
heaviest  and  best  crops ;  mossy  soils  answer  very  well ; 
clay  does  not  produce  so  abundantly ;  and  gravel  is 
generally  poor  and  unproductive,  in  comparison, — at 
least  for  some  years,  and  unless  fully  watered,  or  the 
Water  good. 

It  will  readily  occur  to  the  reader,  that  streams  of 
equal  quality  may  dififer  materially  in  respect  of  the  fa- 
cility and  safety  with  which  they  can  be  managed,  and 
conducted  to  the  grounds  which  are  intended  to  be 
floated  :  that  whatever  stream  is  fixed  on  for  this  pur- 
pose, the  operator  should  determine,  by  means  of  a  level, 
what  lands  are  capable  of  being  watered  from  it :  that 
it  is  always  convenient,  and  generally  necessary,  to  en- 
close the  meadows  with  proper  fences ;  and  tliat  a  man 
of  prudence  will  have  an  eye  to  the  quantity  of  water, 
the  demands  of  his  farm,  the  chance  of  markets  for  any 
surplus  he  may  have  to  spare,  and  the  jirospect  of  ob- 
taining sufficient  assistance  in  malcing  his  crops  of  hny 
with  ease  and  expedition.  All  these  matfers  will  have 
their  due  weight  in  determining  the  grounds  where  a 
meadow  shall  be  formed,  and  in  fixing  on  the  extent  of 
it.  The  very  common  error,  of  laying  out  a  greater 
quantity  of  meadow  than  can  be  fully  and  properly  float- 
ed, should  by  all  means  be  avoided;  as  it  leads  to  great 
expenses,  and  brings  the  practice  of  irrigation  into  dis- 
credit." 

After  giving  an  account  of  the  wears  or  dams,  the 
conductors  or  main  carriers,  and  the  sluices  and  hatch- 
es, and  after  describing  the  mothod  of  forming  a  flat 
meadow,  and  a  meadow  in  catch-work,  Dr.  Singers  pro- 
ceeds^ 

"  It  ought  to  be  observed,  that  in  catch-work,  the 
surface  of  the  meadow  is  seldom  very  much  broken. 
Rough  parts  may  be  pared  off,  and  some  trivial  work 
done  in  rafter  levelling*,  which  leaves  a  part  of  the 
sward.  If  any  seeds  are  wanted,  the  [jroper  kinds  may 
be  understood,  by  attending  to  what  follows  respecting 
flat  meadows. 

These  are  formed  into  ridges  by  the  spade  or  plough, 
and  are  therefore  almost  totally  destitute  of  grass,  when 
newly  laid  down.  To  sow  any  seeds  that  are  not  pe- 
rennial, or  that  would  not  agree  with  the  soil  and  water, 
would  prove  a  serious  loss. 

If  any  trial  have  been  made  of  the  water,  and  it  have 
been  found  to  encourage  a  set  of  good  plants,  these 
ought  to  be  preferred.  But  it  is  also  necessary  to  con- 
sider the  soil,  and  to  sow  the  seeds  of  such  plants  as 
are  known  to  prosper  in  soils  of  a  similar  description. 
Attention  and  experience  will  be  found  the  surest  guides 
in  this  importunt  point ;  that  from  the  first,  the  meadow 
may  be  stocked  with  such  plants  as  may  answer  every 
purpose. 

The  following  observations  on  this  subject  are  sub- 
mitted to  the  reader's  consideration  as  the  result  of  my 
experience,  viz.  That  natural  perennial  red  clover  pros- 
pers in  watered  meadows,  consisting  of  haugh  soil,  with 
a  due  proportion  of  marl  or  lime,  either  in  the  soil  or 
in  the  stream;  but  the  common  broad  red  clover  speedily 


*  Rafter  levelling  is  performed  by  cutting  out  alices  of  the  surface  eai-th,  and  leaving  others  un^uched,  alternately,  aad  .(hen  beating 
down  with  mallets,  or  treadiug  down  those  which  are  left,  until  tlie  surface  be  reduced  into  form. 

Vol.  I.     Paht    1.  S  s 


322 


AGRICULTURE. 


dies  out ;  that  the  plants  of  Holais  lanatus  (soft  vernal, 
woolly,  or  meadow  grass)  prosper  in  any  soft  soil,  espe- 
cially if  it  be  also  watered  :  tliat  Foa  triviatis  (common 
poa,  or  rough  stalked  meadow  grass)  delights  in  the 
soils  last  mentioned,  if  (hey  are  possessed  of  a  degree 
of  moisture,  between  loam  and  bog :  that  Cynosurus 
cristaius  (crested  dog's  tail  grass)  pros|)er3  extremely 
well  in  watered  loams,  although  botanists  have  scarcely 
attended  to  this  fact ;  that  Anthoxanlhum  odoraium 
(scented  vernal  grass)  will  hardly  fail  in  any  watered 
meadow,  where  it  has  been  once  established,  however 
coarse  the  soil ;  and  that  it  not  only  adds  to  the  bulk  and 
weight  of  ha)',  but  communicates  the  sweetest  odour 
to  the  whole  crop,  if  made  in  dry  weather :  that  the 
genus  of  grasses  called  Agrostis,  Bent,  furnishes  two 
species,  which  arc  very  good  i>lant3  in  watered  mea- 
dows, viz.  Agroalis  alba,  (white  bent,)  and  Agrostis 
stolonifera,  (creeping  bent :)  that  in  loams  much  broken 
with  the  spade,  and  then  watered,  Triticum  repens 
(couch,  or  quick  grass)  forms  a  valuable  plant  for  hay : 
and,  that  for  bogs  extremely  soft  with  peat,  and  moist 
also,  no  plant  yields  more  hay  than  the  common  sprat, 
{Jimais  artiailalus,)  which,  in  richly  ^vatered  meadows, 
comes  forward  very  early;  and  would  scarcely  be  known, 
if  mown  before  feeding,  by  those  w  ho  never  saw  this 
plant  cnl  in  proper  time. 

All  these  plants  are  adapted  to  furnish  a  crop  of  hay, 
and  also  to  yield  a  very  abundant  pasturage ;  but  at  pre- 
sent they  can  hardly  be  obtained  in  the  seed  shops,  ex- 
cepting perennial  red  clover,  sold  under  the  name  of 
Marl  grass. — A  farmer  must  reserve  a  portion  of  cor- 
responding good  grass,  or  purchase  it  from  others; 
leaving  it  to  stand  till  the  seeds  are  mostly  ripe,  and 
then  taking  care  to  preserve  these  for  sowing  in  his  new 
meadow  grounds.  I  have  not  often  met  with  perennial 
rye-grass,  in  watered  meadows,  and  am  inclined  to  think, 
that  it  does  not  prosper  there ;  but  as  I  know  that  it 
■will  stand  for  a  season  or  more,  it  may  be  sown  inter- 
mixed, and  will  thicken  the  grass  in  the  mean  time. 

The  water  should  be  set  on  in  the  month  of  October; 
and  also  as  early  in  that  month  as  possible.  The  effects 
of  this  watering  are  very  important  in  strengthening  the 
roots  and  stalks  of  the  plants,  and  preparing  them  for 
shooting  up  strong  and  vigorous  next  spring ;  and  the 
blades  that  now  rise,  form  a  rough  coat  against  winter, 
protecting  the  vital  powers  of  tlie  plants  from  the  seve- 
rity of  that  season.  It  sometimes  happens  also,  that  by 
delaying  the  watering  process  too  long,  early  frosts  su- 
pervene, and  very  much  impede,  or  prevent  that  opera- 
tion. Mr.  Wright  observes,  that  the  floods  of  autumn 
are  very  enriching  to  meadows,  which  is  probably  very 
true ;  but  this  benefit  is  lost  sight  of,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, when  the  process  of  watering  is  delayed  too  long. 
Indeed,  1  have  reason  to  believe,  that  the  latter  pastu- 
rage of  meadows  may  generally  be  consumed  early  in 
October;  and  that  what  may  then  remain  is  of  no  im- 
portance, compared  with  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  early  watering. — Besides,  if  the  meadow  must  be 
■watered  in  separate  divisions,  and  at  different  periods, 
it  must  happen,  that  by  delaying  the  operation  till  No- 
■»ember,  some  parts  of  the  meadow  may  receive  no  wa- 
ter sooner  than  December  or  January ;  and  if  these 
months  are  very  severe,  it  may  be  wholly  im|>ractica- 
ble  to  complete  the  process  at  that  season. 

If  the  land  is  fine  and  rich,  it  will  generally  be  found, 
that  three  weeks  may  kje  sufficient  for  the  first  turn ; 


if  sour  and  coarse,  four  weeks  may  be  necessary.  The 
verdure  will  then  be  fine,  and  the  soil  rich  and  yielding. 
If  scum  appear  on  the  grass,  the  water  must  be  instant- 
ly removed. 

Should  the  water  not  overflow  properly,  stops  must 
be  placed  in  the  small  feeders.  These  are  either  of 
stones  or  stakes,  either  of  which  are  firm  and  durable. 
Sods  rise  and  float  away ;  and  boards  are  seldom  firm 
enough,  though  at  times  they  may  answer  well.  If  the 
water,  after  all,  does  not  flow  properly  over,  notches 
must  be  cut,  in  order  to  make  passages  for  it. 

Separate  divisions  of  meadow  occupy  the  water  in 
succession  throughout  winter ;  during  which,  they 
ought  all  to  have  received  one  turn  of  the  water,  as 
above  recommended,  if  not  given  in  latter  autumn. 

In  severe  frosts,  it  is  not  very  safe  to  remove  the  wa- 
ter, as  it  operates  so  far  to  protect  the  grass ;  and  if  ex- 
posed wet  to  frost,  it  might  be  greatly  injured.  If  it  be 
necessary  to  alter  the  water  in  such  weather,  let  it  be 
done  in  the  morning  of  a  dry  day. 

In  spring,  every  division  of  the  meadow  requires  to 
be  again  watered;  and  the  fine  rich  verdure  that  ap- 
pears, with  the  soft  unctuous  tread  of  the  soil,  are  inili- 
cations  of  advantage  being  obtained ;  but  the  appear- 
ance of  a  white  scum  warns  the  floater  instantly  to  re- 
move the  water.  If  the  weather  be  cold  at  this  season, 
I  have  seen  water  continued  a  fortnight  without  leaving 
any  scum  on  the  grass,  but  less  time  will  answer  when 
the  weather  is  warm.  In  a  late  season  or  climate,  it  is 
necessary  to  continue  the  watering  to  the  end  of  March; 
and  sometimes  in  high  backward  situations,  to  the  end 
of  April.  But  in  the  low  warm  districts,  and  in  favour- 
able seasons,  the  operation  is  finished  in  February. 

Should  the  early  grass  be  consumed  in  pasturage, 
ewes  and  lambs  answer  well  to  eat  it  off;  the  water  hav- 
ing been  removed  so  long  as  to  let  the  meadow  become 
firm  and  dry,  before  any  stock  is  introduced.  Young 
cattle  may  also  be  fed  on  this  early  grass,  giving  dry 
hay  at  night ;  but  in  general,  I  do  not  consider  it  good 
management  to  put  in  cattle  at  all  at  this  season,  if  the 
farmer  can  afford  provender  for  them  otherwise.  The 
grass  is  very  soft,  and  the  meadow  at  this  time  easily 
poached.  At  any  rate,  the  meadow  should  be  cleared, 
and  the  water  again  floating  by  the  first  of  Maj',  in  or- 
der to  prepare  for  a  crop  of  good  hay.  In  a  very  late 
spring,  it  is  better  to  dispense  with  the  early  pasturage, 
if  the  fanner  have  not  a  particular  necessity  for  it ;  and 
to  give  every  degree  of  encouragement,  so  as  to  in- 
crease the  crop  of  hay,  and  to  obtain  it  at  an  early  sea- 
son also,  when  it  may  be  safer  and  easier  made  ;  and  that 
also,  in  time  to  expect  an  abuudaut  latter  pasture  ia 
autumn. 

To  prepare  for  this  latter  pasture,  no  water  should  be 
nsed,  if  sheep  must  be  admitted.  But  if  they  are  ex- 
cluded, the  water  may  be  sent  over  the  meadow  for  two 
or  three  days,  more  or  less,  as  may  appear  safe  and  ne- 
cessary ;  and  then  the  meadow  left  quite  dry,  (ill  the 
grass  rise,  and  all  be  ready  for  introducing  bcasls. 

To  get  these  operations  performed  in  summer,  is  a 
great  object  to  the  judicious  farmer,  as  the  lenglh  of  the 
day,  and  frequently  fine  weather,  enable  him  (o  make 
this  hay  in  the  best  manner.  It  is  also  naturally  better, 
in  point  of  sap  and  colour,  when  early  made.  But  the 
only  methods  that  can  promote  this  object  effectually, 
are,  to  enrich  the  lantls  well,  and  to  remove  all  stock 
from  them  early  in  the  season,     lu  both  these  parties- 


AGRICULTURE. 


323 


lar?,  natural  meadows  are  often  very  much  neglected ; 
receiving  no  manure,  and  being  depastured  till  Wliit- 
sunday,  no  wonder  tlie  hay  is  late,  scanty,  and  coarse. 
Well  manured  meadows,  from  which  the  stock  is  early 
removed,  may  sometimes  be  ready  for  the  sithe  in  June, 
frequently  in  the  beginning  of  July,  and  always  in  the 
course  of  that  month.  It  is  of  consequence  to  have 
them  in  ricks  before  the  Lammas  rains  commence. 

But  I  would  not  recommend  to  fhe  farmer  to  cut  the 
hay  of  water  meadows  too  soon.  In  this  case,  the  natu- 
ral softness  of  it  is  increased  ;  it  loses  a  greater  propor- 
tion of  weight  and  substance  in  making ;  and  it  is  less 
nourishing  (though  more  palatable)  for  beasts,  as  I 
have  experienced.  I  am  of  opinion,  that  even  rye-grass 
ought  not  to  be  mown  for  hay  till  the  flowers  be  mostly 
fallen;  and  I  have  found,  that  when  cut  sooner  the  hay 
loses  much  in  weight.  But  the  hay  of  watered  mea- 
dows possesses  much  less  fibre  than  that  of  rye-grass, 
and  ought  not  perhaps  to  be  mown  till  some  days  after 
the  bulk  of  the  flowers  have  dropped.  I  except  what  is 
laid  close  down,  and  would  spoil,  if  not  mown ;  and  in 
mentioning  the  flowers,  I  would  be  understood  to  mean 
the  flowers  of  those  plants  which  constitute  the  bulk 
and  weight  of  the  hay.  When  most  of  the  flowers  are 
yet  on  the  meadow  plants  at  the  time  of  mowing,  the 
pollen  bursts  from  the  antherie  in  making,  and  the  hay 
is  full  of  dust,  as  if  it  had  heated :  Besides,  the  greener 
hay  is  when  mown,  the  more  trouble  and  risk  there  is  in 
making  it.  The  seeds  of  common  poa,  and  of  scented 
vernal  grass,  should  be  nearly  ripe,  and  those  of  Holais 
lanaius,  half  formed  before  the  sithe  be  applied  to  those 
meadows  in  which  these  plants  most  abound.  At  this 
time  the  seeds  of  most  of  the  remaining  meadow  plants 
will  hardly  begin  to  form.  But  if  Sprat  prevail  much, 
it  should  in  all  cases  be  mown  before  the  seed  knots  be- 
comes perceptible.  Rye-grass  and  clover  lose  about  two 
thirds  of  their  weight  in  drying;  meadow  grasses,  if 
thick  and  rich,  lose  more.  To  smooth  the  surface  of 
the  meadows,  it  is  understood,  that  in  case  of  mole 
casts  having  appeared,  they  were  all  scattered ;  and  the 
surlace,  if  necessary,  levelled  with  a  roller  in  the  end 
of  spring.  The  sithe  afterwards  cuts  clean  to  the  bot- 
tom, without  interruption. 

In  making  the  hay  of  water  meadows,  the  whole  mast 
be  spread  out  equally  to  ch-y,  then  turned  lightly  with 
rakes,  and  in  the  evening  put  into  very  small  cocks. 
Next  day  it  is  again  spreacl  out,  turned  a  second  time 
with  rakes,  and  in  the  evening  put  into  larger  cocks. 
In  this  form,  it  may  safely  remain  for  some  days.  It  is 
once  more  spread  out,  turned,  and  carted  away  to  the 
driest  spots,  where  it  is  put  up  in  summer  ricks,  con- 
taining from  20  to  30  stones  each  rick,  of  241b.  avoirdu- 
pois, per  stone.  The  rick  is  secured  with  four  ropes; 
and  in  it  the  hay  remains  till  it  is  taken  to  the  winter 
stack.  The  dimensions  and  form  of  the  winter  stack  are 
frequently  inconvenient.  A  round  form  does  not  admit 
of  cutting  away  portions,  without  loosening  the  bindings; 
and  when  the  size  is  large,  the  hay  is  ready  to  heat :  but 
fine  meadow  hay,  early  cut,  is  the  worst  for  heatin", 
although  coarser  hay  may  not  suffer  much  injury  by  that 
process,  and  in  some  cases,  may  even  be  improved  by  it. 
There  is  also  some  danger  in  the  heating  of  a  vast  mass 
of  hay  all  at  once,  as  it  may  rot,  or  take  fire.  The  stack 
ought  to  be  of  a  rectangular  form,  ten  or  twelve  feet 


wide,  and  of  any  length,  pIace<ii3|B|l?taB?^end  towards 
the  north,  and  the  other  towards'^Qie  south.  In  this 
manner  the  heat  of  the  sun  does  not  beat  on  either  side 
more  than  another,  and  the  stack  does  not  incline  to 
lean  from  that  circumstance.  The  owner  begins  to  cirt 
down  any  portions  he  thinks  proper  on  the  north  end  of 
the  stack;  and  he  may  do  so  without  loosening  any  of  the 
ropes  except  the  bosom  rope,  which  is  easily  fixed  again. 
A  stack  of  this  moderate  breadth  does  not  heat,  the  hay 
retains  its  colour  and  juices,  and  even  the  seed  remains 
sound  on  the  grasses.  And  if  only  ten  feet  wide,  thirty 
feet  long,  and  nine  feet  high  when  built,  reckoning  from 
the  ground  to  the  eaves,  exclusive  of  the  head,  and  the 
whole  properly  tramped  and  drawn,  such  a  stack  should 
contain  about  five  hundred  stones  of  24lbs.  each.  The 
stacks  ought  to  stand  parallel  to  each  other,  at  least  ten 
feet  asunder,  to  allow  laden  carts  to  back  in  between 
them,  and  also  to  admit  a  free  circulation  of  air  in  every 
direction ;  and  the  bottoms  ought  to  be  all  laid  with 
stones.  I  have  experience  of  the  convenience  of  every 
part  of  these  arrangements. 

The  hay  of  watered  meadows  is  most  properly  calcu- 
lated for  black  cattle,  and  on  it  they  thrive  extremely. 
But  as  to  profit,  undoubtedly  any  sort  of  hay  that  is 
eaten  by  sheep  in  times  of  snow  storms,  is  most  profita- 
bly given  to  feed  these  animals,and  to  save  snowmaills*. 
With  respect  to  horses,  it  is  much  better,  so  far  as  I 
have  had  experience,  to  feed  them  on  the  hay  of  rye- 
grass and  clover,  or  on  the  natural  hay  of  any  dry 
grounds,  than  on  the  best  meadow  hay  ;  but  from  what 
I  have  heard  from  others,  meadow  hay  may  be  used  for 
horses  if  prudently  selected,  and  moderately  allowed, 
without  perceiving  much  inferiority  in  it  for  this  pur- 
pose. 

I  have  never  seen  milk  cows  or  young  cattle  prosper 
better  than  when  fed  in  winter  on  turnips,  (in  moderate 
quantities,)  with  plenty  of  good  straw,  w  eaning  them 
gradually  off'  the  turnips,  and  putting  them  entirely  to 
fine  hay  of  watered  meadows  in  spring.  Such  hay  for 
beasts  I  esteem  fully  equal  to  the  best  hay  of  rye-grass 
and  clover,  but  it  does  not  fetch  so  high  a  price  in  the 
market.  The  appearance,  however,  the  sweet  smell, 
and  the  fine  pile  of  rich  watered,  or  top-dressed  mea- 
dows, when  the  produce  has  been  well  made,  and  at  an 
early  season,  quite  surpass  those  of  the  hay  of  rye-grass 
and  broad  clover. 

As  the  farmer  must  have  it  in  his  power  easily  to 
float  his  meadows,  or  lay  them  perfectly  dry,  at  plea- 
sure, irrigation  includes  draining  as  a  part  of  the  sys- 
tem. It  also  necessarily  embraces  enclosing,  without 
which  the  meadow  may  sutler  from  the  stock,  or  the 
stock  may  be  injured  by  the  meadow.  When  the  land 
is  floated,  it  should  be  fully  done,  not  attempting  too 
much  at  a  time ;  and  when  laid  drj',  it  shonid  be  cleared 
of  every  drop  of  water.  By  this  alternate  succession, — • 
of  water  to  enrich,  with  all  its  contents  and  elementary 
powers,  or  to  maintain  the  temperature  most  favourable 
to  vegetation, — followed  by  free  air,  sun,  and  light,— 
the  plants  not  only  rise  in  abundance,  but  also  prosper 
to  a  high  degree.  And  hardly  any  soil,  however  an)ply 
or  expensively  manured,  returns  such  weighty  crops  of 
hay  and  pasture  as  ivatered  meadows :  Their  ample 
produce  going,  in  the  mean  time,  to  enrich  the  other 
contiguous  soils;    while  on  the  meadows  no  manure 


*  Snow  raaiU,  is  the  sum  paid   by  a  sheep  farmer  ta  anv  possctsov  of  low  otouikIs,  for  permittiDg  the  sheep  to  feed  there,  in  time 
of  deep  snow.  o  .  i  o  »    r  > 

Ss2 


324 


AGRICULTURE. 


AThatever  is  bestowed,  except  such  as  the  water  contains. 
In  the  practice  of  irrigation,  it  has  been  established, 
tliat  meadows  require  a  much  greater  proportion  of  days 
throughout  the  year  to  be  dry,  than  to  be  floated  ;  and 
this  proportion  seems  to  vary  according  to  circum- 
stances, in  the  soil,  water,  and  climate  ;  but  the  periods 
of  watering  seem  to  run  between  six  and  nine  weeks  in 
the  whole  year,  all  the  different  periods  of  floating  being 
included. 

It  is  evident  that  water,  as  a  mere  element,  raises 
the  temperature  during  winter,  so  long  as  it  is  capable 
of  resisting  the  frost,  that  arrests  the  course  of  vegeta- 
tion in  general.  In  summer,  it  is  equally  evident  that 
moderate  watering  corrects  that  extreme  drought  which 
tends  to  wither  the  grass ;  and  by  supplying  moisture 
and  nutriment  equal  to  the  growth  and  perspiration, 
the  vessels  are  prevented  from  shrinking  before  the 
drought.  It  is  known  that,  in  drying,  the  hay  of 
watered  meadows  loses  more  weight  than  the  hay  of 
other  meadows  exactly  similar  in  point  of  soil,  but  not 
ivatered.  Water  may  therefore  be  useful  as  a  mere 
element,  for  protecting  and  nourishing  grass,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree.  But  ^vhen  mud  is  diffused  in  it,  or  calca- 
reous matters  dissolved,  and  the  grass  has  the  power  of 
straining  these  substances  out  of  the  water,  their  efi°ects 
may  readily  be  conceived. 

When  searched  of  all  its  mud  and  other  matters 
which  it  holds  dissolved,  in  as  far  as  the  grass  has  that 
power,  the  fluid  is  called  '  used  water'  by  the  workmen, 
and  considered  inferior  to  fresh  water  for  irrigation.  It 
is  certain,  that  close  by  the  feeders,  the  grass  on  the 
ridges  of  floated  meadows  exceeds  that  which  grows  by 
the  drains ;  but  the  workmen  do  not  always  appear  to 
consider  that  the  soil  is  constantly  deeper  near  the  small 
feeders  on  the  crowns  of  those  ridges ;  and  that  during 
winter  the  water  must  also  have  had  its  temperature 
diminished,  on  account  of  its  spreading  over  the  surface, 
by  the  time  it  reaches  the  drain.  I  have  noticed  indeed, 
that  the  turbid  water  is  filtered  on  the  grass,  and  be- 
comes mote  clear,  so  that  it  must  have  parted  with  its 
mud  and  sediment ;  and  I  have  also  thought  that  the 
water  tasted  more  flat,  or  vapid,  after  passing  over  a 
considerable  surface  of  grass  lands.  But  watering  also 
appears  to  assist  in  the  putrefaction  of  dead  substances 
in  the  soil  which  manure  the  living  plants,  and  when 
thus  decomposed,  and  reduced  into  their  original  ele- 
ments, are  fit  to  form  new  combinations." 

Dr.  Singers,  after  stating  that  the  extent  of  watered 
meadows  on  the  duke  ol  Bnccleuch's  estate,  in  the 
above  districts,  was  415  English  acres,  says,  that  "  irri- 
gation was  more  frequently  attended  to  in  Scotland,  be- 
fore the  general  use  of  lime  and  marl.  It  extirpated 
broom  and  moss  (fog ;)  and  prepared  the  soil  for  oats ; 
the  grain,  however,  was  generally  considered  husky 
and  late.  There  was  no  particular  plan  of  watering ; 
(he  operation  being  conducted  mostly  in  catch-work, 
and  according  to  the  form  of  the  surface,  and  fancy  of 
the  operator. 

At  the  present  time,  the  object  of  watering  is  to  raise 
large  crops  of  grass.  Mr.  Stevens  has  introduced  the 
regular  mode  of  watering,  by  flat-flooding,  into  the  duke 
of  Buccleuch's  estate  ;  but  at  the  same  time,  he  has  re- 
course to  the  method  of  watering  iu  catch-work,  when 
circumstances  are  such  as  to  require  it. 

If  (he  charges  incurred  in  the  mechanical  depart- 
ment of  the  formation  of  all  these  meadows,  be  stated  at 
five  pounds  per  acre,  it  is  probably  not  fur  from  the 


average.  There  have  been  some  which  have  risen  to 
seven  pounds,  when  there  was  much  cart  and  s|)ade- 
work  to  do ;  while  others  have  been  laid  out  at  a  very 
low  rate.  All  these  expenses  are  defrayed  by  the  te- 
nants. The  duke  allows  Mr.  Stevens  a  salary,  as  the 
general  superintendent  of  his  works  on  these  mea- 
dows. 

The  annual  returns,  at  present,  may  be  safely  esti- 
mated at  150  stone  of  hay,  of  2-41bs.  avoirdupois  in  the 
stone,  for  every  English  acre  of  meadow.  Some  of 
them  rise  above  200  stone,  and  others  fall  as  low  as  100 
stone,  or  even  less,  being  as  yet  unproductive,  in  conse- 
quence of  uqfavourable  circumstances.  But  the  average 
return  probttbly  rises  above  150  stone.  It  must  be  re- 
membered, however,  that  the  returns  of  these  meadows 
do  not  consist  wholly  of  hay.  I  am  disposed  to  think, 
that  the  returns  in  pasture,  exclusive  of  the  hay,  do  not 
in  general  fall  short  of  the  full  value  of  the  soil  in  its 
original  unimproved  state. 

The  annual  expenses  incurred  in  keeping  up  the 
works  on  these  meadows  may  be  considered,  at  an 
average,  about  five  shillings  per  acre. 

Having  stated  these  genei-al  averages  of  charges  and 
of  returns,  which  are  not  given  as  correct,  but  only  as 
approximating  near  the  truth,  according  to  my  informa- 
tion and  remarks,  I  shall  now  observe,  that  the  total 
amount  of  expenses  incurred  on  these  meadows,  by  the 
operations  at  their  formation,  may  be  considered  as 
rising  above  2000/. ;  that  the  annual  charges  of  uphold- 
ing may  be  stated  at  lOOi.  and  upwards;  and  that  the 
returns  of  hay,  exclusive  of  pasture,  may  be  calculated 
as  exceeding  60,000  stone. 

The  value  of  this  hay  made,  andat  market  prices,  must 
he  above  sixpence  per  stone,  which  is  1500/.  a  year. 
But  it  is  fair  to  deduct  about  one-fourth  part  for  the 
expense  of  making,  which  reduces  the  returns  in  hay  to 
about  1125/.  a  year,  estimating  it  at  the  present  low 
prices  of  1806  for  meadow  hay,  in  the  markets  of  Dum- 
fries-shire. 

As  food  for  sheep  in  deep  snows,  the  value  of  this 
hay  is  nearly  double  the  above  value.  A  stone  of  it 
maintains  a  score  of  sheep  for  a  night,  as  the  shepherds 
generally  compute;  and  store-masters  generally  pay 
about  a  shilling  per  score  each  night,  for  a  place  of  re- 
treat for  the  sheep,  during  deep  shows.  In  this  view, 
the  hay  of  these  meadows  would  support  60,000  sheep 
in  severe  weather,  during  twenty  d^ys.  The  benefit  of 
this  relief,  during  a  serious  emen;ency,  is  not  to  be  es- 
timated below  3000/.  How  often  such  an  emergency 
may  occur,  no  person  can  pretend  to  foresee." 

Dr.  Singers  concludes  a  most  able  and  animated  re- 
port, with  the  following  estimate  of  the  benefits  of  the 
watered  meadows. 

"  To  state  this  in  a  can('id  and  impartial  manner,  we 
must  mention  whatever  operates  either  for  or  against 
them. 

Ist,  The  expense  of  laying  out  and  enclosing  these 
meadows  is  the  principal  olistacle.  But  when  this  ex- 
pense is  mo<lerate,  and  the  meadow  succeeds  well,  a 
single  year's  crop  almost  or  entirely  defrays  the  charges. 
When  matters  are  less  favourable,  they  may  still  be  li- 
quidated in  two  or  three  .icasons.  And  when  the  ex- 
pense is  very  low,  the  first  year  more  than  pays  it ;  as 
must  have  been  the  case  in  various  instances,  where 
these  meadow?  were  done  in  catch-work,  and  succeed- 
ed well.  But  if  the  forming  and  enclosing  should  not 
he  fully  compensated  ia  less  than  four  or  five  years, 


AGRICULTURE. 


325 


there  is  reason  still  to  expect  that  the  tenant  win  be 
reimbursed. 

2cl,  The  attention  which  becomes  necessary  to  the 
watered  meadows,  in  upholding  fhem,  and  conducting 
the  watering  process,  is  mentioned  as  an  incumbrance. 
I  admit  the  fact,  but  what  does  the  farmer  obtain  with- 
out attention  ?  Let  him  consider  the  pains  and  trouble 
he  must  undergo  in  manuring,  fallowing,  sowing,  and 
reaping,  from  arable  soils ;  and  in  preserving  and  bring- 
ing into  use  the  respective  crops  which  he  raises  from 
them.  But  with  respect  to  watered  meadows,  if  a  few 
of  them  are  situated  contiguous  to  each  other,  a  com- 
mon labourer  employed  to  uphold  and  water  them  all, 
effectually  removes  this  difficulty ;  and  in  other  cases  a 
common  farm-servant  will  very  soon  learn  to  attend  to 
the  ordinary  matters  that  require  his  notice. 

3d,  The  danger  of  occasioning  the  rot  among  sheep 
has  been  mentioned  as  an  objection  to  irrigation ;  but 
this  was  done  Only  by  such  as  were  not  properly  inform- 
ed. For  no  person  can  state  such  an  objection,  who 
considers  the  facts, — thatthese  meadowsare  all  enclosed, 
with  only  an  exception  of  one  or  two ;  and  that  no  sum- 
mer watering  is  admitted  on  them,  or  any  instance  to  be 
heard  of  sheep  being  seized  with  the  rot,  except  one, 
when  summer  watering  for  once  was  tried. 

4th,  I  have  heard  it  alleged,  that  the  hay  of  watered 
meadows  is  not  wholesome  food  for  horses ;  that  it  breaks 
their  wind ;  and  that  a  carrier  rejects  it  on  this  account. 
In  reply  to  this  allegation,  it  may  be  stated,  that  in- 
stances are  given  in  the  survey,  of  respectable  persons 
having  fed  horses  with  such  hay  from  their  watered 
meadows  as  they  judged  proper  to  give  them,  without 
any  detriment  being  sustained.  If  horses  eat  too  gree- 
dily even  of  corn,  their  mnd  must  be  broken ;  and  pe- 
rennial red  clover  swells  in  the  stomach,  and  might  have 
produced  a  similar  effect,  when  too  liberally  given.  But 
at  any  rate,  it  may  be  asked,  why  raise  an  objection 
against  the  hay  of  these  meadows  on  account  of  carriers' 
horses,  for  which  that  produce  was  certainly  not  intend- 
ed ?  If  it  answer  the  sheep  in  the  first  instance,  and  the 
black  cattle  in  the  next,  every  objection  of  this  sort 
is  removed.  The  farmer  who  sells  hay  to  carriers,  may 
sell  his  hay  of  rye-grass  and  clover,  and  make  use  of 
that  of  his  meadows. 

In  behalf  of  the  system  of  watering,  the  following  ar- 
guments occur,  which  it  is  hoped  will  be  admitted  to  be 
well  grounded,  viz. 

1st,  There  is  an  increase  in  the  quantity  of  hay,  which 
enables  the  farmer  to  sell  part  of  it  for  money. 

2d,  If  the  farmer  prefer  wintering  cattle,  he  may  sup- 
port a  greater  number,  or  he  may  feed  them  in  a  more 
liberal  manner.  And  in  this  district,  in  summer  so  fer- 
tile in  grass,  and  in  winter  so  abounding  in  storms,  this 
consideration  is  of  material  importance,  as  a  well  win- 
tered beast  yields  more  net  profit,  than  any  two  which 
have  been  poorly  fed,  in  that  inclement  season. 

3d,  The  additional  hay  raised  increases  the  quan- 
tity of  farm  manure,  the  advantages  of  which  are  soon 
perceived  in  the  superior  produce  of  the  manured  crops. 

4th,  If  an  early  growth  of  meadow-grass  enables  the 
farmer  to  put  in  weak  ewes  during  spring,  he  may  find 
such  a  convenience  of  great  value  for  the  preservation 
of  the  lambs. 

5th,  The  pasturage  of  these  medows,  after  the  hay  is 
removed,  is  generally  found  to  be  so  profitable,  as  to 
balance  the  original  pasturage  of  the  meadow  grounds 
throughout  the  year. 


6th,  To  feed  sheep,  the  hay  of  these  meadows  is  of 
importance,  in  so  far  as  it  saves  the  expense  of  snow 
retreats;  which,  for  these  numerous  stocks,  are  now 
hardly  to  be  obtained. 

7th,  The  risk  is  a  more  serious  matter  in  such  a  case 
than  the  expenses  to  be  incurred ;  and  this  risk  is  always 
obviated,  to  a  certain  extent,  by  means  of  the  meadow 
hay.  Should  thestoremaster  neither  be  able  to  find  hay, 
nor  to  bespeak  a  retreat  for  his  flock,  what  would  he  then 
give  to  obviate  the  risk  of  immediate  loss  of  sheep 
through  famine,  or  of  heavy  losses  in  spring,  occasioned 
by  the  reduction  which  want  causes  in  the  health  and 
condition  of  his  flock  ?  It  is  far  from  absurd  to  put  such 
a  case;  and  every  storemaster  will  admit  the  hazard.  It 
is  to  be  wished  that  these  dangerous  emergencies  should 
very  seldom  occur;  let  not  the  prudent  farmer,  however, 
disregard  them." 

We  now  come  to  another  branch  of  irrigation,  pro- 
vincially  called  warping,  which  is  one  of  the  greatest 
improvements  that  can  be  exercised,  adding  to  the  value 
and  thickness  of  the  soil  every  time  it  is  repeated.  In 
fact,  a  new  soil  is  artificially  created  by  the  operation  to 
be  treated  of,  and  of  a  quality  superior  to  that  of  every 
natural  one.  It  is  only  in  certain  situations,  however, 
that  warping  can  be  used ;  but  where  such  an  opportu- 
nity occurs,  it  ought  never  to  be  omitted.  The  expense 
varies  according  to  situation,  but  can  never  in  the  slight- 
est degree  be  compared  with  the  immense  benefit  de- 
rived from  it. 

Warping  originated  in  Yorkshire,  and  is  carried  on 
there  to  a  great  extent,  especially  upon  the  banks  of  the 
river  Ouse,  between  York  and  the  Humber.  When  in 
that  district,  the  writer  of  this  article  had  an  opportunity 
of  examining  and  ascertaining  the  different  branches  of 
that  valuable  operation,all  of  whichdelighted  him  much, 
as  their  effect  was  precisely  the  same  upon  a  poor  soil 
as  those  of  the  greatest  natural  value.  The  river  Ouse, 
from  the  circumstance  of  its  receiving  into  its  bed  most 
of  the  Yorkshire  waters,  is  constantly  stored  with  mud, 
and  all  sorts  of  alluvial  matter ;  and  those  being  stirred 
and  kept  in  motion  by  the  tide,  which  flows  higher  than 
York,  are  conveyed  over  the  adjoining  grounds,  which 
are  flat  and  easily  flooded.  Embankments,  however,  are 
previously  required  before  warping  can  be  executed ; 
and  these  embankments  are  made  of  earth  taken  from 
the  land,  and  built  with  a  slope  of  three  feet  on  each 
side  for  every  perpendicular  foot  of  rise.  There  are 
more  or  fewer  openings  in  the  banks,  according  to  the 
extent  of  ground  proposed  to  be  warped ;  but,  in  gene- 
ral two  sluices  are  only  necessary,  one  called  the  flood- 
gate to  admit,  the  other  called  the  clough  to  let  off  the 
water.  When  the  spring  tide  begins  to  ebb,  the  flood- 
gate is  opened  to  admit  the  water,  while  the  clough  is 
kept  close  by  the  flow,  or  tide.  As  the  tide  ebbs  down 
the  river,  the  pressure  upon  the  outside  is  taken  from 
the  clough,  when  the  weight  of  ivater  admitted  by  the 
flood-gate  pushes  open  the  clough,  and  is  discharged 
slowly  through  it.  The  doughs  are  so  constructed  as 
to  let  the  water  run  off  between  the  ebb  of  one  tide  and 
the  flow  of  another ;  and  to  this  point  particular  attention 
is  paid.  The  flood-gates  are  placed  above  the  level  of 
common  tides,  it  being  only  the  water  of  spring  tides 
that  is  admitted. 

It  will  be  understood,  from  what  is  stated,  that  wafp 
consists  of  the  mud  and  salts  left  by  the  ivater  that  has 
been  admitted ;  and  that  the  technical  phrase  rvarping, 
comprehends  all  the  processes  necessary  to  admit  the 


?5(5 


AGRICULTURE. 


tide  water,  and  (o  deposit  its  sediment  npon  the  field 
tliat  is  meant  (o  lie  improved.  Letting  in  fresh  water 
would  not  be  called  Avarping,  but  simply  flooding.  Fresh 
water,  lliough  useful  at  proper  seasons,  would  by  no 
means  answer  the  same  purpose  as  river  water  stirred  up 
by  the  tide ;  because  it  never  could  furnish  a  sufficient 
sediment  for  thickening  the  soil ;  neither  would  the  sedi- 
ment left  be  of  so  rich  a  nature  as  what  is  furnished  by 
tide  water. 

A  more  complete  detail  of  the  different  operations,  as 
given  in  the  West  York  Survey,  will  throw  additional 
light  upon  this  subject. 

These  details  were  chiefly  furnished  by  the  right  ho- 
nourable lord  Hawke,  a  nobleman  of  distinguished  merit, 
and  who  had  the  agricultural  interest  of  Britain  much  at 
heart ;  though  unfortunately,  by  his  death,  the  country 
is  now  deprived  of  the  eminent  talents  which  he  pos- 
sessed. 

Lord  Hanike's  Account  of  the  Warping  of  Land. 

"  The  land  to  be  warped  must  be  banked  round 
against  the  river.  The  banks  are  made  of  the  earth  ta- 
ken on  the  spot  from  the  land  :  they  must  slope  six  feet ; 
that  is,  three  feet  on  each  side  of  their  top  or  crown  of 
the  bank,  for  every  foot  perpendicular  of  rise  :  their  top 
or  crown  is  broader  or  narrower,  according  to  the  im- 
petuosity of  the  tide,  and  the  weight  and  quantity  of 
water ;  and  it  extends  from  two  feet  to  twelve  :  their 
height  is  regulated  by  the  height  to  which  the  spring 
tides  flow,  so  as  to  exclude  or  let  them  in  at  pleasure. 
In  those  banks,  there  are  more  or  fewer  openings,  ac- 
conling  to  the  size  of  the  ground  to  be  warped,  and  to 
the  choice  of  the  occupier;  but  in  general  they  have  only 
two  sluices,  one,  called  i\m  flood-gate  to  admit,  the  other 
called  the  clough,  to  let  off  the  water  gently ;  these  are 
enough  for  ten  or  fifteen  acres :  When  the  spring  tide 
begins  to  ebb,  the  flood-gate  is  open  to  adnit  the  tide, 
the  clough  having  been  previously  shut  by  the  weight 
of  water  brought  up  the  river  by  the  flow  of  the  tide. 
As  the  tide  ebbs  down  the  river,  the  weight  or  pressure 
of  water  being  taken  from  the  outside  of  the  clough  next 
the  river,  the  tide  water  that  has  been  previously  admit- 
ted by  the  flood-gate  opens  the  clough  again  aijd  dis- 
charges itself  slowly,  but  completely  through  it.  The 
doughs  are  so  constructed  as  to  let  the  water  run  ofT. 
between  the  ebb  of  the  tide  that  was  admitted,  and  the 
flow  of  the  next ;  and  to  this  point  particular  attention  is 
paid  :  the  flootl-gates  are  placed  so  high  as  only  to  let  in 
the  spring  tides  when  opened.  They  are  placed  above 
the  level  of  the  common  tides. 

Willows  are  also  occasionally  planted  on  the  front 
of  the  banks,  to  break  the  force  of  the  tide,  and  de- 
fend the  banks,  by  raising  the  front  of  them  with  warp 
thus  collected  and  accumulated  :  but  these  willows  must 
never  be  planted  on  the  banks,  as  they  would  destroy 
the  banks  by  giving  the  winds  power  to  shake  them. 

The  land  warped  is  of  every  quality;  but  to  be  pro- 
perly warped  it  must  be  situated  within  the  reach  of  the 
spring  tides,  and  on  a  level  lower  than  the  level  of  their 
flow.  The  laud  in  general  is  not  warped  al)ove  one  year 
in  seven;  a  year's  warping  will  do  lor  that  time. 

The  land  is  as  other  laud,  various  as  to  the  preference 
of  grain  to  be  sown  on  it.  Land  has  been  raised  consi- 
derably by  warping ;  one  field  of  bad  corn-land,  good  for 
nothing,  was  raised  in  three  years  fourteen  inches :  it  lay 
idle  for  that  time,  that  it  might  be  raised  by  warping ;  it 


was  sown  with  beans,  and  promised  by  appearance  a  crop 
of  eight  quarters.  If  possible  tliig  shall  be  ascertained 
as  to  the  quantity  thrashed. 

The  warp  consists  of  the  mud  and  salts  deposited  by 
the  ebbing  tide  :  near  Howden  one  tide  will  deposit  an 
inch  of  mud,  and  this  deposit  is  more  or  less,  according 
to  the  distance  of  the  place  from  the  Huniber. 

Cherry  Cob  Sands  were  gained  from  the  Humber  by 
warping :  They  are  supposed  to  be  four  yards  thick  of 
warp  at  least :  some  of  those  were  ploughed  for  twelve, 
fourteen,  or  sixteen  years,  before  they  would  grow  grass- 
seeds:  the  greater  part  is  now  iu  feeding  land,  and  makes 
very  fine  pastures. 

The  land  must  be  in  tillage  for  some  considerable 
time  after  warping,  for  six  years  at  least.  The  land,  if 
laid  down  to  grass,  and  continued  in  grass,  is  not  warp- 
ed ;  for  the  salts  in  the  mud  would  infallibly  kill  the 
grass  seeds. 

When  it  is  proposed  to  sow  the  land  again  with  corn, 
then  the  land  is  warped  :  when  they  find  the  grass  de- 
cline, then  they  warp  and  plough  it  out :  as  the  land  va- 
ries in  quality,  so  does  the  time  during  which  it  will  pro- 
duce good  grass  :  the  land  is  never  fallowed  but  in  the 
year  when  it  is  warped." 

For  a  view  of  a  clough,  see  Mr.  Young's  Northern 
Tour,  Vol.  I.  Plate  IH.  p.  212.  The  flood-gates  and 
sluices  for  letting  in  the  water  are  like  the  common 
sluices  and  gates  in  canals  for  raising  the  water  to 
assist  the  passage  of  boats ;  sometimes  also  the  flood- 
gates or  sluices  are  placed  above  the  elougb  perpen- 
tlicularly. 

CHAP  xn. 

On  Enclosures,  and  Woods,  or  Plantations  of  Tim- 
BEK  Trees. 

These  subjects,  though  not  strictly  of  one  nature, 
are  so  connected  together,  that  they  may  with  pro- 
priety be  treated  of  in  one  Chapter.  The  majority  of 
enclosures  in  Britain  being  made  by  planting  thorn 
hedges ;  and  as  all  woods  and  plantations  should  be  com- 
pletely fenced,  so  that  they  may  thrive  and  prove  pro- 
ductive, the  subjects  which  are  included  in  this  Chap- 
ter are  therefore  not  so  incompatible  as  »t  first  sight 
may  appear. 

Sect.  \. 

On  Enclosures. 

Enclosures,  with  some  trifling  exceptions,  are  formed 
in  Britain  by  building  stone  walls,  or  planting  thora 
hedges.  According  to  the  first  method,  the  walls  are 
either  of  dry  stone,  or  of  stone  and  lime ;  and  in  the  last 
instance,  lime  is  either  used  only  in  bedding  the  out- 
ward part  of  the  wall,  or  applied  to  the  whole  of  it,  as 
circumstances  may  render  necessary.  These  walls  are 
either  coped  with  sod,  or  have  a  cope  which  tapers  to 
the  top,  closely  built  wiih  stone  and  lime,  or  the  coping 
is  executed  in  what  is  called  the  Galloway  fashion,  with 
large  irregular  stones,  according  to  the  taste  and  dispo- 
sitions of  the  persons  by  whom  they  are  crccteil.  A  wall 
built  with  stone  and  lime  is  undoubtedly  the  preferable 
fence  :  but  the  expense  far  exceeds  the  value  of  the  in- 
terest which  a  tenant  generally  has  in  the  premises. 
Such  walls  ought,  therefore,  in  every  case,  to  be  erected 


AGRICULTURE. 


327 


by  the  proprietor,  who  thus  increases  the  value  of  his 
property,  in  a  direct  proportion  with  the  increased  value 
given  to  the  land,  by  the  erection  of  such  fences.  Ge- 
nerally speaking,  proprietors  have  not  been  very  for- 
ward with  such  improvements,  but  have  thrown  them 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  tenantry  as  often  as  the  latter 
would  undertake  them.  Hence  the  bad  state  of  fences 
in  many  districts.  The  tenant  having  only  a  limited 
interest  in  their  success,  executes  the  erection  at  the 
least  possible  expense,  and  without  any  regard  to  their 
permanence. 

To  render  a  stone  wall  useful  as  a  fence,  its  height 
ought  never  to  be  less  than  five  feet  three  inches,  other- 
wise it  will  not  keep  in  many  of  the  breeds  of  sheep 
which  prevail  in  the  country.  In  erecting  the  fence, 
great  care  ought  to  be  taken  to  build  ujion  a  solid  foun- 
dation, otherwise  the  wall  is  apt  to  incline  to  a  side, 
and  gradually  to  fall  down.  The  coping  should  be 
made  close  ;  for  if  water  gets  down  the  inside  of  the 
wall,  it  will  bulge  out,  and  finally  go  to  ruin.  To  bed 
the  stones  sufficiently,  and  to  give  each  a  hold  of  the 
other,  are  likewise  matters  of  importance  when  walls 
are  built ;  the  duration  of  the  wall  depending  entirely 
upon  the  attention  given  to  the  particulars  which  we 
have  mentioned. 

On  Thorn  Hedges. 

A  thorn  hedge  makes  an  excellent  fence,  when  once 
trained  up  and  brought  to  maturity ;  but  the  length  of 
time  which  elapses  before  it  can  prove  of  much  benefit, 
and  the  great  expense  incurred  in  training  it  up,  render 
such  a  fence  not  much  cheaper  than  a  stone  wall ;  espe- 
cially if  the  loss  from  the  want  of  it  in  the  first  instance 
is  duly  estimated.  The  price  of  such  a  fence,  however, 
being  gradually  expended  by  the  farmer,  he  is  not  so 
sensible  of  its  amount  as  of  that  of  a  stone  wall,  and  is 
therefore  generally  disposed  to  give  a  preference  to  the 
former.  If  the  several  expenses  belonging  to  hedges, 
and  the  extent  of  ground  wasted  by  this  mode  of  fenc- 
ing, are  fully  considered,  we  are  not  certain  that  the  ba- 
lance will  be  much  in  favour  of  them  as  fences.  At  all 
events,  a  sfone  wall  is  useful  in  the  first  year,  whereas 
a  dozen  at  least  must  elapse  before  a  hedge  can  be  of 
much  benefit. 

AVhen  a  thorn  hedge  is  to  be  planted,  it  is  of  advan- 
tage to  fallow  the  ground  a  year  before  hand;  and  if  (he 
soil  is  poor,  to  dress  it  with  dung,  so  that  the  young 
plants  may  not  be  oppressed  with  weeds,  or  stunted  for 
want  of  food,  when  weak  and  unable  to  send  forth  their 
fibres  in  search  of  nourishment.  These  things  being 
attended  to,  and  the  hedge  planted,  an  annual  cleaning 
ought  to  be  given ;  sometimes  two  cleanings  are  neces- 
sary before  the  hedge  will  thrive.  It  is  also  necessary 
to  fence  it  at  the  back  with  paling,  that  beasts  may  be 
restrained  from  going  over  it,  and  to  switch  it  over 
when  two  or  three  years  of  age,  in  order  that  it  may  he 
kept  close  at  the  bottom.  It  may  be  remarked,  that  a 
gap  once  made  is  never  effectually  filled  up  ;  and  there- 
lore  the  utmost  care  ought  to  be  exerted  to  keep  cattle 
of  all  kinds  from  making  trespasses.  As  the  hedo-e 
grows  up,  repeated  cuttings  are  necessary,  so  that  a 
wide  bottom  may  be  gained,  without  which  no  hedge 
can  be  considered  as  a  suitable  fence;  and  some  atten- 
tion is  required  to  give  a  proper  shape  to  the  top,  which 
is  a  matter  of  much  importance  to  the  welfare  of  the 
hedge.    When  thorns  are  allowed  to  grow  to  unequal 


heights,  the  strong  planis  are  sure  to  smother  the  weak 
ones;  and  when  the  hedge  becomes  broad  at  the  top,  it 
retains  water  and  snow,  to  the  great  injury  of  the  plants. 
All  these  evils  may  be  avoided  by  proper  management ; 
though,  as  we  have  already  said,  twelve  years  must 
elapse  before  the  best  managed  hedge  can  beconsidcred 
as  a  sutticient  fSnce ;  and  in  many  cases  double  that  time 
must  intervene  betwixt  planting  and  perfection.  Upon 
many  soils,  the  most  arduous  endeavours  will  not  make 
a  fence  from  thorns,  though  this,  after  all,  depends  much 
upon  the  attention  bestowed  at  the  outset.  If  once  mar- 
red in  its  growth  by  carelessness  and  negligence,  it  is 
hardly  practicable  to  make  up  for  former  errors  by  addi- 
tional diligence.  In  fact,  it  is  an  easier  business  to 
root  up  the  old  hedge,  and  train  up  a  new  one,  than  to 
recover  a  hedge  which  has  been  mismanaged,  or  suffer- 
ed to  get  into  bad  condition,  from  want  of  attention  to 
the  cleaning  and  cutting  processes. 

Sect.  II. 

On  Woods,  or  Plantations  of  Timber  Trees. 

The  necessity  of  having  a  sufficient  stock  of  timber 
for  making  husbandry  utensils,  by  which  the  ground 
may  be  cultivated;  for  erecting  houses,  wherein  the 
people  may  be  sheltered  from  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather;  and  for  building  ships  for  national  defence, 
and  carrying  on  trade,  is  so  well  known,  that  it  is  totally 
unnecessary  to  say  one  word  on  that  subject ;  but  it  is 
matter  of  regret  at  this  time,  when  we  are  likely  to  be 
deprived  of  all  foreign  supplies,  that  the  quantity  of  Bri- 
tish timber  is  daily  decreasing,  while  little  attention  is 
bestowed  in  planting  trees  for  future  consumption,  so 
that  the  nation  may  be  secured  in  a  suitable  supply  of 
timber,  for  the  purposes  already  mentioned.  This  neg- 
lect arises  from  the  circumstance,  that  those  who  plant 
timber  trees  very  rarely  cut  them,  and  can  only  be  cor- 
rected by  a  legislative  enactment,  viz.  that  every  landed 
proprietor  shall  have  such  a  portion  of  his  property  in 
woodland,  leaving  it  to  them  to  plant  such  trees  as  arc 
most  suitable  for  the  soil,  climate,  and  situation  of  their 
respective  properties. 

It  would  be  well  if  the  present  state  of  political  affair* 
induced  the  legislature  to  take  up  the  subject  imme- 
diately, and  to  provide  a  remedy  such  as  we  have  point- 
ed out,  otherwise  the  state  of  the  country  may  be  truly 
lamentable  at  a  future  period,  if  foreign  supplies  are 
wholly  interdicted.  It  is  sufficiently  evident,  that  tim- 
ber is  daily  decreasing  in  quantity  at  home ;  because  its 
price  has  recently  advanced  much  beyond  any  alteration 
in  the  value  of  money,  which  is  the  sure  criterion  for 
ascertaining  any  thing  of  this  kind.  Within  (he  last 
thirty  years,  timber  has  quintupled  its  price ;  whereas 
the  value  of  corn,  the  staff  of  life,  has  hardly  been  dou- 
bled within  that  period.  This  sufficiently  proves,  that 
the  quantity  of  (he  one  article  in  hand  is  much  below 
that  of  the  other;  because,  had  an  equal  affinity  been 
preserved,  the  money  value  of  the  one  would  have  beea 
exactly  the  same  as  that  of  the  other. 

The  subject  is  rather  of  a  mi'lancholy  nature ;  because 
a  deficiency  of  timber  cannot  be  si)eedily  supplied,  like 
a  deficiency  of  corn  or  butcher  meat,  that  are  necessary 
for  man's  existence;  though  it  is  plain,  without  demon- 
stration, that  the  longer  the  cure  is  delayed,  the  longer 
will  the  nation  be  deprived  of  a  sufficient  supply  of  tini- 
\icr.     We  are  uut  disjiOicd  to  be  advocates  for  gompul- 


328 


AGRICULTURE. 


Batory  measures ;  because  we  judge,  in  onhnary  cases, 
that  every  man  ought  to  be  left  to  manage  private  pro- 
perty as  he  pleases ;  but  Salus  populi  siiprema  lex  being 
a  standard  maxim,  occasions  us  to  declare  decidedly  in 
favour  of  legislative  interference  in  this  instance,  espe- 
cially as  we  are  convinced  that  the  ordinary  principles 
which  govern  mankind  cannot  operate  in  the  present 
case,  the  profits  from  planting  being  distant  and  adven- 

Having  insisted  so  far  upon  the  propnety  o!  legisla- 
tive interference,  with  respect  to  the  planting  of  timber 
trees,  we  shall  say  a  few  words  concerning  the  methods 
of  planting,  and  the  probable  success  which  may  thence 
be  expected.  ,1.1.4 

When  a  plantation  of  timber  is  to  be  formed,  the  first 
step  necessary  is  to  fence  the  ground  that  is  to  be 
planted,  so  that  cattle  of  all  kinds  may  be  kept  from 
making  inroads.  The  ground  to  be  planted  ought  to  be 
completely  fallowed  on  the  preceding  year,  and,  if  in  a 
rough  or  waste  state,  two  years  fallowing  will  be  useful. 
If  wet  or  boggy,  open  drains  ought  to  be  dug  through 
all  the  hollow  places,  so  that  superfluous  moisture  may 
be  removed.  These  operations  being  performed,  the 
planting  may  proceed,  in  executing  which,  great  care 
should  be  taken  to  make  the  pits  of  a  proper  size ;  and, 
in  filling  them  up,  that  the  best  earth  be  returned  near- 
est the  roots.  A  mixture  of  timber,  in  the  same  planta- 
tion, is  always  advantageous,  and  thick  planting  is  eligi- 
ble, for  the  purpose  of  affording  shelter.  As  the  plan- 
tation gels  forward,  attention  must  be  paid  to  thinning 
and  pruning  the  trees,  removing  always  those  first  that 
are  either  sickly  or  debilitated ;  and,  in  this  way,  and 
by  exercising  constant  attention  in  the  management, 
timber  trees  will  advance  with  double  rapidity,  than 
when  neglected  and  overlooked.  It  has  been  aptly  said, 
that  much  expense  is  often  incurred  in  planting  trees, 
which  is  afterwards  lost  by  neglecting  to  train  them  up. 
Trees  indeed  are,  in  most  cases,  put  into  the  earth,  and 
then  left  to  themselves  to  grow  or  die ;  whereas,  with 
them,  as  with  all  other  plants,  the  fostering  hand  of  man 
is  indispensably  calletl  for  in  every  stage  of  growth, 
otherwise  they  will  rarely  arrive  at  perfection,  or  make 
that  return  to  the  owner  which  may  be  reasonably  ex- 
pected when  the  several  processes  of  planting,  pruning, 
and  thinning,  are  duly  exercised. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  planting  trees  in  hedge-rows 
ig  not  only  prejudicial  to  fences,  but  of  great  detriment 
to  corn-crops  cultivated  in  fields  surrounded  by  these 
hedge-rows,  especially  if  the  fields  are  of  a  small  size; 
a  practice  which  improi)erly  prevails  in  many  English 
counties.  If  shelter  is  wanted  for  a  field,  the  best  way 
of  procuring  it  is  to  form  belts,  or  8tri|)3  of  planting, 
from  fifty  to  sixty  feet  wide;  for  timber  trees  thrive 
much  better  than  when  planted  in  rows,  or  in  narrow 
strips.  All  cold  or  moorish  soils  are  greatly  benefited 
by  being  enclosed  in  this  way ;  though  it  may  be  re- 
marked that  small  enclosures  ought  to  be  avoided,  be- 
cause they  occasion  a  great  waste  of  ground,  without  af- 
fording benefit  in  other  respects  proportional  to  the 
heavy  expense  entailed  upon  the  proprietor  or  tenant, 
for  supporting  such  a  number  of  unnecessary  fences. 

Having  already  described,  in  as  circumstantial  a  man- 
ner nr  the  limits  oi"  this  article  allowed,  the  present 
state  of  British  husbandry,  we  shall  now  point  out  the 
obstructions  which  impede  its  progress  to  further  per- 


fection. In  South  Britain,  these  obstructions  are  nume- 
rous; all  tending  to  stop  the  improvement  of  the  soil, 
and  to  lessen  the  value  of  landed  pro[)erty.  Beside  the 
want  of  leases,  and  the  general  nature  of  covenants, 
which  govern  the  tenantry,  the  influence  of  poor-rates, 
tythes,  and  other  public  burdens,  is  hostile  to  agricultu- 
ral improvement.  In  addition  to  these,  the  extent  of 
land  held  upon  common-field  tenure,  together  with  that 
legally  kept  in  a  state  of  waste,  and  comparatively  in 
an  unproductive  condition,  all  render  the  husbandry  of 
South  Britain  much  inferior  to  what  might  be  expected 
under  the  circumstances  of  soil,  climate,  and  markets, 
with  which  the  country  is  favoured. 

In  a  preceding  part  of  this  article  we  made  some  ob- 
servations upon  the  pernicious  consequences  arising  to 
husbandry  from  the  want  of  leases,  and  showed  that  the 
general  tendency  of  restrictive  covenants  was  inimical 
to  improvement,  and  even  adverse  to  the  interest  of 
those  who  imposed  them.  Referring  to  what  was  then 
stated,  we  shall  now  say  a  few  words  upon  the  inexpe- 
diency and  inutility  of  keeping  land  in  a  commonable 
state,  and  the  pernicious  consequences  which  flow  from 
burdening  it  with  tythes  and  poor-rates,  according  to 
the  present  system. '  In  our  opinion,  both  these  burdens 
might  be  arranged  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  stop  improve- 
ment in  the  slightest  manner ;  and,  perhaps,  it  would 
not  be  a  difficult  affiair  to  place  the  whole  land  of  the 
kingdom  in  a  state  of  severalty,  were  the  legislature 
disposed  to  take  up  the  business  in  a  decisive  manner, 
or  to  view  it  as  one  which  materially  affected  the  gene- 
ral welfare. 

In  the  first  place,  so  long  as  the  tenth  of  produce  is 
exacted  from  the  farmer,  it  is  unreasonable  to  expect 
that  agriculture  will  be  much  improved ;  because  10  per 
catt.  upon  the  general  run  of  improvements,  is,  of  itself, 
a  great  profit,  alter  the  ordinary  expenses  are  defrayed. 
No  person,  therefore,  will  step  out  of  the  beaten  path, 
so  long  as  the  profits  of  improvement  are  to  be  drawn 
by  another,  who  is  not  at  any  part  of  the  expense,  who 
runs  none  of  the  risk,  and  who  experiences  none  of  the 
trouble  attending  the  improvement,  except  what  neces- 
sarily accompanies  the  receipt  of  an  increased  quantity 
of  produce.  The  writer  of  this  article  has  thought  a 
good  deal  upon  this  subject,  and  viewed  it  in  all  the  va- 
rious lights  in  which  it  can  present  itself  to  the  public 
eye.  His  sentiments  are  not  hostile  to  the  owners  of 
tythes,  whether  laymen  or  clei^ymen,  and  he  would  be 
the  last  man  in  the  country  who  would  advise  that  pri- 
vate property  should  be  sacrificed  without  a  suitable  re- 
compense, even  though  a  great  public  good  were  thus 
to  be  accomplished.  Under  these  impressions,  the  fol- 
lowing plan  for  commuting  tythe  into  a  share  of  actual 
rent  is  humbly  offered  to  public  consideration,  which,  if 
carried  into  execution,  may  completely  remove  the  evil 
attending  the  tythe  system,  without  injuring  the  rights 
of  those  who  are  at  present  entitled  to  draw  the  tenth  of 
the  produce.  Without  insisting  upon  the  subject,  it  shall 
be  concisely  stated,  without  argument,  leaving  it  to 
stand  or  fall  upon  its  own  merits. 

Tythe,  though  apparently  an  equal  tax,  is  in  reality 
more  unequal  than  any  tax  yet  devised.  On  poor  soils, 
the  tenth  of  the  crop,  though  nominally  exigible,  upon 
the  same  ratio,  is  more  severely  felt  by  the  possessor 
than  when  paid  from  good  soils.  To  those  who  have 
studied  the  subject,  an  explanation  may  be  superfluous ; 
but  to  others,  who  are  not  so  versant  in  iwlitical  ccono- 


AGRICULTURE. 


3-29 


my,  il  cannot  be  improper  to  elucidate  an  opinion  which, 
at  first  sight,  may  have  a  paradoxical  appearance. 

All  poor  soils,  like  land  in  its  natural  state,  require 
considerable  outlays  before  they  can  be  rendered  com- 
paratively fertile  and  productive.  There  is  not  much 
hazarded  in  maintaining,  that  five  quarters  per  acre  ivill 
be  gained  at  less  expense  upon  rich  loams  and  clays, 
than  three  quarters  per  acre  from  thin  clay  and  moorish 
soils.  These  inferior  soils  require  more  manure,  more 
labour,  as  much  if  not  more  seed  than  soils  of  the  first 
description,  consequently  the  disposable  balance  from 
which  tythe  must  be  paid,  is  out  of  all  bounds  diminished. 
In  the  one  case,  tythe  will  amount  to  about  17  percent. 
en  the  disposable  produce ;  whereas,  in  the  other,  it  will 
be  found  not  less  than  32  per  cent,  a  diflerence  which 
few  people  ever  trouble  themselves  to  calculate.  Wish- 
ing to  make  ourselves  perfectly  understood,  a  few  figures 
in  illustration  of  the  argument  are  subjoined. 

Take  the  crop  on  a  rich  field  of  loam  or  clay  at  5 
quarters  per  acre  on  an  average,  inde  5  qrs.  0  bush. 

Deduct  seed,  on  an  ave- 
rage of  grains,  4  bush. 

Corn  for  working  stock,  6 

Ditto  for  farm  servants,  3 

Ditto  for  incidental  ex- 
penses, such  as  harvest 
work,  tear  and  wear, 
&c.  4 


2     1 


which  leaves  a  disposable  balance  of  two  quarters  seven 
bushels  per  acre,  as  a  fund  from  which  tythe  can  be  paid. 
But  as  the  whole  crop  is  tythable,  the  amount  thereof 
is  four  bushels,  or  nearly  1 7  per  cent,  on  the  disposable 
produce. 

Take  the  crop  on  thin  clay  or  moorish  soil,  at  three 
quarters  on  an  average,  inde,  3  qrs. 

Deduct  seed,  4  bush. 

Horse  corn,  6 

Farm  servants,  3 

Incidents,  3 

—  2 


tyhich  leaves  a  disposable  balance  of  one  quarter  per 
acre,  as  a  fund,  from  which  tythe  can  be  paid.  The 
tythe  of  three  quarters  is  two  bushels  two  pecks,  or 
thereby,  or  nearly  32  per  cent,  on  the  disposable  produce ; 
though,  in  the  last  case,  the  incidental  expenses  are 
stated  at  one  bushel  per  acre  less  than  in  the  other, 
which,  where  good  management  is  practised,  may  be  a 
questionable  circumstance. 

Thus  it  appears,  that  the  possessor  of  a  good  soil, 
who  raises  five  quarters  per  acre,  pays  tythe,  when  it  is 
collected  in  kind,  at  the  rate  of  1 7  pet  cent,  of  the  grain 
remaining  on  hand,  after  the  expenses  of  working  the 
same  are  defraj'ed  ;  while  the  possessor  of  inferior  soils, 
who  raises  three  quarters  per  acre,  pays  at  the  rate  of 
\i  per  cent,  though  the  tax,  at  first  sight,  is  precisely 
the  same  in  both  cases.  After  this  statement,  which,  it 
is  presumed,  as  a  general  illustration,  will  not  be  found 
far  from  the  truth,  can  it  excite  surprise,  that  waste 
lands,  and  inferior  soils,  remain  unimproved  among  our 
southern  neighbours  ? 

Vol.  I.     Part  I. 


We.  might  now  show  in  what  respect  tythes  prevent 
the  cultivation  of  waste  lands,  were  we  not  fully  sensible 
that  few  people  are  so  ignorant  as  to.  deny  the  truth  of 
this  proposition.  Indeed,  to  attack  tythes  merely  ujion 
account  of  their  consequence,  is  little  better  than  attack- 
ing a  man  of  straw,  who  is  incapable  of  making  the 
slightest  defence.  It  is  not  concerning  (heir  utility  or 
expediency  that  economists  dispute.  Upon  this  point, 
almost  every  one  is  agreed,  who  has  investigated  the 
subject.  The  difference  which  prevails,  arises  entirely 
from  the  difficulty  of  making  a  just  arrangement,  where 
so  many  interests  are  concerned.  If  tythes,  however, 
prevent  the  improvement  of  the  country,  or,  in  other 
words,  occasion  the  national  stock  to  be  less  than  it 
would  be  if  they  ceased  to  operate,  every  friend  to  his 
country  will  join  in  declaring,  that  a  remedy  ought  to 
be  sought  after ;  nay,  even  if  a  strong  measure  is  neces- 
sary to  remove  such  an  extensive  evil,  that  it  is  an  in- 
cumbent duty  upon  the  government  of  the  country  to 
put  such  in  execution. 

After  having  fully  conceded  the  right  of  impropriators, 
it  cannot  be  supposed,  that,  in  proposing  a  commutation 
of  tythes,  we  are  in  the  smallest  manner  hostile  to  their 
interest.  The  holders  are  entitled  to  a  full  compensa- 
tion, if  the  tax  were  to  be  abolished ;  and  it  is  for  their 
real  interest,  that  an  adjustment  should  be  made.  The 
unproductive  state  of  such  an  extensive  portion  of  the 
national  property  does  not  serve  them;  nor  is  it  practi- 
cable to  collect  the  full  value  of  tythes,  were  laws  mul- 
tiplied ad  infinitum. 

Perhaps  it  is  the  difficulty,  not  the  inexpediencj",  of  a 
commutation,  which  has  hitherto  prevented  such  a  salu- 
tary measure  from  being  enacted.  It  has  been  proposed 
to  value  all  the  tythes  presently  paid,  and  to  make  that 
valuation  the  rule  of  payment  in  all  time  coming.  But 
to  this  it  is  objected,  that  no  regard  is  thus  paid  to  the 
gradual  depreciation  of  money,and  consequently  that  the 
real  value  of  the  payment  might  he  annually  dimin- 
ished. The  plan  established  in  Scotland  has  been  also 
recommended;  but  though  this  would  efTectually  re- 
move the  evil,  yet,  as  the  right  of  impropriators  is  now 
better  secured  than  in  Charles  I.'s  days,  it  is  evident, 
that  such  a  plan  stands  little  chance  of  being  adopted. 
Again,  a  corn  rent  has  been  ])roposeil  by  several  [leople ; 
and  liy  others,  that  a  certain  part  of  all  tythable  land 
should  be  set  apart,  instead  of  an  annual  (layment.  To 
both  of  these  modes  of  adjustment,  strong,  and  in  our 
opinion,  valid  objections  may  be  offered.  Corn  is  but  an 
awkward  article  for  clergymen  to  deal  in,  and,  at  any 
rate,  such  a  mode  of  payment  could  not  apply  to  pas- 
ture and  waste  land.  Besides,  it  >vouM  open  a  door 
for  constant  discussions  about  the  quality  of  the  article 
delivered.  The  other  mode  of  adjustment,  viz.  giving 
land  instead  of  tythe,  would,  so  far  as  the  clergy  are 
concerned,  be  still  worse  in  a  national  view.  It  would 
put  such  a  quantity  of  land  in  a  state  of  mortmain,  as 
might  increase  the  evil  which  the  commutation  meant 
to  correct. 

I-'rom  these  considerations,  it  appears,  that  no  method 
can  be  devised  for  regulating  tythes  sulBcient  to  remove 
the  evils  atteiulant  upon  the  present  system,  and  secure 
so  elleclually  the  interest  of  all  parties,  as  a  general 
law  fixing  a  payment  in  money,  according  to  the  rentals 
of  the  land  from  which  tythes  are  exigible.  Such  a 
plan  carried  into  execution,  would  do  away  tlie  com- 
plaint, that  tythes  obstruct  improvement.  It  would  allow 
the  proi)rietor  to  receive  the  full  value  of  his  company 
T  t 


330 


AGRICULTURE. 


concern ;  secure  the  tythe-holder  in  his  share  of  the 
property,  as  ascerUiined  by  the  legislature  ;  anil  prevent 
ihe  farmer  from  being  deprived  of  the  benefils  flowing 
from  such  meliorations  as  he  may  have  made  on  the  land 
>vhich  he  occupies. 

We  are  at  a  loss  to  discover  any  objections  that  can 
he  made'  to  the  principles  of  this  adjustment,  though  we 
nre  aware  that,  in  ajiplying  the  principle  to  practice,  a 
diversity  of  opinions  may  prevail,  respecting  the  ratio 
of  payment  to  be  substituted  ;  but,  with  a  full  considera- 
tion of  the  question  before  us,  we  suggest  the  follow- 
ing outlines  of  an  adjustment,  that  would  promote  the 
public  welfare,  and  secure  the  interest  of  every  indi- 
vidual concerned  in  the  collection  or  payment  of  tythes. 
We  propose,  that  the  whole  land  in  England  shall  be  ar- 
ranged into  three  classes:  1.  Old  arable;  2.  Pasture; 
3.  Waste.  The  first  class,  under  the  present  system, 
pays  almost  the  whole  tythes  that  are  collected;  there- 
lore  any  permanent  regulation  ought  in  justice  to  be 
higher  upon  this  than  the  other  two  classes,  eren 
holding  the  different  values  in  view.  The  second  class 
is,  in  nine  instances  out  of  ten,  kept  from  convertible 
husbandry,  to  escape  the  bunlen  of  tythe ;  and  the  last, 
except  in  a  lew  cases,  does  not  yield  produce  from  which 
tythe  can  le  exacted.  Under  these  circumstances,  it 
would  be  unreasonable  to  demand  a  commutation  upon 
the  same  ratio  from  these  different  classes,  though  it  is 
fair  that  each  of  them  should  bear  a  reasonable  propor- 
tion. 

The  Scottish  law  declares,  that  one  fifth  of  the  free 
rental  should  be  held  as  equal  to  the  tythe  of  land.  This 
principle,  though  evidently  a  fallacious  one,  h.is  the 
merit  of  being  clear  and  distinct,  which  is  a  necessary 
quality  in  every  public  measure.  The  fifth  of  the  rental 
in  all  cases,  like  the  tenth  of  the  produce,  must  operate 
very  differently  in  different  situations,  but  still  not  to  the 
same  extent,  when  the  rental  only  is  affected,  and  stock 
in  trade  and  personal  abilities  are  exempted. 

We  shall  therelbre  take  the  Scottish  law  as  the  basis 
of  the  |)ro|:osed  adjustment,  and  recommend,  that  one- 
sixth  of  the  rental  of  land,  presently  in  an  arable  state, 
should  be  set  apart,  in  lieu  of  tythe,  in  all  time  coming; 
and  that,  where  fines  or  grassums  are  paid,  the  tythe- 
holder  should  have  a  claim  for  the  same  proportion  of 
all  such  fines  or  grassums  levied  by  proprietors.  This 
share  of  rental  should  increase  or  diminish  as  rents  in- 
creased or  diminished,  which  obviates  every  objection 
hitherto  offered  against  a  commutation  in  money,  allows 
the  tythe-holder  a  due  share  of  every  emolument  that 
might  arise  from  the  increasing  prosperity  of  the  coun- 
try, and  prevents  him  from  sutfering  a  loss,  in  ease  mo- 
ney should  fall  in  value,  as  has  hitherto  hai)pened. 

Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  ancient  Scottish 
tythe-system,  will  at  once  perceive,  that  though  we  have 
taken  it  as  the  basis  of  our  plan,  yet  we  have  deviated 
a  little  from  it  in  the  rate  of  commutation.  The  propor- 
tion, in  Scotland,  is  one  fifth  of  the  rent ;  but  we  have 
stated  one-sixth  as  an  equitable  payment.  It  is  well 
known,  that,  in  Scottish  valuations,  deductions  are  con- 
stantly made  for  improvements ;  and  that  in  fact  tythe, 
even  at  the  time  of  valuation,  seldom  exceeds  one-sixth 
of  the  real  rental.  Besides,  under  the  proposed  adjust- 
ment, the  proprietor  has  a  fair  claim  to  an  ease,  or  deduc- 
tion, upon  account  of  future  improvements,  from  which 
the  tythe-holder  would  constantly  reap  profit,  without 
being  subjected  to  any  expense. 

If  we  suppose,  that  the  aTerage  rent  of  arable  land  in 


England,  subject  to  tythe,  is  2js.  per  acre,  and  that  it 
would  be  worth  30s.  when  exonerated,  then  the  sum 
payable  to  the  tythe-holder  would,  under  this  supposition, 
amount  to  5s.  per  acre,  so  long  as  the  scale  of  rent  re- 
mained on  its  present  footing.  If  rent  increased,  so 
would  the  tythe  duty  increase ;  the  interest  of  all  the 
parties  would  go  hand  in  hand,  and  while  the  olistncle 
to  improvement  would  be  removed,  which  is  the  chief 
object  intended,  security  would  l)e  gained  by  all  con- 
cerned, for  enjoying  the  full  advantage  of  their  sepa- 
rate rights. 

The  second  class  of  land  is  the  old  pastures.    The  in- 
troduction of  convertible  husbandry,  the  main  source  of 
tythes,  is  effectually   prevented  upon  land  of  this  de- 
scription ;  and  as,  without  convertible  husbandry,  few 
tythes  can  be  collected,  it  must  appear  reasonable,  that 
a  different  basis  should  be  assumed  when  treating  of  the 
rate  to  be  paid  in  lieu  of  tythe,  under  such  circumstances. 
Perhaps  one  tenth  of  the  rent  is  too  mnch  to  be  levied  up- 
on such  lands.  We  are  convinced  it  ought  not  to  be  high- 
er; and,  when  the  general  richness  of  the  old  pastures  is 
considered,  it  seems  probable,  that  a  tenth  here  will  be 
equal  to  a  sixth  of  the  rent  of  old  arable  land.     This 
rate,  we  propose,  should  continue  in  all  time  Qoming, 
whether  convertible  husbandry  is,  or  is  not,  introduced- 
The  last  class  is  the  waste  lands.     Here  it  is  obvious, 
that  tythe  from  such  lands  depends  entirely  upon  the 
nature  and  extent  of  the  improvements  that  are  made ;. 
for,  in  their  natural  state,  the  tythable  produce  is  very 
limited.     As  it  is  perhaps  upon  lands  presently  charac- 
terized as  wastes  that  the  greatest  artificial  improve- 
ments would  be  made,  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  that  the 
rate  of  payment  should  nominally  be  much  lower  than 
specified  with  regard  to  the  other  two  classes;    though 
we  have  no  doubt,  but  that,  in  reality,  the  greatest  in- 
crease of  tythe  would  arise  in  this  class.     We  propose 
therefore,  that  one-fifteenth  of  the  rent  should  be  con- 
sidered as  a  full  com|)ensation  for  tythe,  tipon  all  lands 
of  this  description.     Perhaps  many  people  may  view 
this  as  too  high  a  compensation  ;  but  when  it  is  con- 
sidered that  rent,  at  the  oulsetting,  when  improvements 
are  making,  must,  of  course  be  very  low,  and  that  it  can- 
not rise  till  a  degree  of  perfect  culture  is  established,  we 
entertain  a  hope,  that  the  rate  proposed  will  be  viewed 
as  equitable  and  reasonable. 

Thus  we  have  briefly  stated  the  outlines  of  a  plan  for 
removing  an  important  agricultural  grievance ;  and 
there  cannot  be  a  doubt,  but  that  the  public  interest,  as 
well  as  that  of  individuals,  would  be  materially  advanced 
were  such  a  plan  carried  into  execution.  The  public 
would  be  benefited  by  a  general  introduction  of  convert- 
ible husbandry,  and  by  the  culture  of  that  large  portion 
of  the  island,  which,  to  the  shame  of  our  government, 
is  suffered  to  remain  almost  in  a  non-productive  state. 
The  landed  proprietor  would  receive  the  full  value  of  his 
property  ;  as  a  removal  of  tythes  would  instantly  occa- 
sion convertible  husbandry  to  be  generally  disseminatecl, 
and  be  the  fore-runner  of  a  great  rise  of  rent.  The 
tythe-holders,  whether  clergymen  or  lay  impropriators, 
would  likewise  participate  in  the  general  advantage.  At 
the  outset,  it  is  probable,  that  the  amount  of  tythes 
would  exceed,  at  least  it  would  be  equal  to  the  tax  in 
kind,  or  the  money  presently  levied  in  lieu  of  it,  while 
all  the  drudgery,  all  the  ill  will  which  inevitably  fall  to 
the  lot  of  the  collector,  would  be  avoided.  As  to  the 
farmers,  they  would  most  likely  gain  more  than  the  pro- 
prietors or  ty  the-hoklers,  by  the  establishment  of  such  a 


AGRICULTURE. 


331 


rammutation.  Tiiey  would  be  free  of  aibitrary  exactions 
levied  in  direct  proportion  to  the  extent  of  their  merits 
and  abilities.  When  improvements  were  made,  they 
would  be  secured  from  the  interposition  of  a  third  per- 
son ;  and  rent  being  fixed,  no  detnand  for  a  share  of  pro- 
fits could  be  made,  during  the  currency  of  a  lease,  by 
any  person  whatever. 

In  order  that  a  commutation  of  tylho=,  so  devoutly 
to  be  wished,  might  be  carried  into  execution,  all  that 
seems  necessary,  in  the  first  instance,  is  an  act  of 
the  legislature,  to  ascertain  the  basis  upon  which  the 
commutation  is  to  be  made.  Under  the  supposition  that 
a  plan  such  as  this  is  just  and  equitable,  the  act  should 
direct,  that  a  commission  for  each  county  should  be 
granted,  with  power  to  name  sub-commissions  for  each 
parish,  by  whom  the  whole  lands  therein  situated  should 
be  classed.  The  county  commissioners  should  review 
and  amend  the  parochial  reports  where  necessary ;  and, 
being  made  up,  they  should  be  registered  in  the  county 
records,  as  a  rule  of  payment  for  the  future. 

It  may  perhaps  be  expedient  to  allow  proprietors  of 
land  the  alternative  of  accepting  a  commutation  or  not ; 
but  having  once  taken  the  benefit  of  it,  no  change  should 
be  allowed  afterwards.  W  here  a  modus  has  been  legally 
settled,  or  is  supported  by  prescription,  the  act  ought 
not  to  include  such  cases,  as  the  object  in  view  has  been 
already  obtained. 

In  these  outlines,  we  make  no  reference  to  a  sale  of 
lythes,  but  leave  proprietors  on  both  sides  to  make  ar- 
rangements, as  may  be  done  in  other  cases  with  any 
branch  of  private  property.  Whether  sales  take  place 
or  not,  is  a  circumstance  unconnected  with  the  public 
good;  for  if  tythes  are  constituted  a  rent  charge  upon 
permanent  principles,  it  does  not  matter  to  whom  they 
belong. 

We  now  come  to  poor-rates,  which  are  still  a  more 
imcertain  burden  upon  the  tenantry  than  ty  the, aud  which 
alter  and  vary  according  to  the  prosperity  of  the  coun- 
try, and  in  some  respects  according  to  the  manners  and 
disposition  of  the  lower  ranks ;  more  so  than  their  actual 
wants  or  necessities.  It  is  not  our  object  here  to  discuss 
the  expediency  or  utility  of  the  present  system,  but 
merely  to  consider  it  as  atfecting  agriculture,  and  as 
hostile  to  improvement.  We  are  therefore  convinced, 
that  every  indefinite  burden  must  be  injurious  to  those 
who  enter  upon  the  profession  of  agriculture,  because, 
when  they  agree  to  bear  the  public  burdens  which  affect 
tlie  land  under  their  occupation,  they  cannot  know  the 
extent  of  that  burden  till  it  fall  upon  them ;  therefore, 
as  it  is  more  or  less  heavy,  so  will  their  condition  l>e 
good  or  bad  according  to  the  weight  of  the  burden,  or 
the  extent  of  the  tax  which  falls  to  their  share.  View- 
ing the  matter  in  this  light,  we  have  long  thought  that  if 
all  these  public  burdens  were  defrayed  by  the  pro- 
prietor, agriculture  would  be  greatly  benefited,  while  the 
rent  rolls  of  proprietors  would  be  increased  in  a  degree 
much  exceeding  tlie  public  burdens  devolved  upon  them. 
We  see  this  to  be  the  case  in  North  Britain,  and  why 
the  like  effect  should  not  happen  in  the  sister  country,  we 
are  at  a  loss  to  discern.  Besides,  were  these  burdens 
sustained  by  proprietors  in  the  first  instance,  we  are  al- 
most certain  that  greater  economy  would  be  exercised 
than  under  the  existing  system.  Were  the  payers  to 
be  the  distributors,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the 
abuses  of  the  poor-rate  laws  would  soon  be  corrected, 
though  there  is  small  prospect  of  any  remedy  so  long  as 
the  present  system  continues. 


The  last  obstruction  lo  English  improvement  which 
shall  be  mentioned,  is  the  immense  tracts  held  in  a  state 
of  commonly,  whether  arable  or  waste,  by  which  the 
common  stock  of  the  nation  is  abused  .ind  misapplied, 
making  a  return  not  one  half  of  what  it  is  capable  of  af- 
fording, thus  lessening  considerably  the  produce  of  the 
country,  and  preventing  that  increase  of  population 
which  otherwise  might  be  supported  and  kept  in  em- 
ployment. We  are  quite  aware  that  strong  measures 
are  necessary  before  the  commonable  lands  can  be  di- 
vided and  placed  in  a  state  of  severalty ;  but  why  not 
put  strong  measures  into  execution,  since  the  national 
welfare  depends  so  much  upon  them  ?  The  country  has 
shown,  in  many  recent  instances,  that  strong  measures 
are  not  contrary  to  the  national  disposition ;  and  there- 
fore, why  delay  similar  ones,  when  an  object  of  material 
importance  is  at  stake  ?  In  the  ordinary  way  of  dividing 
conmionable  land,  we  venture  to  say,  that  the  object  will 
not  be  gained  in  a  couple  of  centuries,  even  though 
division  bills  should  be  as  numerous  as  they  have  been 
for  many  years  past.  A  genera!  bill  would  greatly  les- 
sen the  evil  complained  of,  would  save  an  immense 
expense  lo  those  concerned,  and  separated  from  en- 
closing, (which  we  view  as  an  unnecessary  appendage,) 
would  soon  place  the  whole  country  in  a  cultivated  state; 
at  least,  it  would  enable  the  owners  of  commonable  land 
to  participate  of  the  benefits  arising  from  holding  land 
in  severalty  whenever  they  were  disposed  to  partake  of 
such  an  advantage. 

The  legal  polity  of  Scotland,  as  it  affects  the  occu- 
piers of  land,  is  much  more  favourable  to  agriculture 
than  the  English  system,  though  still  it  has  defects 
which  might  be  remedied  without  injury  to  proprietors. 
The  tenant  has  not  that  power  over  his  lease  which  he 
ought  to  enjoy,  nor  can  he  legally  transfer  it  to  another, 
unless  the  proprietor  be  pleased  to  consent  to  the  trans- 
action. He  cannot  even  assign  his  lease  to  any  mem- 
ber of  his  family,  the  eldest  son  excepted,  who  jirobably 
is  bred  to  some  other  trade,  or  may  be  unqualified  for 
the  occupation  of  a  farmer.  The  hardships  which  af- 
fect the  Scottish  tenantry,  will  appear  in  a  clear  point  of 
view,  from  the  following  considerations,  with  which  we 
shall  conclude  this  article. 

In  the  first  place,  the  situation  of  cultivators,  though, 
undoubtedly  much  improved,  remains  more  precarious 
and  dependent  than  that  of  merchants  and  manufacturers. 
In  various  points  of  view,  the  former  have  less  command 
of  their  property  than  the  latter ;  the  property,  invested 
in  rural  improvement,  not  being  convertible  into  money 
with  the  same  facility  as  may  be  exercised  with  that 
devoted  to  trading  purposes.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, persons  possessed  of  property  are  deterred 
from  laying  out  any  considerable  i)art  of  it  in  the  im- 
provement of  land;  because  it  cannot  be  called  back 
when  wanted,  or  even  destined  for  those  purposes,  to 
which  it  may  be  the  ardent  wish  of  the  owner  to  ajtply 
it.  Were  leases  rendered  a  marketable  article,  these 
objections  would  be  removed.  Were  they  even  to  be 
at  the  tenant's  disposal,  7vhen  he  could  farm  no  more,  the 
evil  would  be  partially  remedied.  The  improvement  of 
land  is  now  become  an  expensive  task;  therefore,  when 
a  tenant's  stock  is  put  into  the  ground,  and  not  receiv- 
ed back  at  his  decease,  one  member  of  his  family  may 
be  enriched  at  the  expense  of  the  remainder.  But  a 
case  is  supposable,  which  necessarily  must  produce  con- 
sequences infinitely  worse ;  namely,  when  the  tenant 
dies,  and  leaves  a  voung  family  behind  liim,  none  of 
T  t  2 


832 


AGRICULTURE. 


whom  are  capaV)!e  of  following  out  his  plans,  or  of  exer- 
cising measures  suitaMe  for  accomplishing  a  recovery 
of  the  capita!  slock  expended  on  previous  improvements. 
In  such  a  case,  a  family  may  be  ruined,  even  though 
their  prospects  are  extensively  affluent.  Were  the  le- 
gal system  of  Scotland  contrived  in  such  a  way.  as  to 
lender  a  settlement  of  a  tenant's  affairs  as  easy  a  bu- 
siness as  that  of  a  merchant  or  manufacturer,  the  advan- 
tages of  the  change  would  be  numerous.  Could  a  lease 
be  sold,  or  subset,  at  the  tenant's  death,  and  the  stock 
upon  the  farm  be  converted  into  money,  the  interest  of 
all  concerned  would  be  greatly  promoted.  According 
to  existing  regulations,  a  partnership  in  agriculture  is 
almost  an  impracticable  measure,  at  least  it  is  an  impru- 
dent one ;  but  were  things  otherwise  regulated,  wer* 
leases  allowed  to  be  sold,  partnerships  would  frequently 
take  place,  much  te  the  benefit  of  those  extensively  em- 
bArlvfd  in  agriculture.  Agriculturists,  as  happens  with 
other  people,  have  different  talents;  some  are  better 
calculated  for  managing  arable  farms,  than  for  general 
purposes;  others  may  be  qualified  for  attending  markets, 
or  may  be  good  judges  of^  live  stock.  Blending  these 
different  qualifications  in  a  partnership  would  therefore 
be  eminently  useful,  though  it  is  evident,  that  no  such 
arrangement  can  successfully  take  place  under  the  pre- 
sent system. 

In  the  second  place,  agriculture  would  be  benefited, 
were  leases  of  longer  continuance  than  19  years  pro- 
tected from  the  claims  of  singular  successors.  Such 
singular  successors  would  not  thus  be  placed  in  a  worse 
situation  than  the  direct  heirs  of  the  granter;  and  why 
they  should  be  placed  in  a  better  one  we  are  at  a  loss  to 
conjecture.  A  law,  which  declared  every  lease  to  be  le- 
gal and  valid  that  was  regularly  executed,  no  matter 
what  were  its  duration  and  terms,  woidd  be  attended 
with  incalculable  advantages.  Should  it  be  urged,  that 
such  a  law  would  prove  injurious  to  heirs  and  expect- 
ants, we  answer,  that  the  injury  in  such  instances  would 


be  less  than  when  sales  are  made ;  and  as  erery  per- 
son, not  restricted  by  entail,  may  sell  the  subject  which 
belongs  to  him,  no  solid  reason  can  be  adduced,  why  he 
may  not  make  a  partial  disposal  of  the  same  for  a  limit- 
ed term. 

In  the  third  place,  were  leases  considered  as  proper- 
ty, numberless  evils  would  disappear,  which  at  present 
obstruct  and  incommode  agriculture.  We  cannot  con- 
jecture the  injury  which  proprietors  would  sustain,  ' 
were  this  character  bestowed  on  leases,  though  it  is  not 
difScult  torecognise  the  advantages  which  would  follow. 
Every  circumstance,  which  contributes  to  place  the 
holder  of  a  lease  in  a  more  respectable  condition,  neces- 
sarily serves  to  increase  the  value  of  landed  property. 
The  system  of  connexion  betwixt  landlord  and  tenant, 
is  constructed  on  more  liberal  terms  in  Scotland  than  in 
England;  hence,  a  given  s|iot  of  ground  yields  much 
more  rent  in  the  former  than  in  the  latter  countrj'.  But 
were  the  impediments  to  be  done  away,  which  we  have 
suggested,  the  difference  would  become  greater  still,  by 
the  rapid  spring  which  would  thus  be  given  to  agricul- 
tural improvement. 

iMstly,  were  every  feudal  custom  abolished,  and  te- 
nants placed  on  the  same  footing  wilh  other  members  of 
the  community,  the  public  good  would  be  considerably 
increased.  Were  the  lease  framed  on  plain  and  solid 
principles;  were  its  conditions  to  be  the  only  law  obli- 
gatory on  the  parties ;  were  every  reference  to  ancient 
custom  and  usage  to  be  given  up  and  done  away ;  and 
were  all  attempts  to  put  constructive  burdens  on  the  te- 
nant prohibi  ted  by  an  ex  press  ac  t  of  the  legisl  ature, — then 
we  might  expect  that  agriculture  would  flourish  with 
rapidity;  that  the  occupiers  of  the  ground  would  advance 
in  character  and  reputation ;  that  the  country  would  in- 
crease in  durable  riches ;  and  that  the  condition  of  all 
ranks,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  would  be  meliora- 
ted and  rendered  more  comfortable  than  has  hitherto 
^een  the  case,     (b) 


Note. — The  preceding  article  contains  such  full  and 
judicious  remarks  on  the  theory  and  practice  of  agri- 
culture, that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  take  up  that 
branch  of  the  subject ;  or  indeed  to  offer  any  thing  in 
the  form  of  instruction  in  this  valuable  science.  But  it 
unfortunately  so  happens,  that  both  in  Europe  and 
America,  very  humiliating,  and  let  me  add,  very  unjust 
ideas  are  entertained  of  the  state  of  agriculture  in  the 
United  States  of  America ;  and  as  the  effect  of  these 
is  to  deter  many  useful  men  from  migrating  to  a  coun- 
try where  their  labours  would  be  better  rewarded  than 
they  are  at  home,  and  to  diminish  the  satisfaction  that 
the  American  farmer  finds  in  his  situation  ;  it  is  a  duty 
to  society  to  remove  erroneous  impressions,  which  tend 
to  lessen  the  general  mass  of  human  happiness. 

It  may  perhaps  be  received  as  an  axiom,  that  where 
men  enjoy  equal  moral  and  jdiysical  advantages,  their 
progress  in  science  will  be  equal;  and  particularly  in 
those  branches  of  it  to  which  their  own  interests,  and 
that  of  the  community  of  which  they  are  members,  most 
naturally  lead.  In  islands,  or  sterile  countries  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  sea,  the  inhabitants,  according  to  the 
state  of  civilization  among  Uiem,  will  be  expert  fisher- 
men, or  distinguished  mtrcbants.  In  those  that  contain 
large  tract*  «f  fertile  land,  the  inhabitants,  when  ad- 


vanced beyond  the  shepherd  state,  will  render  their 
lands  sufficiently  pro<luctive  to  supply  (heir  wants ;  and 
when  civilization  has  increased  those  wants,  they  will 
seek  in  agriculture  the  means  of  supplying  the  conve- 
niences and  luxuries  that  are  to  be  obtained  through 
the  medium  of  commerce. 

We  may  then,  almost  to  a  certainly,  pronounce  upon 
the  relative  state  of  agriculture  in  any-  civilized  society 
that  enjoys  the  advantages  of  a  free  commerce,  by  know- 
ing their  moral  and  political  situation,  their  habits,  and 
how  far  they  indulge  themselves  in  the  conveniences 
and  luxuries  enjoyed  by  the  nations  with  whom  we  com- 
pare them ;  more  particularly,  if  agriculture,  and  not 
manufactures,  form  the  basis  of  their  commerce.  One 
might  then  be  surprised  at  the  contempt  with  which 
Europeans,  who  have  never  seen  the  country,  or  travel- 
lers who  have  seen  it  Avith  ignorantorjealouseyes, speak 
of  the  agriculture  of  the  United  States,  did  we  not 
know  the  prejudices  (hat  it  is  the  interest  of  European 
governments  to  keep  up,  against  a  country  which  offers 
nn  asylum  from  the  oppression  and  the  wants  that 
weigh  heavy  on  their  subjects.  To  this  we  must  add  an 
erroneous  idea,  that  most  strangers  entertain  on  the 
perfections  of  agriculture :  (hey  presume  that  it  consists 
in  obtaining  the  greatest  quantity  of  prmluce  from  a 


AGRICFLTURE, 


833 


given  (]uanfity  of  land ;  and  when  they  find  that  the  ara- 
ble yield  of  our  fields  is  less  thnn  that  of  their  n.tive 
country,  they  at  once  pronounce  us  miserable  fanners; 
not  considering  thut  agriculture  is  good  or  bad  in 
proportion  to  the  return  it  makes  lor  the  capital  employ- 
ed, and  that  the  capital  consists  not  of  land  only,  but  of 
stock,  land,  and  labour.  In  countries  in  which  a  great 
population  causes  land  to  be  dear  and  labour  cheap,  the 
farmer  expends  niiich  labour  on  little  land,  and  rendere 
that  extremely  productive,  and  the  reverse  where  land 
is  cheap  and  labour  dear.  A  Chinese  would  t>ass  the 
same  censure  on  British  agriculture,  that  a  Briton  does 
upon  that  of  the  United  States ;  and  yet  a  Yorkshire  far- 
mer is  in  all  probability  a  much  better  cultivator  than  the 
Chinese  :  that  is,  he  lives  more  comfortably,  and  reaps 
a  greater  profit  from  his  capital.  Considered  in  this 
view,  we  are  much  inclined  to  think,  that  the  agriculture 
of  the  United  States  is  at  leai^t  equal  to  that  of  Europe ; 
and  that  the  American  agriculturist  enjoys  physical  and 
moral  advantages  which  no  part  of  Europe  possesses. 
We  ground  our  opinionuponthisundeniablefact:  Labour 
commands  more  money,  and  money  more  of  the  neces- 
saries of  lile  in  the  United  States  than  in  Europe ;  of 
course,  the  American  labourer  lives  better,  and  rears  a 
family  more  easily  here  than  elsewhere ;  of  this  the 
rapid  increase  of  our  population  affords  the  proof. 
And  yet,  the  American  farmer  can  sell  the  produce  of 
his  land  so  cheap  as  to  sujiply  the  European  market — 
To  what  is  this  owing  ?  Must  we  not  reply,  to  the  moral 
or  physical  advantages  he  possesses  ?  It  may  be  said, 
that  as  land  is  cheap,  the  capital  in  that  article  is  less 
here  than  in  Eurojie ;  and  that  this  counterbalances  the 
advanced  price  of  labour.  Be  it  so :  then,  in  the  price 
of  land,  he  enjoys  an  advantage  which  is  not  enjoyed 
elsewhere ;  which  is  what  is  contended  for;  and  that  his 
advantages,  in  whatever  they  may  consist,  are  so  great, 
that  he  can  render  the  people  he  employs  happier,  while 
he  undersells  the  European  farmer  in  his  own  market. 
If  he  effects  this  by  employing  little  labour  on  much 
land,  he  shows  as  much  judgment  as  the  Chinese  does 
in  employing  much  labour  on  little  land,  and  is  the  abler 
farmer  of  the  two;  because  the  relative  profit  is  greater, 
and  his  own  wants  and  those  of  his  family  are  infinitely 
better  supplied.  As  our  object  is  to  correct  errors  by 
laying  down  rules  by  which  foreigners  may  form  a  more 
accurate  judgment  of  our  agriculture  than  they  can 
possibly  do  from  the  fictitious  travels  that  are  daily  put 
in  circulation,  (too  often  under  the  encouragement  of  in- 
terested governments  or  individuals,)  we  shall  give  a 
slight  sketch  of  the  manner  in  which  the  cultivators  of 
the  land  live  and  manage  their  farms;  then  point  out 
their  moral  and  political  advantages  or  disadvantages, 
and  the  physical  benefits  or  evils  of  their  soil  and  cli- 
mate; and  conclude  with  some  observations  on  their 
agriculture  as  it  respects  them. 

Individual  interests,  or  those  oftlic  comnmnity. 

To  give  a  correct  idea  of  the  agriculture  of  the  Uni- 
ted States,  would  require  a  very  considerable  volume ; 
since  it  embraces  all  the  productions  of  Europe,  except 
wine  and  oil,  and  some  even  of  those  which  are  not  found 
there,  such  as  sugar  and  indigo.  Its  staple  commodi- 
ties may  be  numbered  under  the  following  heads :  Grain 
of  every  species  produced  in  the  temperate  climates  of 
Europe ;  cattle  of  every  kind  except  the  buffaloe ;  sheep, 
horses,  asses,  and  mules ;  tobacco,  cotton,  rice,  imligo, 


sugar,  flax,  hemp,  hops ;  and  every  species  of  fruit  and 
legnmens  reared  in  any  part  of  Europe.  To  treat  of 
Iht  culture  of  each  of  these,  would  lead  us  too  far;  and 
perhaps  they  will  be  best  considered,  at  least  so  fiir  as 
relates  to  the  rich  productions  of  the  southern  states, 
under  separate  heads.  Indeed  Ihe  moral  and  political 
effects  of  slavery  upon  agriculture  will  furnish  matter 
for  much  reflection,  and  a  separate  essay.  A\'e  shall 
content  ourselves  with  considering  the  agriculture  of 
those  parts  of  the  United  States  in  which  slavery  is 
wholly  prohibited,  or  confined  only  to  domestic  slaves, 
and  even  to  those,  in  very  small  comparative  numbers. 
This  may,  generally  speaking,  be  considered  as  the  si- 
tuation of  all  the  eastern,  middle,  and  northern  states; 
or,  in  other  words,  of  all  the  states  that  do  not  raise  to- 
bacco, rice,  indigo,  cotton,  or  sugar;  the  culture  of  which 
is  confined  to  Maryland  and  Virginia  for  tobacco ;  and  to 
the  two  Carolinas  and  Georgia  for  rice,  indigo,  and 
cotton,  and  some  tobacco ;  and  to  Louisiana  for  all  these 
productions,  with  the  addition  of  sugar.  TheTarms,  in 
the  states  of  which  we  propose  particularly  to  treat, 
consist  generally  of  from  one  to  two  hundred  acres, 
seldom  arising  to  more  than  three,  and  generally  falling 
short  of  two  hundred  acres.  Every  farm  is  enclosed 
and  divided  either  by  stone  walls  or  rail  fences,  very 
few  hedges  being  planted,  wood  or  stone  liaving  hither- 
to aftbrded  a  readier  and  cheaper  fence;  but  as  the  lat- 
ter is  daily  advancing  in  price,  the  farmer  will  ere  long 
be  compelled  to  recur  to  hedges.  The  buildings  upon 
the  farms  are  sometimes  of  stone,  but  generally  of  tim- 
ber, boarded  and  covered  wilh  shingles.  Mud-walled 
cottages  and  thatched  roofs  are  unknown,  except  that 
barns  are  sometimes  thatched.  The  farm  houses  ge- 
nerally consist  of  a  common  (lining  room  and  kitchen, 
and  two  or  three  bed  rooms  on  the  same  floor.  They 
are  universally  furnished  with  a  good  cellar,  which  the 
nature  of  the  climate  renders  necessary.  The  farm 
buildings  consist  always  of  a  barn  proportioned  to  the 
size  of  the  farm,  with  stables  for  horses  and  cows  on 
each  side,  and  a  thrashing  floor  in  the  middle.  Instead 
of  stacking  the  hay  and  grain,  particularly  the  latter, 
as  is  generally  done  in  Europe,  it  is  commonly  housed 
in  what  is  here  called  a  barrack  :  it  consists  of  four,  and 
sometimes  of  five,  upright  pieces  of  timber,  set  on  stone 
pillars,  and  connected  together  by  cross  pieces  at  the 
height  of  about  six  feet  from  the  ground ;  to  this  is 
subjoined  a  conical  thatched  roof,  that  may  be  raised  up 
or  let  down,  and  retained  in  its  position  by  pins  i)assed 
through  holes  in  the  posts ;  poles  laid  across  from  one 
string  piece  to  the  other,  sustain  the  grain  or  hay ;  and 
the  lower  part  of  the  barrack  frequently  serves  as  a 
shelter  to  cattle,  or  as  a  repository  for  farming  carriages ; 
in  which  latter  case  it  is  generally  boarded  up.  A  good 
farmer  in  the  northern  states  has  frequently  four  or  five 
of  these  barracks  and  sheds  for  his  cattle..  All  the  old 
cultivated  farms  have  an  orchard  of  from  one  to  three 
hundred  apple  trees;  and  some  have  thrice  that  number, 
cider  being  the  farmer's  common  beverage,  as  wine  is 
in  France,  or  beer  in  England.  As  the  trees  are  planted 
regularly,  and  at  a  proper  distance,  the  orchaitls  are 
cultivated  occasionally,  but  are  more  frequently  laid 
down  to  grass.  The  rest  of  the  farm  is  commonly  divi- 
ded, iu  proportion  of  its  size,  into  lots  of  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  acres,  and  ploughed  in  succession  every  third 
year,  and  sometimes  oftener.  I'he  most  usual  course 
of  cropping  is  to  break  up  in  the  spring  for  maize  or 
Indian  corn ;  for  which  there  is  sufficieut  time,  as  the 


334 


aghiculture. 


grain  need  not  be  planted  till  June,  or  late  in  May.  When 
the  maize  is  plucked,  wheat  or  rye  is  sometimes  put  in 
upon  one  ploughing ;  or  the  ground  is  once  ploughed  in 
the  autumn,  and  laid  up  for  the  winter  in  ridges,  if  a 
wet  soil,  and  in  the  spring  ploughed  down  and  sown  with 
oats  or  barley  ;  though  much  of  the  latter  grain  is  not 
cultivated.  It  has  within  the  last  ten  years,  since  the 
general  introduction  of  gypsum  as  a  manure,  been  the 
practice  of  good  farmers  to  sow  with  their  summer 
grain,  or  in  the  spring  over  their  winter  grain,  about 
eight  pounds  of  clover,  and  half  a  peck  of  timothy 
[herds  or  phleuni  pratense]  grass  seed,  and  to  scatter 
about  four  bushels  of  gypsum  per  acre ;  which  never  fails 
to  ensure  a  crop  of  from  one  ton  to  a  ton  and  a  half  of 
bay  at  the  tirst  cutting.  A  part  of  almost  every  farm 
Jays  down  in  meadow;  which  is  kept  entirely  for  hay, 
and  very  seldom  ploughed,  being  generally  moist  ground 
through  which  a  rivulet  flows ;  for  there  are  very  few 
farms,  in  the  country  spoken  of,  that  have  not  one  or 
more  streams  passing  through  them.  When  these 
meadows  are  first  freed  from  their  timber,  they  are  ge- 
nerally so  rough  as  to  render  it  necessary  to  plough  them 
two  or  more  seasons  in  succession,  and  to  sow  them  with 
oats.  When  they  are  sufficiently  smooth  by  that  means, 
they  are  seeded  with  timothy  seed,  and  seldom  after- 
wards broken  up.  On  light  grounds,  and  particularly  on 
the  interval  lands  on  the  rivers,  pease  are  frequently 
cultivated ;  and  almost  every  farmer  raises  more  or  less 
buckwheat,  which  with  many  supplies  the  place  of  a 
fallow,  the  buckwheat  being  always  followed  by  a  crop 
of  rye  ;  and  of  late  some  have  sown  the  rye  in  July  with 
their  buckwheat,  which  keeps  the  rye  down,  so  as  to 
prevent  its  being  too  forward  when  the  buckwheat  comes 
off.  This  is  a  labour-saving  culture ;  and  we  have  seen 
very  good  crops  of  rye  raised  in  this  way,  but  still  think 
that  it  is  better  husbandry  to  plough  up  the  ground  after 
the  buckwheat  comes  off. 

Most  farmers  plant  from  half  an  acre  to  four  acres  of 
potatoes,  which  they  cultivate  as  in  England,  in  rows, 
and  sometimes  in  hills,  placing  dung  in  the  furrow,  be- 
fore the  potatoes  are  planted,  and  clean  them  with  the 
plough  twice,  and  once  with  the  hoe.  They  are  given 
to  hogs  and  ewes  in  the  spring.  Beans  are  never  cul- 
tivated except  in  gardens  for  the  use  of  the  table ;  but 
their  place  is  amply  supplied  by  maize  or  Indian  corn. 
This  plant  may  justly  be  considered  as  the  most  valuable 
in  the  whole  circle  of  American  husbandry.  Beans  re- 
quire richer  ground,  and  are  very  unproductive,  unless 
sown  so  early  in  the  season  as  would  render  it  extreme- 
ly difficult  to  prepare  the  ground  for  them,  at  least  in 
this  climate.  Indian  corn  is  cultivated  in  the  following 
manner :  If  designed  to  be  planted  on  clover  hay,  or 
heavy  soil,  the  furrow  is  turned  over  as  flat  as  possible, 
and  then  harrowed  in  the  line  of  the  furrow.  The 
ground  is  then  either  marked  by  drawing  an  ox  chain 
or  a  pair  of  wheels  across  and  along  the  furrow,  or  with 
a  light  plough,  the  furrows  crossing  each  other.  At 
the  place  of  intersection  the  earth  is  moved  by  a  hoe, 
when  four  or  five  grains  are  planted  and  lightly  covered. 
Com  planted  in  this  way  is  tended  and  cleaned  by  hoe- 
ing round  the  hill,  and  passing  through  the  intervals 
with  a  triangular  harrow,  that  has  a  handle  by  which  to 
direct  it,  and  is  not  ploughed  till  the  sod  has  rotted. 
The  roots  of  the  grain  penetrate  the  sod,  which  rots 
and  furnishes  much  pabulum  to  the  corn  :  and  in  this 
way,  good  crops  are  raised  on  heavy  soils  with  little 
labour-      But  vy^liere  the  soil  is  loose,  and  the  eod 


easily  broken,  it  is  usual  to  plough  twice  for  corn; 
which  there  is  sufficient  time  to  do,  even  in  the  spring, 
though  most  good  farmers  give  one  ploughing  in  au- 
tumn. From  the  20th  of  May  to  the  first  of  June  is 
the  season  for  planting.  The  hills  of  corn  are  generally 
placed  about  five  feet  apart  in  the  northern  states ;  in 
the  southern  states,  a  large  species  of  corn  is  cultivated 
which  requires  more  space  and  earlier  planting.  One 
peculiarity  of  this  grain  is,  that  there  are  varieties  suited 
to  almost  every  climate  in  the  United  States.  The  more 
northerlystatescultivate  a  smallhardy  sort,  which  ripens 
early ;  while  the  southern  corn  is  much  larger  and  longer 
in  ripening,  but  less  flinty  and  heavy  than  the  early 
species.  Before  the  introtluction  of  gypsum  as  a  ma- 
nure, most  of  the  dung  of  the  barn-yard  was  applied  to 
maize,  and  put  in  the  hills ;  of  late  it  is  generally  reser- 
ved for  the  wheat  land  or  meadows.  And  as  a  substi- 
tute for  it,  the  corn  is  steeped  for  one  night  in  water, 
and  gypsum  is  sifted  over  it.  After  the  corn  comes  up 
it  is  hoed,  and  a  tea-spoonfull  of  gypsum  is  put  to  each 
hill;  it  is  cleaned  with  a  one  horse  plough,  which  turns 
the  furrow  from  the  corn,  going  as  near  to  it  as  possible ; 
and  then  the  interval  is  ploughed  up.  Near  the  sea, 
(where  gypsum  has  no  effect,)  ashes  are  substituted. 
When  the  corn  is  more  advanced,  it  is  ))loughed  a  se- 
cond time,  reversing  the  furrows  :  the  plough  each  time 
is  followed  by  a  hoer,  who  extricates  the  corn  that  is 
buried  by  the  plough,  and  loosens  the  ground  about  the 
hill  with  his  hoe.  Thus  the  field  is  left  till  the  plant 
sheds  its  farina,  when  the  tops  are  cut  off  as  near  as  mayi. 
be  to  where  the  ears  are  set,  then  are  tied  into  bundles 
and  put  up  to  dry ;  by  this  means,  an  acre  of  corn  gener- 
ally yields  about  half  a  ton  of  very  fine  provender,  equal 
for  the  use  of  cows  or  sheep,  to  the  best  hay  :  in  the 
southern  states,  they  not  only  cut  the  tops,  but  pluck  the 
blades.  In  addition  to  which,  it  is  a  common  practice 
at  the  first  hoeing,  to  put  a  few  pumpkin  seeds  into 
every  second  hill  of  corn,  which  afford  a  very  consider- 
able weight  of  this  rich  vegetable,  without  any  expense 
or  trouble ;  the  crop  of  maize  being  in  no  sort  dimin- 
ished by  them  :  these  are  fed  to  hogs  and  cows  in  the 
beginning  of  the  winter ;  it  being  difficult  to  preserve 
them  after  the  first  of  January.  We  estimate  the  value 
of  this  vegetable  as  little  short  of  half  a  ton  of  hay  an 
acre,  if  raised  on  good  ground,  and  the  season  not 
peculiarly  unfavourable.  The  corn  is  gathered  at  any 
time  during  the  autumn  which  suits  the  farmer's  con- 
venience, as  it  will  not  spoil  if  left  out  for  a  long  period 
after  it  is  ripe ;  but  if  it  is  proposed  to  sow  the  ground 
with  winter  grain,  as  is  often  done,  the  corn  may  be  cut 
up  with  the  stalk  and  stacked ;  in  which  state,  the  grain 
mil  dry  and  harden  perfectly.  Some  plough  between 
the  corn,  and  sow  wheat  or  rye  while  the  corn  stands. 
In  our  own  country  this  valuable  branch  of  husbandry 
is  well  understood.  Let  us  stop  a  moment,  while 
we  convince  foreigners,  that  in  this  we  possess  a  great 
physical  advantage  over  every  part  of  Europe  in  which 
it  is  not  raised ;  and  even  over  those  parts  in  wliich  we 
have  seen  it,  from  errors  in  the  manner  in  which  it  is 
cultivated,  or  some  defect  in  the  climate  to  bring  it  to 
the  perfection  at  which  it  arrives  in  the  United  States. 
First,  as  to  the  value  of  the  grain  itself — There  is  none 
that  has  been  found  better  adapted  for  the  food  of  man 
and  the  domestic  animals  on  which  he  depends  for 
support.  In  the  eastern  states,  (by  which  I  mean  those 
on  the  east  of  Connecticut  river,)  where  little  wheat  is 
raised,  it  is  mixed  with  rye,  ia  the  proportion  of  two 


AGRICULTURE. 


335 


oF  corn  to  one  of  rye,  the  common  bread  of  the  inhabit- 
lihts,  ol'  such  at  least  as  do  not  reside  in  towns ;  and  no 
people  in  America,  or  perhaps  in  the  world,  are  healthi- 
er, stronger,  or  more  active  than  those  of  Newhampshire, 
MassHchiisetts,  Connecticut,  and  Rhode  Island.  The 
cattle,  pork,  and  poultry,  fattened  with  it,  are  very  su- 
perior in  flavour  to  that  fatted  on  any  other  grain.  In 
either  of  these  particulars,  beans  will  bear  no  compa- 
rison with  it.  Its  yield,  independent  of  the  forage  it 
affords,  and  every  part  of  the  stem  and  husk,  are  a|)pli- 
ed  to  the  feeding  of  cattle,  is  considerable ;  the  average 
of  the  crop  being  about  thirty-five  bushels,  and  frequent- 
ly more  than  the  double  of  that;  its  increase  being  in 
some  sort  independent  of  the  season,  and  governed  only 
by  the  attention  and  care  of  the  cultivator,  the  severest 
droughts  will  not  injure  it ;  the  plough  will  supply  the 
place  of  rain.  We  have  seen  two  crops  raised  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  New-York,  the  one  yielding  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five,  the  other  ninety-five,  bushels  of  shelled  corn 
per  acre.  It  will  be  no  exaggeration  to  say,  that  two 
bushels  of  corn  are  at  least  equal  in  value  to  three 
bushels  of  beans,  as  a  food  for  horses  and  cattle;  for  bread, 
the  latter  cannot  be  substituted.  The  European  wri- 
ters on  agriculture  are  constantly  enforcing  the  neces- 
sity of  horse-hoeing,  as  a  means  of  eradicating  weeds, 
and  improving  the  soil.  But,  unfortunately,  they  pos- 
sess no  plant  that  will  afford  the  expense  of  this  cul- 
ture upon  an  extensive  scale  :  turnips  are  uncertain  in 
their  yield,  and  of  trifling  value,  compared  to  the  ex- 
pense of  cultivation ;  beans  are  too  near  to  each  other, 
and  must  be  tended  to  early,  to  afford  a  proper  sub- 
ject for  this  culture ;  and  the  hoeing  is  sometimes  prac- 
tised, and  always  necessary,  yet  it  is  attended  witli  too 
much  expense  and  trouble  to  become  general.  Maize, 
on  the  contrary,  being  planted  at  the  distance  of  five 
feet,  the  plant  being  large  and  strong,  admits  of  the 
most  complete  ploughing  in  every  direction,  while  the 
hoe  is  only  used  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  young  plant, 
and  that,  after  the  ground  is  ploughed ;  so  that  not  more 
than  one  foot  in  ten  is  touched  with  the  hoe,  even  when 
the  plant  is  well  cultivated.  Ten  acres  of  com  are  hoed 
■jvith  less  expense  than  one  of  beans  or  turnips,  and  a 
most  complete  fallow  made  for  the  ensuing  crop.  The 
consequence  is,  that  at  least  five  times  more  land  is 
horse  and  hand  hoed  here,  in  proportion  to  that  under 
cultivation,  than  in  Europe. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression— Flax  is  only  cul- 
tivated for  the  use  of  the  farmer's  family,  and  is  suffered 
to  grow  ripe,  that  the  seed  may  pay  the  expense  of  the 
culture.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  little  fine  linen  is 
made.  Hemp,  though  not  generally  cultivated,  affords  a 
most  profitable  crop  on  those  rich  bottoms  on  which  it  is 
sown;  and  indeed, if  we  may  judge  by  what  we  have  seen 
in  France  and  Flanders,  and  even  in  Holland,  is  more 
congenial  to  our  climate,  and  grows  much  more  luxuri- 
antly than  in  that  of  Europe ;  unless  it  he  in  the  more 
northern  parts  of  it ;  with  which  we  are  not  acquainted. 
Culmiferous  crops  are  mown,  and  not  cut  by  a  sickle  : 
a  sithe  is  affixed  to  what  is  here  called  a  cradle,  consist- 
ing of  five  or  more  rihs  of  strong  [lointed  elastic  wood, 
into  which  the  sheaf  falls  as  it  is  cut,  and  is  laid  in  re- 
gular rows  for  the  binders.  One  advantage  of  this  mode 
of  reaping  is,  that  the  straw  being  cut  low,  the  whole  of 
it  is  brought  to  the  barn-yard  ;  and  another,  that  it  re- 
quires much  less  la'  our  than  reaping  with  the  sithe. 
The  average  duantity  of  wheat  per  acre,  upon  unma- 
nured  lands  throughout  the  Country  described,  without 


taking  in  the  new  seltlemenls,  where  the  yield  is  much 
greater,  may  be  about  thirteen  bushels  per  acre.  In  the 
southern  Atlantic  states  it  is  much  less.  On  heavy 
clays,  fallowing  for  wheat  crops  is  the  general  practice ; 
but  more  than  two  ploughings  are  seldom  given  in  such 
soils :  Doubtless  more  ploughing  over,  and  water  fur- 
rowing, would  render  them  more  productive ;  but  the 
saving  of  labour  being  the  object  of  the  American  far- 
mer, it  becomes  a  mere  matter  of  calculation  with  him, 
whether  it  is  more  profitable  to  raise,  at  a  greater  ex- 
pense of  labour  and  manure,  twenty-six  bushels  on  one 
acre,  or  on  two.  That  he  calculates  justly,  appears 
from  his  receiving  more  for  his  labour  than  the  Europe- 
an farmer,  and  yet  selling  cheaper.  Large  crops  may 
be  raised  here,  and  are,  when  the  farmer  takes  a  pride 
or  pleasure  in  seemg  them.  We  have  frequently  seen 
forty  bushels  of  wheat  raised,  and  witnessed  some  crops 
of  barley  of  eighty  bushels  to  the  acre ;  but  whether 
the  profit  would  be  adequate  to  the  expense,  if  this 
system  was  generally  pursued,  we  much  doubt. — 
Since  lands  have  risen  in  value  in  the  old  cultivated 
countries,  many  farmers  have  paid  more  attention  to 
husbanding  their  land,  and  increased  their  produce  by 
additional  expenditures  of  laliour.  The  introduction  of 
clover,  which  is  now  very  rapidly  spreading,  by  afford- 
ing more  manure,  and  diminishing  the  necessity  for 
summer  fallowing,  has  within  the  last  ten  years  made 
a  very  sensible  improvement  in  the  agriculture  of  the 
country.  The  common  grasses  of  our  pasture,  are  white 
clover,  spear  grass  (poa  pratensis,)  blue  grass  (poa  tri- 
vialis,)  cow  grass  or  perennial  red  clover; — of  our  mea- 
dows, timothy,  and  a  grass  of  which  we  know  not  the 
botanical  name,  that  has  lately  introduced  itself,  and  is 
rajiidly  spreading ;  which  is  here  called  red-top :  it 
bears  a  very  great  burden,  and  makes  good  hay :  it  is 
we  believe  a  species  of  the  holciis  lanalus.  Much  red 
clover  is  now  raised,  since  it  is  found  to  succeed  remark- 
ably well  when  manured  with  gj'psum.  Some  rye-grasa 
is  sown ;  but  it  does  not  appear  to  be  much  relished  by 
cattle,  either  green  or  in  the  hay :  its  principal  virtue 
consists  in  its  vegetating  early ;  and  on  this  account  it 
merits  more  attention  than  it  has  met  with.  Indeed  it 
is  only  within  the  last  twenty  years  that  any  grass  seed 
has  been  sown  ;  and  it  will  be  no  exaggeration  to  say, 
that  more  clover  seed  has  been  put  in,  within  the  last 
eight  years,  than  has  ever  been  sown  since  the  country 
was  inhabited.  No  estimate  therefore  can  be  formed  of 
our  agriculture  now,  from  a  knowledge  of  what  it  was 
twenty  years  since. 

The  stock  of  a  farm,  consisting  of  one  hundred  and 
thirty  acres,  may  generally  be  estimated  at  eight  or  nine 
horses,  including  breed  mares  and  their  colts,  where 
horses  only  are  worked ;  where  both  horses  and  oxen, 
at  half  that  number  of  horses,  and  four  oxen — ten  cows, 
and  five  or  six  yearlings  and  two-yearold  cattle — twenty- 
five  shee|) — and  as  many  hogs  as  will  afford  an  ample 
supply  for  the  family,  and  from  one  to  two  thousand 
weight  surplus  for  sale.  This  stock  must  however  vary 
with  the  nature  of  the  farm.  Some  are  turned  to  dairies; 
and  of  course  more  cows  and  fewer  working  cattle  are 
kept.  In  the  eastern  states,  comparatively,  fewer  horses 
are  kept  than  in  the  middle  and  northern  ones.  Wheat 
being  but  little  cultivated  among  them,  it  having  been 
found  sui  ject  to  blight  in  the  vicinity  of  the  sea,  and 
their  lands  being  extremely  productive  of  grass,  they 
prefer  oxen  for  the  draft ;  which  are  found  preferable, 
as  when  they  obtain  the  proper  age  they  can  be  fattecl 


Sid 


AGRICULTURE. 


for  market :  Ihey  eyen  contrive  to  plough  the  intervals 
of  their  maize  land  with  them,  by  using  a  yoke  of  a  pe- 
culiar form.  Much  of  their  lands  are  turned  to  the  fat- 
ting of  cattle,  and  to  dairies;  pork,  beef,  cheese,  and 
butter,  together  with  oats  and  maize,  being  their  staple 
productions. 

The  farming  utensils  are,  a  wagon,  an  ox  cart, 
ploughs,  harrows.  The  wagons  are  such  as  are  used 
in  Holland,  but  much  wider  and  lai^er.  The  ploughs 
are  of  various  forms,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  soil 
and  habit  of  the  farmer.  The  descendants  of  the  Dutch, 
who  generally  possess  the  interval  land,  and  those  most 
free  from  stones,  use  the  wheel  plough.  Though  the 
foot  plough,  generally  with  one,  but  sometimes  with  two 
i  handles,  is  in  common  use;  and  of  late  years,  particular- 
■  lyin  stony  land,  the  coulter  is  not  added  to  the  plough. 
Upon  the  whole,  we  see  the  same  variety  of  ploughs  in 
the  United  States  that  are  found  in  England;  though  we 
think  that  ploughing  is  in  general  more  carelessly  per- 
formed here  than  it  is  done  in  Britain, or  evenin  France, 
with  a  much  clumsier  plough.  Horses  are  generally 
drawn  three  abreast  in  the  plough  ;  and  the  driver  holds 
the  plough  and  the  reins.  It  is  seldom  that  a  driver, 
I  other  than  the  ploughman  is  used,  even  with  oxen,  un- 
less four  oxen  are  put  to  the  plough,  as  they  generally 
are  for  breaking  up  heavy  sod ;  and  in  this  case  an  old 
horse,  upon  which  a  boy  rides,  is  often  put  before  the 
oxen ;  and  thus  the  labour  of  a  man  is  saved.  The  oxen 
work  wilh  yokes,  and  never  with  harness.  It  is  very 
doubtful  whether  it  would  not  be  an  improvement  to 
work  them  by  the  harness ;  as  from  what  we  have  seen 
in  several  parts  of  Europe,  we  are  induced  to  believe, 
that  tliey  not  only  can  draw  greater  weights  in  this  way, 
but  that  in  warm  or  wet  weather,  they  suffer  less  from 
galling  than  they  do  under  the  yoke.  The  cattle  of  the 
eastern  states  are  in  general  large,  and  very  much  re- 
semble those  of  the  north  of  France.  The  cows  of  the 
more  southern  states  are  smaller,  and  resemble  the 
Alderney  and  Britanny  cattle.  It  is  not  till  within  a  few 
years  that  much  attention  has  been  paid  to  the  improve- 
ment of  the  breed  of  cattle  (if  increasing  their  size  can 
be  called  an  improvement.)  Of  late  years,  many  fine 
bulls  and  cows  have  been  imported,  both  from  England 
and  Holland.  This  stock  would  increase  more  rapidly, 
if  it  had  not  generally  been  thought,  and,  as  we  believe 
with  reason,  that  they  were  less  hardy,  and  the  cowg 
less  fit  for  the  dairy  than  our  native  stock. 

The  horses  seem  to  have  originated  in  three  distinct 
racf  8,  though  they  are  at  present  very  much  blended. 
Those  of  the  eastern  states,  commonly  called  Narragan- 
»ets,  are  a  very  peculiar  race.  Their  prototype,  if  they 
came  from  England,  as  they  probably  did,  is  apparently 
lost.  They  have  handsome  foreheads,  the  head  clean, 
the  neck  long,  the  arms  and  legs  thin  and  taper ;  the 
hind  quarters  are  narrow,  and  the  hocks  a  little  crooked, 
which  is  here  called  sickle  hocked,  which  turns  the  hind 
feet  a  litde  out ;  their  colour  is  generally,  though  not 
always,  a  bright  sorrel ;  they  are  very  spirited,  and 
carry  both  the  head  and  tail  high.  But  what  is  very  re- 
markable is,  that  (bey  amble  with  more  speed  than  most 
horses  trot,  insomurh  that  it  is  difficult  to  put  some  of 
them  upon  a  gallop.  Notwithstanding  this  facility  of 
ambling,  where  the  ground  rerjuires  it,  as  when  the 
roads  are  rough  and  stony,  they  have  a  fine  easy  single 
footed  trot.  These  circumstances,  together  with  their 
being  very  sure-footed,  render  them  the  finest  saddle 
horses  in  the  world :  they  neither  fatigue  thcmsolveg 


nor  their  rider.  It  is  greatly  to  be  lamented,  that  this  in- 
valuable breed  of  horses  is  almost  lost,  by  being  mixed 
with  those  imported  from  England,  and  from  other  parts 
of  the  United  States.  What  has  contributed  to  this 
change  is,  that  their  spirit  and  their  form  fit  them  less 
for  the  drudgery  of  a  farm  than  heavier  moulded  and 
slower  horses. 

It  is  probable  that  when  members  of  parliament  tra- 
velled up  to  London  on  horseback,  and  ladies  knew  not 
the  luxury  of  carriages  with  springs,  that  these  ambling 
horses  have  been  in  great  request  in  England,  and 
might  probably  have  been  those  most  in  use  when 
the  first  colonies  were  planted  in  America.  This  race 
may  have  been  since  lost  there,  as  it  probably  will  soon 
be  in  the  eastern  states,  and  from  the  same  cause. 

The  second  breed  of  horses  is  large  and  heavy,  but 
active,  and  strong,  and  appears  to  us  to  have  origina- 
ted from  the  Norman  horse,  being  less  heavy,  and  more 
active  than  those  of  Flanders.  The  breed  of  these  has 
been  preserved  in  more  purity  in  Kingston  or  Esopus, 
in  the  state  of  New- York,  than  elsewhere.  They  are 
therefore  generally  called  here  Esopus  horses.  They 
are  certainly  valuable  for  the  plough  and  carriage,  pos- 
sessing less  beauty,  but  more  spirit  and  vigour  for  the 
draught  than  the  English  race  horses,  without  being  so 
unwieldy  as  the  dray  horses  :  They  are  generally  about 
fifteen  and  an  half  hands  high ;  though  many  exceed 
sixteen  and  an  half.  These  horses  are  extensively  dif- 
fused through  Pennsylvania,  where  they  are  preferred, 
for  their  heavy  teams,  to  any  other  breed.  Within  the 
last  thirty  years,  the  great  proportion  of  the  horses  of 
the  country  are  a  mixture  of  this  breed  with  the  Eng- 
lish race  horse,  the  Arabian  horse,  and  the  barb ;  several 
of  all  these  sorts  having  been  imported,  but  chiefly  the 
first ;  and  as  they  are  the  common  stud  horses  in  every 
part  of  the  Union,  the  American  horses  are  more  and 
more  assimilating  to  them,  not  however  as  lar  as  we 
Lave  observed  to  the  advantage  of  the  country,  as  it 
respects  either  farm  or  road  horses.  In  every  state,  many 
of  the  high  blood  race  horses  are  raised  for  the  turf, 
but  mostly  in  the  southern  states.  They  appear  to  re- 
tain their  vigour  and  beauty  of  form ;  but  those  bred 
there,  become  more  delicate  and  slender  in  their  shape, 
which  may  probably  be  owiug  to  the  pastures  of  those 
states  being  less  succulent  than  in  England,  and  their 
winter  food  being  corn  blades  and  grain,  instead  of  hay. 
They  retain,  however,  all  their  native  force  and  activity, 
and  seem  to  approximate  more  to  the  Arabian  horse, 
from  which  the  English  race  horse  originally  descend- 
ed. This  race  is,  by  admixture  with  our  native  breed, 
rapidly  extending  itself  through  the  Union,  tiiough  they 
are  obviously  less  fitted  for  the  saddle  than  the  Narra- 
gansct,  and  for  the  plough,  farm,  or  carriage,  than  the 
Esopus  horse,  and  are  at  least  one  year,  and  probably 
two,  longer  in  coming  to  perfection;  whether  they  re- 
tain their  vigour  to  a  later  period,  we  have  not  ascer* 
tained. 

Sheep  have  not  heretofore  been  kept  in  any  great 
numbers.  'J'hey  never  made  an  object  in  American 
husbandry.  Every  farmer  kept  a  few,  to  run  over  his 
stubble,  and  pick  up  the  hay  that  the  horses  and  cr-.ttle 
wasted.  There  being  no  regular  demand  for  wool,  no 
more  sheep  were  kept  than  supplied  the  farmer's  family 
with  what  was  necessary  for  their  domestic  manufacture 
of  stockings,  mittens,  petticoats,  coverlets,  and  coarse 
cloth  for  servants  or  children  :  all  these  were  made  in 
the  family.     But  within  the  last  four  yeara  the  stock  ot 


AGRICULTURE, 


337 


aheep  hate  becime  a  leading  object;  and  it  is  no  exag- 
geration to  say,  that  within  that  time  their  number  has 
at  least  increased  fourfold.     This  has  principally  origi- 
nated in  the  following  causes  :  first,  The  advance  in  the 
price  of  English  cloth,  that  used  to  afford  a  great  pro- 
portion of  the  farmer's  clothing;  second,  The  duties 
both  here  and  in  England,  that  have  added  to  the  price ; 
third,  The  invention  of  carding  mills,  by  which  a  great 
proportion  of  the  expense  and  labour  of  carding  is  saved ; 
and  lastly.  The  introduction  of  Merino  sheep,  which 
has  stamped  a  new  value  upon  their  flocks,  and  render- 
ed their  domestic  cloth  so  much  better  than  foreign 
cloth  of  the  same  price  with  that  which  they  now  make 
in  their  families,  that  a  great  proportion  of  what  they 
formerly  got  from  foreign  looms,  gives  place  to  that 
which  is  manufactured  at  home.  The  sheep  of  the  Unit- 
ed States  were  pretty  uniformly  alike,  and  greatly  re- 
sembled the  Southdown  sheep  of  England,  both  in  their 
form  and  quality  of  fleece.     The  only  exception  to  this 
was  to  be  found  in  particular  neighbourhoods,  into  ivhich 
sometimes  the  long  woolledsheepof  England,  sometimes 
the   Bakewell  sheep,  and  sometimes   the  sheep   from 
Holland  and  the  Texel,  had  been  introduced.  The  cros- 
ses from  these  distinguished  many  of  our  flocks  from  the 
original  stock,  which  has  gained  thereby  somewhat  in 
point  of  size,  form,  and  fjuanlity  of  wool,  but  lost  in  its 
quality.   As  the  Merino  sheep,  and  the  crosses  from  it, 
now  begin  to  make  a  great  feature  in  American  agricul- 
ture, it  is  proper  to  notice  their  introduction.     In  the 
year  1802,  a  ram  was  sent  over  from  France,  by  Mr. 
Dupont ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  others  may  have 
been  previously  sent.     But  the  farmers  not  estimating 
their  value,  no  attention  was  paid  to  breeding  from  them, 
or  keeping  the  stock  pure.     In  the  same  year  the  writer 
of  this  article,  then  minister  plenipotentiary  in  France, 
sent  two  rams  and  two  ewes,  which  were  selected  with 
great  care  from  the  national  flock  in  France.     These 
were  the  first  couples  ever  introduced  into  the  United 
ytates ;  not  long  after  this,  col.  Humphreys  brought  from 
Spain  near  one  hundred  sheep.   They  did  not,  however, 
appear  to  attract  the  attention  of  farmers  till  a  few  years 
after,  when  the  writer  of  this  article  published  some 
essays  and  calculations  to  show  their  importance  and 
value  :  these  made  such  an  impression  upon  the  farmers 
of  the  country  in  the  northern  states,  that  sheep,  to  which 
they  had  paid  no  attention,  rose  to  one  hundred  dollars 
each,  and  from  that  kept  advancing  to  one  thousand, 
which  was  the  current  price  for  a  long  time ;  and  we 
have  been  credibly  informed,  that  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars  have  been  offered,  and  refused,  for  some  of  the 
Clermont  stock  rams.     Circumstances  like  this  could 
not  but  awaken  the  attention  of  merchants.     Vessels 
were  fitted  out  by  them,  and  even  by  some  companies 
af  farmers,  on  purpose  to  bring  in  Merino  sheep ;  qua- 
lified persons  were  sent  to  select  them;  and,  in  a  short 
time,  from  the  best  calculations  we  can  make,  upwards 
of  twelve  thousand  were  introduced ;  the  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances of   Spain  facilitating  this  operation.     At 
present  the  United  States  possess  a  great  number  se- 
lected from  the  finest  flocks  in  Spain. — The  Paular— 
the  Guadaloupe — the  Escurial — and  Infanta  do,    rank 
highest  in  their  estimation,   for  the  beauty  of   their 
fleeces ;  while  the  Negretti  is  preferred  by  some  on  ac- 
count of  the  superiority  of  their  size  ;  and  the  Ramboul- 
let  sheep  are  in  great  request,  from  uniting  the  advan- 
tage in  quality  and  quantity  of  fleece,  to  a  fine  form, 
Vol,.  I.     Part  I. 


and  better  size,  than  any  other  of  the  imported  Merinos. 
Experience  has  convinced  the  farmers,  that  they  ra- 
ther improve  than  degenerate  in  our  climate.  The  na- 
tive flocks  are  rapidly  changing  into  Merinos.  It  may 
here  be  proper  to  note,  that  the  high  price  given  for 
imported  horses,  cattle,  and  sheep,  where  they  really 
or  apparently  possess  advantages  over  native  breeds, 
demonstrate,  that  the  American  farmer  feels  none  of 
those  prejudices  which  obstruct  improvements  in  other 
countries;  and  that  where  the  u,tility  of  an  object  is 
apparent,  he  is  not  less  willing  nor  able  to  make  pecu- 
niary advances  to  obtain  it,  than  the  most  spirited  far- 
mers in  Europe.  Such  facts  as  these,  speak  more  to  an 
intelligent  and  enlightened  statesman,  than  a  thousand 
volumes  written  by  Smiths,  Welles,  Parkinsons,  &rc. 
The  rot  is  unknown  in  this  climate;  and  indeed  the 
sheep  here  are  more  healthy  than  in  any  part  of  Europe. 
It  is  somewhat  to  be  feared  that  new  complaints  may 
be  introduced  by  our  Spanish  emigrants;  many  of  whom 
Avere  infected  with  the  rot,  scab,  and  claveau  or  small- 
pox, on  their  arrival. 

Sheep  are  wintered  generally  upon  hay,  and  maize 
tops,  %vhich  are  very  nutritious,  containing  much  sac- 
charine matter.  The  farmers  do  not  generally  permit 
the  Iambs  to  drop  till  early  in  April.  But  those  who 
suffer  them  to  come  in  the  winter,  or  the  month  of 
March,  provide  some  green  fodder  for  them,  as  pota- 
toes or  turnips,  and  with  these  the  rouen  or  second  croj) 
of  clover ;  upon  which,  and  a  little  bran,  they  yield  abun- 
dant nourishment  to  their  lambs.  Since  the  introduction 
of  Merino  sheep,  farmers  are  much  more  attentive  to 
housing  and  feeding  them  than  they  formerly  were ;  and 
the  consequence  is  an  evident  melioration  in  their 
stock.  There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  Me- 
rinos of  the  United  States  will  in  a  few  years  be  much 
finer  than  those  of  Spain.  Two  circumstances  will  con- 
tribute to  this.  First,  better  keeping;  and  2dly,  greater 
care  in  the  selection  of  breeders,^-of  rams  particularly. 
Those  who  have  seen,  with  an  attentive  eye,  the  flocks 
imported  into  this  counfrj',  have  been  surprised  at  the 
little  respect  that  appears  to  be  paid  to  that  object  in 
Spain.  In  the  finest  and  highest  bred  flocks,  the  master 
ram  is  often  a  very  bad  sheep,  both  in  regard  to  fleece 
and  form ;  while  others  that  excelled  in  these  were  only 
left  to  struggle  with  such  as  were  inferior.  This  pro- 
bably arises  from  their  castrating  or  killing  the  male 
lambs  so  young  as  to  make  a  selection  impossible,  hav-. 
ing  only  so  many  ram  lambs  as  are  necessary  for  their 
flocks.  A  contrary  practice  is  followed  by  the  Ameri- 
can farmers. 

Manures. — A  very  general  defect  in  our  husbandry 
is  the  want  of  ])roper  attention  to  manures :  but  as  land 
is  rising  in  value,  this  evil  is  finding  its  remedy,  and 
particularly  on  those  farms  where  a  bad  system  has 
prevailed  for  so  many  years,  as  to  have  in  a  great  mea- 
sure exhausted  the  original  fertility  of  the  soil.  They 
are  now  in  a  progressive  state  of  improvement,  from 
more  attention  being  given  to  manures,  and  the  intro- 
duction of  clover. 

The  barn-yard  manure  was  for  many  years  the  only 
resource  of  our  farmers,  and  this  was  generally  very 
badly  managed;  being  sehbMn  made  into  compost,  or. 
even  heaped  up,  till  within  a  few  days  of  its  being  ap- 
plied to  grain  or  spread  on  grass. 

Lime  has  been  much  used  in  Pennsylvania,  and  we 
believe  with  considerable  effect ;  but  it  has  not  been  an'-.- 
Uu 


AGRICULTURE. 


pHed,  as  far  as  we  hare  observed,  in  any  other  part  of 
the  union. 

Gypsum  is  now  the  great  fructifier  of  our  fields. 
From  two  to  four  bushels  of  this  is  an  ami)le  dressing 
for  an  acre  of  clover.  It  is  pulverized  and  scattered 
over  the  fields  in  the  spring.  One  bushel  will  ensure 
a  good  crop  of  Indian  corn ;  and  two  or  three  never  fail 
to  improve  flax,  potatoes,  pease,  and  buckwheat.  The 
practice  of  wetting  the  seed  oats,  and  sifting  gypsum 
over  it,  is  now  becoming  very  general,  from  its  evident 
utility.  This  is  so  unfailing  a  manure  upon  all  dry 
grounds,  whatever  be  the  nature  of  the  soil,  (if  beyond 
the  influence  of  the  sea  air)  that  many  thousand  tons 
are  annually  imported,  and  many  mills  erected  in  every 
neighbourhootl  for  breaking  and  grinding  i(.  The  com- 
mon price  per  bushel  is  about  half  a  dollar.  Though 
much  gypsum  is  found  in  the  state  of  New  York,  of 
Tery  good  quality,  yet  as  it  lies  at  some  distance  from 
the  Blohawk  river,  the  nearest  navigable  water,  it  is 
found  cheaper  to  procure  it  from  Nova  Scotia  or  France. 
In  the  vicinity  of  the  sea,  soaper's  ashes,  or  wood  ashes 
undrawn,  is  the  most  invigorating  manure.  These 
ashes  are  carried  160  miles  down  Hudson's  river,  fi-oni 
the  potash  works,  to  be  sold  to  farmers  on  the  sea 
coast;  it  being  found  so  much  more  useful  to  them 
than  to  those  at  a  distance  from  the  sea,  as  to  induce 
the  first  to  purchase  vessel  loads  subject  to  this  heavy 
portage^  while  farmers  in  the  vicinity  of  the  potash 
works  hardly  think  it  worth  the  expense  of  riding  out: 
this  curious  fact  merits  the  attention  of  the  chemist. 
Many  of  our  bog  meadows  afford  shell  marl,  which  has 
of  late  years  been  much  used.  Clay  marl  is  very  com- 
mon, but  not  used,  on  account  of  the  expense  of  carry- 
ing out. 

As  the  greater  part  of  our  farms  are  of  moderate 
size,  so  the  capital  of  the  farmer  is  generally  propor- 
tioned to  this  circumstance.  Most  of  our  farmers  cul- 
tivate their  farms  with  their  own  hands,  aided  by  their 
sons  when  of  proper  age  to  he  serviceable.  Women 
labour  in  hiirvest,  and  in  haying,  and  in  planting  corn, 
before  they  are  mothers,  but  very  seldom  afterwards; 
the  care  of  their  children,  and  their  domestic  concerns, 
occupy  their  time  after  this  period.  To  this  circum- 
stance we  are  probably  indebted  for  the  number  of 
healthy  and  robust  children  with  which  every  farm 
kouse  abounds;  and  from  this,  too,  may  be  inferred  the 
general  ease  and  competence  that  prevail  among  our 
husbandmen.  Without  these,  in  a  country  where  hands 
are  scarce,  and  labour  dear,  that  of  women  would  not 
othenvise  be  dispensed  with. 

As  the  whole  work  of  the  farm,  except  in  haying  or 
harvest,  is  generally  carried  on  by  the  farmer  and  his 
sons,  an  American  cultivator  has  the  address  to  supply 
all  his  wants.  He  can  mend  his  plough,  erect  his 
walls,  thrash  his  corn,  handle  his  ax,  his  hoe,  his  sithe, 
his  saw,  break  a  colt,  or  drive  a  team,  with  equal  ad- 
dress ;  being  habituate<l  from  early  life  to  rely  upon  him- 
«elf,  he  acquires  a  skill  in  every  branch  of  his  profes- 
nion,  which  is  unknown  in  countries  where  labour  is 
more  divided.  The  division  of  labour  is  doubtless  use- 
ful in  manufactories,  but  very  inconvenient  in  husband- 
ly, particularly  where  the  people  are  thinly  settled. 
Much  time  would  be  lost  in  sending  for  a  carpenter  to 
mend  a  plough,  or  do  any  other  job,  the  want  of  which 
stops  the  business  of  the  farm.  An  American  cultiva- 
tor, who  is  always  provided  with  the  necessary  tools, 
and  knows  how  to  handle  them,  can  often  despatch  iit 


an  hour,  what  otherwise,  probably  the  distance,  absence, 
or  occupations  of  the  carpenter,  would  delay  a  week. 

After  giving  this  rapid  sketch  of  American  agricul- 
ture, it  may  be  expected  that  we  should  enter  into 
more  minute  details ;  but  this  would  lead  us  into  great 
length,  mthout  affording  much  that  would  either  in- 
struct or  entertain ;  because  our  agriculture  differs  little 
from  that  of  Euro|)e,  except  in  the  circumstances  men- 
tioned.    We   prefer  exerting  our  labour  upon  a  large 
field,  to  employing  the  same  labour  on  a  small  one. 
Deviating,  however,  from  this  rule  in  the  vicinity  of 
towns,  and  on  navigable  waters,  where  the  price  of  land 
enters  more  highly  into  the  farming  capital.  The  Ame- 
rican farmer  considers  labour  and  land  as  a  compound 
stock,  and  endeavours,  by  the  bringing  more  of  the  one 
or  of  the  other  into  use,  according  to  circumstances,  to 
draw  the  best  interest   from  both.     That  he  will  do 
this  judiciously,   might  be  inferred  a  priori    from   his 
being  uncontrolled  in  his  operations;  being  bound  by 
no  strict  leases  with  covenants  adapted  to  the  whim  or 
the  interest  of  a  landlord,  to  prefer  one  mode  of  farm- 
ing to  another;  from  his  being  at  least  as  well  educa- 
ted as  cultivators  of  the  earth  are  in  any  other  part  of 
the  world ;  from  his  having  all  the  motives  to  industry 
that  liberty,  luxury,  civilization,  and  free  commerce 
can  give  him ;  from   his  being  a  member  of  a  com- 
munity, in  which  he  is  associated  with  the  natives  of 
every   part  of  Europe.      Some  of  his  neighbours  are 
from  Ireland,  others  from  Britain,  France,  Holland,  Ger- 
many, Switzerland,  &c.  all  bringing  something  of  their 
manners,   and  their  modes  of  agriculture  with  them ; 
all  contributing  to  eradicate  those  prejudices    which 
people  who  never  converse  with  strangers  imbibe  and 
obstinately  retain,  thereby  obstructing  every  improve- 
ment in  agriculture,  till  time  forces  conviction  upon 
them.     This  is  the  common  complaint  of  writers  upon 
agriculture  in  every  country.     In  America  the  reverse 
is  the  case.     They  have  been  taught  to  believe  by 
foreign   nations,  and   these  boastful    strangers,   (even 
those  that  quit  Europe  for  America,)  that  it  is  inferior 
in  all  things ;  that  the  land  of  their  ancestors  possesses  a 
thousand  advantages  which  the  American  is  eager  to 
learn  and  copy.  If  they  reject  what  may  be  recommend- 
ed, it  is  not  from  prejudice,  but  frmn  conviction  of  its  in- 
utility.     In  such  a  country  it  is  utterly  impossible, 
agriculture  being  the  basis  of  their  commerce,  and  the 
great  employment  of  the  people,  that  it  should  not  be 
judiciously  carried  on,  and  more  advantageously,  than 
in  any  other  that  does  not  iwssess  superior  moral  and 
physical  advantages.     Let  us   see  whether  any  such 
country  exists;  if  not,  we  need  then  be  no  longer  at  a 
loss  to  say  why  the  American  farmer  is  able  to  transport 
his  grain  to  England,  suljject  to  the  expense  of  freight, 
insurance,  and  the  mercantile  profit,  and  yet  undersell 
the  British  cultivator. 

To  run  a  parallel  between  the  United  States  and  all 
Europe,  would  lead  to  an  investigation  not  only  of  the 
agriculture,  but  of  the  habits,  manners,  governments,  of 
all  the  nations,  climates,  and  soils,  that  it  possesses — a 
work  of  too  much  time,  and  too  great  length  to  fiud 
place  here ;  but  as  Britain  certainly  enjoys  more  advan- 
tages, civil  and  political,  than  any  other  nation  inEurope, 
and  has  carried  agriculture,  in  all  its  branches,  (o  a 
higher  degree  of  perfection,  it  will  suffice  to  compare 
the  advantages  and  disadvantages  that  the  cultivators 
experience  in  Britain  and  the  United  States. 
In  both  coimtries  property  is  free  from  invasion, 


AGRICULTURE. 


339 


both  enjoy  equal  civil  rights  :  but  in  the  United  States, 
the  cultivator  is  the  proprietor  of  the  soil,  or  if  a  tenant, 
generally  holds  his  land  by  a  perpetual  lease,  or  a  lease 
for  lives ;  which  is  the  common  tenure,  by  which  the 
tenants  of  the  few  great  landed  estates  that  still  subsist 
in  the  United  States,  hold. 

In  Britain,  not  one  thousandth  part  of  the  cultivators 
hold  their  land  in  fee,  and  very  few  by  long  leases ;  their 
improvements,  then,  are  made  under  great  disadvan- 
tages ;  and  as  they  must  ultimately  be  lost  to  them,  their 
value  must  be  deducted  from  their  profits.  In  the  Uni- 
ted States,  improvements  descend  to  the  children  of  the 
cultivator. 

In  England  a  tythe  is  taken  of  the  produce;  a  tenth 
part  of  every  man's  improvement  is  there  made,  not  for 
himself,  but  for  the  church;  and  the  interest  of  religion 
is  but  little  promoted  by  the  invidious  light  in  which 
this  places  the  clergy,  and  the  perpetual  disputes  to 
which  it  gives  birth.  In  some  few  of  these  states,  the 
ministers  of  religion  are  supported  by  a  general  tax,  but 
in  most  of  them,  by  voluntary  donations.  Thus  none  are 
maintained  who  do  not  perform  the  duties  of  their  sta- 
tion, and  whose  coniluct  is  not  such  as  to  meet  the  ap- 
probation of  those  they  instruct. 

The  legislators  in  the  United  States  are  chosen  by 
the  cultivators ;  and  nine-tenths  of  them  are  selected 
from  their  order.  It  is  impossiMe  then  that  any  law 
should  pass  subversive  of  their  interests. 

Their  commerce  of  export  is  unrestrained,  and  not, 
as  in  Britain,  made  subservient  to  their  manufactures. 

The  taxes,  which  weigh  so  heavily  upon  the  agricul- 
ture of  Britain,  are  hardly  felt  here ;  and  as  ours  are  laid 
chiefly  u|(on  luxuries,  the  farmer,  whose  circumstances 
require  it,  may,  by  living  within  himself,  totally  avoid 
them,  or  reduce  them  to  a  very  trifling  object. 

The  i)rice  of  labour,  which  is  supposed  to  be  a  tax 
upon  our  agriculture,  is  in  fact  a  premium,  where  the 
farmer  cultivates  his  own  farm  ;  because  the  profit  of  his 
labour  is  added  to  that  of  his  land. 

In  ])oint  of  intelligence,  it  is  presumed  that  the  Bri- 
tish agriculturist  enjoys  no  superiority  over  the  Ame- 
rican. The  motives  for  education  are  greater  in  the 
United  States;  because,  from  tlie  equality  of  rights, 
every  man  knows  that  his  son  may  aspire  to  tho-highest 
honours.  Education  therefore  is  more  attended  to,  both 
by  the  members  of  the  community  and  the  government, 
in  the  United  States,  than  in  Britain.  The  form  too  of 
the  town,  county,  and  state  administrations,  which  are 
wholly  in  the  hands  of  farmers,  occasions  such  a  constant 
intercourse  between  them,  as  must  doubtless  conduce  to 
their  instruction  ;  we  have  already  mentioned  the  causes 
which  render  the  prejudices  that  ol)struct  agriculture 
less  prevalent  in  the  United  States  than  in  any  other 
part  of  the  world. 

What  moral  or  political  advantages  then  do  the  far- 
mers of  Britain  enjoy  which  are  not  at  least  ecfualled  by 
those  of  America  ?  If  none,  why  should  we  suppose  our 
agriculture  worse  conducted  than  the  agriculture  of  that 
country  with  a  reference  to  the  interest  of  the  farmer; 
.  which  he  certainly  is  left  more  at  liberty  to  consult  here 
than  in  any  other  part  of  the  world  ? 

Let  us  now  see  whether  Britain  enjoys  advantages 
in  its  soil  or  climate  which  are  Unknown  to  the  United 
States;  and  if  it  does,  in  what  do  they  consist  ?  The  land 
unfit  for  cultivation  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  is  much 
greater  in  the  island  of  Great  Britain  than  in  the  United 


States,  and  amonnts  to  little  less  than  one-fifth  of  the 
whole  quantity  in  the  kingdom.  We  can  hardly  be  said 
to  have  any  barren  land.  The  sandy  tracts  upon  the  sea 
coasts  produce  useful  pine  timber,  and  would  not  be 
less  productive,  if  cultivated  with  equal  attention,  than 
the  light  sand  of  Norfolk.  The  mountains  of  Britain 
are  barren ;  in  America  they  are  covered  with  useful 
timber,  and  when  cleared  are  very  generally  productive 
of  fine  pasture.  Bogs,  heath  downs,  and  chalky  lands, 
which  are  found  in  such  abundance  in  Britain,  are  hardly 
known  in  the  United  States.  In  England,  large  tracts 
are  loose  and  spongy,  the  water  lying  below  the  surface; 
these  fields  cannot  be  cultivated  but  by  draining  at  very 
great  expense ;  hence  blind  draining  makes  a  great  arti- 
cle in  British  agricultural  improvement,  and  in  British 
expense  ;  very  little  land  of  this  description  has  fallen 
under  our  observation  within  the  United  States. 

The  greatest  advantage  that  South  Britian  possesses 
over  us  is  the  mildness  of  its  winter,  which  enables  the 
farmer  to  prepare  his  grounds  earlier  for  a  spring  crop. 
Thus  beans  can  be  cultivated  to  advantage  in  England, 
and  not  in  the  United  States ;  because  they  should  be 
sown  in  March  to  ensure  a  crop.  The  same  circum- 
stance too  enables  the  British  farmer  to  feed  his  turnips 
on  the  ground — an  advantage  however  which  North  Bri^ 
tain  does  not  possess :  there,  turnips  require  to  be  pro- 
tected from  the  frost,  as  in  America.  To  this  cause, 
among  others,  it  is  proliably  owing,  that  few  turnips  are 
raised  here  for  sheep  or  cattle,  but  principally  because 
they  are  a  very  expensive  crop  in  pro|)ortion  to  their 
value,  and  comparatively  more  so  in  a  country  in  which 
hay  is  so  much  more  easily  made  and  cured  than  in 
England.  It  is  supposed  that  the  winter  is  much  shorter 
in  England  than  in  the  United  States.  This  is  an  error: 
there  is  not  one  fortnight  difference  between  the  lime 
of  foddering  their  cattle,  even  in  South  Britain,  and  iu 
New-York  or  New-Jersey.  The  autumn,  as  well  as  the 
spring,  is  cold  and  wet,  and  accompanied  not  only  with 
more  rain,  but  with  much  higher  winds,  than  in  Ame- 
rica. It  is  true  that  having  little  snow,  the  sheep  and 
young  cattle  are  enabled  to  glean  something  on  their 
pastures,  and  are  not  housed  or  folded  as  in  the  United 
States.  This  however  appears  to  us  rather  a  disadvan- 
tage than  otherwise,  if  we  may  speak  from  our  own  ex- 
perience. When  the  winter  is  close,  and  the  ground 
covered  with  snow,  the  appetite  of  the  cattle  is  keen: 
they  are  content  with  the  coarsest  food,  and  thrive  upon 
it.  When,  on  the  contrary,  the  winter  is  open,  and  the 
cattle  suffered  to  run  out,  they  are  imable  to  fdl  them- 
selves on  the  fields,  and  yet  lose  their  relish  for  straw 
or  coarse  hay  in  the  barn-yard;  and  we  have  invariably 
found,  that  both  cattle  and  sheep  are  in  better  condition, 
during  a  severe,  than  during  a  mild  winter,  to  say  no» 
thing  of  the  loss  of  manure,  and  the  injury  to  the  land, 
when  they  are  suffered  to  run  out.  Whatever  may  be 
the  state  of  the  weather,  good  farmers  among  us  keep 
up  their  cattle  during  the  whole  winter,  and  till  there  is 
a  bite  of  grass  in  the  spring.  And  it  will  be  found,  that, 
except  with  respect  to  sheep,  the  same  practice  is  fol- 
lowed in  Britain.  It  is  also  supjwsed,  that  as  the  climate 
of  Britain  is  more  moist  than  that  of  the  United  States, 
it  must  be  nuich  more  prmluctive  of  grass.  This  is,  we 
believe,  an  error.  It  is  certain  that  every  lliiug  grows 
more  rapidly  in  (he  spring,  in  proportion  as  it  is  checked 
by  cold  in  the  winter.  Immediately  after  the  snow  goes 
off  in  northern  climates,  the  grass  vegetates,  and  6Un> 
U  u"^2 


340 


AGRICULTURE. 


mer  succeeds  to  winter,  without  the  iutcrvention  of 
spring.  In  the  United  States,  the  harvest  is  near  a 
month  earlier  than  in  Britain,  and  the  straw  much  longer. 
It  is  then  certain  that  straw  must  grow  more  rapidly  in 
one  than  in  the  otlier,  and  for  the  game  reason  grass ; 
which  is  indeed  the  fact :  our  hay  as  well  as  our  grain  is 
cut  earlier,  and  of  course  must  grow  faster. 

Not  knowing  any  other  advantage  which  Britain  pos- 
sesses, let  lis  examine  those  which  the  United  States 
enjoy. 

We  have  already  mentioned  the  culture  of  maize,  as 
a  very  leading  feature  in  American  Agriculture,  and  one 
that  gives  it  an  advantage  over  any  country  in  which  it 
is  not  cultivated.  To  this  we  may  add  the  facility  witli 
which  hay  is  made  in  the  United  States,  and  its  supe- 
rior quality.  It  is  cut  at  a  season  of  the  year  which  is 
generally  free  from  rain,  and  is  richer  and  hcsvier  from 
owing  its  growth  more  to  heat  than  moisture.  Every 
farmer  knows  the  difference  between  hay  mown  on  up- 
land, and  on  watered  meadows.  The  facility  with  which 
grass  and  a  variety  of  grains  are  raised,  since  the  intro- 
duction of  gypsum  (which  has  been  found  to  have  little 
effect  in  England)  has  of  late  years  given  great  advan- 
tages to  the  American  farmer  over  those  of  almost  any 
other  country. 

We  have  mentioned  the  benefit  that  may  be  derived 
from  pumpkins;  and  when  it  becomes  an  object  to  obtain 
the  greatest  possible  protluce  from  our  fields,  and  to 
save  hay,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  they  will  be  much 
more  extensively  cultivated  than  they  now  are. 

It  has  been  supposed  that  the  native  soil  of  Britain 
was  superior  to  that  of  the  United  States.  For  our  part, 
we  can  only  say  that,  from  an  attentive  examination  of 
the  soil,  not  only  in  Britain,  but  in  France,  Flanders-, 
Germany,  and  Italy,  we  have  found  no  cause  to  think 
that  of  the  United  States  inferior  to  theirs.  If  Flanders, 
and  more  particularly  Lombardy,  which  is  certainly  the 
finest  country  in  Europe,  presents  us  with  large  tracts 
of  fertile  land,  we  may  certainly  compare  with  the  first, 
the  whole  of  the  country  which  lies  between  the  Hud- 
son and  Connecticut  rivers,  and  the  north-west  parts  of 
the  states  of  New-York  and  Pennsylvania  f  and  with 
Lombardy,  tracts  of  much  greater  extent  upon  the  Ohio, 
.  and  the  rivers  that  fall  into  it ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  se- 
cond Egypt,  tliat  is  to  be  found  upon  the  waters  of  the 
Missisippi. 

If  the  earth  owes  its  fertility  to  the  decay  of  vegeta- 
bles, the  United  States  should  naturally  be  much  more 
fertile  than  Britain ;  since  this  cause  has  been  operating 
in  America  some  thousand  years  longer  than  in  Eu- 
rope. And  this  reasoning  seems  to  be  justified  by  the 
fact.  We  have  mentioned  the  more  rapid  growth  of 
grain  and  grass :  this  is  equally  true  with  respect  to 
fruit  and  forest  trees.  In  the  United  States  every  farmer 
enjoys  a  luxury  which  wealth  can-  hardly  procure  in 
England.  In  five  years  from  planting  the  stone,  he  may 
eat  the  fruit  of  his  peach-trees.  In  England,  a  man  may 
plant  out  an  orchard  of  apple  or  pear  trees  for  posterity, 
but  seldom  hopes  to  gather  the  fruit  himself.-  In  the 
United  States,  in  six  or  seven  years  from  setting  out  an 
orchard,  it  will  furnish  a  plentiful  supply  of  fruit  for  his 
4ftble,  and  in  less  than  ten  years  will  store  his  cellar 
with  its  rich  and  wholesome  liquors.  There  are  no 
^European  fruits  which  do  not  come  to  perfection  in 
America,  and  no  farmers,  whose  board  may  not  be  am- 
.ply  mpplied  with  them,  as  well  as  with  melons,  and  a 


variety  of  legumens,  which  the  want  of  a  genial  sun 
keei)s  from  ripening  in  Great  Britain,  except  at  great 
expense. 

We  return,  then,  to  the  position  we  set  out  with.  That 
the  people  of  the  United  States,  neither  wanting  edu- 
cation nor  intelligence,  and  enjoying  all  the  moral,  poli- 
tical, and  physical  advantages,  that  are  found  in  the  most 
favoured  parts  of  Europe,  and  having  the  same  stimu- 
lants to  their  industry,  must  necessarily  conduct  their 
agriculture  upon  principles  adapted  to  their  situation ; 
and  that  the  censures  passed  upon  it,  either  proceed 
from  prejudice,  or  from  not  entering  into  the  circum- 
stances that  govern  their  conduct;  and  that  their  agri- 
culture approximates  to  that  of  Europe,  as  their  lands 
rise  more  in  value ;  and  that  whenever  the  farming  ca- 
pital consists  rather  in  land  than  in  labour,  more  of  the 
hist  will  be  expended  upon  the  first.  All  farming  is,  as 
we  have  said,  grounded  u|)on  a  calculation  of  profit,  and 
less  on  the  capital  employetl.  When  land  was  so  plenty 
as  to  be  had  for  taking  up,  the  only  question  with  the 
farmer  was,  whether  it  was  better  to  clear  a  new  field 
when  the  old  one  was  exhausted,  or  to  preserve  its  fer- 
tility by  carrying  out  the  manure  that  had  been  for 
years  accumulating  at  his  barn-door. 

We  would  not  be  understood  to  maintain  that  ilii-; 
was  not  bad  husbandry  in  the  United  States;  the  contrary 
is  known  to  be  the  fact.  All  we  insist  on  is,  that  the 
system  generally  pursued  is  that  best  ad.-.pted  to  the 
interest  of  the  individual.  It  remains  to  be  considered, 
how  far  it  may  be  more  advantageously  directed  for  the 
public  good,  without  injury  to  the  cultivator.  In  ge- 
neral, the  agriculture  that  contributes  most  to  the  hap- 
piness of  the  farmer,  is  most  useful  to  the  community;  not 
only  because  of  the  interest  th:it  it  has  in  his  welfare, 
but  because  of  its  influci:ce  upon  the  well  being  of  the 
Bation.  The  cultivator,  who  is  employed  in  raising 
food  and  raiment,  provides  for  the  great  physical  wants 
of  man,  and  is  himself  happier  than  one  whose  occupa- 
tion it  is  to  supply  luxuries.  Every  man,  who  has  seen 
the  wine  countries  of  Europe,  must  have  observed  the 
poverty  of  the  vine-dresser,  and  the  greater  ease  and 
comfort  enjoyed  by  those  who  cultivate  grain.  The 
reason  is,  the  last  labours,  first  to  provide  a  competence 
for  his  family,  and  next  to  supply  their  artificial  wants, 
by  his  surplus  productions.  If  a  drought  prevails,  and 
his  crops  fall  short,  it  seldom  happens  that  he  has  not 
at  least  enough  to  support  himself,,  and  he  only  sacri- 
fices his  luxuries.  The  vine-dresser  depends  upon  the 
sale  of  his  wine  for  the  necessaries  of  life.  If  his  crop 
fails,  which  it  often  does,  he  suffers  much.  If  it  is  too 
abundant,  he  is  again  injured  ;  because,  as  the  demand 
is  limited,  he  may  not  be  so  fortunate  as  to  be  able  to 
dispose  of  any  part,  or  only  of  a  small  proportion  of  his 
wine,  and  that  at  a  very  reduced  price.  And  what  is 
still  more  unfortunate,  he  not  only  suffers  when  his  own 
crop  fails,  but  Avhen  that  of  the  cultivator  of  bread  and 
meat  does  not  obtain  his  usual  increase.  First,  because 
in  that  case  the  farmer  consumes  little  or  no  wine;  and 
next,  because  the  price  of  those  necessaries  is  enhanced. 
If  the  sale  of  his  produce  depends  upon  a  foreign  mar- 
ket, his  situation  is  rendered  still  more  precarious, 
from  the  various  causes  that  may  diminish  or  destroy 
the  demand.  It  can  never,  therefore,  be  the  interest  of 
a  nation  to  encourage  the  cultivation  of  the  vine  to  a 
much  greater  extent  than  may  serve  to  supply  the  re- 
gular demand  at  home ;  because  it  can  only  do  it  at  the 


AGRICULTURE. 


341 


expense  o  f  the  happiness  of  one  class  of  its  own  people, 
and  I  y  rendering  them  dependent  upon  the  fashion  or 
caprice  of  foreign  nations.  Wliat  we  have  observed  with 
respect  to  wine,  applies  still  more  forcibly  to  tobacco. 
The  consumption  of  this  at  home  is  very  small ;  the  sale 
depends  on  a  foreign  demand.  As  it  is  the  most  useless 
of  all  luxuries,  it  is  only  encouraged  in  Europe  as  a 
means  of  levying  a  tax.  The  cultivator  receives  much 
less  for  the  production  than  the  governments  that  ad- 
mit it  do  in  duties.  As  every  nation  can  dispense  with 
it,  the  cultivator  is  always  dependent  upon  foreign  na- 
tions, upon  the  fiscal  arrangements  of  their  govern- 
ments, and  the  whim  and  fashion  of  the  consumers.  At 
present,  none  but  the  lower  class  of  people,  except  in 
Holland,  consume  tobacco  in  any  other  form  than  snufT; 
and  this  is  also  going  out  of  fashion ;  and  as  the  poor 
sooner  or  later  copy  the  modes  of  the  rich,  the  demand 
for  it  must  necessarily  diminish,  and  with  it  the  profit 
of  the  cultivator ;  which  indeed  has  already  so  far  sunk, 
that  much  of  the  tobacco  land  is  now  turned  to  more 
useful  objects,  the  cultivation  of  grain.  And  this  is  the 
less  to  be  lamented,  as  tobacco  requires  fertile  land, 
which  it  exhausts  without  giving  any  thing  by  which  its 
fertility  may  be  restored.  As  the  agriculture  that  is 
employed  in  raising  luxuries  renders  a  country  depend- 
ent upon  foreign  nations,  that  are  the  buyers,  so  that 
which  supplies  them'  with  necessaries  creates  a  depend- 
ence upon  the  sellers  ;  and  it  is  this  circumstance  that 
gives  the  United  States  the  weight  they  possess  in  Eu- 
rope. 

The  invention  of  machinery  for  the  spinning  of  cot- 
ton has  excited  a  great  demand  for  that  article,  and  as 
this  too  may  be  counted  among  the  necessaries  of  life, 
has  had  the  same  effect  that  is  produced  by  the  trade  in 
grain.  It  has  also  been  attended  with  extraordinary 
profit  to  the  cultivator.  This  last,  however,  must  dimi- 
nish, while  its  utility  as  a  national  staple  increases. 
W  here  the  land  and  climate,  suited  to  any  agricultural 
production,  is  in  some  sort  unlimited,  the  profit  in  rais- 
ing such  production  must  be  regulated  by  the  price  of 
labour,  or  rather  by  the  capital  employed.  Thus,  in 
Virginia,  it  is  not  more  profitable  now  to  raise  tobacco 
than  Indian  corn,  because  there  are  more  lands  fit  for 
tobacco  than  are  necessary  to  supply  the  demand.  The 
same  thing  must  happen  with  regard  to  the  culture  of 
cotton,  if  we  except  those  species  of  it  which  can  only 
be  raised  in  small  tracts  in  the  vicinity  of  the  sea.  The 
price  of  cotton  lands  is  not  greater  than  those  which 
are  proper  for  wheat.  If,  then,  a  farmer  can  raise  only 
so  much  wheat  as  pays  him  one  hundred  dollars  for 
every  hand  he  employs,  and  the  cotton  planter  receives 
five  hundred  dollars  for  every  labourer  occuined  in  the 
culture  of  cotton,  the  i)rice  of  that  article  must  fall  to 
four-fifths  of  what  is  now  given.  This  fall  will,  however, 
be  gradual ;  because  the  consumption  of  cotton  will  in- 
crease as  it  becomes  cheaper:  that  circumstance  will 
render  it  more  a  necessary  of  life,  and  enable  it  to  sup- 
ply the  place  of  flax,  and  in  some  sort  of  wool ;  besides 
that,  it  will  in  that  case  wholly  banish  the  East  India 
cottons,  and  take  their  place  in  the  market. 

This  article  of  agriculture,  then,  merits  the  greatest 
attention,  not  only  as  it  affords  a  sui)ply  to  our  own 
wants,  and  is  the  pabulum  of  manufactories,  but  as  it 


will  render  the  nations  io  whom  it  becomes  a  necessary 
of  life  dependent  Uj^on  our  commerce.    As  the  situation 
and  policy  of  the  United  States  naturally  lead  them  to 
seek  peace,  and  shun  the  broils  that  vex  the  old  world,  it 
is  desirable  that  they  should  be  as  independent  for  other 
necessaries  of  life  as  they  are  for  food.     Clothing  has 
hitherto  been  in  a  great  measure  obtained  from  abroad. 
The  consequence  has  been,  that  they  have  not  only  been 
drained  of  their  specie,  but  subjected  to  the  inconve- 
niences that  result  from  the  taxes  and  restrictions  they 
impose  upon  their  commerce,  and  the  interruptions  it 
suffers  during  a  Avar.      Every  man  that  wears  u  British 
coat,  pays  the  tythes,  the  poor-taxes,  the  rents,  the  taxes 
of  England,  ivith  export  duties  and  profits  to  foreign 
merchants;  all  of  which  is  so  much  actual  loss  to  the 
country.  But  this  is  trifling  compared  to  the  dependence 
it  creates  upon  them,  and  the  interest  it  forces  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  United  States  to  take  in  their  peace  or 
wars.     An  idea  has  prevailed  that  this  country  is  not 
yet  ripe  enough  for  manufactures ;  and  this  idea  has  in 
some  measure    paralyzed    their  exertions  to  establish 
them ;  yet  the  fact  is,  that  the  United  States  ship  very 
few  raw  materials,  except  cotton.     All  its  iron,  wool, 
leather,  sheep  skins,  flax,  and  hemp,  are  manufactured 
at  home,  and  considerable  quantities  of  leather,  hemp, 
and  iron,  imported.     Is  there  then  not  strong  reason  to 
believe,  that  if  the  agriculture  of  the  country  was  turn- 
ed to  the  production  of  articles  which  are  manufactured 
at  home,  that  it  would  render  the  United  States  as  inde- 
pendent for  clothing  as  they  now  are  for  food  ?  The  con- 
tinuance of  wars  in  Europe,  or  such  protecting  duties 
and  prohibitions  as  will  assure  the  farmer  that  peace  will 
not  ruin  the  manufactures  that  are  to  consume  his  pro- 
duce, and  in  favour  of  which  he  changes  his  system  of 
husbandry,  cannot  fail  to  bring  about  this  desirable  state 
of  things.     The  facility,  with  which  the  people  of  the 
United  States  embrace  any  object  useful  to  their  coun- 
try and  themselves,  must  astonish  those  who  observe 
the  extreme  difficulty  with  which  old  habits  are  relin- 
quished in  other  portions  of  the  globe.     The  circum- 
stances we  have  mentioned  relative  to  the  introduction 
and  prices  of  Merino  sheep,  and  the  sudden  extension  of 
our  flocks  within  the  last  four  years,  must  convince  every 
reflecting  man,  that  every  article  of  woollen  clothing 
must  soon  be  made  at  home.      Already  we  find  the  iii- 
crease  of  manufactures  of  that  kind  keeping  pace  mth 
the  increase  of  wool,  and  the  reduction  of  the  price  of 
cotton,  and  the  war  charges  upon  imported  goods,  opera- 
ting upon  the  establishment  of  many  manufactures  of  that 
article.    The  fertility  of  lands  in  the  western  states,  and 
the  expense  of  bringing  grain  to  market,  naturally  lead 
them  to  the  culture  of  flax  and  hemp,  whose  value  will 
better  bear  the  charge  of  transportation.     This  cause  is 
already  operating.     A  considerable  quantity  of  hemp  is 
raised  and  worked  into  cordage  on  the  Ohio.     To  the 
remoter  parts  of  the  union  we  may   early  look  (if  fos- 
tered by  the  attention  of  government)  for  an  ample  sup- 
ply of  canvas  and  cordage  and  coarse  linens.     While 
we  keep  up  our  connexion  with   Europe   by   allowing 
them  the  advantage  of  a  commerce  in  luxuries,  in  ex- 
change for  our  superfluous   provisions,  let  us  depend 
only  on  our  own  agriculture  and  manufactures  for  ne- 
cessaries.   Livingston, 


84S 


AGRICULTURE, 


INDEX. 


Agriculture  ofgreaterimporteneetoa 
country  than  trade  and  m«- 
nulactures,  page  205. 

history  of,  206. 

well  undtrritood  by  the  Ho* 
oians,  ib. 

itate  of,  in  England,  d»  ring  the 
Saxon  govtrnmeiu,  ib. 

irrproved  by  the  writings  of 
judge  Fitzherliert,  207. 

improved  by  the  writings  of 
Waller  Blythe,  and  others, 
aurtng  the  Proteetomte,  ib- 

benefit^  by  the  establishment 
of  a  national  Board,  209. 

state  of,  in  Scotland,  during  the 
Anglo-Saxon  dynasty,  210. 

state  of,  in  Scotland,  at  the 
eiid  of  the  thirteenth  centu- 
ry. 213. 

benefited  by  the  introduction 
oftbreigners,  ib. 

benefited  by  the  founding  of 
religious  houses,  ib. 

Impeded  by  the  buccession 
War,  213. 

decline  of,  in  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries,  ib. 

reviral  of,  after  the  Reforma- 
tion, ib. 

benefited  by  the  valuation  of 
tythes,  ib. 

benefiteil  by  several  laws  paw- 
ed in  the  serenteenth  cen- 
tury, 2i5. 

benefited  by  the  jurisdiction 
act  in  1748, ib> 

greatly  improved  since  the 
concluiion  of  the  American 
war,  ib 

theory  of,  216. 

antiquity  of,  206. 

introduced  into  Britain  by  the 
Hocbant,  ib. 

state  of,  in  Enpland,  under  the 
commonwealth,  307. 

fundamental  prbiciples  of,  216. 

keeping  land  in  old  pasture 
detrimental' to,  222. 

accession  of  Jame'*  VI.  to  the 
throne  of  England  hostile 
to,  in  Scotland,  2i5. 

exert jt)ns  of  Mr.  Hope  ofRan- 
keillor  in  Cavourof,  314. 

improvemenu  in.  by  Mr.  Cock- 
burn  of  Ormiston,  ib. 

improvements  in, by  Mr.Tull, 
208. 
Alga  Marina,  on  the  application  and 
eSectj  of,  as  a  manure,  370. 

of  greater  benefit  to  light  than 
to  clay  soils,  271, 

mildew  pn^vcnted  by  the  use 
of  it,  ib. 
Alternate  husUandry.  the  superior  ad- 
vantages of,    demonstrated, 
310. 
Arable  land,  on  the  management  of. 

272. 
rotation  of  crops,  273. 
etillivatiun     of     culmiferous 

crops,  274* 
cultivation     of      leguminous 

crop4,283. 
cultivation   of  crops   used  in 

ninniifactiire*,  ."vOS. 
Ailies,  of  their   bcnetluiul  eRlat  as  a 

manure.  271. 
extract*  from  the  ajp-'icultural 

ineinorandunii*,    of    Hubert 

Ain^lie,  respecting  them,  lb. 


Aallcy,  John,  P.*q  descri|»tion  of  drill- 
ing   machines   invented   by 
him, 248 
description  of  a  thrashing  ma- 
chine (Toettd  by  him,  2-53. 

BalLCwell,  bis   intprovemeitt   in    long* 
horntil  pjttle,  324. 
»  hit  imiirovt-ment  in  the  breed 

of  sheep,  3t4, 

Barter,  ilt'^ail  '>*'  p"»eeiici  in  the  cul- 
ture of,  281. 

1.  PfeparHtion. 

2.  Quantity  oT^ecd. 

3.  Harv<tt  managvtneflt. 
BayVy,  T.  K.  his  directions  for  drain- 
ing, 31S.  ' 


Beam,  mode  of  cultivating,  3M. 

1.  Preparation. 

2.  Mode  of  sowing. 

3.  Quantity  of  seed* 

4.  Hoeing  process. 

5.  Harvest  management, 
ft.  Produce. 

driUing  and  hors^hocing  them 

recommended,  ih. 
a    good    preparatory   crop   to 
wheat,  28i. 
Bell,  Benjamin.  Esq.  experiments  made 
by,  to  ascertain  whether  light 
and  imperfect  seed  would  pro- 
duce a   crop  equal   to   seed 
which  had  bees  perfectly  ri- 
pened, 280. 
Blight,  377. 
Blue  marl,  270. 
Blytbe's  writings,  account  of,  208. 

utility  of,  ib. 
Breeding  mares,  management  of.  311. 
Brown.  Mr.  of  Markle,  bis  method  of 

toiling  cattle,  303. 
Burning  and  paring  not  injurious  to  the 

soil,  371. 
Burning  peat-earth,  method  of,  ib. 
Burning  moss,  method  of,  27i* 


Cabbages, their  culture  considered ai  not 

beneficial  to  the  farmer,  297. 

Carrots,  their  culture  not  beneficial  to 

the  farmer,  ib. 
Cattle,  the  different  varietiet  or  breeds 
ot^  described,  312. 
1.  Short  homed,  ib. 
S.  Long  homed,  or  Lancashire, 
ib. 

3.  Polled,  or  Gallowav,  313. 

4.  Kyioe,  or  Highland,  ib. 
Cheviot  sheep,  315. 

Clay  marl,  270. 

soil,  sowing  upon  the  winter 
furrow  recommended,  274. 
Clover,  when  introduced  into  England, 
302, 
the  most  profitable  way  of  using 

it,  ib. 
soiling  pa rticulariy  recommend- 
ed, 303. 
experiments   to  ascertain   the 

advantages  of  soiling,  304. 
pasturage  necessary  in   upland 
districts,  305. 
Cockburn,  .Mr.  his  improvements  in  a^ 

riculture,  215. 
Commonty  lands  an  obstruction  to  agri* 

cuhural  improvement,  331. 
Compost-middens, on  the  advantages  of, 

2^.1. 
ingrc-dients  used  in  making,  ib. 
I.onlMeadowbank's  method,  ib. 
Corn,deM;ription  of  a  machine  invented 

foiTHapingtbyMr-Gladstones, 

Castle  Douglas.  349. 
method  of  treading   it  out  in 

Americ  I.  255. 
Covenants,  restrictive,  in  leases,   bad 

efleitsof,  230, 
Crops,   the  most  suitable  rotations  of, 

elucidated.  373. 
CtiHpv,  on  breetli  of  hortcs,  310. 
Culmiferous  croin,  on  the  culture  and 

management  of,  274, 


Bickson*s,Dr.  opinion  concerning  soils, 

218. 
iHscate,  a  peculiar  one  injured  the  crop 

orioOS,  278. 

Diseases  of  n  heat,  277. 

]>aiinage,  iMmeftts  uf,  doirribrd,318. 

m<Kle  ofexecuttniE,  ib. 

pit,  hii;bly  advHnini^cous,  iti* 
Drilllitg  ntachiiie«,dcserilition  of,  247. 
Drilling  bcnnt,  '^«1. 
])t  iti,  for  Miwing  turnips,  248. 
Drilh,  description  of,  commonly  Used, 
247. 

description  of, invented  by  Mr. 
Ball.y.24tl. 
Dung,  proper  quantity  of  it  to  be  used, 

260. 
spreading  of  it,  241. 
npplicatiun  of  it  to  turnips.  Eh. 
application  of  it  tu  potatoes,  ib. 
ai>pnrfttionofittnciays')iU,2A9 
tin  the  management  aiid  applf 

niton  of,  967. 


Dung,  quantity  thereof  greatly  increas- 
ed by  soiling,  263. 


Enclosures,  method  of  executing,  326. 
stone  walls  recommended,  327. 
mode  of  planting  and  training 
liedge*,  ib. 
Experiments  with  lime  detailed,  267. 

practical  inferences  therefrom, 
269. 


Fallow,  summer,  the  best  mode  of  clean- 
ing land,  232. 
perfect  husbandrj*  not  attainable 
on  strong  toiU  without  it,  ib. 
should  be  cleaned  belore  they 

art  dunged,  262. 
quantity  of  dung  for,  ib. 
Fanners,  account  of  the  introduction 
of,  into  Britain,  256. 
introduced  under  the  patronage 
of  Air.  Fletcher  of  Salton,  by 
James  Meikle,  father  of  the 
gentleman  who  invented  the 
thrashing  machine,  ib> 
first  erected  at  Salton   barley 
mill,  ib. 
Farming,  system  of  practised  in  Great 
Britain,  220. 
superior  to  that  of  the  Conti- 
nent, and  causes  thereof,  ib. 
ancient  system  of,  in  Great  Bri- 
tain, 220. 
obstacles  in  the  way  af,  ib- 
Fan^s,  regular  breeding  ones   recom- 
mended, 311. 
on  the  size  uf,  333. 
on  the  fiiriiigurrentingof,224. 
Fitzherbert,  Sir  Anthony,  treatise  on 

ae;riculture,  2oV. 
Flax,  on  the  culture  and  management 
of,  300. 
I.  Preparation. 
3.  Quantity  of  seeil. 

3.  Time  of  pulling. 

4.  Method  nf  watering. 

may  be  grown  on  moorish  soils, 
K>r  the  sake  of  t)m  seed,  with 
great  advantage,  30i. 

Fletcher,  Sir  H.  his  method  of  draining, 
319. 

Flooding  land,  320. 

Foiu,  St.  2»r. 


Gladstones,  Mr.  account  of  a  machine 
invented  by  him  f^jt  reaping 
com,  249. 

Grass  husbandry,  the  nature  and  ad- 
vantages of^  elucidated,  303. 

1.  Grasses  for  cutting 

2.  Methods  of  consuming  them. 

3.  Pasturage. 

Grass  IsthIs,  on  breaking  up  vnth  the 
plough,  306. 

on  their  after  management,  ib. 

when  the  soil  is  cUy.  3u7. 

wheii  the  soil  is  loam,  308. 

when  it  is  fen  soil,  309. 
Grass,  when  contnmed  hv  live  stock,  305. 
Gravelly  soiU  naturally  ttarren,  218. 

deep  ploughing  beneficial  to,  lb. 

H 

Harrows,  description  of, 244. 
Harrowing,  object  and  best  method  of, 

ib- 
Harvest  management  of  beans,  284. 

of  \\-heat,  280. 

of  barley.  281. 

of  oats,  282* 
Hawke.  Lord.on  warplne;  land,  32S, 
Heath  or  mountain  sheep,  315. 
HedgL-s,  thorn,  327. 

methrtd  of  planting  and  train- 
big.  lb. 
Hemp,  the  culture  of.  described,  296. 

St<;tl  and  n'eihod  of  sowing  it, 
ib. 

after  culture.  2Q9. 

method  Af  keeping  it,  fb. 
Hoeinf  beans.  234. 
Hnllow  dniivf,  320. 
Hope,  Mr.ofUankeillor.hisexprtioni  in 

fnvour  of  agriculttire,  214. 
Hops,  on  tliA  cufture  of,  301. 


Horses,  the  different  breeds  of,  explain- 
ed, 310. 
their  diseases,  and  method  of 

cure,  311, 
for  farm  work,  ib. 
food  proper  for  them,ib. 
Husbandry,  ruw,  not  canuL;'tt.(i  for  the 

generality  orBritisksoils,347, 
unfavourable  to  the  vowing  of 

culmiterous  crops,  ib. 
corn,  the  chief  object  of  Britisb 

farmt-rs.  225- 
implements,  descripiionofthose 

used  in  Britain,  237. 
obstacles  to  the  improvement 

of,  324. 


Jefferson,  President,  his  mode  of  form- 
ing the  plough  ear,  242. 

Implements  of  husbandry,  description 
of,  337. 

Improvements  in  husbandry,  obstacle! 
to,  324. 

Irrigation,  antiquity  of,  320. 

practised  to  a  considerable  ei* 
tf  nt   on   the  Dirhe  of  Bue- 
cleueh*s  estates,  ib. 
estimate  of  the  benefits  of,ib> 


Karnes  en  leases,  229. 
Kyloe  or  Highland  breed,  313. 


Labour,  rural,  comparative  view  of  oxen 

to  horses  for,  317. 
Land,  mode  <if  occupying  it  in  Great 
B'itain,  235. 
chttBy  rented  by  farmers,  ib, 
tenures  on  which  it  is  possess* 

ed,  ib.  *^ 

rent  of,  331. 
Lease,  an  ancient  moile  of  tenure,  ia 
Britain,  226. 
did  not  afTiml  perfect  security 
to  the   farmers  of  Scotland 
till  1449.227. 
nor  in  Enrtand  till  the  reign  of 
Henry  VHI.  ib. 
Leases,  Mr  Young's  opinion  coneem* 
iag,  .'28. 
benefit  of,  strikingly  exempli- 
fied in  Scotland,  ib. 
bad  effects  of  restrictive  core^ 
nants  in  England,  230. 
Leguminous  crops,  on  the  culture  and 

management  of,  283, 
Leioaster  sheep,  uld,.il^. 

new,  lb. 
Lime  husbamlry,  described,  26fi. 

useil  witii  great  success  ineve- 

rj-  part  (it  Britain,  ib. 
theoretical  writers  mistaken  u 
to  the  nature  and  propertitrs 
of.ib. 
experiments  witli,367. 
Lincolnshire  sheep,  314, 
Live  stock,  310 

stock,  on  conjoining  it  with 
Corn, ib. 
Lomax,  Mr.  introduces  the  Rotherham 

plough  into  Scotland,  339. 
Lucem,  297. 

M 

Machine,  thrashing.  350, 253. 

reaping,  ^49. 
Machinery, objections  sgainst  the  tntro* 

ductii<n  nf,  answered,  355. 
Manufnctures,  cri>ps  u«ed  in,  '*'* 
Manures,  on  the  benefits  or  advantages 
of,  256. 

mnnagrment  and  application  of 
dung,  257. 

comfMst  middens,  364* 

lime.  266 

marl.  270. 

sea  weed,  ib. 

a<he».  271. 
Mares  forJ>re«iltiic.  manai^ment  of,3T1* 
Marl,  the  "ever«l  kinds  of,  nolicetl.  370. 

Shflly  mirt. 

Clay  marl.  ^ 

Stone  marl. 

Bine  marl. 

Impure ntid  mined  mail. 
Meadowfaanks,  Lord,  account  of  hit 


AGR 


AGR 


343 


method  or  nuiking  compost 

middens,  234. 
Uleiklet  Mr.  account  of  h  s  invention  of 

the  thrashing' machine.  251* 
oblif^ations  due  to  him  by-  the 

publtc  on  that  account,  25  j. 
renmini  unrtwaidtd,  ib 
Menzies,  Mr.  Mivhat-l.  account  of  a  ma* 

chine    erccud    by    him    for 

thrashing  corn  with  flails;!53* 
Middt  ns,  compost,  204. 
ftliUt.  w,  »77. 
Mountain  iheepj  315. 


N 


Neat  cattle,  313* 


OBtSt  mode  of  culmre  and  managevent, 

282. 

of  the  several  varieties  cuUi' 
vBied  ill  Biitain,  iU. 

1.  Common;  2.  Angus;  3  Po- 
land; 4.  Friezland;  5.  Red; 
6.  Dun;  7.  Tartaij  8.  Vo* 
tatoe< 

1.  Preparation. 

2.  C^uau'ity  of  seed* 

3.  Harvesting. 

4.  Produce' 

Obstacles  to  improvement  pointed  oat, 

324. 
Oxen,  comparative  view  betwixt  them 

and  horses  for  ruial  labour, 

317. 


Paftng  and  burning,  not  iitju  rious  to  the 

soil,  271. 
Pease,  the  culture  of  this  pulse  now 
much  ilisuied  in  Britain,  2S7. 
agree  Wi-ll  with  lime.  ib. 
sometimessown  after  gnus, 288. 
Scotch  gray,  ib. 
Peat -earth,  essay  on,  by  Mr.  Rennie.  219. 
different  opinions  on  tbeorigia 
of.ib. 
Petre,  Ixird.  on  fitliag  drains,  319. 
Pipe  drains,  320. 

Plough,  description  of  the  various  kinds 
of,  237, 
two  sets  of,  required  fur  perfect 

tillage,  258, 
bad  disadvantages  of,  ib. 
history  of,  2.^9. 
Rotherham.  238. 
Che  Rotherham  introduced  into 
Scotland  bv  Mr.  Lomax.239. 
of  Mr.  Small  s  improved,  ib. 
neM-,ofMr.  Veitch's,  240, 
old  Scots,  defects  of,  24t. 
useful  for  ploughingstoiiy  land, 

ib. 
of  wheel  ploughs,  ih. 
cloaning.  or  liurse  hi)e,  242. 
Plough-car,   President  Jeff.rson's    me- 

tliod  of  forming  it,  ib. 
Polled,  or  Gallowav  cattle.  313. 
Potatoes,  on  the  culture  of,  233- 

1.  Prei^arattun  of  ihe  ground. 


S.  Quantity  of  seed. 

3.  The  best  varieties  of. 

4.  Cleanin?  process. 

5.  Curl. 

6.  Method   of  taking  uP  and 
storing  the  erop. 

cannot  be  raised  in  s;reat  quan- 
tilies  except  in    the  vicinity 
oftuwns,  ib. 
Poor's  rates,  331. 
Poultry,  &c.  of  no  advantage  to  the 

farmer,  316. 
Principles,  fundamental,  of  agriculture, 
217. 

Putrefaction  of  turnips  prevented  by 
sturhig,  295. 


Rabbits,  8cc.  of  no  advantage  to  the 

larmer,316. 
Red  clover,  302. 
Reiitoflandancientlypaiit  in  kind, 231. 

now  generally  in  money,  ib. 
Boilers,  description  of,  245. 
Rolling,  across  most  advantageous,  ib. 
Rotations  of  crops,  the  must  improved 
ones  described,  273. 
1.  For  deep  rich  soils. 
B.  Por  loams  and  clays. 
3«  For  loams  and  clays  of  an 

inferior  description. 
4.  For  thin  clays. 
S-  For  soils  mixed  with  peat 

earth- 
6.  For  light  or  gravelly  soils. 
7*  For  sandy  soils. 
Rotherham  plough.  238, 
Rural  labour,  comparative  view  of  oxen 

and  horses  for,  317. 
Rust.  277. 
Ruta  baga,  or  Swedish  turnip,  291. 

useful  for  horses,  292. 
Rye-grass,  303. 

makes  excellent  hay.  305. 
Rye  less  cultivated  now  dian  in  former 
tiroes,  382. 


Sea-weed,  on  the  application  and  eff*ects 

of,  270. 
of  more  benefit  to  light  than 
clay  soils,  271- 
Seed,  imperfect.  Dr.  Bell's  experiments 
on  the  vegetation  of,  280. 
best    kiiHl   should   always   be 
used,  ib. 
Sheep,  the  numerous  breeds  of,  classi- 

1.  The  SoutJidown. 
«.  The  Lincolnshire. 

3.  The  New  Leicester. 

4.  The  Cheviot. 

5.  The  heath,  or  mountam. 
mode  of  manageaient  of.  3:5. 

Shelly  marl,  2?o. 

Sinclair,  Sir  .Tfthn,  establishes  a  Board 
of  Agriculture,  209. 

Singeti,  Dr.  account  by,  of  the  im- 
pro%'ements  made  by  irriga- 
tion on  the  Duke  of  Buc- 
cleucb's  estate,  320. 


SmaU|Janies<  his  improvements  on  the 
Rotlierham  plough,  2^9, 
his  opinion  on  wheel  ploughs, 

241. 
Sod  drains,  320. 
Soil,  component  parts  of,  217. 

Dr.  Dickson's  opinion  concern- 
ing, 218. 
Soilin;^  cattle,  method  of,  303. 
Soib  defined,  218 

four  primitive  or  original  kindi 
uftfoiU,  vi7^  clay,  sand,  gra< 
vel,  and  peat,  in. 
description  of  clay,  ib. 
of^»and,  ib. 
of  gravel,  ib. 

of  i>eat  earth  or  moss,  219. 

uses  to  which  each  kind  may  be 

most  advantageously  applied, 

lb. 

light,  best  adapted  to  grais  and 

turnip  husl»ndry,  ib. 
thiu  enes  should  be  depastured 
by  sheep,  30S. 
Southdown  fclieep.  314. 
Sowing  on  the  winter  furrow  most  eli- 
gible on  clay  land,  274. 
Sowing  of  wheat,  27^). 
Stirling,  Michael,  invents  a  thrashing 

machine,  250. 
Stock,  live,  310. 
Stone  walls,  327. 

marl,  270. 
Storing  turnips  for  winter  consumption 

recommended,  292. 
Summer  fallow,  advantafres  of,  232, 

opinion  uf  Dr   Dickson,  236. 
much  practised  by  the  ancient*, 

2?5. 
turnips  may  be  taken  on  light 
Boili  in  lien  of,  236. 
Surinam  potatoes,  or  yants,239. 

a  goo<l  sub.titute  (or  turnips  in 
spring,  ib. 
Swedisli  turnip,  or  ruta  haga,  291. 

excellent  for  horses,  292. 
Swine,  a  species  of  live  stock  of  cnnii- 
derable  imporUuice  to  farm- 
ers. 315. 
advantages  of.  shown,  316. 

T 

Tarel,  a  plant  of  a  luirdy  nature,  288. 
ihould    be    sown   early   when 

meant  for  a  crop,  ib. 
a  b<.neticial  article  fur  soiling 
horses  and  catile,  ib. 
Tenants,  public  burdens  home  !>)•,  331. 
heavier  in  England   than  in 
Scotland,  ib. 
Thorn  hedges,  mode  of  planting  and 

training,  327. 
Thrashin;;  machims,  account  of,  250. 
histor>'  of  the  invention,  ib. 
beneliis  accruing  from  titc  in- 
vention enumerated,  25t. 
description  and  caluulittion  of 
one  erected  at  CbiUingliam 
hy  Mr.  Bailey,  253. 
nf  wheal.  280. 
Tillage,  definition  and  oVjects  of,  232. 
anciently  perforiued  by  manual 
labour,  )b> 


Tillage,  performed  in  modern  'Jmesby 
the  plough,  ib. 
obstructions  to,  ib. 
greatly   benefitf^  by   suminer 

fallow,  ib. 
perfect,  two  sets  of  ploughs  re- 
quired for,  238. 
Turnips,  on  the  benefits  of  that  rcct, 

290. 
mode  of  cnllivajing,  ib. 
1.  Preparation. 
3,  Manuring, 

3.  Sowing. 

4.  Time  of  sowing, 

5.  Cleaning  process. 

6.  Consumption. 

Turnip,  yellow,  the  usefulness  of,  point- 
ed out,  29 1. 
Swedish,  the  culture  of^  recom- 
mended, ib, 
the   advaritages  of  storini*  fur 

w  inter  consumpt  ion,  21-2 
new  variety  of,  recently  intro- 
duced, 296. 
Tythes,  a  great  obstacle  to  improve- 
ment, 3^8. 
plan  fur  commuting,  lb. 


Vetches,  288. 

Veitch,  Jaiwes,  his  improtements  on  the 

plough.  340. 
Virginia,  method  of  tlira^hing,  or  tivad- 

ing  out  wheat.  SJ5, 

W 

Walls,  stone,  327. 

Warping  or  flooding  land,  a  beneficial 
practice,  325. 
originated  in  Yorkshire,  ib. 
dtscribedby  Lord  IlawUc,  326, 
Wheat,  detail  of  the  different  processt^i 
required    in  the  cullun:  and 
management  of,  27.^. 

1.  Of  the  soil  best  adapted  lo 
the  growth  of  wheal. 

2.  Of  the  culture  requiicd. 

3.  Of  the  varieties  of  seed. 

4.  Of  seed-work. 

5.  Of  pickling. 

6.  Of  diseases. 

7-  Of  han'eit  uianagcment. 

8.  Of  thrashing. 
Whecl-carriages.  description  of  the  kinds 
generally  used  for  farm  pur- 
poses, 245, 

wagons  not  useful  to  farmers.iS. 

comparison    betwixt   one   and 
two  horse  carts.  246. 

broad  wheels  recommendtd,  ib. 
Woods,  or  plantations  nf  trees,  327. 

methcd  of  forming  a  planta- 
tion, 328. 


Yarns,  or  Surinam  potatoes,  389. 

excellent  substitute  for  turnips 
in  spring,  ib. 
Yellow  turnips.  291. 
Young,Arthur,  his  opinion  on  leaffes,228. 


AGRIG  AN,  or  the  island  St.  Francis  Xavier,  is  one 
of  the  Ladrone  or  Mariana  islands.  It  is  about  47  miles 
in  circumference.  It  is  very  mountainous,  and  has  se- 
veral volcanoes.     E.  Long.  14t)».  N,  Lat,  lO^  40'.  (J) 

AGRIGENTUM,  called  by  the  Greeks  Aa^agas,  a 
city  on  the  south-east  of  Sicily,  the  site  of  which  is 
now  partly  occupied  by  GirgcntL  The  principal  part 
of  Agricentum,  next  to  Syracuse,  the  largest  city  in  the 
island,  wns  situated  in  the  vale ;  but  its  citadel  stood 
near  the  top  of  a  mountain,  about  1100  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  forming  a  most  magnificent  spectacle 
at  a  distance.  Antiquity  has  transmitted  various  tratli- 
tions  concerning  its  origin.  Daedalus,  the  most  cele- 
brated artist  of  the  fabulous  ages,  is  said  to  have  fled 
hither  from  the  resentment  of  Minos,  and  to  have  built 
many  wonderful  edifices  at  the  request  of  Cocalus,  who 
then  reigned  in  Sicily.  Thucydides  informs  us,  that 
long  after  that  period,  a  colony  from  Gela  settled  on 


this  spot ;  and,  having  greatly  enlarged  the  town,  gave 
it  the  name  of  Acragas,  from  a  neighbouring  stream. 
According  to  Polybius,  however,  it  was  founded  by  a 
colony  of  Rhodians ;  while  Strabo  assigns  that  honour 
to  the  lonians,  No  situation  could  be  more  pleasant 
than  that  of  Agrigentura,  or  more  favourable  for  the 
purposes  either  of  security  or  of  commerce.  The  am- 
ple vale  on  which  it  stood  was  watered  by  the  rivers 
Hypsa  and  Acragas,  at  the  mouth  of  the  latter  of  which 
there  was  a  commodious  harbour;  while  the  plain, 
widening  towards  the  shore,  was  freshened  perpetually 
by  the  «ea-breeze ;  and  afforded  a  noble  and  uninterrupt- 
ed prospect  of  the  ocean  :  Verdant  hills  sheltewd  it 
behind,  and  a  ridge  of  abrupt  rocks  presented  a  strong 
natural  barrier,  which  the  additional  fortifications  of  art 
rendered  almost  impregnable.  The  commercial  spirit 
which  these  natural  advantages  excited,  derived  still 
greater  eneriry  fro©  the  freedom  of  their  government. 


044 


AGR 


AGR 


and  raised  them  to  a  height  of  opuk-ncc  and  power, 
rivalled  by  the  Syracusans  alone.  Buildings  of  singular 
beauty  and  grandeur  adorned  all  parts  of  the  city.  Of 
these  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Olympius  waa  the  most  re- 
markable. It  was  340  feet  long,  60  broad,  and  120  in 
height.  Its  columns  and  porticos  -were  in  (he  finest 
style  of  architecture  :  and  its  bas-reliefs  and  paintings 
executed  with  admirable  taste.  On  its  eastern  wall  was 
sculptured  the  battle  of  the  giants ;  while  the  western 
represented  the  Trojan  war,  corresponding  exactly  with 
the  description  which  Virgil  has  given  of  the  painting 
in  the  temple  of  .luno  at  Carthage  ;  {Xncid  i.  400.)  A 
church  is  now  erected  on  foundations  of  large  regular 
stones,  which  were  formerly  part  of  a  temple  dedicated 
to  Ceres  and  Proserpine ;  and  a  road  to  this  temple  ap- 
pears hewn  in  the  solid  rock.  Majestic  columns  still 
remain,  which  indicate  the  former  grandeur  of  the  tem- 
ple of  Juno.  An  edifice  of  the  Doric  order,  called  the 
Tentple  of  Concord^  has  still  its  walls,  its  columns,  en- 
tablature, and  pediments,  entire  ;  and  is  now  converted 
into  a  church,  consecrated  lo  St.  Gregory,  bishop  of  Gir- 
gcnti.  The  other  remains  of  the  ancient  magnificence 
of  Agrigentum,  are,  the  temple  of  Hercules,  the  tomb 
of  Hiero,  the  temple  of  JSsculapius,  and  the  temple  of 
Castor  and  Pollux.  On  one  side  of  the  city  there  was  a 
large  lake  or  fish-pond,  dug  out  of  the  solid  rock  by  Car- 
thaginian captives,  and  to  which  the  water*was  convey- 
ed from  the  hills.  It  is  described  by  Diodorus  as  seven 
furlongs  in  circuit,  and  thirty  feet  deep ;  great  quanti- 
ties of  fish  were  bred  in  it  for  the  public  feasts ;  swans 
and  other  water  fowls  were  kept  on  it  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  citizens ;  and  the  depth  of  its  water  secured 
the  city  on  that  side  from  the  sudden  assault  of  an  ene- 
my. Mr.  Swinburne  informs  us,  that  it  is  now  quite  dry, 
and  has  been  converted  into  a  garden.  It  is  a  curious 
fact,  that  though  the  whole  space  within  the  walls  of 
the  ancient  city  abounds  with  traces  of  antiquity,  there 
are  no  ruins  which  can  be  supposed  to  have  belonged 
to  places  of  public  entertainment.  The  Agrigentines 
were  remarkably  fond  of  shows  and  dramatic  entertain- 
ments ;  and  their  connexion  with  the  Romans  must  have 
introduced  among  them  the  savage  games  of  the  circus. 
Theatres  and  amphitheatres  seem  peculiarly  calculated 
to  resist  the  outrages  of  time ;  yet  not  a  vestige  of  their 
form  is  to  be  seen  on  the  site  of  Agrigentum. 

The  Agrigentines  were  addicted  to  all  the  vices  which 
opulence  usually  produces.  Their  luxury  and  effemi- 
nacy was  proverbial.  Empedocles,  who  attempted  their 
reformation,  reproached  them  with  building  as  if  they 
Tvere  to  live  for  ever,  and  indulging  in  pleasure  as  if 
every  day  were  to  be  their  last.  Thus  enervated  and 
corrupted,  they  could  not  long  preserve  their  liberties ; 
but  fell  an  easy  sacrifice  to  the  ambition  of  their  rulers, 
or  the  power  of  their  foreign  enemies.  Phalaris  was  the 
first  who  reduced  them  to  slavery,  B.  C.  571.  He  con- 
tinued to  rule  for  1 6  years,  detested  for  his  cruelty,  till 
tit  length  he  was  put  to  death,  as  some  historians  assert, 
in  the  brazen  bull  which  he  had  employed  for  torturing 
his  enemies.  The  Agrigentines,  after  his  death,  con- 
tinued to  enjoy  their  liberty  for  about  50  years,  when 
Thero  usurped  the  sovereign  power.  During  his  active, 
mild,  and  just  government,  they  were  tranquil,  secure, 
and  bappy.  He  joined  his  son-in-law  Gelo,  king  of 
ByracuBe,  in  op[>osiDg  the  Carthaginians;  and,  by  their 
united  valour,  Sicily  was  delivered  for  a  time  from  her 
African  oppressors.  His  son  Thrasida-us,  who  succeed- 
td  him,  was  joou  stripped  of  royalty ;   and  the  Agrigen- 


tines recovered  their  ancient  democratical  form  of  go- 
vernment. But  their  tranquillity  was  disturbed  by 
Ducetius,  a  chief  of  the  mountaineers  descended  from 
the  Siculi;  and  though  their  alliance  with  the  Syracu- 
sans enabled  them  to  withstand  his  attempts,  they  were 
involved  in  a  quarrel  with  their  allies  themselves,  and 
forced,  after  an  unsuccessful  contest,  to  submit  to  hu- 
miliating terms.  Jealousy  and  resentment  induced  them 
to  join  the  Athenians  in  an  attack  against  Syracuse ;  but 
finding  that  the  protection  of  these  new  friends  could 
only  be  purchased  by  the  loss  of  liberty  and  fortune,  they 
soon  returned  to  their  former  connexion.  About  seven 
years  after  the  defeat  of  the  Athenians,  Agrigentum  was 
besieged  by  a  powerful  army  of  Carthaginians,  com- 
manded by  Hamilcar.  The  siege  lasted  for  eight 
months,  during  which  the  inhabitants  had  suffered  the 
most  dreadful  hardships  :  Many  of  them  had  removed 
to  Gela,  and  those  who  remained  were  put  to  the  sword. 
The  city  was  reduced  to  ashes;  audits  prodigious  wealth, 
which  had  never  before  been  plundered,  was  now  rifled 
by  the  conquerors.  For  fifty  years  Agrigentum  continued 
a  heap  of  ruins ;  till  Timoleon,  after  defeating  the  Car- 
thaginians, and  restoring  the  liberty  of  Sicily,  collected 
the  descendants  of  the  Agrigentines,  and  sent  them  to 
rebuild  the  city  of  their  ancestors.  In  a  few  years  Agri- 
gentum rose  beyond  its  former  power  and  importance, 
and  even  arrogated  the  supremacy  over  all  the  Sicilian 
republics.  But  their  ambition  was  unsuccessful.  After 
a  few  brilliant  exploits,  they  were  defeated  in  a  severe 
engagement  by  Agathocles,  to  whom  they  humbly  sued 
for  peace.  The  Agrigentines  afterwards  joined  ivith 
Pyrrhus,  in  his  attempt  upon  Italy;  and,  when  that 
prince  left  Sicily,  they  had  recourse  to  the  Carthaginians 
for  protection.  Agrigentum  was  the  head-quarters  of 
their  new  allies  during  the  first  Punic  war.  It  was 
therefore  besieged  by  the  Roman  consuls ;  and,  though 
defended  by  a  numerous  garrison,  under  the  command 
of  Hanuo,  was  compelled  to  surrender  after  a  blockade 
of  eight  mouths.  From  that  period  nothing  remarkable 
occurs  in  the  history  of  Agrigentum.  It  was  crushed 
in  the  general  fall  of  the  Grecian  state :  and  its  wretched 
inhabitants,  expelled  by  the  Saracens,  took  refuge  among 
the  bleak  and  inaccessible  rocks  on  which  Gergenti  now 
stands.    (A) 

AGRIMONIA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
class  Dodecaudria,  and  order  Trigyuia.  See  Bota- 
ny,   (w) 

AGRIONIA,  AcRiANiA,  or  Agrania,  annual  festi- 
vals instituted  at  Argos,  according  to  some,  in  honour  of 
Bacchus ;  while  others  affirm,  that  they  were  held  in 
honour  of  a  daughter  of  Proteus.  They  were  celebra- 
ted generally  during  the  night,  and  those  who  attended 
were  crowned  with  garlands  of  ground  ivy.  In  the  de- 
description  which  Plutarch  has  given  us  of  this  festival, 
the  women  are  represented  as  engaged  in  a  diligent 
search  for  the  jolly  god,  which  having  proved  fruitless, 
they  all  exclaim,  "  he  is  gone  to  the  Muses  !"  They  af- 
terwards sup  together,  and  spend  the  night  in  proposing 
and  solving  enigmas.  This  mystery  intimates,  that 
good  cheer  should  always  accompany  learning  and 
genius,  and  that  the  votaries  of  Bacchus  delight  to  as- 
sociate with  the  Muses.  All  are  excluded  from  this 
feast  whose  family  has  ever  been  engaged  in  any  barba- 
rous enterprise ;  and  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  same  with 
that  which  was  celebrated  at  Thebes  in  honour  of  the 
dead,    {p) 

AGRIPPA,  Hekrt  Cornelius,  celebrated  as  one  of 


AGRIPPA. 


345 


the  reformers  of  learning,  was  born  on  the  14th  Septem- 
ber, 1486,  at  Cologne,  of  the  noble  and  ancient  family  of 
Nettesheym.  Following  the  profession  of  his  ancestors, 
who  had  long  been  in  the  service  of  the  house  of  Aus- 
tria, he  entered  early  into  the  army.  Here  his  talents 
procured  him  the  situation  of  secretary  to  the  emperor 
Maximilian ;  and  after  seren  years'  service  in  Italy, 
%vhere  he  exhibited  many  proofs  of  his  valour,  he  was 
invested  by  that  monarch  with  the  honour  of  knighthood. 
Agrippa,  however,  was  not  satisfied  with  military  glory  : 
He  panted  after  literary  distinction ;  and,  by  his  exten- 
sive acquirements  in  languages,  and  his  acquaintance 
with  the  sciences  of  the  times,  he  soon  obtained  the 
honours  to  which  he  aspired. 

After  being  created  Doctor  of  Laws  and  Physic,  his 
attention  was  engaged  by  the  chimerical  projects  of  the 
alchemists.  He  was  recommended  to  several  princes, 
as|pecuHarly  qualified  to  find  the  philosophers'  stone,  the 
grand  talisman  for  converting  the  baser  metals  into 
gold;  and  while  he  looked  fonvard  to  opulence  and 
fame  as  the  recompense  of  this  great  discovery,  his 
liberty  was  frequently  endangered  from  the  avarice  of 
the  [jowerful,  who  were  desirous  to  obtain  possession  of 
a  man  whom  they  imagined  to  be  blessed  with  such  pe- 
culiar accomplishments. 

With  these  wild  and  romantic  views,  Agrippa  began 
his  travels,  and  spent  a  considerable  time  in  Spain, 
France,  England,  and  Italy.  When  he  was  at  Dole,  in 
Burgundy,  he  read  lectures  in  the  college,  in  order  to 
explain  the  mysterious  work  of  Reuchlin,  De  Verho 
Mirifico ;  and  was  honoured  with  the  applause  as  well 
as  with  the  presence,  of  the  counsellors  of  parlia- 
ment. 

To  obtain  the  good  graces  of  Margaret  of  Austria, 
he  composed  his  Treatise  on  the  Excellence  of  Women  ; 
but  having  unfortunately  provoked  the  hostility  of  the 
monks,  by  the  freedom  and  novelty  of  his  commenta- 
ries on  Reuchlin,  he  was  [irevented  from  publishing  it, 
and  was  induced  to  depart  for  England,  where  he  em- 
ployed himself  in  studying  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul. 

Upon  liis  return  to  the  continent,  he  read  lectures  on 
theology  at  Cologne.  He  then  joined  the  army  of  Max- 
imilian in  Italy,  where  he  continued  till  he  was  sent  for 
to  the  council  at  Pisa.  When  this  assembly  was  dis- 
solved, he  gave  a  course  of  theological  lectures  at  Pavia 
and  Turin.  During  such  a  wandering  and  unsettled  life, 
Agrippa  was  unable  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  a  wife 
and  son,  for  whom  he  cherished  the  warmest  affection. 
He  was  therefore  compelled  to  quit  Pavia,  and  return 
to  his  friends  at  Cologne;  by  whose  exertions,  to  pro- 
cure him  an  honourable  and  permanent  settlement,  he 
obtained  the  ofTice  of  Syndic,  Advocate,  and  Orator  to 
the  city  of  Metz.  This  respectable  office,  however, 
Agrippa  was  not  destined  to  enjoy.  The  freedom  of 
thought  which  he  had  formerly  ventured  to  exercise  at 
Dole  was  not  soon  forgotten ;  and  the  monks,  who  con- 
tinued to  follow  him  with  an  evil  eye,  soon  found  in  the 
imprudence  of  Agrippa  sufficient  means  to  excite 
against  him  new  jealousies  and  persecutions.  Having 
ventured  to  refute  some  foolish  notions  respecting  the 
mother  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  to  save  from  the  stake 
an  unhappy  female,  who  was  supposed  to  have  inherited 
witchcraft  from  her  parents,  the  unextinguished  hosti- 
lity of  the  clergy  again  broke  forth,  and  compelled  him, 
in  1 520,  to  return  for  shelter  to  his  native  city.  The 
restlessness  of  his  temper  did  not  permit  him  to  remain 
long  at  Cologne.     He  removed  to  Geneva  in  1521,  to 

Vol.  I.     Part  I. 


Friburg  in  1523,  and  to  Lyoils  iu  1526,  where  he  suc- 
cessively practised  as  a  physician. 

Louisa  of  Savoy,  the  mother  of  Francis  I.,  to  whom 
Agrippa  was  now  engaged  as  physician  at  Lyons,  with 
a  handsome  pension  from  her  son,  requested  him  to  in- 
form her,  upon  the  principles  of  astrology,  what  suc- 
cess would  attend  the  arms  of  Francis  I.,  in  the  war 
which  he  then  carried  on  with  the  Constable  of  Bour- 
bon.    With  this  simple  request  Agrippa  was  not  dis- 
posed to  comply.     He  reprobated  the  curiosity  of  the 
lady  as  idle  and  impertinent,  and  refused  to  debase  his 
understanding,  by  exercising  it  on  so  ignoble  a  subject. 
Unfortunately,  however,  for  Agrippa,  he  had  on  some 
former  occasion  calculated  the  nativity  of  the  Constable, 
and  promised  him,  from  the  aspect  of  the  heavens,  a 
glorious  triumph  over  the  arms  of  France.     This  cir- 
cumstance soon  reached  the  ears  of  his  royal  mistress; 
and  though  she   might  have  borne  from  Agrippa  the 
indignity  of  a  refusal,  she  could  not  brook  the  thought 
that  he  had  granted  the  same  favour  to  another,  and 
flattered  with  the  hopes  of  victory  the  enemies  of  her 
country.      Agrippa   was  dismissed  from  her  service; 
his  pension  was  stopped,  and  his  name  struck  from  the 
civil  list.     This  severe  retaliation  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion upon  his  mind.     Again  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of 
the  world,  he  could  not  conceal  the  mortification  and 
chagrin  which  preyed  upon  his  spirits.    Neither  the  re- 
membrance of  former  sufferings,  nor  the  consciousness 
of  integrity,  could  calm  the  tempest  of  indignation  that 
agitated  his  breast :  It  burst  forth  with  the  most  licen- 
tious fury ;  and  Agrippa,  execrating  the  perfidy  of  bis 
mistress,  and  threatening  revenge  against  the  courtiers 
that  had  ruined  him,  displayed  in  his  conduct  all  the 
impotent  violence  of  the  passions.     As  soon  as  reason 
had  resumed  its  influence,  he  began  to  look  around  him 
for  a  new  settlement.     He  fixed  upon  Antwerp,  in  the 
Low  Countries,  where  he  arrived  in  1528,  and  where 
the  singular  variety  of  his  talents  excited  universal  no- 
tice, and  procured  him  numerous  ofTers  of  distinguished 
patronage.     In  the  yesr  1529,  he  received  invitations 
from  Henry  VIII.  of  England,  from  the  chancellor  of 
the  emperor,  from  an  Italian  marquis,  and  from  Marga- 
ret of  Austria,  governess  of  the  Low  Countries.    Agrip- 
pa accepted  the  patronage  of  Margaret  of  Austria,  who 
immediately  appointed  him  historiographer  to  her  bro- 
ther the  emperor.    In  this  honourable  situation,  he  soon 
found  leisure  for  prosecuting  his  literary  studies.     He 
published  "  The  History  of  the  Govermnentof  Charles 
v.;"  and  in  1530,  appeared  his  work,  entitled  "  The 
Vanity  of  the  Sciences."'     In  composing  this  treatise. 
Agrippa  seems  to  have  forgotten  the  consequences  of 
his  former  imprudence.     With  an  unmerciful  hand,  he 
lashed  the  vices  and  prejudices  of  the  times ;  and  at 
such  a  signal  the  whole  swarm  of  monks  and  theologians 
were  in  arms.     Working  upon  the  weak  mind  of  Mar- 
garet of  Austria,  they  persuaded  her  to  desert  her  friend ; 
and  so  far  did  she  carry  her  hostility,  that  she  even  in- 
duced the  emperor  to  withdraw  the  pension  of  Agrippa, 
and  suffered  him  to  be  imprisoned  for  debt  at  Brussels, 
in  1 531.     The  death  of  Margaret,  which  happened  soon 
after,  relieved  Agrippa  from  confinement ;  but  his  tran- 
quillity was  again  disturbed  by  the  publication  of  his 
"  Occult  Philosophy  ;"  in  which  he  proposed  to  explain 
the  harmony  of  the  elementary,  the  intellectual,  and  the 
celestial  \vorlds.     Though  this  work  met  with  the  ap- 
probation of  many  eminent  prelates,  the  inferior  clergy 
suspected  that  error  and  heresy  lurked  in  its  pages,  and 
X  X 


34Q 


AGRIPPA. 


succeeded  in  preventing  the  publication  of  a  second 
edition.  This  success,  however,  was  only  temporary : 
Agrippa  published  his  work  at  Cologne,  in  1533;  and, 
in  an  apology  tor  himself  to  the  senate  of  his  native  city, 
he  inveighed  with  freedom  and  warmth  against  the  bigo- 
try of  his  accusers.  The  violent  resentment  excited  by 
this  new  attack  upon  the  clergy,  involved  Agrippa  in 
fresh  calamities.  He  was  compelled  to  withdraw  to 
Bonn,  from  which,  after  a  short  stay,  he  returned  to 
Lyons.  Here  he  was  thrown  into  prison,  on  account 
of  some  satirical  compositions  which  he  had  published 
against  the  mother  of  Francis  1. ;  and  being  released 
from  confinement  by  the  interposition  of  his  frier.ds,  he 
retired  to  Grenoble,  where  he  died  in  1535,  at  the  age 
of  forty-nine. 

In  following  Agrippa  through  the  different  stages  of 
his  eventful  life,  we  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  that 
wonderful  variety  of  talents  which  fitted  him  for  the 
numerous  duties  which  he  discharged.  As  a  soldier  and 
»  physician,  a  lawyer  and  a  lecturer,  a  metaphysician 
and  a  theologian,  the  versatility  of  his  genius  enabled 
him  to  attain  the  highest  distinction.  But  with  all  his 
accomplishments,  and  with  all  the  attention  that  he  re- 
ceived from  the  most  illustrious  |)rincc3  of  the  age, 
Agrippa  was  not  destined  to  enjoy  a  life  of  comfortable 
independence.  No  sooner  was  he  settled  in  some  ho- 
nourable situation,  than  his  restless  and  capricious  spirit 
began  to  disturb  his  repose ;  while  the  rashness  and  im- 
prudence of  his  conduct  excited  around  him  a  crowd  of 
enemies.  With  a  mind  far  exalted  above  the  superstitious 
prejudices  of  the  age,  and  armed  Avith  the  most  dauntless 
and  obstinate  fortitude,  he  nobly  dared  to  think  for  him- 
self, and  fearlessly  to  speak  and  write  the  sentiments 
which  he  cherished.  Though  attached  to  the  Catholic 
faith,  he  boldly  attacked  the  ignorance  and  folly  of  the 
times,  and  exposed  the  intrigues  and  errors  of  a  cor- 
rupted priesthood.  At  a  lime  when  Luther  was  propa- 
gating the  principles  of  the  reformation,  and  had  in 
some  measure  unsettled  the  foundation  of  the  Romish 
hierarchy,  the  Catholic  priests  were  particularly  jealous 
of  new  opinions,  and  ready  to  detect  and  punish  every 
attempt  even  against  the  outworks  of  their  faith.  Hence 
Agrippa  was  assailed  with  all  the  malignity  of  an  exas- 
perated clergy  :  He  was  represented  to  his  royal  patrons 
as  the  friend  of  heresy  and  reform ;  and,  driven  from 
city  to  city,  he  experienced  all  the  embarrassments  of 
a  dependent  and  unsettlediife,  and  all  the  unsteadiness 
of  princely  favour.  But  though  the  exertions  of  Agrip- 
pa were  not  rewarded  by  his  contemporaries,  posterity 
will  do  justice  to  his  memorj',  and  will  rank  him  with 
those  intrepid  sages  who  have  opposed  the  progress  of 
vice  and  error,  and  sacrificed  the  tranquillity  of  their 
lives  to  the  interests  of  truth  and  science. 

The  pretensions  of  Agrippa  as  an  alchemist  and  an 
astrologer,  are  not  easily  reconciled  with  that  candour 
and  love  of  truth  which  seemed  to  adorn  his  character. 
If  he  had  not  calculated  the  nativity  of  the  constable 
Bourbon,  nor  written  a  commentary  upon  the  worka  of 
Raymond  Lully,  that  notorious  impo^^tor,  we  might  have 
regarded  his  attention  to  these  studies  as  the  suljmission 
of  a  great  mind  to  the  harmless  prejmlices  of  the  age ; 
but  he  who  can  seriously  employ  the  cool  moments  of 
fptirement  to  compose  a  process  for  converting  iron 
into  silver,  and  brass  into  gold,  and  who  can  publish  it 
(o  (he  world  with  all  the  contidence  of  truth,  must,  we 
fear,  be  anin)ate<l  by  some  less  honourable  motive  than 
»  spirit  of  accommodation,  or  a  love  of  fame.     Before 


censuring  Agrippa,  however,  we  ought  to  remember, 
that  our  celebrated  countryman,  Roger  Bacon,  was  also 
an  alchemist;  that  in  the  seventeenth  century,  several 
distinguished  characters  were  in  quest  of  the  philoso- 
pher's stone ;  and  that,  even  in  the  present  enlightened 
age,  there  are  not  a  few  who  spend  theh-  days  and  their 
nights  in  search  of  the  perpetual  motion. 

Besides  the  workswhichhavebeen  already  mentioned, 
Agrippa  wrote  a  "  Dissertation  upon  original  sin,"  in 
which  he  maintains,  that  the  fall  was  occasioned  by  the 
immodesty  and  lust  of  our  first  parents.  He  also  com- 
posed a  work  on  the  crimes  and  heresies  of  the  Domi- 
nicans, who  were  the  chief  directors  of  the  Inquisition, 
but  this  treatise  was  never  published.  An  imperfect 
edition  of  his  works  in  8vo,  was  printed  at  Lyons  in  1586, 
and  at  Paris  in  1726.  His  Vanity  of  the  Sciences  was 
published  at  Antwerp  in  1530, 1532,  and  1539;  at  Paris, 
in  8vo,  in  1531 ;  and  has  been  translated  into  French  and 
Italian,    da) 

AGRIPPA,  Marcus  Vipsanius,  a  celebrated  Roman 
general,  who  flourished  in  the  reign  of  Augustus. 
Though  of  obscure  origin,  he  was  chosen  at  an  early 
age  to  be  the  companion  and  fellow-student  of  the 
young  Octavius,  between  whom  and  Agrippa  a  friend- 
ship commenced,  which  ended  only  with  their  lives.  At- 
tached by  gratitude,  as  well  as  by  inclination,  to  the 
family  of  Caesar,  he  strenuously  exerted  himself  in  pro- 
moting its  glory.  Duriifg  the  long  and  arduous  strug- 
gles which  at  that  period  agitated  the  Roman  world, 
Agrippa  continued  the  steadfast  adviser  and  supporter  of 
his  friend.  His  eloquence  and  his  sword  were  equally 
devoted  to  his  interests.  He  appeared  before  the  senate 
as  the  accuser  of  Cassius  for  the  murder  of  Caesar ;  and 
his  services  in  the  field  and  on  the  sea  were  the  great 
means  of  placing  and  maintaining  Octavius  upon  the 
throne  of  Rome.  With  a  body  of  veteran  troops  he 
rescued  his  general  Salvidienus  from  a  most  perilous 
situation,  into  which  he  had  been  brought  by  Lucius, 
the  brother  of  Antony,  and  compelled  the  enemy  to  re- 
tire into  Perusia,  which  soon  after  surrendered  to  the 
arms  of  his  master.  It  was  to  his  skill  and  bravery,  also, 
that  Octavius  was  indebted  for  the  defeat  of  S.  Pompej-'» 
fleet  on  the  coast  of  Sicily;  and  for  (he  famous  victory 
at  Actiuni,  in  the  year  B.  C.  31,  the  consequences  of 
which  left  him  without  a  competitor  in  the  em|)irc. 
Such  signal  services  were  not  forgotten  by  Octavius, 
nor  were  the  favours  of  his  master  ever  abused  by  Agri|i- 
pa.  Octavius  having  now  obtained  the  supreme  au- 
thority, consulted  with  Maecenas  and  Agrippa,  his  con- 
fidential friends,  concerning  his  future  conduct  in  the 
commonivealth.  Agrippa,  with  a  generous  frankness 
and  honesty  seldom  found  in  the  favourite  of  a  great 
prince,  recommended  a  general  resignation  of  his  j)ower 
into  the  hands  of  the  senate,  to  convince  the  world,  that 
he  had  taken  up  arms,  not  for  his  own  aggrandizement, 
but  only  to  revenge  the  death  of  his  father,  and  to  restore 
liberty  to  his  country.  He  put  him  in  mind  of  the  fate 
of  Sylla  and  Caesar,  and  represented  to  him  the  inevita- 
ble dangers  attending  the  government  of  a  people  who 
were  jealous  of  their  rights,  and  accustomed  to  liberty. 
The  advice  of  the  courtly  Maecenas,  however,  was  more 
palatable  to  a  victorious  Roman  .• — to  retain  the  superi- 
ority which  he  had  acquired,  and  not  to  intrust  the  welfare 
of  the  state  in  the  hands  of  men  who  might  again  open 
the  still  bleeding  wounds  of  their  country,  and  embroil  it 
in  all  the  horrors  of  another  civil  war;  but  he  besought 
Jjjim  to  use  his  authority.  a<i  one  who  knew  what  it  was  to 


AGRIPPA. 


347 


obey  as  well  as  to  command.  Though  the  advice  of 
Agrippa  was  disregarded,  his  fidelity  remainedunshaken, 
and  Octavius  still  continued  to  give  him  the  most  flat- 
tering marks  of  his  favour  and  esteem.  He  was 
twice  his  colleague  in  the  consulate.  He  conferred 
upon  him  the  joint  command  of  the  army  with  him- 
self, by  which  he  enjoyed  equal  power  and  honour  as 
his  master.  He  even  adopted  him  into  the  imperial 
family,  by  giving  him  in  marriage  his  niece  Marcella, 
the  sister  of  the  young  Marcellus ;  and  such  was  his 
regard  for  his  friend,  and  the  firm  confidence  which  he 
placed  in  his  abilities,  that  when  his  life  was  supposed 
to  be  in  danger,  in  the  year  B.  C.  23.  he  gave  his  ring 
to  Agrippa,  without  naming  a  successor;  no  doubt  in- 
timating by  this  tliat  he  considered  him  the  fittest  per- 
son to  succeed  him — to  preserve  the  peace,  and  to  main- 
tain the  dignity  of  the  empire.  This  last  circumstance, 
however,  drew  upon  Agrippa  the  severe  displeasure  of 
Marcellus,  who  having  married  Julia,  the  daughter  of 
Augustus,  had  looked  with  confidence  to  the  throne  of 
his  father-in-law.  So  much  indeed  was  Marcellus  af- 
fected by  this  disappointment,  that  Augustus,  on  his  re- 
covery, thought  it  adviseable  to  remove  Agrippa  from 
court,  by  appointing  him  to  the  rich  government  of  Sy- 
ria. But  Agrip])a  contented  himself  with  sending  his 
lieutenants  into  that  province,  and  residing  himself  as  a 
private  individual  at  Mitylene.  Upon  the  death  of  Mar- 
cellus, which  happened  the  same  year,  Agrippa  was  re- 
called to  Rome,  where  some  disturbances  rendered  his 
presence  necessary,  and  he  received  from  the  emperor 
the  hand  of  his  daughter  Julia,  the  widow  of  Marcellus. 
When  Mfficenas  was  consulted  about  this  marriage,  he 
replied,  "  You  have  made  Agrippa  so  great,  that  you 
must  either  take  him  off,  or  make  him  your  son-in-law." 
But  his  public  prosperity  was  greatly  imbittered  by  his 
domestic  misfortunes.  The  abandoned  conduct  of  the 
infamous  Julia  is  well  known  in  the  history  of  that  pe- 
riod. 

Since  the  accession  of  Augustus,  the  enemies  of  the 
empire  had  remained  quiet  on  the  frontiers,  without 
attempting  to  disturb  its  peace,  when  all  on  a  sudden 
an  irruption  of  the  Germans  into  Gaul  called  for  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  Agrippa;  but  such  was  the  terror 
which  his  name  inspired,  that  they  quickly  recrossed  the 
Rhine  at  the  news  of  his  approach.  But  the  reduction 
of  the  Cantabrians,  a  warlike  nation  in  Spain,  who  had 
revolted  from  the  Roman  yoke,  required  all  his  skill  and 
exertions.  This  peoplewerewellacquaintedwith  the  Ro- 
man discipline  and  valour,  and  anticipating  the  dreadful 
vengeance  which  would  attend  (heirfailure,  they  marched 
to  battle  with  a  determination  either  to  conquer  or  fall ; 
and  they  fought  with  all  the  fury  of  despair.  The  Ro- 
mans, awed  by  the  intrepidity  and  fierceness  of  their 
manner,  were  unable  to  withstand  their  attack,  and  were 
Obliged  to  retreat  %vith  precipitation  and  disgrace.  It 
required  all  the  abilities  and  courage  of  Agrippa  to  re- 
trieve his  disasters.  Threats  and  entreaties  were  em- 
ployed in  vain,  and  it  was  not  until  he  had  branded  a 
whole  legion  with  ignominy,  that  he  reslored  discipline 
to  his  troops,  and  brought  them  to  oppose  the  enemy. 
His  endeavours  were  at  last  successful.  Animated  by 
his  example,  the  Romans  gained  a  most  decisive  victory, 
which  put  an  end  to  the  war,  and  Agrippa  himself  con- 
fessed, that  he  had  never  been  engaged  in  an  enterprise 
more  difficult  and  dangerous  than  this.  Upon  his  re- 
turn a  triumph  was  decreed  him  by  the  senate,  which 
he  refused  (as  is  supposed,)  at  the  desire  of  the  em- 


peror ;  and  the  tribunitian  power  was  conferred  upon 
him  for  five  years. 

During  the  absence  of  Augustus,  who  had  gone  to  vi- 
sit his  eastern  provinces,  Agrippa  was  appointed  to  the 
government  of  the  city,  an  otfice  which  he  discharged 
with  great  affability  and  firmness.  He  was  afterwards 
instituted  joint  censor  with  the  emperor,  who,  with  the 
assistance  of  Agrippa,  proceeded  to  the  reformation  of 
the  laws,  and  the  various  abuses  of  the  government, 
particularly  of  the  senatorial  order.  In  the  year  B.  C 
14,  he  was  sent  to  settle  the  affairs  in  Asia  Minor.  He 
was  received  with  great  honour  by  Herod,  king  of  Judea, 
at  whose  request  he  confirmed  the  Jews  in  their  privi- 
leges,— the  free  exercise  of  their  religion,  and  exemp- 
tion from  military  duty,  of  which  they  had  been  deprived 
by  the  Roman  governors.  From  thence  he  proceeded 
with  an  expedition  to  quiet  some  disturbances  in  the 
Cimmerian  Bosphorus ;  for  which  service  he  was  de- 
creed a  triumph  by  the  senate,  which  he  again  refused, 
and  the  tribunitian  power  was  conferred  upon  him  for 
five  years  more.  His  last  expedition  was  to  Panonia, 
where,  having  been  sent  with  a  largp  army,  and  uncon- 
trolled authority,  he  quieted,  by  his  jjresence  alone,  the 
troubles  which  had  arisen  in  that  quarter.  Returning 
to  Rome,  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  fever  in  Campii- 
nia,  which  soon  terminated  his  existence  in  the  51st 
year  of  his  age,  B.  C.  12.  Augustus  was  inconsolable 
for  his  loss.  He  ordered  his  body  to  be  conveyed  to 
Rome  :  He  pronounced  his  funeral  eulogy,  and  buried 
him  in  his  own  mausoleum,  near  the  botly  of  Marcellus, 
declaring  that  he  would  not  be  separated  after  his  death 
from  those  to  whom  he  was  so  tenderly  attached  during 
his  life. 

As  a  commander,  Agrippa  was  equalled  by  few,  and 
surpassed  by  none,  in  the  troublesome  times  in  which  he 
lived.  To  this  Horace  bears  eminent  testimony,  in  his 
6th  Ode,  B.  I.  where  he  confesses  his  inability  to  cele- 
brate worthily  his  great  exploits ;  and  the  sketch  of  his 
character  forms  a  most  conspicuous  feature  in  Virgil's 
noble  description  of  the  battle  of  Actium  : 

Parte  alia  ventis,  et  Dis  Agrippa  secundis, 
Arduus,  agmen  ageas  :  cui,  belli  insigne  superbum, 
Tenipora  navali  fulgent  rostrata  coroua. 

-Sn.  viii.  682. 

But  it  was  not  for  his  military  operations  alone  that  he 
was  distinguished.  To  him  Rome  ivas  indebted  for 
some  of  its  most  magnificent  decorations,  of  which  the 
most  remarkable  were  bis  portico  for  the  use  of  the 
public  assemblies,  and  the  Pantheon,  which  still  remains 
an  object  of  admiration.  The  public  shows  with  which 
he  entertained  the  people  when  he  held  the  office 
of  jEdile,  were  conducted  with  a  magnificence  before 
unknown ;  and  upon  this  subject  Horace  pays  him  a 
high,  and  at  the  same  time  a  most  delicate  compliment 
in  his  3d  Satire,  Book  II. 

SciHoet  ut  plansus,  quos  ftrt  Agrippa,  feras  la, 
AsCuta  iugenuum  Talpes  imitata  leoneni  '. 

His  liberality  was  equalled  by  his  modesty.  His  declin- 
ing to  accept  of  the  highest  honours,  from  a  regard  to 
the  feelings  of  his  prince,  could  not  but  endear  him  to 
Augustus,  who  lost  in  Agrippa  his  ablest  general,  his 
wisest  minister,  and  his  most  faithful  friend.  Indeed 
in  every  action  of  his  life  were  displayed  the  purest  love 
for  his  country,  and  the  most  disintereeled  Cdelily  to 
X  X  2 


348 


AGRIPPA. 


Iiis  master.  See  Sueton.  vit.  August.  Dion.  Cass.  lib. 
45.  54.  Ant.  Un.  Hist.  vol.  xii.  Gen.  Biog.  Crerier's 
Hist.  Rom.  Einp.  vol.  iii.     (y>) 

AGRIPPA.lVlENENiuSjWas  bom  of  a  plebeian  family, 
but  soon  rose  to  the  higlieet  rank  in  the  state.  He  was 
consul  at  Rome  A.  U.  251,  B.  C.  503,  and  obtained  the 
honours  of  a  triumph  for  a  decisive  victory,  which  he 
gained  over  the  Sabines.  In  the  disputes  which  arose 
between  the  plebeians  and  patricians  concerning  the 
punishment  of  insolvent  debtors,  when  the  commons, 
in  the  consulate  of  Virginius  and  Vetnrius,  retired  to  the 
sacred  mount,  and  refused  to  submit  to  the  authority  of 
the  consuls  until  their  grievances  were  redressed,  Me- 
nenius  was  chosen  the  deputy  of  the  patricians,  with  the 
injunction  to  endeavour  by  every  means  to  bring  about 
a  reconciliation.  He  was  an  able  orator,  and  much  be- 
loved by  the  jieople  on  account  of  his  mean  origin. 
When  admitted  within  the  camp,  be  is  said  to  have  pro- 
nounced the  celebrated  apologue  of  the  Stomach  and 
the  Members,  which  so  softened  their  resentment,  that 
being  allowed  to  have  magistrates  of  their  own  choosing, 
called  Tribunes,  whose  persons  were  to  be  sacred,  they 
returned  to  the  city.  Menenius  died  at  an  advanced  age, 
universally  regretted,  both  by  the  patricians  and  the 
commons,  to  whom  he  had  performed  the  most  impor- 
tant services ;  and  highly  esteemed  for  wisdom  and  in- 
tegrity, yet  so  poor,  that  he  did  not  leave  what  was  ne- 
cessary to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  funeral.  He  was 
buried,  however,  in  a  magnificent  manner,  according  to 
Livy,  at  the  charge  of  the  people,  who  assessed  them- 
selves for  that  purpose ;  while  others  affirm,  that  the 
expenses  of  his  funeral  were  defrayed  by  the  senate  out 
of  the  public  treasury,  and  that  the  assessment  of  the 
commons  ivas  given  as  dowries  to  his  daughters.  See 
Liv.  Lib.  ii.  c.  16.  32.  33.  Dionys.  Uaiicam.  torn.  1.  p. 
340.  300.     Florian,  b.  i.  c.  23.     (p) 

AGRIPPA,  Hebod,  was  the  son  of  AristobuluB  and 
Berenice*,  and  grandson  of  Herod  the  great.  He  was 
born  about  seven  years  before  the  Christian  era.  After 
the  death  of  his  father,  Herod  directed  his  education, 
Bud  sent  him  to  Rome.  He  was  favourably  received  by 
Tiberius,  and  placed  about  the  person  of  his  son  Orueus  ; 
but,  after  the  death  of  that  prince,  all  who  had  been  his 
companions  were  commanded  by  the  emperor  to  leave 
Rome,  lest  their  presence  should  recal  the  remembrance 
of  his  son,  and  renew  his  affliction  for  his  loss.  Agrippa 
had  lived  very  profusely,  and  when  he  left  Rome,  was 
burdened  with  debts.  As  he  was  therefore  unable  to 
appear  at  Jerusalem,  in  a  manner  suited  to  hie  rank, 
he  retired  to  the  castle  of  Massada,  and  lived  there  in 
a  very  private  manner.  Herod  Antipas,  his  uncle,  as- 
sisted him  with  great  generosity ;  appointed  him  chief 
magistrate  of  Tiberias,  and  presented  him  with  consider- 
able sums  of  money.  His  extravagance,  however,  was 
»o  excessive,  that  at  length  Herod  found  it  necessary  to 
hint  to  him  the  impropriety  of  his  conduct.  This  re- 
monstrance so  much  offended  Agrippa,  that  he  resolved 
to  leave  Judea  ;  and,  having  borrowed  money  through 
the  influence  of  bis  wife  Cypros,  and  his  freedmsB 
Maryas,  he  set  out  for  Rome,  A.  U.  35.  He  was  per- 
mitted to  join  Tiberius  at  Caprea,  and  received  an  apart- 
ment in  his  palace.  He  was  afterwards  directed  by  the 
emperor  to  attend  Tiberius  Nero,  the  son  of  Drusus; 
but  he  chose  rather  to  attach  himself  to  Caius  Caligula, 


the  son  of  Germauicus.  As  he  was  conversing  on  one 
occasion  wth  this  prince,  he  expressed  a  with  for  the 
death  of  Tiberius,  and  for  the  elevation  of  his  friend  to 
the  throne.  Having  been  overheard,  and  accused  to 
the  emperor,  by  one  of  his  own  slaves,  whom  he  had 
made  free,  he  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  loaded  with 
fetters ;  but,  Tiberius  dying  soon  after,  Caligula,  who 
succeeded  him,  changed  the  iron  chain  of  Agrippa  into 
one  of  gold  of  the  same  weight ;  placed  a  diadem  on  his 
head;  gave  him  the  title  of  king;  and  bestowed  upon 
him  the  greater  part  of  Judea  as  his  dominions. 

His  sister  Herodias,  who  was  married  to  his  uncle 
Herod  Antipas,  the  tetrarch  of  Galilee,  being  very  de- 
sirous that  her  husband  also  should  have  the  title  of 
king,  induced  him  to  go  to  Rome,  in  order  to  obtain  it 
from  Caligula.  But  while  he  was  receiving  audience 
of  the  emperor,  Fortunatus,  the  freedman  of  Agrippa, 
presented  letters  from  his  master,  accusing  Herod  of 
having  formerly  held  a  secret  correspondence  with  Se- 
janus;  of  being  in  treaty  with  Artabauus,  king  of  Par- 
thia;  and  of  having  already  collected  arms  for  70,000 
troops.  Herod  was  immediately  banished  into  Gaul, 
and  his  tetrarchy  given  to  Agrippa.  A  short  time  af- 
ter this,  Agrippa  went  again  to  Rome,  and  prevailed 
with  the  emperor  to  abandon  bis  purpose  of  compelling 
the  Jews  to  honour  him  with  a  statue,  and  to  worship 
him  as  a  divinity  in  their  temple.  While  he  was  still 
at  Rome,  Caligula  was  cut  off  by  a  conspiracy ;  and  he 
assisted  greatly  to  advance  Claudius  to  the  empire. 
For  this  service,  he  received  further  additions  to  his 
dominions,  and  returned  to  Judea,  in  possession  of  terri- 
tories as  extensive  as  those  of  his  grandfather  Herod. 
He  had  influence  also  with  Claudius  to  procure  the 
kingdom  of  Chalcis  for  his  brother  Herml.  In  order  to 
please  the  Jews,  (who  seem  to  have  been  satisfied  with 
his  government,)  he  persecuted  the  Christians ;  put  to 
death  James,  the  brother  of  John  the  Evangelist,  and 
imprisoned  the  Apostle  Peter,  Acts  xii.  1,  2,  3.  Soon 
after  this,  he  went  to  Ciesarea,  and  there  instituted 
games  in  honour  of  the  emperor  Claudius.  At  the 
same  time  there  came  to  him  ambassadors  from  Tyre 
and  Sidon,  to  sue  for  peace.  He  gave  them  audience 
in  the  theatre  early  in  the  morning,  and  appeared  in 
great  magnificence.  When  he  spoke,  his  flatterers  ex- 
claimed, that  it  was  the  voice  of  a  god  and  not  of  a 
man.  They  were  joined  by  the  nudtitude  in  these  im- 
pious acclamations,  and  were  encouraged  in  their  blas- 
phemy by  the  gracious  manner  in  which  it  was  received 
by  Agrippa.  He  was  instantly  seized  with  violent  pains 
in  his  boweU^and  carried  back  to  his  palace.  His  body 
began  to  be  devoured  by  worms;  and,  after  suffering 
extreme  agony  for  the  space  of  five  days,  he  died  about 
the  year  44,  leaving  a  son  named  Agri|)pa,  and  three 
daughters,  Berenice,  Mariamne,  and  Drusilla.  Joseph. 
Antiq.  lib.  xviii.  c.  7.  &:c.  lib.  xix.  c.  3.  &c.      {q) 

AGRIPPA,  the  younger,  son  of  Agrippa  Herod,  was 
at  Rome  when  his  father  died ;  and  Claudius  was  at 
first  disposed  to  give  him  all  the  dominions  which  his 
father  had  possessed ;  but  as  Agrij)pa  was  then  oidy  1 7 
years  of  age,  he  kept  him  four  years  at  his  court ;  and 
sent  Cuspius  Fadus,  in  the  mean  time,  to  govern  in  Ju- 
dea. In  the  following  year,  he  rendered  consiilcrable 
service  to  the  Jews,  by  his  influence  with  the  emperor, 
and  secured  to  them  several  of  their  privileges,  which 


*  In  KTcnil  •ketehea  of  fits  liistorj,  lie  bu  been  called  the  aon  of  Arittobulus  and  Mariamne.  Hti  father  Arittohaliii  \r*i  the  ton  of 
llcrod  the  Great,  b;  lui  wife  Mariamne  ;  but  the  «if«  pf  Ariitotmliu  and  raolUcr  of  Agrippa,  va>  aamed  Beresdoe.  Joseph.  AtOiq, 
Ub.  Ml.  e.  2. 


AGR 


AGU 


849 


tliey  were  in  danger  of  losing.  After  the  death  of  Herod, 
king  of  Chalcis,  uncle  to  Agrippa,  the  emperor  bestowed 
that  kingdom  upon  the  young  prince,  but  still  Icept  him 
in  Rome.  He  sent  him  to  Judea,  A.  D.  53 ;  and,  in- 
stead of  Chalcis,  gave  him  the  province  of  Pelix,  and 
the  territories  which  had  belonged  to  Lysanias.  After 
the  death  of  Claudius,  Agrippa  was  also  favoured  by 
Nero,  and  received  from  him  still  further  additions  to 
his  dominions.  When  Festus,  governor  of  Judea,  was 
on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  A.  D.  60,  Agrippa  and  bis 
sister  Berenice  went  to  meet  him  at  Csesarea.  They 
continued  there  some  time ;  and  happening  to  converse 
about  the  affair  of  Paul  (who  had  been  imprisoned  two 
years  before,  and  who  had  appealed  to  the  emperor,) 
Agrippa  expressed  a  wish  to  hear  him ;  and,  as  Festus 
Avas  also  desirous  to  have  Agrippa's  opinion  on  the  case, 
he  ordered  Paul  to  be  brought  before  them  the  day  fol- 
lowing. For  an  account  of  Paul's  defence,  see  Acts 
xxvi.  Agrippa  exerted  himself  to  repress  the  com- 
motions which  began  to  prevail  in  Judea  about  this  time ; 
but  the  Jews,  excited  by  turbulent  men,  and  exasperated 
by  the  cruelties  of  their  governors,  declared  war  against 
the  Romans,  A.  D.  66.  Agrippa  then  joined  his  troops 
with  the  Romans,  and  assisted  in  the  siege  of  Jerusalem. 
After  the  destruction  of  that  city,  he  retired  to  Rome 
with  his  sister  Berenice  (with  whom  he  was  suspected  of 
living  in  a  manner  not  to  be  mentioned,)  and  died  at  70 
years  of  age,  A.  D.  98.  Joseph.  AiUiq.  lib.  xix.  c.  9. ; 
lib.  XX.  c.  1,  3,  5,  7.  Dc  Bello  Jud.  lib.  ii.  c.  22,  23,  24. ; 
lib.  iii.  c.  2. ;  lib.  iv.  c.  3,  G.  ;  lib.  vi.  c.  2.  (f ) 

AGRIPPINA,  the  wife  of  the  emperor  Tiberius,  was 
tlie  daughter  of  M.  Agrippa,  (the  intimate  friend  of  Au- 
gustus) and  of  Marcel  la  the  niece  of  Augustus.  She 
was  much  beloved  by  her  husband  Tiberius ;  and  it  was 
with  great  reluctance  that  he  put  her  away,  in  order  to 
unite  himself  with  Julia,  the  daughter  of  Augustus : 
{Sutton.  Aug.  c.  63.  THber.  c.  7.)  She  afterwards  mar- 
ried Asinius  Gallus,  the  son  of  Asinius  PoUio ;  but  Ti- 
berius was  so  much  offended  by  this  marriage,  and  by 
some  expressions  which  Gallus  had  used  in  the  senate, 
that  he  threw  him  into  prison,  and  starved  him  to  death. 
Tadt.  Ann.  1.  i.  c.  12.  (q) 

AGRIPPINA,  the  wife  of  Germanicus,  was  the 
daughter  of  M.  Agrippa,  and  of  Julia,  (he  daughter  of 
Augustus.  She  was  remarkable  for  her  ambition,  cou- 
rage, and  attachment  to  her  husband :  and  prosecuted 
his  murderers  with  the  utmost  resolution.  Tiberius, 
however,  who  was  suspected  of  having  procured  the 
death  of  Germanicus,  treated  her  and  her  children  with 
great  injustice :  {Sueton.  Tiber,  c.  52.)  He  at  length 
charged  her  with  various  crimes  ;  and  commanded  her 
to  be  punished  in  so  disgraceful  and  barbarous  a  manner, 
that  she  starved  herself  to  death.  SueCon.  Tiber,  c.  64. 
Tacit.  Ann.  1.  16.  c.  25.  (j) 

AGRIPPINA,  the  daughter  of  Germanicus,  was  bom 
in  a  city  of  the  Ubians,  now  Cologne,  in  Germany.  She 
was  a  woman  of  great  talents,  and  composed  several 
memoirs,  from  which  Tacitus  acknowledges,  that  he 
drew  some  of  the  materials  of  his  history  {Tacit.  Ann. 
1.  iv.  c.  58.);  but  she  was  equally  remarkable  for  her 
pride,  cruelty,  and  profligacy.  She  was  much  admired 
ibr  her  beauty  ;  and  was  three  times  married.  Her  last 
husband  was  Claudius  the  emperor,  her  own  uncle  ;  with 
whom  she  was  anxious  to  be  connected,  and  whom  she 
persuaded  to  adopt  her  son  Nero.  She  spared  no  means 
to  accomplish  her  purpose ;  procuring  the  death  of  some 
who  stood  in  her  way,  and  prostituting  her  person  to 


others,  whose  influence  she  wished  to  secure.  {Tacit. 
Ann.  1.  xi.  c.  3.  <k  24.)  She  at  length  poisoned  her  hus- 
band to  make  room  for  her  son :  and  recalled  Seneca 
from  exile,  to  superintend  his  instruction  {Tacit.  Ami. 
1.  xii.  c.  66.)  Still,  however,  she  wished  to  direct  every 
thing  in  the  empire  ',  but  Nero  soon  began  to  resist  and 
reduce  her  influence.  He  attempted  to  destroy  her  by 
drowning ;  and,  when  his  plot  failed,  ho  ordered  her  to 
be  murdered  in  her  chamber.  {Sueton.  Xero,  c.  xxxiv.) 
It  is  said,  that  she  requested  the  executioner  to  stab  her 
in  the  belly,  which  had  brought  forth  sucli  a  monster  as 
Nero.  {Tacit.  Ann.  1.  xiv.  c.  8.)  She  was  related  to  a 
greater  number  of  emperors  than  any  woman  before  her 
time  :  as  she  was  the  sister  of  Caligula,  the  wife  of  Clau- 
dius, and  the  mother  of  Nero,  {q) 

AGROM,  a  disease  common  in  Bengal,  and  other  dis- 
tricts of  Hindostan ;  and  supposed  to  arise  from  extreme 
heat  of  the  stomach.  It  consists  in  a  chopping  and 
cleaving  of  the  tongue,  which  becomes  exceedingly 
rough,  and  sometimes  disfigured  with  white  spots.  The 
general  remedy  for  this  disease  is  to  chew  the  black- 
seeded  basilica,  and  drink  the  juice  of  mint,  or  some 
chalybeate  water,  (w) 

AGROSTEM.^IA,  from  iCsy  and'«£>4>t«,  the  garland 
oj  tlie  field,  or  corn  cockle,  is  a  genus  of  plants  belonging 
to  the  class  Decandria,   and  order  Pentagynia.     See 

BoTASY.  (w) 

AGROSTIS,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
class  Triandria,  and  order  Digynia.     See  Botany,  (ni) 

AGROSTOGRAPHIA,from«/{»5'«,5'''(is*,andyfi«^?, 
description,  is  the  history  and  description  of  different 
kinds  of  grasses.  A  learned  work  was  written  on  thia 
subject  by  John  Sceucher,  containing  an  account  of  four 
hundred  species  of  grass,  (w) 

AGROTIRI,  the  most  southern  promontory  of  the 
island  of  Cyprus,  now  called  Cape  De  Gatti,  from  the 
numberof  Cats  kept  by  the  monks  for  hunting  the  snakes, 
which  had  become  very  numerous.  See  Sonniui's  Tra- 
vels, p.  56.  (o) 

AGUE,  a  disorder  belonging  to  the  class  of  Fevers, 
in  which  the  paroxysms  return  at  particular  periods. 
See  Medicine,  {n) 

AGUER,  the  Visugrum  of  the  ancients,  a  seaport 
town  in  Africa,  built  by  the  Portuguese,  near  Cape 
Geer.  Mohammed,  who  became  emperor  of  Morocco 
and  Fez,  attacked  it  in  1536,  and  lost  16,000  men  before 
it  capitulated.  In  revenge  for  this  loss,  he  put  the 
whole  garrison  to  the  sword,  except  the  governor, 
Mont  Roy,  whom  Mohammed  spared  on  account  of  his 
daughter.  Donna  Mercia,  who  consented  to  marry 
him.     (o) 

AGUESSE  AU,  Henrt  Francis  D',  a  chancellor  of 
France,  and,  according  to  Voltaire,  the  most  learned 
magistrate,  which  that  country  ever  possessed,  was  born 
at  Limoges  in  1863.  He  filled  the  office  of  advocate-ge- 
neral for  10  years,  and  was  promoted  to  that  of  procureur- 
general  in  1700 ;  in  both  of  ivhich  offices  he  was  distin- 
guished by  all  the  qualities  which  can  adorn  a  public 
character,  and  by  all  the  virtues  of  private  life.  He  was 
made  chancellor  under  the  regency  of  the  duke  of  Or- 
leans, and  performed  the  duties  of  that  high  station  with 
that  prudence  and  fortitude  which  was  suited  to  the  ex- 
igencies of  the  times.  He  resisted,  for  a  considerable 
time,  the  financial  project  of  Law ;  but  as  the  regent 
had  resolved  to  adopt  that  measure,  the  chancellor  was 
obliged  to  retire  from  office  in  1719.  The  dignity  of 
chancellor,  however,  was  a  second  time  conferred  upon 


350 


AHA 


AHA 


liim  in  1720.  In  1722,  he  was  again  deprived  of  that 
office,  but  was  recalled  by  cardinal  Fleury  in  1727  ;  and, 
in  1737  he  was  a  third  time  put  in  possession  of  the 
seals,  which  he  retained  during  the  remainder  of  his 
life.  In  1750,  the  infirmities  of  age  hearing  heavily 
upon  his  constitution,  induced  him  to  withdraw  from 
his  public  duties,  and  terminated  his  life  in  1751,  at  the 
age  of  83. 

As  an  active  and  upright  statesman,  Aguesseau  has 
seldom  been  equalled.  When  deprived  of  the  dignity 
and  emoluments  of  office,  he  never  made  the  least  at- 
tempt to  regain  them,  but  disclaiming  the  intrigues  of 
faction,  he  uniformly  evinced  a  desire  to  serve  his  coun- 
try rather  than  himself.  During  the  last  20  years  of  his 
life,  the  whole  force  of  his  mind  was  directed  to  the 
great  object  of  remedying  the  defects  of  the  laws,  cor- 
recting their  abuses,  and  facilitating  the  administration 
of  public  justice.  As  a  literary  character,  Aguesseau 
was  highly  distinguished.  He  was  well  acquainted  with 
tiie  languages  of  antiquity,  as  well  as  the  principal  ones 
of  modem  times.  His  knowledge  of  history  and  juris- 
prudence was  solid  and  extensive ;  his  eloquence  was 
rich  and  persuasive;  and  his  style  chaste  and  harmonious. 
His  works  have  been  published  in  nine  volumes  4to.  (o) 
AGUIGAN,one  of  the  Ladrone  isles,  about  nine 
miles  in  circumference.  It  is  pleasant,  though  moun- 
tainous, and  was  formerly  well  inhabited.  E.  Long.  1460 
5'.  N.  Lat.  14»  43'.  (n) 

AGUILA,  a  district  in  the  kingdom  of  Fez,  in  Africa, 
which  has  a  capital  of  the  same  name,  situated  on  the 
River  Aguila.  In  general  it  is  sandy  and  barren,  though 
some  places  produce  abundance  of  dates.     (»») 

AGUILLANEUF,  from  a,  to,  gui,  misleto,  and  Pan 
ncuf,  the  new  year,  is  the  name  given  to  a  ceremony, 
with  which  the  ancient  Franks  hailed  the  commence- 
ment of  the  year.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  borrowed 
from  the  druids,  who  went  in  solemn  procession,  in  the 
month  of  December,  to  gather  the  misleto  from  the  oak. 
The  arch-druid,  ascending  the  oak,  cut  off  the  misleto 
■with  a  golden  sickle,  and  the  attending  druids  received 
it  in  a  white  cloth.  The  misleto,after  being  blessed,  and 
consecrated,  with  the  cry  of  A  gui  Van  ncuf,  was  dis- 
tributed among  the  people  on  the. first  day  of  the  year. 
The  same  appellation  has  been  transferred  to  other  ridi- 
culous ceremonies,  (o) 

AGUSTINE,  a  name  given  by  Trommedorff  to  a  new 
earth,  which  lie  supposed  he  had  discovered  in  the  Saxon 
beryl,  in  1 800.  See  Annates  de  Chimic,  vol.  xxxiv.  p. 
133.  (iv) 

AG"¥EI,  were  obelisks  of  timber  or  stone  consecrated 
to  Apollo,  or,  as  some  say,  to  Bacchus,  as  the  protector 
of  the  highways.  Some  authors  have  considered  them 
as  a  kind  of  direction-posts  intended  to  point  out  the 
town  to  wliich  the  roads  conducted,  (w) 

AGYNEIA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  (o  the 
class  Monflccia,  and  order  Gynandria.  See  Botany,  (w) 
AHAB,  king  of  Israel,  was  (he  son  and  successor  of 
Omri.  He  married  Jezebel,  the  daughter  of  Ethbaal, 
king  of  the  Sklonians ;  and  was  persumled  by  her  to  es- 
tablish in  Israel  the  idols  Baal  ami  Afihtaroth.  The  pro- 
phet Elijah  reproved  him  for  his  idolatry,  and  predicted 
n  famineof  three  years' durationinhisdominions.  About 
the  end  of  that  pcri(xl,  A  hah,  at  the  request  of  Elijah,  as- 
sembled the  people  of  Israel,  and  the  prophets  of  Baal, 
to  olfer  sacrifice.  Elijah  then  proposed  to  aeceKain 
which  was  the  true  God,  whether  Baal  or  Jehovah,  by 
calling  upon  them  separately  to  consume  the  offering  on 


their  respective  altars,  by  fire  from  heaven.  The  pro- 
posal was  accepted  :  and,  at  the  prayer  of  Elijah,  "  the 
fire  of  the  Lord  fell  and  consumed  his  burnt  offering ;" 
whilethe  priestsof  Baal  invoked  theiridol  in  vain.  They 
were  instantly  put  to  death,  as  false  prophets ;  and  the 
land  was  freed  from  its  barrenness.  About  six  years  af- 
terwards, Benhadad,  the  king  of  Assyria,  laid  siege  to 
the  city  of  Samaria,  and  insulted  Ahab  with  messages  of 
defiance.  Ahab  made  a  sally  with  a  few  chosen  troops, 
while  Benhadad  and  his  princes  were  indulging  them- 
selves at  a  banquet,  and  routed  the  whole  Syrian  army 
with  great  slaughter.  Benhadad  returned  the  following 
year,  as  a  prophet  had  predicted ;  but  Ahab,  with  a  very 
inferior  force,  gave  him  battle,  and  gained  a  complete 
victory.  Benhadad  surrendered  himself  to  Ahab,  who 
received  him  very  favourably,  and  immediately  formed 
an  alliance  with  him,  upon  his  engaging  to  restore  the 
cities  which  his  father  had  taken,  and  to  allow  Ahab  cer- 
tain privileges  in  the  city  of  Damascus.  About  a  year 
after  this  Ahab  was  guilty  of  a  very  unjust  and  inhu- 
man act,  which  proved  fatal  to  himself  and  his  whole 
family.  He  was  desirous  to  purchase  the  vineyard  of 
Naboth,  an  inhabitant  of  Jezreel,  in  order  to  make  an 
addition  to  the  gardens  of  his  palace  in  that  city ;  but 
Naboth,  in  obedience  to  the  law,  refused  to  sell  the  in- 
heritance of  his  fathers.  Ahab  was  so  mortified  by  this 
trifling  incident,  that  he  threw  himself  upon  his  bed  in 
a  fit  of  vexation,  and  refused  all  nourishment.  Jezebel, 
however,  who  had  still  less  principle  and  feeling  than 
her  husband,  wrote  letters  in  his  name,  to  the  elders  of 
Jezreel,  and  directed  tlieni  to  procure,  by  false  wit- 
nesses, the  death  of  Naboth,  as  a  blasphemer  and  a 
traitor.  These  orders  were  faithfully  executed ;  and 
Ahab  took  possession  of  the  property  of  Naboth.  For 
this  deed  of  oppression  he  was  severely  reproved  by 
Elijah ;  and  threatened  with  the  judgments  of  heaven 
upon  his  house.  But,  upon  expressing  his  sorrow  and 
contrition,  the  prophet  was  directed  to  declare,  that 
these  evils  should  not  take  place  in  his  days.  About 
two  years  aftenvards,  in  opposition  to  the  advice  of  the 
prophet  Micaiah,  he  went  out  with  Jchosaphat,  king  of 
Judah,to  attack  RamothGilead,  which  Benhadad  had  re- 
fused to  deliver  up  to  him,  according  to  their  late  treaty. 
The  prophet  bad  foretold,  that  he  should  not  return  in 
safety,  and  Ahab  therefore  resolved  to  enter  the  battle 
in  disguise.  He  was  wounded,  however,  by  a  random 
shot  from  a  Syrian  how ;  and  having  desired  his  chario- 
teer to  turn  aside,  lest  his  troops  should  be  hishearten- 
ed  by  the  sight  of  his  wound,  he  continued  to  face  the 
enemy,  while  his  bloud  flowed  upon  his  chariot.  He  ex- 
pired in  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  and  was  buried  in 
thecity  of  Samaria,  in  the  year  befor  Christ  897.  When 
his  chariot  and  horses'  reins  were  brought  to  be  washed 
at  the  fish-pool  of  Samaria,  the  dogs  licked  his  blood, 
with  which  they  were  stained;  and  thus  fulfilled  the 
prediction  of  the  prophet  Elijah.  He  reigjied  22  years ; 
and  exceeded  all  his  predecessors  in  impiety.  See  1 
Kings  xvii.  &c.  Joseph.  Antiq.  I.  viii.  c.  7,  &c.  Ancient 
Universal  History,  vol.  4.  b.  i.  c.  7.  (q) 

AHAZ,  kingofJudah,  succeeded  his  father  Jotham; 
and  his  reign  was  in  every  respect  unfortunate  and  in- 
glorious. He  was  scarcely  sealed  on  bis  throne,  when 
his  kingdom  was  invaded  by  the  united  forces  of  Rezin 
king  of  Syria,  and  Pekah  king  of  Israel.  Ahaz  was 
struck  with  the  utmost  consternation,  but  was  encou- 
raged by  the  prophet  Isaiah.  {Isaiah  vii.)  The  allied 
princes  being  unable  to  take  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  to 


AHA 


AHI 


361 


which  they  had  laid  siege,  turned  their  arms  against 
the  city  of  Elath,  and  some  other  towns,  destroyed  the 
inhabitants,  plundered  tiie  country,  and  departed  laden 
with  spoil.  After  the  departure  of  Kezin  to  Damascus, 
Ahaz  attacked  the  king  of  Israel,  but  was  defeated  with 
great  slaughter.  Pekah  carried  off  an  immense  num- 
ber of  captives  to  Samaria  ;  but,  at  the  remonstrance  of 
the  prophet  Oded,  he  sent  them  back  to  Judea.  The 
following  year,  Rezin  and  Pekah  again  returned,  and 
laid  waste  the  kingdom  of  Judah.  At  the  same  time, 
the  Edomites  and  Philistines  made  incursions  into  the 
territories  of  Ahaz.  In  this  extremity,  he  had  recourse 
to  the  king  of  Assyria ;  and,  in  order  to  procure  his  as- 
sistance, he  sent  him  all  the  gold  and  silver  which  he 
could  collect  from  his  treasury,  and  from  the  temple. 
Tiglath  Pileser  accepted  his  presents,  and  promised  to 
comply  with  his  requests ;  but,  instead  of  coming  to  pro- 
tect him  against  his  enemies,  be  contented  himself  with 
ravaging  Syria,  slew  king  Rezin,  removed  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Damascus  to  Upper  Media,  and  replaced  them 
with  Assyrians.  Ahaz  went  to  visit  him  in  Damascus, 
from  which  he  sent  the  model  of  an  altar,  to  be  used  in 
the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  He  imitated  all  the  idolatrous 
jH-actices  of  the  kings  of  Israel,  and  worshipped  the  false 
ileities  of  every  nation.  He  put  a  stop  to  the  worship 
and  sacrifices  in  the  temple,  stripped  it  of  its  treasures, 
removed  its  sacred  utensils,  and  erected  altars  to  idols 
in  every  corner  of  Jerusalem,  and  in  every  quarter  of 
Judah.  He  died  at  the  age  of  36,  after  having  reigned 
16  years;  and  was  buried  in  Jerusalem,  but  not  in  the 
sepulchres  of  the  kings,  in  the  year  before  Christ  726. 
2  Kings  xvi.  2  Chron.  xxviii.  Joseph.  Antiq.  I.  ix.  c.  11. 
and  12.  Ancient  Universal  History,  vol.  4.  b.  i.  c.  7. 
Prideaux,  vol.  1.  b.  i.     (q) 

AHAZIAH,  king  of  Israel,  the  son  of  Ahab,  suc- 
ceeded his  father  in  the  kingdom ;  and  imitated  him  in 
his  idolatrous  practices.  In  the  second  year  of  his  reign, 
the  Moabites  revolted  against  him,  an<l  refused  the  tri- 
bute which  they  had  paid  to  Ahab.  Having  received  a 
dangerous  hurt  by  a  fall  from  the  terrace  of  his  house, 
he  sent  messengers  to  consult  Beelzebub,  the  god  of 
Ekron,  about  his  recovery.  These  were  met  by  the 
prophet  Elijah,  reproved  for  their  reverence  for  idols, 
and  sent  back  to  Ahaziah  with  the  assurance  that  he 
should  die  of  his  illness.  Upon  receiving  this  intima- 
tion, he  inquired  concerning  the  person  who  had  sent 
him  such  a  message ;  and,  discovering  that  it  was  Eli- 
jah, instead  of  reverencing  the  prophet  and  preparing 
for  death,  he  gave  orders  to  have  him  apprehended  and 
brought  before  him.  Twoof  his  officers,  with  50  men 
each,  perished  by  fire  from  heaven,  when  attempting  to 
execute  his  commands.  A  third  party  was  sent  on  the 
same  dangerous  errand ;  and  at  the  supplicatiom  of  their 
chief,  Elijah  agreed  to  accompany  him  into  the  presence 
of  Ahaziah,  where  he  again  warned  him  of  his  approach- 
ing dissolution,  and  of  his  having  been  thus  punished 
for  deserting  the  true  God.  The  words  of  the  prophet- 
were  ■cerified  by  the  death  of  Ahaziah,  after  a  reign  of 
two  years.  He  died  before  Christ  896;  and  as  he  left 
no  children,  he  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Jehoram, 
or  Joram.  See  2  Kings  i.  Joseph.  Antiq.  I,  ix.  c.  1. 
Ancient  Universal  History,  vol.  4.  b.  i.  c.  7.     (a) 

AHAZIAH,  king  of  Judah,  succeeded  his  father  Je- 
horam. He  was  the  son  of  Athalia,  daughter  of  Ahab, 
and  was  thus  the  nephew  of  the  former  Ahaziah.  He 
was  the  youngest,  and  the  only  child  of  his  family^  who 


escaped  alive,  when  the  Arabs  and  Philistines  plundered 
the  palace  at  Jerusalem.     He  resembled,  in  wickedness 
and  idolatry,  the  family  of  Ahab,  to  which  he  was  re- 
lated; and,  after  a  short  reign,  he  lost  his  life  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner : — He  had  gone  to  Jezreel  to  visit  Joram 
king  of  Israel,  (son  of  Ahab,  and  brother  of  the  last- 
mentioned  Ahaziah,)  who  had  been  brought  there  to  be 
cured  of  a  wound,  which  he  had  received  in  the  siege 
of  Ramoth  Gilead.     In  the  mean  time,  Jehu,  one  of  his 
generals,  who  had  been  left  to  carry  on  the  siege,  and 
who  took  the  city  by  assault,  was  anointed  king  of  Is- 
rael by  the  direction  of  Elijah,  and  commissioned  to  ex- 
tirpate the  family  of  Ahab.  He  instantly  set  out  for  Jez- 
reel with  a  party  of  horsemen,  and  was  met  in  the  field 
of  Naboth  by  Joram  and  Ahaziah.     lie  reproached  Jo- 
ram with  the  wickedness  of  his  family,  and  pierced  him 
through  the  heart  with  an  arrow,  as  he  was  turning  to 
avoid  him.  Ahaziah  also,  who  was  related  (o  Ahab,  was 
pursued  and  wounded  by  a  parly  of  Jehu's  company. 
He  reached,  however,  the  city  of  Megiddo,  in  Samaria, 
where  he  either  died  of  his  wounds,  or  was  put  to  death 
by  the  command  of  Jehu.     He  reigned  only  oiie  year; 
and  was  buried  in  Jerusalem,  before  Christ  884.    See  2 
Kings  viii.  and  ix.  2  Chron.  xxii.  Joseph.  Antiq.  1.  ix.  c. 
4.  and  5.  Ancient  Universal  History,  vol.  4.  b.  i.  c.  7.  (q) 
AHITOPHEL,  a  celebrated  character  in  scripture. 
He  was  at  one  time   David's  most  intimate  friend  and 
counsellor ;  but  afterwards  became  his  most  inveterate 
enemy;  for  after  Absalom  had  succeeded  in  exciting 
a  general  disaffection  to  his  father's  government,  Ahi- 
tophel  instantly  joined  him,  and  became  the  most  active 
of  all  the  conspirators.  David  was  more  alarmed  by  the 
defection  of  this  experienced  politician,  than  by  all  the 
thousands  who  crowded  round  the  standard  of  rebellion ; 
and  he  earnestly  prayed,  that  the  Lord  might  turn  his 
counsel  into  foolishness.     It  was  not  without  reason  that 
David  was  thus  alarmed ;  for  we  find  Ahitophel  instantly 
recommending  the  most  prompt  and  effectual  measures 
to  destroy  the  power  and  authority  of  his  former  friend. 
The  first  thing  he  recommended  was,  that  Absalom 
should  go  in  to  his  father's  concubines,  in  the  sight  of 
all  Israel.     The  object  of  this  nefarious  counsel  was,  to- 
cut  off  all  hopes  of  reconciliation  between  the  father  and 
son,  and  to  drive  Absalom  to  such  extremes,  that,  de- 
spairing of  pardon,  he  might  execute  with  vigour  the 
plan  he  had  undertaken.     After  carrying  this  point,  the 
next  measure,  proposed  by  Ahitophel,  was  intended  to 
be  still  more  decisive;  he  requested  permission  to  pur- 
sue David  with  twelve  thousand  chosen  men,  promising 
confidently  that  he  would  instantly  put  an  end  (o  the  war, 
by  the  death  of  the  king.  But,  on  this  subject,  Hushai  the 
Archite,  (who  had  joined  Absalom  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  defeating  the  counsel  of  Ahitophel,)  being  asked 
his  opinion,  recommended  a  very  different  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding.   He  advised  Absalom  to  collect  all  Israel,  from 
Dan  to  Beersheba,  and  thus  to  overwhelm  the  king  with 
numbers,  stating,  very  plausibly,  the  danger  of  driving  a 
person  of  David's  known  courage  to  desperation.     As 
this  appeared  the  safestplan,it  was  adopted  in  preference 
to  that  of  Ahitophel,  who,  foreseeing  that  this  measure 
would  end  in  the  total  ruin  of  the  conspirators,  and  cha- 
grined   that  his  counsels,  which  used  to  be  received  as 
oracles,  had  been  rejected,  instantly  went  home,  set  his 
Iwuse  in  order,  and  hanged  himself.     In  order  to  ac- 
count for  the  defection  of  Ahitophel,  the  Jews  have  a 
story  of  his  Ijeing  the  grandfather  of  Bathsheba ;  and 


362 


AJA 


AJA 


that  it  was  to  avenge  her  dishonour  tliat  he  took  up 
arms  against  his  sovereign.  This  story  rests  on  no  au- 
thority, and  besides  is  very  improbable ;  for,  if  lie.was 
the  grandfather  of  Bathsheba,  he  must  have  been  a  very 
old  man  at  the  time  of  Absalom's  rebellion,  which 
would  accord  ill  with  the  vigour  of  counsel  and  promp- 
titude of  action  which  he  displayed.  The  truth  seems 
to  be,  that  he  was  a  man  without  any  principle  but  am- 
bition ;  and  that  he  hoped  to  enjoy  a  still  higher  degree 
of  power  and  authority  under  a  weak  and  inexperienc- 
ed young  man,  than  he  did  under  the  vigorous  and  saga- 
cious policy  of  his  father;  and,  having  once  taken  his 
measures,  he  saw  that  he  could  not  retreat  with  safety. 
This  circumstance  urged  him  on  to  the  most  desperate 
undertakings.  And  he  entertained  the  greater  animo- 
sity against  David,  as  we  generally  hate  most  the  per- 
sons whom  we  have  most  oflfended.     (g) 

A-HEAD,  an  object  is  said  to  be  ahead  of  a  ship, 
when  it  is  placed  at  any  distance  before  her  stem,    (w) 

AHLEDEN,  a  bailiwick  of  the  principality  of  Lune- 
burgh  Zell.  It  is  abont  five  miles  long;  and  furnishes 
great  quantities  of  timber,  which  are  conveyed  to  Bre- 
men in  floats,     (w) 

AHMEDABAD,  or  Amedabad,  the  capital  of  the 
province  Guzerat,  in  Hindostan,  situated  in  a  delightful 
plain  watered  by  the  river  Sabermatty.  It  received  its 
name  from  Sultan  Ahmed,  who  was  king  of  Guzerat. 
The  city,  which,  with  the  suburbs,  is  about  four  miles 
and  a  half  long,  has  twelve  gates,  and  its  walls  are  so 
flanked  with  battlements  and  large  towers,  as  to  render 
it  one  of  the  best  fortified  cities  in  India.  The  chief  or- 
naments of  the  town  are,  the  castle,  which  is  very  spa- 
cious; the  palace;  the  king's  square ;  the  caravansary; 
and  the  English  factory.  Here  the  Hindoos  have  an  hos- 
pital for  sick  birds,  and  another  for  sick  Ijeasts.  Ahmed- 
abad  rivals  the  first  cities  in  Europe  in  size  and  opu- 
lence. Its  revenue  is  nearly  ten  limes  as  great  as  that 
of  Sural.  It  was  taken  by  the  English,  under  General 
Goddart,  in  1780;  but  was  restored  to  the  Mahrattas  at 
the  peace  of  1783.  Distance  from  Surat  86  coss;  from 
Delhi  224  coss ;  E.  Long.  72"  37'.  Lat.  22°  58'  30". 
See  Mod.  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  v.  p.  293  ;  and  Eraser's  Kuli 
Khan,  p.  29.     (c) 

A-HULL,  a  ship  is  said  to  be  a-hull,  wl\en  the  vio- 
lence of  a  tempest  renders  it  necessary  to  furl  all  her 
sails,  and  when,  with  her  helm  lushed  to  her  lee-side, 
she  lies  nearly  with  her  side  to  the  wind  and  sea.     (tv) 

AH  W  AZ,  one  of  the  most  considerable  rivers  of  Per- 
sia, its  course  being  about  400  miles  long.  It  seems  to 
he  the  Gyndes  of  Herodotus ;  now  called  the  Zeindeh, 
according  to  D'Anville;  and  by  the  Turks  Kari  Sou,  or 
the  black  river.  It  rises  among  the  mountains  of  El- 
wend,  and  runs  towards  the  south,  till  one  branch  of  it 
enters  the  Tigris,  above  its  junction  with  the  Euphrates, 
while  the  main  branch  flo^vs  into  the  estuary  of  these 
combined  rivers,     (w) 

AIAGHA  Tag,  the  name  given  by  the  Turks  to  a 
parallel  ridge  of  mountains  in  the  west  of  Persia,  ex- 
tending to  the  lake  of  Van,  and  supiMwed  to  be  the 
Zagres  of  the  ancients,  which  separated  Assyria  from 
Jledia.     See  D'Anville's  Anc.  Gcog.  ii.  463.     (o) 

AJAN,  the  Azania  of  Ptolemy,  a  country  on  the 
♦  astern  coast  of  Africa,  reaching  from  Magadoxa  to  Cape 
Guardafiii,  and  comprehending  Adel  and  Magadoxa. 
The  eastern  coast  of  Ajan  is  the  habitation  of  wild 
beasts;  but,  towards  the  north,  the  country  produces 
alt  kinds  of  provisions,  and  an  excellent  breed  of  horses, 


which  foreigners  purchase  with  silks,  cottons,  ifcc. 
The  inhabitahts  on  the  coast  are  commonly  white,  with 
long  hair ;  but  they  become  tawny,  and  even  black,  to- 
wards the  north,     (o) 

AJ  ASULUCK,  the  name  given  by  the  Turks  to  the 
ancient  city  of  Ephesus.     See  Ephesus. 

AJ  AX,  the  son  of  Telamon.  He  was  next  to  Achil- 
les, the  bravest  and  most  redoubtable  champion  of  all  the 
Greeks.  We  have  a  recapitulation  of  his  principal  ex- 
ploits in  the  beautiful  episode  of  Ovid,  respecting  the 
dispute  about  the  armour  of  Achilles.  He  took  it  so 
much  to  heart  that  this  valuable  prize  was  adjudged  to 
Ulysses,  that  he  immediately  lost  his  senses.  Indeed  it 
does  not  appear  that  this  was  a  quality  for  which  he  was 
ever  very  famous.  His  chief  qualifications  seem  to  have 
been  the  vis  consilii  expcrs,  and  the  impetuosity  of  ani- 
mal courage,  rather  than  that  fortitude  which  is  directed 
by  wisdom,  and  tempered  by  prudence.  Accortlingly, 
we  are  informed,  that  he  did  infinitely  more  mischief  to 
the  Trojans  after  the  total  derangement  of  his  senses, 
than  when  possessed  of  all  the  faculties  he  ever  enjoyed. 
Fortis  Ajax  semper,  fortissimus  tamcn  in  furore.  Apud 
Cic.  Tus.  4.  He  is  represented  as  a  despiser  of  the 
gods;  and  when  his  father  advised  him  always  to  im- 
plore their  assistance,  to  second  the  efforts  of  his  cou- 
rage, he  answered,  that  even  a  coward  might  obtain 
victory  by  such  means,  and  that  he  would  be  indepen- 
dent of  it. 

— — ©f«(«  /u.>i  x«>  c  ftnii  am  ifm 
K(i»T«(  Ki»Taxr«rftir'.      Ey»i  ii  kcii  il)i» 

Sopfaocl.  in  Ajac. 

The  account  given  above  is  that  which  is  most  gene- 
rally received,  though  it  is  inconsistent  with  that  which 
represents  Ajax  as  destroying  liimself  immediately  after 
his  unsuccessful  contest  with  Ulysses.  The  story  of 
Ajax  is  the  subject  of  several  pieces,  both  on  the 
Greek  and  Roman  stage.     (§•) 

AJAX,  the  son  of  Oileus,  prince  of  the  Locrians.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Grecian  captains 
who  went  to  the  siege  of  Troy.  He  equipped  no  less 
than  forty  vessels  for  that  expedition,  and  signalized 
himself  on  many  occasions.  He  is  one  of  Homer's 
srvift-footed  heroes;  and  Horace  speaks  of  him  in  the 
same  character,  celerem  sequi  Ajacevi.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  the  epithet  t»x,**-,  velox,  by  which  he  is 
usually  designated  by  Homer,  is  rather  intended  to  de- 
note rapidity  and  promptitude  in  action,  than  swiftness 
of  loot.  At  any  rate,  it  appears  from  Servius,  in  ^'neid, 
lib.  I.  v.  41,  that  the  velocity  oi  Ajax  was  supposed  io 
lie  in  his  hands  rather  than  in  his  feet ;  for  he  says,  a 
nmliis  historicis-  Gracis  tertiam  tnanum  dicitttr  postea- 
fuam  habuisse  ;  qtiod  idea  est  ficttttn,  quia  sic  c*lcriter 
lUeliatur  in  pralio  tnanibvs,  ut  tertiam  habere  putaretur. 
He  is  said  to  have  ravished  Cassandra  in  the  t<;m|)le  of 
Minerva ;  on  account  of  which  outrage  the  gwldess  de- 
slroyed  liis  Qeet  with  a  tempest,  and  transfixed  him  with 
a  thunderbolt,  on  the  rock  to  which  he  had  escaped  for 
safety.  This  is  the  account  given  by  Virgil  about  the 
beginning  of  the  first  jJvneid  : 

•*  Pallasne  emrere  clataera 
AiKivuni,  iit>|ur ipMw  !>otuit  sulimergere  pento 
lluiu*  ob  noxHiu  ct  furins  Ajucis  Oilii  ? 
IpBa  Jovis  rapidum,  jaculuU  e  huIhIhis  ignem 
l)i»jctitf{iie  rates,  evertitque  tequoi-a  ventis. 
}llunt    expimntem  ti'ftnftfixo  peetore  tiammaa 
Tnrtiine  corripuit,  Bccpnioque  infiut  »«iUo." 


AIK 


AIL 


853 


This  18  semewliat  diflerent  rrom  the  account  given  by 
Homer.     Vid.  Odyss.  1.  5.  {g) 

AJAZZO,  or  Ajaccio,  a  sea-port  town,  situated  on  a 
gulf  of  tlie  same  name,  in  the  south-west  of  the  island 
of  Corsica,  and  remarkable  for  the  superior  excellence 
of  its  wines.  Ajazzo  is  the  finest  city  of  Corsica ;  its 
streets  being  straight  a«d  spacious,  the  houses  well 
built,  and  the  surrounding  walks  agreeable.  It  is  de» 
fended  by  a  citadel,  built  by  Marshal  Tennes. 

The  fishery  of  black,  white,  and  red  coral,  is  here 
very  abundant.  This  polypus  substance  has  always  been 
a  great  object  of  commerce  to  the  people  who  live  on 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  is  sent  to  Marseilles 
and  to  Ciotat,  where  it  is  polished,  and  sent  to  the  Afri- 
can coast,  to  be  exchanged  for  negroes.  The  Gulf  of 
Ajazzo  affords  a  safe  and  commodious  anchorage  to 
ships  of  considerable  burden.  The  town  was  built  in 
1433  ;  but  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  town  are  still  seen, 
at  the  distance  of  nearly  a  league  from  the  present. 
Population,  6030.  East  Long.  8"  44'  4".  North  Lat. 
410  55'  1".     {w) 

AICHSTADT,  a  city  of  Germany,  the  capital  of  a 
bishopric  of  the  same  name  in  Franconia,  founded  in 
748,  by  St.  Boniface,  archbishop  of  Mentz.  This  place 
is  remarkable  for  a  vessel  of  gold,  called  the  Sun  of  the 
Holy  Sacrament,  of  the  weight  of  40  marcs,  encircled 
with  350  diamonds,  1400  pearls,  250  rubies,  and  other 
valuable  minerals.  It  was  presented  to  the  cathedral 
by  the  bisho|>  of  the  diocese  in  161 1.  E.  Long.  1 1"  10'. 
N.  Lat.  40".  (w) 

AIDERBEITZAN.  See  Aderbijan. 
AIKMAN,  William,  an  eminent  Scottish  portrait' 
painter,  was  bom  on  the  24th  Octolier,  1 682.  His  father, 
William  Aikman  of  Cairney,  Esq.  advocate,  intended 
him  for  the  Scottish  bar ;  but  the  genius  of  his  son  dis- 
covering no  charms  in  that  laborious  profession,  imi)el- 
led  him  to  more  congenial  studies.  Painting,  and  the 
fine  arts,  occupied  the  whole  of  his  attention ;  and  after 
prosecuting  these  studies  with  ardour  in  his  native 
country,  he  went  to  Italy  in  1707.  He  spent  three  years 
in  Rome,  studying  (he  works  of  the  first  masters,  and  re- 
turned to  Britain  in  1712,  by  the  way  of  Smyrna  and 
Constantinople.  In  1732  he  settled  in  London,  as  a 
portrait-painter,  under  the  patronage  of  the  duke  of  Ar- 
gyle,  the  earl  of  Burlington,  sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  and 
other  eminent  characters  of  the  day.  Some  of  his  chief 
paintings  are  in  the  possession  of  the  duke  of  Devon- 
shire, the  duke  of  Argyle,  the  duke  of  Hamilton,  &c. 
Mr.  Aikmandiedin  London  on  (he  7th  June,  O.  S.  1731, 
in  the  49th  year  of  his  age.  Kis  remains,  along  with 
those  of  his  son,  who  had  died  about  six  months  belbre, 
were  removed  to  Edinburgh,  and  interred  at  the  same 
time  in  (he  Gray  Friars'  churohyani,  where  the  follow- 
ing epitaph,  by  his  friend  Mr.  Mallei,  is  engraven  on  Jiis 
tomb : 

Dear  to  the  good  and  ■wise,  dispraised  by  none. 

Here  sleep  in  peace,  the  father  v.nA  the  son  ; 

By  virtue,  as  by  nature,  close  allied. 

The  painter's  genius,  but  without  the  pride  : 

AVorth  unambitious,  wit  afraid  to  shine. 

Honour's  dear  light,  and  friendship's  warmth  divine. 

The  son,  fair  rising,  knew  too  short  a  date  : 

But,  oh  !  how  more  severe  tlie  fiitlier's  fate  ! 

He  saw  him  torn  untimely  from  his  side. 

Felt  all  a  father's  angwish — wept,  and  died. 

The  celebrated  Allen* Ramsay,  Mr.  Somerville,  the 
author  of  "  The  Chase,"  and  the  immortal  author  of 
Vol.  I.     Part   I. 


"  The  Seasons,*'  were  among  tJie  companions  and  friends 
of  Mr.  Aikman,  and  testified  their  respect  for  his  me- 
mory by  some  of  the  finest  productions  of  their  muse. 
Mr.  Thomson's  poem  on  the  death  of  Jlr.  Aikman  close* 
with  the  following  inimitable  lines,  full  of  sentiment 
and  feeling : 

Oh,  eould  1  draw,  my  friend,  thy  genuine  mind, 
Just  as  the  living  form's  by  thee  designed, 

Ol  Raphael's  iigjires  none  could  fairer  ahine. 

Nor  Titian's  colouring  torger  last  than  mine. 

A  mind  in  wistlom  old,  in  lenience  young. 

From  fervent  truth  where  every  virtue  sprung"; 

Where  all  was  real,  mo<lcst,  plain,  sincere, 

Worth  above  show,  and  goodntss  unsevere. 

Viewed  round  and  round,  as  lucid  diamonds  throw. 

Still  as  you  turn  them,  a  revolving  glow. 

So  did  his  mind  reflect,  with  secret  ray. 

In  various  virtues,  heaven's  eternal  day ; 

V  licther  in  high  discourse  it  soared  sublime. 

And  sprung  impatient,  o'er  the  bounds  of  time. 

Or  wandering  nature  through,  with  raptured  eye. 

Adored  the  hend  that  made  yon  azure  sky. 

Whether  to  social  life  he  bent  his  thought. 

And  the  right  poise  of  mingled  passions  sought. 

Gay  converse  blessed,  or  in  the  thoughtful  gi-ovc 

Bid  ihe  heart  open  ever}'  source  of  love, 

New  varying  lights  still  set  before  your  eyes 

The  just,  the  good,  the  social,  or  the  wise. 

For  such  a  death,  who  can,  who  will  refuse 

The  friend  a  tear,  a  verse  the  mournful  muse  ? 

Yet  pay  we  must  acknowledgment  to  heaven. 

Though  snatched  so  soon,  that  Aikman  e'er  was  give*. 

A  fi-iend,  when  dead  is  but  removed  from  sight. 

Sunk  in  the  lustre  of  eternal  light ; 

And  when  the  parting  storms  of  life  are  o'er. 

May  yet  rejoin  us  on  a  happier  shore. 

As  those  we  love  decay,  we  die  in  part  ; 

String  after  string,  is  severed  from  the  heart. 

Till  loosened  life,  at  last  but  breathing  clay. 

Without  one  pang  is  glad  to  fall  away. 

Unhappy  he  who  latest  feels  the  blow, 

Whose  eyes  have  wept  o'er  ever)'  friend  laid  low  ; 

Dragged  lingering  on  frora'partial  death  to  deatii. 

Till,  dying,  all  he  can  resign  is  breath. 

Mr.  Aikman's  style  of  painting  was  Characterised  by 
the  most  pleasing  simplicity,  by  soft  lights,  mellow 
shades,  and  mild  and  harmonious  colouring.  His  por- 
traits do  not  possess  the  force  or  the  harshness  of  Ru- 
ben's, nor  are  they,  like  those  of  sir  J.  Reynolds,  atlorned 
with  adventitious  ornaments.  They  have  a  greater  re- 
semblance to  the  portraits  of  Kneller  than  to  those  of  any 
other  artist,  (o) 

AILS  A,  a  stupendous  insulated  rock  on  the  western 
coast  of  Scotland,  between  the  shores  of  Ayreshire  and 
Cantyre.  It  is  estimated  to  be  (wo  miles  in  circumfer- 
ence at  the  base,  and  about  nine  hundred  and  forty  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Its  shape  is  somewhat  coni- 
cal, and  it  is  very  i)recipitous  on  all  sides;  the  only 
landing  place  heing  on  the  north-east,  where  there  is  a 
small  lieach,  formed  by  the  fragments  which  have  fallen 
from  the  neighbouring  rocks.  The  cliffs  are  in  several 
jiliices  distinctly  columnar;  and  the  whole  isle  appearc 
to  be  composed  of  rocks  belonging  to  the  newest  floctz 
trap  formation,  the  intlividual  members  of  which  resem- 
ble those  that  occur  in  the  interesting  island  of  Arran. 
It  is  inhabited  by  numberless  flocks  of  birds,  particularly 
gannets,  or  solan  geese  {Pelicanus  Bassanus,  Linu.), 
whose  young  are  sometimes  used  at  t^ble;  other  bird* 
are  caught  for  their  feathers.  The  rock  is  rented  from 
(he  earl  of  Cassilis  at  33/.  yearly.  See  Pennant's  Tmir  ; 
Jameson's  Mineralogy  of  the  Scottish  Islei,vol.  1 .  p.  9.  (r) 
Y  y 


354 


AIR 


ATS 


AIMTJR,  one  of  the  grand  divisions  of  Hindostau,  ac- 
cortling  to  the  Ayeen  Akberry,  jiossessed  by  Scindiah 
and  the  Mahrattas,  and  containing  seven  circars  or  coun- 
ties. It  has  a  revenue  of  71,979/.  sterling,  .and  can  bring 
to  the  field  347,000  infantry,  and  86,500  cavalry,  {tv) 

AIN,  one  of  the  departments  of  Prance,  which  takes 
its  name  from  the  river  Ain,  that  traverses  it  from  north 
to  south.  This  river  rises  in  mount  Jura,  and  after  a 
course  of  35  leagues,  discharges  itself  into  the  Rhone, 
about  five  leagues  above  Lyons.  This  department  is 
formed  out  of  the  provinces  of  Bresse,  Bugey,  and  a 
pVt  of  the  country  of  Gex.  Its  surface  is  about  287 
square  leagues,  or  5675  square  kiliometres ;  its'population 
284,455;  and  its  contribution  in  the  year  11,  1,757,343 
francs.  It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  department 
of  the  Saone  and  Loire,  and  by  that  of  Jura  ;  on  the  west, 
by  the  department  of  Saone  and  Loire,  and  that  of  the 
Rhone ;  on  the  south,  by  the  department  of  Isere ;  and 
on  the  east,  by  the  department  of  Mont  Blanc  and  Le- 
man.  Its  chief  towns  arc  Bourg,  Belley,  Nantua,  Tre- 
Toux  ;  of  which  Bourg  is  the  capital  of  the  department. 
The  north-east  portion  of  the  department  exhibits  no- 
thing but  naked  rocks  and  barren  mountain^,  stunted 
woods  and  stagnant  pools  without  number.  The  north- 
west is  more  fertile,  and  produces  grain  sufficient  for 
the  support  of  the  inhabitants,     (w) 

AINSWORTH,  RoBKRT,  a  learned  grammarian  and 
antiquary,  was  born  at  Neodyale,  near  Manchester,  in 
1 G60.  He  received  his  education  at  Bolton  in  Lancashire, 
where  he  afterwards  exercised  the  profession  of  a 
schoolmaster.  From  this  place  he  removed  to  Bethnal 
Green,  where  he  employed  himself  in  the  education  of 
youth,  and  published  his"  Short  Treatise  of  Grammati- 
cal Institution."  After  acquiring  a  decent  competency, 
he  retired  from  the  labours  of  teaching,  and  employed 
himself  in  searching  for  old  coins,  and  other  remnants  of 
antiquity.  In  1714,  he  began  his  "  Dictionary  of  the 
Latin  Language ;"  which,  after  many  harassing  inter- 
ruptions, he  published  in  1  736,  in  two  volumes  4to.  This 
work  is  now  in  general  use ;  and,  with  the  improvements 
of  Patrick,  Ward,  Young,  and  Morell,  it  is  esteemed  the 
most  complete  dictionary  of  the  Latin  language. 

We  are  informed,  upon  good  authority,  that  when 
Mr.  Ainsworth  was  engaged  in  his  laborious  work,  his 
wife  made  heavy  complaints  at  enjoying  so  little  of  his 
society.  When  he  had  reached  the  letter  S  of  his  dic- 
tionary, the  patience  of  his  female  friend  was  complete- 
ly exhausted ;  and  in  a  fit  of  ill  nature,  she  revenged 
herself  for  the  loss  of  his  company,  by  committing  the 
whole  manuscript  to  the  flames.  Such  an  accident 
would  have  deterred  most  men  from  prosecuting  the 
undertaking;  but  the  persevering  industry  of  Ains- 
worth repaire<l  the  loss  of  his  manuscript,  by  the  most 
tissiduous  application.  He  died  at  London  in  1743,  and 
was  inteiTed  at  Poplar,  where  his  tombstone  exhilnts 
the  following  inscription,  written  by  himself;  from 
which  he  seems  to  hare  forgiven  the  impetuosity  of  his 
-wife : 

»  Rob.  Ainsworth,  et  uxor  cjiu,  admodinn  scnes, 

Dormiluri  vestem  Oetiitara  liic  exucrunt, 
Nov.nm,  prirao  mane  siirgentes,  imluturi. 
Hum  f:i«,  raorlutia,  inpUs,  et  rpspice  fmem 
Hoc  su.ident  manei,  lioc  aunct  Ainramidea.  (») 

AIR,  is  the  fine,  expansive,  transparent  fluid  which  we 
l)reathe.  It  constitutes  the  Ta»t  mass  »f  atmosphere 
Ihat  encompasses  eur  globe. 


Air,  or  «»; ,  was  reckoned  one  of  the  four  elements, 
and  formed  the  connecting  medium  between  fire  and 
water.  By  one  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  it  was  held 
to  be  the  principle  of  all  things.  Air,  as  opposed  to 
ether,  was  referred  by  the  ancients  to  the  lower  and 
grosser  portions  of  our  atmosphere,  the  receptacle  of  all 
sorts  of  exhalations,  and  the  proper  region  of  clouds  and 
vapours. 

But  air  is  not  the  only  diffusible  elastic  fluid.  The 
diligenceof  modern  experimenters  has  detected  a  variety 
of  other  analogous  fluids,  which  come  under  the  general 
description  of  gas.  These  researches,  vigorously  pros- 
ecuted for  upwards  of  half  a  century  past,  have  led  to 
discoveries  the  most  brilliant  and  important  in  chemical 
science. 

Air  performs  a  capital  part  in  the  economy  of  nature. 
It  is  the  vehicle  of  sound,  of  smell,  and  even  of  heat ;  it 
exhales  moisture  from  the  land  and  the  ocean ;  and, 
mingling  its  contrasted  currents  in  the  higher  regions,  it 
again  precipitates  its  watery  stores  in  the  form  of  rain  or 
dew,  or  hail  or  snow.  By  the  activity,  the  character, 
and  extent  of  its  motions,  it  tempers  the  unequal  energy 
of  the  solar  beams,  and  iliffuses  a  more  uniform  warmth- 
over  the  surface  of  our  globe ;  it  not  only  supplies  the 
breath  of  life,  but  supports  inflammation,  and  contributes 
essentially  to  the  germination  and  growth  of  plants ; 
and,  presenting  the  more  elevated  portions  of  atmos- 
phere to  the  illumination  of  the  sun's  rays,  it  scatters 
these  by  repeated,  though  enfeebling  reflexions,  along 
the  concave  of  heaven ;  and  thus  prolongs  the  cheering 
influence  of  light,  and  prevents  the  inhabitants  of  this 
earth  from  being  ever  left  in  total  darkness.  See  At- 
mosphere, Climate,  Gas,  Meteoroi^ogv,  and  Pnue- 

MATICS.      (y) 

AIR,  in  music,  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  composition 
written  for  a  single  voice,  and  applied  to  words  ;  though 
it  is  sometimes  employed  to  signify  any  melody,  the  pas- 
sages of  which  are  so  constructetl  as  to  lie  within  the 
province  of  vocal  expression,  or  which,  when  sung  or 
played,  forms  that  connected  chain  of  sounds  which  we 
call  a  tune.     See  Busby's  Mus.  Diet,   (o) 

AIR  Balloon.     See  Aeronautics. 

AIR  Bladder.  See  Ichthtoloc-v,  and  Ornitho- 
logy. 

AIR  Gun.     See  Pneumatics. 

AIR  Lamp.     See  Pneumatics. 

AIR  PrPES.     See  Ventilation. 

AIR  Pump.     See  Pneumatics. 

AIR  SifAFTs.     See  Mining. 

AIR  Trunk.     See  Ventilation. 

AIR  Vane.     See  Anemoscope. 

AIR  A,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class  Tri- 
andria,  and  order  Digynia.     See  Botany,  (w) 

AIRE,  atown  in  Prance,in  thedepartmentof  Landes. 
It  was  the  Vicus  Julii  of  the  Romans;  and  was  taken 
from  them  by  the  Visigoths,  who  adorned  it,  and  forti- 
fied it  with  a  castle.  Population  2099.  E.  Long.  5"  26'. 
N.  Lat.  43Mr  52".     (w) 

AISNE,  a  department  in  the  north  of  France,  form- 
ed out  of  the  oid  provinces  of  Soissonois  and  Laon- 
nois.  It  derives  its  name  from  the  river  Aisne,  which 
is  navigable  through  the  whole  department.  This 
river  rises  in  Champagne,  and  passing  Soissons,  falls 
into  the  Oise  above  Compiegre.  'I'ho  department 
is  l)ounded  on  the  north  by  (he  departments  of  the 
North  and  ofJeminapes;  on  the  east,  by  those  of  (he 
Marne  and  Ardennes ;  on  the  £oulh,  by  those  of  t lie 


AIT 


AIX 


355 


Seine  and  Marne;  and  on  the  west,  by  the  depart- 
ment of  the  Oise.  It  contains  the  towns  of  Laon,  St. 
Quentin,  Soissons,  Chateau-Thierry,  and  Vervins,  Laon 
being  the  capital.  This  department  is  intersected  by 
several  canals,  the  chief  of  which  are,  the  grand  sub- 
terranean canal,  which  commences  at  St.  Quentin; 
the  canal,  of  Crozat,  which  extends  from  St.  Quentin 
to  Chauiiy  ;  the  canal  of  Ourcq,  which  is  recently  open- 
ed for  the  purpose  of  conveying  to  Paris  wood  for 
fuel  from  the  forest  of  Villers-Cotterets.  The  forests 
extend  over  a  space  of  one  hundred  and  eleven  thou- 
sand hectares.  In  the  middle  of  the  forest  of  St.  Go- 
bin  are  situated  the  glass-works,  in  which  is  made 
the  glass  which  goes  by  that  name.  The  extent  of  the 
department  is  three  hundred  and  seventy-six  square 
leagues,  or  seven  thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty- 
two  square  kiliometres.  Its  population  439,628  :  its 
contributions,  in  1803,  4,651,488  francs;  and  the  pro- 
ductions, of  the  soil,  corn,  fruits,  cider,  wood,  and  cat- 
tle,    (o) 

AISTULPH,  or  Aistulphus,  king  of  the  Lombards, 
who  succeeded  to  the  throne  A.  D.  751.  Though  at 
peace  with  pope  Stephen,  he  led  his  forces  against  the 
exarchate  of  Ravenna,  which  he  subdued  and  added  to 
the  kingdom  of  the  Lombards.  He  then  proceeded 
against  the  Roman  dukedom,  and  with  his  army  at  the 
gates  of  Rome,  he  threatened  destruction  to  the  city  and 
to  its  inhabitants,  unless  his  sovereignty  was  acknow- 
ledged, and  an  annual  tribute  allowed  him.  Alarmed 
at  this  unexpected  assault,  the  pope  begged  assistance 
from  Pepin,  king  of  France,  who  sent  an  army  into  Italy, 
routed  Aistulph,  and  invested  Pavia,  where  the  Lombard 
king  had  fled  for  shelter.  Aistulph  was  thus  compel- 
led to  sue  for  a  humiliating  peace,  by  which  h^  restored 
the  exarchate  to  the  Roman  pontiff.  As  soon  as  the 
French  army  had  quitted  Italy,  Aistulph,  in  violation  of 
the  treaty,  again  besieged  Rome.  The  assistance  of 
Pepin  was  a  second  time  obtained;  and  the  French  army, 
with  its  former  success,  pursued  Aistulph,  and  reduced 
him  to  the  necessity  of  again  suing  for  peace,  within  the 
walls  of  Pavia.  The  proud  and  restless  spirit  of  the 
Lombard  king,  however,  was  not  to  be  subdued  by  mis- 
fortunes. He  seized  the  first  opportunity  of  preparing 
for  hostilities  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  his  plans,  he  was  kill- 
ed when  hunting,  A.  D.  756.  See  Ancient  Univ.  Hist. 
vol.  xvii.  p.  482.     (o)  ' 

AITON,  William,  eminent  for  his  skill  in  botany 
and  horticulture,  was  horn  in  Scotland, in  1 731 ,  at  a  small 
village  near  Hamilton.  At  the  age  of  23,  he  went  to 
England,  and  was  employed  as  the  assistant  of  Mr.  P. 
Miller,  the  author  of  the  Gardener's  Dictionary,  who 
then  superintended  the  physic  garden  at  Chelsea.  He 
continued  in  this  situation  for  nearly  five  years,  till  in 
1 759,  he  was  ajjpointed  to  the  management  of  the  bota- 
nical garden  at  Kew,  where  the  fine  collection  of  curious 
plants  afforded  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of  his  abili- 
ties. His  assiduity  and  zeal,  in  this  situation,  was  re- 
warded, in  1 783,  by  the  additional  and  lucrative  office  of 
managing  the  pleasure  and  kitchen  gardens  at  Kew.  In 
1789,"Mr.  Aiton  published  a  "  Catalogue  of  the  Plants 
cultivated  in  the  Botanic  Garden  at  Kew,"  under  the  title 
of  Hortiis  Kerveiisis,  in  3  vols.  8vo.  with  13  plates,  a 
^vork  on  which  he  laboured  for  many  years,  and  which 
contains  between  five  and  six  thousand  species.  Mr. 
Aiton  died  of  a  scirrlious  liver,  in  1793,  in  the  sixty- 
second  year  of  his  age ;  and  left  behind  him  a  charac- 
terdistinguished  by  every  social  and  domestic  virtue,  (o) 


AITONIA,  a  name  taken  from  the  subject  of  the  pre- 
ceding article,  to  denote  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to 
the  class  Monadelphia,  and  order  Octandria.  See  Bo- 
tany,    (w) 

AJUGA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Didynamia,  and  order  Gymnospermia.  See  Botany.  («,•) 
AIUS  LoQUENs,  or  Locixus,  or  Speaking  Voice,  a 
Roman  deity,  to  whom  a  temple  was  erected  at  Rome. 
A  supernatural  voice  was  one  evening  heard  near  the 
temple  of  Vesta,  warning  the  Romans  that  the  Gauls 
were  approaching.  The  Romans  having  suflfered  front 
neglecting  this  celestial  intimation,  Camillus  advised 
them  to  expiate  their  guilt,  by  erecting  a  temple  in  ho- 
nour of  this  invisible  deity.  See  Plutarch,  In  CamiU. 
Livy,  lib.  v.  cap.  50.     (o) 

A.1UTAGE,  is  generally  synonymous  with  the  aper^ 
ture  through  which  water  issues  from  a  vessel ;  though 
it  is  most  frequently  employed  to  signify  a  small  piece  of 
metal,  through  which  jet  d'eaux  are  projected.  See 
Htdrodtnamics.     (w) 

AIX,  ingeography,  a  city  of  France,  and  capital  of  the 
department  of  the  Bmiches  ilu  Rhone,  formerly  Provence. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  cities  in  France.  It  was 
the  first  place  which  the  Romans  occupied  as  a  settle- 
ment in  that  country  ;  and  C.  Sextus  Calvinus,  the  con- 
sul, is  reported  to  have  established  a  colony  here,  as 
early  as  the  year  124  A.  C.  or  630  years  after  the  build- 
ing of  Rome.  From  him,  and  from  its  medicinal  springs, 
the  town  was  called  Aqu<E  Sextire.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing the  antiquity  of  Aix,  it  is  not  distinguished  by  any 
conspicuous  remains  of  former  times.  The  ancient 
baths  were  discovered  A.  D.  1704;  and  several  altars 
have  been  found  in  their  vicinity,  with  inscriptions  to 
the  god  Priapus,  from  whose  peculiar  and  auspicious 
influence  the  waters  were  supposed  to  derive  their  re- 
storative qualities.  The  modern  city  is  rather  populous 
than  large;  but  its  streets  are  elegant,  and  its  public 
buildings  handsome  and  spacious.  Of  these  last,  the 
to^ylJlall,  the  hall  of  audience,  the  cathedral  church,  the 
chiiini  of  the  fathers  of  the  oratory,  and  the  chape! 
of  the  blue  penitents,  are  most  deserving  of  notice.  In 
the  church  belonging  to  the  convent  of  the  preachers, 
there  is  a  silver  statue  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  nearly 
as  large  as  life.  Another  remarkaWe  place  within 
the  city  is  the  corse,  or  orbitelle,  a  walk  160  yards  in 
length,  surrounded  with  trees,  and  interspersed  with 
fountains. 

The  chief  trade  of  Aix  consists  in  oil ;  but  this  trade 
has  been  much  diminished  since  the  year  1 788,  owing 
to  the  destruction  of  the  olive-trees,  from  the  fruit  of 
which  the  oil  is  extracted.  Population  23,686,  exclusive 
of  the  two  cantons.  It  is  163  leagues  distant  from  Paris, 
and  five  from  Marseilles.  E.  Long.  5»  26' 48".  N.  Lat. 
43°  31'  47".      (h) 

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE,  {Urhs  Aquensis,  or  Aqnis 
granum,)  a  free  and  imperial  city  of  Germany,  in  the 
circle  of  Westphalia,  and  dutchy  of  Juliers,  and  capi- 
tal of  the  department  of  Roer.  It  is  distinguished 
from  Aix,  the  chief  city  of  Provence,  by  the  addition 
which  appears  at  the  end  of  its  name,  and  which 
was  derived  from  a  chapel  raised  in  this  place  by  Charle- 
magne, and  dedicated  by  the  same  monarch  to  the 
holy  Virgin.  The  latitude  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  is  51"  55' 
north,  and  its  longitude  5°  54'  east.  Its  population  is 
estimated  by  Tinseau  at  23,412  souls.  (Statist.  Fiew  of 
Prance.) 

The  city  is  very  ancient.     It  was  the  usual  residence 
Yy2 


356 


AIX 


AKB 


of  the  emperor  Charlemagne,  who  repaired  ami  beauti- 
fied it,  after  it  had  beeji  destroyed  by  the  Huns,  under 
Attila  their  leader,  A.  D.  451.  It  was  here  too  that 
the  king  of  the  Romans  was  generally  crowned ;  and 
this  city  is  still  the  dejiository  of  the  sword  of  Charle- 
magne, the  belt,  the  book  of  the  gospels,  and  the  jewels 
of  the  empire,  all  of  which  are  used  at  the  ceremony  of 
coronation.  While  the  Germanic  constitution  existed, 
Aix-la-Chapelle  occupied  the  second  place  on  the  Rhe- 
nish bench,  among  the  imperial  cities  which  had  a  seat 
and  a  voice  in  the  diets  of  the  circle  of  Weetphalia;  and 
it  held  the  same  place  in  the  college  of  the  cities  of  the 
empire.  The  town  stands  in  a  valley,  but  is  not  un- 
wholesome. It  properly  consists  of  two  towns,  one  en- 
circling the  other ;  of  these,  the  inner,  which  is  the 
most  ancient,  is  flanked  by  ten  towers,  and  is  above  two 
miles  in  circumference ;  while  the  outer,  which  was  built 
A.  D.  1172,  extends  in  circuit  about  two  leagues.  This 
city  is  refreshed  by  20  fountains,  and  watered  by  many 
rivulets  which  run  through  it.  The  principal  buildings 
are  the  stadthouse  and  the  cathedral.  Aix-la-Chapelle 
is  not  unknown  in  the  history  of  Euroi)e.  In  the  9th  and 
10th  centuries,  councils  were  held  in  this  city,  with  a 
Tiew  to  settle  religious  disputes,  and  determine  the 
Catholic  faith ;  and  here,  likewise,  rival  nations  and  con- 
tending powers,  wearied  wi^h  warfare,  have  met,  and 
agreed  upon  articles  of  pacification.  A  treaty  was  con- 
cluded at  this  place,  A.  D.  1668,  between  France  and 
Spain ;  and  another  between  France,  England,  and  the 
Allies,  in  1 748.  Busching,  vol.  iv.  p.  369.  Mod.  Vn. 
Hist.  vol.  xxxii.  p.  223. 

But  the  sulphureous  waters  of  this  city,  {Thermo: 
Aquisgrancnscs,)  have  contributed  most  to  its  celebrity 
and  opulence.  Their  reputation  was  high  in  the  time 
of  Charlemagne  ;  and  they  have  since  attracted  a  great 
concourse  of  people,  who  resort  to  their  vicinity,  and 
often  experience  their  salutary  eflects.  The  water  rises 
with  great  quickness  from  the  springs,  and  sends  forth 
bubbles  of  air,  which  explode  with  a  slight  noise  when 
they  (each  the  surface.  It  emits  also  a  large  porlkjl  of 
steam,  on  account  of  the  immense  quantity  of  sulphuret- 
ted hydrogen  gas  which  the  fluid  contains ;  and  it  dif- 
fuses, at  the  same  time,  a  smell,  which  is  perceptible  at 
a  great  distance.  This  smell  resembles  that  of  the 
Harrowgate  water.  The  principal  spring  is  enclosed 
in  a  cistern  of  stone,  which  is  vaulted,  and  almost  coni- 
cal at  the  top ;  and  the  parts  of  which  are  cemented  with 
the  utmost  care,  in  order  to  prevent  the  vapour  from  es- 
caping. On  the  surface  of  the  stones,  a  large  |M)rtion  of 
uncombined  sulphur  is  to  be  found,  which  settles  there 
by  a  natural  process  of  sublimation.  It  is  removed  from 
time  to  time,  and  sold  under  the  name  of  Aix  sulphur. 
The  temperature  of  the  water  varies  from  1 1 2»  to  1 43o 
of  Fahrenheit ;  that  of  the  va|)Our  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  ascertained.  The  baths  are  so  constructed, 
that  either  the  whole  body,  or  a  part  of  it,  may  be  ex- 
posed to  the  stream.  The  water  is  generally  drunk  at 
the  temperature  of  112";  for  when  it  is  allowed  to  cool, 
it  becomes  thick  and  milky,  depositing  a  calcareous  se- 
iLiment,  and  parting  with  a  considerable  portion  of  its 
sulphuretted  hydrogen  gas.  It  is  soft,  and  some- 
what saponaceous  to  the  touch,  owing  probably  to  the 
quantity  of  carbonate  of  soda,  which  it  holds  in  solu- 
tion. 

The  chemical  ingredients  of  the  water  are  either 
elastic  or  solid.  Of  the  former,  the  principal  is  sulphu- 
t£r(ed  hydrogen  gas;  and  in  these   springs  it  is  not 


found  in  the  slate,  in  which  it  exists  in  the  sulphureous 
waters  of  G  reat  Britain,  whose  temperature  is  low  ;  but 
is  very  highly  saturatetl  with  sulphur,  which,  as  we 
have  already  mentioned,  is  deposited  when  the  vapour 
has  risen  to  the  top  of  the  cistern,  and  experienced  a 
diminution  of  its  heat.  When  a  portion  of  the  water 
has  been  evaporated  to  dryness,  the  whole  of  the  sulphur 
disappears,  for  no  traces  of  it  can  be  discovered  in  the 
residuum.  Besides  the  sul|)huretted  hydrogen  gas,  the 
water  likewise  contains  a  small  quantity  of  carbonic  acid 
in  the  elastic  state.  The  solid  ingredients  of  these 
waters  are  carbonate  of  soda,  muriate  of  soda,  and  car- 
bonate of  lime ;  and  from  the  analysis  of  Bergman,  we 
reckon,  that  they  are  present  in  nearly  the  following 
proportions  : — A  wine  pint,  (English  weight  and  mea- 
sure,) contains 

Of  corbonate  of  lime,  4|  grains 

Of  muriate  of  soda,       5    do. 

Ofcarbonateof  soda,  12  do. 

The  proportion  of  the  gaseous  ingredients  has  not  been 
ascertained  with  sufficient  accuracy. 

From  this  analysis,  we  may  explain  the  phenomena 
wliich  take  place  when  the  water  is  subjected  to  the 
common  re-agents.  A  piece  of  lead  suspended  in  the 
vapouris  blackened  in  a  few  days,  and  corroded  through- 
out, from  the  union  of  the  compound  gas  with  the 
metal.  Solutions  of  lead,  or  silver,  added  to  the  water, 
when  hot  and  fresh,  produce  a  l>lackish  precipitate  from 
the  same  cause,  though  the  effect  may  depend  likewise 
on  the  presence  of  the  muriate  and  the  high  tempera- 
ture; as  the  precipitate  is  white,  if  the  solutions  be 
added  to  the  water  when  it  is  cold.  Syrup  of  violets  is 
changed  to  a  green,  owing  to  the  action  of  the  gas, 
which  it  'is  affirmed  gives  rise  to  this  change ;  (Blur- 
ray's  Chemistry,  vol.  ii.  p.  443.)  or  the  alterations  of  the 
colour  may  be  produced  by  the  alkaline  carbonate.  The 
same  change  takes  place  when  the  carbonate  of  lime 
has  been  precipitated  by  cooling.  ■» 

The  water  is  used  internally  as  a  gentle  stimulant  and 
corroborant,  and  also  as  a  diuretic.  It  is  found  to  be 
serviceable  in  morbid  afifections  of  the  chylopoetic 
viscera ;  and  it  is  highly  useful  in  disorders  of  the  kid- 
neys and  bladder.  It  is  likewise  employed  externally  in 
cases  of  paralysis,  gout,  and  rheumatism.  See  Bergman's 
Physical  and  Chemical  Essays,  vol.  i.  p.  283.  Blondel. 
Descrip.  Therm.  Aquisgranens,  Lucas  on  Mineral 
Waters.  Saimders  on  Mineral  Waters.  Ashe's  Experi- 
ments and  Obscrralions  on  the  Mitural  Waters  of  Spa 
and  Aix-lorChapcUc.  Ur.  KuUy''i  Methodical  Synopsis  of 
Mineral  Waters,  p.  625.  4to.     (7i) 

AlZOON,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Icosandria,  and  order  Pentagynia.     See  Botany,  (to) 

AKBAH,  a  celebrated  Suracen  conqueror,  who  over- 
ran the  wholeof  Africa,  from  Cairo  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 
At  the  head  of  ten  thousand  of  tit  bravest  Arabs,  he 
marched  from  Damascus, 'and  gradually  increased  his 
army  by  numbers  of  the  barbarians,  whom  he  had  con- 
quered and  converted.  Amid  the  (ictions  of  oriental 
writers,  it  is  not  easy  to  follow  Akbah  through  the  line 
of  his  victories.  We  know  merely  that  he  peuetrate<l 
with  dauntless  intrepidity  the  very  heart  of  the  countr}', 
and  after  traversing  the  wilderness,  where  his  succes- 
sors erected  the  capitals  of  Fez  and  Morocco,  that  he 
carried  his  arms  to  the  Western  Ocean.  Distressed  at 
this  limitation  which  nature  hud  set  to  his  brilliant  ca- 
reer, be  spurred  his  horse  into  the  ocean,  and  exclaimed^ 


AKB 


AKE 


351 


"  Great  God !  if  my  course  were  not  termiuated  by  this 
sea,  I  would  still  advance  to  the  unknown  regions  of  the 
West,  preaching  the  unity  of  thy  holy  name,  and  putting 
to  the  sword  the  rebellious  nations  that  worship  any 
other  God  than  thee."  A  general  revolt  among  the 
Greeks  and  Africans  recalled  him  from  the  West,  and 
proved  the  means  of  his  destruction.  The  insurgents 
trusted  to  the  revenge  of  an  ambitious  chief,  who  had 
disputed  the  command,  and  having  failed  in  his  designs, 
was  led  aliout  as  a  prisoner  in  the  camp  of  Akbab.  He 
revealed  their  design,  however,  to  the  Arabian  general, 
who,  under  the  impulse  of  gratitude,  unloosed  his  fetters, 
and  gave  him  leave  to  retire.  The  generous  chief  chose 
rather  to  die  with  his  benefactor,  and  having  embraced 
each  other  as  fellow  martyrs,  and  broken  to  pieces  their 
scabbards,  they  fell  by  each  other's  side,  after  a  glorious 
conflict  with  the  insurgents. 

Akbah  proposed  to  establish  an  Arabian  colony  in  the 
interior  of  Africa,  in  order  to  check  the  barbarians,  and 
secure  a  place  of  refuge  to  the  families  of  the  Saracens. 
He  accordingly  founded  Cairoan,  under  the  title  of  a 
Caravan  Station,  in  the  50th  year  of  the  Hegira.  He  en- 
compassed an  area  1 2000  paces  in  diameter,  with  a  brick 
wall,  and  in  five  years  the  palace  of  th«  governor  was 
encircled  with  a  number  of  private  dwellings;  and  a 
splendid  mosque  was  erected  upon  five  hundred  columns 
of  granite,  porphyry,  and  Numidian  marble.  See  Ock~ 
ley's  Hist,  of  the  Saracens,  vol.  ii.  p.  129.  IjCO  Africanus, 
fol.  75.  bhaw's  Travels,  p.  115.  Marmol,  Description  de 
VAfriqtu,  torn.  iii.  p.  33.  and  Gibbon's  Hist.  vol.  ix.  p. 
407,  12mo.  chap.  51.     {n) 

AKBAR,  or  Ekbar,  Sultan,  one  of  the  Mogul  em- 
perors, was  born  in  1 542,  and  succeeded  to  the  throne  of 
his  father  in  1 556.  After  quelling  several  insurrections, 
wMch  marked  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  he  completed 
tlie  castle  of  Agra,  at  the  expense  of  2,000,500  rupees, 
expended  one  million  and  a  half  on  the  palace  and  walls 
of  Fettipur,  and  began  to  erect  the  sumptuous  sepul- 
chres ol^  his  family  at  Schandar.  Ambitious  views  now 
began  to  agitate  his  mind ;  the  conquest  of  Bengal  be- 
came a  favourite  object,  which  he  soon  eflfected  after  re- 
ducing the  city  of  Patan.  The  countries  of  Kabul,  Kan- 
dahar, Kashmir,  and  Sindi,  were  next  added  to  his 
empire ;  and  after  a  vigorous  resistance,  several  provin- 
ces of  the  kingdom  of  Dekan  submitted  to  his  sway. 
When  engaged  in  the  Dekan  war,  a  succession  of  do- 
mestic misfortunes  interrupted  his  ambitious  career. 
Two  of  his  sons  were  cut  off  by  iHtemperance  ;  and  his 
son  Selim,  taking  advantage  of  his  absence,  seized  the 
treasures  of  Agra,  and  marched  >vith  a  numerous  army 
to  seat  himself  upon  his  father's  throne.  When  the 
emperor  received  intelligence  of  this  unnatural  attempt 
of  his  son,  he  hastened  to  his  capital,  and  with  all  the 
tender  remonstrances  of  an  affectionate  parent,  laboured 
to  soften  the  heart  of  the  young  rebel.  After  many  un- 
successful attempts,  he  at  List  effected  a  reconciliation, 
which,  however,  he  was  not  destined  long  to  survive. 
Being  enraged  at  Mirza,  a  governor  of  one  of  his  pro- 
vinces, he  resolved  to  poison  him  •  and  for  this  purpose 
procured  two  pills  of  opium ;  one  of  which  containing 
poison,  was  intended  for  the  governor.  This  poisoned 
pill,  however,  was  by  mistake  reserved  for  himself;  and 
brought  him  to  the  grave  in  the  year  1605,  af  the  age 
of  63. 

Akbar,  with  the  assistance  of  his  enlightened  minister, 
Abul  FazI,  made  the  deepest  inquiries  into  the  religion, 
laws,  and  iostitutions,  of  the  Hiudoos,  who  formed  the 


great  body  of  his  subjects.  By  the  most  assiduous  re- 
search, they  were  enabled  to  favour  the  world  with  a 
compendiumof  Hindoojurisprudence.in  the  Ayeen  Ak- 
berry.  See  Fraser's  Hist.  Nadir  Stiah,  p.  11.  Mod. 
Uiiivcrs.  Hist.  vol.  v.  p.  305.     (o) 

AKENSIDE,  Mark,  who  has  been  styled  the  British 
Lucretius,  was  born  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne, on  the  9lh 
dayof  November,  1721.  His  father,  a  substantial  butcher 
in  that  town,  was  a  presbyterian  dissenter :  and  seems 
to  have  destined  his  son  for  the  clerical  office  before  he 
himself  could  form  any  idea  of  its  importance,  or  give 
any  indication  of  those  talents  and  dispositions,  without 
which  a  clergyman  cannot  reasonably  hope  to  be  either 
useful  or  respectable.  The  capacity  and  fondness  for 
learning  which  young  Akenside  displayed  when  sent  to 
school,  coutirmed  his  father's  resolution,  and  warranted 
the  most  sanguine  hopes  which  he  could  entertain  of  the 
future  eminence  of  his  son.  From  the  grammar-school 
of  Newcastle,  he  was  removed  to  the  private  academy  of 
Mr.  Wilson,  a  dissenting  clergyman ;  whose  admiration 
he  excited  by  his  rapid  |)rogress  in  classical  literature, 
and  by  the  striking  marks  of  genius  which  distinguished 
his  exercises.  At  the  age  of  18,  he  went  to  the  univer- 
sity of  Edinburgh ;  and  continued  for  a  year  to  pursue 
that  course  of  study  which  was  necessary  to  qualify  him 
for  the  office  of  a  presbyterian  minister.  He  had  de- 
rived some  assistance  from  a  fund  appropriate<l  by  the 
English  dissenters  to  the  education  of  their  young  men 
of  scanty  fortune,  who  study  divinity.  But  the  perplexed 
and  thorny  mazes  of  theological  controversy  were  trod- 
den by  Akenside  with  extreme  reluctance ;  and  he 
turned  from  them  in  disgust,  to  range  unconfined  in  the 
fields  of  elegant  literature,  where  paths  more  ample  and 
inviting  were  laid  open  to  his  ambition.  As  he  posses- 
sed not  the  means  of  indulging  in  these  favourite  pur- 
suits, without  following  some  profession,  he  now  re- 
solved to  study  physic;  and,  with  the  most  honourable 
integrity,  refunded  that  contribution  which,  as  it  was^ 
given  for  a  different  purpose,  he  could  not  conscien- 
tiously  retain. 

"  Whether,  when  he  resolved  not  to  be  a  dissenting 
minister,  he  ceased  to  be  a  dissenter,"  it  is  surelj'  im- 
necessary  to  inquire.  It  is  of  more  importance  to  know 
that  he  did  not  cease  to  be  a  christian ;  and  that  he  re- 
linquished none  of  those  liberal  and  exalted  principles 
which  are  generally  cherished  with  enthusiasm  by  youth- 
ful genius,  and  from  which  it  derives  its  brightest  lustre. 
An  ardent  and  manly  zeal  for  civil  and  religious  liberty 
inlluenced  him  through  life,  and  breaks  forth  in  his 
writings  with  inspiring  energy.  We  envy  not  the  mind 
which  could  turn  from  the  page  that  glows  mth  such 
sentiments,  to  remark,  with  illiberal  and  far-misplaced 
sagacity,  that  this  zeal  for  liberty  "  sometimes  disguises 
from  the  world,  and  not  rarely  from  the  mind  which  it 
possesses,  an  envious  desire  of  plundering  wealth,  and 
degrading  greatness ;  and  of  which  the  immediate  ten- 
dency is  innovation  and  anarchy,  an  impetuous  eager- 
ness to  subvert  and  confound,  with  very  little  care  what 
shall  be  established."  Let  the  admirers  of  our  consti- 
tution determine,  whether  it  is  more  in  danger  from  him 
whose  breast  is  fired  with  a  generous  passion  for  liberty, 
who  is  feelingly  alive  to  the  privileges  of  freemen,  and 
prompt  to  resent  any  attempt  to  invade  them  ; — or  from 
the  wretch  who,  with  a  cowardly  dread  of  innovation, 
and  servile  reverence  for  the  great,  would  patiently  en- 
dure to  see  the  sceptre  converted  into  a  rod  of  iron,  and 
bow  hie  neck  to  the  yoke,  however  oppressive,  which 


d58 


AKENSIDE. 


should  be  imposed  by  the  sacred  liand  of  power.  So 
little  is  the  genuine  love  of  freedom  allied  to  the  spirit 
of  levelling  or  discontent,  that,  in  a  country  lilessed  with 
such  a  constitution  as  ours,  its  natural  tendency  is  to 
heighten  our  gratitude  for  the  advantages  which  we  en- 
joy, and  make  us  bold  in  their  defence ;  to  strengthen 
our  loyalty  by  the  aid  of  principle;  and  to  inspire  us 
with  the  noblest  and  most  ardent  patriotism. 

Akenside,  while  he  continued  at  Edinburgh,  culti- 
vated his  poetical  talents  with  great  assiduity.  It  was 
there  that  he  composed  his  Ode  on  the  Winter  Solstice  ; 
and  his  greatest  work,  The  PUasures  of  Iinaginalion,  was 
probably  completed  about  the  same  time ;  though  it  has 
been  said  that  it  was  written  at  IMorpeth,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Wentsbeck,  while  he  was  on  a  visit  to  his  rela- 
tions, before  he  went  to  the  university  of  Edinburgh. 
His  talents  procured  him  an  easy  introduction  into  the 
most  respectable  literary  associations  among  his  fellow- 
students;  and,  in  the  year  1740,  he  was  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Medical  Society;  "  an  institution,"  says  Dr. 
Anderson,  "  coeval  with  the  establishment  of  a  regular 
school  of  physic  in  the  university." 

After  remaining  three  years  at  Edinburgh,  he  went 
to  complete  his  medical  studies  at  Leyden,  where  Mr. 
Dyson  was  at  the  same  time  engaged  in  the  study  of 
civil  law.  With  this  gentleman  Akenside  contracted  a 
friendship  which  was  of  the  most  essential  service  to 
him  through  the  remainder  of  life.  When  he  had  pass- 
ed three  years  at  that  celebrated  university,  he  took  the 
degree  of  Doctor  in  Medicine ;  and  as  it  was  necessary 
to  publish  an  inaugural  dissertation,  he  chose  for  his 
subject,  De  orlu  et  incremento foetus  humani.  In  this  trea- 
tise he  displayed  much  ingenuity,  in  refutingthe opinions 
of  Lewenhoek,  which  then  generally  prevailed  ;  and  in 
proposing  an  hypothesis,  which  has  since  been  adopted 
by  the  most  eminent  physicians. 

After  having  graduated,  he  returned  to  England  with 
Mr.  Dyson,  and,  during  the  same  year,  published  The 
Pleasures  of  Imagination  ;  a  work  which  raised  him  very 
high  in  the  estimation  of  men  of  taste  and  learning. 
Akenside  himself  seems  to  have  been  conscious  of  its 
value ;  for  he  demanded  for  the  copyright  a  price  which 
was  then  accounted  high,  and  which  was  seldom  given 
for  a  work  of  that  nature,  particularly  from  an  author 
yet  unknown  to  fame.  Dodsley,  to  whom  he  offered  it, 
being  inclined  to  hesitate  on  his  demand,  carried  the 
poem  to  Pope,  who,  having  looked  into  it,  advised  him 
not  to  make  a  niggardly  otfer,  for  "  this  was  no  every- 
day |>oet."  A  note  in  the  third  book,  in  which  the  au- 
thor adopts  Shaftshury's  assertion  of  the  efficacy  of  ridi- 
cule as  a  test  of  truth,  excited  the  displeasure  of  War- 
burton,  who,  in  a  preface  to  one  of  his  publications,  at- 
tacked him  with  great  severity;  not,  however,  as  a  poet, 
but  as  a  iibilosopher.  Mr.  Dyson,  in  defence  of  his  friend, 
wrote  an  anonymous  "  Epistle  to  Mr.  Warburton,  occa- 
sioned by  his  treatment  of  the  Author  of  the  Pleasures 
of  Imagination;"  but  Warburton's  strictures  were  after- 
wards reprinteil,  without  any  notice  of  what  had  been 
said  in  Akenside's  defence. 

Soon  alter  the  publication  of  this  poem,  he  wrote  a 
very  spirited  Epistle  to  Pulteney,  who  had  recently  de- 
serted the  cause  of  independence,  which  he  had  vindicated 
with  such  ability  whileout  of  place,  and  who  was  there- 
fore justly  stigmatized  by  our  author  under  the  name  of 
■Curio,  as  (he  betrayer  of  his  country.  This  Epistle, 
which  is  distinguished  by  the  most  vigorous  anti  |>oign- 


ant  satire,  he  afterwards  transformed  into  a  very  pal- 
try Ode. 

He  was  now  to  live  by  bis  profession ;  and,  with  that 
view,  fixed  his  residence  at  Northampton,  where  Dr. 
Stonehouse  then  practised  with  such  success  and  repu- 
tation, as  to  defy  all  competition.  Akenside  tried  the 
contest  for  a  while,  but  tiiiding  it  in  vain,  he  removed  to 
Hampstcad,  where  he  resided  more  than  two  years,  sup- 
ported chiefly  by  the  generosityof  Mr. Dyson.  AtHamp- 
stead,  he  had  the  fairest  pros[)ects  of  success.  His  re- 
putation had  gone  before  him ;  and  his  generous  patron 
took  every  method  of  bringing  him  forward  into  notice. 
He  not  only  introduced  him  to  the  long-room,  and  to 
every  place  of  public  resort,  but  recommended  him,  in 
the  strongest  terms,  as  a  physician,  to  all  the  inhabit- 
ants with  whom  he  could  take  such  liberty.  But  the  im- 
prudence and  vanity  of  Akenside  counteracted  all  his 
friend's  exertions.  He  had  conceived  such  a  lofty  idea 
of  his  own  talents  and  acquirements,  that  he  alTected  to 
disdain  all  ordinary  men  as  beings  of  a  lower  rank  in 
the  scale  of  intelligence.  In  the  clubs  and  assemblies 
which  he  frequented,  he  perpetually  involved  him^elf  in 
disputes;  and  expected  such  unreasonable  deference  to 
his  assertions  or  arguments,  that  though  he  frequently 
took  the  wrong  side  lor  the  purpose  of  displaying  his 
abilities,  he  treated  with  the  most  contemptuous  rude- 
ness all  who  dared  to  contradict  him.  His  insolence 
naturally  created  many  enemies.  They  discovered  that 
he  was  a  man  of  low  birth,  and  a  dependent : — and,  as 
they  scrupled  not  to  reproach  him  with  these  circum- 
stances, he  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  asserting 
that  he  was  a  gentleman.  After  matters  had  [iroceeded 
to  this  extremity,  he  could  not  expect  to  succeed  in 
practice  at  Hampstead,  or  to  reside  there  with  any  com- 
fort. Mr.  Dyson,  therefore,  parted  with  his  villa  at 
North-end,  settled  his  friend  in  a  small  house  in  Blooms- 
bury  Square,  and  with  a  generosity  that  has  few  exam- 
ples, assigned  him  300/.  a-year,  to  enable  him  to  make 
a  pro|)er  appearance  in  the  world. — "  A  physician  in  a 
great  city,"  says  Dr.  .Tobnson,  "  seems  to  be  the  mere 
plaything  of  Fortune ;  his  degree  of  reputation  is,  for 
the  most  part,  totally  casual ;  they  that  employ  him 
know  not  his  excellence ;  they  that  reject  him  know 
not  his  deficience."  Akenside  was  known  in  London 
as  a  poet,  and  gradually  advanced  in  medical  reputation; 
but  never  attained  much  popularity,  or  any  great  extent 
of  practice.  His  pride,  his  insolence,  and  impatience 
of  opposition,  exposed  him  to  general  dislike,  and  drew 
him  sometimes  into  very  awkward  and  disagreeable  situ- 
ations. In  the  winter  evenings,  he  frequented  Tom's 
Coffee-house  in  Dcvereux  Court,  at  that  time  the  resort 
of  men  of  learning  and  ingenuity,  with  some  of  whom 
he  became  entangled  in  disputes  and  altercations,  chiefly 
on  subjects  of  literature  and  politics.  A  dis|iute,  which 
one  evening  took  place  between  him  and  counsellor 
Ballow,  a  man  of  learning,  but  violent  in  his  temper, 
and  vulgar  in  his  manners,  rose  to  such  a  height,  that 
Ballow  uttered  some  expressions  for  which  Akenside 
thought  himself  oldiged  to  demand  an  apology,  and, 
when  that  was  refused,  be  sent  his  adversary  a  challenge. 
An  answer,  however,  was  declined;  and  though  Aken 
side  more  than  once  attempted  to  see  Ballow  at  his 
lodgings,  the  counsellor  kept  close  till  the  quarrel  was 
adjusted.  It  has  been  said  that  an  accommodation  was 
effected,  not  by  any  mutual  concessions,  but  by  a  reso- 
lution from  which  neither  of  them  would  depart, — the 


AKENSIDE. 


369 


one  would  not  fight  in  the  morning,  nor  the  other  in  the 
evening.  Akenside  became  so  notorious  for  his  irasci- 
bility, that  even  those  who  most  admired  his  genius  and 
accomplishments,  were  shy  of  becoming  intimate  with 
him  ; — yet  it  is  only  justice  to  say,  that  his  irascibility 
was  seldom  excited,  except  when  he  (Iwught  his  literary 
re|)utation  was  concerned.  On  other  occasions  he  was 
an  easy  and  agreeable  companion,  and  could  even  tole- 
rate rudeness  which  any  other  person  would  have  re- 
sented. 

After  settling  in  London,  he  wrote  little  poetry,  but 
engaged  with  indefatigable  vigour  in  his  medical  duties ; 
and  used  every  exertion  to  force  himself  into  notice  as 
a  physician.  He  jjlaced  himself  in  view  by  all  (he  com- 
mon methods,  and  attained  to  most  of  the  honours  con- 
nected with  his  profession.  He  became  a  Fellow  of  the 
Royal  Society  ;  he  obtained  from  the  university  of  Cam- 
bridge the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Physic,  and  was  admit- 
ted into  the  College  of  Physicians;  he  was  appointed 
Reader  of  the  Gulstonian  and  Croonian  Lectures;  be- 
came Physician  of  St.  Thomas's  Hospital ;  and,  on  the 
establishment  of  the  Queen's  Household,  was  made  one 
of  the  Physicians  to  her  Majesty.  But  while  he  was 
advancing  rapidly  in  affluence  and  in  fame,  he  was  seiz- 
ed with  a  putrid  fever,  which  put  an  end  to  his  existence 
on  the  23d  of  .June,  1770,  in  the  49th  year  of  his  age. 

Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  "  Life  of  Dr.  Johnson,"  has 
delineated  the  character  of  Akenside  in  terms  at  once 
go  elegant  and  so  favourable,  that  we  shall  make  no 
ai)oIogy  for  presenting  it  to  our  readers  in  his  own 
words. 

"  The  value  of  that  precept,  which  exhorts  us  to  live 
peaceably  with  all  men,  or,  in  other  words,  to  avoid 
creating  enemies,  can  only  be  estimated  by  reflecting  on 
those  many  amiable  qualities  against  which  the  want  of 
it  will  preponderate.  Akenside  was  a  man  of  religion, 
and  strict  virtue  ;  a  philosopher,  a  scholar,  antl  a  fine 
poet.  His  conversation  was  of  the  most  delightful 
kind,  learned,  instructive,  and  without  any  affectation 
of  wit,  cheerful  and  entertaining.  One  of  the  pleasant- 
est  days  in  my  life  1  passed  with  him,  Mr.  Dyson,  and 
another  friend,  at  Putney  bo^vling-green  house,  where 
a  neat  and  elegant  dinner,  the  enlivening  sunshine  of  a 
summer  day,  and  the  view  of  an  unclouded  sky,  were 
the  least  of  our  gratifications.  In  perfect  good  humour 
with  himself  and  all  around  him,  he  seemed  to  feel  a 
joy  that  he  lived,  and  poured  out  his  gratulations  to 
the  great  Disposer  of  all  felicity,  in  expressions  that 
Plato  himself  might  have  uttered  on  such  an  occasion. 
In  conversation  with  select  friends,  and  those  whose 
course  of  study  had  been  nearly  the  same  with  his  own, 
it  was  an  usual  thing  with  him,  in  libations  to  the  me- 
mory of  eminent  men  among  the  ancients,  to  bring  their 
characters  into  view,  and  thereby  give  occasion  to  ex- 
jMitiate  on  those  particulars  of  their  lives  that  had  ren- 
dered them  famous.  His  method  was  to  arrange  them  in 
three  classes,  philosophers,  poets,  and  legislators. 

"  That  a  character  thus  formed  should  fail  of  recom- 
mending itself,  and  of  procuring  to  its  possessor  those 
benefits  which  it  is  in  the  power  of  mankind  to  bestow, 
is  a  wonder;  but  it  is  often  seen  that  negative  qualities 
are  more  conducive  to  this  end  than  positive,  and  that, 
with  no  higher  a  character  than  is  attainable  by  any  one 
who,  with  a  studious  taciturnity,  will  keep  his  opinions 
to  himself,  conform  to  the  practice  of  others,  and  enter- 
tain neither  friendghi|)  for,  nor  enniitj'  against  any  one,  a 
competition  for  the  good  opinion  of  the  world  may,  for 


emoluments  and  even  dignities,  stand  a  better  chance  of 
success  than  one  of  the  most  established  reputation  for 
learning  and  ingenuity.  The  truth  of  this  observation 
Akenside  himself  lived  to  experience,  who,  in  a  com- 
petition for  the  place  of  physician  to  the  Charter-house, 
was  unable  to  prevail  against  an  obscure  man,  devoid  of 
every  quality  that  might  serve  to  recommend  him,  and 
whose  sole  merit  was  that  of  being  distantly  related  to 
lord  Holland." 

The  author  of  "  The  Pleasures  of  Imagination"  must 
undoubtedly  have  possessed  many  excellent  qualities.' 
The  long  and  uninterrupted  attachment  which  existed 
between  him  and  Mr.  Dyson,  sufficiently  proves  that  his 
heart  was  formed  for  friendship  ;  nor  were  the  generous 
and  exalted  sentiments  which  distinguish  his  writings 
much  at  variance  with  the  general  tenor  of  his  life.  But 
his  overweening  vanity  threw  a  deep  shade  over  all  his 
excellencies.  No  superiority  of  talents  could  justify 
that  arrogant  contempt  which  he  invariably  expressed 
for  those  whom  he  supposed  his  inferiors  in  mental  en- 
dowments ;  nor  can  there  be  a  more  mortifying  specta- 
cle, than  that  of  a  man,  whom  Nature  has  blessed  with 
every  pleasing  quality,  sacrificing  to  literary  pride  the 
finest  feelings  of  his  heart,  and  the  dearest  friendships 
of  his  life.  Surely  that  genius  is  little  to  be  envied, 
which,  while  it  raises  us  above  "  life's  weakness,"  raises 
us  at  the  same  time  above  its  most  endearing  charities ; 
and  directing  all  our  estimation  to  the  endowments  of 
the  head,  renders  us  totally  insensible  to  the  virtues  of 
the  heart. 

The  accomplishments  of  Akenside  were  splendid  and 
numerous.  His  taste  was  refined  by  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  ancient  classics,  and  his  mind  was  well 
stored  with  the  treasures  of  philosophy.  Of  the  ancient 
philosophers,  he  chiefly  admired  Plato  and  Cicero; 
Shaftesbury  and  Hutchison  were  his  favourites  among 
the  moderns.  A  high  and  settled  veneration  for  the 
Supreme  Being,  and  enlarged  ideas  of  Divine  wisdom 
and  benevolence,  gave  anoble  elevation  to  his  sentiments, 
and  inspired  him  with  ardent  zeal  in  the  cause  of  virtue. 
A  sacred  enthusiasm  for  liberty  forms  the  characteristic- 
excellence  of  his  poetrj',  and  entitled  him  in  a  peculiar 
degree  to  the  epithet  of  "  Poet  of  the  Community." 
His  Epistle  to  Curio,  his  Odes  to  the  earl  of  Hunting- 
don, and  to  the  bishop  of  Winchester,  would  have  done 
honour  to  the  best  days  of  Greek  or  Roman  indepen- 
dence. So  strenuously,  indeed,  did  he  advocate  the 
cause  of  freedom,  that  he  was  even  suspected  of  en- 
tertaining republican  principles,  but  nothing  appears  in 
his  writings  to  justify  such  a  suspicion.  The  freedom 
for  which  he  contends  in  reference  to  his  own  countrj^ 
was  that  established  by  the  Revolution ;  for  the  magna- 
nimous promoters  of  which  he  professed  the  highest 
veneration. 

As  a  poet,  Akenside  is  entitled  to  praise  of  the  high- 
est kind.  His  great  work,  "  The  Pleasures  of  the  Im- 
agination," is  perhaps  the  best  didactic  poem  of  which 
ancient  or  modern  times  can  boast;  and,  whenwe  re- 
member that  it  was  published  at  the  age  of  23,  and  that 
great  part  of  it  was  probably  written  before  he  had 
reached  his  18th  year,  it  is  not  hyperbolical  to  say,  that 
it  is  the  finest  eflbrt  of  j'outhful  genius  that  was  ever 
presented  to  the  world.  No  subject  could  have  been 
more  happily  chosen  for  displaying  the  brilliant  imasres 
of  his  fancy,  and  the  uncommon  amplitude  of  acuis 
tions  with  which  his  mind  was  enriched.  ^ 
cai  beauty  was  naturally  incluUed^ '"  " 


360 


AKE 


ALA 


been  exemplified  in  his  verses  with  singular  felicity. 
In  this  admirable  poem  we  are  charmed  at  once  Avith 
the  most  melodious  versification,  the  most  luxuriant 
imagery,  and  the  happiest  elegance  of  diction ;  while  its 
parts  are  so  artfully  disposed,  that  the  arrangement 
could  not  be  changed  without  materially  injuring  the 
general  design.  But  these  beauties,  captivating  as  they 
are,  form  in  fact  the  least  part  of  its  excellence.  It  de- 
rives its  most  fascinating  charm  from  that  high  tone 
of  moral  feeling, — from  those  glowing  emotions  which 
fire  the  breast  of  the  youthful  bard,  and  which  irresisti- 
bly convince  us,  that 

from  Heaven  descends 
The  flame  of  genius  to  the  human  breas^ 
And  love,  and  beauty,  and  poeticjoy. 
And  inspiration ! 

Let  the  youth  who  wishes  to  attain  sublimity  of  senti- 
ment, or  firmness  of  principle,  enrich  his  memory  with 
the  ennobling  strains  of  the  Pleasures  of  the  Imagina- 
tion. Who  can  read  such  lines  as  these  without  catch- 
ing the  enthusiasm  of  virtue,  and  feeling  himself  pre- 
pared for  every  great  and  noble  achievement ! 

Say,  why  was  man  so  eminently  raised 

Amid  the  vast  creation  ;  why  onlainM 

Throngh  life  and  death  to  dart  his  piercing  eye 

With  thoughts  beyond  the  limit  of  his  frame  : 

But  that  th'  Omnipotence  might  send  him  forth 

In  sight  of  mortal  and  immortal  powers. 

As  on  a  boundless  theatre,  to  run 

The  great  career  of  justice  ;  to  exalt 

His  generous  aim  to  all  diviner  deeds  ; 

To  chase  each  partial  purpose  from  his  breast ; 

And  through  the  mists  of  \>assion  and  of  sense, 

And  through  the  tossing  tide  of  chance  and  pain. 

To  hold  his  course  unfaltering,  while  the  voice 

Of  Truth  and  Virtue,  up  the  steep  ascent 

Of  Nature  calls  him  to  his  high  rewanl, 

Th'  applauding  smile  of  Heaven  !  Else  wherefore  bums 

In  mortal  bosoms  this  un(|uenched  hope, 

That  breathes  from  day  to  day  sublimer  things. 

And  mocks  possession  ?  wherefore  darts  the  mindy 

With  such  resistless  anlour,  to  embrace 

IVIaJestic  forms:  impatient  to  be  free, 

Spurning  the  gross  control  of  wilful  might. 

Proud  of  the  strong  contention  of  her  toils. 

Proud  to  be  daring  > 

From  the  author  of  this  j;oem,  it  is  surely  little  de- 
traction to  say,  that  he  is  not  always  equal ; — that  his 
fancy  tloes  not  always  preserve  the  same  height  to 
^vhich  she  occasionally  soars.  It  is  but  seldom,  how- 
ever, that  she  deigns  "  to  rest  her  wing  beneath  her 
native  quarry  ;" — and  never,  i)erhaps,  was  there  a  poem 
of  equal  length,  which  was  distinguished  by  such  a  con- 
tinued strain  of  sublime  sentiment  and  poetical  diction. 
Uis  chief  fault  is,  that  from  too  anxious  a  desire  to 
avoid  low  and  vulgar  expressions, he  sometimes  involves 
"himself  in  obscurity ; — ^yet,  even  in  his  obscurity,  he  is 
frequently  8|>lendid, — he  hides  himself  "  in  a  veil  of 
light,"  and  conceals  his  natural  grandeur  by  superfluity 
of  ornament.  He  himself  was  sensible  of  the  imperfec- 
tions of  his  poem  :  and  went  on  for  several  years  revising 
and  correcting  it,  till,  feeling  the  work  grow  on  his 
hanil,  he  resolved  to  write  it  altogether  anew,  upon  a 
plan  somewhat  different  and  enlarged.  Two  books,  and 
great  part  of  a  third,  were  finished  before  his  death,  and 
were  published,  along  with  the  original  poem,  by  his 
friend  Mr.   Dyson.     The  admirers  of  poetry  will  not 

•"■h  regret  that  his  plan  was  ncTer  complete4l;  for 


though  liis  reformed  work  is  more  correct  and  close,  it 
is  much  less  splendid  and  poetical  than  its  original. 

From  contemplating  this  wonderful  production,  we 
turn  with  some  regret,  to  his  Odes.  We  cannot,  in- 
dee<l,  subscribe  to  the  unjust  and  illiberal  censure 
passed  u|K)n  them  by  Dr.  Johnson.  Though  they  may 
be  inferior  to  the  odes  of  Dryden  and  of  Gray,  they  fre- 
quently breathe  the  true  spirit  of  poetry ;  and  would, 
perhaps,  be  read  with  higher  admiration,  were  they  not 
the  offspring  of  the  same  genius  which  produced  the 
Pleasures  of  Imagination.  His  Ode  to  the  Earl  of  Hun- 
tingdon, and  that  to  the  Earl  of  Winchester,  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  rank  him  high  among  lyric  poets ;  and 
his  Hymn  to  the  Naiads  is  esteemed  one  of  the  finest 
specimens  of  classical  elegance.  His  talent  for  satire 
is  very  strikingly  displayed  in  his  Epistle  to  Curio.  It 
is  diflicult  to  imagine  what  could  induce  him  to  change 
it  afterwards  into  an  Ode,  which  Dr.  Johnson  remarks, 
is  disgraceful  only  to  the  author. 

Besides  his  poems,  Akenside  published  in  the  Philo- 
sophical Transactions,  several  medical  treatises,  which 
displayed  much  ingenuity  and  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  science.  His  Discourse  on  the  Dysentery  was  con- 
sidered as  a  very  conspicuous  specimen  of  latinity,  and 
raised  his  reputation  as  a  scholar  as  high  as  that  which 
he  already  enjoyed  as  a  jioet.     (k) 

AKHISAR,  or  ff/w'te-Cast/c,  the  name  now  given  to 
the  ancient  Thyatira,  from  its  quarries  of  white  marble. 
It  is  situated  on  the  river  Hermus,  on  a  fertile  plain,  18 
miles  broad ;  and  is  49  miles  S.  E.  of  Pergamo.  It 
abounds  in  grain  and  cotton,  and  carries  on  a  trade  ia 
opium  and  Turkey  carpets.  Population  5000.  E.  Long. 
28<'  30'.     N.  Lat.  38"  50'.  (o) 

AKH-SHEHR,  the  Antiomia  ad  Pisidium  of  the  an- 
cients, is  the  capital  of  the  ancient  province  of  Pisidia, 
now  called  Sangiakat  de  Aslihehcr  by  the  Turks,  to 
whom  it  belongs,     (m) 

AL,  a  particle  in  the  Arabic  language,  which  signi- 
fies the,  as  Al  Koran,  the  Koran. 

ALABA,  or  Alava,  a  small  district  of  Biscay,  in 
Bpain,  stretching  along  the  Ebro,  from  Navarre  to  the 
Biscay  an  mountains.  It  is  about  7  or  8  leagues  long, 
and  6  or  7  broad,  protlucing  vines,  wheat,  rye,  and  bar- 
ley. It  has  also  iron  mines,  which  furnish  the  inhabi- 
tants with  articles  of  commerce.  The  kings  of  Navarre 
were  anciently  called  kings  of  Alaba.     (rv) 

ALABANDINE,  or  Ai.mandine,  the  name  of  a  gem 
described  by  the  ancients  as  having  a  deep  red  colour, 
and  a  hardness  intermediate  between  that  of  ruby  and 
garnet.  It  was  found  near  Alabanda,  an  ancient  city 
in  Asia  Rlinor.  It  appears  to  be  the  precious  garnet  of 
modern  mineralogists;  and  not  the  oriental  ruby,  at 
stated  by  Wallerius.  See  Plin.  Hist.  Naiur.  lib.  xxxvii. 
Boetius  de  Boot's  Oetmnanan  et  Lapidum  Hisloria,  p. 
159.  Wallerius's  Mineralogie,  tom.  i.  p.  215.  Berlrand's 
Dictionnaire  Universcl  dcs  Fossiles  propres,  et  dts  Fos- 
sites  accidaitels,  tom.  i.  p.  15.  Karslen's  Miiuraiogisrhe 
Tatielicn.  p.  69.  Hrongniart's  Mineralogie,  tom.  i.  p.  305. 
Jameson's  itfiWra/ofi-iy,  vol.  i.  p.  64.     (r) 

ALABASTER, the  name  applied  by  ancientand  mo- 
dern artists  to  certain  kinds  of  gypsum  and  calc-sinter. 
The  kinds  of  gypsum  are  the  compact  and  foliated ;  and 
these,  on  account  of  their  softness,  and  the  delicate  po- 
lish they  receive,  have  been  long  employed  in  statuary, 
and  frequently  also  for  vases,  pillars  in  the  interior  of 
halls,  &c.     'i'he  gypsum  of  Volterrn.  near  Florence. 


ALA 


ALA 


361 


which  is  remarkable  for  its  transludiclty,  is  cut  into 
beautiful  figures  and  vases.  When  a  candle  or  Itimp  is 
put  into  a  vase  of  this  kind,  it  diffuses  a  very  agreeable 
and  delicate  light.  It  is  said  the  ancients  used  this 
mineral  in  their  temi>les  in  place  of  glass,  in  order  that 
the  light  might  be  pale  and  feeble,  and  thus  harmonize 
in  some  measure  with  the  general  character  of  the 
place.  The  calc-sinter,  when  it  occurs  in  large  masses, 
is  sometimes  cut  into  statues  and  vases.  The  most 
beautiful  kinds,  which  have  a  yellowish  colour,  are  found 
in  the  Thebaid,  situated  between  the  Nile  and  the  Red 
Sea,  near  to  the  town  of  Alabastron.  In  one  of  the  pub- 
lic museums  in  Paris,  the  Napoleon  Museum,  there  is 
a  colossal  figure  of  an  Egyptian  deity,  cut  in  calc-sinter. 
Older  mineralogists,  as  Boetius,  de  Boot,  sir  John  Hill, 
Bertrand,  and  Rome  de  Lisle,  divide  alabaster  into  two 
kinds,  alabastrum,  and  alabastrites.  The  alabastrum  is 
gypsum,  and  the  alabastrites  is  a  harder  calcareous 
stone,  corresponding  in  external  characters  to  the  calc- 
sinter  of  modern  mineralogists.  La  Metherie  and  others, 
on  the  contrary,  consider  the  alabastrites  as  compact 
gypsum ;  and  Pliny,  under  the  game  denomination,  in- 
cludes both  gypsum  and  calc-sinter.  See  Hauy's  Mi- 
jicralogic.  Brongniart's  Mineralogic.  Schmieder's  Litkur- 
gik.    Jameson's  Mineralogy,  (r) 

ALABASTER,  the  name  of  a  vial  used  by  the  an- 
cients for  holding  odoriferous  liquors,  on  account  of  those 
vessels  being  generally  made  of  alabaster.  (n>) 

ALABASTER,  or  Eleuthf.ra,  one  of  the  Bahama 
or  Lucaya  islands,  where  above  60  families  settled  under 
Governor  Holmes,  and  erected  a  small  fort.  This  island 
produces  the  greatest  proportion  of  the  pine-apples  that 
are  exported.  W.  Long.  73<»  to  76°  5'.  N.  Lat.  23''  to 
230  26'.  (o) 

ALACHUA  Savannah,  a  flat  and  verdant  plain,  about 
15  miles  broad,  and  50  in  circumference,  belonging  to 
the  Indians  in  East  Florida.  It  is  encircled  with  high 
sloping  hills,  whose  fertile  soil  supports  many  fragrant 
orange  groves  and  extensive  forests.  The  town  of  Ala- 
chua formerly  stood  upon  the  borders  of  this  plain ;  but 
the  insalubrity  of  the  situation,  occasioned  by  the  stench 
of  putrid  fish  and  reptiles,  driven  on  shore  during  sum- 
mer and  autumn  by  the  alligators,  compelled  the  Indians 
to  remove  to  Cuscowilla,  two  miles  distant.  The  horses 
and  horned  cattle  fed  in  this  plain  are  large  and  fat;  but 
the  warm  water  of  the  Savannah  afflicts  them  with  mor- 
tal diseases,  (w) 

AL  AIS,  or  AijEz,  the  Ahaia  of  Julius  Caesar,  a  city  of 
France,  in  the  department  of  the  Gard,  situated  on  an 
arm  of  the  river  Gard,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cevennes.  The 
territory  of  Alais  is  mountainous,  though  generally  fer- 
tile, producing  grain,  olives,  and  mulberries.  The  wealth 
of  this  place  is  derived  from  the  exportation  of  raw  and 
wrought  silk.  The  citadel  of  Alais  was  built  in  1689, 
by  Lewis  XIV.  for  the  purpose  of  awing  the  Protestants, 
who  have  at  this  day  a  place  of  worship  here.  Alais  is 
132  If  cues  S.  E.  of  Paris.  Population  8944.  E.  Long. 
4°  4'  0".  N.  Lat.  44"  7'  22".  (w) 

ALAMAGAN,  or  the  Conception  Island,  one  of 
The  Ladrones  or  Marian  Isles,  is  about  18  miles  in  cir- 
cumference. In  the  northwest  coast  of  the  island  there 
is  a  volcano  of  a  conical  form  about  50  yards  high,  with  a 
base  of  400  yards  in  diameter.  The  cone  is  surrounded 
with  cinders,  and  streams  of  black  lava  may  be  traced 
along  its  sides  to  the  shore.  In  1799,  captain  Bass,  who 
visited  this  island  to  procure  fresh  water,  heard  a  rum- 
bling noise,  accom|)anied  with  an  immense  quantity  of 

Voj..  I.     Part  I. 


smoke  issuing  from  the  crater,  wliich  seemed  to  indicate 
an  approaching  eruption.  The  only  quadrupeds  on  the 
island  are  green-tailed  lizards.  The  land-crabs  are  large 
and  numerous ;  and  partridges,  quails,  owls,  thrushes, 
bulfinches,  and  pigeons,  are  also  found.  The  vegetation 
on  the  lower  parts  of  the  island  is  luxuriant.  The  cocoa- 
nut  tree,  the  bread-tree  of  the  Nicobar  island,  and  seve- 
ral kinds  of  stone  fruit,  grow  in  abundance.  During  the 
prevalence  of  the  trade- winds,  ships  may  ride  securely  iu 
a  small  bay  on  the  western  side  of  the  island.  E.  Long. 
146M7'.  N.  Lat.  18"  5'.  (o) 

ALAMAK,aname  given  by  the  Arabs  to  a  star  of  the 
second  magnitude  in  the  southern  foot  of  Andromeda. 
It  is  marked  y  in  our  catalogues,  (w) 

ALAMANNI,  Luigi,  celebrated  by  his  composi- 
tions in  the  lighter  species  of  poetrj',  was  born  of  a 
noble  family  at  Florence,  on  the  28th  October,  1495. 
Under  the  tuition  of  Jacopo  Diacceto,  he  made  such 
progress  in  his  studies  at  the  university  of  Florence, 
as  to  outstrip  all  his  fellow-students.  The  literary  con- 
versazione, which  ivere  at  this  time  held  in  the  gar- 
den of  Bernardo  Rucellai,  were  frequented  by  the  most 
celebrated  characters  of  the  <\ge ;  and  Alainanni,  who 
was  a  regular  visitor,  did  not  fail  to  profit  by  such  choice 
society. 

The  republic  of  Florence  was  at  this  time  under  the 
government  of  the  cardinal  Julius  de  Medici,  to  whose 
family  and  faction  the  father  of  Alamanni  was  strongly 
attached  :  The  merits  of  the  father  were  in  some  mea- 
sure reflected  to  the  son,  and  Alamanni  stood  high  iu 
the  cardinal's  favour.  The  canlinal,  however,  having 
issued  an  order,  prohibiting,  under  a  severe  punish- 
ment, the  carrying  of  arms,  Alamanni  was  arrested, 
during  night,  for  a  violation  of  the  order,  and  subjected 
to  the  punishment  which  was  threatened.  The  high 
spirit  of  the  poet  could  not  brook  the  injury  which  he 
fancied  he  had  received.  His  irritation  against  the  car- 
dinal swelled  into  revenge,  and  he  was  resolved  to  gra- 
tify the  malignity  of  his  passions.  Upon  (he  death  of 
Leo  X.  in  1521,  he  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with  Za- 
nobi  Buondelmonti,  Jacopo  Diacceto,  Antonio  Bruccioli, 
and  his  cousin  Tommaso  Alamanni,  who  had  different 
causes  of  resentment  againf  t  the  cardinal,  and  conceal- 
ed his  designs  under  the  pretence  of  restoring  the 
liberties  of  the  Florentines.  Alamanni,  it  is  said,  of- 
fered to  assassinate  the  cardinal  with  his  own  hand; 
but  the  plot  was  detected,  and  the  conspirators  com- 
pelled to  save  themselves  by  flight.  Alamanni  escap- 
ed with  ditficulfy,  and  took  shelter  in  the  states  of 
the  duke  d'Urbino.  Diacceto  and  his  cousin  were 
seized  and  beheaded ;  and  he  himself  was  prosecu- 
ted as  a  rebel,  and  500  florins  of  gold  offered  for 
his  person.  He  now  retired  to  Venice,  where  he 
was  kindly  received  by  Carlo  Capello,  a  Venetian  sena- 
tor, and  a  learned  man,  who  took  a  lively  interest  in 
the  safety  of  the  poet.  The  cardinal  Julius  having 
succeeded  to  the  pontificate,  Alamanni  did  not  think 
himself  secure  at  Venice.  He  set  out  for  France ;  but, 
on  passing  through  Brescia,  he  was  arrested  by  order 
of  the  pope.  The  imprisonment  of  Alamanni  having 
reached  the  ears  of  his  friend  Capello,  he  exerted  all 
his  influence  in  his  behalf,  and,  by  pretending  to  be  un- 
acquainted with  him,  he  ol)tained  his  release.  After 
this  narrow  escape,  Alamanni  travelled  through  diflFer- 
ent  countries,  waiting  for  some  fortunate  revolution 
which  might  restore  him  to  his  native  country.  In 
France  he  was  received  by  Francis  I.  with  every  mark  of 
Z  z 


362 


ALA 


ALA 


respect,  and  was  honoured  with  the  most  distinguished 
favours. 

In  consequence  of  the  occupation  of  Rome  in  1527, 
by  (he  arms  of  Charles  V.  his  holiness  was  compelled 
to  take  refuge  in  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo.  The  nobility 
and  the  people  took  advantage  of  his  ill  fortune, 
and  revolted  against  the  family  of  the  Medici,  who 
were  obliged  to  abandon  the  government.  Alamanni 
and  Buondelmonti  were  recalled  to  their  native  city, 
where  the  former  devoted  himself  to  his  poetical  pur- 
suits; but  the  unsettled  state  of  parties  rendered  it 
prudent  for  liim  to  spend  the  greater  part  of  his  time  at 
(jcuoa. 

The  emperor  Charles  having  succeeded  in  placing 
Alexander  de  Medicis  at  the  head  of  the  government 
of  Florence,  Alamanni  was  again  obliged,  in  1232,  to 
withdraw  from  his  native  city.  He  put  himself  under 
the  protection  of  Francis  I.  who  employed  him  in 
several  important  atlairs,  honoured  him  with  the  collar 
of  the  order  of  St.  3Iichael,  and  appointed  him  steward 
of  the  household  of  Catharine  de  Medicis.  Upon  the 
death  of  the  pope  in  1 534,  and  of  Alexander  de  Medicis 
in  1537,  the  hopes  of  liberty  again, animated  the  hearts 
of  the  Florentines;  and  Alamanni  did  not  fail  to  en- 
courage them,  both  by  his  letters  and  his  presence. 
When  peace  was  concluded  in  1544,  between  the  em- 
peror and  Francis  I.  Alamanni  was  sent  ambassador  to 
the  former.  In  one  of  his  poems  in  praise  of  Francis, 
there  were  some  satirical  passages  against  the  emperor, 
and  one  particularly,  in  which  the  Cock  says  to  the 
Eagle, 

L'aquila  g;rifagna 
Che  per  piu  divorar  due  becclii  porta. 

"  Two  crooked  bills  the  ravenous  eagle  bears 
The  better  to  devour.'* 

The  emperor  recollected  the  passage,  and  when  Ala- 
manni was  pronouncing  a  fine  speech  in  his  praise,  be- 
ginning every  sentence  with  the  word  J/iiiiln,  Charles 
made  no  other  reply  than  in  the  words  already  quoted. 
Alamanni  evaded  the  severity  of  the  retort,  and  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  the  emperor,  by  remarking,  that  he 
then  spoke  as  a  poet,  whose  province  is  fiction,  but  that 
he  now  spoke  as  an  ambassador,  who  was  bound  to  tell 
the  truth.  / 

After  the  death  of  Francis,  his  successor  Henry  II.  em- 
ployed Alamanni  in  various  political  missions.  Upon  his 
return  from  an  embassy  to  Italy,  to  Amboise,  the  resi- 
dence of  the  court,  he  died  of  dysentery,  on  the  1 8th 
April,  1550,  in  the  60th  year  of  his  age.  His  ejiitaph, 
written  by  his  friend  Benedict  Varchi,  concluded  with 
the  following  lines : 

Sparge  rosas  tumulo  violasqne  :  liic  illc  Atmannns 
Petrarch*  versu  proximus  ut  patria. 

Although  the  character  of  Alamanni  seems  to  have 
been  generally  esteemed,  we  cannot  close  this  sketch  of 
his  life  without  severely  reprobating  that  barbarous 
resolution  which  formed  the  basis  of  his  future  adven- 
tures. Had  the  restoration  of  liberty  to  the  Florentines 
been  the  real  object  of  the  conspirators,  we  might  hn\e 
found  some  apology  in  human  passions,  for  the  atro- 
cious deed  by  which  they  proposed  to  secure  it.  But 
no  consideration  can  lessen  the  villany  of  the  man  who 
raises  the  arm  of  an  assassin  to  gratify  the  malignity  of 
private  revenge.  The  cardinal  Julius  was  enfifled  to 
the  highest  praise,  for  fairly  ailmiuistering  the  laws 


which  he  h.ad  framed.  He  has  shown,  in  the  punish- 
ment of  Alamanni,  that  he  had  not  one  statute  for  the 
rich  and  another  for  the  poor;  and  for  this  part  of  his 
life  posterity  will  do  justice  to  his  name.  But  whatever 
may  have  been  the  subsequent  conduct  of  Alamanni, 
and  however  high  be  the  reputation  which  he  has  ob- 
tained as  a  literary  character,  we  can  only  view  him  as  a 
culprit  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  elude  the  vigilance 
of  justice. 

The  printed  works  of  Alamanni  are,  1.  Opere  Toscane, 
2  vols.  1532,  1533.  containing  Elegies,  Eclogues,  Son- 
nets, Satires,  Tragedies,  &c.  2.  A  Poem  on  Agricul- 
ture, entitled.  La  Coltivazione,  1546.  3.  Girone  U  Cor- 
tese,  or  G iron  the  Courteous,  1548.  4.  An  Epic  Poem, 
called  UAvarchide,  or  the  Siege  of  Bourges,  1570.  5. 
Flora,  a  Comedy,  1556.  6.  Epigrammi.  7.  His  Ora- 
sione  e  Selva.  8.  Rime,  or  Verses.  He  is  also  the  au- 
thor of  Letters,  Orations,  Elegies,  and  several  unpub- 
lished works,  (fee.  See  Mazzuchelli's  Scritiori  (Tltalia, 
torn.  i.  p.  245.  (/3) 

ALAN,  or  ALLEN,  William,  a  celebrated  cardinal, 
was  born  at  Kossal,  in  Lancashire,  in  1532.  After  a 
successful  prosecution  of  his  stutlies  at  Oriel  College, 
Oxford,  he  was,  in  1556,  made  principal  of  St.  Mary's 
Hall,  and  one  of  the  proctors  of  the  university.  In  1558, 
he  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of  canon  of  York  ;  but,  from 
his  attachment  to  the  catholic  faith,  his  hopes  of  prefer- 
ment were  blasted  by  the  death  of  queen  Mary.  He 
therefore  quitted  his  nativecountry  in  1560,and  connect- 
ed himself  with  the  English  College  at  Louvain.  Here 
he  was  universally  esteemed  for  (he  extent  of  his  erudi- 
tion, and  the  aflTability  of  his  manners,  and  obtained  the 
highest  distinction  from  a  work  which  he  published  at 
Antwerp  in  1565,  entitled, "  A  Defence  of  the  Doctrine 
of  Purgatory,  and  Prayers  lor  the  Dead."  From  his 
extreme  application  to  study,  his  health  began  to  de- 
cline ;  and  he  was  induced  to  return  to  England  in  1565, 
for  the  benefit  of  his  native  air.  His  zeal  lor  the  reli- 
gion which  he  was  taught,  did  not  here^^'orsake  him. 
His  industry  in  making  proselytrs  rendered  him  highly 
obnoxious,  and  compelled  him  to  conceal  himself  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Oxford,  where  he  found  leisure  to 
write  a  defence  of  the  Catholic  faith.  The  attempts, 
however,  which  he  was  perpetually  making  in  favour  of 
his  religion,  again  excited  notice,  and  forced  him,  in 
1568,  to  retire  to  Flanders.  Kis  character,  as  a  learned 
and  able  theologian,  induced  the  university  of  Douay  to 
make  him  a  doctor  of  divinity,  and  obtained  Itim  the  of- 
fice of  canon  of  Cambray.  The  attention  of  Alan  was 
now  solely  occupied  in  establishing  seminaries  for  the 
education  of  English  Catholics,  and  in  composing  trea- 
tises in  defence  of  the  doctrines  and  ceremonies  oi'  the 
Romish  church.  His  works  were  re2:anled  as  trt^ason- 
able  in  England  :  They  were  j/rohibitedto  be  eith.'i'  sold 
or  read ;  and  Alfield,  a  Jesuit,  was  executed  in  1585,  for 
importing  them  into  the  kingdom.  The  hostility  of 
Alan  to  the  religion  and  goveroment  of  his  native  coun- 
try was  not  merely  displayed  in  his  writings  in  favour  of 
the  Romish  hierarchy ;  he  united  with  some  exiled  Eng- 
lish noblemen  in  instigating  Phili|)  II.  of  Spain  to  make 
a  descent  upon  England;  and  viuclicated  the  treachery  of 
sir  W.  Stanley,  in  surrendering  Davanter  to  the  Spanish 
arms.  As  a  rewaitl  for  these  services,  he  was  creattd 
a  cardinal  in  1587  ;  and  the  Spiinish  monarch  appointed 
him  to  a  valuable  abbey  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples. 
Encouraged  by  these  preferments,  the  cardinal  took 
an  active  share  io  promoting  the  views  of  the  Span- 


ALA 


ALA 


363 


iitli  armada.  He  is  said  to  have  composed  a  work, 
of  which  an  immense  impression  was  thrown  off  at 
Antwerp  for  the  purpose  of  disseminating  seditious 
principles  in  England,  and  of  alienating  his  countrymen 
from  the  laws,  as  well  as  from  the  faith  of  their  country. 
The  violence  which  characterized  this  inflammatory 
production  was  not  approved  of  by  the  more  sober 
Catholics;  but  it  raised  the  cardinal  to. higher  favour 
with  the  king  of  Spain,  who  now  promoted  him  to  the 
archbishopric  of  Mechlin.  He  continued,  however,  to 
reside  at  Rome,  affording  an  asylum  to  his  exiled  coun- 
trymen, and  exerting  his  talents  in  support  of  the 
Catholic  faith.  About  the  close  of  his  life,  he  is  said  to 
have  regretted  the  measures  which  he  promoted  against 
his  native  country,  and  to  have  expressed  an  anxiety  for 
reconciling  the  Profesfants  and  Catholics.  There  does 
not  appear,  however,  to  be  sufficient  evidence  for  this 
conjecture.  The  character  of  the  cardinal  was  too  de- 
cided, his  attachment  to  the  Catholic  superstition  too 
strong,  and  his  enmity  to  England  too  frequently  shown, 
and  too  deliberately  cherished,  to  admit  of  any  unmanly 
mitigation  at  the  hour  of  death.  He  died  in  1594,  and 
was  suspected,  though  without  reason,  to  have  been  poi- 
soned by  the  Jesuits.  His  remains  were  carried  in  great 
pomp  to  the  chapel  of  the  English  College  at  Rome, 
where  a  splendid  monument  still  records  his  sufferings 
and  labours. 

The  character  of  cardinal  Alan  has  been  depicted  in 
various  colours.  As  a  zealous  Catholic,  who  boldly 
defended  the  religion  which  he  taught,  no  liberal  man 
can  throw  the  least  imputation  upon  his  name.  He 
who  maintains  with  uniform  firmness  the  deliberate 
convictions  of  his  mind,  however  false  or  dangerous 
these  convictions  may  be,  is  more  an  object  of  praise 
than  of  censure ;  but  he  who  maintains  them  in  the 
worst  of  times,  at  the  expense  of  his  tranquillity,  and 
the  risk  of  his  life,  exhibits  the  features  of  a  great 
and  intrepid  soul,  which  claims  even  the  reverence  and 
esteem  of  his  enemies.  Such  was  the  character  of 
cardinal  Alan  as  a  defender  of  the  church  of  Rome. 

But  here  our  approbation  of  his  conduct  must  termi- 
nate. No  sophistry  can  justify  his  repeated  attem|)ts 
against  the  security  of  his  native  land ;  and,  whatever 
'  palliation  may  be  found  in  the  persecutions  which  he 
sustained,  or  in  the  political  principles  of  his  faith,  we 
cannot  stain  our  page  with  an  apology  for  the  cold- 
blooded traitor  who  allows  personal  suffering  to  extin- 
guish in  his  breast  the  first  and  the  noblest  of  all  feel- 
ings, the  love  of  country.  An  invisible  chain,  forged 
by  the  hand  of  nature,  connects  the  heart  of  man  with 
the  soil  on  which  he  first  drew  his  l)reath.  The  very 
turf  on  which  he  treads  is  hallowed  in  a  patriot's  eye ; 
and  the  remembrance  of  early  attachments  becomes  a 
powerful  check  u|ion  every  emotion  that  tends  to  iveak- 
en  or  dissolve  the  sacred  tie.  A  patriot  in  exile  is  one 
of  the  noblest  of  human  beings :  he  may  lawfully  sigh  for 
some  change  of  aflfairs,  which  will  peniiit  him  to  return 
to  his  country;  but  he  will  never  sacrilegiously  lift  his 
arm  against  the  land  that  gave  him  birth.  Such  ought 
to  have  been  the  cardinal's  conduct.  He  would  not  in- 
deed have  been  elevated  to  the  splendour  of  archiepis- 
copnl  dignity,  but  he  would  have  left  behind  him  a  name 
which  posterity  would  have  cherished,  and  which  every 
liberal  Protestant  and  Catholic  would  have  mentioned 
with  reverence  and  respect. 

As  an  author,  Alan  has  been  ranked  among  the  ablest 
defenders  of  the  doctrines  of  his  church.     His  writings 


on  this  subject  are  numerous ;  but  the  ablest  of  them  is 
a  work  entitled, "  A  True,  Sincere,  and  Modest  Defence 
of  Christian  Catholics,  that  suflTcred  for  their  Faith  at 
home  and  abroad,  1583."  It  is  a  reply  to  a  work  written 
by  Lord  Burleigh,  and  has  been  highly  esteemed.  .See 
Fuller's  Worthies,  and  Andrew's  Hist,  of  Great  Britain, 
3d  edit.  p.  511,524.     (^) 

ALAND,  an  island  in  the  Baltic,  which  gives  the 
name  to  a  cluster  of  80  adjacent  islands  belonging  to 
Sweden,  is  20  miles  long  and  1 6  broad.  There  are  3750 
acres  of  land  in  cultivation,  which  produce  wheat,  bar- 
ley, oats,  and  rye.  The  quantity  of  wheat  annually  pro- 
duced is  about  2500  barrels.  The  climate  of  Aland 
seems  to  be  uncommonly  salubrious.  Instances  of  lon- 
gevity are  very  nimicrous;  and  one-sixth  of  the  inhabi- 
tants are  above  50  years  of  age.  According  to  Mr.  Coxe 
and  Acerbi,  the  mountains  are  chiefly  of  granite ;  and 
the  soil  is  so  fertile,  that  scarcity  of  corn  is  seldom  ex- 
perienced. The  inhabitants  subsist  by  agriculture, 
hunting,  and  fishing,  and  carry  on  a  traffic  in  coals,  lime, 
butter,  &c.  As  a  proof  of  the  regularity  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, it  has  been  stated,  that  from  1749  to  1753,  only 
seven  murders  have  been  committed,  and  seven  crimi- 
n.ds  capitally  convicted.  The  principal  town  is  Castel- 
holm,  situated  in  the  south-east  of  the  island.  The  an- 
nual revenue  which  Aland  yields  to  the  king  of  Sweden 
is  19,986  rix-dollars.  The  population,  in  1792,  was 
ll,2f)0.  E.  Long.  20»  3'.  N.  Lat.  00°  19'.  See  Coxe's 
Travels,  and  Acerbi's  Travels,  v.  i.  p.  194 — •201.     (o) 

ALANGIUM,  a  genus  of  plants,  of  the  class  Polyan- 
dria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botanv.     (»b) 

ALANS,  a  fierce  and  warlike  people,  of  Asiatic,  and 
probably  of  Tartar  origin.  Their  early  residence  ap- 
pears to  have  been  near  the  districts  of  (Jufa  and  Solem- 
skoi,  and  the  mountainous  country  where  the  .taick 
takes  its  rise ;  but  they  afterwards  migrated  towards  the 
south,  and  occupied  the  plains  which  lie  to  the  north  of 
Derbcnd  and  Circassia.  Of  an  adventurous  and  martial 
disposition,  they  at  length  reached  the  Danube;  and 
proceeding  from  their  settlements  on  that  river,  they 
traversed  Gaul,  A.  D.  406,  and  established  themselves 
at  the  foot  of  the  Pyrenees.  They  next  entered  Spain, 
and  took  possession  of  many  of  its  finest  provinces;  but 
they  were  afterwards  dispersed  by  the  Goths  and  Pranks, 
and  their  name  was  ultimately  lost  in  those  of  their 
conquerors.  The  Alans  resembled  the  Tartars  in  many 
of  their  habits  and  customs.  Like  them,  they  travelled 
in  wagons  from  place  to  place;  like  them  too,  they  re- 
garded their  flocks  as  their  principal  riches ;  and,  like 
many  tribes  of  the  same  people,  they  adorned  the  trap- 
pings of  their  horses  with  the  scalps  of  their  enemies 
whom  they  had  slain  in  the  field.  Their  chief  occupa- 
tion was  the  exercise  of  arms ;  they  considered  those 
who  died  in  battle  as  fortunate  and  happy,  while  they 
reckoned  it  disgraceful  to  wait  the  approaches  of  dis- 
solution among  their  women  and  children.  Such  was 
their  inclination  to  war,  that  it  is  said  they  worshipped 
a  naked  scymitar  fixed  in  the  earth ;  but  whether  as  a 
divinity,  or  only  as  an  emblem  of  the  God  of  battles,  his- 
tory does  not  enable  us  to  determine.  See  Avimian. 
MarceU.  xxxi.  2. ;  Gibbon,  Hist.  vol.  ii.  p.  56.  chap.  1 2. 
vol.  iv.  p.  312,  335,  chap.  26.  De  Guigne's  Hisloire  des 
Huns,  torn.  ii.  p.  279.     (h) 

ALARIC  I.,  king  of  the  Visigoths,  and  sprung  from 

the  noble  race  of  the  Balti,  who  yielded  only  to  the 

Amali  in  the  fame  which  arises  from  barbarous  valour. 

He  first  became  distinguished  A.  D.  376  when  he  past- 

Z  z2 


3(54 


ALA 


ALA 


ed  the  Danube  at  the  head  of  200,000  men ;  and,  af- 
ter a  life  spent  in  continual  warfare,  he  died  in  the 
year  410. 

When  the  Roman  emperors  perceived  the  difficulty 
of  maintaining  their  possessions  in  Gaul  and  Germany, 
they'  adopted  the  policy  of  hiring  one  tribe  of  the  bar- 
barians who  invaded  them,  to  defend  the  provinces 
against  the  irruptions  of  another.  Accordingly  Alaric  I. 
served  with  great  re|)utation  in  the  war  with  the  Goths, 
which  was  terminated  A.  D.  382;  but  after  the  death 
of  Tlieodosius,  he  imagined  that  he  was  overlooked ; 
and,  collecting  an  army,  he  ravaged  Pannonia  andDacia, 
and  burst  with  resistless  fury  into  Greece.  He  soon 
laid  waste  tlie  fairest  regions  of  that  country.  The 
whole  territory  of  Attica,  from  the  promontory  of  Su- 
rium  to  the  town  of  Megara,  was  desolated  by  the  march 
of  his  troops ;  and  the  city  itself  was  spared  only  by  the 
readiness  with  which  the  Athenians  admitted  the  con- 
queror within  their  walls.  Having  spent  a  short  time 
at  Athens,  the  Gothic  leader  advanced  into  Peloi)on- 
nesus,  marking  his  way  with  all  the  cruelty  and  de- 
struction which  attend  the  progress  of  men  w  ho  are 
fierce  by  nature  and  powerful  by  their  numbers,  and 
whose  rapacity  is  stimulated  by  the  immediate  prospect 
of  wealth.  But  though  the  Roman  valour  had  declined, 
it  was  not  extinct.  The  career  of  Alaric  was  stopt  by 
Slilicho,  a  general  of  the  empire,  who  compelled  him 
to  retreat  to  Arcadia  ;  but,  either  by  negligence  or  con- 
nivance, he  was  allowed  to  escape,  and  take  refuge  in 
Epirus.  Cunning,  however,  as  well  as  brave,  he  en- 
tered into  a  treaty  with  Arcadius  the  eastern  emperor, 
and  was  raised  to  the  government  of  the  provinces 
which  he  had  laid  waste ;  till  having  amused  both  Ar- 
cadius and  Honorius,  his  rival  in  power,  with  deceitful 
procrastination,  he  invaded  Italy  A.  D.  400, and  ravaged 
it  for  some  time  without  opposition.  Unable  to  resist 
the  fury  of  the  barbarians,  Honorius  fled  at  their  ap- 
proach. Alaric  drove  him  from  one  fortress  to  another, 
and  would  have  reduced  him  to  utter  subjection,  if  Sti- 
licho  had  not  advanced  to  his  relief;  and,  by  a  success- 
ful attack  upon  the  Goths,  when  celebrating  the  festival 
of  Easter,  overthrown  them  with  great  slaughter,  and 
vindicated  the  honour  of  the  Roman  name.  After  the 
death  of  Stilicho,  Alaric  invaded  Italy  a  second  time. 
He  passed  the  Alps  and  the  Po;  and  being  joined  by 
300,000  auxiliaries,  he  pitched  his  camp  before  the  walls 
of  Rome.  He  was  induced,  however,  by  large  sums  of 
money,  to  raise  the  siege  ;  but  having  received  a  pow- 
erful reinforcement  of  Goths  and  Huns,  led  from  the 
hanks  of  the  Danube  by  Adolpbus  his  relation,  he  again 
invested  the  capital,  entered  it  by  force,  deprived  Hono- 
rius of  Ihe  imperial  dignity,  and  finally,  (A.  D.  410, 
A.  U.  C.  1 163,)  gave  up  the  city  to  be  plundered  by  his 
soldiers.  Yet  as  some  of  the  Goths  were  Christians, 
they  spared  many  of  the  inhabitants,  and  respected  the 
edifices  sacred  to  the  worship  of  God ;  but  the  Huns, 
and  other  savage  tribes,  who  formed  a  part  of  the  vic- 
torious army,  indulged  their  cruelty,  their  ferocity,  and 
their  lust,  without  pity  or  restraint;  and  the  awful  de- 
vastation continued  no  fewer  than  six  days.  After  the 
taking  of  Rome,  Alaric  died,  while  his  troops  were  em- 
barking for  Sicily,  and  was  buried  in  the  channel  of  the 
river  Busentiiis,  the  water  of  which  had  been  diverted 
from  its  course,  that  the  body  might  be  interred. 

Alaric  was  a  Goth,  but  not  one  of  the  rudest  sort. 
He  not  only  possessed  the  direct  and  brutal  courage  of 
a,  barbarian,  but  was  eminent,  in  some  degree,  for  the 


penetration  and  the  policy  of  more  cultivated  times.  Gib- 
bon Hist.  vol.  V.  p.  147.  chap.  30.  Ancient  Univ.  Hist. 
vol.  xvii.  p.  191,  et  scq.  Goldsmith's  Hist,  of  Rome,, 
vol.  ii.     (A) 

ALAUIC  II.  in  Biography,  king  of  the  Visigoths. 
He  succeeded  his  father  Euric  in  the  year  484,  and  died 
A.  D.  307.  He  reigned  over  all  the  country  which  ex- 
tends from  the  Garonne  to  the  Rhone ;  he  adapted  the 
Theodosian  laws  to  (he  situation  and  manners  of  his  peo- 
ple, and  pul>lished  them  as  the  institutes  by  which 
they  were  to  be  governed.  These  institutes  were  after- 
wards known  by  the  title  of  The  code  of  Alaric.  Ac- 
cording to  Bouchard,  this  code  was  compiled  from  the 
Gregorian,  Hermogenian,  and  Theodosian  laws,  and 
from  the  works  of  Caius,  Julius,  Paulus,  and  Papianus. 
In  the  reign  of  this  prince,  the  Christian  world  was  di- 
vided by  the  Arian  controversy.  He  espoused  the  te- 
nets of  the  heresiarch,  and,  as  was  usual  at  that  period, 
drew  his  sword  in  order  to  supjiort  them  ;  but  he  found 
a  powerful  antagonist  in  Clovis,  the  monarch  of  the 
Franks,  who  led  an  army  against  him,  with  a  view  to 
maintain  the  orthodox  Ijclief.  Guided  by  a  white  hart 
of  singular  beauty,  and  directed  by  a  meteor  which  ho- 
vered over  the  cathedral  of  Poictiers,  Clovis  ad- 
vanced to  the  Champagne  de  St.  Hilare,  and  routed  the 
Goths,  whom  prodigies  and  evil  omens  had  deprived  of 
their  wonted  courage.  The  two  kings  met  in  single 
encounter;  but  the  fortune  of  Clovis  prevailed,  and  Ala- 
ric fell  by  the  hand  of  his  rival.  He  was  succeeded  by 
Gesalaic,  his  natural  son.  Gibbon,  vol.  vi.  chap.  38,  et 
scq.  Univ.  History,  vo^.  xvi.  p.  6.  (h)  See  Bouchanl's 
Memoir  on  the  laws  of  Alaric,  in  the  Mem.  de  CInstitut. 
National,  torn.  iv.     (w) 

ALASCANI,  the  name  of  a  religious  sect,  who  took 
their  name  from  John  Alasco,  a  Polish  nobleman,  and  a 
near  relation  of  the  king  of  Poland.  He  was  originally 
a  bishop  of  the  church  of  Rome,  and  purchased  the 
valuable  library  of  Erasmus,  when  that  learned  man  was 
lying  on  his  death-bed.  jln  consequence  of  having  adopt- 
ed the  principles  of  the  Reformation,  he  was  banished, 
from  his  native  country.  Alasco  took  the  charge  of  a 
Protestant  church  in  Embden ;  but,  on  (he  promulgation 
of  the  Interim,  he  and  his  congregation  fled  for  shelter 
to  England,  where  the  reformed  religion  was  making 
rapid  progress  under  the  auspices  of  Edward  VI.  These, 
and  other  Protestant  refugees,  to  the  number  of  380, 
were  made  denizens  of  England :  they  were  erected 
into  a  corporation  by  Edward,  under  the  care  of  Alasco, 
and  received  a  grant  of  the  church  of  the  Augustin 
friars,  in  1350.  Upon  the  accession  of  Mary,  however, 
most  of  the  Alascani  were  obliged  to  fly  the  kingdom. 
Alasco,  and  some  of  his  congregation,  embarked  for 
Denmark ;  but  as  soon  as  their  principles  were  made 
known,  they  were  compelled  to  depart  in  the  midst  of 
winter.  They  afterwards  went  to  Lubec,  Wismar,  and 
Hamburgh ;  but,  in  consequence  of  the  religious  ani- 
mosities which  prevailed,  they  were  expelled  from 
these  towns,  after  the  most  barbarous  treatment.  They 
at  last  found  an  asylum  at  Embden.  In  1560,  w  hen  the 
supreme  power  devolved  on  Elizabeth,  the  Alascani 
were  restored  to  their  privileges,  on  condition  that  no 
foreigner  should  be  at  the  head  of  their  congregation. 
They  were  therefore  obliged  to  depose  Alasco,  and  to 
choose  Grindal,  Bishop  of  London.  The  church  in 
Austin  Friars,  which  was  then  given  them,  is  still  re- 
tained by  their  descendants.  By  the  kindness  of  Sigis- 
muud,  Alasco  spent  the  latter  part  of  his  life  in  Poland, 


ALB 


ALB 


36.- 


■where  he  died  1560.  The  Alascani  ■were  hostile  to 
episcopal  forms,  they  received  the  sacrament  sitting, 
they  denied  llie  necessity  of  baptism,  and  maintained, 
that  the  expression,  "  This  is  my  body,"  in  the  institu- 
tion of  the  eucharist,  refers  not  merely  to  the  bread,  but 
to  the  whole  celebration  of  the  supper.  See  Neal's  Hist._ 
of  the  Puritans,  vol.  i.  p.  165,  and  Andrew's  Britain,  vol. 
i.  18,  357,  415,  467.     (o) 

ALAT  AMAH  A,  a  navigable  river  in  Georgia,  which 
rises  in  the  Cherokee  mountains ;  and,  after  traversing 
500  miles  of  country,  discharges  itself  by  several  mouths, 
into  the  Atlantic,  where  its  breadth  is  about  500  miles. 

(«') 

ALAUDA,  or  Lark,  a  genus  of  bn-ds,  of  the  order 

of  Passeres.     Sec  Ornithology. 

ALAY,  or  Triumph,  the  name  of  a  ceremony  prac- 
tised by  the  Turks  at  the  commencement  of  war.  We 
are  informed  by  Baron  Tott,  who  saw  the  ceremony 
which  accompanied  the  breaking  out  of  a  war  between 
Russia  and  the  Porte,  that  the  alay  consists  of  a  kind  of 
masquerade,  in  which  the  different  tradesmen  exhibit 
to  the  spectators  the  implements  of  their  respective 
arts,  and  their  mode  of  operation.  The  husbandman 
guides  his  plough ;  the  joiner  handles  his  plane ;  and 
these  motley  groups,  seated  in  splendid  oars,  begin  the 
procession.  Then  follows  the  standard  of  their  prophet 
Mahomet,  brought  from  the  seraglio  to  be  carried  to 
the  Ottoman  army.  This  sacred  banner  is  viewed  with 
the  most  stupid  fanaticism.  None  but  the  emirs  are 
allowed  to  touch  it;  and  the  very  look  of  an  infidel  is 
sufficient  to  profane  the  consecrated  standard.  The 
alay  having  been  almost  forgotten,  from  the  long  peace 
which  ()receded  the  war  which  we  have  mentioned,  the 
Christians  imprudently  crowded  to  witness  the  exhibi- 
tion. The  emir,  who  preceded  the  holy  standard,  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  "  Let  no  intidel  profane  with  his  pre- 
sence the  banner  of  the  Pro|)het;  and  let  every  Blussel- 
man  who  perceives  an  unbeliever,  make  it  known,  under 
pain  of  reprobation." 

At  the  sound  of  these  words,  the  brutal  fanaticism  of 
the  Turks  was  roused.  A  thirst  for  christian  blood  seized 
every  breast,  and  a  scene  of  massacre  ensued,  which 
language  is  tqo  feeble  to  describe.  Neither  the  help- 
lessness of  infancy,  nor  the  infirmities  of  age,  nor  the 
most  affecting  circumstances  of  female  distress,  could 
save  the  devoted  christians  from  the  knives  of  their  re- 
ligious assassins.  (/3) 

ALBA,  ^/feflPom/^fm  of  the  Romans,  a  city  in  France, 
in  the  department  of  Tanaro,  and  situated  on  the  river 
Tunaro.  Besides  its  cathedral,  there  are  six  churches, 
and  seven  convents.  Population,  9650.  E.  Long.  7"  51'. 
N.  lat.  44»  40'.     [w] 

ALBA.    See  Albi. 

ALB  AN,  St.  celebrated  as  the  first  Christian  martyr, 
in  Britain,  was  born  at  Verulam,  about  the  middle  of  the 
third  century.  In  the  early  part  of  his  life,  he  went  to 
Rome  along  with  the  monk  Anipbibalus,  and  served  se- 
ven years  in  the  army  of  Dioclesian.  Upon  his  return 
to  the  place  of  his  nativity,  he  was  converted  to  the 
Christian  faith  by  Amphibalus ;  but,  being  cited  before 
the  Roman  governor  for  harbouring  Amphibalus  in  his 
house,  he  suffered  martyrdom,  about  303,  in  the  per- 
secutioii  which  happened  under  the  reign  of  Dioclesian. 
A  number  of  miracles  are  said  to  have  marked  the  exe- 
cution of  St.  Alban,  but  we  cannot  stoop  to  notice  such 
contemptible  forgeries.  A  mngnificent  monastery  was 
erected  to  his  memory  by  Offa,  king  of  the  Merciaus ; 


and  the  town  of  St.  Albans  borrows  its  name  from  this  il- 
lustrious martyr.  While  the  church  of  St.  Albans  «  as  re- 
pairing in  1257,  several  leaden  chests  were  found,  con- 
taining relics;  and  on  a  plate  of  lead  was  the  following 
inscription : — "  In  hoc  mausoko,  inventum  est  vaurahile 
corpus  Sancti  Albani,  proloinarfyris  Anglorum.'''  (o) 

ALB ANI,  or  Albano,  Francis,  a  celebrated  painter, 
was  the  son  of  a  silk  merchant  at  Bologna,  and  was  born 
in  that  city  on  the  17th  March,  1578.  He  was  intended 
for  the  profession  of  his  father ;  but  the  attachment  to 
painting,  which  he  showed  at  the  age  of  twelve,  was  not 
congenial  with  these  commercial  views.  The  deatli  of 
his  father,  however,  left  him  at  full  liberty  to  prosecute 
his  favourite  studies.  He  studied  under  Denys  Calvert, 
along  with  the  celebrated  Guido  Rheni,  who  gave  him 
more  instruction  than  his  master,  and  with  whom  he 
formed  the  most  intimate  friendship.  Albani  followed 
Guido  to  the  school  of  the  Caracci,  but  mutual  jealousies 
began  to  cool  the  friendship  which  they  had  contracted. 
From  the  school  of  the  Caracci,  Albani  went  to  Rome, 
where  he  resided  18  years  ;  but,  in  consequence  of  the 
death  of  his  wife,  he  was  induced  to  return  to  Bologna, 
where  he  married  a  second  wife,  by  whom  he  had  twelve 
children.  Albani  employed  his  wife  and  children,  as  the 
models  of  Venuses  and  Cupids;  but  though  the  origi- 
nals were  well  proportioned  and  extremely  beautiful, 
yet,  by  constantly  painting  from  them,  his  figures  exhibit 
too  great  a  similarity,  both  in  form  and  attitude.  In  the 
retirement  of  one  of  his  country  houses,  which  was  ro- 
mantically decorated  with  groves  and  fountains,  he  stu- 
died the  landscape  scenery,  with  which  his  pictures 
were  enriched ;  and  in  this  department  he  displayed  that 
harmony  of  colouring,  and  elegance  of  design,  which 
mark  the  productions  of  his  pencil.  One  of  the  most 
celebrated  of  Albani's  pictures  is  his  painting  of  the 
Four  Elements,  which  is  preserved  in  the  palace  of  Tu- 
rin. His  other  principal  works  are  at  Bologaa  and  Rome  : 
and  his  cabinet  pictures  are  to  be  found  in  Inost  collec- 
tions of  any  considerable  extent. 

The  private  character  of  Albani  was  marked  by  mild- 
ness of  disposition,  and  the  most  unaffected  modestj'. 
He  was  agreeable  in  conversation,  kind  and  attentive  to 
his  pupils,  and  distinguished  by  all  the  domestic  virtues. 
Albani  was  favoured  with  visits  from  the  most  illustrious 
painters.  He  was  honoured  with  the  correspondence  of 
several  princes,  and  was  invited  to  England  bj' Charles  I. 
in  a  letter  signed  with  his  own  hand.  Albani  lived  to  a 
great  age,  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  faculties.  He  died 
at  Bolc^na,  in  1660,  in  the  eighty-second  year  of  his 
age.  See  d'Argenville's  Abregi  de  la  Vie  dcs  Ficnlres, 
toni.  i.  p.  295,  and  Fclsina  Pittrice,  vol.  ii.  (o) 

ALBANIA,  the  ancient  name  of  a  kingdom  iu  Asia, 
situated  between  the  Euxine  and  Caspian  seas.  It  is 
now  known  by  the  names  of  Shirwan  and  East  Georgia. 
Strabo  informs  us,  that  the  Albani  had  twenty-six  ditfer- 
ent  languages,  and  as  many  kings  and  kingdoms.  This 
country  was  governed  by  its  own  monarchs,  till  it  was 
subdued  by  Leontius,  in  the  reign  of  Justinian  II.  Its 
capital  was  Albania,  now  Nias-abad,  which  had  a  well 
frequented  harbour,  that  still  exits.  On  the  south-west 
of  the  city  lies  the  defile,  called  by  the  ancients  Pylce 
Albania:,  to  which  the  Arabs  have  given  the  name  of 
Baiial-abuad.  (w) 

ALBANIA,  sometimes  cnWeA  ArnoMt,  is  one  of  the 
provinces  of  Turkey  in  Europe,  situated  on  the  Adriatic. 
It  is  the  lllyricum  Graciense  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  Epi- 
rus  of  the  Romans,  Its  principal  towns  are  Durazzo  and 


366 


ALB 


ALB 


PoUna,  ancienfly  Dyrrachium  aud  ApoUonia.  Ks  length 
is  30  miles,  and  its  lireadtli  20.  The  soil  is  fertile,  and 
it  produces  excellent  wines;  and  its  manufacture  is  chief- 
ly carpets.  Mahomet  II.  who  conquered  this  province, 
annexed  it  to  the  Ottoman  empire  in  1467.  Some  of  the 
western  part  of  Albania  belongs  to  the  Venetians.  E. 
Long,  from  1 8°  34'  to  21"  53'.     N.  Lat.  from  aO"  to  43o. 

ALBANO.a  tow  n  in  Italy,  in  the  Campagnadi  Roma, 
built  by  Nero  on  the  ruins  of  Alba  Longa,  and  situated 
on  a  lake  of  the  same  name.  At  the  entrance  of  Albano 
appears  a  mausoleum  in  ruins,  which  is  said  to  be  As- 
canius's  tomb ;  and  another  mausoleum  about  45  feet 
square,  with  five  pyramids  about  10  feet  in  diameter,  is 
reputed  to  be  the  tomb  of  the  Horatii  and  Curiatii, 
though  some  are  of  opinion,  that  it  is  the  tomb  of  Pom- 
pey.  The  ruins  of  Domilian's  palace  likewise  is  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Albano.  The  lake  of  Albano  is  of  an 
elliptical  form.  It  is  seven  miles  in  circumference,  and 
is  surrounded  by  very  high  mountains.  The  water  is 
conveyed  by  a  canal,  which  is  said  to  have  been  con- 
structed about  398  years  before  the  Christian  era.  The 
Roman  nobility  retire  during  summer  to  Albano,  which 
is  remarkable  for  the  excellence  of  its  wines,  and  the 
»<alubrity  of  its  climate.  It  is  15  miles  south-east  of 
Rome.    E.  Long.  1 2°  38'  1 5".     N .  Lat.  4 1 »  43'  50''.  (o) 

ALBANS,  St.  a  borough  and  market-town  in  Hert- 
fordshire, built  near  the  ancient  Verulam,  of  which  no- 
thing remains  but  the  ruins  of  a  few  walls,  and  earth- 
works, where  Roman  coins  and  pottery  are  frequently 
found.  In  705,  Offa,  king  of ,  the  Mercians,  erected  a 
monastery  to  St.  Alban,  on  the  place  where  he  suffered 
martyrdom ;  from  which  circumstance,  the  town  that 
was  afterwards  built  near  the  spot  derived  its  name.  In 
the  church  belonging  to  the  monastery  are  the  tombs  of 
Offa  its  founder,  St.  Alban,  and  Humphrey  duke  of 
(•Jloucester.  The  vault  which  contains  the  tomb  of  the 
duke  was  discovered  about  80  years  ago,  when  the  body 
was  entire.  An  ancieutfort  in  the  neighbourhood,  called 
Oysterhills,  which  exists  only  in  ruins,  is  supposed  to 
be  the  camp  of  Ostorius.  It  was  at  Verulam  that  Cfesar 
defeated  Cassibelan,  and  that  Boadicea  massacred  70,000 
Romans  and  Britons,  who  had  joined  them.  The  mo- 
nument of  the  illustrious  Francis  Baron,  lord  Veru- 
lam, built  by  his  secretary  sir  Thomas  ftleautys,  adorns 
the  church  of  St.  Michael.  Population  4304.  W.  Long. 
0»  12'.  N.  Lat.  51"  44'.  See  Newcome's  Jfirf.  of  Si.  Al- 
bails,  (t) 

ALBANY,  the  capital  of  a  county  of  the  same  name 
in  New-York.  The  position  of  Albany  for  commerce 
is  unrivalled,  being  situated  at  the  head  of  a  sloop  navi- 
gation in  Hudson's  river.  The  climate  is  healthy,  the 
surrounding  country  is  fertile,  and  is  watered  with  innu- 
merable navigable  lakes,  creeks,  and  rivers;  so  that, 
with  the  contemplated  improvements  of  canals,  arches, 
and  roads,  Albany  will  probably  be  one  of  the  first  towns 
in  the  United  Slates.  The  inhabitants  are  collected 
from  various  parts  of  the  world,  antl  speak  a  variety  of 
languages,  though  the  English  predominates.  About  a 
mile  to  the  north  of  the  city,  are  erected  very  ingenious 
and  extensive  works  for  the  manufacture  of  snuff,  tobac- 
co, chocolate,  mustard,  starch,  hair-i)owder,  split-pease, 
and  hulled  barley.  These  works  are  superior  to  any  in 
America,  and  are  all  moved  by  water.  In  this  place  all 
the  treaties  were  transacted  between  the  English  and 
Ihc  Iroquois.  Population,  in  1707,  (J021.  Distance 
from  New-York   ICO   miles  north,  and  from  Quebec 


340  South.     West  Long.  73"  30'.     North  Lat.  42»  39'. 

ALBATEGNL  a  celebrated  astronomical  observer, 
was  born  about  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century  at  Batan 
in  Mesopotamia  ;  from  whence  he  received  the  name  of 
Albatani,  or  Albategni.  In  the  year  882,  he  observed 
that  the  autumnal  equinox,  was,  on  the  19th  September, 
at  13h.  15'  at  Aracta,  or  Ruca,  a  town  of  Chaldea.  In 
883,  he  found  the  longitude  of  the  firstj-star  of  Aries,  to 
be  18»  2';  the  obliquity  of  the  ecliptic,  to  be  23o  35'; 
and  the  motion  of  the  earth's  aphelion  and  that  of  the 
stars,  one  degree  in  70  years.  He  also  ascertained  the 
eccentricity  of  the  earth's  orbit.  The  imperfections  of 
the  astronomical  tables  of  Ptolemy  induced  Albategni 
to  compute  new  ones,  which  he  adapted  to  the  meridian 
of  Aracta.  His  work,  entitled,  "  The  Science  of  the 
Stars,"  founded  on  his  own  observations,  as  well  as  those 
of  Ptolemy,  was  translated  into  Latin  from  the  original 
Arabic,  which  lies  unpublished  in  the  Vatican,  by  Plato 
of  Tibur.  It  was  published  at  Nuremberg  in  1537, 
with  some  additions,  by  Regiomontanus,  and  was  re])ub- 
lished  at  Bologna  in  1 695,  with  annotations  by  the  same 
author.  Albategni  died  in  888.  See  Phil.  Trans.  1 693, 
No.  204  ;  and  D'Herbelot's  Biblioth.  Orient,  (w) 

ALBEGAL,  the  Arabian  name  of  the  star  L3'ra. 
(w) 

ALBERES,  Battle  op,  was  fought  in  1784,  be- 
tween the  French  and  Spaniards,  in  which  the  former, 
under  general  Dugommier,  beat  the  latter,  and  took 
from  them  200  pieces  of  cannon,  and  2000  men.  (w) 

ALBERONI,  CardiiN'al,  an  illustrious  statesman, 
was  born  in  1644,  at  Placentia,  where  he  followed  the 
profession  of  a  gardenertilltheage  of  14.  Inconsequence 
of  having  relieved  the  secretary  of  the  duke  of  Ven- 
dome,  who  was  robbed  near  the  village  where  Alberoni 
resided,  he  was  patronized  by  that  distinguished  general, 
and  induced  to  accompany  him  to  Spain.  In  that  coun- 
try his  talents  and  ambition  advanced  him  to  notice. 
Having  planned  and  effected  a  marriage  between  the 
princess  of  Parma  and  Philip  V.  the  princess  took  a- 
deep  interest  in  his  promotion,  and  had  sufficient  inllu- 
ence  to  procure  him  the  dignities  of  Cardinal  and  Arch- 
bishoi>  of  Valencia;  from  which  he  rose  to  the  office  of 
prime  minister  to  the  king  of  Spain.  After  having  effect- 
ed some  new  arrangements  and  domestic  reforms,  and 
exerted  every  nerve  to  regenerate  the  Spanish  navy,  his 
ambitious  and  intriguing  spirit  projected  the  most  en- 
terprising designs;  and  directed  the  eyes  of  Europe  to 
the  Spanish  nation,  which  had  for  more  than  a  century 
been  sunk  in  the  most  torpid  lethargy.  He  projected  an 
expedition  against  Sicily  and  Sardinia;  and,  in  order  to 
accomplish  his  purpose  without  opposition,  he  entered 
into  a  strict  alliance  with  Peter  the  Great,  Charles  XII. 
and  the  Ottoman  government.     He  likewise  proposed  to 


*  As  early  as  1610  the  Dutch  advanced  as  far  up 
the  Hudson  as  where  the  city  of  Albany  is  situated,  and 
about  the  same  time  erected  a  fortification,  which  they 
called  Fort  Orange.  The  city  of  Albany  is  nearly  of  the 
same  date  as  New-York.  It  was  incorporated  by  go- 
vernor Dougan  in  1686,  and  is  now  under  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  a  mayor,  aldermen,  and  assistants.  There  are  a 
number  of  jiublic  buildings  in  this  city  ;  among  the  prin- 
cipal of  which  may  be  mentioned  (he  capital,  the  bank, 
and  several  houses  for  public  worship.  Present  popula- 
tion io  1810,  9356  inhabitants.    Hosack  &  Francis. 


ALB 


ALB 


»(J7 


fiiiploy  tlie  influoiiee  of  these  two  powerful  moiiarchs 
in  raising  the  Pretender  to  the  throne  of  England — to 
wrest  the  regency  of  France  from  the  hands  of  the  duke 
of  Orleans — to  excite  the  Turks  against  the  emperor  of 
(Jcrmany — and  to  destroy  the  German  power  in  Italy. 
The  discovery  of  these  daring  projects  produced  a 
coalition  against  Spain,  between  France  and  England. 
AVar  was  declared  in  1710  ;  and  the  condition  of  peace 
insisted  upon  by  the  allies  was  the  banishment  of  Albe- 
roni.  In  December,  1 720,  he  received  an  order  to  quit 
the  metropolis  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  not  to  remain 
above  a  fortnight  in  the  kingdom.  Aiberoni  retired  from 
Madrid  in  the  greatest  opulence,  carrying  along  with 
him  the  testament  of  CharlesII.of  Spain,  whichappoint- 
ed  Philip  universal  heir  of  the  monarchy.  This  circum- 
stance was  not  discovered  till  two  days  after  his  depar- 
ture; but  messengers  being  immediately  despatched, 
the  testament  was  taken  from  him  by  force.  When  he 
arrived  at  Genoa,  he  was  arrested  by  the  Pope,  under 
the  charge  of  carrying  on  a  negociation  with  the  sublime 
Porte ;  and  was  confined  for  a  year  in  the  convent  of  the 
Jesuits.  U|)On  his  acquittal  from  this  accusation,  his 
intriguing  spirit  again  began  to  display  itself,  but  receiv- 
ed a  check  in  the  unsuccessful  enterprise  which  he 
planned  against  the  small  republic  of  St.  Marino.  The 
a|)proach  of  old  age,  combined  with  the  reverses  of  for- 
tujije  which  he  had  sustained,  now  began  to  moderate  his 
ambition.  He  directed  his  attention  to  the  more  laudable 
object  of  establishing  and  endowing  a  seminary  in  his 
native  city  for  the  education  of  the  poor.  He  took  great 
pleasure  in  reciting  the  exploits  in  which  he  had  been 
■  engaged ;  and  the  vivacity  of  his  temper,  and  the  extent 
of  his  information,  rendered  him  on  these  occasions  ex- 
ceetlingly  amusing.  He  died  in  1 752,  at  the  great  age 
of  87.  Aiberoni  was  of  an  irascible  temper,  and  could 
not  brook  contradiction.  He  has  left  behind  him  the 
character  of  a  daring  and  unprincipled  politician.  His 
life  to  the  year  1719,  has  been  published  by  John  Rous- 
set,  translated  from  the  Spanish.  His  Testament  Poli- 
tique, published  at  Lausanne  in  175.3,  is  generally  con- 
sidered as  spurious.  See  Continvalimi  tie  HcnauU.  Hist. 
torn.  i.  p.  48.  Universal  Hist.  vol.  xxxil.  p.  565.  vol. 
xxxviii.  p.  232.    (o) 

ALBERT  I.  and  II.  dukes  of  Austria,  and  Emperors 
of  Germany.  See  Mod.  Univers.  His.  vol.  xxvi.  p.  130, 
273 ;  see  also  Austria,  and  Germany,     (rv) 

ALBERTUS  MAGNUS,  or  Albert  the  Great, 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  alchemists,  was  born  in  Swa- 
bia,  at  Lawingen  on  the  Danube,  about  1193,  or  1205. 
After  receiving  his  education  at  Pavia,he  went  to  Paris, 
%vliere  he  was  created  doctor  of  medicine.  Having  ac- 
cidentally heard  the  preaching  of  Father  Jourdain,  a 
Dominican  friar,  he  was  inclined  to  enter  into  that  or- 
der ;  and  so  i)rominent  were  the  talents  of  their  new 
convert,  that  his  superior  sent  him  to  Cologne  to  read 
lectureson  philosophy,  theology,  and  medicine.  Here  he 
acquitted  himself  to  the  astonishment  of  numerous  au- 
ditories ;  and  so  zealous  was  he  in  his  new  oflSce,  that 
he  read  lectures  also  at  Hildesheim,  Fribourg,  Ratisbon, 
and  Strasburg.  He  returned  to  Cologne  in  1240,  and 
numbered  among  his  disciples  the  celebrated  Thomas 
Aquinas,  to  whom  he  resigned  his  chair,  when  he  went 
to  be  a  professor  at  Paris.  After  remaining  three  years 
at  Paris,  where  his  lectures  were  so  numerously  attend- 
ed that  he  was  obliged  to  deliver  them  in  the  open  air, 
he  returned  to  Cologne,  and  was  raised  to  the  dignity 
of  provincial,  or  vicar-general  of  the  Diwiuican  order. 


Having  visited  the  provinces  in  a  pedestrian  tour,  he 
went  to  Rome  at  the  command  of  Alexander  IV.  Here 
he  held  the  high  office  of  master  of  the  sacred  palace ; 
and  also  read  lectures  in  divinity.  He  returned  to  Ger- 
many in  1200,  and  was  created  bishop  of  Ratisbon  ;  but 
he  resigned  this  office,  after  holding  it  three  years,  and 
returned  to  his  cell  at  Cologne.  From  this  retirement, 
Albert  was  summoned  by  the  pope,  to  preach  the  cru- 
sades in  Germany  and  Bohemia;  and  he  attended  the 
council  of  Lyons,  in  the  character  of  the  emperor's  am- 
bassador. The  remainder  of  his  life  seems  to  have 
beea  spent  in  instructing  the  religious  of  his  order  in 
Cologne,  where  he  died  on  the  15th  November,  1288,  at 
the  age  of  75,  or  87.  His  works,  which  arc  filled  with 
scholastic  subtilties,  and  the  philosophy  of  the  Peripa- 
tetics, were  published  at  Lyons,  in  1615,  in  21  volumes 
folio,  by  father  Jammi.  The  treatise  De  Sccretis  Mu- 
lienint,  &c.,  generally  ascribed  to  him,  was  written  by 
one  of  his  disciples,  Henricus  de  Saxonia.  He  wrote  a 
work  entitled,  De  Sphara,  de  Astris,  de  Astronomia,  item 
Spcadwn  Astronomicum. 

Albertus  Magnus  was  a  man  of  short  stature,  but  of 
a  great  and  comprehensive  mind.  The  superiority  of 
his  genius  obtained  him  the  appellation  of  a  magician 
and  a  conjurer,  names  which,  though  dishonourable  in 
the  estimation  of  those  who  emtiloyed  them,  posterity 
have  found  to  have  been  applied  only  to  men  of  tran 
scendent  talents.  He  was  regarded  by  the  alchemists 
as  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  their  sect ;  and  was 
celebrated  among  them  for  having  discovered  that  there 
were  several  philosophers'  stones.  He  is  said  to  have 
contrived  an  androides,  or  speaking  figure,  which  both 
pronounced  words  distinctly,  and  opened  the  door  to 
those  who  knocked  :  but  the  stories,  which  have  been 
related  concerning  this  machine,  and  respecting  several 
adventures  of  our  author,  are  so  truly  ridiculous,  that 
we  cannot  be  the  means  of  perpetuatiug  their  remem- 
brance. See  Bullart.  Academic  dcs  Sciences,  torn.  ii.  p. 
145.     (o) 

ALBl,  a  town  in  Italy,  formerly  called  Atha  Fuccnsis. 
From  its  mountainous  situation,  it  was  chosen  by  the 
Romans  as  their  state  prison,  in  which  they  confined 
their  captive  monarchs,  after  they  had  sustained  the 
ignominy  of  a  public  triumph.  The  remains  of  the  for- 
tification, which  increased  (he  security  that  art  had 
given  it,  are  still  visible ;  and  likewise  the  niins  of  an 
amphitheatre,  a  temple,  and  other  public  buildings.  See 
Swinburne's  Travels,  vol.  iv.  p.  367.     (ii) 

ALBI,  or  Alby,  a  town  in  France,  the  capital  of  the 
department  of  Tarn.  It  is  situated  on  an  eminence  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  Tarn ;  and  is  remarkable  for  the 
choir  of  its  cathedral  and  the  silver  shrines  of  Mosaic 
workmanship,  which  contained  the  relics  of  St.  Clair,  the 
first  bishop  of  the  place.  The  diocese  of  Albi  contains 
three  chiipters  and  337  parishes;  and  the  revenue  of 
the  archbisho])  is  20,000  livres.  It  was  formerly  te 
capital  of  the  small  district  of  Albigeois,  and  has  the 
honour  of  giving  birth  to  La  Peyrouse,  the  celebrated 
navigator.  Population  9649.  E.  Long.  2°  8'  18".  N. 
Lat.  43°  55'  3b".     See  Albigenses,  and  Tarn,     (tv) 

ALBIGENSES,  in  Church  History,  the  name  of  » 
religious  party,  distinguished  by  their  opposition  to  the 
church  of  Rome. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  ascertain  either  thf  ir  origin  or 
their  opinions.  As  to  their  origin,  Mosheim  maintains, 
that  they  were  Paulicians,  who,  flying  from  the  persecu- 
tions of  the  Greeks,  gradually  spread  themselves  over 


368 


ALB 


ALB 


the  south  of  Europe,  but  settled  chiefly  in  the  south  of 
France;  and  (hey  were  denominated  Jlbigcnscs,  (rom 
Albi,  in  Latin  Albigia,  in  Languedoc ;  not,  it  seems,  be- 
cause that  Avas  the  chief  place  of  their  residence,  but  be- 
cause their  opinions  were  condemned  in  a  council  held 
there  in  the  year  1176.  The  chief  argument  in  favour 
of  (his  origin  of  the  name,  arises  from  the  circumstance 
that  they  never  were  known  by  that  appellation  till  af- 
ter the.council  held  at  AUri;  though  it  must  be  confessed 
that  this  etymology  is  disputed  I'y  some,  who  refer  it  to 
Albigensium,  formerly  the  general  name  of  Narbonne- 
Gaul,  where  the  Albigenses  had  their  chief  settlements. 
Vide  Histoire  Generale  de  Languedoc,  torn.  iii.  note  1 3. 
p.  532. 

But  allowing  this  to  be  the  origin  of  the  sect,  and  of 
its  designation,  we  are  still  as  far  as  ever  from  being 
able  to  ascertain  the  peculiar  tenets  by  which  it  was 
distinguished.  Of  the  Paulicians,  we  have  nothing  but 
the  most  imperfect  account,  and  that  too  from  the  writ- 
ings of  their  adversaries,  who,  we  may  believe,  would 
give  an  exaggenated  statement  of  their  errors,  and  throw 
a  shade  over  their  virtues.  Six  heavy  charges  are 
brought  against  them  by  the  orthodox  writers  of  those 
days ;  the  principal  of  which  are,  that  they  denied  (his 
inferior  and  visible  world  to  be  the  production  of  the 
Supreme  Being;  that  they  showed  contempt  for  the 
Virgin  Mary,  for  (he  cross,  and  for  the  sacraments. 
These,  with  other  errors  imputed  to  the  Paulicians, 
may  be  collected  from  Photius,  Petrus  Siculus,  and 
Cedrenus ;  and  they  agree  pretty  well  with  the  charges 
brought  against  the  Albigenses  by  their  enemies ;  for 
they  are  universally  accused  of  Manicheism ;  which  the 
first  of  the  Paulician  tenets,  as  stated  above,  evidently 
implies.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  this  odious  charge 
was  fixed  upon  them  by  their  ailversaries,  with  a  view 
to  bring  their  opinions  into  discredit ;  and  that  the  chief 
heresies  of  which  they  were  guilty  were,  denying  the 
Pope's  supremacy,  and  laughing  at  purgatory,  and  the 
seven  sacraments.  These  were  charges  which  they 
never  attempted  to  evade :  and  as  nothing  could  render 
them  so  obnoxious  to  the  Roman  hierarchy,  we  need  not 
be  surprised  at  the  invectives  and  misrepresentations 
with  which  they  are  loaded  by  the  supporters  of  that 
spiritual  despotism.  They  are  represented  as  maintain- 
ing marriage  to  be  unlawful ;  the  amount  of  which 
charge  is,  in  all  probability,  no  more  than  this,  that  (hey 
denied  marriage  to  be  a  sacrament.  They  are  also  ac- 
cused of  holding  the  eucharist  in  abhorrence,  probably 
because  they  rejected  it  in  the  form  of  transubstantia- 
tion.  Acconlingly,  most  Protestant  writers  maintain, 
that  the  opinions  of  the  Albigenses  were  nearly  the  same 
as  those  afterwards  adoi)ted  by  the  reformers  :  and  it  is 
certain,  that  all  of  those  who  remained  till  the  time  of 
the  Reformation,  readily  embraced  the  doctrines  and  dis- 
cipline which  it  introduced. 

But  the  term  Albigenses  was  very  generally  used  in 
a  much  more  extensive  sense  than  that  which  we  have 
now  assigned  to  it,  and  was  emjiloyed  to  denote  every 
description  of  heretics ;  that  is,  all,  of  whatever  denom- 
ination, who  dissented  from  the  church  of  Rome.  This 
we  iearn  from  Petruji  Samcnsis,  who  in  (he  dedicalion 
of  his  history  of  (he  Albigenses  (o  Innocent  III.,  c\- 
jiresses  himself  (bus :  "  Tolo.iani  alianim  civitatum  ct 
caxtrorum  harelici,  tt  dcjmsores  eortitn,  gcneralitcr  Al- 
bigenses vocatdury  This  circumstance  renders  it  next 
(o  impossible  to  ascertain  (he  precise  opinions  of  the 
Albigenses;  eiuee  all  who  differed  from  the  church  of 


Rome,  however  much  they  might  differ  from  each 
other,  were  comprehended  under  this  denomination. 
This  may  also  account  for  the  great  variety  of  appella- 
tions by  which  the  Albigenses  were  known;  for  they 
were  called  by  different  authors,  Henricians,  Abelardists, 
Catharests,  Publicans,  and  Bulgarians;  either  on  ac- 
count of  the  persons  who  patronized  them,  the  cha- 
racter they  assumed,  or  the  country  from  which  they 
came.  They  are  also  frequently  confounded  with  the 
Waldenses. 

The  Albigenses  were  persecuted  with  the  utmost 
fury  by  the  church  of  Rome.  A  crusade  was  proclaim- 
ed against  them,  in  the  name  of  the  Pope ;  and,  in  the 
year  1209,  a  formidable  army,  commanded  by  the 
famous  Simon,  earl  of  Montford,  was  led  into  the  field 
against  them.  This  war,  distinguished  by  the  intrepid 
bravery  and  unparalleled  barbarity  with  which  it  was 
conducted  on  the  part  of  the  commander  in  chief, 
ended  in  the  complete  discomfiture  of  the  Albigenses, 
and  in  the  ruin  of  the  Counts  of  Toulouse,  who  support- 
ed them.  See  Hume's  Hint.  vol.  ii.  p.  70.  chap.  ix. 
VeWey's  New  Hist,  of  France.  Mosheim's  Church  His- 
tory, (g) 

ALBINO,  a  term  which  appears  to  have  been  first 
employed  !  y  the  Portuguese,  to  designate  a  variety  of 
the  human  species  that  occurs  among  the  negroes,  the 
peculiarity  oi'  which  consists  in  the  hair  and  skin  being 
perfectly  white,  while,  in  every  circumstance  except 
colour,  these  persons  exactly  resemble  the  other  natives 
of  Africa.  We  are  informed  by  Wafer,  who  accompanied 
Dampier  in  his  voyage  round  the  world,  that  the  same 
variety  is  occasionally  found  among  the  Indians  who 
inhabit  the  isthmus  of  Darien  :  and  Albinos  are  also 
described  as  occurring  among  the  natives  of  Java  and 
Ceylon.  The  skin  of  the  Albino  is,  as  the  name  imports, 
literally  white,  approaching  to  the  colour  oi  milk,  or  to 
that  of  a  recently  dead  body,  without  that  intermixture 
of  red  which  is  found  in  the  complexion  of  the  European. 
Another  peculiarity  of  the  Albinos  is  the  state  of  the 
eye,  which  is  so  sensible  to  light  that  they  are  scarcely 
able  to  keep  it  open  in  the  sunshine;  although  in  the 
shade,  or  in  the  dark  of  the  evening,  their  vision  seems 
to  be  sufficiently  perfect.  In  different  parts  of  Africa 
and  America,  the  Albinos  are  so  numerous,  that  some 
persons  have  imagined  them  to  be  a  distinct  race  of  men, 
who  have  been  accidentally  removed  from  their  original 
climate,  and  intermixed  with  the  negroes.  Rut  (he 
opinion  which  on  every  accoun(  seems  more  probable 
is,  that  this  peculiar  colour  of  the  skin  depends  upon  a 
morbid  condition  of  the  body,  induced  by  some  cause 
hitherto  undiscovered.  The  proof  of  this  is  indeed 
complete,  for  Albinos  are  known  to  be  born  from  parents 
whose  skin  has  nothing  unusual  in  its  appearance. 

Individuals  are  occasionnlly  observed  in  our  quarter 
of  the  world  to  whom  the  title  of  Albino  is  applied,  and 
who  |)09sess  nearly  (he  s" me  relation  to  the  European 
that  the  African  AM'ino  does  to  his  countrymen.  The 
European  Albino  has  nothing  peculiar  in  his  features,  or 
in  the  formation  of  his  bmly;  liut  his  skin  is  of  the  most 
delicate  hue,  his  hair  is  white  and  silky,  the  coloured 
part  of  the  eye  is  of  a  beautiful  pink  colour;  and  like  the 
African  Albinos,  they  are  unable  to  bear  a  briaht  light. 
The  skin  of  the  Euroii^an  Albino  does  not,  however,  ex- 
hibit that  ]>erfect  whiteness  which  is  described  in  the 
African;  nor  does  it  appear  that  he  has  necessarily  any 
general  weakness  of  constitution,  or  deficiency  of 
strength.     It  has  been  observed,  that  males  are  the 


ALB 


ALB 


369 


most  frequent  snhjects  of  this  disease,  if  it  ni9y  be  so  call- 
ed; and  some  writers  have  gone  so  far  as  to  assert,  that  it 
is  esclusively  confined  to  them.  But  this  o|)inion  is  cer- 
tainly incorrect;  as  there  are  some  well  known  instances 
of  female  Albinos,  although  it  is  not  improbable  that  the 
males  may  be  more  numerous. 

Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  account  for  this 
peculiarity.     Buffon  attributes  it  to  a  tendency  in  the 
human  s|)ecies  to  assume,  what  he  calls  "  the  primitive 
colour  of  nature ;  which  climate,  nourishment,  and  man- 
ners, alter  and  change  to  yellow,  brown,  or  black;  and 
which  re-appears  in  certain  circumstances,  but  with  so 
great  an  alteration,  that  it  does  not  resemble  the  primi- 
tive white.     As  a  proof  that  Albinos  are  "  individuals 
who  are  degenerated  from  their  species,"  he  remarks, 
that  they  are  uniformly  deficient  in  strength  and  vigour, 
and  exhibit  every  mark  of  a  relaxed  and  debilitated  con- 
stitution.    He  further  observes,  that  white  animals,  par- 
ticularly those  that  have  red  eyes,  are  more  weak  and 
delicate  than  others  of  the  same  species.     We  have  a 
Tery  accurate  account  given  hy  Saussure  of  two  Albinos 
that  were  born  at  Chamouin  in  Switzerland.     These 
young  men  had  the  white  skin  and  hair,  and  the  rose- 
coloured  eye ;  their  sight  was  delicate ;  and  they  seem 
to  have  been  unable  to  go  through  the  same  degree  of 
labour  with  those  persons  of  the  same  age  and  condition 
in  life.     Saussure,  like  Buffon,  considers  this  affection 
as  a  kind  of  organic  weakness  of  the  body ;  and  supposes 
that  the  eye  has  its  vessels  so  relaxed,  as  to  permit  the 
red  globules  of  the  blood  to  enter  into  it  in  an  unusual 
fjuantity.     These,  however,  are  but  hasty  hj'|)otheseg, 
and  cannot  be  considered  as  throwing  any  real  light 
upon  the  subject.     It  is  to  an  ingenious  conjecture   of 
professor  Blumenbach,  that  we  owe  our  knowledge  of 
the  peculiarity  in  the  eye  of  the  Albino.     He  ascribed 
its  pink  colour,  and  its  delicate  sensibility,  to  the  absence 
of  the  pigmentum  nigrum,  a  black  mucous  substance 
which  is  spread  over  the  iris  and  choroid  coat.     This 
conjecture  was  verified  by  Buzzi  of  Milan,  who  had  an 
opportunity  of  dissecting  theeye  of  an  Albino,  and  found 
it  to  correspond  with  Biumenbach's  supposition.     He  at 
the  same  time  examined  the  skin,  and  discovered  that 
it  %vas  devoid  of  that  part  which  is  usually  called  the 
rete  mucosum ;  and  to  the  absence  of  this  substance  he 
justly  attributes  its  whiteness.     There  is  reason  to  con- 
clude, that  the  peculiar  state  of  the  skin  which  charac- 
terizes the  Albino,  is  an  affection  which  has  a  tendency 
to  become   hereditary ;   for  among  the  instances  which 
are  upon   record,  several   have   been    members  of  the 
same  family.     What  it  is  in  the  constitution  or  habits 
of  the  parent,  which  gives  rise  to  this  peculiarity  in  their 
offspring,  is  totally  unknown.     Albinos  have  been  born 
in  different  countries  and  climates,  and  under  circum- 
stances which  have  no  point  of  resemblance  to  which 
wecan  with  any  probability  refer  the  phenomenon.  The 
knowledge    which   we   possess  respecting   the   animal 
economy,  does  not  enable  us  to  I'orm  the  most  remote 
conjecture  concerning  the  operation  of  any  cause,  which 
should  so  far  affect  the  skin,  as  to  deprive  it  of  its  rete 
mucosum ;  hut  it  is  analogous  to  other  facts  which  fall 
under  our  observation,  that  when  this  structure  has  once 
taken  place,  it  should   be  propagated  by  hereditary  de- 
scent. 

The  circumstances  which  have  been  ascertained  re- 
specting the  Albino,  decidedly  prove,  that  the  various 
shades  of  (he  complexion,  which  characterise  tJie  inha- 
bitants of  different  climates,  depend  upon  the  colour  of 
Vol.  I.     P.UIT  I. 


tlie  rete  mucosum,  and  that  without  it  the  skin  is  nearly 
white.  They  also  admirably  illustrate  the  use  of  the 
pigmentum  nigrum  of  the  eye,  by  showing  the  incon- 
venience under  which  those  persons  labour  who  ai>e 
unprovided  with  that  substance.  See  Phil.  Trans.  1706. 
1707,  vol.  XXV.  Soemmering  Icones  Oadi  Humani.  p.  6. 
Buffon's  Hist.  Nat.  torn.  iii.  Saussure 's  forages  dansks 
Alpes,  ch.  47.  Nicholson's  Journal,  vol.  xix.  p.  81.  vol. 
xxi.  203.  Dap|)er's  Description  de  PAJrique,  p.  332.  Se« 
also  Anatomy,  chap.  ii.  p.  792,  col.  2.     («) 

ALBINUS,  Bernard  Sieofred,  or  Siegfroi,  one 
of  the  most  eminent  of  the  foreign  anatomists,  and  pro- 
fessor of  anatomy  and  surgery  at  Leyden,  was  born  at 
Frankfort  upon  the  Oder,  in  the  year  1698.  He  receiv-- 
e<l  the  first  part  of  his  education  at  Leyden,  where  his 
father,  Bernard  Albinus  Weiss,  was  professor  of  medi- 
cine :  and  in  very  early  life  he  showed  an  uncommon 
attachment  to  the  studies  which  he  afterwards  prosecuted 
with  so  much  success.  His  diligence  and  zeal,  as  well 
as  his  undivided  attention  to  anatomical  pursuits,  gained 
him  the  friendship  of  Ruysch,  who  then  flourished  is 
Leyden.  Under  the  notice  of  that  distinguished  man, 
and  the  guidance  of  Raw,  the  celebrated  lithotomist, 
Albinus  made  such  progress  in  his  favourite  studies, 
that  the  latter  is  said  never  to  have  undertaken  any 
operation  of  consequence,  without  inviting  him  to  be 
present.  This  encouragement  was  great,  and  it  was  not 
without  its  effect.  The  young  Albinus  persevered  in  his 
investigations,  and  redoubled  his  diligence  :  and  it  is 
perhaps  owing  to  the  timely  patronage  of  Ruysch  and 
of  Raw  that  the  medical  world  is  now  in  possession  of 
the  "  Historia  Mtisailonan  Ilominis"  and  the  various 
TahuliB  which  have  contributed  so  much  to  facilitate  the 
study  of  anatomy  in  every  country  of  Europe.  Having 
finished  his  education  at  Leyden,  Albiuus  removed  to 
Paris,  and  attended  the  most  eminent  lecturers  and  de- 
monstrators in  that  city.  But  he  had  scarcely  been  there 
a  year,  when,  ui)on  the  recommendation  of  Bocrhaave, 
he  was  aj'pointed  first  lecturer,  and  then  professor  of 
anatomy  and  surgery,  in  the  university  of  Lej'den.  He 
was  admitted  into  his  office  A.  D.  1718,  and  delivered 
an  inaugural  oration,  "  De  Aiialomi  Comparata,"  which 
was  received  with  universal  ap[ilause. 

When  settled  at  Leyden,  Albinus  devoted  himself 
exclusively  to  those  branches  of  medical  science  which 
he  had  engaged  to  teach.  In  surgerj",  and  especially 
in  anatomy,  more  can  be  done  by  patient  inspection  and 
minute  examination,  than  in  any  other  department  of 
human  knowledge.  Here  genius  has  little  room  for  ex- 
ercise. The  chief  business  of  the  anatomist  is  to  dissect, 
and  to  observe ;  to  mark  the  designs  of  nature,  and  the 
wonderful  adaptation  of  means  to  the  accomplishment 
of  her  pur|)oses.  But  to  the  qualities  which  are  neces- 
sary for  this,  the  teacher  of  anatomy  must  add  the  power 
of  exhibiting  the  different  parts  of  the  body,  and  their 
uses  and  dependencies,  or  the  talent  of  communicating 
to  others  the  information  which  he  has  acquired.  On 
this,  his  success  as  a  lecturer  will  materially  depend ; 
and  without  it,  his  knowledge,  however  extensive  and 
accurate,  will  be  of  little  use  to  any  but  himself.  For 
all  these  qualities  Albinus  was  remarkable.  His-  dili- 
gence was  unwearied ;  and  though  we  have  not  learned 
that  he  was  distinguished  by  the  fluency  of  bis  cjjpreis- 
sion,  or  the  oratorical  elegance  of  his  s(yle,  yet  his  abi- 
lities as  a  demonstrator  were  such  as  to  place  him  on  a 
level  with  the  most  successful  teachers  of  anatomy.  Nor 
did  lie  confine  bioiself  to  the  exercise  of  private  iastruc- 
3  A 


870 


ALB 


ALB 


lion.  He  aspired  after  more  general  utility,  and  a  high- 
er degree  of  fame.  Besides  many  other  works  with 
which,  says  Haller,  "rem  anatomicam  ditavit"  Albinus 
published,  A.  U.  1734,  the  Historia  Musculorum  Hotni- 
nis  ;  a  perrormance  which  is  alone  sufficient  to  entitle 
him  to  immortalit}'.  It  is  divided  into  four  books:  In 
the  first,  he  treats  of  the  muscles  in  general,  of  their 
structure,  and  of  the  cellular  substance  which  lubricates 
and  supports  them ;  in  the  second,  he  considers  their 
position,  beginning  with  those  which  are  nearest  the 
surface ;  in  the  third  book,  he  describes  the  muscles 
hidividually,  and  attends  to  their  origin,  the  direction  of 
their  fibres,  and  their  insertion ;  and  in  the  last,  he 
arranges  them  into  classes,  and  takes  a  view  of  their 
action  and  use.  The  chief  works  of  Albinus,  however, 
are  his  Anatomical  Platas  and  illustrations.  They  appear- 
ed at  diS'erent  times,  as  the  reader  will  see  by  the  list 
which  is  subjoined  to  this  article ;  but  they  are  common- 
ly to  be  met  with  in  3  vols,  folio.  The  first  contains  an 
explication  of  the  Tables  of  Eustacbius ;  the  second 
presents  to  us  tiie  Figures  of  the  Muscles;  and  the  third 
exhibits  the  Bones.  The  plates  are  executed  with  the 
utmost  accuracy  and  elegance,  and  are  unquestionably 
the  most  useful  of  any  to  which  the  student  of  anatomy 
can  have  recourse. 

In  1745,  Albinus  was  removed  from  the  professorship 
of  anatomy  to  that  of  medicine  in  the  same  university ; 
and  in  the  former  of  these  offices  he  was  succeeded  by 
Fred.  Bern.  Albinus,  his  brother.  His  reputation  was 
now  so  great  and  extensive,  that  the  societies  of  London, 
Petersburgh,  and  Haarlem,  received  him  into  the  num- 
ber of  their  associates.  He  was  twice  rector  of  the 
university  of  Leyden ;  and  he  as  often  declined  that  high 
honour  when  it  would  have  been  conferred  upon  him. 
But  he  did  not  suffer  these  creditable  testimonies  of  his 
merits  to  relax  his  diligence,  or  abridge  the  time  which 
he  had  devoted  to  study ;  his  mind  was  bent  towards  the 
improvement  of  medical  science,  and  his  zeal  to  promote 
it  was  never  diminished.  He  still  prosecuted  his  inqui- 
rieswith  all  the  vigour  of  youth,  and  with  all  the  activity 
of  one  whose  reputation  is  not  yet  established.  It  was 
only  two  year«  before  his  death  that  he  published  the 
last  volume  of  his  anatomical  annotations.  At  length, 
worn  out  with  study,  and  full  of  days,  he  expired  on  the 
9lh  September,  1770. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  works  of  Albinos,  in  the 
order  in  which  they  appeared.  Oratio.  iffang.  de  Anato- 
mi  comparata.  Leida;.  1719.  Oratio  de  vera  via  quee  ad 
falyrica  Corp.  hum.  cognitionem  ducit.  Leid.  1721.  Index 
stippeUectilis  Anatowicce quam  Acadeniia,  (Leidensi,)  IfgOr 
vit,  J.  J.  Raw,  Leid.  1725.  De  Ossibus  corp.  htm.  ad 
audilores  siws,  Leid.  1726.  Hist.  Mtisail.  Horn.  Lei<l. 
1735.  "  Cest  le  meilleur  ouvrage,  (says  Portal,)  dont 
nous  jouissons  aujourdhui."  De  Artcriis  et  Venis  iiUes- 
tinorum  hominis,  Leid.  1 737.  "  Un  chef  d'ojuvre,  (accord- 
ing to  Portal,)  de  peinture  et  d'exactitude.  Dissert.  2da, 
de  sedc  et  causa  colaris  Ethiopium,  etc.  Leid.  1 737.  Icones 
Ossiumfalus  humani :  accedit  osteogenite  brevis  historia, 
Leid.  1737.  "  Ad  miraculum  pulchrse  sunt,"  (Haller.) 
Explicatio  Tabid.  Anat.  B.  Etistackii,  Leid.  1 743  rt  1 761 . 
Taimloe  Scekli  et  Sluscul.corp.  Hum.  Leid.  1 747.  Tabula 
FJI.  Uteri  Mulitris  gravida;,  cumjamparlurirtt  mortna, 
Leid.  fere  1747,  et  App.  ad  Tab.  I.  A.  D.  1731.  Tabula 
Vasis  Chyliferi,  cum  vena  asygo,  arteriis  intercoslalibus, 
idiisque  viccinis  partibus,  Leid.  1 757.  De  Sceleto  humano, 
Leid.  1762.  AnnoUU.  Anatom.  vohimina  octo;  quorum 
primum  prodiit  A.  D.  1 752,  et  ultimum  A.  D.  1 768,  Leid. 


Besides  these,  he  wrote  a  preface  to  the  works  of 
Vesalius,  and  a  life  of  that  Anatomist,  (Leyden  1725.) 
He  edited  likewise  the  Works  of  Harvey  and  of  Fabri- 
cius,  ab  Aguapendente,  (Leyden  1737,)  and  wrote  a  pre- 
face to  each. — See  Haller.  Bibliotheca  Anatom.  torn.  ii. 
p.  126,  et  scq.  Histoire  de  FAnatotnie  et  dc  la  Chirurgie, 
par  Portal,  tom.  iv.  p.  548,  et  scq.  Hutchinson's  Biogra- 
phia  Med.  vol.  ii.  p.  525.  addend,    (ft) 

ALBION,  a  word  of  uncertain  etymology,  which  was 
formerly  the  name  of  the  island  of  Britain.  The  name 
of  New  Albion  has  been  given  by  sir  Francis  Drake  to 
California,  and  part  of  the  north-west  coast  of  America. 
This  country  was  visited  on  the  7th  March,  1778,  by 
captain  Cooke,  by  Meares,  Dixon,  Vancouver,  La  Pey- 
rouse,  and  other  able  navigators,  and  more  recently  by 
Mackenzie,  who  was  the  first  that  visited  the  Pacific  by 
an  inland  journey  from  the  east.  See  Cooke's  Voyagcsy 
Vancouver's  Voyage  of  Discovery  to  the  North  Paeifie 
Ocean,  in  1798,  and  Califoknia.  (m) 

ALBIREO,  the  name  of  a  star  in  the  constellation 
Cygnus,  marked  /3  in  our  catalogues,  (w) 

ALBIS,  the  ancient  name  of  the  Elbe.  See  Tacitus 
Annal.  iv.  cap.  44,  and  Elbe,  (w) 

ALBIS,  a  mountain  in  Switzerland,  covered  with  ex- 
cellent pasture  and  extensive  forests.  It  stretches  over 
a  length  of  five  leagues,  from  the  frontiers  of  the  canton 
of  Zug  to  the  city  of  Zurich.  See  Reichard's  Gtdde  des 
Voyageurs,  tom  i.  p.  365.   (») 

ALBOIN,  a  king  of  the  Lombards.  Having  slain  the 
son  of  Turisund,  king  of  the  Gepidae,  when  fighting 
under  the  banners  of  his  father  Audoin,  the  Lombards 
requested  that  Alboin  should  be  permitted  to  sit  at  the 
royal  feast,  by  which  the  victory  was  to  be  commemo- 
rated. But,  as  this  was  contrary  to  the  custom  of  the 
country,  till  the  young  prince  should  be  invested  with 
arms  by  a  foreign  king,  Alboin  set  out  with  40  of  his 
companions  to  visit  the  court  of  Turisund.  At  the  en- 
tertainment prepared  for  the  occasion,  Alboin  occupied 
the  seat  of  the  prince,  whom  he  h<>d  slain  in  battle.  This 
circumstance  awakened  the  feelings  of  the  father;  and 
his  surviving  son  Cunismund,  with  the  other  Gepidas, 
who  perceived  his  agitation,  deternnned  to  be  revenged 
upon  the  Lombard  prince.  They  addressed  their  visitors 
in  the  languageof  reproach  and  contumely.  The  Gepidffi 
sprung  from  their  seats  at  the  appointed  signal.  The 
young  hero  and  his  brave  associates  grasped  their  swords; 
but  the  rising  tumult  was  instantly  assuaged  by  the  in- 
terference of  Turisund,  who  generously  dismissed  Al- 
boin with  the  blood-staiued  arms  of  the  prince  whom  he 
had  slain. 

When  Alboin  succeeded  to  the  throne,  he  asked  in 
marriage  the  beautiful  Rosamond,  the  daughter  of  Cu- 
nismund, who  now  swayed  the  sceptre  of  the  Gepid». 
This  request  being  refused,  the  Lombard  king,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  Avars,  overturned  the  kingdom  of  the 
Gepida;  in  566;  and  Cunismund  having  fallen  in  battle, 
bis  fair  daughter  became  the  prize,  and  afterwards  the 
wife,  of  her  victorious  lover.  Having  relinquished 
these  territories  to  the  Avars,  who  promised  to  restore 
them,  in  the  event  of  misfortunes,  the  Lombards  attacked 
Italy,  and  made  themselves  masters  of  the  whole  coun- 
try, from  the  mountains  of  Trent  to  the  gates  of  Raven- 
na and  Rome,  which  henceforth  became  the  kingdom  of 
the  conquerors. 

In  a  feast  at  Verona, given  by  Alboin  to  his  fellow-sol- 
diers, a  cup,  formed  of  the  skull  of  Cuuismund,  was  ii*- 
troduced  npou  the  table.  The  brutal  and  unfeeling  Loin- 


ALB 


AXC 


371 


bafd  piftced  it  in  the  hands  of  RoMmond.  She  touched 
the  sacred  cup  with  trembling  lips,  which  at  the  same 
instant  muttered  vengeance  against  her  savage  lord. 
Alter  some  fruitless  attempts  to  procure  an  accomplice, 
she  selected  Peredeus,  one  of  the  Lombard  chiefs ;  but 
^und  it  necessary  to  employ  art  to  secure  his  assistance. 
Rosamond  secretly  supplied  the  place  of  one  of  Pere- 
deus's  mistresses,  and  then  assured  her  deceived  com- 
panion, that  either  his  death  or  that  of  Alboin,  must  be 
the  consequence  of  their  criminal  indulgence.  Pere- 
deus did  not  hesitate  about  the  alternative  which  he  was 
to  choose.  He  introduced  the  assassin  into  the  chamber 
of  his  master :  Alboin  starting  from  his  sleep,  attempted 
to  draw  his  sword,  but  Rosamond  had  secured  it  in  the 
scabbard;  and  the  Lombard  king,  with  only  a  stool  to  de- 
fend him,  fell  by  the  spears  of  his  murderers,  A.  D.  373. 
Thus  it  is,  that  domestic  treachery,  or  female  revenge, 
often  humbles  the  tyrants,  who  have  forced  the  hearts, 
or  insulted  the  honour  of  their  helpless  captives.  See 
Univers.  Hist.  vol.  xvii.  p.  337.  Gibbon,  vol.  viii.  p.  107. 
chap.  44.    Giannone,  Hist,  de  NapUs,  liv.  iii.  cap.  4.  (o) 

ALBOURG.     See  Aalbourg. 

ALBUCA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hexandria, 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ALBUCASIS,  a  celebrated  Arabian  physician,  of 
whom  little  more  is  known  than  that  he  died  in  1106. 
His  work,  entitled  Mcdeiidi  Mcthodus,  &c.  was  publish- 
ed in  Arabic  and  Latin,  at  Oxford, in  1778,  by  ftlr.  Chan- 
ning.  See  Haller,  Bibtioth.  Surg.  vol.  i.  p.  137,  and  His- 
tory o/' Surgery,  under  that  article,     (o) 

ALBUGO,  or  Leucoma,  in  surgery,  is  a  disease  of 
the  eye,  arising  from  a  white  spot  upon  the  cornea, 
which  does  not  transmit  the  incident  rays.  See  War- 
drop's  Essays  on  the  Morbid  Anatomy  of  the  Htnnan 
Eye.     (w) 

ALBIJB'I,  a  register,  or  white  board,  in  which  the 
names  of  public  offices  and  public  transactions  were  en- 
tered,    (w) 

ALBIJMEN,  one  of  the  constituent  parts  of  animal 
and  vegetable  substances,  received  its  naftie  from  being 
fouud  in  birds'  eggs,  of  which  it  forms  what  is  generally 
called  the  white.  See  Ann.  de  Chimie,  torn.  xxix. ; 
Fourcroy's  Systane  des  Connaiss.  Chimiqtie,  tom.  viii.  9  ; 
Mr.  Hatchet's  valuable  paper  in  the  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xc; 
and  Chemistry,     (w) 

ALBUQUERQUE,  Alpiionso  De,  called  by  his 
countrymen  Albuquerque  the  Great,  wiii,  born  in  1452, 
and  was  governor  of  the  Portuguese  territories  in  the 
East  Indies,  which  he  widely  extended  liy  his  victories. 
In  1511,  he  reduced  and  burnt  Calicut  with  a  fleet  of  30 
ships;  and  Goa,  Malacca,  and  Ormuz,  surrendered  to 
his  arms.  Albuquerque  had  formed  several  extensive 
projects  respecting  the  transportation  of  Eastern  com- 
modities to  Europe ;  but  he  did  not  live  to  accomplish 
them.  The  boundless  ambition  of  this  general  induced 
him  to  solicit  from  the  king  of  Portugal  a  grant  of  Goa, 
with  the  title  ot  a  dutcby,  as  a  reward  for  his  services; 
but  the  enemies  of  Albuquerque  renderetl  this  request  a 
mean  for  exciting  the  king's  jealousj',  and  he  was  dis- 
missed from  the  office  of  governor.  He  died  at  Goa  on 
the  16th  December,  1515,  at  the  age  of  03. 

Albuquerque  was  distinguished  by  the  generoits  libe- 
rality of  his  disposition.  He  was  a  man  of  the  greatest 
temperance  and  abstemiousness,  and  of  the  strictest 
honour ;  but  his  rigid  adherence  to  justice,  the  severity 
of  his  discipline,  and  his  insatiable  ambition,  ruised  a 
cr6wd  of  enemies,  who  sacc^ded  in  alienating  the  af- 


fcctions  of  an  ungrateful  sovereign.     See  Mok.  Univ. 
Hist.  vol.  viii.  p.  43.     (»•) 

ALBURNUM,  a  white  soft  substance,  intermediate, 
both  in  position  and  in  texture,  to  the  bark  and  the  wood 
of  trees ;  or  it  is  the  inner  layer  of  the  bark,  which  has 
not  yet  attained  the  solidity  of  the  wood.  See  Mr. 
Knight's  valuable  papers  on  this  subject  in  the  late 
volumes  of  the  Phil.  Traits,  and  Botany,     (w) 

ALCA,  a  genus  of  birds,  arranged  by  Liiyiwus  and 
Cuvier  under  the  order  Anseres,  and  forming  one  of  the 
tribes  in  the  family  of  Bracbypteres  of  Cuvier.  See 
Ornithology.     (»e) 

ALC  AEUS,  an  eminent  Grecian  lyric  poet,  was  bom 
at  Mitylene,  in  the  island  of  Lesbos,  an  island  remarka- 
ble in  ancient  times  for  the  fertility  of  its  soil,  the  excel- 
lence of  its  wines,  the  beauty  of  its  women,  and  the  ce- 
lebrity of  its  musicians  and  poets.  This  author  flourish- 
ed about  (500  years  before  Christ,  and  was  contem|)o- 
rary  with  Pittacus,  tyrant  of  Mitylene,  and  with  the 
celebrated  Sappho.     Straho,  xiii.  017. 

Alcaeus  may  justly  be  ranked  among  the  number  of 
those  unfortunate  authors,  who  once  filled  the  civilized 
world  with  their  fame,  and  of  whom,  to  our  regret,  time 
has  preserved  little  more  than  their  names.  Besides 
the  cultivation  of  poetry,  he  practised  music,  anddevot- 
e<l  himself  to  the  military  profession.  His  exertions, 
in  the  two  first-mentioned  capacities,  seem  however  to 
have  been  more  praise-worthy,  at  least  more  successful, 
than  his  conduct  as  a  warrior;  for  Herodotus  informs 
us,  that  he  threw  away  his  arms  and  fled,  in  a  battle 
gained  over  the  Lesbiuus  by  the  Athenians,  who  afterr 
wards  suspended  his  armour  in  the  temple  of  Minerva, 
at  Ligaeum.  (Herod.  I.  v.  c.  95.)  He  appears  to  have 
lived  in  constant  enmity  with  Pittacns,  whom  he  haras» 
sed  with  the  most  bitter  invectives;  but,  upon  being 
taken  prisoner  by  the  tyrant,  he  was  treated  with  much 
clemency,  and  set  at  liberty.  Fal.  Max.  I.  iv.  c.  f).  ex- 
tern. 6. 

The  i)ro<luctions  of  this  poet, which  we  have  reason  to 
believe  were  pretty  numerous,  have  all  perished,  except- 
ing a  few  fragments.  They  are  said  to  have  been  wan- 
tonly destroyetl,  along  with  many  other  exquisite  nwr- 
sels  of  antiquity,  by  the  Greek  ecclesiastics  of  the  early 
ages,  whose  sordid  envy  of  such  inimitable  models  of 
composition  prompted  them  to  annihilate,  what  they 
despaired  of  being  able  to  equal ;  and  who  endeavoured 
to  conceal  their  true  motives  under  the  mask  of  moral 
purity  and  religious  zeal.  See  Moore's  Rent,  on  Ana- 
crcon,  p.  24.  et.  seq. 

Alcaeus  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  accom- 
plbhed  lyric  poets  of  all  antiquity.  He  composed  many 
amatory  and  bacchanalian  songs,  in  the  style  and  charac- 
ter of  the  times : 

Liberum,  et  Musas,  Venereinque,  ct  illi 
Semper  hierentem  paerura  canebat. 

HuRAT.  Caiw.  i  32. 

But  these  compositions  seem  to  have  been  merely  the 
effusions  of  hilarity  in  convivial  moments;  for  Athenseus 
reports,  that  his  songs  were  produced  when  the  poet 
was  under  the  influence  of  the  jolly  god.  (Deipnos,  I. 
X.)  His  natural  disposition  of  mind  directed  his  serious 
thoughts  to  subjects  of  a  more  subliaie  and  interesting 
nature  ;  and  his  muse  appears  to  have  been  more  con- 
genially occupied  in  denouncing  vengeance  on  the  heads 
of  the  tyrants  of  Greece,  and  in  supiwrtiug  the  cause 
■  »  A  2 


372 


ALC 


ALC 


of  morality  and  virtue.     See  Homt.  carm.  ii.  13.  Qui'nf. 
Inst.  X.  1. 

The  works  of  Alcaeus  were  very  higlily  esteemed  by 
the  ancients.  Horace,  the  prince  of  Roman  lyric  poets, 
geems  to  have  been  indebted  to  him  for  several  of  his 
most  beautiful  odes,  and  frequently  alludes  to  him  in 
erms  of  admiration,     {z) 

ALCAICS,  from  Alcaeus,  a  name  given  by  the  an- 
cients to  several  species  of  versification,  supposed  to 
have  been  introduced  by  that  poet.  The  alcaic  versifi- 
cation consisted  principally  of  two  kinds ;  dactylic  and 
^mple  alcaics.  The  dactylic  alcaic  verse  was  of  two 
sorts;  the  one  consisted  of  a  spondee  or  iambus,  an 
iambus,  a  long  syllable,  and  two  dactyles ;  the  other  had 
two  dactyles,  and  two  trochees.  The  simple  alcaic 
verse  consisted  of  an  epitrite,  two  choriambuses,  and  a 
bachius. 

The  alcaic  ode  was  divided  into  several  strophes,  of 
four  verses  each.  The  two  first  verses  were  dactylic  al- 
caics of  the  first  kind ;  the  third  consisted  of  four  iam- 
bic feet,  with  the  addition  of  a  long  syllable;  and  the 
fourth  was  a  dactylic  alcaic  verse  of  the  second  kind. 

The  dactylic  alcaic  metre  has  been  imitated  by 
Klopstock,  and  other  German  poets,  in  some  of  their 
Giles,     (s) 

ALC  AID,  Alcade,  Alcald,  or  Alvacide,  an  Arabic 
word,  from  al,  the,  and  kad,  to  rule,  is  the  name  of  an 
officer  of  justice  among  the  Spaniards,  Portuguese,  and 
ftloors.  In  Spain,  an  alcaid  U  nearly  the  same  with  a 
justice  of  the  peace  in  England,     (nt) 

ALC  ALA  DE  Henares,  or  Alcala  de  S.  Just,  the 
Coniplulium  of  the  ancients,  a  beautiful  town  in  New 
Castile,  situated  on  the  river  Henares,  and  belonging  to 
the  archbishop  of  Toledo.  Its  university,  founded  in 
1253  by  Sancho  king  of  Castile,  and  the  greatest  in 
Spain  next  to  Salamanca,  was  restored  in  149-1,  by  Car- 
dinal Ximenfes,  who  is  buried  in  the  church  connected 
with  that  institution.  The  university  was  celebrated  for 
its  curious  manuscripts,  which  cost  about  4000  gold 
crowns.  Among  these  were  7  Hebrew  bibles,  and  pro- 
bably the  Greek  manuscripts  employed  for  the  Complu- 
lensian  edition  of  the  Greek  Testament.  In  1 784,  Pro- 
fessor Moldenhower  went  to  Alcala,  for  the  purpose 
of  discovering  these  valuable  remains  of  antiquity  ;  but 
he  found  that,  about  the  year  1 749,  some  barbarous  li- 
brarian, in  order  to  make  room  for  n«w  books,  sold  the 
MBS.  as  materials  for  making  fire-rockets.  In  the 
neighbourhood  of  Alcala  is  a  fine  spring,  whose  waters 
are  so  pure,  that  they  are  conveyed  to  Madrid  for  the 
use  of  the  royal  family.  This  town  is  13  miles  east 
of  Madrid.  Population  5000.  W.  Long.  4°  20'.  N.  Lat. 
40O  35'.     (o) 

ALCAMO,  a  town  in  Sicily,  which  takes  its  name 
from  Makatn,  the  caliph's  lieutenant,  who  conquered 
Sicily  in  827,  and  erected  a  fortress  in  Monte  Bonifati. 
Frederic  of  Swabia,  having  driven  out  the  Saracens,  de- 
stroyed the  rort,and  built  Alcamo  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain. The  town,  which  is  situated  in  the  valley  of  Migara, 
i«  20  miles  south-west  of  Palermo.  Population  8S00. 
E.  Long.  12»  56'.  N.  Lat.  38o  2'.  See  Swinburne's  Tra- 
teh,  vol.  iii.  p.  346.     (to) 

ALCANNA,  or  Elhanna,  a  drug  brought  from 
Egypt,  and  the  Levant,  and  prepared  from  the  "leaves  of 
Ahe  Egyptian  privet,  the  Lawsonia  Inermig  of  the  Lin- 
niean  system.  It  is  an  article  of  trade  with  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Cairo,  who  employ  it  to  give  a  golden  hue  to  their 
oailS)  band«,  and  liftir,  aad  tv  the  oia8«s  tuid  tails  9f  Ibcir 


horses.  Oil  of  Cyprus  is  extracted  from  the  berries 
of  alcanna.  See  Dapper's  Desmption  de  VAfrique,  p. 
83.  Murray's  Mat.  Med.  vol.  ii.  p.  112.  Phil.  Trans. 
vol.  XX.  p.  295.     (o) 

ALC  ANT  ARA,  the  AViaCrrsarfa  of  the  ancients,  a 
fortified  town,  situated  in  the  Spanish  province  of  Estre- 
madura,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tagus.  It  was  built  by 
the  Moors,  from  the  convenience  of  a  fine  stone  bridge, 
erected  by  the  order  of  Trajan.  Hence  it  derived  the 
name  of  Al-cantara,  or  the  Stone  Bridge.  The  bridgs 
consists  of  six  arches ;  it  is  raised  about  200  feet  above 
the  water,  and  is  670  feet  long  and  28  broad.  This 
town  was  taken  from  the  Moors  in  1214,  by  Alphonso 
IX.  king  of  Castile,  and  was  presented  l>y  him  to  the 
knights  of  Calatrava,  who  afterwards  took  the  title  of 
Alcantara.  Distance  from  Madrid  45  leagues.  W.Long.^ 
70  12'.  N.  Lat.  39032'.     (w) 

ALCANTARA,  Order  of,  an  ancient  military  order 
in  Spain.  This  order,  which,  at  its  first  institution,  was 
called  the  order  of  St.  Julian,  was  founded  in  1158,  by 
Don  Suero  Fernandes,  and  Don  Gomez  Fernandes  Ba- 
nientos,  two  brothers  from  Salamanca,  whose  religious 
zeal  induced  them  to  form  an  association  against  the  in- 
fidels. The  bishop  of  Salamanca  confirmed  their  plan, 
and  having  obtained  the  pope's  approbation,  they  were 
enjoined  io  observe  the  rules  of  St.  Benedict.  In  1219 
their  principcil  house  was  transferred  to  Alcantara,  which 
gave  its  name  to  the  order.  Though  tliis  order  is  not 
so  rich  as  formerly,  it  still  possesses  33  commanderies, 
4  alcaydies,  and  4  priories,  which  |)roduce  an  annual 
revenue  of  80,000  ducats.  When  the  town  of  Alcantara 
was  given  by  Alphonso  to  the  order  of  Calatrava,  the 
two  orders  were  united.     (0) 

ALCANTARA,  a  large  river  in  Sicily,  which,  rising 
in  the  Peloro  mountains,  runs  to  the  north  side  of  ^tna, 
defines  the  boundaries  of  that  mountain  for  the  space  of 
sixty  miles,  and  runs  into  the  sea  near  St.  ChitTe.  Some 
parts  of  its  course  have  been  obstructed  by  volcanic 
eruptions ;  and,  in  other  places,  the  stream  has  laid  bare 
the  solid  lava  to  the  depth  of  50  or  60  feet.  See  Brydone's 
Tow,  vol.  i.  p.  119.     {tv) 

ALCARAZ,  a  town  in  Spain  in  the  canton  of  L» 
Mancha,  in  New  Castile, situated  amid  mountains  on  the 
river  Guardamena,  defended  by  a  strong  castle,  and  ce- 
lebrated for  the  remains  of  an  ancient  aqueduct.  After 
a  siege  of  two  years,  this  town  was  taken  from  the  Moors, 
in  1213,  by  Alonzo  king  of  Castile.  Its  breed  of  small 
horses  is  famous  for  fleetness  and  strength.  W.  Long. 
2»  3'.  N.  Lat.  38»  28'.     (»») 

ALC  ARR  AZ  AS,  in  pottery,  are  a  kind  of  vessels  for 
cooling  wine  or  water,  when  intended  for  drinking.  As 
they  are  exceedingly  i)orous,  the  li()Uor  oozes  through 
them  on  all  sides ;  the  air  which  comes  in  contact  with 
it,  by  making  it  evaporate,  carries  off  the  heat  contained 
in  the  water,  &c.  in  the  vessel ;  thus  the  liquid  remain- 
ing in  the  jar  continues  at  a  temperature  considerably 
below  the  surrounding  atmos|>here. 

The  peculiar  convenience  attached  to  these  vessels 
has  introduced  them  to  numerous  places  of  the  worhl, 
where  the  heat  renders  the  coolness  of  what  is  drunk 
greatly  to  be  desired.  Thus  Uiey  are  used  in  Egypt,  as 
well  as  many  other  parts  of  Africa.  They  are  known  in 
the  East  Indies,  Syria,  Persia,  China,  and  in  other  parts 
of  Asia;  they  are  general  in  the  Spanish  colonies  of 
America;  and  in  Europe,  they  were  introduced  into 
Spain  by  tlve  ingenious  people  of  Arabia. 

fi9XLW,  SO  nearly  allieU  to  Spain,  by  intercourse  and 


ALCARRAZAS. 


3!t3 


by  situation,  and  to  whom  the  introduction  of  Alcarrazas 
would  be  as  beneficial  as  to  the  former,  cannot  boast  of 
a  manufactory  of  this  article.  Cit.  Darzet  was  anxious 
to  analyze  this  white  marly  earth,  and  by  employing  all 
the  precision  necessary  for  that  purpose,  he  found  that 
one  hundred  grains  of  it  contained  sixty  of  calcareous 
earth,  mixed  with  alumine,  and  a  little  oxyd  of  iron, 
difficult  to  be  dissolved,  and  36|  of  siliceous  earth,  also 
mixed  with  alumine  and  the  same  oxyd.  The  quantity 
•f  iron  may  be  estimated  at  almost  a  grain. 

The  manufactory  of  alcarrazas  possesses  recommen- 
dations, which  most  others  do  not  easily  admit.  The 
expense  of  forming  erections  for  this  process  is  very 
trifling.  The  process  by  which  the  jars  are  made,  as 
we  shall  see  below,  is  very  simple ;  and  the  profits  are 
very  certain,  if  the  public  do  not  refuse  to  adopt  so  use- 
ful a  practice. 

The  preparation  given  to  the  earth,  may  be  reduced 
to  three  principal  operations  : 

First,  Suppose  it  were  necessary  to  manufacture  1 30 
pounds  of  earth.: — After  it  has  been  dried,  and  divided 
into  portions  of  the  size  of  a  walnut,  it  is  macerated  in 
a  basin  or  tub,  by  proceeding  in  the  following  manner: 
The  workman  takes  about  three  or  four  cekmiiis  of  earth, 
(acelemin  isa  measure  of  capacity,  whLchcontains  about 
seven  pounds  of  grain,)  which  are  spread  out  equally  in 
the  basin,  and  water  is  poured  over  it ;  he  then  throws 
in  three  or  four  celemins  more  of  earth,  which  are  wa- 
tered as  before,  and  thus  repeats  these  operations  until 
the  tub  be  sufficiently  full.  In  pouring  on  the  last  ^vater, 
care  is  taken  not  to  add  any  more  than  may  be  neces- 
sary to  cover  the  whole  mass.  In  this  state,  it  is  suf- 
fered to  remain  twelve  hours  ;  after  which,  it  is  worked 
and  kneaded  by  the  hands  in  the  tub,  until  it  is  reduced 
to  the  consistence  of  a  tough  paste.  The  earth  is  then 
deposited  on  a  smooth  flat  form,  covered  with  brick, 
kept  exceedingly  clean,  over  which  is  strewed  a  little 
sifted  ashes.  It  is  formed  into  a  cake,  about  six  inches 
in  thickness,  which  is  smoothed  at  the  surface  as  well 
as  at  the  sides.  It  is  left  in  that  state  until  it  begins  to 
crack,  after  which  it  is  freed  from  the  ashes  which  ad- 
here to  it,  and  removed  to  another  tiled  place,  made  ex- 
ceedingly clean. 

Second  Preparation. — To  this  earth,  the  workman 
•dds  seven  pounds  of  sea  salt,  if  he  wishes  to  make  Jar- 
ras  ;  and  only  the  half,  if  i<  is  destined  for  the  fabrica- 
tion of  6ot?ms,  or  canfaro.?.  This  difference  arises  from 
the  greater  or  less  capacity  intended  to  be  given  to  the 
vases ;  the  larger  the  vase  is,  its  sides  must  be  so  much 
thicker,  that  it  may  have  the  necessary  degree  of 
strength  ;  but  the  earth,  at  the  same  time,  must  be  more 
porous,  otherwise  the  water  would  not  filter  through 
with  ease ;  and,  for  this  reason,  the  workman  acWs  a 
greater  quantity  of  salt,  when  he  wishes  to  make  jarriw, 
which  are  much  larger  than  the  bolisas,  or  cantaros. 
The  earth  is  kneaded  with  the  feet,  adding  the  salt  gra- 
dually, and  this  labour  is  repeated  at  least  three  times, 
without  the  necessity  of  adding  more  water,  as  the  mois- 
ture retained  by  the  material  is  sufficient. 

Third  Preparation. — The  earth,  after  being  thus  sub- 
jected to  these  various  manipulations,  is  now  fit  to  be 
applied  to  the  lathe.  The  man,  Avho  is  employed  for 
this  work,  ought  to  beat  it  Well  with  his  hands,  taking 
care  to  extract  the  stones,  even  the  smallest  which  he 
may  meet  with,  as  well  as  every  other  foreign  body. 
He  then  forms  it  into  lumps,  which  he  applies  to  the 
Iatl;es  to  be  made  into  vases  or  jars.    Xbe  alcairazas 


may  be  baked  in  any  kind  of  furnace  used  by  potters. 
Those  em|)loyed  in  Spain  are  eighteen  feet  square  in 
the  inside,  and  live  feet  three  4nches  high.  The  flame 
enters  by  a  liole,  one  foot  four  inches  in  diameter,  situ- 
ated in  the  centre.  Such  a  furnace  Avill  contain  800  dif- 
ferent pieces  of  different  sizes,  including  500  jarras. 
Pottery  of  much  greater  strength  than  the  alcarrazas 
may  be  baked  in  the  same  furnace,  if  care  be  taken  to 
keep  up  the  fire  for  one  or  two  hours  longer.  The  al- 
carrazas, which  require  to  be  only  half  baked,  remain 
there  ten  or  twelve  hours,  according  to  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  air,  or  the  greater  or  less  quantity  of  the  fuel 
employed.  Processes  are  followed  in  some  of  the  pot- 
teries of  ^pain  varying  in  some  degree  from  the  above 
routine;  but  they  all  depend  on  the  same  principles. 
Alter  the  earth  has  been  pounded,  it  is  suffered  to  ma- 
cerate in  a  tub  for  twenty-four  hours ;  the  whole  is  then 
mixed  with  a  stick,  and  it  is  freed  from  the  straws,  or 
other  foreign  bodies,  that  float  on  the  surface ;  the  stones 
and  coaser  i)art3  of  the  earth  fall  to  the  bottom  of  the 
vessel,  and  the  finer  is  drawn  ofl"  by  a  hole  four  inches 
above  it.  Tlie  earth  is  then  left  to  dry  to  a  requisite 
degree,  and  is  afterwards  de|)osited  in  a  moist  place,  to 
be  employed  as  may  be  found  necessary.  In  other  ma- 
nufactories, the  earth  when  dry,  is  ground  below  a  rol- 
ler, after  which  it  is  sifted,  and  the  proper  quantity  of 
salt  and  wafer  being  added,  it  is  then  kneaded.  The 
proportion  of  salt  is  not  every  where  the  same.  In  some 
|)laces,  the  same  quantity  of  earth  requires  a  half  less 
of  salt.  Care  is  always  taken  to  choose  earth  of  a  proper 
quality,  without  ever  having  occasion  to  add  to  it  a  mix- 
ture of  SMid.  The  same  earth  is  employed  also  for  com- 
mon pottery  ;  the  only  difference  is,  that  salt  is  added  to 
the  clay  used  for  the  alcarrazas,  and  that  they  are  only 
half  baked. 

The  Arabs  were  the  first  who  introduced  the  manu- 
facture and  use  of  these  vessels  into  Spain,  wliere  they 
are  now  manufactured  in  several  diflerent  places.  They 
are  made,  as  we  have  seen,  of  different  forms  and  various 
sizes,  and  are  generally  of  a  grayish-white  colour.  The 
most  celebrated  place  for  this  species  of  pottery,  and 
that  from  which  all  the  vessels  of  this  kind,  used  at 
Madrid,  are  brought,  is  Anduxar,  in  Andalusia.  The 
banks  of  the  rivulet,  called  Pamusoro,  which  is  situated  at 
the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  league  from  the  above 
town,  abounds  with  earth  for  making  them. 

There  is  not  a  single  family  in  Madrid,  and  scarcely 
a  house  in  all  Spain,  where  alcarrazas  are  not  in  constant 
use.  A  kind  of  red  vessel,  called  buccaros,  employed 
likewise  to  cool  water,  is  also  made  at  a  place  called 
Salvatierra,  in  Estremadura;  but  the  earth  being  less 
porous,  it  is  not  so  proper  for  the  intended  pur|)ose. 
Besides,  these  vases  communicate  to  the  water  a  disa- 
greeable argillaceous  taste ;  in  which  they  differ  little 
from  the  effect  of  the  common  filtering  basins,  or 
stones,  used  in  England.  Among  the  ladies  of  dladrid, 
these  buccaros  are  in  great  request,  some  of  ivhom 
pound  fragments  of  them,  and' mix  the  powder  with 
snuff.  Young  girls  have  a  particular  fondness  for  this 
kind  of  irottery,  and  eat  it  whea  they  are  troubled  witt 
the  chlorosis. 

Vases  of  a  similar  kind  to  those  above  descrihed,  are 
em[)Ioyed  in  Portugal  for  moistening  snuff.  They  are 
plunged  into  water,  after  being  filled  with  that  article, 
and  the  liquid,  filtering  insensibly  through  them,  com- 
municates to  the  ingredient  enclosed,  after  a  few  hours 
are  expired,  the  necessary  degree  of  humidity. 


374 


ALC 


ALC 


The  editor  of  the  Journal  de  Physique  is  of  opinion, 
that  the  niixture  of  fossil  ^eal  with  common  potter's 
earth  might  alToril  an  useful  Buhstitute,  both  for  the  al- 
carrazas  and  tlie  filtering  stones.  Tlie  fossil  meal  is 
lliat  of  which  the  floating  bricks  of  Tuscany  are  made, 
and  wliich,  according  to  the  testimony  of  Pliny  and 
Strabo,  was  anciently  found  in  great  plenty  both  in  Asia 
and  Spain.  To  the  proposed  use,  liowever,  of  this  sul)- 
stitute,  Uie  earthy  flavour,  which  it  would  communicate 
to  the  water,  has  been  thought  a  radical  objection  ;  but 
this  we  have  seen,  is  an  cflect  attending  also  the  filter- 
ing stones  of  England.  'See  Cooiji.v.,  Egyptian ;  Eva- 
poration; Hygrometer,     (f) 

ALCASSAR,  or  Alcazar  Qi/i6ir,  formerly  Cajsar  oZ 
Cabiris,  a  city  of  Barbary,  situated  in  Asga,  a  province  of 
the  kingdom  of  Fez.  It  was  l)uilt  by  Jacob  Almazar, 
king  of  Fez,  about  1180 ;  and  was  intended  as  a  depot 
for  the  immense  stores,  and  a  rendezvous  for  the  pow- 
erful army,  with  which  he  meant  to  enter  Granada,  in 
Spain.  The  Portuguese  made  themselves  masters  of 
this  town  in  1458;  before  which  time  it  was  the  resi- 
dence of  a  governor,  ami  a  place  of  considerable  trade. 
It  is  now  in  a  ruinous  state,  inundated  with  water  in 
winter,  and  scorched  with  heat  in  summer.  It  was  in 
the  vicinity  of  this  town,  upon  the  river  Elma-hassan, 
that  a  famous  battle  was  fought,  in  1678,  between  Se- 
bastian king  of  Portugal,  and  the  Moors,  in  which  three 
kings  were  slain,  viz.  the  king  of  Portugal,  Abdelme- 
lech,  king  of  Morocco,  and  Mahomet,  the  usurper.  W. 
Long.  12»  36'.  N.  Lat.  35°  15'.     (»y) 

ALCAVALA,  a  tax  ujion  transferable  property,  im- 
posed under  the  Spanish  and  Neapolitan  governments. 
In  Naples,  it  was  only  3  per  cent. ;  but  in  Spain,  it  rose 
from  10  to  14  per  cent,  and  afterwards  decreased  to  6 
per  cent.  See  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations,  vol.  iii.  p. 
381.  (o) 

ALCE  A,  or  Holly  Hock,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class 
Monadelphia,  and  order  Polyandria.  See  Botany,  (w) 

ALCEDO,  or  King  Fisher,  a  genus  of  birds,  arranged 
by  Linnaeus  in  the  order  of  Pica;,  and  by  Cuvier  un- 
der the  order  of  Passeres,  and  family  Tenuirostres.  See 

ORMTnOI.OOY.      (/) 

ALCHEMILLA,  a  genus  of  plants,  of  the  class  Te- 
trandria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany.     (»») 

ALCHEMY,  an  occult  science,  which  pretended,  by 
means  of  a  sublimer  chemistry,  to  teach  modes  of  form- 
ing the  philosopher's  stone,  the  universal  medicine,  and 
the  universal  solvent ;  and  of  producing  the  precious 
metals  and  gems  from  common  and  cheap  materials. 
'I'he  term  alchemy,  however,  has  been  usually  employ- 
ed in  a  more  limited  sense,  to  denote  the  art  of  forming 
the  philosopher's  stone,  and,  by  means  of  it,  transmuting 
the  inferior  metals  into  gold  and  silver.  This  subject 
derives  considerable  intwcst  from  the  strange  delusion 
with  which  it  misled  philosophers  for  a  period  of  more 
than  one  thousand  years ;  from  the  effects  of  that  dehi- 
eion  upon  the  happiness  of  society  during  its  reign ;  and 
from  the  powerful  influence  which  it  has  had  upon  the 
progress  of  science.  We  shall  on  these  accounts  con- 
eider  it  more  fully  than  from  its  intrinsic  merit  the 
subject  deserves. 

The  ancient  philogophers  conceived  the  various  l)o- 
dies  in  nature  to  be  com))08ed  of  four  elements,  viz. 
earth,  water,  air,  and  fire.  (See  ^ther.)  Of  these 
philosophers,  the  atomists,  who  had  by  far  tl)e  most  cor- 
jrect  vitws  of  physical  science,  held,  that  each  bo<Iy 
(|eriycd  its  peculiar  prop«rlie^  from  the  pr'oportion  of 


the  elements  which  entered  into  its  composition,  And  the 
mode  in  wliich  (liey  were  combined.  Bj'  elements,  how- 
ever, they  did  not,  as  in  modern  chemistry,  mean  pri- 
mary principles,  which  no  operation  of  nature  or  art  is 
capable  of  changing ;  for  they  believed  that  the  different 
elements  were  mutually  convertible.     Thus  Heraclitus 

says,  wpe(  5a»«T«s  »i^i  yiiefig  kcc'i   ««f »5  ^xixla  uixTt 

yttea-n:  And  again,  u««7«  5«»«7»5  y>i»  ye»c<rS«i;  that  is, 
the  "death  of  fire  is  generation  to  air,  and  the  death  of  air  i« 
generation  to  water  :  and  it  is  death  to  water  to  become 
earth.  By  this  hypothesis,  these  philosophers  explained 
several  of  the  appearances  in  nature.  They  did  not  at- 
tempt, however,  to  make  any  application  of  this  theory  to 
the  arts;  a  neglect  which  seems  to  have  arisen  from  the 
circumstance  that,  as  the  manual  arts  were  then  practis- 
ed chiefly  by  slaves,  men  of  liberal  education  considered 
any  attention  to  them  as  a  degradationof  their  character. 
But  when,  by  the  universal  diffusion  of  Christianity, 
slavery  was  abolished,  and  the  arts  were  cultivated  by 
free  men,  these  prejudices  were  gradually  removed,  and 
philosophers  no  longer  disdained  to  engage  in  manual 
operations,  either  for  instruction  or  for  profit.  They 
soon  perceived  that  it  followed  as  a  necessary  conse* 
quence,  from  the  theories  of  their  predecessors,  that  any 
substance  in  nature  may  be  changed  into  any  other, 
either  by  adding  to  it  or  subtracting  from  it,  a  portion  of 
certain  elements,  or  by  transmuting  some  of  those  ele- 
ments which  it  contains  into  different  ones.  The  science 
of  chemistry,  which  treats  of  the  changes  produced  in 
bodies  by  different  agents,  held  out  the  prospect  of  ena- 
bling them  to  effectuate  such  permutations,  and  some  of 
its  results  were  adapted,  in  that  state  of  science,  to  flatter 
them  with  the  idea  of  having  actually  changed  a  small 
portion  of  the  inferior  metals  into  gold  or  silver.  Lead 
and  copper  are  frequently  alloyed  with  these  valuable 
metal.'i.  Consequently,  when  the  former  are  subjected 
to  the  operation  of  powerful  chemical  agents,  the  latter, 
which  do  not  so  easily  put  ofl"  the  metallic  aspect,  would 
sometimes  become  apparent  in  the  residuum.  Such  a 
result  would  naturally  give  rise  to  a  l)elief,  that  these 
metals  had  been  actually  formed  during  the  operation, 
and  would  lead  the  artist  to  imEgine,  that  by  varying  the 
process  he  could  procure  them  in  greater  quantity. 
These  are  probably  the  particular  circumstances  from 
which  alchemy  had  its  origin ;  but  the  early  history  of 
this  delusion  is  involved  in  too  much  ol)scurity  to  ena- 
ble us  to  form  a  decided  opinion. 

The  alchemists  pretend  that  Noah  was  acquainted 
with  this  art.  It  is  even  shrewdly  suspected  by  these 
gentlemen,  that  Adam  had  consideralle  knowledge  of 
the  sui  ject.  After  the  death  of  Noah,  his  descendants 
carried  with  them  this  science  into  ttie  different  regions 
of  the  earth  over  which  they  were  dispersed.  Some 
of  these  colonies,  however,  gradually  sunk  into  igno- 
rance,while  others  cultivated  the  different  (larfs  of  know- 
ledge with  considerable  success.  The  most  celebrated 
of  the  ancient  nations,  for  their  acquisitions  in  science, 
were  the  Egyptians ;  among  w  hoin  Hermes  Trismegis- 
tus,  at  a  very  early  period,  is  alleged  to  have  been  a 
great  master  in  alchemy,  and  to  have  inscribed  his  dis- 
coveries upon  stone  pillars.  ThesS  discoveries  were  al- 
so preserved  by  the  Egyptian  |irie!>ts,  in  hieroglyphic 
characters,  upon  the  walls  of  their  temples,  and  in  writ- 
ten books,  which  they  kejit  particularly  secret.  The 
Egyptians  were  supposed  to  have  communicated  this 
knowledge  to  Pythagoras  and  several  other  (irecittn 
philocophers,  after  many  years  anxious  attendance  an4l 


ALCHEMY. 


37.> 


earnest  solicitation.  This  account  of  the  origin  of  al- 
chemy, founded  on  forced  interpretations  and  spurious 
works  of  ancient  authors,  is  wholly  unworthy  of  credit. 
The  first  certain  notices  which  we  have  of  the  existence 
of  alchemy  are  referable  to  the  third  or  fourth  century, 
about  which  time  it  appears  to  have  been  pursued  with 
considerable  ardour  by  the  Greek  ecclesiastics,  whose 
treatises  upon  the  subject  are  numerous,  though  little 
valued  l)y  their  successors.  At  this  period  the  attention 
of  alchemists  seems  to  have  been  chiefly  turned  towards 
the  formation  of  silver  and  gold.  Inconsequence  of  the 
Mahometan  conquests,  alchemy  was  transferred  from  the 
Greeks  to  the  Arabians;  and,  by  this  change,  became 
more  extensive  in  its  signification,  as  well  as  more  en- 
couraged by  the  patronage  of  the  great.  The  Arabian 
physicians  iutrotluced  into  medicine  the  use  of  mercurial 
preparations,  and  were  led,  by  the  snccess  of  this  first 
experiment,  to  form  very  presumptuous  hopes  of  the 
power  of  chemical  substances  in  curing  disease.  Al- 
chemy was  then  no  longer  confined  to  the  transmutation 
of  metals,  but  included  an  art  not  less  intereBting  to  the 
human  mind, — that  of  preparing  an  universal  medicine, 
which  should  be  a  remedy  for  all  diseases,  and  the  means 
of  protracting  indefinitely  the  life  of  man.  Thus  ad- 
dressing itself  to  two  of  the  most  jjowerful  principles  of 
our  nature,  the  desire  of  riches  and  longevity,  thij  delu- 
sion extended  its  fascination  to  every  rank  in  society. 
It  was  patronized  by  the  rich,  and  eagerly  prosecuted 
by  the  learned.  The  illustrious  names  of  Geber,  Rha- 
zes,  and  Avicenna,  appear  in  the  number  of  its  votaries. 

Little  is  known  of  the  history  of  alchemy  during  the 
eleventhand  twelfth  centuries.  The  sciences  had  then  be- 
gun to  decline  in  the  eastern  world,  and  had  only  shed  a 
faint  light  upon  the  western  parts  of  Europe.  About  the 
middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  Albertus  Magnus,  Ro- 
ger Bacon,  Raymond  Lully,  and  Arnoldus  de  Villanova, 
by  their  writings  and  examples,  attracted  the  attention  of 
learned  men  to  the  subject  of  alchemy.  The  preten- 
sions of  alchemists  became  more  bold  than  at  any  for- 
mer period.  They  professed  to  develope  the  constituent 
principles  of  gems,  and  to  communicate  processes  by 
which  they  might  be  produced.  The  discovery  of  the 
philosopher's  stone  was  now  supposed  not  only  to  give 
the  power  of  forming  the  precious  metals,  but  to  involve 
many  wonderful  mysteries  in  religion  and  science. 

During  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  the 
impulse  which  Roger  Bacon  and  his  contemporaries  had 
given  to  the  public  mind,  was  maintained  by  thr.  abili- 
ties of  several  philosophers,  and  by  the  example  of  dif- 
ferent princes  and  men  of  rank,  who  engaged  in  this 
delusive  pursuit.  By  their  influence,  the  belief  in  al- 
chemy became  almost  universal;  and  impostors,  who 
pretended  to  possess  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  to 
teach  the  secret  for  a  sum  of  money,  were  enabled  to 
profit  by  the  credulity  and  ignorance  of  the  times.  These 
imi>ositions  at  length  alarmed  the  higher  ranks  in  so- 
ciety, and  brought  the  whole  class  of  alchemists  into 
disrepute.  Laws  were  enacted  against  them  by  the 
different  jirinces  of  Europe ;  and  men  of  learning  began 
to  dispute  the  practicability  of  transmuting  the  metals, 
anil  to  question  the  validity  of  the  evidenc«  that  such 
transmutations  had  ever  been  efliected. 

Another  branch  of  alchemy,  viz.  that  of  forming  an 
universal  medicine,  began  about  this  periotl  to  rise  into 
celebrity.  The  chief  supporter  of  this  empiricism  was 
the  celebrated  Paracelsus,  who,  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
hy  a  bold  at}pinistratioa  of  cbemical  preparatious,  ciuetl 


several  diseases  which  transcended  the  power  of  the 
feeble,  medicines  then  in  use.  His  death,  ia  the  47th 
year  of  his  age,  alter  having  pretefided  to  possess  the 
universal  remedy,  and  prorflised  by  means  of  it  to  confer 
longevity  on  his  patients,  gave  a  si  ock  to  this  branch  of 
alcliemy,  from  which  it  neverrecovered.  Inconsequence 
of  these  events,  and  of  the  gradual  improvements  in 
knowledge,  which  enabled  learned  men  to  perceive  the 
fallacies  by  which  their  predecessors  had  been  misled, 
and  to  detect  the  in)postures  of  those  who,  from  time  to 
time,  pretended  to  perform  transmutations,  the  study 
of  alchemy,  after  a  gradual  decline  during  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  has  now  totally  disap- 
peared. 

One  naturally  feels  a  desire  to  know  by  what  theories 
the  alchemists  guided  their  researches  in  pursuit  of  the 
philosoidier's  stone,  and  by  what  processes  they  directed 
their  disciples  to  form  this  invaluable  substance.  If  we 
have  recourse  to  their  writings  with  tliis  view,  we  shall 
be  astonished  at  the  impenetrable  obscurity  in  which  they 
are  involved.  The  alchemists  pretend,  that  the  know- 
ledge of  the  philosopher's  stone  was  reserved  by  Provi- 
dence for  a  few  select  persons,  who,  by  a  diligent  study 
of  the  alchemical  authors,  bypatient  pereeverance  in  the 
pursuit  of  experiment,  and  by  an  unblemished  course  of 
virtue,  had  rendered  themselves  worthy  of  having  this 
secret  revealed  to  them.  They  accordingly  threatened, 
with  the  severest  vengeance  of  Heaven,  both  in  this  and 
a  future  state,  that  person  who  should  counteract  the 
designs  of  Providence  by  disclosing  this  divine  art  to 
the  profane  vulgar.  Their  books  were,  therefore,  writteo 
in  a  style  of  studied  obscurity,  in  order  that  none  but 
the  peculiar  favourites  of  heaven  might  be  able  to  un- 
derstand them.  Some  of  these  writers  adopt  such  mys- 
tical modes  of  expression,  or  employ  such  peculiar  dia- 
grams and  symbols,  as  to  be  absolutely  unintelligible; 
while  others,  after  professing  to  speak  plainly,  and  for 
some  time  employing  the  known  terms  of  chemistry, 
suddenly  disappoint  our  expectations.  Just  as  we  begin 
to  flatter  ourselves  that  we  understand  their  processes, 
and  perceive  the  particular  object  which  they  have  in 
view,  they  tell  us  that  the  copper  or  the  silver  which 
they  have  immediately  before  commanded  us  to  employ, 
is  (lion  vulgi  sed  noslntm,)  not'  the  copper  or  silver  of 
the  vulgar,  but  of  philosophers.  When  after  deluding 
their  readers  in  this  manner,  they  conclude  by  an  (intel- 
lige  si  poles') — understand  me  if  you  can  ;^-or,  (si  pltira 
dicercm  etiam  piieri  intelligerent)  If  I  should  say  more, 
even  children  would  understand ; — we  can  scarcely  help 
believing,  that  their  works  were  intended  rather  to  ridi- 
cule than  explain  the  science.  Thus  the  unha|)py  per- 
sons who  addicted  themselves  to  the  study  of  alchemy 
always  remained  uncertain  how  to  interpret  the  author 
whom  they  cliose  as  their  instructor ;  and  instead  of 
being  led,  from  theunfortunateissueof  their  experiments, 
to  doubt  the  authority  of  their  guide,  and  desist  entirely 
from  the  pursuit,  rather  Fupposed  that  they  had  misun- 
derstood the  author  :  and  attempted,  l»y  a  more  attentive 
study  of  his  works  to  arrive  at  his  true  meaning.  They 
were  thus  led  on  from  one  delusive  hoiie  to  another, 
from  one  expensive  jjrocess  to  another  still  more  expen- 
sive, till  the  complete  expenditure  of  their  own  fundg, 
and  the  failure  of  their  credit  with  others,  forced  them 
unwillingly  to  desist  from  their  exiieriments.  After 
having  thus  spent  their  lives  in  perpetual  labours  and 
disappointments ;  after  having  injured  their  health  by 
the  processes  in  which  they  were  employed ;  and  redu 


876 


ALC 


ALC 


ced  tliemseltes  to  absolute  poverty,  in  their  chase  after 
uii  imaginary  object,  the  alchemists  were  sehlom  cured 
of  their  folly,  but  indulging,  in  retirement,  in  their  vi- 
sionary speculations,  they  at  last,  either  from  mental  de- 
rangement, or  from  the  want  of  funds  sufficient  to  dis- 
prove their  new  theory  by  experiment,  believed  them- 
selves to  have  become  acquainted  with  the  mode  of 
forming  the  philosopher's  stone ;  and  composed  mystical 
books  to  teach  the  art  to  others. 

W  e  have  already  mentioned,  that  the  belief  in  alchemy 
probably  had  its  rise  from  an  application  of  the  atomic 
theory  to  the  phenomena  of  chemistry.  But  from  the 
obscure  ^yle  of  alchemical  authors,  it  is  impossible  to 
trace  a  distinct  theory  in  most  of  their  writings,  or  to 
find  a  consistency  in  their  ideas.  Some  of  these  writers 
indulge  in  the  reveries  of  the  Platonists;  others  are 
deeply  infected  with  the  delusion  of  celestial  influences, 
and  a  thousand  other  ridiculous  fancies.  It  will  there- 
fore be  sufficient  to  mention  the  theory  which  has  been 
avowed  by  the  latest  and  most  intelligent  of  the  alche- 
mists. They  supposed  the  metals  to  be  composed  of 
two  substances,  metallic  earth,  and  an  inflammable  prin- 
ciple, which  they  called  sulphur.  In  gold,  these  prin- 
ciples were  found  nearly  pure ;  but,  in  the  other  metals, 
they  were  contaminated  with  different  foreign  ingre- 
dients, by  being  purified  from  which,  they  would  be  con- 
verted into  gold.  To  this  purification,  their  various 
processes  had  a  reference.  Among  the  earliest  of  the 
alchemists,  who  held  this  theory,  neither  the  earth,  nor 
sulphur  of  metals,  seem  to  have  been  considered  as  sim- 
ple elements ;  but  the  later  alchemists  appear  to  have 
viewed  them  in  that  light.  The  great  instrument  by 
which  the  purification  of  the  metals  was  to  be  produced, 
they  called, — the  philosojfher's  stone,  the  lapis  tingens, 
the  medicina  metallorum,  the  elixir,  the  powder  of  pro- 
jections, &c.  A  small  portion  of  this  substance,  by  be- 
ing projected  into  any  of  the  inferior  metals,  while  in 
fusion,  would  convert  the  whole  mass  into  gold  or  sil- 
ver. The  opinions,  concerning  the  operation  of  the 
philosopher's  stone  were  various.  Some  conceived  it  to 
act  as  a  ferment  upon  the  inferior  metals;  others  as  a 
corrosive,  which  consumed  their  impurities;  and  a  third 
set  seem  to  have  conceived  its  action  somewhat  similar 
to  that  of  lead,  in  refining  the  superior  metals.  The 
first  alchemists  believed  in  only  one  species  of  philoso- 
pher's stone ;  but  the  inconsistencies  of  diflerent  au- 
thors, in  treating  of  its  powers,  rendered  it  necessary 
for  their  successors  to  believe,  that  this  stone  differed 
in  the  quantity  of  metal,  which  a  given  weight  of  it  was 
capable  of  converting  into  gold ;  thus,  when  formed  ac- 
cording to  one  process,  an  ounce  of  the  stone  could  con- 
vert only  ten  ounces  of  lead  or  copper  into  gold ;  but,  if 
formed  according  to  another  process,  it  was  capable  of 
transmuting  one  thousand  times  its  own  weight.  Basil 
Valentine  makes  a  further  distinction  between  different 
stones ;  besides  the  lapis  philosophortim,  or  philosopher's 
stone,  which  is  formed  from  gold,  and  converts  all  metals 
into  that  substance,  he  supposes  several  other  stonee, 
which  are  only  capable  of  transmuting  particular  metals; 
*' sed  lapis  if;ms"  says  be,  " non  tingit  universaiiter, 
eicut  lapis  philosophonim  qui  ex  solis  cssmlia  paratiir : 
Hcquaquam.  Elenitn  tantum  ei  cmiccssitm  rum  est,  ad  ef- 
ficicndum  sua  virlule,  verum  tingit  partiatlariter,  nevtpe 
tunam  in  solctn  prater  slannum  ct  plumbum :  Marten  ct 
Veturem  cquidcm  mnittit."  All  the  adepts  agree  (hat  the 
colour  of  Ibo  i)hilogopher's  stone  was  red ;  but  diHer  very 
.  much  concerning  the  substances  from  which  it  may  be 


fortfied.  In  consequence  of  this  diversity  of  opinion,  it 
has  been  sought  for  in  innumerable  bodies,  some  of  them 
the  most  execrable,  and  by  processes  extremely  tedious 
and  pernicious  to  the  health  of  the  operator.  See  An- 
drew's History,  vol.  ii.  p.  87.;  Pontanus  cuid  Hatnel ; 
Irencus  Phikiletha  ;  Price's  pamphlet,  entitled,  Accounts 
from  Experiments  performed  at  Guilford.     A.  C. 

ALCIBI ADES,  an  Athenian  general,  was  descended 
from  one  of  the  first  families  at  Athens,  and  was  pos- 
sessed of  great  personal  accomplishments.  He  was 
eminent  in  the  field,  by  his  high  military  talents ;  and 
not  less  so  in  the  forum,  by  his  graceful  and  command- 
ing eloquence.  At  times,  he  was  studious  and  tempe- 
rate ;  and  again,  luxurious  and  dissipated ;  capable  of  as- 
suming any  character,  and  of  shining  in  any  company ; 
extraordinary,  in  short,  both  for  his  good  and  bad  quali- 
ties. He  was  educated  in  the  house  of  Pericles,  and  at- 
tended the  instructions  of  Socrates.  He  acquired  so 
much  influence  among  his  fellow-citizens,  by  his  gene- 
rosity in  bestowing  money  and  pleading  causes,  that  he 
began  to  be  viewed  with  a  jealous  eye,  as  possessing 
more  power  than  was  becoming  in  a  private  person,  or 
consistent  with  the  safety  of  a  republic.  While  con- 
ducting an  expedition  against  the  Syracusans,  he  was 
accused,  in  his  absence,  of  sacrilege ;  and  a  vessel  was 
sent  to  Sicily  to  bring  him  home  to  take  his  trial. 
Aware  of  the  suspicious  and  fickle  temper  of  his  coun- 
trymen, he  endeavoured  to  avoid  the  storm  which 
threatened  him,  by  retiring  to  Thebes.  But  when  he 
understood  there,  that  his  person  was  condemned,  his 
property  confiscated,  and  his  name  laid  under  a  curse,- 
he  joined  the  Lacedremonians,  and  soon  rendered  them 
victorious  over  the  Athenians.  The  more,  however, 
that  they  profited  by  his  aid,  the  more  they  dreaded  his 
return  to  Athens;  and,  therefore,  they  laid  pl;ins  agwinst 
his  life.  Alcibiades,  discovering  their  designs,  repair- 
ed to  Tissaphernes,  an  officer  of  the  Persian  prince, 
conferred  with  the  Athenian  commanders,  Thrasyl-ulus 
and  Theramenes,  was  restored  by  their  intercession  to 
the  favour  of  his  countrymen,  and  united  with  them  in 
the  command  of  the  forces.  He  strengthened  the  Athe- 
nians by  many  important  conquests  and  alliances,  forced 
the  Lacedsemonians  to  sue  for  peace,  and  returned  in 
triumph  to  Athens.  He  was  welcomed  by  the  people 
as  their  deliverer,  presented  with  crowns  of  gold,  rein- 
stated in  his  possessions,  and  loaded  with  honours.  But 
this  high  opinion,  which  his  countrymen  entertained 
of  his  talents,  was  the  great  source  of  all  his  troubles. 
Sensible  of  his  unbounded  influence,  they  were  con- 
tinually alarmed,  lest  he  should  seize  ui)on  the  sove- 
reignty ;  and,  convinced  that  there  was  nothing  which 
he  could  not  accomplish,  they  were  ready  to  suspect 
him  of  treachery,  w  henever  he  failed  in  any  undertaking. 
Hence,  ujion  occasion  of  some  bad  success,  he  was 
again  deprived  of  his  command.  But,  instead  of  return- 
ing home,  he  collected  a  body  of  men,  and  made  incur- 
sions into  Thrace  ;  watching  always  for  the  good  of  his 
ungrateful  country,  and  often  giving  usefid  warnings 
to  her  generals.  Finding  himself  not  sufficiently  safe 
in  Thrace  from  the  vengeance  of  the  Lacednjmoniaus, 
he  look  refuge  with  Pharnabazus,  into  whose  goo<I 
graces  he  soon  insinuated  himself,  and  from  whom  he 
received  a  possession  in  Phrygia.  While  he  was  taking 
measures  to  engage  the  Persian  monarch  on  the  side  of 
the  Athenians,  the  Lacedaemonians  prevailed  with  Phar- 
nabazus  to  send  persons  to  take  away  his  life.  The 
party  despatched  for  this  purpose,  afraid'-  to  atlaflk 


ALC 


Ate 


^77 


tiiia  single  man  face  to  face,  in  a  cowardly  inauner 
set  fire  to  his  house,  during  the  night,  and  pierced  him 
with  arrow  s  from  a  distance,  as  he  was  endeavouring 
to  escape  from  the  flames.  See  Com.  Nep.  and  Plu- 
tarch,    (g) 

ALC  I  NOUS,  king  of  PhoBacia,  now  Corfu,  He  re- 
ceived Ulj'sses  with  great  hospitality,  when  he  was  ship- 
wrecked upon  his  coast.  He  offered  him  his  (laughter 
in  marriage,  and  conveyed  him  to  Ithaca,  loaded  with 
presents.  Alcinous  was  regarded  as  a  just  prince ;  and 
kas  been  celebrated  for  the  splendour  of  his  gardens. 
See  Homer's  Odyssey,  b.  vi.  vii.     (w) 

ALCIATI,  Andrew,  a  celebrated  lawyer,  was  born 
at  Milan,  on  the  8th  May,  1492.  He  was  the  only  son 
of  Ambrogio,  ambassador  to  the  republic  of  Venice,  and 
of  Margaret  Landriana,  a  lady  of  noble  family,  who  is 
reported  to  have  felt  no  jiains  at  his  birth.  He  was 
sent,  at  the  age  of  15,  to  study  law  at  the  universities  of 
Padua  and  Bologna,  and  such  progress  had  he  made  in 
bis  studies,  that,  in  1513,  he  was  able  to  write  commen- 
taries upon  the  three  last  books  of  Justinian's  code. 
After  taking  the  degree  of  doctor  of  laws,  at  the  age  of 
22,  he  exercised  the  profession  of  an  advocate,  in  his 
native  city,  for  the  space  of  three  years,  when  he  was 
called  to  the  chair  of  law  in  the  university  of  Avignon, 
with  a  salary  of  500  crowns.  Here  he  lectured  to  700 
auditors;  and  so  far  did  he  extend  his  reputation,  that 
even  jjrelates,  abbots,  and  counts,  thronged  to  his  lec- 
tures ;  and  Leo  X.  raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  a  count 
Palatine. 

The  entreaties  of  his  mother,  and  the  inability  of  the 
city  of  Avignon  to  pay  his  salary,  induced  him  to  return 
to  Milan,  on  the  5th  November,  1521  ;  where  he  re- 
sumed his  profession,  till  he  was  prevailed  upon,  in  1527, 
by  Francis  I.  to  teach  law  in  the  university  of  Boiirges. 
Here  he  was  honoured  with  the  presence  of  the  French 
king,  to  whom  he  gave  the  highest  satisfaction,  by  an 
elegant  anil  extemporaneous  oration.  Francis  Sforza, 
duke  of  Milan,  having  heard  of  the  fame  of  Alciati,  in- 
duced him  to  leave  Bourges,  in  1532,  by  appointing 
him  professor  at  Pavia,  with  a  salary  of  1500  crowns, 
and  raising  him  to  the  dignity  of  a  senator.  From  the 
university  of  Pavia,  he  went  to  that  of  Bologna ;  from 
Bologna  to  Pavia,  and  thence  to  Ferrara,  where  he  re- 
mained four  years;  but  the  fickleness  of  his  humour  in- 
duced him  again  to  return  to  Pavia,  where  he  died  on 
the  12th  of  January,  1550,  in  the  fifty-eighth  year  of  his 
age. 

Alciati  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of  an  avaricious 
disposition.  He  emigrated  from  one  university  to  ano- 
ther, yiekling  to  every  lucrative  offer,  and  appears  never 
to  have  felt  the  comforts  of  a  settled  life.  He  had  the 
merit  of  being  the  first  who  mingled  polite  literature 
with  his  exposition  of  the  law,  and  banished  the  barba- 
rity of  language,  which  had  hitherto  disfigured  the  lec- 
tures and  the  writings  of  lawyers.  His  printed  works 
are,  1 .  CojHJBCTitorH  in  Jus  Civile  et  Cantmiaim,  qiiibtis 
adihmtur  Emhlanatum  Liber  ;  de  Magistral.  Civil.  Liber  ; 
el  Annot.  in  Taciturn.  6  vols,  folio,  Leyden,  1 500 ;  Basil, 
1571;  Basil,  1582;  Argentin,  1616;  Frankfort,  1617.  2. 
C(msilia,\ enet.  1566.  3.  Rcspmisa,  Lugd.  1561.  4. 
De  Formula  Roman.  Imperii,  Bafcil,  155&.  5.  Epigram- 
tnata  Selecta,  Latine  versa,  Basil,  1 529.  6.  Hist.  Medio- 
luncns.  Mediolani,  1 625.  7.  De  Flmilinonim  Canninmn 
ratione.  8.  De  Legum  Intcrprttibtts  Parandis,  1566. 
9.  £nc<»«M<OT  Hi.stcW<E,  1530.  \0.  Pahna.  W.Judiciarii 
Processus  Compendium,  153,6.     12.  Contra  Fit.  Monast. 

Vol.  L     Part  h 


loaa.    13.  Ffotc  111  Bpisx.  Fam.  Oiceranis,   1557.     14. 
Epistolfc,  1  C97. 

Alciati  left  behind  him  about  21  different  works,  which 
have  not  been  published.  An  account  of  them  will 
be  found  in  Mazzuchelli's  Scrittori  D^ Italia,  vo].  i.  p. 
370.     (o) 

ALCINA,  in  botany,  the  generic  name  of  a  new  plant 
brought  from  Mexico,  and  described  by  Cowanilles.  It 
is  arranged  by  the  French  botanists  among  the  Corym- 
biterae  of  Jussieu.  See  Dictionnaire  des  Sciences  Natu- 
rclles,  tom.  i.  p.  441.     (J) 

ALCIONIO,  Peter,  a  learned  Italian,  was  born  of 
poor  parents,  between  the  years  1490  and  1500.  As  he 
uniformly  chose  to  throw  a  mystery  over  the  place  of 
his  birth,  with  the  hopes,  it  was  alleged,  that  several  ci- 
ties would  contend  for  that  honour,  it  cannot  now  be  ex- 
actly ascertained,  though  the  presuni|)tion  is  in  favour 
of  Venice.  After  finishing  his  studies  in  the  Oreek 
and  Latin,  he  found  it  necessary  to  seek  a  livelihood  as 
a  corrector  of  the  press,'and  in  this  capacity  it  is  said  he 
served  Aldus  Manutius  for  several  years,  contributing 
not  a  little  to  the  remarkable  accuracy  of  that  celebrated 
printer.  He  afterwards  studied  medicine,  but  felt  his 
inclinations  too  strongly  devoted  to  classical  litera- 
ture to  admit  of  his  pursuing  that  profession  with  advan- 
tage. 

In  1517  he  was  an  unsuccessful  candidate  for  the 
Greek  chair  at  Venice.  Five  years  after,  through  the 
interest  of  cardinal  Julius  de  Medicis,  he  was  made 
professor  of  Greek  at  Florence,  with  a  liberal  salary 
and  many  privileges;  and  he  was  also  employed  by  the 
same  prince  in  translating  Galen's  woTk  De  Parlibus 
Animalittm,  for  which  he  was  paid  at  the  rate  often  du- 
cats a-mouth.  His  patron  being  raised  to  the  papal 
throne,  by  the  name  of  Clement  VII.  Alcionio  was  in- 
flamed with  the  hopes  of  advancing  his  fortune  and 
reputation  under  his  auspices,  and  repaired  to  Rome 
without  oMaining  the  permission  of  the  Florentines, 
Avhom  he  ungratefully  abandoned  before  they  could 
provide  a  successor.  His  reception  at  Rome  by  no 
means  corresponded  with  his  expectations.' — All  that 
he  could  obtain  was  the  chair  of  eloquence,  where  his 
emoluments  and  advantages  were  not  to  be  compared 
with  those  which  he  enjoyed  at  Florence;  and  in  the 
second  year  after  his  arrival,  his  property  and  apart- 
ments in  the  apostolic  palace,  were  destroyed  by  the 
troops  of  the  cardinal  Colonna,  who  were  then  besieging 
the  city.  In  1527,  Rome  was  taken  by  Charles  V.  and 
while  flying  into  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  Alcionio  re- 
ceived a  wound  ii»  the  arm  with  a  musket.  On  the  re-, 
storation  of  tranquillity,  irritated  by  the  appearance  of 
neglect  on  the  part  of  the  pontiff,  he  abandoned  his  party 
and  went  over  to  cardinal  Colonna,  in  whose  house  he 
died  some  months  after. 

In  the  personal  character  of  Alcionio  there  is  indeed 
nothing  to  admire.  His  vanity  and  arrogance  became 
proverbial,  and  they  were  displayed  equally  in  extolling 
his  own  writings,  and  in  detracting  from  the  merits  of 
his  contemporaries.  This  conduct,  with  his  brutish 
manners,  his  ungrateful  and  avaricious  disposition,  ren- 
dered him  the  object  of  general  hatred.  It  is  said 
also,  that  the  cardinal  de  Medicis  was  guilty  of  en- 
couraging and  enjoying  the  feuds  of  literary  men;  and 
that,  injiarticular,  he  took  pleasure  in  working  on  the 
irritability  of  Alcionio  to  involve  him  in  perpetual  quar- 
rels. The  most  disgusting  stories  are  rek.ted  of  his 
iutemperailoe  and  gluttony ;  but  these  perhaps  we  may 

SB 


378 


ALC 


ALC 


he:  allowed  to  CJiil  in  qu«stioa,  though  iKop«  e»«iMc-lvit1o 
doubt  that  sucli  vices  also  disgrace*!  his  character. 

His  translations  from  Aristotle  are  allowed  to  be  ele- 
gant ;  but  not  being  sufficiently  accurate,  they  were  at- 
tacked and  exposed  with  such  dexterity  l>y  Sepulvcda,  a 
learned  Si)aniard  and  translator  of  the  same  works,  as 
iuQicted  the  severest  [junishmeut  on  the  vanity  of  Alcio- 
nio,  who  displayed  his  rage  and  completed  his  disgrace, 
by  purchasing  and  destroying  every  copy  of  his  rival's 
work  he  could  find. 

His  dialogue,  Dc  Exilio,  needs  no  other  panegyric, 
than  that  Alcionio's  bitterest  enemies  accused  him  of 
liaving  drawn  the  finest  passages  of  it  from  a  work  of 
Cicero's  De  Gloria,  the  manuscript  of  which,  it  was 
said,  he  had  stolen  from  a  nunnery,  where  he  was  phy- 
sician ;  and  lest  his  plagiarisms  should  afterwards  be 
detected,  committed  it  to  the  flames.  In  refutation  of  this 
charge,  it  seems  only  necessary  to  observe,  that  it  was 
at  first  propagated  by  Paul  Jovius,  his  avowed  rival,  be- 
fore the  publication  of  Alcionio's  elotiuentorations  against 
Charles  the  Fifth,  after  the  taking  of  Rome,  which  are 
acknowledgetl  to  be  worthy  of  the  genius  displayed  in 
the  work  De  Exilio;  the  uniformity  of  the  style,  the 
strict  adaptation  of  the  language  and  sentiments  to  the 
speakers  (who  were  three  of  the  Medicsean  family)  and 
to  the  subject,  in  neither  of  which  could  there  be  any 
coincidence  with  a  work  of  Cioero's  De  Gloria,  furnish 
additional  internal  evidence  that  it  was  a  genuine  pro- 
duction of  Alcionio's.  Even  the  existence  of  the  manu- 
icript  at  this  time  seems  doubtful.  No  one  had  ever 
seen  it,  and  the  whole  evidence  consisted  in  the  title  of 
such  a  work  being  observed  in  the  catalogue  of  the 
library  of  Bernard  .lustinian,  which  had  been  bequeath- 
ed a  long  time  before  to  a  nunnery  in  Italy,  but  had  not 
since  been  discovered. 

The  printed  works  of  Aleionie  are,  1.  jtristotelis 
Opera  varia  iMtine,  Venet.  1521.  2.  Medices  hcf^ahis, 
stuDe  Exilio,  tibri  duo,  Venet.  1522.  He  left  in  manu- 
script a  variety  of  works,  a  list  of  which  will  be  found 
In  Mazzuchelli.     {r) 

ALCMAER,  or  Alkmaer,  the  capital  of  North  Hol- 
land, is  situated  near  Schemeer,  one  of  the  largest  Iwkea 
in  North  Holland,  between  the  North  Sea  and  the  Zuy- 
Uer  Sea,  on  the  bank  of  a  drained  marsh.  The  houses 
are  handsome,  the  streets  clean  and  regular,  the  walks 
beautiful,  and  the  public  buildings  magnificent.  The 
marsh  land,  round  the  town,  hag  been  converted  into 
excellent  meadow  land,  and  the  most  productive  gar- 
dens and  orchards.  It  is  recorded  in  the  register  of 
this  city,  that  at  a  public  sale,  fty  the  benefit  of  the 
orphans,  120  tulips  were  sold  for  90,000  florins.  The 
fine  canal,  which  extends  from  Alcmaer  to  Horrn,  on  Uie 
Zuyder  Sea,  was  cut  about  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth centurj'.  The  bravery  of  the  inhabitants  of  Alc- 
maer resisted  the  Spanish  arms,  in  1573,  during  a  siege 
of  three  months.  In  1 799,  however,  it  soon  yielded  to 
the  British  troops,  after  the  second  battle,  near  Bergen. 
E.  Long.  4»  38'  35".  N.  Lat.  520  37'  11".     (o) 

ALCMAN,  or  Alcmaeon,  one  of  the  most  ancient 
among  the  lyric  poets  of  Greece,  flourished  in  the  27th 
Olympiad,  about  870  years  before  Christ.  (Suidas  in 
Jlcman.)  According  to  some  authors,  this  poet  was  horn 
at  Sardis,  the  capital  of  Lydia ;  while  others  say,  he  was 
by  birth  a  Lacedaemonian.  It  appears,  however,  from 
an  epigram  preserved  by  Plutarch,  in  his  Treatise  on 
Exile,  that  he  enjoyeil  the  right  of  a  citizen  of  Sparta. 
Ue  is  said  to  have  written  a  coosiderable  number  of 


Tcrrcs,  in  the  Doric  dialect ;  but  these  have  all  perisb^ 
ed,  excepting  a  very  few  fragments  cited  by  Athanaeus, 
and  other  ancient  authors.  (See  Alhen.  1.  xiii.)  He  is 
likewise  considered  by  some  as  the  inventor  of  a  variety 
of  different  kinds  of  lyric  versification.     Qs) 

ALCO,  the  common  name  of  the  Canis  Atncricanus 
of  Linnaeus,     (iv) 

ALCOBACA,  a  beautiful  market  town  in  Estrema- 
dura,  in  Portugal,  situated  between  the  rivulets  Alcoa 
and  Baca,  and  surrounded  by  mountains.  On  the  north 
and  south-west.  Sandstone  Mountains  press  close  upon 
the  town,  and  a  high  naked  range  of  hills  rises  to  the 
westward,  and  runs  parallel  with  the  coast.  Excellent 
marble  is  found  in  a  part  of  this  range,  called  Porto  de 
Moz.  The  surrounding  country  is  extremely  cheerful, 
containing  much  coppice  and  many  meadows.  It  is  re- 
markable for  the  celebrated  Cistertian  abbey,  erected, 
in  1148,  bj'  Alphonso  I.,  which  has  been  the  general 
sepulchre  of  the  Portuguese  raonarchs,  and  possesses 
an  annual  revenue  of  20,000/.  The  church  and  the  mo- 
nastery is  one  of  the  most  magnificent  monuments  of 
Gothic  architecture  in  Europe,  and  the  chapel  contains 
the  finest  collection  of  paintings  in  the  kingdom.  Vari- 
ous manufactures  are  carried  on  in  this  town ;  the 
oldest  of  them  is  in  the  monastery,  where  it  was  esta- 
blished by  Pombal.  Cambrics,  linens,  and  woollens,  are 
manufactured  here;  but  the  woollen  manufactory  and 
thiit  for  spinning  wool  is  the  most  extensive.  Alcoljaca 
is  north  of  Lisbon,  and  south-west  of  Liria.  W.  Long. 
80  45'.  N.  Lat.  39»  29'.  See  Link's  Travels  in  Portugal, 
p.  278,  and  Reichard's  Guide  des  Foyageurs,  torn.  i.  p^ 
19.     (w) 

ALCOCK,  John,  a  celebrated  English  divine,  was 
born  at  Beverly,  in  Yorkshire,  about  the  beginning  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  educated  in  tlje  university  of 
Cambridge,  where  he  took  the  degree  of  doctor  of  laws. 
In  1462,  he  was  appointe<l  master  of  the  rolls ;  in  1470, 
a  privy  counsellor,  and  one  of  the  ambassadors  to  the 
king  of  Castile;  in  1471,  bishop  of  Rochester,  and  one 
of  the  commissioners  to  treat  with  the  king  of  Scotland ; 
in  1472,  lord  high  chancellor  of  England;  in  1476, 
bishop  of  Worcester,  from  which  he  was  translated,  in 
I486,  to  the  see  of  Ely.  Dr.  Alcock  was  distinguished 
by  his  piety  and  learning,  and  by  the  uncommon  purity 
of  his  conduct.  He  was  so  deeply  skilled  in  architec- 
ture, that  Henry  II.  appointed  him  comptroller  of  his 
royal  works  and  buildings.  He  founded  Schools  at 
Beverly,  and  Kingston-upon-Hull,  and  built  the  spacious 
hall,  which  belongs  to  the  Episcopal  palace  of  Ely.  Al- 
cock died  at  Worcester  on  the  1st  October,  1500,  and 
was  interred  in  the  sumptuous  and  beautiful  chapel  at 
Kingston-upon-Hull,  which  he  had  erected  for  himself. 
Besides  some  religious  works,  he  published  an  address 
to  the  clergy  of  his  diocese,  under  the  title  of  Galli  canr 
tus  ad  Compatres  stios ;  or,  the  Crowing  of  the  Cock  to 
his  Brethren,     (o) 

ALCOGRADE,  or  Alcohmeter  ;  a  name  given  by 
Hassenfratz,  to  an  areometrical  instniment,  for  determin- 
ing the  proportions  of  alcohol  and  water,  in  any  combi- 
nations of  these  two  fluids.  See  Annates  de  Chimie,  of 
Repertory  of  Arts,  vol.  xiii.  p.  45.     (o) 

ALCOHOL.     See  Alkohol. 

ALCOR,  the  Arabian  name  of  the  beautiful  little  star 
near  Alioth,  in  the  Great  Bear.     (n») 

ALCOHAN.     See  Al-koran. 

ALCOVE,  a  recess,  or  partof  a  chamber  for  holding 
a  bed,  separated  by  a  parti Uou  of  columns.    They  seem 


ALC 


ALC 


379 


to  have  originated  in  Africa  or  Asia.  Prom  Arabia, 
they  were  introduced  by  the  Saracens  into  Spain,  where 
they  are  much  in  use.  They  have  also  been  used  in 
other  parts  of  Europe ;  but  they  seem  to  have  been 
banished  from  English  architecture,     (w) 

ALCUIN,  an  eminent  English  writer,  was  bom  in 
the  north  of  England,  about  the  middle  of  the  eighth 
century.  He  received  his  education  Bnder  Egbert, 
archbishop  of  York,  who  appointed  him  keeper  of  the 
curious  library,  which  he  had  established  in  that  city ; 
and  who  afterwards  made  him  deacon  of  the  church  of 
York,  and  abbot  of  Canterbury.  In  the  year  793,  he  was 
sent  on  an  embassy  to  the  emperor  Charlemagne,  by 
the  king  of  Mercia.  The  emperor  was  so  delighted 
with  the  character  and  talents  of  the  ambassador,  that 
he  invited  him  to  become  his  preceptor,  and  to  assist 
him  in  settling  the  religious  contentions,  with  which 
speculative  theologians  had  disturbed  the  tranquillity  of 
the  kingdom.  Under  the  care  of  Alcuin,  Charlemagne 
was  initialed  into  the  sciences  of  mathematics,  rhetoric, 
logic,  and  divinity ;  and  Alcuin  stood  so  high  in  the 
royal  favour,  that  he  was  denominated  the  emperor's 
delight.  A  new  heresy  having  been  propagated  by  Fe- 
lix, bishop  of  Urgel,  in  Catalonia,  Alcuin  wrote  several 
hooks  in  defence  of  the  orthodox  faith ;  and,  at  the  coun- 
«il  of  Frankfort,  held  in  794,  in  the  presence  of  three 
hundred  bishops,  he  convinced  Felix  of  his  errors,  and 
induced  him  to  return  into  the  bosom  of  the  church. 

The  rapid  advancement  of  learning  in  Prance,  during 
the  brilliant  reign  of  Charlemagne,  was  chiefly  owing  to 
the  enlightened  exertions  of  Alcuin.  By  his  advice  and 
assistance,  the  universities  of  Paris,  Tours,  Fulden, 
Soissons,  and  several  others,  were  founded  and  endow- 
ed ;  and  an  academy,  for  the  advancement  of  learning, 
w^as  established  in  the  imperial  palace,  and  composed  of 
the  most  distinguished  literati  in  the  kingdom.  Every 
member,  when  in  the  academy,  assumed  the  name  of 
some  distinguished  personage  of  antiquity,  and  Alcuin 
chose  the  ai  pellation  of  Alhinus  Flaccus.  After  several 
attempts  to  withdraw  himself  from  the  bustle  and  splen- 
<1ourof  the  French  court,  he  obtained  leave,  in  801,  to 
retire  to  bis  abbey  of  St.  Martin's,  at  Tours.  Here  he 
maintaineda  constant  correspondence  with  Charlemagne, 
who  often  tried  to  allure  him  into  the  activity  of  public 
life.  But  no  inducements  could  draw  him  from  his 
peaceful  and  honourable  retreat,  where  he  spent  his 
time  in  the  8U|)erintendence  of  a  seminary,  which  he 
Jiad  founded  in  the  city,  and  in  thost:  acts  of  piety  and 
devotion  which  are  congenial  with  the  feelings  of  every 
enlightened  mind.  He  died  at  Tours  on  the  19th  May, 
A.  b.  804,  and  was  buried  in  the  church  of  St.  Martin's 
%vhere  an  epitaph,  of  his  own  composition,  records  his 
character  and  labours. 

The  works  of  Alcuin  were  collected  and  published 
ill  one  volume  folio,  by  Andrew  du  Cheshe,  at  Paris,  in 
W17.  They  contain  tracts  upou  scripture,  doctrine, 
discipline,  morality,  and  history,  and  likewise  letters 
and  poems.  The  style  of  Alcuin  is  neat  and  animated. 
His  compositions  are  often  distinguished  by  a  livelj'  elo- 
quence, by  purity  of  language,  and  an  eleaanco  of  ex- 
pression. A  long  list  of  bis  works  may  be  found  in 
BayU,  or  the  BiograpMa  Britannica.     (o) 

ALCYON,  or  Halcyon,  the  ancient  name  of  tlie 
birds  of  Linnasus'  tribe  Alccdo,  and  adopted  by  the 
French  naturalists  as  the  denomination  of  the  same  ge- 
nti8.     See  Alceiio,  Ornithol.ogt.     (/) 


ALCYONE,  the  name  of  the  brightest  star  of  the 
Pleiades,  marked  y  in  our  catalogues,     (w) 

ALCYONIUM,  a  genus  of  zoophytes;  for  an  ac-' 
count  of  which,  see  Zoophvtology.  (/) 

ALDEBARAN,  or  Paltlicium,  the  Arabian  name 
of  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude,  situated  in  the  eye  of 
Taurus,  and  generally  called  the  Bull's  Eye.  See  His- 
toire  de  FAstronmnic,  par  M.  Builly.  (w) 

ALDERMAN,  among  our  ancient  Saxon  ancestors, 
was  the  second  of  their  three  orders  of  nobility.  Alder- 
man, in  its  original,  is  compounded  of  two  words,  elder 
and  man,  Elderman.  It  must  be  however  observed,  that 
among  the  Saxons  that  word  was  joined  to  others,  still 
further  designating  title  or  office  :  Thus  they  had  AUkr- 
iiumnus  Totius  Ane;lw,  Aldrrmanmts  Regis,  Comitalus, 
dvitalis,  Burgi,  Castclti,  Hundrcdr,  sive  Wapenlachii, 
and  Decimorum.  The  first  of  these  seems  to  be  the 
same  officer  to  whom  the  title  was  afterwards  given  of 
Capitalis  justitiariiis  Anglice,  or  chief  justice  of  Eng- 
land ;  the  second  we  sujipose  to  have  been  a  magistrate 
acting  with  occasional  authority,  answering  to  the  pre- 
sent office  of  his  majesty's  justice  of  assize ;  the  third 
held  a  middle  rank  between  what  was  afterwards  Called 
earl  and  sheriff;  he  sat  at  the  trial  causes,  with  the 
bishop;  anil  whilst  the  latter  expounded  the  ecclesias- 
tical, it  was  the  duty  of  the  former  to  declare  the  com- 
mon law  of  the  land  :  The  fourth,  fifth,  and  following 
offices,  perhai>s,  are  now  combined  in  that  of  our  pre- 
sent alderman,  whose  duties,  &c.  we  shall  notice,  after 
having  enumerated  those  which  anciently  belonged  to 
the  title.  We  learn  from  the  most  respectable  autho- 
rities, that  Comes,  jEldorman,  and  Earl,  are  equivalent 
in  Latin  Saxon,  and  Danish  Saxon.  The  holders  of 
these  offices  were  admitted  into  the  Wittenagemot,  or 
great  council  of  the  nation,  and  gave  consent  to  pub- 
lic statutes ;  they  assisted  the  bishops,  as  we  have  be- 
fore seen ;  but,  except  to  keep  Order  among  the  free- 
holders, and  to  interpose  with  their  opinion,  they  had 
no  further  power :  they  received  a  third  of  the  fines, 
however,  and,  as  most  of  the  punishments  were  then 
pecuniary,  this  formed  a  considerable  part  of  their  re- 
sources. Excepting  when  restrained  in  their  judicial 
authority  by  the  bishops,  they  appear  to  have  been  pos- 
sessed of  the  highest  dignity  and  power ;  this  office  was 
therefore  generally  enjoyed  by  Thanes  of  large  estates, 
and  ancient  families.  Possessing  the  civil  and  military 
government  of  his  shire,  the  earl  swelled  into  the  imr 
portance  of  a  ])etty  king  ;  and,  in  his  own  domains,  as- 
sumed that  title  in  his  subscription  of  charters  and  every 
other  deed.  It  was  in  war  that  he  enjoyed  actually  the 
consideration  he  only  usurped  in  peace ;  and  that  the 
Thane,  who  durst  not  oppose  the  bishop  even  in  his 
own  shiremotes  or  courts,  became  the  Heretogen  or 
commander,  and  was  honoured  as  a  i)Owerful  prince. 
This  office  was,  in  the  most  ancient  times  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  governments,  filled  by  royal  appointment;  but 
towards  the  conclusion  of  tliat  period,  aldermen  were 
elected  by  the  votes  of  the  shire.  Lands  were  allotted 
them,  to  enable  them  to  support  their  dignity ;  and  from 
this  custom  we  have  the  term  "  the  earl's  lands :"  To 
these  may  be  added  the  fines  above  mentioned,  and  other 
less  important  perquisites.  Though  possessing  so  much 
power,  and,  from  being  the  clioice  of  the  people,  so 
much  popularity,  they  could  be  displaced  by  the  sove- 
reign, when  they  were  either  thought  to  be  too  powers 
ful,  or  j)ot  sufficiently  suppliant.  Ta»vard9  the  concla- 
3  B  2 


380 


ALU 


ALD 


sion  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  government,  they  were  most 
frequentfy  succeedetl  by  their  sons ; — and  a  power  which 
at  first  was  elective  and  uncertain,  became,  by  conni- 
vance, Ijy  stratagem,  or  by  force,  hereditary  and  fixed. 
As  in  the  ancient  governments  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  the 
term  aldennan  was  applied,  in  conjunction  w'ith  other 
titles,  to  many  offices,  so  in  our  ancient  governments 
the  law  dictated  the  title  annexed  also  to  that  of  others ; 
tlius  we  had  the  Aldermen  of  the  Merchants,  of  Hos- 
pitals, of  Hundreds,  or  Wapentakes,  &;c.  &c. 

The  duties  of  aldermen,  as  the  title  at  present  is  un- 
derstood, the  privileges  and  advantages  of  the  office, 
may  be  collected  from  the  following  observations : — Al- 
dermen are  joined  to  the  mayor,  or  chief-magistrate  of 
a  corporate  town  or  city,  for  the  better  administration  of 
his  office ;  they  form,  together  with  him,  a  council ;  and 
govern  the  place  where  they  reside  according  to  the  re- 
gulations of  its  charters;  whilst  they  also  act  as  justices 
of  the  peace,  (by  the  15th  Geo.  II.)  and  in  that  character 
take  cognizance  of  civil  as  well  as  criminal  matters ;  that 
is  to  say,  at  one  time  they  administer  laws  emanating 
from  a  British  parliament,  and  at  another  they  act  under 
a  code  of  corporalion-laws,  many  of  which  have  been 
pronounced,  from  the  highest  legal  authorities,  laws  in 
restraiut  of  trade ;  in  other  words,  laws  made  in  open 
hostility  to  those  of  the  kingdom.  Their  numbers  vary 
in  various  places ;  the  extremes  are  six  to  twenty-six ; 
out  of  these  the  mayor  is  elected,  who  fills  his  office  for 
a  year,  and  is  then  succeeded  by  another;  and  thus  that 
office  circulates  by  a  regular,  fixed,  and  positive  routine. 
In  London  the  26  wards  of  the  city  have  each  an  alder- 
man to  represent  them  in  the  civic  council.  AVhen  one 
dies  or  resigns,  a  successor  is  chosen  by  the  wardmote, 
(or  ward-meeting,)  that  is  vacant ;  he  is  admitted,  and 
is  sworn  into  office  by  the  lord-mayor  and  the  other 
akleroien.  Amongst  their  privileges,  they  are  exempt 
from  sitting  in  inferior  offices ;  they  cffn  neither  be  put 
upon  assizes,  nor  serve  on  juries.  See  Millar  on  Go- 
vermnerU,  vol.  i.  p.  78.  Hume's  Hist.  vol.  i.  p.  211.  note 
G.  (0 

ALDERNY,  Aurigny,  Riduna,  the  Arica  of  the  Ro- 
mans, an  island  in  the  English  Channel,  and  on  the  coast 
of  France,  belonging  to  Great  Britain.  It  is  about  four 
miles  from  west  to  east,  and  nearly  eight  miles  in  cir- 
cumference. It  is  separated  from  Cape  la  Hogue  by  a 
»trait  two.  leagues  broad,  through  which  the  French 
fleet  escaped,  in  1 692,  after  their  defeat  at  La  Hogue. 
The  ridge  of  rocks  called  the  Gaskings  or  Casquets, 
and  those  named  Barroches,  are  much  dreadwl  by  mari- 
ners, and  the  whole  coast  is  dangerous  in  stormy  wea- 
ther. In  1119,  prince  Henry,  duke  of  Normandy,  with 
Jnany  of  the  nobility,  were  overtaken  by  a  storm,  and 
lost  near  Alderney;  and,  on  the  same  rocks,  in  1744, 
ihe  Victory,  of  110  guns,  admiral  sir  John  Balchen, 
foundered,  and  the  whole  crew,  amounting  to  1100, 
perished.  The  town  La  FUlc,  situated  in  the  centre  of 
the  island,  contains  200  houses,  and  1000  inhabitants. 
The  air  is  extremely  salubrious,  and  the  land  in  a  high 
state  of  cultivation.  Alderney  is  governed  by  its  own 
laws.  It  is  famous  for  its  excellent  breed  of  cows.  W. 
Long.  2-  7'.  N.  Lat.  40''  45'.  See  Uislory  of  the  Bri- 
tish IsUs,  and  Blackstonc'g  Commentaries,  vol.  1.  p.  107. 

ALDHELM,  or  Abelme,  a  celebrated  English  wri- 
ter, was  born  at  Maltncsbury  about  the  middle  of  the 
seventh  cenlurj-,  and  was  educated  by  Maidulphus,  or 
Macthiff,  a  learned  Bcotcbman,  at  bis  native  town,  and 


afterwards  in  France  and  Italy.  Upon  the  death  of  bis 
master,  Aldhelm  succeeded  to  the  school,  and  erected 
a  splendid  monastery,  of  which  he  was  the  first  abbot. 
After  the  kingdom  of  the  West  Saxons  was  divided 
into  two  dioceses,  king  Ina,  his  relation,  promoted  Aid- 
helm  to  the  bishopric  of  Shireburn,  in  705.  When  he 
went  to  Rome  to  be  consecrated  by  Pope  Sergius  I.  he 
is  said  to  have  reproved  his  holiness  for  having  a  child; 
but  this  is  probably  to  be  ranked  among  those  miracles 
and  falsehoods,  with  whioh  superstition  has  stained  the 
memory  of  Aldhelm.  Aldhelm  died  at  Shireburn  on 
the  2Sth  May,  709. 

Aldhelm  was  acquainted  with  the  most  celebrated 
Greek  and  Roman  authors,  and  was  the  first  Englishman 
who  wrote  in  the  Latin  language.  His  Latin  composi- 
tions, both  in  prose  and  verse,  were  deemed  extraordi- 
nary productions,  and  excited  the  admiration  of  the 
most  learned  foreigners.  Alfred  reckoned  him  the  best 
of  the  Saxon  poets ;  and  he  was  ecjually  distinguished  by 
his  skill  in  music,  and  in  the  liberal  arts.  An  account 
of  Aldhelm's  works,  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  give 
in  this  work,  may  be  seen  in  the  Biographia  Britannica  ; 
and  in  Bat/lc,  under  Adelme.  See  also  Henry's  His- 
tory  of  Britain,  8vo.  vol.  iv.  p.  10  ;  Warton's  History  of 
English  Poetry,  vol.  i.  dissert.  2 ;  and  Cave's  Hist.  IM. 
sect.  7.  (o) 

ALDRED,  a  haughty  and  ambitious  prelate,  who  rais- 
ed himself  from  the  low  station  of  a  monk  to  the  arch- 
bishopric of  York.  About  the  year  1050,  nearly  four 
years  after  he  was  promoted  to  the  see  of  Worcester,  he 
went  to  Jerusalem  by  the  way  of  Hungary ;  and  on  his 
return  he  was  sent  by  Edward  as  ambassador  to  the  em- 
peror Henry  II.  Upon  the  death  of  his  patron  Edward, 
in  1066,  he  crowned  Harold  his  successor,  and  after- 
wards placed  the  diadem  upon  the  head  of  Willianr  the 
Conqueror.  This  imperious  monarch  obeyed  the  arch- 
bishop of  York  with  the  most  implicit  servility,  tlie  off- 
spring either  of  gratitude  or  of  fear.  In  consequence 
of  an  unjust  seizure  of  some  of  Aldred's  property,  and 
a  refusal  of  the  high  sheriff  to  grant  him  restitution,  the 
prelate,  followed  by  a  train  of  ecclesiastics,  abruptly 
entered  the. king's  council,  when  deliberating  at  West- 
minster, and  addressed  the  monarch  in  terms  of  the 
most  extreme  insolence  and  reproach.  The  king  threw 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  archbishop,  and  requested  to 
know  the  offence  which  he  had  committed.  When  the 
nobility  expressed  their  indignation  at  seeing  their  so- 
vereign at  the  prelate's  feet,  the  haughty  Aldred  ex- 
claimed, "  Let  him  lie,  he  is  not  fallen  at  my  feet,  hut  at 
the  feet  of  St.  Peter."  He  at  length  condescended  to 
raise  the  king,  who  granted  him  redress,  and  loaded  him 
with  presents.  From  the  rigour  with  which  William 
afterwards  treated  the  English  prelates,  Aldred  died  of 
grief  and  vexation,  and,  with  his  dying  breath,  pronoun- 
ced a  curse  upon  the  head  of  the  oppressor. 

Aldred  was  in  no  respect  distinguished  as  a  literary 
character.  He  is  indebted  for  immortality  to  the  ambi- 
tion and  arrogance  which  marked  his  conduct.  The 
human  mind  is  pleased  with  the  recital  even  of  the  ini- 
quities of  unprincipled  greatness.  Amusement  and  in- 
struction may  be  gathered  from  details  at  which  the 
heart  rises  either  in  pity  or  indignation.  How  debased 
must  have  been  the  feelings  and  understanding  of  the 
English  people,  and  how  great  the  insolence  of  eccle- 
siastical power,  when  a  monk  of  Winchester  durst  throw 
himself  into  the  deliberative  council  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  and  almost  trample  upon  th«  pei-son  of  that 


ALD 


x\LD 


381 


See  Hume's  Hist.  vol.  i.  p.  269, 


imperiou«  monarch ! 
chHp.  iv.  (o) 

ALDRICH,  Henry,  an   accomplished   scholar,  and 
eminent  divine,  was  born  at  AVestminster  in  1G47.     He 
was  admitted  into  Christ's  Church  College,  Oxford,  in 
1662,  where  he  prosecuted  his  studies  with  ardour  and 
success,  and  took  out  the  degrees  of  Bachelor  and  Mas- 
ter of  Arts,  and  Bachelor  and  Doctor  of  Divinity.      Jn 
1681  hewasappointed  canon, and  in  1689  dean  of  Christ's 
Church ;  and  in  the  same  year  he  had  the  honour  of  be- 
ing apjjointed  by  William  III.  one  of  the  commissioners 
for  altering  the  church-service,  and  bringing  about  an 
accommodation  %vith  the  dissenters.     During  the  reign 
of  James  II.  he  wrote  several  tracts  against  popery;  a 
iuhject  which,  according  to  bishop  Burnet,  "  he  exa- 
mined with  a  solidity  of  judgment,  a  clearness  of  argu- 
ment, a  depth  of  learning,  and  a  vivacity  of  writing,  far 
beyond  any  thing,  that  had  before  appeared  in  our  lan- 
guage."   In  1702,  Dr.  Aldrich  was  chosen  prolocutor  of 
the  convocation.  He  died  on  the  I4th  December,  1710, 
and  was  interred  in  the  cathedral,  according  to  his  own 
request,  without  any  monument  to  distinguish  his  grave. 
Music,  poetry,  and  architecture,  seem  to  have  been 
the  favourite  studies  of  Aldrich.     His  musical  talents 
were  of  the  first  order,  as  appears  from  the  anthems, 
&c.  w  hich  he  composed  for  the  church-service.     He  is 
the  author  of  the  popular  catch,  entitled,  "  Hark,  the 
bonny  Christ-Church  Bells ;"  and  two  of  his  Latin  poems 
are  published  in  the  "  Mtisce  Anglican(f."  The  following 
humorous  epigram,  entitled,  "  Causx  Bihendi,"  has  been 
ascribed  to  Aldrich,  though  others  suppose  it  to  be  the 
production  of  Pere  Sirmond  : 


Si  bene  quid  raemini,  causae  sunt  quinqae  bibendi, 
Hospitis  ailventus ;  prsesens  sitis  atque  futura ; 
Aut  vini  bonitas  ;  aut  quitUbet  altera  causa. 

The  folllowing  translation  of  tliis  epigram  seems  to 
copvey  the  ideas  of  the  original  better  than  those  Avhich 
liave  heen  usually  given  : 

If  memory  fail  me  not  a  little. 
There  are  five  reasons  wby  we  tipple  ; 
Good  wine, — an  old  companion  by,— 
Because  I  am, — or  may  be  dry,*— 
Or  any  other  reasoa  why. 

The  talents  of  Aldrich,  as  an  architect,  were  of  the 
first  order.  His  "  Elements  of  Architecture,"  which 
he  left  behind  him  in  manuscri|)t,  and  which  were  trans- 
lated and  published  by  Mr.  Smyth,  in  1790,  display  an 
Ultimate  acciuaintance  with  the  science  of  building; 
while  the  buildings  which  he  designed,  form  a  lasting 
monument  to  his  taste  and  genius.  Peckwater  Court, 
at  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  and  the  parish  church  of  All 
Saints  in  Oxford,  were  built  from  the  designs  of  Dr. 
Aldrich.  See  Dallaway's  Anecdotes  of  tlie  Arts  in  Eng- 
land, p.  103. 

Aldrich  was  a  man  of  distinguished  talents,  admired 
for  the  amiable  qualities  of  his  heart,  and  esteemed  as 
the  friend  and  patron  of  learning.  His  unaffected  mo- 
desty preventetl  him  from  putting  his  name  to  the  tracts 
which  he  published.  He  wrote  a  work  eutitletl,  Artis 
Logicie  Compendium,  1707  ;  Elements  of  Geonietry,  which 
were  never  published ;  Notes  on  Havercamp's  edition 
of  Josephus ;  and  other  books,  which  may  be  seen  in 
more  detailed  sketches  of  his  life,  (w) 

ALDROVANDA,  in  Botany,  a  generic  name  given 
iQ  honour  of  Aldrovaudus,  to  a  water  plant  that  is  pretty 


common  in  Italy  and  the  south  of  France.  It  is  arranged 
by  the  Lynnffian  botanists  under  the  class  and  order  Pen- 
tandria  Pentagynia  :  and  by  Jussieu  in  his  family  of  Ca- 
parides.     See  Botany.  (/) 

ALDROVANDI,  Ulysses,  in  biography,  a  cele- 
brated Italian,  who  was  one  of  the  earliest  and  most 
assiduous  improvers  of  Natural  History,  after  (he  revi- 
val of  literature  in  Europe.     He  was  born  at  Bologna 
in  1.523,  and  was  descended  from  a  noble  family.     He 
commenced  his  studies  in  his  native  city,  and  afterwards 
prosecuted  them  at  Padua ;  but  it  is  not  certain  of  what 
nature  these  fearlier  studies  were.     He  seems  to  have 
been,  even  while  very  young,  a  zealous  inquirer  after 
truth,  and  was  probably  very  liberal  in  delivering  the 
opinions  which  he  had  formed ;  for  we  find  that,  in  1550, 
he  had  rendered  himself  an  object  of  jealous  animad- 
version to  the  Popish  bigots  of  that  age ;  and  was  oblig- 
ed to  repair  to  Rome,  to  defend  himself  against  a  charge 
of  heresy.     In  this  seat  of  the  polite  arts,  Aldrovandi 
occupied  himself  in  the  study  of  antiquities ;  and  drew 
up  an  ficcount  of  ancient  statues,  which  was  published 
in  a  work  on  Roman  antiquities  by  Lucio  Mauso.  Here,. 
too,  he  became  acquainted  with  Rondelet,  an  eminent 
writer  on  fishes  ;  and  appears  now  first  to  have  imbibed 
that  taste  for  natural  history  for  which  he  was  after- 
wards so  much  distinguished.     Returning  to  his  native 
city,  he  entered  on  the  study  of  botany;  and,  in  1553, 
was  made  a  graduate  in  physic  by  that  university,  an 
honour  which  was  soon  followed  by  an  appointment  to 
the  professorship  of  philosophy  and  logic,  and  the  lec- 
tureship on  botany.     From  this  period  we  may  date  liis< 
eminence  as  a  naturalist.    He  examined  with  ardour  and 
assiduity    every    department    of   Nature's   works,  and 
formed  a  plan  of  describing  and  arranging  them  so  ex- 
tensive as  to  entitle  him  to  (he  appellation  of  the  Modern 
Pliny.  In  the  prosecution  of  this  plan,  he  spared  neither 
labour  nor  expense.     He  collected  books,  maintained 
an  epistolary  correspondence  with  learned  men  in  almost 
every  part  of  Europe ;  undertook  many  journeys ;  and 
emjiloyed,  at  a  great  expense,  persons  to  collect  rare 
and  curious  productions,  and  eminent  artists  to  delineate 
and  engrave  them.     In  prosecuting  these  undertakings, 
and  in  the  formation  of  a  museum,  he  received  liberal 
assistance  from  others ;  but  it  has  been  asserted,  that  he 
entirely  exhausted  his  own  fortune,  and  involved  him- 
self in  such  pecuniary  difficulties,  that  he  died  in  the 
hospitiil  at  Bologna,  in  the  year  1605,  having  attained 
the  age  of  79.     This  fact,  so  disgraceful  to  human  na- 
ture, there  seems  reason  for  calling  in  question.     Be- 
sides that  it  appears  so  extremely  improbable,  that  the 
senate  of  Bologna,  and  so  many  illustrious  princes  antl 
noblemen,  who  had  hitherto  been  his  patrons,  should  so 
disgracefully  abandon  him,  we  have  the  positive  asser- 
tion of  some  contemporary  writers,  that  he  died  rich,, 
and  loaded  with  honours ;  and  the  silence  of  other  au- 
thors, who  had  had  every  opportunity  of  ascertaining 
so  remarkable  a  circumstance,  furnishes  an  additional 
proof  of  its  falsehood. 

The  university  of  Bologna  was  much  indebted  to  Al- 
drovandi ;  for,  besides  bequeathing  to  it  his  valuable  mu- 
seum, which  was  the  principal  part  of  that  which  now 
exists  there,  he  was  the  chief  iiromotcr  of  the  botanic 
garden  which  was  founded  at  Bologna,  in  (he  year  1567. 
Tlie  works  on  natural  history  that  pass  under  his  name, 
form  13  volumes  in  folio ;  but  it  is  not  certain  that  more 
than  six  are  genuine,  viz.  three  on  birds,  and  one  on 
insects,  which  were  published  during  his  life  in  1599  j 


888 


ALE 


ALE 


one  on  bloodless  animals ;  and  one  on  fislies,  winch  were 
composed  by  him,  and  left  ready  for  publication.  The 
other  seven,  treating  on  ([uadrupeds,  serpents,  monsters, 
metals,  and  trees,  were  compiled  partly  from  materials 
collected  by  him,  and  partly  from  othcrsources.  Besides, 
these  volumes  on  natural  history,  Aldrovandi  is  said  to 
have  composed  essays  and  treatises  on  a  great  variety  of 
subjects.  He  also  left  a  Hortus  sicais,  or  collection  of 
dried  plants,  which  filled  16  large  folio  volumes,  and 
which  was  to  be  seen  nearly  a  century  after  his  death. 

The  talents  and  industry  of  this  naturalist  must  cer- 
tainly have  been  great;  and  had  these  been  equalled  by 
his  taste  and  judgment,  his  writings  would  have  been 
invaluable.  He  is  characterized  by  Buffon  as  the  most 
laborious  and  the  most  learned  of  all  the  naturalists; 
and  the  same  writer  highly  commends  the  plan  and  dis- 
tribution of  his  works,  and  the  exactness  of  his  descrip- 
tions. He  is  still  quoted  with  respect ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  as  our  own  knowledge  increases,  and  we  thus  be- 
come more  able  to  appreciate  his  merits,  we  may  derive 
from  his  writings  considerable  advantage. 

The  following  is  a  correct  list  of  the  multifarious  pro- 
ductions that  are  ascribed  to  Aldrovandi.  1.  Omitholo- 
gia;  hoc  est,  de  Avihus  Historim,  lib.  xii.  3  vols.  fol. 
lirst  published  at  Bologna  in  1 399,  and  frequently  repub- 
lished, both  at  Bologna  and  at  Frankfort.  2.  De  Ani- 
malibuslnsectis,  lib.  \n.cumiconHrus,^o\.  Bononiffi,  1602. 
3.  De  Reliquis  Animalibus  Exangiiihus,  lib.  iv.  fol.  Bonon. 
1 606.  4.  De  Piscibus,  lib.  v.  et  de  Cells,  lib.  i.  fol.  Bonon. 
1613.  5.  De  Quadnipcdihis  soUpedihiis  Volunun  inte- 
grum, fol.  Bon.  1 01 6.  6.  Qiiadnipedum  omnium  Bisulco- 
rtim  Historia,  drawn  up  from  our  author's  papers  by 
Joh.  Cornelius  Utervesius,  and  the  famous  Thomas 
Dempster,  fol.  Bon.  1613.  7.  De  Quadrupcdibus  digitalis 
viviparis,  lib.  iii.  et  De  Quadi-upedihus  digitalis  miparis, 
lib.  ii.  fol.  Bonon.  1637.  8.  SerpeiUum  cl  Draconum 
Historia,  lib.  ii.  fol.  Bon.  1640.  9.  Mmislronnn  Histo- 
ria,cum  Paralipotncnis Historiee omnium AnitrMliiim,  folio, 
Bon.  1642.  10.  Musmim  Metallicum,  in  lib.  iv.  fol.  Bon. 
1648.  11.  Dcndrologife  naturalis,  sen  arborum  histoiice, 
lib.  ii.  fol.  Bon.  1648,  and  frequently  republished.  12. 
AniniaHum  Encomia,  ['o\.  Ilanovice,  1619.  13.  Jntidota- 
rimn  Bononicnse,  4to,  Bon.  1574;  besides  the  Essay  on 
Ancient  Statues,  above  mentioned,  published  in  Lucio 
Mauro's  "■  Antichita  de  la  Citta  di  Roma,"  8vo.  Venet. 
1656;  a  Latin  letter  De  Lotis,  and  several  unedited  ma- 
nuscrij>ts.  (/) 

ALE,  a  fermented  liquor,  made  from  malt  and  hops. 
This  drink  was  originally  made  in  Egypt,  where  it  sup- 
plied the  want  of  liquors  prepared  from  the  grape,  and 
has  been  a  favourite  beverage  in  almost  all  countries. 
For  the  facts  connected  with  the  historj'  of  tliis  liquor, 
see  Diodorus  Siculus,  lib.  iv.  cap.  26. ;  Pliny,  Nat.  Hist. 
lib.  xiv.  cap.  29. :  Henry's  Hist,  of  England,  8vo.  rol.  ii. 
p.  364  ;  Hume's  Hist.  vol.  ii.  p.  224 ;  Pinkerton's  Geogra- 
phy, vol.  i.  p.  65.  For  a  method  of  preserving  ale  in  long 
Toyages,  gee  a  paper  by  Dr.  Stubbs  in  the  Phil.  Trans. 
Ko.  27.  On  the  salubrity  of  ale ;  see  CuUen's  Mat.  Med. 
vol.  i.  p.  418.     See  also  Brewing,     (o) 

ALECTO,  in  Mythology,  one  of  the  three  Furies. 
Virgil  has  glveu  a  fine  description  of  her  in  the  seventh 
book  of  the  Alneid.  (w) 

ALECTORI  A,  the  uaoje  of  a  stone  found  in  the  gall- 
bladders of  old  cocks;  which,  according  to  some,  is  ge- 
nerated iu  that  cavity,  while  others  think  that  it  has  been 
ewallowed,  to  piomote  digestion,  (jv) 

ALECTOROMAJVTIA,  from  «At«r«;,  a  cock,  and 


fititTti*,  divination.  A  species  of  divination  performed 
by  placing  grains  of  wheat  upon  spaces  marked  by  the 
letters  of  the  alphabet.  From  the  letters  corresponding 
to  the  grains  picked  up  by  the  animal,  the  fortunes  of 
individuals  were  predicted,     (w) 

ALECTRA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Didyna- 
mia,  and  order  Gymnospermia.  See  Botany,     (iv) 

ALECTRIDES,  in  Zoology,  the  name  given  by  Cu- 
vier  to  a  family  of  birds,  of  the  order  Gallinacese,  and 
which  have  wings  adapte<l  to  flying.     (/) 

ALEM  ANNI,  a  body  of  men  of  all  nations,  but  chief- 
ly Suevi,  who  in  the  thiixl  century,  impelled  either  by  a 
thirst  of  plunder,  or  a  desire  of  martial  glory,  frequently 
ravaged  Gaul  and  Italy,  and  experienced  great  variety 
of  fortune,  till  they  were  finally  dispersed.  They  were 
characterized  by  the  most  obstir>ate  bravery,  and  by  a 
love  of  freedom  which  nothing  could  extinguish.  Those 
who  were  taken  prisoners  chose  rather  to  die  than  be 
sold  for  slaves;  and  some  of  them,  when  sold,  often  de- 
stroyed both  themselves  and  their  children.  See  Dion 
Cassius,  lib.  Ixxvii.  Gibbon,  vol.  i.  p.  4.;  vol.  ii.  p.  21. 
Ancient  Vniv.  History,  vol.  xvii.  p.  288.     (w) 

ALEMBERT,  John  le  Bond  D',  one  of  the  most  il- 
lustrious mathematicians  and  literary  characters  of  the 
18th  century,  was  born  at  Paris  on  the  17th  November, 
171 7.  Being  exposed  by  his  mother,  Madame  de  Ten- 
cin,  near  the  church  of  St.  Jean  le  Rond,  from  which  he 
derives  his  name,  the  infant,  in  a  state  of  extreme  weak- 
ness, and  almost  dying,  was  carried  to  a  commissary, 
who  placed  it  under  the  charge  of  a  glazier's  wife,  with 
whom  it  might  receive  that  kind  of  alleviation  of  dis- 
tress which  a  public  hospital  could  not  easily  supply.  A 
few  days  had  scarcely  elapsed,  till  M.  Destouches,  the  fa- 
ther of  D'Alembert,  lieanl  of  the  commissary's  humanity, 
and  under  the  impulse  of  duty  and  feeling,  provided  for 
the  education  and  independence  of  the  child. 

D'Alembert  received  the  first  elements  of  learning 
from  the  Jansenists  of  the  College  of  the  Four  Nations. 
He  had  acquired,  at  the  age  of  10,  all  that  his  masters 
could  teach  him  ;  and  in  his  early  progress,  as  well  as  in 
a  Commentary  which  he  wrote  on  the  Epistle  to  the 
Romans,  he  exhibited  proofs  of  that  brilliant  genius 
which  has  conducted  him  to  immortal  fame.  Proud  of 
the  talents  of  their  young  pupil,  the  Jansenists  com- 
pared him  to  the  celebrated  Pascal,  and  endeavoured  to 
perfect  the  resemblance  by  directing  his  atteniron  to 
the  mathematical  sciences.  Here  the  genius  of  D'Alem- 
bert found  its  proper  field  of  exertion ;  and  though  the 
Jansenists,  who  perceived  his  passion  for  the  sciences, 
used  every  means  to  unfix  his  attachment,  yet  nothing 
could  induce  him  to  abandon  a  study,  where  truth,  un- 
mixed with  error,  is  tlie  splendid  reward  of  investiga- 
tion. 

After  quitting  the  college,  D'Alembert  naturally 
looked  around  him  for  some  tranquil  retreat.  Finding 
himself  alone  in  the  world,  without  a  relation,  and  with- 
out a  home,  he  sought  an  asylum  in  the  house  of  his 
nurse,  where  he  continued  for  40  years,  prosecuting  his 
favourite  studies;  concealing  from  her  the  celebrity 
which  he  had  gained ;  and  contributing,  by  his  genero- 
sity, to  the  comfort  of  her  domestic  circle.  His  nurse, 
who  had  heard  him  spoken  of  as  the  author  of  several 
works,  beheld  him  with  pity  rather  than  admiration. 
"  You  will  never,"  said  she,  "  be  any  thing  but  a  philo- 
sopher; and  what  is  a  philosopher  but  a  fool,  who  tor- 
ments himself  during  his  life,  that  people  may  talk  of 
bim  when  he  is  no  more." 


ALEMBERT. 


383 


While  D'Aleiiibert  was  pursuing  with  ardour  (he 
study  of  geometry,  many  original  views  presented  them- 
selves to  his  penetrating  mind ;  and  he  hegau  to  feel 
that  high  elevation  of  soul  which  the  discovery  of  truth, 
and  the  anticipation  of  fame,  never  fail  to  inspire.  But 
this  fever  of  delight  did  not  long  continue.  As  he  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  writings  of  others,  be  saw 
with  vexation  that  he  had  been  anticipated  in  his  disco- 
veries ;  and  tinding  himself  stripped  of  tlie  first  fruits  of 
his  talents,  he  abandoned  his  mind  to  melancholy  and 
despair.  He  thought  that  Heaven  had  denied  him  ge- 
nius, and  that  he  was  for  ever  doomed  to  tread  in  the 
footsteps  of  his  predecessors.  But  the  love  of  study, 
which  still  animated  Ms  breast,  prevented  the  surrender 
of  his  mind  to  the  first  suggestions  of  disappointment. 

The  fortune  of  1200  livres  a-year,  which  D'Alembert 
enjoyed,  being  scarcely  sutficient  to  maintain  a  com- 
fortable independence,  he  resolved,  at  the  earnest  soli- 
citation of  his  friends,  to  follow  one  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions. After  taking  his  second  degree  in  arts,  he 
commenced  the  study  of  jurisprudence;  but  as  his  mind 
was  perpetually  turning  to  its  favourite  pursuits,  the 
whole  time  of  his  law  noviciate  was  consumed  in  the 
study  of  mathematics.  With  a  degree  of  patience,  how- 
ever, which  could  scarcely  have  been  expected,  he  took 
out  his  law  degrees,  and  was  admitted  an  advocate  ;  but 
his  predominant  passion  overruled  every  motive  of  pru- 
dence, and  induced  him  to  relincjuish  a  profession  which 
afforded  no  scope  for  the  display  either  of  his  taste  or 
genius.  The  pressing  entreaties  of  his  friends  again 
turned  his  thoughts  to  the  necessity  of  engaging  in 
some  lucrative  employment.  In  the  profession  of  me- 
dicine he  perceived  room  for  the  exercise  of  his  talents; 
and  with  a  bold,  though  short-lived,  resolution,  he  deter- 
mined to  follow  it  with  all  the  energy  of  his  mind.  He 
even  conveyed  to  a  friend  the  whole  of  his  mathematical 
works,  lest  his  attention  might  be  distracted  with  the 
recollection  of  early  studies  ;  but  this  measure,  bold  as 
it  was,  soon  proved  to  be  ineffectual.  Neither  the  lux- 
uries of  opulence,  nor  the  dread  of  poverty,  could  over- 
come the  powerful  attachments  which  he  had  formed : 
His  mathematical  books  gradually  returned  into  his  li- 
brary :  The  study  of  medicine  was  prosecuted  with  in- 
creasing languor,  and  his  whole  soul  was  again  absorb- 
ed in  the  study  of  geometry. 

The  talents  of  D'Alembert  were  in  some  measure 
known  by  some  corrections  on  the  Atialyse  Demontrec 
of  Father  Renaa,  which  had  occurred  to  him  when  stu- 
dying that  work;  and  in  1 741,  he  was  thought  worthy,  at 
the  age  of  24,  to  be  admitted  a  member  of  the  Acade- 
my of  Sciences. 

In  the  year  1 743,  appeared  the  Traite  de  Dynamique 
of  D'Alembert,  founded  on  a  new  and  fertile  principle 
of  Mechanics.  He  has  shown,  that  in  whatever  way  the 
bodies  of  one  system  act  upon  those  of  another,  the  ac- 
tion of  the  moving  forces  may  at  every  instant  be  de- 
composed into  two  parts,  the  one  producing  the  motion 
of  the  body  in  the  second  instant,  and  the  other  destroy- 
ing that  which  it  had  in  the  first.  This  simple  principle 
had  been  in  some  measure  employed  by  James  Ber- 
nouilli,  in  his  solution  of  the  problem  of  the  centre  of 
oscillation;  hut  D'Alembert  made  the  discovery  his 
own,  by  simplifying  and  generalizing  it,  and  by  applying 
it  to  the  resolution  of  many  beautiful  problems,  and  par- 
ticularly that  of  the  procession  of  the  equinoxes. 

The  mathematical  sciences  were  enriched  with  an- 
other dbcovery  by  this  illustrious  geometer.  The  equa- 


tions to  which  he  was  conducted  in  the  applicaliuu  of  his 
new  principle  to  the  theory  of  fluids,  often  resisted  all 
the  resources  of  the  common  analysis.  A  new  calculus, 
therefore,  seemed  necessary  for  their  resolution,  and 
D'Alembert  had  the  high  honour  of  making  the  dis- 
covery. In  his  Reflexion  sur  Ics  causes  geturales  dcs 
Vinls,  which  was  crowned  by  the  Academy  of  Berlin  in 
1740,  he  gave  the  first  details  of  the  integral  calcuUig 
with  partial  differences;  and  in  1747,  he  applied  it  td 
the  solution  of  Dr.  Taylor's  problem  of  vibrating  chords. 
Euler  seems  to  have  given  some  hints  concerning  this 
calculus  in  a  paper  published  in  the  Petersburg  Trans- 
actions for  1734;  but  D'Alembert  has  evidently  the 
honour  of  the  discovery,  though  the  nature  and  algo- 
rithm of  the  calculus  was  afterwards  completely  ex- 
plained by  Euler,  in  his  paper,  entitled,  "  Investigalio 
Functionum,  &c:'  1762. 

His  treatise  on  Dynamics  was  followed,  in  1752,  by 
his  Essais  d'une  nouvelle  Thcorie  dii  mmimmeni  des 
Fluides,  a  work  of  singular  merit,  by  his  Siemens  de 
Musique  Thtorique  et  Pratique,  suivant  les  Principes  de 
M.  Ratnemt,  1 752  :  and  by  his  Recherches  sur  le  Calcul 
Integral,  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Berlin  Academy  for  the 
same  year. 

Hitherto  the  talents  of  D'Alembert  had  been  applied 
chiefly  to  geometry  and  physics;  and  though  both 
these  branches  of  knowledge  were  deeply  indebted  to 
his  genius,  yet  the  reputation  which  he  enjoyed  had 
scarcely  extended  beyond  the  small  circle  of  friends, 
with  whom  he  was  daily  associated.  The  only  persons 
in  office  with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  were  the  two 
ministers,  Messrs.  D'Argenson,  men  who  were  distin- 
guished by  their  abilities,  as  well  as  by  the  most  amia- 
ble qualities  of  the  heart.  His  fame,  however,  began  to 
extend,  and,  as  if  it  had  been  confined  by  some  unnatu- 
ral restraint,  it  now  spread  with  astonishing  rapidity. 
The  dedication  of  his  treatise  on  Winds,  to  the  king  of 
Prussia,  had  procured  him  the  notice  of  that  patron  of 
merit;  and  he  was  now  rewarded  with  a  pension  from 
the  French  king,  a  favour  which  he  owed  more  to  the 
friendship  of  the  count  D'Argenson,  than  to  the  wisdom 
and  generosity  of  his  sovereign. 

While  D'Alembert  was  treading  in  the  thorny  paths 
of  geometry,  he  had  few  rivals,  and  therefore  few  ene- 
mies. But  when  the  Encyclopaedia,  which  he  had  under- 
taken in  conjunction  with  Diderot,  gave  him  frequent 
opportunities  of  displaying  his  tine  taste  for  literature 
and  the  arts,  a  crowd  of  inferior  authors,  who  felt  their 
reputation  obscured  by  the  splendour  of  his  name,  con- 
spired to  disturb  his  repose,  and  to  bring  him  down  to 
their  own  level,  by  the  formidable  weapons  of  calumny 
and  detraction.  The  discourse,  which  he  prefixed  to 
this  immortal  work,  and  the  other  articles  with  which 
he  enriched  it,  exhibited  a  depth  and  fertility  of  under- 
standing, an  elegance  and  correctness  of  taste,  a  bril- 
liancy and  luxuriance  of  imagination,  a  richness  and 
splendour  of  eloquence,  a  clearness  and  energy  of  style, 
which  are  seldom  united  in  the  same  character,  and 
which  have  raised  him  to  a  most  distinguished  place 
among  those  illustrious  philosophers,  who  have  been  the 
brightest  ornaments  of  their  species. 

A  short  time  afterwards  he  published  his  Melanges 
de  Philosophie,  D^Histoire  et  de  Literattire  ;  his  Memoirs 
of  Christina,  queen  of  Sweden  ;  his  Essay  on  the  Inter- 
course of  Men  of  Letters  with  Persons  of  Hank  and  Of- 
fice ;  and  his  Traduction  de  Diverse  Morceaux  de  Tacite, 
works  which  are  adorned  with  the  most  generous  aai. 


384 


ALEMBEtlT. 


exalted  sentiments,  and  which,  by  raising  his  fame,  in- 
creased the  number  and  the  malignity  of  his  enemies. 

The  next  work  published  by  D' Alembert  was  the  Re- 
chcrchcs  stir  dijfcrents  Points  impcrtants  du  Systeme  du 
Monde,  ill  1 754,  and  1 756,  in  which  he  improved  the  so- 
lution of  the  problem  of  three  bodies.     The  honour  of 
resolving  this  important    problem    belongs    equally  to 
Euler,  Clairaut,  and  D'Alembert,  who,  without  the  least 
communication,  gave  a  more  accurate  determination  of 
the  lunar  inequalities,  as  considered  by  Newton, confirm- 
ed some  which  he  had  merely  learned  from  observa- 
tion, and  discovered  others  which  had  hitherto  been  un- 
known.    Clairaut  had  the  honour  of  being  the  first  who 
applied  his  solution  to  the  motion  of  comets ;  and  in 
1758,  he  announced  to  the  academy  that  the  comet  of 
J  682  would  appear  in  the  beginning  of  1759.    The  cu- 
riosity of  the  public  was  excited  by  this  notice,  and  the 
name  of  Clairaut  was  every  where  mentioned  with  ap- 
plause.    In  opposition  to  the  claims  oi'  Kalley,  he  was 
•J     regarded  as  the  sole  author  of  the  prediction ;  and  some 
of  his  pupils  were  imprudent  enough  to  maintain,  that 
the  solution  of  Clairaut  was  more  applicable  to  the  mo- 
tion of  comets,  than  those  of  Euler  and  D'Alembert. 
This  claim  of  superiority  Clairaut  was  supposed  to  have 
arrogated  in  private.     Euler  was  in  no  respect  affected 
with  the    injustice  that  had  been    done  to  him ;    but 
D'Alembert,  whose  temper  was  more  keen,  and  who 
then  lived  in  Paris,  where  these  erroneous  ofiinions  were 
cherished,  could  not  remain  a  silent  spectator.     He  at- 
tacked the  solution  given  by  Clairaut  as  inaccurate  and 
defective,  and  resolved  the  problem  of  comets  in  a  way 
which  was  at  once  simple  and  complete.     Thus  were 
two  of  the  first  mathematicians  in  Europe  opposed  to 
each  other  in  open  war  ;  and  though  the  subject  of  dis- 
pute was  intelligible  only  to  a  few,  yet  every  literary 
circle  in  Paris  was  ranged  on  the  side  of  its  favourite 
philosopher.     Clairaut  had  the  happiness  of  enjoying 
universal  esteem.     The  gentleness  of  his  disposition, 
the  urbanity  of  his  manners,  and  his  extreme  tenderness 
for  the  feelings  of  others,  could  not  fail  to  fix  the  af- 
fections of  all  who  knew  him ;  while  his  ambition  of 
fame  led  him  to  pursuits  which  could  be  generally  ap- 
preciated, and  which  were  therefore  more  likely  to  ex- 
cite public  applause.    The  character  of  D'Alembert,  on 
the  contrary,  was  distinguished  by  that  stern  honesty  of 
wind  which  cannot  stoop  to  the  arts  by  which  fame  is 
generally  acquired.      Accustomed    to  speak   what  he 
thought,  and  even  to  indulge  his  wit  and  raillery  l)eyond 
the  limits  which  prudence  would  have  prescribed,  he 
was  more  apt  to  make  enemies  than  to  acquire  friends. 
He  disdained  that  species  of  applause  which  is  propaga- 
ted merely  by  the  lips  of  the  vulgar;  and  therefore  he 
dismissed,  without  ceremony,  the  numerous  vitilors  who 
came  to  court  and  to  flatter  him.     From  these  causes, 
Clairaut  enjoyed,  during  his  life,  a  much  higher  repu- 
tation than  D'Alembert;  but  as  he  did  not  equal  him  in 
genius,  posterity  have  corrected  this  uue(juai  dislribu- 
tlou  of  |)raise. 

In  1756,  D'Alembert  received  from  the  academy  the 
title  of  Supernumerary  Pensionary;  a  distinction  which 
was  contrary  to  the  usage  of  the  academy,  and  therefore 
a  more  flattering  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  he 
was  held  by  his  colleagues.  In  1759,  he  published  his 
"  Elements  of  Philosopliy,"  a  work  of  remarkable  acute- 
nees,  and  containing,  as  it  were,  the  metaphysics  of  the 
gciences. 

The  tranquillity  of  D'Alembert  was  now  distarbed  by 


new  persecutions.  The  freedom  of  thought  which  he 
ventured  to  indulge  in  some  of  his  papers  in  the  Ency- 
clopedia, involved  him  in  a  contest  which  was  long  and 
keenly  maintained.  In  the  article  on  Geneva,  he  hap- 
pened to  censure  the  bigotry  and  intolerance  which  for- 
merly reigned  in  that  city,  to  throw  a  suspicion  upon  the 
orthodoxy  of  the  Genevese  clergy,  and  to  regret  that 
the  proscription  pronounced  by  Calvin  against  the  thea- 
tre and  other  public  amusements,  was  still  enforced  by 
the  ministers  of  religion.  The  zeal  of  D'Aleml)ert  for 
the  liberty  of  his  fellow  creatures,  could  not  brook  the 
idea  that  such  an  authority  should  be  usurped  over, 
the  consciences  of  men,  and  might  have  justified 
him  in  speaking  with  greater  severity  of  any  despotic 
enactment,  which  prohibited  the  enjoyment  of  rational 
l)leasure.  His  language,  however,  is  as  temperate  as 
his  arguments  are  clear.  He  shows  the  effects  of  a  well 
regulated  stage  u|)on  the  taste  and  manners  of  the  citi- 
zens, and  suggests  the  means  of  preventing  it  from  being 
an  instrument  of  immorality.  The  reasoning  of  D'Alem- 
bert was  keenly  and  eloquently  controverted  by  Rous- 
seau ;  and  the  arguments  of  an  author,  who  had  himself 
written  a  comedy  and  an  opera,  had  a  surprising  effect 
upon  the  public  opinion.  D'Alembert  replied  to  the 
Letter  of  Rousseau ;  but  his  answer  did  not  meet  with 
the  same  approbation  and  success.  Voltaire,  who  was 
then  residing  at  Geneva,  brought  to  the  assistance  of 
his  friend  the  weapons  of  wit  and  ridicule,  which  he 
never  wielded  without  effect ;  but  he  felt  little  concern 
in  the  issue  of  the  contest,  and  D'AUmbert  alone  waa 
exposed  to  the  assaults  of  the  enemy. 

In  the  midst  of  this  literary  war,  the  king  of  Prussia, 
after  the  peace  of  1763,  invited  D'Alembert  to  his  capi- 
tal, to  fill  the  office  of  president  of  the  academy  of  Ber- 
lin, which  was  newly  vacant  by  the  death  of  Mauper- 
tuis.  The  French  geometer  refused  this  high  and  ho- 
nourable situation,  and  preferred  a  life  of  poverty  in  his 
own  courvtry,  to  the  most  splendid  situation  in  another. 
He  cherished,  however,  the  liveliest  gratitude  to  Fre- 
derick for  his  proffered  kindness,  and  spent  several 
months  at  the  Prussian  court.  A  short  time  before, 
D'Alembert  had  been  solicited  by  the  empress  of  Rus- 
sia to  superintend  the  education  of  her  family;  but 
neither  the  offer  of  titles  nor  fortune  could  induce  him 
to  comjily. 

In  1772,  D'Alembert  was  appointed  perpetual  secre- 
tary to  the  French  academy ;  and  no  sooner  was  this 
honour  conferred  upon  him,  than  he  formed  the  design 
of  writing  the  lives  of  all  the  academicians  from  1700 
to  1 772.  In  three  years,  he  executed  this  grand  design, 
by  composing  no  less  than  70  eloges. 

Besides  the  works  which  have  been  already  mentioned, 
D'Alembert  publisheil  a  treatise,  entitled,  De  la  De- 
struttion  dcs  Jesuites ;  a  collection  of  me/noirs  and 
treatises  under  the  title  of  Opusailcs  Matlumiatiqxics  ; 
and  an  immense  variety  of  papers  in  the  Alemuirs  of 
the  academies  of  Paris,  Berlin,  and  Turin. 

Hitherto  D'Alembert  has  appeared  chiefly  as  a  phi- 
losopher, passionately  devoted  io  literature  and  science  ; 
but  an  event  now  occurred  which  unfolded  new  features 
of  hi?  character,  and  shows  what  a  feeble  resistance  phi- 
losophy can  make  to  the  most  outrageous  of  our  pas- 
sions, even  when  age  has  circumscribed  its  extrava- 
gance, and  cx|ierieuce  pointed  out  the  littleness  of  what 
we  pursue. 

In  the  literary  eircles  which  D'Aloraljert  frequented 
at  Paris,  he  met  irith  the  marchioness  dn  D6fant,  au  old 


ALEMBERT. 


385 


lady,  whose  capricious  and  splenetic  disposition  was 
rendered  tolerable  only  by  her  wit  and  genius.  Charmed 
with  each  other's  talents,  D'AIembert  was  a  daily  visi- 
tor at  the  convent  to  which  the  narrow  fortune  of  the 
Marchioness  had  compelled  her  to  retire ;  and  the 
{)Ieasure  of  these  visits  was  considerably  heightened  by 
Ihe  presence  of  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse,  whom  Ma- 
dame du  Defant  had  selected  as  the  companion  of  her 
solitude*.  This  young  lady,  always  attractive  by  the 
elegance  of  her  accomplishments,  was  peculiarly  en- 
deared to  D'AIembert  by  the  similarity  of  their  misfor- 
tunes, and  every  interview  gave  additional  ardour  to  the 
flame  which  was  already  lighted  in  their  breasts.  In 
consequence  of  a  difference  between  the  two  ladies, 
D'AIembert  was  arrogantly  commanded  by  the  mar- 
chioness, either  to  renounce  her  friendship,  or  the  socie- 
ty of  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse.  The  alternative  was 
not  painful,  nor  the  choice  difficult  to  make  :  The  at- 
traction of  wit  and  high  birth  sunk  before  the  enchant- 
ments of  youth  and  beauty. 

About  this  time,  (1756,)  D'AIembert  was  seized  with 
a  putrid  fever,  which  threatened  his  existence  ;  and,  ae 
the  house  of  his  nurse  was  both  badly  aired,  and  des- 
titute of  accommodation,  he  was  removed,  by  order  of 
Iiis  physician,  to  more  healthy  lodgings.  Regardless  of 
the  opinion  of  the  world,  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse  de- 
termined to  be  his  nurse.  She  watched  over  the  couch 
of  her  friend  with  the  most  affectionate  fidelity,  and  con- 
tributed by  her  kind  attentions  to  alleviate  and  remove 
his  distress.'  The  heart  of  D'AIembert  was  filled  with 
gratitude  for  this  generous  participation  in  his  suflTer- 
ings  :  His  friendship  swelled  into  a  higher  passion,  till 
his  brain  was  almost  turned  with  the  delirium  of  love. 
An  afTection  equally  tender,  but  inferior  in  violence, 
was  cherished  by  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse,  who 
permitted  D'AIembert  to  take  up  his  residence  in  her 
house.  This  union  of  hearts,  which  malice  itself  never 
xepresented  as  impure,  did  not  contribute  much  to  the 
happiness  of  either  party.  The  capricious  disposition  of 
the  lady  sought  for  a  variety  of  lovers ;  and  no  sooner 
had  she  secured  possession  of  D'Alembert's  heart,  than 
she  meditated  more  splendid  conquests.  Influenced 
either  by  the  love  of  show,  or  the  dread  of  penury,  she 
conceived  the  ambitious  hope  of  being  some  day  united 
to  one  of  the  distinguished  characters  that  frequented 
her  literary  parties.  She  well  knew  the  power  of  her 
charms  over  the  hearts  of  her  visitors;  and  she  never 
failed  to  exercise  it  with  the  most  consummate  skill.  A 
complete  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  and  a  passion- 
ate eloquence  of  sentiment,  heightened  by  an  insinuating 
frankness  of  address,  gave  an  interesting  brilliancy  to 
her  conversation ;  and  enabled  her  to  fascinate  her  ad- 
mirers with  all  the  blandishments  and  sorcery  of  love. 
The  Marquis  de  Mora,  a  young  Spanish  nobleman,  was 
the  first  victim  of  this  seductive  enchantress.  She  saw 
the  devotion  with  which  she  inspired  him ;  a  glimpse  of 
future  splendour  animated  her  hopes,  and  she  called 
forth  all  the  resources  of  her  art  to  fix  the  idolater  at 
her  shrine.  A  rumour  of  the  Marquis's  attachment 
having  reached  his  friends  in  Spain,  he  was  ordered  in- 
stantly to  return.  His  absence  from  Paris,  though  it 
raised  the  almost  extinguislied  hopes  of  his  rival,  did 
not  weaken  the  affection  of  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse. 
D'AIembert  saw  the  fickleness  of  his  mistress,  and  the 


feeble  impression  which  was  made  by  talents  and  repu- 
tation, when  opposed  to  the  allurements  of  rank  and  for- 
tune ;  but  he  still  cherished  his  attachment,  and  seems 
to  have  been  satisfied  with  the  second  place  in  her 
heart.  Anticipating,  probably,  some  change  of  circum- 
stances which  might  unfix  the  lady's  affections,  he  still 
continued  his  obsequious  attentions,  and  even  conde- 
scended to  be  the  bearer  of  the  Marquis's  letters  from 
the  post-office.  No  sooner  had  De  Mora  returned  to 
Spain,  than  he  fell  suddenly  ill :  the  afflicting  intelli- 
gence having  been  quickly  conveyed  to  Paris,  Made- 
moiselle L'Espinasse  had  the  address  to  make  D'AIem- 
bert procure  a  certificate  from  an  eminent  physician, 
that  the  air  of  France  was  necessary  for  the  recovery  of 
the  Spanish  nobleman.  His  friends  being  influenced  by 
this  advice,  he  left  his  native  country,  but  died  before  he 
arrived  at  Paris.  This  disastrous  event  preyed  upon  the 
mind  of  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse,  and  brought  her 
prematurely  to  the  grave.  D'AIembert  was  inconsolable 
for  the  loss  of  his  friend  :  In  solitary  anguish  he  brooded 
over  his  distress,  and,  overwhelmed  in  that  immoderate 
grief  which  could  spring  only  from  the  most  extravagant 
passion,  he  seems  either  to  have  forgotten,  or  despised 
the  consolations  which  philosophy  offers  to  the  unfortu- 
nate. "  What  now  remains  for  me  !"  said  he  to  Marmon- 
tel:  "when  I  return  home,  I  find  only  her  shadow: 
home  to  me  exhibits  all  the  horrors  of  the  tomb."  A 
long  period  elapsed  before  the  mind  of  this  great  man 
was  restored  to  its  former  balance.  He  cherished  a  dis- 
like to  the  society  of  men,  and  even  to  his  former  stu- 
dies; and  until  time,  the  universal  anodyne  of  grief, 
had  corrected  these  erroneous  impressions,  he  appears 
to  have  regarded  the  highest  of  all  earthly  enjoyments, 
the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  as  one  of  the  vanities  of 
human  life. 

The  remainder  of  D'Alembert's  life  was  chiefly  de- 
voted to  the  society  of  his  friends,  in  whose  tender  sym.- 
pathies  he  found  a  balm  for  the  melancholy  recollections 
which  often  agitated  his  mind.  He  had  now  lost  the 
gayety  and  vivacity  of  his  happier  days,  and  old  age, 
with  disease  in  its  train,  was  rapidly  advancing.  The 
torments  of  the  stone  had  already  begun  to  prey  upon 
his  health ;  and  he  expired  of  this  fatal  disease,  on  the 
29th  October,  1783,  in  the  66th  year  of  his  age. 

While  D'AIembert  resided  under  the  roof  of  his 
nurse,  he  showed  the  most  amiable  and  affectionate  dis- 
positions. Unambitious  of  preferment,  he  was  solicitous 
only  about  the  cultivation  of  his  mind,  and  the  happiness 
of  the  little  domestic  circle  whom  ftis  generosity  sup- 
ported.  That  simplicity  of  manners  which  arose  from 
his  peculiar  situation,  followed  him  in  his  intercourse 
with  the  world.  From  an  ignorance  of  the  ceremonies 
of  fashionable  life,  he  conducted  himself  with  that  blunt- 
ness  of  demeanour  which  is  the  offspring  of  a  frank  and 
honest  mind ;  and  was  frequently  embarrassed  by  the 
compliments  which  were  occasionally  paid  to  the 
splendour  of  his  talents :  but  though  his  conversation 
was  sometimes  unpolished,  and  his  manners  ungraceful, 
he  was  never  charged  with  uncivility  and  rudeness. 
Without  possessing  the  gallantly  and  address  of  a  cour- 
tier, his  conversation  was  pleasing  and  cheerful,  enli- 
vened by  frequent  sallies  of  delicate  wit,  and  by  a  gayety 
of  manner  which  is  seldom  the  companion  of  profound 
talents.     On  some  occasions,  serious  and  gloomy,  he 


i 

•  Dutens  asserts,  that  M«OcmoisoUe  L'Espiaasse  waj  ll>c  natural  dsughter  of  ll-.e  Marqnls  tlii  Defant.    Mem,  tPtm  Voyage'xr,  vol.  ii. 
.59.  • 

Voj..  I.    Part  I.  0  C 


386 


ALE 


ALE 


surrendered  his  mind  to  those  melancholy  impression* 
which  are  the  offspring  and  the  scourge  of  genius.  At 
ether  times,  he  seems  to  have  foi^otten  the  command- 
ing reputation  which  he  enjoyed  :  He  was  all  life  and 
jocularity,  indulging  in  that  sportive  gayety,  and  playful- 
ness of  wit,  which  frequently  borders  ou  childishness. 
The  professed  chani])ion  of  liberty  of  thought,  he  felt 
no  desire  to  force  his  opinions  upon  others ;  and  hence 
lie  disliked  that  controversial  disposition  which  destroys 
the  harmony  of  social  intercourse,  alleging,  that  in  all 
subjects,  except  the  mathematical  sciences,  there  was 
room  for  difference  of  sentiment,  and  that  almost  in 
every  thing  men  may  say  what  they  choose.  From  the 
impatient  violence  of  his  temper,  he  could  not  bear  to 
be  thwarted  and  opposed :  His  impetuosity,  however, 
soon  subsided  :  it  was  the  irritation  of  the  moment,  and 
never  terminated  in  revenge. 

When  the  reputation  of  D'Alembert  brought  around 
him  a  crowd  of  idle  flatterers  and  pretenders  to  science, 
lie  often  treated  them  with  little  ceremony ;  and  not 
unfrequently  amused  himself  at  their  expense,  by  a  se- 
verity of  satire,  and  a  keenness  of  remark,  which  were 
the  worst  shades  in  his  character.  This  bitterness  of 
invective,  however,  did  not  proceed  from  a  disregard 
*o  the  feelings  of  others.  It  sprung  rather  from  thought- 
lessness than  from  malignity,  and  was  chiefly  directed 
against  presumption  and  empiricism.  He  had  too  good 
tt  heart  to  be  deliberately  the  cause  of  misery'  even  to  his 
enemies ;  but  his  unfortunate  propensity  for  raillery 
«ften  led  him  to  indulge  his  ill  humour,  before  he  could 
calculate  the  pain  which  it  gave  to  others,  or  the  injury 
which  it  did  to  himself. 

Before  closing  this  sketch  of  D'Alembert's  life,  we 
must  make  a  few  remarks  on  his  religious  and  moral 
character.  In  this  country  he  has  been  long  regarded 
us  the  apostle  of  anarchy  and  irreligion ;  and  even  his 
connexion  with  Mademoiselle  L'Espinasse,  has,  contrary 
to  the  most  [Mwitive  evidence,  been  rejjresented  as  im- 
moral and  licentious.  As  if  the  malignity  of  his  ene- 
mies had  not  sufficiently  harassed  him  during  life,  he 
has  for  more  than  twenty  years  been  persecuted  in  the 
tomb.  That  sanctuary  of  the  dead,  before  which  (he 
slanderer  generally  stands  mute  and  pale,  has  been  wan- 
tonly invaded  by  an  order  of  men  who  could  not  appre- 
■ciate  the  omui])otence  of  his  talents,  and  with  a  degree 
•f  rancorous  hostility,  which  should  have  been  excited 
only  by  living  baseness.  The  associates  of  his  glory,  and 
his  successors  in  the  brilliant  career  of  discovery,  have 
■been  assailed  by  the  same  malignant  spirit ;  and  a  road 
to  the  temple  of  fame  has  been  opened,  for  English  phi- 
losophers, over  the  bleeding  characters  of  those  mighty 
sages,  whom  the  universal  suffrage  of  posterity  will  one 
day  jilace  at  its  altar. — It  is  easy  to  account  for  those 
erroneous  impressions  of  character  which  are  drawn 
from  the  conduct  of  those  who  took  an  active  part  in 
the  French  Revolution.  Time  alone  can  cool  the  pas- 
gioos  of  men  who  were  performers  in  that  great  drama 
of  blood  and  terror,  and  correct  the  opinions  which  were 
formed  in  the  moment  of  agitation  or  revenge :  but 
D'Alembert  was  in  his  grave  long  before  this  convulsion 
took  place;  and  we  can  account  for  the  calumnies  with 
which  his  memory  has  been  loaded,  only  from  the  ab- 


surd hypothesis,  that  the  seeds  of  the  French  Rerolutioa 
were  sown  by  the  writers  of  the  Encyclopmdia,  and  those 
distinguished  men  who  then  adorned  the  literature  of 
France.  The  atrocious  calumnies  of  Barruel,  which  for 
a  while  deceived  the  credulity  of  this  country,  still 
maintain  their  impression  upon  weak  minds;  though 
we  believe,  that  every  man  possessed  of  common  rea- 
son, has  indignantly  spurned  from  his  understanding 
these  impious  delusions.  Calumny,  like  every  other 
instrument  of  intrigue,  has  but  a  temporary  existence. 
The  detractor  may  perform  with  success,  and  even  mth 
applause,  the  little  part  which  he  has  to  act  in  the  poli- 
tical turmoils  of  the  day;  but  time  and  impartial  justice 
will  unveil  the  characters  over  which  his  black  mantle 
has  been  cast,  and  commit  to  the  mercy  of  posterity 
those  who  have  wantonly  scattered  from  their  urn  the 
ashes  of  departed  genius. 

It  is  not  the  province  of  a  biographer  to  ascertain  the 
articles  which  composed  the  creed  of  D'Alembert.  The 
celebrated  La  Harpe,  who  will  not  be  suspected  of  un- 
due partiality,  admits,  that  he  never  could  find  in  his 
writings  a  sentiment  hostile  to  religion.  D'Alembert 
frequently  speaks  with  feeling  of  the  beauties  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  has  done  ample  justice  to  the  illustrious 
preachers  who  adorned  the  reign  of  Lewis  XIV.  But 
if  he  were  an  infidel ;  if,  to  use  the  words  of  a  Christian 
bishop,  "  he  did  not  think  so  well  as  he  wrote,  no  pep- 
son  has  a  right  to  interrogate  his  conscience  *."  We 
may  lament  his  unbelief  as  a  misfortune  ;  but  we  have 
no  title  to  re])robate  it  as  a  crime.  It  is  the  avowed  infi- 
del, who  insults  the  public  feeling  by  his  vices,  or  shakes 
the  public  faith  by  his  outrageous  zeal,  that  is  the  object 
of  general  abhorrence.  The  sound  theist,  who  worships 
the  same  God,  and  cherishes  the  same  hopes  as  the 
Christian,  is  a  character  which  no  man  ought  rashly  to 
condemn.  From  licentious  manners  and  immoral  con- 
duct, it  is  not  charitable  to  infer  either  hypocrisy  or 
unbelief.  But  a  life  distinguished  like  that  of  D'Alem- 
bert, by  unimpeachable  morality  and  the  most  amiable 
virtues,  bids  defiance  to  the  groundless  insinuations  of 
malevolence,  and  makes  a  powerful  appeal  from  con- 
temjwrary  bigotry,  to  the  charitable  judgment  of  more 
enlightened  times.  (/3) 

ALEMBIC,  a  chemical  vessel,  borrowed  from  the 
Arabians,  and  formerly  used  for  distillation,  but  now 
Bupersetled  by  the  retort  and  the  still.  An  account  of  a 
new  alembic,  invented  by  M.  Macers,  may  be  seen  in 
the  Encyclop.  Method.  Physique.  Art.  Alambic.  (rv) 

ALEMTEJO,  or  Alentejo,  from  alan,  beyond,  and 
Tejo,  the  Tagvs,  is  one  of  the  least  populous,  though 
most  extensive  provinces  of  Portugal.  It  is  bounded  on 
the  north  by  the  Tagus,  on  the  north-west  by  the  pro- 
vince of  Estremadura,  on  the  west  by  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  on  the  south  by  the  mountains  of  Algarva,  and 
on  the  east  by  the  Guadiana  and  the  Spanish  frontiers. 
Its  length  from  north  to  south,  which  is  equal  to  its 
breadth,  is  nearly  108  miles.  It  is  divided  into  358  pa- 
rishes, and  contains  four  cities,  and  about  339,.355  inha- 
bitants. The  Portuguese  government  is  supplied  with 
one-fourth  of  its  military  establishment  from  this  pro- 
vince, which  maintains  no  fewer  than  ten  regiments  of 
infantry,  and  four  of  cavalry.     About  the  distance  of  ft 


•  "  I  did  not  know  his  person,"  said  Coestlosquet,  biskop  of  Limoges,  "bnt  I  have  always  heard  that  his  manners  were  simple,  and 
hiseouduct  without  reproach.  With  reganl  to  bis  works,  I  read  them  frequently,  and  1  find  in  them  much  talent,  a  gi-cat  portion  of 
ilkiminaiion,  and  Mwnd  morality.  U  he  (lid  sot  tbiok  M>  well  at  be  wrote,  it  wu  liia  misfortouc ;  J^o  p«rioa  Iwa  «  right  to  i&t«nrognle 
kiseoDKitDtc.'' 


ALE 


ALE 


3«7 


league  from  Aldea  Gallega,  a  market  town  opposite  to 
Lisbon,  there  stands  a  church  upon  an  eminence,  dedi- 
cated to  Nossa  Scnhora  da  Atalaya,  "  Our  Lady  of  the 
Watch  Tower."  The  Negroes  from  Lisbon  perform  an 
annual  pilgrimage  to  this  church,  and  great  crowds  of 
people  follow  them,  in  order  to  witness  the  sable  proces- 
sion. Though  the  soil  of  this  province  is  in  many  places 
remarkable  for  its  fertility,  yet  it  is  generally  ill  culti- 
vated, being  sown  only  once  in  three  years.  Its  principal 
productions  are  wheat  and  barley,  and  in  some  districts, 
grapes,  olives,  and  other  fruits  abound.  Extensive  im- 
proveable  heaths,  occupying  a  space  about  30  leagues 
in  circumference,  are  permitted  to  lie  in  an  uncultivated 
state,  and  serve  only  to  delight  the  eye,  by  the  beautiful 
variety  of  heath-plants  which  they  produce ;  and  afford 
a  sustenance  to  numerous  herds  of  sheep  and  goats  be- 
longing to  the  nobility,  w  ho  find  it  their  interest  to  keep 
these  extensive  commons  in  an  uncultivated  state.  The 
thin  population,  and  unproductive  condition  of  Alemte- 
jo,  arise  from  the  badness  of  the  roads,  the  luxurious 
indolence  of  the  peasantry,  the  frequent  recurrence  of 
religious  festivals,  and  the  numerous  wars  between  Spain 
and  Portugal,  of  which  this  province  was  generally  the 
theatre. — A  complete  account  of  Alemtejo,  by  Antonio 
Henriques  da  Silveira,  will  be  found  in  the  Memarias 
Ecmimnicas  of  the  Lisbon  Academy,  vol.  i.  See  also 
Link's  Travels  in  Portugal,  p.  150.  (a-) 

ALENCON,  a  city  of  France,  capital  of  the  depart- 
ment of  Orne,  [part  of  ancient  Normandy,]  built  in  a 
fertile  plain,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Sarte.  According 
to  Chautreaux,  it  contains  1 2,407  inhabitants.  The  ma- 
nufactures of  Alen5on  are  chiefly  lace,  linen,  woollen 
stuffs,  and  leather.  In  the  mine  of  Hertre,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  two  leagues  from  Alen9on,  false  diamonds, 
called  the  diamonds  of  Alengon,  were  found  among  the 
stones  for  building.  This  mine,  which  is  now  nearly  ex- 
hausted, produced  such  brilliant  stones  of  this  kind,  that 
they  were  mistaken  by  connoisseurs  for  real  diamonds. 
It  is  situated  105  miles  south-west  of  Paris,  75  south- 
west of  Rouen,  and  24  north  of  Mons ;  in  N.  Lat.  480 
25'.  Long.  Oo.  (^P)  {w) 

ALEPPO,  in  Arabic,  Haleb,  the  pregfent  metropolis 
of  Syria,  and  in  point  of  importance,  the  third  city  in  the 
Ottoman  empire.  In  situation,  magnitude,  population, 
and  opulence,  it  is  much  inferior  to  Constantinople  and 
Cairo;  but,  in  salubrity  of  air,  in  the  solidity  and  ele- 
gance of  its  private  buildings,  as  well  as  in  the  conve- 
nience and  neatness  of  its  streets,  it  may  be  reckoned 
superior  to  both.  And  though  no  longer  possessed  of 
the  same  commercial  advantages  as  in  former  times,  it 
still  continues  to  maintain  a  share  of  trade  far  from  in- 
considerable. 

Aleppo  is  situated  in  N.  Lat.  36»  11'  25".  E.  I-ong. 
from  Greenwich,  S?"  10'  15".  Its  distance  from  Scan- 
deroon,  the  nearest  sea-port,  is  about  60  or  70  miles,  in 
a  straight  line ;  but  the  usual  road  for  caravans,  through 
Antioch,  is  computed  to  be  between  90  and  100  miles. 
Aleppo  is  supposed,  by  some,  to  be  the  Zobah  of  Scrip- 
ture, mentioned  2  Sam.  viii.  12.  And  such  as  wish  to 
see  this  point  discussed  may  consult  Bochart's  Gcograph. 
Sacr.  col.  79.  But,  however  this  may  be,  there  can  be 
little  doubt,  that  Aleppo  is  the  Berrcea  of  the  Greeks; 
for  we  learn  from  Procopius,  (Bell.  Persic.  1.  ii.  c.  7.) 
that  Berroea  was  situated  between  Antioch  and  Hiera- 
polig,  aljout  two  days' journey  from  each,  which  answers 
exactly  to  the  description  of  Alejipo.  And  we  have  a 
still  more  explicit  testimony,  to  the  same  effect,  in  Jure 


(jrteCO-Ronian.  p.  292,  EuraSiaj  eirltrKtirit  r*5  ntfakiii  B«{- 

Aleppo  is  encompassed,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles, 
by  a  circle  of  hills,  which,  though  not  high,  are,  in  most 
places,  higher  than  the  rising  grounds  nearer  the  town. 
They  present  but  a  barren  appearance,  being,  for  the 
most  part,  rocky,  scantily  provided  with  springs,  and 
totally  destitute  of  trees.  The  river  Kowick,  which 
rises  near  Aintab,  glides  with  a  slow  and  silent  current 
westward  of  the  city ;  but  by  the  time  that  it  reaches 
Aleppo,  it  is  reduced  to  a  small  stream,  having  been  let 
off,  in  many  places,  into  the  adjacent  fields,  as  well  a» 
drained  of  large  quantities  of  water  for  the  use  of  the 
Aleppogardenscommencingat  Heylan.  Yet  thisstream, 
insigniQcant  as  it  is  in  appearance,  sometimes  swells  ia 
the  winter  season  to  a  formidable  river ;  and  when  the 
Christian  army  was  besieging  Aleppo,  in  the  year  1123, 
the  Kowick,  sutldenly  overflowing  its  banks,  swept  away 
their  tents,  baggage,  and  a  great  number  of  men,  w  hich 
obliged  them  to  raise  the  siege. 

The  city  of  Aleppo,  including  its  extensive  suburbs, 
occupies  eight  small  hills  of  unequal  height,  the  inter- 
mediitte  valleys,and  a  considerable  extent  of  flat  ground; 
the  whole  comprehending  a  circuit  of  about  seven  miles. 
The  city  itself  is  not  above  three  miles  and  a  half  in  cir- 
cumference, and  is  surrounded  by  an  ancient  wall,  which, 
like  those  of  other  fortified  towns  in  that  country,  is 
mouldering  fast  into  ruin  through  neglect.  Besides  the 
wall,  the  city  was  formerly  fortified  with  a  broad  deep 
ditch,  which  at  present  is,  in  most  places,  filled  up  with 
rubbish,  or  converted  into  garden  ground.  The  city  of 
Aleppo  makes  a  fine  appearance  at  a  distance ;  the 
mosques,  the  minarets  and  numerous  cupolas,  form  a 
splendid  spectacle;  and  the  flat  roofs  of  the  housesj 
which  are  situated  on  the  hills,  rising  one  behind  an- 
other, present  a  succession  of  hanging  terraces,  inter- 
spersed with  cypress  and  poplar  trees;  and  the  castle, 
placed  on  a  hill,  which  towers  above  all  the  rest,  pre^ 
sents  a  magnificent  object  to  the  eye  of  the  approach- 
ing traveller.  But,  as  is  the  case  with  most  other  Turk- 
ish cities,  the  ideas  of  splendour  suggested  by  a  distant 
prospect  of  Aleppo,  subside  on  entering  the  gates.  The 
streets,  on  account  of  the  high  stone  walls  on  each  hand, 
appear  gloomy,  and  more  narrow  than  they  really  are ; 
and  some  of  the  best  houses  exhibit  the  appearance  of 
nunneries,  from  the  few  high  windows  guarded  with 
lattices,  which  only  are  visible.  At  the  same  time,  it 
must  be  confessed,  that  some  of  the  streets  are  spacious- 
and  handsome,  and  well  paved  with  flag  stones;  and  in 
some  of  them,  you  look  at  once  through  several  arches, 
which  form  an  agreeable  vista. 

The  mosques  are  numerous  in  Aleppo ;  seven  or  eight 
of  them  are  reckoned  magnificent,  though  none  of  them 
have  more  than  a  single  minaret,  or  steeple,  whence, 
the  people  are  summoned  to  prayers.  In  front  of  the 
mosques  is  a  spacious  paved  court,  with  a  covered  foun- 
tain in  the  middle,  which  has  cocks  on  all  sides  to  sup- 
ply water  for  the  appointed  ablutions  before  prayers.. 
The  roofs  of  all  the  houses,  except  where  there  are 
domes,  are  flat,  and  plastered  with  a  composition  of  tar, 
mortar,  ashes,  and  sand,  which  in  time  becomes  very 
hard ;  but,  when  not  laid  on  at  the  proper  season,  the 
terrace  is  apt  to  crack  in  the  winter.  These  flat  roofs 
are  separated  by  parapet  walls,  and  most  of  the  nativeit 
sleep  on  them  in  the  summer.  The  Pranks,  who  live- 
contiguous,  have  doors  of  communicstion  in  these  walls; 
and  by  means  of  their  own,  and  the  ba»ar  terraces,  canv, 
3  02 


388 


ALEPPO. 


make  a  large  circuit  without  descending  into  tlie  street ; 
a  circumstance  which  illustrates  a  passage  in  Scripture, 
where  our  Lord  commands  those  who  are  on  the  house- 
top to  fly,  without  coming  down  to  take  any  thing  out  of 
the  house.  The  Turks  of  Aleppo  are  not  fond  of  this 
kind  of  communication ;  and  they  raise  their  walls  to 
such  a  height  as  may  screen  them  from  the  view  of 
their  neighbours. 

The  fuel  universally  used  at  Aleppo  is  wood  and 
charcoal.  And  the  former,  though  brought  on  camels 
from  the  mountains,  two  or  three  days'  journey  distant, 
is  sold  at  a  reasonable  rate.  Indeed,  there  is  little  fuel 
used  by  the  natives,  except  in  their  kitchens,  their  prin- 
cipal apartments  not  beingeven  provided  with  chimneys. 
The  bagnios  are  heated  chiefly  by  the  dung  of  animals, 
the  parings  of  fruit,  and  other  offals  collected  in  the 
streets,  which  both  in  drying  and  burning  create  an  in- 
tolerable nuisance. 

The  city  is  supplied  with  good  water  from  two  springs, 
which  rise  near  Heylan,  a  village  about  eight  miles  dis- 
tant to  the  northward.  It  is  conveyed  thence  by  an 
aqueduct,  partly  on  a  level  with  the  ground,  in  some 
places  covered,  but  mostly  open,  and  partly  subterra- 
neous, refreshed  by  air-shafts.  From  this  aqueduct,  the 
%vater  is  distributed  by  means  of  earthen  or  leaden  pipes 
to  the  different  fountains,  baths,  &c. ;  and  many  of  the 
Idians,  as  well  as  the  private  houses,  have  large  subter- 
vaneous  reservoirs  for  water.  These  are  filled  either 
by  pipes  directly  from  the  aqueduct,  or  by  the  sackles, 
or  watermen ;  and,  as  soon  as  they  are  filled,  they  are 
closely  shut  up  till  the  hot  months,  when  by  means  of  a 
leaden  cup  and  rope,  the  water  is  drawn  up  perfectly 
clear,  as  we  are  assured,  and  most  deliciously  cool.  It 
is  not  easy,  however,  to  conceive  how  it  should  be  either 
ivholesome  or  agreeable,  after  remaining  stagnant  for 
two  or  three  months. 

There  are  numerous  gardens  about  Aleppo,  botli  along 
the  banks  of  tlie  aqueduct  and  of  the  river  Kowick ;  and 
though  they  are  neither  cultivated  with  taste,  nor  laid 
out  with  imiformity,  they  aflbrd  nevertheless  a  voluptu- 
ous retreat  to  the  languid  traveller.  The  natives  always 
talk  of  them  with  rapture ;  and  they  are  certainly  of 
immense  advantage  to  the  city,  as  they  supply  it  with 
abundance  of  delicious  fruits  and  wholesome  vegetables, 
and  serrc,  at  the  same  time,  to  allure  the  inhabitants 
from  that  sedentary  life,  to  which,  in  common  with  all 
the  Turks,  they  are  so  much  disposed,  to  purer  air,  and 
gentle  exercise. 

The  climate  of  Aleppo  is  peculiarly  mild,  consider- 
ing the  latitude  in  which  it  lies.  The  westerly  winds, 
which  prevail  during  the  summer  months,  moderate  the 
excessive  heat,  and  produce  an  agreeable  temperature ; 
and  we  may  judge  of  the  salubrity  of  the  air  from  this 
circumstance,  that  from  the  end  of  May  to  the  middle  of 
September,  the  inhabitants  are  accustomed  to  sleep  ex- 
posed on  their  terraces,  under  the  canopy  of  heaven, 
ivithout  danger  from  damps,  or  other  noxious  qualities 
of  the  atmosphere. 

With  regard  to  the  population  of  Aleppo,  authors  dif- 
fer widely  in  their  calculations.  M.  d'Arvieux,  who  was 
French  consul  at  Aleppo,  makes  the  population,  in  1 683, 
to  amount  to  285,000;  M.  Tavernier  computes  it  at 
258,000 ;  whilst  others  are  for  reducing  it  as  low  as 
100,000.  We  cannot  help  thinking,  however,  that  this 
calculation  must  be  below  the  truth;  for  Dr.  Russe), 
who  had  the  best  opportunity  of  ascertaining  the  truth, 
(having  resided  many  years  at  Aleppo,  as  physician  to 


the  British  factory,) computes  the  population  at  235,000; 
of  which  he  reckons  200,000  to  be  Turlu,  30,000  Chris- 
tians, and  5000  Jews. 

We  deem  it  altogether  unnecessary  to  enter  into  a 
minute  description  of  the  manners  ol  the  inhabitants  of 
Aleppo,  as  they  are  for  the  most  part  such  as  are  com- 
mon to  the  Turks  in  general.  It  is  however  observed, 
that  the  Turks  of  Aleppo  possess  less  of  that  superci- 
lious manner  so  general  amongst  their  brethren  in  other 
parts  of  the  empire ;  and  that  foreigners,  particularly 
the  English,  are  treated  with  more  distinction  than  in 
most  other  places  in  the  Turkish  dominions.  The 
Aleppines,  however,  are  extremely  efleminnte,  and  to- 
tally averse  to  bodily  exertions.  And  though  certainly, 
in  religion,  bodily  exercise  profiteth  little,  in  respect  of 
rational  devotion ;  yet  in  the  Mahometan  creed,  it  be- 
comes useful  in  preventing  the  torpor  of  the  bodily  or- 
gans, and  the  absolute  stagnation  of  the  mental  faculties. 
The  Turks  of  Aleppo  spend  most  of  their  time  in  the 
prayers  and  ablutions  prescribed  by  the  Koran,  in  smok- 
ing tobacco,  and  in  the  immoderate  use  of  the  bagnio, 
which,  from  the  way  in  which  it  is  conducted,  one  would 
imagine  to  be  a  most  enervating  process.  They  go  into 
the  bagnio,  heated  to  about  100°  of  Fahrenheit's  ther- 
mometer, where,  after  having  used  the  depilatory,  they 
sit  down  on  the  heated  floor,  and  submit  to  be  rubbed 
and  washed  all  over  by  an  operator,  who  attends  for  that' 
purptJse.  The  attendant,  as  an  essential  part  of  the  pro- 
cess, makes  every  joint  of  the  bather's  fingers  crack, 
successively ;  after  which,  laying  faim  flat  on  his  back, 
and  bringing  the  arms  across  the  breast,  the  shoulder 
joints  are  made  to  crack  in  like  manner :  and  last  of  all, 
(which  to  strangers  is  the  most  alarming  part  of  the 
operation,)  the  neck  is  made  to  crack  also,  by  raising 
the  head,  and  bringing  the  chin  forward  upon  the  breast. 
The  whole  of  this  process  seems  to  be  an  elaborate  effort 
to  combine  two  things,  in  their  nature  essentially  oppo- 
site, idleness  and  exercise. 

The  commerce  of  Aleppo,  as  has  already  been  inti- 
mated, has  much  declined  from  what  it  was  in  former 
times.  It  is  still  the  emporium  of  Armenia  and  Diar- 
beker.  It  sends  caravans  to  Bassora  on  the  Euphrates, 
to  Damascus,  and  Scanderoon.  Its  exports  are  chiefly 
raw  or  spun  cotton,  silk  stuffs,  copper,  goats'  hair  from 
Natolia,  the  gall-nuts,  of  Curdestan,  Indian  shawls  and 
muslins,  and  pistachio-nuts,  for  which  Aleppo  has  been 
famous  since  the  days  of  Galen.  The  British  factory 
was  established  at  Ale|>po  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth ;  but 
the  French  have  got  the  advantage  of  them,  it  is  said, 
both  by  the  superiority  and  cheapness  of  their  manufac- 
tures. The  French  have  a  consul  and  seven  counting 
houses  at  Aleppo,  the  English  and  Venetians  two,  the 
merchants  of  Leghorn  and  Holland  one. 

The  Aleppines  are  more  tolerant,  with  regard  to  reli- 
gion, than  the  other  Turks.  The  Armenians,  Greeks, 
Syrians,  and  Maronites,  have  churches  in  Aleppo;  the 
two  former  have  a  bishop.  The  Jews  have  a  synagogue, 
in  which  is  preserved  a  manuscript  of  the  Old  Testa^ 
ment,  to  which  they  ascribe  high  antiquity.  A  speci- 
men of  it  was  sent  to  Dr.  Kennicott,  who  did  not  see 
reason  to  admit  its  pretensions. 

The  plague  is  supposed  to  appear  at  Aleppo  about 
once  in  ten  years,  and  sometimes  makes  terrible  havoc. 
There  is  also  a  disease  peculiar  to  Aleppo,  and  therefore 
called  the  Mai  d' Aleppo.  It  consists  in  a  very  trouble- 
some eruption,  which  frequently  leaves  an  unseemly 
scar :  and  from  this  disease  scarcely  any,  either  native^' 


ALE 


ALE 


389 


or  foreigners,  are  exempted.  Pocock  supposes  it  to 
arise  from  the  quality  of  the  water.  For  further  parti- 
culars, respecting  Aleppo,  we  might  refer  to  Taver- 
nier,  Pocock,  Volney,  Griffiths,  and  many  others ;  but 
we  beg  leave  to  refer  those  who  wish  for  a  most  minute 
snd  particular  description  of  Aleppo,  of  its  inhabitants, 
productions,  merchandise,  &c.  to  Dr.  Russel's  Natural 
History  of  Aleppo,  in  2  vols.  4to.  on  whose  authority  we 
have  chiefly  depended.  See  also  Gibbon's  Hist.  vol.  ix. 
p.  370,  chap.  51 ;  vol.  x.  p.  82.  chap.  52;  vol.  xii.  p.  18. 
chap.  65.  {g) 

ALETRIS,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class 
Hexandria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,  {m) 

ALEURITES,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
class  Monoecia,  and  order  Monadelpbia.  See  Botany. 
{w) 

ALEUTIAN,  or  Aleutsky  Islands,  a  group  of  isl- 
ands, situated  in  the  Northern  Pacific  Ocean.  This 
name  is,  by  some  geographers,  applied  to  that  whole 
chain  of  islands,  which  runs  in  a  westerly  direction,  from 
the  promontory  of  Alaska,  in  America,  towards  the  pe- 
ninsula ot  Kamtschatka,  in  Asia ;  but  by  others  it  is 
limited  to  the  western  extremity  of  the  chain,  the  cen- 
tral group  being  denominated  Andreanofskoi,  and  the 
eastern,  adjacent  to  America,  the  Fox  islands.  These 
islands  are  subject  to  the  Russian  empire,  and  furnish  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  furs,  in  which  the  Russians 
carry  on  a  highly  advantageous  commerce  with  China. 
The  inhabitants  are  in  the  savage  state,  of  a  gloomy  dis- 
position, and  frequently  impelled  by  slight  misfortunes 
to  commit  suicide,     (i^) 

ALEXANDER  the  Great,  the  most  renowned  hero 
in  ancient  history,  was  son  of  Philip  king  of  Macedon. 
His  father  was  one  of  the  ablest  generals  and  most  pro- 
found politicians  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived;  and  by  his 
unwearied  and  successful  exertions  in  destroying  the 
liberties  of  Greece,  he  laid  the  foundation  of  the  Ma- 
cedonian power,  and  of  his  son's  future  greatness.  The 
Greeks  having  successfully  repelled  all  the  attempts  of 
Persian  invasion,  had  long  been  meditating  a  descent  on 
the  rich  provinces  of  Asia,  and  had  been  prevented  from 
carrying  their  design  into  execution,  only  by  the  dis- 
sentions  and  mutual  distrust  which  prevailed  among  the 
different  states.  When  this  contentious  spirit  was  re- 
pressed by  the  total  subjection  of  all  the  states  of  Greece 
to  the  Macedonian  power,  Philip  did  not  lose  sight  of 
the  great  object  which  had  so  long  engaged  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Greeks;  and  was  unanimously  elected  gen- 
eralissimo of  the  combined  forces  of  Greece,  to  carry  in- 
to effect  the  project  of  invading  Persia.  He  had  made 
the  necessary  |)reparations  for  this  extensive  undertak- 
ing, when  he  was  murdered  by  Pausanias,  a  young  man 
of  honourable  connexions,  who  had  been  grossly  injured 
by  one  of  Philip's  principal  officers,  and  whose  wrongs 
the  king  had  been  too  slow  to  redress.  In  this  way,  the 
sceptre  of  Macedon  came  into  the  hands  of  Alexander, 
when  he  was  only  twenty  years  of  age ;  and  he  is  not  al- 
together free  from  suspicions  of  having  been  accessory 
to  his  father's  death.  It  is  certain  that  a  misunderstand- 
ing had  for  a  considerable  time  prevailed  between  Alex- 
ander and  his  father,  on  account  of  Philip's  having  di- 
vorced Olympias,  Alexander's  mother, and  taken  another 
wife,  whose  offspring  Alexander  had  reason  to  fear 
might  be  preferred  to  him  in  the  succession  to  the 
throne.  Though  Alexander  had  given  early  promise  of 
splendid  talents,  and  of  great  military  capacity,  yet  the 
states  of  Greece,  which  baU  reluctantly  submitted  to 


Philip,  encouraged  by  Alexander's  youth,  and  prompted 
by  Demosthenes,  the  inveterate  enemy  of  Philip's  house, 
began  to  hope  that  a  favourable  opportunity  would  now 
be  aD'orded  them  for  throwing  off  the  Macedonian  yoke. 
Accordingly,  whilst  Alexander  was  engaged  in  reducing 
to  subjection  some  of  the  barbarous  nations  to  the  north 
of  Macedon,  a  report  of  his  death,  industriously  propa- 
gated by  the  enemies  of  the  Macedonian  power,  threw 
all  Greece  into  commotic<n ;  and  the  Thebans  rose  in 
open  rebellion.  Alexander,  on  receiving  intelligence  of 
this  revolt,  acted  with  his  usual  decision ;  and  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  his  merit  as  a  general  and  politician  be  more 
conspicuous  on  any  occasion,  than  in  reducing  so  quickly 
to  subjection  the  turbulent  states  of  Greece.  He  im- 
mediately deserted  his  conquests  in  the  north,  and 
marched  into  Greece  with  a  rapidity  which  astonished 
and  overawed  the  disaffected.  The  Thebans,  however, 
had  gone  too  far  to  retreat,  and  therefore  they  prepared 
to  oppose  him  with  all  their  forces.  After  a  short  but 
desperate  resistance,  Thebes  was  taken  by  storm  ;  all  its 
buildings,  except  the  house  of  Pindar,  which  the  con- 
queror ordered  to  be  spared,  were  levelled  to  the  ground, 
and  thirty  thousand  of  the  inhabitants  sold  for  slaves. 
This  severity,  which  was  exercised  as  a  measure  of 
policy,  to  deter  the  Grecian  states  from  making  any  fur- 
ther attempt  to  recover  their  independence,  had  the  de- 
sired effect  4  but  it  is  said  to  have  cost  Alexander  many 
bitter  reflections  afterwards.  As  soon  as  Greece  was 
settledin  tranquillity ,  a  general  assembly  of  the  states  was 
held  at  Corinth,  in  which  Alexander  was  solemnly  re- 
cognised as  generalissimo  against  the  Persians ;  and  all 
Greece,  with  the  exception  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
agreed  to  concur  in  the  enterprise. 

Every  thing  being  thus  settled  to  Alexander's  satis- 
faction, he  immediately  set  about  carrying  into  execu- 
tion the  design  of  invading  Persia.  And  so  apparently 
inadequate  were  the  means  for  accomplishing  this  great 
object,  that,  had  not  the  Persian  empire  been  doomed 
to  destruction,  they  never  could  have  been  successful ; 
for  the  whole  force  engaged  in  this  great  enter|)rise 
amounted  only,  according  to  Arrian,  to  30,000  foot  and 
5000  horse  :  and,  what  is  still  more  extraordinary,  Alex- 
ander is  said  to  have  had  only  70  talents  to  defray  the 
expense  of  the  expedition.  But  these  things  did  not; 
deter  the  hero:  On  the  contrary,  from  the  romantic 
turn  of  his  character,  he  gloried  in  attempting  things 
which  to  others  might  appear  impossible ;  and  that  en- 
terprise was  always  the  most  eagerly  prosecuted,  which 
was  attended  with  the  greatest  difficulties.  This  impe- 
tuous and  romantic  spirit  was  the  chief  cause  of  that  ra- 
pid and  splendid  success  with  which  his  arms  were 
crowned.  For  though,  generally  speaking,  (trudence  and 
wise  precaution  bid  fairest  to  ensure  success,  yet  it  has 
often  been  found,  that  those  daring  attempts  which  baf- 
fle the  calculations  of  prudence  and  political  sagacity, 
have  succeeded,  where  more  sober  and  rational  mea- 
sures would  have  utterly  failed.  And  this  may  be  easily 
accounted  for  on  the  known  principles  of  human  nature  ; 
for  the  mind  has  a  natural  tendency  to  rise  in  proportion 
to  the  magnitude  of  the  object  at  which  it  aims ;  whilst 
those  who  are  attacked  in  an  unusual  manner,  being 
unprepared  to  meet  such  unexpected  exigencies,  are 
thrown  into  confusion,  and  not  unfreqiiently  subjugated, 
before  they  recover  from  their  consternation. 

Alexander  having  crossed  the  Hellespont  with  his 
army  of  heroes,  marched  to  Ilium,  where  he  offered 
sacrifices  to  the  manes  of  the  Grecian  captains  who  fell 


390 


ALEXANDER. 


in  Ihe  Trojan  war,  and  particularly  to  Achilles,  whom 
lio  declared  to  be  the  most  fortunate  of  men,  in  having 
Patroclus  for  a  friend,  and  Homer  for  a  panegyrist  In 
the  mean  time,  Darius's  generals  prepared  to  opi>03e 
his  jirogress  with  an  army  of  100,000  foot  and  20,000 
horse.  For  this  purpose  they  took  an  advantageous 
position  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Granicus,  which 
Alcxauder  had  to  pass  before  he  could  reach  them. 
The  most  experienced  of  his  officers  were  apprehenjive 
of  the  depth  of  the  stream  ;  and  Parmenio,  in  particular, 
remonstrated  against  attempting  a  passage  late  in  the 
day,  which  appeared  to  be  the  king's  design ;  to  which 
Alexander  replied,  "  the  He!les|)ont  would  blush,  if, 
after  having  crossed  it,  1  should  be  afraid  of  the  Grani- 
cus." At  the  same  time  he  threw  himself  into  the  river 
with  13  troops  of  horse ;  and  advanced  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy  who  were  waiting  for  him  on  the  opposite  bank. 
Here  an  obstinate  engagement  took  place ;  and  Alexan- 
der was  in  imminent  danger  before  his  infantry  could 
get  up  to  support  him.  He  was  attacked  by  two  Per- 
sian officers  of  distinction,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  whom 
had  nearly  cleft  his  head  with  a  battle-ax,  and  was  go- 
ing to  repeat  the  blow,  when  Clitus  prevented  him  by 
running  him  through  the  body  with  a  spear.  As  soon 
as  the  infantry  passed  the  river,  the  enemy  instantly 
turned  their  backs,  and  were  pursued  with  great  slaugh- 
er.  According  to  Plutarch,  the  PePbians  lost  in  this 
engagement  20,000  foot,  and  upwards  of  2000  horse; 
whilst  Alexander  lost  in  all  only  34  men.  This  is 
almost  incredible  :  although  it  is  saiil,  that  Q.  Metellus, 
a  long  time  afterwards,  removed  from  Uio,  in  Macedo- 
nia, to  Rome,  the  statues  of  brass  which  Alexander 
ordered  to  be  erected  to  the  heroes  who  fell  at  the 
Granicus. 

The  consequences  of  this  victory  were  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  Alexander.     It  put  him  in  possession  of 
Bardis  the  capital  of  Lydia,  and  all  the  riches  which  it 
contained ;  which  proved  a  very   seasonable  supply  to 
his  slender  resources.     After  having  besieged  and  ta- 
ken Miletus,   Halicarnassus,  and  some  other  places  of 
importance  which  put  him  in  possei-sion  of  the  greater 
part  of  Lesser  Asia,  he   granted  permission  to  all  the 
new-married    soldiers  to  return  and  spend  the  winter 
with  their  wives  in  Macedonia  :  a  concession  so  very 
unusual,  that  it   has  generally  been    thought    that  He 
adopted  it  from  the  Jews,  who  enjoyed  this  indulgence 
by  a  particular  injunction  in  their  law.    {Dmt.  xxiv.  5.) 
The  next  campaign  was  opened  early  in  the  spring? 
and    Alexander    having  quickly  overrun  Paphlagonia 
«nd  Cappadocia,  advanced  by  rapid  marches  into  Cili- 
cia.     Being  arrived  at  Tarsus,  and  excessively  fatigued 
by  Ihe  march,  he  threw  himself  into  the  river  Cydnus, 
which  runs    through    the  town,  and  was  immediately 
seized   with  a  dangerous  distemper.     This  threw  the 
army  into  the  utmost  confusion,  for  the  Persians  were  ad- 
vancing fast  upon  them  with  an  army,it  is  said, of  600,00* 
men.     He  was  cured  by  the  skill  of  Philip  his  physi- 
cian;  whom  Alexander  made  no  hesitation  in  trusting, 
though  he  had  been  assured  that  he  was  bribed  to  poi- 
son him.     But  he  declared,  that  in  his  circumstances  a 
speedy  death  was  better  than  a  slow  recovery.     His 
confidence  in  his  physician  was  not  misplaced,  for  in 
three  days  he  was  able  to  present  himself  to  his  army. 
He  immediately  advanced  to  meet  Darius,  who  was  so 
infatuated  as  to  leave  the  open  country  where  his  im- 
mensearmy  could  have  acted  with  eirect,and  to  advance* 
into  the  narrow  defdes  of  Cilicia.     The  reason  whicb 


induced  him  to  adopt  this  conduct  was,  as  he  himself 
declares,  lest  the  Greeks,  if  admitted  into  the  champaiga 
country,  should  have  an  opportunity  of  running  away. 
The  two  armies  passed  each  other  in  the  night ;  and 
Alexander  was  so  much  surprised  when  he  ^vas  told 
that  Darius  was  behind  him,  that  he  would  scarcely  be- 
lieve it.     As  soon,  however,  as  he  was  convinced  of  ita 
truth,  he  immediately  began  to  repass  the  mountains. 
Darius  had  also  turned  back,  on  finding  that  he  had 
missed  his  enemy :  and  both  armies  met  at  Issus.    Here 
a  terrible  engagement  took  place.     Darius,  from  the 
nature  of  the  place,  derived  no  advantage  from  the  su- 
periority of  numbers ;  on  the  contrary,  they  served  only 
to  trample  one    another   to  death,   after  the  foremost 
ranks  had  been  repulsed  by  the  firmness  of  the  Macedo- 
nian phalanx.     The  carnage  therefore   was  dreadful; 
for,  according  to  Plutarch,  110,000,  and  according  to 
Diodorus  Siculus,  130,000  of  the  Persians  fell  in  thii 
engagement.     The  tent  of  Darius,  his   mother,  wife, 
and  two  daughters,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Alexander, 
who  treated  the  royal  captives  with  the  utmost  respect, 
and  did  every  thing  in  his  |)ower  to  alleviate  their  suf- 
ferings.    Alexander  made   the    best  use  of  his  victory ; 
and  proceeded  to  make  himself  master  of  all  the  sea- 
coast,  that  he  might  defeat  the  operations  of  the   Per- 
sians, who  were  still  powerful  by  sea.     The  Tynans, 
amongst  others,  had  sent  deputies,  after  the  battle  of 
Issus,  to  make  their  sultmission  to  the  conqueror.     But 
they  refused  to  admit  him  into  their  city,  though  he  pro- 
fessed to  enter  it  only  for  the  purpose  of  sacrificing  to 
the  Tyrian  Hercules.     Alexander  was  so  much  exas- 
perated by  this  refusal,  that  he  resolved  on  the  reduc- 
tion of  the  place  before  he  proceeded  further.     This  he 
accomplished  after  a  siege  of  seven  months,  and  after  he 
had,  with  im?nense  labour,  joined  the  island  on  which 
Tyre  stootl,  with  the  main  land,  by  means  of  a  causeway. 
On  this  occasion  he  exercised  a  piece  of  wanton  cruelty, 
altogether  unworthy  of  a  great  conqueror.     For,  besides 
all  those  who  were  put  to  the  sword,  or  sold  for  slaves, 
he  ordered  2000  to  be  crucified,  pretending,  that  the 
Tyrians  were  descended  from  a  race  of  slaves,  who  had 
formerly  put  their  masters  to  death,  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  place. 

From  Tyre  Alexander  proceeded  to  Jerusalem,  to 
chastise  the  Jews  for  having  refused  to  supply  him  with 
provisions  during  the  siege.  Here,  as  we  are  told,  au 
extraordinary  scene  was  exhibited.  Jaddua,  the  high- 
priest,  being  warned  in  a  vision,  ordered  all  the  priesta 
to  put  on  their  respective  ceremonial  dresses;  and 
having  arrayed  himself  in  his  pontifical  robes,  they  all 
marched  out  in  procession  to  meet  Alexander,  and  de- 
precate his  vengeance.  When,  to  the  astouishment  of 
all,  the  haughty  conqueror  bowed  himself  to  the  ground, 
before  the  high-priest,  and  saluted  him  with  religious 
veneration ;  assigning,  as  the  reason,  that  this  very  per- 
son had  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream,  in  Macedonia,  and 
encouraged  him  to  proceed  in  his  expedition  against 
the  Persians. — We  may  be  permitted  to  doubt  this  ac- 
count without  incurring  the  charge  of  skepticism.  It 
rests  solely  on  the  authority  of  Jofcphus,  who,  though 
in  general  dtserying  of  credit,  appears  in  this  instance 
to  have  been  mii'led  by  rabbirdcal  traditions,  invented  to 
ex.ilt  the  importance  of  the  Jews.  All  the  ancient  his- 
torians are  not  only  silent  respecting  this  memorable 
occurrence,  but  in  a  manner  expressly  contradict  it. 
They  all  declare,  that  Alexander  went  straight  from 
Tyre  to  Gaza;.apd  make  no  meutiouofhiscrerhavingf 


ALEXANDER. 


391 


been  at  Jerusalem.  Besides,  there  are  some  circum- 
stances in  the  story  which  cannot  possibly  be  true. 
Alexander  is  represented  as  accompanied  in  his  march 
towards  Jerusalem,  by  the  Phcenicians  and  Chaldeans: 
With  regard  to  the  latter  people,  this  could  not  be  true ; 
for  at  that  time  he  had  neither  conquered  nor  seen 
Chaldea.  Another  improbable  circumstance  is  related 
by  Josejihus.  Parmeuio  is  represented  as  asking  Alex- 
ander, how  he,  whom  all  the  world  adored,  came  to 
adore  the  Jewish  high-priest  ?  Now,  it  is  well  known 
that  Alexander  had  not  at  that  time  made  any  preten- 
sions to  divine  honours;  nor  did  he  order  himself  to  be 
adored  till  after  the  complete  conquest  of  Persia.  And 
further,  according  to  the  most  approved  chronology, 
Jaddua  the  high-priest  was  dead  some  years  before  Da- 
rius Codonianus  caine  to  the  throne. 

After  having  invested  and  taken  Gaza,  which  made 
an  obstinate  resistance,  Alexander  marched  towards 
Egypt :  which  was  at  that  time  subject  to  the  Persians. 
So  great  was  the  dissimilarity  between  the  Egyptians 
and  Persians,  in  point  of  manners  and  religion,  that  the 
former  never  were  cordial  in  their  allegiance.  The 
Persians,  who  worshipped  the  fire  or  the  heavenly  bo- 
dies, took  every  opportunity  of  ridiculing  the  gross  ido- 
latry of  the  Egyptians ;  and  of  insulting  them,  on  a  point 
in  which  men  can  least  bear  indignity,  the  religious  in- 
stitutions of  their  ancestors.  The  Egyptians,  therefore, 
were  gind  of  an  opportunity  of  throwing  off  the  Persian 
yoke  ;  and  Alexander  took  possession  of  their  country 
without  resistance.  It  was  at  this  time  that  he  founded 
the  city  of  Alexandria*,  which  long  remained  a  monu- 
ment of  his  political  sagacity,  after  the  empire  which 
he  had  won  by  his  arms  had  fallen  to  pieces.  Here  he 
formed  the  design  of  visiting  the  temple  of  Jupiter 
Ammon,  nobody  knows  well  for  what.  This  temple  was 
situated  in  a  fertile  oasis,  in  the  midst  of  the  Libyan 
deserts,  and  was  almost  inaccessible.  Cambyses  had  lost 
the  greater  part  of  his  array  in  attempting  to  penetrate 
to  it.  This,  however,  did  not  deter  Alexander,  who 
accomplished  the  journey,  after  surmounting  incredible 
difficulties;  and,  as  the  reward  of  his  labours,  was 
gratified  with  the  title  of  the  Son  of  Jupiter.  It  is  men- 
tioned, however,  by  Plutarch,  in  his  life  of  Alexander, 
that  some  were  of  opinion  that  the  king  received  this 
honourable  title,  rather  from  a  blunder  of  the  priest, 
than  from  the  response  of  the  oracle.  For  when  he 
wished  to  address  Alexander  in  Greek,  with  the  title  of 
rrxihti-i  my  son,  from  his  ignorance  of  the  language  he 
pronounced  the  word,  x«i  Aj»{,  which  signifies  Soti  of 
.hipitcr.  However  this  might  be,  AlexandeT  was  ex- 
ceedingly well  pleased  with  his  designation ;  and  in  a 
letter  to  his  mother  on  that  occasion,  hinted  that  he  had 
made  some  important  discoveries.  Olympias,  however, 
had  too  much  sense  to  listen  to  such  absurdities ;  and 
ironically  entreated  of  her  son  not  to  embroil  her  with 
Juno. 

Alexander  returned  with  all  possible  speed  from  this 
rdmantic  expedition,  and  arrived  at  Tyre,  which  had 
been  appointed  as  the  general  rendezvous  of  the  forces. 
Darius,  about  this  time,  made  very  advantageous  pro- 
posals to  Alexander,  offering  to  surrender  to  him  the 
whole  country  between  the  Euphrates  and  the  Helles- 
pont ;  but  nothing  short  of  the  empire  of  all  Asia  could 
satisfy  the  ambition  of  Alexander.  The  proposals  there- 


fore were  rejected;  and  Alexander  crossed  the  Eu- 
phrates in  search  of  his  enemies.  The  two  armies  met 
near  Arbela ;  Darius's  consisting,  it  is  said,  of  600,000 
foot,  and  40,000  horse ;  whilst  Alexander's  consisted 
only  of  40,000  foot,  and  7000  or  8000  cavalry.  A  ter- 
rible engagement  ensued,  in  which  the  Persian  army 
was  entirely  routed,  with  the  loss,  it  is  said,  of  300,000 
men.     See  Arbela. 

This  battle  decided  the  fate  of  Asia,  and  introduced 
a  new  era  into  the  history  of  the  world.  Alexander  en- 
tered Babylon  without  opposition  ; — and  Darius,  being 
shortly  after  this  murdered  by  his  rebellious  subjects, 
left  the  conqueror  without  an  enemy  in  Persia.  After 
having  subdued  many  of  the  barbarous  nations,  which 
had  professed  a  nominal  allegiance  to  the  Persian  go- 
vernment, Alexander  turned  his  thoughts  towards  India, 
and  actually  penetrated  as  far  as  the  Hyphasis,  the  mo- 
dern Beyah.  He  was  preparing  to  cross  this  river,  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  seek  new  adventures,  when 
his  soldiers,  seeing  no  end  to  his  enterprises,  began  to 
murmur  and  clamorously  to  demand  that  they  might  be 
permitted  to  return  to  their  own  country.  Findin;^  it 
impossible  to  allay  this  spirit,  and  not  being  able  to  as- 
sign any  good  reason  for  advancing  further,  he  was 
obliged  to  yield  to  the  importunities  of  his  soldiers,  and 
reluctantly  consented  to  return.  His  mind  therefore 
being  called  off  from  conquest,  he  began  to  turn  his 
attention  to  the  more  rational  project  of  exploring  the 
country  through  part  of  which  he  had  already  passed. 
A  curious  circumstance  served  to  confirm  him  in  this 
resolution.  He  had  observed  many  crocodiles  in  the 
rivers  which  fell  into  the  Indus:  as  these  creatures 
were  not  known  to  exist  but  in  Egj'pt,  he  concluded 
that  he  had  discovered  the  sources  of  the  Nile  ;  and  in 
this  persuasion  he  prepared  a  fleet  to  sail  down  that 
river  to  Egypt.  After  various  adventures,  he  at  lasf 
reached  the  ocean,  having  spent  nine  months  in  this 
navigation.  Here  he  gave  directions  to  conduct  his  fleet 
through  the  Persian  gulf,  and  to  proceed  up  the  river 
Tigris  to  meet  him  and  his  army  in  Mesopotamia;  re- 
solving to  return  to  Babylon  with  his  forces  by  land. 
This  he  effected  with  much  difficulty,  after  having  lost 
about  the  fourth  part  of  his  army.  Here  terminated  the 
career  of  this  mighty  conqueror.  For  whilst  he  was 
engaged  at  Babylon  in  forming  schemes  of  future  con- 
quests, he  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fever,  in  con- 
sequence, as  some  say,  of  i)oison  being  administered 
to  him ;  but  more  probably  from  the  effects  of  exces- 
sive drinking,  to  which  he  had  become  very  much  ad- 
dicted. 

The  character  of  Alexander  is  familiar  to  every  read- 
er ;  and  yet  it  is  not  easy  to  delineate  it  with  accuracy, 
nor  to  say  whether  his  virtues  or  his  vices  preponderat- 
ed. That  he  possessed  great  natural  endowments, 
cannot  be  denied.  In  his  early  days  he  had  a  strong 
turn  for  literature;  and,  under  the  direction  of  Aristo- 
tle and  other  eminent  masters,  he  made  rapid  progress 
in  all  those  kinds  of  learning  which  were  most  calculat- 
ed to  give  him  an  ascendency  in  society.  He  had  indeed 
the  same  ambition  to  excel  in  knowledge  that  he  had 
to  conquer  by  his  arms ;  and  was  much  offended  with 
Aristotle  for  publishing  some  parts  of  his  instructions, 
which  he  thought  should  have  been  reserved  for  him- 
self alone.     It  would  have  been  well  for  himself,  and 


*  This  is  the  accoDot  of  AiTian. 
-Vmmon. 


Diodorus  and  others  say,  that  Alexaader  foaaded  this  citj  after  his  return  from  the  temple  of  Jupif^r 


392 


ALEXANDER. 


probably  for  the  world,  liad  he  confined  his  ambition  to 
Ihis  more  harmless  species  of  conquest.  For  the  tri- 
umphs of  literature  have  this  advantage,  that  whilst 
they  exalt  (he  individual  who  acquires  them,  they  tend 
to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  human  knowledge,  and  to  in- 
crease the  sum  of  rational  enjoyment ;  whilst  the  tri- 
umphs of  war  serve  only  to  extend  the  empire  of  slavery 
and  desolation.  It  must  also  be  confessed,  that  Alexan- 
der possessed  military  talents  ol  the  very  highest  order ; 
and  that  many  of  his  actions,  which  seemed  to  proceed 
from  rashness,  were  in  fact  the  result  of  superior  dis- 
<ernment,  which  enabled  him  to  perceive  the  extent  of 
the  danger,  and  to  devise  proper  measures  for  surmount- 
ing it.  We  have  often  seen  commanders  who  never 
,";eeiiit'd  to  make  a  wrong  movement,  who  were  notwith- 
standing never  successful ;  whilst  others,  who  had  cou- 
rage (o  depart  from  the  trammels  of  system,  have  per- 
formed exploits  which  have  astonished  the  world.  In 
addition  to  these  splendid  qualities,  nobody  possessed 
self-government  iu  a  greater  degree  than  Alexander  did 
in  the  beginning  of  his  career.  Even  during  his  most 
*)rill)ant  conquests,  he  was  seldom  guilty  of  any  excess 
either  in  eating,  drinking,  or  illicit  indulgence.  Nothing 
oould  be  more  honourable  than  his  treatment  of  the  wife 
.ind  daughters  of  Darius,  who  fell  into  his  hands  after 
(he  battle  of  Issus.  He  never  visited  them  but  once, 
and  that  in  the  most  respectful  manner ;  and  though  they 
were  most  beautiful  women,  he  would  never  permit  any 
to  speak  of  their  beauty  in  his  presence,  being  afraid  to 
iiust  the  frailty  of  his  nature. 

Alexander's  success  was  so  very  extraordinary,  that 
•it  is  no  wonder  he  was  in  some  degree  intoxicated  by 
it ;  and  since  his  vanity  from  the  beginning  was  exces- 
sive, as  is  confessed  by  one  of  his  most  partial  biogra- 
phers, a  number  of  worthless  sycophants,  some  of  whom 
degraded  the  name  of  philosopher,  were  continually 
perverting  his  judgment  with  the  most  extravagant 
adulations.  He  soon  laid  aside  the  severity  of  Grecian 
manners,  and  imitated  the  pomp  and  luxury  of  the  Per- 
sians. He  refused  to  listen  any  longer  to  the  remon- 
strances of  his  faithful  friends ;  and  when  Clitus,  who 
had  saved  his  life  at  the  Granicus,  ventured  to  contradict 
him,  he  murdered  him  on  the  spot,  by  running  him 
through  the  body  with  a  spear;  and  though  his  com- 
punction for  this  act  of  cruelty  and  ingratitude  was  most 
severe,  yet  the  perversion  of  his  understanding  was 
manifest  from  the  way  in  which  his  sorrow  was  remov- 
ed ;  for  he  was  soon  convinced  by  his  flatterers,  that 
the  son  of  Jupiter,  and  the  conqueror  of  the  world, 
could  do  no  wrong,  and  that  his  will  ought  to  be  the 
supreme  law  to  his  subjects.  His  conduct  to  Callisthe- 
nea  also,  who  refused  to  pay  him  adoration,  has  brought 
eternal  infamy  on  his  name,  and  is  reckoned  by  Seneca 
more  than  a  counterbalance  to  all  the  good  actions  he 
ever  performed.  From  the  history  of  this  prince,  we 
may  see  how  easily  uninterrupted  success  degrades  the 
character,  and  corrupts  the  heart ;  and  how  necessary 
disappointments  and  misfortunes  are,  to  teach  us  com- 
mon sense,  reason,  and  humanity.  Alexander  had  the 
absurdity  to  believe  himself  a  god ;  but  on  a  certain  oc- 
casion, being  severely  wounded,  and  seeing  the  blood 
streaming  from  the  wound,  he  exclaimed,  "  This  is  not 
the  ichor  of  the  gods,  but  the  blood  of  a  mortal  mau." 
In  short,  he  was  raised  up  by  Providence  as  a  scourge, 
not  as  a  blessing,  to  mankind ;  as  an  instrument  of  ven- 
geance against  the  guilty  nations,  not  as  a  beneficent 
dispenser  of  happiness  to  the  huninn  race.— Sir  Wil- 


liam Ouseley  is  at  present  engaged  in  writing  a  life  of 
Alexander  chiefly  founded  on  oriental  manuscripts,  (g) 

ALEXANDER,  William,  eminent  as  a  poet,  and 
statesman,  was  born  at  Minstrie,  his  father's  estate,  in 
Scotland,  A.  D.  1580.  After  completing  his  education, 
he  travelled  as  tutor  or  companion  to  the  duke  of  Ar- 
gyll ;  and  on  his  return,  spent  some  time  in  retirement, 
amusing  himself  with  composing  amorous  verses.  At 
the  court  of  king  James  VI.  to  which  he  next  removed, 
he  distinguished  himself  by  his  genius  and  accomplish- 
ments ;  and,  directing  his  poetical  talents  to  the  instruc- 
tion of  kings  and  nobles,  composed  a  series  of  tragedies, 
with  chorusses,  in  imitation  of  the  Greek  and  Roman 
models.  Nor  did  his  muse  disdain  to  sing  on  political 
subjects :  his  Parsenesis,  addressed  to  prince  Henry, 
contained  many  lessons  exceedingly  valuable  to  the  heir- 
apparent  to  a  throne.  He  wrote  likewise  a  Supplement 
to  the  Third  Part  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Romance,  which 
he  published  in  1613,  when  he  was  sworn  one  of  the 
gentlemen-ushers  of  the  presence  to  prince  Charles; 
and  in  the  following  year  appeared  his  poem,  entitled, 
"  Doomsday."  About  this  time  he  was  knighted  by 
king  James,  and  made  master  of  the  requests ;  and  was 
now  to  act  a  distinguished  part  in  the  political  transac- 
tions of  that  period.  Having  projected  the  establish- 
ment of  a  colony  at  Nova-Scotia,  he  obtained  a  grant  of 
that  country  by  royal  charter,  in  1 621 .  The  project  was 
encouraged  by  Charles  on  his  accession  :  Sir  William 
set  forth,  in  a  pamphlet,  the  advantages  which  the  na- 
tion would  derive  from  it ;  he  was  appointed  lieutenant 
of  Nova  Scotia,  and  invested  with  the  privilege  of  coin- 
ing small  copper  money.  Nay,  so  sanguine  were  the 
hopes  which  Charles  entertained  of  this  settlement,  that 
he  instituted,  in  Scotland,  a  new  order  of  knights  baro- 
net, who  were  to  support  this  colony  on  condition  that 
a  portion  of  land  should  be  assigned  to  each  of  them  in 
the  new  plantation.  Notwithstanding  these  advantages, 
the  project  failed ;  the  country  was  sold  to  the  French 
for  five  or  six  thousand  pounds ;  and  in  the  conduct  of 
the  whole  transaction,  sir  William  seemed  to  merit  a 
considerable  degree  of  reproach.  His  sovereign,  how- 
ever, retained  his  confidence  in  his  talents  and  integrity. 
In  1 626,  he  was  raised  to  the  office  of  secretary  of  state 
for  Scotland ;  and  four  years  after,  was  created  a  peer 
of  that  kingdom,  by  the  title  of  viscount  Stirling.  At 
his  majesty's  coronation,  in  the  palace  of  Holyroodhouse 
(A.  D.  1633,)  he  was  made  earl  of  Stirling,  and  conti- 
nued to  discharge  the  oflBce  of  secretary  of  state  with 
great  reputation,  till  his  death,  which  happened  in  the 
year  1640.  Were  we  to  judge  of  his  writings  by  the 
encomiums  of  his  contemporaries,  we  should  entertain 
a  very  high  opinion  of  his  genius;  and  indeed  those 
works  must  possess  a  very  considerable  portion  of  merit, 
of  which  Mr.  Addison  declares,  "  that  he  had  read  them 
over  with  the  greatest  satisfaction."  Besides  his  four 
monarchic  tragedies,  and  the  other  poems  which  we 
have  mentioned,  he  wrote  an  heroic  poem,  entitled, 
"  Jonathan,"  which  was  published  with  his  other  works, 
about  three  years  before  his  death.  His  plays  are  more 
adapted  for  perusal  in  the  closet  than  for  theatrical  re- 
presentation,    (k) 

ALEXANDER,  SEVERus.one  of  the  Roman  empe- 
rors, see  Anc.  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  viii.  p.  432.  Crevier's 
Roin.  Emp.  vol.  viii.  page  279.  book  xxir.  Gibbon,  vol. 
i.  page  205.  chap,  vi ;  page  289.  chap,  viii ;  voL  ii.  page 
373.  chap.  xvi.     See  also  Rome,     (o) 

ALEXANDER  was  the  name  of  three  kings  of  Scof^ 


ALE 


ALE 


3d3 


land,  the  particulars  of  whose  reigns  will  be  given  un- 
der the  article  Scotland  ;  and  of  eight  Popes,  for 
whose  history  the  reader  may  consult  Dupin's  Eccl.  Hist. 
Bower's  Hist,  of  the  Popes,  and  Mosbeim'a  Church 
Hist.    (n>) 

ALEXANDER'S  Tomb,  a  valuable  relic  of  antiquity, 
now  deposited  in  the  British  Museum,  of  which  we 
have  given  a  drawing  in  plate  IX.  Pig.  2.  It  consists 
of  a  single  block  of  stone  above  ten  feet  long,  nearly 
four  in  height,  and  at  a  medium  about  five  in  breadth. 
It  is  of  surprising  beauty,  and  all  sculptured  over  with 
an  incredible  variety  of  hieroglyphics,  in  a  high  state  of 


ALEXANDER,  Jamgb,  Esq.  an  eminent  lawyer  and 
jgaathematician,  born  in  Scotland,  and  came  to  New  York 
in  the  year  1715.  Not  long  after  his  arrival  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  a  station  in  the  office  of  the  secretary  of  the 
province,  where,  to  his  great  attainments  in  tiie  law,  he 
now  added  a  considerable  acquaintance  with  public  af- 
fiiirs.  Shortly  after  this  period,  in  1 720,  when  William 
Burnet,  Esq.  was  appointed  governor,  he  was  chosen  by 
him,  in  conjunction  with  the  celebrated  Dr.  Colden,  a 
memlier  of  the  council  board  :  "  in  which  choice,"  says 
the  historian  of  New- York,(Smith)  "  the  governor  show- 
ed his  wisdom ;  for  they  were  both  men  of  learning, 
good  morals,  and  solid  parts."  Though  wanting  in  those 
peculiar  arts  which  characterize  the  orator,  and  conse- 
quently little  known  as  a  public  speaker,  he  was  at  the 
head  of  his  profession  for  prolbuud  legal  knowledge, 
sagacity,  and  penetration.  He  was  regularly  consulted 
pn  the  most  important  questions ;  and  his  replies  were 
received  as  the  answers  of  an  oracle.  He  was  the 
princijial  author,  with  Dr.  Colden,  of  a  memorable  re- 
port on  the  Indian  trade,  in  defence  of  the  conduct  of 
*overnor  Burnet.  Upon  the  oi^ani^ation  of  the  Ame- 
rican Philosophical  Society,  in  1 744,  with  Franklin,  Hop- 
-liiuson,  and  several  other  eminent  men,  he  was  created 
a  member.  During  a  considerable  part  of  his  life,  he 
kept  a  Diary  of  the  most  important  public  events;  this 
he  extended  to  seven  or  eight  folio  volumes,  which  con- 
tain many  interesting  facts  for  the  future  historian.  In 
ene  of  his  volumes,  he  gives  a  minute  account  of  the 
yellow  fever  which  prevailed  in  the  city  of  New-York  in 
1702.  He  dieil  in  April,  1756.  Smith's  Hist,  of  New- 
York.  American  Med.  and  Phil.  Register,  vol.  ii.  Neni- 
Forft,  181L     Frajicis. 

ALEXANDER,  William,  betferknown  by  the  name 
of  Lord  Sterling,  a  brave  and  distinguished  office*  in 
»he  American  revolution ;  was  a  native  of  the  city  of 
New-York,  and  born  in  the  year  1 726.  He  was  consider- 
ed by  many  as  the  rightful  heir  to  the  title  and  estate  of 
an  earldom  in  Scotland,  though  he  failed  in  obtaining  an 
acknowledgment  of  his  claim  by  government.  In  the 
battle  at  Long  Island,  on  the  27th  of  August,  1776,  he 
was  taken  prisoner,  after  having  secured  to  a  large  de- 
tachment an  opportunity  to  escape  by  a  bold  attack  with 
four  hundred  men  upon  a  corps  under  lord  Comwallis. 
HLs  attachment  to  the  commander  in  chief  of  the  Ame- 
rican army  was  abundantly  proved  in  the  latter  part  of 
1777,  by  his  transmitting  him  an  account  of  the  disaf- 
fection of  general  Conway.  He  is  said  \o  have  discover- 
ed an  early  fondness  for  mathematical  and  astronomical 
studies,  and  to  have  obtained  great  eminence  in  these 
sciences.  He  died  at  Albany,  January  15th,  1783.  Allen's 
Amcr.  Biog.  Marshdrs  Life  of  Washington,  vol.  iii. 
HosACK  and  Peancis. 

Vol.1.     Past  I. 


preservatioji.  The  stone,  of  which  the  sarcophagus  is 
made,  appears  to  be  a  particular  kind  of  primitive  con- 
glomerate, resembling  that  which  lies  under  the  second 
porphyry  formation. 

On  the  death  of  Alexander,  his  body  was  inshrined 
in  a  golden  chase-work,  fitted  to  the  skin,  covered  with 
a  garment  also  of  gold,  over  which  were  put  a  purple 
vestment,  and  then  his  armour.  Two  years  were  oc- 
cu]ned  in  preparations  for  his  funeral ;  when  his  body, 
placed  in  a  splendid  car,  was  conveyed  from  Babylon  to 
Alexandria,  with  unequalled  magnificence,  and  there 
dei)Osited  in  the  tomb  which  was  prepared  for  it  by  Pto- 
lemy. Alexander  was  the  thirteenth  god  of  the  Egyp- 
tians. The  Corabiasis  also  esteemed  him  a  god,  and 
thence  his  tomb  was  worshipped.  Three  centuries 
after  his  death,  Augustus  the  Roman  emperor  viewed 
his  body,  still  entire,  and  scattered  flowers  on  his  tomb, 
in  token  of  his  deification.  Septimus  Severus  likewise 
visited  it  202  years  after  Christ,  and  Caracalla  a  few 
years  afterwards.  Before  that  period,  Caligula  had 
removed  Alexander's  breast-plate,  and  wore  it  himself. 

Though  his  body  long  reposed  in  this  sarcophagus, 
it  was  at  length  removed,  at  a  period  which  is  unknown. 
The  sarcophagus  itself,  however,  continues  to  be  wor- 
shipped by  pious  Mahometans,  down  to  the  present 
day ;  and  their  jealousy  having  guarded  it  against  the 
approach  of  Christians,  few  had  seen  it  during  several 
centuries.  But  the  French,  whose  penetrating  researches 
have  of  late  called  many  obscure,  though  valuable  ob- 
jects into  light,  despoiled  the  Turks  of  this  precious  re- 
lic, during  their  incursion  into  Egypt.  Though  they 
carefully  secreted  their  acquisition,  as  the  richest  trea- 
sure, it  was  at  last  discovered  in  the  hold  of  a  ship,  and 
included  in  the  surrender  to  the  British  at  Alexandria, 
in  the  year  1801.  See  Stralio,  lib.  xvii.  Diodonis  Si- 
cubt.s,  lib.  XV.  Suetonius,  in  Vita  Angvsti.  Alexander's 
Egyptian  Monuments,  No.  1.  Dr.  Clarke's  Totnb  of 
Alexander,     (c) 

ALEXANDRETTA,  called  Scanderoon  by  the 
Turks,  a  small  se.vport  town  in  Syria,  situated  on  the 
Gulf  of  Ajazzo.  The  harbour  of  this  village  afibrds  a 
good  bottom  for  anchoring,  but  is  exposed  to  land-winds, 
which  sometimes  force  ships  to  drag  their  anchors  for 
several  leagues,  and  make  it  impossible  to  enter  it  dur- 
ing some  months  of  the  j-ear.  On  the  land  side,  Alex- 
audretta  is  surrounded  by  a  marshy  plain,  which  ren- 
ders it  exceedingly  unhealthy.  From  the  month  of 
May  to  September,  a  malignant  fever  prevails,  by  which 
ships  frequently  have  lost  their  whole  crew  in  a  few 
months.  The  sickly  aspect  of  the  inhabitants,  at  all 
seasons,  sufficiently  indicates  the  insalubrity  of  the  air 
which  they  breathe.  With  such  inconveniences,  this 
village  entirely  owes  its  importance  to  its  being  em- 
ployed as  the  port  of  AIej)po,  from  ^vbich  it  is  distant 
about  70  miles  in  a  direct  line,  but  upwards  of  90  by  the 
usual  road  for  caravans.  E.  Long.  35"  55'  15".  N.  Lat. 
36"  35'  27".     (-4-) 

ALEXANDRIA,  called  by  the  Turks  Scanderia,  a 
city  of  Lower  Egypt,  situated  on  the  Mediterranean,  in 
N.  Lat.  31»  13'  5".  and  E.  Long.  29°  55'  45". 

This  city,  though  now  of  but  little  consequence,  war 
once  one  of  the  most  flourishing  and  celebrated  of  the 
■world,  the  populous  metropolis  of  the  kings  of  Egypt, 
and  long  the  great  seat  of  commerce  and  of  wealth. 
It  was  founded  by  Alexander  the  Great,  who  gave  it  his 
own  name,  about  333  years  before  Christ,  and  is  now  the 
only  remaining  moouinent  of  the  widely  extended  con- 
3  D 


394 


ALEXANDRIA. 


quests  of  that  e;re«t  and  renowned  warrior.  The  long 
and  severe  check  which  he  met  with  before  the  city  of 
Tyre,  in  the  career  of  his  victories,  would  no  doubt  con- 
vince him  of  the  vast  resources  of  a  maritime  power, 
and  of  the  immense  importance  of  commerce  ;  and  it 
was  this  wliich  is  supposed  to  have  induced  him,  after 
the  subjection  of  Egypt,  to  avail  himself  of  the  favour- 
able commercial  situation  of  that  country,  and  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  that  city,  which,  from  its  vicinity  to  the 
Mediterranean  Sea  and  the  Arabian  Gulf,  has,  amidst 
all  the  successive  revolutions  of  Egypt,  from  the  time 
of  the  Ptolemies  till  the  discovery  of  the  navigation  by 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  commanded  the  trade  of  both 
the  east  and  the  west.  From  that  period,  however, 
which  begins  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  commerce,  the 
trade  of  India  has  flowed  in  other  channels;  and  the 
streams  of  its  former  wealth  being  dried  up,  Alexan- 
dria has  gradually  decayed,  and  is  now  deserving  of  no- 
tice only  on  account  of  its  past  greatness  and  celebrity. 
Alexander  himself  drew  the  plan  of  the  new  city;  and 
as  there  were  no  instruments  at  hand  proper  for  the 
purpose,  he  traced  out  the  course  of  the  walls,  by  scat- 
tering meal  along  the  ground ;  a  circumstance  which 
his  sooth-sayer  interpreted  as  a  presage  of  future 
abundance.  The  execution  of  the  plan  was  intrusted  to 
Denocrates,  the  celebrated  architect,  who  rebuilt  the 
temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus,  whilst  Alexander  advanced 
to  survey  the  wonders  of  Upper  Egypt.  Upon  his  re- 
turn about  a  year  afterwards,  the  city  was  nearly  finish- 
ed ;  and  having  peopled  it  with  inhabitants  from  the 
neighbouring  towns,  he  pursued  the  course  of  his  con- 
quests. 

Ancient  Alexandria  stood  about  12  miles  from  the 
Canopic  branch  of  the  Nile,  with  which  it  was  united  by 
a  canal.  The  lake  Mareotis  bathed  its  walls  on  the  south, 
and  the  Mediterranean  on  the  north.  It  was  divided 
into  straight  parallel  streets,  cutting  one  another  at 
right  angles.  One  great  street,  2000  feet  wide,  ran 
through  the  whole  length  of  the  city,  beginning  at  the 
gate  of  the  Sea,  and  terminating  at  the  gate  of  Canopus. 
It  was  intersected  by  another  of  the  same  breadth, 
which  formed  a  square  at  their  junction  half  a  league  iu 
circumference.  From  the  centre  of  this  great  place, 
the  two  gates  were  to  be  seen  at  once,  and  vessels  ar- 
riving under  full  sail  from  both  the  north  and  the  south. 
In  these  two  principal  streetsjthe  noblostin  the  universe, 
stood  their  most  magnificent  palaces,  temples,  and  pub- 
lic buildings,  in  which  the  eye  was  never  tired  with 
admiring  the  marble,  the  porphyry,  and  the  obelisks, 
which  were  destined  at  some  future  day  to  embellish 
the  metropolis  of  the  world.  The  chief  glory  of  Alex- 
andria was  its  harbour.  It  was  a  deep  and  secure  bay 
in  the  Mediterranean,  formed  by  the  shore  on  the  one 
aide,  and  the  island  of  Pharos  on  the  other,  and  where 
numerous  fleets  might  lie  in  complete  safety.  From  the 
island  of  Pharos,  a  moat  of  a  mile  in  length,  stretched 
to  the  continent,  and  divided  the  great  harbour  into  two. 
That  which  was  to  the  northward  was  called  the  Great 
Port;  the  other,  Eunorlos,  or  the  Safe  Return.  With- 
out the  walls  of  Alexandria,  and  stretching  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  near  to  the  promontory  of 
Lectreos,  was  situated  the  palace  and  gardens  of  the 
Ptolemies.  They  contained  within  their  enclosure  the 
museum,  an  asylum  for  learned  men,  groves  and  build- 
ings worthy  of  royal  majesty,  and  a  temple  where  the 
body  of  Alexander  was  deposited  in  a  golden  coffin.  It 
were  endiees  to  eoumerate  tbe  many  palaees,  temples, 


theatres,  and  other  buildings,  with  which  Alexandria  and 
its  suburbs  were  adorned. 

Alexandria  owed  much  of  its  glory  to  the  Ptolemies. 
Ptolemy  Soter,  the  first  of  that  line  of  kings,  and  one  of 
the  captains  of  Alexander,  who,  on  the  death  of  his  mas- 
ter, seized  on  his  Egyptian  dominions,  fixed  the  royal 
residence  in  this  city,  about  304  years  before  Christ. 
This  prince  instituted  the  academy  called  the  Museum, 
in  which  a  society  of  learned  men  devoted  themselves  to 
the  study  of  the  sciences.  He  likewise  founded  for 
their  use  the  Alexandrian  library,  which  was  afterwards 
so  prodigiously  increased,  and  one  of  the  greatest  orna- 
ments of  this  celebrated  city.  It  is  said  to  have  amount- 
ed to  no  less  than  700,000  volumes  before  its  destruc- 
tion. With  these  advantages,  and  under  the  continued 
patronage  of  its  sovereigns,  Alexandria  soon  became 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  seats  of  learning  and  phi- 
losophy, and  preserved  its  celebrity  till  it  was  plunder- 
ed of  all  its  literary  treasures  by  the  barbarous  hands  of 
the  Saracens.  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  the  son  of  Soter, 
completed  the  tower  of  Pharos,  which  his  father  had  al- 
ready begun.  This  was  the  famous  light-house  which 
was  built  on  the  island  of  that  name,  for  the  direction  of 
the  innumerable  vessels  which  entered  the  harbour,  and 
was  reckoned  amongst  the  wonders  of  the  world. 

Alexandria  continued  for  nearly  300  years  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  Ptolemies ;  but  at  the  death  of  Cleopatra, 
it  passed  into  the  power  of  the  Romans,  and  was  the 
theatre  of  several  memorable  events  in  the  history  of 
that  people.  It  sometimes  might  receive  a  favour  at 
the  hands  of  its  masters ;  but  it  as  frequently  obtained 
its  full  share  of  all  the  calamities  which  the  tyranny, 
the  cruelty,  or  weakness  of  the  Roman  emperors  iiK 
flicted  on  the  rest  of  the  empire. 

In  638,  the  Saracens  invaded  Egypt,  and  the  follow- 
ing year  Amrou,  their  general,  commenced  the  siege  of 
Alexandria,  which  was  perhaps  the  most  arduous  en- 
terprise in  the  annals  of  his  conquests.  After  a  vigorous 
resistance  of  about  fourteen  months,  the  Saracens,  how- 
ever, prevailed,  and  the  standard  of  Mahomet  was  plant- 
ed on  the  walls  of  the  capital  of  Egypt.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  the  Alexandrian  library  met  with  its  memo- 
rable fate.  Abulfaragius,  an  Arabian  historian,  gives  the 
following  account  of  this  catastrophe.  John  Philoponusr, 
surnamed  the  Grammarian,  a  famous  Peripatetic  philo- 
sopher, being  at  Alexandria  when  the  city  was  taken  by 
the  Saracens,  was  admitted  to  familiar  intercourse  with 
Amrou,  and  presumed  to  solicit  a  gift,  inestimable  in 
his  opinion,  but  contemptible  in  that  of  the  barbarians, — 
and  that  was  the  royal  library.  Amrou  was  inclined  to 
gratify  his  wish;  but  his  rigid  integrity  scrupled  to 
alienate  the  least  object  without  the  consent  of  the  Ca- 
liph. He  accordingly  wrote  to  Omar,  whose  well-known 
answer  was  dictated  by  the  ignorance  of  a  fanatic.  "  If 
these  writings  of  the  Greeks  agree  with  the  Koran,  or 
book  of  God,  they  are  useless,  and  need  not  be  preserv- 
ed ;  if  they  disagree,  they  are  pernicious,  and  ought  to 
be  destroyed."  The  sentence  of  destruction  was  ex- 
ecuted with  blind  obedience;  Ihe  volumes  of  paper  or 
parchment  were  distributed  to  the  4000  baths  of  the 
city ;  and  such  was  their  number,  that  six  weeks  was 
barely  sutlicient  for  the  consumption  of  this  precious 
fuel. 

Under  the  Roman  and  Greek  emperors,  as  well  as 
under  Ihe  Ptolemies,  for  neariy  a  space  of  1000  years, 
Alexandria  continued  to  maintain  its  reputation  for 
power  aad  wealth,  and  likewise  for  literature  and  sci- 


ALE 


ALE 


895 


ence ;  but  from  the  period  when  it  came  under  the  do- 
minion of  the  Saracens,  all  its  glories  have  declined, 
till  it  has  gradually  arrived  at  its  present  degradation. 
When  commerce  revived  in  the  13th  century,  it  natu- 
rally looked  out  for  its  former  well  known  channel ;  and 
the  condition  of  Alexandria  began  again  for  a  short 
time  to  brighten ;  but  the  discovery  of  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  which  was  made  about  that  time,  soon  crushed 
its  returning  prosperity,  and  for  ever  diverted  the  sour- 
ces of  its  wealth  into  a  different  channel. 

The  present  state  of  this  city  presents  a  scene  of 
magnificent  ruin  and  desolation.  For  the  space  of  two 
leagues,  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  the  remains  of  pilas- 
ters, of  capitals,  and  of  obelisks,  and  whole  mountains 
of  shattered  monuments  of  ancient  art,  heaped  upon 
one  another  to  a  greater  height  than  that  of  the  houses. 
The  famous  tower  of  Pharos  has  been  long  since  demo- 
lished, and  a  square  castle,  without  taste,  ornament,  or 
strength,  erected  in  its  stead.  The  lake  Mareotis, 
through  the  carelessness  of  the  Turks  in  preserving  the 
canals  which  conveyed  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  no  lon- 
ger exists ;  but  its  place  is  now  occupied  by  the  sands 
of  Libya. 

The  modern  city  is  built  near  the  brink  of  the  sea,  on 
a  kind  of  peninsula,  situated  between  the  two  harbours 
above  mentioned,  called  now  the  New  and  Old  harbours. 
The  New  port,  which  is  allotted  for  Europeans,  is 
clogged  up  with  sand,  which  renders  its  entrance  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous.  The  Old  port,  or,  as  it  is  some- 
times called,  the  Port  of  Africa,  into  which  Christian 
vessels  are  not  allowed  to  enter,  is  much  larger  than  the 
former,  and  has  much  deeper  water ;  but  as  the  vessels 
are  continually  throwing  their  ballast  into  it,  thie  har- 
bour likewise  is  in  danger  of  being  at  last  filled  up. 
The  houses  of  Alexandria,  like  those  of  the  Levant, 
have  flat  terrace  roofs;  they  have  no  windows;  the 
iipertures  which  supply  their  place  are  so  entirely  ob- 
structed by  wooden  lattices,  that  the  light  can  scarcely 
force  a  passage.  The  streets  are  narrow,  and  awkward- 
ly disposed,  and  are  without  pavement.  No  public  edi- 
fice, no  private  building,  arrests  the  eye  of  the  stranger. 
The  number  of  inhabitants,  consisting  of  a  collection 
from  various  nations,  may  be  estimated  at  5000,  as  far 
as  an  estimation  can  be  made  in  a  country  where  no  re- 
gister of  any  thing  is  kept.  The  British  and  French 
nations  carry  on  a  considerable  trade  with  Alexandria, 
and  have  each  a  consul  residing  there.  The  subjects 
of  those  kingdoms  who  have  no  consul  are  subjected  to 
a  tax  by  the  tirand  Signior.  The  language  of  this  place 
is  Arabic ;  but  most  of  the  inhabitants  speak  likewise 
Italian.  The  government  of  Alexandria  is  like  that  of 
other  places  of  Egypt,  and  is  conducted  by  an  Aga,  who 
has  under  him  a  kadi  and  sub-basha.  It  has  a  small  gar- 
rison, who  are  haughty  and  insolent,  not  only  to  stran- 
gers, but  to  the  mereantile  and  industrious  part  of  the 
inhabitants.  By  established  regulations,  the  castle  of 
Pharos  ought  to  be  garrisoned  with  500  troops ;  but  it 
never  has  half  that  number,  nor  more  than  four  cannons. 
The  whole  of  the  fortifications  of  Alexandria  might 
easily  be  beaten  down  by  a  single  frigate ;  but  from  the 
want  of  water,  it  would  be  difficult  to  keep  possession 
of  the  town,  without  being  masters  of  the  surrounding 
country.  In  the  year  1 798,  wiicn  the  French  government 
sent  out  an  expedition  under  Bonaparte,  for  the  jiurpose 
of  taking  possession  of  Egypt,  Alexandria  was  carried 
by  assault  on  the  4th  July  ;  the  Arabs  and  Mamelukes 
who  defended  it  Were  put  to  flight,  and  about  900  of  them 


killed.  It  remained  in  possession  of  the  French  til! 
1801, when  it  was  retaken  by  the  English  armyunder  the 
command  of  general  Hutchinson.  At  the  conclusion  of 
the  war,  it  was  restored  to  the  Turks,  under  whose  domi- 
nion it  has  since  continued.  See  Ammian.  Marcellin. 
lib.  xxii.  cap.  16.;  Ancient  Univnsal  Uistory,  vol.  viii.  p. 
166. ;  Gibbon,  vol.  ix.  p.  392.  12mo.  chap.  51. ;  While's 
Egyptiaca;  Memoir cs  surC  Egyj^e,  Paris,  1802;  AValsh'a 
Journal  of  the  Campaign  in  E<iTff)t,  p.  229 ;  Regnier's 
State  of  Egypt  after  the  Battle  of  Heliopolis,  p.  36.  (6) 

ALEXANDRIA,  or  Alessandria,  a  city  of  Italy, 
in  the  district  of  Alexandrin,  or  Alexandrino,  in  the 
dutchy  of  niilan,  situated  in  a  marshy  country,  on  the 
river  Tanaro.  It  was  built  by  Pope  Alexander  III.; 
who  in  founding  a  dutchy  in  this  country,  changed  its 
former  name  Cassario  into  that  of  Alexandria.  This 
pope  made  it  a  bishopric,  suffragan  of  Milan,  and  con- 
ferred on  it  several  other  privileges.  It  was  surnamed 
Delia  Paglia,  either  because  the  inhabitants  use  stubble 
for  fuel,  or  because  the  Germans  contemptuously  called 
it  Palearis,  a  fortress  of  straw.  It  is  now  the  capital  of 
the  department  of  Marengo,  in  the  French  empire,  si- 
tuated about  170  leagues  S.  E.  of  Paris,  and  is  said  to 
contain  32,225  inhabitants.  It  is  38  miles  east  of  Turin, 
and  37  S.  S.  W.  of  Milan.  N.  Lat.  44«  48'.  E.  Long. 
8°  39'.     {k)» 

ALEXIPPOS,  a  name  given  by  its  inventor,  Mr. 
Snart,  to  a  sliding  lever,  to  be  fixed  to  the  under  side 
of  a  cart,  for  the  relief  of  horses,  when  (brown  down, 
or  entangled  in  the  thills.  See  Transactions  of  the  So- 
ciety for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts,  vol.  xviii.  p.  234  ; 
or  Repertory  of  Arts,  vol.  xv.  p.  110.     (o) 

ALEXIS,  MicHAELowiTz,  one  of  the  czars  of  Rus- 
sia, distinguished  by  the  excellence  of  his  character, 
both  as  a  man  and  a  prince.  See  Modem  Univn-sal 
History,  vol.  xxxi.  p.  424.  462.;  Tooke's  History  of 
Russia,  vol.  ii.  p.  14.;  and  Russia,     (tv) 

ALEXIUS,  CoMNEXus  1.  emperor  of  the  East.  See 
Aticient  Universal  History,  vol.  xv.  p.  136. 151.;  Gib- 
bon's Histon/,  vol.  ix.  p.  70.  12mo.  chap.  48.;  Hume, 
vol.  i.  p.  323.  chap.  6. ;  and  Rome,    (rv) 

ALEXIUS,  CoMNENUs  II.  the  son  of  the  former, 
and  emperor  of  the  east.  See  Ancient  Universal  History, 
vol.  XV.  p.  157. ;  Gibbon  s  History,  vol.  ix.  p.  78.  chap. 
48. ;  and  Rome.     (»b) 

ALFRAGAN,  or  al  Farcani,  a  celebrated  Arabic 
astronomer,  who  was  born  at  Fergan  about  the  eud  of 
the  8th  century,  during  the  calii)hate  of  the  illustrious 
Almamon.  He  wrote  a  treatise  on  elementary  astronomy, 
in  thirty  sections,  founded  on  the  Ptolemaic  hyi)othesis. 
This  work  has  been  thrice  translated  into  Latin.  See 
Modern  Universal  History,  vol.  ii.  p.  202. ;  and  Button's 
Math.  Diet.  Art.  Alfragan.     (o) 

ALFRED  THE  Great,  king  of  England,  was  the 
fourth  son  of  Ethelwolf;  and,  at  the  age  of  23  years, 

*  ALEXANDRIA,  a  flourishing  city  in  Virginia,  on 
the  south  bank  of  the  Potomac  river,  about  five  miles 
south-west  from  the  Federal  City,  lat.  38»  45'  N.  77''  10' 
W.  long.  Its  situation  is  elevated  and  pleasant;  the 
soil,  however,  is  clayey,  and  the  inhabitants  are  greatly 
incommoded  from  the  want  of  good  water.  The  streets 
are  laid  out  after  the  manner  of  those  in  Philadelphia. 
Mount  Vernon,  the  seat  of  the  celebrated  Washington, 
is  seated  about  nine  miles  below  this  city  on  the  bauk 
of  the  Potomac.  Hosack  &:  Francis. 
3D2 


'^ 


ALFRED. 


succeeded  his  brother  Etheldied,  in  8 7 1 .  He  was  called 
to  the  throne,  in  preference  to  his  brother's  children, 
both  by  tlie  will  of  his  father,  and  by  the  wishes  of  the 
whole  nation.  The  dangers  which  threatened  the  king- 
dom, required  an  active  and  intelligent  prince  to  be  im- 
mediately placed  at  the  head  of  affairs;  and  scarcely 
ha<l  Alfred  passed  thi-ough  the  ceremony  of  coronation, 
when  he  had  to  contend  with  a  formidable  enemy  in  the 
heart  of  his  dominions.  The  Danes,  who  were  in  pos- 
session of  Northumberland  and  East  Anglia,  had  seized 
upon  Wilton,  and  commenced  their  usual  ravages.  Al- 
fred collected  hastily  a  few  troops,  and  marched  against 
Uiem;  engaged  them  with  considerable  success  at  first, 
but  was  obliged  by  the  superiority  of  their  numbers,  to 
leave  the  field.  He  recruited  his  army,  however,  so 
vigorously,  and  the  Danes  had  suffered  so  severely  in 
the  late  contest,  that  they  sued  for  peace ;  and  agreed 
to  depart  from  his  territories,  on  condition  that  he  should 
not  appear  against  them  in  any  other  part  of  England. 
They  retired  to  London,  and  turned  their  arms  against 
iVIercia,  whose  king,  Buthred,  they  laid  under  heavy 
contributions,  and  forced  at  length  to  abandon  his  king- 
dom. A  fresh  body  of  Danes  arrived,  in  873,  under 
Haldene  their  chief;  but  Alfred,  trusting  to  the  late 
treaty,  took  no  measures  against  them.  They  made  a 
sudden  incursion  into  the  centre  of  his  dominions,  and 
seized  Wercham,  one  of  his  strongest  fortresses.  He 
soon  reduced  them  to  enter  into  a  treaty ;  and  bound 
them  to  the  observance  of  it,  by  making  them  swear  on 
the  holy  relics.  This  new  compact  they  broke  almost 
instantly;  surprised  and  routed  the  army  of  Alfred; 
snarched  to  Exeter,  and  made  themselves  masters  of  the 
place.  The  prince,  collecting  and  animating  his  troops, 
pressed  them  with  the  greatest  vigour,  and,  by  means 
of  a  few  galleys  which  he  had  fitted  out,  reduced  them 
to  such  extremities,  that  they  capitulated,  gave  hosta- 
ges, and  agieed  to  settle  peaceably  in  thecountry.  These 
new  settlers,  however,  finding  themselves  straitened  for 
want  of  territory,  and  the  old  settlers  being  afraid  of 
losing  their  possessions,  and  some  fresh  bands  having 
arrived  from  Denmark,  these  all  united  iti  a  body,  and 
poured  into  Essex.  The  subjects  of  Alfred,  worn  out 
by  so  many  continued  struggles,  and  affrighted  by  this 
torrent  of  invaders,  deserted  their  prince,  and  submitted 
to  their  enemies.  He  was  obliged  to  dismiss  even  the 
few  ftiithful  attendants,  who  were  willing  to  follow  him ; 
disguised  himself  in  a  peasant's  dress ;  and  sought  con- 
cealment in  a  neat-herd's  cottage,  where  he  continued  ' 
for  some  time,  patiently  submitting  to  be  treated  as  a 
servant.  From  this  retreat,  he  passed  with  a  few  adhe-  i 
rents,  whom  he  had  collected,  to  the  isle  of  Athelney, ' 
in  Somersetshire,  where  he  was  secured  in  the  centre 
of  a  morass,  and  from  which  he  made  frequent  excur- 
sions. In  the  mean  time,  the  earl  of  Devonshire,  who 
liad  taken  shelter  with  a  few  followers  in  Kenwith  cas- 
tle, was  besieged  by  the  Danes.  Being  pressed  with 
the  want  of  provisions,  and  observing  Utat  his  enemies 
were  not  very  watchful  against  any  attem|>t  from  bis  lit- 
tle garrison,  he  made  a  vigorous  sally  upon  the  Danish 
forces,  threw  them  into  the  utmost  confusion,  slew 
Hubha  their  chief,  and  took  their  famous  standard, 
which  was  supposed  to  he  possessed  of  a  prophetical 
power,  and  of  magical  influence.  Alfred,  havingheard 
of  this  success,  began  to  concert  measures  with  his 
friends  j  collected  small  bodies  of  men  in  different  parts. 


ready  to  unite  at  the  shortest  warning :  and,  in  order 
to  discover  the  state  of  the  enemy,  entered  the  Danish 
camp  in  the  disguise  of  a  lmr|)er.  Having  examined  it 
for  several  days,  and  ascertained  its  unguarded  condi- 
tion, he  returned  to  his  adherents :  appointed  Schvood 
forest  as  the  rendezvous  of  his  troops ;  and,  before  the 
Danes  could  have  any  intelligence  of  his  motions,  ap- 
peared before  them  with  a  numerous  army,  attacked 
them  in  the  midst  of  their  surprise,  and  defeated  them 
with  great  slaughter.  Those  who  escaped,  soon  sub- 
mitted to  his  power,  and  had  their  lives  spared,  upon 
condition  either  of  immediately  leaving  the  island,  or 
of  becoming  Christians,  and  settling  among  his  subjects. 
The  greater  part,  with  Guthrum  their  general,  acce.ited 
tlie  latter  proposal ;  and  the  rest,  with  Hastings  at  ii.cii 
head,  sailed  to  Flanders  in  quest  of  plunder.  Allred, 
freed  from  his  enemies,  began  to  pursue  the  most  pru- 
dent and  active  measures  tor  the  security  of  his  king- 
dom, formed  his  subjects  into  a  regular  militia,  erected 
fortresses,  and  surrounded  his  towns  with  walls.  He 
particularly  repaired  and  strengthened  the  city  of  Lon- 
don, and  increased  and  improved  his  naval  force.  By 
these,  and  other  wise  regulations,  he  i)revented  further 
invasions  from  the  Danes,  and  ke|)t  those  who  were  in 
the  kingdom  in  quiet  submission.  This  tranquillity, 
which  had  continued  about  ten  or  twelve  years,  was  in- 
terrupted in  893,  by  the  return  of  Hastings  with  an  im- 
mense fleet,  and  by  the  rebellion  of  the  Danish  settlers 
in  Northumbria.  With^hese  invaders,  Alfred  carried  on 
a  long  and  arduous  struggle,  defeated  them  in  many  en- 
gagements ;  pursued  their  divided  bands  from  place  to 
place ;  drove  them  at  length  from  his  dominions,  or  re- 
duced them  to  subjection ;  and,  having  established  peace 
over  all  England,  reigned  in  fall  tranquillity  during  the 
remainder  <rf  liis  life.  After  having  filled  the  throne 
nearly  thirty  years,  highly  respected  and  beloved  by  his 
subjects,  lie  died  in  the  fifty-second  yearof  his  age,  A.  D. 
901,  and  was  interred  in  the  church  af  Great  Drifiield, 
in  Yorkshire.  By  his  wife  Ethelswitha,  he  had  three 
sons  and  three  daughters.  The  eldest  of  his  sons,  Ed- 
mund, died  before  his  father ;  the  second,  Ethelwold, 
retired  to  a  private  life,  and  devoted  himself  to  study ; 
and  the  third,  Edward,  succeeded  to  the  throne. 

The  character  of  Alfred  stands  high  in  the  records  of 
history,  and  he  is  considered  as  one  of  the  best  and 
wisest  princes  that  ever  adorned  the  annals  of  any  na- 
tion. As  a  king,  he  was  peculiarly  eminent  for  his  civil 
and  military  qualities,  and  did  every  thing  possible  for 
the  good  of  his  people ;  as  a  man,  he  set  them  an  exam- 
ple of  every  personal  virtue.  It  would  require  a  volume 
to  give  a  particular  detail  of  his  political  institutions  and 
domestic  arrangements.  He  secured  his  kingdom  from 
external  violence,  by  a  jodicious  disposition  of  his  fleet 
and  militia :  he  provided  for  the  internal  peace  of  hia 
dominions,  by  drawing  up  a  code  of  laws*;  by  appoint- 
ing proper  courts ;  by  inquiring  carefully  into  the  con- 
duct and  qualifications  of  the  judges ;  by  dividing  the 
kingdom  into  counties,  hundreds,  and  tythings,  for  the 
purpose  of  repressing  vagrants,  and  discovering  offend- 
ers. He  promoted  the  prosperity  and  comfort  of  bi^ 
subjects,  by  encouraging  commerce;  by  instituting  ma- 
nufactures ;  by  exciting  an  attention  to  the  common  arts 
of  life  ;  by  inviting  from  all  quarters,  and  rewarding  li- 
berally, industrious  mechanics,  and  ingenious  artists,  of 
every  description :  He  took  the  most  effectual  measures 


This,  though  now  hwt,  is  suppgseU  te bare  beeo  t2i£  .foundation  of  tix  conmoB  lav  «f  Eoglauil 


AIG 


ALG 


397 


for  the  instruetion  of  his  people  in  religious  and  useful 
knowledge,  by  repairing  the  monasteries,  and  reple- 
nishing their  libraries ;  by  founding  and  endowing  col- 
leges at  Oxford ;  by  inviting  the  most  ©elebrated  scho- 
lars in  Europe  to  his  court;  by  establishing  schools  every 
where,  enjoining  every  freeholder,  possessing  two  hides 
of  land,  (what  was  sufficient  to  employ  two  ploughs,)  to 
send  his  children  to  these  seminaries ;  and  preferring, 
both  in  church  and  state,  those  who  had  made  most  pro- 
ficiency in  knowledge.  He  gave  a  still  further  encou- 
ragement to  learning  by  his  own  example ;  and  increasetl 
Ihe  means  of  knowledge  by  his  own  exertions.  He  is 
said  to  have  been  the  best  Saxon  poet  of  his  time ;  and 
composed,  in  verse,  various  fables,  parables,  and  stories, 
suited  to  the  instruction  of  an  unenlightened  people. 
He  was  eminent  also  as  a  grammarian,  philosopher,  ar- 
chitect, mathematician,  and  historian.  He  composed  a 
variety  of  works ;  and  translated  several  authors,  such  as 
the  Fables  of  j'Ksoi),  Gregory's  Pastoral  Care,  Bede's 
Ecclesiastical  History,  and  Boetius  on  the  Consolations 
of  Philosophy,  with  which  last  he  was  so  much  delighted 
that  healways  carried  it  in  his  bosom.  He  is  said  to  have 
translated  the  Old  and  New  Testaments ;  and  it  is  at 
least  certain,  that  he  had  made  considerable  progress  in 
a  version  of  the  Psalms.  It  was  impos8il)le  that  he  could 
have  found  leisure  for  these  literary  occupations,  if  he 
had  not  made  a  regular  distribution,  as  well  as  diligent 
apjdication,  of  his  time;  he  devoted  eight  hours  to  study 
and  devotion ;  eight  to  the  discharge  of  public  business ; 
and  eight  to  the  refreshment  of  his  body,  by  food,  exer- 
cise, and  sleep*.  He  was  equally  faithful  and  regular  in 
the  use  of  his  private  wealth,  which  he  divided  into  two 
parts ;  one  of  these  was  assigned  entirely  to  charitable 
purposes,  and  distributed  into  lour  portions  :  the  first, 
for  alms  to  the  poor ;  the  second,  for  the  maintenance  of 
monasteries ;  the  third  for  the  support  of  professors  and 
students ;  and  the  fourth  for  the  relief  of  indigent 
monks.  The  other  half  was  applied  to  the  three  fol- 
lowing uses  :  to  the  expenditure  of  his  household  ;  to 
the  payment  of  architects,  and  other  artists  ;  and  to  the 
pensioning  of  learned  foreigners,  whom  he  had  brought 
to  his  kingdom.  "  O  Alfred  !"'  we  may  justly  exclaim, 
in  the  words  of  an  old  writer,  "  the  wonder  and  astonish- 
ment of  all  ages!  If  we  rellect  upon  the  devout  part  of 
him,  he  seems  to  have  lived  always  in  a  cloister  ;  if,  ou 
his  conduct  and  ex[iloits  in  the  field,  one  would  think 
he  had  spent  his  days  in  the  camp  ;  if,  on  his  writings 
and  studies,  one  would  conclude  that  the  miiversity  had 
engrossed  him ;  and,  lastly,  if  we  regard  his  prudence 
and  skill  in  the  administration  of  government,  he  seems 
to  have  made  law  and  politics  his  whole  study." 

The  particular  spot  in  the  church  of  Great  Driffield, 
where  the  remains  of  Alfred  were  deposited,  was  dis- 
covered in  1784,  by  two  members  of  the  Antiquarian 
Society.  Upon  opening  the  stone  coffin,  they  discover- 
ed the  complete  skeleton  of  Alfred,  along  with  the 
greater  part  of  his  steel  armour.  From  respect  to  the 
:«mains  of  that  illustrious  king,  the  coffin  and  grave 
■were  immediately  closed.  See  Rapin's  Hist  of  Eiig. 
■Vol.  i.  Hume's  Ditto,  vol.  i.  chap.  ii.  Asseriits.  Spel- 
man's  Life  of  Alfred,  (q) 

ALG-JI,  a  division  of  plants  in  the  class  cryptogamia, 
tomprefaending  alt   the  sea-weeds    and  other   aquatic 


(Hants.  See  Witherlug's  Arrangement  of  British  Plants, 
V.  i.  p.  3(59.  Transactions  oftluLinnean  Society,  v.  iii.  p. 
84.  Cmnmentat.  Acad.  Thtodoro-Palalinae,  torn.  ii.  p.  423. 
Transactions  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  v.  iii. 
p.  202.  Phil.  Trans.  1796,  p.  494.  See  also  Botany,  (o) 

ALG  AROTTI,  Count,  was  born  at  Venice,  of  a  re- 
spectable family,  on  the  1 1  th  December,  1 712.  At  the 
age  of  14,  after  his  father's  death,  he  was  sent  to  Bo- 
logna, and  prosecuted  his  studies,  under  the  care  of  E«-- 
stachio  Manfredi,  and  Francis  Zanaotti.  The  latter  in- 
spired him  with  a  passion  for  mathematics  and  physics ; 
and  such  were  his  talents  aud  attractive  manners,  that 
each  of  his  masters  composed  a  work  for  his  particular 
improvement.  That  of  Zanotti  was  a  treatise  on  Op- 
tics, agreeably  to  the  Newtonian  theory  ;  that  of  Man- 
fredi, a  Tract  on  Chronology,  as  connected  with  astro- 
nomy. 

Algarotti  very  early  appeared  as  a  poet,  and  love  was 
the  parent  of  his  first  compositions  ;  but  he  afterwards 
confined  himself  to  the  graver  subjects  of  philosophy. 
At  Bologna,  also,  he  directed  his  attention  to  anatomy, 
medicine,  and  theology. 

While  he  remained  in  this  city,  Rizetti  published  his 
work  Dc  Lmmimis  affcctionibus,  in  which  he  zealously 
controverted  the  opinions  of  Newton.  Bologna  was  di- 
vided into  two  parties,  and  the  celebrity  of  this  author 
gained  many  converts  to  his  doctrines.  Algarotti, 
though  very  young,  stood  forth  as  the  champion  of  New- 
ton, and  repeated  all  his  experiments  on  colours,  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  university,  with  such  success,  as 
to  silence  his  antagonists,  and  procure  for  the  Newto- 
nian theory  a  more  general  reception.  The  eti'ect  of 
these  experiments  was  seconded  by  an  ingenious  dis- 
sertation, written  in  Latin  ;  which  he  read  to  the  acade- 
my of  Bolognn,  with  great  applause. 

In  1732,  he  visited  Florence,  in  company  with  Za- 
notti, for  whom  he  always  entertained  the  highest  af- 
fection and  gratitude ;  a  proof  of  which  he  gave,  in  pub- 
lishing, at  his  own  expense,  in  Venice,  an  edition  of  hia 
friend's  poems,  and  sending  every  coi)y  to  him,  accom- 
panied with  an  elegant  dedication  to  his  other  |)recep- 
tor,  Manfredi.  From  Florence  he  went  to  Rome,  and 
assiduously  improved  the  advantages  which  that  city 
affortled  him,  for  cultivating  the  fine  arts,  in  which  he 
quickly  became  a  distinguished  connoisseur.  It  was 
here  too  he  put  the  first  hand  to  the  best  of  all  hia 
works,  "  II  Newtonianisme  per  le  Dame."  These  dia- 
logues he  had  projected  some  time  before ;  and  the  mo- 
del which  he  proposed  to  himself  was  the  celebrated 
work  of  Fontenelle,  on  the  plurality  of  worlds ;  but,  in 
spite  of  the  confidence  which  he  uniformly  discovered 
in  bis  own  powers,  he  despaired  of  executing  his  task 
successfully,  and  had  entirely  abandoned  it,  till  the  ur- 
gent and  flattering  entreaties  of  his  frieuds  at  Rome, 
engaged  him  to  renew  his  labours.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, till  several  years  after,  that  this  work  was  given  to 
the  world ;  and  during  this  interval,  every  feeling  and 
occupation  seems  to  have  been  subservient  to  liis  desire 
of  rendering  it  worthy  of  a  high  reputation.  From  Rome 
Algarotti  removed  to  Paris,  where  his  wit  and  genius 
introduced  him  to  many  of  the  distin^ished  literati  of 
France ;  but  in  this  luxurious  city,  he  also  contracted  a 
love  of  pleasure,  which  deeply  sullied  bis  character. 


*  In  order  to  measure  out  these  diTisions  of  his  time,  he  employed,  for  every  fiventy-four  hours,  six  ■wax  candles,  each  a  foot  in  length, 
having  the  inches  marked  by  circular  coloured  lines,  firery  inch  usually  Isisted  tl^e  third  part  of  aa  boiur  j  and  to  make  tten  burn  more 
eijaali^,  he  enclosed  tbeu in  lewterns  of  born. 


398 


ALG 


ALG 


We  afterwards  find  him  in  England,  on  an  intimate 
footing  with  Lord  Harvey,  Lady  W.  Montague,  Mr. 
Pope,  Lord  Burlington,  and  otiier  celebrated  characters. 
He  cultivated  particularly  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Folkes, 
the  President  of  the  Royal  Society,  of  which  he  was  ad- 
mitted a  fellow;  and  that  of  Mrs.  Conduit,  the  niece  of 
Sir  Isaac.  Newton,  in  whose  house  he  was  gratified  with 
an  examination  of  some  manuscripts,  and  other  precious 
relics  of  that  illustrious  philosopher. 

Before  leaving  France,  Algarotli  had  visited  Voltaire 
and  the  Marchioness  of  Chatelet,  at  Circy,  and  had  read 
to  them  his  dialogues,  vrith  which  they  were  highly  in- 
terested ;  and,  on  his  return  to  England,  he  had  the  gra- 
tification to  find,  that  this  circumstance  had  directed 
their  attention  in  the  most  ardent  manner  to  similar 
subjects.  The  Marchioness  was  surrounded  with  books 
on  geometry  and  physics;  and  Voltaire  had  already 
sketched  the  elements  of  bis  work  on  the  Newtonian 
philosophy. 

An  attack  by  Monsieur  Dn  Fay,  on  the  Newtonian 
theory  of  colours,  again  called  forth  the  enthusiasm  of 
Algarotti  in  its  defence.  Du  P-ay  professed  to  resolve 
light  only  into  three  iirimitive  colours,  and  Algarotti 
contended  for  its  distribution  into  seven,  in  two  me- 
moirs, written  in  French  ;  which  he  entitled,  "  Le  pour 
et  Le  centre." 

By  the  invitation  of  Lord  ISallimore,  he  accompanied 
that  nobleman  to  Petersburgh,  and  thence  to  Berlin, 
where  he  was  introduced  to  the  Prince  Royal  of  Prussia, 
afterwards  Frederick  the  Great.  This  visit  seems  to 
have  made  a  very  strong  impression  on  Frederick ;  for, 
no  sooner  had  he  ascended  Ihe  throne,  than  he  invited 
Algarotti  to  his  court,  retained  him  about  his  person, 
created  him  a  count  and  knight  of  the  Order  of  Merit, 
and,  in-  1747,  appointed  him  his  chamberlain,  with  a 
splendid  salary.  Nor  was  it  merely  as  a  philosopher, 
or  man  of  taste  and  letters,  that  he  enjoyed  the  intimacy 
of  this  prince ;  for  we  find,  that  his  talents  as  a  poli- 
tician were  likewise  called  into  action,  in  some  diplo- 
matic transactions  of  considerable  nicety  and  import- 
ance. These  Algarotti  managed  with  an  ability  not  to 
be  expected  from  a  man  whose  life  h;ul  been  devoted  to 
Euch  different  pursuits.  While  in  Berlin,  he  is  thus  cha- 
racterized by  another  of  the  literary  companions  of  Fre- 
derick :  "  He  was  full  of  wit,  of  affectation  and  of  self- 
love  ;  a  Frenchman  in  genius,  an  Italian  in  character, 
disagreealjle  in  society,  often  exposed  to  the  royal  plea- 
santry, and  receiving  it  as  a  favonr."  But,  if  a  rival, 
jricqued  probably  by  Algarotli's  superior  attainments, 
can  paint  him  in  no  darker  colours  than  these,  we  might 
almost  be  tempted  to  consider  this  description  as  ap- 
proaching  to  a  panegyric.  Algarotti,  from  a  humble 
Kiluation,  had  raised  himself  to  be  the  companion  of 
princes,  who  appeared  to  contend  for  his  friendsiiip ;  and 
a  prince  had  even  condescended  to  be  the  translator  of 
his  work  into  the  Russian  tongue.  To  profound  genius 
he  added  the  most  brilliant  powers  of  wit  and  humour, 
which  were  embellished  by  the  possession  of  every  per- 
sonal accomplishment.  He  was  distinguished  as  a  phi- 
losopher, a  pofct,  a  politician,  and  a  connoisseur  anil  pro- 
ficient in  most  of  the  fine  arts.  That  such  a  man  should 
have  acquired  such  a  confidence  in  himself,  that,  by  hi* 
rivals,  was  construed  into  ridiculous  vanity  and  affecta- 
tion, is  surely  no  subject  of  wonder;  and  if  it  was  a 
weakness  in  Algarotti  not  to  return  blow  for  blow,  when 
his  royal,  but  jealoits  and  irritable  benciactor,  thought 
proper  to  assail  liim  with  his  wit,  it  was  certaiuly  a 


weakness  from  which  few  courtiers  are  free,  and  which 
seems  to  have  been  chargeable  on  every  individual  of 
that  brilliant  circle  of  philosophers  which  Frederick  had 
collected  about  his  throne. 

Algarotti  was  no  less  a  favourite  of  Stanislaus,  king 
of  Poland  and  elector  of  Saxony,  who  rewarded  his  ex- 
ertions for  introducing  and  improving  the  fine  arts  in 
his  dominions,  by  creating  him  a  counsellor  of  war,  and 
conferring  upon  him  other  honours.  At  the  courts  of 
Berlin  and  Dresden,  making  occasional  excursions  to  hia 
native  country,  he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days,  and 
tHed  at  Pisa,  in  the  year  1764.  In  his  will  he  allotted 
a  sum  of  money  for  building  his  tomb,  the  plan  of  which, 
with  the  epitaph,  he  had  previously  designed.  This 
circumstance  has  been  construed  into  a  proof  of  extrava- 
gant vanity,  perhaps  with  injustice,  as  the  sum  allotted 
for  this  purpose,  to  a  man  of  Algarotti's  fortune,  was  in- 
considerable, and  far  from  adequate  to  the  erection  of  so 
splendid  a  structure  as  onght  to  bring  his  memory  un- 
der this  imputation.  The  epitaph  is  well  known  :  ''Hie 
jacet  Algarotti,  sed  non  onmis  ;"  and,  if  we  consider  these 
words  merely  as  a  declaration  of  his  belief  in  a  future 
state  of  existence,  it  has  a  claim  to  our  approbation,  for 
its  impressive  and  decent  simplicity. 

The  works  of  Algarotti  have  never  attained  a  high 
reputation  in  this  country,  but  many  editions  of  them 
have  appeared  on  the  Continent.  His  Rime,  or  verses, 
are  full  of  rich  imagery  and  poetical  sentiment.  His 
prose  works  discover  learning,  elegance,  ingenuity,  and 
profound  reflection;  but  his  compositions  are  in  general 
characterised  by  the  Avant  of  simplicity,  and  passion  for 
brilliant  conceits.  His  Newtonianism  is  a  popular  and 
interesting  illustration  of  the  subject,  and  is  well  fitted 
to  attract  young  minds  to  a  study,  from  which  they 
might  be  deterred  by  the  more  diilicult  and  profound 
treatises  of  other  writers. 

His  works,  written  in  Italian,  are,  1.  Rime,  1733.  2. 
II  Ncmtonianismo  per  le  Dame,  overro  Dialoghi,  sopra  la 
Luce,  e  i  Colori.  3.  Lcttcre  di  Poliansio  ad  Ermogcne 
intomo  alia  Traduzione  dclT  Eneide  dil  Caro.  4.  Saggio 
Critico  intomo  alle  Falcoltd.  della  Mcnte  Umana.  5.  11 
Congresso  di  Citcra.  6.  Ragionamcnto  sopra  la  durata 
<fc'  Regni  rf«'  Re  di  Roma.  7.  Ltttcra  in  Risposta  di 
quanto  si  dice  contra  il  Ncmtonianismo,  dtlF  Antincwto- 
itianismo  dcW  Sig.  Conte  Gio.  Rizetti.  Besides  these,  he 
published  in  French,  1.  Memoire  sur  la  Recherche  enter- 
prise, par  Monsieur  Bufay,  sHl  n'y  a  effectivemait  dans  la 
Lumicre  que  trois  Couleurs  primitives.  2.  Second  Mi- 
inoirc  stir  les  sept  Couleures  primitives  pour  scrtir  de  Re- 
ponse  a  cc  que  M.  Dufay,  a  dit  d.  ce  sujet  dans  la  fiuille 
233  du  Pour  et  Conlre.  He  likewise  published  in  Latin, 
De  Colorwn  immutabilitate,  eorumque  divcrsa  refrangibili- 
tate,  Dissertatio.  The  works  of  Algarotti  were  publish- 
ed in  10  vols.  8vo,  in  1791.     (»•) 

ALGARVA,  Algarvia,  Alcarvez,  is  the  most 
southern  province  of  Portugal,  and  still  retains  the  title 
of  a  kingdom.  It  is  bounded  on  the  south  and  west  by 
the  Atlantic  ocean  ;  on  the  east  by  the  Guadiana,  which 
separates  it  from  Andalusia ;  and,  on  the  north,  it  is 
separated  from  Alentejo,  by  a  broken  chain  of  moun- 
tains, called  Scrra  de  Algarve,  and  Scrra  tie  Monrhiguc, 
which  extend  from  Villa  do  Bispo  to  (he  Guiidiina,  and 
are  composed  of  sand-stone  and  argillaceous  schislus. 
These  wild  and  barren  mountains  are  separated  by  nar- 
row valleys,  from  a  chain  of  low  hut  steep  limestone 
mountains,  uncultivated,  and  covered  with  loose  stones, 
which  extend  from  Oape  St.  Viacent  to  Tavira,  where 


ALG 


ALG 


399 


they  terminate  in  a  narrow  strip  of  cultivated  land, 
reaching  to  the  sea,  on  which  are  built  most  of  the  towns 
and  villages  of  Algarva.  The  hills  grow  constantly  flat- 
ter towards  Cape  St.  Vincent,  and  the  promontory  it- 
self, consisting  of  gray  limestone,  is  so  bare  and  rug- 
ged, that  it  is  difficult  to  travel  over  it.  The  sea-coast 
is  bold  and  rocky,  rising  occasionally  to  a  height  of  80 
feet.  This  province,  which  is  90  miles  long,  and  201 
broad,  is  in  general  well  cultivated;  but,  at  a  distance 
of  two  leagues  from  the  coast,  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but 
barren  hills.  Though  the  consumption  of  corn  exceeds 
the  produce  of  the  country,  yet  the  bread  in  Algarva  is 
superior  to  that  in  any  other  part  of  Portugal.  The  oil 
is  also  of  a  superior  quality,  and  is  exported  in  great 
quantities.  Contrary  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  all 
the  wine  is  white.  The  principal  produce  of  Algarva 
is  tigs,  which  are  exported  when  dried ;  and  almonds 
grow  in  great  quantities  round  Tavira,  where  there  is 
also  much  garden  fruit,  Spanish  reeds,  and  flax.  With 
the  exception  of  Greece,  Algarva  is  the  only  country 
that  practises  caprification,  or  the  method  of  ripening 


the  domestic  fig  by  the  puncturing  of  gnats.  This  pro- 
vince is  capable  of  great  improvement.  Excepting  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Faro,  there  are  no  high-roads  in 
the  province,  but  merely  paths  for  foot  passengers  and 
horses.  During  the  earthquake  at  Lisbon,  in  1755,  the 
sea  swelled  to  such  a  degree  that  it  passed  over  the 
creek  at  the  port  of  Sagres,  and  inundated  the  whole 
country.  The  inhabitants  of  Algarva  are  inferior  to  the 
rest  of  the  Portuguese  in  politeness  and  refinement, 
but  this  defect  is  compensated  by  superior  wit  and 
acuteness.  As  mariners,  they  are  unrivalled  by  any  of 
their  countrymen.  The  boatmen  of  Lisbon  are  chiefly 
Aigarvians,  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  the  inhabi- 
tants of  this  province  serving  in  the  navy  of  other  na- 
tions. The  chief  town  of  Algarva  is  properly  La- 
gos, though  the  governor,  along  with  a  provcdor,  re- 
sides at  Tavira.  The  population  of  this  province,  ac- 
cording to  the  enumeration  of  the  governor  in  1 780,  it 
03,472,  of  whom  6521  were  husbandmen,  and  5575  la- 
bourers. See  Liok'g  Travits  in  Portugal,  p.  334 — 
343.    (*) 


ALGEBRA. 


1.  The  science  of  algebra,  like  that  of  arithmetic,  is 
employed  in  reasoning  concerning  the  relations  which 
subsist  among  dilferent  quantities,  in  respect  of  their 
magnitudes.  In  both  sciences  the  quantities  treated  of 
are  expressed  by  symbols.  In  arithmetic,  these  are  the 
ten  numeral  characters;  but  in  algebra  they  may  be 
any  characters  whatever :  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
are,  however,  at  present,  always  used;  and  these  are 
employed  to  denote,  not  only  the  known  or  given  quan- 
tities, to  which  alone  the  arithmetical  notation  will  a|>- 
ply,  but  also  the  unknown  quantities,  or  such  as  are  re- 
quired to  be  found. 

2.  The  two  sciences  thus  agreeing  in  the  objects  of 
which  they  treat,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  in  their  rea- 
sonings being  carried  on  by  means  of  symbols,  they, 
of  course,  depend  upon  the  same  first  principles.  In- 
deed, such  is  their  connexion,  that  algebra  has  been 
denominated  universal  arithmetic,  a  name  which,  in 
some  respects,  is  proper  enough,  although  it  does  not 
completely  express  the  distinction  between  them ;  the 
essential  character  of  algebra  consisting  in  this,  that, 
■when  all  the  quantities  concerned  in  any  inquiry,  to 
which  it  is  applied,  are  denoted  by  general  symbols, 
the  results  of  its  operations  do  not,  like  those  of  arith- 
metic and  geometry,  give  the  individual  values  of  the 
quantities  soui«h},  but  only  show  what  are  the  arithmeti- 
cal, or  geometrical  operations,  which  ought  to  be  per- 
formed on  the  original  given  quantities,  in  order  to  de- 
termine these  values. 

HiSTORT. 

3.  The  earliest  writer  on  algebra,  whose  works  have 
descended  to  the  present  times,  was  Diophantus,  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  mathematicians  of  the  Alexan- 
drian school.  He  flourished  abSut  the  year  350  after 
Christ,  and  wrote  thirteen  books  in  the  Greek  language, 
on  algebra,'  or  arithmetic,  of  which,  however,  only  six 
are  at  present  extant,  and  an  imperfect  book  on  a  par- 
•ticular  class  of  numbers.  His  work  is  not  an  elemen- 
tary treatise  on  algebra,  but  only  collections  of  diffi- 


cult questions,  relative  to  square  and  cube 'numbers, 
and  other  curious  properties  of  numbers,  with  their 
solutions. 

It  is  not  possible  to  determine  whether  or  not  Dio- 
phantus himself  was  the  inventor  of  this  science.  It 
is  certain,  however,  that  he  was  deeply  skilled  in  it, 
although  we  cannot  exactly  say  to  what  extent.  It  ap- 
pears from  some  parts  of  his  work,  that  he  knew  the 
composition  of  the  third  and  fourth  powers  of  a  binomial 
quantity,  as  he  puts  down  all  their  terms.  He  also  men- 
tions a  compound  quadratic  equation ;  but  his  assump- 
tions and  notations  are  all  so  contrived,  as  to  produce 
i-imple  equations,  or  at  most,  pure  quadratics.  The 
celebrated  Hypatia.the  daughterof  Theon,  wrote  a  com- 
mentary on  his  writings,  which  however  is  lost.  Such 
of  his  works,  as  are  at  present  known,  were  found  in  the 
Vatican  library,  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. They  were  then  translated  into  Latin,  and  pulj- 
lished  with  a  commentary  by  Xylander,  in  1575.  But 
the  best  edition  of  his  works  is  that  published  in  1670, 
in  Greek  and  Latin,  with  a  commentary  by  Bachet,  and 
the  notes  of  Fermat. 

4.  Although  Diophantus  was  the  earliest  known  wri- 
ter on  algebra,  yet  it  was  not  from  him,  but  from  the 
Arabians  or  Moors,  that  the  science  was  first  received 
in  Europe.  It  is  not  certainly  known  how  they  became 
acquainted  with  it.  As,  however,  they  possessed  it  at 
nearly  asearly  a  period  as  the  other  sciences,  which  they 
certainly  received  from  the  Greeks,  they  probably  de- 
rived their  knowledge  of  algebra  from  Diophantus,  or 
other  Greek  writers.  Some,  however,  have  supposed, 
that  they  had  it  from  the  Persians,  and  these  again  from 
the  Indians,  as  well  as  the  arithmetical  method  of  com- 
puting by  ten  characters  or  figures ;  and  this  opinion  is 
founded  upon  the  Arabians  having,  in  denominating 
the  powers  of  quantities,  adopted  a  different  method 
from  that  of  Diophantus.  The  Arabians  themselves 
ascribe  the  invention  of  the  science  to  a  writer  of  their 
own  country,  one  Mahomet  ben  Musa,  or  son  of  Mo- 
ses, who,  it  seems,  flourished  about  the  eighth  or  ninth 
ceutwy.    It  is  more  likely,  however,  that  he  was  not 


400 


ALGEBRA. 


the  invcuiov,  but  Only  a  person  well  skilled  in  the  art. 
And,  upon  the  whole,  the  first  opinion  we  have  men- 
tioned seems  the  most  probable,  namely,  that  algebra, 
like  its  kindred  sciences,  geometry  and  astronomy, 
passed  from  Greece  into  Arabia ;  and,  in  this  last 
country  it  certainly  received  the  name  it  now  bears, 
the  exact  etymology  of  wluch,  however,  is  not  exactly 
known. 

5.  We  do  not  precisely  know  the  extent  of  the  pro- 
gress which  the  Arabians  made  in  algebra ;  but  it  is  said 
that,  in  the  Leyden  library,  there  is  an  Arabian  manu- 
script, entitled,  The  Algebra  of  Cubic  Equations,  or  the 
•Solution  of  solid  Prebletns.  If  this  be  true,  they  must 
have  gone  further  than  Diophantns,  who  does  not  ap- 
pear to  have  advanced  beyond  equations  of  the  second 
degree. 

C.  From  the  East,  algebra  was  first  brought  into  Italy 
by  one  Leonard,  a  rich  merchant  of  Pisa,  who  tangbt  it 
to  his  countrymen  about  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth 
century. .  I\Ir.  Cotsali,  a  canon  of  Parma^has  of  late  years 
tiiscovered  and  quoted  a  manuscript  by  Leonard,  which 
(3  dated  1202,  and  which  was  enlarged,  and  re-written  iq 
1223,  It  appears  from  this,  that  he  was  very  skilful  in 
algeBra,  paillcularly  in  problems  of  the  kind  treated  by 
Diophautus ;  and  the  extract  which  Mr.  Cossali  has  given, 
shows,  that  the  author  had  proceeded  as  far  as  the  re- 
jolutioQ  of  cubic  equations,  and  those  of  higher  pow«r3 
vsapable  of  being  reduced  to  the  second  or  third  degree. 

7.  The  first  printed  treatise  on  algebra  was  given  to 
the  world  by  Lucas  Pacciolus,  or  Lucas  de  Borgo,  a 
Franciscan  monk,  in  a  work  published  in  1494,  entitled, 
Sumnia  de  ArilhTnetica,  Geotnetrica,  Proportiotii,  et  Pro^ 
portionalita.  At  this  time,  the  analytical  works  of  Lett-, 
uard  of  Pisa,  which  have  always  remained  in  manuscript, 
must  have  been  absolutely  unknown,  even  in  Italy ;  for 
Lucas  de  Borgo's  work,  which  may  be  considered  as 
exhibiting  the  state  of  the  science  at  that  perio<l,  is  con- 
fined to  the  complete  resolution  of  equations  of  the  first 
and  second  order.  It  also  appears,  that,  at  this  period, 
only  the  positive  roots  were  used,  and  only  one  unknown 
quantity ;  and  that  there  were  no  marks  or  dgns  for 
either  quantities  or  operations,  excepting  a  few  abbre- 
viations of  the  words  or  names  themselves  ;  and  lastly, 
that  the  art  was  only  employed  in  resolving  certaiit  nu- 
meral problems. 

8.  About  the  year  1 505,  Scipio  Fcrreus,  a  professor 
of  mathematics  at  Bologna,  found  a  rule  for  resolving 
one  case  of  cubic  equations.  But  he  kept  his  discovery 
secret,  according  to  the  custom  of  that  age,  with  a  view 
to  perplex  his  rivals,  by  proposing  to  them  hard  qties- 
tious,  which,  from  their  ignorance  of  his  rule,  they  could 
not  resolve. 

9.  Alx>ut  the  year  1535^  the  same  rule,  as  also  the 
rules  for  other  cases,  were  discovered  by  Nicolas  Tar-? 
taglia,  or  Tartalea,  of  Brescia,  who,  in  the  year  1539, 
communicated  them,  but  without  their  demonstrations, 
to  Hieronymus  Cardan  of  Bononia,  at  his  earnest  re- 
quest, and  under  the  strictest  injunctions,  and  even  an 
oath  of  secrecy.  Notwithstanding  this  promise,  Canlan, 
having  by  his  own  exertions  and  those  of  his  disciple 
Lewis  Ferrari,  discovered  their  demonstrations,  and 
also  greatly  extendc<l  and  improved  them,  he  published 
them  to  the  world,  in  his  book  De  Arte  Magrut,  «  bicli 
came  out  in  the  year  1345;  a  work  which,  besides  a 
very  full  and  complete  treatise  on  cubic  equations,  con- 
tains many  othei*  iroprovcnu-nts  and  discoveries  in  the 


science,  and,  in  particiriar,  arulejuvestlgated  byLewLf 
Ferrari,  for  resolving  equations  of  the  fourth  order. 

Tartalea  also  printed,  in  1550,  a  work  on  arithmetic, 
geometry,  and  algebra;  but  this  last  subject  is  carried 
no  further  than  quadratic  equations,  owing  to  the  death 
of  the  author,  which  happened  before  it  was  completed. 

10.  Our  limits  permit  us  to  mention  only  such  writers 
as  have  contributed  essentially  to  the  progress  of  alge- 
bra ;  and  of  this  number  was  Vieta,  a  French  mathema- 
tician, who  wrote  about  the  year  1 600.  The  improve- 
ments he  made  in  the  science  were  numerous  and  great. 
He  was  the  first  who  introduced  tlie  use  of  symbols  to 
denote,  not  only  the  unknown,  but  also  the  known  quan- 
tities ;  thus  giving  to  algebra  that  degree  of  generality, 
which  constitutes  its  chief  excellence  :  he  showed  also 
how  to  transform  equations  into  others,  so  as  to  prepare 
them  for  resolution;  he  gave  new  and  ingenious  resolu- 
tions of  equations  of  the  third  and  fourth  order;  he 
showed  how  the  roots  of  certain  equations  might  be  ex- 
hibited by  means  of  a  section  of  an  angle,  which,  how- 
ever, had  been  before  adverted  to  by  Bembelli,  an  Ita- 
lian mathematician  ;  but  his  chief  improvement  was,  the 
method  he  gave  for  approximating  to  the  roots  of  equa- 
tions of  all  orders. 

11.  T  he  next  great  improver  of  algebra  was  our  coun- 
tryman Harriot,  who  probably  wrote  about  1610,  but 
whose  works  did  not  appear  (ill  1 631,  ten  years  after  his 
death.  To  him  we  are  indebted  for  the  important  dis^ 
covery,  that  every  equation  whatever,  is  the  product  of 
as  many  simple  equations,  or  factors,  as  there  are  units 
in  the  number  expressing  its  degree;  a  theorem  ex- 
tremely fertile  in  consequences,  and  the  foundation  of 
some  of  the  most  extensive  theories  in  mathematics. 

12.  The  celebrated  philosopher  Descartes  also  made 
several  improvements  in  the  science.  In  |)articular,  be 
was  the  first  who  clearly  explained  the  nature  of  the 
negative  roots  of  an  equation ;  and  he  found  a  rule  for 
determining,  in  the  case  of  equations  having  all  their 
roots  real,  how  many  of  these  were  positive,  ami  how 
many  negative.  He  also  showed  the  use  which  might 
be  made  of  the  assumption  of  indeterminate  quantities, 
which  had  been  but  obscurely  indicated  by  Vieta.  But 
the  greatest  improvement  he  made,  was  his  applying; 
algebra  to  the  geometry  of  curve  lines ;  for,  by  this  union 
of  the  sciences  of  algebra  and  geometry,  the  form  of  (he 
latter  has  been  completely  changed,  and  the  most  im- 
portant discoveries  made  in  it.  The  writings  of  Uesr 
cartes  on  algebra  are  contained  in  his  Geometrica,  pub- 
lished for  the  first  time  in  1637  ;  but  to  the  later  editions 
are  added  a  commentary  by  Schooten,  and  notes  by 
Beaune,  as  well  as  other  tracts. 

13.  Next  to  Descartes,  we  m.\v  mention  Fermat,  bis 
contemporary  and  rival  in  the  career  of  discovery ;  lor 
this  excellent  hiathematician  had  treated  of  the  applica- 
tion of  algebra  to  the  theory  of  curve  lines,  before  Des- 
cartes's Geometry  appeared.  He  wasalso  deeply  learned 
in  the  class  of  problems  treated  by  Diophantus ;  and  the 
best  edition  of  the  works  of  the  celebrated  ancient,  is 
that  which  is  enriched  with  Fermat's  notes. 

14.  From  this  periwi,  the  writers  on  algebra  became 
too  numerous  to  be  all  noticed  in  the  ehort  skttch  to 
which  we  must  confiirf  ourselves.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
almost  every  one  of  that  consteJIationof  ranthematicians, 
which  adorned  the  aeventoenth  and  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  centuries,  contributed  more  or  less  to  its 
improTemen!:  rs  Scho<»(t  n,  Hiiy5'?ns,  Siusius,  Mcrcator, 


ALGEBRA. 


401 


Leibhitz,  and  many  other  foreign  mathematicians;  and, 
in  Britain,  we  may  reckon  Wallis,  Gregory,  Brouncker, 
Barrow,  Halley,  Cotes,  Raph»on,  Demoivre,  and  parti- 
cularly Newton,  who  furnished  the  science  with  one  of 
its  most  powerful  instruments  of  analysis,  namely,  his 
binomial  theorem.  At  a  later  period,  we  have  to  reckon 
among  its  improvers,  Taylor,  Nicole,  Maclaurin,  Clai- 
raut,  Euler,  (Waring,  Maseres,)  Lagrange,  Legendrc, 
Laplace,  &c. 

1 5.  The  treatises  on  algebra  which  hare  appeared  are 
innumerable.  The  following,  however,  may,be  reckon- 
ed as  belonging  to  the  best  class:' — Newton's  Jrrtftnwiica 
Universalis;  Sanderson's  Algebra;  Clairaut's  Elancns 
(TAlgebre ;  Maclaurin's  Algebra;  Simpson's  Algebra; 
Euler's  Elements  of  Algebra,  (an  English  translation  ;) 
[Hale's  Analysis  /Equationum ;]  La  Croix's  Ellinens 
aAlgehre;  L'Huillier's  Elemens  Raisonnes  iTAlgebre ; 
Wood's  Algebra, 

16.  The  rules  of  arithmetic  being  continually  wanted 
in  the  application  of  algebra,  in  treating  of  the  latter  we 
must  necessarily  suppose  the  reader  acquainted  with  the 
principles  of  the  former,  as  far  as  relates  to  the  method 
of  notation,  the  rules  of  addition,  subtraction,  multipli- 
cation, and  division,  and  the  theories  of  vulgar  and  deci- 
mal fractions;  all  which  he  will  find  explained  in  the 
article  Arithmetic.  With  this  preliminary  knowledge 
he  may  read  whatever  is  delivered  in  the  following  trea- 
tise relating  to  pure  algebra,  or  to  its  applications  to 
numbers;— but  to  understand  that  part  which  treats  of 
its  application  to  geometry,  it  is  equally  necessary  that 
he  be  acquainted  with  the  elements  of  that  science. 

1 7^  Although  a  knowledge  of  geometry  be  required, 
in  order  to  be  able  to  understand  the  nature  of  those 
applications  which  are  made  of  algebra  to  that  science, 
yet  it  must  be  observed,  that  the  principles  of  algebra 
are  independent  of  geometry,  and  may  be  explained 
without  any  reference  to  it ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
principles  of  geometry  are  equally  independent  of  alge- 
bra. The  notation  and  mwle  of  reasoning,  however, 
employed  in  algebra,  may  sometimes  be  employed  with 
advantage  in  geometry ;  and  of  this  circumstance  we 
shall  avail  ourselves  when  we  come  to  treat  of  that 
science. 

Definitions  and  Principles. 

18.  In  arithmetic  there  are  ten  characters,  which,  be- 
ing variously  combined,  according  to  certain  detenni'- 
nate  rules,  serve  to  express  all  known  numbers  what- 
ever : — and  as  the  characters  themselves,  as  well  as  the 
rules  by  which  they  are  combined,  are  conventional,  the 
»ame  number  is  always  expressed  by  the  same  charac- 
ter, or  combination  of  characters.  In  like  manner  in 
algebra,  all  quantities  whatever  are  also  denoted  by  cha- 
racters or  symbols ;  but  here  the  characters  are  altoge- 
ther arbitrary,  and  instead  of  being  employed  to  denote 
only  known  quantities,  as  in  arithmetic,  they  are  alike 
employed  to  denote  the  given  or  known  quantities  in 
any  question,  and  the  quantities  which  are  required,  or 
Unknown.  In  some  cases  the  known  quantities  will  be 
most  conveniently  expressed  by  the  common  numeral 
characters,  as  in  arithmetic ;  but  in  others,  it  will  be 
better  to  represent  both  the  known  and  unknown  quan- 
tities by  other  symbols.  The  letters  of  the  alphabet  are 
Usually  employed  for  this  pur|)ose  ;  those  at  the  begin- 
ning, viz.  a,  b,  c,  &c.  being  put  for  known  quautitiest 

Vol.  I.    Part  H- 


and  those  at  the  Cod,  viz.  S,  y,  x,  &c.  for  such  as  are 
unknown. 

19.  There  are  also  certain  arbitrary  signs  employed 
to  express  the  relations  of  quantities  to  one  another,  and 
the  operations  which  may  be  performed  on  them. 

The  relation  of  equality  is  represented  by  the  sign 
«=,  which  means  eqtud.  Thus,  a=b  signifieg  that  the 
quantity  represented  by  the  symbol  a  is  equal  to  another 
quantity  represented  by  the  symbol  6:  Or,  to  gpeak 
more  concisely,  the  quantity  a  is  equal  to  the  quantity  6. 

20.  The  two  signs,  >  and  < ,  are  employed  to  de- 
note inequality.  Thus,  o>6  signifies  that  the  quantity 
a  is  greater  than  the  quantity  b ;  and  a<  6  signifies  that 
the  quantity  a  is  less  than  the  quantity  6. 

21.  The  sum  of  two  or  more  quantities  is  expressed 
by  writing  the  quantities,  one  after  another,  with  the 
sign  +  (which  is  read  plus,)  interposed  between  them. 
Thus,  3+7  means  the  sum  of  3  and  7,  or  10  :  Also,  a-\-h 
means  the  sum  of  the  quantities  a  and  b ;  and  c+rf+y, 
means  the  sum  of  the  quantities  c,  d,  and/. 

22.  The  difTerence  between  two  quantities  is  expres- 
sed by  writing  the  quantity  to  be  subtracted  after  the 
other,  with  the  sign  —  (which  is  rea<l  minus,)  between 
them.  Thus,  8 — 5  means  the  diflference  between  8  and 
5,  or  3.  Also,  a — b  denotes  the  excess  of  the  quantity 
a  above  the  quantity  b. 

23.  If  several  quantities  are  to  be  added,  and  others 
to  be  subtracted  from  the  sum,  the  quantities  may  be 
written  one  after  another  in  any  order,  observing  to  pre- 
fix the  sign  +  to  such  as  are  to  be  added,  and  the  sign 
—  to  those  to  be  subtracted.  If,  for  example,  the  num- 
bers 5  and  8  are  to  be  added  together,  and  the  numbef 
3  subtracted  from  the  sum,  these  operations  may  be  in- 
dicated thus,  +  5+8 — 3;  or  thus,  +5 — 3+8;  or  thus, 
— 3+5  +  8.  If,  however,  the  quantity  which  stands  first 
is  one  of  those  to  be  added,  it  is  usual  to  omit  its  sign; 
Thus,  5+8 — 3  means  the  same  thing  as  +5+8 — 3.  So, 
in  like  manner,  +a — fc+c — d,  (which  signifies  that  the 
quantities  b  and  d  are  to  be  subtracted  from  the  sum  of 
a  and  c,)  may  be  aho  written  simply  thus,  a — i+c — rf; 
or  thus,  c-{-a — b — d ;  or  thus,  — b-\-a-{-c — d. 

24.  The  signs  +  and  — ,  besides  serving  to  denote 
that  the  operations  of  addition  and  subtraction  are  to  be 
performed  on  quantities,  may  also  be  coi'.sidered  as  ex- 
pressing the  state  or  condition  in  which  the  quantities 
represented  by  the  symbols  to  which  they  are  prefixed 
exist  in  respect  of  each  other.  To  illustrate  this,  let  us 
consider  some  determinate  species  of  quantity,  for  ex- 
ample, a  man's  property,  or  what  he  is  worth;  and 
which  is  to  be  estimated  by  taking  into  account  the  ef- 
fects in  his  possession,  and  the  delits  due  to  him  on  the 
one  hand  ;  and  on  the  other,  the  debts  which  he  owes. 
Now,  whether  we  conceive  him  as  entitled  to  receive 
lOOi.  from  another  person,  or  as  incurring  a  debt  to  the 
amount  of  100/.  in  either  case  the  change  in  the  state 
of  his  property  is  the  same  as  to  quantity,  and  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  same  sjmbol,  namely,  100;  but  the 
nature  or  kind  of  change  in  the  one  case  is  just  the  re- 
verse of  what  it  is  in  the  other,  seeing  that,  in  the  for- 
mer, it  serves  to  increase  his  property,  but,  in  the  latter, 
to  diminish  it.  Let  a  denote  the  number  of  pounds  the 
person  is  worth  before  this  change ;  then,  in  conformity 
to  the  notation  explained  in  last  article,  in  the  event  of 
his  being  entitled  to  receive  100/.  his  property  isa+lOO; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  if  he  has  incurred  a  debt  of  100/. 
it  is  a— loo.  Now,  as  these  expres.sions  for  the  two 
states  of  his  property  differ  from  each  other  only  in  thri 

3£ 


402 


ALGEBRA'. 


sign  prefixed  to  the  number  denoting  the  magnitude  of 
the  change,  it  being  in  the  one  case  +  (plus,)  and  in  the 
other  —  (minus,)  we  may  consider  these  signs  as  indica- 
ting the  nature  of  the  change  itself,  in  either  case,  and 
gay,  that  in  the  former  it  is  +100,  but  in  the  latter  it  is 
-r-100.  Again,  let  us  suppose  that  a  man's  effects  are 
worth  100/.  but  that  he  also  owes  lOOl.;  then,  because 
of  the  equality  of  these  two  sums,  we  may  fitly  express 
his  absolute  worth  by  the  character  0,  or  nothing.  Let 
us  next  suppose,  that,  instead  of  owing  lOOl.  he  only 
owes  60Z.  then,  because  his  effects  exceed  his  debts  by 
40/.  in  estimating  his  worth,  we  may  employ  the  num- 
ber 40  to  denote  its  quantity,  and  prefix  the  sign  +> 
making  it  +40,  to  indicate  the  nature  of  that  excess,  or 
that  it  will  increase  any  jjroperty  he  may  afterwards  ac- 
quire. If,  however,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  owed 
140/.  then,  as  the  difference  between  his  effects  and 
debts  are  in  this  case  the  same  as  before,  in  expressing 
numerically  the  state  of  his  affairs,  we  may  employ  the 
same  characters,  viz.  40,  as  before,  but  prefix  the  sign 
■ —  thus,  — 40,  thereby  indicating  that  this  difference  is 
of  such  a  nature  as  to  diminish  the  property  he  may  in 
future  acquire ;  an  effect  just  the  reverse  of  that  pro- 
duced in  the  other  case. 

25.  There  are  various  other  kinds  of  quantity  to 
which  the  same  mode  of  illustration  will  equally  apply. 
Thus,  if  a  star  be  elevated  10  degrees  above  the  hori- 
zon, we  may  indicate  its  position,  in  respect  of  the  hori- 
zon, by  +  10" ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  if  it  he  depressed 
12  degrees  below  it,  we  may  say  that  its  distance  from 
the  hdrizon  is  —  1 2°.  Similar  remarks  may  be  made  re- 
garding the  latitude  of  a  place  on  the  globe,  which  may 
be  either  north  or  south,  in  respect  of  the  equator ;  or 
its  longitude,  which  may  be  east  or  west,  in  respect  of 
some  determinate  meridian. 

26.  A  quantity,  having  the  sign  +  (plus,)  either  pre- 
fixed to  it,  or  understood  to  be  perfixed,  with  a  view  to 
indicate  its  nature  in  respect  to  some  other  quantity,  (as 
explained  in  the  two  last  §§,)  is  said  to  be  positive  ;  but  it 
is  said  to  be  rwgativc  if  it  has  the  sign  —  (minus.)  Thus, 
in  estimating  a  man's  properly,  the  debts  due  to  him  may 
be  considered  as  positive  quantities,  but  the  debts  he 
owes,  as  negative  quantities.  Also,  a  force  acting  in 
some  determinate  direction  being  considered  as  positive, 
a  force  acting  in  the  contrary  direction  may  be  reckon- 
ed negative  ;  and  so  of  other  quantities.  It  is,  however, 
if  not  absolutely  necessary,  at  least  often  convenient,  to 
apply  the  terms  positive  and  negative  to  abstract  num- 
bers, or  symbols,  without  imn»ediately  considering  the 
particular  nature  of  the  quantities  which  these  symbols 
represent.  Thus,  in  a  complex  expression  of  calcula- 
tion, such  as  a+i — c — d,  the  quantities  b  and  a,  having 
the  one  the  sign  +  prefixed  to  it,  and  the  other  the 
same  sign  understood,  may  be  regarded  as  positive ; 
while  the  quantities  c  and  d,  having  both  the  sign  —  be- 
fore them,  may  be  considered  as  negative. 

27.  A  niunber  prefixed  to  a  letter  is  called  its  co- 
efiScient,  and  shows  how  often  the  quantity  represented 
by  the  letter  is  to  be  taken.  Thus,  2a  means  that  the 
quantity  a  is  to  be  taken  twice  ;  'da,  that  it  is  to  be  taken 
thrice,  and  so  on.  If  there  be  no  number  prefixed  to  the 
letter,  the  coefficient  is  understood  to  be  unity;  thus 
the  coefficient  of  a  is  1 . 

28.  The  product  of  two  or  more  quantities  is  some- 
times expressed  by  placing  the  sign  X  between  them. 
Thus,  3X5  means  the  product  of  3  and  5,  or  15;  also 
aX6  means  the  product  of  «  by  b.    If,  however,  tbc 


quantities  to  be  multiplied  are  expressed  by  letters,  their 
product  is  indicated  by  joining  them  together  like  a 
word  ;  thus  ab  means  the  product  of  the  quantities  a  and 
b  ;  and  cde  means  the  product  of  c,  d,  and  e. 

29.  The  quotient  arising  from  the  division  of  one 
quantity  by  another  is  sometimes  denoted  by  [dacing  the 
sign  —  between  the  dividend  (which  stands  first,)  and 
the  divisor.  Thus,  a-r-b  means  that  a  is  divided  by  b ; 
also,  (c-{-d)~r[e—f)  means,  that  the  sum  of  c  and  d 
is  divided  by  the  difference  between  e  and/.  It  is,  how- 
ever, more  common  to  express  the  quotient  in  the  form 

a 
of  a  fraction,  thus  -j-  means    the    same   as  a-~-b ;  and 


means  the  same  as  (c-\-<r)-~r(e — ■/.) 


c+d 

«-/ 

30.  Quantities  denoted  by  the  same  letter  or  letters,, 

and  which  differ  from  each  other  only  in  their  coeffi- 
cients and  signs,  are  said  to  be  like,  or  similar.  Thus, 
3a  and  ba  are  like  quantities  :  so  also  are  7  ab  and  —  11 
ah.  But  quantities  expressed  by  different  letters  are 
said  to  be  unlike ;  thus  a  and  b,  also  cd  and  ef,  are  un- 
like quantities. 

31.  A  complex  quantity  is  said  to  consist  of  as  many 
terms  as  it  has  parts  joined  by  the  signs  +  and  — .  If 
it  consist  of  one  term  only,  as  a,  it  is  sometimes  called 
a  monomial ;  if  it  consist  of  two,  as  «+6,  it  is  called  a 
binomial  J  if  it  have  three,  as  a-{-b-\-c,  it  is  called  a 
trinomial ;  and  if  it  consist  of  many  terms,  as  a — Zi+c — d 
■\-e,  &c.  it  is  called  a  multinomial,  m  a  polynomial.  Al- 
so, a  quantity  is  said  to  be  simple,  if  it  consist  of  only 
one  term ;  but  compound,  if  it  consist  of  two  or  more 
terms. 

The  remaining  characters  employed,  and  terms  of  the  . 
science,  will  be  explained  as  they  occur. 

Sect.  I.     FundatnerUal  Operations. 

32.  The  fundamental  operations  of  algebra,  like  those 
of  arithmetic,  are,  addition,  sul.traction,  multiplication, 
and  division.  We  begin  with  the  first  of  these,  namely,, 
addition.^ 

Of  Addition. 

33.  When  the  quantities  to  be  added  are  represented 
by  different  letters,  and  have  no  assigned  relations  ta 
each  other,  then,  in  conformity  to  the  notation  laid  down 
in  §  21,  their  sum  will  be  expressed  by  writing  the 
quantities,  one  after  another,  with  the  sign  +  between 
them.  Thus,  the  sum  of  the  quantities  a,  b,  2c,  and  5d, 
will  be  fl+J+3c+5d  But  this  is  evidently  uotliing 
more  than  an  application  of  the  rules  of  nutation. 

If  the  quantities  to  be  added  are  like,  (§  30.)  as,  for 
example,  a,  3a,  5a,  and  8a,  then  their  sum  will  evidently 
be  expressed  by  i)refixing  the  sum  of  their  coeflicients 
to  the  common  letter  or  letters.  Thus  the  sum  of  the 
foregoing  quantities  is  17a. 

If  the  quantities,  besides  being  like,  are  also  of  such- 
a  nature  as  to  admit  of  being  considered  as  positive  or 
negative,  (§  26.)  then,  in  estimating  their  sum,  we  must 
also  take  into  account  the  sign  that  ought  to  lie  pre- 
fixed to  it.  Suppose  it  is  required  to  find  the  sum  of 
+a,  +3o,  and  -f-7a,  where  the  sign  +  denotes,  that 
the  quantities  have  the  nature  of  an  increment,  then,  as 
their  sum  will  also  be  an  increment,  it  will  evidently  be 
+  lla. 

Again,  suppose  the  sum  of  • —  36,  —  46,  and  —  106,  is 
sought,  where  the  sign  —  indicates  that  the  quantities 


ALGEBRA. 


408 


arc  decrements,  then,  their  sum  being  also  a  decrement, 
must  necessarily  be  — 176. 

34.  Hence  it  appears,  that,  to  add  together  like  quan- 
tities witli  like  signs,  we  must  add  together  the  coefR» 
cients,  and  prefix  tlie  common  sign  to  the  sum,  and  an- 
nex the  common  letter  or  letters. 

35.  If  it  be  required  to  add  together  like  quantities, 
which  are  partly  positive  and  partly  negative,  that  is, 
which  may  he  regarded  partly  as  increments  and  partly 
as  decrements,  (§  20.)  as,  for  example,  +  8a,  +  5a, — 3fl, 
and  —  a,  we  may,  in  the  first  place,  collect  all  the  incre- 
ments into  one  sum,  and  all  the  decrements  into  ano- 
ther; thus  we  shall  reduce  the  whole  to  two  quantities, 
namely  +  13a,  and  —  4a.  We  nmst  next  find  the  sum  of 
-+-  13a,  and —  4a,  or,  in  other  words,  we  must  find  what 
change  will  take  place  upon  any  proposed  quantity, 
if  it  receive  an  increment  of  13a,  and  at  the  same  time 
be  diminished  by  4a ;  now  the  result  will  evidently 
be  the  same  as  if  the  quantity  had  only  been  increased 
by  9a,  that  is,  by  the  difference  between  13a  and  4a. 

36.  Hence  we  may  conclude,  that  to  add  like  quanti- 
ties with  unlike  signs,  we  must  add  the  positive  coeffi- 
cients, if  there  be  several,  into  one  sum,  and  the  nega- 
tive ones  into  another;  we  must  next  subtract  the  les- 
ser sum  from  the  greater,  and  then  prefix  the  sign  of  the 
greater  to  the  remainder,  and  annex  the  common  letter 
or  letters. 

37.  From  what  has  been  just  shown,  it  will  appear, 
tliat  the  term  addiiion  is  taken  in  a  more  extensive 
sense  in  algebra  than  in  arithmetic  ;  and  that  it  is  an- 
alogous to  the  balance  which  is  struck  when  a  mer- 
chant makes  up  a  state  of  his  affairs ;  an  operation  in 
which  he  collects  his  eflects  and  the  debts  owing  to  him 
into  one  sum,  and  the  debts  he  owes  to  others  into  .mo- 
ther, and  takes  their  difference,  as  the  amount  of  his 
property,  if  the  former  exceed  the  latter ;  or  as  what 
he  is  behind  hand,  if  the  latter  exceed  the  former. 

38.  We  shall  now  add  a  few  examples  to  show  the 
application  of  these  rules : 

Ex.  1.  Required  the  sum  of  x,  3j:,  and  7x. 

Here  the  quantities  are  like,  and  have  like  signs ; 
therefore,  by  \  34,  the  coefficient  of  the  sum  is  1  +  3  -j- 
7  =  11,  and  the  sura  itself  is  llx. 

Ex.  2.  Required  the  sum  of  —  bb,  —  Zh,  —106  and 
—  206. 

Here  also  the  quantities  are  like,  and  have  like  signs : 
therefore  the  coefficient  of  the  sum  is  5  -j-  3  +  10  +  20 
=  38,  and  sum  itself  —  386. 

Ex.  3.  Required  the  sum  of  14a,  5a,  —  a,  and —  12a. 

Here  the  quantities  are  like,  but  have  unlike  signs  ; 
therefore,  by  §  36,  we  find  the  sum  of  the  positive  coeffi- 
cients =  19,  and  the  sum  of  the  negative  coefficients  = 
13,  which  being  less  than  the  former,  the  answer  is  a 
positive  quantity.  Now  the  difference  of  these  sums 
is  0  ;  therefore,  prefixing  the  sign  +  to  this  number, 
and  joining  the  common  letter,  wc  have  +  Ga,  or  sim- 
ply 6a  for  the  answer. 

Ex.  4.  Required  the  sum  of  3a6,  5a5,  and  —  10rt6. 

Here  8,  the  amount  ot  the  positive  coefficient,  is  less 
by  2  than  10,  the  negative  coefficient;  therefore  the 
Answer  is  —  2a6, 

,^  Ex.  5.  Required  the  sum  of  these  compound  quantities, 

4+Gx — 31/ — Ss 
7y—d+5x+^Z. 

iiz-l-s^-fi; 


In  this  example,  before  we  proceed  to  find  the  sum, 
it  will  be  proper  to  arrange  the  quantities  anew,  so  that 
like  terms  may  stand  under  each  other,  thus, 

4+6t — 3y — 8* 
— 8-i-5x+7i/+98 
17  +  11X+3?/— g 
The  sum  is  13+22x+7j/ 

Here,  the  terms  being  so  arranged  that  like  quantities 
are  found  in  the  same  vertical  column,  we  find  the  sums 
of  each  by  the  application  of  the  foregoing  rules,  prefix- 
ing to  the  result  their  proper  signs.  And  as  the  amount 
of  the  negative  terms  containing  z  is  exactly  equal  to 
the  positive  term,  the  two  kinds  of  terms  destroy  each 
other ;  and  thus  s  is  not  found  in  the  final  expression 
for  the  sum. 

39.  Although  it  be  a  matter  of  indifference  in  what 
order  the  terms  of  a  compound  expression  are  placed, 
provided  each  have  its  proper  sign,  yet,  for  the  sake  of 
uniform  arrangement,  it  may  be  convenient  to  place 
them  so  that  the  letters  may  stand  in  the  order  of  the 
alphabet.  ' 

0/  Subtraction. 

40.  As  addition  shows  how  the  sum  of  two  quantities 
may  be  found  when  each  of  them  is  given,  so,  on  the 
contrary,  sulitraction  teaches  how,  from  the  sum  being 
given,  and  also  one  of  the  quantities,  the  other  may  be 
found.  Now,  according  to  the  extended  sense  in  which 
the  term  ailtlitioii  is  understood  in  algebra,  a  sum  may 
be  formed  by  the  union  of  quantities  which  are  indiffer- 
ently positive  or  negative ;  therefore,  also  in  subtrac- 
tion the  quantity  to  be  subtracted  may  be  positive,  ot 
it  may  be  negative. 

41.  Let  a  denote  any  quantity  whatever,  positive  or 
negative ;  also  let  p,  or  -|-  p,  denote  a  positive  quantity, 
and  —  q-A  negative  quantity.  Then,  because  the  quan- 
tity a  may  be  considered  as  the  sum  of  these  two  quan- 
tities -{-  p  and  a  —  />,  and  because  that  if  from  the  sum 
of  two  quantities  one  of  them  he  subtracted,  the  other 
quantify  is  the  remainder,  it  follows,  that  if  from  a,  the 
quantity  +  p  be  subtracted,  the  remainder  is  a — p. 

Again,  because  a  may  be  also  considered  as  the  sum 
of  these  two  quantities,  —  q  and  a  +  q,  it  follows,  that 
if  from  a  we  subtract  —  q,  the  remainder  is  necessarily 
a  +  q. 

Since  the  quantity  a — p,  which  we  have  just  now 
shown  to  be  the  proper  expression  for  the  excess  of  the 
quantity  a  above  the  quantify  +  p,  is  also,  from  the  na- 
ture of  addition,  the  expression  for  the  sum  of  the  quan- 
tities a  and — p  ;  and  since  +p  may  be  regarded  as  an 
increment,  and  —  />  as  a  decrement,  it  follows,  that  to 
subtract  an  increment  from  any  quantity  is  the  same 
thing  in  effect  as  to  add  an  equal  decrement.  And  since 
a  -{-  q,  which  has  been  shown  to  be  the  expression  for 
the  excess  of  the  quantity  a  above  the  quantity  —  q,  is 
also  the  expression  for  the  sum  of  a  and  +  q,  we  may 
hence  infer,  that  to  subtract  a  decrement  for  any  quan- 
tity is  the  same  thing  as  to  add  an  equal  increment. 
Hence  we  derive  the  following  general  rule  for  sub- 
traction. 

42.  Change  the  signs  of  the  terms  of  the  quantity  to 
be  subtracted  into  the  contrary  signs,  or  conceive  theni 
to  be  so  changed ;  then  add  the  quantity,  having  its 
signs  thus  changed,  to  the  other  quantify  from  which  it 
was  to  be  subtracted,  by  the  rules  for  addition. 
3E2 


404 


ALGEBRA. 


ProDi 
Subtract 


From 
Subtract 


Example  1. 
+  7a  ^  or,  changing  the  )  To     la 
I  add — 4a 


+4a  ^        sign  of  4a, 


The  remainder  is    +3a 
Ex.  2. 
— lOx  >  or,  changing  ^  To    — \0x 
—12*  J      the  sign,      ^  add    +12* 

The  remainder  is        2x 


In  these  two  examples  we  have  actually  changed  the 
sign  of  the  quantity  to  be  subtracted ;  in  tlie  following, 
we  shall  suppose  the  reader  to  change  the  signs  mental- 
ly, as  he  goes  along. 


Ex.3. 
From         +8a6 
Subtract   —  (U> 


Ex.4. 
From        — lax 
Subtract    +3ax 


Remainder  +  Qab 

Ex.  5. 

From        a+6 
Subtract   a — b 


From 
Subtract 


Remainder — 1  Oa* 
Ex.  6. 
12x — 3^+5s— 7 
5a:+4i/+52+4 


Remainder       26         Remainder  Tx — 7j/       — 11 
Of  Multiplication. 

43.  The  term  multiplication  has  the  same  meaning  in 
algebra  as  in  arithmetic ;  it  signifies  that  the  multipli- 
cand, or  quantity  to  be  multiplied,  is  to  be  taken  a  cer- 
tain number  of  limes,  or  as  often  as  unity  is  contained  in 
the  multiplier;  so  that  while  the  former  may  be  a  quan- 
tity of  any  kind  whatever,  the  latter  can  only  be  an  ab- 
stract number.  In  algebra,  however,  as  the  quantities 
to  be  multiplied  may  be  either  positive  or  negative,  the 
products  will  in  some  cases  be  positive,  and  in  others 
negative. 

44.  As  a  positive  quantity  taken  any  number  of  times 
is  a  positive  quantity,  and  a  negative  quantity  taken  any 
number  of  limes  is  a  negative  quantity  ;  therefore,  put- 
ting n  for- any  number,  the  product  arising  from  the  mul- 
tiplication of  any  positive  quantity  a  (that  is  +  a,)  by  n, 
and  which,  by  the  notation  laid  down  in  §  28.  is  tia,  must 
be  considered  as  having  the  sign  +,  or  must  be  a  posi- 
tive quantity.  Also,  the  product  arising  from  the  mul- 
tiplication of  —  b,  any  negative  quantity  by  n,  must  be 
—  nb,  a  negative  quantity. 

45.  When  the  multiplicand,  as  well  as  the  multiplier, 
is  regarded  merely  as  a  number,  then,  like  as  the  pro- 
duct of  3  multiplied  by  5  is  equal  to  the  product  of  5 
multiplied  by  3,  so,  in  general,  the  product  of  any  num- 
ber a,  multiplied  by  any  other  number  n,  is  equal  to  the 
product  of  n  multiplied  by  a ;  and  may  be  expressed 
indiBerently  by  tui  or  an. 

46.  When  the  quantities  to  be  multiplied  are  them- 
(elvea  products  ;  as  if  it  be  required  to  multiply  ab  by 
cd,  then,  proceeding  according  to  the  principles  of  multi- 
plication in  arithmetic,  the  product  of  the  quantities  is 
found  by  taking  the  continual  product  of  all  their  factors  : 
»o  that,  as  the  product  of  8  =  2  X  4,  and  1 5  =  3  x  5,  is 
identical  with  that  obtained  by  multiplying  anyoneof  the 
factors  2,  4,  3,  5,  Uy  all  the  others,  taken  in  any  order, 
in  like  manner,  the  product  of  ab  by  cd  will  be  abed, 
©r  bacd,  or  cbad,  &c.  the  letters  being  placed  in  any 
Order  whaterer. 


47.  Hence  it  appears,  that  if  the  quantities  to  be  mul- 
tiplied have  numeral  coefficients,  we  may  take  their  pro- 
duct and  prefix  it  as  a  coefficient  to  the  remaining  part 
of  the  expression  for  the  protluct  required.  Thus  th« 
product  of  6a  and  5n  will  be  30ara. 

48.  When  a  product  is  formed  by  the  multiplication 
of  any  quantity,  as  a,  by  itself,  although  it  may  be  ex- 
pressed thus,  aa,  yet,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  it  is  more 
common  to  write  it  thus,  a',  where  the  number  2  indi- 
cates how  often  the  factor  a  occurs  in  the  product.  So, 
in  like  manner,  instead  of  aaa,  which  denotes  a  product 
formed  by  multiplying  the  quantity  a  by  itself  twice,  it 
is  better  to  write  a'  ;  and  instead  of  aaaa,  to  write  a*, 
and  so  on. 

Agreeably  to  this  notation,  the  product  aaabbc,  ivill  be 
otherwise  written  thus,  a^b^c;  and  the  product  Saxxyg 
will  be  written  thus,  Sojc'ys. 

49.  The  number  which  is  thus  placed  to  the  right  of 
a  quantity,  and  a  little  above  it,  to  indicate  how  often  it 
enters  as  a  factor  in  a  product,  is  called  its  itidex  or  ex- 
ponent. In  the  expression  la'b^c,  which  is  equivalent 
to  Taabbbc,  the  index  or  exponent  of  a  is  2,  that  of  b  is 
3  ;  and  although  c  has  no  figure  placed  over  it,  yet  its 
exponent  is  understood  to  be  unity,  or  1 ,  and  it  might  b» 
written  thus,  e'.  The  exponent  of  a  quantity  must  be 
carefully  distinguished  from  \\.?.  coefficient ;  for,  by  at- 
tending to  the  definitions  of  these  terms,  it  will  imme- 
diately appear  that  2a  and  a'  mean  very  different 
things. 

50.  A  product,  formed  by  the  repeated  multiplication 
of  any  quantity  by  itself,  is  called  a  power  of  that  quan- 
tity. Thus  aa,  ora°,  is  a  power  of  a,  and  is  called  its 
second  power;  also  aaa,  ora^,  is  called  its  third  pow- 
er; and  so  on.  The  quantity  a  itself  is  considered  as 
having  unity  for  its  exponent,  and  is  therefore  called  the 
first  power  of  a. 

51.  Because  a'  is  just  another  expression  for  aa,anda* 
for  aaa,  therefore  the  product  of  a-  and  a^  is  equivalent 
to  the  product  of  aa  and  ooa;  that  is,  to  aaaaa,  which  is 
otherwise  more  briefly  exitressed  by  a'.  In  general,  the 
product  of  any  two  powers  of  the  same  quantity,  is  ex- 
pressed by  that  power  of  the  quantity  which  has  for  its 
exponent  the  sum  of  the  exponents  of  the  powers  to  be 
multiplied. 

52.  Let  the  product  arising  from  the  multiplication  of 
a  compound  quantity  a  +  b,  by  a  number  n,  be  required. 
Then,  because  a-\-b,  taken  twice,  is  2a  -f-  2b,  and,  taken 
thrice,  is  3a  +  36,  therefore,  in  general,  a  -f-  i  taken  R 
times,  is  na-\-nb.     That  is, 

i(a+b 
be  multiplied  by  n 

The  product  is  na+nb 

In  the  very  same  way  it  will  appear,  that 
if  a — b 
be  multiplied  by  n 


The  product  is  na — Tib 

53.  Let  us  next  suppose,  that  the  multiplier  consist* 
of  two  terras,  and  tlwt  it  is  required  to  multiply  o+6  by 
n-\-p.  To  effect  this,  we  must  consider  that  to  multiply 
a-j-<»  by  n+p  means,  that  the  compound  quantity  a+b  is 
to  be  taken  as  often  as  n-hp  contains  unity  ;  but  the 
number  of  times  that  n-\-p  contains  unity  is  equal  to 
the  number  of  times  iiiat »  contains  unity,  added  to  the 


ALGEBRA. 


405 


jiumber  of  times  p  contains  unity :  therefore,  to  multi- 
ply a+6  by  7t-\-p,  we  must  take  a-\-b  first  n  times,  and 
then  p  times,  and  add  the  two  [)roducts  together.  Now, 
a-\-b  taken  n  times  is  na-\-nb  (last  §.)  and  taken p  times, 
is  pa+pb,  and  the  sum  of  tliese  is  na-\-nb+pa-\-pb ; 
therefore 

be  multiplied  by  n+p 

The  product  is  na-{-nb+pa-{-pb. 

54.  Next,  let  it  be  proposed  to  multiply  a — h  by  n — p. 
Then,  because  the  number  of  times  that  n — p  contains 
unity  is  evidently  equal  to  the  number  of  times  that  n 
contains  unity,  diminished  by  the  number  of  times  p  con- 
tains unity,  we  mnst  take  a — b  first  n  times,  and  then  p 
times,  and  subtract  the  latter  product  from  the  former. 
Now,  (5  52.)  a — b  taken  n  times,  is  na — nb ;  and  taken  p 
times,  is  pa — pb ;  the  latter  of  these  being  subtracted 
from  the  former,  the  remainder  (§42.)  is  na—nb — pa-\- 
pb.   Therefore, 

ir«— 6 
be  multiplied  by  n — p 


The  product  is  no — nb — pa-\-pb. 

55.  If  we  attend  to  the  manner  in  which  the  last  pro- 
duct na — nb — pa-{-pb,  is  formed  from  the  two  factors 
a — 6  and  n — p,  it  will  appear, 

1st,  That  the  product  is  made  up  of  a  series  of  terms, 
formed  by  multiplying  all  the  terms  of  the  multiplicand 
by  each  term  of  the  multiplier,  one  after  another.  And 
the  same  observation  may  be  made  upon  the  three  for- 
mer examples. 

2d,  That  the  term  a,  which  is  understood  to  have  the 
sign  -\-,  being  multiplied  by  the  term  n,  which  is  also  un- 
derstood to  have  the  sign  -I-,  the  product  is  na,  which  is 
understood  to  have  the  sign  -)-. 

3d,  That  the  term — b,  which  has  the  sign  — ,  being 
multiplied  by  n,  which  is  understood  to  have  the  sign 
-f-,  the  product  is  — nb,  which  has  the  sign  — . 

4th,  The  term  a,  which  is  understood  to  have  the  sign 
-f-,  being  multiplied  by  — p,  which  has  the  sign  — , 
the  product  is — pa,  which  has  also  the  sign — . 

5th,  Lastly,  the  term  — 6,  which  has  the  sign  — , 
being  multiplied  by  — p,  which  has  also  the  sign  — ,  the 
product  is  -\-pb,  which  has  the  sign  -f-. 

56.  From  these  observations  we  derive  the  following 
general  rule  for  multiplication,  when  either  one  or  both 
the  factors  are  compound  quantities. 

Multiply  successively  all  the  terms  of  the  multiplicand 
by  each  term  of  the  multiplier,  observing,  that  if  the 
signs  of  any  two  terms  be  either  both  -|-,  or  both  — , 
then  the  sign  of  their  product  is  +  ;  but  if  the  one  be 
-|-,  and  the  other  — ,  then  the  sign  of  their  product  is  — . 
And  these  products  collected  into  one  sum  will  be  the 
product  required. 

57.  In  finding  the  successive  products  of  the  terms 
by  the  foregoing  rules,  we  may  begin  with  any  term. 
It  is  usual,  however,  to  begin  at  the  left  hand,  and  m,ul- 
tiply  from  left  to  right,  which  is  contrary  to  the  way  of 
multiplying  numbers. 

We  have  already  given  examples  of  the  multiplication 
of  simple  quantities  and  powers ;  we  shall  now  give  a 
few  examples,  in  which  the  factors  are  ccmpouad. 


Example  1. 
Multiply        ai-—3ab      +  4h' 
by  2ab 

Product        2a'6 — ^a'b'+Sab'^ 

Example  2. 
Multiply  T+« 

by    r — a 


x'+ax 
— ax — a' 

X'        —a* 
Example  3. 
Multiply  a3  4-2ai-4-6a 

by    a  — 36 


a3+2a=6+  ab' 
—3a^b—eab'>~W, 


Product  «3 —  a-b — 5a6» — 3i» 

Example  4. 
Multiply  tt-+ab+b' 

by    a — b 


a'+a'b+ab' 
—a^b — afca— J» 


Product  ^ 


0  —b* 


a»  ...  0 
or  a' — 6' 
58.  Instead  of  actually  multiplying  compound  quanti- 
ties, it  is  often  more  convenient  merely  to  indicate  that 
the  operation  is  to  be  performed.  Suppose  that  a*  + 
3ab — 6=  is  to  be  multiplied  by  2a — 36 ;  then,  placing 
each  of  the  factors  in  a  parenthesis,  their  product  may 
be  expressed  thus,  (2a— 36)  X  (a» +3aft — 6»)  :  or  thus, 
(2a— 36).  (o=4-3a6— 6=),  or  simply  thus,  (2a— 36)  {a'  + 
^ob — 6^) ;  but  some  writers  draw  a  line  over  each  of  the 
factors,  and  place  them  thus,  2a — 36 X  a^+3ab — b". 

Of  Division. 

59.  In  algebra,  as  in  arithmetic,  division  is  an  opera- 
tion in  its  nature  the  converse  of  multiplication,  artd  its 
object  in  both  sciences  is  the  same,  namely,  to  find 
either  a  certain  proposed  part  of  the  dividend,  or  hoiT 
often  the  divisor  is  contained  in  the  dividend. 

60.  Because  the  dividend  is  equal  to  the  product  of 
the  divisor  and  quotient,  it  will  contain  all  the  simple 
factors  of  both  the  divisor  and  quotient,  and  no  others ; 
therefore,  when  the  divisor  and  dividend  consist  each 
of  one  term  only,  and  all  the  letters,  or  factors  of  the 
divisor  are  found  also  in  the  dividend,  if  we  strike  out 
of  the  latter  such  factors  as  are  common  to  both,  those 
which  remain  will  be  the  expression  for  the  quotient. 

And,  if  the  letters  have  exponents,  we  must  subtract 
the  exponent  of  every  letter  in  the  divisor  from  the  ex- 
ponent of  the  same  letter  in  the  dividend,  and  the  product 
of  all  the  quantities,  with  their  exponents  thus  diminish- 
ed, will  be  the  quotient  sought. 

Ex.  1.  It  is  required  to  divide  Qabcd,  or  3  "Xlabcd,  by 
2a6. 

Here  we  strike  2a6  out  of  the  dividend,  and  the  re- 
maining part  3cd  is  the  quotient  required. 

Ex.  2.  The  quotient  of  a*b^c'>  by  a=6c  is  required. 

Here,  proceetUug  accorUiugto  the  second  part  of  the 


406 


ALGEBRA. 


Bbove  rule,  we  diminish  4,  the  exponent  of  a  in  the 
dividend,  by  2,  its  exponent  iu  the  divisor,  and  thus 
obtain  a'  for  one  factor  of  the  quotient.  Wo,  in  like 
manner,  diminish  3,  the  exponent  of  b  in  the  dividend, 
by  its  exponent  in  the  divisor,  and  2,  the  exponent  of 
e  in  the  dividend,  by  its  exponent  in  the  divisor,  and 
obtain  h^  and  c  for  the  remaining  factors  of  the  quo- 
tient. Therefore  the  complete  expression  for  the  quo- 
tient is  a'b^c. 

61.  It  may  happen,  that  a  letter  has  the  same  exponent 
in  both  divisor  and  dividend,  as,  for  example,  the  quan- 
tity may  be  a' ;  in  this  case,  proceeding  by  the  rule, 
and  subtracting  one  exponent  from  the  other,  ive  obtain 
a"  for  one  of  the  factors  of  the  quotient.  But,  as  any 
quantity,  divided  by  itself,  gives  unity  for  a  quotient, 
it  is  evident  that  a"  is  merely  an  algebraic  symbol  for 
unity,  and,  as  often  as  it  occurs,  we  may  substitute 
unity  instead  of  it.  Thus  in  dividing  a'hc'',  bj'  a^bc", 
instead  of  ab"  c,  which  is  the  quotient  obtained  by  fol- 
lowing strictly  the  rule,  we  may  write  a  X  1  X  1,  or 
simply  a. 

62.  The  divisor,  being  still  supposed  to  consist  of  one 
term,  let  the  dividend  be  composed  of  several  terms. 
Then  since  the  quotient  must  be  such  a  quantity,  as  by 
multiplying  all  its  terms,  one  after  another,  by  the  divi- 
sor, shall  produce  the  dividend  ;  so,  on  the  contrary,  if 
the  terms  of  the  dividend  be  divided  one  after  another, 
by  the  divisor,  the  results  will  be  the  successive  terms 
of  the  quotient.  And  as,  if  the  divisor  and  any  term  of 
the  quotient  have  the  same  sign,  the  term  of  the  divi- 
dend, which  is  their  product,  will  have  the  sign  +,  but 
if  they  have  opposite  signs,  that  term  will  have  the  sign 
—  :  so,  on  the  contrary,  if  the  divisor  and  any  term  of 
the  dividend  have  the  same  sign,  the  quotient,  which 
results  from  the  division  of  one  by  the  other,  will  have 
the  sign  -^,  but  if  they  have  opposite  signs,  then  it  will 
have  the  sign  — . 

Example.  It  is  required  to  divide  2a' 6 — 4ai='-f  loi^ 
by  26. 

In  the  first  place,  we  divide  2a'6  by '2i,  and  ob- 
tain 0=  for  the  first  term  of  the  quotient ;  and  this  term 
must  be  positive,  because  the  quantities  from  which  it 
has  been  obtained  are  understood  to  have  the  same  sign. 
We  next  divide  — Aab''  by  '2b,  and  obtain  — 2ab  for  the 
second  term,  which  is  negative,  because  the  signs  of 
the  quantities  26  and — 4a6' are  unlike.  And,  lastly, 
we  divide  -|-106'  by  26,  and  as  these  quantities  have 
like  signs,  there  results  4-56=  for  the  third  term  of  the 
quotient.     Thus  the  whole  (juotient  is  n= — 2a6-}-56=. 

By  the  same  mode  of  proceeding,  if  3a*6 — 2a^L- — 
c'i.'  be  divided  by  ah,  the  quotient  will  be  found  to  be 
3a' — 2a-b—ab'. 

G3,  We  come  now  to  consider  how  the  quotient  is  to 
be  found,  when  the  divisor  and  dividend  are  both  com- 
pound quantities;  and  here  it  will  be  proper  to  attend 
to  the  way  in  which  a  compound  quantity  is  formed 
from  the  product  of  two  factors.  Let  us  therefore  as- 
sume two  factors  2a'— 5a6+6='  and  3a'-f-2a6,  then,  the 
operation  by  which  their  product  is  found  will  stand 
thus : 

Multijilicand  2a^ — 3ab-\-b' 
Multiplier      3a»-f2a6 


Here  the  multiplicand  and  multiplier  being  so  arran- 
ged, that  the  terms  involving  the  highest  power  of  a 
stand  first  in  each,  and  the  terms  involving  the  next 
highest  in  the  second  place,  and  so  on,  it  appears,  that 
the  terms  of  the  product  are  also  arranged  according  to 
the  powers  of  a;  and  further,  that  its  first  term,  6a*,  is 
the  product  of  2a=  and  3a',  the  &rst  terms  of  the  multi- 
plicand and  multiplier. 

64.  Hence  we  may  conclude,  that  since,  in  division, 
the  dividend  is  the  product  of  the  divisor  and  quotient, 
if  the  dividend  and  divisor  be  both  arranged  according 
to  the  powers  of  the  same  letter,  and  the  first  term  of 
the  former  be  divided  by  ihe  first  term  of  the  latter,  the 
result  will  be  the  first  term  of  the  quotient. 

If  therefore  we  assume  the  above  product  Ga'' — 1  la'6 
— 7a  6'  -|-2«6  3  for  a  dividend,  and  one  of  its  factors  2a* 
— 5a6-t-6'for  a  divisor,  then,  dividing  6a*,  the  first  term 
of  the  former,  by  2a°,  the  first  term  of  the  latter,  we 
obtain  3a',  for  the  first  term  of  the  quotient. 

Now  the  dividend  being,  from  the  nature  of  multipli- 
cation, the  sum  of  the  products  formed  by  multiplying 
the  whole  divisor  by  the  terms  of  the  quotient,  one  after 
another,  if  we  subtract  from  the  dividend  the  product 
of  the  divisor,  by  the  first  of  these  terms,  the  remainder 
must  be  the  product  of  the  divisor  by  the  sum  of  the 
remaining  terms.  If  therefore  we  consider  this  remain- 
der as  a  second,  or  new  dividend,  the  divisor  being  the 
same,  as  before,  by  arranging  their  terms,  as  at  first,  and 
dividing  the  first  term  of  this  new  dividend  by  the  first 
term  of  the  divisor,  we  shall  obtain,  for  the  first  term 
of  a  new  quotient,  a  quantity  which  will  be  the  second 
term  of  the  general  quotient.  Thus,  in  the  present  ex- 
anqde,  we  multiply  thedivisor  2a' — 5a6-f  6'  by  3a',  the 
fii-st  term  of  the  quotient  required,  and  subtract  the  product 
da* — 15a36+3a'6'  from  6fl»— lla'6 — 7a'6'-f2a6», 
and  the  remainder  4a»6 — 10a'i'+2a6'  is  the  new  divi- 
dend. We  now  divide  Aa^b,  the  term  containing  the 
highest  power  of  a  in  this  qu-mtity,  by  2a',  the  first 
term  of  the  divisor,  and  get  -i-2a6  for  the  first  term  of 
a  new  quotient,  or  for  the  second  term  of  the  quotient 
required. 

We  may  proceed  in  the  operation,  and  find  a  third 
term  of  the  quotient  in  the  same  way  as  we  found  the 
second,  namely,  by  subtracting  the  product  of  the  divi- 
sor by  the  second  term  of  the  quotient  from  the  second 
dividend,  and  taking  the  remainder  for  a  third  dividend, 
which,  being  arranged  in  respect  to  the  powers  of  some 
one  of  its  letters,  similarly  to  the  divisor,  its  first  term 
divided  by  the  first  term  of  the  divisor,  will  give  the 
third  term  of  the  quotient,  and  so  on. 

In  the  present  example,  the  product  of  2a6,  the  se- 
cond term  of  the  quotient,  by  2a' — 5a6+6',  the  <livisor, 
is  4a'6 — lOa'6'  +2a6',  a  quantity  identical  with  the  se- 
cond dividend,  from  which  it  is  to  be  subtracted;  there- 
fore, there  is  no  third  dividend,  and  the  complete  quo- 
tient is  3a' -{-2ab.   The  whole  operation  may  stand  thus: 

Divisor.  Dividend.  Quotient. 

2a'— 5a6-t-6=)6a*— llc'i— 7a'6'-f2a6'(3a'-F2a6 
Ca*— 15a'6-f3o=6= 


6a* — 15o'6-|-  Sa'b' 

+  4aH — 10a'6'+2a6» 

Product         6a« — lla'6 —  7a»6'-f2a6' 


Second  dividend,       +  4a'6— 10a=6'+2a6' 
-f  4a'6— ]0a'6'-f  2a6' 


65.  From  these  remarks,  we  deduce  the  following 
general  rule  for  division. 


ALGEBRA. 


407 


1.  Let  the  terms  of  the  divisor  and  dividend  be  ar- 
ranged according  to  the  powers  of  Ihe  same  letter. 

2.  Divide  the  first  term  of  the  dividend  by  the  first 
term  of  the  divisor,  and  taite  the  result  for  the  first  term 
of  the  quotient. 

3.  Multiply  the  whole  divisor  by  the  first  term  of  the 
quotient,  and  subtract  the  product  from  the  dividend, 
and  take  the  remainder  as  a  new  dividend. 

4.  Divide  the  first  term  of  this  new  dividend  by  the 
first  term  of  the  divisor,  and  take  the  result  for  the  se- 
cond term  of  the  quotient. 

5.  Multiply  the  whole  divisor  by  the  second  term  of 
the  quotient,  and  subtract  the  product  from  the  new  di- 
vidend, and  if  there  be  no  remainder,  the  division  is 
finished  ;  but  if  there  be  a  remainder,  it  is  to  be  taken 
for  a  second  new  dividend. 

In  this  manner  the  operation  is  to  be  continued,  till 
at  last  there  be  no  remainder,  or  till  it  appear  that  there 
will  always  be  some  remainder. 

66.  We  shall  now  give  a  few  examples  to  show  the 
manner  of  applying  the  rule  : 

Example  1. 

Divisor.      Dividend.     Quotient. 

a — 6)a= — 2ab+6^{a — b 
a' — ab 


DiT. 


Ex.  5. 
Divid.  Qaot. 


—ab+b^ 
—ab+b' 

Ex.  2. 

Divis.     Dir.      Quot. 

a+b)a'—b'{a—b 
a^+ab 


— ab — b- 
— ab — b^ 


Ex.  3. 

Divisor.  Dividend.     Quotient. 
2o— 4)2a2— 1 6(a=  -f  2a-f4 
2a3— 4a2 


+4a=— 10 
+4a'—Sa 

+8a— IC 
4- 8a— 16 

It  is  sometimes  convenient,  for  the  sake  of  room,  to 
write  the  divisor  in  the  place  usually  assigned  to  the 
quotient,  and  to  write  the  quotient  below  it,  as  in  the 
next  example. 


Ex.  4. 


Dividend . 
«»  — 2a=i2 

a*+''a^b+  a=b' 


Divisor. 
4-64  La'+2ab+b' 


—2a  3  6 — 3a^b^ 
~—2a^b — 4a=62- 


-2ab' 


(  a=— 206+43 

-j-fi*  Qaotient 


+  a»J»+2ai=+*' 


■a+6)a='— a6+i=(a 
a'^-\-ab 


-26+ 


36^ 


a+6 


— 2a6+  b' 
—2ah~2b' 


+36=  remainder. 
If  there  is  a  remainder,  as  in  this  last  example,  it 
may  be  made  the  numerator  of  a  fraction,  whose  deno- 
minator is  the  divisor,  and  annexed  to  the  quotient,  as 
is  done  in  arithmetic. 

Sect.  II.     Of  Fractions. 

67.  Fn  arithmetic,  a  fraction  is  the  expression  for  the 
quotient  arising  from  the  division  of  one  quantity  by 
another,  when  the  latter  is  either  greater  than  the  for- 
mer, or  is  not  contained  in  it  an  exact  number  of  times. 
Thus,  according  to  the  theory  of  fractions,  as  laid  down 
in  arithmetic,  |  is  the  expression  for  the  quotient  of 
3  divided  by  5,  ami  is  understood  to  denote,  that  an 
unit  being  divided  into  3  equal  parts,  3  of  these  are 
equivalent  to  the  quotient.  In  like  manner,  |  is  the  ex- 
pression for  the  quotient  of  8  divided  by  5,  and  means 
that  an  unit  is  to  he  divided  into  five  equal  parts,  and  3 
such  parts  taken  for  that  quotient. 

68.  Such  quantities  as  we  have  just  now  described  are 
capable  of  being  added,  subtracted,  multiplied,  and  di- 
vided, as  well  as  whole  numbers ;  and  the  rules  for  these 
operations  may  all  be  deduced  from  that  view  of  a  frac- 
tional quantity,  or  quotient,  wliich  we  have  just  now  ta- 
ken, namely,  that  |,  or  3  divided  by  5,  is  equivalent  to  . 
the  fifth  part  of  an  unit,  taken  3  times ;  or  that  |,  or  8 
divided  by  5,  is  equal  to  the  fifth  part  of  an  unit  taken  S  . 
times.  But  as  this  mode  of  expressing  a  quotient  ap- 
plies to  integer  quotients,  as  well  as  to  fractional  ones, 
for  'f=  (hat  is,  1 2  divided  by  4,  or  three,  is  evidently  equi- 
valent to  the  fourth  part  of  an  unit  taken  12  times; 
therefore  the  rules  thence  deduced  must  be  alike  ap- 
plicable to  all  quotients  whatever. 

C9.  Thus,  it  appears  that  the  theory  of  fractions  is 
the  method  of  performing  certain  operations  upon  num-  . 
bers  considered,  as  quotients,  without  regarding  the  par- 
ticular numbers  from  which  these  quotients  are  derived  ; : 
and  hence  it  follows,  that  the  same  terms,  as  well  as  the 
rules,  and  modes  of  reasoning,  which  apply  to  numeral 
fractions,  may  be  applied  also  to  such  as  are  expressed 
by  the  general  symbols  employed  in  algebra. 

As  often,  therefore,  as  in  any  algebraic  calculation  we 
liave  occasion  to  divide  any  quantity  a  by  another  quantity 

a 
b,  we  may  express  the  quotient  thus,  -r-,  and  in  the  re- 
mainder of  the  operation,  proceed  with  the  fraction 

-r-  in  all  respects  as  if  it  were  a  fraction  whose  nume- 
6 

rator  and  denominator  were  known  numbers. 

70.  As  it  is  a  fundamental  principle  in  the  theory  of 
fractions,  (hat  any  fraction  may  be  transformed  into  ano- 
ther of  equal  value,  by  either  multiplying  or  dividing 
both  its  numerator  and  denominator  by  the  same  num- 
ber, which  may  be  any  number  whatever ;  therefore,  as 
often  as  a  divisor  and  dividend  have  any  common  factor, 
we  may  simplify  the  fraction,  which  is  the  expression 
for  the  quotient,  by  taking  such  factors  out  of  both  its 
numerator  and  denominator. 


408 


ALGEBRA. 


Thus,  for  example,  llie  qnoUent  of  Sabde,  divided  by 

Sabde  , 

lacdf,  which  is  expressed  by  the  fraction,  -^^^^/  may  be 

abbreHated  to  — -r  by  leaving  out  the  factors  a  and  d, 

Babd 
cemmon  to  both  numerator  and  denominator;  also,    „ 

,   ..      ,      4bd         ,2a(c+d}  .      ,  -j     j 

may  be  abridged  to 5  and     ^       ■^,  may  be  abridged 

c+d 
3(c+7 

71.  Upon  the  same  principle,  if  a  letter  with  expo- 
nents is  found  as  a  factor  in  both  numerator  and  denomi- 
nator, we  may  diminish  the  greater  exponent  by  the 
lesser,  and  reject  the  letter  with  the  smaller  exponent. 
flSfcc'  a'        ,       a' 


to 


1        ,   6a«+9a'6 


also, 


is  e- 


quivalent  to    » 


and 


12a»+9a3c' 


which  may  be  other- 
a(2a+3b) 


wise  expressed  by^^^^pg^^isequ.valent  to    ^^,^3^  - 

72.  When  the  factors  which  are  common  to  the  nu- 
merator and  denominator  consist  each  of  one  letter  only, 
as  in  the  foregoing  examples,  they  may  be  immediately 
discovered  by  simple  inspection.  But  if  they  have  a 
common  factoV,  consisting  of  more  than  one  term,  to 
discover  it  we  must  proceed,  as  in  finding  the  greatest 
common  measure  of  two  numbers,  according  to  the  foU 
lowing  rule : 

Arrange  the  quantities  whose  greatest  common  mea* 
sure  is  required,  according  to  the  powers  of  the  same 
letter,  as  in  division. 

Divide  the  quantity  which  contains  the  highest  power 
of  that  letter  by  the  other  quantity ;  then  divide  the 
last  divisor  by  the  remainder,  and  proceed  in  this  man- 
ner, as  in  finding  the  greatest  common  measure  of  two 
numbers  till  there  be  no  remainder,  and  the  last  divisor 
is  the  greatest  common  measure  required. 

73.  The  demonstration  of  this  rule  depends  upon  the 
two  following  principles: 

1 .  Whatever  quantity  measures  both  the  divisor  and 
dividend,  must  also  measure  the  remainder. 

2.  Whatever  quantity  measures  both  the  divisor  and 
remainder,  must  measure  the  dividend. 

For,  first,  let  the  divisor  and  dividend  have  a  common 
measure  m,  then  the  former  may  be  expressed  by  mP, 
and  the  latter  by  wjQ.  Let  a  denote  the  quotient ;  then 
the  remainder  being  the  excess  of  the  dividend  above 
the  product  of  the  (livisor  and  quotient,  it  will  be  »«Q — 
amP=«i(Q — aP).  Now,  this  quantity  is  manifestly  divi- 
sible by  m,  therefore  the  truth  of  the  first  principle  is 
evident. 

Next,  let  the  divisor  and  remainder  have  a  common 
measure  m,  then,  the  former  being  as  before  expressed 
by  mP,  the  latter  may  be  expressed  by  mR.  Put  o,  as 
before,  for  the  quotient ',  then,  because  the  dividend  is 
equal  to  the  remainder  added  to  the  product  of  the  divi- 
sor and  quotient,  it  will  be  amP+mR=)ii(aV+R.)  Now, 
this  quantity  is  also  divisible  by  m  j  therefore  the  truth 
of  the  second  principle  is  also  proved. 

74.  In  the  application  of  the  rule  it  is  also  to  be  re- 
marked, that  if  the  quantities  have  any  simple  divisors, 
these  may  be  left  out  before  beginning  the  operation. 
For  let  a{m+n)F  and  ft(TO-f-n)Q  be  two  quantities  Which 
hav«  a  common  compound  divisor  m-\-n,  and  which  be- 


sides have,  the  one  a  simple  divisor  a,  and  the  other  a 
like  divisor  b;  tlien,  leaving  out  these  divisors,  the  com- 
mon compound  divisor  m-\-n  of  the  resulting  quantities 
(»i4-n)P  aiid(m4-»)Q  remains  exactly  as  before.  Inlilce 
manner,  it  appears,  that  if  either  or  both  the  quantities 
be  multiplied  by  any  simple  quantity  or  number  (which 
must  sometimes  l>e  done,  iu  order  to  proceed  with  the 
operation),  still  the  common  compound  factor  remains 
unchanged. 

The  very  same  remarks  apply  also  to  the  successive 
remainders  which  arise  in  the  course  of  the  operation ; 
that  is,  whatever  compound  divisor  a  remainder  may 
have,  it  will  not  be  at  all  affected  by  the  multiplication 
or  division  of  that  remainder  By  a  simple  quantity  or 
number. 

75.  Let  us  now  suppose  that  the  common  measure  or 
divisor  of  the  quantities  5a^ — IBa^b+MaJ)' — 66'  and 
7ffl» — 23a6+C62  is  required.  Then,  jiroceeding  accord- 
ing to  the  rule,  we  must  divide  the  former  quantity  by 
the  latter;  but  as  5,  the  coefficient  of  the  first  term  of 
the  dividend,  is  not  exactly  divisible  by  7,  the  coefficient 
of  the  first  term  of  the  divisor,  before  we  proceed,  we 
must  multiply  the  dividend  by  7 ;  which,  from  what  has 
been  just  shown,  may  be  done  without  affecting  the 
common  measure  sought.  We  now  proceed  with  th« 
operation  thus : 


-a=— 23a6+G6»)35a3- 
35ffl3- 


-126a36-L77ai2— 426»(5o 
A\5a'b+30ab' 


—11  a''b+4.7ab''—42b' 


Now,  according  to  the  first  principle  of  §  73,  the  com- 
mon measure  must  also  be  a  compound  factor  of  the  re- 
mainder— lla''6+47a6' — 426^.  But  this  quantity  has 
d  simple  divisor  b,  therefore,  taking  it  out  of  all  the 
terms,  the  common  measure  sought  must  yet  be  a  fac- 
tor of  —  11a*  -|-47ai — 426" .  We  may  still  continue  the 
operation,  and  divide —  \\a'+47ab — 42b'  by  Ta" — 
23fl6+C6*,  and  because  11  is  not  exactly  divisible  by  7, 
we  first  multiply  the  dividend  by  7,  as  at  the  beginning, 
and  this  done,  the  next  step  will  stand  thus : 


7a=—-23fl6 + 66"  >— 7  70" -t- 32906—2946"  (- 
— 77a"-f253ffl6—  666" 


-11- 


-J-  76a6— 1286" 


Now,  as  we  know  that  the  common  measure  sought, 
if  it  exist,  is  a  factor  of  this  last  divisor  and  dividend, 
therefore  (§  73.)  we  may  be  assured,  that  it  is  also  a  fac- 
tor of  76a6 — 2286"  the  remainder ;  but  this  quantity  has 
a  simple  factor  766,  therefore,  leaving  out  that  factor,  it  ii 
also  a  factor  of  a — 36,  (§  74.)  We  next  take  this  quantity 
as  a  divisor,  and  the  former  divisor  7o" — 23fl6+C6"  as  a 
dividend,  and  proceed  according  to  the  rule,  tlius : 

a— 36)7o=— 23a6+66=(7a— 26 
7a"— 21a6 


—  2a6+66" 

—  2a6+6i= 


and  as  the  division  now  terminates  without  a  remainder* 
we  conclude,  that  a  common  measure  of  a — 36,  and 
•Jul, — 23a6+66"  is  tliequantitya — 36itself.  But  a— 36  is 
the  only  compound  factor  contained  in  766(a — 36)=76aA 
—2286",  the  former  remainder,  therefore,  a — 36  is  the 
•Illy  compound  factor  common  to  the  former  divisor 


ALGEBRA. 


409 


1la''~~23ah+Bh^,  and  the  remainder  76aJ— 228^3  ;  and 
consequently  (§73.)  it  is  also  the  only  common  factor  of 
the  same divisor,andthedividen(l—77o»H-329afr—29462. 
Now  it  ha«  been  shown,  that  any  compound  factor  of  this 
quantity  is  the  only  one  that  can  be  found  in  — llffl'6 
'+47ab'-~-42b^,  the  first  remainder;  therefore,  a — 36  is 
the  only  compound  divisor  common  to  the  first  divisor 
^a' — 23ab+Qb^  and  first  remainder — 1  ^n'b+4^al)'— 
426',  and  consequently  (by  §73.)  a — 36  is  a  factor  of  both 
the  first  divisor  and  first  dividend ;  that  is,  of  the  pro- 
posed quantities,^  and  it  is  the  only  one  they  can  have. 
76.  The  common  measure  of  two  quajitities  being 
found,  a  fraction,  whose  numerator  and  denominator  are 
these  quantities,  is  immetliately  reduced  to  its  most  sim- 
ple form  by  dividing  its  terms  by  that  measure. 

„,.      .,^.     ,     ,.  5o2— 18a»6-Mla62— 663 

Thus,  if  the  fraction  were    — - — „„  .  ,  ^..^ : 

7a2 — 23a6+662  ' 

hecause  the  common  measure  of  its  terms  has  been  just 

found  to  he  a — 36,  therefore,  divirling  them  by  that  mea- 

6ure,  the  fraction  is  reduced  to -j 

la — 26 

77.  It  is  sometimes  convenient  to  reduce  ah  integral 

quantity  to  the  form  of  a  fraction.     This  may  be  done 

fcy  assuming  any  quantity  whatever  for  a  denominator, 

and  taking  the  product  of  the  integer  by  that  quantity 

for  a  numerator.     Thus,  taking  d  for  a  denominator,  any 

,  ad 

integral  quantity  a  is  evidently  equivalent  to  —j-;  alsoa+ 

b  is  equivalent  to  — -j — ,     An  integer  may  be  regarded 
as  a  fraction,  whose  denominator  is  unity. 

78.  If  a  quantity  is  made  up  of  an  integer  and  a  frac- 
tion, it  may  be  reduced  to  the  form  of  a  fraction  by 
changing  its  integral  part  to  a  fraction  having  the  same 

denominator  as  its  fractional  part.    For  example,  o-f — 


ac 


bd 


is  equivalent  to  - — J- 

c         fi 


that  is  to 


ner,  a 


ed — ab 


is  transformed  to 
cd — ad 


ac-\-bd 
b—d   "^ 


In  like  man- 
cd — ab 


-,  that 


b—d 

,     ^    ab — ad-\-cd—ah    cd — ad     _, .  ,        . 

M,  to r — i =—; r-    This  transformation  is 

b — d  b — d 

equivalent  to  the  reducing  of  a  mixt  number  in  arith- 
metic to  an  improper  fraction. 

79.  On  the  contrary,  a  fractional  quantity  may  some- 
times be  changed  into  a  quantity  partly  integral  and 
partly  fractional,  by  a  mode  of  proceeding  entirely  analo- 
gous to  the  reducing  of  an  improper  fraction  in  arithme- 
tic to  a  mixed  number.;  namely,  by  dividing  the  numera- 
tor by  the  denominator,  as  far  as  an  integral  quotient  can 
be  obtained,  and  completing  the  quotient,  by  annexing  to 
it  a  fraction  whose  numerator  is  the  remainder  and  de- 

•     L     ^i.     ,■   •         mi.      3ah+ac-\-cd 
nominator  the  divisor.  Thus may  be  trans- 
formed to  36-f-c-| ;  and,  in  like  manner,  — r-r-  may 

a  a+6        '' 


0^—263 
a — 6 


to  a-\-b — 


262 
be  changed  to  o — 6  -j-    -r-.,  and 

6' 
a — 6* 

80.  Algebraic  fractions  require  to  be  prepared  for  the 
operation  of  uddilion  and  subtraction,  exactly  as  if  they 
Vol.  1.    Pari  II. 


were  numeral  fractions ;  that  is,  they  must  be  changed 
into  others  of  equal  value,  and  having  a  common  de- 
nominator, and  this  is  done  by  multiplying  the  numera- 
tor and  denominator  of  each  by  all  the  denominators  ex- 

a     c  £ 

cept  its  own.  Thus,  let  the  fractions  be  -^ — T)  and  — ; 

b     d  J 

then,  multiplying  the  terms  of  the  first  by  d  and  f,  it  be- 

adf 
comes  rjy.,  and  multiplying  the  terms  of  the  second  by 

bcf 
6  and/,  it  becomes  r4^.  and  multiplying  these  of  the 

third  by  b  and  d,  it  becomes  ^-t^.  Hence  we  obtain  three 

oaf 

adf  bcf  bed   ,      . 
fractions,  ^,  ^,  — |-,  having  a  common  denominator, 

and  respectively  equivalent  to  the  original  fractions, 

ace  .,,  . 

T,  -.,  r,  as  will  immediately  appear  by  leaving  out  of 

their  new  values  such  factors  as  are  found  in  both  nu- 
merator and  denominator. 

81.  When  fractions  have  a  common  denominator,  or 
are  transformed  to  others  having  a  common  denominator, 
they  are  added  and  subtracted  exactly  as  in  arithmetic ; 
namely,  by  taking  the  sum,  or  the  difference  of  the  nume- 
rators, and  placing  it  over  the  common  denominator. 

Thus  the  sum  of  the  fractions  -r  and  -,  or  (reducing  them 

to  a  common  denominator.)  of  ^-5  and  -r-,  is       ,  .    ". 
'        bd  bd  bd 

Again,  the  sum  of  — rj-  and  — ::^tJ'   or  (reducing  to 

.     ^         ,    a3— rt2  6— a62-f6' 
a  common  denominator,  of   ; and 

2a3+263 
a^+a^b~ah-~-^r^  "  a^-|-a'6-a6>-F-  »"'  '^e  terms 
of  this  fraction  have  a  common  measure,  viz.  a-f6,  which 
may  be  found  by  §  72. ;  therefore,  dividing  both  nume- 
rator and  denominator  by  this  measure,  we  get  the  sum 

...                     ,  ,     1{a^—ab+b') 
otherwise  expressed  by  -^ ; i. 

Also,  the  first  of  these  fractions,  viz.  — , 1  Jl_ 

a^+a-'b—ab^—b^ 

,    .         ,,      .    ,r       ^,              ,a'+a'6-^(I6^-f-63 
being  subtracted  from  the  second  — ; — -r— ■ —  .the 

2a'b+2ab^ 


a^+ffl»6-t-«6»+6'  . 


a^+a'b — a6» — 6'' 

.    ,     .         2a'b+2ab^  ,       . 

remainder  is  -^_p___- __,  a  fraction  having  its  nu- 
merator and  denominator  both  divisible  by  a-rb,  as  may 
be  discovered  by  the  rule  of  §  72.  Therefore,  dividing 
the  terms  of  the  fraction  by  this  common  measure,  we 

get  the  diflierence  more  simply  expressed  by  -;; — — . 

82.  The  rules  for  the  multiplication  and  division  of 
fractions  in  arithmetic  are  also  alike  applicable  in  alge- 
bra ;  and  they  may  be  readily  investigated  as  follows : 

a 
First,  let  us  suppose  that  the  fraction  -j-  is  to  be  mul- 

o 

tiplied  by  the  fraction  -=.    Let  r=m,  and  -  =  n,  then  a 
a  o  a 

=bm,  a  nd  c=dn,  and  therefore  ac=bm  X  dn=bdmn,  and  di- 
viding these  equals  by  bd,  -j-v=m»;  but  mn==~  X-  there- 
of 0    d^ 

3  F 


410 


ALGEBRA. 


fore  -  X-=— ;  that  is,  the  product  of  two  fractions  is  a 

b     d    bd 
fraction  whose  numerator  is  the  product  of  their  nume- 
rators, and  denominator  is  the  product  of  their  denomi- 
nators. 


83.  Next  let  us  suppose. 


that  X 
b 


is  to  be  divided  by 


have 

there- 
a 


^ ,  then,  assuming  as  before  ^=»«,  ami  ^=n)  we 
a=bm,  and  c=dnr  also  ad=b<bn,  and  bc=bdn, 
fo-p  ad    bjbn^m  m  ^^^^^^^  ^^^  quotient  of  ^  di 

be      bdn     n'  n  ^  b 

vided  by-.,  therefore  the  quotient  of  ^  divided  by  ^  is 

—  that  is,  to  divide  one  fraction  by  another,  we  must 
be 

multiply  the  denominator  of  the  divisor  by  the  numera- 
tor of  the  dividend  for  the  numerator  of  the  quotient,  and 
the  numerator  of  the  divisor  by  the  denominator  of  the 
dividend  for  its  denominator. 

As  an  integer  quantity  may  be  regarded  as  a  fracticm, 

a 
whose  denominator  is  unity,  the  product  of  ^by  c  will  be 


a      e 

aXl 


-;  and  the  quotient  of  r  divided  by  c  will  be 


ftXc      be 

84.  When  two  fractions  are  such  that  the  numerator 
and  denominator  of  the  one  are  the  denominator  and 
numerator  of  the  other  respectively,  the  one  fraction  is 
called  the  reciprocal  of  the  other.  Thus,  the  fractions 
a  ,  b 
b 


and  -  are  the  reciprocals  of  each  other. 
a 

,a  ..  . ,   , ,     c  .    ad 


Because  the  quotient  of  ^  divided  by  ^  is  i^=  j      ^  . 

therefore  the  quotient  of  one  fraction  divided  by  another 
is  the  product  of  the  dividend,  and  the  reciprocal  of  the 
divisor. 

Sect.  III.    Of  Proportion. 

85.  When  there  are  four  quantities,  such  that  the 
first  contains  either  the  second,  or  some  part  of  the 
6econd,ju9t  as  often  as  the  third  contains  the  fourth,  or 
a  like  part  of  the  fourth ;  then  it  is  easy  to  see  that  a 
certain  relation  subsists  between  the  first  and  second  of 
these  quantities  in  respect  of  magnitude ;  which  takes 
place  also  between  the  third  and  fourth.  It  is  this  rela- 
tion of  the  quantities  to  each  other  which  is  called  their 
ratio. 


quotient  of  the  first,  divided  by  the  second,  is  equal  io 
the  quotient  of  the  third  divided  by  the  fourth.  That 
is,  putting  a,  b,  c,  and  d,  to  denote  four  quantities,  the  ra- 

a,     c 
tio  of  a  to  6  is  equal  to  the  ratio  of  c  to  rf,  if  t  =  -> 

87.  A  ratio  is  generally  expressed  by  placing  its  terms 
with  two  points  between  them  thus,  a  :  b,  which  is  read, 
the  ratio  of  a  to  6.  The  former  term  o  is  called  the 
antecedent,  and  the  latter  the  consequent  of  the  ratio. 
The  similarity  or  equality  of  two  ratios  is  denoted  by 
writing  the  expressions  for  the  ratios  with  four  points 
between  them,  thus,  a  :  b  ::  c:  d;  which  indicates  that 
the  ratio  of  a  to  b  is  the  same  with,  or  equal  to,  the  ra- 
tio of  c  to  d,  and  which  is  read  thus,  a  is  to  6  as  c  to  rf. 
The  same  thing  is  also  sometimes  expressed  thus,  a  :  b 
=  c  :  rf. 

88.  Two  equal  ratios  constitute  a  proportion, and  their 
terms  are  called  four  ])roportionals ;  the  first  and  last 
terms  are  called  the  extremes,  and  the  second  and  third 
terms,  the  means.  The  last  term  is  also  called  a  fourth 
proportional  to  the  other  three. 

When  the  consequent  of  the  first  ratio  is  the  same  as 
the  antecedent  of  the  second,  the  proportion  will  con- 
sist of  three  different  terms  only.  Such,  for  example, 
is  the  proportion  a  :  b  :  :  b  :  d;  in  which  case  b  is  called 
a  mean  proportional  between  a  and  d,  and  d  a  third  pro- 
portional to  a  and  b. 

89.  The  theory  of  proportion  formed  an  important 
part  of  mathematics  among  the  ancients ;  and,  in  the 
writings  of  Euclid,  we  find  it  treated  at  great  length, 
and  in  such  a  manner  as  to  apply  not  only  to  number, 
(to  which  only  at  present  we  propose  to  apply  it)  but 
also  to  magnitudes  of  every  kind. 

The  ancient  method  of  reasoning  by  means  of  propor- 
tions, which  was  often  tedious  and  circuitous,  is  now, 
however,  in  a  manner  rendered  unnecessary  by  the  in- 
vention of  algebra,  which  is  both  more  concise,  and  of 
infinitely  more  extensive  application  as  an  instrument 
of  reasoning. 

The  common  properties  of  proportionals,  as  far  as  they 
relate  to  abstract  numbers,  or  numbers  considered  as 
the  representatives  of  quantities  of  any  kind,  may  be 
briefly  demonstrated  as  follows : 

90.  If  four  quantities  be  proportionals,  the  product  of 
the  two  extremes  is  equal  to  the  product  of  the  means. 

A       C 

Let  a:  b  ::  c  :  d,  then  (§  86.)  r  =  ^  therefore,mu!tiply- 

ing  these  equal  fractions  by  bd,  -j—  =  — - ;  and  hence 
dividing  the  numerators  by  the  denominators,  ad=bc. 


86.  When  that  identity  of  relation  which  we  have 
just  now  described,  takes  place  between  the  first  and 
second,  and  between  the  third  and  fourth  of  four  quan- 
tities, it  is  evident,  from  the  nature  of  division,  that  the 
quotient  Of  the  first  quantity  divided  by  the  second,  must 
be  equal  to  the  quotient  of  the  third  divided  by  the 
fourth.  Hence  it  follows,  that  we  may  employ  the 
equality  of  these  quotients  as  the  test  by  which  we  de- 
termine whether,  in  the  case  of  any  proposed  quantities, 
such  an  identity  of  ratios  exists. 

We  may  therefore  lay  it  down  as  a  definition,  that  the 
first  of  four  quantities  is  said  to  have  to  the  second,  the 
same  ratio  which  the  third  bae  to  the  fourth,  when  the 


91.  Hence  it  appears,  that  \i  a:h  :■  c  :  d,  then  i 

For,  dividing  the  equal  products  ad  and  be  by  a,  the 

,   he 
quotients  must  be  equal,  that  is,  «*= — 

a 

82.  If  the  product  of  two  quantities  be  equal  to  the 
product  of  other  two  quantities,  the  four  quantities  are 
proportionals,  and  such  that  the  extremes  are  the  fac- 
tors of  one  product,  and  the  means  of  another. 

,  ,  ad    be 

For  if  a<fc=&c,theD,di?iaiDg  both  by  bd,\\e  get  ^^^ 


ALGEBRA. 


411 


tiieretore,  reducing  tlie  fractions  to  lowest  terms,  T=-i, 

o      a 

and  hence  (§  86.)  a  :  b  :  :  c  :  d. 

93.  l{a:b::c:d,  then  shall  b  :  a  : ;,  d :  e. 

For  because  a  :  b  :  :  c  -.  d,  therefore  t=-; ;  now  as  the 

0    d 

quotients  of  unity  divided  by  these  equal  fractions  must 
be  equal,  therefore  the  products  of  unity  by  their  reci- 
procals (§  84.)  will  also  be  equal,  that  is,  1  X  -=1  x  -,  or 

eimply  -=-,  therefore  (§  86.)  J  :  a  :  :  rf :  c. 

94.  \ia:1>::C'.d,  then  shall  a  :  c  : -.b  :  d. 

For  because  t=-v  therefore,  multiplying  these  equals 

by  -,  -r-=—/>  and,  reducing  the  fractions  to  lowest 

C    0  C     C  (i 

terms  -=^,  therefore  (§  86.)  a  :  c  :  :  b  :  d, 

95.  \{  a:b::c:d,  then  shall  a+6  ■  b  :  :  c+d :  d, 
also  a+6  :  a:  :  C+d  :  c. 

For  because  -7  =  ^,  (§  86.)  therefore,  adding  unity 
■to  each  of  these  equals,  r+^— j+'' ''"'  7i'^^~~T~' 


equals  by  the  fraction  — ,  we  hare  ^n-=^;  therefore 

Tl  tin       •!  /r 


imd  j+l= 
a 


c+d 


,  therefore 


a+b    c-\-d 


T— = — 7—;  hence  (§  86.) 

/i-\-b  lb::  c+d:  d.     Again,   because  we  have  also 

^+-(§  93.)  therefore,  1+^=1  +^,  that  is,  f!±*=£±^, 
a    c  ^'      ^  a  c  a         c 

■therefore,  a+b  :  a  :  :  c+d :  c. 

96.  U  a  -.b  :  :  c  :  d,  then  a  being  supposed  greater 

than  6,  a — 6  :  b  :  :  c — d  :  </■;  also  a — 6  :  a  :  :  c — d :  c. 

a    e  a  c  a — b 

For  because  t=-.i  therefore  -; — l=-i — 1 ,  that  is  — r — 
0    d  b  a  0 


e—d 

''   d 


;  therefore  a — b  :  6  :  :  e — d :  d. 


Again,  because  we  have  also  -=-,  therefore  1 = 

a    c  a 

1 ,  that  is, = .    Therefore,  a — b  :  a:  :  c — d 

c  a  c 

:  C. 

97.  li  a:b  ::e:d,  then  shall  a+b  :  a — 6  :  :  c+d : 
c — d. 

For  it  has  been  shown  that  —, — = — r->  also  that  — = — 

b  d  b 

c — d  a+b 

=—j- ;  now  if  we  divide  the  equal  fractions  — r—  and 

~^j-  by  the  equal  fractions  — r— and -^^  the  quotients 

.    ,  ,     ii       r         a+b        b        c+d        d 

XmtX.  be   equal ;   therefore  — r—  x r=— -r-  x v. 

';  o        a — b       d        c — a 

that  is,  — .=^i-y,  hence  (§  86.)  a+b  :  a—b  :  :  c+d : 

c — d. 

98.  If  a  :  t  :  :  c  :  rf,  then  m  and  n  being  any  numbers 

whatever,  ma  :  nb  :  :  mc  :  nd. 

a      c 
For  because, -v-=--T,   therefore,   multiplying   these 


ma  :  Ttb  :  :  tnc  :  nd. 


nb    nd' 


99.  If  a  lb  :■.€■.  d,  and  a:h::e:f  and  a  :  b  :  -.  g  . 
ft,  and  so  on,  or,  which  means  the  same,  if  a  :  6  : :  c  :  rf : ; 
e:f::g:h;  then  shall  a  :  b  .  :  a  + c  +  e +e -.h  +  d 
+  f+h. 

For  because  ab=ba'\ 

and  ad=J)c  f  ,  v  n» 
and  af^e  \  ''^  ^  M. 
and  ah=i>gJ 

therefore,  adding  equals  to  equals,  ah  +■  ad  +  af+  ak=r 
ba+bc  +  be  +  bg,  that  is,  a{b  +  d+f+  h)  =  b  {a+  c 
+  e+g);  therefore  (§  92.)  a:b  : :  a  +  c  +  e  +  g  -.h  + 
d+f+h. 

100.  l(a:b::c.d. 
ande:/:  -.g.h. 

Then  shall  ae  :  bf -.  -.  eg  :  dli. 


For  because  ad=bc,  i   ,     ,  « 
Hndeh=fg:l    by  §90. 


therefore,  multiplying  equals  by  equals,  adeh=bcfg,  that 
is,  ae  X  </fc=6/  X  eg,  therefore,  (§  92.)  ae  :  bf : :  eg  :  dh. 
And  in  like  manner  it  may  be  proved,  that  if  there  be 
any  number  of  sets  of  proportionals,  the  products  of  th» 
corresponding  terms  are  also  proportional. 

Sect.  IV.     Of  Equations  in  general,  and  of  the  Resolu- 
tion of  Simple  Equations. 

101.  We  have  now  explained  as  much  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  algebra  as  is  sufficient  for  its  application  to  one 
class  of  questions,  namely,  such  as  produce  what  are 
called  Simple  Equations.  Therefore,  before  we  proceed 
in  the  further  developement  of  its  principles,  we  shall, 
in  this  Section,  first  explain  what  an  Equation  is ;  then 
give  some  general  rules  for  the  management  of  equa- 
tions ;  and  lastly,  we  shall  treat  in  particular  of  simple 
equations,  and  of  the  resolution  of  questions  in  which 
they  occur. 

102.  An  equation,  in  general,  is  a  proposition  assert- 
ing the  equality  of  two  quantities,  and  it  is  expressed  by 
placing  the  quantities  with  the  sign  =  between  them. 
Thus,  5x — 2=Ax  +  3,  is  an  equation  asserting  that  the 
quantity  5x — 2  is  equal  to  the  quantity  4x  +  3. 

103.  When  a  quantity  stands  alone  on  one  side  of 
an  equation,  the  quantities  on  the  other  side  are  said 
to  be  a  value  of  it.  Thus,  in  the  equation  x==p  +  q, 
where  x  stands  alone  on  one  side,  the  quantity  p  +  g  is 
its  value. 

104.  An  equation  may  contain  some  quantities  which 
are  known,  and  others  unknown  or  undetermined.  Thug, 
in  the  equation  ax — 2bx=c,  the  quantities  a,  b,  and  e, 
may  be  regarded  as  known,  and  x  as  unknown.  Also, 
in  the  equation  mx  +  ny=a — b,  m,  n,  a,  and  b,  may  be 
considered  as  known,  or  determinate  quantities,  and  x 
and  y  as  unknown,  or  indeterminate  quantities. 

105.  Equations  containing  only  one  unknown  quan- 
tity and  its  powers,  are  divided  info  orders  or  degrees, 
according  to  the  highest  powers  of  the  unknown  quan- 
tity to  be  found  among  its  terms.  An  equation  which 
contains  only  the  fii-sf  power  of  an  unknown  quantity,  is 
called  a  simple  equation,  also  an  equation  of  the  first  vr- 

3F  2 


412 


ALGEBRA. 


der  or  degree.  Such,  lor  example,  is  the  equation  ax= 
6+c,  where  .r  denotes  an  unknown,  and  a,  6,  c,  known 
quantities. 

106.  When,  by  any  management  of  the  terms  or  an 
equation,  the  first  power  of  the  unknown  ijuantity  is 
brought  to  stand  aloiie  on  one  side,  and  known  quan- 
tities only  on  the  other  side,  that  equation  is  said  to  be 
resolved. 

107.  The  following;  rules  apply  equally  t»  all  equa- 
tions, and  are  alone  suificient  for  the  resolution  of  sim- 
ple equations. 

1.  Any  term  may  be  transposed  from  one  side  of  an 
equation  to  the  other,  provided  its  sign  be  changed;  and 
the  two  sides  will  still  be  equal. 

For  let  x-\-p=q  be  any  equation,  then,  because  if 
the  same  quantity,  or  equal  quantities,  be  either  added 
to,  or  subtracted  from  equal  quantities,  the  sums  or  re- 
mainders will  be  equal,  by  subtracting/)  from  each  side 
we  have  x+p—f=q-^,  that  is  x=q—p.  Thus  it 
appears,  that  a  quantity  having  the  sign  -f  on  one  side 
of  an  equation,  when  transposed  to  the  other  must  have 
the  sign  — .  Again,  let  x— ;>=r,  then,  adding  p  to  both 
sides,  x—f+p=r+p,  that  is,  x—r+p ;  therefore, 
a  quantity  having  the  sign  ■ —  on  one  side  of  an  equa- 
tion, when  transposed  to  the  other,  must  have  the 
sign  -|-. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  the  signs  of  all  the  terms  of  an 
equation  may  be  changed,  without  atfecting  the  truth  ol' 
the  equation. 

2.  If  every  term  on  each  side  of  an  equation  be  mul- 
tiplied by  the  same  quantity,  the  sides  of  the  equation 
will  still  be  equal. 

This  is  evidently  nothing  more  than  the  multiplying 
of  equal  quantities  by  the  same  quantity,  and  of  course 
the  products  must  be  equal.  By  this  rule,  if  x+p=q, 
then,  multiplying  both  sides  by  any  number  n,  we  have 

nx  +  np=nq.     Also,;  il 1-  p=q — r,  multiplying  both 

sides  by  a,  we  have  x-\-ap=-A  {q — r.) 

If  any  terms  of  an  equation  be  fractions,  by  this 
rule  their  denominators  may  be  taken  away,  so  that 
then   the  equation    will   contain  only    integers.     Let 

JL-J-  —=p,  then  multiplying  all  the  terms  by  m,  the 
m       n 

equation  becomes  z-l =mp  ;  and  again,  multiplying 

this  last  equation  by  n,  we  have  nx+tnx=tnnp.  We 
have  cleared  the  equation  of  fractions  at  two  operations, 
but  it  might  have  been  done  at  once,  by  multiplying  its 
terms  by  mn,  the  product  of  all  the  denominators.  Or  it 
vil.  even  be  sufficient  to  multiply  by  any  number  that 
is  i visible  ly  all  the  denominators.  Thus,  if  the  equa- 
tion be-^  -f -^=10,  then  multiplying  by  24,  we  have 

8        12 
3x  -f  21=240,  or  5x=240. 

3.  If  each  side  of  an  equation  be  divided  by  the  same 
quantity,  the  sides  will  still  be  equal,  as  is  gufliciently 
evident. 

Thus,  let  5x=20,  then  dividing  both  sides  by  5,  x^ 

— =4.     Again,  if  mx+nx=p,  or  (»i  -f  n  x=p,)  then, 

dividing  by  m+n,  x=-^ . 
"  tn-\-n 

By  this  rule,  the  coefficient  of  any  term  of  an  equa- 

•tion  may  i,e  taken  away,  by  dividing  all  the  terms  of  tbe 

equation  by  that  coelBcieut. 


4.  If  any  quantity  be  found  on  both  sides  of  an  equar 
tion  with  the  same  sigh,  it  may  be  taken  away  from  'oth; 
and  if  all  the  terms  are  multiplied,  or  divided,  Ity  the 
same  quantity,  i£  may  be  taken  out  of  them  all. 

Thus,  if  X  +  ap=q)  -\-  a,  then  x==p.     Also,  if  mx=mp 

X        J)        v 

■\-  tnq,  then  x=p  +  q.     And  if — =J--' ,    then  jr= 

n     n      n 
p — r :  All  which  is  sufficiently  manifest. 

108.  If  the  sides  of  one  equation  are  added' to  the  sides 
of  another  equation,  it  is  manifest  that  the  sums  will  also 
be  the  sides  of  an  e(|uation,  and  that  this  will  be  true, 
whatever  be  the  number  of  equations.  Thus,  U  a  + 
b=^c,  and  x=dij,  then  a-\-  b  -\-  x=c  -f-  dy.  In  like 
manner,  the  sides  of  one  e(|uation  may  be  subtracted 
from  those  of  another,  and  the  remainders  will  also  be 
the  sides  of  an  equation.  Thus,  taking  the  same  equa- 
tions as  before,  a-\-b — x=c — (h/.  In  the  former  case, 
the  equations  are  said  to  be  added,  and  in  the  latter  sub^ 
traded. 

109.  When  a  question  is  to  be  resolved  by  algebra, 
we  must,  in  the  first  place,  consider  attentively  all  its 
circumstances,  and  remark  what  quantities  are  con- 
cerned in  it ;  and  of  these,  which  are  given,  and  which 
are  required. 

Having  obtained  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  rela- 
tions which  subsist  among  the  quantities,  we  must  then 
proceed  to  express  these  relations  by  equations;  and  to 
effect  this  we  may  employ  the  following  general  rule : 

Represent  the  quantity  or  quantities  sought,  each  by 
a  letter;  then,  employing  the  notation  of  algebra,  pro- 
ceed to  perform  such  operations  upon  the  quantities, 
both  known  and  unknown,  and  to  treat  them  by  such 
modes  of  reasoning  as  would  \>e  required,  if,  haying  dis- 
covered the  values  of  the  unknown  quantities,  we  wish- 
ed to  examine  whether  they  were  truly  determined. 

110.  It  will  not,  however,  in  many  cases  be  necessary 
to  denote  all  the  unknown  quantities  by  different  letters. 
Thus,  if  it  appears  from  a  question  under  consideration, 
that  one  unknown  quantity,  is  the  sum  of  another  un- 
known quantity,  and  a  known  quantity  a ;  then  if  the 
latter  be  denoted  by  x,  the  former  will  be  represented 
by  x-\-a.  In  like  manner,if  the  product oftwo  unknown 
quantities  is  a  known  number  a,  then,  the  one  being  re- 
presented by  X,  the  other  will  be  expressed  by — .      Or 

if  the  quotient  of  one  unknown  quantity  divided  by  ano- 
ther, be  a  known  number  a  ;  then,  x  being  put  for  the 
latter  quantity,  the  other  will  be  ax. 

111.  When  the  conditions  of  a  question  are  express- 
ed by  equations,  the  remainder  of  the  solution  consists 
in  finding  the  values  of  the  unknown  quantities  contain- 
ed in  these  equations,  which  may  be  always  done  \ij 
determinate  rules,  as  will  appear  from  the  following 
examples. 

Questions  producing  Simple  Equations  reselved  by  One 
unknonm  QMantity. 

Example  1.  It  is  required  to  divide  7  into  two  sucb 
parts,  that  the  greater  may  exceed  the  less  by  3. 

Let  X  denote  the  greater  part.  Then,  because  the 
greater  part  exceeds  the  less  by  3,  x — 3  will  denote  the 
less  and  x-\-x — 3,  or  2x — 3,  will  express  the  sum  of 
the  numliers.  Dut  tbe  question  requires  the  eiun  to  b« 
7;  therefore. 


ALGEBRA. 


418 


2a-— 3=7 
And  transpofiing  3  (by  RuJe  I.  §  107.)  21^7+3=10 

And  dividing  by  2  (Kule  3.)  x=—=5 

Therefore,  x — 3=2 

Hence  it  appears  that  the  greater  part  is  5,  and  the 
less  2. 

Ex.  2.  A  father  who  has  three  sons,  leaves  them  1 600 
pounds.  His  will  sjiecifies,  that  the  eldest  shall  have 
200  pounds  more  than  the  second ;  and  that  the  second 
is  to  have  100  pounds  more  than  the  youngest.  Re- 
quired the  share  of  each  ? 

Let  the  share  of  the  youngest  be  z  ;  then  that  of  the 
second  will  be  ar+lOO ;  and  that  of  the  third  X+100+ 
200,  or  i;+300 ;  therefore  the  sura  of  all  their  shares 
will  be  expressed  by  i+j:+100+x+300,  that  is,  by 
3^+400.  But  from  the  nature  of  the  question,  the 
«un  of  their  shares  must  be  1 600 ;  therefore, 
3x+ 400=1 600 

And  trans.  400,  1ix=-\  600 — 400=1 200 

And  dividing  by  3,        x= =400. 

Hence  it  ai'pears  that  the  share  of  the  youngest  is 
'400  pounds ;  and  consequently,  that  of  the  second  400  + 
100=500  pounds;  and  that  of  the  third  500+200=700 
pounds. 

Ex.  3.  A  father  being  questioned  as  to  the  age  of  his 
sou,  replied,  that  if  from  the  double  of  his  present  age, 
the  tri|)le  of  what  it  was  6  years  ago  were  subtracted] 
the  remainder  would  be  exactly  his  present  age.  Re- 
quired his  age  ? 

Put  X  to  denote  his  present  age ;  then  its  double  is  2x  ; 
and  6  years  ago  it  was  x—(j;  the  triple  of  which  is  3 
(x— e.)     Therefore,  by  the  conditions  of  the  question 
x=2x~^{xh-&) 

That  is  x=^2x — 3x+18 

Or  trans.  x+3z — 21=18 

Therefore        2x=l  8 

And  x=  9.  the  answer. , 

Ex.  4.  A  father  intends  by  his  will,  that  his  three  sons 
should  share  his  property  in  the  following  manner :  The 
eldest  IS  to  receive  100  pounds  less  than  half  the  whole 
properly ;  the  second  is  to  receive  80  pounds  less  than 
the  third  of  the  whole  property ;  and  the  third  is  to  have 
60  pounds  less  than  the  fourth  of  the  property.  Re- 
quired the  amount  of  the  whole  property,  and  the  share 
of  each  son  1 

Let  the  whole  property  be  expressed  by  x  pounds. 
Then  the  share  of  the  first  son  is  —100 

And  that  of  the  second  is  - 80 

3 


And  that  of  the  third  is 


f-» 


So  that  the  three  sons  receive  in  all  ?+~-f- loo 

2     3      4 

XXX 

80—60,  or  -+-+__240 ;  and  as  this  sum  must,  by 

the  nature  of  the  question,  be  equal  to  his  whole  pro- 
perty, therefore, 

X  ,  X  ,  X 
2+3''"4~2'<°=* 


>  ) 
>     6r+4jr+3x— 12«&2880 


And  mult,  by  12,  by  Rule 

2.  §  107. 

That  is  a:=2880. 

Hence  it  appears  that  the  whole    fortune  is  2880 

pounds ;  and  consequently,  that  the  share  of  the  first 

son  IS  (1440—100=)  1.340  pounds;  and  the  share  of  the 

second  (060—80=)  880  pounds;  and  the  share  of  the 

youngest  (720—60=)  660  [tounds. 

Ex.  5.     It  is  required  to  divide  25  into  two  such  parta 
that  the  greater  may  contain  the  less  49  times. 

Put  X  for  the  less  part,  then  the  greater  will  be  ex- 
pressed by  25— X,  and  the  number  of  times  the  greater 

25 X 

contains  the  less  by .     But  by  the  question  this 

number  must  be  49,  therefore, 
25— i 


=49. 


Multiplying  by  . 
Trans. 


r,  25 — x=49jr 
25=49.r+x=50x 
25_ 

50~^ 
, — 1 


And  trans. 


2^3^4 


-x=:240 


And  div.  by  50, 

That  is  x=! 

Thus  it  appears  that  x,  the  less  part  is  \ ;  and,  there- 
lore,  that  the  greater,  25— x,  is  24|. 

Ex.  6.  A  gentleman  distributing  money,  wanted  10*. 
to  be  able  to  give  5*.  to  each  person;  therefore  he  gives 
each  4*.  only,  and  finds  he  has  5s.  left.  Required  the 
number  of  persons  and  shillings  ? 

Let  X  denote  the  number  of  persons ;  then,  if  each 
had  received  5s.  the  number  of  shillings  paid  away 
would  have  been  5x  ;  but  the  number  of  shillings  falls 
short  of  this  sum  by  10;  therefore  the  number  of  shil- 
lings will  be  5x^-10  Again,  because  each  received 
4s.  therefore  the  number  of  shillings  actually  paid  away 
was  4x ;  but  in  this  case  there  were  5s.  left ;  therefore 
the  number  of  shillings  is  also  4x+5.  Now,  as  these 
two  expressions  for  the  number  of  shillings  must  b« 
equal,  therefore, 

5x— 10=4j;+5 
And  trans.  5j — 4x=lo4-5 
That  is  x=\  5 

Therefore,  5x — 10=65 
Or,  4x+  5=65 

Therefore,  the  number  of  persons  is  1 5,  and  the  num 
ber  of  shillings  65. 

Ex.  7.  A  person  paid  a  bill  of  50i.  with  half-guineas 
and  crowns,  using  in  all  101  pieces.  How  many  pieces 
were  there  of  each  sort  ? 

Let  X  denote  the  number  of  half-guineas ;  then  101 — 
X  will  be  the  number  of  crowns.  Now,  the  value  of  the 

half-guineas,  expressed  in  shillings,  will  be  - — ;  and 

that  of  the  crowns  will  be  5(101 — x)=505 — 5x,  and 

21x 
their  sum  will  be  — — [-505 — 5x.  But  the  value  of  both 

the  half-guineas  and  crowns  must  be  equal  to  the  shil- 
lings in  50/.  that  is,  to  1000 ;  therefore, 

21x 

— +505— 5xi=]000 

And  mult,  by  2     21x+10l0— 10x=2000 
And  trans.  21x — 10i=2  100 — 1010 

That  is,  llx=990 


4U 


ALGEBRA. 


Therefore,  z=^=QQ 

And  101— T=ll 

Therefore,  the  number  of  half-guineas  was  90,  and 
(hat  of  the  crowns  11. 

Ex.  8.  A  labourer  engaged  to  serve  for  30  days,  on 
these  conditions ;  that  for  every  day  he  worked  he  should 
receive  20d.  but  that  for  every  day  he  played,  or  was  ab- 
sent, he  should  forfeit  lorf.  Now,  at  the  end  of  the  time 
he  bad  to  receive  just  20  shillings,  or  240  pence.  It  is 
required  to  find  how  many  days  he  worked,  and  how 
many  days  he  played  ? 

Let  X  be  the  days  he  worked  ;  then  30 — x  is  the  days 
he  played.  Therefore  he  earned  20.r  pence,  and  for- 
feited 10(30 — z)=300 — lOx  pence;  and  the  excess  of 
the  former  sum  above  the  latter,  viz.  20x — (300 — \Qx) 
^=30x — 300,  is  the  pence  he  had  to  receive.  But  by  the 
question  he  received  240  pence ;  therefore, 
30.i;— 300=240 
And  trans.  30j:=2404-300=540 

540 
Anddiv.bySO,       x=-^^}B 

Hence     30— x=30— 18=12. 
It  appears,  therefore,  that  he  worked  IS  days,  and 
played  12. 

Ex.  9.  A  farmer  kept  a  servant  for  every  40  acres  of 
ground  he  rented;  and  on  taking  a  lease  of  104  more 
acres,  lie  hired  five  additional  servants;  after  which  he 
had  a  servant  for  every  36  acres.  Required  the  number 
of  servants  and  acres  he  had  at  first  ? 

Let  X  denote  the  number  of  servants  he  had  at  first ; 

then  x+i  expresses  the  number  he  had  at  last.     Now, 

as  in  the  former  case,  he  had  40  times  as  many  acres  as 

servants,  and  in  the  latter  36  times  as  many  ;  therefore 

the  number  of  acres  he  had  at  first  will  be  expressed  by 

40x,  and  the  number  he  had  after  taking  the  lease,  by 

36(x+5.)     But  by  the  question,  the  latter  number  of 

acres  exceeded  the  former  by  104;  therefore, 

40x+ 1 04=3  C(x-t-  3)=36x-f- 1 80 

And  by  trans.         40x— 36*=1S0— 104 

That  is,  4z=76 

76 
Therefore,  x=:  — =1 9 

4 

And  hence  40x=40  X 1 9=760. 

Hence  it  appears  that  the  number  of  servants  he  had 

at  first  was  19,  and  the  number  of  acres  760. 

Ex.  10.  A  courier  sets  off  from  Edinburgh  for  London, 
and  travels  at  the  rate  of  6  miles  an  hour.  Five  hours 
after,  another  courier  sets  off  from  the  same  place,  to 
overtake  the  former,  and  travels  at  the  rate  of  8  miles 
^n  hour.  How  long,  and  how  far  must  they  travel,  be- 
fore the  second  courier  overtakes  the  first  ? 

Let  t  represent  the  number  of  hours  the  second  cou- 
rier travels  ;  then  1+5  will  be  the  number  of  hours  the 
first  travels.  And  since  the  first  travels  6  miles  an  hour, 
int+5  hours  he  will  travel  6(<-f  5)=6A+30  miles.  Also, 
because  the  second  travels  8  miles  an  hour,  in  (  hours 
he  will  travel  8t  miles.  But  when  the  second  comes 
up  with  the  first,  they  must  both  have  travelled  the 
same  distance. 

Therefore     8«=6t-}-30 
And  hence  8* — «=30 
That  is,        2fe=30 
Therefore,     t=15 


Thus  it  appeaTs  that  the  second  courier  will  overtake 
the  first  in  1 5  hours ;  and  as  each  must  have  travelled 
St  miles,  or  6(<4- 5)  miles  (for  these  are  identical  ex- 
pressions,) therefore  the  common  distance  travelled  it 
8X15=0X20=120  miles. 

112.  We  have  now  given  a  solution  to  the  question  ia 
one  particular  case ;  but  it  may  be  resolved  generally, 
as  follows.  Let  m  denote  the  number  of  miles  the  se- 
cond courier  travels  in  an  hour,  and  n  the  number  of 
miles  the  first  goes  in  the  same  time.  Put  a  for  the 
number  of  hours  the  second  sets  off  after  the  first ;  d  for 
the  distance  he  must  travel  before  he  overtakes  him ; 
and  t  as  before,  for  the  time  required  to  go  that  dis- 
tance :  Then,  by  the  nature  of  the  question,  rf=m<,  also 
<fc=M  {t+a)=r7a-\->ta  ;  therefore  'mt=nt+na,  and  mt — nt 
=na,  that  is  (»» — n)t=na,  therefore,  dividing  by  m — n, 

na 

ni—n 

And  since  d=na,  therefore, 

,    mna 

ft-^ — _ 

m — n 

These  two  expressions  or  formulas  exhibit  the  values 
of  <  and  d\n  all  cases  whatever;  it  being  only  necessary 
to  substitute  the  particular  numeral  values  of  m,  n,  and  a, 
in  order  to  resolve  any  particular  case.  Thus,  taking  the 
foregoing  example,  in  which  m=8,  n=6,  a=5,  we  have 
,  6X5  30  ,^  ,.  8X6X5  240  ,„„  ^, 
'=3=6=^=^^'  ^""^  d=-j~^=—=l20,&,be{ore, 

113.  These  formulas  may  also  be  considered  as  exhi- 
biting the  relations  of  the  quantities  contained  in  them 
to  one  another;  so  that  if  any  three  of  the  four  quantities 
in  either  of  them  be  given,  the  remaining  one  may  b^ 
found  merely  by  the  rules  for  the  management  of  equa- 

lions.  Thus,  from  the  first  formula,  viz.  <= ,  we  get 

m-n  ° 

t(tn — n)        n(a4-t\        mt — na 
a=^—-^  ,m=      J  \  «=» — J — 
nil 

And  from  the  second,  rf= 

dn 


d(m — n) 


m  ■■ 


mn 


,  we  get 

dm 
d~n(C        tna-\-d' 


114.  The  foregoing  general  resolution  of  the  question 
shows  wherein  algebra  differs  from  arithmetic.  In  th* 
latter  science,  the  results  obtained  are  always  particular, 
and  correspond  to  the  data  of  an  individual  question;  but 
in  the  former  they  are  general,  and  show  what  are  the 
arithmetical  operations  that  must  be  performed,  in  order 
to  resolve  any  question  whatever  of  that  kind, 

Resolution  of  Simple  Equations,  containing  more  than  one 
unknonm  Qnantity. 

115.  The  questions  we  have  hitherto  considered 
have  all  been  of  such  a  nature  as  to  admit  of  being  r&. 
solved  by  assuming  one  quantity  only  as  unknown ;  iind 
the  conditions  of  every  such  question,  if  it  l>e  projierly 
proposed,  can  furnish  only  one  equation.  There  are  ques- 
tions, however,  in  which  it  is  convenient,  and  even  ne- 
cessary, to  assume  several  unknown  quantities,  and  to 
denote  them  by  as  many  different  sj'mbols;  and  the 
conditions  of  such  questions  may  furnish  as  many  in- 
dependent equations  as  there  are  unknown  quantities, 
or  a  less  number  of  equations,  but  they  cannot  furnish 
more. 

116.  ir  the  conditions  of  a  question  do  not  furnish  at 


ALGEBRA. 


415 


Eiany  equations  as  there  are  unknown  quantities  to  be 
determined,  that  question  will  in  general  admit  of  an  in- 
definite number  of  solutions,  as  will  be  explained  after- 
wards in  the  course  of  this  treatise. 

117.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  question  furnish  just 
as  many  independent  equations  as  there  are  unknown 
quantities,  and  no  more ;  then  by  means  of  these  equa- 
tions, the  unknown  quantities  may  be  all  determined ; 
and  in  the  case  of  simple  equations,  each  can  have  only 
one  value. 

118.  If,  however,  a  question  were  proposed  which  ap- 
peared to  furnish  more  equations  than  unknown  quan- 
tities ;  then,  unless  some  of  these  equations  were  depen- 
dent upon  others,  and  deducible  from  them,  so  as  to 
reduce  the  number  of  independent  equations  to  that  of 
the  unknown  quantities,  the  question  would  be  impossi- 
ble. 

1 1 9.  We  proceed  now  to  show  how,  when  the  num- 
ber of  equations  is  exactly  equal  to  the  number  of  un- 
known quantities,  the  latter  may  be  determined.  And 
lirst,  we  shall  suppose  that  there  are  two  equations,  and 
two  unknown  quantities.  Then,  to  determine  these,  we 
may  proceed  according  to  any  one  of  the  three  follow- 
ing methods : 

Method  1.  Find  the  value  of  one  of  the  unknown 
quantities  in  terms  of  all  the  others ;  from  each  of  the 
two  equations,  by  the  rules  already  explained;  (§107.) 
then  put  these  two  values  equal  to  one  another,  and  thus 
a  new  equation  will  be  formed,  containing  only  one  un- 
known quantity. 

Find  the  value  of  the  unknown  quantity  contained  in 
this  new  equation,  as  already  taught,  and  substitute  it  in 
either  of  the  two  values  of  the  other  unknown  quantity, 
and  the  result  will  be  the  value  o(  that  quantity,  exjjres- 
sed  ity  known  quantities  only. 

Example.  Required  the  values  of  x  and  ^  from  these 
two  equations. 

2j:+y=24,  7^:— 3l/=19.  ' 

From  the   first  equation,  by   transposing,  we  have 

«r=24— 2/,  and  dividing,  x=——^.  From  the  second 

equation,  by  transposing,  we  get  7x=19+3v,  and  divi- 

19+3y    „, 
ding,    x=: — - — .  We  now  put  these  values  of  x  equal 

to  one  another,  and  thus  get— t-^=l-II^,  an  equation 

containing  only  one  unknown  quantity  y.     To  resolve 
this  equatron,  we  first  take  away  the  denominators,  (as 

directed  Rule  2,  §107,)  and  thus  obtain  38-{-6t/=168 

71/ ;  and  hence,  by  transposing,  7j/-f  6^=168  —38;  that 
is,  13^^=130,  therefore  y=10. 

Next,  to  have  x,  we  substitute  in  place  of  3/  its  value 

10,  in  either  of  the  two  equations  x=-      ^ 


or    X    = 


'1 


— _       .  If  we  substitute  in  the  first  of  these  we  have  x 

24— 10      14    ,         ,  .. 
= — 5 =  -^-=1 ;  and  if  we  substitute  in  the  second 

19-f3X10    49 
we    get    xs= =y  =7,    the  same  as  before. 

Thus  it  appears,  thata'=7,  andy=10. 

Method  2.  From  either  of  the  equations  find  a  value 
of  one  of  the  unknown  quantities  in  tsrms  of  the  other 


quantities,  and  substitute  this  value  instead  of  that  un- 
known quantity  in  the  other  equation,  which  will  then 
contain  only  one  unknown  quantity.  Find  now  the  va- 
lue of  the  unknown  quantity  in  this  equation,  and  thence 
that  of  the  other  unknown  quantity,  as  in  the  first  me- 
thod. 

To  show  how  this  method  is  to  be  applied,  take  the 
same  example  as  before,  viz. 

2x+y=24,  7x— 3^=19. 

From  the  first  of  these  equations,  we  get  »/=24 2x. 

We  next  substitute  this  value  of  >/  instead  of  it  in  the 
second  equation,  which  now  becomes  7x — 3  (24 — 2x) 
=19,  an  equation  containing  x  only.  To  determine  x, 
we  first  express  the  equation  thus,  Ix — 72-f-6x=19; 
and  hence,  by  transposing  we  get  7x-f6^=19-f  72,  that 

91 
is,  13jr=91 :  therefore  a-=— =7.  We  now  substitute  this 

value  of  X  in  the  equation  »/=24 — 2x,  and  tlius  get  y= 
24—2X7=10.  Therefore  ^=7,  and  y=]0,  agreeing 
with  the  result  obtained  by  the  first  method. 

Method  3.  Let  the  equations  be  multiplied,  or  divided, 
by  such  numbers,  or  quantities,  as  will  make  the  terms, 
w  hich  contain  one  of  the  unknown  quantifies,  the  same 
in  both  equations,  if  they  are  not  the  same  when  first 
proposed. 

Then,  if  the  terms  which  are  alike  in  both  equations 
have  contrary  signs,  that  is,  one  +  and  the  other  — ,  add 
the  equations;  but  if  the  terms  have  the  same  sign, 
subtract  the  one  equation  from  the  other,  and  thus 
the  one  term  will  cancel  the  other,  and  there  will  be 
produced  a  new  equation,  containing  only  one  unknown 
quantity,  which  may  be  resolved  in  the  usual  way. 

Having  found  one  of  the  quantities,  the  other  may  be 
obtained  by  the  same  method;  or  the  value  of  the  quan- 
tity found  may  be  substituted  instead  of  it  in  either  of 
the  original  equations,  which  will  then  contain  only  one, 
the  other  unkno^rn  quantity. 

Note.  Two  unequal  terms,  containing  the  same  un- 
knownquantity,may  be  made  equal,  by  multiplying  each 
by  the  coefficient  of  the  other. 

Taking  the  same  example  as  before,  viz. 
2x+y=24,  7x— 3y=]9, 

w  e  propose  to  determine  the  value  of  x  by  this  method- 
Now,  to  do  this,  we  must,  in  the  first  place,  give  the 
equations  such  a  form,  that  the  term  containing^  may 
be  the  same  in  both.  Accordingly,  we  multiply  the 
terms  of  the  first  equation  by  3,  and  write  the  result, 
with  the  second  equation  below  it,  thus, 

6x+3j/=72 
7x—3i/—l9 

By  adding  these  equations,  the  terms  containing  »/ 
destroy  each  other,  and  we  get  13jr=01,  an  equatfon 
containing  j:  only,  from  which  we  find  j'=7. 

To  determine  the  value  of  ?/,  in  the  same  manner,  wf- 
multiply  the  first  equation  by  7,  and  the  second  by  2,  and 
the  results  are, 

14j--{-7i/=168 
1 4x — 6i/=38 

Here  we  must  subtract  the  lower  equation  from  the  up- 
per to  destroy  x,  and  this  done,  we  get  13y=130,  and 
hence  J/=10. 

We  might  also  have  determined  J/,  by  substituting  7, 
the  value  of  x  previously  found,  in  either  of  the  original 
equations  2x +1^=24;  7x— 2^/=19 ;  for  the  former  would 


416 


ALGEBRA. 


then  have  become  T'4+i/=24,  and  thelatler  49 — 3y=19, 
and  from  eacli  of  these,  we  get  y=10,  as  before. 

120.  An  unknown  quantity  is  said  to  be  exterminated 
or  elhrdnalcd,  when  from  two  equations,  one  or  both  of 
which  contain  that  quantity,  we  deduce  a  third  equation, 
in  which  that  quantity  is  not  found. 

1 21.  Let  us  now  suppose,  that  there  are  three  or  more 
unknown  quantities,  and  as  many  independent  equations, 
then  to  determine  the  unknown  quantities,  we  may  pro- 
ceed as  follows : 

1.  After  the  manner  of  the  first  of  the  three  fore- 
going methods,  find  the  value  of  one  of  the  unknown 
quantities  in  each  of  the  given  equations.  Next,  put 
two  of  these  values  equal  to  each  other ;  and  then  one  of 
these,  and  a  third  value  equal,  and  so  on,  for  all  the  va- 
lues of  it ;  thus  there  will  ))e  produced  a  new  set  of  equa- 
tions, «-ith  which  the  same  process  is  to  be  repeated, 
and  so  on,  till  there  is  only  one  equation  to  be  reduced 
by'  the  rules  for  a  single  equation. 

2.  Or,  as  in  the  second  method,  find  the  value  of  one 
of  the  unknown  quantities  from  one  of  the  equations 
only ;  then  substitute  this  value  instead  of  it,  in  the 
other  equations,  which  gives  a  new  set  of  equations  to 
be  resolved  as  before,  by  repeating  the  operation. 

3.  Or,  lastly,  as  in  the  third  method,  reduce  the  equa- 
tions, by  multiplying  them,  or  dividing  them,  so  as  to 
make  some  of  the  terms  agree ;  then,  by  adding  or  sub- 
tracting them,  as  the  signs  may  require,  one  of  the  let- 
ters may  be  exterminated,  as  before. 

Example.  It  isrequired  to  determine  the  values  of 
the  unknown  quantities  x,  y,  and  z,  from  these  three 
equations. 

3j:+5i/-f  75=179 

Zx+  3v— 2r=  64 

bx—y  '+  3r  =  75 

Proceeding  according  to  the  first  method,  from  the 
first  equation,  after  transposing,  and  dividing,  we  get 
1 10— by— Is 

64— 3i/-t-2r 

8 
75+,y— 3g 
5 


and  from  the  second 
and  from    the  third 


Putting  now  the  first  and  second  values  of  x  equal  to 
one  another,  we  get 

3  ■~^'*~8  • 

and  making  the  first  and  third  equal,  we  have 
1 79— jy— 7g_75-fy— 3j: 
3  ~         5         ■ 

We  bare  now  exterminated  one  of  the  unknown  quan- 
tities, viz.  X,  and  obtained  two  equations  containing  two 
unknown  quantities,  the  values  of  which  may  be  found 
by  proceeding  according  to  any  one  of  the  three  methods 
of§  119.  In  prosecuting  the  operation,  however,  weshall 
continue  to  employ  the  first.     We  begin  with  taking 
away  the  denominators,  and  the  equations  become 
1 432— 40y— 56j=1  92— 9y-|-  «s 
895— 25.y— 35r=225-f3i/— 95 
Which  being  abridged,  by  collecting  like  terms  toge- 
tljer,  will  stand  thus,  " 

31^+62*=1240 
28«/-f-203=670 


from  these  equations,  by  transposing  and  dividing,  we 
find 

1240— 62£     _67Q— 26g 
^  31        '^ 28"~ 

and  these  values  of  y,  being  put  equal  to  one  another, 
give 

1240-62?    670— 26^ 

.31  28 

an  equation  containing  only  one  unknown  quantity, 

and  which,  being  cleared  from  the  denominators,  be 

comes 

34720— 17365=20770-806?, 
and  this  equation  again,  by  transposition,  &c.  is  chang- 
ed  to  13950=930sr,    from   which  we    find  z=^^^^ 


930 


=15.  ^ext,  to  find  the  value  of  y,  we  substitute  15  in- 
stead of  s,  in  either  of  the  two  foregoing  values  of  w, 

„    1  .  I  •      *u    c    t     •  1240— 62s 

and  taking  the  first,  viz.  y= ,  we  have 

O  1 


y= 


1240—62X15     1240—930    310 


31 


-=-—=10 


31       ^31 

Lastly,  to  find  i,  we  have  only  to  substitute,  in  any 
of  its  three  preceding  values,  the  numbers  10  and  15 
instead  of  y  and  z.  Taking  for  example  the  first,  viz. 
1 79— 5y— 7g 


we  get 
179—5X10—7X15 


24 


-=—^8. 


3  3 

Resuming  the  same  three  equations, 
3j:-f5j/+7s=179 
8x  +Zy—2e=  64 
Sx—y  +3^=  75 
the  values  of  x,  y,  and  s,  may  be  determined  by  p»o. 
ceeding  according  to  the  third  method,  as  follows : 

To  begin  with  exterminating  z,  let  each  equation  be 
multiplied  by  the  product  of  the  coefficients  of  s  in  the 
other  two ;  that  is,  let  the  first  equation  be  multiplied 
by  2X3,  or  6,  the  second  by  7  X  3,  or  21,  and  the  third 
by  7  X2,  or  14,  then  the  results  are, 

18x+30^+42ir=1074 

168x-i-63t/ — 42^=1344 

70x— 14^-f42?=1050 

Let  the  sum  of  the  first  and  second  of  these  equations 

be  now  taken,  as  also  the  sum  of  the  second  and  third, 

thus  we  get 

186;r-f93y=:2413 
238x-i-4^=2394 
But,  by  a  little  attention  to  these  equations,  it  will 
appear,  that  all  the  terms  of  the  first  are  divisihie  by  93, 
and  all  the  terms  of  the  second  by  7 ;  therefore  by  ac- 
tually dividing,  the  same  equations  are  more  simply  ex- 
pressed thus, 

2x+   y=  26 
34x-|-7y=342 
Next,  to  exterminate  y,  let  the  first  of  these  two 
equations  be  multiplied  by  7  the  coefficient  of  y  in  the 
second,  then  the  result,  and  the  second  equation,  will 
stand  thus, 

14x+7y=182 
34x-f-7]y=342 
We  now  subtract  the  first  of  tbese  two  equation* 


ALGEBRA. 


417 


from  the  lecond,   and  obtain  202^=190,   and  thence 

160 
x=— -=8.     To  find  t/,  we  substitute  8  instead  of  x  in 

either  of  the  two  equations,  2z+-^=26,  34?+7^/=342, 
and,  taking  the  first,  as  the  most  simple,  it  gives  us 
1Q+t/=26,  and  hence  3/=26 — 16=10.  Lastly,  to  find 
r,  we  have  only  to  substitute  8  and  10,  instead  of  x  and 
y,  in  any  one  of  the  three  original  equations ;  for  exam- 
ple, in  the  second,  and  the  result  is  64+30—2^=64,  an 
equation  containing  s  only,  and  from  which  we  have 
2s=64+30 — 64=3b,  and^=15. 

It  may  happen  that  each  equation  does  not  contain  all 
the  unknown  quantities ;  but  still  the  foregoing  methods 
will  apply,  because  this  case  only  differs  from  that  iu 
which  all  the  quantities  are  present,  by  having  the  co- 
etficient  of  such  as  are  wanting,  each  =  0. 

Questimis  proihicing  Simple  Equations,   resolved  hy  em- 
ploying more  than  one  unknonm  Quantity. 

122.  We  now  proceed  to  apply  the  foregoing  rule* 
to  the  resolution  of  questions. 

Example  1.  Find  two  numbers  whose  sum  shall  be 
s,  and  difference  d,  where  s  and  d  denote  any  given 
■umbers. 

Let  or  be  the  greater  of  the  two  numbers,  and  y  the 
less.     Then  by  the  question 

x+y=s,        x—y=d 
Therefore,  proceeding  according  to  the  third  method, 
(§  119.)   and  taking  the  sum  and  difference  of  these 
equations,  we  find  2x=s+<f,  and  2y=s — d;  and  hence 
we  have 

which  equations  exhibit  a  general  formula  for  finding 
two  quantities  whose  sum  and  difference  are  given. 

Ex.  2.  A  man  has  two  kinds  of  money,  such,  that  four 
pieces  of  the  less  value  and  three  of  the  greater  are 
together  equivalent  to  31  shillings.  Also  five  pieces  of 
the  greater  value,  together  with  5  shillings,  are  equiva- 
lent to  16  pieces  of  the  less.  What  is  the  value  of  a 
piece  of  each  kind  ? 

Let  X  denote  the  number  of  shillings  equivalent  to  a 
piece  of  the  less  value,  and  y  the  value  in  shillings  of  a 
piece  of  the  greater.  Then  the  value  of  4  pieces  of  the 
less,  together  with  3  of  the  greater,  will  be  expressed 
by  ix-{-Zy,  also  the  value  of  5  pieces  of  the  greater, 
together  with  five  shillings,  will  be  5i/+ j,  and  the  value 
of  16  pieces  of  the  less  will  be  16.r.  Therefore  the 
conditions  of  the  questions  furnish  these  two  equations, 
4x-^3^/=31,  5^+5=1 6:r. 

From  the  first  equation,  5i/=- 


And  from  the  second    y^' 


3 

16x— 5 


Therefore 


16r— 5    31— 4:tr 


5  3 

And  hence         48x — 1 5  =  1 55 — 20* 
That  is       G8a:=170 

170    5     „ 
Therefore  ^'='="aS'~2      = 

/31 — 4x    \, 
And  consequently  t/=f  — - — =  )V 

Thus  it  appears  that  r=2|  and  j/=7  ;  so  that  the 
pieces  of  the  lesser  value  may  be  half  crowns,  and  those 
of  the  greater  7  shilling  pieces. 

Vol.  L    Pari:  IL 


Ex.  3.  A  mule  and  an  ass  were  carrying  burden* 
amounting  to  some  hundredweight.  The  ass  complained 
of  his,  and  said  to  the  mule,  I  need  only  one  hundred 
weight  of  your  load  to  make  mine  twice  as  heavy  as 
yours.  The  mule  answered,  Yes;  but  if  you  gave  me 
a  hundred  weight  of  yours,  I  should  be  loaded  three 
times  as  much  as  yon  would  be.  How  many  hundred 
weight  did  each  carry  ? 

Suppose  the  mule's  load  to  be  x  hundred  weight,  and 
that  of  the  ass  to  be  y  hundred  weight.  If  the  mule 
gives  one  hundred  weight  to  the  ass,  the  one  will  hare 
y-\-  1,  and  there  will  remain  to  the  others — 1  ;  and 
since  in  this  case  the  ass  is  loaded  twice  as  much  as  th» 
mule,  we  have  i/  +  l=2(a: — l)=2r — 2. 

Again,  if  the  ass  gives  a  hundred  weight  to  the  mule, 
the  latter  has  x-\-\  and  the  ass  retains  y — 1 ;  but  the 
burden  of  the  mule  being  now  three  times  that  of  the 
ass,  we  have  x-\-\  =3(y — l)=3t/ — 3. 

Therefore  the  two  equations  are 

y-^\=^ix—2,    x-{-\=Zy—Z 

V+3 
Fr«m  the  first  equation  x=^— — 


And  from  the  second 


x—Zy—A 
y+3 


Therefore  2y — 4 

And  hence  Gy — 8=^+3,  and  5y=\  1 

Therefore  y=:X~=:2\ 
o        a 

And  since  x=Zy — A,  therefore  z=2- 

Ex.  4.  Three  brothers  bought  a  ship  for  a  thousand 
guineas.  The  youngest  says  that  he  could  pay  for  it 
alone,  if  the  second  gave  him  half  the  money  which  he 
had ;  the  second  says,  that  if  the  eldest  would  give  him 
only  the  third  of  his  money  he  could  pay  for  the  ship 
alone ;  lastly,  the  eldest  asks  only  a  fourth  part  of  the 
money  of  the  youngest  to  pay  for  the  ship  himself.  How 
much  money  had  each  ? 

Suppose  the  first  had  x  guineas,  the  second  y  guineas, 
and  the  third  s  guineas.  Then  the  conditions  of  the 
question  give  these  three  equations. 

jr+Ay=1000,  l/+J«=1000  3+lx=1000. 
From  the  first  equation  we  have  as=1000 — ^ 
And  from  the  third  ^=4000 — 4s 

Therefore  1000— Jy=4000— 4s 

And  hence  y—Zz—Qom 

But  from  the  2d  equation  j/=1000 — ^ 

Therefore  8,sv— 0000=1000 — \s 

And  hence  ^=840 

And  consequently  y=(1000— 1^720 
And  ^=(4000— 42=)640 

Ans.  The  youngest  had  640  guineas,  the  second  had 
720  guineas,  and  the  eldest  840  guineas. 

Sect.  V.     Of  Involution  and  Evolution. 

123.  We  have  already  stated  (§  50.)  that  by  the  p6w- 
cr  of  a  quantity  is  meant  the  product  formed  by  multi- 
plying the  quantity  a  certain  number  of  times  by  itself. 
Hence  it  appears,  that  powers  are  to  be  found  by  a  re- 
petition of  the  operation  of  multiplication. 

124.  We  have  hitherto  denominated  powers  from  the 
number  of  equal  factors  which  entered  into  each  consi- 
dered as  a  product,  calling  aa  or  a'  the  second  power 
of  a,  and  aaa  or  a"  the  third  power  of  a,  and  so  on.  The 
second  power  of  a,  however,  is  also  called  the  square  of 

3G 


• 


418 


ALGEBRA. 


o,  and  (he  third  power  of  a  its  cube  ;  because  in  geome- 
try the  area  of  a  square  is  tiie  product  formed  by  multi- 
plying the  side  of  llie  square  by  itself;  and  the  content 
of  the  cube  is  the  product  formed  by  multiplying  the 
side  by  itself  twice. 

The  fourth  power  of  a  quantity  is  sometimes  called 
its  biquadraie,  and  the  fifth  power  its  sursolid ;  but 
these  terms,  especially  the  latter,  are  now  generally 
disused. 

125.  The  quantity  from  which  a  power  is  raised  is 
called  the  root  of  that  power.  Thus,  as  4,  or  2  X  2,  is 
the  second  power  or  square  of  2,  so,  on  the  contrary,  2 
is  the  second,  or  square  root  of  4  ;  and,  using  general 
symbols,  a  is  the  second  or  square  root  of  a'  ;  also  the 
third  or  cube  root  of  a'  ;  and  the  fourth  root  of  a*  ;  and 
so  on. 

126.  In  treating  of  division,  it  has  been  shown,  that 
to  divide  a  power  of  a  quantity  by  another  poAver  of  the 
same  quantity,  we  must  subtract  the  exponent  of  the 
divisor  from  that  of  the  dividend,  and  the  remainder  will 
be  the  exponent  of  the  quotient.  But  in  applying  that 
rule,  we  have  supposed  the  exponent  of  the  divisor  not 
greater  than  that  of  the  dividend. 

If,  however,  we  suppose  the  exponent  of  the  divisor 
greater  than  that  of  the  dividend ;  as,  for  example,  if 
the  divisor  be  a',  and  the  dividend  a^  ;  then_employing 
the  same  rule,  the  quotient  will  be  a^~^=a  ',  that  is, 
the  exponent  will  be  — 1,  a  negative  quantity.     But  the 

same  quotient  is  manifestly  — =-H  'l-)      Therefore, 

like  as  we  represent  aa  by  a"  and  aaa  by  «',  so  follow- 
ing the  analogy  pointed  out  by  the  rule  for  division,  we 

may  represent  -  by  o~ ' .     Also,  because  proceeding  by 

the  general  rule,  the  quotient  of  a^  divided  by  a*  would 

_  ffl^      1 

be  a'~*=a  ",  and  the  same  quotient  is  — =:-j(by  § 

71.)  therefore  me  may  express -j,  otherwise  thus,  o~=, 

and  so  on.  So  that,  according  to  this  notation,  the  cor- 
responding terms  of  these  two  sets  of  quantities  are  to 
be  considered  as  equivalent. 

111^ 

.  .    ,  — ,  — ,    1,  aa,  aaa,  aaaa,  .  . 

aaa   aa   a 

>.   a~^,a~',a~',a<>,a'',a3,  a*  .. 

127.  As  this  mode  of  notation  is  founded  upon  an 
analogy  drawn  from  the  general  rules  of  division,  and 
(consequently)  multiplication,  it  follows,  that  in  multi- 
plying and  dividing  these  negative  pmvers,  as  they  are 
called,  the  very  same  rules  are  io  be  observed  as  in  the 
case  of  positive  powers  ;  that  is,  they  are  to  be  multi- 
plied by  adding  the  exponents  of  the  factors,  (regard 
being  had  to  the  signs,)  and  divided  by  subtracting  the 
exponent  of  the  divisor  from  that  of  the  dividend. 

Thu8o~»  Xa""3=a~5  ;  because  by  the  nature  of  alge- 
braic addition  the  sum  of — 2  and — 3  is — 5.  And  this 
tetult  agrees  with  the  product,  otherwise  found  thus, 

111  a"' 

-tX— =— r==a  '.     Again,  r=r-=^' ;  because  if — 3  be 

subtracted  from — 1,  the  result  is  -t-2  or  2.     And  this 

result  also  agrees  with  the  quotient  found  thus,  — j — - 

a     a' 

1      o»     a' 
=-X-r=— =0». 

•      1      a 


128.  By  employing  this  mode  of  notation,  we  may 
express  fractions  in  the  form  of  integers ;  also  integers 

in  the  form  of  fractions  :  for  — means  the  same  as  xrT^, 

a'  1 

and  0=  J  '  means  the  same  as  r=-  or  -^^-r^r- .     In  general, 

any  quantity  which  is  a  factor  of  the  denominator  of  a 
fraction,  may  be  carried  to  the  numerator  by  changing 
the  sign  of  its  exponent,  and  conversely. 

129.  As  every  process  of  calculation  has  its  converse, 
so  the  finding  of  the  powers  of  a  given  quantity,  or  root, 
leads,  on  the  contrary,  to  the  opposite  inquiry,  namely, 
having  given  any  jwwer,  to  find  the  root  from  which  that 
power  was  raised.  Now,  although,  when  the  root  is 
given,  any  power  of  it  may  be  found  by  multiplication, 
as  for  example,  the  square  of  3  is  3  X  3=9,  and  the  cube 
of  3  is  3X3X3=27,  yet  when  the  power  is  given,  the 
root  cannot  be  immediately  found  by  the  contrary  ope- 
ration, viz.  division.  For  in  division  we  seek  for  an  un- 
known quantity,  which  being  multiplied  by  a  known  or 
given  quantity,  shall  produce  another  giveu  quantity ; 
but  when  we  investigate  a  root  from  its  power,  we  seek 
for  an  unknown  quantity,  which  being  multiplied  by  it- 
self, or  another  unknown  quantity,  shall  produce  a  given 
quantity,  which  is  evidently  quite  a  different  inquiry. 

130.  Hence  it  appears,  that  the  finding  of  a  root  from 
its  power  may  be  regarded  as  an  operation  quite  dis- 
tinct, and  of  a  different  nature  from  the  first  four  rules 
of  calculation ;  and  although  the  finding  ola  power  from 
its  root  may  be  regarded  merely  as  an  application  of 
multiplication;  yet,  considering  it  as  the  opposite  to 
that  of  finding  a  root  from  its  power,  it  may  properly  be 
considered  also  as  a  distinct  operation. 

1 31 .  The  operation  by  which  any  power  ofa  quantity 
is  found  from  its  root  is  called  Involution  ;  and  the  op- 
posite operation,  by  which  the  root  is  found  from  its 
power,  is  called  EvohUion. 

Of  Involution. 

132.  From  the  nature  of  involution,  it  must  be  evi- 
dent that  the  rule  for  performing  it  may  be  stated  briefly 
thus.  Multiply  the  quantity  whose  power  is  to  be  found 
by  itself,  as  many  times,  except  one,  as  there  are  units 
in  the  index  or  exponent  of  the  power,  and  the  product 
will  be  the  power  required. 

133.  By  proceeding  according  to  the  rule. 

The  square  of  7  will  be  7X7=49 
3  3     3     3     27 

The  cube  of  -will  be-X-X-=— 

or  -2,  will  be  •2X-2X'2X-2= 


The  fourth  power  of 


2 
2 

To' 


.0016 

The  square  of  2x  will  be  2xX2x=4x2 

The  cube  of  xy  will  be  3y'><.xify.xy=x'>y'* 

ax  a*x* 

The  fourth  power  of  — will  be  — r— 

Again,  the  square  of  a  will  be  axaf=a* 

The  cube  of  o  will  be  oXaXfl=a=' 

And,  in  like  manner,  the  fourth  and  fifth  powers  of  a 

will  be  a*  and  a'  respectively. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  square  of  — a  is  — aY.'-assa* 
The  cube  of  — a  is  — -ax— «X— a= — a' 
The  fourth  power  of  —a  is  — aX— aX— ax— a=a« 


ALGEBRA. 


419 


In  like  manner,  by  observing  that  like  signs  give  a 
positive  product,  and  unlike  signs  a  negative  product, 
(§  56.)  we  find  the  fifth  power  of  — ^  to  be  — o',  and  the 
sixth  power  of  — a  to  be  a". 

134.  Thus  it  appears,  that  while  all  the  powers  of  a 
positive  quantity  are  positive,  the  even  powers  of  a  ne- 
gative quantity  are  also  positive ;  but  its  odd  powers  are 
all  negative. 

135.  Again,  the  square  of  a'  is  a'  y<a'=a*. 
The  cube  of  a'  is  a'  Xa»  Xa'=a*. 

In  like  manner,  the  fourth  power  of  a'  is  a"  or  a'X* 
and  the  fifth  power  of  a'  is  a'"  or  a'  X '. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  when  a  quantity,  which  is  a 
power  itself,  is  to  be  raised  to  any  power,  we  must  mul- 
tiply its  exponent  by  the  index  of  the  power  to  which 
it  is  to  be  raised,  and  take  the  result  for  the  power 
required. 

136.  The  operation  for  the  powers  of  any  compound 
quantity,  for  example,  the  binomial  a+x,  will  stand 
thus: 

a-f-^  the  root,  or  first  power 

a-{-x 


a'+ax 
-{-ax+x' 

a'+2ax+x''  the  square,  or  second  power 

a  +•* 


o'H-2(i2j;-f  ax' 

-j-  a'x+2ax'+x^ 

a^-\-3a'x-\-3ax'-i-x^  the  cube,  or  third  power. 
a  -\-x 


a*+3a3x+3a'x'+  ax' 

+  a'x+3a'x'+3ax3+x* 


a*+4a3x+6a''x'+4ax3+x*  the  fourth  power. 

The  same  powers  of  a — x,  by  a  like  process,  will  be 
expressed  as  follows : 

a — x=a — X  the  first  power 
{a — xy=a' — 2ax  +x^  the  second  power 
(a — xy=a^ — 3a-x+3ax'' — x'  the  third  power 
(a — x)*=a« — 4a'x+0a'x^ — 4<u-3-f-*<     the    fourth 
power. 

From  which  it  appears,  that  the  successive  powers  of 
a+x  and  a=jr  differ  in  nothing  but  the  signs  of  the 
■  terms;  those  of  a+x  being  all  positive,  but  those  of 
a — X  positive  and  negative  alternately. 

There  is  a  general  rule,  called  the  binomial  theorem, 
by  which  any  power  whatever  of  a  binomial  may  be 
found,  without  the  trouble  of  multiplying  the  quantity 
repeatedly  by  itself,  and  which  the  reader  will  find  in- 
vestigated in  §  316  of  this  treatise. 

Of  Evolutim. 

137.  The  root  of  any  quantity  is  expressed  by  placing 
the  sign  y/  (called  the  radical  sign,)  before  the  quantily, 
and  prefixing  to  the  head  of  the  sign  a  figure  to  indicate 
the  denomination  of  the  root.  Thus  the  square  root  of 
a  is  expressed  by  'a/o,  also  simply  by  .ya;  and  the 


cube  root  of  a  is  denoted  by  ^^a,  and  so  on.  When  tlie 
quantity  is  compound,  it  is  included  in  a  parenthesis,  and 
the  sign  prefixed  thus,  ^/{a'+h',)  which  denotes  the 
fourth  root  of  the  compound  quantity  a^+i^.  gome> 
times  the  roots  of  compound  quantities  are  expressed 
thus  v^"'+*'>  3^a=-f-A3,  which  mean  the  same  as 
'  v^(a>+i2)  and  V(«°+*''-) 

138.  If  the  quantity  whose  square,  cube,  or  higher 
root,  is  to  be  expressed,  be  obviously  the  square,  cube, 
or  higher  power  of  some  other  quantity,  then,  without 
employing  the  radical  sign,  that  quantity  may  be  taken 
for  the  root.  Thus  the  square  root  of  a'  is  -f-a  or  — a ; 
because  (§  56.)  the  square  of  — a,  as  well  as  the  square 
of  +a,  is  fl*.  Also  the  cube  root  of  a'  is  a;  and  the 
cube  root  of — a'  is  — a ;  and  the  fourth  root  of  a  is  either 
-f-a  or  — o,  as  is  evident  from  the  nature  of  involution. 

139.  As  a  quantity  composed  of  several  factors  is 
raised  to  any  power  by  multiplying  the  index  of  each 
factor  by  the  index  of  the  power;  so,  on  the  contrary, 
to  extract  any  root  of  a  quantity  composed  of  several 
factors,  we  must  divide  the  index  of  each  factor  by  the 
index  of  the  root. 

a  ♦ 
Thus  the  square  root  of  a'b*  will  be  a''b^=ab',  or 

= — 0^2. 

The  cube  root  of  27ffl«(6+c)',orof  3'fl«(6-f  c)*,  willbe 

3'ffl*(6+c)3=3af(4+c) 

140.  If  the  quantity  be  a  fraction,  then  its  square  cube, 
or  higher  root,  will  be  a  fraction,  whose  numerator  and 
denominator  are  the  square,  cube,  or  higher  root,  of 
the  like  terms  of  the  fraction.     Thus  the  cube  root  of 

—r:,  will  be  —r-. 

141.  If  the  exponents  of  the  factors  in  any  proposed 
quantity  are  not  exactly  divisible  by  the  index  of  the  root, 
then  the  rout  can  only  be  expressed  by  notation.  But 
instead  of  employing  tne  ladlcnl  sign,  it  will  in  many 
cases  be  better  to  express  roots  as  fractional  powers. 

3 

Therefore,  as  the  square  root  of  a'  is  o"^=a,   and    the 
square  root  of  a*  is  a^=a^,  and  the  cube  root  of  a'  is 

6  ^ 

a'^'^a^  ;  so  also  the  square  root  of  a  or  a'  may  be  ex- 

i_ 
pressed  thus,  a^ ;  and  the  square   root  of  a'  thus,  as ; 

2 

and  the  cube  root  of  a'  thus,  a^ ;  and  so  on. 
According  to  this  notation,  the  expression  a^b^  will 

2_ 

mean  the  same  thing  as  ^  ab^,  and  (a'-fi")^  will  mean 
the  same   as   ' ^{a^ -^-b'^y  or  =  ■/(a^-f 6«)». 

142.  The  rules  for  finding  the  roots  of  compound 
quantities  are  to  be  investigated,  by  raising  known  com- 
pound quantities  to  dilferent  powers,  and  observing  at- 
tentively how  the  terms  of  such  powers  are  formed  from 
the  terms  of  their  roots. 

143.  By  involution  it  appears,  that  the  square  of  a-f  b 
or  {a+bY,  is  a^+2ab+b',  but  2ffli-|-6='=<2a-f 6)6, 
therefore, 

(«+6)2=a2-f(2a-F6)6. 
3  G  2 


420 


ALGBBRA 


In  !ikc  manner,  by  involution  we  have 

fa+b+c)*=a*  4-2a4+A*  +2ac+2bc+c*, 
but2aA+i'=(2a4-ft)6  and  2ac+2bc+c^=i2a+2b+c)c, 
therefore, 
{a+b+cy=a'+(2a+b)b+{2a+2b+c)c. 

In  the  same  way  it  appears  that 
{a+b+c+dy-  J      j^\2a+2b+2c+d)d. 

By  simply  inspecting  these  three  formulas,  it  will  im- 
mediately appear, 

1.  That  the  square  of  any  compound  quantity  may  be 
resolved  into  as  many  terms  as  there  are  terms  or  mem- 
bers in  the  root. 

2.  That  the  first  term  is  the  square  of  the  first  mem- 
ber of  the  root. 

3.  That  the  second  term  is  the  product  formed  by 
multiplying  the  sum  of  twice  the  first,  and  once  the 
second  term  of  the  root,  by  the  second  term  of  the 
root. 

4.  That  the  third  term  is  the  product  formed  by  mul- 
tiplying the  sum  of  twice  the  first  and  second,  and  once 
the  third  term  of  the  root,  by  the  third  term  of  the  root. 
And  so  on. 

144.  From  these  observations,  we  readily  deduce  the 
following  rule  for  finding  the  square  root  of  a  compound 
quantity. 

Arrange  the  terms  of  the  given  quantity  according  to 
the  powers  of  the  letters.  Find  the  square  root  (a)  of  the 
first  term,  which  set  down  for  the  first  member  of  the 
root.  Subtract  its  square  (ffl=)  from  the  given  quantity, 
and  divide  the  first  term  of  the  remainder  by  its  double 
(2a ;)  the  quotient  (J)  is  the  second  member  of  the  root. 
Add  the  second  member  to  the  double  of  the  first; 
multiply  their  sum  (2a+b)  by  the  second  member  (b ;) 
and  subtract  the  product  (2a6-t-6=)  from  the  last  re- 
mainder. If  nothing  remain  the  root  is  found;  but,  if 
there  be  a  remainder,  divide  the  first  term  of  it  by  dou- 
ble the  first  member  of  the  root  {2a,)  the  quotient  (c)  is 
the  third  member  of  the  root.  Add  this  third  member 
to  the  sura  of  double  the  first  and  second,  and  multiply 
their  sum  (2a+9h-\  c)  Dy  the  third  member  (c,)  and, 
subtract  the  product  from  the  last  remainder :  if  there 
be  still  a  remainder,  proceed  as  before,  always  dividing 
the  first  term  of  the  remainder  by  (2a,)  the  double  of 
the  first  member  of  the  root  for  a  new  member. 

Ex.    1.    Required  the   square  root  o'  +  2ab  +  b* 

Operation. 

a*  +2ab  +  b  "(a  +  b  the  root 


Ex.  3.     Required  the  iquare  root  of  a*— ax  +  -^ 


2a  +  b) 


+  2ab  +  b* 
4-  2ai  X  6» 


Ex.  2.    Required  the  square  root  of  o"  +2ab  -\rb* 
+2ac  +  2hc  +C* 

Operation. 
a*  +  2ab  +  b'  +  2ac -^  2bc  +  c*(a  +  b  +  € 
a*  the  root 


U+b)  +  2ab+b*  +2ac  +  2bc+  c* 
+  2(U>+b* 

2a  +  2b  +  c)-h2ac  +  2bc  +c* 
+  2a«  -f  2ic  -^  «« 


Operation. 

x' — ax  +  -  {a — -  the  root. 


2a-J^-ax+'t 


— «^+T 


145.  The  same  rule  will  also  apply  to  the  finding  of 
the  square  root  of  any  number.  But  in  its  application 
it  will  be  proper  to  observe, 

1.  That  if  a  number  be  divided  into  periods,  proceed- 
ing from  right  to  left,  so  that  each  may  consist  of  two 
figures,  except  the  last,  which  may  consist  of  either 
one  or  two  figures,  the  number  of  figures  in  the  root  will 
be  equal  to  the  number  of  periods. 

2.  The  square  root  of  the  first  period,  if  it  be  a  square 
number,  or  otherwise  the  square  root  of  the  next  less 
square  number,  will  be  the  first  figure  of  the  root. 

These  two  observations  may  be  easily  verified  by  tak- 
ing the  squares  of  a  few  numbers. 

146.  Let  us  now  suppose  that  the  square  root  of 
223729  is  to  be  found  by  the  rule.  This  number  will 
consist  of  three  periods,  the  first  of  which  is  22  ;  there- 
fore the  root  consists  of  three  figures,  and  as  the  next 
less  square  to  22  is  16,  the  first  figure  of  the  root  will  be 
the  square  root  of  16 ;  that  is,  4.  Put  a  to  denote  the 
hundreds  contained  in  the  root ;  that  is,  let  0=400,  and 
put  b  for  the  tens,  and  c  for  the  units  contained  in  it ; 
then,  inilating  exactly  the  process  by  which  the  root  is 
found  in  the  above  examples,  the  operation  may  stand 

thus : 

223720  >  400=a 

)     70=* 

O*=160000)       3=C 


20=800 
b=  70 

20 -f  6=870 


63729     473 


60900 


the  root. 


2a  +  26=940 ; 
c=    3 

2a  -f  26  -f-  c=943 ! 

It  is  easy  to  see,  that  in  performing  this  operation  we 
might  have  omitted  the  cyphers  in  the  root,  as  well  as 
in  the  divisors,  and  in  the  successive  subtrahends,  in 
imitation  of  the  like  abbreviation  which  takes  place  ia 
common  division.  The  operation  would  then  have 
stood  thus : 

223729(473 

16 

87)637 
609 

•43)2829 
2829 


ALGEBRA. 


4U 


147.  Instead  of  employing  the  rule  for  the  square  root 
of  a  compound  algebraic  quantity,  in  finding  the  root 
of  a  number,  it  will  be  better  to  make  use  of  the  fol- 
lowing, which  is  deduced  from  the  other,  and  which  is 
indeed  nothing  more  than  that  rule  modified  bo  as  to 
apply  to  the  particular  case  of  numbers. 

Rule  for  extracting  the  Square  Root  of  a  number. 

Divide  the  given  number  into  periods  of  two  figures 
each,  by  setting  a  point  over  the  place  of  units,  another 
over  the  place  of  hundreds,  and  so  on,  over  every  se- 
cond figure,  both  to  the  left  hand  in  integers,  and  the 
right  hand  in  decimals. 

Find  the  greatest  square  in  the  first  period  on  the 
left  hand,  and  set  its  root  on  the  right  hand  of  the  giv- 
en number,  after  the  manner  of  a  quotient  figure  in 
division. 

Subtract  the  square  thus  found  from  the  said  period, 
and  to  the  remainder  annex  the  two  figures  of  the  next 
following  period  for  a  dividend. 

Double  the  root  above  mentioned  for  a  divisor,  and 
find  how  often  it  is  contained  in  the  said  divi<lend,  ex- 
clusive of  the  right  hand  figure  of  the  dividend,  and 
Bet  that  quotient  figure  both  in  the  quotient  and  di- 
Tisor. 

Multiply  the  whole  augmented  divisor  by  this  last 
quotient,  and  subtract  the  product  from  the  said  divi- 
dend, bringing  down  to  it  the  next  period  of  the  given 
number  for  a  new  dividend. 

Repeat  the  same  process  over  again,  viz.  find  another 
new  divisor,  by  doubling  all  the  figures  now  found  in 
the  root,  from  which,  and  the  last  dividend,  find  the 
next  figure  of  the  root,  as  before,  and  so  on,  through  all 
the  periods  to  the  last. 

Note  I.  If,  after  having  brought  down  a  period,  the 
divisor  is  not  containetl  once  in  the  dividend,  exclusive 
of  its  right  hand  figure,  then  a  cj'pher  must  be  placed 
in  the  root,  and  also  in  the  divisor,  and  another  period 
brought  down. 

2.  The  new  divisors  are  most  readily  formed,  by 
adding  the  figure  of  the  root  last  found  to  the  last 
divisor. 

3.  There  will  be  as  many  decimal  places  in  the  root, 
as  there  are  decimal  periods  in  the  proposed  number. 

Example.     Required  the  square  root  of  137085.0625. 


137085.0625(370.25  the  root. 
9 


d7 
7 


470 

469 


7402 
2 


18506 
14804 


74045  J  370225 
5  1  370225 

148.  If,  after  performing  the  operation  upon  a  pro- 
posed number,  there  be  a  remainder,  then  the  root  found 
is  not  the  root  of  the  proposed  number,  but  of  the  pro- 
posed number  diminished  by  that  remainder.  Thus, 
if  the  square  root  of  147  be  required,  by  proceeding  ac- 
cording to  the  rule,  we  shall  find  12  for  the  root,  and  a 
remainder  of  3 ;  therefore  12  is  the  square  root  of  147 — 
3=144. 

149.  In  such  a  case,  we  may  continue  the  operation, 
by  aunesiBg  periods  of  cyphers  to  the  unmber  iu  tbe 


form  of  a  decimal.  Thus  the  number  147  being  written 
147.0000,  and  the  operation  continued,  we  find  12.12 
for  the  root,  and  a  remainder  of  1050,  that  is,  .1050; 
therefore  we  conclude  that  12.12  is  Lie  square  root 
of  147 — .1056=146.8044.  By  adding  two  periods  of 
cyphers  more,  that  is,  by  writing  the  number  thus, 
147.00000000,  and  continuing  the  operation,  we  find 
12.1243  for  the  root,  and  a  remainder  of  .00134951  ; 
from  which  it  appears  that  12.1243  is  the  square  root 
of  147— .00134951=140.99805049. 

150.  As  each  remainder  will  be  of  less  value  than 
the  foregoing  remainder,  it  is  manifest,  that,  by  con- 
tinuing the  operation,  we  may  obtain  the  square  root  of 
a  number,  which  differs  from  the  proposed  number  by 
less  than  any  given  quantity  ;  and  such  root  is  to  be  con- 
sidered as  an  appro.ximate  value  of  the  root  required. 
It  is,  however,  impossible  to  express  the  true  value  of 
the  square  root  of  147,  by  a  determinate  number  of 
figures ;  for  it  will  be  demonstrated,  (next  Section) 
that,  if  the  square  root  of  a  whole  number  is  not  a 
whole  number,  neither  is  it  a  mixt  number,  nor  a  frac- 
tion, vulgar  or  decimal. 

151.  The  rules  for  finding  the  cube  root  of  a  com- 
pound quantity  expressed  by  symbols,  or  of  a  number, 
like  those  for  the  square  root,  may  be  immediately  de- 
ducetl  from  the  expression  for  the  power  of  a  binomial 
or  trinomial  found  by  involution.  Thus,  taking  the 
cubes  of  a  +  *,  and  of  a  +  6  -f-  c,  we  have 

(a+by=a3+{3a'+3ab+lj'')b 

and  from  these  formulas  we  derive  the  following  rule : 

Having  arranged  the  terms  of  (he  given  quantity,  ac- 
cording to  the  order  of  the  letters,  the  cube  root  (a)  of 
its  first  term  is  the  first  member  of  the  root  required ; 
subtract  its  cube  (a^)  from  the  given  quantity,  and  divide 
the  first  term  {3a'b)  of  the  remainder  by  (30^)  triple 
its  square ;  the  quotient  (6)  is  the  second  member  of 
the  root.  Add  together  three  times  the  s(|uare  of  the 
first  member  (Sa^,)  three  times  the  product  of  the  first 
and  second  members,  (3o6,)  and  the  square  of  the  second 
member  (J^,)  multiply  the  sum  by  (he  second  member 
(b,)  and  subtract  the  product  ([3a^+3ab+b']h)  from 
the  last  remainder;  and,  if  there  be  another  remainder, 
divide  its  first  term  by  (3a-)  triple  the  square  of  the  first 
member,  the  quotient  c  is  the  third  member  of  the  root. 
Add  into  one  sum  (hree  times  the  square  of  the  sum  of 
the  first  and  second  members  {3(a+by,)  three  times 
the  product  formed  by  multiplying  the  sum  of  the  first 
and  second  members  by  the  third  member  {3(a-{-b)c) 
and  the  square  of  the  third  member  (c",)  multiply  the 
sum  by  the  third  member  (c,)  and  subtract  this  product 
([3(a-{-by  X3(a+b)c+c']c)  from  the  last  remainder; 
and,  if  there  be  still  a  remainder,  proceed  as  before, 
always  finding  the  new  member  by  dividing  the  first 
term  of  the  remainder  by  (3a*)  the  triple  of  the  square 
of  the  first  member. 

Example  1.   Required  the  cube  root  of  a'-i-3a'b-{- 

:iab'+b=. 

Operation. 

a'>-{-3a''b+3ab''+b*(a+b  the  root. 
a^ 


3a2-{-3a6-f-6*)3a'!6-f-3oi2-f63 
Sa^b-i-Sab'+b^ 


422 


ALGEBRA. 


Example  2.  Required  the  cube  root  of  the  number 
13312053. 

Here  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  root  is  greater  than 
200  and  less  than  300  ;  therefore  it  will  be  expressed 
by  three  figures,  the  first  of  which  is  2.  Put  a  for  the 
hundreds  in  the  root,  (that  is,  for  200,)  6  for  the  tens, 
and  c  for  the  units.  Then,  proceeding  according  to  the 
rule,  the  operation  will  be  as  follows : 

13312053(200=a 
8000000  30=6 
7=c 


figure  e  less,  and  repeat  the  operation  for  finding  the 
subtrahend,  till  it  be  less  than  the  reeolvend. 

5.  From  the  resolvend  take  the  subtrahend,  and  to  the 
remainder  join  the  next  period  of  the  given  number  for 
a  new  resolvend,  to  which  form  a  new  divisor  from  the 
whole  root  now  found,  and  from  thence  find  another 
figure  of  the  root,  as  directed  in  the  3d  step  of  the  rule, 
and  so  on. 

ExAMFLE.  Find  the  cube  root  of  48228.544. 


3a»=120000 
3a6=  18000 
J2  =       900 


5312053 


138900 


237  the  root. 


4167000 


fa+6^'=l  58700 

;(o+6> 


4830 
49 


163579 


1145053 


1145053 


The  same  operation,  when  abbreviated  by  Iea;ving 
out  the  cyphers,  may  be  otherwise  expressed  thus  : 

13312053(237  the  root. 

8 


12 
18 


5312 


1389 

1587 
483 
491 


163579 


4167 


1145053 


1145053 


152.  The  foregoing  rule,  when  adapted  to  the  case  of 
numbers,  may  therefore  be  expressed  as  follows : 

Rule  for  extracting  the  Cube  Root  of  a  Number. 

1.  Divide  the  given  number  into  periods  of  three 
figures,  by  setting  a  point  over  the  place  of  units,  and 
also  over  every  third  figure  from  thence  to  the  left  hand 
in  whole  numbers,  ancl  to  the  right  in  decimals. 

2.  P'ind  the  nearest  less  cube  to  the  first  period,  set  its 
root  in  the  quotient,  and  subtract  the  said  cube  from  the 
first  period,  to  the  remainder;  bring  down  the  second 
period,  and  call  this  the  resolvend. 

3.  Divide  the  resolvend,  neglecting  the  two  right 
hand  figures,  by  three  times  the  square  of  the  part  of 
the  root  found,  and  the  quotient  is  to  be  tried  for  the 
next  figure  of  the  root,  which  annex  to  the  former,  call- 
ing this  last  figure  e,  and  the  part  of  the  root  before 
found  a. 

4.  Add  together  these  three  pro<luct8,  namely,  three 
times  the  square  of  o,  three  times  the  product  of  a  and 
e,  and  the  s<iuare  of  e,  setting  each  of  them  one  place 
more  to  the  right  than  the  former;  multiply  the  sum  by 
e,  and  call  the  result  the  subtrahend,  which  must  not  ex- 
ceed tlie  resolvend ;  but  if  it  does,  the«  make  the  last 


Operation. 


48228.544(36.4  the  root. 
=27 


3X3=  =27 
3X3X6=  54 
6==     36 

3276 


21228 


19656 


3X36»=3888 
3X36X4=  432 
4»  =     IC 


1572544 


3931361572544 


153.  If,  after  all  the  periods  are  brought  down,  there 
be  a  remainder,  then,  as  has  been  observed  in  the  case 
of  the  sfiunre  root,  (§  1 48.)  the  root  found  is  not  that  of 
the  proposed  number,  but  the  root  of  a  number  which  is 
less  than  the  proposed  number  by  the  remainder.  We 
may,  however,  continually  approximate  to  the  root  of 
the  proposed  number,  by  adding  periods  of  cyphers,  and 
continuing  the  operation ;  but  we  can  never  obtain  the 
root  exactly,  as  will  be  shown  in  the  next  Section. 

1 54.  If  the  terms  of  a  fraction  are  either  both  com- 
plete squares,  or  complete  cubes,  then  its  square,  or 
cube  rout,   will   be  a  fraction,    whose  terms  are  the 

/4      2 
square,  or  cube  roots  of  its  terms.     Thus»/-j-=-;rj 


and 


V  '8~'2: 


155.  If  the  terms  are  not  complete  powers,  the  fraction 
may  be  reduced  to  a  decimal,  and  the  root  found  by  the 
rules,  (§147  and  152.)  Or  the  fraction  may  be  chang- 
ed into  another  of  equal  value,  whose  denominator  is  a 
complete  square  or  cube,  and  then  the  root  of  the  pro- 
posed fraction  will  be  found  by  dividing  the  root  of  the 
numerator  of  its  new  value  by  its  own  denominator.  For 

since  ?=^,  therefore  ^l^^l^-^,  also,  be- 

a     ah^^.       .       '       /«      »       /ab*    1/ab' 
cau8e-3-=-7-  therefore    ^  /-r-=  *.  /-t,=^^— 
b     b^,  \/   b        S/    b^        b    . 

158.  If  the  numerator  and  denominator  of  a  fraction, 
reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  are  not  both  complete 
powers  of  the  same  denomination  as  the  root  required, 
then  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  any  other  than  an  approx- 
imate value  of  its  root. 

1 57.  Because  the  fourth  power  of  any  quantity  is  the 
square  of  its  square,  therefore,  on  the  contrary,  the 
fourth  root  of  a  quantity  of  any  kind  is  the  square  root 
of  its  square  root. 


ALGEBRA. 


49» 


158.  Particular  rules,  for  finding  the  fifth  or  any 
higher  root  of  a  compound  quantity  or  number,  may  be 
investigated  in  a  manner  altogether  similar  to  that  in 
which  we  have  found  rules  for  the  square  and  cube 
roots.  They  will,  however,  be  the  more  complex,  ac- 
cording as  the  root  is  of  a  higher  denomination. 

159.  The  most  expeditious  method  of  finding  any 
root  of  a  number  is  by  the  help  of  a  table  of  logarithms. 
And  if  the  root  be  required  to  a  greater  degree  of  ac- 
curacy than  can  be  obtained  by  the  table,  then  recourse 
may  be  had  to  the  method  of  approximation.  See  §  292 
of  this  treatise. 

Sect.  VI.     Of  Surds. 

160.  The  operation  of  evolution  brings  under  our  con- 
sideration a  kind  of  quantities  unknown  in  the  more  ele- 
mentary operations  of  arithmetic ;  namely,  such  roots  as 
cannot  be  expressed  in  finite  terms  by  numbers  :  for  ex- 
ample, the  square  root  of  2,  that  is  ^2,  or  2  ,  also  the 

cube  root  of  4,  that  is,  l/i,  or  4^.  These  roots,  which 
have  evidently  a  real  existence,  although  they  cannot 
be  expressed  by  number,  are  called  surds,  and  some- 
times irrational  quantities. 

161.  We  propose  in  this  Section  to  show  how  the 
operations  performed  on  common  numbers  may  also  be 
performed  on  surds:  But,  in  the  first  place,  it  will  be 
proper  to  prove,  that  there  are  quantities  which  cannot 
have  their  roots  expressed  by  numbers,  and  of  which  no 
other  than  approximate  values  can  be  found.  The  de- 
monstration of  this  important  property  of  numbers  re- 
quires us  to  make  some  preliminary  remarks,  and  to 
demonstrate  another  general  Theorem  concerning  num- 
bers. 

A  whole  number  is  said  to  be  a  divisor  of  a  whole 
number,  when  the  former  is  contained  in  the  latter  a 
certain  number  of  times  exactly.  Thus,  2  and  3  are 
divisors  of  6. 

If  a  whole  number  have  no  whole  divisor  except  itself 
and  unity,  it  is  called  a  prijne  number.  Thus,  the  num- 
bers, 2,  3,  5,  7,  11,  &c.  are  prime  numbers.  Two  num- 
bers are  said  to  be  prime  to  each  other,  when  they  have 
no  common  divisor  except  unity.  Thus,  the  numbers 
1 5  and  1 6,  which  are  neither  of  them  prime  numbers, 
are  prime  to  each  other. 

When  a  fraction  is  reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  or 
when  its  terms  are  prime  to  one  another,  then  the  terms 
of  every  fraction  equal   to  it  are  equimultiples  of  its 

Q 

terms.     Let — be  such  a  fraction,  then  the  only  fractions 

jj  V  o 

which  can  be  equal  to  it  are  of  this  form,-——,  where  « 
^  »X9 


the  terma  of  the  fraction  -5  being    supposed 


unequal 


prime  numbers,  the  fraction  must  be  in  its  lowest  terms  ; 

therefore,   the  terms  of  the  fraction  ^5-  must  either  be 

il 

equal  to  the  terms  of  the  fraction-p,  each  to  each,  or  must 

be  equimultiples  of  them  :  But  B,  being  a  prime  num- 
ber, cannot  be  a  multiple  of  P,  therefore  B  must  be 
equal  to  P.  Therefore,  if  P,  which  is  a  divisor  of  AB, 
is  not  equal  to  A,  it  must  be  equal  to  B. 

Next,  suppose  there  are  three  (irime  numbers.  A,  B, 
C,  and  that  P  is  a  prime  number,  and  a  divisor  of  their 
product,  then  shall  P  be  equal  to  one  or  other  of  the 
numbers  A,  B,  C  :  That  is,  if  P  is  equal  neither  to  A 
nor  to  B,  it  is  equal  to  C. 

„     ,  ,  ABC        ,u     AB     «     „         .         .    „       , 
For  let  -~-=n,  then-g-=--^.  Now,  since  A,  B,  and 

P  are  prime  numbers,  and  P  is  neither  equal  to  A  nor 
to  B,  it  cannot  be  a  divisor  of  AB  (from  the  preceding 

part  of  this  demonstration;)  therefore  the  fraction  -5- 

is  in  its  lowest  terms,  and  hence  C  must  either  be  equal 
to  P,  or  a  multiple  of  P  ;  but  C  being  a  prime  number, 
cannot  be  a  multiple  of  P ;  therefore  C  is  equal  to  P. 

In  like  manner,  we  may  pass  from  the  case  of  three 
factors  to  that  of  four ;  and  from  the  case  of  four  to  that 
of  five ;  and  so  on  to  any  number  of  factors. 

163.  Corollary.  Hence  it  appears,  that  if  tivo  num- 
bers, m  and  n,  be  prime  to  each  other,  then  their  squares, 
or  any  powers  of  them,  are  also  prime  to  each  other. 
For  as  any  numVjer  in  is  eilher  prime,  or  the  product  of 
a  set  of  prime  numbers,  and  (as  appears  from  the  fore- 
going theorem,)  of  only  one  set,  therefore  its  succes- 
sive powers  »»",  »j^,  &c.  will  also  be  each  the  product 
of  a  single  set  of  prime  numbers,  and  will  have  no 
prime  divisor  which  is  not  also  a  prime  divisor  of  m.  In 
like  manner,  a  power  of  n  can  have  no  prime  divisor 
which  is  not  a  divisor  of  n  ;  therefore,  when  the  num- 
bers m  and  «  are  prime  to  each  other,  any  powers  of 
them  must  also  be  prime  to  each  other. 

1 64.  We  can  now  demonstrate,  thai  if  the  square, 
aihe,  or  any  higher  root  of  a  nhok  number,  is  not  a  whok 
number,  neither  is  it  a  fraction.  For  if  the  square  root 
of  a  whole  number  n  is  not  a  whole  number,  suppose 

a 
it,  if  possible,   to  be   a  fraction,  t,  which  is  reduced 

a- 
to  its  lowest  terms :  then  T-=n  a  whole  number ;  but 
0' 

a  and  b  being  prime  to  each  other,  a'  and  h'  will  also 


,    ,  ,         .    ,  •        -1     1  be  prime  to  each  other,  («  163.)  so  that  7- cannot  be  a 

denotes  any  whole  number  whatever,  as  is  evident.  ^  '  \z         j       •*     ij3 


1 62.  Theorem.  TJu  product  of  Two  or  more  Prime 
Numbers  can  have  no  Prime  Divisor  which  is  not  one  of 
those  Numbers. 

First,  let  there  be  two  prime  numbers,  A  and  B,  of 
which  the  product  is  AB,  and  let  P  be  a  prime  number, 
which  is  a  divisor  of  that  product ;  then  shall  P  be  equal 
either  to  A  or  to  B ;  that  is,  if  P  is  not  equal  to  A,  it 
shall  be  equal  to  B. 

For  let-^=«,  a  whole  number,  then,  p=g-Now, 


whole  number  ;  therefore  the  square  root  of  the  whole 
number  n  cannot  be  a  fraction.  And  as  the  same  reason- 
ing applies  equally  to  the  cube  or  higher  roots,  we  may 
infer,  that  if  any  root  whatever  of  a  whole  number  is  not 
a  whole  number,  neitlier  is  such  a  root  a  fraction. 

165.  Again,  a  fraction  can  Irnveno  square  root,  unless, 
when  reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  its  numerator  and  de- 
nominator are  both  square  numbers  ;  nor  cube  root,  unless 
they  are  both  cube  numbers,  and  so  on.     For,  if  possible, 

let  the  square  root  of  -  be  r  (both  fractions  being  in 


4S4 


ALGEBRA. 


Ilieir  lowest  tenns;)  then,  -==rr;  bnt  this  last  fraction 

is  also  in  its  lowest  terms  (§  1 63.)  Therefore,  m  and  a* 
must  be  identical,  as  also  «  and  fc=  ;  that  is,  m  and  n 
must  be  square  numbers.  The  very  same  mode  of  rea- 
soning applies  to  any  other  power. 

160.  It  is  an  evident  consequence  of  what  has  been 
demonstrated  in  the  two  last  articles,  that  such  quanti- 

/- 
ties  as  y'S,  or  ^6,  or  V^    3,  &;c.  cannot  be  expressed  by 

numbers,  and  also  that  Ihey  cannot  contain  any  part 
whatever  either  of  a  whole  number  or  a  fraction,  an 
exact  number  of  times ;  in  the  same  manner,  for  ex- 
ample, as  10  contains  the  third  part  of  6  five  times,  or 

2  8 

-  contains  the  fourth  part  of—-  seven  times.     In  other 

3  21 

words,  it  is  impossible  to  find  a  common  measure  of  any 
such  quantity  and  a  number.  On  this  account,  these 
quantities  are  called  incmnmensurahles. 

167.  It  will  sometimes  be  convenient  to  express  a  ra- 
tional quantity  in  the  form  of  a  surd.  This  may  be  done 
by  raising  the  quantity  to  a  power  denoted  by  the  index 
of  the  surd,  and  prefixing  the  radical  sign,  with  the  in- 
dex of  the  surd,  to  the  result;  or  else  denoting  the  same 
thing  by  a  fractional  index.     Thus,  3  expressed  as  the 

square  root  of  a  number  will  be  \/3X  3=^9  or  9**  And 

2*-'  expressed  as  a  cube  root,  will  be  ^Sx"  or  (Br")'' 
1 63.  The  operations  concerning  surds  depend  on  the 
following  principle  :  If  the  numerator  and  denominator 
of  a  fractional  exponent  be  both  multiplied  or  both  divi- 
ded by  the  same  quantity,  the  value  of  the  power  is  the 

same ;  that  is,  a  =a  .  For  let  a  =b  ;  then,  raising 
both  to  the  power  n,  a  =b  ,  and  raising  both  sides  of 
this  last  equation  to  the  power  c,  a  '=b",  and  extract- 

mc  m 

ing  the  root  whose  index  is  nc,  a    =h=a  . 

The  operations  which  may  be  performed  on  surds  are 
contained  in  the  following  Problems : 

169.  Prob.  I.  To  reduce  surds  of  diflerent  denomi- 
nations to  others  of  the  same  value,  and  of  the  same 
denomination. 

Rule.  Reduce  the  fractional  exponents  to  others  of 
the  same  value,  and  having  the  same  common  denomi- 
nator. 

a  » 

Example.  Reduce  v'a  and  y 6=",  that  is,  a"  and  6* 

to  equivalent  surds  of  tlie  same  denomination. 

Here  the  fractional  indices  |  and  §,  when  reduced  to 

others  having  a  common  denominator,  are  |  and  |; 

therefore,  o'  and  A*  or^/a"  and  i/h*  are  the  surds  re- 
quired. 

1 70.  Prob.  2.  To  reduce  surds  to  their  most  simple 
terms. 

Rule.  Find  the  greatest  power  contained  in  the 
given  surd,  and  set  its  root  before  the  remaining  quan- 
tities, with  the  proper  radical  sign  between  them. 

Ex.  1.     Reduce  ^48  lo  its  most  simple  terms. 

The  greatest  square  contained  in  48  is  16=4». 
Therefore,  ^48=v/  1 6  X  3=^1 6  X  ^3=4^/3. 

Ex.  2.  ReduceV  y  and  (32a»— 96o'a:)^,  each  to 
ita  mast  simple  tennt. 


s,  V/  =^a»  X  \/f=a 


Because  f  =  f  ,  therefore, 

V/.     Or,  since/ ==/^X  a/,  therefore,  \/'J=^^af. 
And    because  32a»— 96o»a:=2«a5  {a—Zx,)    therefore, 

(32a»— 96Q5r)»=2a(a— 3i)^. 

171.  Prob.  3.     To  add  and  subtraot  surds. 

RuLF.  Reduce  the  surds,  if  possible,  to  such  a  form 
(by  Prob.  1  and  2,)  that  the  part  affected  by  the  radical 
sign  or  fractional  index  shall  be  the  same  in  them  all. 
Then,  considering  the  part  of  each  without  the  sign  at 
a  coefficient,  take  their  sum,  or  difference,  as  is  usual 
with  other  quantities. 

If,  however,  the  radical  quantities  cannot  be  brought 
to  the  same  form,  the  surds  can  only  be  added  or  sub- 
tracted by  connecting  them  by  the  signs  -\-  and  — . 

Ex.  1.  It  is  required  to  add  ^72  and  ^128  together. 

First,  by  Prob.  2.  v/72=\/9~><8=3^8,  and  ^^1 28= 

\/l6X8=4v'8;  therefore,  v^72+^128=3^8-f 4^8 
=7v/8. 

Ex.  2.  Required  the  difference  between  ,/21a*x  and 
2\/3a'J^ 

v/27a«x=:3a'\/3j,  and  2->/z^x^=2ax\/Zx;  theretbre, 
V'27a*j^2%/3aaj;3=  3a«  ^/sj— 2ar  V^i=C3a»— 2o* 
•y/Sz. 

1 72.  Prob.  4.     To  multiply  and  divide  surds. 
Rule.  If  they  are  surds  of  the  same  rational  quantity, 

add  and  subtract  their  exponents. 

If  they  are  surds  of  different  rational  quantities,  let 
them  be  brought  to  others  of  the  same  denomination,  if 
already  they  are  not,  by  Problem  1.  Then,  multiply- 
ing or  dividing  these  rational  quantities,  their  product 
or  quotient  may  be  set  under  the  common  radical  sign. 

If  the  surds  have  any  rational  coefficients,  their  pro- 
duct or  quotient  must  be  prefixed. 

Ex.  1.     Required  the  product  of  ^2  and  \/2. 
Here  ^2  X  ^2=2*  X 2^=2*  X  2*=2'=«/2s=il/32. 
Ex.  2.     Required  the  product  of  2yiO  and  4^12. 

Here  2yiOX4^12=2X4X\/lOX12=Bv/8><T5= 
16^15. 

Ex.  3,     Divide  {/a  by  X/b. 

Here,  reducing  the  surds  to  the  same  denomination, 

we  have   \/af=a^=a"={a^f^,    and   \/h=b^^^=z 

{b*)A 

Ex.  4.     Multiply  y/{a+b)  by  /(a— 6)  Here 

^(a+b)  X  v/(a— 6>=^  \  (a+b)  (a— 6)  j  =^(tf»_ji.) 

Ex.  5.     Divide  a^x  by  b\/i/. 

Here,  reducing  ^z  and  \/if  to  the  same  denomina- 
tion, we  have  ^r  or  x^=(a:")"",    and  V^  <»'  y^= 

,  a'yx    a/-x^\         a         yx* 

(jr)™.  therefore  V^=b\^)l^==b""'  V  i/" 

1 73.  It  will  often  be  convenient  not  to  bring  the  surds 
to  the  same  denomination,  but  to  express  their  product 
or  quotient  without  the  radical  sign,  in  the  same  manner 
as  if  they  were  rational  quantities.     Thus,  the  product 

of  V*  *n<i  i/*  may  be  expressed  simply  thus  a'b^. 


ALGEBRA. 


425 


1 74.  If  a  rational  coefficient  be  prefixed  to  a  radical 
sign,  it  may  be  reduced  to  the  form  of  a  surd,  by  §  167. 
and  multiplied  by  this  problem.  Thus  a^b,  by  ex- 
pressing a  as  a  square  root,  becomes  ^a'  >(.^h^>/a^b. 

175.  Sometimes  it  is  convenient  to  resolve  surds  into 
tlieir  simple  factors,  thus  v'ai=^a  X  .^i,  and  ^/'(a* — 
xs  )=y  (a+x)  X  v/(«— ^)- 

176.  Prob.  4.  To  involve  or  evolve  surds. 

This  is  performed  by  the  same  rules  as  in  other  quan- 
tities, by  multiplying  or  dividing  their  exponents  by  the 
index  of  the  i)0\ver  or  root  required. 

Thus  the  square  of  ^5,  or  of  5=,  is5^=(53)3"=a/25. 

The  j»th  power  of  x"  is  ar"  . 

The  cube  root  of  ^1,  or  7^,  is  7'=:«/7. 

The  »nth  root  of  x'  is  x"". 

1 77.  If  the  surd  have  a  r»tional  coRflRcient,  its  power 
or  root  must  be  |)refixed  to  the  like  power  or  root  of  the 

L  S_ 

surd.     Thus  the  square  of  2\/a,  or  2a'-'  is  Aa'^^^^^^a'  ; 
and  the  cube  root  of  \^a,  or  \a^,  is  ^,  or  \\/a. 

178.  Any  power  whatever  of  a  compound  quantity 
containing  one  or  more  surds  may  be  found  by  repeated 
miiltiiilication,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  like  power 
of  any  other  compound  quantity. 

179.  In  some  cases,  the  square  root  of  a  binomial, 
one  of  whose  terms  is  a  quadratic  surd,  and  the  other  a 
rational  quantity,  may  be  expressed  by  another  binomial, 
one  or  both  of  whose  terms  are  quadratic  surds. 

That  we  may  investigate  a  rule  to  determinewhenthis 
can  be  effected,  let  a-\-^b  denote  the  given  binomial, 
and  p+q  its  root.  Then,  because  ^{a+4/b)=^+q, 
by  squaring  these  equals,  we  get  a-\-^/b=^^-\-q'-\-2pq. 
Now,  p  and  q  being  either  one  or  both  quadratic  surds, 
/)"  and  q^  will  be  rational,  and  2pq  irrational.  Assume 
therefore  p^+q^=a,  and  2pq=z^b;  then  subtracting 
the  squares  of  the  sides  of  the  latter  equation  from  the 
squares  of  the  corresponding  sides  of  the  former,  we 
have  p''—2p^q^-\-q*=ra^—b.  But  p'^—tp^q^  +^4  is 
the  square  or;)=— 9=,  as  may  be  proved  by  involution, 
therefore  (;»2— y2)2=a=— 6,  and  consequently,  taking 
the  square  rools  of  both  sides,  p^ — y3_^^„2 — ;^^.  thus 
we  have  the  dilTerence  of  p^  and  q^  expressed  by  the 
given  quantities  a  and  6;  but  since  by  assumption /)=  + 
y==a,weliave  also  theirsum  expressed  by  the  same  given 
quantities,tberefore,proceedineasinEx.l,§122,weshalI 

tind,==«+4!z:^),and,:='?=.^Cfzi);    hence 

Therefore  the  square  root  of  a-f^i  is 

from  which  formula  it  appears,  that  a^ — b  must  have  an 
exact  square  root  when  the  square  root  of  a+^J  admits 
of  being  expressed  in  the  manner  required. 

In  like  manner,  we  find  that  the  square  root  of  a^ — 

Suppose  that  the  square  root  of  8+2^7=^8+^28 
is  required ;  here  a=8,  i=28,  a^— 6=30,  ^{efl—by=Q, 
and  in  this  case  the  root  is  y/T  +  i. 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


v/r 


180.  If  any  term  of  an  equalion  be  a  surd,  the  irra- 
tionality of  that  term  may  be  taken  away,  by  bringing  it 
to  stand  alone  on  one  side  of  the  equation,  and  raising 
each  side  to  such  a  power  as  is  denoted  by  the  index  of 
the  surd.     For  example,  let  the  equation  be  3y/(x' — 

Then  3y(j;=— a')=a— j/. 

And  by  squaring,  9(z= — a^)=(a — y)', 

That  is,  9i3_9a»=a2— 203/+^=. 

And  in  this  equation  the  terms  are  all  rational. 

For  another  method  of  freeing  an  equation  from  surdi, 

see  §  267. 

Sect.  VII.     Of  Quadratic  Equations. 

181.  We  have  already  stated,  that  equations,  contain- 
ing only  one  unknown  quantity,  are  divided  into  orders, 
according  to  the  highest  power  of  that  quantity  contain- 
ed in  any  one  of  their  terms.  And  we  have  shown  how 
to  resolve  one  class,  namely,  simple  equations,  which 
involve  only  the  first  power  of  the  unknown  quantity. 
We  come  now  to  treat  of  ecjuations  of  the  second  order, 
called  also  quadratic  equations,  which  contain  the  se- 
cond power  of  the  unknown  quantity. 

1 82.  When  an  equation  of  any  order  contains  only 
one  power  of  the  unknown  quantity,  such  equation  is 
said  to  be  pure  ;  but  if  it  contain  more  than  one  power, 
it  is  said  to  be  affected. 

Therefore' a=  +ax-=i'  and  ax- — fi==7«='  +x^  are 
pure  quadratic  equations;  but  x^ — ax=b'  and  ax+6* 
=cx+(/  are  aflfected  quadratic  equations. 

183.  To  resolve  a  pure  quadratic  equation,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  bring  the  square  of  the  unknown  quantity 
to  stand  alone  on  one  side  of  the  equation,  so  that  the 
other  may  consist  entirely  of  known  quantities,  and  then 
to  take  the  square  root  of  each  side. 


Thus,  if; 


•7=3,  then— =5+7=12,    and  3:2=36, 


and  taking  the  square  root  r=+6,  or  x;= — 6;  for  by 
the  rule  for  multiplication  36  is  equally  the  product  of 
+  6  multiplied  by  +6,  and  of — 6  multiplied  by  — 6. 

It  is  usual  to  indicate  this  two-fold  value  of  the  square 
root  of  a  quantity  thus,  T=i6. 

1 84.  Every  affected  quadratic  equation  may,  by  the 
rules  of  art.  107,  be  reduced  to  one  or  other  of  the 
three  following  forms : 

x^+px=q, 
x' — px=q, 
x^—px=^q, 

where  x  denotes  the  unknown  quantity,  and  p  and  f 
known  quantities.  As  however  the  manner  of  resolv- 
ing each  of  these  three  equations  is  the  very  same,  it 
will  be  sufficient  if  we  consider  the  first  of  them. 

185.  Therefore,  taking  the  equation  a;^ +;)i:=y,  let 
the  square  of  half  the  coefficient  of  x  in  its  second 

term,  viz.^,  be  added  to  each  side  of  it,  and  it  be- 


x.+p,+f^+y. 


4 
3U 


426 


ALGEBRA. 


But  the  left  hand  side  of  this  equation  is  now  a  com- 
plete  square,  viz.  the  square  of  ^+|.  as  may  be  prov- 

•d  by  multiplying  x-f^  by  itself,  therefore  the  same 
equation  may  be  otherwise  expressed,  thus : 

Let  the  square  root  of  both  sides  be  now  taken,  and 
we  have 

where  the  sign  =i=  indicates  that  the  quantity  before 
which  it  is  placed  is  to  be  taken  either  as  positive  or  as 
negative.     Hence,  by  transposition,  we  have 

^  -y  I  v^(y'+4g-)_-y=J=^/fp''+4g) 

2—2  2 

Bere  the  unknown  quantity  is  made  to  stand  alone  on 
one  side,  and  therefore  the  equation  is  resolved. 

186.  The  process,  by  which  this  solution  has  been 
obtained,  may  be  given  in  the  form  of  a  practical  rule, 
as  follows : 

Transpose  all  the  terms  involving  the  unknown  quan- 
tity to  one  side,  and  the  known  terms  to  the  other,  and 
80  that  the  term  containing  the  square  of  the  unknown 
quantity  may  be  positive. 

If  the  square  of  the  unknown  quantity  is  multiplied 
by  any  coefficient,  all  the  terms  of  the  equation  are  to 
be  divided  by  it,  so  that  the  coefficient  of  the  square  of 
the  unknown  quantity  may  be  1 . 

Add  to  both  sides  the  square  of  half  the  coefficient  of 
the  unknown  quantity  in  the  second  term,  and  the  side 
of  the  equation  involving  the  unknown  quantity  will 
then  be  a  complete  square. 

Extract  the  square  root  from  both  sides  of  the  equa- 
tion, by  which  it  becomes  simple,  and  by  transposing 
the  above-mentioned  half  coefficient,  the  value  of  the 
unknown  quantity  is  obtained  in  known  terms,  and 
therefore  the  equation  is  resolved. 

Ex.\.  Suppose  the  equation  to  hex' +3a:=28.  In 
this  case,  the  coefiBcient  of  x  in  the  second  term  is  3. 

3 
Therefore,  adding  the  square  of  -  to  each  side,  we  have 

121         ,      .       . 
=--r-;  and  extracting  the  square 


before,  by  substituting  the  numbers  —6  and  -f  10  in- 
stead of  X  in  the  projjosed  equation.  Thus  we  have 
10X1 0—4  X  10+100—40=60,  also  —6  X  —6—4  X— 
6=30+24=60. 

Ex.    3.     Let  the  equation  be  2Sx — 2bx'^=A,    then 
changing  the  signs  of  the  terms,  and  dividing  by  25,  we 

4 
have  x^ — x= — — .     Here   the   coefficient  of  x  is   1 ; 

therefore  we  must  add  the  square  of  —  to  each  side,  and 


o  g 

*--'+3x+--=28+--= 
4  4 

*      J^3        ,11 

root,  x-\-^=A=.—, 


A.         ■         — 3  ,  n 

and  transposing,  x— — -■'     -, 


the   equation  becomes  x 
25  _  9 

Too~ioo' 

3 


that 


2— x+i= 
4 


1 


-16 


25  '  4 

therefore  taking  the  square  root, 

1^ 
5 


1,34 

T3'*'"i*=^2^Tr=T 


,  or- 


100  ' 

— — -I- 
2~ — 

both  of  which  values 


satisfy  the  equation  25x — 25x'=4 ;  for  25  X- 


-+^ 


-=^7.     That  both 


=20—16=4;  and  25  X- 


-25X— =5— 1=4. 
25 


—'  +  11      ,   .  —3—11 

-2-^+4,  or*=-_- 

these  values  of  x  satisfy  the  equation  x»+3x=28  will 
immediately  appear,  by  substituting  them  separately 
instead  of  x;  for  4X4-f  3X4=16+12=28,  and— 7X 
—7—3X7=49—21=28. 

Ex.2.    Let  the  equation  be  x»— 4x1=60.     Here  the 
coefficient  of  the  first  powerof  the  unknown  quantity  is  4. 

■Jfherefore,  adding  the  square  ofy,  or  of  2  to  each  side, 

we  get  x3— 4x+4=60+4=64,  and  extracting  the 
square  root,  x— 2==L8  ;  hence  x=iL8+2=+10,  or 
— 6.    The  truth  of  this  conclusion  may  be  proved  as 


187.  Although  it  is  sufficiently  evident,  from  the  fore- 
going general  solution,  as  well  as  from  the  three  particu- 
lar examples,  that  in  every  affected  quadratic  equation, 
the  unknown  quantity  has  two  distinct  values,  which 
equally  satisfy  that  equation,  yet  as  this  plurality  of  roots 
is  a  remarkable  property  of  equations,  which  however  is 
by  no  means  peculiar  to  quadratics,  (as  will  appear  when 
we  come  to  treat  of  equations  of  the  third  and  fourth 
degrees,)  we  shall,  with  a  view  of  showing  distinctly 
the  reason  of  this  peculiarity,  resolve  the  equation 
x'  -\-px=q  somewhat  dififerently,  as  follows  : 

Let  the  terms  of  the  equation  be  brought  all  to  one 
side,  then  it  will  be  of  this  form  : 

X'  +/)x — q=0. 
Assume  now  x=y — i  p,  then  we  have 

+px=+;>y— ip», 

—7=        —7. 
and  hence,  adding  these  equations, 
x=  +/)x — j=y» — ip' — 5=0. 

Put  ip*+q=r'>,    so  that   r=y(J;>»+?)=5^^^2^tif). 

Then  we  have  y' — r»=0 ;  but  y' — f'=(!/-^^)(!f-"-^)\ 
as  may  be  proved  by  actual  multiplication ;  therefore 

(y+rXt/-^)=0, 
or,  since  x=jf — Jp,  and  therefore  y=x+^, 
(x+ip+r)(x+^;^— r)=0. 

Now  the  product  of  two  quantities  can  only  be  =0  whem 
one  or  other  of  the  factors  is  equal  to  0  ;  therefore  it  is 
manifest,  that  we  shall  equally  satisfy  the  equatioB 
x'+;)x— y=0,  or  its  equivalent 


{'+ip+rXx+ip-r)F^, 

by  assuming  either  x+ip+r=0,  or  x+ip — r=0  ;  that 
is,  by  giving  to  x  either  of  those  values,  and  restoring 
the  value  of  r, 

x=>-ip+r=::rr-^^P'+"'^ 


2 


p- 


V(p'+4y) 


which  are  the  same  as  we  found  in  §  185. 


ALGEBRA. 


427 


1 88.  A  quantity  which,  when  substituted  instead  of 
the  unknown  quantity  in  any  equation,  makes  both  sides 
of  that  equation  equal,  (or  which  gives  a  result  =0, 
when  all  the  terms  are  brought  to  one  side,)  is  called  a 
root  of  that  equation.  From  the  solutions  we  have  given 
of  the  quadratic  equation  x'  -\-px — q==0,  it  appears,  that 
every  such  equation  has  two  roots ;  and  that,  if  these 
be  denoted  by  a  and  b,  then 

X-  +  px—q=(x—a){x—b) ; 

so  that  the  quadratic  equation  a: '+/)j: — q=0  may  be 
regarded  as  the  product  of  the  two  sim[)le  equations 
X — 0=0,  and  x — 6=0. 

Because  a  = — ip  -h  i-/{p'  +  4?),  and  6  = — i  p 
— iV'Cp  °  "I"  '^  ?')    therefore   a  +  b  —  — p,   and  ab  = 

Therefore,  in  any  quadratic  equation  x'-\-px=^q,  the 
sum  of  the  two  roots  is  equal  to  — p,  or  to  the  coeffi- 
cient of  the  unknown  quantity  having  its  sign  changed, 
and  their  product  to  — q,  or  to  the  known  side  of  the 
equation  having  its  sign  changed. 

139.  As  the  square  of  a  negative  quantity,  as  well  as 
the  square  of  a  positive  quantity,  is  a  positive  quantitj-, 
it  follows  that  a  negative  quantity  cannot  be  the  square 
of  a  quantity  either  positive  or  negative.  Now,  in  the 
formula — ip=^^\/(p'  -\-'iq)i  which  expresses  the  roots 
of  the  quadratic  equation  x'  -\-px=q,  if  the  quantity  q 
be  negative,  and  such  that  Aq  is  greater  than  p^,  so  that 
p^  4-4ji  is  a  negative  quantity,  then  the  radical  quantity 
^{p^-\-Aq)ii  the  square  root  of  a  negative  quantity. 
But  we  have  just  now  shown,  that  no  such  quantity  can 
exist ;  therefore,  in  this  case,  the  formula  for  the  roots 
becomes  an  expression  of  calculation  without  any  mean- 
ing- 

If  we  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  expressions  for  the 
root  having  this  form,  in  the  case  of  q  being  negative, 
and  p^  <  iq,  we  shall  find  it  to  be  an  impossible  suppo- 
sition contained  in  the  equation.  For,  in  this  case  the 
equation  is  x^-\-px= — q;  from  which,  by  resolving  the 
equation  as  in  §  185.  we  get  {x-^^py—\p'=q  and 
p3 — 4y=4(x-fip)3.  Now  p'^  and  i{x-\-hpy  must  be 
both  positive  quantitiee ;  and  since  p^ — Aq=  a  positive 
quantity,  we  must  have  p-  yiq.  But  by  hypothesis  p^ 
is  also  less  than  Aq,  which  is  impossible. 

190.  Although  the  equation  x^-\-px== — q  or  x'  -\-px-\- 
^=0,  involves  in  it  a  contradiction  when  p'<!.4q;  yet  it 
will  be  found  that  each  of  the  expressions  =i/)-|-^(p= — 
4q)  and  — ^p — |v'(p= — Aq),  when  substituted  for  x  satis- 
fies the  equation,  or  makes  the  whole  vanish,  and  there- 
fore may  be  called  a  root  of  that  equation.  Such  equa- 
tions are  said  to  he  i7npo.isible,  and  their  roots  are  called 
impossible  or  imaginary  quantities. 

If  we  put  m  for  — ^p,  and  »^»  for  Aq—p^,  so  that  — n" 
==p3 — 4q,  then  these  roots  will  become  m+v^ — n=  and 
m — y — n2  or  m+n^— I  andm — n^ — 1,  and  in  these 
expressions,  the  quantities  m  and  n  are  real,  and  the 
quantity  y' — 1,  or  rather  the  expression  ^ — 1,  is  ima- 
ginary, and  merely  a  symbol  serving  to  denote  that  the 
equation  from  ivhich  it  is  derived  is  impossible. 

191.  Besides  those  impossible  quantities,  which  have 
their  origin  in  a  want  of  agreement  of  the  data,  there  are 
others  which  occur,  when,  in  resolving  a  problem,  the 
conditions  of  which  are  perfectly  consistent  with  one 
another,  we  make  an  assumption  which  is  either  incon- 
sistent with  the  data,  or  with  some  other  step  of  the  so- 
lution.    The  impossible  expressions  produced  from  this 


cause  differ  essentially  from  those  which  arise  from  an 
incongruity  of  the  data ;  for,  while  the  latter  do  not  ex- 
press any  real  quantity  whatever,  the  former  actually 
express  real  quantities,  because,  although  they  involve 
the  impossible  symbol  y/ — 1,  yet  by  employing  suitable 
transformations  they  may  at  last  be  entirely  freed  from 
it. 

To  give  an  example  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  thi? 
second  species  of  impossible  expressions,  let  us  suppose 
that  in  some  inquiry  the  values  of  two  unknown  quanti- 
ties X  and  y  are  to  be  determined  from  these  equations  : 

x3+ny'=a,  xy=i, 

where  n,  a,  and  b,  denote  given  numbers. 

Let  both  sides  of  the  second  equation  be  multiplied 
by  the  known  quantity  2^n,  and  then  added  to,  and 
also  subtracted  from,  the  corresponding  aides  of  the  first; 
the  results  are, 

x"  +2xyy/H+y'n=a-\-2b^n, 
x'—2xy^n+y'n=a—2by/n. 

Now  the  left  hand  side  of  the  first  of  these  equations  is 
manifestly  the  square  of  x-f-y^n,  and  that  of  the  second 
the  square  of  x — y^/n ;  therefore,  extracting  the  square 
root, 

x+y^n=r^(a+2b^n), 
x—y\yn=\/{a — Ib^ii), 

From  these  equations,  by  taking  the  sum  and  diaterence, 
we  find 

2x=v/(a4-26y»0+y/(a— 26v'n), 
2«/^«=^(a-f26v/»>— v^(a— 26v^n) ; 
and  consequently, 

^=l[v'(«+26v/«)+v'(a— 26^/")) 
^"'2^'^^^''+^^^"^^^*-2*^'*)l- 

Thus  we  have  obtained  general  expressions  for  x  and^ 
corresponding  to  any  values  of  n,  a,  and  b,  whatever. 
Let  us  now  suppose  that  from  these  expressions  it  is 
required  to  determine  x  and  i/  in  the  particular  case  of 
n=l,  that  is,  when  the  original  equations  are 

X  =>  -\-y'^  =a,  ^y=b 

then,  as  in  this  case  ^n=],  our  general  formulas  give 

x=-i[^(a-J-26)+v'(ffl— 26)1 

y=i[v/(«+26)-^(a_26)] 
which  expressions,  provided  26<a  are  always  real. 

Let  us  next  suppose  that  the  values  of  x  and  y  are  f« 
be  found  from  the  general  formulas,  when  the  original 
equations  are 

^"—y'^a,  xy=b, 

in  which  case  7i= — 1.  Here,  however,  our  formulas 
fail ;  for  to  api)ly  them  we  must  find  the  square  root  of 
n,  that  is,  of — 1,  which  is  impossible.  They  still,  how- 
ever, give  us  general  expressions  for  x  andy;  for  put- 
ting ^ — 1  instead  of  ^/n,  they  become 

^=4[v/('»+2V— l)+v/(fl— 2V— 1)]. 
y=2^\  [v/(«+26v/— 1  )-y/{a—2by/—\  )]  5 

but  as  these  values  of  x  and  y  involve  the  symbol  v''— I » 
no  conclusion  whatever  can  be  deduced  from  them  in 
their  present  form. 

Although,  at  first  sight,  these  values  of  x  and  y  mght 
be  supposed  to  be  expressions  of  the  very  same  nature 
3  H  2 


428 


ALGEBRA. 


y' 


as  those  wl  icli  have  been  fount!  in  §  190  for  the  roots  of 
a  quadratic  equation  in  that  particular  case  where  the 
roots  become  impossible,  yet  this  is  l)y  no  means  the 
case,  for  these  values  of  x  and  y,  notwithstanding  their 
imaginary  form,  are  in  fact  the  expressions  of  real  quan- 
tities. To  be  convinced  of  this  we  have  only  to  take 
their  squares,  and  afterwards  the  square  roots  of  these 
squares  ;  thus  we  have 

xs=i[2a+2v/(ff=+4i^)], 

|=J[2v'(a^+46=')— 2a], 
/s/{(i--\-ib-)+a 
^"V  2  • 

y-\/ 2        ' 

«nd  these  expressions  for  x  and  y  are  free  from  the  ima- 
ginary symbol  ^ — 1,  and  always  real,  whatever  be  the 
values  of  a  and  b. 

To  be  assured  of  the  correctness  of  these  last  formu- 
las, we  may  find  the  values  of  x  and  y  from  the  equa- 
tions x^ — 3/'=")  ^y=bt  otherwise  as  follows  :  Let  four 
times  the  squares  of  the  sides  of  the  second  equation  be 
added  to  the  squares  of  the  sides  of  the  first  equation ; 
the  result  is 

x*-\-2x^y^+y*=a'-\-ib*,) 

Lence,  taking  the  square  root, 

x^+y^=^{a'>-\-4.b'. 

From  this  equation,  and  the  equation  x''—y'^=a,  by 
taking  their  sum  and  difference,  and  afterwards  divid- 
ing by  2,  and  extracting  the  square  root,  we  get 

y=s/ 2 ' 


-x/^ 


the  same  as  before. 

192.  It  is  easy  to  see,  that  the  symbol  ^ — 1  has  en- 
tered into  the  formulas  which  express  the  values  of  x 
and  »/,  (as  deduced  from  the  equations  x*-f-n^===a,  xy 
=b)  in  consequence  of  our  having  extended  a  solution, 
obtained  upon  the  hypothesis  of  n  being  a  positive  quan- 
tity, to  the  case  in  which  « is  negative ;  and  it  also  ap- 
pears, that  unless  we  had  done  this,  we  must  have  had 
recourse  to  a  different  mode  of  solution.  Now  there 
are  various  other  analytic  inquiries  in  which  the  same 
thing  happens,  that  is,  if  we  suppose  some  one  of  the 
quantities  to  be  positive,  then  the  mode  of  investigation 
is  obvious  and  easy ;  but  that  quantity  being,  on  the  con- 
trary, supposed  negative,  a  quite  different  mode  of  in- 
vestigation must  be  resorted  to,  if  we  wish  to  avoid  the 
introduction  of  the  imaginary  sign ;  and  in  general  this 
last  mode  is  neither  so  obvious  nor  so  elegant  as  the 
other,  but,  on  the  contrary,  much  more  laborious. 

193.  As  the  formulas  which  express  real  quantities, 
while  at  the  same  time  they  involve  the  imaginary  sym- 
bol ^ — 1,  may,  as  we  have  already  observed,  be  ulti- 
mately transformed  into  others  entirely  free  from  that 
symbol ;  and  as  these  transformed  expressions  agree  in 
every  case  with  the  conclusions  obtained  by  other  modes 
of  investigation,  mathematicians  in  general  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  employ  such  impossible  expressions  in  their  in- 


quiries, and  to  proceed  with  them  in  their  calculations, 
in  all  respects  as  if  they  were  real  quantities. 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  the  use  of  sym- 
bols which  have  no  precise  ideas  connected  with  them, 
seems  hardly  admissible  in  a  science  whose  distinguish- 
ing characteristics  are  the  accuracy  of  its  modes  of  rea- 
soning, and  the  certainty  of  its  conclusions.  The  best 
reason  that  can  be  given  for  employing  them  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  the  science,  seems  to  be  the  facility  with 
which  many  ol  the  most  important  and  least  obvious  of 
mathematical  truths  may  be  deduced  from  expressions 
in  which  they  occur;  and  indeed  it  has  been  found  im- 
practicable to  establish  the  truth  of  some  propositions 
in  any  other  way. 

The  constant  agreement  of  the  conclusions  deduced 
from  imaginaiy  expressions,  with  those  obtained  by  the 
most  strict  methods  of  mathematical  investigation, 
seems  to  leave  no  room  to  doubt  that  it  depends  upon 
determinate  principles,  which  admit  of  being  accurate- 
ly explained.  It  is  much  to  be  desired  that  these  were 
better  understood  than  they  seem  to  be  at  present;  for 
those  writers  who  have  treated  expressly  of  them,  are 
by  no  means  agreed  in  ojuuion  as  to  what  they  are. 
We  forbear  at  present  from  entering  into  a  detail  of 
their  different  theories,  intending  to  return  to  the  sub- 
ject when  we  come  to  the  article  Imaginary  ExrnES- 
sioNS  ;  and  we  then  expect  to  be  able  to  avail  ourselves 
of  the  views  of  an  ingenious  friend*,  who  has  for  up- 
wards of  six  years  past,  been  in  possession  of  a  theory 
relating  to  the  subject,  which  we  have  some  reason  to 
expect  may  be  given  to  the  public  before  we  arrive  at 
that  part  of  our  work. 

194.  As  in  the  course  of  this  treatise,  as  well  as  in 
other  mathematical  articles,  we  may  have  occasion  to 
perform  operations  on  impossible  quantities,  it  may  be 
proper  to  give  a  few  examples  here  of  such  operations. 

Because^ — a=y/aX^ — 1,  and  ^ — b=^b'X..y/ — 1, 

V'— a+v'— i=(v/a+v/6)v^— 1, 
and  ^—o— ^_i=(^a_^J)^_i. 

Also  v'— «  X  v^— A^v'"  "X-ybX- ■y—\  X ^—1 .  But 

v/a  X  ^b=-/ab,  and  ^'-^X  y— 1  ='— i^^    Therefore, 

^—a  X  ^—b=\/ab  X — 1=— v/flft. 

Again,  ;^=-^^^— ^=-^X-^. 

— — T-=l,  therefore 
•v/     ' 

195.  Questions  producing  Quadratic  Equations. 

Ex.  1.  Required  a  number,  the  half  of  which  being 

multiplied  by  its  third,  may  produce  24. 

X 

Let  the  number  be  x,  then  its  half  is-^,  and  its  third 

X  .  x^ 

— ,  and  the  product  of  these  is  -jr. 

Thererore^^=24. 
6 

And  multiplying  by  6,  x'=S4  X  6=1 44 
And  extracting  the  )  ,c==_J_  /144==J_12. 

square  root,  ^  ^ 

Thus  the  answer  is  either  4-  12  or  — I2v 


But 


•  Mr.  Jamei  Ivory,  of  the  Boyal  MiUtary  CoUege. 


ALGEBRA. 


42U 


Ex.  2.  Required  two  numbers,  the  product  of  which 
may  be  24,  and  the  sum  of  the  greater  and  half  the  less  7. 

Let  X  and  J/  denote  the  numbers.  Then  the  question 
gives  these  equations, 


175      175 


=10. 


*y=24,  «+|=7. 

From  the  first  equation  »/=' 
And  from  the  second  y=l  4 — 2x 


24 


24 
Therefore  14— 2r=— 

X 

And  multiplying  by  x,  14x — 2x'=24 

And  dividing  by  2,  7x— 1^=12 

And  changing  the  signs  x' — 7x= — 12 

49    49  1 

And  comp.  the  square  x' — 7x+-^p==-; — ^2=- 

And  extracting  the  square  root  x- 

Therefore  3:=--J--=4  or  3 

And  y=14 — 2x=i6  or  8. 

Thus  we  have  two  sets  of  numbers,  viz.  x=4,  ^=6, 
and  z=3,  y=8,  both  of  which  evidently  answer  the 
conditions  of  the  question. 

Ex.  3.  A  person  bought  a  horse,  which  he  afterwards 
sold  for  24  guineas,  and  by  so  doing  lost  as  much  per 
cent,  as  the  horse  cost  him.     What  sum  did  he  cost  ? 

Suppose  that  the  horse  cost  him  x  guineas,  then  sfnce 
he  lost  at  the  rate  of  x  guineas  on  100,  the  loss  upon  x 
guineas  will  be  found  from  this  proportion, 
xXx     X' 


100:z::ar: 


100      100 


Therefore ! 


is  the  difference  between  the  price  he 

paid  for  the  horse  and  the  sum  he  received  for  it. 

Therefore  x =24 

100 

And  hence  x' — 100x= — 2400 

And  comp.  the  square,  x' — 100^+2500=100 

And  extr.  the  root  x — 50==L10 

Therefore  x=50=L:10=60  or  40. 

Or  thus, 

100  :  X  :  :  x  :  x— 24 

x='=100x — 2400 

x^ — 100x= — 2400 

X  «— 1 00x+ 2500=2500 — 2400=1 00 

ar— 50=±10 

x=60  or  40. 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  price  of  the  horse  might  be 
either  60  or  40  guineas,  for  both  these  numbers  equally 
satisfy  the  conditions  of  the  question. 

Ex.  4.  A  company  dining  together  at  an  inn,  find 
their  bill  amount  to  175  shillings.  Two  of  them  were 
not  allowed  to  pay,  and  the  rest  found  that  their  shares 
amounted  to  1  Os.  a  man  more  than  if  all  had  paid.  How 
many  were  there  in  the  company  ? 

Let  X  be  their  number,  then  if  all  had  paid,  each 

175 
man's  share  would  have  been ,  but  seeing  that  only 


a^— 2  pay,  the  share  of  each  is 
the  question. 


175 
x—2. 


Therefore,  by 


And  hence  11 5x — 175x+350=x3 — 20x 
That  is  10x2— 20x=350 

And  dividing,  x' — 2x=35 

And  comp.  the  sq.  x^ — 2x+l=35+l=38 

And  extracting  the  root  x — 1=:-L6 
Therefore  x=:-L6+1=7  or  —5. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  positive  value  7  is  the  only  one 
that  gives  the  solution  of  the  question,  the  negative 
value  — 5  being  in  this  case  useless.  We  may  however 
frame  another  question  similar  to  the  above,  which  will 
be  answered  by  the  negative  root.  Thus  if  we  suppose 
that,  besides  the  original  company,  two  new  comers 
paid  a  share  of  the  bill,  by  which  it  happened  that  the 
share  of  each  was  10  shillings  less  than  it  would  other- 
wise have  been,  then  the  equation  resulting  from  this 

175      175 
new  form  of  the  question  will  be Xq— ^*^>  ^'^^'^ 

which  X  will  be  found  to  be  — 7  or  +5,  the  negative 
root  in  the  one  case,  being  the  positive  root  in  the 
other. 

196.  In  general,  the  negative  root  of  a  quadratic  equa- 
tion is,  as  to  its  magnitude,  the  answer  to  some  problem 
similar  to  that  from  which  the  equation  was  derived ; 
and  the  two  problems  may  for  the  most  part  be  convert- 
ed into  one  another  by  changing  one  or  more  words  into 
their  contraries,  as  gain  into  loss,  progress  into  regress, 
increase  into  decrease,  and  the  like. 

197.  There  are  affected  equations  of  all  orders  which 
may  be  resolved  in  the  manner  of  quadratic  equations, 
namely,  such  as  contain  only  two  powers  of  the  unknown 
quantity,  and  have  the  index  of  the  one  power  double 
that  of  the  other.     Such  for  example  are  these  : 

x*-{-px^=q 

x'+px^=q 

And  in  general  x"  ''-\-px''—q 

where  x  is  the  unknown  quantity,  and  p  and  q  are  any 
known  quantities,  positive  or  negative. 

To  resolve  the  last  of  these,  which  includes  the 
others,  put  x»=s,  then  x^  "==;s' ;  thus  the  equation 
becomes  g'  -i-pz=q.  By  resolving  this  quadratic  equa- 
tion s  will  become  known ;  and  since  x»=5r,  therefore, 
extracting  the  nth  root,  x=n^z,  and  thus  x  is  also 
known. 

For  example,  let  it  be  required  to  find  two  numbers 
of  which  the  product  shall  be  6,  and  the  sum  of  their 

cubes  35.    Put  x  to  denote  the  one  number,  then  - 

X 

216 
will  express  the  other  number,  and  x^-j — ~  will  ex- 
press the  sum  of  their  cubes. 

Therefore  x3-f-?^=35 
x' 

And  hence  x«4-216=35z» 

Orx«— 35x3=— 216 

This  equation,  by  putting  x^—z,  becomes 
*3— 352=^-216 

And  hence  we  find  s^27  or  8 
And  since  x^=z,  and  x=^^s 
Therefore  x=3  or  2. 

.       f> 
If  we  take  x=Z,  then  the  other  number  -=2,  toB  ^ 

'  X 


439 


ALGEBRA. 


we  take  x=2,  (hen  -=3.     Thug  2  and  3  are  the  num- 

X 

bers  requireil. 

Sect.  VIII.  Of  Aritknutical  and  Geometrical  Series. 

198.  Before  we  proceed  further  in  the  resolution  of 
equations,  it  may  be  proper  to  explain  the  nature  and 
properties  of  two  kinds  of  series  which  frequently  occur 
in  mathematical  inquiries. 

1 .  <y  Arithmetical  Series. 

199.  When  several  quantities  increase  or  decrease  by 
the  same  common  difiference,  they  form  an  arithmetical 
scries.     Such  for  example  are  these  : 

1,  2,    3,  4,     5,  &c. 

or     8,  6,     4,  2,    &c. 

or    a,  a-\-d,  a  +  2d,  &c. 

or    g,  s — d,  g  —  2d,  Sic. 

209.  In  any  arithmetical  series, 
let  a  denote  the  first  term, 

d  the  common  difference, 

n  the  number  of  terms, 

*  the  last  term, 

and  s  the  sum  of  all  the  lerms. 

Then  the  series  will  stand  thus, 
a,  a+d,  a+2d,  a+3d,  a+4d...s. 

Here  it  is  manifest,  by  simply  inspecting  the  scries, 
that  its  «th  term  will  be  «+(« — ^)d,  and  therefore,  that 
z^=a-\-{n — lyi. 

201.  Again,  to  find  the  sum  of  all  the  terms,  let  the 
series  be  written  twice,  in  an  inverse  order,  so  that  the 
first  term  may  be  over  the  last,  and  the  second  over  the 
last  but  one,  &c.  thus  : 

a,  a+d,  a+2d,  a+3d,  ...  r. 
g,  z — d,   s — 2d,  s — 3d,  ...  a. 

Then  it  is  plain  that  the  sum  of  every  tvfo  terms  in 
the  same  perpendicular  rank  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the 
two  extreme  terms  of  the  series ;  therefore  the  sum  of 
the  sums  of  all  these  pairs  of  terms  is  equal  to  the  sum 
of  the  extremes  taken  as  often  as  there  are  terms.  But 
if  we  take  the  sums  of  all  these  pairs  of  terms,  and 
add  them  together,  the  result  will  evidently  be  twice 
the  sum  of  all  the  terms  of  the  series ;  therefore  twice 
the  sura  of  all  the  terms  of  the  series  is  equal  to  the 
sum  of  the  extremes  taken  as  often  as  there  are  terms ; 

that  is  2s=n{a+s,')  therefore  s=-^—- — ■. 

202.  The  two  equations 

I  /       ,  M         n(a+s) 

express  the  relations  which  the  five  quantities,  a,  d,  n, 
X,  s,  have  to  one  another;  and  by  means  of  them,  when 
any  three  of  the  five  quantities  are  given,  the  remain- 
ing two,  or  either  of  them,  may  be  found,  as  in  the 
following  examples. 

Ex.  1 .  The  first  term  of  an  arithmetical  series  is  2, 
the  common  difference  3,  and  number  of  terms  50. 
Required  the  last  term,  and  sum. 

Here  we  have  given  a=2,  <t=3,  n=:50,  to  find  s  and 
s.  Let  these  values  of  a,  d,  and  n,  be  substituted  in  the 
Vat  equation,  and  it  becomes  r=2-i-49  X  3=1 49.  Again, 
lef  ^e  values  of  n,  a,  aa«l  that  just  now  found  for  s 


be  substituted  in  the  second  equation,  and  it  becomes 

50X151     „„^ 
s= =3775. 

Ex.  2.  The  first  term  of  an  arithmetical  series  is  3, 
the  common  difference  2,  and  the  sum  120.  Required 
the  number  of  terms. 

Here  we  have  a=3,  d=2,  5=120,  to  find  n.     Let 
these  numbers  be  substituted  in  the  two  equations  in. 
stead  of  the  letters  which  denote  them,  and  we  get 
«=1  +2h,     240=3»+jtsr. 

By  means  of  these  equations  let  s  be  exterminated, 
(§  119.)  and  the  result  is  the  quadratic  equation  n'+2n 
=120.  Hence  n  is  found  to  be  +  lO  or — 12  (§  186.) 
But  as  it  is  manifestly  only  the  positive  root  that  can  be 
admitted,  we  have  «=10. 

II.  Geometrical  Series. 

203.  When  a  number  of  quantities  increase  by  the 
same  multiplier,  or  decrease  by  the  same  divisor,  they 
form  a  geometrical  series.  This  common  multiplier,  or 
divisor,  is  called  the  common  ratio. 

Thusl,  2,  4,  8,  16,  &c. 

Or,  in  general, 

a,  ar,  ar',  ar^,  &c. 
is  a  geometrical  series.     And  here  r  may  be  either  a 
whole  number  or  a  fraction.     If  r  be  greater  than  1,  the 
series  will  increase,  but  if  it  be  less  than  1,  the  series 
will  decrease. 

204.  Let  a  denote  the  first  term, 

r  the  common  ratio,  or  multiplier, 
fi  the  number  of  terms, 
g  the  last  term, 
a  the  sum  of  all  the  terms. 
Then  the  series  will  be 

a,  ar,  ar',  ar',  ar*,..  .s. 
And  since  it  appears  that  the  exponent  of  r  in  any  term 
is  one  less  than  the  number  expressing  the  place  of  that 
term,  it  is  evident,  that  s=ar'~>. 

205.  Now,  s=a+ar-\-ar'+ar' ...+ar^~'. 

Therefore,  multiplying  both  sides  of  the  equation  by  r, 
we  have 

rs=ar-\-ar*  +ar' . . .  +ar„~'  +ar». 

Let  the  first  of  these  equations  be  subtracted  from  the 
second,  and  we  have 

rs — *= — a+oj*,  or(r — ])*=o(r" — 1). 

Therefore  f=°^''"~^). 
r — 1 

206.  Hence  it  appears,  that  the  relations  of  the  five 
quantities,  a,  r,  n,  z,  s,  to  one  another,  are  expressed  by 
the  two  equations, 


x=ar'' 


-1 


and  by  these,  having  given  any  three  of  the  four  quan- 
tities, a,  r,  n,  s,  the  remaining  <|uantily  may  be  f«und  by 
the  resolution  of  equations.  If,  however,  n  be  not  a 
small  number,  the  cases  of  this  problem  will  be  most 
conveniently  resolved  by  logarithms. 

207.  If  we  suppose  the  series  to  decrease,  (in  which 
case  r  will  be  a  fraction,)  and  also  that  the  number  of 


ALGEBRA. 


m 


terms  is  indefinitely  great,  then  a  formula  for  finding 
the  sum  in  this  case,  may  be  iurestigated  as  follows : 

From  the  first  equation  we  have  r"=— ,  and  therefore 

TZ 

r" — 1= 1,    and   0(1^ — l)=ri; — a;    therefore,    from 


the  second  equation,  we  find 
a — rs 


rs — a 


,  or  rather,  since 


r<l,  s=- 


1— r 


r— 1 
But  when  the  number  of  terms  is  in- 


definitely great,  and  the  series  decreases,  s  is  less  than 

any  assignable  quantity,  and  is  therefore  to  be  reckoned 

a 

as  =0  :  therefore,  in  this  case,  r^=0,  and  *=■; . 

1 — r 

Ex.  It  is  required  to  find  the  sum  of  the  infinite  series 
1  >  h  h  h  ^-  ***  infinity. 

1  2 

Here  0=1,  r=i.     Therefore  5=^ — -=- — r=2,  the 


2—1 


answer. 


Sect.  IX.    0/  Cubic  Equations. 

208.  In  treating  of  equations  of  the  third  order,  or 
cubic  equations,  we  shall  begin  with  pure  cubic  equa- 
tions, which  are  all  reducible  to  this  form  x'=J=a. 
In  (his  case,  the  equation  is  immediately  resolved  by 
extracting  the  cube  roots  of  both  its  sides.  We  thus 
find  x=l/=^;  and  it  is  evident,  from  §  138,  that,  if  a 
be  positive,  then  its  cube  root,  or  the  value  of  x,  will 
be  positive ;  but  if  a  be  negative,  then  also  x  will  be  a 
negative  quantity.  Thus,  if  the  equation  be  ^'=64, 
then  ^=3/64=4 ;  and  if  it  be  i;>=^— 216,  then  x=\/— 
216=— 6. 

209.  As  we  can  find  the  cube  root  of  a  negative,  as 
well  as  of  a  positive  quantity,  it  is  evident,  that  every 
pure  cubic  operation  will  always  have  one  real  root,  and 
it  is  not  obvious,  at  first  sight,  how  it  can  have  any  other 
root.  As  however  we  have  found,  that  quadratic  equa- 
tions, whether  pure  or  aflfected,  have  always  two  roots, 
we  may  with  good  reason  suspect  that  something  simi- 
lar will  take  place  in  cubic  equations.  And  this  suppo- 
sition will  appear  to  be  completely  verified,  by  proceed- 
ing as  follows  : 

Let  x'=c^  be  any  pure  cubic  equation,  where  c  de- 
notes a  quantity,  which  is  either  positive  or  negative ; 
then  by  transposition,  we  may  express  the  equation 
thus,  x' — c'=0 ;  and  here,  as  in  the  case  of  quadratics, 
we  are  to  consider  every  expression,  which,  being  sub- 
stituted instead  of  X,  causes  the  quantity  x^ — c'  to  be- 
come equal  to  0,  as  a  root  of  the  equation.  Now,  it  ap- 
pears from  Example  4,  in  multiplication,  that  x^ — c'  is 
the  product  of  x — c  and  x-'\-cx-\-c',  therefore  the  equa- 
tion x' — c'=0  may  be  otherwise  expressed,  thus: 

{X C)(x2  +CX+C'  )=0. 

But  this  equation  may  be  satisfied  in  two  ways,  viz.  by 
making  i — c=0,  or  by  making  x'+cx+c'^O.  The 
first  assumption  gives  us  x=c,  and  the  second  shows  us 
that  there  are  yet  other  two  values  of  x,  which,  being 
substituted  instead  of  it  in  the  equation  x^ — c'=0,  will 
cause  the  whole  to  vanish;  namely,  the  roots  of  the 
quadratic  equation  x"  +cx-{-c''==0.  To  determine  these, 
we  transpose  c",  and  comi)lete  the  square ;  we  thus  have 

^2     ^2  3 

x'+ci-^—-=- — c^sz — -c",  and,  extracting  the  root, 


x+-~==^ — -c3==-y — 3,    and  transposing,    x~ 

~~        ^ = c.     Hence  it  appears,  that 

the  three  roots  of  the  equation  x^ — c'=0  are 
— 1+v^— 3  —1—^—3 

of  which  the  first  only  is  real,  and  the  other  two  are 
imaginarj'.  It  is  true,  that,  in  ordinary  calculations,  we 
employ  only  the  first  of  these  values,  but  either  of  the 
other  two  being  substituted  forx,  will  equally  satisfy  the 
equation,  and  the  equation  may  be  reproduced  by  tak- 
ing the  product  of  these  three  simple  equations. 


-l+v'— 3 


c=0,  X- 


— 1— y/— 3 


c=0; 


for  the  product  of  the  two  last  will  produce  the  quadra- 
tic x^-f  cr-t-c'=0,  from  which  they  were  deduced,  and 
the  product  of  this  quadratic  and  the  simple  equation 
X — c=0  will  give  the  original  equation  x' — £^=0. 

210.  AVe  come  now  to  consider  cubic  equations,  which 
have  all  their  terms,  and  which,  by  the  rules  given  in 
§  107,  may  be  reduced  to  this  form, 

x'+Px=+Q:r-fR=0. 

The  first  step  towards  resolving  such  an  equation,  is 
to  transform  it  into  another  that  shall  want  the  second 

p 
term,  which  may  be  done  by  assuming  x=nf — -.     Thus 

we  have  by  involution, 

+Px"-=     +P^=— fPsy+iP=, 

+  Qx=  -t-  %— iPQ, 

+R    =  +  R, 

and,  adding  together  these  equations,  we  havex=+Px- 
-fQx+R  equal  to  »/'+(Q— iP^-^-t-JVP',— >PQ+R. 
In  this  last  expression,  let  the  compound  quantities  Q — 
iP2,  and  j\P» — iPQ-t-R,  be  denoted  by  the  single  let- 
ters q  and  r;  then,  instead  of  the  proposed  equation 
x'+Px2-|-Qx4-R=0,  we  have  this  new  equation ^=+ 
gy-^r=0,  which  is  more  simple  than  the  former,  by 
wanting  the  second  power  of  the  unknown  quantity. 

211.  To  resolve  the  equation  under  its  new  form,  we 
begin  with  assuming  y=v-\-s,  where  v  and  2  denote  two 
indeterminate  quantities.     Then  we  have 


y3  ^=V^+3vs(v-\-z)+g3 

Therefore,  substituting  this  value  of  y^  in  the  equation 
y3-\-qy-{-r=0,  it  becomes 

v=+z^+{3vs+q)i/+r=0. 
We  next  assume  3vs+q=0,  by  which  the  term  of  tliis 
equation  containing  1/  vanishes,  and  leaves  u'+s^+r 
=0.     We  must  now  determine  v  and  s  from  the  two 
equations. 

From  the  square  of  each  side  of  Uie  first  of  these  equa- 
tions, let  four  times  the  cube  of  each  of  the  correspond- 
ing sides  of  the  second  be  subtracted,  and  the  result  is 
j;6 — 2v's^+2^=-^q^-\-r-  ;  now  the  left  hand  side  of 
this  equation  is  evidenlly  the  squ.'re  of  f' — 2^,  there- 
fore, taking  the  square  root,  we  have  t;^ — z^—^/i-^q^ 


432 


ALGEBRA. 


4-r3)=2^(5',9'  +  }/-=).     From  this  equation,  and  Uie 
ctjnation  »=-f^'=: — r,  we  find,  as  at  Ex.  1,  §  122,  that 

and  lience,  taking  the  cube  roots, 
and  conser,uently,  since  y=»+«, 

212.  This  is,  however,  only  one  of  three  values,  which 
y  will  admit  of;  for  it  appears  from  §  209,  that  the 
cube  root  of  any  number  a  is  not  only  ^a,  but  also 

lilLv^II?  X  ya,     and    ~^~'^~  X^a,  therefore 

putting  m  and  n  to  denote  the  imaginary  expressions 


-l+v'-3 


and  ' 


-1-V/-3 


;  and  A  and  B  for  the  quan- 


2  2 

tities  —ir+^(2V? '+{»•')   and 
respectively,  we  have 

f=3/A,  f=wiy A,  f=»jyA  ; 
j:t=yB,  2=m^B,  a=nyB. 

Now  in  coupling  the  values  of  v  and  2,  so  as  to  form 
the  values  of  t/=n;+s,  we  must  recollect,  that  vs=-—^ 

«5 

=^AB,  a  quantity  free  from  the  imaginary  expres- 
sions m  and  n ;  but  this  can  only  be  done  in  three  ways ; 
viz.  1st,  By  coupling  ^A  with  ^B  ;  2dly,  By  coupling 
ni^A  with  n\/h;  and  lastly.  By  coupling  n^A,  with 
TO^B ;  for,  in  each  of  the  two  last,  we  have  mn=l,  and 
therefore  wtn^ AB=^AB. 

213.  Therefore,  in  the  equation  ^^4-5'^+*^=0,  we 
have  three  distinct  values  of  t/,  viz. 

y=VA+VB, 

y=jnVA+n»/B, 

y=MyA+»iVB- 

The  first  of  these  formulas  is  commonly  known  by  the 
name  of  Canlan's  rule,  because  it  was  first  )>ublished  to 
the  world  by  him.  The  invention  of  the  rule,  however, 
is  due  to  Nicholas  Tartalea,  and  to  Scipio  Ferreus,  who 
found  it  independently  of  each  other.  (See  §  8  and  §  0.) 

214.  As  the  pure  cubic  equation  x' — c'=0  is  the 
product  of  the  three  simple  equations  x — c=0,  x — mc 
=0,  X — 7J<^=0,  (m  and  n  having  the  values  already  spc- 
ciiied,)  so  in  like  manner,  the  affected  cubic  equation 
•i/'+yi/+r=0  is  the  product  of  the  three  simple  equa- 
tions i/—y  A — ^B=0,  y—m^/A — HyB=0,  y—nyX 
^-»n^B=0  ;  for,  by  actual  multiplication,  the  product 
of  the  two  latter  equations  is 

y'—(m  +  n)  (VA  +  V^)y+mn(\/A^±yB')  >  ^ 

/AB  S 


But  since  m>= 


-HV-3 


(m'4-»=)ii/AB 
and  n= ^ , 


there- 


fore m+n= — l,andmn=l,  andwj^  +»'=(»»+»)' — 2mn 
=—1 ;  tliercfore  tlie  product  of  the  two  equations  y^-m 
^A— n^B=Oand^--ny  A— m^B=0,  which  involve 
the  imaginary  expressions  m  and  n,  is 


an  equation  of  the  second  order,  entirely  free  from  ima- 
ginary expressions.  Again,  by  actually  multiplying  this 
last  equation  by  the  first  equation,  viz.  y — ^A — ^B 
=0,  the  product  will  be 

^3— 3  »/ ABy— (  A -f  B)=0. 
But"  3 VAE=3=/  I  Ir^—(^i,g3+ir3)  J  =_y,  and  A+B 
= — r;  therefore,  by  substituting  these  values  of  3^AB 
and  A-f-B,  the  equation  becomes  y^-{-qy-\-r=d),  a»  it 
ought  to  be. 

215.  Let  the  single  letters  a,  6,  c,  denote  the  three 
compound  quantities  found  in  §  213,  for  the  roots  of  the 
equation  j/^+5'y-fr=0,so  that,  as  has  been  shown  in  the 
last  ^,y^+qy+r=Q/ — a)(y — bXy — c);  then,  since  thig 
equation  has  been  deduced  from  the  equation  ar'+Pi' 
-f  Qa;+R=0,  by  assumiug  x==y — -JP,  or  y=x+iV, 
(§  210.)  it  follows,  that  the  roots  of  the  latter  equatioo 
are  a — ip,  i— iP,  c—^F,  and  that 

x'+Pz=+Qx+R=(x—ffl-f-JP)  (^x—b+xp) 
(.v-c+iP>=0. 

210.  Hence  it  appears,  that  every  cubic  equation 
x''+px''+qx-\-i-=0,  may  be  resolved  info  three  fac- 
tors, and  expressed  thus:  {x — a)  (x — b)  (x — c)=0, 
(where  a,  b,  c,  denote  quantities  made  up  of/),  q,  and  r,) 
and  therefore  may  be  satisfied  in  three  ways,  viz.  by 
assuming  r=ffl,  or  x=b,  or  x=c. 

21 7.  By  taking  the  actual  product  of  the  three  simple 
factors  X — a,  x — b,  and  x — c,  and  putting  the  result 
equal  to  x^+px''-\-gx+r,  we  discover  some  remarkable 
relations  which  take  place  between  the  roots  of  a  cubic 
equation  and  its  coefficients,  analogous  to  those  we  have 
already  observed  at  §  189,  in  the  case  of  quadratic  equa- 
tions.    For  we  thus  obtain 


x^—a) 


+a6i 
x'+ac  \  X — abc=x'+px'+gx+r. 
+bcS 


And  hence,  making  the  coefficients  of  the  like  power* 
of  X  equal  to  one  another,  we  have 

a+b  -i-c  =—p, 
€A+ac-i-bc=    y, 

From  which  it  appears : 

1.  That  the  coefficient  of  the  second  term  of  a  cubic 
equation,  taken  with  a  contrary  sign,  is  the  sum  of  i^ 
three  roots. 

2.  That  the  coefficient  of  the  third  term  is  the  sum 
of  the  product  of  its  roots  taken  two  and  two. 

3.  That  its  last  term  taken  with  a  contrary  sign,  is 
the  products  of  its  three  roots. 

218.  From  the  first  of  these  three  properties,  we  may 
infer,  that  if  the  second  term  of  a  cubic  equation  be 
wanting,  so  that  its  coefficient  may  lie  considered  as 
=0,  then  one  root  of  the  equation  is  equal  to  the  sum 
of  the  other  two  roots,  but  has  a  contrary  sign  to  that 
sum. 

219.  Let  it  be  required  to  find  the  roots  of  the  equa- 
tion x' — 6x — x'-^dx — 5=0  by  the  foregoing  formulas. 

In  the  first  place,  we  must  transform  the  equation 
into  another  that  shall  want  the  second  term,  which  is 

to  be  done,  as  shown  in  §  210,  by  assuming  x=y-\~^ 

=^-f2.     Accordingly,  substituting  this  quantity  instead 
ofo-  and  its  powers,  the  equation  is  transformed  to,^^ — 


ALGEBRA. 


43S 


6j/ — 0=0.    We  now  compare  this  equation  with  v^  + 
5y+r=0,   and  find  g= — 6,   and  r= — 9.     Therefore, 

Hence  A^r+yyQg'+lr^)^+l=S,  and  i/ 

A=2;  also  B=_^r_^(l9'+ir')4-|=l,  and 

^B=l.  Therefore,  substituting,  instead  of  the  imagina- 
ry expressions  m  and  n,  their  numeral  values,  we  have 
3^2+1=3, 


and  »ince  t==y-}-2,  therefore 

a=2+3=5, 


*=2- 


— 34V— 3_l  +  y— 3 


ax=2- 


v-^ 


Thus  it  appears,  that  only  one  of  the  three  values  of  x 
are  real,  the  others  being  imaginary. 

220.  Having  found  one  value  of  x  to  be  5,  we  might 
have  discovered  the  other  two,  by  considering  that  since 
j: — 5  must  be  one  of  the  three  factors  of  the  expression 
a;3 — ex'+6x—5,  (§  216.)  the  product  of  the  other  two 
will  be  found  by  dividing  x  * — Oi=+*5j — 5  by  x—5. 
Accordingly,  the  division  being  performed,  we  find  the 
quotient  to  be  ar" — x+1.     Therefore 

x3—ex^^6x—5=^{x—5)  {x^—x+1)=0. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  the  equation  will  be  satisfied, 
not  only  by  assuming  x — 5=0,  or  x=5,  but  also  by  as- 
suming i2 — 2:+l=e.      And  this   quadratic   equation, 

^  .  ,  •  1+v^— 3  ,  1— v^— 3 
when  resolved,  gives  x=: ^ ,  and  x= ^ , 

agreeing  with  the  results  already  found. 

221.  It  may  happen,  that  a  cubic  equation  has  a  ra- 
tional root,  and  yet  that  root  cannot  be  found  by  the 
foregoing  formulas.  Suppose,  for  example,  the  equation 
to  be  y^ — Gy — 40=0,  one  root  of  which  is  4,  In  this 
case,  we  have  g= — 6,  »^=r_40  ;  therefore  — ^  r^=20, 
\/(^?'+l''°)=v'392=v/142X2=14v'2,  and  hence 
A=20+14v/2,  B=20 — 14^2,  and  consequently  one  of 
the  roots  3/=^A+yB=V(20+14v/2)  -f  ^(20—14 
y/2).  Now  this  value  of  1/  is  really  eijual  to  4,  although, 
on  inspection,  one  would  hardly  suppose  it.  However, 
the  cube  of  2-|-.^2  being  20-f  14^2,  we  have,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  cube  root  of  204-14^^2,  equal  to  2+ 
y^2.  In  the  same  manner,  ^(20 — 14^2)=2 — ^2, 
therefore  the  value  of  x  is  2+.y2+2 — v/2=4. 

222.  Although  we  had  not  discovered  the  exact  cube 
TOots  of  20+14^^2  and  20—14^2  to  be  2+^/2  and 
2 — ^2,  yet  we  might  have  discovered  them  nearly,  by 
approximation,  i)y  first  finding  the  approximate  value 
of  ^2,  and  then  the  approximate  values  of  ^(20-f-14 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


^2)  and  ^(20 — 14.^2)  by  the  common  rules  for  the 
square  and  cube  roots  (§  147,  152.)  so  that,  at  any  rate, 
by  means  of  the  formulas,  we  might  have  approximated 
as  near  to  the  root  as  we  chose. 

223.  If  we  substitute  the  numeral  values  of  tl>e  ima- 
ginary expressions  m  and  n  in  the  formulas  of  §  213,  it 
will  be  found,  that  they  may  otherwise  be  expressed, 
thus, 

»/=yA+VB, 

y=~i  \  yA-f  VB  I  -^  \  i/A-VB  5  ; 

and  hence  it  appears,  that  y  A  and  y  B  being  supposed 
real  quantities,  the  first  of  these  values  will  always  be 
real,  but  the  two  last,  on  account  of  the  imaginary  ex 
pression  y — 3  contained  in  them,  will  r.lways  be  ima- 
ginary. But  since  A= — ir-f  y(aV7'4-ir»)  and  B= 
— Ar — \/(,Ti\9^+ir''),  it  is  manifest,  that  y  A  and  ytf 
will  always  be  real  when  sS^'-i-ir^  is  a  positive  quan- 
tity. 

Now  as  Jr*  must  necessarily  be  a  positive  quantity, 
(§  134.)  it  is  manifest  that  s'^y'+i'"^  will  be  positive, 
and  consequently  its  square  root  will  be  a  real  quantity 
in  two  cases,  namely,  when  g  is  positive ;  and  when  g 
is  negative,  but  such  that  ■s\g  ^  (which  is  then  also  ne- 
gative) is  less  than  ^r". 

Hence  we  may  conclude, 

1.  That  all  cubic  equations  of  this  torm  t/'+gy+r 
=0,  in  which  q  is  positive,  and  r  either  positive  or  nega- 
tive, have  one  real  and  two  imaginary  roots. 

2.  That  the  same  is  also  true  of  equations  having 
the  form  i/' — qy+r=0,  in  which  q  is  negative,  provid- 
ed that  ir2  >5V?'- 

224.  If  in  this  last  equation,  q  were  such  that  ir^ 
— TT?''  then,  as  the  general  expression  Vyy'-t-T'"-,  be- 
comes, when  q  has  the  negative  sign  prefixed  to  it, 
-}r' — 2^9''  't  is  evident  that  the  radical  quantity  y 
(ji^j'+ir^)  would  vanish,  and  we  would  have  A=B= 

— ir,  and  yA-f yB=2 'y— **■'  and  yA— yB=0. 
In  this  case  the  formulas  of  last  §  would  become  sim- 

i>iy  

y=2y— ir,  y=^y—xr,  3;=—y_^y. 

from  which  it  appears  that  when  g  the  coefficient  of  i/ 
is  negative  and  ■^g^=ir'',  then  all  the  roots  are  real, 
and  tivo  of  them  are  equal  to  one  another. 

225.  Again,  supposing  g  negative,  if  -^g'  be  greater 
than  \r-,  so  that  {r- — ^\g'  is  a  negative  quantity ;  then 
the  radical  y(,r'"^ — aV?^)  w*"  become  imaginary;  and 
thus  the  two  exjjressions  denoted  by  A  and  B  will  be 
both  imaginary ;  by  which  it  happens  that  all  (lie  three 
roots  of  the  equation  have  the  appearance  of  being  ima- 
ginary ;  but  this  is  only  in  appearance ;  for  in  truth,  so 
far  from  being  imaginary,  they  are  all  real.  For  ex- 
ample, let  the  equation  be  i/' — 0y-{-4=0.  Here  g= 
— 6  and  r=+4,  therefore  — J-r= — 2,  and  ^{^g° 
+i»;a>=y(— 8-f4)=y— 4=2y--l.  Thus  we  liave 
yA=y(— 2-}-2y— 1),    and   yB=y(— 2— 2y— 1), 

and  the  three  values  of  y  are  by  the  formulas  of  J  223. 
31 


434 


ALGEBRA. 


y=^(— 24-2v^— l)+l/(— 2— 2y— 1) 

-41  i/(-2+2v/-l)+^(-2-2^-l)| 
f^  1  ^(-2+2^-1  >-y  (-2-2^-1 )  j 
-l\  y(-2+2^-l)+ V(-2-2v'-l)  J 
-^  \  VC-2+2y-l  >_3/(_2-2v/-l )  5 

all  which  involve  llie  imaginary  expression  ^ — 1 ;  and 
the  last  two  this  other  imaginary  expression,  ^ — 3.  As 
however  it  will  be  found  upon  trial  that  the  cube  of  1  + 

^—1  is  — 24-v' — 1'  ^D**  ****  ^^^  *'"'*'*  *'f  ^ — v/ — ^  '* 
— 2 — 2^ — 1  ;  therefore  on  the  contrary  we  may  infer 
that  yA=V(— 2+2^/— l)=l+v^— 1,  and  VB=y 
(— 2— 2^'— 1)=1— -v/— 1;  thus  we  have  ^A+yB 
=1+^— 1  +  1— y— 1=+2;  and  yA— ^B=l  +  ^ 
■ — 1 — l+v/ — i—2^ — 1  i  and  hence  the  three  values  of 
y  are  these, 
»/=+2, 

y=_i  X+2+-^  X2v/-l=^l--/3 


3,^^iX+2- 


^/-3 


X2v'— 1=^-1 +V^3 


all  which  are  real, 

226.  That  we  may  see  the  reason  of  this  peculiarity 
in  the  form  of  the  expressions  for  the  roots,  we  must 
recur  to  the  general  solution,  (§  211 — §  213)  where  it 
appears  that  when  q  is  negative,  and  r  either  positive 
or  negative,  »o  that  the  equation  has  this  form,  y' — qy 
-i-r=0,  then  to  resolve  it  in  the  manner  there  employ- 
ed, we  must  suppose  the  root  y  to  be  the  sum  of  two 
numbers  v  and  z,  and  assume  3vs — y=0  :  this  assump- 
tion (which  is  arbitrary,  and  made  with  a  view  to  sim- 
plify the  resolution)  when  combined  with  the  equation 
v-\-g=^,  produces  this  other  equation  w3+s»=t;r=0 ;  so 
that  to  determine  v  and  z,  or  rather,  v^  and  5',  we  have 
these  two  equations. 

Now  as  the  prodnct  of  two  numbers  cannot  exceed 


the  square  of  half 


their  sum*, 


ifil 
27 


do  not  exceed 


(^^  V=— ,  the  assumed  equation  3vx — j=0,  is  ad- 
missible, and  the  quantities  i;'  and  «»,  and  consequent- 
ly V  and  s,  when  determined,  will  be  found  to  have  both 
real  values. 

There  is,  however,  nothing  in  the  nature  of  the  equa- 
tion^' — qy=f=T=r,  to  prevent  -—  from  being  less  than 


for  putting  the  expression  y' — jy  under  this  form 


therefore  r  may  be  as  small  as  any  quantity  whatever, 
-— -  may  be  less  than  — ,  and  this  being  the  case,  the 

assumption  3rs — 17=0,  cannot  possibly  be  admitted  in 
resolving  the  equation  y^ — gy=L:r=0. 

It  is  true  indeed  that  even  in  this  case  we  obtain  gen- 
eral formulas  for  the  roots ;  but  these  indicate  the  want 
of  agreement  of  the  conditions  of  the  equation,  with  the 
assumption  by  which  they  have  been  obtained ;  for  they 
always  contain  the  imaginary  symbol  ^ — 1,  and  are  in 
fact  expressions  of  the  kind  adverted  to  at  §  191,  name- 
ly, such  as  denote  real  quantities,  but  under  an  imagi- 
nary form. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  supposed,  that  although  the  mode 
of  resolution  we  have  employed  fails  when  q  is  negative, 

0,3  r' 
and  57>-ji  y«t  there  must  needs  be  some  other  ana- 
logous mode  of  proceeding,  suited  to  this  particular 
case.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  no  one  has 
hitherto  been  able  to  discover  such  a  method ;  so  that 
this  case  of  cubic  equations,  which  has  obtained  the 
name  of  the  irreducible  case,  has  given  as  much  trouble 
to  mo<lern  mathematicians  as  the  celebrated  problems 
of  the  trisection  of  an  angle,  and  the  duplication  of  the 
cube,  gave  to  the  ancients ;  and,  like  these,  has,  in  the 
end,  baffled  all  attempts  to  resolve  it. 

227.  When  the  equation  to  be  resolved  is  y — yyJ^: 
/•=0,  and  57  >  4"'  *''*°'  changing  the  sign  of  q  in  the 

expressions  denoted  by  A  and  B  ($  212)  so  as  to  make 
them  suit  this  case,  we  have 


73. 


s+lrs) 


B=pir_-/(-^7  = 

Let  a  be  put  for  =P5»".  and  6  for  ^(^Lyo^ars),  where 
it  is  to  be  observed  that  a  and  b  denote  real  quantities, 
then. 


A==a+b^—\,     B=a— Jy— 1, 
and  one  of  the  values  of  y  in  the  equation  is 

V(«+V— l)+y(«— *v/— I),  §  213, 
Sometimes  the  expressionsa-f  J,^ — 1  and  a — by/ — ) , 
have  exact  cube  roots,  as  in  the  example  of  §  225 ;  but 
in  the  actual  applications  of  algebra  this  will  very  sel- 
dom happen,  and  even  to  determine  when  it  does  so,  i» 
a  problem  of  the  same  nature  and  difliculty  as  the  reso- 
lution of  the  original  equation.  We  can  always,  how- 
ever, exhibit  the  cube  roots  of  these  expressions,  in  the 
form  of  infinite  series,  as  will  appear  in  Sect.  XVIII. 
(§  322.  Ex.  3.)     And  it  will  there  be  sho^vn,  that  if 


21. 

27' 

y  {y' — q),  it  is  evident  that  if  y  be  positive,  and  y" 
nearly  equal  to  q,  but  a  little  greater,  then  j/* — q,  and 
consequently  y[y^ — j)=+r  will  be  a  small  quantity, 
and  may  be  smaller  than  any  assignable  quantity.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  we  suppose  y  to  be  positive,  and  »/'  a 
little  less  than  q,  the  same  thing  will  happen,  with  this 
difference,  that  ^» — q)f=r  will  be  negative.    Since 

•  For  let  m-f-n  and  m—n  den«tc  »ny  two  nnmbers  :  their  mm  is 
(•»+»)('»— ")='»*'-'•'»  wd  this  luantity  eiideaUy  caangt  cx«eed 


then 


^  ^3-0a»     3-6-9-12a«^       '' 
Wig     1-2-5  63      1-2-5-8-11 
\.36     3-6-9  a  "^3'e-9-12n3  a^ 


V  B=y(a— iv'— I  >=F— Qv/— 1 , 
Hence  we  have 

^A-t-VB=2P.  i/A— VB=2Qv/— 1. 

2m,  ant!  the  square  of  half  their  ton  m'.    Again,  thfii-  product  i« 


ALGEBBA. 


430 


nnd  these  values  being  substituted  in  tlie  formulas  of 
§  223,  give 

3^2P,  y=-P— Qv/3,  i/=-P+Q^3, 

all  which  values  are  real :  and  as  it  has  been  shown 
(§  223)  that  in  every  other  case  two  of  the  roots  are 
imaginary,  and  one  real,  we  may  infer  that  a  cubic 
equation  may  have  all  its  roots  real,  or  two  imaginary 
and  one  real ;  but  that  it  cannot  have  only  one  imagi- 
nary root. 

228.  Instead  of  finding  the  roots  in  the  irreducible 
case,  by  means  of  infinite  series,  in  general  it  will  be 
more  convenient  to  find  them  by  the  help  of  the  com- 
mon trigonometrical  tables,  taking  advantage  of  a  cu- 
rious analogy  which  subsists  between  this  case  consider- 
ed as  an  arithmetical  problem,  and  the  celebrated  geo- 
metrical problem  requiring  the  trisection  of  an  angle. 
We  now  proceed  to  explain  how  this  may  be  done. 

Resuming  therefore  the  equation  y^ — qy-\-r=0,  in 
which  the  term  yj/  is  supposed  to  be  negative  and 
^g^'^ir",  let  us  assume  i/=h  cos.  z,  where  n  denotes 
a  quantity  to  be  determined  presently,  and  the  expres- 
sion COS.  s  means  the  cosine  of  an  arc  s,  also  to  be  de- 
termined. Let  this  value  of  jf  be  substituted  in  the 
equation,  and  it  becomes  n^  cos.'  s — jiy  cos.  s-\-r=0. 
But  by  the  arithmetic  of  sines,  radius  being  unity,  we 
have  COS.'  s=\  cos.  3s-f-5  cos.  ^;  therefore  ^n^  cos. 
3*+|n'  COS.  s — ng  cos.  s'-t-r=0,  and  reducing, 

n'  cos.  3s-\-(3n' — 4ng)  cos.  2-l-4r=0  ; 

we  now  assume  3n' — 4ng=0,  by  which  the  term  con- 
taining COS.  s  vanishes  from  the  equation,  which  then 
becomes  simply  n'  cos.  35-t-4r=0.  From  these  two 
equations  we  get 

,^. /$=2. /I,  and  COS.  3^=-^. 
V    3       V  3'  2g^g 

But  here  we  must  examine  whether  this  expression  for 
COS.  3s  be  greater  or  less  than  1,  the  radius;  for  if  it 
should  happen  to  be  greater,  then  the  assumptions  we 
have  made  must  involve  some  contradiction.  Now,  as 
"by  hypothesis,  ir2<jyy3,  therefore  27r''<_4g^,  and, 

27?*"  y27r^ 

dividing   by  4y»,  _— <i,   therefore  also  a,  / = 

4g^  \r     4g'i 

3r^3 
^—— -<1.     Hence  it  appears  that  the  expression  we 

have  found  for  cos.  32  is  less  than  radius,  as  it  ought 
to  be. 

229.  In  determining  the  value  of  the  arc  z  from  the 


equation  cos.  3s=- 


3t\/3 


,  it  must  be  considered  that 
25-^9 

the  cosine  of  any  arc,  and  the  cosine  of  the  same  arc 
increased  by  any  number  of  complete  circumferences, 
are  all  expressed  by  the  same  number,  (see  Arithme- 
tic of  Situs).  Therefore  if  a  be  the  least  arc,  which 
being  substituted  for  3s  satisfies  the  equation  cos.  32= 

3r  /3 
— „  \,  ,  then  will  any  one  of  the  series  of  arcs,  a,  a4- 

Iq^g 

360",  a-i-2  X  360°,  &:c.  continued  indefinitely,  satisfy  the 
same  equation.  Hence  it  may  be  inferred,  that  in  the 
assumed  equation  »/■='«  cos.  s,  we  may  take  s  equal  to 
each  of  the  terms  of  the  following  series  of  arcs,  ia, 
i(a-|-360<'),i(a+2  X360»),i(a-f  3  X360»),&:c.  It  is  easy 
however  to  perceive,  that  the  first  three  are  the  only 
arcs  which  give  different  values  of  cos.  z ;  for  each  of 
the  following  arcs  exceeds  one  or  other  of  them  either 


by  the  whole  circumference,  or  some  multiple  of  it. 
Therefore  cos.  z  has  these  three  values,  cos.  ^a,  cos. 
(•5a-fl20<'),  COS.  (ia-|-240°). 

230.  From  the  preceding  investigation,  we  have  the 
following  rule  for  resolving  the  equation  y'^~qy-\-r=^ 
when^if?'  >?'■». 

Find  from  the  trigonometrical  tables  an  arc  a,  whose 

cosine  IS  equal  to — 


tg^g 
COS.  ^a. 


Then  the  roots  are 


y=2^|x 

y=2^|x  COS.  (ia+1200), 

«/=2^|x  COS.  (ia+240o). 


Note.  In  the  application  of  this  rule  it  is  to  be  ol)- 
served,  that  the  cosine  of  an  arc  between  0<>  and  90"  is 
considered  as  positive ;  but  if  the  arc  be  between  90» 
and  3X90°,  or  270°,  its  cosine  is  negative;  again  front 
270°  to  360  it  is  positive,  and  so  on.  See  Arithmetic 
oj  Hints. 

Ex.  Find  the  roots  of  (he  equation  3/' — 19_y-f30=O. 
Here  y=19,  r=30.  Therefore  2  W^^=.503322,  and 

— — il-= — 941 1  ]  5.=cos.  1 60»  1 4'  23"=cos.  a ; 

^gvg 

Therefore 

^a=  53°  24'  48",  its  cos.  =-|--596077 
4^0+120°  =173°  24'  48",  its  cos.  = — 993400 
ioX240»=293»  24'  48",  its  cos.  =-f -397361 

y=-i03322X        -59608=     3 

y=-503322  X — 993400= — 5 

«/=-503322X      -397361=     2 

Hence  it  appears  that  the  roots  of  the  equation  are  +'J, 
—5,  +2. 

Sect.  X.  Of  Biquadratic  Equations. 

231 .  The  most  general  form  a  biquadratic  equation, 
or  an  equation  of  the  fourth  order,  can  have,  is 

x*+Fx'>  +  qx''+Rx+S=0. 

Before,  however,  we  treat  of  the  resolution  of  this 
equation  in  its  most  general  form,  we  shall  consider 
some  of  its  more  simple  cases. 

232.  First  suppose  the  equation  to  be  pure,  or  to  be 
simply  x*=a,  then  extracting  the  fourth  root,  we  have 
x=\/a.  Thus  if  0=256,  then  because  ^a=y/256= 
16,  we  have  i^^a=^(^a)=^16=4. 

This  however  is  only  one  of  the  values  which  x  will 
admit  of;  and  to  discover  the  others,  we  must  resolve 
the  expression  x* — a,  or  (putting  b*  instead  of  a)  x* 
— b*  into  its  simple  factors.  Now  x* — b*  is  the  product 
of  jt' — 6^  zml  x'  +  b"  ;  and  again,  x' — b^  is  the  pro- 
duct of  X — b  and  x+b,  and  x'+b'  is  the  product  of 
the  two  impossible  expressious  x — ^y — b',  and  ar-|--/ 
— 62  ;  that  is  of  x—b^ — 1,  and  x+b^ — 1 ;  therefore 
we  have  x*—b*=(x—b)  (x+b)  (x—b^—1)  (x+b^— 
1);  so  that  if  x*=b*  or  z* — i<=0,  then  we  have 

(a>_6)(x-f  6)(z— 6^/— 1  Xx+b^—\  )=0 ; 
and  this  equation  will  manifestly  be  satisfied  by  giving 
to  X  any  one  of  these  four  values,  viz. 

x=+6,  x= — b,  x=+b^—},  x=~by/—l. 
312 


4S6 


ALGEBRA- 


233.  Next  to  pure  biquadratic  equations,  in  point  of 
easiness  of  resolution,  are  those  wliich  want  the  Becond, 
and  fourth  terms;  and  which  are  of  this  form  x*+gx' 
~s=0,  rr  and  *  denoting  know  n  coefficients.  We  have 
already  shown,  5  197,  that  equations  of  this  form  may 
always  be  resolved  in  the  same  manner  as  a  quadratic, 
by  assuming  x''=y,  for  thus  the  equation  becomes  ?/='+ 

— 9  +  v/(y2— 4s) 
(iy-[-s=0 ;  the  roots  of  which  are  y= ^ > 


Slid  y=- 


— ?— a/((?'— 4*). 


but  since  x^=y\    therefore 


x-=-i—^/y ;  thus  x  has  four  values,  which  may  be  in- 
eluded  in  the  formula  =L,^/_-I Y-^ i,  where 

the  signs  before  the  radical  sign  ^  may  be  either  taken 
both  +  or  both  — ,  or  the  one  +  and  the  other  — . 

234.  When  a  quadratic  equation  has  all  its  terms, 
its  solution  can  only  be  effected  by  the  intervention  of 
a  cubic  equation.  This  may  be  done  in  different  ways ; 
but  we  shall  here  give  only  the  method  of  Eider,  as  ex- 
plained by  him  in  his  Algebra. 

According  to  this  methoil,  the  root  of  an  equation  of 
Ihe  fourth  degree  is  supposed  to  have  the  form  y=i/f 
-f-^g+yT,  in  which  the  letters  ;>,  q,  r  express  the 
roots  of  an  equation  of  the  third  degree,  viz.  s^— /«»  + 
gs—h=^0 ;  so  that  (§  21 7.)  we  have;)+y+»^,  pq+pr 
■^qr^^gi  and  pgr=h.  We  now  square  the  assumed 
formula  y^y/P+^/q+x/r,  and  obtain  y^=p+g+r+ 
'i.''/pq-\-1-J'pr-\-2*/qr  \  and  since  p-\-q-\-T=^,  we  have 
y^—f=2\/pq-\-2^pr-\-2's/gr.  We  again  take  the 
squares  of  the  sides  of  this  equation,  and  findt/' — 2/j/' 
4-/2=4psr  +  4;w  4-49r-f  8\/p»?r  +S\/pq^r  4-8\/pyr2. 
Now  4pg+4pr-\-4(;r=4g,  therefore  this  equation  be- 
comf.sy*—2fy^+f>=4g+S\/pgr{^p+^g+.yr).  But 
^yp+^g-i-^r=y,  and  pgr=k,  therefore,  substituting 
these  values,  and  transposing,  we  have  y* — 2Jy^ — 8y 
^/i-j-y^ — 4g=0,  an  equation  of  the  fourth  degree,  which 
we  are  sure  has  one  of  its  roots  y=^p-\-y/g+^r,  and 
in  which  p,  g,  and  r  are  the  roots  of  this  equation  of 
the  third  degree  s^^fs'+gs—h^O. 

235.  The  biquadratic  equation  y* — 2fy' — Zy^h+f 
— 4^=0,  it  is  true,  wants  its  second  term ;  but  we  can 
transform  any  biquadratic  equation  having  all  its  terms 
into  another  which  shall  want  its  second  term,  by  an  ar- 
tifice exactly  the  same  as  we  have  employed  in  the  case 
of  cubic  equations  (§  210).  Thus,  let  the  equation  be 
x*+ax^+hx''+cx+fl=0;  then,  assuming  3:=y — Ja, 
and,  substituting  1/ — Ja  and  its  jwwers  instead  of  x  and 
its  powers,  the  equation  is  transformed  into 

y*-{¥^'-i)y'+{ia'-iab+c)y-ji^a*  } 

an  equation  which,  putting  the  single  letters  A,  B,  C, 
lor  the  known  compound  coefficients,  may  be  expressed 
thus,  i/«-f-A^'-t-B^-|-C=0;  and  in  which  the  second 
term  is  manifestly  wanting. 

236.  Let  there  now  be  j)roposed  any  equation^'— r^ 
— by—c=0.  To  determine  its  root  we  must  first  com- 
pare it  with  the  equation  2/*— 2/^= — iy^h+f^ — 4»=0, 
in  onler  to  obtain  the  values  of/,  g,  and  h,  and  we  shall 
have  these  three  ecjuations 

2/=a,  8^fc=6,  /a — ig=—C. 

From  the  firet  of  these  equations,  we  have  /=^^}  and 


6* 

from  the  second  fc=^;     let  the  value  we  have  just 

found  for/  be  substituted  in  the  third  equation,  and  it 
becomes  \a' — 4g= — c;  and  hence  g=ria^-\-\c.  We 
have  now  only  to  substitute  these  values  of/,  g,  h  in  the 
equation  s^—fs"  -\-gz — fc=0,  and  to  determine  its  roots 
p,  q,  r,  by  what  is  taught  in  last  Section,  and  one  of  the 
roots  of  our  equation  of  the  fourth  degree,  viz.  y* — ay* 
— by — c=0,  must  be  y=^p-\-\/q+'\/r. 

237.  This  method  appears,  at  first,  to  furnish  only  one 
root  of  the  proposed  equation ;  but  if  we  consider,  that 
every  sign  ^  may  be  taken  negatively,  as  well  as  posi- 
tively, we  shall  immediately  see,  that  this  formula  con- 
tains all  the  four  roots. 

Further,  if  we  were  to  admit  all  the  possible  changes 
of  the  signs,  we  should  have  eight  different  values  of  r, 
and  yet  four  only  can  exist.  But  it  is  to  be  observed, 
that  the  product  of  those  three  terms,  or  ^pqr  must  be 
equal  to  ^fc=i6,  and  that  if  ift  be  positive,  the  product 
of  the  terms  ^p,  ^q,  and  ^r  must  likewise  be  positive, 
so  that  all  the  variations  that  can  be  admitted  are  reduc- 
ed to  the  four  following : 

y=y/p+y/g+y/r, 
y=^/p—y/g—.yr, 
y=^x/P+'s/g~'s/r, 
y==—x/p—y/g+x^r. 

In  like  manner,  when  }b  is  negative,  we  hare  only  tht- 
four  following  values  of  y : 

y=\/p-\--yq—s/r, 
y=Vp—\/9-^y/^> 
y=—VP+V9+\/i; 

y=^^p—^q—^r. 

This  circumstance  enables  us  to  determine  the  roots  in 
all  cases,  as  in  the  following  example : 

Let  the  equation  to  be  resolved,  when  transformed  so 
as  to  want  its  second  term,  (§  235.)  be  y* — 25_y»  -}-60y — 
36=0.  Comparing  this  equation  with  the  general  formu- 
la^'— ay^—by — c=0,  we  have  ii=25,  6=: — 60,  c=36; 

IK  1         ^25         625  769  225 

and  hence  we  have/=— -,  £'=-—— {-9=  — — ,  and  A=— -> 
2  lb  16  4 

Thus  our  equation  of  the  third  degree  becomes 

225 


,     25      ,  769 
2      ^16 


-=0. 


To  remove  the  fractions,  let  us  make  s=-,  and  the 

»»     25^  «s  ,  769,  »     225 
equation       becomes     ___X--F— X- ^^-=0; 

and  hence  we  get  v^ — 50i)='  -f-  769w — 3600=0.  The  roots 
of  this  equation  will  be  found,  by  the  rules  for  cubics,  to 

g 
be  tt=9,  »=16,  and  ite=25;  and  hence  s=-,  s=A,  zss 

25 

— ;  and  these  are  also  the  values  of  j>,  f,  and  r ;  that  ie, 

p=-,  q='i,  ''^=-r'     Now,  if  we  consider  that  Vpqr  := 

15 
y/h= — —,  it  follows  that  this  value  =J-6  being  nega- 
tive, we  must,  agreeably  to  what  has  been  paid  with  re- 
gartl  to  the  signs  of  the  roots  ^p,  ^q,  ^r,  take  all  those 
tliree  roots  negatively,  or  only  one  of  them  negatively : 
and  consequently  as  ^p=i,  ^q=2,  and  v^rt=!i,  the 
four  roots  of  the  girea  equatiou  arc  found  to  be 


ALGEBRA. 


437 


y.=-f+2+|=3, 

238.  Ab  the  terms  of  every  quadratic  equation,  when 
brought  all  to  one  aide,  constitute  a  quantity  which  may 
be  resolved  into  twosiin|)le  factors,  (§  188.)  and  in  like 
manner,  the  terms  of  a  cubic  equation  may  be  resolved 
into  three  factors,  (§  216.)  so  also  the  terms  of  a  biquad- 
ratic equation  may  lie  resolved  into  four  factors. 

For  the  first  set  of  values  which  we  have  found  for  y 
in  the  equation  y* — ay' — hy — c=0,  or  (substituting  for 
a,  h,  and  c,  their  values,  expressed  by  /,  g,  and  A,) 
^< — 2^3 — iy^h+p — 4g=0,  give  us  these  four  sim- 
ple factors, 

iy—Vpy-Wi+^/r),  {y+Vp)-{V9—V), 

Taking  now  the  products  of  the  factors  which  stand 
over  one  another,  and  considering  that  each  pair  is  the 
sum  and  difference  of  two  quantities,  and  consequently 
that  each  product  will  be  the  difference  of  the  squares 
of  these  quantities,  (§  57,  Ex.  2.)  we  obtain  from  the 
first  pair 

y'—^9\/P+p—g—2i/qr—ri 
and  from  the  second, 

y'  +2yy/p+p—q+2V'q7—r. 
But  since  p+q+r~f,  therefore  p—q—^r=2p—f.  In- 
stead of  jh-q—r,  let  2}>—f  be  substituted  in  these  two 
.  products,  then,  arranging  the  terms  so  as  to  constitute 
a  sum  and  a  difference  of  two  quantities,  these  products 
will  stand  thus : 

iy^-\-2p-fy-(2y^j,+  2^^), 
{y'^-2j^f)+{2y^pJ^2V^). 

And,  '^ain,  taking  the  product  of  these,  we  get  for  the 

product  of  the  four  simple  factors 

(1/3  +2p~fy—{2y^j+o^^y 
~y*—2fy  ^~&yy/pqr-{-p—4p{J^p)—Aqr. 

But  Vpqr^^h,  and  since  f—p-=q+r,  therefore  —4p 

{J~py:-4qr=~4{pq+pr+qr)=~4g,  therefore  this  last 

expression  becomes 

y*-2fy=-Sy^h+p-4g 
that  is,  it  is  identical  with  the  left  hand  side  of  the  equa" 
^^y*—y>)'—«yy/h+p—4g=0,  as  was  to  be  proved. 
Although  this  equation  want  the  second  term,  yet  it 
18  easy  to  perceive,  that  the  same  property  must  belong 
to  all  biquadratic  equations  whatever;  so  that,  in  any 
biquadratic  equation  x''+Px34.Qi2+r^+S^0^  ^/^ 
way  be  assured  it  is  possible  to  find  four  expressions 
«,  6,  c,  and  d,  composed  of  the  coefficients  P  Q  R  S 
and  such  that  '    ' 

Hx—i)(x—hXx—c)(x—d), 
and  hence  we  see  how  it  happens  that  every  biquadratic 
equation  may  be  satisfied  by  four  different  values  of  x, 
Tiz.  because  we  may  take  x  equal  to  any  one  of  the  four 
quantities  a,  b,  c,  d. 

239.  Since  the  last  term  of  the  auxiliary  cubic  equa- 
tion ir3__^a+g-j^fc_o^  oj  substituting  the  values  of  f. 
g,  and  ft,  •' 


n^—ias^  +(-^aO  +ic)«— 5V**=0. 
must  always  be  negative,  whatever  be  the  sign  of  5,  it 
follows  that  when  its  three  roots  p,  q,  r,  are  real,  they 
must  either  be  all  positive,  or  only  one  of  them  must  be 
positive,  and  the  other  two  negative ;  for  the  last  term 
being  the  product  of  all  the  roots  taken  with  contrary 
signs  (§  21 7.),  it  can  only  be  negative  when  all  the  roots 
are  positive,  or  one  positive  and  two  negative.  In  the 
former  case  it  is  manifest,  from  the  expressions  given 
in  }  237.  for  the  roots  of  the  biquadratic  equation  x* — 
ax' — bx — c=0,  that  then  these  roots  will  be  all  real, 
but  in  the  latter  that  all  the  roots  will  be  imaginary,  ex- 
cepting, however,  the  case  when  the  negative  quantities 
are  equal,  for  then  they  will  destroy  each  other  in  two 
of  the  roots,  which  will  thus  become  real  and  equal. 

240.  When  the  auxiliary  equation  has  one  real  and 
two  imaginary  roots,  its  real  root  must  be  positive.  For 
the  two  imaginary  roots  can  only  be  derived  from  an 
equation  of  the  second  degree  having  its  last  term  po- 
sitive, and  therefore  of  this  form  2--f  A5+B=0:  and 
this  being  the  case,  the  factor  of  the  first  degree  which 
contains  the  real  root  must  be  of  the  form  s — k,  for 
otherwise  the  last  term  of  the  product  of  the  first  fac- 
tor by  the  second  would  not  be  negative  as  it  ought 
to  be. 

By  resolving  the  equation  «'-f  A£:4-B=0,  which  by 
hypothesis  has  two  imaginary  roots,  we  find  two  value*, 
of  s  having  this  form 

2^=jn-f«v' — 1,  z=>n — n^/^ 
where  m  and  n  denote  real  quantities,  viz. — iA  and|^ 
(4B— A").     Hence  we  have  for  p,  q,  r,  the  roots  of  the 
auxiliary  cubic  equation  these  values 

p=m+ny — 1,  q=^n — ny/—\,  radfc; 
so  that  in  two  of  the  four  values  of  the  roots  of  the 
biquadratic  equations  we  have  a  quantity  of  this  form 
v^(m+«v'— l)+v'(»"— w-v/— 1);  but  this  quantity,  al- 
though in  appearance  imaginary,  is  indeed  real;  for  if 
we  square  it,  and  then  take  its  square  root,  it  becomes 
^[2m+2^(m^+n^)],  which  is  a  real  quantity.  Tho 
other  two  roots  involve  this  other  expression  ^(m+riy/ 
— 1) — v'(ot — "v'' — )'  which  being  treated  like  the 
former,  becomes  y/[2m — 2i/{m--\-n-)],  an  imaginary 
quantity,  and  therefore  the  roots  into  which  it  enters 
are  imaginary. 

241 .  It  appears  therefore,  upon  the  whole,  that  all  the 
roots  of  a  biquadratic  equation  may  be  real,  or  they  may 
be  all  imaginary,  or  two  may  be  real  and  two  imaginary ; 
and  these  are  all  the  varieties  that  can  take  place  in  an 
equation  of  the  fourth  order. 

Sect.  XI.  Oaieral  Properties  of  Equations. 

242.  We  have  now  given  general  resolutions  of  the 
first  four  orders  of  equations,  from  which  they  are  found 
to  have  the  following  properties. 

1.  In  any  equation  of  the  first  degree  r=a,  or,  hrino-- 
ing  its  terms  to  one  side  x — a=0,  the  unknown  quantity 
X  has  one  value  only. 

2.  Every  equation  x'  +px+q=0  of  the  second  degree 
admits  of  being  resolved  into  two  simple  factors  x — a, 
X — b,  where  a  and  b  denote  quantities  made  up  of  fh" 
coefficients  p,  q,  so  that  we  have 

x^+px+q={x — b)(x— 6)=rO  : 


438 


ALfJEBRA. 


by  wliicli  It  happens  Ihat  rlias  t\vo  distinct  values,  viz. 
r=a  and  x=J,  each  of  which  substituted  instead  of  x  in 
the  equation  maltes  it  =0,  or  satisfies  the  equation. 

3.  Every  equation  x^-{-px^+qx+r=0  of  the  third 
degree  admits  of  being  resolved  into  three  simple  fac- 
tors X — a,  X — b,  X — c,  H'liere  a,  b,  c,  denote  quantities 
made  up  of  p,  q,  and  r,  so  that 

x^+px^  +9j:-l-r=(r^fl)(z — 6)(i — c)=0, 
by  which  it  happens  that  there  are  three  different  values 
of  x,  which  equally  satisfy  the  equation,  viz.  x=a,  x=b, 
x=c. 

4.  Every  equation  x* -\-px^ -\-qx* -{-rx-i-s=0  of  the 
fourth  degree  may  be  resolved  inte  four  simple  factors 
X — a,  X — b,  X — c,  X — </,  the  quantities  a,  b,  c,  d  being  as 
in  the  other  cases  made  up  of  the  coetficientsp,  q,  r,  s, 
BO  that 


x'—af,  (n  being  any  whole  positive  nnmber),  thererore, 
observing  that  x* — a*  divided  by  x — a,  gives  ar^+axs  + 

a'x+a'  for  a  quotient,  and  that— -^^^^=a-»+«x+fl3, 


X- — a 


=0, 


x*-{-px'+xq' -\-rx-^s  ', 
==(x — fl)(x — i)(x — c){x — d)  I 

and  hence  x  has  four  values,  any  one  of  which  being 
substituted  instead  of  it  in  the  equation,  causes  the  whole 
expression  to  become  =0. 

243.  With  respect  to  equations  of  the  fifth  and  higher 
degrees,  having  their  most  general  form,  no  one  has 
hitherto  been  able  to  resolve  them,  notwithstanding  the 
great  exertions  which  the  most  eminent  mathematicians 
have  made  for  that  purpose.  So  that  at  present  it  is 
doubtful  whether  it  be  |)ossil)le  to  express  their  roots  by 
a  limited  number  of  algebraic  operations  (that  is,  of  ad- 
ditions, subtractions,  multiplications,  divisions,  and  ex- 
fractions  of  roots  generally  indicated)  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  wc  have  expressed  the  roots  of  equations  of  the 
first  four  degrees. 

244.  Although,  from  what  has  been  said,  we  are  ceis 
tain  that  it  is  always  possible  to  substitute  in  an  equation 
of  any  of  the  four  first  degrees,  as  many  different  values 
for  the  unknown  quantity,  as  there  are  units  in  the  num- 
ber expressing  that  degree,  each  of  which  will  satisfy 
the  equation ;  yet  it  has  not  hitherto  been  demonstrated 
to  be  possible  to  find  even  one  value  of  every  equation 
•f  any  degree  whatever.  As,  however,  it  appears,  from 
the  expressions  we  have  found  for  the  roots  of  equations 
of  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  degrees,  that  the  exis- 
tence of  the  expression  for  the  root  is  in  these  entirely 
independent  of  the  particular  values  of  the  coefficients, 
seeing  that  it  may  exist  even  when  the  operations  indi- 
cated by  it  cannot  be  performed,  we  may  safely  take  for 
granted,  that  there  is  at  least  one  expression,  real  or 
imaginary,  which  being  substituted  for  the  unknown 
quantity  in  any  equation  whatever,  will  give  a  result  the 
terms  of  which  destroy  each  other.  And  this  being  ad- 
mitted, it  b  easy  to  prove  that  the  same  equation  is  the 
product  of  as  many  simple  factors  as  the  number  indi- 
cating its  degree  contains  units,  and  consequently, 
t^at  the  unknown  quantity  admits  of  as  many  different 
yalues. 

245.  Let  there  be  taken,  for  example,  the  equation 
X*  +px'+qx*  +rx-f-*=0  of  the  fourth  degree,  then  ad- 
mitting that  X  has  at  least  one  value,  let  that  value  be  a ; 
thus  we  have  a* +f>a'+ya»-j-ra -f-s=0.  Let  this  last 
equation  be  subtracted  from  the  former,  and  we  have 

x'— ««-fX^'— ffl=')-f7(j^>— ns)-^r(x— a)=0. 

But  it  will  be  found  by  actual  division,  that  each  of  the 
quantities  x* — a*,  x' — a',  x' — a»,  is  exactly  divisible 
by  X — a,  and  the  same  is  true  of  any  quantity  of  the  form 


and  that  -———x+a,  we  have  the  same  equation  ex- 
pressed by  the  product  of  the  simple  factor  x a  and  the 

factor  x3+(a+p)x^  +(«^+P*+?>+(a3+;>a»-f  ja-fr) 

which  is  of  the  third  degree,  so  that  putting  p"  for  a-j-n 

q'  for  a'+pa-hq,  and  r'  for  a^+pa^+qa+r,  we  have" 

x'+px^+qx"  -\-rx+s==:(x—aXx^+p'x3  4-j'x-|-r') 

Now  this  equation  may  evidently  be  satisfied  in  two 
different  ways,  namely,  by  assuming  x — a=0,  and  by 
putting  x3+p'x=  -f /^-f  r'=0 ;  let  b  denote  the  value  of 
X,  which  satisfies  this  last  equation,  so  that  6 '4-/6* -f 
q'bi-r'=0,  then,  subtracting  as  before,  we  find 

x^—b^+p'(x''—b3)+q'(x—by=0 ; 

which  by  actually  dividing  x' — 6»  and  x' — 4»  by  x b, 

and  putting/'  for  b+p',  and  q"  for  b'+p'b+q',  may  be' 

expressed  thus,  {x—b){x'  +pf'x+q")=Q ;  and  we  have 

x*-\-px  »  -t- jx2  -f-rx+5=(a.— a)(x— 6Xx»  ^-/'x-^- j") 

by  wliich  if  appears  that  there  are  three  ways  of  satisfy- 
ing the  original  equation,  namely,  by  taking  x — a=o, 
X— -6=0,  and  x'  +p"x-'rq"=0.  We  now  treat  this  last 
equation  exactly  as  the  foregoing  ones,  and  find  that  if  c 
is  the  value  of  x  that  satisfies  it,  so  that  c"  -\-p"c+q"=^, 
then,  x^ — c'+p"{x—c)=:0,  or  (x— c)(x-f c4-p")=0 ; 
so  that,  putting  — d  for  c-f-/',  we  have  x'-\-pf'x-\-q"=^ 
(x — c)(x—rd),  and  consequently 

x*+px^+qx'+rx+s=r{x—ra){x — ft)(x — cX* — d). 

Hence  it  apjiears  that,  admitting  every  equation  may 
have  one  value,  then  an  equation  of  the  fourth  degree 
may  be  resolved  into  four  simple  factors ;  and  the  same 
mode  of  reasoning  will  apply  to  an  equation  of  any  higher 
degree.  Therefore  we  have  good  reason  to  t)elieve  that 
an  equation  of  the  nth  degree  admits  of  being  resolved 
into  «  simple  factors  x — a,  x — 6,  &c.  and  consequently 
that  X  may  have  n  values  a,  b,  c,  &c.  which  are  either 
real  or  imaginary ;  but  that  it  can  have  no  more  than  n 
such  values. 

246.  Prom  this  general  property  of  equations,  we  may 
deduce  various  general  properties  of  their  roots,  analo- 
gous to  those  we  have  already  proved  to  belong  to  equa- 
tions of  the  second  and  third  degrees  (§  1 89.  and  §  21 7). 

Let  there  be  taken  for  example  four  simple  factors 
X — a,  X — b,  X — c,  x—d,  so  as  to  form  the  equation  of 
the  fourth  degree 

(x — «)(x — 4)(x — c)(x — (/)=0. 

Then,  by  actual  multiplication  we  shall  have  the  same 
equation  Otherwise  expressed  as  follows : 


— abc\ 


Now,  as  we  will  obtain  a  result  perfectly  analogous  tw 
this,  whatever  be  the  uumlwr  of  factors,  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  the  following  general  prO|»ertJet  belong  to  the  rooU 
of  equations  of  every  degree. 


ALGEBRA. 


439 


1.  The  coefficient  of  the  second  term  taken  with  a 
contrary  sign  in  t'(|Ueil  to  tlie  sum  of  all  the  roots. 

2.  The  coefficient  of  the  third  term  is  equal  to  the 
sum  of  all  the  products  that  can  be  formed  by  multiply- 
ing the  roots  two  and  two. 

3.  The  coefficient  of  the  fourth  term  taken  with  a 
contrary  sign  is  the  sum  of  all  the  products  of  the  roots 
taken  three  by  three,  and  Boon  to  the  last  term,  which 
is  the  product  of  all  the  roots  with  their  signs  changed. 

247.  From  the  first  of  these  properties  we  may  also 
infer,  that  if  an  equation  wants  its  second  term,  it  has 
both  positive  and  negative  roots,  and  that  the  sum  of 
the  former  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  latter. 

248.  If  we  suppose  any  one  of  the  roots  of  the  forego- 
ing equation  to  be  =0,  then  all  the  quantities  into  which 
that  root  enters  as  a  factor  will  vanish.  Thus  supposing 
«=0,  then  the  equation  becomes 

—6)      +bc) 
x*—c)  x^+bd)  x'—bcdx=0  ; 
—d)       +cd) 

an  equation  which  wants  its  last  term,  and  which  has 
therefore  all  its  terms  divisible  by  x.     If  again  we  sup- 
pose two  roots  of  the  equation  to  be  =0,  or  that  o=0, 
and  6=0,  then  the  equation  becomes 
X* — (c+rf)x'  +cdx'=0, 

where  the  two  last  terms  are  wanting,  and  therefore  all 
the  remaining  terms  are  divisible  by  x*. 

In  general  an  equation  will  want  as  many  of  its  latter 
terms  as  it  has  roots  equal  to  0.  And  if  in  any  equation 
the  last  term,  or  the  last  two  terms,  &c.  be  wanting,  it 
may  be  considered  as  having  one,  or  two,  &c.  roots 
equal  to  0. 

249.  An  equation  may  evidently  admit  of  as  many 
simple  divisors  x — a,  x — b,  &c.  as  there  are  units  in 
the  number  which  marks  its  degree,  and  no  more.  It 
will  also  admit  of  as  many  divisors  of  the  second  degree, 
as  there  can  be  products  formed  from  its  simple  divisors, 
taking  them  two  by  two ;  and  as  many  divisors  of  the 
third  degree,  as  there  can  be  products  formed  of  its  sim- 
ple factors,  taking  them  three  by  three,  and  so  on.  For 
example,  the  foregoing  equation  of  the  fourth  degree 
will  admit  of  six  divisors  of  the  second  degree,  and  may 
be  formed  from  the  product  of  two  such  factors  in  six 
different  ways,  thus : 

By  the  product  of  (x — a)(x — J)  and  (j: — c)(x — d) 
(x—a){x—c)  (x—h){x—<r) 
(x — n)(x — d)  [x — h){x — c) 
(x — b)(x — c)  (r — a){x — d) 
lx—b){x—d)  (x—a)(x—c) 
{x—cXx—d)         (i— a)(x— &) 

250.  In  resolving  equations  of  the  second,  third,  and 
fourth  degrees,  we  have  found,  that  the  imaginary  roots 
of  these  equations  occur  always  in  pairs.  It  has  also 
appeared,  (§  192,  223,  240.)  that  each  pair  has  this  form 
m-\-^ — n',  m — ^ — n'  ,or,  bringing  n  from  under  the 
radical  sign,  m+n^ — 1,  m — n^/ — 1,  where  m  and  n  de- 
note real  quantities,  so  that  the  two  corresponding  ima- 
ginary factors  of  the  first  degree  are  x — m — n,/ — 1, 
X — m+n^ — 1  ;  and  their  product  hx' — 2mx-\-m^-\-n' 
a  real  quantity. 

Such  being  the  nature  of  the  imaginary  roots  of  three 
difl'erent  classes  of  equations,  we  are  led  by  analogy  to 
suppose,  that  the  imaginary  roots  of  equations  of  all  de- 
grees exist  only  in  pairs,  and  are  of  the  form  m+ny — ] , 


m — tiy^ — 1 ;  and  this  conjecture  will  be  actually  rerifi- 
ed,  if  we  attempt  to  form  equations  by  the  multiplica- 
tions of  simple  factors  containing  imaginary  expressions; 
for  we  shall  always  find,  that  the  product  of  any  odd 
number  of  such  factors  is  an  imaginary  expression,  and 
that  the  same  is  also  true  of  an  even  number,  unless 
they  can  be  classed  in  pairs  having  their  real  and  also 
their  imaginary  parts  the  same,  but  the  latter  with  con- 
trary signs ;  and  this  being  the  case,  each  pair  of  ima- 
ginary factors  may  be  united,  so  as  to  form  a  real  factor 
of  the  second  degree,  from  which  it  will  follow,  that 
every  equation  whatever  must  admit  of  being  resolved 
into  real  factors,  which  are  either  of  the  first  or  of  the 
second  degree.  This  is  a  most  important  proposition  in 
the  theory  of  equations,  which  however  has  not  hitherto 
been  demonstrated  without  assuming,  as  true,  another 
proposition,  which  has  never  yet  been  completely  de- 
monstrated, and  to  which  we  have  already  alluded, 
namely,  that  every  equation  may  be  resolved  into  as 
many  simple  factors  as  there  are  units  in  the  exponent 
of  its  degree. 

2i>I.  Fitim  what  has  been  stated  concerning  the  im- 
possible roots  of  an  equation,  it  will  also  follow,  that 
every  equation,  whose  degree  is  an  odd  number,  must 
have  at  least  one  real  root,  and  when  its  degree  is  an 
even  number,  if  it  has  one  real  root,  then  it  must  hare 
at  least  two  real  roots. 

252.  If  the  roots  of  an  equation  be  all  positive,  so  that 
the  factors  to  be  multiplied  have  this  form  x — a,  x — b, 
X — c,  &c.  then,  taking  for  the  sake  of  brevity  only  three 
such  factors,  so  as  to  form  the  equation  of  the  third  de- 
gree, 

x' — (a-\-b+c)M^-\-{ab-\-ac+bc)x — ahc=0, 

it  is  manifest,  that,  in  every  such  equation,  the  coeffi- 
cients of  the  terms  will  have  the  signs  -f-  and  —  prefix- 
ed to  them  alternately. 

253.  If  again  we  suppose  the  roots  to  be  all  negative, 
in  which  case  the  factors  have  this  other  form  x-\-a, 
x-\-b,  x-\rc,  and  the  equation,  is 

x^-\-{a-\-b-\-c)x-+{ah+(ic-\-bc)x-\rabc=Q. 

then  the  terms  have  all  the  same  sign. 

254.  In  general,  if  the  roots  of  an  equation  be  all  real, 
it  will  have  as  many  positive  roots  as  there  are  changes 
of  the  signs  from  -f  to  — ,  and  from  —  to  +,  and  the 
remaining  roots  will  be  negative.  The  rule  does  not 
apply,  however,  when  there  are  imaginary  roots,  unless 
they  be  regarded  as  either  positive  or  negative.  This 
rule  may  be  proved  by  induction  in  equations  of  the 
second  and  third  degrees,  as  follows. 

255.  In  quadratic  equations,  the  roots  are  either  both 
positive,  as  in  this, 

(x— oXx— t>=x2— (a-|-6)x-^fl6=0, 

where  there  are  two  changes  of  the  sign  ;  or  they  are 
both  negative,  as  in  this, 

(x-t-ffl)(x-<-i)=x=-fC«-fi)x-ffl6=0, 

where  there  is  no  change  of  the  signs ;  or  there  is  one 
positive  and  one  negative,  as  in 

(x — a){i+b)=x- — (a — b)x — a5=0, 
where  there  is  necessarily  one  change  of  the  signs,  be- 
cause the  first  term  is  positive,  and  the  last  negative, 
and  there  can  only  be  one  change,  whether  the  second 
term  be  taken  as  positive  or  negative. 


440 


ALGEBRA. 


256.  Again,  in  cubic  equations,  setting  aside  the  cases 
in  which  the  roots  are  either  all  positive,  or  all  nega- 
tire,  and  in  which  the  rule  is  tnanifbstly  true,  (§  252, 
253.)  there  are  only  other  two,  namely,  that  of  two  po- 
sitire  roots  and  one  negative,  and  that  of  two  negative 
roots  and  one  positive.  First,  in  the  case  of  two  posi- 
tive roots  and  one  negative,  the  equation  is  (* — o)(x — b) 
(jf+c)=0,  which  gives 


— 6)  x^ — ac] 
+c)      —be) 


x-]-abc=f). 


Ilere  there  must  be  two  changes  of  the  signs ;  because, 
if  a+b  >c,  the  second  term  must  be  negative,  its  co- 
efficient being  — a — i-fc;  and  ira+i<c,  then,  multi- 
plying by  a+h,  we  have  ((i-|-ft)»<ac-f  Jc;  but  it  is  ob- 
vious that  flf><(«-f  6)3,  therefore  also  aA<ac-|-6c,  and 
hence  the  third  term  will  be  negative ;  thus  either  the 
second  or  the  third  term  will  be  negative  i  now  the  tirst 
and  last  terms  are  both  positive,  therefore,  in  this  case, 
there  must  be  two  changes  of  the  signs.  Next,  in  the 
case  of  one  positive  root,  and  two  negative,  the  equation 
is  (x+a)(x+bXx—e,)  or 


+bS  x^ — ac) 
—c)      —be) 


X — abc=0. 


where  there  must  be  always  one  change  in  the  sign, 
since  the  first  term  is  positive,  and  the  last  negative. 
There  can,  however,  be  no  more  than  one  change ;  for, 
if  a+6<;c,  so  that  the  second  term  is  negative,  then,  as 
in  the  last  case,  we  shall  have  o6<oc-^6c,  so  that  the 
third  term  will  also  be  negative.  And  if  the  second 
term  be  affirmative,  whatever  the  third  is,  there  will  be 
but  one  change. 

It  appears  therefore,  Ihati  in  cubic  equations,  as  well 
*»  in  quadratic,  there  are  as  many  positive  roots  as  there 
are  changes  of  the  signs.  And  as  the  same  way  of  rea- 
soning will  apply  also  to  equations  of  liigher  degrees, 
the  rule  wll  extend  to  all  equations  whatever. 

Sect.  XII.     Of  the  Transformalien  of  Equations. 

257.  There  are  certain  transformations  which  must 
frequently  be  performed  upon  equations  of  the  higher 
degrees,  with  a  view  to  facilitate  their  resolution.  Of 
these  the  most  useful  are  the  following : 

258.  Any  equation  may  be  transformed  into  another, 
which  shall  be  so  related  to  the  former,  that  the  nega- 
tive roots  of  the  one  shall  have  the  same  values  as  the 
positive  roots  of  the  other,  (setting  aside  the  considera- 
tion of  their  signs)  ;  and,  «n  the  contrary,  the  positive 
roots  of  the  one,  the  same  values  as  the  negative  roots 
of  the  other,  by  only  changing  the  signs  of  the  terms 
alternately,  beginning  with  the  second.  For  example, 
let  the  equation  be  x* — x^ — ^Qx^^{■AQx — 30==0j  the 
roots  of  which  are  H-  1  ,'-f  2,  +3,and  —5,  then,  changing 
the  signs  of  the  second  and  fourth  terms,  we  have  thb 
other  equation,  x<-|-x3— -19x2_49x— 30=0,  the  roots 
of  which  are— 1,  —2,  —3,  and  +5. 

To  understand  the  reason  of  this  rule,  let  there  bo 
taken  these  two  equations. 

(^--«)(^-6)(-r+c)=0, 

{,x-\-aXx+b){x—c)—0, 
whicli  have  the  positive  roots  of  the  one  the  same  as  the 
^egaUre  roots  of  the  other.     Then,  taking  the  products 


t' — a) 
— 6>r». 


■!-, 


of  their  factors,  we  hare  the  same  equatioM  expreseed 
thus  ■. 

+ab' 

' — ac\  x-f-«Jc=<, 
■ — he' 

J-'+a  )      +ab  \ 

+b  \  x^  — ac  \  X — dbc=0, 
— c)       — 6c) 

where  it  is  manifest,  that  the  two  equations  dilTer  from 
each  other  only  in  the  signs  of  their  second  and  fourth 
terms ;  and  the  sanje  w  ill  be  found  to  be  true,  whatever 
be  the  degree  of  the  equation. 

259.  It  is  often  useful  to  transform  an  equation  into 
another  that  shall  have  its  roots  greater  or  less  than  those 
of  the  proposed  equation,  l)y  some  given  difference. 
Let  the  proposed  equation  be  x^-\-px^-\-qx+r=:Q;  and 
let  it  be  required  to  transform  it  into  another,  whose 
roots  shall  be  less  than  the  roots  of  this  equallon,  by  the 
difference  e.  Sufjpese  jf  to  be  the  general  expression 
for  each  of  the  roots  of  the  new  equation,  then  y=>x—^ 
and  x=y+e.  Insteail  of  x,  and  its  powers,  substitute 
y-\rc,  and  its  powers;  and  there  will  arise  this  new 
equation 

5>'-f3rt^-}-3€»i/-f<» 
+  P>f'-\-2pey+pe» 

+  qy+qe 

-f-r 

each  of  the  roots  of  which  is  less  than  a  correspondinf 
root  of  the  equation  x^-\-px^-{-qx+r=:0,  by  the  nun> 
ber  e. 

260.  If  it  is  required  to  transform  the  equation  into 
another  whose  roots  shall  exceed  those  of  tlie  proposed 
equation  by  the  quantity  t,  we  have  only  to  assume  y~ 
x+e,  and  therefore,  x=\f — e,  and  substitute  as  before. 

261.  In  this  way  we  may  transform  an  equation  into 
another,  that  shall  want  any  one  of  its  terms ;  for  if  in 
the  new  equation  we  give  e  such  a  value  as  shall  make 
the  coefficient  of  that  term  equal  to  nothing,  then  the 
term  will  evidently  vanish.  Thus  the  coefficient  of  the 
second  term  of  the  foregoing  transformed  equation  will 
vanish,  if  we  assume  Ze+p=0,  or  c= — ^.  And  in  like 
manner  the  third  term  may  be  taken  away,  by  assuming 
3e2-{-2;>e-|-^0;    from  which  quadratic  equation,   we 

get  f=i[_;tL^(;,3_3y)J. 

262.  If  when  the  terms  of  an  equation  are  cleared 
from  fractions,  the  highest  power  of  the  unknown  quan- 
tity have  a  coeificient,  as  in  this  example  nx^+px*+qx 
-f  r=0,  the  equation  will  be  changed  into  another,  that 
shall  still  have  its  coefficients  integral  quantities,  and  at 
the  same  time,  the  coefficient  of  its  highest  power  unity, 

by  assuming  y=w,  or  x=^.     Thus  the  above  equation 

\xcome%^-+^y^+ly\-r=Q-  or  y^ ^py2 +gny+n^r 
=0,  an  equation  having  the  form  required. 

Sect.  XIII.     Of  the  Extermination  of  Unknown  QMonii- 
ties  from  Equations. 

263.  We  have  already  shown  at  §  119,  how  the  un- 
known quantities  are  to  be  exterminated  from  simple 
equations,  and  we  have  there  explained  three  different 
methods  by  which  this  may  be  effected.  We  shall  now 
show  how  the  last  of  theee  may  be  applied  (o  extemii- 


ALGEBKA. 


441 


nate  tbc  unknown  quanliCies  contained  in  equations  of 

the  higher  orders. 
264.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  relation  between  two 

unknown  quantities  x  and  ,y  is  expressed  by  these  two 

equations  of  the  second  degree. 

x'+an/+bx+cy^+dy+e=0, 
x»  +a'xy+b'x+</y*+d'y+c'=0, 

where  a,  b,  c,  &c.  also  o',  b',  c',  &c.  denote  known  quan- 
tities, and  that  it  is  required  to  exterminate  the  quan- 
tity X. 

First,  in  order  to  simplify,  we  shall  pulai/+b=F,  a'y 
4-6'=?',  cy»+<ft/+f=Q,  c't/»+<!/+e'=tt'.  then  the 
same  equations,  by  substitution,  become 

a:»+Pj+Q=0,  xs+P'x-fQ'^M). 

From  the  first  of  these  equations,  let  the  second  be 
subtracted,  and  vie  have 

(P— P')r-FQ— Q'=0,  and  a:==4Ep'- 

Again,  to  obtain  another  value  of  x,  let  the  first  equa- 
tion be  multiplied  by  Q'  and  the  second  by  Q,  and  thus 
we  get 

Q'i;»+PQ'.t+QQ'=0,  Q*«+P'Qx-fQQ'=0, 
and  hence,  taking  the  second  of  these  equations  from 
the  first 

(Q'  — Q)x=  -|-(PQ'— P'Q)r=0, 


p'O PO' 

that  is,  (Q'— Q)i+PQ'-P'Q=0.  or  a:=    q'— Q    ' 

Therefore,  putting  these  two  values  of  x  equal  to  one 
another,  we  have 

Q^^FQ-PQ', 

p_p       Q'_q 

or  (Q'— Q)»=(P—P')(P'Q— PQ'). 

If  we  now  substitute  instead  of  the  letters  P,  P',  Q' 
Q',  the  compound  quantities  which  they  represent,  we 
shall  evidently  have  an  equation  involving  only  y  and 
known  quantities. 

265.  Next  let  it  be  required  to  exterminate  the  quan- 
tity X  from  these  two  equations  of  the  third  degree, 

x3+Pa;'+Qx+R=o, 
x'+P'j:>  +  q'i-fR'=0, 

where  P,  Q,  R,  P',  Q',  R',  denote  any  expressions,  con- 
taining the  first  three  powers  of  another  unknown  quan- 
tity y,  and  known  quantities. 

First,  by  subtracting  the  one  equation  from  the  other, 
we  get 

(P-.P'>2  -f  (Q— Q')^+R— R'=o- 
Again,  by  multiplying  the  first  equation  by  R',  and 
the  second  by  R,  and  taking  the  one  result  from  the 
other,  we  have 

(R'— R)«:'-f(PR'— P'R)i2+(QR'— q'R)a:=0. 
or,  dividing  by  x, 

(R'— R)I=-^(PR'— P'R)x+QR— Q'R;=0. 
We  have  now  reduced  the  difficulty  to  the  extermi- 
nation of  X  from  two  equations  of  the  second  deojee, 
and  we  have  shown  how  this  is  to  be  done  in  last  §. 

266.  It  is  sufficiently  obvious  how  by  this  method  of 
proceeding  we  may  exterminate  a  quantity  contained  in 
two  equations  of  the  fourth,  or  auy  higher  degree ;  and 
the  method  is  alike  applicable,  whether  the  two  equa- 
tions be  of  the  same,  or  of  different  degrees.  And  if »» 
Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


and  n  be  the  orders  of  the"two  equations  from  which  the 
unknown  quantities  is  to  be  exterminated,  the  order  of 
the  final  equation  at  last  obtained  ought  not  to  exceed 
mn.  It  may  be  less,  but  if  it  come  out  greater,  the  equa- 
tion admits  of  a  divisor,  which  in  most  cases  may  be 
easily  discovered. 

If  the  relations  of  any  number  of  unknown  quantities 
whatever  were  given  by  as  many  equations,  it  is  easy  to 
see  that  by  proceeding  according  to  the  method  here  ex- 
plained, we  might  exterminate  them  one  after  another, 
till  at  last  there  was  only  one  unknown  quantity  and 
one  equation. 

267.  The  same  mode  of  proceeding  may  also  be  ap- 
plied with  advantage  to  the  freeing  of  an  equation  from 
radical  quantities,  by  making  each  surd  equal  to  a  new 
unknown  quantity,  and  by  exterminating  from  these 
assumed  equations  and  the  given  equation,  all  the  nn 
known  quantities  but  one. 

For  example,  let  there  be  given  the  equation 

x-Va»7— y  (*«— o"  >=0, 

to  determine  x. 

» 

Make  s/a'-x^y,  and  ./(z^— 0=)=^:,  then  a»r=^' 
and  X' — o»=«* ;  so  that  we  have  these  three  equa- 
tions, 

x—y—z=0,  a»jr— 3/»=0,  s«— x»-Ho'=0. 
From  the  first  equation,  we  have  s^^—y,  and  z^—x^- 
2xy+y''  ;  let  this  value  of  s^  be  substituted  in  the  third 
equation,  and  it  becomes  i' — 2xy-\-y^ — x  -|-a==Oj 
that  is,  J/" — 2ry-{-a'=0.  Now  we  have  alsoa^x— ^3=0, 
and  from  these  we  may  exterminate  y,  as  in  the  follow 
ing  process : 

(1)  Equation,        y'~-2xy+a^=0, 

(2)  Equation,        y'—a'x^O, 

(1)  Mult,  by  1/,      y'—2xy'+a'y=0, 

(2)  Subtracted,      —2xy^+a'y+a^x=0, 
(1)  Mult,  by  2x,     +2xy''—4x\y-{-2a'x=0. 
Add  these  last,  (3)  (ao— 4ar=)y-f  3a'x=0. 

^^         r  — 3o»X 

Therefore,  J/^^JZI^^i 

(3)  Mult  hjy,  (fls— 4x?)»/»+3a=a3;=0. 

(1)  Mult,    by  (ffl=— 4x»),      (a2—4x=;^=— 20=33/ >  _o 

This  fub.  (5a'x— 8x3)i/-{-4a»x2— c<=0. 

Therefore,  y^^-^——. 

Hence,  equating  the  values  of  y,  we  have 

a* — ia''x^_ — 3a»x 

5a=x — 8x»~a* — 4x'' ' 
and  (a"— 4x=)=  =— 3x(5a»x— Sx:"), 
or  8x — 7a»x3 — o'=0. 

The  equation  being  now  freed  from  radicals,  may  be  re- 
solved in  the  manner  of  a  quadratic,  (see  §  197.) 

Sect.  XIV.    Of  the  Resolution  of  Nutnerical  Equations 
having  Rational  Roots. 

2C8.  It  has  been  proved  at  §  246.  that  in  any  equa- 
tion, the  last  term  is  the  product  of  all  its  roots.  Hence 
it  follows,  that  if  an  equation  have  any  rational  roots, 
that  is,  any  roots  expressible  by  numbers,  they  will  ne- 
cessarily be  divisors  of  its  last  term.  Therefore,  what- 
3K 


4m 


ALGEBRA. 


ever  be  the  degiee  of  an  equation  having  its  coefficients 
integral  numbers,  and  the  coefficient  of  its  highest  pow- 
er unity,  to  discover  its  rational  roots,  we  have  only  to 
bring  all  its  terms  to  one  side  of  the  equation,  and 
to  find  the  divisors  of  its  last  term,  and  substitute 
thera  one  after  another  for  the  unknown  quantity : 
and  those  numbers,  which  being  so  substituted,  pro- 
duce a  result  =0,  are  the  rational  roots  of  the  equa- 
tion. 

For  example,  let  the  equation  be  x^ — 6x»-f-27x — 38 
=0. 

In  this  case  the  divisors  of  the  last  term  are  1,2,  19, 
38.  We  therefore  substitute  these  numbers  succes- 
sively, first  with  the  sign  -f,  and  then  with  the  sign  — , 
for  X ;  but  the  only  number  that  makes  the  whole  =0  is 
4  2.  Hence  we  conclude  that  +2  is  a  root  of  the 
equation. 

269.  We  may  now  easily  discover  the  remaining  roots ; 
for  the  equation  will  have  z— 2  as  a  simple  divisor,  \ 
249.  We  have  therefore  only  to  divide  it  by  that  divi- 
sor, and  put  the  quotient  =0  ;  and  accordingly  we  get 
this  quadratic  equation  x^ — 4r-|-19=0,  the  roots  of 
which  are  the  imaginary  expressions,  2-\-^ — 15  and 
2 — y' — 1 5 ;  hence  upon  the  whole  the  roots  of  the  equa- 
tion x'— 6x2 -f27x— 38=0,  are  x=2,  x=2-i-y— 15, 
i=2 — .^ — 15,  one  of  which  is  real  and  the  others- 
imaginary. 

270.  As  a  second  example,  let  the  equation  be 
3(1 — 5jr3 — 24i!2-t-100ar-f  48=0.  Here  the  divisors  to 
be  used  are  1,  2,  3,  4,  6,  8,  12,  16,  24,  48,  and  of  these 
4  and  6  only  give  a  result  =0 ;    therefore  x=4  and 

We  may  discover  the  remaining  roots  by  proceeding 
as  in  the  last  example  ;  for  two  of  the  simple  divisors  of 
the  equation  are  x— 4  and  x — ti,  therefore,  dividing  the 
equation  by  these  factors  successively,  and  making  the 
results  =0,  we  have  this  quadratic,  x»4-5x-f2==0,  the 


roots  of  which  are 


-5-1-^17 


and 


-5— v'17 


There- 


fore the  four  values  of  x  are 

-        2        ' 


a^=4,  x=% 


-5— v/17 


all  which  are  real,  but  the  two  last  irrational. 

271.  When  the  divisors  are  numerous,  the  labour 
of  substituting  them  for  the  unknown  quantity  may  be 
very  considerable.  A  rule  however  may  be  investigat- 
ed, which  will  greatly  abridge  it,  by  reasoning  as  fol- 
lows. 

Let  the  equation  to  be  resolved  be  x'+/)x2-f  yx-hr=0. 
Then,  if  we  transform  it  into  another  whose  roots  are 
less  by  unity,  which  may  be  done  by  assuming  t/=x — 1, 
or  a=jH-l  (§  259.)  we  shall  find  the  last  term  of 
the  transformed  equation  to  be  l-f;+y+»";  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  if  we  transform  it  into  an  equation 
having  its  roots  greater  by  unity,  which  is  to  be  done 
by  assuming  \f=x-\-\  ;  or  x=^ — 1,  we  shall  have 
— l-f-/! — q\r  for  the  last  term  of  the  resulting  equa- 
tion. 

Now,  for  the  very  same  reason  that  the  values  of  x 
are  divisors  of  the  last  term  r,  the  values  of  y  and  y 
will  be  divisors  of  the  last  terms  \-\-p-^q\r.,  aud 
■ — l+y) — q-\-r,  rcs|)cctively.  But,  by  hypothesis,  the 
three  quantities^,  x,y,  taken  in  their  order,  differ,  each, 
from  the  one  before  it,  by  unity.    Therefore  if  x  bave 


any  rational  values,  We  shall  find  among  the  dirisors  of 

the  three  quantities 

+  1 +/»+?+»•,  r,  — 14-;»— ?+»", 

as  many  sets  of  numbers  as  r  has  such  values,  each  of 
w  hich  sets  will  be  three  terms  of  an  arit'un^tieal  series. 
If  we  now  remark  that  the  three  qujntitiesl -}-;?+ y-f-r, 
r,  and  — \-\-p — <l-\-i'-,  are  the  results  found  when  +1,0 
and  — 1,  are  substituted  in  the  equation  x^-\-ipx--\-qx-\- 
r=0,  the  reason  of  the  following  rule  will  be  sufficient- 
ly obvious. 

272.  Substitute  three  or  more  terms  of  the  series 
-f  1,  0,  — 1,  &c.  in  place  of  the  unknown  quantity,  and 
find  all  the  divisors  of  the  sums  that  result ;  then  take 
out  all  the  arithmetical  progressions,  whose  common 
difference  is  1,  that  can  be  found  among  these  divisors, 
and  the  values  of  x  will  be  among  those  terms  of  the 
progressions  which  are  the  divisors  of  the  result  arising 
from  the  supposition  of  x=0.  When  the  series  in- 
creases the  roots  will  be  positive,  and  when  it  decreases 
they  will  be  negative. 

Example.  It  is  required  to  determine  whether  the 
equation  x= — 5x» — 18x-{-72=:0,  has  any  rational  roots, 
and  what  they  are  ? 

In  the  application  of  the  rule,  it  will  be  convenient 
to  place  the  substitutions,  the  results,  the  divisors,  and 
the  progressions,  as  in  the  following  table : 


Sub. 

+1 

0 

— 1 


Res. 

50 

72 
84 


Divisors. 


1.  2.  5.   10.  25.  50. 

1.  2.  3.     4.     6.     8.     9.  12.  18,  &c, 

1.  2.  3.     4.     6.     7.  12.   14.  21,  &c. 


Progres. 


2l5 
34 
43 


Here  we  find  four  arithmetical  progressions,  three  in- 
creasing, and  one  decreasing.  The  middle  term  of  the 
first,  which  is  an  increasing  one,  is  2,  therefore  +2  is 
to  be  tried  as  a  value  of  x,  but  being  substituted  in 
the  equation,  it  does  not  produce  a  result  =0,  there- 
fore it  is  to  be  rejected.  Next,  we  try  3,  the  middle 
term  of  the  second  progression ;  and,  as  it  is  increas- 
ing, we  must  take  -(-3,  now  this  number  when  substi- 
tuted for  X  gives  a  result  =0 ;  therefore  3  is  a  root 
of  the  equation.  The  next  progression  decreases, 
therefore,  in  trying  the  middle  term  4,  we  must  prefix 
to  it  the  sign  — .  Accordingly,  substituting  — 4  instead 
of  X,  we  get  a  result  =0 ;  therefore  — 4  is  a  second 
root  of  the  equation.  The  next  is  an  increasing  pro- 
gression, therefore,  in  trying  the  middle  term  6,  we 
give  it  the  sign  -j-,  and,  as  it  produces  a  result  =0,  we 
conclude +0  to  be  a  root.  Hence  it  ap|>ears  that  all 
the  roots  are  rational,  and  that  the  equation  is  protluced 
by  taking  the  product  of  the  three  simple  factors  x> — 3, 
x-f4,  and  x — 6. 

273.  When  the  highest  power  of  the  unknown  quan- 
tity has  a  coefficient,  before  we  apply  the  preceding  nde 
to  determine  its  rational  roots,  we  must,  (by  §  262.)  trans- 
form the  equation  into  another  that  shall  have  unity  for 
the  coefficient  of  its  highest  power,  and  the  remaining 
coefficients  integral  numbers. 

Thus,  if  the  equation  were  2*'— 5x»-f  5x— 3=0,  we 

must  transform  it  by  makingjr=|,  and  thus  the  equa- 
tion becomes  iy'— i/'+^y— 3==0,ory=— 5y»-Hiqy-- 
12=0  j  and  beace,  by  proceetling  accortling  to  the  rulf; 


ALGEBRA. 


443 


we  Bball  find  one  value  off/  to  be  4-3 ;  therefore  the  cor- 

reEpouding  value  of  x  is  -,  and  this  is  the  only  rational 
value  that  x  has  in  the  equation. 

274.  The  coefficients  of  the  terms  of  an  equation  be- 
ing supposed  whole  numbers,  and  that  of  its  highest 
power  unity,  if  it  have  no  root  among  the  divisors  of 
its  last  term,  then  we  may  be  certain,  not  only  that 
it  has  no  root  expressible  by  a  whole  number,  but 
also  that  it  has  no  root  expressible  by  a  fraction.  For 
if  it  were  possible  that  the  root  of  such  an  equation  as 
ji;3^pj^a^gx-\-r=0  (where  p,  q,  and  r  are  whole 
numbers,)  could  be  a  fraction,  let  that  fraction,  when 

reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  be  ,,  then  we  should  hare 

0 

^^pL  -j-j£-f  r=0,  &nd a' +pa-b+qab'+rb^=:0,  and 

a' 
hence  -r-= — (pa=4-?aA+»'6^)=  a  whole  number.    But 

a  and  b  being  by  hypothesis  prime  to  one  another,  a- 
and  b  will  also  be  prime  to  one  another,  (§  1 63).  and 

hence  -r-  cannot  be  a  whole  number.     Therefore  it  is 

o 
impossible  that  the  root  of  the  equation  can  be  a  ration- 
al fraction. 


Sect.  XV.    Of  Equations  having  Equal  Roots. 

275.  Let  a,  b,  and  c,  be  the  roots  of  the  cubic  equation 
x^+px'+qx+r=0,  so  that  (x— a)(i— 6)(i— c)=0, 
and  let 

A  ={x—a)(x—b)=x'—(a+b^x+ab, 

I  A'  =(x — a)(jr — e)=z» — (a+cjx+ac, 

A"=lx—b){x—c)^x^'-(b+c)x+bc, 

:hen,  taking  the  sum  of  these  three  equations,  we  have 

A+A'-f  A"=3x3— 2(a+6+c)x+a6+ac+6c. 
But  from  the  nature  of  equations  we  have  (by  §  246.) 

— {a+b+c)=^p,  ab-]rac+bc=q. 
Therefore  we  have  also 

A+ A'+ A"=3*a  +2px+q. 

276.  Let  us  now  suppose,  that  two  of  the  roots  of 
the  cubic  equation  x^-\-px'-^qx-\-r=0  are  equal  to 
one  another,  or  that  0=6;  then  will  x — a=x — b;  now 
one  or  other  of  these  two  equal  factors  is  found  in  each 
of  the  three  quantities,  A,  A',  A",  therefore  their  sum 
A-i-A'+A"=3x'-\-2px-[-q  must  have  x — ^aor  x — b  for 
a  divisor ;  and  hence  it  follows,  that  if  the  cubic  equa- 
tion 

x^-\-px'>-\-qx-\-r=0 

has  two  equal  roots,  then  will  one  of  these  be  also  a  root 
of  the  quadratic  equation 

3x=-f2/)z-f-jt=o. 

277.  Again,  let  a,  b,  c,  d,  be  the  roots  of  an  equa- 
tion of  the  fourth  degree  x*+px^-\-qz*+rx-\-s=^,  so 
that 

{x—a){x—b)(x—c)(z~d)==0. 

Let  us  now  assume 


A  =^x — a)(x — h)(x — c), 
A'  =d(x—a)ix—b)(x—d), 
A''  =ix~-a)lx—c)lx—d), 
A"'={x—b)(x—cXx—d). 
Then,  by  multiplication,  we  find 

A    =:x' — ai      -\-ab 

t'+ac 

+bc 

A'  =x3— ffli      -t-oft 

x*+ad 

—d' 

A"  =«'— « 


x — abcy 


X — abd. 


r»— 6 


+bd] 

r=  -\-ad  \  X — ttcd, 
+cdS 
+bc) 
x*+bd)x—bcd, 
+cdS 
and  taking  the  sum  of  these  four  equations, 

A+A'-l-A"— A"'=4x'— 3aA       +2ab\    —abc 
—36/    ,+2aci    —abd 
— 3cr*'-t-2arfl    — a«<' 
—■3d)       j^2bcr'^—bcd 

+26rf\ 
+2cdJ 

But  it  has  been  shown,  (§  246.)  that 

— (a+6-f-c-f-rf)=^ 

ab-\-ac-\-ad-\-bc-{-bd-\-cd=q, 
— (abc-\-ahd-\-acd^bcd)=r ; 
therefore  we  have  also 

A+ A'+ A"+ A"'=4i:=  4-3;»r»  -fSj-r-j-r. 

278.  Let  us  now  suppose,  that  two  roots  of  the  equa- 
tion x*+px^+qx''+rx-{-s=a  are  equal  to  one  another, 
or  that  a=6 ;  then  the  factors  x — a  and  x — b  will  be 
equal,  and  as  one  or  other  of  these  two  factors  enter 
into  each  of  the  four  products  A,  A',  A",  A'",  it  is  mani- 
fest that  their  sum,  or  A+ A'-f  A"4- A"'=4ar'+3;)r»4- 
2yx-f-r,  will  be  divisible  by  x — a  or  x — 6.  And  hence 
it  will  follow  that  one  of  the  equal  roots  a  or  6  of  the 
equation 

a;*  -{-px^-^-qx"  •\-rx-\-s=0, 

is  also  a  root  of  the  equation 

ix^+Zpx' +2qx+r=0. 

279.  If  again  we  suppose  the  proposed  equation  to 
have  three  equal  roots,  so  that  a=b=c,  and  consequent- 
ly X — a=x — b=x — c,  then  as  two  of  these  thren  equal 
factors  enter  into  each  of  the  four  products  A,  A',  A", 
A'",  their  sum  Ax^+2px'+2qx+r  must  be  divisible 
by  (i — a)-.  From  which  it  will  follow,  that  if  the 
equation 

X*  -^rpx^-^lx'-^rx+s—O 
have  three  equal  roots,  then  two  of  these  are  also  equal 
roots  of  the  equation 

Ax^-\-2px-->r2qx-\-r=Q  ; 
and,  in  general,  whatever  number  of  equal  roots  the 
former  of  these  equations  may  have,  they  will  all,  ex- 
cept one,  be  also  equal  roots  of  the  latter. 

280.  The  mode  of  reasoning  which  we  have  here 
employed  will  apply  alike  to  equations  of  all  degrees, 
and  the  conclusion  will  be  the  same,  whether  the  equa- 
tion contain  only  one  set  of  equal  roots,  or  several  sets. 
Thus  from  the  equation 

X'  -\-px » -\rqx'-{-rx'^+sx-\-t=Q, 
3Ke 


4M 


ALGEBRA. 


by  proceeding  as  in  the  two  former  cases,  we  shall  get 
this  other  equation 

5x*+ipx' + 3qx'  +2rx+s=0, 

and  these  two  equations  will  appear,  by  reasoning  as 
before,  to  be  so  related  to  each  other,  that  if  the  former 
have  two  roots,  each  equal  to  a,  and  three  roots,  each 
equal  to  b,  then  the  latter  will  have  one  root  equal  to  a, 
and  two  roots  each  equal  to  6  ;  so  that  if  the  former 
equation  have  for  divisors  (x — a)^  and  {x — by  the  lat- 
ter will  have  for  divisors  (x — a)  and  (x—b)'. 

281.  By  slight  attention  to  the  law  of  the  coefficients 
of  the  two  equations,  which  we  have  deduced  from  the 
equations  of  the  third  and  fourth  degrees,  in  §  276  and 
}  278,  it  will  be  easy  to  infer,  that,  n  being  a  whole 
positive  number,  if  the  equation 

xo+px^^+gx-^-K .  .+sx'+tx+u=0 
have  a  divisor  of  the  form  (x — a)  *  (x — b)  *  (x — c) '  then 
this  other  equation 

nx"-'+(n— l)px"-2+(»i — 2)gx»-3 . . .  +2«x+fc=0 

will  have  a  divisor  of  the  form  (x — o)*-'(x — 6)*~'(* — ^ 
'"'.  And  as  this  last  expression  will  be  a  common  di- 
visor of  both  equations,  it  may  always  be  discovered  by 
means  of  the  rule  given  at  §  72,  for  finding  the  com- 
mon measure  of  two  algehraic  quantities. 

Example.  It  is  required  to  determine  whether  the 
equation  x* — 3x' — 6x''+28x — 24=0  has  equal  roots. 

Here,  proceeding  by  the  formula,  we  deduce  from 
the  proposed  equation  this  other  equation  4x' — 9x» — 
12x-f  28=0.  We  next  seek  the  common  divisor  of  the 
two  expressions  x* — 3xs — 6x3-}-28x — 24,  and  4x* — 
9x»— 12X-I-28,  by  §  72,  and  find  it  to  be  x"— 4x+4. 
Kow  this  expression  being  put  =0,  and  resolved  as  an 
equation  of  the  second  degree,  is  found  to  be  the  pro- 
duct of  the  two  equal  factors  x — 2  and  x — 2  ;  therefore 
the  proposed  equation  has  a  divisor  of  the  form  (x — 2)', 
and  consequently  has  three  equal  roots,  each  =2.  The 
remaining  root  is  easily  found  to  be  — 3. 


Sect.  XVI.    Mdkod  of  approxinuUin^  to  the  Roets  of 

Numerical  Equations  of  all  Degrees. 

282.  It  will  very  seldom  happen,  that  the  equations 
which  occur  in  the  actual  applications  of  algebra  to  the 
resolutions  of  questions,  have  rational  roots ;  and  when 
they  are  irrational,  and  the  equation  is  of  a  higher  de- 
gree than  the  fourth,  then,  in  general,  we  can  exhibit 
no  other  than  approximate  values  of  them.  We  can, 
however,  carry  on  the  approximation  to  any  degree  of 
accuracy  we  please,  by  methods  which  apply  to  equa- 
tions of  all  degrees,  and  which,  even  in  equations  of 
the  third  and  fourth  degrees,  will  be  found  more  conve- 
nient than  the  rules  we  have  already  investigated. 

283.  When  it  is  proposed  to  find  an  approximate  va- 
lue of  a  root,  we  must  first  find  two  numbers,  one  of 
which  i»  greater,  and  the  other  less  than  the  root.  The 
determin^ttion  of  these  will  be  much  facilitated  by  the 
two  following  theorems. 

284.  I.  If,  when  all  the  terms  of  an  equation  are 
liroupht  to  one  side,  there  be  two  such  numbers  as,  if 
su'.Btitute(l  for  the  unknown  quantity,  give  results  with 
contrary  signs,  then  the  equation  has  at  leaast  one  real 
root,  which  i:s  between  these  numbers. 


To  prove  this  theorem,  let  us  take  a  particular  equa- 
tion, as  for  example, 

x»— 6x»-f-7x— 9=0, 

then,  by  collecting  its  positive  terms  into  one  sum,  and 
its  negative  terms  into  another,  we  shall  have  the  quan- 
tity 

x=-f7x— (6x»-f9). 
Now  if  we  suppose,  that,  in  this  expression,  x  is  at 
first  =0,  and  that  its  value  increases  gradually,  so  as  to 
become  of  all  degrees  of  magnitude  from  0  upwards, 
then  it  is  manifest,  that  the  expression  x'+lx — (6x» 
•\-9)  will  also  change  its  value,  its  positive  and  negative 
parts  both  increasing  at  the  same  time.  But  to  perceive 
more  clearly  the  effectof  their  joint  increase,  in  changing 
the  value  of  the  expression,  it  will  be  convenient  to  give 
a  few  particular  values  to  x.  Let  us  therefore  suppose, 
that  among  the  infinite  number  of  values  which  x  suc- 
cessively acquires,  it  has  in  particular  these,  0,  1 ,  2,  3, 
4,  5,  &c.  Then  putting  P  for  x'-f7x,  the  positive  part 
of  the  expression,  and  N  for  6x»+9,  its  negative  part, 
the  corresponding  values  of  x,  P,  N,  and  P — N,  will  be 
as  follows : 

Saccessire  valuei. 

X.      0,       1,       2,       3,         4,         5.         6,  &c. 

P.      0,       8,     22,     48,       92,     100,     258,  &c. 

N,     9,     15,     33,     63,     105,     159,     225,  &c. 
P— N.— 9,—  7,— 11,— 15,— 13,  -I-   1,  -1-33,  &c. 
From  this  table  of  the  successive  values  of  x,  P,  N, 
and  P — N,  it  appears,  that  while  x  is  increasing  from 
0  to  some  number  greater  than  4,  but  less  than  5,  P  is 
always  less  than  N,  and  consequently  P — N=x'-[-7x — 
(Cx"  -|-9)  is  negative.     But  when  x  has  increased  to  5, 
P  has  become  greater  than  N,  and  thus  P — N=x'-f  7x 
— (ex'-f  9)  has  become  positive,  and  continues  to  be  so 
when  X  has  increased  to  6,  &c.     Hence  we  may  infer, 
that  there  is  some  value  of  x  between  4  and  5,  corres- 
ponding to  which  the  values  of  P  and  N  are  equal,  and 
consequently  P — N=x3  4-7x— (6x='-t-9)=0.     And  this 
value  of  xis  evidently  a  root  of  the  equation  x' — 6x=4 
7x— 9=0. 

235.  The  same  mode  of  reasoning  will  apply  to  any 
other  equation ;  for  calling  the  sum  of  its  positive  terms 
P,  and  the  sum  of  its  negative  terms  N,  if  a  and  b  be 
two  such  values  of  x,  as  being  substituted  in  the  equa- 
tion, give  results  with  different  signs,  as  one  —  and  the 
other  -)->  this  can  only  have  happened,  because  in  one 
ease  we  had  P<  N,  and  io  the  other  P  >N  j  therefore 
we  may  be  certain,  by  reasoning  as  in  the  foregoing  par- 
ticular example,  that  there  is  some  value  of  x  between 
a  and  b,  which  would  give  P=N,  or  P — N=0 ;  that  is> 
such  a  value  of  x  as  satisfies  the  equation,  and  is  there- 
fore one  of  its  roots. 

286.  II.  Let  g  be  the  greatest  negative  coefficient  in 
an  equation ;  then  its  positive  roots  will  be  contained 
between  0  and  j-f  1.  And  if  the  signs  of  the  alternate 
terms  of  the  equation  be  changed,  beginning  with  the 
second,  and  q'  be  the  greatest  negative  coeflficient  of  the 
result,  then  the  negative  roots  will  be  contained  between 
Gand— }' — 1. 

For  if  we  suppose,  as  in  the  last  theorem,  that,  the 
terms  of  an  equation  being  all  tjrought  to  one  8i<le,  the 
unknown  quantity  acquires  all  possible  positive  values 
from  0  Upwards,  then,  supposing  the  equation  to  have 
positive  roots,  it  is  manifest  that  the  expression  formed 


ALGEBRA. 


445 


%y  its  terms  will  alternately  become  positive  and  nega- 
tive, changing  its  sign  every  time  that  x-  from  being  less 
than  a  root  of  the  er)uatioD  becomes  greater.  When, 
however,  jc  has  become  equal  to  the  greatest  jiositive 
TOOt,  and  ol'  course  the  expression  I'ormed  by  the  terms 
of  the  equation  has  become  =0  for  the  last  lime,  then, 
all  greater  values  of  x  will  necessarily  produce  results 
Wving  the  same  sign. 

Now  that  we  may  find  a  limit  to  the  values  of  x,  that 
is,  to  the  roots  of  the  equation,  let  us  take  any  equation, 
as  for  example 

x*-\-px^ — qx^-\-rx-\-s=0  ; 
then,  if  q  be  its  greatest  negative  coefficient,  it  is 
evident  that  the  amount  of  its  negative  terms  cannot 
possibly  exceed  the  quantity  qx'-\-qx'+qi+q;  there- 
fore whatever  positive  number  substituted  for  x  in  the 
expression 

r* — qx' — qx' — qx — q 
^ves  a  positive  result,  the  same  number,  being  substi- 
tuted for  X  in  the  expression 

X  *  -i-px' — qx"  -fri-f  *, 
will  also  give  a  positive  result. 

Now    the    quantity    qx^+qx^'+qx+q   is   equal  to 

ox^^^o 

* —  ,   ,  as  may  be  proved  by  actually  dividing  the  nu- 
jc— -I 

n;erator  of  this  last  quantity  by  its  denominator ;  hence 

qx* — a    x*{x — q — l)-f» 
X*-qx"-gx'-qx-q=x*-''---f=     ^     J^  ^^'. 

Therefore  every  value  of  x  which  being  substituted  for 
X  in  the  expression 

x*{x—q—\)+q 
x—l 

gives  a  positive  result,  will  also  give  a  positive  result 
when  substituted  in  x*+px^ — qx'-{-rx-^-s.  But  from 
the  form  of  the  above  fractional  expression,  it  will  ma- 
nifestly be  positive  if  we  make  x==q+'l,  orx>f-fl, 
therefore,  if  in  the  expression  formed  by  the  terms  of 
the  equation 

x*-\rpx^ — qx^'+rx+s^Q, 
we  substitute  for  x  a  number  equal  to,  or  greater  than 
q+l,  the  result  will  always  be  positive:  hence  jr-J-l 
must  be  greater  than  the  greatest  positive  root  of  the 
equation. 

287.  The  second  part  of  the  theorem  follows  imme- 
diately from  the  first,  by  considering  that  the  signs  of 
the  alternate  terms  of  an  equation  being  changed,  the 
result  is  an  equation  whose  positive  roots  are  identical 
with  the  negative  roots  of  the  former  equation. 

288.  We  proceed  now  to  show  how  by  means  of  these 
two  theorems  we  may  approximate  to  the  roots  of  equa- 
tions ;  and  with  a  view  to  render  the  mode  of  proceed- 
ing more  perspicuous,  we  shall  take  a  particular  exam- 
ple. Let  it  therefore  be  required  to  approximate  to  the 
roots  of  the  equation  x' — 4x^ — 3x-j-27=K). 

As  the  greatest  negative  coefficient  of  this  equation 
is  4,  it  follows  from  §  286,  that  the  greatest  positive 
root  is  less  than  5.  Let  the  signs  of  the  alternate  terms 
of  the  equation  be  changed,  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  let  — y  be  substituted  for  x,  and  the  result  is 
this  equation, 


which  having  all  its  tenns  positive,  can  ha»e  only  nega- 
tive roots.  Therefore  x  is  necessarily  positive,  and  the 
proposed  equation  has  no  negative  roots.  Hence  it  ap- 
pears that  its  real  roots  are  contained  between  0  and 

+  5. 

280.  But  we  may  find  a  limit  to  the  least  root  nearer 
than  0.     For  this  purpose  make  x=- ;  hence  the  equa- 


tion  becomes 
1 


+27=0, 


2/*  y^   y 

which  by  proper  reduction  becomes 

In  this  last  equation  the  greatest  value  of  y  cannot 
d  31  1 

exceed  5-  -fl,  (§  286,)  that  is,  — .  But  «/=-,  therefore 

1      31  31t  27  27 

-<— ,  hence  l<7rr>  and  7r:<x,  or  x>— .      Hence 


■27 


•27 


31 


31 


27 
31 


it  appears  that  x  is  contained  between  :rr  and  5. 

290.  The  most  obvious  method  of  obtaining  nearer 
limits  of  the  roots,  is  to  suppose  successively  x—\ ,  x=2, 
x=^,  x^A ;  and  if  two  numbers  substituted  in  the  pro- 
posed equation  give  results  with  contrary  signs,  these 
numbers  will  be  new  limits  of  the  roots  (§  284.)  Ac- 
cordingly, making  these  substitutions,  we  obtain  the  fol- 
lowing results. 

Values  of  T  1,       2,      3,         4. 

Corresp.  results,  -f-21,  +5,  —9,  +  15. 
From  which  it  appears  that  the  equation  has  two  real 
roots,  one  contained  between  2  and  3,  and  another  be- 
tween 3  and  4.  To  approach  still  nearer  to  the  first  of 
these  roots,  we  substitute  the  mean  between  2  and  3^ 
viz.  2.5,  for  x;  and  since  the  reault  is 

-J-39.0625— 62.5— 7.5+27=— 3.9375, 

a  negative  quantity,  we  conclude  that  the  root  is  between 
2  and  2.5  ;  therefore  the  mean  between  these  numbers, 
viz.  2.25,  or  (taking  only  one  decimal  place)  2.3  is  a 
near  value  of  the  root. 

29 1 .  We  may  now  approximate  very  fast  to  the  true 
value  of  the  root  by  the  following  method  invented  by 
Newton. 

Make  x=2.3+j/,  then,  as  ?/  is  a  small  fraction,  its 
second  and  higher  powers  will  be  very  small  quantities 
in  respect  of  its  first  power;  they  may  therefore  be 
neglected  in  substituting  the  powers  of  2.3+_y  for  a:  in 
the  proposed  equation.     Therefore  we  have 

x*=         (2.3)  «+  4(2.3)'i/=+27.9841  +48.668*/ 
— 4z'=— 4  (2.3)  3— 12(2.3)21/=- 48.668    —  63.48J/ 
— 3z  =—3  (2.3)    —31/  =—  6.9         —    3y 

+27  =+27  =-f27 


0.5839  —  17.812^ 

0.5839 
andj^ 


x"— 4x»— 3i+27  =— 

Therefore— 0.5839— 17.81 2t/=0, „        ^^  ^^^- 

— 0.03,  here  we  retain  only  two  decimal  places  in  the 
value  oft/,  these  being  all  that  can  be  supposed  correct 
in  a  first  approximation;  therefore  r=2.3+if=2.3 — 0.03 
=2.27. 

Next,  to  obtain  a  new  value  of  x,  more  accurate  than 
the  former,  let  a:=2.27+y ;  then  proceeding  exactly 


m 


ALGEBRA. 


ns  in  obtaining  the  former  approximation,  and  rejecting 
the  powers  of  y  above  the  first,  we  get 

—0.04595359— 18.046468y=0 
And  hence 


*'= 


0.04595359 


-0.0025. 


18.046468 

and  consequently  x=2.2675.  And  by  repeating  this 
process,  we  may  approach  as  near  aa  we  please  to  the 
true  value  of  x.  In  the  very  same  way  we  may  find 
the  other  real  root  of  the  equation,  which  is  between  3 
and  4,  to  be  x=3.6797,  where  the  approximation  is 
carried  on  to  four  decimal  places  only. 

292.  This  mode  of  approximating  to  the  roots  of 

equations  applies  equally  whether  the  equation  be  pure 

or  affected.     Thus,  to  resolve  the  pure  cubic  equation 

jr»=2,  or  in  other  words,  to  find  the  cubic  root  of  2; 

because  x  is  manifestly  greater  than  1,  but  less  than  2, 

and  nearest  to  the  former  of  these  numbers,  we  assume 

.v==l+^;  therefore,  retaining  only  the  first  power  of  i^, 

we  have  x=>=l+3^,  or  2=\-\-3y;    hence  3y=l,  and 

j/=i=0.3  nearly.     We  now  assume  x=z\  .3+w',  and  pro- 

.197 
ceeding  as  before,  find  2=2.197+5.07y,  ory= — j^ 

--= — 0.039,  and  x=\  .3 — 0.039=1 .26  nearly.  The  ope- 
ration may  be  continued  till  any  required  degree  of  ac- 
curacy be  obtained. 

293.  By  assuming  an  equation  of  any  order  having 
its  coefficients  denoted  by  letters,  we  may  investigate  a 
general  formula  for  approximating  to  the  roots  of  all 
equations  of  that  order.  Let  us  talie  for  example  the 
cubic  equation 

Let  o  be  a  near  value  of  one  of  its  roots,  and  c  a  cor- 
rection necessary  to  complete  the  value,  so  that  jr=a-fc. 
Then,  c  being  a  small  quantity,  in  investigating  an  ap- 
proximation to  the  root,  its  second  and  higher  powers 
may  be  neglected.  Thus  we  shall  have  x^-\-px^-\-qx 
■\-r=a'^+pa''  +qa-\-r-\'  (3a''-|-2/(a+5')c  nearly.  There- 
fore a'+/)a^-f  j'a+r+(3a»-f  2^a+?)c=0,  and  hence 

_    g'+pa" -!"?«+»' 
~       3a='-f2pa-fj~ 

^pa'+yia+r 
"3o»+2/)a-f-?  ■ 

As  an  example,  let  it  be  required  to  approximate  to 
a  root  of  the  equation  x^ — 2x — 50=0. 

By  a  few  trials  we  find  a  value  of  x  to  be  between  3 
and  4,  but  nearer  to  the  latter  number  than  to  the  for- 
mer. Therefore  we  have  b=4,  p=0,  q= — 2,  /;= — 50, 
and 


or<;=— la- 


4    — aX8— 50 


-0.13. 


root,  then  to  obtain  the  root  we  mtist  add  to  it  a  frac- 
tion; we  have  therefore  x=a-\ — . 

By  substituting  a-1 —  in  the  equation  Instead  of  x,  we 

get  a  new  equation  containing  the  unknown  quantity y, 
which  has  necessarily  a  root  greater  than  unity.  Let  b 
be  the  whole  number  next  less  than  the  root ;  and  we 

ghall  have  for  a  first  approsimation  x=a-\--.    Now  h 

0 

being  an  approximate  value  of  y  just  as  a  is  an  approxi- 
mate value  of  X,  we  may  make  5f=6 -}--;■,   where  y  is 

necessarily  greater  than  unity ;  then,  sul)stituting  this 
quantity  instead  of  y  in  the  equation  containing  y,  we 
shall  have  a  neAv  equation  containing  y.  Let  h'  be  the 
whole  number  next  less  than  the  value  of  y,  and  we 

shall  have  y=b-{-n,  = — r? —  nearly,  and  substituting 
this  value  in  that  of  x,  we  get 

for  the  second  near  value  of  x.  A  tliird  may  be  found 
by  making  y'=V-\—ri  5  for  if  ^"  denote  the  whole  num- 

1     b'b"-\-\ 
ber  next  less  than  y ',  we  havey=i'+j77= — 577—  >  and 

^  ,      h"        bb'b"+b"+b 
hence  3/=6+ j!j»+-i=-pi7?q.— 


3       3X16—2 

Hencex=a-He=4 — 0.1 3=3.87 nearly.  We  may  now 
assume  0=^3.87,  and  find  a  new  value  of  c,  and  proceed 
in  this  way  till  we  obtain  the  root  to  any  proposed  de- 
gree of  accuracy. 

294.  Lagrange,  in  the  Berlin  Memoirs,  and  also  in  a 
work  on  the  Resolution  of  Numerical  Equations,  has 
given  to  the  foregoing  method  a  form  which  has  the 
advantage  of  showing  at  every  step  what  progress  has 
been  made  in  approaching  to  the  true  value  of  the  root. 

Let  a  denote  the  whole  number  next  less  llian  the 


6" 
',  and  therefore 


x=a+ 


b'b"+l 


bb'L"+b"+b' 
and  80  on. 

295.  Let  us  apply  this  method  to  the  resolution  of  the 
following  equation : 

x3—^x+^=o, 

the  positive  roots  of  which  must  be  (by  §  286)  between 
0  and  8  ;  we  therefore  substitute  0,1,2,  &c.  to  8,  suc- 
cessively for  -r,  and  get  these  corresponding  results  : 
+  7,  +1,  +1,  -f-13,  +43,  +97,  +181,  +301,  +463. 
But  as  these  have  all  the  same  sign,  we  cannot  apply  the 
theorem  given  in  §  284,  so  as  to  determine  any  nearer 
limits  of  the  roots.  It  may  be  however  remarked,  that 
the  results  first  decrease,  and  then  increase;  and  as 
they  are  equal  to  one  another  when  1=1 ,  and  when 
x=2,  and  at  the  same  time  smallest,  we  may  reason- 
ably conjecture,  that,  corresponding  to  some  values  of 
X  between  1  and  2,  they  may  be  negative,  if  they  admit 
of  being  so;  and  therefore,  that  the  positive  roots  lie 
between  1  and  2.  Accordingly,  if  we  sul-.stitute  1.5  for 
X,  we  obtain  the  negative  result — 0.125.  Since  therefore 
the  numbers  1,  1.5,  2,  give  these  results  +1,  — 0.125, 
+ 1 ,  where  there  are  two  changes  of  the  signs,  the  equa- 
tion must  have  two  (wsitive  roots ;  one  between  1  and 
1.6,  and  another  between  1 .5  and  2.     We  now  begin  the 

approximation  by  assuming  x=l  +-  ;    and   heijce,   by 

substituting  l-^ —  instead  of  x  in  the  given  equation,  and 

reducing,  we  get »/'— 4j/=>+3^+l=0. 

The  limit  of  the  positive  root?  of  this  equation  is  5, 
and  by  substituting  successively  0,  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  instead 
of  y,  wc  socn  discover  that  it  has  two  roots  greater  than 


ALGEBRA. 


447 


rniity ;  viz.  one  root  between  1  and  2,  and  another  be- 
tween 2  and  3.  Hence  we  have  these  approximate  ra- 
iues  of  X, 

We  now  make  y=l  -\ — j-,  which  giyes  us 

This  equation  will  be  found  to  have  only  one  real  root 
greater  than  unity,  between  2  and  3 ;  hence 

,  ,  1    3         ,        ,  ,  2    5 
Kext  we  make  i/'=2-| — j,,  and  get 

y»  3 3y"3  — 4y" — 1  =0, 

and  in  this  equation  the  value  of  t/''  is  between  4  and  5. 
By  taking  the  least  limit  4,  we  get 

»     o  1  1     9  ,4     13         .         ,  ,    9     22 

v'=2-\ — =-,  v=l  H — = — .  and  xz=\  -\ — = — . 
•"       ^4    4'-^      ^9      9'  ^13    13 

It  is  very  easy  to  continue  this  process,  by  assuming 

2/"=4+  jfj,  and  so  on. 

We  now  return  to  the  second  value  of  jt,  which  we 
3 
found  to  be  -  by  the  first  approximation,   and  which 

corresponds  to  ^=2.     Therefore,  let  y=2+-f,  then, 

substituting  this  value  of  y  in  the  equation  for  y,  and 
reducing,  we  get 

y'+y— 2y— 1=0. 
This  equation,  like  the  corresponding  equation  in  the 
former  operation,  has  only  one  root  greater  than  unity  ; 
viz.  between  1  and  2.     We  therefore  take  y'=\  ;  and 

hence  get  y=2-l-=3,  and  js=l+l=r^. 

„,  1 

We  next  make  i/'=l  +— ,  and  get 

an  equation,  from  which  the  value  of  y"  is  found  to 
be  between  4  and  5.     Hence  we  find  3/ — -,  y= — , 
19 

To  proceed  in  the  approximation,  we  make  y"=4+ 
-J7J,  and  so  on,  till  any  proposed  degree  of  accuracy 
whatever  be  obtained. 

The  equation  x» — 7jr+7=0  has  also  a  negative  root 
between  — 3  and  — 4.    To  find  a  nearer  value,  we  make 

jr= — 3 ,  which  gives 

y3—20y^~9y—1=0; 
and  hence  y  is  found  to  be  between  20  and  21 .     There- 
fore x= — 3 — --=)——. 

20         20 

The  approximr.tion  may  be  continued  by  making  y= 
204- J>,  &c. 


296.  Thesuccesbive equalionscontaining t/,y',y",&c. 
have  each  never  more  than  one  root  greater  than  unity, 
unless  two  roots  of  the  proposed  equation  be  between  a 
and  a+1.  But  when  this  is  the  case,  as  in  the  foregoing 
example,  some  one  or  other  of  the  equations  containing 

y,  y',  y,  &c.  has  several  values  greater  than  unity,  from 
which  as  many  sets  of  equations  may  he  derived  as  the 
proposed  equation  has  roots  between  the  limits  a  and 
a+\. 

Sect.  XVII.     Of  Indclenninalc  Equations. 

297.  When  the  conditions  of  a  question  do  not  fur- 
nish so  many  equations  as  there  are  unknown  quantities 
to  be  determined,  then,  because  the  number  of  quanti- 
ties which  can  be  exterminated  is  always  one  less  than 
the  number  of  given  equations,  (\  110,  and  Sect.  XIII.) 
in  this  case  the  final  equation  must  contain  more  than 
one  unknown  quantity.  Now,  in  an  equation  of  this 
kind,  the  unknown  quantities  will  admit  oi'  innumerable 
different  values;  for  example,  the  equation  .r-|-{/=10, 
where  x  andy  may  be  any  numbers,  wliole  or  fractional, 
provided  their  sum  be  10.  On  this  account,  such  an 
equation  is  said  to  be  indeterminate,  and  that  branch  of 
algebra  which  treats  of  these  equations,  is  sometimes 
denominated  the  Analysis  of  indeterminate  qtuintities. 

298.  Indeterminate  equations,  like  determinate  ones, 
are  distinguished  into  orders,  according  to  the  sum  of 
the  exponents  of  the  unknown  quantities  contained  in 
any  one  of  their  terms. 

Thus  ax+by-\-c=0  is  an  indeterminate  equation  of 
the  first  degree,  and 

ax+hy-{-cx'  +dxy+ey'  -f-/=0, 

is  an  indeterminate  equation  of  the  second  degree. 

Of  Indeterminate  Efuations  of  the  First  Degree. 

299.  An  indeterminate  equation  of  the  first  degree, 
containing  only  two  unknown  quantities,  may  be  gene- 
rally rei)re3ented  by 

ax+by=c, 
where  a,  h,  and  c,  denote  given  whole  numbers;  and  here 
the  theory  requires  not  only  that  such  values  shall  be 
found  of  X  and  y  as  satisfy  the  equation,  but  also  that 
these  values  shall  be  whole  numbers. 

300.  In  the  first  place,  we  observe,  that  the  numbers 
a  and  b  can  have  no  common  divisor  which  is  not  also  a 
divisor  of  c :  for  let  </  be  a  divisor  of  a  and  b,  so  that 
a=dq,  and  b=dq',  then  the  equation  becomes  dqx+ 

dq'y=c,  and  qx-\-q[y-\--  ;  hence  it  appears,  that  x  and  y 

can  be  whole  numbers  only  when  </  is  a  divisor  of  c. 

301.  If  either  of  the  coefficients  a,  b,  is  an  unit,  the 
equation  may  be  resolved  without  further  preparation. 
Thus,  if  z-f  ftt/=c,  so  that  x=c — by,  it  is  evident,  that 
we  may  take  y  equal  to  any  whole  number,  and  we  shall 
have  x  also  equal  fo  a  whole  number. 

302.  Let  us  now  consider  the  equation  ax-\-by~c  in 
its  general  form,  and  suppose  a<6.  Let  ma  be  the 
greatest  multiple  of  a  contained  in  b,  and  r  the  remain- 
der, so  that  b=ma+r,  r  being  less  than  a,  then 

ax-\-may-\-ry=c. 
Put  x-\-my=t,  thus  we  have 

ry-{-at—c. 


44» 


ALGEBRAf 


Now,  if  r  were  =1,  the  equation  would  be  resolved  ; 
for  we  would  then  have 

x+»iy=f,  and^+o<=c, 
from  which  we  get  these  equations 
y=c — at,  x=t — my, 

which  give  whole  numhers  for  x  and  y,  by  substituting 
any  whole  number  instead  of  t. 

If  r>l,  we  have,  because  r<a,  a^=mi'r-\rr',  where 
m'r  is  the  greatest  multiple  of  r  contained  in  a,  and  /  the 
remainder.  This  expression  being  substituted  in  the 
equation  ry-\-at=c,  we  have 

ry-\-m'rt-\-r't=c,  or  r{y+m't)-{-r't=c. 

We  now  make  y-\-tn't==u,  and  thus  get 

wc  have  therefore  these  equations, 

x+«y=t,  y+m't=ni,  r't+ru=c, 
which,  if  ar'=l,  give 

x=t — my,  y=u — m't,  t=c — rui 
and  taking  it=  any  whole  number,  we  thence  get  t,  y, 
and  X,  also  expressed  by  whole  numbers. 

If />!,  we  must  treat  the  equation  r't-^nt=c  as  we 
did  the  former;  and  because  r'^r,  we  have  r=in"r'+r", 
where  jn'V  denotes  the  greatest  multiple  of  r'  contained 
in  r,  and  r"  the  remainder ;  by  this  expression,  the  equa- 
tion r'l-\-nt=c  is  changed  to 

r'(t+m"u)+r"u==c ; 

80  that  making  t+m"ti=v,  we  have 

r"M+r'«=«, 
and  in  the  case  of  r"=l ,  wc  have  the  following  series 
of  equations : 

x-\-my=t,  y-\-tn't=u,  t-\-m"u=v,  M+r'i«=c, 
from  which  we  get  these  values, 

x=4. — my,  y=« — m't,  t=ni — m"u,  u=c — r'v, 

which  are  always  whole  numbers,  provided  that  v  is  as- 
sumed equal  to  a  whole  number. 

By  proceeding  in  this  manner,  we  shall  at  last  obtain 
an  equation  in  which  one  of  the  unknown  quantities  has 
unity  for  a  coefficient.     For  since 

b=ma+r,  a=m'r+r',  r=m"r'+r",  &c. 

r  is  the  remainder  of  the  division  of  i  by  a ;  r*  that  of  a 
by  r ;  r"  that  of  r  by  r',  and  so  on ;  from  which  it  appears, 
that  the  values  of  r,  r',  r",  &c.  are  found  by  the  same 
operation  as  is  performed  to  find  the  common  measure 
of  the  numbers  a  and  b,  and  which  at  last  must  give  a 
result  =1,  seeing  that  the  numbers  are  supposed  prime 
to  one  another. 

303.  We  shall  now  apply  this  method  to  the  resolution 
of  the  following  questions  : 

Ex.  1.  It  is  required  to  6nd  all  the  possible  ways  in 
which  60t.  can  be  paid  in  guineas  and  moidores  only» 

Let  X  be  the  number  of  guineas,  and  y  the  number  of 
moidores.  Then,  considering  that  a  guinea  is  equivalent 
to  21  shillings,  and  a  moidore  to  27  shillings,  also  that 
60J.  =  1200  shillings,  we  have  this  equation  ; 

21jt+27y«120», 
and  dividing  by  3,  ^^^^ 

7T-f-fl^.100.  ipll 


Here  <t=7,  b=9,  <;=400,  and  from  the  first  two  of 
these  numliers  the  values  of  m,  r,  ni ,  r',  &c.  may  be 
found,  as  in  the  following  operation  : 

fl=7)9=6(l=OT 
7 


r=2)7(3=«^ 
6 

Therefore  m=^.,  r=2,  ?»'=3,  r'=\ ;    and  hence  wc 
find 

jr4-y=f,  y-f3<=«,  <-l-2«=400; 
and  from  these  equations, 

x=t — y,  y==u — 3t,  t=400 — 2«, 

returning  from  the  value  of  <  to  those  of  x  and  y,  we 
find 

x=1600 — 9tt,  y='7u — 1200. 

Now  that  we  may  limit  the  values  of  x  and^  to  posi- 
tive numbers,  we  must  evidently  have  9«<1600  and 
7«>1200,  thatis,  wemusthave  u<  177-J  andtt>171^; 
therefore  M  may  be  any  whole  number  contained  between 
the  limits  172  and  177  (these  numbers  included).  The 
corresponding  values  of  u,  x,  and  y  will  stand  thus : 

Values  of  u,     172,  173,  174,  175,  176,  177. 

of  X,       52,     43,     34,     25,     16,       7. 

ofy.         4,     11,     18,     25,     32,     39. 

Hence  it  appears  that  the  proposed  sum  may  be  paid  in 
six  different  ways. 

The  question  we  have  just  now  resolved  might  have 
been  otherwise  proposed  thus.  To  find  all  the  possible 
ways  of  dividing  1200  into  two  parts,  such,  that  the  one 
may  be  divisible  by  21 ,  and  the  other  by  27.  We  have 
found  that  it  is  limited  to  a  determinate  number  of  an- 
swers in  positive  numbers ;  but  in  the  following  ques- 
tion the  number  of  such  answers  is  infinite. 

Ex.  2.  A  person  bought  horses  and  oxen.  For  each 
of  the  former  he  paid  31  crowns,  and  for  each  of  the  lat- 
ter 20  crowns,  and  he  found,  that  the  whole  price  of  the 
oxen  exceeded  that  of  the  horses  by  7  crowns ;  How 
many  were  there  of  each  ? 

Let  X  be  the  number  of  oxen  and^  that  of  the  horses, 
then  by  the  question. 

20x=31y-f7,  or20x— 31y=7. 

Here  o=20,  6= — 31,  c=7,  and,  as  in  the  last  exam- 
ple, we  perform  the  operation  of  finding  the  common 
measure  of  a  and  h  as  follows : 
20)— 31(— l=m 
—20 

r— 11)20(— !=»»' 
11 

5^=9)— 11(— 1=ot" 
—  9 

r"=— 2)9(— 4=»i"' 
8 

r"'=  1 
from  which  it  appears  that  »i= — 1,  r= — 11,  m'=: — 1 
T'=-f  9,  m  '=r_l ,  r"=— 2,  m"'=>— 4,  /"=+ 1 .    There- 
fore, to  determine  x  and  y,  wc  have  the  following  srrie f 
of  equations  (§  302.) 


ALGEBRA. 


44^ 


so  that  we  have  lastly  v— 2w=7,  and  hence,  returning 
So  the  values  of  x  and  y, 

»=7  +  2w,  M=28+9w,  t=35H-ll»B, 
j/=e3-!-20n;,       x=98+31n;. 
Here  nothiug  limits  tlie  values  of  x  and  those  of  y, 
which  are  positive,  even  when  n  has  the  negative  va- 
lues — 3,  — 2,  — 1 .     Thus  we  have  the  following  series 
of  values  for  x  and  y. 
Value  of  ri>  —3,  —2,  —1,  0,         1,         2,  &c. 

of  X       5,     36,     67,         98,     129,     160,  «fec. 

of  y       3,     23,    43,         63,       83,     103,  &:c. 

These  values  of  x  and  t/  constitute  two  series  in  arith- 
metical progression ;  the  common  difference  of  the  for- 
mer is  31,  the  coefficient  of  i/,  and  that  of  the  latter  20, 
the  coefiBcient  of  x  in  the  proposed  equation. 

304.  The  method  explained  in  §  302  is  general,  and 
applies  to  any  number  of  equations  whatever. 

Let  it  be  proposed,  for  example,  to  find  a  numl)er, 
which  being  divided  by  2  shall  leave  1  for  a  remainder, 
and  being  divided  by  3  shall  leave  2  for  a  remainder, 
and  being  divided  by  5  sliall  leave  3  for  a  remainder. 

Let  N  denote  the  number,  and  let  x,  y^  z,  denote  the 
respective  quotients  which  are  found  when  it  is  divided 
by  2,  3,  and  5.     Then  we  have 

N=2r-{-l,  N=3j/-f2,  N=5s-f3. 

These  equations,  by  exterminating  N,  are  reduced  to 
the  two  following 

2x—3y=\,        3y—5z=i. 

By  proceeding  with  the  first  of  these  according  to  the 
method  of  §  3o2,  we  find 

y=2f— 1,         x-3t—\. 

Let  this  value  of  y  be  substituted  in  the  other  equa- 
tion, and  it  becomes  — 5s-|-6t=4,  a  new  equation,  which 
being  treated  in  all  respects  as  the  first,  gives  us 

t=5u-{-4,         s=6m+4. 
Let  this  value  of  t  be  now  substituted  in  the  values 
of  a:  and^  already  found,  and  we  have  upon  the  whole 

a^l5M-fll,     i/=10«-f7,     &=6u-f4. 
And  hence,  from  either  of  the  three  original  equations, 
we  find  N=30M-h23.     The  least  value  that  N  can  have 
is  found  by  making  m=0,  which  gives  N=23. 

305.  If  an  equation  be  proposed  involving  three  un- 
known quantities,  as  ax-{-hy-'t-c::=d,  by  transposing  we 
have  ax+by—d — cs,  and  i)utting  d — cs==c',  ax-\-h)=c'. 
From  this  equation  we  find  values  of  x  and  y  having 
this  form, 

x=mc' — 6m,    y=au — nc' ; 
or  x=OT(rf — cs) — bu,    y^mu — n{d — cz), 

where  z  and  u  may  be  taken  at  pleasure,  provided  that 
the  (juantities  x,y,s,  are  not  restricted  to  positive  values. 
But  when  they  are  required  to  be  positive,  then  the  va- 
lues of  s  and  u  may  be  confined  within  certain  limits,  to 
be  determined  from  the  nature  of  the  equation. 

Of  Indeterminate  Equations  of  the  Second  Degree. 

306.  All  indeterminate  equations  of  the  aecon,d  de- 
Voi,.  I.     Part  II. 


gree,  containing  only  two  unknown  quantities,  may  be 
reduced  to  one  or  other  of  the  three  followiug  forms : 


III.  y=^{a+bx+cx'), 


,^         a+bx 

II.  v=— r-T- 

^    c+dx 


where  a,  b,  c,  and  </,  denote  given  numbers.  In  the  two 
first  X  is  to  be  found,  so  that  y  mny,  if  possible,  be  an 
integer;  and  in  the  third  x  is  to  be  found,  so  that 3/  may 
be  a  rational  quantity. 


307.  When^= 


b+cx 
integer,  b-{-cx  must  be  a  divispr  of  a. 

its  divisors,  then  i{  b-{-cx=ul,  we  have 


,  it  is  evident  that  to  have  y  aa 


Let  d  be  one  of 
F== :  go  that 


among  the  divisors  of  a  we  must  find  one,  if  possible, 
from  which  b  being  sul)tracted,  the  remainder  may  be 
divisible  by  c;  the  quotient  will  be  the  value  of  x. 

308.  When  »/=r— — 7- ;  if  rf  be  a  divisor  of  6,  x  will 

^     c+dx 

be  taken  out  of  the  numerator,  if  we  divide  it  by  dx-\-c, 
and  then  this  form  is  reduced  to  the  preceding.  But  if 
d  is  not  a  divisor  of  b,  multiply  both  sides  by  d,  then 

dy= — — — 1 — ,  or  dividing  bdx-{-ad  by  dx-\-c,  dy=b-{- 

ad — be 

■    /  .  ,  and  so  X  is  found  by  making  c-\-dx  a  divisor  of 

ad— be. 

]  g  5 g 

Example.    Let  2xy+x+y=l95 ;    then  y=    '       , 
390— 2x        .  .    391 


and  2y= 


-1  + 


•.  Now  .391=1 7X23,  and 


l+2x  "  '  l-|-2x' 

if  l-f2x=17,  x=8  and  i/=ll. 

309.  The  general  resolution  of  the  third  equation 
j/=y'(a-f  6x+cx»),  when  it  is  possible,  depends  on  the 
most  refined  artifices  of  analysis,  and  some  of  the  least 
obvious  properties  of  numbers.  We  must  therefore,  in 
the  present  short  sketch,  confine  ourselves  to  some  in 
the  more  simple  cases  of  the  problem,  which  are  also 
the  most  useful. 

1st.  Let  a  be  a  square  number,  so  that  the  equation 
is  y=.y{f^ +bx+cx^).  Assume  v'(/  =  +Ax+cx=)= 
f+mx,  then/»-|-6x-f-cx»=/'»-(-2/»ix-f-»>x»,  and  hence 

h+cx=2fin+m'x,  andx=~^^. 

If  this  value  of  x  be  substituted  in  the  formula  y= 
"/(f'-i-bx+cx'),  its  irrationality  will  disappear,  and  wc 

shall  have  y—J^ / — ,  where  m  may  be  any  nuni- 

c — m^  J  J 

ber  whatever,  whole  or  fractional. 

2d.  Next  let  c  be  a  square  number,  so  that  y=^{a-{- 
bx+g^x').  Assume  ^{a+bx-i-g^x')==^in4-gx,  then 
a-\-bx+g''x'=m^+2nis^x+g^x^ ;  and  hence  a+bx=nt^ 

+2mgx,  and  x=j — - —  .     Therefore  this  value  of  x 
b — 2mg 

being  substituted  in  the  radical  quantity,  it  becomes 
rational, 


and  we  find  y= 


hm- 


-e-m= 


b — 2mg 

and  in  this  formula  m  may  be  takeu  equal  to  any  num- 
ber whatever. 

3d.  If  the  exiH-ession  a-f-6x-}-cx'  can  be  resolved  int^ 
3L 


4S9 


ALGEBRA. 


two  simple  factors  f+gx  and  h+kx,  the  formula  may 
be  remleretl  rational  by  assuming  ^(a+bx+cx")  or 
^Uf+gx){h+kx)]=m(f+gx);  lor  hence  we  get 
(f+gxXh+kx)=m'^{/+gxy    and  h+kx=m'if+gx), 

and  x=J^^^^-^^^,  and  by  substituting  this  value  of  x,  the 

k — m^g 
irrationality  will  be  removed  as  before. 

4tb.  The  fourthjjase  in  which  the  expression  a+zx 
+bx^  can  be  rendered  a  complete  square,  is  when  it  can 
be  divided  into  two  parts,  one  of  which  is  a  complete 
square,  and  the  other  a  product  of  two  simple  factors ; 
for  then  a+bx+cx'  has  this  form,  p'+qr,  p,  q,  and  r 
being  quantities  which  contain  no  power  of  x  higher 
than  the  first.  We  now  assume  ^ip^+qr)=p+mq, 
and  hence  get  2mp-{-m'' q=r,&n  equation  containing  only 
the  first  power  of  x,  and  from  which  x  may  be  easily 
determined. 

310.  These  methods  of  rendering  a  radical  expres- 
sion rational  are  of  great  importance  in  some  of  the 
higher  branches  of  mathematics.  They  are  also  appli- 
cable to  the  resolution  of  many  questions  relative  to 
square  numbers  of  the  kind  considered  by  Diophantus. 
As  a  specimen  of  these  we  give  the  two  following. 

Ex.  1.  It  is  required  to  find  two  numbers  x  and^ 
such  that  the  sum  of  their  squares  shall  be  equal  to  a 
given  square  number  a'. 

Here  the  equation  to  be  resolved  is  i»+y'==a^.  or 
ji/=^(o» — x").  This  equation  belongs  to  the  first  case. 
We  therefore  assume  y/(a''—x''}=vtx — a,  then  a'—x' 
—a' — 2amx+m'x',  ani — x= — 2am+m''x.  Hence 
2«»M  ,  ,,  „        „s    (W— l)a 


T= r-r>  and  V=s/(a'—x'^)=-.,, 


Here    m 


found  that  these  values  of  v  and  s  satisfy  the  conditions 
of  the  question ;  for 

»4-s=(nf+2n— 1)». 
1,3  +sa=(n*  -f  6n»  -f  8n+5)*. 

As  an  example  in  numbers,  let  n=-3,  then  we  have 
r=36,  5=1 60,  and  36+1 60=1 4»,  and363  +  160>==164. 

Sect.  XVIII.  Methods  of  Resolving  an  Expression  int9 
a  Scries  ;  and  Reversion  of  Series. 

311.  It  is  frequently  necessary  to  transform  complex 
algebraic  expressions  into  others  consisting  of  an  infi- 
nite number  (that  is,  a  greater  number  than  can  be 
assigned)  of  simple  terms.  By  such  a  transformation 
an  unmanageable  expression  may  be  rendered  more 
tractable,  because,  although  in  its  new  form  it  consist 
of  an  infinite  number  of  terms,  yet  a  moderate  number 
of  them  may  be  nearly  equivalent  to  the  whole,  and  the 
rest  may  be  neglected  on  account  of  their  amount  being 
a  small  quantity. 

312.  The  most  simple  kinds  of  quantities  requiring 

to  be  developed  into  infinite  series  are  fractional  expres- 

.  «  a+bx  ,      ,.     , 

sions,  such  as  — ; —  or  , — - — ; — - ;  and  radical  quanti- 

a+x       1 — 2cx+x^  ' 

ties,  such  as  ^(a' — x').  With  these  the  most  obviouf 
way,  but  not  the  best,  is  to  apjily  the  rules  of  algebraic 
division  and  evolution,  and  to  continue  the  respective 
operations,  as  in  the  following  examples,  until  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  terms  of  the  series  be  obtained. 

Ex.  1.  It  is  required  to  develope --T— into  an  infinite 


may  be  any  number  whatever,  except  1,  which  would 
give  if=Q. 

If  we  suppose  o*=4,  then  taking  m=2,  we  have  x= 
_and3,=3. 

n 

Let  us  suppose  tn=-,  p  and  q  being  any  two  integers, 


then  we  shall  have  x= 


2apq 


y= 


fp3. 


')a 


series  by  the  operation  of  division. 

,    \-  /a     ax  ,  ax'      . 

n+x  )a        I  ——--] — - — &c. 
'    /  \»    n»      n» 


«+' 


ax 


Hence,  if  a=p'+q',  so  that  a3=(p3-f  j')',  then  the 
question  admits  of  being  resolved  in  integers,  for  we 
have  x=2pq,  and  y=4j)' — ?')•  Thus  if  p=Z  and  q=\, 
80  that  a2=(p»+9»)*=100,  then  x=6  and  ^=8. 

Ex.  2.  It  is  required  to  find  two  numbers  whose  sum 
may  be  a  square  number,  and  also  the  sum  of  their 
squares  a  square  number. 

Let  V  and  s  denote  the  numbers ;  then  if  we  assame 
t;=:«3 — j',  and  z=2pq,  it  is  evident  from  the  last  ex- 
ample that  we  shall  satisfy  the  second  condition  of  the 
question,  for  then  we  have  j)»+s»=(;>=' — q'^+Ap'q' 
=(p'-\-q'y.  We  have  therefore  only  to  make  v-{-z= 
p'+2pq — q'  a  square  number.  Let  the  root  of  this 
square  be  p — nq,  then  p'-\-2pq — q'=p' — 2pnq-\-n*q', 
and  hence  2(n+l)p=(n*-}-l)y.  Let  us  now  assume 
p=«'-t-l,  then  we  shall  have  q=2(n+\).,  and  hence, 
substituting  these  values  of  p  and  q  in  the  first  assumed 
values  of  r  and  i,  we  have,  after  due  reduction, 

r=(n»-f-l)'— 4(n+l)»     s=4(w»+l)(n+l) 
where  «  denotes  any  number  whatever,  and  it  will  b« 


ax 

n 

ax 

ax' 

n 

n' 

,  ax" 
+  «T 
,ax',ax 


ax' 


The  operation  may  be  carried  any  length  whatever. 

dividing  always  the  remainder  by  the  first  term  of  the 

divisor,  and  placing  the  result  for  a  new  term  of  the 

quotient,  by  which  we  develope  the  finite  expression 

a     .  ,      .  „  .  ,      a     ax  ,  ax'     ox'  ,  , 

— ;—  into    the  infinite    series --i — r —  ,  "1**^. 

n+x  n    n'      n'      «* 

and  in  this  case,  the  law  of  the  series,  that  i>,  the  rela- 
tion of  any  term  to  the  term  or  terms  which  precede 
it,  is  manifest;  so  that  we  can  find  as  mauy  more  terms 
as  we  please  without  continuing  the  operation. 

Ex.  2.  It  is  required  to  express  the  square  ro«t  of 
»'+x'  by  8D  infinite  series. 


ALGEBRA. 


4^1 


iTerc  we  employ  the  rule  of  §  14-).  as  follow?  • 


«^+.t»(a+| 


j_ 


2o     Za3  '  16(i5 


-Arc. 


•2a+^)+.^ 


+x'  + 


4a= 


2«+ 


ir" 


X 
'§0 


:.)- 


4a=' 


X' 


x» 


4a=     8a»      64a« 


Hence  we  find 


x« 


Sa"     64a « 


^{a''+x')=a+ 


2a     8a3     16a' 


-i-c. 


and  by  continuing  the  operation  we  may  find  any  num* 
ber  of  terms.  But  the  base  of  the  series  is  not  evident, 
as  in  the  last  example  ;  so  that  we  connot  continue  it 
without  carrying  on  the  operation.  This  is  no  doubt  a 
material  defect  in  the  method ;  but  we  shall,  in  the 
course  of  this  Section,  gire  another  free  from  that  im- 
perfection. 

313.  The  method  oS  IndcterniiTiate  Coefficients,  which 
is  of  the  greatest  utility  in  the  higher  branches  of  the 
mathematics,  is  particularly  applicable  to  the  resolution 
of  the  problem  under  consideration.  It  depends  upon 
the  following  theorem. 

314.  Theorem.  Let  x  denote  an  indeterminate  quan- 
tity, that  is,  a  quantity  which  may  have  any  value  what- 
ever, and  let  A,  B,  C,  <tc.  and  A',  B',  C.  &c.  be  quan- 
tities which  are  entirely  independent  of  x,  then  if  the 
two  expressions 

A +Br +Cx2  4-Dx',  ... 
A'+B'r-f  C'x2+D'x»  ... 

which  may  be  supposed  continued  to  any  number  of 
terms,  be  equal  to  one  another,  the  coefficients  of  the 
like  powers  of  x  in  both  must  be  equal,  that  is,  A=A', 
B=B',  C=C',  &c. 

For  since  by  hypothesis  the  two  expressions  are  equal, 
whatever  be  the  value  of  x,  they  must  be  equal  when 
x=0 ;  but  in  this  case  all  the  terms  of  each  vanish, 
except  the  first;  thus  we  have  A=A'.  Therefore  tak- 
ing away  these  equal  quantities  from  the  general  expres- 
sions, we  have 

Bt+Cx'^+Hjc^  ...  =  B'x+C'x'+B'x^ ... 
and  dividing  by  x, 

B+Cx4-Dx=  =B'+C'x+n'x3  ... 

And  as  this  equality  must  by  hypothesis  subsist,  what- 
ever be  the  value  of  x,  let  us  again  suppose  x=0 ;  and 
we  get  B=B'.  By  continuing  to  reason  In  this  way  it 
will  appear  in  like  manner  that  0=0',  D=D',  &c.  and 
so  on,  whatever  be  the  number  of  terras. 

If  we  bring  all  the  terms  of  the  two  series  to  one 
^dc,  so  that  the  equation  may  stand  thus  : 
A— A'+(B— B')r4-(C— C>»  +(D-D'>'=0,     then 
we  must  hare  A— A'=0,  B— B'=0,  C— 1"=0,  Arc. 


3\f>.   Let  it  be  proposed  to  develope  the  fraction 
into  an  infinite  series  by  the  method  of  in- 


1—2CX+X' 
determinate  coefficients. 

We  assume  the  proposed  expression  equal  to  a  series 
with  indeterminate  coefficients,  thus : 

J— 2^q:^=AH-Bx+Cx» -f  Dx» +Ex^ -f&c. 

where  A,  B,  C,  D,  denote  quantities  independent  of  x. 
We  now  multiply  both  sides  of  the  equation  by  1 — 
2cx-\-x',  the  denominator  of  the  fraction,  to  take  away 
that  denominator ;  then,  bringing  all  the  terms  to  one 
side,  we  get 

+C     )      -f-D     i 
X— 2cB  >  x'—2cC  >  x'-f  &c.=0. 
+A     )      -f-B     ^ 

Hence,  to  determine  the  quantities  A,  B,  C,  &c.  we 
have,  by  the  foregoing  theorem,  the  following  leries  of 
equations. 


A-fB 

-1— 2cA 


C— 2<;B+A=0, 
D— 2«C+B=0, 
&c. 


A— 1=0, 
B— 2<;A=0, 

From  which  we  obtain 

A=l, 

B=2cA=2c, 

C=2cB — A=:4<;=— 1, 

D=^^2cC— B=8c3 — ic, 

E=2cD— C=l  6c'— 1 2e«  -f  1 , 

&c. 

And  here  the  law  of  the  series,  or  the  manner  in  which 
each  term  is  deduced  from  the  two  preceding  is  very 
evident.     Thus  it  appears  that 

— 12c3+l)x«-f-&c. 

Ex.  2.  Let  it  be  required  to  develope  ^(a»-fx») 
into  a  series  by  the  method  of  indeterminate  coeffi- 
cients. 

In  this  case  we  might  assume  the  series  A-f-Bx-j- 
Cx^-fOx^+fec.  for  the  root,  but  as  we  should  find  that 
the  coefficients  of  the  odd  powers  of  x  are  each  =0,  we 
rather  assume 

■v/(a^ -|-*=)=A -t-Bx2 -f  Cx' -|-Dx« +&C. 
By  squaring  each  side  of  this  equation,  and  transpos- 
ing the  terms  on  the  left  hand  side  of  the  result  to  the 
right,  and  putting  the  whole  equal  to  0,  we  have 


A»+2AB  ^  „,+2AC  )  ^,-f  2AD  )    ... 
^2_        1  ^  *  +  B»   \  •*  -f-2BC  ^^'+*:c. 


==0. 


Therefore,  by  the  principle  laid  down  in  §  314,  we 
have 


A=— a2=0, 
2AB— 1=0, 

2AC-f-B='=:0, 

2AD-1-2BC=0, 

Hence  it  appears,  that 


B  = 


and  A=a, 
1 

2a'' 
-B" 

2a' 


1 
2a 


8a  ^ 


&c.     A       16a^- 


v/(.i=+x»)=o+ 


X* 


2a 


8a»  ' 
3L  2 


16a* 


-Arc. 


452 


ALGEBRA. 


agreeing  with  the  result  obtnined  hy  a  differeat  method 
(§  312.) 

315.  The  Binomial  Theorem,  or  rule  by  wliich  we  find 
any  power  whatever  (integral  or  l'ractiOnal)oi'a  binomial 
quantity  a-{-x,  aiTords  also  another  very  general  method 
of  exi>aniling  a  quanlitj'  into  a  series.  And  as  this  the* 
oreni  is  of  the  greatest  importance  in  the  science  of 
algebra,  as  well  as  in  the  higher  branches  of  mathema- 
tics, we  here  give  its  investigation ;  in  the  course  of 
which,  as  well  as  in  some  orther  investigations  to  fol- 
low, we  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  the  following 
lemma. 

317.  LeMma.  Let  n  he  any  integral  number,  and  t 
and  J/  any  quantities  whatever,  then  will  r" — y^  he 
equal  to 

To  prove  that  this  is  true,  We  have  only  to  take  the 
product  of  the  two  factors  thus  : 

^— »/ 


r-y 


-Y 


x'y"—- — xt/"-' — y 


X"  — JM 

Here  it  is  manifest  that  all  the  terms  of  the  product, 
with  the  exception  of  the  first  and  last,  destroy  oue 
another,  so  that  the  product  is  simply  ar« — y*,  as  ex- 
pressed in  the  theorem. 

318.  We  now  proceed  to  investigate  the  series  which 
expresses  any  power  of  the  binomial  quantity  a-\-x; 
and  in  the  first  place  we   observe,    that  o-f-x=aX 


(l+.r)''=«'"and(l-fj/)»=t";  then,  taking  the  differ- 
ence of  the  two  foregoing  equations,  and  substituting, 
we  have 

M"— i'"=A(a;— y)4-B(a-=— y2)-f-C(x3— 1/3) 
+P(ar*_y)+,  &c. 
But  since  l-t-j=M",  and  l-f-y=t;ii,   therefore  «" — 1*= 
X — y,  and 

w'"— !i"'^A(T— y)     B(j'— Ty°)     0(t^--j^  ) 
u" — v^       X — y  X — y  x — y 

+      ^-y       +'  '^''=- 
But  by  the  lemma,  (§  317.) 

W" — i;'"=(m — »)(M'"-'-i-«.'"~2y  ,    _   _    ^„im-S_|.,,.m-l) 
M" — v"^(tt — v)(a''~'-f-t/''~*»  .   .   .   -j-Wll"— 2-j-j,"— 1>. 
Also  x'—y^=(x—y){x+y,)    and  x'—y^^^^x—y) 
(^x'+xy+y'),  &c.     Therefore,    by  substituting,   and 
taking  equal  factors  out  of  the  numerators  and  denomi- 
nators of  the  foregoing  equation,  it  becomes 

«'"~'+M"'~^i' .  .  .   -\-U)f''~^-\-V*'~' 

A+B(x+y)-{-C(x'  +xy+y*y 

+D(x3+x'y+xy^+y') 

+E(x*+x^y+x-t^''+xy--+y^)+,  Sx. 
This  last  equation  must  subsist  whatever  be  tbevalue» 
otx  and  y,  and  even  if  we  suppose  x=y,  a  hypothesis, 
which  gives  1  -f  :e=1  +y,  and  u=«,  and  which  reduce* 
the  equation  to 
mu 


,m-\ 


/l-j-£)=aX(l-|-x'),  (where  X  is  put  for -Y   therefore      -«'''=M»(A+2Bx-f  3Cx''-f-4t)x3-l-5Ex«-f ,  &c.) 


^r:5-=A-l-2B.r+3Cx2-}-4Dx'-f5Ex»-f ,  ic. 
nu' 

or  to 

in 
— 1 
n 


{a+x)''=a''  X(1-|-a')",  (ji  being  any  number.)  Thus 
it  appears  that  we  shall  have  the  series  which  is  the 
devclopement  of  {a+x)"  if  we  multiply  each  of  the 
terms  of  the  series  which  is  the  devclopement  of  (l-j- 

/)»  by  tt",  and  substitute  in  it-  instead  of  x*. 

310.  In  the  prosecution  of  our  investigation,  the  first 
point  to  be  determined  is  the  form  of  the  series.  Now 
it  will  appear  by  induction,  that  any  integral  power 
whatever  of  1  +t,  as  found  by  involution,  (§  1 36),  or  any 
root,  found  as  in  §312.  Ex.  2.  or  any  negative  power(that 

is,  such  a  quantity  as  (l-fr)r-2=^-^-p-y^=___L-_) 

when  expanded  into  a  series  by  division,  (§  312.  Ex.  1.) 
will  be  expressed  by  a  series  of  this  form,  1+Ax-|-Bx» 
+Cx3+\)x*+  &c.  where  A,  B,  C,  &c.  denote  given 
numbers.  Hence  we  may  conclude,  that  in  every 
ease  whatever  the  series  has  this  form.  So  that,  sup- 
posing m  and  n  to  denote  any  two  numbers,  we  may  as- 
sume 

•• 
{\+xy=1+Ax+-Bx'+Cx'>+Dx*+&c. 
and  the  object  of  the  investigation  is  to  find  the  values 
of  the  quantities  A,  B,  C,  &c.  as  expressed  by  the  num- 
bers m  and  n. 
Now,  y  being  any  other  quantity,  we  must  have  also 

(1  +y):=i-j.Ay+By'  +Cy'>+l)y*  -f  &c. 

Let  us  make  (l4-«>=«  «nd  .(l+y)"=r,    co    that 


Let  us  now  put  for  tf  and  t/"  their  values  (1  +*•)' 
and  1  -f-o-,  and  we  have 

—{l+xy=(l+x)}  A-f  2Bjc-f3Cx»-f4Dx» 
4-5ExH-,  Ax.  i 

m 

an  equation  whiciv,  bj'  sul)stituting  for  (l+x)"  the  se- 
ries ]-|-Ax-f-JBx«+»  &c.  and  actually  multiplying  the 
series  on  the  right  hand  side  by  the  factor  l-f-x,  be- 
comes 

— — Ax+-Bx»H — Cx3-\—Bx*+,  &c. 
n     n  n  n  n 

S  A  +  2Bj.4-3Cx«+4Dx3+5Ex«-f,  &c. 

\       +Ax+2Bx='-f3Cx'-f4Dx«-f,  &c. 
and  hence,  putting  the  coefficients  of  like  powers  of  at 
equal  to  one  another,  (§  314.)  we  get 

R 

2B-f  A==-A,  ami  B^-— -, 

n  2n 


8C+2B=-B, 
n 

4D-f3C=-C, 
n 

5E-f4D=*"D, 

a 

*c. 


C=: 


B(ot— 2w) 


3n       ' 


ALGEBRA.  a6» 

or,  -mjb8<ihttin!r  for  A,  B,  C,  D,  their  values,  aa  found  f^  .  ^j-*,,^  .  ^a„!-4  .  !<^tri)a---=z^ 

from  the  i>rvcediag  equations ;  \  ~  \          ^                   1  •  2 

n  I   ■     J,  •     J 

m  m — 7i)  By  this  formula,  we  may  develope  any  integral  power 

J  ^,ja     ■  of  a  binomial  a-\-x  into  a  series,  which  will  always  con- 

fn!ffi nMm 2/»^  ''^^  ^^  *  limited  number  of  simple  terms,  because  that 

C= '„   3 all  the  terms  of  the  series,  after  tlie  (m+l)th  term,  are 

^    m(nv^ntL~2n:{m^n)  inultiplied  by  m-^0. 

■" )_v.3..i„4  323.  We  shall  now  add  a  few  examples  of  the  appli- 

(,K— n)(»i^2nX>w— 3w)(ot— 4w)  t&Woa  of  the  theorem. 

1.2.3.4.5««  a3 

^(tc_  Ex.  1.  It  is  required  to  express    .,    ,  -r-  by  an  infi- 

And  here  the  law,  according  to  which  the  coefficients  nite  series. 

A,  B,  C,  &c.  are  formed  from  the  numbers  m  and  n,  is 

sufficiently  obvious.  Because  -^=— — ,  therefore      " 


320.  We  have  therefore 


X  , 

and  hence,  subetituting  -  instead  of  a:  in  the  aeries,  and  Comparing  now  the  proposed  fraction  thus  transform- 

"  ^  ed  with  the  general  formula,  (§  320.)  we  have  a=l, 

unultiplying  the  whole  by  o»,  (§  318.)  we  have  x=-,  »i=— 3,  w=:l ;  and  therefore  making  the  proper 


m  2==    ,  «,(,»-«)  !!^'  .  substitutions. 


(o+a:)'t=a''^ — a  »  Jr4--,     „  „-a       * 
'  n  1  .  2«2 


1  •    2  •    3n»"       *^  (o+*'l3~'i,     3?  ,  6s3     lOs^  ,  I5s< 


^  1   •    2     •     3     •     4n«  ^'  ^*'- 


(a+*)3-ij_3£  ,6£ 
^       o      a 


3^  .  3.4«»     3.4.523 


,„..,.,.       ....  Ex.  2.  It  is  required  to  express  v/(a^+^')  by  an  i»- 

and  this  IS  the  binomial  theorem.  finite  series.  V^     "rjf  y    j' 

321.  In  the  foregoing  investigation,  we  have  suppos-  ^       mj  » 

m  ..  Because  a3+u»=a»(l+'^),    therefore  A/(a'+y') 

ed  tWe exponent  —  to  be  a  positive  quantity.    The  theo-  ^       a"'' 

rem,  however,  is  equally  true,  whether  the  exponent  be  ^^\/\  ^"^"Ty^'^V  ^"''"a  /  •     Now,  by  the  first  for- 
positive  or  negative.     For  changing +m  into — m,  and  a 

observing,  tliat  «-"'-.-".=l— l^ifulf!:,    ,ve    have  """"^  "^  ?  ^20,  we  have,  (observing  that  x^^-,  m^h 

M  =  "    1 
}/~l>" iT^  ]  M™ I!'"  "'' 

— ;; — r-~ ;r-^>^-^; -;  and,  as  when  «=»,  the  /iicV'x*    ,,!.»/'       M^/*     ,    M-3t/«     ,     , 

««_,;».  OT««-'  ^       a"/  2a2     l-2-2=a*     l-2JZa» 

expression  ^^;;::^;r  becomes    ^^^^„_,  ,  as  lias  been  shown  And  multiplying  this  series  by  a,  we  liave  ^(/i^+y^) 

in   the  investigation   of   tlie    tlieorem ;    therefore,    ia  *<!"*'  '•' 

the  same  circumstances,  — -^^ X^^^^--^,   becomes  —  ''+5^-2:2^3+2.3-2^a*     2-3-4-2'rt'+'  ^'"^ 

1       iTm""-'    — mu~^~^  Here  the  law,  according  to  which  the  coefficients  are 

^^^'mT^'"^'    nu"-'  '  •  ^'^  ^*  "**"  substitute  this  last  formed,  is  obvious. 

_      .-,    •     ,     1    ,»»"'"""'.     .,  .  .  .  Ex.  3.     It  is  required  to  devclope  the  imaginary  ex- 

iquantity  instead  of  — ^,  m  the  general  investigation,  ^      i.  6       /    * 

_^_,    ""  pressions  (a+6v^—l)'  and  (fl—*v^— 1)1  into  infinite 

we  get      ^",_|  ■■=^A+2Bj:+3Cj:^  +4Dx3+,  &c.  and  ««"^''- 

from  this  equation,  and  the  series  originally  assumed.  First,  we  put  (a+ft^^ — 1)^  under  this  form -^-0^(14. 

we  eet  a  result  the  same  as  in  last  Section,  only  hav-  J  1  'hi 

ing  —m  instead  of  m,  from  which  we  conclude  the  a^~^y  '  we  now  expand  (l+-v^—l)'  into  a  series, 

theorem  to  be  true,  whether  -  be  positive  or  neea-  *»y  the  first  formula  of  §  320,  considering  that  »^=l,n=3, 

»  °  b  b'  b^ 

tiye.  a:=-^— 1 ;  and  hence,  that  x^= -,  x'= ;^/— 1, 

3^2.  If  we  suppose  m  lobe  any  whole  positive  num-  ^,4-4.^   ,5-4.^  y_i    x.==_i°    all  which  follow 

her,  and  n=l,  the  theorem  becoiaes  *  ~^a*'  '  -^a>^    *'  ' a"'  *"  ^*"'^"  '^"°'^' 


4-54 


ALGEBRA. 


from  the  rule  given  in  §  194,  for  Oie  multiplication  of 
imaginary  expressions. 
Thus  we  have 

1.2-5fc3     _-     1-2-5-8    M         ^^ 
~3-6-9  a3^~''~3-6-9-12  a«  ^' 
•This  series  is  made  up  of  two  kinds  of  terms,  one  mul- 
tiplied by  the  imaginary  expression  -\ 1,  and  the  other 

entirely  free  from  it.     We  therefore  separate  the  two 

classes  of  terms,  and  multiply  the  whole  by  a',  and 
thus  get  (a+iy— 1)^  expressed  by 
1_;2  6^ 1-2-5-8    b*_ 

''■■'^'^3-fia'     3-6-9-12  a« 

J. 


Therefore,  subetilttting  these  values  in  the  second  cqiia* 
tion,  it  becomes 


^     \3a     3-6-9o»     '  ^^ 


3-6-9  o» 
In  the  very  same  way,  we  may  find  the  series  which 

constitutes  the  dev elopement  of  (a — b^/ — 1)^,  and  it 
will  be  found,  that  if  P  be  put  for  the  first  part  of  the 

above  expression  for  (a+Jy—l)'"  and  Q  for  its  second 

part,  exclusive  of  the  factor  v'— 1,  so  that  (a+b^—iy 

-=P,+Qv/— 1'  then  will  (a— 6v/l)W— Q-/— 1- 


1 
a 


2ft' — <z«        .Ift' — 5abc+a-d 


■z*+,  &c. 


0/  the  Reversion  of  Scries. 

324.  Let  X  and  i/  be  two  indeterminate  quantities,  and 
let  the  value  of  y  be  expressed  by  a  series  composed  of 
the  powers  of  x,  thus : 

tf,::m+ax+bx'+cx'+dx*+,  &c. 
where  a,  b,  c,  &c.  denote  given  quantities;  then  to  re- 
vert the  series  is  to  express  the  value  of  a:  by  a  series 
containing  only  y  and  the  known  quantities  a,  b,  c,  &c. 
This  may  be  done  by  employing  the  method  of  indeter- 
minate coefficients,  as  follows : 

Transpose  n,  and  put «/ — n=z,  then  the  equation  be- 
comes 

s^ax+bx'-i-cx^+dx*+,  &c. 
Now,  as  when  3^=0,  then  s=0,  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  x 
ivill  be  expressed  by  a  series  of  this  form  : 

x=.\z+Bs'+Cs^+Bs*+,  &c. 
•where  A,  B,  C,  &c,  denote  quantities  which  are  inde- 
pendent of  g.  To  determine  these  quantities,  we  sub- 
stitute instead  of  x  and  its  powers  in  the  first  equation, 
their  values  as  found,  by  involution,  from  the  second 
equation,  and  bring  all  the  terms  to  one  side,  and  thus 
obtain  the  following  result : 

— s=—z 

ax  ^aAs+oBz'+aCz'        +    aDz*+,  &c." 

bx'=       +bA''s*+2bABz' +2bACs*+,&:c. 

+     6B'^•-t-,&c.  V=0 
cx'=  -fcA's'     -f3cA»B2«+,&c. 

dx*=  +  dA*x*+,&c.. 

Ix. 
Hence,  pulling  the  coefficients  of  like  powers  of  S=0, 
we  have  the  following  series  of  equations 

rtA— 1=0,  oB+fcA==0,  fflC-f  *2feAB-|-cA'=0,  aD 
+  26AC-{-6B2+3cA2B+rfA'=0;  from  which  we  find 

aJL,  b=1,  c=?^^. 


325.  If  the  relation  between  two  quantities  x  and  y 
is  expressed  by  such  an  equation  as  the  following : 

ax+bx^+cx'+,  &c.=a'y+b'y'>+cY+,  &c. 
Then,  by  a  process,  in  all  respects  similar  to  the  above, 
we  may  find  the  value  of  x  in  terms  of  y ;  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  value  of  y  in  terms  of  x. 

Sect.  XIX.  Of  Logarithms  and  Exponential  Quantities. 

326.  In  treating  of  logarithms,  we  shall  deduce  their 
theory  from  a  very  simple  and  evident  property  of  num- 
bers, namely,  That  any  positive  number  (unity  except- 
ed) being  given,  some  power,  integral  or  fractional  of 
that  number,  may  be  found  which  shall  either  be  exactly 
equal  to  any  proposed  number,  or  at  least  shall  differ 
from  it  by  a  quantity  as  small  as  we  please. 

327.  If  the  given  number  be  but  a  little  greater  than 
unity,  as  for  example,  if  it  be  1-000001,  then  since  its 
powers  will  form  an  increasing  geometrical  series,  any 
two  successive  terms  of  which  are  to  one  another  in  the 
ratio  of  1  to  1.000001 ;  if  we  put  P  for  any  one  of  its 
terms,  and  Q  for  the  following  term,  we  shall  have 


-;  that  is,  each  term  ex- 


_.        5ft' — ^abc+a'd    , 
D= ,  &c. 


Q=i.oooooixP=P-f-j35533^ 

ceeds  the  term  before  it  by  its  millionth  part.  So  that 
the  series  being  continued,  one  or  other  of  its  terms  will 
be  nearly  equal  to  any  assigned  number  that  is  not  very 
great.  It  is  evident  that,  by  supposing  the  given  number 
still  nearer  to  unity,  each  term  of  the  series  formed  by 
its  successive  powers  will  exceed  the  term  before  it  by 
a  proportionally  smaller  part  of  that  term ;  and  conse- 
quently some  power  or  other  of  the  number  may  be 
found  that  shall  differ  less  from  any  assigned  number 
than  it  would,  according  to  the  former  hypothesis.  And 
the  difference  may  be  as  small  as  we  please. 

328.  If  again  the  number  is  not  nearly  equal  to  unity, 
as  for  example,  if  it  be  2,  then,  extracting  by  a  suitable 
method  its  100000th root,  theresult  will  be  1-OO00OG931 5 

nearly,  that  is,  2T'fif'°^«=l'000006931 5  nearly;  now  as 
the  158496th  power  of  this  last  number  may  be  shown 

to  be  very  nearly  equal  to  3,  it  follows  that  3=2^"°^* 
nearly.  In  like  manner,  because  the  number  1  -00000693 1 5 
when  raised  to  the  2321 93d  power,  will  be  nearly  equal 

to  5,  it  fellows  that  5=2^°*»«^  nearly.  In  this  way  all 
numbers  whatever  may  be  expressed,  if  not  exactly  by 
integral,  at  least  nearly  by  fractional  powers  of  2,  as  io 
the  following  short  Table,  which  contains  the  first  te» 
numbers, 

l^2«  g — 2T°»°«» 

3_2HHii  8=2 » 

4—2  a  9— ;2'»*'^* 

5_2^IHl5  10=2^^"*^       ' 

329.  In  like  manner  it  will  appear,  that  all  numbcrt 
may  be  expressed  nearly  by  the  i»owers  of  10.     Thrfi* 


ALGEBRA. 


46S 


9=10-95434 

10=10'. 


We  may  therefore  infer  that  all  positive  numbers 
whatever  may  be  reearded  as  powers  of  any  given  posi- 
tive number,  or  at  least  such  powers  of  it  may  be  found 
as  shall  differ  from  them  by  quantities  less  than  any 
which  can  be  assigned. 

330.  Let  the  given  number,  whose  powers  are  to  ex- 
press all  other  numbers  be  denoted  by  a,  and  let  x  denote 
an  indefinite  number,  and^  the  power  of  a,  which  is 
equal,  or  nearly  equal  to  x,  so  that  x^^an;  then  the 
niiinber  1/  is  what  is  called  the  logarithm  of  x.  So  that 
the  logarithm  of  a  number  is  the  power  to  which  tome 
/riven  number  must  be  raised  to  produce  that  number. 
From  this  definition  we  may  readily  deduce  the  proper- 
ties of  logarithms,  which  render  them  of  use  in  calcula- 
tion as  follows. 

331 .  Let  X  and  x'  denote  any  two  numbers,  and  y  and 
>/  their  logarithms ;  then  because  a:=a»  and  x'^=a!i',  by 
taking  the  product  of  these  equations,  xj.'=a^Xa'ii=: 
«s'*'.  But  like  as  y  and  i/'  are  the  logarithms  of  «r  and 
■x',  EC  by  the  definition,  y-\-y'  is  the  logarithm  of  xx'. 
Hence  it  appears  tliai  the  logarithm  of  the  product  of 
two  numbers  is  equal  to  the  supi  of  the  logarithms  of  those 
numbers. 

332.  Again,  dividing  the  sidesof  the  equation  ar=a,  by 

the  corresponding  sides  of  the  equation  x'=af'  we  get 

r     a*      J-» 

-,——y=a     .     But  agreeably  to  the  above  definition 

x'    ai' 

X 

y — y'  is  the  logarithm  of  -,  therefore  the  logarithm  of 

the  quotient  arising  from  the  division  of  one  number  by 
anotlur,  is  equal  to  tlie  excess  of  the  logarithm  of  the 
dividend  above  that  of  the  divisenr. 

333.  Let  n  denote  any  number  whole  or  fractional, 
then  raising  both  sides  of  the  equation  x=a!>  to  the  nth 
(lower,  we  get  xt=o'W.  Thus  it  appears  that  y  being 
the  logarithm  of  x,  ny  is  the  logarithm  of  Xn.  There- 
fore the  logarithm  of  any  power  of  a  munhtr  is  the  product 
of  tiie  logarithm  of  the  number  by  the  exponent  of  the 
power,  and  this  is  true  whether  the  power  be  integral  or 
fractional. 

334.  From  these  properties  of  logarithms  it  is  easy 
to  see  how  they  beco:ne  useful  in  abbreviating  calcula- 
tions. For  if  in  the  equation  x==x')  wc  suppose  x  to 
become  successively  equal  to  1 ,  2,  3,  <tc.  to  a  certain 
extent,  as  for  example  to  100000,  and  calculate  the  va. 
lues  of  y  that  satisfy  tlie  equations  ^—a!l,  2=a^,  .3=aj, 
Ac.  and  arrange  the  corresponding  values  of  x  and  y 
opposite  to  one  another  in  the  form  of  a  table,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  product  of  any  two  numbers  will  stand  in 
the  column  of  numbers  opposite  to  that  logarithm  wliich 
is  equal  to  the  sum  of  their  logarithms,  and  the  quotient 
ef  one  number  divided  by  another  will  stand  opposite  to 
the  logarithm  which  is  equal  to  the  excess  of  the  loga- 
rithm of  the  dividend  above  that  of  the  divisor.  Thus, 
as  often  as  it  is  required  to  find  the  product  of  two  or 
more  numbers,  we  have  only  to  take  the  sum  of  their 
logarithms,  and  opjiosite  to  that  logarithm  in  the  table 
which  is  equal  to  the  sum,  we  shall  find  in  the  column 
of  numbers  the  product  required.  By  the  same  process, 
only  using  subtraction  in£tea«l  of  additioB,  we  caq  find 


the  quotient  arising  from  the  division  of  one  number 
by  another;  and  similar  simplifications  take  place  in  the 
still  more  laborious  operations  of  involution  and  evolu- 
tion. 

335.  The  logarithms  of  all  numbers  within  certain 
limits,  when  calculated  and  arranged  in  this  manner,  in 
a  table,  constitute  a  systetn  of  logarithms.  And  it  is  evi- 
dent that  there  may  be  innumerable  different  systems, 
seeing  that  each  depends  entirely  upon  the  value  of  the 
number  a,  which  is  called  the  basis  or  radical  number  of 
the  system,  and  which  may  be  any  positive  namber 
whatever,  unity  excepted, 

336.  Because  log.  a:j:'=Iog.  x-\-  log.  »',  if  we  sup- 
pose a',  one  of  the  factors,  to  be  unity,  we  get  log.  x 
=log.  ar-flog.  1 ;  therefore  O=log.  1.  Thus  it  appears, 
that  in  every  system  the  logarithm  of  unity  is  0.  The  same 
conclusion  may  also  be  drawn  from  the  equation  x=a3' ; 
for  y  being  conceived  continually  diminished,  x  ap- 
proaches to  unity,  and  may  be  considered  as  =1  when 
y  has  become  less  than  any  assignable  quantity. 

Again,  in  the  equation  x=ay,  if  we  suppose  x=a  so 
that  a=a3',  then  y  must  be  unity.  Therefore  /«  every 
system  the  logarithm  of  tlic  basis  is  an  unit. 

337.  Supposing  a  to  be  a  positive  number  greater  than 
unity,  if  x  he  positive  and  greater  than  unity,  it  will  re- 
sult from  the  equation  x=a»  that  y  must  be  positive  ; 
for  if  it  be  possible  that^  can  be  negative,  let  it  be  = — n, 

then  we  have  x=a~"= — ;    thus  x  will  be  equal  to  a 

proper  fraction,  while  at  the  same  time  it  is  greater 
than  unity,  which  is  impossible.  Therefore  y  cannot 
be  negative. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  x  be  a  proper  fraction,  then  y 
must  be  negative ;  for  if  it  were  positive,  an,  and  con- 
sequently X,  would  be  greater  than  unify,  while  by  hy- 
pothesis it  is  less,  which  is  absurd.  Therefore,  in  evert' 
system  of  logarithms,  the  basisofivhich  is  a  number  greater 
than  unity,  the  logarithm  of  a  whole  or  mixt  number  is 
positive,  but  the  logarithm  of  a  proper  fraction  is  nega- 
tive. 

338.  Let  X  and  x'  as  before  denote  any  two  numbers, 
and  v  and  y'  their  logarithms.  Then  because  x=a.'', 
and  x'=a)i',  from  the  first  equation  we  get  i:i'=aJ5',  and 

from  the  second  x'»=wis',  therefore  Xy'=x'y  and  x=x'-. 
Now  as  this  equation  is  entirely  independent  of  a,  the 
basis  of  the  system,  if  we  suppose  x  and  x'  to  be  two 

given  numbers,   it  is  manifest  that-,  will  be  a  given 

quantity,  for  it  will  depend  entirely  on  the  values  of  x 
and  ar',  thus  i/  will  be  toy'  in  a  given  ratio.  Hence  it 
appears,  that  the  logarithms  of  two  given  numbers  have 
always  the  same  ratio  to  one  another  in  any  systtm  of 
logarithms  wJuUever. 

339.  Next,  to  find  the  relation  that  subsists  between 
the  logarithms  of  the  same  number  in  two  ditfereitt  sys- 
tems, let  the  basis  of  the  one  be  a,  and  that  of  the  other 
a',  and  let  y  and  y  denote  the  logarithms  of  the  number 
X  in  the  two  systems.     Then  we  have  x=a?,  and  x= 

-  »: 

a's',  therefore  as^a's',  and  ct=a" ,  and  log.  ffl=log.  (a',,) 
the  logarithms  of  the  quantities  a  and  a'''  being  taken 
according  to  any  system  whatever;  but  log.V^a'*  y==»/ 


ALGEBRA. 


k  log.  a',  (5  333,)  therefore  log. 


Xlog.    a',    and 
^  Thus 


hence  y  :  y  :  :  los.  a'  :  log.  a  :  :  j^^  :  :  ,^^  ^,. 

it  appears,  that  lite  logarithms  of  the  same  number  in  two 
different  systnns  arc  to  one  another  as  the  reciprocals  of  the 
logarithms  of  llie  ratKcal  numbers  of  those  systems,  these 
letter  logarithms  being  taken  according  to  any  system 
tvkatever. 

340.  Having  now  shown  what  are  the  general  proper- 
ties of  losarithms  in  all  systems  whatever,  we  proceed 
to  investigate  rules  for  calcuhtting  the  logarithms  of 
nnmbers,  the  system  being  supposed  given.  This  in- 
quiry leads  us  (o  the  resolution  of  the  equation  x=a  , 
in  which  x  the  number,  and  a  the  l>asis  of  the  system, 
fire  to  be  considered  as  known  quantities,  and  y  the 
logarithm  of  r  as  the  unknown  quantity.  Now  thi« 
equation  is  of  a  different  form  from  any  we  have  yet  had 
occasion  to  consider,  for  here  tlie  unknown  quantity  is 
the  exponent  of  a  power.  On  account  of  this  peculiarity, 
the  equation  r=a-''  (where  y  is  supposed  unknown),  and 
others  of  a  like  nature,  as  they  are  not  subject  to  the 
rules  of  arrangement  which  apply  to  the  equations  of 
the  first,  second,  and  higher  orders,  the  exponents  of 
which  are  all  known  quantities,  so  they  constitute  a  dis- 
tinct class,  denominated  Exponential  Eqitations.  The 
equation  we  are  about  to  resoive  has  the  most  simple 
form  of  any  of  this  class;  and  a  table  of  logarithms  be- 
ing once  constructed,  all  similar  equations  may  be  rea- 
dily rtsolved  by  means  of  that  table,  as  we  shall  in  the 
sequel  more  particularly  explain. 

341.  In  investigating  the  values  of  x  and  ?/  from  one 
another,  we  shall  employ  the  niethotl  of  indeterminate 
coefficients  (Sect.  XVIII.)  However,  before  we  seek 
tlie  value  of  y  in  terms  of  x,  it  will  be  proper  to  sub- 
stitute l-J-rfor  X,  80  that  the  equation  x=a!' may  be- 
come l-l-t)=ay.  By  this  transformation  the  indeter- 
minate quantities  v  and  y  contained  in  the  equation  are 
both  =0  at  the  same  time,  for  when  y=0  then  x=} , 
(§  336,)  and  therefore  r=x — 1=0.     We  now  assume 

y  or  log.  (l+i)>=AK-f  Bi)»-fCo»-|-Di;«-t-E»s-f  &c. 

Here  A,  B,  C,  D,  &c.  denote  quantities  entirely  in- 
dependent of  V,  and  which  will  of  course  contain  only  a 
the  base  of  the  system,  and  determinate  numbers.  And 
in  this  assumed  equation,  it  is  evident  that  when  w=0, 
that  is,  when  x=l,  then  t/=0  as  it  ought.  Let  us  now 
suppose  that  l-f-s  is  some  other  value  of  x  different 
from  the  former,  then  similarly  we  have 

log.  {]+s}=A3+hs''+Cs'+'Dz*+Es'+&c. 

We  now  subtract  the  latter  equation  from  the  former, 
and  the  result  is 
log.  (1 -!-»)  — log.  (\+x)  =  A{v—s)  -fB(»»— xr»)+c 

(»3_g3)+n(j?l— S*)-fE(K5— 55)-t-&c. 

But  from  the  nature  of  logarithms  (§  332.)  log.  (I+p) 


— log.  (14-*>=log. 

l-}-p 

1+* 


=14 


V — X 


)  ,  B(V-S!)' 

\+z   '^  (\+s)<>  "^  (l-f*;" 


-&c. 


This  last  series  must  be  identical  with  the  series  we 
have  already  obtained  for  log.  (  l-rrr-  )  ''^• 

A(»— r)+B(r2— s=)+C(»'— c')+D(»«— 2*)+Arc. 

And  as  the  terms  of  both  are  divisible  by  v — s  (§31 7.) 
by  taking  out  the  common  factor  we  get 

1+5^(1+-')'  ^  i\+^)'  ^  (1+^/  -1-*^«=-— ''■-f-*^ 

(i-+s)4-C(»''-f»^+s=)+D(i;'-fD2s+rs»+23)4-&c. 

Now  as  these  two  expressions  must  be  equal,  what- 
ever be  the  values  of  v  and  z,  that  equality  must  sub- 
sist even  when  t>=2.  But  by  this  hypothesis  all  the 
terms  of  the  one  series,  except  the  first,  vanbh,  and  we 
have  simply 

-4-=A-f2Bp-f3Cir»-f4D»'+5Ep*+&c. 

which  equation  by  multiplying  both  sides  by  l-f-»,  and 
bringing  all  the  terms  to  one  side,  &c.  becomes 

A+2B  }    _-f3C  }  ..3-f4D 


2B  )        .  -  -  .     - 
-A-f  A  S    "+28  S  "  +3C 


\- 


'4-«&c.=o 


A_ 
3 


Hence  (by  §  314.)  we  have 

A —  A=0,  and  A=A 

2B-f-  A=0 

3C+2B=:0 

4D-f3C=0 

5E+-4D=:0 
&c. 
Thus  we  find 


B= 
C= 


4 


v> 


»/=log.  (l+t')=:A  I  w— _-f  _-!-_— _4-&c. 
Or,  substituting  x  for  1 — v  and  x — 1  for  v. 


y=  log.  »=:A  \ 


x—\- 


(x— 1)»  ,  {x—\Y 


{x-Vf 


-&c.  \  . 


342.  It  yet  remains  to  determine  A ;  but  this  may  be 
done  by  considering,  that  wheny==l,  then  x==a,  there- 
fore, substituting  these  corresponding  values  of  x  and  «/ 
in  the  last  equation,  it  becomes 


1=A  j  a— 1 
and  hence 
A=— 


-&c. 


1 


y-pj=  log.  {^l+—J     (^ because 

rq— . )     And  again,  from  the  assumption  of 

log.  (l-f-«')=A»-fBi;*+0»'+&c.    we  must  have,   in 
like  manner, 

log.  (i-f.!:-g-^-A(i>-»)  ,  Wv-x)^  .  C(tv-r)» 


-1- 


(a— lj»     (a— 1)' 


(f!z:l)r+&c. 

4 


2  3 

and  consequently 

(^-^y     (^.^^y    (^1) 


x—l- 


+&C. 


log. 


"«_,_(fzd)V(£=2rZ(^Ji+&c. 

2  3  4 


and  this  is  a  general  expression  for  the  logarithm  of  a 
number  in  any  system  whatever. 

343,  Ab  a,  the  baeis  of  the  sj'stem,  may  be  any  num- 


ALGEBRA. 


467 


It^r,  it  will  erldently  be  possible  to  give  it  such  a  value, 
that  the  series  in  the  denominator  of  the  above  expres- 


sion, viz.  a — 1- 


(o-l)'     (a-1) 


+^ 


■  &c.  shall  be  equal 


2        •        3 

to  unity.  We  shall  in  the  course  of  this  Section,  find 
w  hat  this  value  is ;  at  present  it  is  sufficient  that  its 
6  xisteuce  be  admitted.  The  system  which  will  result 
from  this  hypothesis  is  that  which  was  originally  pro- 
duced by  lord  Napier,  the  illustrious  inventor  of  loga- 
rithms. (See  Logarithms.)  The  logarithms  of  this 
system  have  been  denominated  hyperbolic,  because  they 
serve  to  express  the  areas  of  certain  spaces  bounded 
on  one  side  by  an  equilateral  hyperbola.  But  this 
property  is  now  known  to  belong  to  logarithms  of  every 
system,  and  therefore  the  appellation  seems  to  be  im- 
proper. We  shall,  after  the  example  of  some  foreign 
writers  of  eminence,  call  them  Napieretm  logarithms. 
Accordingly  we  have  Nap.  log. 


r^=X—\' 


(:r--!)=  ,  Cx-1)»     (f-l) '    ,   Cf-1) 


t 


+ 


3 


+  ' 


>&C. 


logarithm,  viz.  a — i — ^ — — -  -i-- — — i-— &c.  is  maai- 
2  3 

festly  the  Napierean  logarithm  of  a,  the  base  of  the  sys- 
tem, we  have  in  any  system  whatever 

Nap.  log.  a     \  2  3  S 


log.  x= 


The  constant  multiplier  -, 


1 


-,       ; •  is  an  important 

Nap.  log.  a  "^ 

element  in  every  system,  and  it  has  been  called  by  wri- 
ters on  this  subject  the  modulus  of  the  system.  FroM 
the  assumption  we  have  made,  it  follows,  that  the  modu- 
his  of  the  Napierean  system  is  unity. 

344.  The  series  we  have  just  now  found  can  only  be 
applied  to  the  calculation  of  the  logarithms  of  numbers 
which  are  but  a  little  greater  than  unity,  because  whea 
a;  is  a  large  number,  the  series  diverges,  that  is,  each 
term  is  greater  than  the  term  before  it,  in  which  caie 
it  is  useless.     But  another  which  shall  always  converge 

may  be  investigated  as  follows.     Put  M  for  r; : , 

Nap.  log.  « 


And  33  the  denominator  of  the  general  expression  for  a     the  modulus  of  the  system  ;  then  because 
log.  .r^M  I  x—l — i— -— ^  -F'-—    ■< i — -^  +&C.  I 


by  substituting  -  in  this  equation  instead  of  x,  we  find 


ios.I=_mJ 


x-.\    rx-.^y  ,(x--\y  j_  {'-^y 


But  log.  -=log.  1 — log.  x= 


log. 


2j3 
log.  X,  therefore 


3l3 


4x* 


-See. 


=M 


x-i    (x-.\y(x. 


•iI'+(5- 


■^y 


c  Ux"  Zx^       '       4x* 

This  series  will  always  converge,  whatever  be  the  value  of  x. 


+&C.  i 


345.  There  is  yet  another  series  still  better  suited  to 
the  calculation  of  logarilhms  than  either  of  the  former, 
which  may  be  investigated  thus.  Because  it  has  been 
shown  (§  341.)  (hat 


log.  (]-|-i;)=m(i'- 


-&c.) 


2   '    3       4       5 
by  substituting  — v  instead  of  -j-f,  we  have 

log.  (l_«)=M(_t.-^£l_^^_l^&c.) 

therefore,  subtracting  (he  latter  equation  from  the  for- 
mer, and  observing  that  log.  (l+v) — log.  (1— w)=log. 

\+v 

J—,  we  get 


log. 


=M(2i;-f 


o         7 


+&C.) 


Putting  now  the  single  letter  ar  for  the  fraction 


l—v 


x—l 

%-l-l' 


from   which   we   get  x — xv=l-{-v,    and 

find,    after  making  these  substitutions  in  the  series, 
that 

2(r— 1)  ^2(x—iy  j_ 2(r— 1)' 

13 


log.  x=M 


P, 


+&C. 


x+l      '  3(r-f  1)'  '  .'-(.r+l)" 
340.  In  considering  different  systems  of  logarithms, 
lord  Napier's  is  evidently  the  most  simple  in  respect  of 
facility  of  construction,  because  its  mwlulus  is  unity. 
Vol.  I.    Part  11 


The  radical  number  of  this  system  is  2.7182818,  as  wc 
shall  have  occasion  to  show  in  the  course  of  this  Sec- 
tion. However,  soon  after  the  discovery  of  logarithms 
it  was  observed,  that  a  system  in  which  the  radical  num- 
ber should  be  the  same  as  the  root  of  the  common  scale 
of  notation,  namely,  the  number  10,  would  be  much  bet- 
ter adapted  to  the  ordinary  purposes  of  calculation.  And 
aocordingly  such  a  system  was  actually  formed  by  Hen- 
ry Briggs,  (see  Logarithms),  and  is  the  only  one  now 
in  common  use.  Its  logarithms  are  generally  called 
common  logarithms. 

347.  We  shall  now  give  a  few  examples  of  the  appli- 
cation of  the  foregoing  formulas  to  the  actual  calculatioa 
of  logarithms. 

Ex.  1.  Required  the  Napierean  logarithm  of  the 
number  2. 

Here,  employing  the  formula 

■1)^     2(r— 1)' 

3(x-fl)=''^5(*-M)s 

r 1         1 

we  have  M=l,  i 


log. 


=M 


2(r— 1)     2(.t 
x-f-1         ' 


+<l-c.  I 


-1 


Therefore 


log.  2=2 


Vj    3.3: 


+ 


^+1 


1 


1 


1 


3  •  3.3»    '  5.35   '  7.3-'    '  9.3» 

^A+iB+iC-f-|D-t-^E-f-&c. 

3  M 


-&c.) 


458 


ALGEBRA 


where  A  is  put  for  |,  B  for  J  A,  C  for 
The  calculation  may  stand  thus- 


A=|  =.666606660 
B=^A=.074074074 
C=|b  =.008230433 
D=iC  =.000914495 
E=iD=.000101611 
F=iE=.000011290 
G=^F  =.000001 254 
H=J.G=.000000139 
I  =Ih  =.00000001 5 


A= 

AB= 

i._F= 
Vg. 


iB,  D  for  iC,  &c. 

,666666666 
024691358 
001646091 
000130642 
000011290 
000001026 
,000000096 
,000000009 
000000001 


Nap.  log.  2  =  .603147179 
Or,  retaining  only  eight  figures, 

Nap.  log.  2  =.69314718 

Having  obtained  the  log.  of  2.  we  can  readily  find  the 
logarithms  of  4,  8,  and  in  general  of  any  power  of  2 ; 
for,  from  the  nature  of  logarithms,  because  4=2', 
therefore  log.  4=2  X  log.  2;  and  in  like  manner  log.  8 
t=3Xlog.  2,  &c. 

Ex.  2.  Required  the  Napierean  logarithm  of  5. 

By  employing  the  same  formula  as  before,  because 


x=5,  and 


-1    2 


we  have 


H.-tJ|+l(i)-+l(|)'+I©V-..| 

Hence,  proceeding  exactly  as  in  last  example,  by  tak- 
ing the  sum  of  a  sufficient  number  of  terms  of  the  se- 
ries, we  shall  find  Nap.  log.  5=1.609437912. 

348.  The  Napierean  logarithms  of  2  and  5  being 
found,  the  Napierean  logarithm  of  10=2X5  becomes 
known. 

Thus,  to  log.  2         =  .693147179 
Add  log.  5         =1.609437912 


The  sum  is  log.  10     =       2.302585091 
Or,  retaining  eight  figures, 

log.  10  =  2.30258509 

Hence  also  the  modulus  of  the  common  system  of 
logarithms  is  known,  for  (§  343),  it  is  the  recii)rocaI 


1 


of  the  Napierean  logaritlim  of  10,  or  - 

*  '        2.30258509c? 

.434294482. 

349.  We  can  now  easily  find  tlie  c<ymmon  logarithms 
of  the  numbers  2  and  5 ;  for  we  have  only  to  multiply 
their  Napierean  logarithms  already  found  by  the  mo- 
dulus .43429448,  or  divide  them  by  its  reciprocal 
2.30258509,  and  the  products,  or  quotients,  are  the  lo- 
garithms sought. 

Thus,  retaining  only  seven  decimal  places  of  the  pro- 
ducts, we  have 

Com.  Log.  2=  .69314718 X.43429448=.3010300. 
Cam.  Log.  5=1.60043791  X.43429448=.0989700. 
This  last  logarithm,  however,  might  have  been  other- 
wise found,  by  considering,  that  since  5=-—,  therefore 

log.  5=  log.  10—  log.  2=1— .3010300=.6989700. 

350.  Although  the  two  latter  series  we  have  given 
(§  344.  &  5  345.)  for  finding  the  logarithm  of  a  number 
converge  iu  every  case,  j^et  when  the  number  is  large, 
as  for  example  if  it  were  997,  the  rate  of  convergence 
is  too  small  to  admit  of  their  being  of  any  use.  We 
shall  under  the  article  Logarithms,  give  others  free 
from  that  defect;  at  present,  we  shall  show  how  it  may 
be  obviated,  by  deriving  the  logarithms  of  number:* 
from  one  another. 

Let  n  denote  a  number  whose  logarithm  is  known, 
and  n-\-x  another  number  whose  logarithm  is  required, 

then,  because  n-f-a:=nM+-Y   therefore  log.  (n-\-x)~ 

\-\ —  ) . '  Let  us  assume  1  -f— =:; ,  then, 

71/  n    1 — 1> 

resolving   this  equation  in  respect  of  v,  we   find  »= 
But  we  have  found,  that 


2n-\-x 

Therefore,  substituting  in  this  expression  1 H —  for 

^ ,  and  - — ; —  for  v,  we  get 

1 — V  2n+x  *■ 


Log.  (l+^)=2M  j  ^-^^+-^(_|_)V1( -^  y+,  <tc.  I  and  consequently 
Log.  („-^,>=,og.  n+2U  \  ^+l(^y+l(.^')+,  &c.  I 

By  this  formula,  the  logarithm  of  a  number  may  eaei-  Here  >i=2,  x=l ,  therefore  putting  M  for  '43429448, 

,Jy  be  found  from  that  of  the  next  less  number.  we  have 

Example.  Having  given  the  common  logarithm  of  2,  i        3=loff  24-2M/^i-l J t--l I L-i-    Sir  \ 

it  is  required  to  find  the  common  logarithni  of  3.  ^*        ^'    ^*    V  5^3.53*^5.55"^ T.S''"^'        ) 


-TV  JSMas         -'Of  MB*  el  4i^. 


ALGEBRA. 


459 


Tlie  calculallon  may  stand  thus  : 

Log.       2=.3010300U 

r^  =.17371779 
5 


2M 

3.5  » 

2M 

5.55 

2M 

7.5-' 

2M 

9.59" 


=.00231624 


=.00005539 


=.00000159 


=.00000005 


is  large,  the  series,  which  i»  to  be  added  to  the  logarithm 
of  the  next  less  number,  will  converge  still  faster  than 
that  of  the  foregoing  example. 

352.  A  formula,  which  shall  express  the  logarithm  of 
any  number  n  by  means  of  the  two  adjoining  numbers 
« — 1  and  M+1,  may  be  investigated  as  follows. 

Resuming  the  formula 


log.x=2M^^ 


«fec. 


Com.  log.  3       =.47712126 
351.  When  the  number,  whose  logarithm  is  sought, 


get 
and 


Let  us  suppose  x=— — : ,  from  which  assumption  we 

X — 1         1 

2~»— i'  ^^^°>  substituting  these  values  of  a- 


x—\ 
x+\ 


in  the  formula,  it  becomes 


■■»^ra-»Ssii+:-cs5b)'+3(sii)'+.^'i  B.> 


Lost. 


rlOg.T 


-,?i=2log.« — log.(n — 1) — log.(»+l) ;  therefore 


By  this  formula,  having  given  the  logarithms  of  any 
two  of  the  three  numbers  n — 1,  n,  «+l,  the  logarithm 
of  the  other  number  may  be  readily  found. 

333.  The  formulas  here  investigated  are  sufficient  for 
finding  the  logarithms  of  all  numbers  whatever;  but  in 
applying  them  to  the  actual  construction  of  a  table,  there 
are  many  artifices  by  which  the  labour  of  calculation 
may  be  greatly  shortened.  It  is  evidently  only  the  loga- 
rithms of  the  prime  numbers  that  can  occasion  any  dif- 
ficulty ;  for  as  to  the  logarithms  of  such  numbers  as  are 
the  products  of  others,  they  may  be  had  liy  simply  add- 
ing together  the  logaritlims  of  their  factors.  As,  how- 
ever, we  shall  have  occasion  to  recur  to  this  subject 
jmder  the  article  Logarithms,  we  shall  not  enter  fur- 
ther into  it  at  present,  but  proceed  to  investigate  a  se- 
ries which  shall  express  the  number  by  means  of  its 
logarithm  and  the  basis  of  the  system  to  which  the  loga- 
rithm belongs. 

354.  Resuming  the  equation  x=ay,  we  are  now  to 
express  the  value  of  x  or  of  «J'  by  a  series  formed  from 
jy.  Now,  because  when  ,y=0,  then  «»  or  x=l,  it  fol- 
lows, that  if  ffl»  is  expressible  by  a  series  composed  of 
the  integral  powers  of  y,  it  must  have  this  form, 

e»=^\+Ay+By'  +Cy^+Dy>+,  &c. 

where.  A,  B,  C,  &c.  are  quantities  independent  of «/.  In 
like  manner,  a,  being  another  value  of  x,  we  will  have 

a'=\+As+Bz^+Cs'+Bz*+,  &c. 

therefore,  by  subtracting, 

aS—a'=A(y—s)-hB(y^—s"-)+C{y'—s^)+,  &c. 
But  since  o*— a'=— a>(a'-»— 1),  and 

a'-)=l+A{s—y)+Bis—yy+C{s—yy+,  &c. 
it  follows,  that 

a!i—a'=a)>  |  A(y—x)+B(1f—x)f^+C(y~sy+,  &c.  | 

Patting  now  thee   two  values  of  a> — a'  equal  to  one  ano- 


ther, and  dividing  all  their  terms  by  the  common  factor 
^—2,  we  get 

A-f-B  {y+s)+C(y''+ys+s^)  -f  D(i/'-f^»*+^s»-l.,3^ 
-f  &c.=a*|  A+B(2/—z)+C(y—z'')+-D{y—zy+&c.  | 

Now,  as  this  equation  must  subsist  independent  of 
any  particular  values  of  y  and  s,  it  must  be  true  even 
when  y=s ;  in  which  case  it  becomes 

A-J-2Bi/+3Cj/2-»-4Dj/3-f5E3/'+,  &c,=a*A 
=AO+Ay+By'>+Cy^+-Dy*+,  &c.) 

Let  the  coefficients  of  like  powers  of  _y  in  the  two  se- 
ries be  now  put  equal  to  one  another,  and  we  have 

A=A, 

A» 
2B=A»,  B=~ 

A' 

3C=AB,  C=^ 

2.3 


4D=AC,D= 


A' 

2-3-4- 


Therefore 


355.  We  have  yet  to  determine  the  value  of  A  ;  now 
this  may  be  done  as  follows  :  From  the  equation  x=a', 
we  have  found,  (§  353.)  that 

,iy=(x-iy-  i(x-\y+y{x-\)^—,  &c. 

where  n  is  put  for  Nap.  log.  a.     Hence,  reverting  this 
series,  (see  §  324.)  we  get 

(x-\)=,iy+P(nyy+Q{nyy-\-,  &c. 

where  P,  Q,  &c.  denote  coefficients  which  are  indepen- 
dent of  either  x — 1  or  ny,  consequently 

x=l+ny+F(nyy+q{nyy+,  &c. 

By  comparing  the  second  term  of  this  series  with  the 
same  term  of  the  series 

3M2 


460 


AliGEBRA. 


it  appears,  that  A=n=Nap.  log.  a.  Thus  every  thing 
relating  to  the  series  expressing  the  value  of  x  is  de- 
termined. 

356.  If,  in  the  equation 

1 
where  j/  may  have  anyvalue  whatever, we  suppose  i/s=>—, 

it  becomes 


aA=l-t-l- 


1 


1-2  '  1-2-3  '  1-2-3-4 


1 


-+,  &c. 


Thus  it  appears,  that  the  quantity  a'^  is  equal  to  a  con- 
stant number,  which,  by  taking  the  sum  of  a  sufficient 
number  ol"  terms  of  the  series,  will  be  found  to  be 
2.7182818285.     Let  this  number  be  denoted  by  e,  and 

we  have  a'^—e,  and  a=e-'>-.  Now,  if  it  be  considered, 
that,  in  this  equation,  A  is  the  Napiereiin  logarithm  of  a, 
it  will  immediately  appear,  (§  335.)  that  the  number  e 
must  be  the  basis,  or  radical  number  of  Napier's  system 
of  logarithms. 

357.  The  equation  a=«     gives  us  log.a=AXlog.*, 

(§  333.)  the  logarithms  of  a  and  e  being  supposed  to 

.     log.a 
belong  to  any  system  whatever ;  and  hence  A=.— ^-  . 

Th«  series  we  have  found  to  be  equivalent  to  the  expo- 
nential expression  a^,  may  therefore  be  otherwise  ex- 
pressed thus : 

^log.e^^^log.*/  l-2^Vlog.e/   1-2-3  ^'      ^ 
If  we  suppose  «=<;,  then 

These  properties  of  the  number  denoted  by  e,  render  it 
very  remarkable,  and  are  of  great  use  in  many  inquiries 
connected  with  the  higher  branches  of  analysis. 

We  have  remarked,  (§  340.)  that  every  exponential 
equation  of  the  form  a^=n  (where  a  and  n  are  known 
quantities,  and  x,  the  exponent  of  a,  is  unknown,)  may 
be  readily  resolved  by  a  table  of  logarithms.  For, 
from  the  equation  a'=>t,  by  the  nature  of  logarithms, 

. .  log.u 

(§  333.)  we  get  x  X  log.a.=log.n,  and  hence  ^"j^r^. 

where  the  logarithms  may  be  taken  according  to  any 
system  whatever. 

Sect.  XX.  <y  Ceiitinued  Fractions. 

358.  Continued  fractions  naturally  oeenr  as  often  as 
«c  have  occasion  to  expresi  quantities  which  can  only 
be  obtained  by  gucce^sive  approximations.  That  we 
may  explain  their  origin,  let  i',s  suppose  that  we  are  to 
assign  the  value  of  any  given  quantity  a,  which  cannot 
be  exprei!SPd  by  an  intepfir  number;  the  most  simple 
w»y  is  (n  begin  by  leaking  the  whole  number  nearest 
to  the  value  of  a,  and  which  differs  from  it  by  a  fracUoa 
less  than  unity.     Let  this  nambcr  be  «,  rxnd  we  hsi-- 


equal  to  a  fraction  less  than  unity  :  so  that 

a — • 

>vill,  on  the  contrary,  be  greater  than  unity.  Wherefore 

let  =6 ;  and  as  b  must  be  a  number  ereater  than 

unity,  we  may,  in  like  manner,  seek  the  whole  num- 
ber nearest  to  its  value,  and  tins  number  l>eing  called  p, 
we  have  b — ^  equal  to  a  frnctiou  less  thaji  unity,  and 

consequently  j equal  to  a  fraction  greater  than  unity, 

which  we  may  express  by  c.  We  next  seek  the  nearest 
whole  number  to  c,  which  being  denoted  by  y,  we  have 
c — •/  equal  to  a  quantity  less  than  unity,  and  therefore 

equal  to  a  quantity  d  greater  than  unity,  and  so  on. 

€— y 

Proceeding  in  this  manner,  it  is  evident,  that  we  shall 
gradually  exhaust  the  value  of  a,  and  that  in  the  sim- 
plest and  easiest  manner,  since  we  employ  only  whole 
numbers,  each  of  which  approaches  as  nearly  as  possi- 
to  the  values  sought. 


Now,  since  ==b,  we  have  a- 

a — a 


■and 


a=»-\- 


V 


in  like  manner,  because  -, =c,  we  have 

6-/3 


b=,+  -; 


1 


and  because =</,  we  have 

c — y 

and  so  on;    that  by  substituting  successively  lhes« 
values,  we  get 

,  1 


and  in  general 


i8+l 

This  expression  for  the  quantity  a  constitutes  what  is 
called  a  continued  fraction. 

359.  It  is  proper  to  remark,  that  the  numliers  «,  (3,  y, 
&c.  wliich  express  the  approximate  integer  values 
of  a,  h,  c,  &c.  may  each  be  taken  in  tvro  different 
ways,  since  we  may  take  for  the  api)roximale  integer 
viilue  of  a  given  quantity  either  of  the  numbers  be- 
tween which  it  lies.  If  we  sujjpose  the  numbers  next 
legs  to  be  taken,  the  denominators  ^,  y,  S;  &c.  will 
be  ail  positive ;  but  if  wc  take  the  next  greater,  the  de- 
nominators will  be  negative ;  and  if  they  be  taken  some- 
times greater  and  sometimes  less,  the  denominators  wilF 
f>e  partly  positive  and  in  part  negative.     In  what  fol- 


ALGEBRA. 


461 


lows,  we  shall  suppose  them  taken  in  the  first  of  these 
ways. 

360.  If  among  the  quantities  a,  b,  c,  d,  &c.  there  is 
round  one  equal  to  a  whole  number,  then  the  continued 
fraction  will  terminate.  For  example,  if  c  be  a  whole 
number,  then  the  continued  fraction,  which  gives  the 
value  of  a,  will  be 

-+1 

c 
This  case  occurs  as  often  as  the  quantity  a  is  commen- 
surable, that  is,  when  it  can  be  expressed  by  a  rational 
fraction.     When,  however,  a  is  an  irrational  quantity, 
then  the  continued  fraction  goes  on  to  infinity. 

361.  Let  us  suppose,  that  the  quantity  a  is  a  common 

fraction  5-,  A  and  B  being  given  whole  numbers.     In 

the  first  place,  it  is  evident,  that  the  whole  number  «, 

which  is  nearest  to  ^=t-,  is  the  quotient  of  A  divided  by 

B.  Thus,  supposing  the  division  performed  in  the 
common  way,  and  calling  a  the  quotient,  and  C  the 

AC  B 

remainder,  we  have  -^ — *=-5i  tlierefore  6=p:.      Nest, 
B  B  C 

in  order  to  have  /3,  the  approximate  integer  value  of 
the  fraction  j^,  we  have  only  to  divide  B  by  C,  and 

take  the  quotient  of  this  division  for  /3,  then,  calling  the 

D  C 

remainder  D,  we  have  h — li=-^,  and  therefore  c=:— . 

We  next  divide  C  by  D,  and  the  quotient  is  the  num- 
ber y,  and  so  on.  Hence  we  have  the  following  very 
simple  rule  for  reducing  common  fractions  to  continued 
fractions. 

In  the  first  place,  divide  the  numerator  of  the  proposed 
fraction  by  its  denominator,  and  call  the  quotient «,  then 
divide  the  denominator  by  the  remainder,  and  call  the 
quotient  jS ;  after  that,  divide  the  first  remainder  by  the 
second,  and  let  the  quotient  be  y.  Proceed  in  this  man- 
ner, dividing  always  the  last  remainder  but  one  by  the 
last  remainder,  until  a  division  occur  in  which  there  is 
no  remainder,  which  must  at  last  necessarily  happen, 
since  the  remainders  are  integer  numbers,  each  of  which 
is  less  than  the  one  before  it,  we  shall  then  have  the 
continued  fraction. 

(8  +  1 
'/ 


+  1 


equal  to  the  given  fraction, 


1103, 


Example.  Let  it  be  proposed  to  reduce  to  a  con- 

oS7 

finned  fraction.  First,  we  divide  1103  by  887  ;  the  quo- 
tient is  1,  and  remainder  216.  We  now  divide  887  by 
216,  and  get  4  for  a  quotient,  and  23  for  a  remainder. 
Again,  we  divide  21 C  by  23,  and  find  9  for  a  quotient, 
and  9  for  a  remainder ;  and  dividing  23  by  0,  find  2  for 
a  quotient,  and  3  for  a  remainder;  and  dividing  9  by  5, 
tind  one  for  a  quotient,  and  4  for  a  remainder;  and  divid- 
ing 5  by  4,  get  one  for  a  quotient,  and  1  for  a  remainder ; 
lastly,  we  divide  4  by  1 ,  and  find  4  for  a  quotient,  and 
DO  remainder.     Hence  we  fonn  the  coutluued  ixaction 


1  +  1 


362.  We  may  reduce  any  quantity  whaterer  to  the 
form  of  a  continued  fraction  by  the  foregoine  rule,  pro- 
vided we  have  its  value  expressed  in  decimals.  But 
because  the  decimal  value  can  only  be  approximate,  and 
that  by  increasing  the  last  figure  by  unity,  we  have  two 
limits,  between  which  the  true  value  is  contained;  in 
order  not  to  pass  these  limits,  it  will  be  necessary  to  pei- 
form  the  same  calculation  upon  both  the  fractious,  and 
to  admit  into  the  continued  fraction  only  those  quotients 
which  result  equally  from  both  operations.  For  exam- 
ple, let  it  be  proposed  to  express  the  ratio  of  the  circum- 
ference of  a  circle  to  its  diameter,  by  a  continued  frac- 
tion.    The  two  limits  to  the  ratio,  carried  as  far  as  ten 

,  3141.592633       ,3141392054     „ 

figures,  are  , and .    By  nerform- 

_*  1000000000  1000000000     "J"  i"^"""" 

ing  on  these  fractions  the  o|te.rations  indicated  by  the 

rule,  the  first  gives  the  series  of  quotients  3,  7,  13,  1, 

291,  &c. ;  and  the  second  gives  the  series  3,  7,   15,  1, 

292,  &c. ;  therefore,  rejecting  the  last  quotient  from 
each  set  as  doubtful,  we  ha'vw 

Circum. 

5-. —•i-r ' 

7-H 
15+J 

1+,  &C. 

363.  It  is  evident,  that  the  more  terms  we  take  in  of 
a  continued  fraction,  the  nearer  we  approach  to  tlie  true 
value  of  the  quantity  expressed  by  that  fraction  ;  so  that, 
if  we  successively  stop  at  every  term,  we  shall  have  a 
scries  of  quantities  converging  towards  the  projwsed 
quantity.  Thus  having  reduced  the  value  of  a  to  the 
continued  fraction 


+  1 

y+1 

}+,  &C 


we  shall  have  the  quantities 
1 


»,  »+ 


^+\ 


/8        ^+1 


,  &c. 


whicli  form  a  series  of  approximations  to  flic  value  of  a- 
The  same  series,  when  reductid  to  the  form  of  common 
fractions,  will  stand  thus  : 

«^+l 


(«P  +  l)y+a 

/3>  +  l         ' 

(^y+iy+/3 
&c. 

From  these  expresEJons,  it  is  easy  to  eee;  (hat,  if  by 


462 


ALGEBRA. 


means  of  the   numbera,  «,  6,  -/,  l,  lic.  we  forin  the 

following  expressions : 

A=»,  A'=l, 

B=^A+1.        B'=^, 
C=yB+A,        C'=yn'+A' 
U=^C+B,        D'c=J'C'-f  B', 
E=tD+C,       E'=.D'+C', 
&c.  &c. 

we  shall  have  this  series  of  fractions  converging  toward* 

(he  quantity  a : 

A    B    C     D    E    P 


A'  B"  C  D'  E"  F' 


<S:c. 


If  the  quantity  a  is  rational,  and  represented  by  -^, 

it  will  be  always  the  last  term  in  the  preceding  series, 
since,  in  that  case,  the  continued  fraction  will  terminate, 
and  the  last  fraction  must  be  equivalent  to  the  whole 
continued  fraction.  But  if  the  quantity  a  be  irrational, 
80  that  the  continued  fraction  goes  on  to  infinity,  then 
the  scries  of  converging  fractions  will  also  go  on  to  in- 
finity. 

364.  These  convei^ing  fractions  have  several  remark- 
able and  interesting  proj)erties,  which  render  them  of 
considerable  importance  in  analysis.  The  two  follow- 
ing are  among  the  most  useful : 

ABC 

1.  The  converging  fractions  —,,  —7,  r^,&c.arealter- 

A     B    Cf 

nately  less  and  greater  than  the  quantity  a;  and  each  is 
expressed  in  smaller  terms  than  that  which  follows  it. 

2.  Each  converging  fraction  is  nearer  to  the  exact 
value  of  a  than  any  other  fraction  whatever,  in  smaller 
terms. 

By  these  properties  we  can  find  a  series  of  fractious, 
■which  approach  continually  to  the  value  of  any  propos- 
ed one,  and  each  expressed  in  the  least  numbers  possible. 
Thus  putting  n  for  the  number  which  expresses  the 
proportion  of  the  circumference  of  a  circle  to  its  dia- 
meter, and  which  we  have  reduced  to  the  continued 
fraction 

2+1 
7+2 
15+1 

1+,  &c. 

if  we  take  the  two  first  terms  only,  we  have  w=3+ 

1     22 

-=-— .  And  this  is  the  theorem  of  Archimedes.  Again, 

if  we  take  the  first  three  terms,  we  have 

o  .  ,  o  ,    15     333 

»i=3+l         =3-4 = — 

■:,,  100    106 

15 

ivbich  is  nearer  to  the  truth  than  the  fonncr.  And  if  we 
take  the  four  first  terms,  we  have 


355 

''lis 


n==3+l 

7+J_ 

15-12 
1 

which  is  the  proportion  of  Metius,  and  is  raore  exact 
than  either  of  the  preceding. 


365.  Among  couHnued  fraction*,  fliese  Whose lefms.' 
after  a  certain  number  of  periods,  return  exactly  in  the 
same  order,  tleserve  more  particularly  to  be  noticed. 
Such  a  fraction  is  called  periodic,  and  although  the 
number  of  its  terms  be  infinite,  yet  its  value  can  always 
be  easily  assigned.  Let  us  take  for  an  example  the  con- 
tinued fraction 

l+j_ 
2+2 
2+2 

2  +,  &c. 
where  the  denominators  are  all  the  same. 
its  value  x,  we  have  manifestly 

x=l+2  =1+    ^ 

2+1 
+1 


Then  callius 


1+x: 


2  +,  &c. 


Hence  x — 1=- 


I 


-7-;,  and  x»=2,  and  .r=v'-- 
+  1  ^ 


Again,  let  us  suppose,  that 

.r=rl 

a +2 
6+2 

«+2 

b  +,  &c. 

the  denominators  a,  b,  being  supposed  to  alternate  coii 
tinually.     Then  it  is  evident,  that 

b+x 


ar=2 
a-f2 
b+x 


-a{b+x)+l 


Hence  the  value  of  x  is  given  by  the  quadratic  equa- 
tion  ax''+abx=b,    from    which    we    get    x= ^i 

.  /^-i^  H —  J.  Though  the  denominators  did  not  re- 
turn in  the  same  order  till  after  a  greater  interval,  the 
value  of  the  fraction  would  still  be  expressed  by  the 
root  of  a  quadratic  equation ;  and,  conversely,  the  roots 
of  all  quadratic  ecjuations  may  be  expresse<l  by  periodic 
cal  continued  fractions. 

Sect.  XXI.  Jpplication  of  Algebra  to  Gcomttry. 

366.  The  relations  which  subsist  among  quantities  of 
any  kind  whatever,  in  respect  of  their  magnitudes,  may 
always  be  expressed  by  equations.  It  is  in  consequence 
of  this  principle  that  algebra  admits  of  being  applied  to 
various  subjects,  and  in  particular  to  the  different 
branches  of  geometry.  And  the  art  of  ex[)res8ing  by 
equations  the  relations  which  the  quantities  concerned 
in  any  geometrical  inquiry  have  io  one  another,  consti- 
tutes the  application  of  algebra  to  gconutry. 

367.  Algebra  may  be  employed  (frequently  with  much 
advantage)  in  every  branch  of  geometry.  In  the  present 
Section  we  propose  to  show  in  particular  how  it  is  to  be 
applied  to  the  resolution  of  problems ;  and,  in  the  first 
place,  we  shall  premise  some  general  remarks,  obserrt. 
ing,  however,  that  as  it  is  impossible  to  give  general 


ALGEBRA. 


4(53 


rules  wliich  sliall  apjily  lo  every  particular  case,  it  is 
chiefly  by  examples  that  a  facility  of  resolving  geome- 
trical proljlems  is  to  be  acquired. 

308.  Whatever  be  the  nature  of  the  problem  to  be 
resolved,  its  conditions  must  be  carefully  examined  and 
expressed  by  equations,  without  distinguishing  between 
the  known,  or  given  quantities,  and  such  as  are  un- 
known. These  are  then  to  be  treated  according  to  the 
rules  already  delivered  for  the  management  of  equations, 
«o  as  to  bring  out  at  last  a  final  equation  involving  only 
one  unknown  quantity.  And  in  forming  the  equations 
of  the  problem,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  quantities 
to  be  consideretl  in  it  have  certain  original  properties  in 
respect  of  one  another,  which  are  either  known  from 
the  nature  of  quautity  in  general,  or  from  the  elements 
of  geometry.  Some  of  the  most  generally  useful  of 
these  may  be  enumerated  as  follows  : 

1.  A  whole  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  all  its  parts.  There- 
fore, when  we  have  an  algebraic  expression  for  a  whole 
composed  of  several  parts,  and  also  for  each  part,  ex- 
cept one,  the  expression  for  that  part  will  be  obtained 
by  subtracting  the  sum  of  the  values  of  the  remaining 
parts  from  the  value  of  the  whole. 

2.  In  every  proportion  the  product  of  the  two  extremes 
is  equal  to  the  product  of  the  means.  Hence,  if  expres- 
sions for  the  means  and  one  extreme  be  known,  the  other 
will  be  found  by  dividing  the  product  of  the  means  by 
the  known  extreme,  and  taking  the  quotient  for  the  other 
extreme.  Or  if  the  expressions  for  the  extremes,  and 
one  mean  be  known,  the  other  will  Be  found  by  dividing 
the  product  of  the  extremes  by  the  known  mean. 

3.  In  similar  triangles  the  sides  opposite  the  equal 
angles  are  proportional. 

4.  In  a  right-angled  triangle  the  square  of  the  hypo- 
thenuse  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the  sides. 

5.  The  area  of  a  triangle  is  half  the  product  of  the 
base  and  perpendicular. 

6.  lu  evei'y  triangle  the  sides  are  to  one  another  as 
the  sines  of  the  opposite  angles,  fee. 

369.  From  these,  and  other  such  theorems,  the  equa- 
tions of  any  problems  may  be  deduced ;  and  by  com- 
paring together  the  equations  thus  found,  we  may  in 
many  cases  discover  other  theorems  purely  by  calcula- 
tions, without  recurring  to  any  other  geometrical  prin- 
ciples whatever. 

370.  Frequently,  in  order  to  apply  the  preceding  gene- 
ral theorems,  it  will  be  necessary  to  combine  tlie  quan- 
tities given  by  the  conditions  of  the  problem  with  others 
which  depend  on  them,  but  which  do  not  exist  in  the 
figure  as  originally  constructed  to  represent  those  given 
quantities.  To  etfect  this,  new  lines  must  be  drawn, 
ivhich  shall  be  connected  by  known  relations  with  those 
already  exhibited.  Sometimes  lines  must  be  produced 
indefinitelj',  or  to  a  given  distance,  or  until  they  meet 
other  lines.  In  some  cases,  lines  m\ist  he  drawn  from 
particular  points  perpendicular  to,  or  parallel  to  other 
lines;  and,  in  others,  certain  points  must  be  joined.  It 
may  also  be  necessary  sometimes  to  construct  a  new 
figure,  so  as  to  exhibit  more  commodiously  the  elements 
of  the  question  by  means  of  such  theorems  as  seem  beat 
enited  to  that  purpose. 

Thus,  if  two  lines,  which  do  not  meet  each  other, 
make  given  angles  with  a  third  line,  they  may  be  pro- 
duced so  as  to  form  a  triangle,  the  angles  of  which,  and 
therefore  the  ratios  of  its  sides,  will  be  given.  If  an 
angle  be  given,  or  if  it  be  equal  to  another  angle,  a  tri- 
angle may  be  formed  of  a  given  kind,  or  similar  to  an- 


other triangle.  An  oblique-angled  triangle  may  be  re- 
solved into  two  right-angled  triangles,  by  drawing  a  per- 
pendicular from  one  of  its  angles  upon  the  opposite  side. 
Figures  consisting  of  more  than  three  sides  may  be  re- 
solved into  triangles,  by  drawing  diagonals,  &c. 

371.  AVhen,  among  the  different  modes  of  proceeding 
which  may  suggest  themselves,  that  which  seems  likely 
to  give  the  simplest  solution  has  been  chosen,  and  a 
figure  suited  to  it  has  been  constructed,  we  must  pro- 
ceed to  express  the  different  lines,  which  constitute  the 
figure,  by  proper  symbols.  Afterwards  the  known  and 
unknown  quantities  must  be  connected  by  means  of 
equations;  and  this  is  to  be  done,  in  some  cases,  by 
comparing  together  two  values  of  the  same  unknown 
quantity,  which  is  denoted  by  a  particular  letter,  and  in 
others  by  seeking  two  values  of  a  quantity,  which  is  not 
expressed  by  any  letter,  but  which  may  be  deduced 
from  others  denoted  by  particular  characters. 

372.  Sometimes  considerable  address  is  necessary  in 
denominating  the  different  quantities,  so  as  to  resolve  the 
problem  in  the  simplest  manner.  That  skill,  however, 
is  only  to  be  required  by  studying  carefully  the  exam- 
ples delivered  in  the  writings  of  the  best  mathemati- 
cians, and  by  imitating  their  modes  of  proceeding  in  the 
resolution  of  similar  jiroblems. 

373.  Frequently  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  put  par- 
ticular letters  for  quantities,  the  values  of  which  can 
readily  be  obtained  from  others  for  which  expressions 
have  been  already  assumed  or  found.  For  example, 
having  put  letters  to  denote  a  whole  line,  and  one  of  its 
parts,  the  remaining  part  may  be  immediately  obtained 
from  the  others  by  subtraction.  In  like  manner,  having 
assumed  particular  characters  to  denote  the  sides  of  a 
right-angled  triangle,  the  hypothenuse  will  be  expressed 
by  the  square  root  of  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the  sides. 
Sometimes,  however,  it  may  be  convenient  to  express. 
by  particular  letters,  quantities  which  might  have  been 
deduced  from  others,  and  then  to  eliminate  them  after 
having  formed  all  the  equations  which  express  the  con- 
ditions of  the  problem. 

374.  In  the  resolution  of  geometrical  problems,  as  iu 
those  of  pure  algebra,  if  the  final  equation  contain  only 
one  unknown  quantity,  the  problem  is  determinate,  and 
is  of  the  first,  second,  or  higher  degree,  according  as 
the  equation  coutains  the  first,  second,  or  higher  power 
of  that  quantity.  But  if  the  equation  contain  more 
than  one  unknown  quantity,  then  the  problem  is  inde- 
terminate. 

375.  When  a  final  equation  is  obtained,  we  may  seek 
the  geometrical  expression  of  its  unknown  quautity, 
either  in  the  figure  under  consideration,  or  in  a  new 
figure  constructed  on  purpose.  The  process,  by  which 
this  expression  is  found,  is  called  the  cmistruction  of  the 
equation.  Determinate  equations,  of  the  first  and  second 
degrees,  may  be  constructed  by  principles  drawn  from 
the  elements  of  geometry,  as  we  shall  presently  have 
occasion  to  show.  But  the  construction  of  determinate 
equations  of  the  higher  orders,  and  of  indeterminate 
equations,  depends  upon  the  theory  of  curved  lines. 

376.  Problem  I.  In  the  right-angled  triangle  ABC, 
it  is  required  to  draw  a  straight  line  DE,  parallel  to  BC, 
one  of  its  sides,  about  the  right  angle,  meeting  the 
other  side  AB  in  D,  and  the  hypothenuse  in  E,  so  that 
the  square  of  UE  may  be  equal  to  the  rectangle  con- 
tained by  AD  and  BD.  Fig.  1. 

The  triangle  ABC  being  supposed  given,  all  its  parts 
are  to  be  considered  as  known.    But  the  point  D  being 


464 


ALGEBRA. 


unknown,  the  line*  AD,  DB,  are  also  unknown.  If, 
however,  they  be  determined,  it  is  evident,  that  the 
problem  may  be  immediately  resolved. 

Let  the  known  lines  AB,  BC,  be  denoted,  by  a  and  b 
respectively,  »nd  the  unknown  line  AD  by  x  ;  then,  be- 
cause the  line  DB  is  the  difterence  between  the  lines 
AB  and  AD,  which  are  already  denoted  by  the  letters, 
instead  of  denoting  it  by  a  particular  letter,  we  may  ex- 
press it  by  a — x,  and  hence  we  have  AD  X  DB=ir(a — z), 

Now,  whateverbe  the  position  of  D,  the  triangles  ADE, 
ABC,  are  similar;  therefore  AB  :  BC  :  :  AD  :  DE;  or, 

in  symbols,  a:b::x:  DE ;  hence  D&= — ,  and  DE*= 

But  the  problem  requires,  that  DE2=ADXDB; 
therefore  this  condition  will  be  expressed  by  the  equa- 
tion 


h*o 


-=0^- — x^,  or  X- 


a^x 


The  values  of  x  in  this  equation  are 


=0. 


x=Q,     x=- 


The  first  of  these  values  indicates,  that  the  point  D 
may  fall  at  A  ;  and  it  is  manifest,  that  this  positiun  of 
the  point  satisfies  the  condition  of  the  problem ;  for  then 
DE',  and  AD  XDB  are  each=0.  The  second  value  of 
x,  however,  is  properly  that  which  we  seek ;  and  if  the 
values  of  the  lines  a  and  h  be  given  in  numbers,  that  is, 
if  the  number  of  times  that  each  contains  some  deter- 
minate line,  considered  as  unity,  be  known,  then  the  va- 
lue of  X,  or  AD,  will  be  had  in  numbers. 

To  find  the  geometrical  expression  for  x  in  the  for- 

miula  j=-     ,■  .   ,  it  is  evident,  that  we  may  condder  x 

as  a  fourth  proportional  to  a"-]-h'',  a'  and  a;  that  is, 
(because  AC'=AB'>+JiC''==a'>+b')  to  ACS  AB», 
and  AB. 

Now  let  abc  (Fig.  2.)  be  a  right-angled  triangle,  and 
let  he  he  perpendicular  to  the  hypothenuse  ac,  then,  by 
atheoremintheelementsofgeometry,flc»  lab^  ■.-.ac-.at*. 
But  if  ed  be  drawn  perpendicular  to  ab,  we  have  ac : 
ae::ab:ad;  therefore  ac'  :  ab"  ■.-.ab:  ad.  Conceive  now 
the  triangle  aic  to  be  equal  in  all  respects  to  ABC, 
ihen,  as  «c=AC,  and  a&=AB,   it  follows,  that  ad= 

fz^=: — — — =x.  Thus  we  have  only  to  make  AD, 
AC'    a'+b" 

in  Fig.  1,  equal  toarf,  In  Fig.  2,  and  the  point  D  will  be 
determined  as  required.  Or  the  construction,  by  which 
D  is  found,  may  be  made  in  Fig.  1,  alone,  as  is  evident. 

Prob.  II.  It  is  required  to  inscribe  a  square  iu  a 
given  triangle  ABC.  Fig.  3. 

Let  us  suppose  that  DEFG  is  the  square  sought. 
From  A,  the  vertex  of  the  triangle,  draw  AH  perpendi- 
•ular  to  its  base,  meeting  DE,  the  side  of  the  square,  in 
K.  PutBC=a,  AH=6,  AK=*,  then  KH.or  DG=i— -r. 


•  "  By  similar  triangles  abc,  abe, 
ac :  ab  : :  ab  :  ae,  therefore  acX(W=aA" 
Now,  ac:ae::acXac:acXae  {}5.  5.  Eiic). 
That  if,  ac.ae::  ac"  -.  ab'." 


The  lines  BC  and  AH  are  known,  because  tlie  triangle 
is  supposed  given ;  but  AK  and  DE,  any  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  square,  are  utiVnown. 

Because  the  straight  lines  BC,  DE,  are  parallel,  by 
the  elements   of   geometry,    BC  :  DE: :  (AB  :  AD  : :) 

AH  :  AK ;  that  is.  a-.BE-.-.b:  x  ;  hence  DE=^.   But 

b 

the  problem  requires,  that  DE  be  equal  to  DG,  which 

is   expressed   by  b — x,    thus    we   have  the  equation 

-T-=i — X,  and  hence  x^ — r-r. 
b  a-rb 

As  it  appears  from  this  formula,  that  a:  is  a  third  pro- 
porlioua!  to  a-t-6  and  b,  its  p-eometrical  value  may  be 
found  by  the  construction  given  in  the  elements  of 
geometry  for  fiiuiiug  a  third  proportional  to  two  given 
lines. 

In  general,  however,  it  is  more  elegant  to  connect  the 
construction  with  the  figure  which  exhibits  the  data  of 
the  problem.  In  the  present  problem  this  may  be  done 
as  follows  : 

Take  IlL=BC==fr,  and  LM=AH=6.  Join  MA,  and 
draw  LK  parallel  to  AIA,  meeting  AH  in  K ;  then  shall 
K  be  the  point  in  which  DE  ought  to  meet  AH.  For, 
because  of  the  parallels,  we  have  HM  :  ML  : :  HA  : AK  ; 
that  is,  0-1-6  :  6  : :  6  :  AK  ;  thus  it  appears,  that  AK  i« 
of  the  proper  magnitude.  The  point  K  being  found, 
the  remainder  of  the  construction  is  obvious. 

PnoB.  III.  Two  semicircles  ABD,OPD,  which  toucli 
each  other  at  D,  being  given  by  position,  and  the  straight 
line  OB  being  supposed  perjiendicular  to  their  common 
diameter  at  t),  the  extremity  of  the  diameter  of  the  in- 
terior semicircle,  it  is  required  to  describe  a  circle  KPH, 
which  shall  touch  the  two  circular  arcs  OPD,  BHD,  and 
the  straight  line  OB.  Fig.  4. 

Let  C  and  F  be  the  centres  of  the  two  given  pemi- 
circles,  and  G  the  centre  of  the  circle  required.  Then 
it  is  known,  from  the  elements  of  geometry,  that  H.the 
point  of  contact  of  the  circles  AHD,  KUP,  is  in  the 
straight  line  CG,  which  joins  their  centres ;  and  also 
that  P,  the  point  of  contact  of  the  circles  OPD,  KHP, 
is  in  the  straight  line  FG,  which  joins  their  centres. 
Draw  GK  from  the  centre  of  the  circle  required  to  the 
point  in  which  it  touches  OB ;  then  GK  must  be  per- 
pendicular to  OB.  Also  draw  GE  perjiendicular  to  OD. 
Put  the  known  lines  CD=o,  OF  or  FD=6,  and  the  un.- 
known  lines  FG=a?,  FE=y. 

This  being  premised,  it  is  immediately  evident,  from 
the  disposition  of  the  lines,  that  C-F=o — b,  EO,  or  GK, 
or  GP,  or  GH=A— ?y,  GE=a— /»— y,  CG=CH— GH= 
a—b+y,  GE«==ar=-^;«.  The  right-angled  triangle  CEG 
gives  us  CG»=!CEa-f-EG2,that  is,  insymboIs,(a— A-h^) 
«=(rt — b — yy+x" — y'  ;  and  hence  we  have,  by  invo- 
lution and  proper  reduction, 

4ay—4ly+y'=x*. 

Further,  we  have  FG=FP-t-PG ;  that  is, 

x=2b—y,  and  hence  x*=Ab"—Aby-^y*. 
Let  these  values  of  x>  be  now  put  equal  to  each  other, 
then  Ave  get 

Aay—Aby-{-y*-ib'—iby-\-y\ 

h* 
ondfrom  this  equation  we  find  y=-.      Thii    Talis* 


ALGEBRA. 


466 


of  y  being  substituted  in   the  equation  x=:2h—y  gives 

n%  x=2h- .     Hence  it  appears,  that  the  geometrical 

a 

value  of  J/  is  a  thinl  proportional  to  a  and  h ;  that  is, 
to  the  lines  CD  and  DF ;  and  that  the  value  of  x  is 
the  excess  of  26  (or  OD)  above  the  vaUie  of  y.  The 
value  of  X  and  1/,  that  i3,ofFG  and  PE,  being  now  known, 
we  have  only  to  make  FE  of  the  proper  magnitude,  to 
draw  EG  perpendicular  to  OD,  and  on  P,  as  a  centre, 
wth  a  radius  equal  to  the  value  found  for  FG,  to  de- 
scribe an  arc  of  a  circle  cutting  the  perpendicular  EG 
in  G,  the  centre  of  the  circle  reijuired.  Its  radius  is  the 
perpendicular  drawn  from  G  upon  the  line  OB. 

Frob.  IV.  To  divide  a  given  straight  line  AB  in  ex- 
treme and  mean  ratio,  or  so  that  one  of  its  segments 
shall  be  a  mean  proportional  between  the  whole  line  and 
the  other  segment. 

Let  AC  be  the  segment,  which  is  to  be  a  mean  be- 
tween the  whole  line  and  the  other  segment  BC.  Call 
AB,  a,  and  AC,  x;  then  shall  CB=a— a-.  Now,  by 
the  question,  AB  :  AC  : :  AC  :  CB,  or  a:  x  ::  x  :  a—x ; 
therefore,  multiplying  extremes  and  means,  we  have 
this  equation,  a' — a.r=.r=  ;  from  which  we  find 

To  construct  these  two  values  of  x,  draw  ED  per- 
pendicular to  AB  at  one  of  its  extremities,  and  equal 

to  -AB=-.      Join    AD,    then  it  is  manifest,    that 

AD=^ /(a*  •\—-:  ).     Therefore,  if  on  D,  ag  a  centre, 

with  DB  as  a  radius,  a  circle  be  described,  cutting  AD 
in  E,  and  the  same  line  produced  in  E',  then  AE= 

-|-+v/(«'+?>  and  AE'==|-f  ^(«^4-9; 

from  which  it  appears,  that  the  line  AE  expresses 
the  niHgnitude  of  the  positive  value  of  x,  and  AE' 
that  of  its  negative  value.  If  now  in  AB  we  take 
AC=AE,  the  positive  value  of  x,  the  line  AB  will 
bedividedatCas  required;  that  is,  AB  :  AC  ::  AC  :  CB. 
Again,  if  in  AB,  produced,  we  take  AC  equal  to  the 
negative  value  AE',  so  that  it  may  be  in  a  contrary  direc- 
tion to  that  in  which  the  positive  value  was  taken,  then 
shall  AB  :  AC  ::  AC  :  CB,  as  will  immediately  appear, 
if  for  AB,  AC,  and  CB,  we  substitute  in  this  proportion 

their  respective  values  a,  n+\/(a*  +  7-).  and  a+^ 
+*/(«^4-7),  and  take  the  product  of  the  ex- 
tremes and  means.  Thus  it  appears,  that  although, 
!-tricfly  sjieaking,  the  negative  root  does  not  give  a  so- 
lution of  the  very  problem  proposed,  yet  it  exhibits  the 
solution  of  a  problem  quite  analogous  to  it.  Indeed,  the 
two  may  be  included  in  one  enunciation  thus  :  To  find 
a  point  in  a  given  line,  or  in  that  line  produced,  such, 
thai  its  distance  from  one  extremity  of  the  line  shall  be 
a  mean  proportional  between  the  whole  line  and  its  dis- 
tance from  the  other  extremity. 

Prob.  V.  Having  given  the  hypothenuse  AC,  and  the 
sum  BA+BC+BD  of  the  two  sides  BA,  BC,  and  the 
Vol.  I.     Fart  II. 


perpendicular  BD  of  a  right-angled  triangle,  it  is  re- 
quired to  determine  the  triangle  :  that  is,  its  sides  and 
unknown  angles. 

Let  AC  be  denoted  by  «,  BA-f-BC+BD  by  h,  BD 
by  X,  BA  by  J/,  and  consequently  BC  by  6 — x — y.  The 
condition  rcqiuring  the  angle  at  B  to  be  a  right  angle, 
gives  us  AC2=AB2+BC2;  that  is,  a^=y^-{-{b—x— 
y)"  ;  or  by  actual  involution; 

I.  a*=2?/2-fi2 — 2bx+x'-~2by+2xy. 

Again  the  triangles  ABC,  ADB,  being,  from  the  na- 
ture of  a  right-angled  triangle,  similar,  we  have  AC  : 
ABB  : :  BC  :  BD,  or,  in  symbols,  a:y::  b — x — y  :  x ; 
hence,  taking  the  product  of  the  extremes  and  means,  we 
get  ax=by — xy — ■?/-,  and,  multiplying  the  whole  by  2, 
II.  2ax~2by — 2xy — 2y^. 

Taking  no\v  the  sum  of  these  two  equations,  I.  and  II. 
and  rejecting  the  terms  common  to  both,  we  find  a" 
+2ax=b' — 2bx+x^,  a  quadratic  equation,  which,  be- 
ing resolved,  gives  us 

x=^+bz^^(2a=+2ab). 
Of  these  two  values  of  x  it  is  only  the  second,  viz. 
«:=a-\-b — ^(2fl»-|-2a6)  that  can  satisfy  the  problem;  for 
it  is  evident,  that  the  perpendicular  x,  or  BD,  must  be 
less  than  a-\-b;  and,  to  have  the  geometrical  expression 
for  that  value,  we  must  diminish  a-i-6  by  the  geometri- 
cal expression  for  ^(2a''-\-2ab);  that  is,  by  a  mean  pro- 
portional between  2a  and  a-^-b.  Having  found  the  per- 
pendicular, the  triangle  may  be  constructed  thus : — 
Upon  the  given  hypothenuse  AC,  iis  a  diameter,  de- 
scribe a  semicircle,  draw  AE  perpendicular  to  AD,  and 
equal  to  the  value  found  for  x,  and  draw  EB  parallel  to 
AC,  meeting  the  circle  in  B,  tlien  join  AB  and  BC,  and 
ABC  will  manifestly  be  the  triangle  required. 

Prob.  VI.  Let  ABCD  be  a  given  square.  It  is  re- 
quired to  draw  a  straight  line  AP,  from  A  one  of  its  an- 
gles, to  meet  the  sides  about  the  opposite  angle  (or  those 
sides  produced,)  in  E  and  F,  so  that  the  part  EF,  be- 
tween them,  shall  be  equal  to  a  given  line  b. 

Let  us  su[)pose,  that  FM  is  drawn  perpendicular  to 
AF,  meeting  AB,  produced  in  M  and  PO  perpendicular 
to  AM.  Put  a  for  the  side  of  the  given  square,  and  let 
the  unknown  lines  BAI=ar,  and  PM=y. 

The  two  right-angled  triangles  ABE,  POM,  are  ma- 
nifestly equiangular :  they  have  also  the  sides  AB,  FO, 
which  are  adjacent  to  tlie  equal  angles,  equal  to  each 
other,  therefore  the  triangles  are  in  all  respects  eqOal ; 
so  that  AE=FM=3/,  and  hence  AF=AE-hEP=i/+6. 
And  since,  in  the  right-angled  triangle  APM,  AM^ 
=:AF2-f  PM»,  we  have  this  equation  (a-{-x)2=(?/-{-i)s 
-\-y^ ;  that  is, 

I.  a^+2ax-{-x^=2y'+2hy+b=. 

Again,  the  similar  triangles  ABE,  APM,  give  this 
analogy,  AB  :  AE  : :  AF  :  AM;  that  is,  a:y::y+b  :a 
-|-.r;  and  hence,  taking  the  product  of  the  extremes 
and  means,  we  get  this  equation,  a"  +ax=ry2-|-J«  q^^ 
multiplying  the  whole  by  2. 

II.  2a^+2ax=2y''+2by. 
Let  the  II.  equation  be  subtracted  from  the  I.  and  the 
result  is  x^ — a-—b'',  or  x^—a'-\-b^  :  from  which  we 
findr==L.v'(a=+ft=). 

The  construction  indicated  by  this  equation  is  as  fol- 
lows : — Take  a  straight  line  BM  equal  to  the  hypothe- 
nuse of  a  right-angled  triangle,  the  sides  of  which,  about 
the  right  angle,  are  a  and  b.    On  AM,  as  a  diameter. 
3N 


466 


ALGEBRA. 


describe  a  semicircle  AHM,  which  may  cut  the  straight 
line  DC  in  F  and  F',  and  these  point?  shall  both  satisfy 
the  problem  j  that  is,  if  the  straight  lines  AEF,  AF'K', 
be  drawn,  then  EP=ft,  and  also  E'F'=6.  These  two 
lines  EF,  E'F',  correspond  to  the  positive  root  x=-\-^ 
{a,"  -\-b°\  For,  according  to  the  preceding  solution,  the 
straight  line  AM,  which  has  for  its  value  AB+i,  ©r  a 
+  \/(a='  +  i^),  ought  to  be  the  hypothenuse  of  a  right- 
angleil  triangle,  having  its  right  angle  upon  the  line 
DCF,  and  that  angle  may  evidently  be  at  either  of  the 
jioiiits  in  which  the  semicircle  AHM  cuts  the  line  DC. 
Thus  each  of  the  two  right-angled  triangles  AFM, 
AF'M,  which  are  in  all  respects  equal,  satisfy  this  con- 
dition, and  each  of  the  two  lines  EF,  E'F'  is  necessari- 
ly equal  to  h. 

To  exhibit  the  construction  corresponding  to  the  ne- 
gative root  a=— v'(a''+6^),  take  BM'=B3I,  but  in  a 
contrary  direction.  On  AM',  as  a  diameter,  describe  a 
semicircle  AH'M',  meeting  CD,  produced  towards  Z,  in 
/  and/'.  Through  A  draw  the  lines/Ae,^' At',  the  for- 
mer meeting  (he  lines  CD,  CB,  in/and  c,  and  (he  latter 
in/'  and  e',  and  these  lines  answer  to  the  negative  root 
r= — ^(a^+i^).  For  if,  instead  of  supposing  that  the 
line  h  (which  must  pass  through  A  and  terminate  in  the 
lines  E't',  F*,)  falls  in  the  angle  BAD,  we  suppose,  that 
it  falls  without  that  angle,  so  as  to  have  the  positions 
/Ae,  or/' At' ;  then,  taking  BM'  for  the  unknown  quan- 
tity, and  supposing  that  from  M'  a  line  M'/,  or  M'/',  is 
drawn  perpendicular  to  fke,  oxf'Ac',  it  appears,  that 
AM',  which  is  equal  to  BM'— AB,  or  BM— AB,  or  ^ 
{a^+h^) — a,  ought  to  be  the  hypothenuse  of  a  right- 
angled  triangle,  having  its  right  angle  on  the  line  CDZ. 
Thus  the  vertex  is  at  either  of  the  points/,/',  the  inter- 
sections of  the  line  CDZ,  and  the  semicircumference 
AHM',  and  each  of  the  lines/Ae,/'Ae',  is  then  equal 
to  6. 

From  the  preceding  construction,  it  appears  that  in 
general  the  problem  has  four  solutions ;  so  that  corres- 
ponding to  the  two  values  of  x  there  are  four  values  of  ^, 
viz.  AE,  AE',  Ae,  At'.  This  also  appears  fro^n  the 
equation  a »-faJr=^»-f  61/;  for  substituting  in  it  the  two 
values  of  z,  and  deducing  thence  the  values  of  y,  we 
get 

The  first  two  values  of  1/  are  always  real,  but  the  two 
others  may  be  imatrinary,  and  they  become  both  imagi- 

nary  at  the  same  time,  viz.  when  - — |-a'<«v^(«°  +*')> 

that  i»,  when  6'<8a».     Then  the  semicircle  AH'M' 

falls  entirely  below  the  line  CZ,  so  that  the  intersections 

/and/'  do  not  exist ;  for  since  in  that  case  4''<  8a',  it 

is  evident  that  the  radius  TH,  the  value  of  which  is 

^{a'+b')—a 

2  ' 

b* 
If- — |-ffl'=«v/(<t'+A'),  then  the  two  values  of  y  are 

cqoal,  and  the  points/,/'  coincide  at  the  point  H  where 
the  line  CZ  touches  the  semicircumference  AH'M'. 


Pros.  VII.  Having  given  the  base  AC,  the  perpen- 
dicular BD,  and  the  vertical  angle  ABC,  of  a  triangle ; 
it  is  required  to  determine  the  triangle. 

In  resolving  this  problem,  we  may  seek  the  values  of 
the  two  sides  AB,  BC,  or  else  the  two  remaining  angles 
A,  C  ;  for  either  of  these  being  known,  every  thing  re- 
lating to  the  triangle  may  be  readily  determined.  Wc 
shall  give  a  solution  according  to  each  of  these  methods, 
with  a  view  to  show  how  algebra  is  to  be  applied  in  rea- 
soning concerning  angles. 

Solution  1 .  Put  a  for  AC  the  base,  6  for  BD  (he  per- 
pendicular, and  m  and  n  for  the  tabular  cosine  and  sine 
of  the  given  vertical  angle.  And  considering  the  sides 
AB,  BC  as  the  unknown  quantities,  let  them  be  denoted 
by  X  and  «/  respectively.  Draw  CE  |)erpendicular  to 
AB. 

In  the  triangle  CBE,    by  Plane  Trigonometry, 

1  :  sin.  B=n  : :  CB=g/  :  CE;  hence  CE=7IJ/. 
1  :  cos.  B=»i: :  CB==?/  '•  BE;  hence  BE=;m/. 

Now  the  triangles  ACE,  ABD  being  manifestly  simi- 
lar, we  have,  by  the  Elements  of  Geometry,  AC--a  :  CE 
=/«/  : :  AB=ar :  BD=i,  and  hence  we  get  this  equa- 
tion, 

I.  ab=nxy. 

Again,  because  CE  is  perpendicular  to  AB,  the  ele- 
ments of  geometry  give  us  this  other  equation,  AC= 
=AB»-fBC3— 2ABXBE,  that  is  in  symbols, 

II.  a2=sj:3+y!i — 2mxy. 

From  these  two  equations  the  values  of  x  andy  maybe 
found  by  the  melhoils  which  we  have  already  ex[)lained. 

Solution  2.  The  base  and  [lerpendicular  being  denoted 
by  a  and  b,  as  before,  put  c  for  the  tangent  of  the  given 
vertical  angle,  and  j;  and  s  for  the  cotangents  of  the  an- 
gles A  and  ACB,  that  is,  for  the  tangents  of  the  angles 
ABD  and  CBD  respectively.     Then  by  trigonometry, 

1  :  tan.  ABD==w  : :  BD=i  :  D  A  ;  hence  D  A=6y, 

1  :  tan.  CBD=2  : :  BD=6  :  DC ;  hence  DC=ir. 

Now  because  AC=AD-f  DC,  one  equation  of  the 
problem  is 

I.    bv-\-bz=a. 

And  because  the  angle  ABC  is  the  sum  of  the  angles 
ABD,  DEC, by  a  known  theorem  relating  to  the  tangent 
of  the  sum  of  two  angles,  (see  Arithmetic  0/  Sines,) 
we  have  this  other  equation, 

~\—V3 


II. 


is  less  than  a. 


And  from  these  two  equations  the  values  of  v  and  ;, 
tliat  is,  of  the  cotangents  of  the  angles  A  and  ACB, 
may  be  found;  and  thence  the  angles  themselves  are 
known  by  means  of  the  trigonometrical  fables. 

377.  In  these  examples  the  geometrical  constructions 
have  been  suited  to  the  particular  form  of  the  algebraic 
values  of  the  quantities  to  be  determined.  There  are, 
however,  general  methods  applicable  to  the  different 
orders  of  equations,  so  that  a  geometrical  construction 
of  a  problem  may  always  be  deduced  from  its  algebraic 
solution  by  determinate  rules.  From  the  examples 
which  wc  have  given  in  this  Section,  it  nuist  be  suffi- 
ciently obvious  how  tlie  conditions  of  a  geometrical 
problem  are  to  be  reduced  to  equations,  which,  by  the 
rules  delivered  in  the  course  of  Uiis  treatise,  may,  as 


ALGEBRA. 


487 


often  as  the  problem  is  determinate,  be  reduced  to  one 
equation  and  one  unknown  quantity.  We  sliall  now 
show  what  are  the  general  methods  by  which  all  equa- 
tions of  the  first  and  second  orders  are  to  be  constructed. 

Construction  of  Equations  of  the  First  Degree. 

378.  When  it  is  proposed  to  construct  the  equation 

ab 
x=— ,  where  x,  a,  b,  and  c  denote  lines,  we  hare  evi- 
c 

dently  only  to  take  a  fourth  proportional  to  the  three 

lines  c,  a,  and  b,  for  the  value  of  x. 

If  the  equation  be  x=-z-,  we  must  find  the  value  of 

ab 

■^  as  just  now  directed ;  then  calling  the  value  /,  we 

fc 
have  to  find  the  value  of'-,  which  is  done  by  seeking  a 

fourth  proportional  to  the  three  lines  e,  f,  c.  And  we 
must  proceed  in  a  similar  manner,  whatever  be  the  num- 
ber of  letters  in  the  fraction. 

379.  If  the  value  of  the  unknown  quantity  be  com- 
posed of  several  fractions,  for  example,  if  it  were  x^= 
ab  ,  efg    mnpq 

- — r-j-i —,  we  must  seek  successively  the  lines 

which  express  the  several  fractions,  and  these,  joined 
%vith  their  proper  signs,  will  be  the  value  sought. 

380.  When  the  denominator  of  the  fftiction  is  a  com- 
plex quantity,  as  for  example,  in  this  expression, 

__ahc+d^—e^f 
"^      gh+i'      ' 
we  may  proceed  as  follows.     Let  k,  k'.  A",  k'",  denote 
four  tines,  such  that 

abc=kd',  c^J=k'<P,  gh=k"d,  i2=k"'d. 
Then  we  have 

d%k-\-d—k')_d{k+d—k') 
"^  d{k"+k"'j'~   k"+k"'    ' 
from  which  it  appears  that  or  is  a  fourth  proportional  to 
k"+k"',  k+d — k'  and  d.     Hence  its  value  maybe  found 
when  tliose  ofk,  k',  k",  and  k'",  are  determined,  and  they 
may  be  had  from  the  equations 

abc       _ef^  gh  i^ 

by  proceeding  as  explained  at  §  378. 

381.  When  a  line  is  expressed  by  an  algebraic  frac- 
tion, the  terms  of  the  numerator  must  contain  one  factor 
more  than  those  of  the  denominator ;  unless  it  happen 
that  some  one  of  the  lines  ^y^ich  enter  into  the  expres- 
sion is  taken  as  unity,  and  in  this  case  the  terms  into 
which  that  line  enters  will  have  one  or  more  factors 
fewer  than  the  others,  according  as  the  first  or  some 
higher  power  of  the  line  is  contained  in  that  term.  A 
likri  observation  may  be  made  as  to  the  algebraic  ex- 
pressions for  surfaces  and  solids. 


Constniclion  of  Equations  of  the  Second  Degree. 

382.  Equations  of  the  second  degree  are  of  one  or 
other  of  these  three  forms, 

x^+ax=^h^,     X- — ax^b^,     ax — x'=l^, 
and  the  general  expression  for  r  deduced  from  them  is 


^g==L2— ^C  T~^  "  }  '  ''**'"  wiiich  it  appears  that  the 
determination  of  the  geometrical  value  of  x  depends 
upon  that  of  the  radical  ex|)ression  ■y(^—=i=.b'  ).  Now 

when  it  has  the  form  ^^fL-f  fts^  then  it  will  evident- 
ly be  represented  by  the  hypothenuse  of  a  right-angled 
triangle,  the  sides  of  which  are  ?  and  b.     And  when  it 

has  the  other  form  ^^— —Ja  \  then  it  will  be  repre- 
sented by  the  side  of  a  right-angled  triangle,  the  other 
side  of  which  is  b,  and  hypothenuse  -. 

383.  But  without  resolving  the  equation,  the  value  of 
the  unknown  quantity  may  be  immediately  deduced  from 
the  nature  of  a  circle ;  for  in  the  two  first  cases,  viz. 
T==Laj:=63,  or,  as  it  may  be  otherwise  expressed, 

if  a  circle  be  described  on  C  as  a  centre,  with  a  radius 
CB=ia,  and  a  tangent  BA=6  be  drawn,  and  AC  be 
joined,  meeting  the  circle  in  D  and  D',  then  shall  AD 
express  the  magnitude  of  the  positive  root  of  the  equa- 
tion X'  -f  flx=6»,  and  AD'  that  of  its  negative  root.  And 
again,  AD'  shall  express  the  magnitude  of  the  positive 
root  of  the  equation  x^ — ax=b^,  and  AD  that  of  its 
negative  root. 

For,  from  the  nature  of  the  circle,  ADXAD'=AB», 
that  is  AD(  AD+ff)=i^  or  AU'(  AD'— ffl)=62 ;  hence  it- 
appears,  that  by  taking  z=  AD,  we  satisfy  the  equation 
3(x+ay=b'  ;  also,  taking  jr^AD',  we  in  like  manner 
satisfy  the  equation  x{x — a)=b'.  These  values,  when 
expressed  in  numbers,  will  manifestly  be  both  positive  ; 
but  the  positive  root  of  the  one  equation  is  the  negative 
root  of  the  other  (§  258,)  and  vice  versa.  Hence  the 
truth  of  the  construction  is  obvious. 

384.  To  construct  the  third  form  ax — x'>=b'',  or 

x(a — xy=b'. 

On  AB=ffl  as  a  diameter,  describe  asemicircle;  at  one 
of  its  extremities  draw  a  perpendicular  AD=6;  draw 
DE  parallel  to  AB,  meeting  the  circle  in  E  and  E',  and 
draw  EF,  E'F'  perpendicular  to  the  diameter;  then 
shall  AP  and  AF'  be  the  roots  of  the  equation. 

For  from  the  nature  of  the  circle  DE  X  DE',  or  AF  X 
AF'=AD^  that  is,  AFCa— AF)=:6^•  also  AF'(a— AF') 
=i^  ;  hence  it  appears  that  the  equation  will  be  equally 
satisfied  if  we  take  i=AF,  or  a:=AF' ;  consequently 
AF  and  AF'  are  geometrical  expressions  for  the  roots 
of  the  ecjuation. 

385.  The  geometrical  problems  resolved  in  this  Sec- 
tion have  produced  equations  of  the  first  and  second  de- 
grees only ;  but  others  might  have  been  proposed  which 
would  have  produced  equations  of  the  third  and  higher 
degrees.  Such  problems  as  produce  simple  or  quadra- 
tic equations  may  always  have  their  roofs  exhibited 
geometrically  by  means  of  straight  lines  and  circles ; 
but  if  they  i)roduce  equations  of  the  third  or  fourth  de- 
grees, then  their  geometrical  constructions  cannot  be 
effected  by  straight  lines  and  circles  only;  in  either 
case,  however,  they  may  by  the  help  of  the  conic  sec- 
tions ;  and  therefore,  by  means  of  these  curves,  we  can 
always  find  geometrically  the  roots  of  any  equation  of 

3N2 


468 


ALGEBRA. 


the  third  or  fourth  degrees.  The  geometrical  construc- 
tion of  an  equation  of  any  degree  exceeding  tlie  fourth, 
cannot  eren  be  effected  by  the  conic  sections  alone,  so 
that  in  such  a  case  it  would  be  necessary  to  recur  to 
curves  of  a  still  higher  order. 

38G.  Although  the  roots  of  equations  of  the  third  and 
fourtli  degrees  may  be  expressed  geometrically  by  the 
hel|)  of  the  conic  sections,  and  thence  approximate  nu- 
merical values  of  them  found,  yet,  on  account  of  the 
imperfection  of  instruments,  and  the  difficulty  of  de- 
scribing these  curves,  it  must  be  confessed  that  such 


constructions  are  of  very  little  practical  utility.  This 
observation  applies  with  still  greater  force  to  the  con- 
structions of  equations  of  a  higher  order  than  the  fourth, 
Avhich  are  proportionably  more  complex. 

387.  Besides  the  resolution  of  geometrical  problems, 
there  are  various  other  geometrical  theories  to  which 
algebra  may  be  applied.  We  may  mention  in  particu- 
lar, the  Theory  of  Corves,  the  Arithmetic  of  Sines, 
and  Plane  and  Spherical  Trigonometry.  These  the 
reader  will  find  treated  in  their  proper  places  in  the 


course  of  this  work. 


I'x-u 


^J$JJ.iet^ 


INDEX. 


\iUiUaa  of  quantitiei  with  like  sicns, 

403. 

of  quantitiei  with  unlike  signs, 

ib. 
tlie  precise  si^iticatton  of  the 

term    ai  employed  in  al> 

gebra,  ib. 
Algebra,    connexion  betveen  It  ami 

aWtlimetic,  399. 
.^'Iiistvrj'vf;  ib. 
^     D)opfaantu3  the  earliest  wiiter 

OD  it,  ib. 
fint  inti-oductiJ  into  Europet^ 

the  Arabians,  ib. 
fint  brou^t  into  Italy  by  Leo* 

nard,400. 
first  printed  treatise  on  it  by 

Lucai  de  BarKi>,  ib. 
great  improve racntu   in  it   by 

Viet.1,  ib. 
much  improved  by  Harriot,  ib. 
important    improvements   by 

Descartes,  ib. 
Fermat  the  rival  of  Deseartes 

in  the  career  of  discoveryi 

ib. 
principal  writers  since  the  time 

of  De*cartei,  401. 
its  principles  independent  of 

jfeoraetry,  ib. 
definitions  and  priaciples,  ib. 
characters  employed, lb. 
rsplanation  of  the  sigiu  nf,  ib» 
funtUmental  opcntions  of^  403. 
its    application    to  geometry, 

462. 
to  resolve  geometrical  problems 

to  resolve  questions  by,  41S. 
Arabians,  algebra  first  introduced  into 
Burope  by  the,  399. 

B 

.Biaonial  theorem,  tnveitifatirfn  of,  453. 

application  of  the,  453. 
Borgo.  Lucas  de,  author  of    the  first 
printed  treatise  on  algebra,  400* 


Cardan,  Us  rnle  fox   cnbto  equations, 
discovery  of,  ib. 
the  irreducible  case  of,  435. 
Cdbe  root  of  a  compound  quantity,  to 
find  the,  4S1. 
of  a  number,  423. 
cf  a  whole    number,    cannot 
be  expressed  by  a  fraction, 
ib. 


Dtacartes,  important  improvements  by, 

400. 

Fermat,  the  rival  of,  in  the 

career  of  dbcovery,  ib. 
principal  writers   on   algelfft 

since  the  timi*  of,  401. 
UiviskMl  of  simple  quantities,  405. 

of  quantities  having  exponent!, 

ib> 
of  a  compound  quantity  by  a 

simple,  400. 
general  rule  for  the,  of  corn* 

pound  quantities,  ib. 


E9tatloi)t,4ii- 

general  rules  fcr'all,  iVt* 


Equations,  Simp!e,quf  stioni  producing, 
ib. 

eoniai  n  ing  more  tlian 
one  unknown  quail* 
tity,  414. 

when  there  are  only 
two  unknown  quan- 
tities, 415- 

when  there  are  more 
than  two  unknown 
quantities,  416. 

questions       in      which 
there      occur      mora 
ibin     one     lukkuown 
quantity,  414. 
Qoadratic,  425. 

pure  and  affected,  ib. 

to  resolve  a  pure,  ib. 

forms  of  afiectcd,  ib. 

to  resolve  one,  ib. 

llie  iinknowii  quantity 
in,  has  two  values, 
428. 

the  product  of  two  sim- 
ple equations,  427. 

the  roots  of  a,  may  be 
ima|rlRar>',  428. 

impossible  or  imagina- 
ry quantitiei,  ib. 

the  nature  of  imaginary 
quantities  not  well 
understooil,  ib. 

management  oE  impos- 
sible quantities,  ib. 

questions  producing, 
ib. 

the  negative  root  of  a, 
439. 

tome  forms  of  enw^ 
tions  of  all  oruert 
may  be  resolved  as, 
lb. 

method  of  resolution,  ib. 
Cubic, 

tor<?soIve  pure,  4.31. 

a  pure,  will  have  al- 
ways one  real  root, 
ib* 

a  pure,  has  two  imagi- 
nary roots,  ib. 

afTectcd,  ib. 

iovestication  of  tite 
rules  for,  ih. 

the  product  of  three 
simple  equations,  432. 

have  three  roots,  ib. 

relations  between  the 
roots  and  coefficients 
ofa.  Ib. 

must  have  at  least  one 
real  root,  43i. 

may  have  all  their  roots 
leal,  4.13. 

the  irreducible  case  of 
Cardan*B  riile,43Z' 

to  resolve  the  irreduci- 
ble case  bv  help  of 
tlie  crisection  of  an 
areb,  435. 

rnle  for  tlie  irreducible 
case.  ib. 
Biquailratio,  ib. 

to  reioWe  pure,  lb. 

a  pur«,  has  fuur  looti, 

430. 
aftcted.     Euler's     fao>. 

thod  for    resolvii)];,  ib. 
the     product    of    four 

simple  factor*,  437. 
&avf  four  roots,  ib. 
may  bave  either  all  or 

two    of    thrir    roots 

'nuginiry.  lb. 


Equations.  General  properties  of,  ib- 

the  general  resolution  of^  not 
yet  discovtrtd,  438. 

reducible  into  as  many  sim- 
ple factors  as  there  are 
units  ill  the  exponent  of 
the  degree,  ib. 

properties  of  the  roots  of,  439. 

aome  of  the  roots  supposed 
equal  to  0,  ib. 

the  numlx-r  ofdivisors  of  the 
second,  third,  Bto.  de- 
grees, ib. 

the  imaginary  roots  of,  occur 
in  pairs,  ib. 

-whose  degree  is  odd  have  at 
least  one  real  root,  ib. 

the  number  of  positive  and 
negative  roots  of,  ib. 

The  transformation  of,  440. 

to  trans  C>rm  an,  to  anoUier 
having  the  same  roots 
with  opposite  signs,  ib. 

to  increase  or  diminijh  the 
roots  of,  tbi 

to  take  away  any  term  o(  an, 
ih. 

to  take  away  the  coefficient 
of  the  highest  powers  of 
the  unknown  quiintiiy, 
ib. 

Extermination  of  unknown 
quantities  from,  ib. 

to  free  an,  from  radical  quan- 
tities, 441. 

Resolution  ofnumericat,  liar- 
ing  rational  roots,  lb. 

meUiod  ofdiviiori,  442. 

having  equal  routs,  ib. 

Metliod   of  Apiirunimation, 

444. 

to  find  the  limits  of  the  roots 

of  All,  ib. 
to  approximate  to  the  roots 

"f,  445. 

Newton's  method  ofappro.\i- 
mation,  ib. 

the  same  method  applicable 
to  the  extraction  of  the 
roots  of  numbers,  446. 

to  find  general  formulas  for 
approximntiiig,  447. 

the  methoil  of  approxima- 
tion, improyol  by  \» 
grange,  440 

Indetenninatf ,  447. 

of  the  first  ilfgiee,  ib. 
oftbr  second  deg  rec  449, 
Diophantinc    problems, 

construction   of,  of  tb< 

first  dei^w?,  467. 
construction  of,   of  the 
_  ,       ,  second  degree,  ib. 

Euler,  hii  method  for  resolving  affected 

btquadratics,436. 
Evolution,  419. 

to  find  any  root  of  a  simple 

quantity,  ib 
to  find  uiy  root  ofa  fraction, 

ith 
(hict'ional  powers,  ib. 
to  find  the  square   root  ofa 

ComiMiund  quantity,  ib. 
to  extract  the  square  root  of 

a  nunber,  421. 
tJic  square  root  of  a  whole 
number  cannot  be  expreu- 
ed  by  a  fraction,  ib. 
to  find   the  <ube  rtmt  of  a 

comp<iund  quantity,  ib. 
to  extract  the  cube  rout  of  a 
niimbcr,4J2.      . 


Evolution,  the  cube  root  of  a  fwhoU 
number  sannot  be  expressed 

b^  a  fraction,  ib. 
to  hnd  the  root  ofa  fraction  t 

ib. 
to  find  the  fourth  root  of  any 
quantity,  ib. 
Europe,  alifcbra  fint  introduced  into, 
by  the  Arabians,  399. 


Fractions,  407. 

to  find  the  greatest  common 

measure  of  twoquainities« 

408. 
toitnluceto  lower  terms,  409. 
to  reouee  an  Integer  to  the 

form  ofa,  ib. 
to  reduce  a  mixed  number  to 

an  improper,  ib. 
to  reduce  nn  improi>cr,  to  a 

wliote  «r  mixed  number,  ib. 
to  reduce,  to  otiiers  having 

a  common  denominator,  ib. 
to  add  rtiwi  iubtraL-t,  ib. 
to  miiltiply,  id. 
to  diviUo  one,  by    anotlier, 

4  to. 

the  reciprocal  ofa,ib. 

Continued.  4fi0. 

rule  for  reducing  common,  lo 

cwntiniicd,  461. 
to  appr»xiiii.i(e  to  tlie  value 

ofa,  ib, 
principal  properties  of  the 

converging,  463. 
periodic,  ih. 


Harriot, algebra  much  improved by,40n 

I 

Involution,  418. 

general  rule  for,  ib. 
to  find  the  powers  of  slapk 
quail titief,  419. 


Leonard,    algebra    fir*t    brought  into 

Italy  by,  400. 
Logarithms  and  exponential  quantit»er. 
fundamental    priucipjcs  of, 

454. 

general  properties  of,  455. 
useful  for  abtidging  calcula- 

tiuni,  ib< 
there  may  be    innumerable 

different  systems  of,  ib. 
investigation  of  rules  for  tlic 

calcuUition  of, 456. 
geneifll  cxprettiou  for  the, 

s)i  »k  iiumber.  ib. 
'he  (yitcm  of  Napier,  457» 
the  modulus  ib. 
invesiigntion  of  stTJes  which 

shall   In  every  case   con- 
verge, ib. 
NapierN    system    compared 

with  BrfggO,  ib. 
application  of  the  formulas, 

the  modulus  of  the  common 
system  of.  458. 

scries  tbr  di-ri\iiifr  the,  of 
numbers  trom  one  ano- 
ther, ib. 

investigation  of  the  series  fitr 
anumlxi't  inttrmsofiK, 
459. 


ALG 


firr^wn\. 


ALG 


46& 


Lugai'itkmi,  rmllutl  number  o(  Napier's 

system  ot;  460, 
I.ucas  lie  Bor^,  first  printud  treatise  on 
algebra  by,  400. 

M 

Mltltiplieation  of  simple  ijuantities  hav- 
iiiff  eotflicients,  404. 

of  powers  of  the  same  quan- 
tity, ib. 

genem  rulc^  for  the,  of  com- 
pound quantities,  405. 


Proportion,  410. 

the  theory  of,  an  important 


bmnch  of  the  gneieiit  ma- 
tliemutics,  tb. 
Proportion,  the  eummon  propertie*  of, 
ib. 


Series,  Arithmetical,  430. 

to  tind  tlie   Ust  term  cf 

the,  ib. 
to  find  the  sum  of  the, 
ib 
Geometrfoa),  ib. 

to  /iitd  the  last  term  of 

the,  ib. 
to  find  the  sum  of  the, 
ib. 
Infinite,  450. 


Infinite,  to  devclopc  quantities 
into  by  divl>ion  and 
eX'liition,  ib. 
to  expand  quantities  in-_ 
to  by  Ih)'  methiwl  of 
indeterminate  ,coefVi- 
cients,  4il. 
Hcs'et^ion  of,  454. 

reverted  by  themctliod 
of  indetenniuatf  coef- 
ficients, ib. 
Surds,  423. 

a  divisor  of  a  whole  number,  ib- 
a  prime   number,  and    numbers 

prime  to  each  other,  ib. 
quantities  that  cannot  have  their 
roots  expressed  by  numbers,  ib, 
incomraensurables,  424. 


Gurdi,  to  express  a  rational  quantity  in 
the  liirm  of  a,  ib. 

principled  upon  which  the  manage- 
ment ol",  (Icpcnds,  ib. 

to  reduce,  to  otliers  of  the  same 
denomination,  ib. 

to  icducf,  to  their  most  simp1< 
terms,  ib. 

tu  add  and  subtract,  ib. 

to  multiply  and  div  ide,  ib- 

to  involve,  and  evolve,  425.    ■ 

to  free  an  equation  from,  ib. 


Vieta,  itreat  improveoicata  in  alecbrt 
bj-,  400. 


ALGENIB,  the  name  of  two  fixed  stars.  One  of 
these,  marked  y,  is  of  the  second  magnitude,  and  is  situ- 
ated in  the  wing  of  Pegasus ;  the  other,  marked  «,  is  be- 
tween tlie  second  and  third  magnitude,  and  is  situated  in 
the  right  side  of  Perseus,  (w) 

ALGEZIRAS,or  Old  Girraltar,  a  maritime  town 
of  .\ndalusia,  in  Spain-  In  713,  the  Bloors  entered  Spain 
by  this  town;  and  they  were  driven  from  it  in  1344. 
Cannon  are  said  to  have  been  first  used  at  Algeziras, 
when  it  was  wrested  from  the  possession  of  the  Moors. 
This  place  is  celebrated  for  a  naval  victory  gained  over 
the  French  and  Spaniards  by  Sir  J.imes  Saumarez,  in 
July,  1801-     W.  Long-  5"  20'  N.  Lat.  38"  5'- 

ALGIERS,  one  of  the  most  considerable  kingdoms  in 
that  part  of  the  northern  coast  of  Africa,  which  is  now 
called  Barbary,  comprehends  part  of  ancient  Mauritania, 
particularly  what  wa«  called  Mauritania  C!Esariensi3,and 
ancient  Numidia.  It  derives  its  present  name  from  its 
metropolis,  which  the  Turks  call  Algezair,  Al-jezair,  or 
Al-jezirah,  the  Island;  because  there  was  an  island  be- 
fore the  city,  which  has  since  been  joined  to  it  by  a  mole- 
According  to  Dr-  Shaw,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
the  only  minute  and  accurate  account  of  this  kingdom, 
it  is  bounded  on  the  west  by  Twunt  and  the  mountains  of 
Trara;  on  the  east,  by  the  river  Zaine,  the  ancient 
Tusca,  which  separates  it  from  Tunis ;  on  the  north,  by 
the  Mediterranean  sea ;  and  on  the  south,  by  the  Sahara, 
or  Numidian  desert.  Tlie  dominions,  which  the  Alge- 
rines  possess  beyond  the  Tell,  or  the  advanced  part  of 
mount  Atlas,  are  so  precarious  and  ill  ilefined,  that  the 
northern  skirt  of  the  Sahara  seems  to  be  the  proper 
boundary  of  the  kingdom  in  that  direction.  Geogra- 
phers have  varied  considerably  concerning  its  extent ; 
but  Dr.  Shaw,  after  a  careful  computation,  found  its  true 
length  to  be  about  460  miles  from  Twunt,  below  the 
mountains  of  Trara,  in  O"  16'  W.  long,  to  Ta-barka, 
upon  the  river  Zaine,  in  9"  16' E.  long.  Its  breadth  is 
very  irregular  ;  in  some  places  not  exceeding  40  miles, 
and  in  other  parts  upwards  of  100. 

Some  modern  geographers  have  divided  this  kingdom 
into  many  provinces,  according  to  the  petty  royalties 
into  which  it  was  cantoned,  before  and  after  the  Turkish 
conquests.  It  now  contains  only  three;  the  province  of 
Tlemsan,  by  some  called  Treinecen  and  Mascara,  to 
the  west ;  Titterie,  or  Titeri,  to  the  south ;  and  Con- 
STA.NTiNA  to  the  east.  Each  of  these  provinces  is  go- 
verned by  a  liey,  or  viceroy,  who  is  entirly  dependent  on 
the  dey  of  Algiers-  Of  these  governments,  the  eastern 
or  Levantine,  which  is  also  called  Beylick,  is  by  far  the 
richest  and  most  consider.a!)le-  It  contains  the  towns  of 
Bona,  Constantina,  Glgeri,  Bujeya,  Stessa,  Tebef,  Za- 


moura,  Biscara,  and  Necanz,  in  all  of  which  garrisons 
have  been  established  by  the  Turks-  This  province, 
which  is  nearly  equal  to  the  other  two  in  extent,  includes 
the  ancient  kingdoms  of  Cuco  and  Labez ;  though  these 
kingdoms,  inaccessible  (o  the  Algerines,  are  still  go- 
verned by  their  own  cheyks,  elected  by  each  of  their 
adowars,  or  hordes-  Besides  these  places,  we  may  men- 
tion a  factory  established  at  Callo  by  the  French,  under 
the  direction  of  the  company  of  the  French  Bastion- 
(See  CoN.sTANTiXA.)  The  western  government,  ex- 
tending from  the  frontier  village  Twunt,  and  the  moun- 
tains of  Trara  on  the  west,  to  the  river,  Ma-SalTran  on 
the  east,  is  about  two  hundred  miles  in  length.  It  is  al- 
most equally  distributed  into  mountains  and  valleys,  and 
were  it  better  supplied  with  fountains  and  streams, 
would  be  more  delightful,  as  it  is  in  general  more  fer- 
tile, than  the  eastern  part  of  this  kingdom-  This  pro- 
vince contains  the  towns  of  Warran,  or  Oran,  a  fortifi- 
ed city,  about  a  mile  in  circumference,  which  the  Spa- 
niards have  decorated  with  several  beautiful  churches, 
and  other  edifices,  in  the  Roman  style  of  architecture; 
Musty-gaiinim,  built  in  the  form  of  a  theatre,  open  to- 
wards the  sea,  but  enclosed  in  every  other  direction  with 
impending  hills ;  Tniss,  Tennis,  or  Tenez,  formerly  the 
capital  of  one  of  the  petty  kingdoms,  into  which  this 
country  was  divided,  though  it  now  contains  only  a  few 
miserable  hovels ;  Sher-shell,  formerly  the  capital  like- 
wise of  one  of  the  petty  royalties,  now  in  great  reputa- 
tion for  its  steel,  pottery,  and  iron  ware ;  situated  on  the 
ruins  of  an  ancient  city  scarcely  inferior  to  Carthage  in 
extent,  whose  fine  pillars,  capitals,  capacious  cisterns, 
mosaic  pavements,  which  still  remain,  and  the  fragments 
of  a  stupendous  aqueduct,  excite  very  high  ideas  of  its 
ancient  magnificence;  Mars-al-Quibber,  one  of  the 
finest  harbours  in  Africa ;  Tlemsan,  or  Tremecen,  for- 
merly the  capital  of  the  kingdom  of  that  name,  in  which 
are  still  to  be  seen  some  fragments  of  Roman  architec- 
ture- Titterie,  tlie  southern  province,  is  much  inferior 
to  the  western  in  extent,  not  exceeding  60  miles  either 
in  length  or  breadth.  Though  this  province  is  inter- 
sected by  considerable  ridges  of  mountains,  it  contains  a 
great  jjroportion  of  rich  champaign  country-  In  this  pro- 
vince is  situated  Algiers,  the  capital  of  the  whole  kino-- 
dom,  a  distinct  description  of  which  will  be  given  at  the 
end  of  this  article.  Bleeda  and  Medea  are  its  only  in- 
land towns,  each  of  them  about  a  mile  in  circuit,  but 
surrounded  only  with  walls  of  mud,  perforated  in  many 
places  by  the  hornet- 
No  country  is  happier  in  its  climate  than  Algiers. 
In  the  cultivated  parts  of  this  kingdom,  particularly,  the 
air  is  so  temperate,  that  the  sultry  heat  of  Eummer  and 


470 


ALGIERS. 


the  piercing  cold  of  winter  are  equally  unknown.  During 
twelve' years  that  Dr.  Shaw  resided  in  that  country,  the 
tberiiiometer  descended  only  twice  to  the  freezing 
point;  nor  did  it  ever  rise  to  that  ol  sultry  heat,  except 
when  the  scorching  winds  Mew  from  the  desert  of 
Sahara.  The  seasons  slide  imperceptibly  into  each 
other;  and  the  range  of  the  barometer  is  only  from  29 
I'j,  inches  to  30-,*5,  thus  indicating  all  the  revolutions  of 
the  weather  in  the  space  of  1  inch  and  y\.  The  winds 
blow  generally  from  the  sea.  Easterly  winds  are  com- 
niou  from  May  to  September;  and  are  succeeded  by  the 
westerly  breezes,  which  prevail  longer,  and  rise  more 
fre(iueutly.  About  the  equinoxes,  the  impetuosity  of  the 
Africus,  or  south-west  ^vind,  called  by  the  mariners  of 
these  seas  Lsbetch,  is  very  sensibly  felt.  Southerly 
winds,  after  blowing  over  the  Sahara,  are  hot  and  vio- 
lent, but  are  by  no  means  freiiuent  at  Algiers.  Some- 
times, indeed,  they  blow  for  five  or  six  days  together  in 
July  and  August,  rendering  the  air  so  excessively  suf- 
focating, that  it  is  necessary,  during  their  continuance, 
to  sprinkle  the  floors  of  the  houses  with  water.  In  this 
climate,  the  serenity  of  the  sunnner  sky  is  seldom 
overcast  by  a  single  cloud.  The  first  rains  begin  to  fall 
in  September,  and  in  some  years  a  month  later;  after 
which,  or  about  the  middle  of  October,  wheat  is  sown, 
and  beans  are  planted.  If  the  latter  rains  fall  in  the 
middle  of  April,  the  crop  is  thought  secure;  and  har- 
vest commences  about  the  end  of  May,  or  the  begin- 
ning of  June.  In  this  charming  climate  the  trees  are 
clothed  in  unfading  verdure.  They  begin  to  bud  in 
Feliruary;  in  April,  the  fruit  attains  its  full  size,  and  is 
completely  ripe  in  May. 

Though  some  parts  of  this  country  are  extremely  fer- 
tile, its  soil  is  by  no  means  equal.  In  many  places  it 
is  hot,  dry,  and  barren ;  susceiitible,  perhaps,  of  im- 
provement, but  left  by  the  indolent  and  unskilful  natives 
uncultivated  and  waste.  The  species  of  grain  cultiva- 
ted here,  are  wheat  and  barley,  rice,  Indian  corn,  and  a 
kind  of  millet,  called  drah,  which  is  preferred  to  barley 
for  fattening  cattle,  antl  of  which  birds  are  so  fond,  that 
to  guard  it  from  their  depredations,  it  is  necessary  to 
keep  up  a  continued  noise  through  the  whole  day.  Ac- 
cording to  the  primitive  customs  of  the  eastern  nations, 
the  Algerines  tread  out  their  corn,  by  driving  mules  or 
liorses  around  the  nedders,  or  thrashing-floors,  on  which 
the  sheaves  are  spread  open.  To  winnow  the  grain, 
when  thus  trodden  out,  they  throw  it  up  against  the 
wind  in  a  shovel,  and  then  lodge  it  in  mattamores,  or 
subterraneous  magazines.  Of  the  pulse  kind,  beans, 
Tentiles,  and  garvan^os,  or  chick  pea,  are  the  most  es- 
teemed and  abundant^  and  their  gardens  are  well 
stored  with  herbs,  roofs,  and  fruit,  in  great  variety. 

But  the  riches  of  the  Algerines  consist  chiefly  in 
their  cattle,  of  which  they  have  considerable  variety. 
Of  these  the  most  remarkable  are,  the  horse,  the  mule, 
and  the  ass  ;  the  kumrah,  a  serviceable  little  animal,  (he 
offsj-ring  of  the  ass  and  cow ;  single-hoofed  like  the  for- 
mer, but  having  a  sleek  skin,  and  a  head  and  tail  like 
those  of  the  cow  ^  the  camel,  the  dromedary,  or,  as  it  is 
there  called,  the  Machary.  Their  black  cattle  are,  in 
Lfeneral,  small  and  slender,  yielding  little  milk,  and  that 
of  inferior  quality.  They  have  two  sorts  of  sheep ;  the 
one  kind  remarkable  for  its  breadth  of  tail ;  the  other, 
which  is  bred  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Sahara,  is 
almoct  as  tall  as  our  fallow-deer,  which  it  somewhat  re- 
Rembles  in  shape.  Its  flesh  is  dry,  and  its  fleece  as 
«oarse  ae  the  hair  of  goats.    In  Algiers  are  to  be  seen 


large  herds  of  wild  cattle,  called  by  the  Arabs,  bekker- 
el-wash;  these  are  distinguishetl  from  tame  cattle  by 
the  roundness  of  their  bodies,  the  breadth  of  their  fronts, 
and  the  inflexion  of  their  horns.  The  fishtail,  or  ler- 
wee,  is  a  species  of  goat,  about  the  size  of  a  heifer  of  a 
year  old,  but  has  a  rounder  turn  of  body,  with  a  tuft  of 
shagged  hair  upon  the  knees  and  neck  :  it  is  so  exceed- 
ingly timorous,  that  when  pursued  it  will  throw  itself 
down  rocks  and  precipices.  Besides  these,  the  deserts 
of  Algiers  abound  with  animals  of  a  fiercer  nature- — 
lions,  panthers,  leopards,  hyajnas,  jackalls,  &c. 

This  country  is  intersected  by  bold  ridges  of  moun- 
tains, of  which  the  most  remarkable  are  Mount  At- 
las; for  a  particular  description  of  wliich,  see  At- 
las ;  the  mountains  of  Trara ;  the  Boojereah ;  the 
Anwall  monntains;  and  those  of  Tur-jura  and  Feli- 
zia. 

The  rivers  which  deserve  to  be  particularly  noticed 
are,  the  Ziz,  which  flows  through  the  province  of 
Tremecen,  and  the  desert  of  Anguid,  into  the  Medi- 
terranean; the  Haregol,  supposed  to  be  the  Sign  of 
Ptolemy,  issuing  from  the  great  Atlas,  and  flowing 
through  the  desert  of  Anguid  into  the  sea,  about  five 
leagues  from  Oran ;  the  Mina,  a  large  river,  supposed 
to  be  the  Chylematisof  Ptolemy,  which  crosses  the  plaiu 
of  Bathnla,and  falls  into  the  sea  near  the  townof  Areew; 
the  Shellif,  Zilef,or  Zilif;  the  Belef,  probably  the  Car- 
thena  of  the  ancients;  the  Hued-al-quiver,  called  by 
Europeans  Zinganir,  and  supposed  to  be  the  ancient 
Nalabata,  or  Nasaba;  the  Suf-Gemar,  or  Suf-Gimmar 
al  Rumnicl,  the  Ampsaga  of  Ptolemy  ;  the  Ladag,  or 
Ludeg  ;  and  the  Guadi,  or  Guadel  Barbar. 

Algiers,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  formed  a  con- 
siderable part  of  Mauritania  Tingitana,  which,  being 
reduced  by  Julius  Cffisar  to  a  Roman  province,  was  from 
him  called  Mauritania  Ctesariensis.  The  Romans  were 
driven  out  of  Africa  by  the  Vandals,  who  were,  in  (heir 
turn,  expelled  by  Belisarius,  the  Greek  emperor  Jus- 
tinian's general.  About  the  middle  of  the  7th  century, 
a  new  revolution  was  effected  by  the  Saracens,  who, 
having  obtained  possession  of  this  part  of  the  country, 
divided  it  into  a  number  of  petty  states  or  kingdoms, 
governed  by  chiefsof  their  own  nation  and  choice.  Their 
]iower  continued  tillthe  year  1051,  when  Abuheker-Ben- 
Omar,  called  by  the  Spaniards  Ahu-Tcxeficn,  an  Arab 
of  the  Zinhagian  tribe,  provoked  by  llie  lyranny  of  the 
Saracens,  assembled,  by  the  assistance  of  the  Mara- 
bouts, a  pow-erful  army  of  malcontents,  defeated  the 
Arabian  cheyks  in  many  engagements,  and  reduced 
the  whole  province  of  Tingitana  under  his  own  domi- 
nion. 

Texefien  was  succeeiled  by  his  son  Joseph,  a  prince 
who  inherited  all  his  valour  and  enterprise.  He  laid 
the  foundation  of  Morocco,  which  he  intended  to  make 
the  capital  of  his  empire ;  but  while  that  city  was  build- 
ing, he  found  himself  engaged  in  a  formidalile  war. 
Tremecen,  now  a  province  of  Algiers,  was  at  that  time 
occupied  by  a  powerful  sect  of  Mahometans  called 
Zeneti,  to  whom  Joseph  sent  ambassadors  for  the  pur- 
pose, as  he  gave  out,  of  reclaiming  them  to  the  true 
faith.  The  Zeneti,  resenting  his  interference,  put  (he 
ambassador  to  death,  and  invade<l  his  dominions  wil  h  an 
army  of  50,000  men.  On  hearing  of  these  outrages, 
Joseph  mustered  an  army,  which  he  conducted  by  long 
marches  info  (he  coun(ry  of  the  Zeneti,  who,  unable  to 
oppose  his  progress,  iled  with  precipitation  (ow.-irds 
Fez,  from  which  they  expected  to  procure  assistance 


ALGIERS. 


471* 


The  Fezzans,  however,  wishing  <o  recommend  them- 
selves to  the  tavour  of  Joseph,  attacked  these  unhappy- 
people  while  encumbered  with  their  families  and  bag- 
gage, and  fainting  with  fatigue  and  hunger.  Most  of  the 
Zeneti  were  put  to  the  sword  ;  and  the  few,  who  surviv- 
ed the  carnage  of  the  field,  were  either  drowned  in  at- 
tempting to  cross  a  river,  or  precipitating  themselves  in 
their  flight  over  some  lofty  rocks,  were  dashed  to  [lieces 
by  their  fall.  On  this  occasion,  not  fewer  than  a  million 
of  Zeneti,  men,  women,  and  children,  are  said  to  have 
lost  their  lives ;  their  country  was  reduced  by  Joseph  to 
a  mere  desert,  but  was  soon  repeopled  by  a  numerous 
colony  of  Fezzans,  who  settled  there  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  king,  whose  cause  they  had  so  zealously  es- 
poused. Yet  even  the  services  of  the  Fezzans  did  not 
save  them  from  the  restless  ambition  of  Joseph.  On 
some  pretext  he  declared  war  against  these  faithful 
allies,  and  reducing  them  to  the  condition  of  tributaries, 
extended  his  conquests  along  the  Mediterranean.  His 
vengeance  was  next  directed  against  some  Aral)ian 
cheyks,  who  had  refused  to  submit  to  his  authority.  Even 
their  castles  and  fortresses,  which  till  then  had  been 
deemed  impregnable,  could  not  protect  them  from  the 
fury  of  this  formidable  conqueror :  in  a  short  time  he 
completely  subdued  them,  and  thus  established  the  ex- 
tensive empire  of  the  Morabites. 

This  empire  was  not  long  occupied  by  the  descend- 
ants of  Joseph ;  for,  in  the  twelfth  century,  they  were 
displaced  by  a  jMarabout,  named  Mohavedin.  The  race 
of  priests  whom  Mohavedin  introduced  was  quickly  ex- 
pelled by  Abdulac,  governor  of  Fez;  who  was,  in  his 
turn,  overpowered  by  the  Sharifs  of  Hascen,  the  descen- 
dants of  those  Arabian  princes  whom  Abu-Texefien 
had  formerly  dispossessed  of  these  dominions. 

To  secure  themselves  in  their  new  conquests,  the 
Sharifs  divided  them  into  several  petty  kingdoms  or  dis- 
tricts, of  which  the  present  kingdomof  Algiers  contained 
four;  Tremecen,  Tenez,  Algiers  Proper,  and  Bujeyah. 
For  several  centuries  mutual  friendship  prevailed  among 
those  sovereigns ;  but  at  length  the  king  of  Tremecen, 
having  violated  some  articles  of  the  league  which  united 
them,  was  attacked  by  Abul-farez,  king  of  Tenez,  who 
deprived  him  of  his  territory,  and  soon  after  obtained 
possession  likewise  of  Bujeyah.  After  his  death,  new 
discords  arose  among  his  three  sons,  who  inherited  his 
dominions  ;  and  Spain,  taking  advantage  of  their  dissen- 
tions,  sent  out  against  Barbary  a  powerful  fleet  and  ar- 
my, under  the  command  of  the  count  of  Navarre,  A.  D. 
1505.  Alarmed  by  the  progress  of  the  Spaniards,  who 
seized  the  important  cities  of  Oran  and  Bujeyah,  with 
some  others,  the  Algerines  had  recourse  to  Selim 
Eutemi,  a  warlike  Arabian  prince.  Eutemi  hastened 
to  their  assistance  with  a  number  of  his  bravest  sub- 
jects ;  but  in  spite  of  his  opposition,  the  Spaniards 
landed  a  powerful  army  near  Algiers,  which  they  ren- 
dered tributary  to  Sr)ain,  and  erected  a  strong  fort  on 
a  small  island  opposite  the  city,  which  prevented  the 
corsairs  of  Algiers  from  sailing  either  into  or  out  of  the 
harbour. 

On  the  death  of  Ferdinand,  king  of  Spain,  (A.  D. 
1516,)  the  Algerines  resolved  to  make  an  effort  to 
shake  off  this  galling  yoke.  With  this  view  they  sent 
an  embassy  to  Horuc  Barbarossa,  a  corsair,  whose  name 
was  dreaded  from  the  Dardanelles  to  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar.  Biarbarossa  was  on  a  cruise  with  a  considera- 
ble squadron  of  galleys,  when  the  embassy  of  the  Alge- 
rines arrived,  imploring  his  assistance  in  driving  the 


Spaniards  from  their  countrj',  and  promising  him  a. 
gratuity  adeipiate  to  such  an  important  service.  The 
corsair  rejoiced  in  this  invitation,  which  opened  new 
prospects  to  his  ambition;  and  def|)atching  18  galleys 
and  1.3  barks  to  the  assistance  of  fhc  Algerines,  he 
himself  advanced  towards  the  city  by  land  with  800 
Turks,  3000  Jigelitcs,  and  2000  Moorish  volunteers. 
Instead  of  marching  immediately  to  Algiers,  he  went 
first  to  Sher-shel,  where  Hassan,  another  celebrated 
pirate,  had  established  his  residence ;  and  having  induc- 
ed him,  by  a  promise  of  friendship,  to  surrender,  tht» 
perfidious  Barbarossa  ordered  his  head  to  be  struck  oC", 
seized  on  his  ships,  and  obliged  the  Turks,  who  had 
been  his  adherents,  to  follow  him  in  his  expedition  to 
Algiers. 

When  he  approached  the  city,  he  was  met  by  Eu- 
temi, accom|)anied  by  all  the  inhabitants,  %vho  hailed 
him  as  their  deliverer  with  acclamations  of  trium|»h  and 
joy.  One  of  the  most  splendid  apartments  in  the  palace 
was  allotted  him  for  his  lodging;  he  was  treated  with 
the  most  distinguished  honour :  and  his  ambition,  in- 
flamed l)y  such  flattering  attention,  aspired  to  the 
sovereignty  of  the  country  which  he  had  been  invited 
to  protect.  To  facilitate  his  elevation  to  that  dignity, 
he  murdered  prince  Eutemi,  his  hospitable  entcrtTiiner, 
and  rode  along  the  streets  surrounded  by  his  soldiers, 
who  exclaimed  as  they  proceeded,  "  Long  live  king 
Home  Barbarossa,  the  invincible  king  of  Algiers,  the 
chosen  of  Ood  to  deliver  (he  people  from  the  oppression 
of  the  Christians;  and  destruction  to  all  that  shall  oppose, 
or  refuse  to  own  him  as  their  lawful  sovereign."  Over- 
awed by  the  menace  which  these  words  contained,  the 
Algerines  acknowledged  him  as  their  king;  while  Za- 
phira,  the  unhappy  widow  of  Eutemi,  to  avoid  the 
brutality  of  his  murderer,  whom  she  unsuccessfully  at- 
tempted to  slab,  put  an  end  to  her  own  existence  by 
poison. 

Barbarossa  exercised  with  relentless  cruelty  the 
power  which  he  had  thus  violently  usurped.  Impatient 
of  his  tyranny,  the  Algerines  formed  a  plot  for  his  de- 
struction ;  but  having  detected  their  design,  he  ordered 
twenty  of  the  principal  conspirators  to  be  beheaded, 
their  bodies  to  be  buried  in  a  dunghill,  and  their  estates 
to  be  confiscated.  This  severity  so  terrified  his  new 
subjects,  that  they  never  again  formed  any  similar  de- 
sign, either  against  him  or  his  successors. 

The  son  of  Eutemi  had  fled  for  protection  to  the  mar- 
quis of  Gomarez,  who  was  at  that  time  governor  of 
Oran;  and  burning  with  revenge  against  the  savage 
Barbarossa,  suggested  to  the  marquis  a  plan,  by  which 
the  city  of  Algiers  might  be  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
Spaniards.  Gomarez  sent  the  young  prince  to  Spain  to 
lay  his  plan  before  the  cardinal  Ximenes,  who  deeming 
it  practicable,  despatched  a  fleet  with  10,000  land  forces 
to  drive  the  Turks  out  of  Algiers,  and  restore  young  Se- 
lim to  the  throne.  Scarcely  had  the  fleet  come  within 
sight  of  land,  when  it  was  dispersed  by  a  storm,  which 
drove  the  greater  part  of  the  ships  against  the  rocks ; 
most  of  the  Spaniards  perished  amid  the  waves,  and  the 
few  who  reached  the  shore  were  either  killed  by  the 
Turks,  or  detained  as  slaves.  The  insolence  of  Barba- 
rossa, who  regarded  this  storm  as  an  immediate  inter- 
position of  Heaven  for  the  establishment  of  his  authority, 
now  exceeded  all  hounds;  and  the  Arabians,  alarmed 
by  his  ambition  and  his  success,  entreated  Hamidel  Ab- 
des,king  of  Tenez,  to  assist  them  in  expelling  the  Turks 
out  of  Algiers.  Hamidel  having  first  stipulated,  that,  in 


472 


ALGIERS. 


case  of  bis  success,  he  should  obtain  the  perpetual  so- 
vereignty of  that  country  for  himself  and  his  descendauts, 
set  out  at  the  head  of  10,000  Moors  ;  and  when  he  en- 
tered the  Algerine  territory,  was  joined  hy  all  the  Arabs 
iu  that  kingdom.  With  only  1000  Tiirliish  muske- 
teers, and  500  Grana<la  Moors,  Barbarossa  completely 
routed  this  numerous  army,  pursued  Hamidel  to  the 
gates  of  his  capital,  which  he  took  by  assault,  and 
obliged  the  inhabitants  to  acknowledge  him  as  sove- 
reign. Immediately  after  this  conquest,  he  received  an 
embassy  from  the  inhabitants  of  Tremecen,  offering  even 
to  make  him  their  sovereign,  if  he  would  assist  them  in 
expelling  the  reigning  prince,  with  whom  they  were 
displeased,  on  account  of  his  having  dethroned  his  ne- 
phew, and  obliged  him  to  flee  to  Oran.  Such  an  invit- 
ing opportunity  of  enlarging  his  dominions  was  eagerly 
embraced  by  the  ambitious  Barbarossa.  His  artillery 
enabled  him  easily  to  disperse  the  army  of  the  king  of 
Tremecen,  who  being  forced  to  retire  to  his  capital,  was 
betrayed  by  his  disaffected  subjects :  his  head  was  cut 
off,  and  sent  to  Barbarossa,  with  a  fresh  invitation  to  take 
possession  of  the  sovereignty.  It  was  not  long  before 
the  Tremeccnians  had  reason  to  regret  the  loss  of  their 
former  monarch.  The  tyranny  of  Barbarossa  excited 
general  discontent  among  his  new  subjects,  which  they 
were  at  little  pains  to  conceal ;  and  he  himself,  appre- 
hensive of  a  revolt,  endeavoured  to  give  stability  to  his 
throne,  by  entering  into  nnalliance  with  the  king  of  Fez, 
and  by  garrisoning  with  his  own  troops  all  the  cities  in 
the  kingdom.  Notwithstanding  his  precautions,  some  of 
these  cities  rose  in  rebellion ;  upon  wliicli  he  employed 
Escander,  a  man  relentless  and  unprincipled  as  himself, 
to  reduce  them  again  to  subjection.  Exasperated  be- 
yond measure  by  their  united  cruelties,  the  Treniece- 
nians  now  formed  schemes  for  the  expulsion  of  Barba- 
rossa from  their  dominions,  and  for  the  restitution  of  their 
lawful  prince  Abuchen-Men :  but  their  designs  were 
discovered,  and  many  of  their  conspirators  murdered  in 
the  cruellest  manner.  Fortunately  the  prince  escaped 
to  Oran,  and  placed  himself  under  the  protection  of  the 
marquis  of  Gomarez,  who  represented  his  case  to  his 
sovereign  Charles  V.  then  lately  arrived  in  Spain. — 
Charles  immediately  ordered  the  marquis  to  undertake  the 
cause  of  the  young  king  withan  army  of  1 0,000  men,  and 
Gomarez  began  his  march  without  delay.  Being  joined 
by  prince  Selim  with  a  great  number  of  Arabs  and  Moors, 
they  first  resolved  to  attack  the  important  fortress  of 
Calau,  situated  between  Tremecen  and  Algiers,  and 
commanded  by  Escander  with  abwit  300  Turiis.  Aiter 
a  vigorous  defence,  they  were  compelled  to  surrender ; 
and  though  they  stipulated  for  honourable  terms,  were 
all  massacred  by  the  Arabs  except  sixteen,  who  clung 
close  to  the  stirrups  of  the  Spanish  general  and  the  king. 
All  this  time  Barbarossn  had  kept  close  in  his  capital; 
but  being  now  alarmed  by  the  progress  of  his  enemies, 
who  were  marching  directly  towards  Tremecen,  he  ad- 
vanced to  meet  them  at  the  head  of  lAoO  Turks,  and 
.'>000  Moorish  horse.  He  had  not  proceeded  far  when 
his  council  advised  him  to  return  and  fortify  himself  in 
the  city.  But  it  was  now  too  late  ;  for  the  inhabitants 
resolved  to  rid  themselves  of  his  tyranny,  would  not  open 
their  gates  till  their  lawful  prince  appeared  before  them. 
Barbarossa  had  now  no  other  resource  but  to  retire  to 
the  citadel  and  there  wait  an  opportunity  to  escape.  For 
fonie  lime  he  defended  himself  vigorounly ;  and  it  was 
not  till  his  provisions  began  to  fail,  that  he  stole  away 
r^cretly  with  his  immense  treasures  through  a  sabtei^ 


raneons  passage,  which  he  had  previously  caused  to  be 
dug  for  that  purpose.  When  his  flight  was  discovered, 
he  hoped  to  retard  the  pursuit  of  his  enemies,  by  strew- 
ing money,  jewels,  and  plate,  in  their  way :  but  the 
stratagem  failed ;  for  Gomarez,  placing  himself  at  the 
head  of  his  troops,  obliged  them  to  march  on  till  ther 
overtook  the  tyrant  on  the  banks  of  the  Huexda,  abou'i 
eight  leagues  distant  from  Tremecen.  The  Turks  fought 
with  obstinate  valour,  but  were  soon  overpowered  bj' 
numbers,  and  cut  to  pieces.  Barbarossa  himself  was 
slain,  ivhile  fighting  w  ith  all  the  fury  of  despair ;  bis 
head  was  fixed  on  the  point  of  a  spear,  and  carried  to 
Tremecen,  where  Abuchen-Men  was  proclaimed  kiii>', 
to  the  great  joy  of  the  inhabitants. 

When  the  Turks  at  Algiers  heard  of  their  sovereign's 
death,  they  immediately  proclaimed  his  brother  Hay- 
radin,  known  likewise  by  the  name  of  Barbarossa,  who, 
with  equal  valour,  possessed  even  greater  abilities  than 
Horuc,  and  was  more  fortunate,  instead  of  pursuing 
his  advantage,  the  Spanish  general  sent  back  his  troops 
to  Europe ;  while  Hayradin,  freed  from  the  terror  of  a 
foreign  eneniy,  regulated  with  admirable  prudence  the 
interior  police  of  his  kingdom,  which  he  raised  to  a  de- 
gree of  strength  and  grandeur  w  hich  it  had  never  before 
jjossessed.  Aware,  however,  of  the  hatred  which  his 
tyranny  had  excited  in  the  Algerines,  and  apprehensive, 
perhaps,  that  his  continual  depredations  >vould  at  length 
provoke  the  resentment  of  the  Christiaas,  he  placed  his 
dominions  under  the  protection  of  the  Grand  Signior, 
who  appointed  him  his  viceroy  or  bashaw  of  Algiers, 
and  furnished  him  with  sucli  a  powerful  army,  as  en- 
abled him  to  set  at  defiance  both  his  domegtic  and 
foreign  enemies. 

With  this  accession  of  power,  Hayradin  immediately 
entered  on  the  execution  of  two  important  projects, 
which  he  had  long  been  meditating.  The  first  was,  the 
destruction  of  the  Spanish  fort,  which  greatly  annoyed 
his  raetroj)olis,  in  which,  though  the  Spaniards  held  out 
to  the  last  extremity,  his  superior  force  enabled  him  to 
succeed  without  much  ditficulty.  His  next  undertaking 
was  to  form  a  commodious  harbour  for  his  navy,  by  unit- 
ing the  small  island  before  Algiers,  to  the  main  land,  by 
means  of  a  strong  mole.  By  this  important  work,  iu 
which  30,000  Christian  slaves  were  employed  for  three 
years  without  intermission,  Hayradin  rendered  himself 
formidable  not  only  to  the  Moors  and  Arabs,  but  even 
to  the  maritime  Christian  powers,  and  particularly  to 
Spain.  The  Grand  Signior,  informed  of  the  activity 
and  success  of  his  viceroy,  granted  him  a  fresh  supply 
of  money,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  l>uild  a  stronger 
fort  than  that  which  he  had  wrested  from  the  Spauiartls, 
and  to  erect  batteries  on  all  places  that  might  iavour 
the  landing  of  any  enemy. 

The  future  history  of  llaynidinbecomesinvolved  with 
that  of  Tunis,  and  is  connected  with  a  celebrated  cam- 
paign which  the  emperor  Charles  V.  undertook  for  the 
purpose  of  delivering  his  own  sulyccts,  and  the  Euro- 
peans in  general,  from  the  insolence  antl  exactions  of  th« 
corsairs.  The  sultan  was  induced  l>y  the  fame  of  his 
cxploitsto  ofter  him  the  command  of  the  Turkish  fleet, 
as  the  only  person  whose  skill  and  valour  in  naval  ailair^ 
qualified  him  to  opjiose  Andrew  Doria,  the  groatcM  sea 
otlicerofhis  age.  Hayradin,  proud  of  this  dictinction. 
repaired  to  Constantinople;  and,  bavins  gaineii  the  en- 
tire confidence  of  Solyman  and  his  viaier,  communicated 
to  them  a  scheme  for  annexing  the  kingdom  of  Tunis  to 
the  Tnrkish  dominions.     MHlimid;  the  last  kinsr  of  thpf 


ALGIERS. 


47a 


•ountry,  had  appointed  as  his  successor  Muley  Hascen, 
one  of  the  youngest  of  thirty-four  sons,  whom  he  had  by 
different  wives.  That  prince,  who  owed  this  preference 
not  to  his  own  merit,  but  to  the  ascendency  which  his 
mother  had  acquired  over  the  king,  l)ecame  impatient  to 
mount  the  throne ;  and,  having  first  poisoned  Iiis  father, 
he  then  proceeded,  with  the  barbarous  policy  usual  in 
countries  where  |)olygamy  prevails,  and  the  right  of  suc- 
cession is  undefined,  to  murder  all  his  brothers  whom 
he  could  get  into  his  power.  Alraschid,  one  of  the  el- 
<lest,  found  means  to  escape  his  rage ;  and  having  vainly 
endeavoured,  with  the  assistance  of  some  Arabian  chiefs, 
to  recover  the  throne  which  of  right  belonged  to  him, 
he  fled  to  Algiers,  and  implored  the  protection  of  Hay- 
radin.  The  ami>ilious  corsair  saw  at  once  the  advanta- 
ges which  might  result  from  sup|)orting  the  title  of  that 
unfortunate  prince,  and  therefore  received  him  with 
every  mark  of  kindness  and  respect.  As  he  was  then 
on  the  eve  of  embarking  for  Constantinople,  he  easily 
persuaded  Alraschid  to  accompany  him,  assuring  him  of 
assistance  from  the  grand  signior,  whom  he  represented 
as  the  most  generous,  as  well  as  the  greatest  monarch 
in  the  world.  When  they  arrived  at  Constantinople, 
the  prefidious  Hayradin,  regardless  of  his  promises  to 
Alraschid,  proposed  to  the  sultan  a  scheme  for  obtain- 
ing possession  of  the  kingdom  of  Tunis,  by  making  use 
of  the  name  of  the  exiled  prince,  and  co-operating  with 
the  party  in  that  kingdom  which  favoured  his  cause. 
Solyman, approving  of  this  treacherous  proposal,  intrust- 
ed Hayradin  with  the  command  of  a  powerful  fleet  and 
numerous  army;  and  while  Alraschid,  grateful  for  this 
supposed  generosity,  was  flattering  himself  that  he 
should  enter  his  capital  in  triumph,  he  was  suddenly  ar- 
rested, shut  up  in  the  seraglio,  and  never  heard  of  more. 
Meanwhile,  Barbarossa  sailed  with  a  fleet  of  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  vessels;  and  having  first  ravaged  the  coasts 
of  Italy,  and  s[)read  terror  through  every  jiart  of  that 
country,  he  appeared  before  Tunis,  declaring,  that  he 
had  come  to  assert  the  right  of  Alraschid,  whom  he  pre- 
tended to  have  left  sick  on  board  the  admiral's  galley. 
The  inhabitants  of  Tunis,  weary  of  Muley  Hascen's 
government,  eagerly  took  arms  in  behalf  of  Alraschid, 
and  threw  open  their  gates  to  Hayradin,  whom 
they  hailed  as  the  restorer  of  their  lawful  sove- 
reign. When  that  prince,  however,  failed  to  appear, 
and  the  name  of  Solyman  alone  was  heard  among  the 
acclamations  of  the  Turkish  soldiers,  they  began  to  sus- 
pect the  corsair's  treachery,  and  rushing  furiously  to 
arms,  surrounded  the  citadel  into  which  he  had  led  his 
troops.  By  one  brisk  discharge  of  artillery  from  the 
ramparts,  Barbarossa  dispersed  these  numerous  assail- 
ants ;  who  thus  intimidated,  immediately  acknowledged 
the  authority  of  Solyman  as  their  sovereign,  and  Hayra- 
din as  his  viceroy. 

The  corsair,  thus  established  in  Tunis,  was  enabled  to 
carry  on  his  depredations  against  the  Christian  states  to 
a  greater  extent,  and  with  more  destructive  violence ; 
and  the  outrages  committed  against  his  subjects,  both  in 
8l)ain  and  Italy,  roused  the  resentment  of  Charles,  to 
whom  all  Christendom  seemed  to  look  for  deliverance 
from  the  oppression  of  these  infamous  pirates.  Moved 
at  the  same  time  by  the  entreaties  of  Muley  Hascen, 
who  had  applied  to  him  as  the  only  monarch  able  to  re- 
store hira  to  his  dominions,  Charles  resolved  to  invade 
Tunis  with  the  whole  force  of  his  empire.  On  the  16th 
of  July,  1535,  he  set  sail  from  Cagliari,  with  a  fleet  of 

Vol.  L     PaetH. 


near  300  vessels,  having  on  hoard  above  30,000  regular 
troops;  and  after  a  favourable  voyage,  landed  within 
sight  of  Tunis. 

HajTadin,  apprised  of  his  preparations,  and  guessing 
his  design,  provided  with  much  prudence  and  vigour 
for  the  defence  of  his  newly  acquired  dominions.  He 
called  in  his  corsairs  from  their  different  stations ;  drew 
from  Algiers  what  forces  could  be  spared;  and  byre- 
presenting  Muley  Hascen  as  an  infamous  apostate, 
leagued  with  a  Christian  prince  for  the  subversion  of  the 
Mahometan  faith,  he  instigateil  the  ignorant  and  bigot- 
ed Arabian  chiefs  to  arm  as  in  a  common  cause.  But 
all  his  activity  was  unavailing.  The  army  of  Charles, 
composed  oftierinans,  Italians,  and  Spaniards,  inflamed 
with  equal  religious  zeal  against  the  infidels,  were  still 
further  excited  by  the  ardour  of  national  emulation. 
They  quickly  reduced  the  strong  fort  of  Goletta,  which 
commands  the  bay  of  Tunis;  and  as  the  walls  of  the 
city  were  extensive  and  extremely  weak,  and  the  fidelity 
of  the  inhabitants  doulitful,  Hayrailin  determined  to  ad- 
vance with  his  army,  consisting  of  50,000  men,  toward* 
the  Imperial  camp,  and  decide  by  one  great  battle  the 
fate  of  his  kingdom.  At  that  time  he  had  10,000  Chris- 
tian slaves  shut  no  in  the  citadel ;  and  fearing  lest  dur- 
ing Ins  absence  they  should  rise  in  mutiny,  he  proposed 
to  massacre  them  all  before  he  set  out  on  his  march. 
His  oflicers,  inured  as  (hey  were  to  cruelty  and  blood- 
shed, heard  this  proposal  with  horror;  and  Barbarossa, 
influenced  more  by  the  fear  of  irritating  them,  than  by 
any  motive  of  compassion,  consented  to  spare  the  lives 
of  the  captives. 

The  hostile  armies  soon  met,  and  a  furious  conflict 
ensued.  The  Moors  and  Arabs,  though  vastly  supe- 
rior in  number,  could  not  long  withstand  the  disciplined 
courage  of  the  Imperial  troops.  Barbarossa  did  all  that 
could  be  expected  from  a  wise  and  experienced  gene- 
ral, contending  for  a  kingdom  and  for  life  ;  but  his  army 
was  routed  in  all  directions,  and  he  himself  was  hurried 
back  to  the  city  along  with  them  in  their  flight.  Tunis 
could  no  longer  afford  him  shelter.  The  Turkish  sol- 
diers, alarmed  for  their  safety,  were  preparing  to  re- 
treat ;  the  inhabitants  were  ready  to  throw  o])en  their 
gates  to  the  conqueror;  and  the  citadel,  which  in  such 
circumstances  might  still  have  afforded  him  some  re- 
fuge, was  already  in  the  possession  of  the  Christian 
slaves.  These  unfortunate  men,  seizing  the  ojiportunity 
of  Hayradin's  absence,  had  gained  over  two  of  their 
keepers;  and,  knocking  off  their  fetters  by  their  assist- 
ance, burst  open  their  prisons,  overpowered  (he  Turkish 
garrisons,  and  turned  against  their  oppressors  the  artil- 
lery of  the  fort.  Mortified  and  enraged  at  finding  his 
affairs  in  this  situation,  exclaiming  sometimes  against 
the  mistaken  compassion  of  his  oflicers,  and  sometimes 
condemning  his  own  facility  in  listening  to  their  remon- 
strances, Barbarossa  fled  with  precipitation  to  Bona.  The 
authority  of  Charles  could  not  restrain  the  violence  and 
rapacity  of  his  soldiers.  Rushing  without  orders  into 
the  town,  they  began  to  kill  and  plunder  without  distinc- 
tion, and  committed  every  enormity  which  liostile  fury, 
inflamed  by  religious  hatred,  could  suggest.  On  that 
dreadful  day,  not  fewer  than  30,000  of  the  inhabitants 
were  massacred,  and  10,000  carried  away  as  slaves. 
Amidst  the  deep  regret  which  Charles  felt  for  an  acci- 
dent, which  sullied  the  honour  of  victory,  one  circum- 
stance alone  consoled  and  delighted  him.  The  Chris- 
tian slaves,  who  had  recovered  their  liberty,  many  of 
3  O 


474 


ALGIERS. 


tlieni  persons  of  lii?li  dislincfion,  went  out  to  meet  him 
as  lie  approached  the  (own  ;  and  fallhig  u|K>n  their  knees 
before  him,  IhanUed  and  blessed  him  as  their  deliverer. 

Having  thus  reinstated  Muley  Hascen  in  tlic  sovc- 
reis;nty  of  Tunis,  the  emperor  concluded  a  treaty  on  the 
following  conditions  : — That  he  should  hold  the  king- 
dom of  Tunis  in  fee  of  the  crown  of  Spain,  and  do 
homage  to  the  emperor  as  his  liege  lord ;  that  all  the 
Christian  slaves  now  within  his  dominions,  of  whatever 
nation,  should  be  selat  liberty  without  ransom;  that  none 
of  the  emperor's  subjects  should  in  future  be  detained 
in  servitude;  that  no  Turkish  corsair  should  be  admit- 
ted into  the  [lorls  of  Tunis;  that  free  Ir.'ide,  with  the 
exercise  of  the  Christian  religion,  should  be  allowed  to 
all  the  emperor's  subjects ;  that  the  emperor  should 
retain  the  Goletta,  and  that  all  the  other  fortified  sea- 
j>orts  in  the  kingdom  should  be  put  into  his  hands;  that 
Muley  Hascen  should  pay  annually  12,000  crowns  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  Sjianish  garrison  in  the  Goletta ; 
that  he  should  enter  into  no  alliance  with  any  of  the 
emperor's  enemies,  and  should  present  to  him  every 
year,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  liis  vassalage,  six  Moor- 
ish horses,  and  as  many  hawks.  After  these  transactions, 
by  which  Charles  attained  a  greater  height  of  glory  than 
by  any  other  event  of  his  reign,  he  embarked  again  for 
Europe,  (August  7th,)  as  the  tempestuous  weather  and 
the  sickness  of  his  troops  prevented  him  from  pursuing 
Barbarossa. 

A  few  years  after,  Charles  undertook  another  expe- 
dition against  Barbary,  in  which  he  was  by  no  means 
equally  successful.  When  Hayradin,  by  his  vigorous 
and  judicious  exertions,  had  so  much  increased  the 
strength  of  Algiers,  the  Sultan  Solyman,  either  from 
gratitude  or  jealousy,  raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  a 
bashaw  of  the  empire,  and  appointed  Hassan  Aga,  a 
Sardinian  renegado,  a  bold  and  experienced  officer,  to 
succeed  him  in  the  vice-royally  of  Algiers.  Hassan  im- 
mediately began  to  ravage  the  coast  of  Spain  with  great 
fury  ;  extending  his  depredations  likewise  to  the  eccle- 
siastical state,  and  other  parts  of  Italy.  His  cruel  pi- 
racies roused  the  resentment  of  Pope  Paul  III.  and  of 
the  emperor  Charles  V.  who  concerted  an  enterprise 
against  this  infidel  robber.  A  bull  was  published  by  his 
holiness,  promising  plenary  absolution  of  sins,  and  the 
crown  of  martyrdom  to  all  who  should  perish  in  battle 
on  the  coasts  of  Barbary,  or  be  made  slaves;  and  the 
emperor  sailed  with  a  fleet  cansisling  of  120  ships,  and 
20  galleys,  having  on  board  an  army  of  30,000  men,  with 
an  immense  quantity  of  money,  provisions,  ammunition, 
and  anne.  Many  of  the  Spanish  and  Italian  nobility 
accompanied  their  monarch  in  this  expedition,  eager  to 
share  in  the  glory  which  they  were  confident  he  was  to 
acquire ;  a  hundred  knights  of  Malta,  who  had  always 
distingoished  themselves  for  their  zeal  against  the  ene- 
mies of  the  cross,  embarked  in  this  sacred  cause  with 
1000  chosen  followers;  and  so  high  were  the  expecta- 
tions formed  of  this  enterjirise,  that  even  ladies  of  rank 
and  character,  and  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  offi- 
cers and  toldierg,  braved  the  perils  of  the  sea,  with  a 
view  of  settling  in  Barbary  after  the  conquest  was  com- 
pleted. After  a  tedious  and  hazardous  voyage  from 
Majorca,  t!ie  fleet  appeared  before  the  African  coast; 
but  the  roll  of  the  sea  and  the  violence  of  the  winds 
prevented  the  troops  from  disembarking.  At  length, 
Charles  seizing  a  favourable  opportunity,  landed  them 
without  opposition,  not  far  from  Algiers,  towards  which 
lie  advanced  without  delav. 


The  Algerines  were  thrown  into  the  utmost  conster*- 
nation  when  they  beheld  such  an  immense  armament, 
and  saw  a  mighty  army  already  moving  towards  their 
city.  A  wall  with  scarce  any  outworks  was  all  its  ex- 
ternal defence.  The  greater  part  of  their  forces  were 
dispersed  in  the  different  provinces  of  the  kingdom,  to 
levy  the  usual  contributions  from  the  Arabs  and  Moors; 
and  in  the  garrison  there  were  only  800  Turks,  and 
6000  Moorish  soldiers,  poorly  disciplined,  and  worse 
accoutred.  Charles,  after  building  a  fort,  under  the 
cannon  of  which  his  army  encamped,  and  diverting  the 
course  of  a  spring,  which  supplied  the  city  with  water, 
summoned  Hassan  to  surrender  at  discretion ;  and 
threatened,  in  case  of  his  refusal,  to  put  all  the  garrison 
to  the  sword.  To  this  summons  Hassan  returned  a  bold 
and  haughty  answer ;  but  with  such  a  slender  force,  he 
must  soon  have  been  forced  to  yield  to  the  imperial 
troops,  superior  even  to  those  which  had  defeated  Bar- 
barossa at  the  head  of  (50,000  men.  Thedowan,  or  senate 
of  the  Algerines,  began  therefore  to  consult  about  the 
most  proper  means  of  obtaining  an  honourable  cajiitula- 
tion  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  their  deliberations,  a  frantic 
prophet  rushed  into  the  asseml)ly,  exhorting  them  to 
defend  themselves  without  dismay,  and  foretelling,  that 
before  the  end  of  the  moon,  (he  Spaniards  should  be 
completely  destroyed.  The  prediction  seems  to  have 
been  ins|)ired  by  heaven ;  for  it  was  scarcely  uttered, 
when  the  clouds  begtin  to  gather,  and  the  sky  assumed 
a  troubled  and  threatening  aspect.  A  tremendous  storm 
of  wind,  and  rain,  and  hail,  arose  from  the  north ;  vio- 
lent earthquakes  agitated  the  ground ;  and  deep  and 
dismal  darkness  involved  both  the  land  and  the  sea..  The 
soldiers,  who  had  brought  nothing  ashore  but  their  arms, 
remained  during  the  night  exposed  to  all  the  fury  of  the 
tempest,  without  shelter  or  covering  of  any  kind.  Their 
camp  was  overflowed  by  torrents  which  poured  from, 
the  neighbouring  hills,  and  at  every  step  they  sunk  ta 
the  ankles  in  mud ;  while,  to  prevent  their  being  driven 
over  by  the  impetuosity  of  the  wind,  they  were  obliged 
to  fix  their  spears  in  the  ground,  and  to  support  them- 
selves by  taking  hold  of  them.  In  this  distressing  situ- 
ation Hassan  did  not  allow  them  to  remain  unmolested. 
Sallying  out  about  the  break  of  day  with  fresh  and  vigo- 
rous troops,  who  had  been  screened  from  the  storm,  he 
fell  on  a  body  of  Italians  stationed  nearest  the  city,  who, 
dispirited  and  benumbed  with  cold,  fled  at  his  first  ap- 
proach. The  troops  who  occupied  the  post  behind  them 
attempted  to  resist ;  but  their  matches  were  extinguish- 
ed, their  powder  wetted,  and  having  scarce  strength 
sufficient  to  handle  their  other  arms,  they  were  soon 
overpowered  with  great  slaughter.  It  was  not  till  the 
whole  imperial  army,  with  Charles  himself  at  their 
head,  advanced  to  oppose  him,  that  Hassan  thought  pro- 
per to  withdraw,  preserving  the  greatest  order  io  his 
retreat. 

The  return  of  day-light  presented  to  Charles  a  still 
more  dreadful  and  affecting  scene.  The  hurricane  still 
r.iged  with  unabated  violence  ;  and  the  ships,  on  which, 
the  safely  and  subsistence  of  the  army  depended,  were 
driven  from  their  anchors ;  some  dashing  against  each 
other  and  sinking  amidst  the  waves,  and  many  forced 
ashore,  and  beaten  in  pieces  against  the  rocks.  On 
that  fatal  day,  15  ships  of  war  and  150  transports  were 
lost ;  8000  men  were  drowned,  and  those  who  escaped 
the  fury  of  the  sea,  were  massacred  as  they  reached  the 
land  by  the  relentless  Arabs.  Charles  stood  on  the  shore 
coBtemplating  in  silent  ftoguish  tbii  awful  event,  which 


ALGIERS. 


47,* 


bla»ted  at  once  all  bii  hopes  of  suceegR,  and  lamenting 
the  fate  of  these  unhappy  men,  to  whom  he  coultl  afford 
no  relief.  The  storm  at  length  began  to  subside,  and 
hopes  were  entertained,  that  a8  many  ships  might  still 
escape  a»  would  be  sufficient  to  afford  subsistence  to 
the  army,  and  transport  it  back  to  Europe.  But  the 
approach  of  night  again  involved  the  sea  in  darkness 
and  horror;  and  as  the  officers  on  board  the  surviving 
•hips  could  not  convey  any  intelligence  to  their  compa- 
nions on  shore,  they  remained  during  the  night  in  all 
the  anguish  of  suspense.  Their  distress  and  perplex- 
ity was  not  much  alleviated  by  the  intelligence  which 
Doria  sent  to  them  next  morning ;  that  having  weather- 
ed out  the  storm,  he  found  it  necessary  to  remove  with 
his  shattered  vessels  to  Metafuz,  to  which,  as  the  sky 
appeared  still  lowering  and  tempestuous,  he  advised 
Charles  to  march  with  all  speed,  as  the  troops  might 
there  embark  with  greater  ease.  Metafuz  was  at  least 
three  (hiys'  march  from  the  imperial  camp  ;  and  the  sol- 
fliers,  destitute  of  provisions,  worn  out  with  fatigue, 
and  dispirited  by  hardships,  were  in  no  condition  for 
encountering  new  toils.  But  their  situation  afforded  no 
time  for  deliberation.  They  instantly  began  their  march, 
placing  the  wounded,  the  sick,  and  the  feeble,  in  the 
centre,  while  such  as  appeared  more  vigorous,  were 
stationed  in  the  front  and  rear.  So  much  were  they 
exhausted  by  their  late  sufferings,  that  many  of  them 
could  scarcely  sustain  the  weight  of  their  arms  ;  some 
Bunk  under  the  toil  of  marching  through  deep  and  al- 
most impassable  roads ;  numbers  perished  through  fa- 
mine ;  others  were  drowned  in  attempting  to  cross 
the  brooks  swoln  by  the  late  excessive  rains;  and  many 
were  killed  by  the  enemy,  who  harassed  and  annoyed 
them  both  night  and  day,  during  the  greater  part  of 
their  retreat.  Nor  did  their  calamities  end  here  ;  for 
scarcely  had  they  re-embarked,  when  another  storm 
arose,  which  scattered  the  fleet,  and  obliged  them  sepa- 
rately to  make  towards  such  ports  in  Spain  or  Italy  as 
they  could  first  reach.  The  emperor  himself,  after  es- 
caping many  dangers,  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  the 
harbour  of  Bujeyah,  where  he  was  detained  several 
weeks :  at  length,  when  the  weather  became  less  tem- 
pestuous, he  set  sail  again  for  Spain,  where  he  arrived 
in  a  condition  very  different  from  that  in  which  he  had 
returned  from  his  former  expedition  to  Barbary. 

Hassan,  elated  by  his  success,  which  he  could  scarcely 
fail  to  ascribe  to  the  immediate  interposition  of  heaven, 
nndertook  an  expedition  against  Muley  Hammid,  king 
of  Tremecen,  who  was  compelled  to  purchase  peace, 
by  paying  him  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  becoming  his 
tributary.  Soon  after  this,  the  bashaw  was  seized  with 
a  fever,  of  which  he  died  in  the  6Gth  year  of  his  age. 
He  was  succeeded  by  Haji,  who,  though  much  respect- 
ed by  the  Algerines,  was  immediately  compelled  to  re- 
sign his  dignity  to  Hassan,  the  son  of  Hayradin  Barba- 
Tossa.  Hassan  engaged  in  various  enteri'.rises  against 
Tremecen,  which  he  at  length  reduced  and  plundered. 
After  this  he  enjoyed  an  interval  of  peace,  which  he 
employed  in  erecting  several  public  edifices,  and  in 
performing  other  useful  actions;  thus  rendering  his 
government  popular,  and  his  removal  regretted.  Saiha 
Rais,  his  successor,  was  the  first  Arab  that  ever  was 
raised  to  the  government  of  Algiers.  Durina;  the  reign 
of  this  bashaw,  who  was  steady  in  his  resolution,  and 
tuccessful  in  all  his  enterprises,  the  Spaniards  were 
driven  out  of  Bujeyah,  and  from  that  time  have  never 
been  abl«  materially  to  injure  the  Algerines.    Imme* 


diately  after  the  death  of  SaIha  Raig,  a  Corsican  rene- 
gade, named  Hassan  Corso,  was  elected  by  the  soldiery 
in  his  room,  till  they  should  receive  further  orders  from 
the  porfe.  Corao  accepted,  with  reluctance,  of  the  dig- 
nity, which  he  did  not  long  enjoy  ;  for,  in  four  months 
after  his  election,  intelligence  was  brought  to  Algiers, 
that  the  sultan  had  appointed  a  new  bashaw,  one  Te- 
kelli,  a  principal  Turk  in  his  court,  who  was  now  ap 
proaching  the  city  with  eight  galleys.  The  Algerines 
resolved  to  oppose  him,  but  he  was  at  last  admitted 
through  the  treachery  of  the  Levantine  soldiers  j  and 
though  Corso  was  the  first  to  welcome  him,  and  peace- 
ably to  surrender  his  dignity,  the  infamous  tyrant  con- 
demned him  to  be  thrown  over  a  wall,  in  which  iron 
hooks  were  fixed,  on  which  he  hung  for  three  days  ia 
exquisite  torture. 

The  cruelty  of  Tekelli's  reign  was  such  as  might  be 
expected  from  the  odious  deed  with  which  it  com- 
menced. One  of  his  first  victims  was  Alisardo,  gover- 
nor of  Bujeyah,  who  being  supposed  to  possess  immense 
riches,  was  seized  by  the  bashaw,  and  after  being  tor- 
tured by  burning  and  scarifying,  to  force  from  him  a  dis- 
covery of  his  wealth,  was  ordered  to  be  impaled  alive. 
Such  atrocities  could  not  be  long  endured ;  the  monster 
incurred  general  detestation,  and  was  assassinated  even 
under  the  dome  of  a  saint,  by  Yusef  Calabres,  governor 
of  Tremecen,  who  had  been  the  favourite  renegado  of 
Hassan  Corso.  The  Algerines  received  Yusef  with 
universal  acclamation,  and  immediately  elected  him  ba- 
shaw ;  but  six  days  after  he  died  of  a  plague,  deeply  re- 
gretted by  his  new  subjects,  who  buried  him  in  the 
same  grave  with  the  untbrtunate  Hassan  Corso. 

Hassan,  the  son  of  Hayradin,  who  had  formerly  been 
superseded  in  the  vice-royalty  by  Salha  Rais,  had  now 
the  good  fortune  to  be  restored  to  that  dignity.  He  had 
no  sooner  arrived,  than  he  engaged  in  an  enterprise 
against  Tremecen,  in  which  he  was  defeated  with  great 
loss.  Next  year  the  Spaniards  undertook  an  expedition 
against  Mostagan,  in  which  they  were  defeatetl  with 
prodigious  slaughter ;  their  commander,  the  count  d'AI- 
candela,  slain,  and  12,000  men  taken  prisoners.  Hassan 
returned  to  Algiers,  exulting  in  his  victory,  and  laden 
with  spoils ;  and  soon  after  marched  against  Abdalazis, 
prince  of  the  Beni  Abbas,  a  race  of  mountaineers,  who 
had  discontinued  their  usual  tribute  to  the  Algerine 
government.  The  death  of  Abdalazis,  who  was  shot 
by  a  musket  ball,  soon  terminated  this  war,  and  obliged 
the  mountaineers  to  submit  to  the  usual  exactions.  Has- 
san had  married  a  daughter  of  the  king  of  Cuco,  whose 
subjects  he  permitted  to  purchase  ammunition  at  Al- 
giers; a  traffic  which  gave  so  much  offence  to  the  Jani- 
zaries, that  they  seized  on  Hassan  with  some  of  his 
officers,  and  sent  them  in  irons  to  Constantinople.  They 
vindicated  themselves  to  the  full  satisfaction  of  the 
Porte;  but  a  new  bashaw,  named  Achiuet,  was  appoint- 
ed, a  man  of  insatiable  avarice,  who  purchased  his  new 
dignity  with  the  money  which  he  had  amassed  while 
head  gardener  to  the  sultan.  He  died  in  four  months 
after  liis  appointment,  and  Algiers  was  governed  other 
four  months  by  his  lieutenant ;  after  which  Has«an  was 
once  more  reinstated  in  the  vice-royalty,  and  was  re- 
ceived by  the  Algerines  with  such  joy,  that  even  the 
women  appeared  on  the  terraces  and  balconies  to  give 
him  welcome.  ^ 

Immediately  after  his  reftoration,  Hassan  collected  a 
powerful  fleet  and   army,  lor  the  purpose  of  besieging 
Marsa-al-Quibber ;  after  reducing  which,  he  intended 
3  0  2 


476 


ALGIERS. 


to  invest  the  city  of  Warran,  or  Oran.  This  place  was 
cornninndtd  by  Don  Masfen  de  Cordova,  brother  of  the 
late  count  d'Alcandehi,  who  had  been  taken  prisoner  in 
Uie  same  battle  in  which  the  count  fell,  but  had  pur- 
chased his  liberty  by  an  immense  ransom.  He  made  a 
most  gallant  defence  against  the  Turks,  who  attacked 
the  city  with  the  utmost  fury  both  by  sea  and  land. 
Several  breaches  were  made  in  the  walls,  on  which  the 
Turkish  standards  were  repeatedly  planted,  but  as  often 
dislodged.  The  place,  however,  must  have  surrendered 
at  last,  had  not  the  approach  of  Doria,  who  was  advan- 
cing with  a  powerful  succour  of  Italian  troops,  obliged 
Hassan  to  raise  the  siege.  Doria,  disappointed  on  his 
arrival  by  the  departure  of  the  Algerine  galleys,  bore 
away  for  Pennou  de  Velez,  where  he  was  shamefully 
repulsed  by  a  handful  of  Turks  who  garrisoned  the  place. 
Hassan  was  again  recalled  in  1567,  and  three  years  after 
died  at  Constantinople,  in  the  SOth  year  of  his  age. 

Mahamed,  the  son  of  Saiha  Rais,  was  next  appointed 
by  the  sultan  to  the  government  of  the  Algerines,  whose 
affections  he  conciliated  by  his  zeal  to  promote  their  in- 
terests. By  incorporating  the  Janizaries  with  the  Le- 
vantine Turks,  he  put  an  end  to  their  dLssentions,  and 
added  so  much  to  the  strength  of  the  Algerine  army, 
that  they  soon  after  were  enabled  to  assert  their  inde- 
pendency on  the  grand  signior.  To  render  Algiers  im- 
pregnable, he  increased  and  strengthened  its  fortifica- 
tions. While  Mahamed  was  thus  advancing  the  inte- 
rests of  Algiers,  an  adventurous  Spaniard,  named  John 
Gascon,  formed  a  scheme  for  burning  the  whole  navy 
by  night,  while  the  pirates  lay  defenceless,  and  in  their 
first  sleep.  His  scheme  was  approved  of  by  Philip  II. 
who  furnished  him  with  proper  vessels  and  fireworks 
for  its  execution.  He  sailed  for  Algiers  in  the  begin- 
ning of  October,  when  most  of  the  ships  were  moored 
in  the  harbour  ;  and  having  observed  their  manner  of 
riding,  he  advanced  unperceived  to  the  mole-gate,  and 
dispersed  liis  men  with  their  conibustililes.  These, 
however,  were  so  ill  mixed,  that  all  their  art  eould  not 
make  them  take  fire;  the  bustle  and  confusion,  which 
this  circumstance  occasioned,  alarmed  the  guard  on  the 
adjacent  bastion,  and  the  whole  garrison  was  instantly 
10  commotion.  Gascon  perceiving  his  danger,  sailed 
away  with  the  utmost  haste  ;  but  he  \vas  quickly  over- 
taken, and  brought  prisoner  to  Mahamed,  who  caused  a 
high  gibbet  to  be  erected  on  the  b|  ot  where  the  Spa- 
niards had  landed,  from  which  Gascon  was  suspende<l 
on  a  hook  by  the  feet.  He  had  not  hung  long,  when 
Mahamed,  moved  by  the  intercession  of  his  corsairs, 
ordered  him  to  be  taken  down ;  but  the  Moors,  ofifended 
by  this  lenity,  hinted  that  it  was  boasted  in  Spain,  that 
the  Algerines  durst  not  touch  a  hair  of  Gascon's  head, 
on  which  the  unhappy  Spaniard  was  hoisted  by  a  pulley 
above  the  execution  wall,  and  thrown  tlown  upon  the 
chinhun,  or  hook,  which  caused  his  instant  death. 

Mahamed  being  soon  after  recalled,  u'as  succeeded 
by  Ochali,  a  famous  renegailo,  who  reduced  the  king- 
dom of  Tunis,  which  remained  subject  to  the  viceroy  of 
Algiers  till  the  year  1580,  vvhen  a  bashaw  of  Tunis  was 
appointed  by  the  grand  signior. 

From  this  period,  we  meet  with  nothing  interesting 
in  the  history  of  Algiers,  till  the  beginning  of  the  17th 
century,  when  the  Algerines  remonstrated  in  such 
strong  terms  to  the  Porte  of  the  oppression  of  his  vice- 
roys, that  they  obtained  permission  in  future  to  choose 
their  own  governors,  whom  they  denominated  Deys. 
They  engaged,  howeyer,  still  tp  acknowledge  tii«  grand 


signior  as  their  sovereign  ;  to  pay  him  the  nsual  tribute ; 
to  assist  bim,  on  all  occasions,  with  their  army  and  theif 
fleet ;  and  even  to  pay  due  respect  to  his  bashaws,  and 
to  maintain  them  in  a  manner  suited  to  their  dignity, 
provided  they  did  not  interfere  in  the  government, 
which  was  to  be  committed  solely  to  the  dey  and  hii 
dowan.  When  these  proposals  were  agreed  to  by  the 
sultan,  the  great  dowan  immediately  assembled  to  elect 
a  dey  from  their  own  number,  and  to  frame  a  body  of 
laws  for  the  maintenance  and  regulation  of  their  new 
government.  The  altercations  which  frequently  arose 
between  the  bashaws  and  the  deys,  the  former  endea- 
vouring to  recover  their  power,  and  tlie  latter  to  abridge 
it  still  further,  occasioned  so  many  complaints  to  the 
Ottoman  court,  as  made  it  sincerely  regret  its  present 
compliance  with  the  remonstrance  and  petition  of  the 
Algerines. 

While  the  Algerines  were  proceeding  with  these  in- 
ternal arrangements,  the  famous  Doria,  with  a  body  of 
Spaniards  under  his  command,  made  another  attempt 
upon  their  capital,  which,  as  usual,  was  rendered  unsuc- 
cessful by  adverse  winds.  To  guard  against  these  re- 
peated descents,  they  applied  themselves  with  such 
vigour  to  the  improvement  of  their  navy,  that  in  the 
year  1616,  they  possessed  40  sail  of  ships,  between  200 
and  400  tons.  These  were  divided  into  two  squadrons, 
one  of  18  sail  stationed  oifthe  port  of  Malaga,  and  the 
other  at  the  Cape  of  S;mta  Maria,  between  Lisbon  and 
Seville,  where  they  attacked  all  Christian  ships  without 
distinction,  and  rendered  themselves  formidable  to  all 
the  maritime  |iowers  of  Europe. 

The  outrages  of  these  lawless  pirates  were  first  re- 
sented by  the  French,  who,  (A.  D.  161 7,)  sent  M.  Beau- 
lieu  against  them  with  a  fleet  of  50  sail.  Beaulieu  dis- 
persed their  fleet,  took  two  of  their  sliips,  while  the  ad- 
miral, with  desperate  resolution,  sunk  his  own  vessel 
and  crew  rather  than  fall  into  the  enemy's  hands. 

Three  years  after,  a  siqiiadron  of  English  men  of  war 
was  sent  into  the  Mediterranean  under  the  command  of 
sir  Robert  Miinsel;  but  alter  an  unsuccessful  attempt 
to  set  fire  to  the  shippin-:  in  the  harbour  of  Algiers,  the 
squadron  returned  without  doing  any  material  damage, 
and  the  Algerines  became  so  insolent  that  they  openly 
defied  all  the  powers  of  Kurope  except  the  Dutch.  In 
the  year  1625,  they  sent  a  pro|>osal  to  the  prince  of 
Orange,  that  if  he  would  fit  out  20  ships  of  war  to  be 
employed  against  the  Spaniards,  they  would  join  them 
with  60.  The  Dutch,  however,  unwilling  to  be  connect- 
ed with  such  infamous  allies,  rejected  their  proposal. 

Next  year  the  Cologlis  seized  upon  the  citadel  of  Al- 
giers, and  had  well  nigh  made  themselves  masters  of 
the  state ;  but  the  Turks  and  renegadoes  at  length  de- 
feated them  with  great  slaughter.  Of  those  who  sur- 
vived, many  were  butchered  in  cold  blood,  and  their 
heads  thrown  in  heaps  upon  the  city  wall  williout  the 
eastern  gate.  About  two  years  alter  this  event,  the 
state  of  Algiers  underwent  a  memorable  change,  which 
enabled  it  soon  to  shake  off  the  Ottoman  yoke,  and  be- 
come an  independent  government  under  its  own  deys. 
The  cause  of  this  revolution  was  a  truce  of  25  years, 
which  the  sultan  Amurath  IV.  had  concluded  with  the 
emperor  Ferdinand  II.  This  truce  was  universally  re- 
probated by  the  corsairs  of  Barbary,  whose  piracies  it 
tended  to  check;  and  ly  none  more  than  the  Algerines, 
renilered  opulent  and  haughty  by  their  depredations 
against  the  Christians.  They  resolved,  therefore,  to 
declare  IbemselTeB  an  independent  state,  wholly  uucon- 


ALGIERS. 


477 


eerned  in  any  treaty  into  which  the  Porte  might  enter 
with  any  Christian  power.  No  sooner  was  this  resolu- 
tion formed,  than  they  began  to  make  prizes  of  several 
ships  belonging  lo  nations  then  at  peace  with  the  Otto- 
man Porte,  some  of  which  they  pursued  even  to  Rhodes. 
So  far,  indeed,  did  their  audacity  proceed,  that,  having 
seized  a  Dutch  ship  and  polacre  at  Scanderoon,  they 
ventured  on  shore,  plundered  the  magazines  and  ware- 
houses, and  then  set  them  on  fire.  Though  the  Porte 
resented  these  depredations  as  an  open  defiance  of  its 
authority,  it  was  then  too  much  occupied  liy  the  Persian 
war  to  be  able  to  check  them ;  and  the  visier  and  cour- 
tiers compounded  with  the  Algerines  for  a  share  of  the 
Epoils. 

For  many  years  the  piracies  of  these  corsairs  conti- 
nued the  terror  and  the  shame  of  the  Christian  powers. 
At  length,  in  the  year  1 052,  a  French  fleet  being  driven 
by  accident  info  the  bay  of  Algiers,  the  admiral  de- 
m^inded  the  release  of  all  the  prisoners  of  his  nation, 
without  any  exception.  When  his  demand  was  refused, 
he  carried  off,  without  ceremony,  the  Turkish  bashaw, 
and  his  cadi,  who  had  just  arrived  from  Constantinople, 
with  all  their  equipage  and  retinue.  The  Algerines,  in 
revenge,  attacked  a  French  fort  lately  erected  by  Louis 
XIII.  called  the  Bastion  of  France,  and  carried  off  the 
inhabitants,  with  all  their  effects;  an  outrage  which  so 
provoked  the  French  admiral,  that  he  threatened  to  pay 
them  a  visit  next  year. 

Undismayed  by  this  menace,  the  Algerines  fitted  out 
afleet  of  16  galleys,  well  manned  and  equipped,  destined 
lo  seize  the  treasure  ofLoretto.  Prevented  by  adverse 
winds  from  accomplishing  their  design,  they  made  a 
descent  upon  Puglia,  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  ravaged 
the  territory  of  Nocotra,  and  then,  steering  towards  Dal- 
matia,  scoured  the  Adriatic,  leaving  the  inhabitants  of 
the  coasts  in  the  utmost  consternation. 

Provoked  by  these  outrages,  the  Venetians  sent  out  a 
fleet  of  28  sail,  under  the  command  of  admiral  Capello, 
with  orders  to  take,  sink,  or  burn,  all  the  Barbary  cor- 
sairs, wherever  be  found  them.  Capello  soon  came  up 
with  the  Algerine  fleet,  which,  after  an  obstinate  con- 
flict, he  entirely  defeated;  but  a  ball  from  one  of  the 
Venetian  galleys  having  struck  a  Turkish  mosque,  the 
whole  action  was  considered  as  an  insult  upon  the  grand 
signior.  Capello  was  recalled,  and  the  Venetians  were 
obliged  to  purchase  peace  of  the  Porte  with  the  sum  of 
500,000  ducuts.  Algiers  was  filled  with  consternation 
at  the  news  of  this  defeat ;  but  they  repaired  their  loss 
with  amazing  activity,  and  were  soon  able  so  appear  at 
«ea  with  a  fleet  of  65  sail. 

A  squadron,  consisting  of  five  galleys  and  two  bri- 
gantines,  commanded  by  the  Algerine  admiral  Pin- 
chinin,  was  defeated  by  a  Dutch  merchantman  of  28 
guns,  after  a  fierce  engagement,  in  which  the  Dutch 
displayed  uncommon  valour;  but  the  rest  of  the  fleet 
returned  to  Algiers,  crowded  with  captives,  and  laden 
with  an  immense  quantity  of  spoils.  Such  was  the  gen- 
eral terror  which  tliese  corsairs  excited,  that  the  English, 
French,  and  Dutch,  were  glad  to  obtain  peace  from 
them  even  on  very  degrading  lernis ;  while  against  the 
Spaniards,  Portuguese,  and  Italians,  the  inveterate  ene- 
mies of  the  Mahometan  faith,  they  vowed  eternal  war. 
The  outrages  which  they  committed  on  the  French 
coas^,  at  last  provoked  Louis  XIV.  to  send  out  a  strong 
fleet  against  them,  under  the  command  of  the  Marquis 
du  Quesne,  vice-admiral  of  France.  Du  Quense  sailed 
to  Algiers  in  August,  1 682,  and  bombarded  it  with  such 


fury,  that  the  whole  city  was  soon  in  flames,  and  the  ter- 
rified inhabitants  were  preparing  to  leave  it,  when  the 
wind  suddenly  veering  about,  obliged  the  admiral  to  re- 
turn to  Toulon.  The  Algerines,  in  revenge  for  this 
outrage,  immediately  sent  to  the  coast  of  Provence  a 
number  of  galleys  and  galliots,  which  committed  dread- 
ful ravages,  and  carried  ofT  a  great  number  of  captives. 
A  new  armament  was  fitted  out  at  Marseilles  and 
Toulon ;  and  the  Algerines,  informed  of  these  prepara- 
tions, repaired  their  walls,  and  fortified  their  capital,  to 
he  ready  for  the  expected  assault.  The  squadron  of  Du 
Quesne  appeared  before  Algiers  in  the  beginning  of  the 
following  summer,  and  bombarded  it  with  such  acti- 
vity, and  with  such  dreadful  execution,  that  the  Dey 
and  Bashaw  immediately  sued  for  peace.  An  imme- 
diate surrender  of  all  the  French  captives  was  insisted 
npon  as  a  preliminary ;  but  a  delay  in  the  execution  of 
that  condition  occasioned  a  renewal  of  hostilities.  In 
less  than  three  days  most  of  the  city  was  reduced  to 
ashes,  and  the  flame  was  so  violent  as  to  illumine  the  sea 
for  several  leagues  around.  The  distress  of  this  scene 
served  only  to  inspire  the  Algerine  commander  with 
frantic  rage.  Not  content  with  butchering  all  (he 
French  in  the  city,  he  ordered  their  consul  to  be  fasten- 
ed alive  to  the  mouth  of  a  cannon,  whence  he  was  shot 
away  against  their  navy.  By  such  unheard  of  atrocity, 
the  French  admiral  was  so  much  exasperated,  that  he 
did  not  leave  Algiers  till  he  had  destroyed  all  its  forti- 
fications and  shipping,  and  rendered  the  city  almost  a 
heap  of  ruins.  This  disaster  so  completely  humbled 
the  Algerines,  that  they  immediately  sent  an  embassy 
to  France,  begging  for  peace  in  the  most  abject  terms, 
and  supplicating  pardon  for  the  murder  of  the  consul, 
which  they  attributed  to  (he  ungovernable  rage  of  the 
populace.  Their  request  was  granted,  and  from  that 
time  they  began  to  pay  more  regard  to  other  nations, 
and  to  be  more  cautious  of  incurring  their  displeasure. 
In  1686  they  entered  intoatreaty  withEngland  on  terms 
highly  advantageous  to  that  country.  The  treaty  was 
renewed  at  difierent  times;  but  it  was  not  till  the  En- 
glish obtained  possession  of  Gibraltar  and  Port  Mahon, 
that  they  could  compel  those  perfidious  pirates  to  pay 
proper  regard  to  the  obligation  of  treaties. 

In  the  year  1708,  the  Algerines  wrested  the  city  of 
Oran  from  the  Spaniards ;  but,  though  they  were  at  great 
pains  to  strengthen  it  by  new  fortifications,  it  was  re- 
taken in  the  year  1737.  The  expulsion  of  the  Turkish 
Bashaw  in  1710,  and  the  union  of  his  office  with  (hat  of 
the  Dey,  introduced  the  form  of  government  which  now 
exists  at  Algiers. 

The  government  of  Algiers  is  a  pure  military 
aristocracy,  at  the  head  of  which  is  the  Dey,  whose  au- 
thority somewhat  resembles  that  of  the  former  Stadt- 
holders  of  Holland.  The  Dey  is  always  chosen  out  of 
the  army,  to  every  order  of  which  that  dignity  is  open. 
The  tumult  and  confusion  to  which  this  circumstance 
gives  rise,  cannot  well  be  conceived  by  those  who  live 
under  civilized  governments,  where  hereditary  power  i* 
transmitted  in  regular  succession.  At  Algiers,  every 
aspiring  soldier,  however  mean  his  origin,  may  consider 
himself  as  heir  apparent  to  the  throne,  to  which  he  may 
succeed  without  any  lingering  delay,  if,  when  he  hag 
plunged  his  cimitar  in  the  breast  of  the  ruler,  he  can 
still  trust  to  its  ])rotection.  Hence  there  is,  in  general, 
a  very  rapid  succession  of  deys,  scarcely  one  in  ten  of 
whom  escapes  assassination.  But  though  the  office  of 
dey  be  elective,  and  held  by  such  a  precarious  tenure,  hi» 


4*f9 


ALOIER». 


nufhority  is  as  ahsolute  as  <hat  of  any  monarch  in  the 
worhl.  A  dowan,  or  council,  is  .ippointed,  indeed,  for 
the  purpose  of  aiding  him  in  his  deliberations,  and  for 
directing  or  controlling  him  in  the  exercise  of  his 
power.  To  (his  council,  which  at  first  was  composed 
of  seren  or  eight  hundred  military  officers,  chosen  by 
the  oldest  soldiers,  it  was  necessary  to  submit  all  affairs 
of  importance :  they  alone  were  invested  with  the  power 
of  framing  laws,  the  execution  of  which  was  intrust- 
ed (o  the  dcy.  It  now  consists  of  only  thirty  yiah 
bashaws,  wlio  are  convened,  very  formally  indeed,  for 
the  purpose  not  of  dictating  laws,  but  of  consenting 
to  such  measures  as  have  been  previously  concerted 
between  the  dey  and  his  favourites;  so  that,  in  re- 
ality, the  whole  government  is  vested  in  one  individual. 
The  right  of  electing  the  dey  belongs  to  the  militia ; 
and  on  (hat  occasion,  every  soldier,  however  low  his 
rank,  is  entitled  to  vote.  Hence  every  election  is  a  scene 
of  tumult  and  disorder,  which  not  unfrequently  termi- 
nates in  serious  and  bloody  contests.  When  the  election 
is  determined,  the  new  dey  is  saluted  with  the  exclama- 
tion Alla  Baricii,  "  God  bless  you ;"  he  is  invested 
with  the  kaftan,  or  regalia;  and  the  cadi,  or  chief  judge, 
addresses  Iiim  in  a  congratulatory  speech,  reminding 
him  at  (he  same  time  of  the  duties  of  his  station,  and  ex- 
horting him  to  govern  with  equity,  to  respect  the  pri- 
vileges of  his  subjects,  and  to  promote  their  welfare. 
The  f'rst  action  of  his  reign  is  generally  to  cause  all  the 
members  of  the  dowan  to  be  strangled  who  had  op])osed 
his  election,  and  to  fill  their  places  with  others  more 
devoted  to  his  service. 

Next  in  dignity  to  the  dey  is  the  aga  of  the  Ja- 
nizaries, always  one  of  the  oldest  officers  in  the  army, 
who  holds  his  place  only  two  months.  During  that  time 
he  is  intrusted  with  the  keys  of  the  metropolis ;  military 
orders  are  issued  in  his  name,  and  the  sentence  of  the 
dey  against  any  offending  soldier  can  be  executed  no- 
where but  in  the  court  of  his  palace.  When  the  short 
term  of  his  office  has  expired,  he  is  succeeded  by  the 
ehiah,  or  next  senior  officer,  and  is  considered  as  ma- 
zoul,  or  superannuated,  receives  his  pay  regularly  every 
two  months,  and  is  exempted  from  all  further  duty.  The 
secretary  of  state,  who  registers  the  public  acts,  holds 
the  next  place  to  the  aga ;  and  after  him  are  the  thirty 
yiah  bashaws,  or  colonels,  who  sit  next  to  the  aga  in 
the  dowan,  and  in  the  same  gallery.  From  this  class 
are  generally  chosen  ambassadors  to  foreign  courts,  and 
those  emissaries  who  disperse  throughout  the  realm 
the  orders  of  the  dey.  The  next  rank  is  occupied  by 
the  bolluck  bashaws,  or  eldest  captains,  800  in  number, 
w  ho  are  promote<l  according  to  their  seniority  to  the 
dignity  of  yiah  bashaws.  Next  to  them  are  400  oldaak 
bashaws  or  lieutenants,  who  are  raised  in  their  turn  to 
the  rank  of  captains,  or  promoted  according  to  their 
abilities  to  important  employments  in  the  state.  In  this 
country,  military  jjromotion  is  invariably  regulated  by 
seniority ;  a  single  violation  of  which  right  would  in- 
fallibly excite  an  insurrection. 

The  whole  military  strength  of  Algiers  does  not  ex- 
ceed 20,000  or  25,000  men,  6000  or  7000  of  whom  are 
Turks,  and  the  rest  Cologlis  or  Bloorg.  As  the  dey,  pos- 
sesses a  very  scanty  revenue,  arising  chiefly  from  taxes 
imposed  on  the  provincial  Moors,  Jews,  and  Christians, 
from  the  mono|)oly  of  grain,  the  ransom  of  captives,  and 
exactions  of  presents  from  foreigners,  the  pay  of  the  sol- 
diers is  exceedingly  smalL     According  to  Dr.  Shaw's 


calculation,  the  whole  annual  expense  of  the  army  would 
not  amount  to  200,000  dollars. 

The  naval  force  of  this  kingdom  consists  in  general 
of  20  ships,  one  of  which  is  the  property  of  government, 
and  is  assigned  to  the  admiral ;  the  rest  belong  to  private 
individuals.  The  corsairs,  though  not  allowed  to  inter- 
fere in  the  concerns  of  the  state,  are  held  in  high  estima- 
tion. All  the  officers  of  their  vessels  must  be  either 
Turks  or  Cologlis ;  for  the  Moors  are  not  allowed  to 
come  upon  the  qnarter-deck,  or  into  the  gun-room,  unless 
they  are  sent  for.  An  eighth  part  of  all  their  prizes  is 
due  to  government,  the  remainder  is  distributed  among 
the  i)roprietors  and  ship's  company,  and  even  passengers 
are  entitled  to  a  share. 

In  a  nation  of  pirates  commerce  cannot  be  expected 
to  flourish.  As  the  trade  of  Algiers  is  conducted  almost 
solely  by  the  corsairs,  whose  interest  it  is  to  be  at  war 
with  other  naval  powers,  the  internal  resources  of  the 
country  are  very  much  neglected.  On  this  account,  very 
few  commodities  are  exported  from  Algiers,  as  their 
oil,  wax,  hides,  pulse,  and  corn,  are  barely  sufficient  for 
the  supply  of  the  country ;  although  the  merchants  of 
Oran  have  sometimes  been  known  to  ship  ofl"  from 
Barbary  several  thousand  tons  of  grain.  Their  other 
exports  are  ostrich  feathers,  copper,  rugs,  silk,  ashes, 
embroidered  handkerchiefs,  dates,  and  Christian  slaves. 
Manufactures  in  silk,  cotton,  wool,  and  leather,  are  car- 
ried on  in  this  country, chiefly  by  the  Sjjaniards  settledin 
the  vicinity  of  the  metropolis.  They  also  manufacture  a 
kind  of  carpets,  which,  though  inferior  to  those  of  Turkey 
in  beauty  and  fineness,  are  preferred  by  the  people  for 
their  cheapness  and  softness.  At  Algiers  there  are 
looms  for  velvet,  taffetas,  and  other  wrought  silks ;  and 
a  coarse  sort  of  linen  is  manufactured  in  most  parts  of 
the  kingdom.  The  commodities  imported  by  the  cor- 
sairs are  chiefly  gold  and  silver  stuffs,  damasks,  cloths, 
spices,  tin,  iron,  plated  brass,  lead,  quicksilver,  cordage, 
sailcloth,  bullets,  cochineal,  linen,  tartar,  alum,  rice, 
sugar,  soap,  cotton  raw  and  spun,  copperas,  aloes,  brazil, 
logwood,  and  vermilion.  The  Algerines  have  no  ma- 
terials for  ship-building,  neither  ropes,  tar,  sailcloth, 
anchors,  nor  iron.  When  they  can  procure  enough  of 
woo<l  to  form  the  main  timbers  of  a  ship,  they  supply  the 
rest  by  breaking  down  some  old  vessels  of  which  thejr 
have  made  prizes. 

In  religion,  the  Algerines  agree  with  the  Turks,  ex- 
cept that  they  have  a  greater  variety  of  superstitious 
rites.  Though  they  acknowledge  the  authority  of  the 
Koran,  they  do  not  very  scrupulously  adhere  to  its  doc- 
trines and  precepts.  The  mufti,  or  high  priest,  the 
grand  marabout,  or  saint,  together  with  the  cadi,  or  chief 
judge,  preside  in  all  matters  of  religion. 

The  administration  of  justice  in  Algiers  belongs 
chiefly  to  the  cadi,  who  commonly  receives  his  edu- 
cation at  Constantinople  or  Grand  Cairo,  where  the 
Roman  codes  and  pandects,  translated  into  the  Ara- 
bic language,  are  taught  and  explained  as  in  the  univer- 
sities of  Europe.  He  is  obliged  to  attend  at  the  court  of 
justice  once  or  twice  a-day,  to  hear  and  determine  the 
several  suits  and  complaints  that  are  brought  before  him. 
All  affairs  of  moment,  however,  are  submitted  to  the 
dey  himself,  or  in  his  absence  to  his  principal  officers ; 
who,  for  that  purpose,  sit  constantly  in  the  gate  of  the 
palace.  Some  of  the  punishments  inflicted  at  Algiers 
are  exceedingly  cruel.  A  Jew  or  Christian,  guilty  of 
any  capital  crime,  is  carried  without  the  gates  of  the 


ALGIERS. 


479 


city,  and  burnt  alive.  A  Moor  or  Arab,  when  capitally 
convicted,  is  either  impaled,  hung  up  by  the  neck  over 
the  battlements  of  the  city,  or  thrown  down  upon  hooks 
fixed  in  the  wall  below,  where  they  sometimes  hang  in 
exquisite  torment  for  thirty  or  forty  hours.  The  Turks 
are  never  punished  in  public,  but  are  sent  to  the  court 
of  the  aga,  where  they  are  either  bastinaded  or  strang- 
led, according  to  the  nature  of  their  crime.  Female 
delinquents  are  sent  to  some  private  house  of  correction; 
or,  if  guilty  of  adultery,  or  any  other  capital  crime,  are 
tied  up  in  a  sack,  and  thrown  into  the  sea.  Even  the 
barbarous  punishment  of  sawing  asunder  is  still  inflict- 
ed among  the  western  Moors.  Trials  are  conducted 
at  Algiers  in  a  very  summary  manner,  and  the  sentence 
once  pronounced,  is  followed  by  immediate  execution. 
Little  regard  is  paid  to  the  quality  of  the  oflfender. 
Trivial  transgressions,  indeed,  may  sometimes  be  ex- 
piated by  a  sum  of  money  ;  but  no  atonement  can  be  ac- 
cepted for  a  flagrant  crime  but  the  j)unishments  which 
justice  awards. 

The  population  of  Algiers  is  composed  of  several 
different  nations;  Turks,  Moors,  Christians,  and  Jews. 
The  Turks,  who  have  been  established  here  since  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  hold  the  highest  rank, 
and  possess  all  the  principal  offices  and  employments. 
No  native  of  Algiers  is  allowed  to  aspire  to  the  name 
and  privileges  of  a  Turk  ;  he  alone  can  claim  that  dis- 
tinction, who  has  been  born  in  the  dominions  of  the 
Grand  Signior,  of  Mahometan  parents,  or  at  least  of  a 
Mahometan  mother.  The  high  esteem  in  which  these 
people  are  held,  the  honour,  the  privileges,  and  ex- 
emptions which  they  enjoy,  inspire  them  with  such  lofty 
ideas  of  their  own  superiority,  that  the  meanest  Turk 
thinks  himself  entitled  to  despise  the  most  respecta- 
ble among  the  Moors,  the  Christians,  or  Jews.  Pride, 
indolence,  voluptuousness,  jealousy,  revenge,  and  ava- 
rice, are  the  prominent  features  in  their  character; 
though  at  the  same  time  they  are  sincere,  faithful,  and 
courageous. 

Next  in  rank  and  dignity  to  the  Turks,  are  Cologlis, 
or  Coloris,  who  are  the  children  of  Turks  by  female 
Moors.  These  form  a  numerous  and  respectable  class, 
and  are  considered  the  most  intelligent  and  cultivated 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Algiers. 

The  uext  division  of  Algerines  consists  of  the  Moors, 
under  which  general  ajjpellation  are  comprehended,  the 
Moors,  properly  so  called ;  the  Kabyles,  or  mountaineers, 
mixed  with  Berbers,  or  Brebers,  and  several  Arabian 
tribes.  These  Moors  are,  in  general,  more  active  than 
the  Turks,  and  are  fond  of  commerce  and  the  mechanic 
arts ;  but,  in  their  moral  character,  they  are  the  most 
odious  and  depraved  of  mankind ;  false,  revengeful,  cow- 
ardly, fanatical, and  avaricious.  The  Arabs,  who  inhabit 
the  Algerine  dominions, have  uniformly  kept  themselves 
distinct  from  the  other  inhabitants,  partly  in  a  state  of 
independence,  and  partly  as  tributaries  to  the  dey. 
They  dwell  either  in  the  desert,  or  among  inaccessible 
mountains,  divided  into  clans  or  families,  under  the  go- 
vernment of  a  patriarch,  or  sheik,  who  may  be  consi- 
dered as  their  judge,  their  leader,  and  instructor.  These 
Arabs  are  distinguished  by  their  love  of  liberty,  and  by 
their  pride. 

The  number  of  Jews  in  Algiers  is  not  considerable, 
and  their  situation  is  particularly  abject  and  miserable. 
A  peculiar  dress,  of  a  dark  colour,  exposes  them  to  no- 
tice and  to  insult ;  and  a  Jew,  when  abused  by  a  Turk 
cr  a  Moorj  wobW  be   iu  danger  of  immediate  death 


if  he  attempted  his  own  defence.  They  find  it  ne- 
cessary, therefore,  to  purchase,  by  some  valuable  do- 
nation, the  protection  either  of  some  powerful  Turk, 
or  an  European  consul.  No  Jew  is  allowed  to  ac- 
quire landed  property  in  the  kingdom  of  Algeirs,  nor 
even  to  ride  through  the  gates  or  in  the  streets  of  the 
city. 

The  Christians  in  this  kingdom,  though  pretty  nu- 
merous, are  only  transient  residents,  and  cannot  pro- 
perly be  reckoned  among  the  regular  inhabitants. 
Except  on  the  western  coast,  where  Oran  and  Masal- 
quivir  are  occupied  by  the  Spaniards,  all  the  Chris- 
tians here  are  slaves,  either  Ciiptured  by  the  corsairs,  or 
induced  by  wretchedness  and  penury  to  enter  volun- 
tarily into  a  state  of  slavery.  Oran  and  Masalquivir 
are  inhabited  chiefly  by  fugitives  from  Spain,  who  de- 
rive a  very  scanty  subsistence  from  the  garrison ;  and 
destitute  of  trade,  agriculture,  and  manufactures,  live 
in  extreme  poverty  and  indolence.  Most  of  those  who 
enter  voluntarily  info  servitude,  are  deserters  from  the 
garrison  at  Oran,  whose  number  is  estimated  at  100  an- 
nually. 

The  renegadoes  are  Jews  or  Christians,  who,  either 
from  hatred,  or  dread  of  their  relations,  or  from  motives 
of  interest  and  ambition,  have  renounced  the  faith  of 
their  ancestors  for  the  predominant  religion  of  the 
country.  When  possessed  of  talents  and  activity, 
these  people  are  as  much  respected  as  the  Cologlis,  and 
are  often  advanced  to  the  most  honourable  and  lucra- 
tive employments.  We  have  seen,  in  the  course  of 
the  history,  that  several  of  the  I'urkish  bashaws  were 
renegadoes,  who  had  distinguished  themselves  by  their 
abilities  and  their  services  to  government.  Of  Chris- 
tian renegadoes  the  number  is  proportionably  small. 
The  zeal  to  gain  proselytes  from  Christianity  has  now 
ceased  ;  for  by  such  conversions  the  proprietors  of  slaves 
would  lose  them  without  obtaining  the  expected  ran- 
som.    (A) 

ALGIERS,  the  capital  of  the  kingdom  of  Algiers, 
probably  the  ancient  Icosium,  is  built  on  the  declivity  of 
a  hill  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  presenting  when 
viewed  from  the  sea,  a  beautiful  and  mangnificent  spec- 
tacle.    It  is  not  more  than  half  a  league  in  circum- 
ference, yet  it  contains  120,000  inhabitants  of  whom 
15,000,  or  16,000  are  Turks;  30,000  Cologlis;  60,000 
Moors,  or  Berbers;  and  theremainder  Jews,  Christians, 
or  renegadoes.     There  is  only  one  street  of  any  consi- 
derable breadth,  which  runs  through  the  city  from  east 
to  west  and  contains  the  shops  of  the  princijial  mer- 
chants, and  the  market  for  corn,  and  other  commodities. 
The  other  streets  are  so  narrow,  that  two  persons  can 
scarcely  walk  abreast,  and  the  middle  part  being  loiyer 
than  the  sides,  is  always  exceedingly  dirty.     The  roofs 
of  the  houses  are  quite  flat,  and  communicate  with  each 
other  in  such  a  manner,  that  a  person  may   walk  upon 
them  from  one  end  of  a  street  to  the  other.    These  roofs 
are  all  whitened,  and  rising  in  regular  gradation  upon 
the  declivity  of  the  hill, appear  from  sea  like  the  toi)-sail 
of  a  ship.     The  lower  part  of  the  walls  is  of  hewn  stone, 
the  upper  part  of  brick ;  on  the  land  side  they  are  30  feet 
high,  and   40  towards  the  sea;  around  them  is  a   fosse 
or  ditch,  20  feet  broad,  and  7  deep.     To  supply  the 
want  of  fresh  water  in  the  city,  every  house  is  provided 
with  a  tank  or  cistern.     The  water  is  conveyed  from  a 
spring  on  a  hill  by  pipes,  which  terminate  in  above  a 
hundred  fountains,  to  each  of  which  is  fastened  a  bowl 
for  the  use  of  passengers.     Ships  take  in  their  water 


480 


ALG 


ALG 


at  the  common  reservoir,  wliich  is  at  the  end  of  the 
mole.  This  tonn  has  five  "ates,  which  are  open  from 
sunrige  till  twilight,  and  seven  ports  or  castles  without 
the  walls,  llie  largest  and  strongest  of  which  is  on  the 
mole  widiout  the  gale  ;  All  of  these  ports  are  well  sup- 
jilied  with  great  guns.  The  form  of  the  houses  is  square, 
with  a  square  court  in  the  middle,  and  galleries  all 
round.  They  are  in  general  of  considerable  height, 
and  have  very  small  windows,  either  for  the  sake  of 
coolness,  or  from  the  bad  taste  of  the  inhalitants.  Al- 
giers can  boast  of  few  magnificent  or  beautiful  edifices. 
The  most  considerable  are  the  palace  of  the  dey,  and 
some  large  mosques,  which  are  by  no  means  remarkable 
as  specimens  oi  elegance  or  taste.  At  Algiers,  as  in 
the  cities  of  Turkey,  there  are  bagnios,  or  public  baths, 
to  which  access  may  be  procured  at  a  very  moderate 
price.  Separate  baths  are  approi)riated  to  the  women, 
which  men  dare  not  approach.  At  meals,  the  Algerincs 
sit  cross-legged  round  a  table  about  four  inches  high, 
and  use  neither  knives  nor  forks.  Before  they' be- 
gin to  eat,  every  one  says.  Be  iirne  Allah,  in  the 
name  of  God.  When  they  have  done,  a  slave  pours 
water  on  their  hands  as  they  sit,  and  then  they  wash 
their  mouths.  Though  this  city  has  for  several  ages 
braved  the  greatest  powers  in  Europe,  it  is  said  to  be 
incapable  of  standing  a  regular  siege.  It  has  a  commo- 
dious harbour ;  the  mole  of  which  extends  500  paces  in 
length,  from  the  continent  to  a  small  island,  on  which 
there  is  a  castle  and  a  powerful  battery.  E.  Long.  2"  1 2'. 
N.  Lat.  36°  4&'. 

Shaw's  Travels,  Bruce's  Travels,  Relation  of  Seven 
Christians,  &c.  Robertson's  History  of  Charles  V.  Pitt's 
Accovnl  oj  the  Religion  and  Manners  of  the  Mahometans, 
Modem  Un.  Hist.  vol.  xiv.  8vo.  Chantreaux'a  Science 
de  tHistoire,  &c,  torn.  2.     (A;) 

ALGODONALES,  the  name  of  a  cluster  of  islands, 
on  the  coast  of  Peru,  situated  in  W.  Long.  72»  50'.  and 
S.  Lat.  21'>  56'.     (w) 

ALGOL,  or  Medusa's  Head,  a  fixed  star  of  va- 
riable magnitude,  situated  in  the  constellation  Per- 
seus, and  marked  ^  in  our  catalogues.  The  varia- 
tions of  this  star  were  first  observed  by  Montanari. 
Maraldi  examined  it  in  1 693,  without  perceiving  any 
changes  in  its  brightness;  but,  in  1694,  he  found,  that 
it  varied  in  brilliancy,  from  the  second  to  the  fourth 
magnitude.  Flamstead  likewise  observed  similar  chan- 
ges; but  Mr.  Goodricke,  of  York,  was  the  first  astro- 
nomer who  discovered  the  period  of  these  variations, 
which  he  found  to  be  repeated  every  2  days  20 
hours  48  minutes  56  seconds.  From  15  years'  obser- 
vation, M.  Wurm  found  its  period  to  be  2  days  20 
hours  48'  58"  7. ;  and  La  Lande  makes  it  2''  20i>  49'  2". 
Mr.  Piggot  observed,  that  its  degree  of  brightness, 
when  at  its  minimum,  is  different  in  different  periods ; 
and  that,  at  its  maximum,  it  is  sometimes  brighter 
than  »  Perseus,  and  at  other  times  less  brilliant.  See 
Hist,  del' Acad.  Par.  1605,  p.  74.  Mem.  Acad.  Par. 
1788.  Phil.  Trans.  1783,  p.  474.  Id.  1684,  p.  1.  4.  5. 
287.  /rf.  1786,  p.  194.  Ephfmerides  dc  Berlin,  MS8, 
p.  191;  1739,  p.  175.  Astronomie parha.LAm\e,  torn. 
i.  §  809.  Nov.  Act.  Helvet.  i.  p.  307.  Mem.  Acad. 
Par.  1788,  p.  240.  Zach.  Eplwm.  ii.  210.  See  also 
a  Memoir  by  Burkhardt  on  the  Changes  of  Algol,  in  the 
Connoissancc  des    Temps,  1804,  p.  411.     See   Astko- 

KOMY.       (»») 

ALGONQUINS,  a  savage  people  of  North  America, 
Mhabiiiui;  a  part  of  Lower  Canada,  and  formerly  occu- 


pying nearly  the  whole  of  the  country  distinguished  bjr 
that  name.  They  are  originally  the  same  people  with 
the  Killistinons,  and  probably  also  with  the  Chippe- , 
ways  ;  for  their  language  has  so  close  a  resemblance 
to  the  Killislinon  and  Chippeway,  as  to  prove  the  iden- 
tity of  the  nations,  at  a  period  of  lime  not  very  remote. 
(See  a  Vocab.  of  the  Killistinon  and  Chip.  Lang,  in 
M'Kenzie's  Fotjage,  p.  107,  and  one  of  the  Algonquin 
and  Chippeway  in  Long"s  Travels,  Append.)  At  pre- 
sent, however,  thej'  must  all  be  regarded  as  separate 
and  independent  trilK-s. 

As  the  Algonquins,  like  the  other  uncivilized  inhabi- 
tants of  America,  haveno  records,  by  which  the  memory 
of  past  transactions  is  preserved,  little  of  their  early  his- 
tory is  known.  For  a  considerable  time,  they  had  no 
rivals  in  war,  or  in  the  chase.  The  Iroquois,  or  Indians 
of  the  Five  Nations,  whose  country  was  separated  from 
theirs  by  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  were  nominally  their 
allies,  but  in  reality  their  dependents  and  tributaries. 
They  followed  the  Algonquins  in  their  hunting  expedi- 
tions, and  were  employed  in  the  menial  offices  of  flaying 
the  animals  which  were  killed,  preserving  their  flesh, 
and  dressing  their  skins.  Put  the  Iroquois,  having  asso- 
ciated for  the  purpose  of  defending  themselves  against 
the  tribes  in  their  neighbourhoo<l,  began  to  feel  theic 
own  strength,  and  to  perceive  the  advantages  of  the 
union  which  they  had  formed.  They  had  marked  also 
the  causes  of  that  superiority,  which  the  Algonquins 
maintained  over  the  other  tribes,  and  had  learned  from 
them  the  art  of  conducting  themselves  with  propriety  in 
their  warlike  excursions  :  and  what  they  saw  and  had 
learned,  they  quickly  turned  to  the  great  object  of  esta- 
blishing their  independence.  The  jealousy  of  the  Al- 
gonquins arose  :  both  nations  were  employed  in  hunting, 
and  the  Iroquois,  whether  by  their  activity  or  by  good 
fortune,  had  killed  a  much  greater  number  of  elks  than 
their  associates,  who,  exasperated  at  their  successes,  fell 
upon  their  young  men  in  the  night,  and  put  every  one 
of  them  to  death.  This  conduct  naturally  provoked  th« 
anger  of  the  Iroquois;  but  they  dissembled  their  resent- 
ment, and  waited  for  a  proper  opportunity  to  retaliate, 
with  all  the  patience  and  secrecy  which  distinguish 
the  natives  of  America,  in  the  execution  of  their 
plans  of  vengeance.  They  tried  their  strength  upon 
the  inferior  tribes,  and  improved  both  in  courage  and 
in  skill.  In  due  time,  their  plans  being  mature,  they 
attacked  the  Algonquins  with  invincible  fury,  and 
destroyed  them  with  implacable  resentment;  cutting 
off  their  hunting  parties,  surprising  them  in  their  re- 
treats, and  persevering  so  long  in  the  ardour  of  revenge, 
as  showed,  that  they  were  bent  upon  the  extirpation  of 
the  inimical  race.  And  such  is  the  |)ower  of  united 
strength,  that  they  very  nearly  succeeded  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  their  design.  But  the  French  having  in- 
terfered, put  a  stop  to  their  ravages.  At  present,  the 
Algonquins  are  to  be  found  in  small  tribes,  and  their 
numbers  are  annually  diminishing;  a  remark  which 
likewise  applies  to  many  other  nations  of  the  American 
continent. 

The  manners  and  customs  of  this  savage  people  are 
nearly  the  same  w  ith  those  of  the  other  Indians  of  North 
America.  They  live  chiefly  by  hunting  and  fishing, 
and  of  consequence  have  no  fixed  place  of  abode,  and 
are  frequently  assailed  by  famine.  Their  huts  ar» 
temporary  erections,  meanly  built,  and  poorly  furnished, 
and  nauseous  beyond  the  sufferance  of  any  cultivated 
people.     See  the  articles  Canada  and  I^DIANS.    Se* 


ALH 


ALH 


481 


also  Meurs  ties  Sauvages,  par  Lafitau,  pasxiin.  Mal- 
thus  on  Foputati(m,vo\.  i.  M^Kenzie's  Travels,  passim  ; 
Long's  Travels,  passim.  Adair's  Hist,  of  jimeric.  In- 
dians,    (h) 

ALGORAB,  a  fixed  star  of  the  third  magnitude,  in 
the  right,  or  eastern  wing  of  the  constellation  Corvus, 
and  marked  i^  in  our  catalogues.     (»») 

ALGORITHM,  an  Arabic  word,  properly  signi- 
fying the  art  of  computing  with  facility  and  accuracy. 
It  is  sometimes  used  to  denote  the  rules  of  arithmetic, 
as  when  we  say,  the  algorithm  of  surds,  the  algorithm 
«f  fractions,  &c.  The  Spaniards  employ  it  to  express 
the  practical  part  of  algebra ;  but  it  is  most  commonly 
used  to  signify  the  principles  and  notation  of  any  calcu- 
lus; thus  we  say,  that  Euler  gave  the  algorithm  of  the 
integral  calculus  with  partial  differences,     (o) 

ALHAMA,  the  Ariigis  of  the  ancients,  a  populous 
town  in  the  province  of  Granada  in  Spain,  situated  on 
the  banks  of  the  Frio,  in  a  delightful  and  narrow  val- 
ley, flanked  with  steep,  lofty,  and  rugged  mountains.  It 
was  once  celebrated  for  its  splendid  baths,  which  were 
embellished  by  the  Moorish  kings  of  Granada,  and  of 
which  some  vestiges  still  remain.  This  town  was  taken 
from  the  Moors  in  1481,  after  a  brave  defence,  and  aban- 
doned to  the  pillage  of  the  Christians,  who  made  slaves 
of  3000  of  the  inhabitants.  Its  medicinal  waters  and 
warm  baths  still  attract  crowds  of  invalids  to  Alhama. 
W.  Long.  3»  2^.     N.  Lat.  Se-  57'  30".     (o) 

ALHAMBRA,  the  palace  of  the  Moorish  kings,  in 
the  city  of  Granada.  It  had  its  name  from  (he  red  co- 
lour of  the  building,  the  word  alhambra  signifying  a 
red  house.  This  palace  and  fortress  (for  it  was  most 
admirably  adapted  for  both)  is  said  to  have  been  begun 
in  1280  by  Muley  Mahemmed  Abdallah,  the  second  Moor- 
ish king  of  Granada:  it  was  completed  by  succeeding 
kings,  each  of  whom  was  ambitious  of  adding  to  its  ex- 
tent, or  its  beauty.  It  crowns  the  summit  of  one  of  the 
hills  on  which  the  city  of  Granada  is  built.  It  seems  to 
overhang  the  town,  and  commands  a  most  delightful 
prospect  of  the  picturesque  and  fertile  country  below, 
which,  in  spite  of  the  indolence  of  the  Spaniards,  is  still 
a  kind  of  terrestrial  paradise. 

The  Alhambra  is  quite  unique,  both  in  its  architec- 
ture, and  in  Ae  nature  and  disposition  of  its  ornaments. 
The  ascent  to  it  is  liy  a  narrow  street,  called  Calk  de  los 
Goineles,  from  a  great  family  among  the  Moors.  This 
brings  you  to  a  massy  gate,  built  by  Charles  V.  through 
which  you  enter  into  the  outward  enclosure  of  the  al- 
hambra. You  then  continue  to  ascend  through  a  very 
steep  avenue  of  elms,  till  you  come  under  the  walls  of 
the  inner  enclosure.  The  appearance  of  the  alhambra, 
from  this  point  of  view,  is  that  of  an  old  town,  exhihit- 
ing  a  long  range  of  high  battlemented  walls,  interrupted 
at  regular  distances  by  large  lofty  square  towers.  Just 
before  you  stands  the  principal  entrance  into  the  castle, 
which,  from  its  being  the  place  where  justice  was  sum- 
marily administered,  is  called  the  gate  of  judgment. 
You  pass  through  it  under  several  arches,  (each  of 
which  is  more  than  a  semicircle,  resting  upon  a  small 
impost,  the  ends  of  the  bow  being  brought  towards 
each  other,  in  the  form  of  a  horse  shoe  ;)  the  passage 
then  winds  through  several  turns,  till  it  ends  in  a  narrow 
street,  which  leads  to  the  great  square,  or  Plasa  de  los 
Algibes,  so  named  from  the  cisterns,  which  undermine 
it  from  end  to  end. 

Advancing  from  this  square,  through  another  gate- 
way, the  first  object  that  arrests  attention,  is  the  magni- 

VoL.  I,  Part   II. 


ficent  palace  begun  by  Charles  V.  This  edifice  is  a 
perfect  square  of  two  hundred  Spanish  feet.  Three  ol' 
the  fronts  are  free  from  all  other  buildings ;  the  fourth 
(that  to  the  north,)  is  connected  with  the  ancient  palace 
of  the  Moorish  kings.  This  palace  of  the  emperor  ne- 
ver was  finished ;  his  constant  wars,  his  versatility,  and 
his  frequent  change  of  residence,  soon  made  him  drop 
the  design  of  fixing  his  court  within  the  walls  of  the  al- 
hambra ;  and  this  magnificent  building  is  failing  fast  in- 
to ruins,  to  the  regret  of  all  (he  lovers  of  the  fine  arts. 
It  is  conceived  in  the  grandest  style,  and  manifest* 
throughout  Uie  utmost  elegance  and  chastity  of  design. 

Adjoining  (to  the  north,)  stands  a  huge  heap  o!"  a» 
ugly  buildings  as  can  be  conceived,  all  huddled  together, 
geemiugly  without  the  least  intention  of  forming  one 
habitation  out  of  them;  yet  this  is  the  palace  of  the 
Moorish  kings  of  Granada;  the  most  curious  place 
within  that  exists  in  Spain,  perhaps  in  Europe.  Swin- 
burne, who  describes  this  palace  with  enthusiasm,  says. 
that  there  is  nothing  any  where  else,  that  can  convey  an 
idea  of  it,  "  except  you  take  it  from  the  decorations  of 
an  opera,  or  the  tales  of  genii."'  You  are  admitted  into 
this  palace  at  a  plain  unornamented  door,  in  a  corner; 
and  one  cannot  help  being  filled  with  astonishment,  on 
being  transported  all  at  once  into  a  kind  of  fairy-land. 
The  Cotmmma,  or  place  of  (he  common  baths,  which 
first  presents  Itself  on  entering  into  this  enchanted  en- 
closure, is  an  ohlong  square,  with  a  deep  basin  of  clear 
water  in  the  middle ;  two  flights  of  marble  steps  lead 
down  to  the  bottom  ;  on  each  side  is  a  parterre  of  flow- 
ers, and  a  row  of  orange  trees ;  round  the  court  runs  a 
peristyle  paved  with  marble;  (he  arches  bear  upon  very 
slight  pillars,  in  proportions  and  style  different  from  all 
the  regular  orders  of  architecture.  The  ceilings  and 
walls  are  incrustated  with  fret-work  in  stucco,  so  minute 
and  intricate,  that  the  most  patient  artist  would  find  it 
difficult  to  follow  it.  The  ceilings  are  gilt  or  painted, 
and  time  has  not  in  the  least  diminished  the  freshness 
of  their  colours.  The  lower  part  of  the  walls  is  Mosaic, 
disposed  in  fantastic  knots  and  festoons.  A  work  so  new, 
and  so  exquisitely  finished,  affords  the  most  agreeable 
sensations,  which  redouble  every  step  one  takes  in  (his 
magic  ground.  It  baffles  all  power  of  description  to  give 
an  adequate  notion  of  this  singular  edifice.  To  form  a 
proper  conception  of  it,  one  must  have  seen  it,  or  the 
imagination  must  be  aided  by  suitable  drawings.  We 
shall  therefore  barely  mention,  that  the  Qitaiie  de  los 
Leones,  or  Court  of  the  Lions,  into  which  you  enter 
from  the  Communa,  surpasses  in  size  and  magnificence, 
all  the  other  courts  within  the  walls  of  the  palace.  It  has 
its  name  from  twelve  lions  placed  in  the  centre,  which 
bear  on  their  backs  an  enormous  basin,  out  of  which  a 
smaller  arises.  While  the  pipes  were  kept  in  good  re- 
pair, a  great  volume  of  water  was  thrown  up,  which, 
falling  do^v^^  into  the  basins,  passed  through  the  lions, 
and  issued  out  of  their  mouths  into  a  large  reservoir. 
The  court  is  paved  with  white  marble,  and  at  the  extre- 
mities are  two  fine  Mosaic  cupulos,  painted  in  gold  and 
azure,  and  supported  by  several  groups  of  columns; 
the  whole  is  executed  with  inimitable  skill,  and  with  a 
delicacy  of  finishing  which  is  perhaps  unequalled. 

There  are  a  vast  number  of  other  courts  and  apart- 
ments, every  one  of  which  has  its  peculiar  beauties; 
and  the  whole  is  laid  out  with  such  exquisite  taste,  as 
to  render  the  alhambra,  when  it  was  in  all  its  glory,  the 
most  delightful  residence  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  The 
walls,  (Sic.  are  covered  with  Arabic  inscriptions,  fanci- 
3  P 


482 


ALI 


ALT 


fully  intenvoTen  with  the  ornanienls.  For  a  particular 
deicriptiou  of  the  Alhnmbra,  we  refer  to  Swinburne's 
Travels  tkrcit^h  Spain,  vol.  i.  p.  267 ;  where  drawings 
are  given  of  the  principal  apartments,  gates,  &c. ;  anil, 
for  a  more  detailed  account  of  the  iufcrifitions,  to  Bour- 
goanne'g  Trauls  m  Spain,  vol.  iii.  p.  186.  The  French 
author,  when  describing  the  alhambra,  transcribes,  in  a 
note,  some  English  verses,  written  on  the  wall  of  one  of 
the  apartments.  The  lines  are  not  very  famous  either 
for  orthodoxy  or  good  poetry  ;  but,  as  they  show  the  im- 
pression made  on  the  minds  of  the  travellers,  we  shall 
transcribe  them ; 

"  O  most  indulgent  Prophet  to  mankind. 

If  such  on  earth  thy  paradise  we  find. 

What  must  in  heaven  lliy  promised  lapttircs  prove, 

Where  black-eyed  houris  breathe  eternal  love  ! 

Thy  faith,  thy  doctrine,  sure  were  most  dinne  : 

And  though  much  water,  yet  a  little  wine." 

To  which  is  added  this  latiu  valedictory  :-"  His,  regum 
heu!  nimis  infcUcium,  deliciis,  mastum  vale  dixenmt, 
T.G.  H.  S.  Angli.  Kal.  Jan.  1775,  die,  pro  capta  urbe 
Grmiita^  triumphali"  The  latter  initials  may  probably 
stand  for  Hairy  Swinlume,  who  certainly  was  in  Gra- 
nada in  1775.  {g) 

ALHAZEN,  a  learned  Arabian,  who  flourished  in 
Spain  about  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  No 
particulars  of  his  life  have  been  transmitted  to  the  pre- 
sent day.  He  wrote  a  treatise  on  Optics,  and  another  on 
Astrology  ;  the  former  of  which  was  published  in  1572, 
in  the  Thcssaurus  Opticcs  of  Risne,  and  was  illustrated 
by  Vitellio,  on  a  work  in  the  same  subject,  published  in 
1270.  Alhasen  was  the  author  of  several  important  dis- 
coveries respecting  vision,  refraction,  and  lenses ;  but 
these  will  be  more  properly  detailed  in  the  History  of 
Optics.  See  Priestley's  Hist,  of  Vision,  &c.  vol.  i.  p.  1 7. 
Hist,  des  Mailumat.  par  Montucia,  torn.  i.  p.  377. ;  and 
Smith's  Optics,  vol.  ii.  Rem.  p.  1 5.     (w) 

ALI,  the  son  of  Abu  Taleb,  and  the  cousin-german 
and  pupil  of  Mahomet.  Ali,  by  his  intrepidity  and  in- 
fluence, was  of  infinite  service  to  Mahomet,  in  promot- 
ing the  extraordinary  project  which  he  had  conceived 
of  giving  a  new  religion  to  the  Arabs.  When  the  im- 
postor thought  his  scheme  ripe  for  execution,  he  direct- 
ed Ali,  whom  he  had  taken  under  his  protection  from 
his  infancy,  to  prepare  an  entertainment,  and  invite  to 
it  all  the  descendants  of  his  grandfather  Abdal  Motalleb. 
Mahomet,  however,  had  not  an  opportunity  of  disclosing 
his  mind  at  this  meeting,  as  the  company  broke  up  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  harangue  them.  Ali  therefore  in- 
vited the  same  party  next  day;  and,  as  soon  as  they 
were  assembled,  Mahomet  thus  addressed  them  : — "  I 
offer  you  the  felicity  both  of  this  world  and  of  that  which 
is  to  come.  God  hath  commanded  me  to  call  you  unto 
him;  who,  therefore,  will  be  my  visir,  (or  assistant,) 
and  become  my  brother  and  my  vicegerent  V 

None  of  the  company  seemed  very  forward  in  aspiring 
to  this  honourable  distinction;  when  Ali  starting  up, 
exclaimed  with  vehemence,  "  I,  O  prophet  of  God,  will 
be  thy  vi«r  ;  and  I  will  beat  out  the  teeth,  pull  out  the 
eyes,  rip  open  the  bellies,  and  cut  off  the  legs,  of  all 
who  shall  dare  to  oppose  thee."  Upon  this,  Mahomet, 
embracing  him,  thus  addressed  the  company  : — "  This 
i»  my  brother,  my  deputy,  and  my  successor;  therefore 
show  yourselves  Bubmissive  and  obedient."  This  ha- 
rangue was  received  by  the  company  as  it  deserved,  with 
•corn  and  derision.    Nothing,  however,  could  shake  the 


attachment  of  Ali  to  his  friend  and  protector;  he  stood 
by  him  in  all  his  difficulties,  and  often  exposed  himself 
to  the  most  imminent  danger,  in  order  to  promote  his 
views.  Mahomet,  being  hard  pressed  by  his  inveterate 
enemies  the  Koreish,  found  it  expedient  to  retire  to  Me- 
dina, where  he  had  gained  many  partisans.  His  enemies 
having  learned  his  intention,  and  dreading  the  conse- 
quence of  his  appearing  at  the  heatl  of  a  powerful  party, 
came  to  a  determination  to  assassinate  him.  For  this 
purpose  one  man  was  singled  out  from,  every  tribe,  that 
the  guilt  might  be  equally  divided  amongst  them.  Ma- 
homet having  got  notice  of  their  design,  which  was  in- 
stantly to  be  carried  into  execution,  prevailed  on  Ali  to 
wrap  himself  up  in  his  green  cloak,  and  lie  down  in  his 
place,  till  he  should  have  escaped  to  a  sufficient  distance. 
In  this  situation,  Ali  was  surrounded  by  the  conspirators, 
w  ho,  looking  through  the  crevice,  and  seeing  Mahomet, 
as  they  believed,  asleep,  waited  patiently  till  they  should 
obtain  admittance.  When  the  morning  came,  Ali  arose, 
and  the  conspirators  found,  to  their  infinite  mortification, 
that  the  object  of  their  resentment  had  escaped,  and 
that  one,  with  whom  they  had  no  quarrel,  was  left  in 
his  place. 

Ali  often  distinguished  himself  in  single  combat  with 
the  most  renowned  champions  on  the  side  of  the  enemy, 
and  always  came  off  victorious.  From  his  acknowledged 
talents  and  bravery,  and  also  from  his  connexion  with 
Mahomet,  being  both  his  cousin-german  and  his  son-in- 
law,  he  naturally  looked  forward  to  the  succession  to  the 
caliphat  on  the  death  of  the  impostor.     Abu  Beer,  how- 
ever,  Mahomet's  father-in-law,  was  preferred  to  him, 
chiefly  through  the  influence  of  Omar.     Ali  was  very- 
much  displeased  with   the  election,  but  was  soon  re- 
duced to  submission,  as  the  new  Caliph  sent  Omar  with 
orders  to  burn  the  house  in   which  Ali  and  his  friends 
were  assembled,  unless  they  concurred  with  the  general 
sentiment.     On  the  death  of  Abu  Beer,  Ali  was  again 
excluded,  and  Omar  quietly  succeeded,  being  nominated 
by  the  last  will  of  the  caliph.     On  the  assassination  of 
Omar,  Ali  again  appeared  as  a  candidate,  and  was  again 
excluded,  through  the  intrigues  of  a  party,  Othman  be- 
ing elected  as  successor  to  Omar.     It  is  much  to  the 
honour  of  Ali,  that  he  continued  faithful  to  the  several 
princes,  by  whose  election  he  had  so  long  been  deprived 
of  what  he  reckoned  his  birth-right,  as  he  was  the  near- 
est male  relation  of  Mahomet.     He  had  now,  indeed, 
seen  so  much  of  the  turbulence  and  factious  spirit  of  the 
leading  men  of  the  state,  that  he  was  heartily  cured  of 
his  love  of  sovereignty ;  insomuch,  that,  when  Othman 
was  murdered  by  his  rebellious  subjects,  and  the  eyes  of 
all  were  turned  towards  Ali  as  his  successor,  he  declined, 
with  the  utmost  earnestness,  that  honour,  to  which  he 
had  formerly  so  keenly  aspired.     He  was  compelled, 
however,  to  accept  of  it,  by  the  entreaties  of  his  friends, 
and  the  threats  of  the  people.     No  sooner  had  be  taken 
into  his  hands   the  reins  of  government,  than  he  found 
himself  embroiled  with  his  rebellious  subjects.     Telha 
and  Zobicr,  in  conjunction  with    Ayesha,  Mahomet's 
favourite  wife,  rose  in  open  rebellion.  This  insurrection 
was  soon  suppressed;  but  Ali  found  a  more  formidable 
enemy  in  Moawiyah,the  prefect  of  Syria,  and  head  of  the 
powerful  family  of  Ommiyab.     After  several  bloody  en- 
gagements, Ali  was  induced  to  submit  his  dispute  with 
Moawiyah  to  arbitration,  when,  by  a  foul  trick,  he  was 
deprived  of  his  authority,  and  his  competitor  declared 
the  lawful  caliph.     This,  however,  did  not  end  the  dis- 
pute ;  Ali  was  taking  the  most  effectual  means  to  reco- 


ALI 


ALI 


483 


v*r  Ilia  authority,  when  he  was  assassinated  by  a  fanatic, 
who,  with  two  otiiers,  had  made  a  solemn  vow  to  rid  the 
world  of  Ali,  Moawiyah,  and  a  third  competitor,  Am- 
ruelen  Al  As.  The  attempt  against  Ali  only  was  suc- 
cessful. Thus  fell  one  of  the  bravest  of  the  followers  of 
Mahomet,  after  a  short  reign  of  four  years  and  nine 
months.  He  is  reckoned  by  his  followers  the  first  of 
believers,  though  it  is  certain,  that  both  Mahomet's  wife 
and  father-in-law  were  converted  before  him. 

The  sect  of  Ali  is  still  one  of  the  principal  sects 
amongst  the  Mahometans.  Their  distinguishing  tenet, 
is,  that  Ali  and  his  descendants  are  the  only  lawful  suc- 
cessors of  Mahomet,  and,  of  course,  that  all  the  caliphs, 
who  are  not  of  his  family,  are  usurpers.  The  Persians, 
who  are  of  the  sect  of  Ali,  maintain  his  prerogative  with 
as  much  obstinacy  as  the  Roman  Catholics  do  that  of 
St.  Peter;  whilst  the  Turks,  who  are  of  the  sect  of 
Omar,  denounce  Ali  as  an  innovator  in  their  religion  ; 
and  consider  the  opinions  of  his  followers  as  damnable 
heresy,     (g) 

ALI  Bey,  the  name  of  an  eastern  adventurer,  who  at- 
tracted for  some  time  considerable  attention  in  Europe, 
being  considered  as   the  founder  of  a  new  dynasty  in 
Egypt.     In  a  short  time,  however,  all  his  projects  were 
overturned,  and  he  is  now  only  to  be  classed  with  those 
rebellious  chiefs,  who,  possessed  of  more  courage  than 
capacity,  have   often  succeeded  in  usurping  a  power 
which  their  mismanagement  soon  dissolves.     Ali,  like 
the  rest  of  the  Mamelucs,  was  originally  a  slave.     He 
was  born,  as  is  generally  supposed,  among  the  Abazans, 
a  people  inhabiting  Mount  Caucasus,  and  who,  next  to 
the  Circassians,  are  held  in  greatest  estimation  by  the 
Turks  as  slaves.    Ali  was  sold  at  Cairo  to  two  Jews,  em- 
ployed in  the  custom-house,  and  by  them  given  in  a  pre- 
sent to  Ibrahim,  a  colonel  of  the  Janizaries.     Ibraliim 
was  the  leading  man  in  Egypt,  and  had  extended  his  in- 
fluence chiefly  by  procuring  his  domestics  to  be  advanced 
to  situations  of  trust  and  importance.     At  that  time  no 
fewer  than  eight  of  the  twenty-four  Beys,  amongst  whom 
the  government  is  divided,  were  of  his  household.   Find- 
ing Ali  every  way  adapted  (o  his  purpose,  both  from  the 
qualifications  of  his  mind  and  of  his  body,  he  prepared  to 
extend  his  influence,  by  adding  one  more  to  the  number 
of  his  de[iendents.     Accordingly,  at  the  age  of  18,  Ali 
received  his  freedom,  was  advanced  to  be  governor  of  a 
district,  and  at   last,  tlirough  the  interest  of  his  patron, 
was  elected  one  of  the  twenty-four  Beys.     On  the  death 
of  Ibrahim,  which  happened  iu  1757,  Ali  gave  full  scope 
to  his  ambition,  and  began  to  plot  the  destruction  of 
those  Beys  whose  power  he  chiefly  dreaded.     His  tirst 
intrigues  proved  unsuccessful,  and  he   was  obliged  to 
retire  into  Upper  Egypt.     After  an  exile  of  two  years, 
he  returned  suddenly  to  Cairo,  and  in  one  night  killed 
four  Beys   who  were  his  enemies,  and  banished  four 
others  who  were  obnoxious  to  him.     Not  satisfied  with 
the  decided  pre-eminence  which  he   had  now  obtained, 
he  openly  asjiired  to  the  sovereignty  of  Egypt.     Ac- 
cordingly, he  banished  the  Turkish  pacha,  and  set  the 
authority  of  the  Porte  at  defiance.     He  began  now  to 
form  very  extensive  projects.     He  fitted  out  vessels  on 
the  Red  Sea,  seizetl  on  the  port  of  Djedda,  and  plunder- 
ed the  city  of  Mecca.     Intoxicated  with  his  success,  he 
meditated   the  conquest  of  all   Syria.     He,  therefore, 
joined  his  forces  with  Daher,  who  was  in  open  rebellion 
against  the  Porte ;  and  his  troops,  in  conjunction  with 
those  of  his  new  ally,  laid  siege  to  Damascus  :  the  city 
was  taken  without  opposition ;  but  the  castle,  which  still 


resisted,  was  saved  by  the  treachery  of  Mohammed  Bey, 
All's  commander,  who  suddenly  retreated  with  all  his 
forces.  From  this  moment  there  was  open  war  bet»veen 
Ali  and  Mohammed,  and  the  tide  of  popularity  now  turn- 
ed in  favour  of  the  latter.  After  many  rencounters,  at- 
tended with  various  success,  Ali  was  at  last  taken  pris- 
oner by  Morcr.ul  Bey,  and  by  him  carried  to  Mohammed. 
It  is  not  certain  whether  he  died  of  the  wounds  he  had 
received  in  the  engagement,  or  was  poisoned  by  orders 
of  his  enemy. 

Ali  Bey  displayed  considerable  talents  and  great  in- 
trepidity; and  had  he  possessed  a  little  more  caution,  or 
a  little  more  address,  he  might  probably  have  succeeded 
in  his  scheme  of  erecting  Egypt  into  an  independent 
sovereignty :  hut  he  was  impetuous,  rash,  and  unsus- 
picious; and  was  ruined  by  the  mistaken  confidence 
which  he  placed  in  his  faithless  adherents.  During  his 
administration,  Egypt  enjoyed  more  security  than  it  is 
likely  to  do  for  a  long  time  to  come.  He  declared  war 
against  all  plunderers  and  robbers,  and  wished  to  afford 
every  security  to  the  persons  and  jiroperties  of  his  sub- 
jects. We  ought,  therefore,  perhaps  to  regret,  that  Ali 
did  not  succeed  in  his  attempt,  and  that  his  eulogium 
can  only  be  that  of  the  unlbrtunate  Phaeton: 


-Si  Don  tenuit,  magnis  tamen  excidit  aiui>. 


Some  account  of  Ali  Bey  may  be  found  in  Savary's, 
Volney's,  and  Sonnini's  Travels  in  Es^ypt.     (g) 

ALIBAMONS,oneofthenative  tribes  of  Americans, 
on  the  river  Alibama  in  Georgia.  This  tribe  is  re- 
markable for  their  hospitality  and  frankness.  They  be- 
lieve in  a  future  state  of  existence,  resembling  the  sen- 
sual paradise  of  Mahomet.  Their  dead  are  buried  in  a 
sitting  posture,  with  a  pipe  and  tobacco;  but  the  bodies 
of  suicides,  who  are  considered  as  cowards,  are  thrown 
into  the  rivers.  As  they  marry  only  one  wife,  they  are 
exceedingly  jealous  of  their  honour,  though  their  young 
women  are  allowed  to  trifle  with  their  chastity.  This 
spirit  of  jealousy  induces  them  to  reckon  their  genealo- 
gies by  the  female  side.  The  Alibamons  set  out  in 
hunting  parties,  with  their  families  in  canoes,  about  tlie 
end  of  October,  and  after  travelling  through  a  distanceof 
80  or  100  leagues,  they  return  at  their  seed  lime  in 
March,  loaded  with  skins  and  dried  flesh.  Their  diet 
consists  chiefly  of  toasted  maize,  and  cooked  with  flesh, 
which  they  call  Sagamiti.  The  Alibamonshavetheir  ma- 
gicians and  little  deities  or  tnanitus,  and  pretend  to  heal 
diseases  by  magical  incantations.  See  Pinkerton's  Gm- 
graphy,  vol.  iii.  p.  373.     Estalla.  vol.  xxiii.  p.  213.  (m) 

ALIBI,  a  Latin  term,  signifying  clsetvhcre,  employed 
in  the  criminal  law  of  this  country.  A  pannel  is  said  to 
plead  an  alibi,  when  he  attempts  to  show  that  he  was  in 
a  different  place  at  the  time  when  the  crime  charged 
upon  him  was  committed,     {j  ) 

ALICANT,  the  Lucenttnn  of  the  ancients,  is  a  sea- 
port town,  in  the  province  of  Valencia  in  Spain.  Ali- 
cant  was  for  a  long  time  only  a  small  village.  In  1519, 
it  is  said,  there  were  only  six  houses  on  the  ground  oa 
which  the  city  now  stands:  but  in  l.'>62  the  number 
amounted  to  upwards  of  a  thousand.  This  prodigious 
increase  was  owing  to  the  security  which  the  situation 
afforded  against  the  depredations  of  the  pirates,  who  at 
that  time  spread  terror  along  all  the  coasts  of  the  Rledi- 
terranean.  The  town  stands  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land, 
which  runs  out  into  the  sea  a  considerable  way  :  a  rocky 
mountain  rises  directly  behind  the  town ;  and  on  its  sum- 
mit is  the  castle,  now  fortified  in  the  modern  style.  Great 
3P  2 


484 


ALI 


ALI 


part  of  the  old  fortress  was  blown  up  with  a  fraginentof 
the  rock,  in  the  war  wiih  the  allies,  in  the  reign  of  queen 
Anne.  The  English  garrison  refused  to  capitulate, 
tliou^i  the  French  gave  them  notice  that  a  mine  was 
readV  to  he  sprung.  A  well  that  coniniunicated  with 
the  mine  gave  some  vent  to  the  explosion,  and  prevented 
the  rest  of  the  mountain  fi-om  being  shivered  to  pieces. 
Mo3t  of  the  ofificcrs  were  blown  up,  and  such  of  the  troops 
as  survived  were  so  stunned,  as  to  be  for  some  time  al- 
most incapable  of  motion.  In  latter  days,  there  was  a 
flourishing  British  factory  at  Alicant.  The  chief  trade 
is  in  wine  and  Barilki :  here  is  |)roduced  the  famous  vino 
tertio,  ot  tent  wine.  Alicant  is  37  miles  north-east  of 
Murcia,  and  75  south  of  Valencia.  Po|)ulation,  16,950. 
AV.  Long.  0"  7'.  N.  Lat.  38"  20'.     (g) 

ALICATA,  the  Leocata  of  the  ancients,  a  town  in 
Sicily,  situated  on  a  peninsula,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Salso,  which  separates  the  districts  of  Val  de  Aiazara, 
and  Val  de  Nolo.  Though  it  is  defended  by  walls,  by 
thecastle  of  St.  Angelo,  and  by  a  fortress  on  the  peninsu- 
la, yet  the  decayed  state  of  these  bulwarks  renders  them 
unfit  as  means  of  defence.  Several  Greek  MSS.  rela- 
tive to  the  ancient  city  of  Gela  are  said  to  be  preserved 
at  Alicata.  This  town  carries  on  a  great  trade  in  corn 
with  Malta.  Population  10,000.  E.  Long.  13°  51'.  N. 
Lat.  370  6'  44".  See  Swipburne's  Travels  in  Sicily,  vol. 
iv.  p.  39.     (o) 

ALICONDA,  the  name  of  a  tree,  which  grows  in  the 
kingdom  of  Congo,  in  Africa.  It  is  the  largest  tree 
that  exists;  and  if  we  can  credit  the  accounts  given  by 
the  Portuguese,  it  is  of  such  a  size  that  ten  men  are 
unable  to  fathom  it,  and  its  fruit  is  equal  to  a  large  gourd. 
Its  bark  yields  a  strong  fibre,  which  makes  excellent 
cordage ;  and  when  beaten  and  macerated,  it  forms  a 
kind  of  cloth,  which  the  natives  use  for  a  covering. 
The  pulp  of  its  fruit  forms  a  nutritive  pap;  while 
the  rind  is  used  for  vessels,  which  give  an  aromatic 
flavour  to  the  water  that  they  contain.  In  seasons  of 
scarcity,  the  small  leaves  of  the  Aliconda  are  used  for 
food ;  and  the  large  ones  are  employed  in  the  roofing  of 
bouses,  or  in  the  manufacture  of  soap.  See  Modem 
Univcrs.  Hist.  vol.  xiii.  p.  23.  (0) 
ALICUDA,  anciently  Ericitsa,  oneof  thelJpari  isles, 
.  on  the  northern  coast  of  Sicily.  The  houses,  which  oc- 
cupy only  the  east  and  south-east  part  of  the  island,  are 
built  with  pieces  of  lava,  and  scarcely  admit  the  light  of 
day.  They  are  situated  on  the  declivity  of  the  mountain, 
at  great  elevations,  in  order  to  le  protected  from  the  at- 
tacks of  the  Tunisian  and  Turkish  corsairs  ;  and  appear, 
from  below,  like  the  nests  of  birds  hanging  from  the 
cliffs.  Though  the  continuity  of  the  soil  of  Alicuda  is 
perpetually  broken  by  ledges  of  rocks  and  masses  of 
lava;  yet  the  industry  of  the  inhabitants  has  rendered 
these  barren  tracts  so  productive,  by  breaking  them  with 
pointed  spades,  thatthey  produce  barley  and  wheat,  equal 
to  what  is  obtained  in  any  of  the  JRoHab  islands.  'The 
soil  also  raises  Indian  figs,  olive  trees,  and  vines,  from 
which  a  good  wine  is  procured.  Though  the  food  of 
the  inhabitants,  who  do  not  exceed  500,  consists  only  of 
barley  bread,  wild  fruits,  and  sometimes  salt  fish,  yet, 
from  the  salubrity  and  genial  temperature  of  the  climate, 
they  are  remarkably  healthy  and  cheerful.  The  island 
possesses  no  springs  of  fresh  Avater ;  and  when  there  is 
a  tract  of  dry  weather,  the  inhabitants  are  reduced  to  ex- 
treme distress. 

The  island  of  Alicuda  is  completely  inaccessible,  ex- 
cept on  the  east  and  »outb-ea»t  coast.     In  lailing  roun4 


this  volcftnic  island,  the  traveller  is  struck  with  the 
most  sublime  terror,  while  he  surveys  the  craggy  and 
precipitous  barrier  which  defends  it  from  the  ocean- 
Every  where  huge  pieces  of  rock,  or  immeuse  masses 
of  lava,  which  time  and  the  dashing  of  the  waves  have 
precipitated  from  the  neighbouring  cliffs,  raise  their  rug- 
ged heads  to  a  great  height  above  the  level  of  the  water. 
'The  cliffs  themselves  present  an  aspect  still  more 
threatening  and  sublime.  The  deep  and  dark  recesses, 
excavated  in  their  base  by  the  slow  operation  of  the 
waves,  terminate  their  concavity  above  in  projecting 
crags,  which,  almost  suspended  iu  the  air,  seem  to  bid 
defiance  to  the  laws  of  gravitation.  Nor  do  these  over- 
hanging rocks  consist  of  one  solid  mass.  They  are 
sometimes  formed  of  large  globular  fragments,  loose 
and  unconnected  ;  and  the  wild  birds,  by  merely  perch- 
ing upon  their  top,  destroy  their  tottering  equilibrium, 
and  plunge  them  into  the  abyss  below.  The  deep  and 
winding  raviues;  the  rents  with  which  the  rocks  are 
torn  asunder ;  the  frightful  peaks  and  precipices  which 
constantly  arrest  the  eye,  and  the  consolidated  streams 
of  lava  broken  iu  their  course,  give  an  air  of  horror  aud 
sublimity  to  the  stupendous  flanks  of  Alicuda. 

In  order  to  examine  the  geology  of  Alicuda,  where 
the  sides  of  the  island  had  been  laid  bare  by  the  sea, 
S|)allanzani  embarked  on  the  eastern  coast,  and  sailing 
a  little  to  the  north,  he  met  with  whole  rocks,  composed 
of  globes  of  lava,  porous,  heavj',  and  blackish  in  its  co- 
lour, and  having  petrosilex  for  its  base.  It  had  a  little 
lustre,  and  a  great  degree  of  hardness.  It  assumed, 
upon  being  broken,  a  conchoidal  figure  ;  it  was  attracted 
by  the  magnet,  and  emitted  sparks  under  the  stroke  of 
steel.  It  contained  little  feldspar,  but  much  schorl. 
These  globes,  which  were  of  different  sizes,  sometimes 
a  foot  in  diameter,  were  never  arranged  in  beds,  but  al- 
ways occurred  in  numerous  heaps.  About  a  mile  and  a 
half  further  north,  be  perceived  lava  that  was  not  globu- 
lar, stretching  to  a  great  distance,  and  falling  like  a 
cataract  into  the  sea.  Its  base  is  petrosilex,  and  its  frac- 
ture vitreous.  It  resembles  iron  in  colour,  and  is  full 
of  schorlaceous  crystallizations.  A  mile  further  north, 
where  the  coast  is  less  precipitous,  appeared  insulated 
masses  of  porphyry,  which  do  not  seem  to  have  been 
touched  by  fire.  This  porphyry  has  petrosilex  for  its 
base.  It  has  the  colour  of  burued  brick,  and  emits 
sparks  under  the  stroke  of  steel :  it  is  very  compact, 
and  without  pores,  excepting  some  cavities  on  the  sur- 
face, which  are  lined  wilh  crystals.  These  porphyritic 
rocks  resemble  those  of  Egypt  in  hardness,  polish,  and 
lustre,  and  contain  schorls  and  quantities  of  cubic  and 
lamellar  feldspar.  A  little  further  ou,  where  the  coast 
again  becomes  steep,  it  is  covered  with  tuffa,  and  lava 
again  appears  under  the  aspect  of  large  currents,  having 
for  its  base  hornstone,  light,  porous,  and  penetrable  by 
water.  This  lava  with  difficulty  emits  sparks  under  the 
stroke  of  steel;  and,  when  broken,  feels  clayish.  It 
contains  much  feldspar,  placed  upon  a  dark  red  ground. 
Spallanzani  perceived  in  the  summit  of  the  island,  a 
hollow  about  half  a  mile  in  circuit,  which  he  supposed 
to  have  been  a  crater,     (w) 

As  Spallanzani  appears  to  have  been  very  indiflfercntly 
skilled  in  mineralogy,  it  is  not  easy,  from  his  descrip- 
tions, to  refer  the  rocks  of  this  island  to  any  of  the  great 
formations  of  which  the  crust  of  the  globe  is  composed^ 
It  is  highly  probable  that  Alicuda  contains  no  true  lava, 
but  is  composed  of  rocks  that  belong  to  the  newest 
fleets  trap,  or  s«cond  porphyry  formations ;  or  it  mny 


ALI 


ALI 


48J 


even  contain  rocks  of  both  these  classes.  The  stream- 
like appearance  of  this  pretended  lava  is  apparently  cau- 
sed by  the  action  of  the  atmosphere  on  the  original 
strata  of  porphyry,  &c.  The  valuable  collection  of  mi- 
nerals from  the  islands  in  the  Mediterranean,  now  de- 
posited in  the  museum  of  the  university  of  Edinburgh, 
will  enable  us,  when  treating  of  those  countries  in  suc- 
ceeding articles,  to  offer  new  elucidations  regarding 
their  supposed  volcanic  origin  and  structure.  See  Voy- 
ages dans  les  deux  Siciks,  par  SpuUansani,  torn.  iii.  chap. 
18.  p.  95. ;  torn.  iv.  p.  95.  Voyages  dans  Ics  Jsles  de  Li- 
pari,par  Dolomieu,  p.  89.  See  also  Felicuda  and  Geog- 
nosy,    (r) 

ALIDADE,  or  Alhidadf.,  an  Arabic  name  given  to 
the  rule  which  carries  a  telescope,  arid  moves  round  the 
centre  of  a  quadrant.  It  is  also  applied  to  the  moveable 
index  which  moves  along  the  limb  of  astronomical  and 
geometrical  instruments,     (w) 

ALIEN,  from  Alienus,  a  foreigner,  is  a  person  born 
out  of  the  kingdom,  and  therefore  under  the  dominion  of 
a  foreign  power.  By  the  laws  of  this  country,  children 
born  in  a  foreign  kingdom,  whose  fathers  are  denizens, 
or  natural  born  subjects  at  the  time  of  the  births  of 
their  chiidren,  are  considered  as  natural  born  subjects  of 
Great  Britain,  unless  their  fathers  have  been  guilty  of 
high  treason  or  felony,  or  are  in  the  service  of  a  foreign 
•tate  at  war  with  Great  Britain.  An  alien  is  incapable, 
by  the  Scottish  law,  of  acquiring  or  succeeding  to  heri- 
tage, unless  by  an  act  of  naturalization  i)assed  in  parlia- 
ment, or  letters  of  denization  issued  by  the  king.  An 
alien  may  acquire  a  right  in  moveables ;  but  he  is  in- 
capable, even  by  an  act  of  naturalization,  of  enjoying  the 
privilege  to  vote  for  a  member  of  parliament,  or  to  sit 
in  the  house  of  commons.  When  the  enormities  of  the 
French  revolution  compelled  crowds  of  foreigners  to 
geek  for  shelter  in  this  hospitable  island,  new  laws  were 
enacted  concerning  aliens;  but  as  these  were  merely  of 
a  temporary  nature,  we  shall  only  refer  for  an  account  of 
them  to  the  acts  themselves.  See  33  Geo.  III.  cap.  4. ; 
42  Geo.  III.  cap.  92.;  43  Geo.  III.  cap.  155.;  and  for 
preceding  enactments,  see  4  Geo.  II.  cap.  21.  §  1.;  13 
Geo.  HI.  cap.  21.  §  1.  See  also  Bell's  Dictionary  of  the 
Law  of  Scotland,  vol.  i.  p.  23.     (j)* 


*  The  children  of  citizensof  the  United  States, though 
born  abroad,  are  with  us  entitled  to  the  rights  and  pri- 
Tilegesof  natural  born  citizens.  So  are  the  children  of 
naturalized  citizens,  who  were  under  age  at  the  time  of 
their  father's  naturalization,  provided  they  reside  in  the 
United  States.  See  act  of  congress  of  the  14th  April, 
1802,  §  4.  The  states,  with  a  few  exceptions,  have 
adopted  the  principle  of  the  English  common  law,  by 


ALIENATION,  in  Law,  is  that  act  by  which  one 
person  transfers  to  another  his  property  in  lands,  tene- 
ments, itc.  When  the  transference  is  made  to  a  reli- 
gious house,  or  any  other  corfioration,  it  is  called  aliena- 
tion in  morlmain,  and  requires  a  license  from  the  king. 
The  transference  of  the  fee  simple  of  any  land,  or  any 
other  right,  is  called  alienation  infee.  See  Disposition, 
and  Law.     (J) 


which  not  only  aliens  are  not  permitted  to  hold  real  es- 
tate, but  if  they  take  it  by  deed  or  conveyance,  it  is  im- 
mediately forfeited  to  tlie  state.  There  is  no  instance, 
however,  on  record  that  we  know  of,  of  an  alien's  land 
having  been  actually  confiscated  :  it  would  be  difficult, 
we  think,  to  carry  into  execution  this  barbarous  remnant 
of  the  ancient  droit  dPauhainc.  A  more  liberal  spirit  pre- 
vails throughout  the  union,  and  has  for  some  years  been 
gradually  displaying  itself  by  legislative  acts  in  several 
of  the  states.  In  Kentucky  a  title  may  be  made  by  de- 
scent through  an  alien  to  real  estate;  and  in  Pennsylvania 
aliens  may  even  take  lands  by  devise  or  inheritance  ;  so 
that  the  defect  of  inheritable  blood  in  aliens,  which  wa« 
the  foundation  of  the  prohibition  of  the  common  law,  hag 
been  completely  cured  in  these  two  states.  The  super- 
structure nevertheless  still  subsists ;  for  an  alien  cannot 
take  lands  by  deed  or  conveyance  inter  vivos,  unless  he 
has  established  his  domicile  in  the  country;  which  in 
Kentucky  is  evidenced  by  two  years'  previous  residence, 
and  in  Pennsylvania  by  a  solemn  declaration  in  open 
court  of  his  intention  to  reside  and  become  a  citizen. 
In  New-York  an  alien  may  easily  obtain  the  right  of 
purchasing  and  holding  lands  by  an  application  to  the 
legislature,  which  is  hardly  ever  refused;  and  other 
states  have,  by  various  statutes,  more  or  less  mitigated 
the  rigour  of  the  ancient  common  law,  which  is  hardly 
ever  felt  in  practice,  and  ought  never  to  have  been  ex- 
tended to  this  country,  where  the  value  of  millions  of 
acres  of  our  waste  lands  depends  on  the  competition  of 
foreigners  to  purchase  them. 

Alien  enemies,  in  time  of  war,  are  liable  to  be  laid  un- 
der proper  restraints  by  the  President,  or  even  to  be 
sent  out  of  the  country.  See  act  of  congress  of  the  61h 
of  July,  1798.  But  alien  friends  are  only  subject  to  the 
general  laws  of  the  land.  During  our  partial  hostilities 
with  France,  in  the  years  1 798  and  1 799,  a  general  alien 
law  was  made  on  the  model  of  the  statutes  which  had 
been  enacted  in  England  some  time  before;  but  although 
the  system  was  much  mitigated  from  what  it  is  in  Great- 
Britain,  that  law  was  very  unpopular,  and  has  been  suf- 
fered to  expire  by  its  own  limitation.  See  All,egi*ncf,>  " 
Naturalization.     Duponceau. 


ALIMENTS. 


1.  Aliments  are  those  substances  which,  being  re- 
ceived into  the  bodies  of  organized  beings,  promote  the 
growth,  support  the  strength,  and  renew  the  waste  of 
their  systems.  They  are,  in  other  words,  the  materials 
from  which  the  different  orders  of  created  beings  derive 
their  nourishment. 

All  organised  beings  whatever,  animal  as  well  as  ve- 
getable, may  ultimately  be  resolved  iuto  a  few  simple 


elements,  of  which  the  principal  are  carbon,  hydrogen, 
oxygen,  nitrogen,  lime,  sulphur,  and  phosphorus.  Dif- 
ferent combinations  of  these  elements  make  up  the 
whole  of  their  material  systems.  And  in  the  constantly 
revolving  circle  of  destruction  and  reproduction,  which 
marks  the  face  of  nature,  these  are  the  elements  which 
are  unceasingly  passing  and  repassing  from  one  order 
of  beings  to  another ;  from  vegetables  to  animals,  from 


486 


ALIMENTS. 


one  animal  to  another,  and  from  these  to  the  soil  and  to 
the  atmosjjhere  again,  to  he  assimilated  to  the  systems 
of  vegetable  and  animal  bodies. 

Tlius,  all  the  different  alimentary  matters,  capable  of 
being  assimilated  by  the  bodies  of  animals,  are  composed 
of  these  elements  variously  combined. 

The  general  law,  however,  with  regard  to  the  nutri- 
tion of  animals,  is,  that  they  must  derive  their  food  from 
substances  previously  organized,  or  from  the  immediate 
products  of  tliese,  not  totally  changed,  or  resolved  into 
tiieir  simple  elements  by  a  spontaneous  or  artificial  de- 
composition. 

It  is  very  different  with  the  vegetable  tribe ;  for  al- 
though the  elements  of  the  food  of  plants  be  ultimately 
the  same  with  those  which  are  assimilated  by  animals, 
their  aliment  must  be  supplied  in  a  state  of  complete 
disorganization. 

From  the  air,  the  water,  and  the  soil  to  which  they  are 
attached,  vegetables  may  be  said  to  draw  the  materials 
of  (heir  nourishment,  in  a  raw  and  unmanufactured 
slate,  which  they  elaborate,  combine,  and  organize  into 
various  products  now  fitted  to  sup])ly  aliment  to  the  in- 
dividuals of  the  auimal  kingdom.  The  food  of  plants 
will,  however,  more  properly  come  under  our  consider- 
ation when  treating  of  vegetable  physiology.  At  pre- 
sent, our  o!)servations  will  be  confined  chiefly  to  the 
aliments  of  man. 

Some  animals  subsist  exclusively  on  vegetable  ali- 
ments, others  are  wholly  carnivorous,  and  some  derive 
their  food  indilTerently  from  animal  and  vegetable  mat- 
ters. To  most  animals,  however,  nature  has  assigned 
but  a  limited  range  of  aliment,  when  compared  to  the 
extensive  choice  allotted  to  man.  The  vegetable  and 
animal  kingdom,  fruits,  grains,  roots,  and  herbs,  flesh, 
fish,  and  fowl,  all  contribute  to  his  sustenance. 

Now,  when  it  is  recollected,  that  the  elements  of  these 
alimentary  substances  are  nearly  the  same,  and  that 
from  the  varied  proportions  and  different  combinations 
of  tliese  elements  is  produced  the  almost  countless 
variety  of  vegetable  and  animal  matters,  we  are  enabled 
to  understand,  in  a  general  way,  how  aliments,  so  diver- 
sified in  structure  and  sensible  qualities,  become  assimi- 
lated to  our  own  system. 

The  food,  being  previously  masticated  and  combined 
in  the  mouth  with  saliva  and  air,  is  received  into  the 
stomach,  where  it  is  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  gas- 
tric fluid,  a  powerful  solvent  of  animal  and  vegetable 
matters.  Here  it  is  soon  reduced  to  the  state  of  a  soft 
pultaceous  mass,  having  suffered  a  peculiar  solution,  de- 
composition, and  new  arrangement  of  its  constituent 
parts,  which  maybe  called  digestive;  and  which,  so 
far  from  being  similar,  is  always,  in  the  healthy  condi- 
tion of  the  stomach,  opposed  to  those  spontaneous 
chanjes  which  terminate  in  the  acetous  and  putrefactive 
fermentations.  From  the  stomach  the  digested  chyiite 
passes  into  the  intestines ;  where,  subjected  to  the  ac- 
tion of  the  bile,  the  pancreatic  and  mucous  secretions, 
it  undergoes  still  further  changes;  the  result  of  all 
which  is  the  formation  and  separation  of  a  bland  white 
milky  fluid,  the  c/tyfe.  The  chyleissucked  up  by  numerous 
vessels,  called  absorbent  lacteals,  to  whoso  orifices  it  is 
every  where  exposed  in  passing  through  the  intestinal 
canal.  These  absorbents,  after  numerous  communica- 
tions, terminate  inonc  common  trunk, by  which  thechyle 
is  at  length  carried  into  the  blood  near  the  heart.  Thus 
the  chyle  is  mixed  with  Ihe  blood,  and  subjected  to  the 
action  of  the  heart  and  arteries.  Cii^culated  now  through 


the  lungs,  it  undergoes  new  changes  from  the  respira- 
tion of  the  atmosphere; — it  is  incorporated  with  the 
common  circulating  mass,  and  becomes  itself  blood,  the 
fountain  from  which  all  the  other  constituent  parts  of 
the  body  are  formed  and  renewed. 

The  different  processes  of  digestion,  chylification,  and 
assimilation,  seem  nothing  more  indeed  than  particular 
modes  of  decomposition  and  recombination  of  the  con- 
stituent elements  of  alimentary  matters.  Even  animal 
matters,  though  containing  all  the  proximate  principlei 
of  our  bodies,  already  formed,  must  when  assumed  as 
aliments,  undergo  in  these  different  processes  the  same 
changes  as  vegetable  food.  They  must  in  like  manner 
be  dissolved,  digested,  decomposed,  and  again  combined, 
that  chyle  may  be  formed ;  from  which,  in  the  process  of 
assimilation  and  nutrition,  are  produced  the  different 
animal  principles. 

Alimentary  substances,  then,  promote  the  growth, 
support  the  strength,  and  renew  the  waste  of  the  sys- 
tem, in  proportion  to  their  digestibility,  and  to  the  quan- 
tity of  chyle  they  are  capable  of  affording.  The  gas- 
tric fluid  of  man  is  capable  of  digesting  a  great  variety 
of  animal  and  vegetable  matters.  And  the  structure  of 
his  body,  his  instincts,  and  experience,  clearly  show 
that  he  has  been  destined  to  derive  his  aliment  from 
both  kingdoms  of  nature. 

Of  these,  animal  food  is  the  more  nutrilious;  but  it 
seems  at  the  same  time,  from  its  putrescent  and  stimu- 
lating nature,  not  to  be  suited  to  form  the  whole  of  our 
daily  aliment.  And  in  fact,  if  long  and  exclusively  used, 
animal  food  overheats  and  stimulates,  and  at  length  ex- 
hausts and  debilitates  the  system  which  it  had  at  first 
invigorated  and  supported.  Those  accordingly  who 
have  lived  for  any  great  length  of  time  on  a  diet  com- 
posed entirely  of  animal  matters,  become  oppressed, 
heavy,  and  indolent ;  the  tone  and  excitability  of  their 
frame  are  impaired ;  they  are  afflicted  with  indigestion ; 
the  breathing  is  hurried  on  the  smallest  exercise;  the 
gums  swell  and  bleed ;  the  breatii  is  fo3tid,  and  the  limbs 
are  inactive,  stiff,  and  swollen. 

We  recognize  in  this  description  the  approach  of 
scurvy,  a  disease  familiar  to  sailors,  to  the  inhabitants 
of  besieged  towns,  and  in  general  to  all  who  are 
wholly  deprived  of  a  just  proportion  of  fresh  vegetable 
aliment. 

On  the  other  hand,  vegetables  are  acescent,  and  less 
stimulating;  they  are  also  less  nourishing,  and  of  more 
difficult  assimilation  than  food  derived  from  the  animal 
kingdom.  Hence  it  is,  perhaps,  that  nature  has  provid- 
ed a  greater  extent  of  digestive  organs  for  animals  whol- 
ly herbivorous.  A  diet,  however,  entirely  vegetable, 
seems  insuflicient  to  raise  the  human  system  to  all  the 
strength  and  vigour  of  which  it  is  susceptible.  Flatu- 
lence and  acidity  of  the  stomtich,  muscular  and  nervous 
debility,  and  a  long  train  of  hysterical  and  hypochon- 
driacal disorders,  are  not  unfrequently  the  consequence 
of  this  too  sparing  diet. 

Some  eastern  nations  indeed,  and  thousands  of  in- 
dividuals of  every  nation,  live  almost  entirely  on  vege- 
table aliment.  But  these,  it  is  remarked,  are  seldom 
80  robust,  so  active,  or  so  brave,  as  men  who  live  on  a 
mixed  diet  of  animal  and  vegetable  food.  Few  at  least 
in  these  countries  of  Europe  can  be  sufliciently  nourish- 
ed by  vegetable  diet  alone  :  and  even  those  nations  and 
individuals  who  are  said  toliveexclusivelyon  vegetables, 
because  they  do  not  eat  the  flesh  of  animals,  generally 
make  use  of  milk  at  least,  of  butter,  cheese,  and  eggs. 


ALIMENTS. 


487 


A  mixed  diet  of  vegetable  and  animal  food,  is  in  truth 
that  which  is  best  suited  to  the  nature  and  condition  of 
man.  The  proportions  in  which  these  should  be  used, 
it  is  not  easy  to  determine.  But  generally  the  quantity 
of  vegetable  should  exceed  that  of  animal  food.  We 
may  observe  also,  that  the  inhabitants  of  warmer  cli- 
mates require  less  animal  food  than  those  of  higher 
latitudes :  and  the  sedentary  of  every  climate  less  than 
those  who  labour.  The  sanguine  and  plethoric  should 
use  less  animal  food  than  those  of  the  weak  and  nervous 
temperament.  In  acute,  febrile,  and  inflammatory  dis- 
eases, animal  food  is  universally  hurtful ;  but  in  a  great 
variety  of  chronic  ailments,  in  those  especially  connect- 
ed with  debility  of  the  digestive  and  assimilating  sys- 
tems, it  is  often  found  to  agree  better  than  vegetable 
aliment. 

2.  Having  premised  these  general  observations  on 
the  nature  of  aliments,  we  shall  now  give  some  account 
of  the  different  alimentary  substances,  of  those  more 
particularly  which  are  commonly  used  in  Europe.  We 
begin  with  those  derived  from  the  vegetable  kingdom. 

All  the  products  of  vegetation  are  not  equally  nutri- 
tious. Many  of  the  vegetable  principles  indeed,  so  far 
from  being  alimentary,  are  highly  noxious  to  animal  life. 
The  wax,  resins,  and  balsams,  the  astringent,  bitter,  and 
narcotic  principles,  are  often  used  medicinally,  but  ne- 
ver as  food.  And  those  vegetables  which  abound  in 
them  cannot  with  safety  be  assumed  as  aliments. 

The  alimentary  principles  of  vegetables  are  gum,  or 
mucilage,  starch,  gluten,  jelly, fixed  oil,  sugar,  and  acids. 
And  the  different  vegetables,  and  parts  of  vegetables, 
are  nutritioos,  wholesome,  and  digestible,  according  to 
the  nature  and  proportion  of  these  principles  contained 
in  them. 

The  lightest  kind  of  nourishment  is  afforded  by  the 
mucilage,  jelly,  and  acids  of  vegetables.  The  sugar 
and  fixed  oils  are  more  nutritive,  but  not  so  digestible. 
The  starch  and  gluten  are  the  most  nutritive,  and,  to- 
gether with  mucilage,  at  the  same  time  the  most  abun- 
dant principles  contained  in  those  vegetables  from  which 
man  derives  his  sustenance.  Of  these,  the  gluten  ap- 
proaches nearest  to  the  nature  of  animal  substances ;  it 
affords  ammonia  on  distillation,  and  is  susceptible  of  the 
putrefactive  fermentation. 

Of  all  the  alimentary  substances  derived  from  the  ve- 
getable kingdom,  the  most  nutritive  are  the  seeds  of  the 
Cerealia,  under  which  title  are  commonly  comprehended 
the  gramina,  or  culmyferous  plants. 

Those  in  common  use  are  the  following: 
Triticum  hyburnum       ....     Wheat 
Hordeum  distickum  }  „    ■ 

vulgare    \      •     •     •     •     Barley 

Avena  saliva        Oats 

Secede  cereale        Rye 

Orysa  saliva        Rice 

Panicum  italicwm      )  ,,.„  , 

mikaceutnl        '    '     •     M>"<'' 

Zeecmays       Indian  corn,  maize. 

The  seeds  of  these  abound  in  farinaceous  matter,  a  com- 
pound of  the  most  nutritive  alimentary  principles  of  ve- 
getables. These  three  principles,  starch,  gluten,  and 
mucilage,  constitute  indeed  the  greater  part  of  bread 
corn,  the  most  nutritious,  perhaps,  of  all  vegetable  mat- 
ters. The  separation  of  these  principles,  is  easily  affec- 
ted by  the  following  simple  process : — Take  a  quantity 


of  wheaten  flour  made  into  a  paste,  kneed  it  with  your 
hand,  aud  wash  it  well  and  repeatedly  with  water.  The 
starch  is  carried  off  with  the  water,  and  by  rest  subsides 
to  the  bottom  of  the  vessel ;  the  mucilage  is  at  the  same 
time  separated,  but  remains  dissolveil  in  the  water, 
from  w  Inch  it  may  be  obtained  by  evaporation ;  the  glu- 
ten remains  in  the  hand,  a  tough,  elastic,  fibrous  sub- 
'  stance,  of  a  greyish  colour;  and  when  dried,  semi- 
transparent,  and  much  resembling  glue. 

Wheat  flour  contains  by  much  the  largest  quantity  of 
gluten  ;  the  flour  of  the  other  nutritive  grains  but  very 
little  of  it.  It  is  this  large  proportion  of  gluten  which 
gives  the  superiority  to  wheat  over  all  the  other  grains, 
and  fits  it  so  well  for  the  preparation  of  leavened  or  fer- 
mented bread,  the  most  perfect,  wholesome,  and  nutri- 
tious of  any.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  however,  that 
wheaten  bread,  when  used  new-baked  and  warm  from 
the  oven,  is  neither  so  wholesome  nor  so  digestible  as 
when  one  day  old.  Buiscuit,  or  uufermented  bread,  is 
hardly  less  nutritive  than  loaf  bread,  but  it  is,  generally 
speaking,  neither  so  wholesome  nor  so  digestible.  It  i» 
more  apt  also  to  induce  costiveness;  yet  with  some 
stomachs  it  agrees  belter,  from  being  less  acescent  than 
fermented  bread. 

The  farina  of  the  other  cerealia  affords  also  a  very 
nutritive  and  wholesome  aliment ;  though  their  flour, 
not  so  susceptible  of  the  panary  fermentation,  cannot 
be  formed  into  the  light  spongy  texture  of  the  wheaten 
loaf.  Starch  and  mucilage  are  the  chief  alimentary 
principles  of  their  farina.  The  bread  formed  from 
them,  is  consequently  much  inferior  to  that  prepared 
from  wheat ;  but  made  into  pottages  and  puddings,  they 
afford  abundance  of  wholesome  nourishment. 

Rice  is  the  chief  sustenance  of  some  nations  of  the 
east;  and,  when  well  boiled,  affords  an  agreeable  and 
nourishing  food,  of  easy  digestion,  and  not  so  apt  to  sour 
on  the  stomach  as  some  of  the  other  grains.  Barley 
bread  is  viscid,  and  not  very  digestible.  The  decoc- 
tions of  barley,  barley  water,  and  barley  broth,  are  more 
used.  The  former,  it  is  well  known,  is  much  employed 
as  an  agreeable  and  wholesome  nourishment  for  the 
sick. 

Rye  bread  is  much  used  by  some  northern  nations. 
It  is  very  acescent,  and  not  so  easily  digested ;  but  use- 
ful sometimes  in  costive  habits,  from  its  tendency  to 
open  the  bowels. 

The  farina  of  oats,  made  into  cakes  and  pottage,  is 
relished,  and  easily  digested  by  those  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  that  kind  of  food  from  their  youth.  That 
it  is  nutritive  and  wholesome,  cannot  be  doubted. 

The  flour  of  millet  is  well  known  in  France,  Spain,, 
and  Italy.  It  forms  but  indifferent  bread,  but  excellent, 
wholesome,  and  nourishing  pottages  and  puddings. 
Maize  or  Indian  corn,  is  a  principal  article  of  suste- 
nance in  America  and  the  West  Indies.  It  is  suffi- 
ciently nutritive,  and  gently  laxative. 

Next  to  the  cerealia,  the  seeds  of  leguminous  plants 
may  be  regarded  as  affording  the  greatest  quantity  of 
alimentary  matter.  Their  rijie  seeds  abound  in  the  fa- 
rinaceous compound  of  starch  and  mucilage.  Their 
meal  has  a  sweetish  taste,  and  forms  also  a  sort  of 
emulsion  with  water.  But  it  does  not  fully  appear,  that 
the  flour  of  the  ripe  seeds  contains  any  very  sensible 
quantity  either  of  sugar  or  oil,  notwithstanding  what  has 
been  said  to  this  effect  by  Dr.  Cullen.  The  farina  of  the 
leguminous  seeds,  however,  though  it  forms  but  a  coarse 
and  indifferent  bread,  neither  very  palatable,  nor  very 


488 


ALIMENTS. 


digestible,  except  by  the  most  robust  stomachs,  is  yet 
highly  nutritive.  It  is  remarked  by  Dr.  Cullen,  that 
"  on  certain  farms  of  this  country,  upon  which  the  legu- 
mina  are  produced  in  great  abundance,  the  labouring 
servants  are  much  fed  upon  that  kind  of  grain ;  but  if 
Buch  servants  are  removed  to  a  farm  upon  which  the 
legumina  are  not  in  such  plenty,  and  therefore  they  are  , 
fed  with  the  cerealia,  they  soon  find  a  decay  of  strength ; 
and  it  is  common  for  servants  in  making  such  remo- 
vals, to  insist  on  their  being  provided  daily  or  weekly 
with  a  certain  quantity  of  the  leguminous  meal."  We 
are  not,  however,  to  conclude,  from  this  observation, 
that  pease-meal  bread  is  really  more  nutritive  than 
wheaten  bread,  or  than  the  meal  of  the  other  cerealia. 
We  are  rather  disposed  to  regard  it  as  an  example  of 
the  effect  of  habit.  To  conclude,  the  whole  of  this  tribe 
aflTord  a  much  more  agreeable  and  wholesome,  though 
not  a  more  nutritive  aliment,  when  their  seeds  are  used 
green,  young,  and  tender,  and  simply  boiled,  than  when 
fully  ripened,  and  their  farina  baked.  Yet  with  some 
constitutions,  they  are  apt  to  produce  flatulency  and 
disorder  of  the  stomach  and  bowels. 

The  leeuminous  seeds  are  derived  from  the 

Pisum  sativum — Pea — Green-pease,  and  pease-meal. 
Viciafaba — Bean — The  green  beans  and  meal. 
Fhascobts  vulgaris — Kidney  bean — The  green  pods 
and  seeds. 

Many  roots  abounding  in  the  amylaceous,  mucilagi- 
nous, and  saccharine  principles,  yield  a  palatable  and 
highly  nutritive  ailment. 

Solamttn  tuberosum,  potatoe. — The  root  of  the  potatoe 
boiled  or  roasted,  as  it  is  one  of  the  most  useful,  is  per- 
haps, after  the  cerealia,  one  of  the  most  wholesome  and 
most  nutritive  vegetables  in  common  use.  Its  alimen- 
tary properties  are  undoubtedly  very  great,  and  require 
no  other  proof  than  general  experience;  and  above  all, 
that  of  the  Irish  peasantry,  a  robust  and  hardy  race, 
who  derive  their  principal  sustenance  from  this  inva- 
luable root.  It  contains  much  amylaceous  farina,  on 
which  its  alimentary  powers  seem  to  depend ;  and 
which,  when  mixed  with  that  of  wheat,  has  been  formed 
into  a  good  and  palatable  bread,  and  used  in  seasons  of 
scarcity. 

Comolvuhis batatas — Spanish,  or  sweet  potatoe. 
Dioscorea  bull>ifcra  ^ 

alata       >      .     .     .     .     Yams. 

sativa     } 

Helianthus  tuberosus. — Jerusalem  artichoke. 

These  come  near  to  the  potatoe  in  their  sensible  and 
niili-itive  properties.  They  are  more  mucilaginous  and 
saccharine,  and  less  palatable  and  nutritive. 

Paslinaca  sativa Parsnip 

Sivin  siserum Skirret 

Scorzonera  hispania    ....  Viper's  grass 

Trasfopos^on  porri/olium        .     .  Salsafi 

Brassicarapa Turnip 

Daucus  carrota Carrot. 

These  roots  too  abound  in  mucilage,  and  contain  a  small 
portion  of  the  saccharine  principle.  When  well  boiled 
and  softened,  they  are  considerably  nutritive,  palatable, 
and  digestible. 

Beta  vult(aris Red  beet 

rycla White  beet. 

Beet  root  contains  a  large  proportion  of  sugar.     BoUi 


species  are  nutritive,  but  cannot  be  safely  used  in  great 
quantity,  as  they  are  apt  to  induce  flatulence  and  iudi- 
gestion ;  and,  from  their  sweetness,  they  are  not  very 
much  relished. 

The  amylaceous  matter,  which  we  have  observed  to 
be  the  chief  alimentary  principle  in  the  seeds  of  the 
gramina  and  Icguminosas,  and  in  the  roots  of  different 
plants,  is  advantageously  extracted  from  some  vegeta- 
bles, and  prepared  so  as  to  form  a  nourishing  and  pa- 
latable aliment ;  and,  from  being  easily  digested,  ex- 
tremely well  adapted  as  an  article  of  diet  for  the  sick 
and  convalescent;  as, 

Cycas  circinalis.     Sago.     Extracted  from  the  pith  of  the 

plant. 
Jatropha  manihot  }  From  the  roots  of  which  Tapioca  is 
Janipha  \      obtained. 

Orchis  mascula     l  ^'^^  '«  extracted  from  the  roots  of 

^      this  and  other  species  of  orchis. 
Maranta  arundinacea     .     .     Indian  arrow  root. 

A  small  quantity  of  any  of  these  amylaceous  substances, 
converts,  by  proper  management,  a  large  quantity  of 
water  into  jelly,  which,  when  lightly  seasoned  with  su- 
gar, and  a  little  wine,  forms  a  gently  nourishing  and 
agreeable  food. 

In  some  roots  again  the  alimentary  matter  is  found 
combined  with  an  acrid  principle,  which,  although  they 
are  used,  renders  them  less  fit  for  the  purposes  of  ali- 
ment.    For  example, 

Alium  c(pa The  onion 

porrum The  leek 

sativum Garlic 

ascalonicum       .     .     .  S  ha  lot 

scorodoprasum       .     .  Roccambole. 

The  acrimony  of  the  three  last  is  so  great,  that  they  are 
chiefly  employed  as  conilimeats,  and  in  the  compositioa 
of  sauces.  The  acrid  principle  of  the  onion  and  leek  is 
considerably  lessened  by  boiling;  and  then  they  are 
lightly  nutritive  and  mucilaginous.  They  disagree, 
however,  with  some  constitutions. 

Raphanu-s  sativus — The  radish.  This  too  is  an  acrid 
root,  which,  though  much  used,  is  but  little  nutritive, 
and  very  apt  to  produce  flatulence  and  disorder  of  the 
stomach. 

In  those  seeds  which  are  called  kernels,  the  drupa 
and  nux,  we  find  the  nutritive  farina  combined  with  ve- 
getable fixed  oil. 

This  union  of  farina  and  oil  renders  these  substances 
highly  nutritious,  and  to  most  palates  very  agreeable. 
Yet  they  are  of  diflicult  solution  and  digestion,  and  do 
not  upon  the  whole  afford  a  very  wholesome  aliment. 
When  too  freely  used,  they  are  sure  to  disagree,  to  pro- 
duce flatulence,  thirst,  nausea,  pain  of  the  stomach,  and 
headach,  more  especially  if  from  age  the  oil  have  be- 
come rancid. 

They  should  be  considered  rather  as  a  delicacy  than  as 
fitted  to  form  any  considerable  proportion  of  our  daily 
food ;  they  ought  to  be  sparingly  used  at  any  time. 

The  principal  are, 

Cori/lus  aveUana     ....     Hazle  nut  and  filbert. 

Juglans  rcgia AVnliiut 

Amygdalus  communis      ■     •     Almond 

Cocas  nucifcra         ....     Cocoa  nut 

Anacardum  occidentaU     .     .     Cashew  nut 

Thcobrotna  cacao    ....     Chocolate  nut. 

Chocolate,  which  is  prepared  from  the  last,  forms  « 


ALIMENTS. 


480 


well  known  wholesome  nutritious  aliment,  employed 
in  many  cases  as  a  restorative.  Cocoa,  which  is  pre- 
pared from  the  same  nut,  is  less  oily,  and,  upon  the 
whole,  better  adapted  to  general  use  than  the  choco- 
late. 

The  fixed  oil,  which  we  have  said  is  one  of  the  nu- 
tritive principles  contained  in  vegetables,  is  extracted 
from  some  by  expression ;  and  when  thus  separated  from 
the  farinaceous  and  other  principles,  is  used  as  aliment. 
The  best  oil  is  unquestionably  that  obtained  from  the 
fruit  of  the 

Oka  Europxa ^    Olive  oil. 

Good  oil,  though  inferior  to  the  olive,  is  also  obtained 
from  the  seeds  of  the  following : 

Corylus  avellana  )  j^  ^    jl 

Juglans  regia  j      '     '     ' 

Papavcr  somniferum  .     .     .     Poppy  oil 

Amygdidus  communis        .     .     .     Almond  oil 

Brasskarapa  l     ..     ,     ,     Rape  seed  oil. 

.     -  ■    campcstns       3 

Oil,  when  it  agrees  with  the  stomach,  is  certainly  very 
nourishing.  It  is  seldom  used  alone,  but  generally 
along  with  some  other  vegetable  or  animal  food.  With 
some  particular  stomachs  it  never  agrees.  In  Italy 
and  the  south  of  Europe,  olive  oil  is  largely  consumed 
in  lieu  of  butter.  In  this  country,  it  is  more  sparingly 
used,  and  chiefly  as  a  sauce  or  condiment  to  sallads,  fish, 
&c. 

The  leaves,  stalks,  and  flowers  of  vegetables,  contain 
much  less  nutritious  matter  than  the  farinaceous  seeds 
and  roots  already  noticed.  Watery  and  mucilaginous, 
the  aliment  aftbrded  liy  the  oleraceous  herbs,  is  there- 
fore not  very  great ;  nor  can  man  be  well  supported  by 
them  alone.  As  adjuvant  articles  of  diet,  however,  they 
are  useful.  They  are  cooling  and  aperient,  and  thus 
serve  to  correct  the  stimulant  and  septic  tendency  of 
animal  food,  or  the  binding  elfects  of  the  more  nourish- 
ing and  farinaceous  vegetables.  Too  freely  indulged  in, 
they  are  apt,  in  some  constitutions,  to  produce  flatulence 
and  cholic. 

The  vegetables  to  which  these  remarks  apply,  are, 

Brasska  oleracea      I  Cabbage,  colewort,  cauliflower, 
^      broccoli,  savoy 

Cramhe  marithna Sea-kale 

Ckhormm  iniyhus Succory 

—endiva Endive 

Lactuca  sativa Lettuce 

Portulaco  oleracea Purslane 

Spinacia  oleracea Spinage 

Asparagus  officinalis Asparagus 

Cynara  scolymus Artichoke. 

Of  these,  there  is  none  more  tender  or  more  whole- 
some than  spinage.  Of  the  varieties  of  cabbage,  the 
brocoli  and  cauliflower  are  the  most  easily  digested, 
and  least  flatulent.  The  asparagus  and  artichoke  are 
agreeable  and  wholesome  enough,  tolerably  nutritious, 
and  have  besides  more  power  as  diuretics.  The  as- 
paragus communicates  to  the  urine  a  strong  aud  peculiar 
odour,  which  shows  that  it  is  not  of  very  easy  assimila- 
tion. 

Theendive  and  lettuce  are  chiefly  used  raw  as  sallads. 
Lettuce  has  also  some  degree  of  narcotic  and  soporilic 
effect;  a  quality  which  depends  on  the  bitter  milky 
juice  contained  in  the  leaf  stalks. 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


Apium  petroselinvm    ,     .     .     .    Parsley 

graveolens Smallage,  celery. 

Parsley  is  slightly  aromatic,  little  nutritive,  and  chiefly 
used  to  season  sallads,  broths,  &c. 

Celery,  naturally  too  acrimonious  to  be  used  as  ali- 
ment, becomes  by  cultivation  milder,  and  is  then  high- 
ly relished  by  many  people  as  a  sallad.  It  is  also  used 
boiled  or  stewed,  and  affords  a  light  mucilaginous 
nourishment. 

Lcpidium  sativum     ....     Garden  cress. 
Sisymbriwn  nasturtium .     .     .     Watercress. 

These  are  used  as  warm  aromatic  sallads,  or  as  sea- 
sonings merely.  They  promote  digestion,  and  are  es- 
teemed antiscorbutic. 

Ruincx  acetosa Sorrel. 

Sorrel  is  little  used  in  this  country.  When  boiled,  how- 
ever, and  dressed  like  spinage,  its  acidity  is  considera- 
bly lessened  ;  it  is  rendered  extremely  tender  and  pala- 
table, and  affords  a  cooling  opening,  acid  and  mucilagin- 
ous aliment.  In  this  way  it  is  used  in  Prance  and 
other  countries  on  the  Continent. 

Lichen  islandicus     ....   Iceland  liverwort. 

This  moss  is  used  as  an  aliment  by  the  Icelanders. 
Freed  by  maceration  from  a  bitter  principle  which  it 
contains,  and  then  boiled  in  water  or  milk,  it  yields  a 
wholesome  gelatinous  nourishment,  which  has  lately 
been  highly  extolled  as  a  restorative  in  consumptive 
cases. 

Some  species  of  the  fucus  and  ulva  are  slightly  nu- 
tritive, as  the 

Fucus  escuknlus Eatable  fucus. 

Ulva  lactuca Green  layer. 

—^palmaia Dulse. 

They  are  used  raw  as  sallads,  or  are  boiled  till  they  be- 
come tender. 

The  fungi  are  rather  used  as  condiments  than  as  food. 
Their  principles  seem  somewhat  different  from  those  of 
other  vegetable  productions ;  and  from  being  liable  to 
the  putrefactive  fermentation,  and  yielding  ammonia,  on 
distillation,  their  elements  resemble  those  of  animal 
matters.  Those  which  are  esculent  are  stimulant,  and,  it 
is  presumed,  highly  nutritious.  The  best  known,  and 
most  used,  are, 

Agarictis  campestris  ....     Common  mushroom 
,     Phalus  esculentus      ....     Morell 
Lycopcrdon  tuber      ....     TrulBe. 

Some  few  fruits,  rich  in  farinaceous  and  mucilaginous 
matter,  yield  an  aliment  scarcely  less  nutritive  than 
the  farinaceous  grains  and  roots.  But  none  of  these  are 
indigenous.     The  examples  are, 

Artocarpus  incisa Bread-fruit 

Brosimum  alicastnim Bread-nut 

Musa  sapientum ,  Banana. 

paradisiaca Plantain. 

These,  in  the  East  and  West  Indies,  are  used  a.i  sub- 
stitues  for  bread. 

'Vhefagus  castanea,  chesnut,  when  roasted,  resembles 
a  good  deal  some  of  these  alimentary  fruits,  and  is,  like 
them,  farinaceous  and  nourishing. 

Gener.iliy,  however,  fruits  do  not  greatly  abound 
in  nutritive  furina.  The  nourishment  afforded  by 
them  is  of  the  lighter  kind,  and  derived  from  the  mu- 
3  Q 


490 


ALIMENTS. 


cilage  and  sugar  which  they  contain.  Together  with 
these  princi|iles  and  water,  many  of  them  contain  also 
the  ditTerent  vegetable  acids,  the  malic,  citric,  tar- 
trous,  and  oxalic.  It  is  this  combination  which  renders 
them  so  agreeable  to  the  taste,  and  so  generally  relished 
by  man. 

From  this  combination  of  principles  too,  may  be  deri- 
ved the  advantages  and  disadvantages  they  possess  as 
aliments.  They  are  nourishing  in  proportion  to  the 
mucilage,  jelly,  and  sugar,  which  they  contain ;  cooling, 
aperient,  and  antiseptic,  in  pro|)ortion  as  they  are  wa- 
tery and  acidulous.  They  are  not  of  themselves  capa- 
ble of  long  supporting  the  strength  and  renewing  the 
waste  of  the  system ;  but,  conjoined  with  other  more 
nutritions  aliment,  ri|)e  fruits  are  in  their  season  safe, 
useful,  and  often  highly  beneficial  adjuvants  to  our  diet. 
They  obviate  and  correct  the  stimulant  and  septic  ef- 
fects of  animal  food,  open  the  body,  and  cool  and  re- 
fresh the  system.  Hence  they  are  found  so  eminently 
useful  in  febrile,  inflammatory,  and  scorbutic  aSections. 
Indeed  in  the  sea  scurvey,  a  disease  arising  from  the  too 
exclusive  use  of  a  stimulating  animalized  diet,  the 
subacid  fruits  are  sovereign  remedies.  By  the  same 
properties,  however,  they  are  hurtful  in  cases  of  gra- 
vel, stone,  and  diabetis;  and  generally  in  all  those  dis- 
eases arising  from,  or  connected  with,  an  imperfect 
assimilation  and  consequent  acidity  of  the  priniiB  viae. 
Intemperately  eaten,  fruits  have  in  all  constitutions,  and 
particularly  in  the  nervous,  dyspeptic,  and  hysteric,  pro- 
duced great  disorder  of  the  stomach  and  bowels,  choiic, 
diarrhoea,  and  cholera.  Upon  the  whole,  as  a  part  of  our 
daily  diet,  fruits  are  safe  and  useful :  but,  excepting  un- 
der particular  circumstances,  they  ought  not  to  form  the 
whole  of  any  one  meal,  and  should  never  be  indulged  in 
to  satiety. 

The  pulpy  fruits,  such  as  the  fig  and  apple  tribe,  are 
more  nutritive  than  the  more  watery  acidulous  fruits, 
as  the  orange,  grape,  and  berry.  The  former,  too, 
when  conserved,  boiled,  or  baked,  afford  a  light  and 
wholesome  nourishment.  The  subacid  fruits,  as  goose- 
berries and  currants,  are  advantageously  made  into  tarts, 
jellies,  &c.  or  otherwise  conserved  with  sugar.  The 
nourishment  derived  from  them  is  not  very  great ;  but 
they  are  wholesome,  antiseptic,  and  cooling.  The  skins 
and  husks  of  fruits,  and  the  hard  seeds  of  berries,  are 
nearly,  or  altogether  indigestible.  It  is  needless  to  be 
more  particular ;  after  what  has  been  said,  it  will  be 
sufficient  to  subjoin  a  list  of  the  principal  esculent 
fruits,  to  which  our  general  observations  may  with  little 
variation  be  applied : 

Amygdalus  persica .     .     ,     .  Peach  and  nectarine 

Pnmus  armeniaca  ....  Apricot 

domestica     ....  Plum 

cerasus Cherry 

Phoenix  dactylifcra .    .    .     .  Date 

Ficus  carica Fig 

Cactiis  opunlia Prickly  peaf 

Bronulia  ananas     ....  Pine  apple 

Qarcinia  mangostana  ,     .     .  Mangosteen 

Wangiferaindica     ....  Mango 

Moms  nigra Mulberry 

Citrus  aurantittm    ....  Orange 

mtdica Lemon 

Punica  graiuUum    .     .     •     .  Pomegranate 

Ribes  grossuUaia    ....  Gooseberry 

—"—rttlrum Red  currant 


Ribes  nigrum Black  currant 

Rubus  idwus Raspberry 

Fragraria  vesca Strawberry 

Vaccinimn  myrtilhis ....  Bilberry 

oxycocos Cranberry 

litis  icUea     ....  Red  whortle  berry 

Vitis  vinifera Grape 

Pyrusmalus Apple 

communis Pear 

— cydonia Quince 

Mespilus  gennanica  ....  Medlar 

Cucumis  melo Melon 

-Sativus Cucumber. 

We  have  now  reviewed  the  principal  alimentary  sub- 
stances derived  from  the  vegetable  kingdom.  Upon 
the  whole,  it  appears,  that  these  are  nutritive  nearly 
in  proportion  to  the  quantity  of  farinaceous  matter 
contained  in  them.  For  the  most  nutritive,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  abounding  in  farina,  are  the 
seeds  of  the  gramina  and  leguminosse,  after  which 
may  be  ranged  the  oleo-farinaceous  seeds,  the  alimen- 
tary roots,  herbs,  and  fruits.  The  farina  of  wheat, 
we  have  seen,  is  a  compound  of  starch,  mucilage,  and 
gluten.  But  as  starch  and  mucilage  constitute  the 
farinaceous  matter  of  most  other  grains  and  nutritive 
roots,  these  must  be  regarded  as  the  chief  alimentary 
principles  of  vegetables.  The  other  principles  are  less 
constant.  Of  these,  the  oil  is  the  most  nourishing; 
sugar  too  is  alimentary ;  the  acids  hold  the  lowest 
rank. 

3.  Animal  substances,  as  well  as  the  vegetable,  are 
easily  resolved  into  a  certain  number  of  proximate  prin- 
ciples. Those  which  are  alimentary,  are  gelatine,  albu- 
men, fibrine,  and  oil  or  fat. 

Gelatine,  or  animal  jelly,  is  the  well  known  colour- 
less, transparent,  tremulous  substance,  extracted  from 
calves'  feet  and  hartshorn,  and  so  elegantly  prepared  for 
our  tables.  Glue  and  isinglass  are  specimens  of  dried 
gelatine.  This  principle  is  distinguished  by  its  solu- 
bility in  cold  water,  and  by  the  gelatinous  form  which 
it  assumes  when  evaporated  by  heat,  and  allowed  to  cool. 
Gelatine  exists  in  almost  every  animal  substance;  in 
particular,  it  abounds  in  the  skin,  the  tendons,  and  bones, 
from  which,  in  consequence  of  its  solubility,  in  hot  water, 
it  is  easily  extracted  by  boHing.  Gelatine  is  less  ani- 
malized than  the  other  principles,  that  is,  it  contains 
less  nitrogen,  and  yields  consequently  less  ammonia 
when  destructively  analyzed. 

Animal  jelly  affords  a  sufficiently  nutritious  aliment,  of 
easy  digestion  when  properly  prepared,  and  less  stimu- 
lant and  septic  than  substances  abounding  in  the  other 
principles.  Hartshorn  and  caVves'  feet  jelly  have  ac- 
cordingly long  been  regarded  as  food  extremely  well 
adapted  to  the  feeble  powers  of  the  sick  and  convales- 
cent. 

Albumen  is,  like  gelatine,  soluble  in  water;  but  it  is 
distinguished  by  its  coagulation  on  the  application  of 
heat,  and  its  consequent  separation  from  the  water  in 
which  it  had  been  dissolved  or  diffused.  It  is  more- 
animalized  than  gelatine,  but  less  so  than  fibrine.  The 
white  of  an  egg  presents  us  with  the  best  and  most 
familiar  example  of  albumen.  It  exists  in  the  serum 
of  blood,  and  the  curd  of  milk  has  nearly  the  same  pro- 
perties. Coagulated  albnmen,accordingto  Mr.  Hatchet's 
experiments,  forms  also  a  principaL  part  of  the  cartila- 


ALIMENTS. 


491 


ges,  membranes,  hoofs,  horns,  feathers,  quills,  and  hairs 
of  animals. 

As  an  aliment,  albumen  is  highly  nutritive ;  but  ex- 
cepting as  it  exists  in  the  white  of  the  egg,  is  not  used 
as  a  separate  article  of  diet,  or  uncombined  with  the 
other  principles. 

Fibrine  exists  in  a  dissolved  state  in  the  circulating 
blood,  and  spontaneously  coagulates  when  allowed  to 
rest.  It  constitutes  also  the  fibrous  part  of  the  muscu- 
lar flesh.  It  may  be  exhibited  by  washing  the  coagulum 
of  blood,  or  a  portion  of  any  muscle,  until  they  become 
colourless.  Fibrine,  or  animal  gluten,  is  a  white,  tough, 
elastic,  fibrous  substance,  insoluble  in  water,  and  con- 
taining in  its  composition  a  greater  quantity  of  nitrogen 
than  any  of  the  other  principles.  Though  in  a  separate 
and  uncombined  state,  it  is  not  employed  as  aliment, 
fibrine  is  largely  consumed  with  the  flesh  of  animals. 
It  is  excluded  from  soups  and  broths,  which  necessarily 
contain  only  the  soluble  principles  of  the  flesh.  Fibrine, 
however,  is  readily  dissolved  by  the  gastric  fluid,  and 
may  be  regarded  as  the  strongest  and  most  stimulant  of 
aliments. 

Animal  oil,  or  fat,  is  too  well  known  to  require  any 
particular  description  in  this  place.  It  is  a  nutritious 
component  part  of  animal  substances,  but  not  so  easily 
digested  by  ordinary  stomachs  as  the  other  alimentary 
principles.  The  most  robust  only  are  capable  of  over- 
coming a  full  meal  of  fat.  The  stomach  is  oppressed 
by  it,  and  nausea,  rancid  eructations,  and  general  dis- 
order, are  not  uncommonly  produced.  More  sparingly 
eaten,  however,  and  with  a  due  proportion  of  the  flesh,  it 
agrees  well  with  most  people,  and  is  justly  regarded  as 
highly  nourishing. 

The  different  parts  of  animals  employed  as  aliments 
eome  next  to  be  considered.  They  may  be  distinguish- 
ed into  fluids  and  solids.  The  only  fluids  which  can  be 
regarded  as  alimentary,  are  the  blood  and  the  milk  of 
animals. 

The  blood  is  composed  of  the  three  alimentary  prin- 
ciples, fibrine,  albumen,  and  gelatine ;  it  contains,  be- 
sides water,  the  red  globules,  and  some  saline  matters. 
We  should  therefore  conclude  the  blood  to  be  very  nu- 
tritive. It  is,  however,  generally  esteemed  a  heavy  and 
indigestible  aliment  in  whatever  way  prepared.  It  must, 
however,  be  largely  consumed  in  every  flesh  meal ;  and 
the  blood  of  some  animals,  as  that  of  the  hog  and  ox,  is 
made  into  puddings  by  the  country  people,  and  highly 
relished  by  them.  This  kind  of  food,  however,  says 
Lieutaud,  requires  all  the  powers  of  the  most  robust 
stomachs. 

Milk  is  the  fluid  secreted  by  the  females  of  the  mam- 
matia  class  for  the  nourishment  of  their  young.  The 
principles  contained  in  it  are  oil,  albuminous  and  sac- 
charine matter,  water,  and  some  saline  matters.  Milk 
is  almost  the  only  animal  product  susceptible  of  the 
vinous  and  acetous  fermentations;  and  in  this  particu- 
lar it  seems  to  approximate  to  the  nature  of  vegetable 
substances.  Indeed  the  sugar  on  which  this  property 
seems  to  depend,  is  to  be  considered  rather  as  a  vegeta- 
ble than  animal  principle.  And  thus  milk,  containing 
at  once  animal  and  vegetable  principles,  is  a  sort  of 
mixed  aliment. 

Woman's  milk,  the  food  pointed  out  by  nature  as  (be 
best  adapted  to  the  young  of  our  own  species,  contains 
less  curd,  but  more  oil,  and  more  sugar  than  cow's  milk. 
The  ass  and  the  mare  yield  milk,  which  resembles  that 
of  the  woman,  in  containing  larger  proportions  of  the 


oily  and  saccharine,  than  of  the  caseous  matter,  which 
most  abounds  in  the  milk  of  the  cow,  goat,  and  sheep. 
Of  the  constituent  parts  of  milk,  the  albuminous  is  the 
most  animalized ;  the  saccharine  is  more  properly  a 
vegetable  principle,  and  the  oily  may  be  regarded  as 
intermediate. 

Woman's  milk,  therefore,  and  that  of  the  ass  and  mare, 
afford  the  lightest  and  least  stimulant  aliment;  the  milk 
of  the  cow,  goat,  and  ewe,  the  most  nutritive.  In  ano- 
ther part  of  this  work,  when  treating  of  the  nursing  of 
infants,  we  shall  return  to  the  consideration  of  woman's 
milk.  At  present  we  have  only  to  add  a  few  words  on 
the  alimentary  properties  of  milk  in  general.  Milk, 
though  an  aliment  nutritious  and  wholesome,  is  not 
equally  well  digested  by  every  stomach.  It  is  apt  to 
ofiend  in  two  ways ;  first,  coagulating  very  firmly  in  the 
stomach,  it  occasions  sickness,  and  is  afterwards  reject- 
ed by  vomiting;  secondly,  becoming  acid,  it  gives  rise 
to  flatulence,  heart-burn,  gripings,  and  diarrhoea.  When 
the  tone  of  the  stomach  therefore  is  enfeebled,  the  pow- 
ers of  the  digestive  organs  weak,  and  a  tendency  exists 
to  the  formation  of  acid,  milk  is  not  always  found  to  an- 
swer the  restorative  purjioses  for  which  it  had  been 
taken.  Still,  however,  most  people  bear  milk  well,  whe- 
ther taken  alone,  or,  what  is  better,  along  with  the  vege- 
table farinacea.  And  in  many  cases  of  disease  and  con- 
valescence, it  may  be  usefully  employed  as  a  mild  and 
restorative  aliment.  There  is  indeed  reason  to  believe, 
agreeably  to  the  general  opinion,  that  it  is  the  aliment  of 
all  others  the  most  easily  assimilated.  Where  it  is  found 
to  sit  too  heavily  on  the  stomach,  it  is  advantageously 
diluted  with  water  ;  and  to  obviate  its  acescency,  it  is 
sometimes  prescribed  mixed  with  soda  or  lime  water. 
Sometimes  again,  it  agrees  better  after  having  been 
boiled,  though  it  is  then  more  apt  to  produce  cosfiveness. 
The  constituent  parts  of  milk  are  also  separately  em- 
ployed as  aliments. 

Butter,  the  oily  part  of  milk,  is  a  highly  nutritious 
food,  and  moderately  used  in  its  fresh  state,  very  whole- 
some. Like  the  other  animal  oils,  however,  it  is  too 
heavy  to  be  used  by  itself;  it  is  more  safely  eaten  along 
with  a  due  proportion  of  bread,  or  other  aliment.  Ran- 
cid butter,  or  that  which  has  been  much  decomposed  in 
the  processes  of  cookery,  is  extremely  apt  to  disagree 
with  most  stomachs,  and  is  not  eaily  digested  by  any. 

Ctird. — Milk  newly  coagulated,  and  the  parts  not  se- 
parated from  each  other,  differs  but  little  in  alimentary 
properties  from  uncoagulated  milk.  The  curd  separated 
from  the  whey,  and  gently  pressed,  is  an  agreeable  and 
somewhat  more  nutritive  aliment. 

Cheese. — ^The  curd  subjected  to  strong  pressure,  is 
highly  nutritious.  But  the  qualities  of  cheese  are  differ- 
ent according  to  the  modes  of  preparation,  the  quantity 
of  oil  retained  by  the  curd,  and  the  length  of  time  it  has 
been  kept.  Generally,  cheese  is  an  aliment  of  difficult 
digestion,  and  suited  as  an  article  of  diet  to  the  stomachs 
of  the  robust  only.  In  many  countries,  it  forms  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  sustenance  of  the  peasants  and 
labourers.  But,  in  general,  it  is  used  only  as  an  adju- 
vant, or  condiment. 

Butter  Milk.' — 'The  portion  of  milk  wliich  remains 
after  the  separation  of  the  butter  by  churning,  is  mode- 
rately nutritious.  It  is,  moreover,  somewhat  acid,  and 
thus  affords  a  wholesome  cooling  beverage,  grateful,  an>' 
very  useful  in  a  heated  or  feverish  state  of  the  body.  Dr. 
CuUen  has  remarked,  "  that  such  acid  does  not  increase 
the  acescency  of  the  stomach,  or  occasion  the  fl.iiulenc  v 
3  Q  2 


49:^ 


ALIMENTS. 


that  recent  regetalile  acids  do;  and  therefore  it  is  more 
safely  employed  in  dyspeptic  persons." 

Whey. — The  fluid  which  remains  after  the  separation 
of  the  curd  and  oil,  contains  in  solution  the  saccharine 
and  saline  parts  of  the  milk,  with  a  small  portion  of  the 
animal  principles.  Its  nutritive  powers  are  therefore  not 
very  great.     It  is  coolinsc,  antiseptic,  and  aperient. 

The  ova  of  birds  in  alimentarj'  properties  hear  no  in- 
considerable analogy  to  the  milk  of  the  mammalia,  and 
come  therefore  next  to  be  noticed.  The  white  of  the 
egg  consists  almost  entirely  of  albumen ;  the  yolk  con- 
tains albuminous  matter,  oil,  gelatine,  and  water.  Thus 
the  egg  is  formed  of  the  most  nutritive  alimentary  prin- 
ciples. And  when  these  principles  have  been  gently 
coagulated  by  heat,  the  egg  is  found  to  be  a  wholesome, 
as  well  as  nourishing  food ;  one  or  two  are  easily  diges- 
ted by  most  individuals  j  a  greater  number,  taken  at  one 
time,  are  apt  to  disagree.  And  indeed  we  may  remark, 
with  Dr.  Cullen,  "  that  a  smaller  bulk  of  this  than  any 
other  food,  will  satisfy  and  occupy  the  digestive  powers 
of  most  men." 

Eggs,  according  to  Lieutaud  and  other  writers,  are 
well  suited  to  those  who  are  subject  to  acid  crudities  of 
the  stomach  and  primse  vise.  They  are  said  also  to  favour 
the  secretion  of  bile,  and  so  to  disagree  with  those  of 
the  bilious  temperament.  On  the  other  hand,  raw  eggs 
have  been  thought  serviceable  in  the  jaundice,  and  in 
cases  of  obstructed  liver.  By  Mr.  White  of  Manches- 
ter, they  have  been  especially  extolled  in  the  icterus  of 
pregnant  women. 

The  eggs  of  different  fowls  differ  less  in  alimentary 
properties  than  might  at  first  be  expected.  The  chief 
difference  consists  in  some  variety  of  flavour.  The  eggs 
of  the  granivorous  fowls,  and  especially  of  the  common 
domestic  fowl,  are  confessedly  the  best. 

Of  the  solid  parts  of  animals  almost  all  are  alimenta- 
ry ;  and  according  to  the  nature,  proportion,  and  state  of 
combination  of  the  principles  of  which  they  are  formed, 
they  are  more  or  less  nourishing,  more  or  less  suscepti- 
ble of  digestion. 

The  white  parts,  comprehending  the  skin,  cellular 
texture,  the  membranes,  ligaments,  cartilages,  and  ten- 
dons, which  consist  almost  entirely  of  gelatine  and  con- 
densed albumen,  unless  they  have  been  much  softened 
and  dissolved  into  jelly,  by  long  boiling,  are  more  diffi- 
cult of  digestion,  and  afford  even  then  a  nutriment  of  a 
lighter  and  less  stimulating  nature  than  that  derived 
from  other  parts,  containing  a  due  admixture  of  the  other 
alimentary  principles. 

Cow-heel,  calf-head,  sheep-head,  and  trotters,  afford 
examples  of  this  kind  of  aliment,  which,  unless  ex- 
tremely well  boiled,  is  far  from  being  easily  digested. 

The  gelatine  of  hones  is  digestible  and  alimentary, 
only  after  it  has  been  extracted  and  dissolved  in  water. 
Tripe,  the  stomach  of  ruminating  quadrupeds,  is 
nearly  allied  to  the  white  membranous  parts,  in  composi- 
tion and  alimentary  properties.  The  stomach,  however, 
circulates  more  red  blood,  contains  besides  a  certain 
portion  of  muscular  fibre,  is  more  animalized,  and  fur- 
nishes accordingly  a  more  savoury  aliment,  perhaps  a 
more  nourishing  one,  than  those  parts  entirely  formed 
of  gelatine. 

We  find  it  more  difficult  to  estimate  the  alimentary 
qualities  of  the  glandular  parts  of  animals.  The  spleen 
and  kidneys  are  enumerated  hy  Celsus,  with  those  ali- 
ments which  afford  a  bad,  and  the  liver  with  those  which 
yield  a  good  juice.    All  Uiat  we  can  venture  to  say  on 


this  subject  is,  that  the  glandular  parts  of  young  animals, 
if  freed  from  the  odour  of  their  peculiar  secretion,  are 
agreeable,  and  sufficiently  nutritive  aliments.  The  pan- 
creas, or  sweet-bread,  is  the  most  delicate,  the  least  sti- 
mulating, and  perhaps  the  most  digestible.  The  spleen 
is  a  coarse,  and  not  very  digestible  aliment.  The  brain 
too  is  heavy,  and  apt  to  disagree  with  some  stomachs. 
The  liver,  especially  that  of  young  animals,  and  of  some 
birds,  is  by  many  esteemed  a  great  delicacy,  and  appears 
to  be  very  wholesome.  The  liver  of  many  fishes  abounds 
in  oil. 

The  muscularflesb,  which  constitutes  indeed  the  chief 
part  of  our  food  derived  from  the  animal  kingdom,  ap- 
pears to  be,  upon  the  whole,  the  most  nourishing,  the 
most  wholesome,  and  the  most  easily  digested  of  any. 

Its  advantages,  in  these  respects,  may  well  be  attribut- 
ed to  its  peculiar  composition,  a  just  assemblage  of 
all  the  alimentary  principles.  For  the  flesh,  besides  con- 
taining the  largest  quantity  of  fibrine,  has  also  a  due  pro- 
portion of  gelatine,  albumen,  and  fat.  And  indeed  the 
alimentary  properties  of  different  kinds  of  flesh,  appear 
to  depend,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the  proportions  and 
aggregation  of  these  principles.  Thus,  the  flesh  of 
young  animals  contains  more  gelatine,  and  less  fibrine, 
than  that  of  the  full  grown  and  older,  and  yields  at  the 
same  time  a  lighter  nutriment,  and  of  less  easy  diges- 
tion. Very  old,  hard,  tough  flesh,  contains  again  too 
little  gelatine  and  fat ;  the  fibrine  has  become  firmer 
and  less  soluble ;  and  therefore  such  meat  is  less  suc- 
culent, less  digestible,  and  less  nutritive,  than  the  same 
kind  of  flesh  in  its  prime.  By  boiling,  the  gelatine  and 
a  portion  of  albumen  are  extracted,  and  hence,  perhaps, 
it  is  that  boiled  meat  is  less  nourishing  and  digestible 
than  roasted  flesh,  which  retains  all  its  principles. 

Muscular  flesh  contains  also  a  larger  quantity  of  red 
blood,  from  which  indeed  it  derives  its  colour,  than  any 
of  the  other  parts  of  animals  commonly  employed  as 
aliment.  Whether  or  not  any  of  its  alimentary  quali- 
ties may  depend  on  this  circumstance,  we  cannot  con- 
fidently say.  But  red-coloured  flesh  is  certainly  a 
stronger  and  more  noiirishing  food  than  the  white-co- 
loured muscle — the  flesh  of  the  ox,  for  example,  than 
that  of  the  rabbit. 

Chemists  have  detected  another  principle  in  muscular 
flesh,  to  which  they  have  given  the  name  of  extractive. 
This  principle  is  soluble  in  alcohol,  of  a  brownish  red 
colour,  an  aromatic  odour,  and  strong  acrid  taste. 

The  particular  flavours  of  flesh  have  been  attributed 
to  this  principle,  which  may  probably  add  also  to  its 
stimulant  properties,  if  not  to  its  nutritive. 

We  may  remark  in  this  place  too,  that  a  peculiar 
strong  and  disagreeable  flavour  is  communicated  to  the 
fleftli  of  many  male  animals  by  the  seminal  fluids. 

This  is  one  reason  why  the  flesh  of  these  animals  is 
so  much  im|)roved  by  castration.  The  flesh  of  the  cas- 
trated animal  is  free  from  this  flayour;  it  becomes  ten- 
derer also,  and  generally  fatter. 

The  muscular  parts  are  the  organs  by  which  all  the 
motions  of  animals  are  performed,  and  there  is  a  particu- 
lar state  of  their  contraction,  called  their  (on«,  which 
seems  to  continue  even  for  some  time  after  a  vigorous 
animal  has  been  slaughtered — a  sort  of  permanent  con- 
traction, which  approximates  the  fibres  of  the  muscles. 

By  the  practice  of  crimping,  this  state  is  advantage- 
ously increased,  to  give  greater  firmness  to  the  soft 
flesh  offish.  But  the  flesh  of  quadrupeds  becomes  more 
tender,  and  of  more  easy  digestion,  by  being  kept  some 


ALIMENTS. 


493 


fime  after  death,  till  the  tonic  contraction  is  destroyed. 
The  tendernesB  which  flesh  acquires  by  being  kept,  is 
no  doubt  to  be  in  part  attributed  to  the  commencement 
of  that  spontaneous  decomposition,  which  soon  termi- 
nates in  the  putrefaction  and  dissolution  of  its  sub- 
stance. 

The  last  general  remark  we  have  to  make  on  this 
subject,  is  that  the  flesh  of  phy tivorous  animals  is,  cattcris 
paribus,  less  alkalescent,  more  wholesome,  more  agree- 
able, and  more  digestible,  than  that  of  carnivorous 
animals. 

Having  thus  analytically  reviewed  the  alimentary 
principles,  and  different  parts  of  animals  used  as  fowl, 
the  account  of  the  diflerent  genera  and  species  from 
which  these  are  derived,  may  be  much  abridged,  and 
need  not  detain  us  long. 

The  flesh  of  quadrupeds  is  more  largely  consumed 
than  that  of  any  other  class  of  animals ;  and  indeed  those 
in  common  use,  in  most  parts  of  Europe,  possess  all  the 
alimentary  properties  in  the  highest  perfection.  They 
belong  to  the  three  orders  of  Pecora,  Glires,  and  Bel- 

IU8B. 
PCCORA. 

Bos  Tceurus        The  ox.     Beef  and  veal. 

Ovis  Aries  The  sheep.     Mutton  and 

lamb. 

Copra  Hirais      The  goat.     Kid  flesh. 

Cervus  Elephas   The  stag.        "] 

Dama  Buck  and  fal-  I  ,,     • 

>  Venison. 


low-deer. 
Gapreoltts     Roe-buck 
Tarandits    Rein-deer. 


Glibes. 


Bellu£. 


Lepus  Timidus    Hare. 
Cuniculus    Rabbit. 


Sus  Scrafa 


Hog.    Pork. 


Bull-beef  is  tough,  dry,  of  a  very  disagreeable  fla- 
vour, and  therefore  seldom  eaten.  This  affords  us  one 
example  of  the  great  melioration  of  the  alimentary 
qualities  of  the  flesh  of  animals  by  castration ;  for  ox 
beef  is  at  once  agreeable,  nourishing,  wholesome,  and 
tenderer  even  than  the  flesh  of  the  cow.  Veal,  the  flesh 
of  the  young  animal,  is  more  delicate,  and  more  gela- 
tinous than  beef;  but,  at  the  same  time,  less  nourishing, 
less  stimulant,  and  in  general  not  so  easily  digested. 
It  is  less  animalized,  and  therefore  less  putrescent,  than 
almost  any  other  flesh.  Indeed  the  jelly  and  broth  of 
Tcry  young  veal  is  disposed  to  become  even  acescent. 

Mutton  is  esteemed  one  of  the  best  aliments ;  it  is 
also  one  of  the  most  common.  The  flesh  of  the  uncas- 
trated  animal  is  hardly  eatable.  Wedder  mutton,  not 
under  two  years  old,  is  agreeable,  tender,  and  succulent ; 
at  five  years,  it  has  probably  attained  its  highest  perfec- 
tion. Ewe-mutton  is  much  inferior  to  it.  Lamb  bears 
the  same  relation,  in  its  alimentary  properties,  to  mutton, 
that  veal  does  to  beef.  It  is  less  stimulant  and  less  nu- 
tritive than  mutton.  But  if  the  lamb  have  been  properly 
nursed  for  six  months,  or  a  little  more,  and  not  weaned, 
as  is  too  often  done,  at  two  months  old,  it  affords  a 
most  agreeable,  sufficiently  nourishing,  and  digestible 
aliment. 

Goat's  flesh  is  coarser,  and  in  every  respect  inferior  to 
that  of  the  sheep.  TJie  flesh  of  the  kid  is  sufficiently 
tender  and  delicate. 


Venison  is  an  aliment  in  great  estimation.  It  is  very- 
nutritive,  and  easily  digested.  The  flesh  of  the  youug 
fawn  is  tender,  succulent,  and  gelatinous ;  but  the  most 
nutritive,  and  best  flavoured,  is  that  of  the  full  grown 
animal  of  four  years  old,  or  more.  The  best  season  for 
killing  it  is  in  the  month  of  August ;  for,  in  the  rutting- 
season,  September  and  October,  the  animal  becomes 
lean,  and  its  flesh  rank,  tough,  and  ill  flavoured.  The 
flesh  of  the  female  is  at  all  times  inferior  to  that  of  the 
male.  The  fallow-deer  is  commonly  better  fattened  than 
the  stag,  and  its  flesh  upon  the  whole  is  tenderer.  That 
of  the  roe-buck  is  also  very  tender ;  but  it  is  inferior  in 
flavour,  and  other  qualities,  to  the  fallow-deer. 

Porkisan  aliment  without  doubthighly  nutritious;  but, 
on  account  of  the  fat,  with  which  it  abounds,  not  so 
digestible.  It  is  stimulant  and  savoury,  though  its  par- 
ticular flavour  is  not  agreeable  to  every  one.  It  yields, 
however,  to  those  with  whom  it  agrees,  much  nourish- 
ment. By  the  ancients  it  was  regarded  as  the  strongest 
of  all  aliments,  and  was  therefore  much  employed  in  the 
diet  of  the  athletse.  The  flesh  of  the  uncut  boar  is 
strong,  coarse,  and  ill  flavoured  ;  that  of  the  sow  which 
has  farrowed  is  also  disagreeable.  The  flesh  of  the  cas- 
trated animal  is  freed  from  this  ill  flavour ;  it  is  also 
fatter,  tenderer,  and  more  digestible.  The  flesh  of  the 
Bucking  pig,  like  that  of  other  youug  animals,  abounds  in 
gelatine,  and  affords  a  more  delicate,  lighter,  and  less 
stimulant  aliment,  than  that  of  the  full  grown  animal. 

The  hare  and  rabbit  afford  agreeable  and  wholesome 
food.  The  former  is  more  dense,  higher  flavoured,  ami 
more  stimulant  than  the  latter,  the  flesh  of  which  is 
white  and  delicate,  and,  of  the  young  rabbit,  very  tender, 
and  easily  digestible. 

The  aliment  obtained  from  birds  is,  in  general,  less 
nourishing  than  that  derived  from  the  mammiferous 
quadrupeds.  The  flesh  of  those  birds,  which  feed  on 
grains  and  fruits,  is  the  most  delicate,  and  most  easily 
digested.  The  flesh  of  water-fowl,  and  such  as  devour 
fish,  insects,  and  the  like,  is  commonly  very  alkalescent, 
oily,  strong  flavoured,  highly  nourishing,  but  heavy,  and 
of  more  difficult  digestion. 

The  birds  in  most  common  use,  and  yielding  at  the 
same  time  the  best  aliment,  belong  to  the  gallinaceous 
family.  Their  flesh  is  white,  of  the  most  agreeable  and 
delicate  flavour,  little  heating,  and,  when  not  too  old, 
succulent,  nutritive,  and  easily  digested.  To  this  order 
belong 


Phasianus  Gallus .    . 

.  Dunghill  fowl. 

Colchicus     . 

.  Pheasant. 

MeUagris  Gallopavo . 

.  Turkey. 

Pavo  Cristatus      .     . 

.  Peacock. 

Numida  MeUagris     . 

.  Guinea  hen. 

Tetrao  Perdrix     .     . 

.  Partridge. 

Cotumix .     . 

.  Quail. 

Lngopus .     . 

.  Ptarmigan. 

Tetrix    .     . 

'  Black  game,  cock,  or 
J       growse. 

Scoticus  .     . 

.  Red  game,  red  growse. 

Urogallus    . 

.  Cock  of  the  mountain. 

The  properties  of  the  domestic  fowls  require  no  further 
comment.  The  different  species  of  Tetrao  furnish  an 
aliment  rather  more  stimulant,  sapid,  and  alkalescent, 
but  wholesome,  and  sufficiently  digestible.  A  stronger, 
heavier,  and  more  stimulant  food,  is  furnished  by  the 
birds  of  the  nest  order,  the  Anserine  family. 


494 


ALIMENTS. 


Anberes. 


Anas  Jnser 

Domestica 
Boschas 
Penelope 
Crecca    . 
Aha  Tarda  . 


Tfae  goose,  domestic  and 

wild. 
The  duck. 
The  wild  duck. 
The  widgeon. 
The  teal. 
Razor  bill. 


Pelicanus  Bassanus  Solon  goose. 
The  flesh  of  these  birds  is  very  nourishing,  but  con- 
Biderably  heating,  strong  flavoured,  and  alkalescent. 
They  are  not,  therefore,  so  well  suited  to  the  weak  and 
delicate,  as  the  gallinaceous  fowls  are;  nor  are  they  in 
general  so  easily  digested. 

Scolopax  Rusticola  .     .  Woodcock. 

Gallinago    .     .  Snipe. 

Arqueta  .     .     .  Curlew. 
Tringa  Squatarola  .     .  Grey  Plover. 

Vanelbis      .     .  Lapwing. 
Charadrius  Pluvialis  .  Green  plover. 
Fulica  Fusca      .     .     .  Brown  gallinule. 

CMoropus   .     .  Common  water-lien. 
Rallus  Crex  ....  I^and  rail. 

These,  and  some  others  of  this  family,  are  savoury  and 
well  flavoured  aliment!),  moderately  stimulant,  whole- 
some and  sufficiently  digestible. 

Passeres. 

Columba  domestica 

Palumbus 
Alcaida  arvensis  . 


Common  pigeon. 
Ring  dove. 
Lark. 


Pigeons  afford  a  very  rich  and  stimulant  food.  The 
different  species  of  the  lark  furnish  a  delicate  and  light- 
er aliment.  And  indeed,  many  other  birds  of  the  pas- 
serine family  are  edible,  wholesome,  and  easily  digested. 

Amphibia. 
The  only  animals  of  this  class  used  as  aliment,  are 
Testudov^das  .     .    |  g^^  ^^^^^ 

Greca    .     .     .  Land  turtle. 
Ratia  Esculenta      .     .The  frog. 
Coluber  Vipera      .    .  The  viper. 

The  flesh  of  the  turtle  is  white,  tender,  and  nourish- 
ing. The  rich  fat  with  which  it  abounds  is  not  so  easily 
digested.  But  if  plainly  dressed,  the  turtle,  upon  the 
whole,  affords  a  wholesome  and  nutritious  aliment,  not 
very  different  from  the  flesh  of  young  quadrupeds.  By 
the  abuses  of  cookery,  the  simplest  food  may  be  rendered 
as  heavy  and  indigestible  as  dressed  turtle. 

The  frog  is  hardly  known  as  an  aliment  in  this  country. 
The  hinder  legs  alone  are  served  up  in  France,  and 
other  countries  where  it  is  used.  The  flesh  has  a  white 
and  delicate  appearance,  but  is  very  insipid,  and  cer- 
tainly not  very  nourishing. 

In  Italy  the  viper  broth  is  still  used.  But  there  is  no 
good  reason  to  suppose  that  it  possesses  any  peculiar 
properties  as  a  restorative. 

Fishes  circulate  but  little  red  blood,  and  their  tempc- 
ratu»e  hardly  exceeds  that  of  the  element  in  which  they 
live.  Their  muscular  parts  have  little  colour,  and  their 
texture  is  soft.  They  abound  most  in  a  watery  gelati- 
nous and  albuminous  matter,  and  their  fibrlne  possesses 
less  elasticity  and  cohesion  than  that  of  the  flesh  of  ter- 
r«strial  animaU.    Their  oil  too  is  thinner,  and  not  con- 


cresable  like  that  of  quadrupeds  and  birds.  The  gub- 
gtance  of  fish  is,  notwithstanding  these  qualities,  very  al- 
kalescent and  putrescent,  and  when  decomposing  exhales 
a  strong  ammoniacal  and  peculiar  odour,  sensibly  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  putrid  flesh.  From  a  comparison  of 
their  respective  qualities  and  organization,  we  might 
have  concluded,  that  fish  would,  in  equal  weight,  afford  a 
less  nourishing  aliment  than  flesh,  and  of  more  diffi- 
cult digestion  and  assimilation.  Experience  comes  in 
support  of  this  conclusion.  The  Roman  Catholics,  who, 
during  the  forty  days  of  Lent,  rigorously  abstain  from  the 
use  of  flesh,  but  indulge  freely  in  a  fish  diet,  are  said  to 
be  less  nourished  by  it,  and  to  become  sensibly  thinner 
and  weaker,  as  Haller  indeed  tells  us  he  had  himself  ex- 
perienced. "  Non  adeo,"  he  whimsically  adds,  "  non 
adco  absque  ratione  monachi  generation!  non  destinati  a 
Romana  ccclesia  aut  ad  majorem,  out  ad  unicum  piscium 
usum,  legibus  adstriuguiUur." 

The  disorders  of  the  system,  the  herpetic,  leprous, 
and  scorbutic  eruptions,  to  which  the  ichthyophagi  are 
said  to  be  more  especially  liable,  show,  we  think,  with 
other  observations,  that  fish  is  neither  so  easily  digested 
nor  assimilated  to  the  human  system  as  flesh.  Besides, 
that  in  some  particular  constitutions,  fish  not  only  dis- 
agrees with  the  stomach,  producing  flatulence,  sickness, 
and  vomiting,  but  occasions  great  general  disorder,  a 
short  but  regular  paroxysm  of  fever,  and  an  eruption  re- 
sembling the  nettle  rash,  the  general  practice  of  using 
higher  seasonings  and  sauces  with  fish,  and  the  custom 
so  common  in  our  own  country  of  taking  a  dram  after 
this  kind  of  food,  show  plainly  enough  what  is  the  gene- 
ral experience  of  mankind  with  regard  to  the  alimentary 
properties  of  fish. 

Notwithstanding  this,  many  fish  afford  an  aliment  abun- 
dantly wholesome,  and  sufficiently  nourishing,  to  most 
people.  And,  from  being  less  stimulant,  they  are,  in 
some  cases,  better  adapted  to  the  sick  and  convalescent, 
than  the  richer  aliment  of  flesh. 

The  red-blooded  fish,  and  those  which  abound  in  oil, 
are  more  stimulant,  and  more  nutritive,  than  the  white- 
blooded.  But  they  are  also  heavier,  and  more  apt  to  dis- 
agree with  the  stomach,  especially  of  the  delicate  and 
dyspeptic.  The  cod  and  whiting,  for  example,  afford  a 
nuch  lighter  aliment  than  the  salmon,  the  eel,  the  mack- 
arel,  and  herring.  Sea  fish  are  also,  upon  the  whole, 
more  nourishing  and  more  palatable,  than  those  which 
inhabit  the  rivers  and  fresh  water. 

A  very  great  variety  of  fish  is  in  different  parts  of 
the  world  assumed  as  aliment.  But  it  is  enough  to  have 
marked  the  general  qualities  of  this  kind  of  food.  And 
indeed  there  seems  so  little  real  difference  in  the  ali- 
mcntry  properties  of  those  genera  and  species  com- 
monly employed,  that  to  be  more  particular  than  we  have 
been,  would  be  an  useless  and  unprofitable  labour,  even 
could  we  do  this  with  any  tolerable  degree  of  certainty. 
We  add  the  following  list  without  any  further  com- 
ment. 

Murana  anguilla    ....  £e?. 

Cmiger Conger  eel. 

Ammodytes  Tobianus  .     .     .  Sand  eel. 

Oadus  Monhua Cod. 

Aigkfinus       .     .     .  Haddock. 

Mtrlwtgus      .     .     .  Whiting. 

Caliarias   ....  Torsk. 

Mvlva I'ing. 

ZtiisFaber Dory. 


ALIMENTS. 


405 


PUuronectes  Hippoglosus      .    .  Holibut. 

Platessa  ....  Plaise. 

Flesus       ....  Flounder. 

Limanda    ....  Dab. 

Pleuronedes  Soka         ....  Sole. 

Maximus  ....  Turbot. 

Perca  Fluviatilis Perch. 

Scomber  Scomber Mackarel. 

Mullus  Barbatm Retl  surmullut. 

Surmulletus Striped  surmullet. 

Cobitis  Barbatula Loach. 

SeUmo  Salar Salmon. 

Fario Trout. 

Alpinus     ......  Charr. 

Salmarimts Salmon  trout. 

Eperlanus Smelt. 

Esox  Lucms •    .  Pike. 

Mugil  Cephalus Mullet. 

Chipea  Harengus Herring. 

Sprattus Sprat. 

Jlasa Shad 

Encrttsicolus  ■ Anchovy. 

Ct/prinus  Carpio Carp. 

Gobio Gudgeon. 

Tinea Tench. 

Cephalus Chub. 

,  Lenciscus Dace. 

Rutilus Roach. 

Brama       Bream. 

Acdpenser  Huso         >  Sturgeon Isin- 

Stiirio       5         S'"^*  ^^^ 

Rata  Balis Skate. 

Pelromyzon  Marinus      .     .     .     •     Lamprey. 

The  diflferent  species  of  the  genus  cancer,  viz. 

Cancer  Pagurus Crab, 

Gammarius     ....    Lobster, 
Astacus      .....     Craw  fish, 

Serratus Prawn, 

Crangon Shrimp, 

Squilla       White  Shrimp, 

are  the  only  animals  of  this  order  employed  with  us  as 
aliment. 

The  flesh  of  these  hears  a  close  resemblance  in  fla- 
vour, colour,  and  texture,  to  tish,  from  which  indeed 
they  do  not  greatly  differ  in  alimentary  properties. 
There  is  little  or  no  oil  in  their  composition;  and  they 
are  said  to  yield  less  ammonia  during  their  decomposi- 
tion than  flesh  or  fish  do.  They  are  in  general  of 
more  difficult  digestion,  and  are  allowed  to  afford 
less  nourishment.  The  meat  contained  in  the  body 
of  the  crab  is  rich,  high  flavoured,  more  stimulant, 
and  probably  more  nutritive,  but  extremely  heavy, 
and  apt  to  disagree  with  the  stomach  and  Ijowels.  The 
flesh  within  the  claws  is  lighter  and  more  whole- 
some. The  lobster  is  esteemed  more  delicate  and 
palatalile  than  tiie  crab.  It  is  also  moderately  nourish- 
ing, but  not  very  digestible.  Both,  indeed,  are  apt 
in  some  constitutions  to  occasion  great  disorder,  cholic, 
febricula,  heat,  Itching,  and  efflorescence  of  the  skin. 
The  craw-fish  is  ia  alimentary  properties  similar  to  the 
lobster.  The  prawn  and  shrimp  are  delicate  and  well 
flavoured  foods  of  the  same  kind.  The  decoction  or 
broth  of  the  three  last  is  much  used  on  the  continent, 
and  much  extolled,  though  without  any  BufiBcient  reason, 
as  purifying  and  restorative. 


Of  the  testaceous  vermes  or  shell-iish,  not  many  are 
assumed  as  articles  of  diet.  Those  best  known  arc  the 
following : 


Cardium  edule 
Ostrea  edulis 
Mylilus  edulis 
Helix  potnaiia 


The  cockle. 
The  oyster. 
The  mussel. 
The  snail. 


These  abound  in  soft  mucous  and  albumious  matter,  co- 
agulable  by  heat,  on  which  their  alimentary  powers 
would  seem  to  depend.  They  furnish  us  with  almost 
the  only  example  of  any  animal  food  that  is  ever 
eaten  in  the  raw  and  even  living  state.  Of  these, 
the  best  is  unquestionably  the  oyster.  The  oyster  is 
highly  esteemed  in  the  raw  and  live  state ;  and  with 
the  healthy  and  robust  stomach  it  commonly  agrees 
well.  But  with  the  weak  and  disj)eptic,  it  often 
occasions  considerable  disorder,  and  does  not  appear 
to  be  easily  digested.  Indeed,  there  are  many,  whose 
stomachs  do  not  appear  faulty  in  other  respects,  who 
cannot  digest  raw  oysters,  and  yet  bear  them  well 
enough,  when  roasted,  stewed,  or  boiled.  They  appear 
therefore,  to  be  upon  the  whole  more  generally  whole- 
some and  digestible  in  the  last  state  than  raw.  A  few 
raw  oysters  eaten  before  dinner,  appear  sometimes  to 
increase  the  appetite,  an  effect  which  is  to  be  attri- 
buted rather  to  the  salt  than  to  the  oyster  itself. 
The  nourishment  afforded  by  this  kind  of  food  does 
not  appear  to  bfe  very  great.  Where  they  do  not  dis- 
agree with  the  stomach,  oysters  are  therefore  some- 
times usefully  taken  as  a  light  restorative  aliment 
by  the  feeble  and  consumptive,  when  more  stimulant  and 
nourishing  food  would  be  improper.  The  other  shell- 
fish are  similar  in  alimentary  properties  to  the  oyster, 
though  greatly  inferior  in  delicacy  and  flavour,  and 
much  less  fitted  to  be  eaten  raw.  The  mussel,  in  par- 
ticular constitutions,  has  occasioned  distressing,  and 
even  dangerous  symptoms ;  sickness  and  pain  of  the 
stomach,  violent  retching,  fever,  heat,  pain,  swelling 
of  the  eyes,  face,  mouth,  and  throat,  and  erysipelatous 
inflammation  of  the  skin.  This  effect  has  been  attri- 
buted not  to  the  mussel  itself,  but  to  a  small  species 
of  asterias,  the  ophiura,  which  takes  possession  of  it  in 
the  mouths  of  July  and  August.  But  as  similar  dis- 
order is  occasionally  produced  by  the  lobster,  by  the 
mackarel,  and  some  other  fish  ;  and  as  we  have  known 
one  out  of  several  who  had'eaten  of  the  same  parcel  of 
mussels,  to  be  alone  affected,  while  the  others  escaped 
uninjured,  we  are  rather  disposed,  with  Dr.  Cullen,  to 
refer  this  occurrence  to  the  particular  idiosyncracy  of 
individuals. 

4.  Scarcely  any  of  the  various  alimentary  substances 
employed  by  man  are  used  in  the  raw  and  crude  state 
in  which  they  are  presented  to  him  by  nature.  Almost 
all  of  them  are  previously  sulyected  to  some  kind  of 
preparation  or  change,  by  which,  for  the  most  part,  they 
are  rendered  more  wholesome,  and  more  digestible, 
sometimes  more  nutritive.  Accordingly,  the  observa- 
tions we  have  made  on  the  properties  of  different  ali- 
ments, are  to  be  considered  as  applied  to  them  in  the 
state  in  which  they  are  commonly  used  by  civilized  na- 
tions. It  only  remains  then,  that  we  add  a  very  few 
words  on  the  nature  and  general  effect  of  those  prepa- 
rations to  which  our  aliment  is  subjected ;  without,  how- 
ever, entering  upon  any  detail  that  may  trench  on  the 
province  of  the  cook. 


496 


ALIMENTS. 


The  prrpurttoTy  eliangea  to  which  out  food  is  nEually 
sulijeclci),  are  produced  by  the  application  of  heat,  and 
by  the  admixture  of  water,  and  of  condinienta  or  sea- 
eonings. 

IJv  the  npplicafion  of  heat  to  vegetables,  the  more 
Tolatile  and  watery  parts  are  in  some  cases  dissipated. 
Tlie  different  principles,  according  to  their  peculiar 
properties,  are  extracted,  sol'lened,  dissolved,  or  co- 
agulated ;  but  most  commonly  they  are  forced  into  new 
combinations,  so  as  to  be  no  longer  distinsuishable  by 
the  forms  and  properties  which  they  formerly  pos- 
sessed. 

When,  in  the  preparation  of  bread,  a  baking  heat  is 
applied  to  the  pjiste  formed  of  flour  and  water,  a  com- 
plete change  is  eflected  in  the  constituent  principles  of 
this  mixture,  so  that  in  making  the  analysis  of  bread, 
the  proximate  ingredients  of  flour  are  not  to  be  found 
in  it.  A  new  substance,  bread,  has  been  produced,  which 
is  more  digestible  in  the  human  stomach,  more  whole- 
gome,  and  more  nutritive,  than  the  materials  from  which 
it  was  formed. 

In  like  manner,  the  leguminous  seeds,  and  farina- 
ceous roots,  are  greatly  altered  by  the  application  of 
heat.  The  raw  potatoe,  for  example,  is  watery,  ill 
flavoured,  extremely  indigestible,  and  even  unwhole- 
iome.  By  roasting  or  boiling,  it  becomes  dry,  friable, 
fariuciceous,  sweet  and  agreeable  to  the  taste,  whole- 
some, digestible,  and  highly  nutritive.  Little  is  lost, 
and  nothing  is  added  to  the  potatoe  by  this  prepara- 
tion; yet  its  properties  are  greatly  changed;  its  princi- 
ple?, in  short,  have  suffered  a  derangement  and  new  col- 
location. 

Other  examples  of  such  ehange  are  presented  to  us 
in  the  boiling,  roasting,  and  baking  of  many  fruits; 
in  which  processes  we  sometimes  find  acid  destroyed, 
saccharine  matter  formed,  mucilage  and  jelly  extracted, 
and  combined  anew,  so  that  the  product  shall  be  more 
palatable,  wholesome,  and  nourishing,  than  the  raw  ma- 
terial. 

Even  in  (he  simple  boiling  of  the  various  pot-herbs, 
and  esculent  roots,  the  effect  does  not  seem  con- 
fined to  the  mere  softening  of  the  fibres,  the  solution 
of  some,  and  coagulation  of  other  of  their  juices  and 
principles;  not  their  texture  only,  but  their  flavour 
and  other  sensible  qualities  have  undergone  a  change, 
by  which  their  alimentary  properties  have  been  im- 
proved. 

In  general,  vegetable  substances,  after  having  been 
thus  prepared,  are  more  wholesome,  less  flatulent,  and 
more  digestible  than  in  their  crude  state. 

The  changes  produced  in  animal  substances  pre- 
pared for  our  tables,  by  heat,  are  different  according  to 
the  m;:nner  in  which  it  is  applied,  in  the  various  pro- 
cesses of  roasting,  baking,  frying,  broiling,  stewing,  and 
boiling. 

In  the  usual  way  of  roasting  meat,  there  is  litte  loss 
of  the  succulent  or  nutritive  principles  of  the  flesh  ;  they 
tre  not  even  greatly  changed,  for  if  the  meat  have  not 
leen  overdone,  they  may  still  be  obtained  from  it  by 
the  usual  modes  of  analysis.  Some  changes,  however, 
both  of  texture  and  composition,  it  has  certainly  suffer- 
ed. It  is  more  tender  than  before,  and  much  higher 
flavourtd.  Roasting  seems  therefore  the  simplest,  and, 
upon  the  whole,  the  best  mode  of  preparing  the  flesh  of 
suiiniils.  It  is  wholesome  and  highly  nourishing,  and 
in  general  more  easily  digested  than  when  prepared  in 
any  other  way.     It  is  often  found  to  sit  more  easily  on 


the  stomach,  and  to  he  sooner  disrested  by  the  dyapeptic 
and  feeble,  th:in  boiled  meat  or  broths. 

By  the  methods  of  baking  aad  stewing,  the  whole  of 
the  alimentary  principles  are  also  preserved,  but  not  un- 
changed ;  for  in  these  processes,  by  the  longer  continu- 
ance of  heat  and  moisture,  the  meat  is  more  disorgan- 
ized, the  jelly,  oil,  and  albumen,  are  separated,  dis- 
solved, mixed,  or  combined  anew.  These  preparations 
are  accordingly  savoury,  rich,  and  glutinous,  very  nou- 
rishing, without  doubt,  but  not  near  so  easily  digested 
as  meat  simply  roasted  or  boiled.  Above  all,  the  whole 
variety  of  stews,  meat  pyes,  and  the  like,  are  extremely 
apt  to  disagree  with,  and  disorder  the  stomachs  of  the 
gouty  and  dyspeptic. 

In  boiling,  part  of  the  soluble  principles  is  always  ex- 
tracted by  the  water;  but  if  the  process  have  not  been 
carried  too  far,  the  flesh  is  still  sufficiently  succulent 
and  juicy,  and  at  the  same  time  very  tender,  abundantly 
nourishing,  and  by  most  people  easily  enough  digested. 
Boiled  meat  has  less  flavour  than  roasted,  and  appears 
to  be  somewhat  less  stiumulant.  Over-boiled  meat,  from 
which  the  greater  part  of  the  soluble  principles  has  been 
extracted,  is  dry  and  insipid,  less  soluble  in  the  stomach, 
and  much  less  nutritious. 

Boiling  is  alio  emi>loyed  with  the  more  immediate 
intention  of  extracting  and  dissolving  the  more  soluble 
parts  of  animal  matters,  as  in  (he  preparation  of  soups, 
broths,  and  jellies.  These  are  necessarily  lighter,  or 
more  nourishing,  according  to  the  quality  and  parts  of 
the  meat  used  in  their  preparation. 

The  lighter  and  less  costly  broths  afford  an  aliment 
abundantly  wholesome.  The  richer  soups  are  heavy, 
and  liable  to  all  the  inconveniences  of  stewed  meats. 
Though  soups  are  less  nourishing  than  the  solid  meat 
from  which  they  are  extracted,  they  do  not  appear  to 
be  always  so  easily  digested ;  and  indeed,  those  who  are 
liable  to  stomach  complaints,  generally  find  that  plain 
roasted  and  boiled  meat  sits  easier  with  them  than  any 
kind  of  soup  or  broth. 

Alimentary  substances  are  still  further  changed  and 
prepared  by  the  admixture  of  condiments.  These  are 
employed  with  a  view  to  preserve  aliments  from  spon- 
taneous decomposition,  or  for  the  purpose  of  rendering 
them  more  savoury  and  stimulating,  and  so  to  whet  the 
appetite,  and  promote  digestion. 

The  different  matters  used  for  these  purposes,  may 
be  arranged  under  these  heads : 

1.  Oily  condiments     .     .     Oil,  butter,  cream,  fat. 

2.  Saccharine  condiments     Sugar,  honey. 

3.  Acid  condiments     .     .     Vinegar,  lime-juice. 

4.  Saline  condiments       .     Marine  salt,  nitre. 

5.  Acrid  condiments  .    .     Aromatics    comprehend- 

ing all  the  variety  of  spices,  pepper,  cloves,  nut- 
meg, cinnamon,  &c. 

The  first,  second,  and  third  kinds  of  condiments  are 
also  alimentary,  and  their  general  properties  as  such 
have  been  already  noticed. 

As  condiments,  the  various  oily  substances  are  much 
used  along  with  vegetable  food,  particularly  with  the 
farinacea  and  pot-herbs;  and  by  this  combination,  abun- 
dantly wholesome  and  nourishing,  vegetables  are  not 
only  rendered  more  sapid,  but  of  more  easy  assimilatiop, 
while  they  are  less  apt  to  produce  flatulency.  With 
fish,  and  the  less  sapid  parts  of  other  animal  food,  they 
are  also  advantageously  combined ;  and  in  general  it 
may  be  said,  the  oily  condiments  cease  to  be  wholesome 


ALIMENTS. 


497 


only  when  they  have  been  much  changed  and  decom- 
posed by  the  application  of  heat  in  different  processes 
of  cookery,  as  in  frying,  broiling,  baking,  &c.  Aliments 
thus  prepared  with  oily  condiments  are"  no  longer  so 
wholesome.  They  are  then  very  liable  to  disagree  with 
the  stomach,  which  digests  them  with  difficulty. 

Sugar  is  an  agreeable  condiment,  and  when  taken  in 
moderate  quantity,  very  wholesome.  It  is  somewhat 
aperient,  and  has  considerable  powers  as  an  antiseptic. 
It  is  often  agreeably  and  usefully  combined  with  the 
farinacea,  as  esculent  fruits,  in  the  preparation  of  pud- 
dings, tarts,  conserves.  &c.  and  sometimes  in  the  com- 
position of  antiseptic  sauces  for  animal  food. 

In  larger  quantities,  sugar  is  extremely  apt  to  dis- 
agree with  the  stomach,  producing  nausea,  loathing, 
thirst,  and  general  disorder  of  the  primse  viae  ;  but  in 
the  quantities  and  combinations  in  which  it  is  more 
commonly  used,  it  is  generally  wholesome  enough. 

Vinegar,  the  chief  of  the  acid  condiments,  is  a  good 
(3eal  employed  with  animal  food,  to  obviate  its  putres- 
cency.  It  communicates  an  agreeable  stimulus  to  the 
stomach,  and  is  found  to  promote  appetite  and  digestion. 
Accordingly,  many  kinds  of  food,  as  several  varieties  of 
fish,  shell-fish,  oysters,  ifec.  arc  round  to  ngrcc  gene- 
rally better  when  used  along  with  vinegar.  It  is  also 
employed  in  the  preparation  of  vegetable  pickles,  the 
qualities  of  which,  indeed,  depend  almost  entirely  on 
the  vinegar  and  spice  imbibed  by  them. 

Common  or  sea  salt,  (murias  sodae,)  is,  of  all  condi- 
ments, the  safest,  best,  and  most  extensively  employed. 
It  is  used  by  all  nations,  and  indeed  in  some  shape  or 
other  by  almost  all  animals  whatever.  It  seems,  in  a 
peculiar  manner,  designed  to  assist  in  the  digestion  and 
assimilation  of  our  food.  In  the  quantity  in  which  it  is 
usually  taken,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt,  that  many  of 
«ur  aliments  become  thereby  more  wholesome  and  di- 
gestible, as  well  as  more  agreeable.  Like  the  other 
condiments,  however,  in  larger  quantities,  it  is  injurious 
to  the  constitution.  It  occasions  heat  and  thirst,  and 
seems  rather  to  impede  than  to  assist  digestion.  Be- 
sides the  usual  culinary  preparations  in  which  salt  is 
advantageously  employed,  it  is  used  also  as  an  antisep- 
tic, to  preserve  aliments  from  spontaneous  decomposi- 
tion, and  partic4darly  to  prevent  the  putrefaction  of  ani- 
mal food.  In  general,  however,  the  large  quantity  of 
«alt  which  is  necessarily  employed  in  this  way,  deterio- 
rates the  alimentary  properties  of  the  meat ;  and  the 
longer  it  has  been  preserved,  the  less  wholesome  and 
digestible  does  it  become.  It  is  this  kind  of  food,  salted 
flesh  and  fish,  which  so  surely  occasions  the  disease 
called  scurvy  amongst  sailors,  and  others,  who  are  de- 
prived of  fresher  and  more  wholesome  aliment.  Meat, 
however,  which  has  not  been  too  long  preserved,  simply 
pickled,  or  corned  me&t  as  it  is  called,  is  but  little  in- 
jured or  decomposed,  is  still  succulent  and  tender,  easi- 
ly digested,  nourishing,  and  wholesome  enough. 

Salted  and  hung  meat,  and  therefore  all  sorts  of  hams, 
are  more  indigestible,  and  less  nutritive.  Sparingly 
used  with  olher  food,  they  communicate  indeed  to  it  an 
agreeable  relish,  and  (irove  a  stimidus  (o  the  stomach, 
but  their  freer  and  more  frequent  use  cannot  be  whole- 
some. 

They  require  in  general  all  the  powers  of  the  most 

robust  stomachs.     It  is  worthy  of  remark  in  this  place, 

that  the  fat  of  animiils  seems  less  injured  as  an  aliment 

by  salting,  than  the  lean  parts.  Bacon,  therefore,  though 

Vol.  1.     Paut  II. 


long  preserred,  instill  a  very  nourishing  aliment,  though 
not  very  easily  digested. 

The  acrid  and  aromatic  condiments,  commonly  known 
by  the  name  of  spices,  should  be  at  all  times  very  spa- 
ringly used.  Undoubtedly,  they  communicate  an  agree- 
able relish  to  many  alimentary  preparations ;  and  in 
some  cases  of  debility  of  the  digestive  organs,  they  are 
useful  to  excite  the  languid  stomach,  and  to  promote 
digestion,  and  obviate  flatulency.  But  by  this  forced 
exertion,  the  stomach  is  eventually  worn  out,  and  fur- 
ther debilitated.  The  quantity  of  spice  must  now  be 
increased  to  secure  the  same  effect,  and  such  a  habit  is 
established,  that  the  functions  are  but  ill  performed, 
without  the  assistance  of  those  adventitious  stimuli. 
And  thus,  the  habitual  use  of  these  heating  condiments 
gives  a  disrelish  for  all  simple  and  wholesome  aliment, 
lays  the  foundation  of  a  long  train  of  stomach  com- 
plaints, and  ol  many  consequent  and  more  serious  dis- 
eases. For  while  the  stomach  yet  retains  its  powers, 
the  appetite  is  forced  by  these  condiments  to  all  the  ex- 
cesses of  a  dangerous  gluttony. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  art  of  cookery  should  be  limited 
to  the  simplest  preparations  of  our  food ;  then  it  is  ne- 
cessarily and  advantageously  employed;  but  when  occu- 
pied in  all  the  mysteries  of  mixture  and  decomposition, 
in  the  total  disorganization  of  alimentary  matters,  in  the 
preparation  of  rich,  savoury,  and  stimulating  sauces  and 
condiments,  it  may  indeed  present  us  with  a  variety  of 
dishes  flattering  to  the  appetite,  but  fraught  with  danger 
to  the  health, — a  danger  not  the  less  certain,  because  it 
is  commonly  slow  and  insidious. 

5.  Under  the  he^d  of  aliment,  it  has  generally  been 
customary  to  include  drinks.  Nor  would  the  subject 
be  complete,  without  some  account  of  the  nature  and 
use  of  these.  But  as  the  properties  of  the  different 
fluids  employed  as  drinks  will  be  more  fully  considered 
in  other  parts  of  this  work,  we  shall,  in  this  place,  con- 
line  ourselves  to  a  few  very  general  remarks. 

The  different  matters  already  described,  as  derived 
from  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms,  are  those 
which  are  properly  alimentary,  which  furnish  the  ele- 
ments for  the  formation  and  repair  of  the  various  orga- 
nized parts  of  our  system.  But  as  the  chyle,  the  last 
product  of  digestion,  and  the  circulating  mass  itself,  the 
source  of  all  other  formations,  must  be  preserved  in  a 
certain  state  of  fluidity,  a  necessity  arises  for  a  consi- 
derable quantity  of  watery  fluid  being  taken  along  with 
our  more  solid  and  nourishing  food,  to  soften,  digest, 
and  dissolve  it. 

Besides  though  the  most  solid  parts  of  our  different 
organs  appear  subject  to  constant  waste,  and  demand  as 
regular  a  renewal  of  what  is  earned  away,  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  daily  waste  of  the  human  body  con- 
sists of  watery  fluid.  Thus,  the  loss  which  the  system 
suffers,  has  been  estimated  at  an  average  of  six  pounds 
in  twenty-four  hours,  of  which,  according  to  the  experi- 
ments of  Lavoisier,  two  pounds  and  thirteen  ounces  are 
transpired  by  the  skin  and  lungs ;  and  according  to  the 
computation  of  Haller,  forty-nine  ounces,  or  three  pounds, 
are  discharged  by  urine.  We  may  fairly  conclude  from 
these  observations,  that  at  least  five-sixth  parts  of  the 
whole  loss  consists  of  the  simplest  fluid.  Our  most 
solid  aliments  contain,  indeed,  a  large  ])roportion  of  wa- 
ter, hut  still  it  is  necessary  that  the  body  be  directlj* 
supplied  with  a  larger  quantity  of  this  fluid. 
3  R 


m 


ALIMENTS. 


Drink  then  is  required  to  dilute,  and  to  assist  the  di- 
gestion and  assimilation  of  the  food,  to  preserve  the  due 
fluidity  of  tlie  chyle  and  of  the  blootl,  and  on  many  oc- 
casions directly  to  replace  the  large  quantity  of  watery 
fluid  dissipated  by  the  cutaneous,  pulmonary,  and  uri- 
nary secretions.  Accordingly,  if  the  stomach  be  oi)pres- 
ged  by  the  solidity  or  acrimony  of  the  food,  if  the  circu- 
lating mass  require  dilution,  or  if  there  have  been  any 
extraordinary  disiiipatiou  of  the  fluids  by  the  different 
excretories,  we  are  advertised  of  the  necessity  of  taking 
drink  by  the  appetite  of  thirst. 

Water  is  the  natural  drink  of  man,  and  indeed  of  alt 
animals.      It  is  also  the  most  universally  used ;  and 
though  others  are  taken  by  a  great  proportion  of  man- 
kind, it  lorms  the  basis  of  all  of  them,  considered  merely 
as  drinks.     It  is  not  only  the  safest  and  best  drink,  but, 
however  it  may  be  disguised,  water  is  perhaps  the  only 
fluid  which  can  answer  all  the  purposes  for  which  drink 
is  required.     We  would  say,  that  it  is  the  only  fluid  that 
can  be  admitted  directly  and  unchanged  into  the  system. 
Water  is  indeed  not  a  simple  element,  but  a  compound, 
as  there  is  reason  to  believe,  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen, 
two  elements  which  assist  in  the  formation  of  the  solid 
parts  of  our  frame ;  and  therefore  water,  like  other  se- 
condary bodies,  is  liable  to  decomposition ;  and  we  have 
no  doubt,  that  in  the  processes  of  digestion  and  assimi- 
lation, it  may,  like  other  alimentary  matters,  be  subjec- 
ted to  various  changes.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  a  large  portion  of  the  water  received  into  the 
stomach,  is  absorbed,  and  carried  unchanged  into  the 
circulating  mass.     The  rapid  absorption  of  water  where 
the  »lemands  of  the  system  for  it  are  great,  and  its  early 
re-appearance  in  the  discharges  by  the  slcin  and  kidneys 
after  any  considerable  quantity  of  it  has  been  taken, 
are  sufficient  proofs  of  this,  if  indeed  .any  were  required. 
But  it  docs  not  a|>pear  that  any  other  alimentary  sub- 
stance or  drink  besides  watery  fluid  can  be  admitted  by 
the  lacteals,  before  being  changed  by  digestion.     The 
acid,  saccharine,  and  mucilaginous  matters  which  are 
itometimes  taken  in  along  with  water;  alcohol,  and  all 
the  narcotic  drinks  of  which  it  forms  a  part ;  the  dilTerent 
wines  and  ales,  are  digested  and  decomposed  in  the  sto- 
mach, and  prima.-  via; ;.  they  cannot  be  traced,  or  recog- 
nized by  any  of  their  former  qualities,  either  in  the 
chyle  or  in  the  blood,  not  even  in  any  of  the  secretions 
or  excretions ;  they  find  no  entrance  therefore  into  the 
system ;  and  nothing  belonging  to  them  has  been  ab- 
borbed  by  the  lacteals,  besides  their  water,  and  the  chyle 
or  nutritive  product  formed  by  a  new  collocation  of  their 
elements. 

Waler  we  have  considered  as  the  only  drink  simply 
diluent ;  and  it  forms  the  basis  of  all  those  which  are 
at  the  same  time  somewhat  nourishing.  Such  are  those 
formed  of  water,  and  the  farinaceous  part  of  vegetables, 
as  toast  and  water,  barley-water,  gruels,  and  decoctions  ; 
of  water,  and  the  sweet  and  acid  juices  of  vegetables, 
lemonade,  &c. ;  of  water  slightly  impregnated  with  the 
alimentary  parts  of  animals,  whey,  milk  and  water, 
beef-tea,  veal-tea,  chicken-broth,  &c.  The  properties 
of  these  drinks  may  easily  he  understood  from  what  has 
been  said  of  the  nature  of  the  different  substances  com- 
bined with  the  water.  Their  value,  as  drinks,  de|)end8 
entirely  on  the  water;  their  other  qualities,  on  the  ad- 
ditions which  have  been  made  to  it.  One  of  the  most 
common  diluent,  dietetic  drinks  of  this  country,  is  the 
infusion  of  tea,  rendered  sliphtly  nutritive  by  the  addi- 
tion of  milk  and  sugar,     Tea,  however,  u  also  narcotic. 


or  one  of  those  drugs  which  affect  the  nei^ous  system 
in  a  peculiar  manner.  The  infusion  of  tea  is  indeed' 
gratefully  stimulant  to  the  stomach  and  nerves,  and 
gently  exhilarating.  It  lessens  the  irritability,  and 
soothes  the  sensiiiility  of  the  system,  liut  it  is  more  de- 
structive to  the  health  than  iscommoidy  imngined.  Ta 
the  abuse  of  this  drink,  physicians  have,  on  good  ground, 
attributed  the  great  prevalence  of  nervous,  hysterical,- 
and  stomach  complaints. 

But  mankind,  in  almost  every  country  and  every  age^ 
have  invented  another  class  of  drinks,  the  narcotic  and 
intoxicating;  the  different  fermented  liquors,  wines, 
and  ales ;  aiul  the  spirit  procured  from  these  bji  distilla- 
tion. The  general  effect  of  all  these  drinks  is  to  stimu- 
late and  excite  the  energies  of  the  system,  and,  in 
larger  quantities,  to  produce  intoxication,  and  conse- 
quent debility  and  derangement  of  all  the  functions. 
This  property,  which  is  common  to  them  all,  depends 
upon  the  alcohol  or  pure  spirit  which  they  contain.  By 
it  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  as  well  as  the  functions  of 
the  body,  are  at  first  roused  into  more  vigorous  exer- 
tion;— the  blood  is  made  to  circulate  with  greater  rapi- 
dity, an  agreeable  glow  is  diffused  over  the  whole  frame, 
the  sensps  are  enlivened,  the  passions  awakened,  the 
imagination  becomes  sportive,  and  joy  and  gladness  fill 
the  soul. — But  this  agreeable  paroxysm  soon  passes 
away ;  and  the  mind  and  body  are  left  in  a  greater  state 
of  depression  and  languor  than  before.  We  speak  not 
here  of  the  last  stage  of  brutal  intoxication,  nor  the  se- 
ries of  degrading  8ym|)toms  which  mark  its  progress, — 
as  vertigo,  maniacal  fury,  or  fatuous  delirium,  faltering 
tongue,  tottering  limbs,  apoplectic  insensibility  ! — death 
itself!  It  is  enough  to  observe,  that  the  habitual  abusb 
of  intoxicating  drinks,  even  within  the  limits  of  what  is 
commonly  deemed  sobriety,  is  equally  destructive  to  the 
health  of  body  and  mind  :  and  that  a  frightful  catalogue 
of  diseases,  gout,  apoplexy  and  palsy,  madness  and 
fatuity,  are  commonly  the  consequences  of  greater  ex- 
cesses. 

As  powerful  stimuli,  ardent  spirits  are,  in  some  cases 
of  languor  and  debility,  advantageously  employed;  but 
their  properties  ill  fit  them  for  common  and  habitual 
use.  Nothing  is  more  pernicious  than  the  practice  of 
drinking  spirits.  It  is  a  common  enough  belief,  that  a 
dram  after  meals  promotes  digestion.  But  there  cannot 
be  a  more  erroneous  opinion.  Those,  indeed,  who  have 
acquired  this  pernicious  habit,  may  find,  that,  without 
their  usual  stimulus,  digestion  goes  tardily  on.  But  this 
only  bespeaks  the  infirm  and  diseased  state  to  which  the 
stomach  has  been  reduced.  For  the  digestion  of  the 
healthy  and  unaccustomed  is  sure  to  be  interrui>ted  and 
retarded  by  a  dram.  Common  observation  may  satisfy 
us  of  this.  But  the  question  has  been  submitted  to  direct 
experiment  by  Dr.  Beddoes,  and  he  fourul  that  the  ani- 
mals to  whom  spirits  had  been  given  along  with  their 
foo»l,  had  digested  nearly  one  half  less,  than  other  si- 
milar animaU  from  whom  this  stimulus  had  been  with- 
held.— AVho,  indeed,  are  so  sulject  to  stomach  com- 
plaints as  dram-drinkers  ?— They  are  not  only  the  most 
liable  to  ordinary  and  occasional  stomach  complaints, 
but  too  conwnonly  to  permanent  and  incurable  diseases 
of  that  important  organ. 

The  stimulant  and  intoxicating  properties  of  vinous 
and  fermented  liquors  also  defend  u[Hm  the  alcohol,  ot 
pure  spirit  which  they  contain ;  when  used  to  excess, 
they  are  therefore  liaMe  to  all  Ihc  objections  we  have 
urged  agaiost  the  abuse  of  distilled  spirits.    But  as,  ia 


ALI 


ALK 


499 


the  fermented  vinous  liquors,  the  alcohol  is  not  only 
much  ilihited,  but  in  a  peculiar  state  of  combination 
with  other  principles,  with  the  vegetable  acids,  guo;^'*, 
mucilage,  and  extractive  matter,  they  are  much  less 
destructive  and  pernicious  than  any  of  the  distilled 
drinks.  They  arc  also  more  digestible,  and  considera- 
bly nutritive.  The  moderate  use  of  some  of  these  is 
accordingly  found,  in  many  cases,  highly  advantageous. 
The  smaller  ales  are  refreshing,  gently  stimulant,  and 
antiseptic  drinks. — Porter,  and  the  stronger  ales,  are  ex- 
«eedine!y  nutritious, and  strengthening,  when  used  with- 
in the  limits  of  sobriety. 

Wine  is  the  best  of  all  cordials.  Bloderately  taken, 
it  is  strengthening,  nourishing  and  exhilarating ; — but 
it  should  never  be  foi^otten,  that  the  abuse,  and  even 
the  habitual  use  of  wine,  fatigues  and  wears  out  the 
system  which  it  ssemed  at  first  to  strengthen  and  invi- 
gorate ; — and  that  gluttony  and  intemperance  are  the 
fertile  sources  of  two-thirds  of  the  diseases  which  em- 
hitter  the  short  life  of  man.  (^) 

ALIMENT, or  Alimony, in  law, is theprovision which 
one  person  is  obliged  to  make  for  the  maintenance  of 
another,  connected  with  him  by  certain  ties.  A  father 
b  obliged  to  support  his  sons  till  they  reach"  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  and  his  dauchters  till  their  marriage ;  and 
if  the  father  dies,  (he  mother,  and  even  the  grandfather 
and  grantlmother,  are  liable  in  their  turn  to  the  same 
satural  obligation.  In  the  lower  orders  of  society,  the 
cbligation  to  aliment  their  children  ceases  when  the 
children  are  able  to  support  themselves.  The  children 
are  also  obliged  to  aliment  their  parents ;  and  the  eldest 
son,  when  he  enjoys  landed  property  as  the  representa- 
tive of  his  father,  is  liable  to  support  the  younger  chil- 
dren. A  life-renter  of  a  landed  estate  is  bound  to  sup- 
port the  heir  of  that  estate,  and  the  possessor  of  an  en- 
tailed estate  is  bound  to  aliment  the  next  heir,  by  the 
act  of  grace,  1696,  cap.  32.  Every  imprisoned  debtor 
is  entitled  toaliment  from  the  creditors.  A  fund  destined 
fbr  the  aliment  of  any  person  cannot  be  assigned  to  an- 
other, or  arrested  by  his  creditors.  Alimentary  debts 
prescribe  within  three  years.  See  Bell's  Diet,  of  the 
Law  of  Scotland,  vol.  i.  i).  25.  {j  ) 

ALIMENTARY  Canal,  is  thatpart  of  the  body  of  all 
animals  through  which  the  food  passes  for  the  purpose 
m(  nutrition,  comprehending  the  throat,  stomach,  and 
intestines.  See  Phil.  Trans.  1700,  1701,  vol.  xxii.  p, 
776;  see  also  Anatomy,  (tv) 

ALIOTH,  Allioth,  or  Aliath,  the  name  given  by 
the  Arabians  to  the  first  star  in  the  tail  of  the  Great 
Bear,  marked  »  in  our  catalogues.  It  is  of  the  third 
Eiagnitude,  and  is  called  Mi  ar,  by  Bayer,  (w) 

ALIPILARIUS,  an  officer  among  the  Romans,  who 
attended  the  baths  in  order  to  remove  the  pila:,  or  hairs, 
from  the  aim,  or  arm-pits,  by  means  of  waxen  plasters, 
and  an  instrument  called  volsella.  They  afterwards  car- 
ried their  ideas  of  cleanliness  much  further,  and  removed 
the  hairs  also  from  their  hands,  legs,  &c.  The  women 
who  were  employed  in  this  office  were  named  Picatrices 
HmXPartillria.  (w) 

ALI qU ANT.  See  Aliquot. 

ALIQUOT  Part,  is  thatpart  of  any  magnitude  which 
divides  that  magnitude,  without  leaving  a  remainder. 
Thus  5  is  an  aliquot  part  of  15 ;  and  6  an  aliquot  part  of 
24  ;  and  one  inch  is  the  aliquot  part  of  one  foot.  When 
one  magnitude  does  not  measure  a  greater  one  without 
leaving  a  remainder,  it  is  called  the  aliquant  part  of  the 
greater  magnitude.     Thus  9  is  the  aliquant  part  of  28. 


Hence  the  aliquot  part  of  any  magnitude,  and  the  mag- 
nitude itself,  are  said  to  he  commensttrablc,  and  the 
aliquant  part  of  any  magnitude,  and  the  magnitude  it- 
self are  said  to  be  incommensurable.  One  magnitude, 
however,  may  be  commensurable  with  another  without 
being  an  aliquot  part  of  i(.  (»«) 

ALISMA,  or  Water  Plantain,  a  genus  of  plants 
of  the  class  Hexandria,  and  order  Polygynia.  See 
Botany,  {ti)) 

ALKAHEST,  the  name  given  by  alchemists  to  the 
universal  menstruum  or  solvent.  This  term  was  first 
used  by  Paracelsus,  and  afterwards  by  Van  Helmont, 
who  maintained,  that  he  could  prei)are  an  alkahest  capa- 
ble of  dissolving  all  substances  into  a  simple  fluid  like 
water.  See  Paracelsus  de  Viribus  Mcmbrorwn  ;  Glaii- 
beri.  Opera,  tom.  1.  Boerhaave's  Chemist)^,  vol.  ii.  p. 
153,  253.  Eng.  edit.  1735.  Stahl's  FundamcntaChymite, 
Part  ii.  p.  13,  48,  198.  Edit.  1746.  Part  iii.  p.  10.  Edit. 
1747.  Beccheri  Phil.  Physica,  sect.  iii.  cap.  9.  .lunkeri. 
Conspectus  Chtfmite,  p.  77,  20.  634.  Starkey's  Pyrolech- 
nia.  (w) 

ALKALIS  ar«  a  class  of  chemical  bodies  distinguish- 
ed by  the  following  properties :  They  impress  the  tongue 
with  a  peculiar  acrid  taste,  which  has  been  termed  caus- 
tic or  urinous,  a  sensation  commonly  considered  as  the 
contrary  of  sour ;  they  have  a  strong  aflinity  for  water, 
with  which  they  combine  with  rapidity,  and  in  great 
quantity ;  they  change  the  blue  vegetable  colours  to 
green,  the  brown  to  yellow;  they  corrode  and  dissolve 
animal  substances  ;  they  unite  with  the  oils  and  fats,  and 
thus  form  the  well-known  compound  soap  ;  they  com- 
bine readily  with  several  chemical  agents,  and  particu- 
larly with  the  acids,  with  which  they  form  the  neutral 
salts ;  they  are  capable  of  being  fused  and  volatilized  by 
heat. 

Some  of  these  properties  are  discovered  in  two  or 
three  of  the  earths ;  and  two  of  these,  bary tes  and  stron- 
tites,  have  been  considered  as  alkalis  by  Vauquelin, 
Fourcroy,  and  others  of  the  French  chemists.  But  this 
arrangement  has  not  been  very  generally  received ;  be- 
cause, as  has  been  observed,  if  we  admit  these  amongst 
the  alkalis,  there  is  hardly  any  good  reason  for  exclud- 
ing lime,  magnesia,  and  perhaj)s  some  other  of  the 
earthy  substances;  and  because  the  greater  solubility 
and  fusibility  of  the  alkalis  sufficiently  distinguish  them 
from  all  these  substances,  which  have  also  properties 
coimnon  to  themselves.  If,  however,  as  there  is  now 
some  reason  to  believe,  the  chemical  composition  of  any 
of  these  earths  should  turn  out  to  be  similar  to  that  of 
the  alkalis,  it  is  more  than  |)robable  that  they  will  be 
universally  acknowledged  to  belong  to  this  class  of  che- 
mical bodies. 

The  alkalis,  hitherto  acknowledged  as  such,  are  only 
three  in  number;  the  tivo  called  fixed,  potass  and  soda, 
and  the  volatile  alkali,  or  ammonia.  Potass  being  obtain- 
ed by  lixiviation  from  the  incinerated  ashes  of  niost  ve- 
getables, has  also  been  distingui»hed  as  the  vegetable 
alkali;  while  swla,  abounding  in  the  mineral  kingdom, 
in  common  or  sea  salt,  in  the  ashes  of  marine  plants, 
and  found  native  in  the  soils  of  Egypt,  Syria,  and  India, 
has  received  the  appellation  of  mineral  alkali*.     Both 


*  Both  terms  are  highly  improper,  as  each  alkali  is 
found  iu  the  vegetable  and  mineral  kingdoms :  they 
should  therefore  be  entirely  banished  from  chemical 
works.    CoxE.  ,     . 

3R2 


doo 


V  T 


ALKALIS. 


these  alkalis  are«olid,  and  comparatively  fixed  botljes; 
ammonia,  on  the  contrary,  when  pure,  exists  only  in 
the  gaseous  form ;  for  liquid  ammonia  is  nothing  more 
than  a  solution  of  this  gas  in  water.  Hence  the  name 
of  volatile  alkali.  The  great  source  of  ammonia  is  the 
decomposition  of  animal  substances ;  but  it  is  most  rea- 
dily obtained  in  its  pure  state  by  decomposing  sal  am- 
moniac, (muriate  of  ammonia)  by  lime. 

An  early  experiment  of  Dr.  Priestly,  by  which  he 
demonstrated  that  the  volume  of  pure  ammoniacal  gas 
was  greatly  enlarged,  and  its  properties  totally  changed 
by  the  electric  spark  ;  and  the  observations  of  Scheele 
on  the  detonation  of  fulminating  gold,  sufficiently  war- 
ranted the  conclusion,  that  this  alkali  was  not  a  simple 
but  a  compound  body.  Its  real  composition  was  at  last, 
in  the  year  1785,  fully  explained  by  Berthollet,  since 
w  hich  time  it  has  been  generally  acknowledged  by  che- 
mists to  be  a  compound  of  hydrogen  and  nitrogen.  By 
subjecting  ammoniacal  gas  to  the  influence  of  the  elec- 
tric spark,  or  by  passing  it  through  heated  porcelain 
tubes,  it  is  easily  resolved  into  these  two  elements.  Dr. 
Austin  afterwartls  showed,  that  ammonia  might  be  di- 
rectly formed  by  presenting  nascent  hydrogen  to  nitro- 
gen gas,  and  so  confirmed  synthetically  the  analytical 
proof  of  the  composition  of  this  alkali. 

According  to  the  best  experiments,  it  has  been  con- 
cluded, that  loo  parts  of  ammonia  are  composed  of  80 
of  nitrogen,  and  20  of  hydrogen. 

The  discovery  of  the  composition  of  ammonia  natu- 
rally suggested  a  belief,  that  the  other  alkalis  were  also 
compound  bodies ;  and  as  oxygen  appeared  to  be  the 
universal  principle  of  acidity,  it  was  inferred  by  analogy, 
that  nitrogen  or  hydrogen  might  be  the  principle  on 
which  depend  the  common  properties  of  alkaline  bodies. 
Certain  observations  and  experiments  seemed  even  to 
give  more  than  probability  to  these  conjectures.  The 
large  and  repeated  productions  of  nitre,  (nitrate  of  pot- 
ass,) from  the  artificial  compost  of  animal  matters,  and 
carbonate  of  lime,  even  after  successive  lixiviations,  dis- 
posed Chaptal  to  conclude  that  potass  must  be  a  com- 
pound of  lime  and  nitrogen.  And  from  a  converse  ex- 
periment, in  which  phosphate  of  lime  was  precipitated 
from  a  solution  of  oxymuriate  of  potass  and  phosphoric 
acid  on  the  addition  of  ammonia,  and  in  which  there- 
fore there  was  a  seeming  production  of  lime,  Desormes 
and  Guyton  inferred  this  to  be  a  component  part  of 
potass,  and  derived  from  its  decomposition,  and  that 
this  alkali  was  a  compound  of  lime  and  hydrogen.  From 
somewhat  similar  experiments,  and  from  an  observation 
of  V'auquelin  on  the  existence  of  magnesia  in  the  salsola, 
from  the  ashes  of  which  soda  is  more  abundantly  pro- 
cured than  from  any  other  plant,  it  was  in  like  manner 
supposed  that  magnesia  might  be  the  basis  of  soda. 

There  were  evident  sources  of  error,  indeed,  is  some 
of  these  experiments ;  and  the  conclusions  respecting 
jfie  real  composition  of  the  alkalis  were  never  regard- 
ed as  very  satisfactory  by  chemists;  though  it  appeared 
highly  probable,  that  one  or  other  of  the  component 
principles  of  ammonia,  that  hydrc^en  or  nitrogen  en- 
tered also  into  the  composition  of  the  other  alkalis. 
But  no  analogy  had  ever  suggested  a  suspicion,  that 
oxygen,  so  long  taken  for  the  principle  of  acidity,  was 
also  the  only  principle  common  to  the  alkaline  bodies ; 
or  that  these,  like  the  acids,  were  compounds  of  com- 
bustible bases  and  oxygen.  Yet  that  this  is  the  nature 
and  composition  of  the  alkalis,  now  appears  to  be  fully 
established,  by  the  late  surprising  and  importaDt  dis- 


coveries of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Davy,  who  has  succeed- 
ed in  decomposing  the  fixed  alkalis,  by  subjecting  them 
to  the  action  of  the  galvanic  pile,  md  ascertained  ( lieni 
to  be  formed  from  the  union  of  oxygen  with  highly  com- 
bustible metallic  bases.  It  appears  from  Mr.  Davy's 
experiments,  1st,  That  if  dry  potass,  or  sotla,  having  its 
surface  slightly  moistened  to  render  it  a  conductor,  be 
placed  on  an  insulated  disc  of  platina,  of  gold,  of  any 
metal,  of  plumbago,  or  even  of  charcoal,  connected  with 
the  negative  wire  of  the  galvanic  apparatus,  and  the 
positive  wire  applied  to  the  upper  surface  of  the  alkali, 
a  violent  action  takes  place,  with  effervescence  from 
this  surface,  occasioned  by  a  rapid  discharge  of  pure 
oxygen  gas,  while  from  the  lower,  or  negative  surface, 
there  emerge  small  brilliant  globules  perfectly  resem- 
bling those  of  quicksilver ;  and,  2dly,  that  these  globules 
rapidly  attract  oxygen  from  the  atmosphere,  or  from 
pure  oxygen  gas,  and  reproduce  the  alkali  from  which 
they  were  obtained;  and  that  when  heat  is  applied  to 
them  with  oxygen  gas  in  close  tubes,  they  burn  rapidly 
with  a  brilliant  white  flame,  absorb  the  gas,  without 
giving  out  any  thing,  and  are  converted  into  alkalis,  the 
potass  metal  always  forming  potass,  and  the  soda  metal, 
soda.  Thus  the  composition  of  the  fixed  alkalis  is 
satisfactorily  demonstrated,  both  by  analysis  and  synthe 
sis.  To  these  new  discovered  metallic  bases  Mr.  Davy 
has  given  the  names  of  potassium  and  sodium.  Both 
have  the  lustre  and  the  distinguishing  chemical  proper- 
ties of  metallic  bodies,  with  which  they  have  therefore 
been  classed,  though  ia  one  of  their  physical  proper- 
ties they  are  very  ditTerent.  For  these  are  amongst  the 
lightest  of  solid  or  fluid  substances;  the  specific  gravity 
of  potassium,  being  to  that  of  water  as  6  to  10,  that  of 
sodium  as  9  to  10.  Potassium,  at  the  temperature  of 
32»,  is  crystallized,  at  50°  malleable,  and  at  eo"  more 
fluid  than  mercury.  Sodium  is  not  quite  so  fluid  ;  it 
melts  only  at  120°,  and  its  fluidify  is  perfect  at  180«. 
The  affinity  of  both  for  oxygen  is  so  great,  that  they  at- 
tract it  from,  and  decom|)ose,  most  l>odies  containing  it. 
They  burn  spontaneously  in  oxymuriatic  acid  gas ;  de- 
compose, and  thus  discover  the  smallest  quantity  of 
water  in  alcohol,  wther,  or  oil ;  decompose  also  the 
sulphuric  and  nitrous  acids,  seize  the  oxygen  of  one 
portion  of  acid,  and  are  converted  into  alkalis,  which 
combine  with  the  remaining  acid,  and  form  sulphates 
and  nitrates ;  and  they  amalgamate  with  mercury  and 
other  metals.  Potassium  effects  these  decompositions 
with  more  rapidity  and  brilliancy  than  sodium  does. 
Prom  several  experiments  approximating  in  general 
result,  Mr.  Davy  concludes,  that  the  alkali  potass  is 
composed  of  six  parts  of  potassium  and  one  of  oxygen ; 
soda  of  seven  parts  of  sodium  and  two  of  oxygen. 

Having  thus  discovered  that  oxygen  was  the  common 
principle  ot  the  fixed  alkalis,  there  was  every  reason  to 
infer  that  it  entered  also  into  the  composition  of  ammo- 
nia ;  and  a  number  of  satisfactory  experiments  instituted 
by  Mr.  Davy,  with  the  view  of  determining  this,  have 
enabled  him  to  conclude,  that  ammonia  does  in  truth 
contain  from  seven  to  eight  per  cent,  of  oxygen. 

The  prosecution  of  these  experiments  has  already,  we 
understand,  discovered  to  Mr.  Davy  the  nature  and  com- 
position of  the  alkaline  earths,  that  these  two  are  com- 
posed of  combustible  bases  and  oxygen.  In  this  case, 
we  must,  with  the  French  chemists,  reckon  at  least  five 
alkalis, — potass,  soda,  ammonia,  barytes,  and  strontites. 

These  results,  not  yet  sufliciently  familiarized,  and  at 
war  witb  all  our  late  aiiUciptttioiis  of  the  nature  and  c«ni- 


ALK 


4I.K 


301 


positiou  of  the  alkalis,  still  surprise  us.  But  we  must 
now  conclude,  that  the  basis  oi  the  pure  and  combura- 
ting  part  of  the  atmosphere  is  not  less  alkaligen  than  oxt/- 
gen,  nay,  that  the  oxydes,  acids,  and  alkalis  are  alike 
composed  of  combustible  bases  and  oxygen.  See  Phil. 
Trans,  for  1808,  Part  I.  and  Nos.  89  and  00.  of  Nichol- 
son's Journal,  and  Chemistry.     (<p)* 

ALK  ALIMETER,  the  name  of  an  instrument  invent- 
ed by  Descroizilles  for  ascertaining  the  purity  of  the 
alkalis  of  commerce,  by  determining  how  many  cen- 
tiemes  of  their  weight  they  require  of  sulphuric  acid 
for  their  saturation.  See  Anrmles  dc  Chimie,  torn.  ix.  p. 
17.  or  Phil.  Mag.  vol.  xxviii.  p.  174.     (o) 

AI-K  ANNET,  a  colouring  root  which  grows  in  great 
quantities  in  Languedoc,  and  in  other  parts  of  the  south 
of  Europe.  This  root  is  of  great  use  in  forming  colour- 
ed varnishes,  as  it  easily  parts  with  its  deep  red  colour 
to  alcohol,  the  fixed  and  essential  oils,  wax,  and  other 
unctuous  bodies.     See  Anchttsa,  Botany. 

ALKENDI,  Jacob  Ebn  Isaac,  a  learned  Arabian, 
who  flourished  at  the  commencement  of  the  ninth  cen- 
tury, under  the  caliphate  of  the  learned  and  generous 
Aimamon.  His  attainments  in  literature  and  philoso- 
phy obtained  for  him,  at  an  early  age,  the  honourable 
epithet  of  "  The  Philosopher ;"  and  though  he  employ- 
ed himself  chiefly  in  illustrating  the  philosophy  of  Aris- 
totle, his  attention  was  also  devoted  to  the  liberal  sci- 
ences. Alkendi  seems  to  have  made  considerable  ad- 
vancement in  the  sciences  of  mathematics  and  astrono- 
my, and  his  medical  writings  acquired  him  high  repu- 
tation among  the  Arabian  physicians.  We  are  indebt- 
ed to  Abulfaragius  for  a  very  instructive  anecdote  re- 
specting Alkendi,  which  exhibits  one  of  the  finest 
features  of  a  great  and  amiable  mind.  When  visiting 
the  schools  of  Bagdad,  in  compliance  with  the  custom 


*  According  to  this  view  of  the  subject,  oxygen,  like 
the  traveller  in  the  fable,  is  capable  of  blowing  hot  and 
cold  with  the  same  breath !  This  extraordinary  agent  is, 
ive  see,  the  principle  of  acidity  as  well  as  of  alkalescence! 
Surely  we  may  be  allowed  to  doubt  the  ijossibility  of 
two  such  opposite  effects  resulting  from  one  and  the 
same  cause.  Under  the  head  of  acids,  it  has  been  at- 
tempted to  show,  that  oxygen  alone  is  inadequate  to  the 
acidification  of  difiierent  bases.  Although  it  is  consider- 
ed as  absolutely  essential  to  the  completion  of  this  pro- 
cess, it  was  at  the  same  time  contended,  that  hydrogen 
(or  phlogiston)  was  equally  necessary.  Whilst  some 
metallic  bodies  are  capable  of  acidification,  as  arsenic, 
molybdena,  chrome,  <S?c.,  we  find  others,  as  stated  in  the 
text,  capable  of  alkalization ;  but,  these  two  opposite 
effects  can  scarcely,  with  safety,  be  ascribed  to  the  same 
cause.  It  would  appear,  from  Davy's  experiments,  that 
those  bodies,  which  by  combustion  are  converted  into 
alkalis,  have  united  to  oxygen  only  ;  and  consequently 
we  must  infer,that  oxygen  is,  strictly,  the  principle  upon 
which  such  change  depends ;  but  in  the  formation  of 
acids,  hydrogen  is  likewise  a  constituent. 

It  is  probable,  that  the  numerous  discoveries  of  che- 
mistry will  render  it  necessary  to  alter  entirely  the  pre- 
sent arrangement  of  the  bodies  which  are  the  subjects 
of  chemical  investigation.  Amongst  these  changes, 
since  the  alkalis  and  earths  are  found  to  be  metallic. 
We  shall  have  to  divide  the  class  of  metals,  into  metals 
properly  so  called,  and  into  those  which  are  capable  of 
ftcidification  or  alkalization.    Cos£. 


of  the  times,  Alkendi  took  occasion  to  recommend  the 
study  of  philosofihy,  and  to  reconcile  the  doctrines  of 
Mahomet  with  the  principles  of  reason.  Albumasar, 
one  of  the  interpreters  of  the  Alkoran,  was  offended 
with  the  liberality  of  his  sentiments,  and  dreaded  that 
the  diffusion  of  knowledge  would  sap  the  foundation  of 
their  holy  faith.  He  charged  Alkendi  as  the  promoter 
of  heresy  and  impiety ;  and,  animated  by  a  wild  and  mis- 
taken zeal,  he  even  formed  a  plan  against  the  life  of 
the  philosopher.  When  this  murderous  design  was 
detected,  and  communicated  to  Alkendi,  it  did  not 
awaken  in  his  breast  a  spirit  of  resentment  and  revenge. 
By  his  influence  with  Aimamon,  he  might  have  taken 
signal  vengeance  against  the  enemy  of  his  life,  but  he 
chose  rather  to  punish  him  by  the  generosity  and  mild- 
ness of  his  conduct.  Expecting  to  subdue  the  mind  of 
Albumasar  by  the  precepts  of  wisdom,  he  engaged  a 
teacher  to  instruct  him  in  mathematics  and  philosophy. 
The  mind  of  the  Mahometan  priest  was  soon  changed  j 
he  saw  the  errors  of  his  conduct,  and  lamented  the 
harshness  with  which  he  had  treated  Alkendi;  and 
offering  himself  as  a  discii)le  of  the  philosopher  whom 
he  had  persecuted,  he  was  kindly  received  and  sincerely- 
forgiven,  and  became  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  to 
the  school  of  Alkendi. — What  a  lesson  of  moderation  to 
the  bigots  of  (he  present  age  !  Superstition  and  heresy 
flourish  only  when  they  are  opposed  :  Under  the  mild 
sway  of  toleration,  they  languish  and  decline.  It  is  the 
tyranny  of  the  winds  that  raises  the  ocean  from  it? 
peaceful  level,  aud  arms  it  with  power  to  destroy.  Let 
the  persecuting  tempest  cease,  and  it  becomes  the  most 
harmless  of  the  elements. 

A  catalogue  of  the  writings  of  Alkendi  is  given  in  the 
MS.  History  of  Philosophers  referred  to  by  Dr.  Russel. 
It  does  not,  however,  contain  a  treatise  usually  ascribed 
to  him,  and  translated  into  Latin,  under  the  title  of  "  De 
Mcdicinanim  compositarum  gradibus  invcstigandis."  See 
Russel's  Hist,  of  Aleppo,  vol.  ii.  App.  p.  9.  Enfield's 
Hist.  ofPhilos.  vol.  ii.  p.  237.  See  Almamon.     (/8) 

ALKERMES,  the  name  of  a  confection  made  of  the 
kermes,  celebrated  for  its  influence  in  curing  diseases. 
See  Phil.  Tram.  No.  20.     (w) 

ALKOHOL,  or  Spirit  of  Wine,  is  a  perfectly  lim- 
pid and  colourless  fluid  obtained  by  distillation  from 
all  fermented  intoxicating  liquors.  See  Chemistry,  (w) 

ALKORAN,  or  The  Korax,  {Al  being  the  Arabic 
article,)  the  name  of  the  Mohammedan  scriptures,  con- 
taining the  doctrines,  precepts,  and  pretended  revela- 
tions of  Mohammed.  Derived  from  the  Arabic  verb 
kaara,  to  read,  it  signifies  the  reading,  or  rather  what 
ought  to  be  read.  The  Mohammedans  give  this  name 
not  only  to  the  whole  volume,  but  to  any  particular  chap- 
ter or  section  of  it ;  in  the  same  way  as  the  Jews  call 
the  Old  Testament,  or  any  portion  of  it,  Karah  and 
Mikra. 

According  to  Mohammed's  own  account,  the  Koran 
was  revealed  to  him  in  different  portions,  and  at  different 
times,  during  the  space  of  twenty-three  years.  These 
he  dictated  to  an  amanuensis,  who  wrote  them  on  skins 
and  on  palm-leaves,  and  then  published  them  to  his  fol- 
lowers, some  of  whom  took  copies  of  them  for  their 
private  use,  though  the  greater  number  committed 
them  to  memory.  They  were  arranged  in  their  present 
order,  by  Abu-Bekr,  his  immediate  successor,  who  col- 
lected the  originals  from  the  chest  into  which  they  had 
been  promiscuously  thrown,  compared  them  with  several 
written  and  oral  copies ;  and  when  the  transcript  was 


602 


Jl  » 


ALKORAN 


completed,  ilej/Osited  it  witii  Habsn,  the  daughter  of 
Omar,  one  of  the  prophet's  widows.  This  was  intend- 
ed to  be  consulted  as  the  original ;  and  in  the  30th  year 
of  the  Hegira,  the  Caliph  Othman,  on  account  of  the 
vast  number  of  various  readings  which  the  copies  cir- 
culated through  the  empire  contained,  ordered  these  to 
be  suppressed,  and  several  copies  to  be  made  from  this 
original  transcript,  which  were  published  as  the  only 
authentic  Koran.  To  secure  tliis  sacred  volume  from 
interpolationp,  the  Mohammedans  have,  in  imitation  of 
(he  Masoritc's,  computed  all  the  words,  and  even  letters, 
■which  it  contains,  and  have  also  introduced  vowel  points, 
to  fix  bolii  the  pronunciation  and  the  meaning  of  the 
words. 

This  pretended  revelation  is  so  unsupported  by  any 
evidence  of  inspiration  or  miracles  ;  full  of  such  palpa- 
ble inconsistencies  and  contradictions,  disgraced  by  so 
many  irrational,  and  even  licentious  doctrines, and  mark- 
ed by  such  a  superstitious  and  intolerant  spirit,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  that  any  but  Mohammedans  can 
believe  its  origin  to  be  divine.  By  those,  however,  who 
are  reckoned  the  orthodox  disciples  of  Islamism,  it  is 
held  to  be  eternal  and  uncreated,  remaining,  as  some 
express  it,  in  the  very  essence  of  God,  written  from 
everlasting,  on  an  immense  table,  called  Tlu  preserved 
Table,  near  God's  throne,  from  which  a  copy,  taken  on 
paper  in  one  volume,  was  sent  down  to  the  lowest  hea- 
ven by  the  ministry  of  the  angel  Gabriel,  in  the  month 
of  Ramadan,  on  the  night  of  power,  w'hence  it  was  com- 
municated by  the  same  angel  to  Mohammed  in  various 
parcels,  according  to  the  exigency  of  his  circumstances; 
though  once  every  year,  and  twice  in  the  last  year  of 
his  life,  he  was  blessed  with  a  sight  of  the  whole  volume, 
elegantly  bound  in  silk,  and  adorned  with  gold  and  jew- 
els of  paradise.  Yet  though  this  is  the  opinion  of  the 
Sonniles  or  orthodox,  it  is  by  no  means  universally  re- 
ceived as  accordant  with  truth ;  several  Mohammedan 
sects,  and  particularly  the  Motazalites,  expressly  deny- 
ing the  Koran  to  be  uncreated,  and  accusing  those  who 
maintain  the  contrary  of  infidelity,  as  asserting  the  ex- 
istence of  two  eternal  beings. 

The  style  of  the  Koran  has  been  generally  allowed  to 
Jje  singularly  elegant  and  pure,  being  written  in  the 
dialect  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish,  by  far  the  most  refined 
of  all  the  Arabians,  though  occasionally  mixed  with 
other  dialects.  It  is  still  the  standard  of  the  Arabic 
language ;  and  to  its  supercminent  excellence,  as  a 
literary  production,  Mohammed  himself  appealed  as  a 
(Sufficient  proof  of  its  inspiration,  publicly  defying  the 
most  eloquent  of  his  countrymen  to  produce  even  a  sin- 
gle chapter  that  might  be  compared  with  it.  Some  of 
his  followers  even  venture  to  affirm,  that  the  composi- 
tion of  the  Koran  is  a  greater  miracle  than  the  raising  of 
the  dead,  being  permanent  and  perpetual,  and  thus  pos- 
sessing throughout  every  age  the  same  force  and  evi- 
dence as  when  originally  promulgated.  There  have 
not  been  wanting  some,  however,  who  have  railed  in 
question  this  opinion,  and  who  do  not  hesitate  to  give  a 
decided  preference  above  this  vaunted  production  to  the 
compositions  of  others  of  their  countrymen,  who  made 
no  such  claims  to  inspiration.  Nor  can  it  be  denied,  that 
sublime  as  several  parts  of  it  are,  even  these  are  greatly 
inferior  to  many  parts  of  the  inspired  writings  of  the 
Christian  revelation.  The  slightest  examinalion  of  its 
contents  \vill  convincg  any  impartial  mind,  that  it  has 
no  pretentions  to  originality  of  sentiment,  except  it  be 
^hat  of  mingling  falsehood  w^^h  truth,  and  meanness 


with  sublimity,  in  a  manner  mora  preposterous  than  was 
ever  attempted  before;  and  that  its  most  dignified  pas- 
sages and  elegant  metaphors  are  evidently  borrowed 
from  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 

The  Koran  possesses  this  striking  peculiarity,  that  it 
bears  witness  to  the  truth  while  it  propagates  a  lie. 
Though  itself  founded  on  imposture,  it  professes  to  ac- 
knowledge both  Judaism  and  Christianity  as  true;  ad- 
mits the  miracles  both  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament ; 
and  affects  to  reverence  the  authority  of  Moses  and  of 
Christ,  though  it  charges  their  disciples  with  interpola- 
ting and  corrupting  those  Scriptures,  which  in  common 
with  them  it  professes  to  revere.  It  allows  that  Jesus 
was  the  true  Messias,  the  word  and  breath  of  God,  a 
worker  of  miracles,  a  preacher  of  heavenly  doctrine,  and 
an  example  of  perfect  virtue ;  but  denies  that  he  was 
crucified,  affirming  that  the  traitor  Judas  was  changed 
into  his  likeness  and  put  to  death  in  his  stead,  though  it 
asserts  that  he  was  miraculously  carried  up  into  heaven 
by  the  ministry  of  angels,  and  that  his  religion  was  res- 
tored to  its  primitive  simplicity  by  Mohammed,  the  setU 
of  the  prophets,  with  the  addition  of  peculiar  laws  and 
ceremonies,  of  which  some  are  new,  and  others  only  re- 
vived institutions.  Scarcely  a  circumstance  connect- 
ed with  the  history  either  of  Judaism  or  of  Christianity 
accords  with  the  simple  narratives  of  the  sacred  his- 
torians:  bring  constantly  embellished  with  the  puerile 
fictions  of  Rabinic  tradition,  or  borrowed  from  the 
scarcely  less  absurd  representations  of  the  apocryphal 
gospel  of  Barnabas ;  a  work  which  seems  to  have  been 
originally  forged  by  heretical  Christians,  and  afterwards 
interpolated  to  favour  the  views  of  Mohammed  and  his 
followers.  To  the  reveries  of  the  Persian  magi,  and  the 
heterodox  opinions,  and  particularly  the  Arianism  of  the 
Arabian  Christians,  the  Koran  is  also  indebted  for  many 
of  its  doctrinal  tenets;  whilst  it  denounces  the  wrath  of 
the  Eternal  against  all  who  presume  to  doubt  its  au- 
thority and  truth.  From  these  varied  fragments  of 
truth  and  falsehood,  collected  into  one  mass,  the  temple 
of  Islamism  was  reared  by  the  hand  of  a  cunning  and 
ambitious  impostor,  who  studying  the  dispositions  of 
those  whom  he  invited  to  enter  into  it,  or  subduing  their 
opposition  by  the  i)0wer  of  the  sword,  at  length  succee<l- 
ed  in  establishing  its  worship  among  a  peo|ile  who,  till 
then,  had  been  at  variance  with  one  another  on  almost 
every  point  of  religious  belief. 

With  these  features  of  its  origin,  the  avowed  object  of 
the  Koran  exactly  corresponds.  This  was  to  unite  the 
professors  of  the  three  different  religions  then  prevalent 
in  Arabia,  viz.  Idolaters,  Jews,  and  Christians,  in  the 
knowledge  and  worship  of  one  God.  Accordingly,  the 
great  doctrine  which  it  freqaently  repeats,  and  enforces 
by  the  most  awful  threatcnings,  is  this,  "  Tlure  is  but  one 
God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  Prophet.''^  Pretending  that 
the  chief  design  of  his  mission  was  to  restore  the  doc- 
trine of  the  divine  imity,  he  laid  it  down  as  a  funda- 
mental truth,  that  there  never  was  and  never  can  be 
more  than  one  true  orthodox  religion ;  and,  to  promote 
his  object,  affirmed,  that  when  the  essentials  of  this  re- 
ligion became  neglected,  or  corrupted,  GotI  was  pleased 
to  revive  and  correct  it  by  the  ministry  of  several  pro- 
phets, of  whom  Moses  and  Jesus  were  the  most  dis- 
tinguished, till  Mohammed  himself  appeared.  Hii 
plans  of  proselytism,  combined  with  his  ambition  to  sub.^ 
ject  the  nations  to  the  sway  of  his  |>ower  as  a  temporal 
sovereign,  led  him  also  to  incorporate  many  civil  and  po» 
litical  regulations  with  the  religious  and   moral  pre:; 


ALK 


ALL 


503 


cepts  of  the  Koran.  Accordingly,  besides  prohibiting 
murder,  fornicalion,  adultery,  theft,  &c.  and  strongly 
inculcating  the  duties  of  almsgiving,  and  even  general 
benevolence;  it  for 'ids  gaming,  usury,  lots,  and  the  use 
of  wine  and  certain  meats ;  and  enjoins  the  obligation  of 
Biaking  war  against  infidels ;  assuring  those  who  tight 
under  the  l)anntrgoi  the  prophet,  that  paradise  shall  be 
their  |jortion,  and  denouncing  the  most  dreadful  punish- 
ments agtiinst  the  faint-hearted  and  unbelieving.  It  also 
coiituins  laws  respecting  marriage  and  divorce,  oaths, 
legacies,  wills,  inheritances,  and  the  payment  of  civil 
del  ts.  "  The  Koran,"  therefore,  "  is  not  like  the  Gospel, 
to  be  considered  merely  as  the  standard  by  which  the 
religious  opinions,  the  worship,  and  the  practice  of  its 
followers  are  regulated,  but  as  also  a  political  system  : 
on  this  foundation  the  throne  itself  is  erected  ;  from 
hence  every  law  of  the  state  is  derived ;  and  by  this  au- 
thority every  question  of  life  and  of  property  is  finally 
decided." 

Of  this  book  of  perfection,  as  the  Mohammedans  call 
it,  we  can  scarcely  read  a  chapter  without  discovering 
passages  so  contradictory  to  each  other,  that  no  ingenuity 
can  possibly  reconcile  them.  Yetforthis  they  have  amost 
convenient  and  effectual  remedy  in  the  doctrine  of 
abrogation,  by  which  their  Prophet  himself  represented 
the  Supreme  Being,  as  finding  it  necessary  to  revise, 
and  even  to  revoke  certain  parts  of  this  divine  work, 
notwithstanding  the  declaration  which  it  contains,  that, 
if  it  be  contradictory  in  its  positions,  it  cannot  be  the 
ivork  of  God.  Than  this,  a  grosser  imposition  was  cer- 
tainly never  attempted  to  be  practised  on  the  credulity 
of  mankind.  Had  the  passages  that  are  abrogated  been 
precisely  defined  in  the  book  itself,  some  defence  might 
have  been  made  of  these  contradictions  ;  but  the  reader 
is  left  to  ascertain  for  himself,  which  of  them  ought  to  be 
preferred  as  the  latest,  and  consequently  the  most  au- 
thoritative revelation. 

The  Koran  is  divided  into  114  sections,  or  chapters, 
called  in  the  original  suras  ;  distinguished  not  by  being 
uumbered,  but  by  particular  titles  taken  either  from  the 
sul  ject,  or  from  the  first  important  word  of  the  section. 
These  suras  are  sulidivided  into  smaller  portions,  or  ver- 
ses, called  ayat,  signs  or  wonders  ;  many  of  which  have 
also  particular  titles,  similar  to  those  of  the  suras.  Be- 
side these  unequal  divisions  of  chapter  and  verse,  it  is 
divided  into  60  equal  portions,  or  ahsab,  each  of  which 
is  again  sul)divided  into  four  equal  parts  ;  though  most 
commonly  it  is  divided  into  30  ec^ual  sections,  called 
ajza,  subdivided  like  the  former.  These,  like  the  Rab- 
binic divisions  of  tlie  Mishiia,  are  for  the  use  of  the  rea- 
ders in  the  royal  temples,  and  the  chapels  adjoining  the 
cemeteries  of  the  great ;  to  every  one  of  which  30  rea- 
ders belong,  who  each  reads  a  section  ;  so  that  the 
whole  Koran  is  read  over  once  every  day.  Immediately 
after  the  title,  at  the  head  of  every  chapter,  except  the 
ninth,  the  following  solemn  form,  called  The  Bismillah, 
is  prefixed,  Jn  the  naiiu  of  tlie  most  merciful  God ;  a 
form  which  some  commentators  consider  as  of  divine 
orisrin,  though  others  believe  it  to  be  a  human  addition ; 
and  which  the  Mohammedans  constantly  place  at  the 
tieginniog  of  all  their  books,  as  a  peculiar  and  dis- 
tinguishing characteristic  of  their  religion.  Twenty- 
nine  of  the  chapters  begin  with  certain  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  which  are  regarded  as  peculiar  marks  of 
the  Koran,  and  supposed  to  conceal  some  profound  mys- 
teries, the  certpin  knowledge  of  which  has  not  been 
imparted  to  any  but  their  prophet.     The  abrogated 


passages  are  classed  under  three  heads ;  the  first, 
where  both  the  letter  and  the  sense  are  abrogated;  the 
second,  where  the  letter  only  is  abrogated;  and  the 
third,  where  the  sense  is  abrogated,  but  not  the  letter. 

The  seven  principal  copies  of  the  Koran  are,  two 
that  were  published  and  used  at  Medina ;  a  third,  at 
Mecca;  a  fourth,  at  Cula;  a  fifth,  at  Bassorah;  a  sixth, 
in  Syria  ;  and  a  seventh,  from  which  the  common  edi- 
tions are  taken.  The  Mohammedans  themselves  have 
translated  their  sacred  volume  into  the  Persic,  the 
Malayan,  the  Javan,  and  the  Turkish  languages;  though, 
out  of  respect  to  the  original  Arabic,  these  versions  are 
generally  interlineated.  The  most  beautiful  MSS.  of  the 
Koran  to  he  found  in  Europe,  are,  (1.)  One  preserved 
in  the  Museum  Kirchtrianum,  at  Rome,  supposed  to 
have  been  used  by  Solynian  the  Great.  (2.)  One  in  the 
library  of  Christian  of  Sweden.  (3.)  One  in  the  im- 
perial library  at  Vienna ;  and,  (4.)  One  witli  a  com- 
mentary, by  Abi  Saidi  Rades,  which  was  found  among 
the  spoils  of  battle,  at  the  defeat  of  the  Turks  in  1683, 
by  George,  elector  of  Saxony.  There  are  others  also, 
and  several  of  them  in  England,  of  exquisite  beauty. 

The  first  edition  of  the  entire  work  in  Arabic,  was 
published  by  Paganinus  of  Brescia,  at  Venice,  in  1 530 ; 
but  the  whole  edition  was  committed  to  the  flames  by 
order  of  the  Pope.  It  was  afterwards  printed  by  Hinck- 
clmau,  at  Hamburgh,  in  1084. — The  original  Arabic, 
with  a  Latin  version,  and  a  partial  confutation,  was  pub- 
lished at  Padua,  in  1698,  by  Father  Lewis  Maracci,  at 
the  instance  of  Pope  Innocent  XI.  An  edition  of  the 
Arabic,  in  folio,  with  Scholia  in  the  same  language,  was 
printed  at  Petersburgh,  by  the  order  of  the  late  Em- 
press of  Russia,  for  the  use  of  her  Mohammedan  sub- 
jects; and  on  account  of  their  prejudice  against  print- 
ed books,  she  had  the  types  so  cast  as  to  give  the  ap- 
pearance of  manuscript  to  the  impression.  The  first 
Latin  version,  by  a  Christian,  was  made  in  1143,  by 
Robertus  Retenensis,  an  Englishman,  with  the  assis- 
tance of  Hermannus  Dalmata,  at  the  request  of  Peter, 
abbot  of  Clugny.  It  was  published  by  Bibliaader  in 
1550.  About  the  end  of  the  15th  century,  it  was  trans- 
lated into  the  Arragonian  tongue,  by  Joannes  Andreas, 
(a  convert  from  Mohammedism,)  at  the  command  of 
Martin  Garcia,  bishop  of  Barcelona,  and  inquisitor  of 
Arragou.  Reineccius  published  a  correct  edition  of 
Maracci's  translation,  with  notes,  and  an  introduction,  at 
Leipsic,  in  1721.  The  English  translation  of  Sale  was 
first  printed  at  London,  in  1 734 ;  the  German  of  Boysen, 
at  Halle,  in  1 773  ;  and  the  French  of  Savary,  at  Paris,  in 
1782.  See  Sale's  Koran  ;  Akoranus  ex  variis  collectus 
turn  fontibus  tiun  paludibus,  in  Compend.  Theat. 
Orient,  p.  20,  &c.  Prideaux's  Life  of  Mahomtt ;  White's 
Sermons  at  the  Hampton  Lecture ;  Van  Mildert's  Scr- 
mons  at  Boyle's  Lecture ;  Butters  Horte  Biblicce,  toin. 
ii.  p.  103.  &c.  1807;  and  Reineccii  Historia  Alcorcmi. 
Leips.  1721.     ((/) 

ALLAH  AB AD, in  Geography,  aprovince  of  Hindos- 
tan,  nearly  160  miles  in  length,  and  120  in  breadth.  It 
is  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  division  of  Bahan ;  on  the 
south,  by  that  of  Beran ;  on  the  west,  by  Maleva  and 
Agra;  and  on  the  north,  by  the  district  of  Oude.  Ac- 
cording to  the  arrangement  of  the  emperor  Akber,  to  be 
found  in  the  Ayeen  Akberry,  it  is  distributed  into  10 
circars,  or  counties,  and  these  again  are  divided  into  17? 
pergunnahs,  or  hundreds.  Its  chief  cities  are  Allahabad, 
Benares,  the  ancient  scat  of  Braminlcal  learning,  and 
Iconpour.    If  the  Btatement  of  Mr.  Maurice  be  correci, 


d04 


ALL 


ALL 


the  piovinaeof  Allahabad  contributes  3,31 0,695  sicca  ru- 
pees to  the  revenue  of  the  empire ;  besides  affording  323 
elephants,  237,870  infantry,  and  11,370  cavalry,  to  the 
public  service.  The  greater  part  of  this  extensive  pro- 
vince is  now  under  the  dominion  of  Asuph  Dawla,  a 
tributary  ally  of  the  British  power,     (ft) 

ALLAHABAD,  anciently  Vracg,  or  Piyag,  the  capi- 
tal of  the  province  of  the  same  name,  situated  at  the 
confluence  of  the  Jumna  and  Ganges.  According  to 
Dr.  Robertson,  this  city  stands  on  the  same  ground  with 
Palibothra,  the  ancient  and  famous  capital  of  the  Frasii ; 
and  it  niu»t  be  acknowledged,  that  the  description  of 
the  latter  place  given  by  Strabo,  (lib.  xv.  p.  1028.)  and 
by  Arrian,  {Hist.  Ind.  c.  10.)  corresponds  exactly  with 
that  of  Allahabad.  Major  llennell,  however,  is  of  opi- 
nion, that  Patna  now  occr.))ies  the  ground  where  the 
ancient  Palibothra  stood.  His  reasonings  on  this  topic, 
which  do  not  appear  to  be  so  conclusive  as  those  of 
Robertson,  may  \ye  found  in  the  "  Historical  disquisi- 
tion concerning  the  knowledge  which  the  ancients  had 
of  India,"  &c.  pp.  197,  193,  ed.  1791.  4to,  or  in  Renmts 
Memoir,  p.  49.  et.  seq.  The  modern  city  is  divided  into 
two  parts,  the  Old  Town  and  the  New ;  the  former 
situated  upon  the  Ganges,  and  the  latter  upon  the  Jum- 
na. A  fortress  erected  by  the  emperor  Akber,  occupies 
a  large  space  within  its  boundaries ;  and  a  pillar  of  one 
stone  40  feet  in  height,  and  ascribed  by  trailition  to  one 
of  the  heroes  of  the  Mahabarat,  together  with  the  ele- 
gant tomb  of  Kbufru,  which  is  to  be  found  here,  give 
us  no  contemptible  idea  of  the  Mahometan  architecture. 
Allahabad  is  the  favourite  seat  of  devotion  and  the  re- 
sort of  Pilgrims;  and  it  is  held  in  such  veneration  by 
the  Hindoos,  that,  if  a  man  happens  to  die  in  it,  they 
believe  he  will  attain  to  the  accomplishment  of  all  his 
wishes  in  his  next  regeneration.  The  city  itself  is  de- 
nominated "  The  King  of  Worshipped  Places;"  and 
the  adjacent  country,  to  the  extent  of  40  miles,  is  re- 
"■arded  as  sacred,  and  not  to  be  trod  upon  by  any  one 
without  the  performance  of  the  appointed  ceremonies. 
To  the  S.  W.  of  Allahabad,  at  a  small  distance  from  it, 
are  situated  the  diamond  mines  of  Penna.  E.  Long.  820 
.5'.  N.  Lat.  2.5"  27'.  See  Strabo,  lib.  xv.  Arrian  Hist. 
Ind.  c.  10.  D'Anville,  AiUiq.  tie  Find.  p.  53.  56.  Ber- 
noulli,  torn.  i.  223.  tt  seq.  Atften  Akhtrry,  vol.  ii,  p.  35, 
and  vol.  iii.  p.  256.     (A) 

ALLAMANDA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  pen- 
tamlria  and  order  monogynia.  See  Botanv.  (n») 

ALLAN,  David,  a  celebrated  historical  painter,  who 
has  been  called  the  Hogarth  of  Scotland,  was  born  at 
Alloa  on  the  13th  February,  1744,  O.  S.  At  an  early 
age  he  exhibited  uncommon  proofs  of  mechanical  skill, 
■which  was  first  observed  and  encouraged  by  a  Mr.  Stew- 
art, collector  of  the  customs  at  Alloa.  The  first  rude 
elforts  Of  his  genius  were  formed  merely  by  a  knife,  and 
displayed  a  degree  of  taste  and  skill  far  above  his  years. 
When  Mr.  Stewart  was  at  Glasgow,  he  mentioned  the 
merits  of  young  Allan  to  Mr.  Foulis,  (he  celebrated 
painter,  who  kept  an  academy  for  painting  and  engra- 
ving. About  the  l^eginning  of  1757,  Mr.  Foulis  invited 
Allan  to  bis  academy,  where  he  contiuued  about  seven 
years,  acquiring  the  rudiments  of  his  art.  The  genius  of 
Allan  had  already  attracted  the  notice  of  Mrs.  Erskine 
of  Mar,  lady  Charlotte  Erskine,  lord  Cathcart,  and  Mr. 
Abereromby  of  Tullibody,  who  generously  agreed  lo 
be  at  ibe  joint  cx|iense  of  sending  him  to  Italy.  At 
Rome  be  devoted  himself  to  his  profession  with  the 
:  uareuiltlini;  assiduity,  studying  the  works  of  the 


first  masters,  and  sketching  from  the  exquisite  remains 
of  antiquity,  which  then  adorned  the  ancient  metropolis 
of  the  worid.  In  the  year  1773,  Mr.  Allan  was  the  suc- 
cessful candidate  for  the  prize  medal  given  by  the  aca- 
demy of  St.  Luke,  at  Rome,  for  the  best  specimen  of 
historical  composition ;  and  he  appears  to  have  been 
the  only  Scotsman,  Mr.  Gavin  Hamilton  excepted,  on 
whom  this  high  honour  has  been  conferred.  The  sub- 
ject chosen  by  Mr.  Allan  was  the  Origin  of  Painting :  It 
is  a  composition  of  great  merit,  and  seems  to  be  one  of 
the  happiest  efforts  of  his  pencil. 

After  studying  about  16  years  in  Italy,  Mr.  Allan  re- 
turned to  his  native  country.  He  took  up  his  residence 
in  Edinburgh,  where  he  was  appointed  master  of  the 
academy  established  by  the  trustees  for  manufactures 
in  Scotland.  Here  he  executed  the  aquatinta  engravings 
illustrative  of  the  Gentle  Shepherd  ;  the  Scottish  Wed- 
ding; the  Cotter's  Saturday  Night;  the  Highland  Dance ; 
the  Repentance  Stool;  and  other  works,  which  hare 
raised  him  to  a  high  rank  among  the  artists  of  this 
country.  His  painting  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  in  the  pos- 
session of  Lord  Cathcart,  and  his  Hercules  and  Omphale, 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Erskine  of  Mar,  have  been 
regarded  as  works  of  no  common  merit.  Mr.  Allan 
died  at  Edinburgh,  on  the  6th  August,  1 796,  in  the  53d 
year  of  his  age,  and  was  interred  in  the  Calton  burj'ing- 
ground,  where  no  stone  has  yet  been  raised  to  reconl 
his  talents  and  virtues. 

As  an  artist,  Mr.  Allan  possessed  excellent  powers  of 
composition ;  and  has  exhibited  in  several  of  his  works 
an  accurate  and  deep  acquaintance  with  the  manners 
and  character  of  bis  countrymen.  The  native  and  deli- 
cate humour  which  characterizes  some  of  his  pictures, 
displays  a  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  and  a  power 
of  expressing  its  hidden  operations,  which,  if  we  except 
our  celebrated  countryman  Mr.  Wilkie,  have  not  beep 
surpassed  by  any  artist.  The  private  character  of  Mr. 
Allan  was  marked  by  the  most  engaging  virtues.  To 
the  strictest  honour  and  integrity,  he  united  the  most 
gentle  and  unaffected  manners.  He  was  sincere  and 
warm  in  his  attachments,  and  never  forgot  the  kind- 
ness of  his  benefactors.  When  relaxed  from  the  la- 
bours of  his  profession,  he  often  delighted  his  friends 
with  a  playfulness  of  wit,  and  a  conviviality  of  disjjosi- 
tion  peculiar  to  himself;  but  it  was  the  wit  that  does 
not  wound,  and  the  conviviality  that  does  not  lead  to 
intemperance. 

Mr.  Allan  had  the  happiness  of  enjoying,  during  the 
latter  part  of  his  life,  the  friendship  and  esteem  of  Mr. 
George  Thomson,  who  is  already  known  to  the  world 
as  the  friend  and  correspondent  of  Bums,  and  whose 
kindness  to  Allan  and  his  family  deserves  to  be  record- 
ed. Mr.  Allan  had  the  honour  of  leaving  behind  him  a 
pupil,  Mr.  H.  W.  Williams  of  Edinburgh,  whose  genius 
and  classical  taste,  as  a  landscape  p.iinter,  entitle  him  to 
a  very  high  rank  among  British  artists,     (o) 

ALLAN TOIS.  in  comparative  anatomy,  athin  mem- 
brane situated  between  the  amnios  and  chorion  in  the 
pregnant  female  of  quadrupeds,  and  forming  one  of  the 
membranes  that  invest  the  fostus  in  these  animals.  It 
has  been  so  called  because  it  often  resembles  an  inflated 
gut,  from  wAAits  a  gut,  an<l  tii*i,form.  See  FhiL  Trans. 
vol.  xxii.  p.  834.  and  Ma.mmalia.     (f) 

ALL.\TIL'S,  Leo,  one  of  the  most  voluminous  wri- 
ters of  the  seventeenth  century,  was  born  in  1586,  in 
the  island  of  Scio,  from  which  he  was  removed,  at  the- 
age  of  nine  years,  to  Calabria.     Some  years  after,  he 


ALL 


ALL 


505 


entered  (be  Greek  College  at  Rome,  and  ap|)lied  with 
assiduity  to  the  study  of  fjhllocophy,  divinity,  and  polite 
literature.  From  Rome  he  proceeded  to  Naples,  where 
lie  was  appointed  great  vicar  to  Bernard  Justiniani, 
bishop  of  Anailona.  After  this  appointment  he  returned 
to  his  native  island ;  but,  regretting  the  interruption  of 
his  literary  pursuits,  and  the  loss  of  his  literary  com- 
panions, he  soon  revisited  Rome,  and  fixed  in  that  city 
his  residence  for  life.  On  returning  to  this  seat  of  the 
muses,  he  engaged  with  fresh  ardour  in  the  elegant  and 
liberal  occupations  from  which  he  had  been  jtreduded 
in  his  own  country.  After  applying  for  some  time  to 
the  study  of  medicine,  and  taking  out  his  degree  as 
doctor  in  that  science,  he  devoted  his  whole  attention 
to  the  Belles  Lettres,  and  soon  distinguished  himself 
by  the  elegance  and  the  extent  of  his  accomplishments. 
He  was  appointed  Greek  Professor  in  the  college  of  his 
nation  at  Rome ;  he  was  intrusted  by  Gregory  XV.  with 
the  charge  of  removing  the  library  of  the  elector  pala- 
tine to  that  city  ;  and,  after  the  death  of  that  pontiff,  he 
Jived,  first  with  cardinal  Bichi,  and  then  with  cardinal 
Francis  Barberini,  till  he  was  apjwinted  by  pope  Alex- 
ander VII.  keeper  of  the  Vatican  Library.  For  this 
employment,  his  unwearied  industry,  his  fondness  for 
manuscripts,  and  his  excellent  memory,  rendered  him 
peculiarly  qualified.  He  lived  to  the  advanced  age  of 
83,  and  died  at  Rome  in  January,  1C69. 

The  character  of  Allatius  is  by  no  mean?  amiable. 
Though  educated  in  the  bosom  of  the  Greek  church, 
he  became  such  an  extravagant  bigot  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion,  that  he  maintains  the  necessity  of 
obeying  the  commands  of  the  pope,  even  when  he  go- 
verns with  injustice;  and  asserts  that,  as  the  Roman 
pontiff  is  armed  with  the  authority  of  Christ,  not  even 
an  angel  from  heaven  could  make  him  alter  his  opinion, 
or  deviate  from  truth.  Nor  was  his  temper  less  into- 
Jerant,  than  his  bigotry  was  extravagant  and  absurd. 
Fire  and  sword  are  the  weapons  with  which  he  proposes 
to  reduce  schismatics  and  heretics,  who,  to  use  his  own 
■words,  ought  to  he  proscribed,  pmii.shed,  and  extirpated. 
In  his  controversial  writings  he  brands  his  antagonists 
with  the  most  opprobrious  epithets  which  malice  could 
invent ;  and  inclulges  his  rancour  particularly  against 
his  countrymen  the  Greeks,  whom  he  reproaches  as 
schismatics.  He  gave  great  assistance  to  the  gentlemen 
of  Port  Royal,  in  the  controversy  which  they  carried  on 
with  Mr.  Claude  concerning  the  belief  of  the  Greeks, 
with  regard  to  the  eucharist.  His  compositions  display 
erudition  rather  than  judgment.  Among  his  Greek 
poems  (here  is  one  upon  the  birth  of  Louis  XIV.,  which 
he  afterwards  reprinted  and  dedicated  to  that  prince.  A 
.  ridiculous  story  is  told  of  a  pen  of  Allatius,  with  which 
he  wrote  Greek  for  forty  years,  and  the  loss  of  which 
lie  lamented  with  tears,  (/c) 

ALLECTIJS  was  the  first  minister  and  confidential 
servant  of  Carausius,  who  reigned  in  Britain  after  that 
island  was  declared  to  be  independent  of  Rome,  A.  D. 
287.  Prompted  by  ambition  to  usurp  the  regal  dignity, 
as  well  as  desirous  to  avoid  the  punishment  of  his 
crimes,  he  put  Carausius  to  death,  and  established  him- 
self upon  the  throne.  But  his  elevation  was  not  of  long 
continuance.  For  Constanlius,  having  fitted  out  a  pow- 
erful squtidron,  with  a  view  to  recover  the  island  from 
the  dominion  of  the  usurper,  ordered  it  to  assemble  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Seine,  and  gave  the  command  of  it 
to  Asclopiodotus  the  prefect.  This  officer  was  not  inat- 
tentive to  the  duty  to  which  he  was  called.  Availing 
Vol.  I.  Part  II. 


himself  of  a  thick  fog,  as  William  the  Conqueror  did 
in  later  times,  he  escaped  the  notice  of  the  fleet  of 
Allectus,  which  was  stationed  near  the  Isle  of  Wighf, 
and  landed  on  the  western  coast.  No  sooner  had  Ascle- 
piodotus  landed,  than  he  set  fire  to  his  ships,  resolving 
either  to  subdue  the  usurper,  or  to  perish  in  the  attempt. 
In  the  mean  time,  Allectus  had  taken  his  station  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  London,  expecting  an  attack  from 
Constantius,  who  lay  off  Boulogne  with  his  fleet;  but, 
informed  of  the  descent  of  Asclepiodotus,  he  hastened 
by  forced  marches  to  the  western  coast,  in  order  to 
repel  the  invaders.  A  severe  action  followed  :  liut  the 
troops  of  Allectus,  being  fatigued  and  dispirited,  were 
routed  by  the  imperial  army,  and  he  himself  was  left 
dead  on  the  field  of  battle.  Immediately  after  this  en- 
gagement, Constantius  landed  on  the  shore  of  Kent, 
and  was  received  with  the  loudest  acclamations  of  joy, 
and  the  testimonies  of  universal  obedience.  And  thus, 
England,  having  been  separated  from  the  empire  for 
about  ten  years,  was  again  brought  under  the  dominion 
of  Rome.  Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Rom,  Emp. 
vol.  i.  (h) 

ALLEGANY  Mountains,  otherwise  called  the 
Apalachcs,  from  a  tribe  of  Indians  who  live  on  the  banks 
of  the  Apalachicola,  a  river  which  proceeds  from  these 
mountains,  are  a  part  of  that  extensive  range  which  is 
situated  between  the  Atlantic,  the  Missisippi,  and  the 
lakes  of  North  America;  and  which  runs  in  a  direction 
from  south-west  to  north-east,  passing  through  the 
country  of  the  United  Stales,  and  giving  origin  to  many 
rivers  that  flow,  either  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  or 
into  the  Western  Ocean.  As  the  Allegany  Mountains 
form  a  principal  part  of  the  chain  just  alluded  to,  they 
often  give  their  name  to  the  whole  range.  This  range 
commences  in  Georgia,  stretches  northwards  and  east- 
wards through  the  territory  of  Virginia,  passes  on  in 
the  same  directions  through  Pennsylvania  and  the  nor- 
thern counties,  and  terminates  in  the  division  of  New 
Brunswick.  Its  whole  extent,  according  to  Pinkerton, 
is  not  less  than  900  geographical  miles.  As  itapproaches 
its  termination,  the  mass  rises  in  height :  the  chief 
summits  are  in  New  Hampshire,  and  are  reported  to 
be  nearly  8000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ocean.  Be- 
sides the  main  ridge,  however,  there  are  several  others 
which  are  collateral  to  it,  as  the  Iron  or  Bald  Moun- 
tains, the  White  Oak  Mountains,  and  the  Blue  Moun- 
tains ;  the  Cumberland  Mountains  forming  the  exterior 
skirt  towards  the  north-west.  The  breadth  of  the  whole 
is  often  equal  to  seventy  miles. 

It  is  particularly  deserving  of  notice,  that  while  the 
Allegany  or  Apalachian  Mountains  give  origin  to 
several  rivers,  their  course  is  likewise  broken  by  others 
which  take  their  rise  in  the  more  level  country  to  the 
west  of  the  range,  and  whose  channels,  where  they  have 
pierced  the  rock,  are  composed  of  the  same  hard  mate- 
rials with  its  other  parts.  This  is  the  case  with  the 
Susquehanna  and  the  Polowmac,  which  open  into  the 
Bay  of  Chesapeake ;  and^  as  it  is  affirmed,  with  Hudson's 
kiver  in  the  north.  Whether  the  passages  through 
which  these  great  collections  of  water  flow  towards  the 
Atlantic,  were  formed  by  any  convulsion  of  nature  af- 
fecting this  part  of  the  world,  {Jffferson''s  Notes  on  Vir- 
ginia, App.  No.  2.)  or  whether,  by  the  gradual  disintegra- 
tion of  the  mass,  in  consequence  of  the  action  of  the 
fluid,  it  is  not  easy  to  determine ;  though  we  think  it 
provable,  that  the  phenomenon  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
union  or  successive  operations  of  both  these  caoses. 
3  8 


506 


AUL 


ALL 


But,  in  whatever  way  we  account  for  it,  it  is  unques- 
tionably an  aftpearance  which  merits  the  attention  of 
l)hiloso|)hers ;  and  which  by  no  means  harmonizes  with 
the  g;eograpliical  theories  which  have  long  been  receiv- 
ed by  the  public,     (h) 

For  the  following  account  of  the  geognostic  structure 
of  the  Allegany  Mountains,  the  Editor  is  indebted  to 
professor  Jameson,  to  whose  learning  and  talents  this 
work  is  under  great  obligations. 

As  far  us  we  know,  no  well  educated  mineralogist 
lias  hitherto  examined  the  geognostic  structure  and  re- 
lations of  this  great  range  of  mountains;  nor  do  we  even 
possess  any  very   accurate  description  of  the  grouping 
and  shape  of  its  individual  mountains.     It  would  ap- 
pear from  notices  in  the   Bcrf^mannisches  Journal,  and 
Journal  dcs  Mines,  and  the  relations  of  travellers,  that 
the  rocks,  of  which  these  mountains  are  composed,  are 
similar  in  structure  and  arrangement  to  those  oll!^erved 
in  Europe.     Thus  granite  appears,  in  general,  to  form 
the  central  and  highest  parts  of  the  groupes ;  although 
in  some  pfirticular  instances  it  is  observed  on  a  lower 
level  than  certain  newer  rocks  that  really  or  apparently 
occupy  the  central  and  highest  parts  of  the  groupe. 
This  appearance  has  been  urged  as  an  objection  agi.inst 
the  general  fact,  that  granite  forms  the  central  and  high- 
est parts  of  mountain  groupes.     An  accurate  knowledge 
of  the  grouping  of  mountains,  and  of  the  different  rock 
formations,  however,  shows  us  that  this  objection  has 
no  force ;  for  we  find  that  in  those  instances  where  the 
granite  has  really  a  lower  level  than  the  newer  rocks, 
that   these  rocks    are  either   overlying  formations,  as 
syenite,  second    porpl.jry,  newest  granite,  or  newest 
floetz  trap,  or  (lartial  accumulations  of  newer  primitive, 
transition,  or  Qa;tz  rocks  ;  and  in  those  instances,  where 
the  granite  is  only  apparently  lower  than  neighbouring 
rocks,  the  deception  is  caused  by  our  conibunding  sub- 
ordinate with  principal  mountain  groupes.     The  granite 
is  succeeded  by  a  class  of  slaty  rocks,  which  appears 
iu  some  instances  to  include  the  whole  series  of  princi- 
pal, conformable,  primitive  formations,  viz.  gneiss,  mica 
slate,  and  clay  slate;  in  others,  to  contain  only  individual 
members  of  this  series,  as  gneiss,  or  clay  slate.     The 
lower  parts  of  the  range  are  composed  of  fioctz  rocks, 
and  these  are  principally  limestone,  sandstone,  and  gyp- 
fum.     The  limestone  is  the  most  abundant  of  the  floetz 
formations,  and  it  contains  numerous  petrifactions  of  ani- 
mal and  vegetable  bodies.     The  animal  petrifactions 
are  by  far  the  most  abundant ;  and  of  these  a  conshlera- 
ble  number  of  ammonites,  corrallites,  &c.  have  been  de- 
tcrihed.     In  the  valleys  and  lower  parts  of  this  range, 
there  are  censiderable  tracts  composed  of  alluvial  de- 
posits, which  have  been  formed  l.y  the  washing  of  de- 
bris from  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  or  by  the  overflow- 
ing of  rivers.     The  slaty  primitive  rocks,  viz.  gneiss, 
mica  slate,  and  clay  slate,  are  traversed  by  metaiiferous 
repositories  that  contain  ores  of  copper,  lead,  and  sil- 
ver.— Pinkerton'sCifo^apAjy, vol. iii. p. 33. rt.5fy.  Morse's 
Geog.  of  the   United  StaUs',  p.  65.  and  310.  edit.  1795. 
Pennant's  Arctic  Zoology,  ccxxix.     Journal  ties  Alines, 
No.  54.    Whitchurst's  Enq.  into  the  Slate  and  Formation 
of  the  Earth.  Playfair's  Illust.  of  the  Htittotiian  Theory,  (r) 
ALLEGANY  Covntt,  is  included  in  the  province 
of  Maryland,  and  forms  its  most  western  division.     It  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  Pennsylvania,  on  the  south  by 
the  river   Potomac  and  "Virginia,  and  on   the  east  by 
SideJinghill  Creek  and  the  county  of  Washington.     Its 
population  amounts  to  4809,  including  258  slaves.     Its 
chief  town  is  Cumberland.    The  eame  uame  is  given  to 


another  county  in  Pemtsyhania.  This  last  extends 
from  the  junction  of  the  river  Allegany  with  the  Ohio, 
to  theNew-York  line.  -Ilcontainsl0,150 inhabitants,  ex- 
clusive of  159  slaves,     (fc) 

ALLEGANY  River,  in  Pennsylvania.  It  takes 
its  rise  from  the  western  side  of  the  Allegany  Moun- 
tains, runs  for  about  200  miles  towiirds  the  south-west, 
meets  with  the  Monongahebi  at  Pittsburg,  and  loth, 
nuiting  their  w.iters,  lorin  the  Ohio;  which,  as  well  as 
its  triijutiiry  streams,  was  called  the  Allegany  by  the 
Five  Nations,  (now  the  Six  Nations,)  who  occasionally 
resided  on  its  banks.  The  Ohio  is  stiil  called  the  Alle- 
gany by  several  of  the  ahorigin.il  trilies. — Pinkerton's 
Geosr.  vol.  iii.  p.  30.  note  6.  Morse's  Jnuriean  Geogra- 
phy, Art.  Pennsylvania,     (h) 

ALI.EGlAiNoE,  (ligeantia,  from  ligare,  alligare,  io 
bind,)'^  a  term  first  used  by  the  feudists,  to  denote  that 


*  The  word  allegiance  is  of  modern  date.  In  the 
ancient  books  and  statutes  it  is  written  lipeance,  and 
from  thence  has  been  framed  the  barbarous  Latin  word 
ligeantia.  The  generally  admitted  derivation  of  these 
words  from  the  Latin  ligare,  or  alligare,  as  expressive 
of  the  bond  or  connexion  subsisting  between  the  lord 
and  his  vassal,  has  always  appeared  to  us  to  be  a  forced 
etymology,  because  few  of  the  genuine  terms  of  the 
feudal  law  have  been  borrowed  from  the  Latin  language  ; 
but  their  origin  is  rather  to  be  sought  for  in  the  idioms 
of  the  northern  conquerors,  who  introduced  that  system 
into  the  provinces  of  the  Roman  empire. 

Dr.  Johnson  very  properly  derives  allegiance  from  the 
French  word  lige,  which  was  itself  the  denomination  of 
a  particular  species  of  feud,  called  fief  lige.  Kence  the 
French,  and  particularly  the  Angevins  and  Normans, 
said,  homme  lige,  rctsseU  lige,  hommagc  lige,  fi^f  lige  ; 
and  out  of  the  adjective  lige,  formed  the  substantive 
ligence.  from  which  the  English  made  ligeance  and  li- 
geantia, and  afterwards  allegiance. 

The  French,  as  well  as  the  English  etymologists,  de- 
rive the  word  lige  from  the  Latin  ligare  ;  but  we  cannot 
agree  with  them  in  this  opinion,  and  are  inclined  to 
trace  that  term  to  another  and  more  legitimate  source. 

The  fiff  lige  is  defined  by  the  French  feudists  to  be  a 
species  of  fief,  the  tenure  of  which  is  called  ligence  ; 
by  which  the  vassal  is  bound,  not  only  lo  fealty,  but 
to  personal  service,  which  distinguishes  it  from  the 
fiff  simple,  (fee  simple)  which  binds  the  tenant  to  fealty 
only.  Hence  IheJieJ  lige  is  by  the  French  jurists  also 
denominated  firf  de  Corps,  in  allusion  to  the  corporal 
service  which  the  vassal  is  obliged  to  perform,  and  also 
to  the  corpora!  oath  which  he  takes  on  doing  homage,  by  i 
holding  both  his  hands  between  those  of  his  sovereign. 
Ftrri(re,Dict.  de  Droit,  verho  Fief  lige.  Dmisarl,  Collect, 
de  Jurispr.  eoil.  vcrbo.  The  difference  betwcen/«ttfo»» 
ligium  and  fimhrn  simplex,  is  also  well  explained  by 
Blackstone,  1  Comm.  367. 

We  are  for  this  reason,  strongly  inclined  to  believe, 
that  the  word  lige  takesitsderivation  from  the  Norman  or 
Danish  words  lig  tegente,  which  signify  both/  ;  and  thus 
in  the  original  language,  as  well  as  in  the  modern  French, 
the  true  signification  of  fief  lige,  is  a  corporal  firf,  or 
fief  de  Corps,  as  well  on  account  of  the  personal  services 
to  be  rendered,  as  of  the  corporal  oath  which  the  vassal 
was  obliged  to  take.  This  etymology  appears  to  ug 
more  natural  thun  that  which  is  generally  adoi)ted  :  We 
submit  i(,  however,  to  the  better  judgment  and  consi- 
deration of  the  learned.    DutoncEXv. 


ALLEGIANCE, 


507 


.legal  tie,  by  which  subjects  are  bound  to  their  sovereign 
or  liege  lent.  The  (ie  itself  is,  no  doubt,  substantially 
implied  in  the  very  nature  of  government ;  but  the  form, 
as  well  as  the  name,  is  derived  to  us  from  the  institu- 
tions of  a  barbarous  age. 

Upon  the  introduction  of  the  feudal  laws  and  customs 
by  the  Gothi«  con((uerors  of  Europe,  the  lands  distri- 
buted by  the  victorious  leaders  among  their  soldiers 
and  dependents,  were  holden  either  immediately  of  the 
sovereign  lord  himself,  or  of  some  of  his  vassals.  The 
feudal  lord,  whether  mediate  or  immediate,  was  consi- 
dered as  bound  to  protect  his  subjects  or  vassals  in  the 
undisturbed  possession  of  the  estates  conferred  upon 
them ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  subjects  were  re- 
quired not  only  to  make  an  acknowledgment  of  duty  to 
their  lord,  but  at  all  times  to  pay  obedience  to  his  just 
commands,  and  to  defend  him  against  his  personal  ene- 
mic's.  The  act  of  acknowledgment,  on  the  part  of  the 
subject  or  vassal,  consisted  in  his  taking  an  oath  of  fealty, 
{Jidclitas,)  which  oath  was  required  to  be  taken  by  all 
suhjects  to  their  sovereign  or  superior  lord,  with  this 
distinction,  that  in  the  case  of  fealty  sworn  to  the  su- 
preme lord,  the  oath  contained  an  unlimited  obligation  : 
whereas,  in  the  case  of  a  landlord,  who  was  himself  the 
vassal  of  another,  the  oath  was  qualified  by  an  express 
reservation  of  the  faith  due  to  the  sovereign.  This  last 
was  the  usual  form  of  the  oath  of  fealty.  The  acknow- 
ledgment made  to  the  supreme  lord  himself,  who  was 
vassal  to  no  man,  was  called  the  oath  of  allegiance ;  and 
then  the  vassal  swore  to  bear  faith  to  his  sovereign  lord, 
in  opposition  to  all  men,  (contra  omnes  homiiiosjlddita- 
iem  fecit,)  without  any  limitation  or  reservation  what- 
soever. The  land  which  was  thus  holden  by  immediate 
tenure  of  the  supreme  lord,  was  called  a  liege-fee,  {feu- 
dum  ligium)  the  superior,  liege-lord,  (dotninus  ligius.) 
and  the  vassals,  liege-men  [homines  ligii.) 

When  it  happened  that  one  sovereign  held  some  of 
Lis  lands  under  the  sovereignty  of  another,  a  distinction 
was  made  in  the  homage  to  be  done  by  the  former,  be- 
Jlween  simple  homage,  which  was  a  mere  acknowledg- 
ment of  tenure,  and  liege  homage,  which  included  the 
oath  of  fealty  and  the  services  consequent  ujmn  it.  An 
example  of  a  dispute  concerning  these  two  kinds  of  ho- 
mage, occurs  in  the  reign  of  Edward  HI.  who,  in  the 
year  1359,  did  homage  to  Philip  VI.  of  France  for  his 
possessions  on  the  continent.  But  in  England  it  be- 
came a  general  I'rinciple  of  tenure,  that  all  lands  in  the 
kingdom  are  holden  of  the  king  alone,  as  sovereign  and 
lord  paramount;  and  consequently  the  oath  of  fealty  only 
could  be  taiten  to  inferior  lords ;  while  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance came  to  be  confined  exclusively  to  the  person  of 
Ihe  sovereign. 

In  process  of  time,  the  term  "  allegiance"  was  brought, 
by  analogy,  to  comprehend  all  the  duties  which  sub- 
jects owe  to  their  prince,  as  well  as  those  which  were 
merely  of  a  territorial  nature.  Accordingly  the  oath  of 
allegiance,  as  it  was  administered  for  upwards  of  600 
years,  contained  a  promise  "  to  be  true  and  faithful  to 
the  king  and  his  heirs,  and  truth  and  faith  to  bear  of 
life  and  limb,  and  terrane  honour,  and  not  to  know  or 
liear  of  any  ill  or  dnmage  intended  him,  without  de- 
fending him  therefrom."  At  the  important  era  of  the 
Revolution,  however,  the  terms  of  this  oath  were  deem- 
ed too  favourable  to  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance;  and 
ihe  present  form  was  therefore  introduced  by  the  con- 
vention parliament,  as  more  agreeable  to  the  principles 
of  the  constitatiou  (hen  established.  By  this  oath,  which 


is  much  more  generally  expressed  than  tlie  former,  the 
subject  merely  promises,  that  he  "  will  be  faithful,  and 
bear  true  allegiance  to  the  king."  There  is  no  men- 
tion of  "  his  heirs ;"  nor  is  it  specified  wherein  the  alle- 
giance consists.  The  indeterminate  style  of  this  form  of 
oath,  however,  is  amply  supplied  by  the  terms  of  the 
oath  of  abjuration,  introduced  in  the  reign  of  king  Wil- 
liam. (See  Abjuration.)  The  following  is  the  form 
of  the  oath  of  allegiance,  as  established  by  1  Geo.  stat. 
ii.  c.  13. :  "  1,  A.  B.  do  sincerely  promise  and  swear, 
that  I  will  be  faithful,  and  bear  true  allegiance  to  hii 
majesty  king  George.  So  help  me  God."  And  this 
oath  may  be  tendered  to  all  persons  above  the  age  of  12 
years,  whether  natives,  denizens,  or  aliens,  either  in  the 
court-leet  of  the  manor,  or  in  the  sherifl''8  court.  Qua- 
kers are  exempted  from  taking  this  oath,  for  which 
there  is  substituted  a  mere  declaration  of  fidelity  by  3 
Geo.  c.  vi. 

But  besides  this  exjiress  engagement,  the  law  also 
holds,  that  there  is  an  implied,  original,  and  virtual  alle- 
giance due  from  every  subject  to  his  sovereign,  antece- 
dently to  any  express  promise,  and  independently  of  any 
form  :  and  the  taking  of  the  oath  of  allegiance,  there- 
fore, is  nothing  but  a  solemn  and  formal  profession  or 
declaration,  on  the  part  of  the  subject,  of  his  readiness 
to  fulfil  those  duties,  which  were  before  implied  by  law. 
The  duties  imposed  by  the  oath  of  allegiance,  have  been 
considered  by  some,  as  the  countcr-jiart  to  those  en- 
gagements which  the  sovereign  comes  under,  upon 
taking  the  coronation  oath  :  others,  on  the  contrary, 
hold  the  former  to  be  absolute  and  unconditional.  But 
there  is  no  doubt,  that  the  sovereign  is  bound  to  go- 
vern according  to  law,  even  before  taking  the  corona- 
tion oath  ;  as  the  subject  is  bound  in  allegiance,  indepen- 
dently of  his  taking  the  oath  :  these  oaths,  then,  may  be 
considered  as  a  mere  outward  pledge  for  the  perform- 
ance of  duties,  which  the  parties  were  previously  under 
a  legal  obligation  to  fultil.  In  consequence  of  this 
obligation,  either  express  or  implied,  every  subject  is 
bound  to  support  the  reigning  sovereign  iu  the  exercise 
of  all  the  rights  with  which  he  is  invested  by  law.  But 
no  man  is  bound  to  support  the  monarch  in  acts  of  in- 
justice ;  nor  to  obey  the  royal  command,  should  it  en- 
join the  breach  even  of  the  most  inconsiderable  law ; 
nor  to  continue  his  allegiance,  should  the  king  be  ren- 
dered in  any  manner  incapable  of  exercising  the  royal 
functions. 

Allegiance,  whether  express  or  implied,  is  distinguish- 
ed by  the  law  into  two  sorts,  natural  and  local.  The 
former  has  been  considered  by  some  writers  as  per- 
petual ;  the  hitter  is  temporary  only.  Natural  alle- 
giance, according  to  sir  William  Blackstone,  is  that 
which  is  due  from  all  men  born  within  the  king's  domi- 
nions, immediately  u.>on  their  birth :  for  immediately 
upon  their  birth  they  experience  the  king's  protection; 
at  a  time  too  when  they  are  incapable  of  protecting 
themselves.  Natural  allegiance  is,  therefore,  a  debt  of 
gratitude.  But  the  celebrated  reasoner  above  mention- 
ed does  not  appear  justifiable  in  concluding,  that  this 
debt  of  gratitwic  cannot  be  forfeited,  cancelled,  or  alter- 
ed l>y  anj'  change  of  time,  place,  or  circumstance,  nor  by 
any  thing  but  (he  united  concurrence  of  the  legislature. 
Mr.  Gisborne's  reasoning  on  this  subject  seems  more  just 
and  consistent.  Considering  natural  allegiance,  with 
judge  Blackstone,  as  merely  a  del  it  of  gratitude,  he 
adds,  that  the  discharge  of  it  caniiot  be  demanded  cora- 
pulsorily ;  it  must  flow  from  the  spontaneous  sentiments 
3S  5 


508 


ALL 


ALL 


of  thankfulness  on  the  part  of  liim  who  has  received 
the  benefit.  The  only  foundation  on  which  the  claim  of 
allegiance  can  be  rested,  is  the  voluntary  act  of  the 
sulject,  whereby  he  takes  the  obligation  upon  himself, 
eilher  in  the  more  solemn  manner  1,'y  taking  the  oath, 
or  by  accepting  the  protection  and  the  civil  rights 
ivhich  are  granted  by  the  laws  on  the  condition  of  alle-  . 
giance*. 

Local  allegiance  is  that  which  is  due  from  an  alien,  or 
stranger  born,  so  long  as  be  continues  within  the  king's 
dominions  and  protection,  and  it  ceases  as  soon  as  such 
stranger  removes  from  this  kingdom  to  another.  This 
species  of  allegiance  is  therefore  temporarj'.  It  is  con- 
fined, in  point  of  time,  to  the  duration  of  the  alien's  resi- 
dence, and  in  point  of  locality,  (o  the  dominions  of  the 
British  empire.  Bee  Blacksfone's  Ccmnunt.  H.  i.  chap. 
10,  Paley's  Printiples  of  Mm:  and  Polit.  Philos.  B.  iii. 
ch.  18.  Gisborne's  Duties  of  Men,  ch.iv.  p.  83.  5th 
edit,     (z) 

ALLEGORY,  in  composition,  a  figurative  mode  of 
writing,  which  consists  in  selecting  gometl.-ing  analogous 
to  a  subject,  instead  of  the  subject  itself;  and  describ- 


*  The  doctrine  of  prepetual  allegiance  is  repugnant 
to  the  principles  of  republican  governments.  We  are 
told  by  Plato  that  the  Athenian  citizens  might  freely 
expatriate  themselves  whenever  they  became  dissatis- 
fied with  their  own  country.  Dialogue  hetrveen  Socrates 
and  Crito.  Sect.  8.  And  Cicero  considered  the  right  of 
expatriation  as  the  firmest  foundation  of  Roman  liberty. 
Every  scholar  has  read  and  admired  the  beautiful  apos- 
trophe into  which  he  breaks  out  upon  this  subject  in 
his  oration  for  Balbus  :  O  jura  prceclara,  atque  divinitus 
A  nwjorihus  nostris  comparata!  ne  quis  itwitus  civitate 
iivulclur,  neve  in  civitate  maneat  imitus.     Hoec  sunt  enim 

rUNDAMENTA      PIRMISSIMjV      NOSTRA:      LIBERTATIS,     Sui 

quemque  juris  ct  rclinendi  et  dimittendi  esse  dmninum. 

The  same  principle  formerly  obtained  in  the  repub- 
lics of  modern  Europe,  and  particularly  in  Holland  and 
Switzerland.  Indeed,  the  publicists  contended  for  the 
right  of  emigration,  even  under  monarchical  govern- 
ments; and  the  learnetl  Bynkershoek  has  no  hesitation 
in  saying,  that  it  is  lawful  for  the  subject  to  emigrate, 
wherever  the  country  is  not  a  prison.  Queesl.  Jur.  pub. 
lib.  i.  c.  22. 

In  the  United  States,  the  right  of  expatriation  haa 
been  solemnly  recognized  by  a  decision  of  the  supreme 
Judicial  authority  ;  with  these  restrictions,  however,  that 
it  must  be  exercised  at  such  time,  in  such  manner,  and 
under  such  circumstances,  as  not  to  endanger  the  peace 
or  safety  of  the  United  States ;  and  that  the  bona  fide  in- 
tention of  the  party  to  expatriate  himself  must  be  clearly 
proved,  so  that  the  act  of  emigration  be  not  made  a  mere 
cover  to  evade  or  violate  the  laws  of  our  own  country. 
TaUot  V.  Jansen,  2  Dall.  133. 

So  far  the  general  principle  has  become  a  part  of  our 
municipal  law ;  but  several  important  questions  de|)end- 
ing  upon  it,  still  remain  to  be  determined.  Among  those 
the  supreme  court  has  reserved  for  future  considera- 
Uon  "  whether  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  can  divest 
himself  absolutely  of  that  character,  otherwise  than  in 
«uch  manner  as  may  be  prescribed  by  cur  own  laws  ;  and 
Twhether  his  expatriation  would  be  suflScient  to  rescue 
him  from  punishment  for  a  crime  committed  against 
the  United  States."  Murray  v.  the  Charming  Betfey, 
2  Crancfa,  120.    DurohctAV. 


ing  at  length  the  particulars  belonging  to  the  former,  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  illustrate  what  we  mean  to  enforce 
repecting  the  latter.  It  may  be  compared  to  an  emble- 
matical [>ainting,  in  which  we  are  left  to  discover  the  in- 
tention of  the  artist  by  our  own  meditation;  with  this 
difference,  that  in  the  one,  colours  and  forms  arc  em- 
ployed ;  in  the  other,  words  only.  Both  exercise  the 
judgment,  as  well  as  the  imagination,  by  pointing  out 
some  striking  relation  between  objects  «'i:ich  ir.Ay  be 
very  diRerent  in  most  resjiects ;  but  which  agree  so 
well  in  the  circumstances  brought  before  us,  that  though 
the  representtitive  object  is  alone  placed  in  our  view, 
the  resemblance  leads  us  at  once  to  apply  all  the  par- 
ticulars to  the  subject  represented.  Our  ingenuity  is 
thus  exercised  in  a  pleat^ing  manner ;  and  we  are  at  thp 
same  time  instructed  and  amused.  See  Metaphor  and 
Rhf.tobic.  , 

Allegories  were  a  very  favourite  method  of  delivering 
instructions  in  ancient  times,  and  among  rude  nations, 
where  the  power  of  imagination  is  often  found  in  greater 
vigour  than  among  the  most  polished  tribes.  Jotham's 
allegory  or  parable  of  the  trees  choosing  a  king,  in  the 
ninth  book  of  Judges,  is  one  of  the  earliest  examples  of 
this  kind  of  writing,  that  has  descended  to  us.  The  fa- 
bles of  Esop,  and  those  of  Lokman  or  Pilpay,  are  also  al- 
legories or  parables  of  very  high  antiquity;  in  which,  by 
certain  words  and  actions, attributed  to  beasts,  or  even  to 
inanimate  objects,  the  dispositions  of  men  are  figured ; 
and  what  we  call  the  moral,  is  the  unfigured  sense  or 
meaning  of  the  allegory.  An  jenigma  or  riddle  is  also 
an  allegory ;  but  purposely  rendered  so  obscure,  as  to  be 
unfolded  with  difficulty.  When  an  allegory  is  so  dark 
as  not  to  be  easily  interpreted,  it  becomes,  in  fact,  aa 
{Enigma. 

Allegorical  writing  was  much  in  vogue,  soon  after  the 
revival  of  letters  in  the  middle  ages ;  and  was  prose- 
cuted through  works  of  very  great  length,  so  as  to  be- 
come exceedingly  tedious  and  perplexing.  One  of  the 
best  specimens  of  this  kind  of  composition  we  have  ia 
Spenser's  Fairy  Queen ;  which  would  not,  however,  now 
be  read,  did  not  the  story,  taken  even  in  its  literal  sense, 
afford  sufficient  interest  and  entertainment  to  the  reader'. 

A  short  and  natural  allegory,  intro<luced  info  [roetry, 
orany  of  the  animated  speciesof  composition,  produces  a 
very  happy  effect,  although  it  ought  to  be  remembered, 
that  this  is  rather  the  language  of  imagination,  than  of 
very  strong  and  overwhelming  emotion.  In  Prior's 
Henry  and  Emma,  Emma,  in  the  following  allegorical 
language,  beautifully  describes  her  constancy  to  Henry  . 

Did  I  but  purpose  to  embark  with  thee 

On  the  smooth  ftiirfflce  of  a  summer  sea, 

While  gentle  lephyrs  play  with  prosperous  gales. 

And  fortune's  favour  fills  ihc  swellitif;  sttiU  ? 

But  would  tors»ke  ihe  ship,  and  mitkc  the  shore, 

When  the  winds  whistle,  and  the  lero))e8ts  roar  ?     (m) 

ALLEGRI,  Grf.oorio,  in  Biography,  a  celebrated 
composer  of  music  of  the  seTenteenth  century,  and  au- 
thor of  the  Miserere.  He  was  a  native  of  Rome,  and  by 
profession  an  ecclesiastic.  Nanini  was  hi?  instructor  in 
his  favourite  science,  and  he  was  the  intimate  friend  and 
contemporary  of  Palestrina. — Though  his  abilities  as  a 
singer  were  not  very  cx)nspicuoH5,  yet  he  was  reckoned 
a  complete  master  of  harmony,  and  was  in  such  estima- 
tion with  the  performers  of  his  time,  that  he  was  appoint 
ed  by  the  Pope  A.  D.  1629,  to  a  situation  in  the  choir  of 
his  chapel.  His  princi|ial  compositions  are  of  a  sacred 
and  golemn  description ;  and  many  parts  of  tb«  church 


ALL 


ALL 


509 


»crvic«  in  Italy,  remarkable  for  the  divine  simplicity  and 
purity  oC  the  harmony,  are,  at  this  day,  the  evidences  of 
bis  successful  application  to  the  musical  art.  But  to  his 
skill  as  a  composer,  he  added  a  gentleness  of  disposition, 
and  a  warmth  of  benevolence,  which  showed  that  he  was 
possessed  of  merit  still  higher  and  more  enviable.  The 
poor  Ikcked  around  his  al.ode,  and  were  relieved  by  his 
charity,  and  guided  by  his  exhortations.  It  was  his  daily 
buisncss  to  visit  the  prisons  of  Rome,  and  to  attend  to 
♦he  wants  of  the  imhappy  persons  who  were  shut  up  in 
those  dreary  mansions.  At  length,  after  a  life  spent  in 
useful  employment  and  active  benevolence,  he  died  A. 
1).  1652,  and  was  buried  in  the  Chiesa  Nuova,  before 
the  chapel  of  St.  Philippa  Neri,  near  the  altar  of  annun- 
ciation. 

Of  all  the  works  of  Allegri,  the  Miserere  is  the  most 
distinguished.    It  has  been  jireserved,  together  with  his 
other  compositions,  in  the  pontifical  chapel ;  and  has  an- 
nually been  performed  there  on  Wednesday  and  Good 
Friday,  in  Passion  Weelc,  for  170  years,  by  the  choral 
band,  and  the  chief  singers  of  Italy.     It  is   believed, 
however,  that  the  effect  which  it  produces  is  not  wholly 
to  be  attributed  to  the  composition  itself     Something 
must  be  ascribed  to  the  time,  the  place,  and  the  ceremo- 
nies with  which  the  performance  is  accompanied :  and 
besides  these,  there  are  certain  traditionary  observances, 
attitudes,  and   graces,  known  and  adhered  to   by  the 
singers,  which  have  likewise  their  influence  upon  the 
minds  of  the  audience.     The  Pojie  and  the  whole  con- 
clave fall  to  the  ground,  the  torches  of  the   balustrade 
and  the  candles  of  the  chapel  are  extinguished,  one 
after  another ;  and  the  last  verse  of  the   psalm  termi- 
nates by  two  choirs;  the  maestro  di capcUa  beating  time 
slower  and  slower,  and  with  less    force,  and  the  singers 
diminishing  the  harmony  till  the  whole  dies  gradually 
away.     According  to  Father  Martini,  there  were  never 
more  than  three  copies  of  this  wonderful  performance 
made  by  authority;  of  these  the  first  was  for  the  em- 
peror Leopold,  the  second  for  the  late  king  of  Portugal, 
and  the  third  for  himself.     But  this  statement  cannot  be 
regarded  as  correct ;  for  a  very  complete  transcript  of 
it  was  presented   by  his  holiness  to   George   II.,   and 
esteemed  i»y  the  donor  as  an  invaluable  curiosity,     (ft) 
ALLEGRI  Antonio.     See  Corregio. 
ALLEMANDE,  in  music,  a  slow  air  in  common 
time,  of  four  crotchet?  in  a  bar.     It  is  supposed  to  be  of 
German  origin,  as  it  occurs  in  the  harpsichord  lessons  of 
Handel,  and  in  other  compositions  published  about  the 
same  time.     The  d.ince   called  Allemandeis  still  usf-d 
in  Germany  and  Switzerland.  See  Busby's  Mwi.  Die.  (w) 
ALLESTRY,  Richard,  D.  D.  was  born  at  Uppini^-- 
ton,  in  Shropshire,  A.  D.  1619;  and  in  the  course  of  his 
life,  was  distinguished  by  his  zeal  and   activity  in    the 
service  of  Charles  I.,  as  well  as  his  attachment  to   the 
calmer  pursuits  of  pliiloso,jhy  and  literature.     Having 
received  a  part  of  his  education    at  the  grammar-school 
of  Coventry,  he  was  removed  to  Christ-church,  Oxford, 
where  he  continued  for  some  time  under  the  tuition  ol' 
Busby,  afterwards  the  celebrated  master  of  Westminster 
school.     His  diligent  application  to  study,  and  the  oli- 
vious  tendency  of  his  political  principles,  which  he  never 
scrupled  to  declare,   sufficiently   account  for  his  rapid 
promotion  in  the  university  and  in  the  church.  He  had 
no  sooner  taken  his  degree  as  a  bachelor  ol  arts,  than  he 
■was  chosen  moderator  in  philosophy  :  and  alter  the  re- 
stonition  of  Chnrles  II.  he  was  appointed   one  of  the 
canons  of  Christ-church,  created  a  doctor  in  divinity, 


made  a  chaplain  to  the  king,  regius  professor  of  theolo- 
gy, and  finally  provost  of  Eton  college,  A.  D.  1665.  But 
in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  the  course  of  his  studies 
was  interrupted  by  the  unhappy  differences  which  fcok 
place  between  Charles  I.  and  the  people  of  England; 
and  he  was  called  to  military  service  by  the  hostile  oc- 
currences of  the  times,  while  he  was  prompted  t»it  by 
the  natural  warmtli  of  his  disposition.     Accordingly  he 
laid  aside  the  gown  in  the  year  1641 ;  and  joining  with 
other  students  from  Oxford,  whose  principles  were  simi- 
lar to  his  own,  he  entered  the  royal  army.     In  this  new 
occupation  he  gave  eminent  proofs  of  his  courage  and 
zeal.     He  was  permitted,  however,  in  consequence  of  a 
suspension  of  hostilities,  and  the  friendship  of  Sir  John 
Biron,  to  return  to  his  literary  pursuits.     Of  these  in- 
deed he  had  never  lost  sight;   for  it  is  recorded  of  him, 
that  he  often  appeared  with  a  musket  in  the  one  hand 
and  a  book  in  the  other:  relieving  the   fatigue  of  mili- 
tary duty  with  the  consolations  of  philosophy,  and  at- 
tending to  the  improvement  of  his  mind  in  the  intervals 
of  more  active  exertion.     After  his  return  to  Oxford,  the 
parliamentary  forces  entered  the  city  and  attempted  to 
plunder  the  colleges.     They  seized  many  valuable  arti- 
cles, and  locked  them  in  an  apartment  of  the  deanery, 
•with  a  view  to  remove  them  when  they  should  leave  the 
town;  but  Allestry,  having  procured  the  key  of  the 
apartment,  foundmeanstoconvey  them  toanother  pl^ce, 
80  that  the  republicans  searched  for  them  without  effect. 
About  this  time  a  fatal  disease   visited  the  garrison  of 
Oxford,  and  Allestry  very  narrowly  escaped  with  his 
life.     Pull  of  zeal,  however,  he  joined  the  students  who 
had  volunteered  in  the  service  of  the  king,  being  con- 
tented with  the  rank  of  a  private  soldier;  and  when  the 
republican  arms  at  length  prevailed,  he  stilj  adhered  to 
his  principles,  though  his  activity  was  repressed  by  tho 
influence  of  the  ascendant  power.  He  was  expelled  from 
his  college  by  the  parliamentary  visitants  on  account  of 
his  attachment  to  royalty:  a  fatevfhich  Locke,  in  another 
cause,  and  for  an  attachment  of  a  different  nature,  after- 
wards experienced.     (For'.?  Hist,  of  James  II.  Append.) 
In  his  retirement,  Allestry  found  an  asylum  in  the  house 
of  Francis    Newport,  a  gentleman  of  Shropshire,   in 
w  hose    family  he  officiated  as  chaplain ;  till,  quitting 
Newport,  he  was  received  by  Sir  Anthony  Cope,  of  Ox- 
fordshire, in  the  same  capacity.  His  talents  and  fidelity, 
however,  being  generally   known,  he  was  employed  in 
concerting  measures  for   the  restoration  of  Charles  II. 
As  he  was  returning   from  an  i'-lerview  with  the  king, 
he  was  seized  at   Dover,  and  committed  a  prisoner  to 
Lambeth-house  :  but  in  a  few  weeks,  and  at  the  instance 
of  the  earl  of  Shaftesbury,  he  obtained  his  release.     Im- 
mediately after  his  enlargement,  he  proposed  to  visit 
his  friend  Dr.  Hammond  in  Worcestershire ;  and  ap- 
proaching the  place  where  he  lived,  he  discovered  his 
funeral  procession,  at  the  appearance  of  which  he  re- 
tired in  much  distress      Hammond  left  him   his  books, 
which  were  given  to  him   because  the  testator  knew 
"  th;\t  in  his  hands  they  w  ould  be  useful  weapons  for  the 
defence  of  the  cause  whi^h  he  had  so  vigorously  su[)- 
ported." 

In  the  subsequent  life  of  Allestry  there  is  nothing 
very  remarkable.  After  the  government  was  settled  in 
favour  of  the  king,  he  basked  for  a  while  in  the  sunshine 
of  preferment,  and  died  in  1681,  loaded  with  honours, 
and  in  the  full  jiossession  of  plenty  and  ease.  He  was 
zealous  and  faithful  in  his  politicul  attachments :  in 
literature,  he  was  conspicuous  among  others  who  were 


510 


ALL 


ALL 


<hf  ftiselves  not  much  distinguished  for  their  intellectual 
attainments ;  but  he  was  by  no  means  entitled  to  the  ex- 
travag.nnt  and  unqualitied  praise  which  his  biographers, 
with  inconsiderate  profuseness,  have  heaped  upon  him. 
The  utmost  that  can  be  said  of  his  Forty  Sermons  is, 
"  that  they  do  not  discredit  the  author."  He  was  a  mu- 
nificent benefactor  to  Eton  college,  to  which  he  be- 
queathed his  library  ;  and  he  introduced  some  arrange- 
ments among  the  fellowships,  which  are  said  to  have 
been  very  advantageous.  Allestry's  Sermo7is,  Life,  Pref. 
Biog.  Britan.  Art.  Allcstry.     (A) 

ALLEYN,  Edward,  a  celebrated  comedian  in  the 
reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James  I.  He  was  born  in  Lon- 
don, on  the  1st  of  September,  1566,  of  respectable  pa- 
rents. Alleyii  was  (he  contemporary  of  Shaks|)eare, 
And  was  an  original  actor  in  some  of  his  inimitable  plays. 
He  was  in  the  most  intimate  habits  with  our  immortal 
poet,  as  well  as  with  Ben  Jonson.  They  used  frequently 
to  spend  their  evenings  together  at  the  sign  of  the 
Globe,  in  company  with  a  few  other  congenial  spirits. 
A  letter  from  one  of  the  club  is  still  preserved,  which 
contains  a  curious  anecdote,  and  shoivs  the  estimation 
in  which  AUeyn  was  held  by  his  contemporaries.  We 
give  an  extract,  without  adhering  to  the  orthography. 
"  I  never  longed  for  thy  company  more  than  last  night : 
■we  were  all  very  merry  at  the  Globe,  when  Ned  Alleyn 
ditr  not  scruple  to  affirm  pleasantly  to  thy  friend  Will 
(Shakspeare),  that  he  had  stolen  his  speech  about  the 
fjuality  of  an  actor's  excellency  in  Hamlet,  his  tragedy, 
from  conversations  manifold  which  had  passed  between 
them,  and  opinions  given  by  Alleyn,  touching  the  sub- 
ject. Shakspeare  did  not  fake  this  talk  in  good  sort : 
bnf  Jonson  put  an  end  to  the  strife,  with  wittily  remark- 
ing :  '  This  aflfair  needeth  no  contention  :  you  stole  it 
from  Ned,  no  doubt ;  do  not  marvel ;  hate  ycu  not  seen 
him  act  times  otit  of  number?'"*  Alleyn  was  indeed 
the  Garrick  of  his  day  :  and  is  equally  celebrated  with 
that  famolis  actor,  for  versatile  genius,  coporal  agility, 
lively  temper,  and  fluent  elocution.  They  also  resem- 
bled each  other  in  another  respect,  in  which  they  differ 
from  most  of  their  professional  brethren, — we  mean, 
prudent  economy.  Playing  soems  to  have  been  no  bad 
trade  in  Alleyn's  time  ;  for  he  left  a  large  fortune,  which 
he  devoted  chiefly  to  charitable  uses.  It  must  however 
be  remembered,  that  Alleyn  was  the  proprietor  of  a 
theatre  as  well  as  an  actor,  and  that  he  had  the  direc- 
tion of  another  fashionable  amusement  in  those  days, 
viz.  the  king's  bear-grvlen,  which  is  said  to  have  pro- 
duced to  him  a  clear  profit  of  five  hunilred  a  year:  a 
pretty  decisive  proof,  that  we  do  not  exceed  our  ances- 
tors, so  far  as  might  be  imagined,  either  in  folly  or  ex- 
travagance. Alleyn,  overflowing  with  riches,  and  sa- 
tiated with  public  fame,  prepared  to  close  the  ^cene 
with  some  eclat.  For  this  purpose,  he  founded  an  hos- 
pital at  Dulwich,  in  Surrey,  about  five  miles  south  of 
London  bridge.  This  building  was  executed  after  a 
plan  by  the  celebrated  Inigo  Jones,  who  is  one  of  the 
witnesses  to  the  deed  of  settlement ;  it  is  commonly 
known  by  the  name  of  Dulwich  College  :  the  institution 
still  contiues  to  flourish.  Alleyn  expended  about  ten 
thousand  pounds  on  the  building;  and  that  it  might  be 
suitably  suptiorted,  he  appropriated  lands  to  the  amount 
of  eight  hundred  a  year,  for  the  maintenance  of  one 
master,  one  warden,  and  four  fellows.  The  master  and 
xrerden  were  always  to  be  of  the  name  of  Alleyn  or  Al- 


len. Six  poor  men,  and  as  many  women,  were  to  b« 
supported  in  this  hospital;  besides,  twelve  poor  Ijoya, 
who  were  to  be  educated  in  good  literature,  till  the  age 
of  fourteen  or  sixteen,  and  then  put  out  to  honest  trades 
and  callings.  Alleyn  was  only  about  48  years  of  age 
when  he  made  this  endowment,  and  he  took  care  to  see 
it  carried  into  effect  under  his  own  eye.  But  what  ia 
still  more  extraordinary,  after  the  hospital  was  com- 
pleted, he  was  so  pleased  with  the  institution,  that  he 
resolved  to  be  himself  one  of  the  first  pensioners.  Ac- 
cordingly, during  the  remainder  of  his  life,  he  confor- 
med strictly  to  the  rules  of  the  house,  and  appeared 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  allowance  which  his  bounty 
had  made  for  the  indigent.  Along  with  this  apparent 
mortification,  he  still  displayed  a  laudable  attention  to 
his  temporal  interest ;  and  either  for  his  own  gratifica- 
tion, or  with  a  view  to  the  public  good,  he  continued, 
even  after  his  establishment  in  the  hospital,  to  draw 
considtrable  profits  as  manager  of  the  theatre.  Besides 
Dulwich  College,  he  founded  several  alms-houses  in 
London  and  Southwark,  with  competent  provisions. 
This  singular  character  died  25th  November,  1626; 
and  is  buried  in  the  chapel  of  his  own  college  at  Dul- 
wich.     (g) 

ALLL\,  Battle  of  the,  a  desperate  engagement 
fought  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Allia,  in  390  B.  C.  in 
which  40,000  Romans  were  either  slain  or  put  to  flight 
by  Brennus  and  the  Gauls,  See  Liiy,  lib,  v,  cap.  37. 
Plut.  i»  Camill.  Flor.  1.  cap.  13.     (iv) 

ALLIANCE,  is  an  agreement  entered  into  between 
two  nations,  or  the  sovereigns  which  represent  them, 
for  their  mutual  safety  and  defence.  When  the  con- 
tracting parties  bind  themselves  to  assist  each  other 
only  in  repelling  the  attack  of  the  common  enemy,  it  is 
called  a  defensive  alliance  ;  if  they  agree  to  aid  each 
other  in  carrying  war  into  the  enemy's  country,  and  as- 
sailing him  in  every  vulnerable  part  of  liis  dominions, 
the  alliance  is  said  to  be  offinsive.     (o) 

ALLIER,  a  department  in  France  formed  out  of  the 
High  and  Low  Bourbonnois,  and  deriving  its  name  from 
the  river  Allier,  which  traverses  it  from  south  to  north. 
It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  departments  of  the 
Nievre  and  the  Cher,  on  the  west  by  those  of  the  Cher 
and  the  Creuse,  on  the  south  by  that  of  the  Puy-«le- 
Dome,  and  on  the  east  by  those  of  the  Loire,  and  the 
Seine  and  Loire.  As  the  river  Allier  is  only  navigable 
during  a  part  of  the  year,  and  as  the  land  carriage  ia 
difficult,  there  is  a  considerable  restraint  on  the  com- 
merce of  this  department.  The  fish  which  are  caught 
in  the  numerous  marshes  with  which  the  country  is  co- 
vered, form  a  great  branch  of  its  trade.  The  mineral 
wells  of  Vichi,  and  of  Bourbon,  the  latter  of  which  is 
only  about  60  leauges  from  Paris,  are  much  frequent- 
ed in  spring  and  autumn.  The  department  contains 
742,272  hectares,  or  1,454,341  square  acres.  The  ex- 
tensive forests  occupy  106,000  hectares.  Contributions 
in  1803,  2,208,064  francs.  Population272,6I6.  Moulins 
is  the  capital  of  the  department,     (o) 

ALLIGATION, from  arf-Z»J^c(i»,  the  act  of  connecting 
together;  signifies  the  doctrine  of  things  compounded 
or  connected  together.  Hence  it  is  the  name  of  an 
arithmetical  operation,  for  determining  the  value  or  the 
weight  of  one  of  (he  ingredients  of  a  mixture,  when  tlie 
number  of  the  ingredients,  and  the  value  or  the  weight 
of  each,  are  known ;  or  for  determining  the  proportiou 


•  Thii  letter  i«  to  be  found  in  the  Annual  Register  for  1770,  vol.  »iii.  p.  107;  •oil  in  the  Biogr»ph.  Britan.  vol.  i.  p.  157. 


ALL 

»f  each  ingretHent  when  their  values  or  weights,  and 
the  value  or  weiglit  ol' the  mixturt-,  are  given. 

Before  exemplilj'ing  the  aritiimt  iical  rules  l>y  which 
^ueBtions  oi'  this  kind  may  he  solved,  we  shall  deduce 
the  rules  themselves  from  an  algebraical  investigation. 
Let  W,  W  '  be  the  relative  weights  or  values  of  the  two 
ingredients,  n  the  weight  of  the  mixture,  V  the  volume 
common  to  the  mixtur*-,  and  the  two  ingredients  x,  y, 
the  prO[,ortion  of  the  ingredients.  Then  we  have  x-\-y 
=V,  anil  J/=V — X.     Besides,  it  is  evident,  that  V  :  x : : 

W:-^,the  weight  of  x;  and  V  :^: :  W' :  — ^,    the 

weight  of  y.     Now  the  sum  of  the  iveights  of  x  and 
3^  must  be  equal  to  (he  weight  of  the  mixture;  hence 
Wx   ,   W'v     Wj^+W'v 
-y — I — y=^= ^ — =2-=rm.       Substituting    m    this 

equation,   instead    of  y,   its    value    V — x,    we   have 

Wx+W'V— Wx=ro      ^.  ^        .... 

,  which  multipiying  by  V,  gives 

Wx+W'V— W'x=V7y.     Transposing  W'V,  we  have 
Wx— W'x=Vn>— VW,  and  dividing  by  W— W',  we 

Vtw— VW'  „     TO— W' 

^^""^  ^   W— VV   '  "'■  *=^  ^  w— W>-     1°  *e  same 
way,  by  substituting  in  the  first  equation,  V — x  instead 

W TO 

of  y,  we  obUin  3/=VX^— ^.  These  values  of  w,  x, 
and  y,  furnish  us  with  the  following  rules : 

1.  Multiply  the  weight  or  value  of  unity  of  each  in- 
gredient, by  the  proportion  which  it  holds  in  the  mix- 
ture, and  the  sum  of  these  protlucts  will  be  the  weight 
or  value  of  the  whole  mixture ;  or  the  sum  of  these 
products  divided  by  the  volume  of  the  mixture,  or  the 
sum  of  the  ingredients,  will  be  the  weight  or  value  of  an 
unity  of  the  mixture. 

2.  Divide  the  excess  of  the  value  or  weight  of  the 
mixture  above  the  value  or  weight  of  the  smaller  ingre- 
dient, by  the  excess  of  the  value  or  weight  of  the  largest 
ingredient  above  that  of  the  smaller  ingredient ;  and  (he 
quotient  will  be  the  iiroportioii  of  the  larger  ingredient. 
Divide  the  excess  of  the  value  or  weight  of  the  larger 
ingredient  above  that  of  the  mixtwre,  by  the  value  or 
weight  of  the  larger  ingredient  above  that  of  (he  smaller 
one;  and  the  quotient  will  be  the  proportion  of  the 
smaller  ingredient. 

These  rules  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  ex- 
amples : 

Rule  I. 

ExampU  I — What  is  the  value  of  a  mixtnre  of  wheat 
compounded  of  20  bushels  of  wheat,  at  5  shillings  per 
bushel,  36  bushels  at  3  shillings,  and  40  bushels  at  2 
shillings  ? 


ALL 


611 


■•=w. 


The    first    equation    will   be  ^^+W',v+W 

V 

which  in  the  present  case  becomes,  in  numbers,  5X20 
-f  3X36+40X2=288,  the  value  of  the  whole  mixture, 
V  being  equal  1.  But  if  the  value  of  an  unit,  i.  e.  of  a 
bushel,  in  the  present  case,  be  required,  we  have  the 
volume  V  of  the  mixture  being  etjual  to  20+364-40= 

o«i,    u  1    5X20+3X36+40X2    „    .. 
96  bushels,  ^ QQ       =3  shillings,  the  va- 
lue of  a  single  bushel. 

Example  11.    What  is  the  weight  of  a  metallic  mix- 
ture composed  of  10  cubic  inches  of  gold,  an  inch  weigh- 


ing 20  ounces ;  9  cubic  inches  of  platina,  an  inch  weigh- 
ing 16  ounces;  and  5  cubic  inches  of  lead,  an  inch 
weighing  6  ounces. 

'£}^e  equation  will  in  (hat  case  be  20X10+16X9+ 

6X3=374  ounces,  the  weight  ol"  the  mixture.  To  find 
the  weight  of  one  once  of  the  mixture,  we  have 


20X10+1BX9+6X5 


24 


•=li^  ounces  nearly. 


Rule  II. 


Example.  To  find  the  proportion  of  the  ingredients 
in  a  mixture  of  gold  and  silver,  the  weight  of  the  gold 
being  20,  that  of  the  silver  11,  and  that  of  the  mixture 
16.  Let  V,the  volume  common  to  the  three  substances, 
be  =1 ;  then,  by  substituting  the  preceding  number*  in 
the  equations, 

x^VX,"^^' 


we  have 


W— W' 

»=vx-^-"' 

*  W— W' 


x=lX 


y=lX 


16—11  5 
20— 11~9 
20—16  4 
20— 11~9' 


so  that  the  given  mixture  must  be  composed  of  -  of 

4 
gold  and  -  of  silver. 

When  the  compound  consists  of  more  than  two  in- 
gredients, the  question  is  indeterminate,  as  several  «lii- 
ferent  proportions  of  the  ingredients  may  produce  a 
compound  of  a  certain  weight.  See  Algebra,  §  297.  (o) 

ALLIGATOR,  in  Zoology,  the.common  n«ne  of  the 
American  crocodile;  for  an  account  of  which,  see  Lacci-- 
ta,  Herpetoloct.  This  animal  is  called  by  the  native 
In<lians  Crti/man;  but  when  first  seen  by  the  Spanish 
adventurers,  it  was  called  by  them  Las;arto  or  Lizard, 
from  its  resemblance  to  the  reptiles  of  that  tribe.  Our 
navigators  hearing  the  Spanish  name,  denominated  (he 
animal  a  Lagarlo,  whence,  by  corruption,  the  present 
name  alligator.     (_/") 

ALLIONIA,a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Tefran- 
dria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ALLITERATION,  the  repetition  of  the  same  letter, 
at  the  beginning  or  any  emphatic  part  ofa  word,  at  cer- 
tain short  intervals.  According  to  some  critics,  there 
ismuch  beauty  in  alliteration  properiymanaged;  accord- 
ing to  others,  if  it  be  at  all  an  ornament,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  contemptible  and  puerile  class  :  but  scarcely  any 
critics  whatever  have  given  themselves  the  trouble  of 
inquiring  in  what  the  merit  of  alliteration  consists,  or 
upon  what  principles  it  is  calculated  to  ()roduee  either 
pleasure  or  disgust.  This  is  the  more  remarkable  when 
we  consider  the  minute  attention  that  has  been  be- 
stowed upon  almost  every  sul  ject  connected  with  rheto- 
ric or  grammar :  Prosody,  rhyme,  accent,  versification, 
even  the  management  of  pauses,  have  also  received  a 
minute  investigation  from  the  critic  or  grammarian ;  and 
the  rules  belonging  to  each  have  been  carefully  pointed 
out,  and  illustrated  by  numerous  examples;  wluig 
alliteration  has  been  passed  over  in  contemptuous  si- 
lence, or  mentioned  merely  as  a  trifling  and  false  re- 
finement.    If,  however,  we  regulate  our  judgment  by 


612 


ALL 


ALL 


the  practice  of  our  best  poets,  the  canon  by  which  sound 
criticism  is  most  decisively  tried,  we  cannot  but  admit 
that  alliteration  enters  pretty  largely  into  the  gratifica- 
tion derived  from  the  perusal  or  recital  of  polished  ver- 
ges. Spenser,  Dryden,  Gray,  and  Pope,  all  abound  in 
this  ornament;  and  seem  to  have  made  it  an  object  of 
attentive  study.  Sometimes,  iudeed,  ihey  seem  to  have 
adopted  it  to  excess ;  but  on  other  occasions,  it  cannot 
be  denied,  that  much  of  (he  beauty  of  their  liues  springs 
principally  from  this  source.  Indeed,  if  it  be  admitted, 
that  rhyme,  or  a  similar  termination  of  lines,  is  natu- 
rally calculated  to  gratify  the  ear,  which  will  scarcely 
be  denied  by  those  who  reflect  how  generally  |irevalent 
its  a^loption  has  been  in  most  ages  and  nhtions;  it  seems 
to  follow,  of  course,  that  the  recurrence  of  the  same 
sounds  at  the  beginning  of  words,  or  even  in  any  of 
their  emphatic  syllables,  must  give  pleasure ;  unless  it 
can  be  shown,  that  the  impression  made  by  the  enil  of  a 
word, is  more  permanent  and  satisfactory  than  that  made 
by  its  beginning,  or  any  other  oiits  emphatic  parts.  It 
is  to  this  cause,— the  delight  which  the  ear  takes  in  the 
recurrence  of  similar  sounds, — that  we  are  inclined  to 
ascribe  the  pleasing  effect  of  alliteration  ;  and  not  to  the 
mechanical  facility  with  which  (he  organs  of  articula- 
tion are  enabled  to  pronounce  a  succession  of  similar, 
rather  than  of  dissimilar  sounds,  which  has  appeared  a 
more  8atisfac(ory  solution  to  some  of  our  critical  pre- 
decessors. (See  Encyc.  Brit.  art.  Alliteration.)  We 
question  whether  it  be  in  truth  easier  for  the  organs  of 
speech  to  resume,  at  short  intervals,  one  certain  con- 
formition,  than  to  throw  themselves  into  a  number  of 
different  conformations,  unconnected  and  discordant ; 
and  even  should  this  be  admitted,  we  do  not  think  that 
the  greater  facility  of  articulation  would  impart  any  cor- 
responding beauty  to  verses,  the  harmony  of  which  is  to 
bejudgedofby  the  ear,  and  not  by  the  tongve,  or  the 
teeth.  lf*a  fetter  be  in  itself  difficult  of  pronunciation, 
we  apprehend  that  it  will  be  much  easier  to  substitute 
anotlier  of  reiidier  utterance  in  its  stead,  than  to  recur 
to  it  again  in  the  course  of  the  same  line.  Thus,  instead 
of  "  fiuin  sieze  thee,  ruthless  king,"  it  would  be  rather 
mors  easy  to  pronounce  "  Jtuin  sieze  thee,  deadly  king," 
although,  doubtless,  the  line  would  sufifer  greatly  by 
the  substitution.  Instead  of  "  Soon  he  soothed  the 
.9oul  to  pleasure*;''  it  would  be  full  as  easy  to  say,  "  Soon 
he  hiWd  the  tnhid  to  pleasure* ;"  although  with  a  like 
diminution  of  poetical  effect.  It  is,  therefore,  to  the 
gratifkation  of  the  ear  alone  that  we  are  disposed  (o 
ascribe  all  the  beauty  of  alliteration ;  and  not  to  any 
mechanical  facility  which  it  communicates  to  the  organs 
pf  utterance. 

We  are  at  present  entirely  without  rules  for  the  man- 
agement of  alliteration,  or  for  the  just  estimate  of  its 
merits  or  defects.  The  case,  however,  appears  to  have 
been  different  with  the  poetry  of  other  nations,  and  even 
with  soaie  of  our  own,  in  rude  and  more  remote  perio<h. 
"  The  Icelandic  poetry,"'  says  Van  Troil,  "  requires  two 
things,  viz.  words  with  the  same  initial  letters,  and  words 
of  the  same  sound."  (Letters  <m  Iceland,  p.  208.)  And 
Dr.  Beattie  observes,  that "  some  ancient  English  poems 
are  more  distinguished  by  alliteration,  than  by  any  other 
poetical  contrivance.  In  the  works  of  Langland,  even 
when  no  regard  is  had  to  rhyme,  and  but  little  to  a  rude 
M>tt  of  anapiestic  measure,  it  seems  to  have  been  a  rule, 
that  three  words,  at  least,  of  each  line,  should  begin  with 
the  same  letter." 

We  conceive  that  when  a  letter  is  somewhat  harsh 


and  difficult  of  pronunciation,  its  repetition  impat'ta  "a 
corresponding  quality  of  strength  and  power  to  the  verse; 
As 

Suin  seize  thee,  ruthless  king.  Gray.  • 

Up  the  Aigh  Aill  Ae  Aeaves  a  Auge  round  stone.         Pope. 
But  when  loud  »urge»  lath  the  toitnding  shore.  Pope. 

While,  on  the  contrary,  the  repetition  of  a  melodious 
letter  imparts  a  great  degree  of  sweetness  to  the  verse  f 
as  of  the  I  and  soft  s  in  the  following  examples : 

The  btoom  of  young  desire  aud  purpfe  iight  of  Jove.       Gb  at. 

fSoftly  sweet  in  Lydian  measure*, 

jSoon  he  «oothM  the  «aul  to  pleasures.  DitYDEy. 

In  order  to  produce  a  very  striking  effect,  the  allitera^ 
fion  should  take  place  at  regular  intervals,  and  in  corres- 
ponding parts  of  the  verse.     As, 

Thoughts  that  ftreathe,  and  words  that  Jurn.         Gbat. 

.ffaubert  crash  and  Aelmet  ring.  Gray. 

/leids  ever  yresh,  and  proves  for  evergreen.  PoPB. 

To  Aigh-bor»  flbel's  Aarp,  or  soft  JUewe/iyn's  /ay.  GRATt 

In  the  last  place,  the  same  letter  should  not  be  too 
frequently  repeated,  otherwise  the  ear  is  disgusted,  and 
the  effect  produced  savours  somewhat  of  the  ludicrous, 

As, 


JFeave  the  warp  and  v^ieave  the  a-oof. 
A  life  so  sacred,  such  serene  repose. 


Gray. 
Parnei,. 


Of  this  excessive  alliteration,  the  burlesque  poets 
have  frequently  made  a  happy  and  approjjriate  use; 
but  none  liave  employed  it  with  more  zeal  and  per- 
severance than  the  facetious  aulhors  of  the  "  Pugnq 
porcorum  per  Publium  Forcium  poctam,'"  where  every 
word  throughout  the  whole  peribrmance  begins  with 
the  letterp.     (m) 

ALLIUM,  Garlic,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  clas3 
Hexandria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (w) 

ALLIX,  Dr.  Peter,  an  eminent  French  Protestant 
divine,  was  born  at  Alengon,  in  1641.  After  receiving 
a  liberal  education,  he  became  minister  of  the  reformed 
church  at  Rouen ;  where  he  distinguished  himself  by 
publishing  several  learned  tracts  in  church  history,  aad 
a  few  critical  dissertations.  He  was  called  from  Rouen 
to  Charenton,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris.  There 
he  had  the  charge  of  the  principal  church  of  the 
Reformed  in  France,  to  which  the  French  protestants  of 
the  highest  rank  constantly  resorted.  It  was  at  Charen- 
ton that,  in  opposition  to  the  attacks  of  the  bishop  of 
Meaux,  and  in  defence  of  Protestant  principles,  he  prea- 
ched several  sermons,  which  were  afterwards  published 
in  Holland;  and  which  are  highly  extolIe<l  by  Mr.  Bayle. 
Upon  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantz  in  1 085,  he 
retired  to  England,  where  he  was  very  favourably  re- 
ceived. He  applied  himself  so  diligently  to  the  study 
of  the  language,  that  he  was  able,  in  a  short  time,  to 
publish,  in  English,  an  excellent  treatise  on  the  truth 
of  the  Christian  religion.  In  1690  he  was  honoured 
with  the  degree  of  doctor  in  divinity;  and  was  appoint- 
ed treasurer  of  the  church  of  Salisbury.  He  continued 
to  publish  a  variety  of  able  and  useful  works,  chiefly 
connected  with  ecclesiastical  history,  and  calculated  to 
support  the  proleslant  cause.  He  died  at  London, 
February  21st,  1717,  in  the  76th  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  endowed  with  great  natural  talents,  well  skilled  in 
general  knowledge,  and  particularly  acquainted  with 
every  branch  of  theology.    He  enjoyed  an  uncomaoa 


ALL 


ALL 


513 


share  of  health  and  spirits ;  and  was  very  lively  and 
interesting  in  conversation.  He  was  attentive  to  all 
his  duties  in  public  and  private  life,  amiable  in  social 
intercourse,  respected  for  his  integrity  and  upright- 
ness, and  admired  for  the  depth  and  extent  of  his  learn- 
ing-    (?) 

ALLOA,  a  sea-port  town  in  Scotland,  in  the  county 
of  Clackmannan,  situated  upon  the  north  side  of  the 
Frith  of  Forth.  Till  very  lately  Alloa  was  ill  supplied 
with  water,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  towns  which 
are  built  on  coal  strata;  but  it  has  been  recently 
brought  iu  from  the  river  at  a  roasiderable  expense. 
It  is  filtered  through  a  circular  bed  of  saad,  and  freed 
from  those  sediments  with  which  river  water  com- 
monly abounds.  The  filter  is  about  70  feet  diameter, 
and  after  the  plan  of  the  inventor,  Mr.  Gibb  of  Paisley. 
Alloa  has  been  long  famous  for  its  mines  of  coal,  which 
are  of  the  best  quality.  Those  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Alloa  coals,  have  been  wrought  by  the  family  of  Mar  for 
nearly  two  centuries. 

The  collieries,  together  with  the  distilleries  in  the 
neighliourhood,  are  the  principal  support  of  the  town. 
The  manufacture  of  a  woollen  stuff  named  camblet,  was 
formerly  carried  on  here  to  a  considerable  extent ;  but  at 
present  there  is  not  a  single  loom  employed  in  it.  There 
is  a  glass-house  for  the  manufacture  of  common  bottles, 
most  advantageously  situated  on  the  river  side,  and 
where  the  coals  are  brought  direct  from  the  coal  pits 
to  the  furnace,  by  means  of  a  waggon-way,  which 
renders  the  situation  of  the  manufactory  the  best  in  Scot- 
land. 

The  harbour  of  Alloa  is  safe  and  commodious,  having 
16  feet  of  water  in  neap  tides,  and  22  feet  in  spring 
tides.  It  has  been  ascertained  by  actual  survey,  that 
the  bottom  of  the  harbour  is  nearly  on  a  level  with  the 
top  of  the  pier  of  Leith  ;  so  that,  if  it  were  not  that  the 
■water  was  forced  up  above  its  level,  there  would  be  no 
tide  at  Alloa. 

There  is  a  phenomenon  regarding  the  tides,  which  is 
TCry  perceptible  here,  viz.  a  double  tide,  at  each  flow- 
ing and  ebbing,  which  is  termed  the  Leaky  tide.  When 
the  tide  has  apparently  reached  its  lowest  ebb,  it  begins 
to  flow;  but  after  having  risen  about  two  feet,  it  again 
ebbs,  and  falls  lower  than  it  did  at  first,  and  then  it  be- 
gins to  flow  as  usual.  After  having  flowed  to  the  ap- 
parent pitch  of  high  water,  it  «bbs  about  18  inches,  but 
returns  again,  and  rises  sometimes  two  feet  above  the 
first  flowing.  From  this  circumstance,  it  is  common  to 
hear  a  sailor  inquiring,  "  if  the  tide  is  gone  for  all  tides." 
See  Tides. 

The  port  of  Alloa  comprehends  the  creeks  on  both 
sides  of  the  river,  from  Kincardine  to  Stirling  inclusive. 
The  imports  are  chiefly  coals,  spirits,  and  bottles.  The 
coals  are  generally  sent  coastways  to  Leith,  and  the  Frith 
of  Tay ,  to  the  amount  of  about  35,000  tons  per  annum. 
In  the  year  1806,  upwards  of  one  million  gallons  of 
whiskey  were  shipped  for  the  Scotch  and  English  mar- 
kets. The  imports  are  chiefly  grain,  lime-stone,  iron- 
stone, and  Baltic  produce. 

Adjoining  to  the  harbour  is  an  excellent  dry  dock, 
suitable  for  large  ships ;  to  the  west  of  which  is  the 
Alloa  ferry,  where  the  river  is  about  500  yards  broad. 
It  has  good  piers,  or  landing  places,  carried  down  to 
low  water  mark ;  but  the  rapidity  of  the  tides  during 
stream,  and  the  floating  ice  in  winter,  render  the  passage 
frequently  tedious.  The  building  of  a  bridge  across 
the  river  at  this  place  has  been  long  talked  of;  and 
Vox,.  I.  Part.  II. 


a  survey  was  lately  made  by  the  celebrated  Mr.  Ren- 
nie,  to  ascertain  the  practicability  and  expense  of  the 
work. 

To  the  east  of  the  town  stands  the  tower  of  Alloa, 
built  prior  to  the  year  1315.  It  was  the  residence  of  the 
earls  of  Mar  and  their  descendants  (ill  within  these  few 
years,  when  the  whole  mansion-house,  excepting  the 
tower,  was  burnt  to  the  ground.  The  tower  is  90  feet 
high,  and  1 1  feet  thick  in  the  walls. 

The  tower  and  lands  of  Alloa  were  exchanged  by 
David  the  II.  king  of  Scotland,  in  1365,  with  Thomas, 
lord  Erskinc,  for  the  lands  and  estate  of  Strathgartney, 
in  Perthshire.  The  pleasure  grounds  adjoining  were 
laid  out  by  John  earl  of  Mar,  about  the  year  1 706, 
according  to  the  French  style,  with  radiated  avenues 
of  trees,  intersecting  each  other  fn  every  direction, 
adorned  with  statues  and  ornaments,  and  were  esteemed 
superior  to  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  Scotland  at  that 
period. 

Many  of  the  Scottish  princes  received  their  educatioa 
in  the  tower  of  Alloa  ;  as  they  were  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years  wards  of  the  lords  Erskines  and  earls  of 
Mar,  who  were  governors  of  Stirling  castle,  and  who 
also  frequently  held  the  other  two  principal  fortresses. 
Edinburgh  and  Stirling.  There  are  still  preserved  in 
the  tower,  the  cradle  of  Henry,  prince  of  Wales,  the  last 
heir  of  the  Scottish  monarchy,  and  the  child's  chair  of 
James  VI.  Population  3000.  W.  Long.  3»  4b'.  N.  Lat 
66<>  7'.  (r.  b.) 

ALLOBROGES,  a  numerous  and  powerful  people, 
who  inhabited  that  part  of  Gallia  Narbonensis,  or  Fro- 
vincia,  which  is  known  by  the  names  of  Dauphiny, 
Savoy,  and  Piedmont.  Their  chief  towns  were  Valentia, 
now  Valence,  Bautce  Armesiam,  now  Anneci,  and  Epo- 
redia,  now  IvrSe.  The  Roman  consul  Domitius  having 
marched  into  the  territory  of  this  people,  and  pitched  his 
camp  near  the  village  Vindalia,  was  attacked  by  the 
Allobroges,  who,  after  a  bloody  battle,  were  routed  with 
the  loss  of  23,000  men,  of  whom  20,000  were  left  dead 
upon  the  field.  This  defeat,  and  another  victory  gained 
over  the  Arvenni  by  Fabiu.  Maximus,  induced  the 
Allobroges  to  submit  to  the  Roman  sway;  and,  in  con- 
sequence of  this,  the  surname  of  Allobrox  was  conferred 
upon  Fabius.  See  Cresar's  Commentaries,  Tacit.  1.  Hist. 
cap.  66.  Strabo,  4,    (o) 

ALLODIAL,  is  a  term  applied  to  property  which  a 
person  holds  of  his  own  right,  or  which  is  not  held  hy 
any  feudal  title.  The  word  allodial  is  supposed  by 
some  to  be  derived  from  a  priv.  and  Uode,  a  German 
word,  signifying  vftssoZ;  while  others  have  deduced  it 
from  all  and  odh,  property.  Wachter  imagines  it  to  be 
compounded  of  the  German  particle  an  and  lot,  so  as  to 
signify  land  obtained  by  lot.  See  Robertson's  Hist.  Char. 
V.  vol.  i.  p.  255,  258,  4to;  Hume's  Hirf.  Eng.  vol.  ii.  p. 
106,  8vo;  and  the  word  Feudal,  where  the  subject  will 
be  fully  discussed,     (o) 

ALLOPHYLLUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  (he  class  Oc- 
tandria  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botant.    {n) 

ALLOY,  is  the  name  given  to  the  compound  formed 
by  the  combination  of  two  or  more  metals.  In  general 
the  properties  of  each  are  considerably  modified  by  the 
combination;  and  many  of  the  alloys  are  hence  possess- 
ed of  qualities  which  render  them  of  considerable  im- 
portance. The  particular  alloys,  and  (he  general  nature 
of  this  species  of  combination,  fall  to  be  considered  under 
Chemistry.     (6) 

ALLOY,  or  AijLay,  -in  coinage,  is  employed  to  sig- 
3T 


514 


ALM 


ALM 


nify  the  proportion  of  any  baser  metal  that  is  mixed  with 
gold  or  silver.  Id  gold  coin,  the  alloy  is  silver  and  cop- 
per, and  copper  alone  is  the  alloy  in  silver  coin.  The 
standard  gold  is  2  carats  of  alloy  combined  with  22 
carats  of  fine  gold,  so  as  to  make  a  pound  troy.  Stand- 
ard silver  consists  of  18  penny-weights  of  copper  alloy 
mixed  with  1 1  ounces  and  2  penny-weights  of  fine  sil- 
ver, (w) 

ALLUVIAL,  a  class  of  rocks  comprehending  those 
mineral  substances  that  have  been  Ibrmed  from  previ- 
ously existing  rocks,  of  which  the  materials  have  been 
worn  down  by  the  agency  of  air  and  water,  and  after- 
wards deposited  in  nearly  horizontal  beds  on  the  surface 
of  the  land,  or  on  sea-coasts.  See  Geogjjosy.  (r) 

ALLUVION,  in  Law,  is  that  addition  which  may  be 
made  to  land  situated  on  the  sea  shore,  or  on  the  banks 
of  a  river,  by  the  retiring  of  the  sea,  or  by  any  gradual 
change  in  the  direction  or  size  of  the  river.  The  land 
thus  added  belongs  to  the  proprietor  of  the  ground  to 
tvbich  the  addition  is  made,  provided  that  the  change 
has  been  effected  by  slow  and  imperceptible  degrees. 
But  when  this  change  is  sudden,  or  when  it  is  produced 
by  the  violence  of  the  stream,  or  any  convulsion  of  na- 
ture, the  addition  made  to  any  property  belongs  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  part  which  is  thus  added.  In  this  case 
it  is  called  Avulsio.  See  Blackstone's  Ctrmmentaries, 
vol.  ii.  p.  262.  8vo.  and  Bell's  Diet,  oj  the  Larv  of  Scot- 
lend,    (j) 

ALMAGEST,  from  the  Arabic  word  Mmaghesti,  is 
the  name  of  a  work  written  by  Ptolemy,  containing  a 
catalogue  of  the  fixed  stars,  and  a  collection  of  astrono- 
mical observations  and  geometrical  problems.  It  was 
found  at  Alexandria  by  the  Arabians,  who  translated  it 
into  their  language  in  827,  by  the  orders  of  Almamon. 
The  Greek  text  was  found  at  Constantinople,  and  has 
been  translated  into  Latin,  (w) 

ALBIAGRO,  Diego  de,  was  born  about  the  year 
]  463 ;  but  very  little  is  known  concerning  his  parentage, 
or  the  place  of  his  nativity.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a 
foundling,  and  to  have  derived  his  name  from  the  village 
in  which  he  was  exposed.  He  was  meanly  educated, 
and  received  no  instructions  either  in  reading  or  wri- 
ting ;  but  by  his  own  merit  and  exertions,  he  rose  to 
considerable  eminence  as  a  military  character.  He  ac- 
quired so  much  wealth  and  reputation  among  the  Spa- 
nish adventurers  in  Panama,  that  in  1 524  he  was  asso- 
ciated with  Francisco  Pizarro,  and  Fernando  de  Luque, 
in  an  enterprise  against  Peru.  They  were  very  unsuc- 
cessful in  their  first  attempts ;  and  Almagro  was  repeat- 
edly remanded  to  Panama,  for  supplies  of  stores  and 
troops.  Their  progress  was  retarded,  and  their  soldiers 
disheartened,  by  the  frequent  jealousies  and  contentions 
which  took  place  among  the  leaders  of  the  expedition. 
When  they  had  procured  an  additional  number  of  part- 
ners in  the  enterprise,  and  were  preparing  a  greater  ar- 
mament than  usual,  the  governor  of  Panama  refused  to 
renew  their  commission.  Pizarro  was  sent  therefore  to 
Old  Spain,  in  order  to  solicit  sufficient  powers  and  sup- 
plies. He  was  favourably  received  by  the  emperor 
Charles  V.  and  fully  authorized  to  undertake  the  con- 
quest of  Peru.  He  obtained  for  himself  the  title  of 
Adelantado,  or  lieutenant-general  and  the  appointment 
of  governor  of  all  the  countries  in  South  America,  which 
might  be  subdued  under  his  auspices.  Luque,  who  wa» 
an  ecclesiastic,  was  recommended  to  the  pontiff,  as 
bishop  and  protector-general,  of  the  Indians ;  while 
Almajgro  was  only  appointed  to  the  government  of 


Tumhez.  With  this  arrangement  he  was  naturally  much 
dissatisfied,  accused  Pizarro  of  a  dishonourable  inatten- 
tion to  the  interest  of  his  partners,  and  refused  to  ac- 
company him  any  further  in  the  undertaking.     Pizarro 
found  means  to  soothe  the  indignation  of  Ids  associates, 
pretended  to  transfer  to  him  the  commission  of  Adelan- 
tado, and  i)romised  to  use  his  influence  with  the  Spanish 
court  to  procure  a  ratification  of  this  assignment.     The 
three  adventurers  renewed  their  contract  on  its  original 
terms,  that  each  should  equally  contribute  to  the  ex- 
pense of  the  enterprise,  and  equally  share  in  its  profits. 
Pizarro  sailed  for  Peru  with  a  small  armament  in  1531, 
and  Almagro  remained  at  Panama,  in  order  to  collect 
further  reinforcements.     By  several   remittances  from 
Pizarro  of  gold  and  precious  stones,  the  first  fruits  of 
their  daring  adventure,  he  was  enabled  to  carry  to  his 
aid  in  the  following  year  150  Spanish  soldiers,  and  50 
horses.  Scarcely  had  these  two  chiefs  united  their  forces, 
when  their  former  animosities  were  rekindled,  and  Pi- 
zarro was  made  to  believe  that  his  colleague  had  planned 
a  separate  expedition  ;  but  Almagro  discovering  that  his 
own  secretary  had  been  peculiarly  active  in  exciting 
these  dissentions,  put  him  to  death,  and  quieted  the 
suspicions  of  Pizarro.     Previous  to  the  arrival  of  Alma- 
gro, Pizarro  had  treacherously  seized  the  person  of  Ata- 
balipa,  or  Atahunlapa,  the  Inca  of  Peru  ;  and  this  prince 
had  collected  an  immensity  of  golden  vessels  as  his  ran- 
som.    The  troops,  who  had  come  with  Almagro,  de- 
manded an  equal  share  in  the  whole  spoil,  and  new 
treasures  were  necessary  to  gratify  their  avarice,  and 
appease  their  complaints.     These  were  sought  by  the 
most  barbarous  measures ;  and   the  Peruvian  king  was 
put  to  death,  that  the  riches  of  his  kingdom  might  be 
more  easily  possessed.     To  secure  the  countenance  and 
protection  of  the  Spanish  government,  Pizarro's  brother, 
Ferdinando,  was  sent  to  Spain  with  an  account  of  their 
success,  and  with  that  portion  of  the  plunder  which  be- 
longed to  the  king.  Almagro  embraced  tliis  opportunity 
of  soliciting  a  government  independent  of  Pizarro.  and 
requested  that  he  might  be  constituted  Adelantado  of 
certain  countries,  beyond  the  district  which  had  been 
assigned  to  his  associate.     Ferdinando  succeeded  in  all 
his  negociations ;  and  Almagro,  to  whose  history  we  are 
at  present  mor^  particularly  confined,  was  loaded  with 
honours,  and  invested  with  authority.     He  was  created 
marquis  of  Peru,  appointed  to  a  Jurisdiction  200  leagues 
in  extent,  and  empowered  to  make  discoveries  as  he 
might  think  proper.     New  dissentions  arose  between 
the  two  chiefs  as  to  the  boundaries  of  their  respective 
provinces,  and  particularly  as  to  the  city  of  Cusco.     Al- 
magro was  at  length  persuaded  to  withdraw  his  claims, 
and  to  turn  his  arms  against  tiie  country  of  Chili.     In- 
flamed by  the  exaggerated  accounts  which  he  had  re- 
ceived of  the  wealth  of  that  district,  he  resolved  to  reach 
it  by  the  shortest  route ;  crossed  the  Andes  with  the  ut- 
most difficulty,  and  with  the  loss  of  many  of  his  fol- 
lowers, and,  in  the  space  of  five  months,  reduced  the 
greater  part  of  the  territories  allotted   him.     In  the 
midst  of  his  conquests,  he  received  the  emperor's  com- 
mission ;  and  discovered  from  it,  that  Cusco  was  un- 
questionably situated  within  his  department.     He  re- 
solved to  return,  without  <lelay,  in  order  to  take  posses- 
sion of  that  city ;  and  he  accomplished  a  march  through 
a  burning  sandy  desert  of  200  miles  in  breadth.     In  the 
mean  time,  Ferdinando  Pizarro  had  received  the  city  of 
Cubco  from  his  brother,  upon  condition  of  making  the 
remittances  which  had  been  proniiecd  to  the  court  of 


ALMAGRO. 


&1& 


Spain ;  and  he  refused  to  surrender  it  without  further 
instructions.     Almagro,  however,  (whose  frank  and  ge- 
nerous conduct, contrasted  with  thehaughtyand  tyranni- 
cal manners  of  the  Pizarros,  had  rendered  him  the  fa- 
vourite of  the  Spanish  soldierj',  and  still  more  so  of  the 
Indian  troops,)  was  enabled  to  introduce  his  forces  into 
the  city  under  night,  to  seize  the  persons  of  his  oppo- 
nents, and  to  engage  the  greater  part  of  the  garrison 
in  his  service.     He  defeated  and  took  prisoner  Alonzo 
de  A  Ivarado,  who  had  been  despatched  by  Pizarro  with 
a  body  of  500  Spanish  troops  for  the  defence  of  Cusco ; 
and  had  he  not  been  more  attentive  to  the  voice  of 
humanity  and  justice  than  his  rival,  he  would  have  tri- 
umphed in  the  contest.     He  rejected  the  barbarous  ad- 
vice which  was  given  him,  to  put  to  death  the  two  bro- 
thers of  Pizarro,  who  were  in  his  power.    He  refused  to 
attack  Pizarro  himself   in  Lima,  because  it  was  not  in 
bis  province.     And  he  resolved  to  remain  entirely  upon 
the  defensive,  because  he  wished  to  make  no  encroach- 
ments on  the  jurisdiction  of  his  opponent,  but  only  to 
maintain  his  own.     In  consequence  of  this  adherence  to 
his  duty,  and  of  the  deceitful  negociations  of  Pizarro, 
Almagro  abstained  from  all  offensive  operations,  till  his 
enemy  had  procured  the  release  of  his  brothers,  had 
collected  an  army  of  500  men,  and  had  reached  the 
plains  of  Cusco.     Almagro,  contrary  to  his  own  opinion, 
was  compelled  by  the  importunity  of  his  officers  to  leave 
the  city,  and  to  meet  Pizarro  in  the  field  ;  but,  worn  out 
by  fatigue,  enfeebled  by  age,  confined  by  indis[)osition  to 
a  litter,  and   unable  to  direct  the  arrangement  of  his 
troops  in  person,  he  was  obliged  to  commit  tlie  conduct 
of  the  battle  to  Orgognez,  one  of  his  best  officers.     The 
engagement  was  obstinate  and  bloody ;  but,  Orgognez 
being  wounded,  Almagro  was  routed  and  made  prisoner. 
The  conquerors  committed  the  greatest  barbarities  up- 
on their  rival  countrymen,  gratified  their  private  resent- 
ments with  savage  vengeance,  and  butchered,  in  cold 
blood,  the  individual  objects  of  their  hatred.     Almagro 
was  kept  several  months  in  confinement,  uncertain  of 
his  fate.  He  was  at  length  brought  to  trial,  charged  with 
high  treason,  and  condemned  to  suffer  death.     lu  vain 
did  he  implore  the  clemency  of  his  judges,  and  appeal 
to  the  tribunal  of  the  emperor.  The  Pizarros  were  bent 
upon  the  destruction  of  Almagro,  as  their  only  rival  in 
Peru.     He  was  first  strangled  in  private,  and  then  be- 
headed publicly  on  a  scaffold ;  his  body  stripped  naked, 
tad  left  exposed  in  the  streets.     His  friends  were  all  in 
custody,  and  his  enemies  were  destitute  of  humanity. 
An  aged  slave  at  length  carried  away  the  remains  of  his 
master,  and  buried  them  at  the  hazard  of  his  own  life. 
In  this  manner  did  Almagro  terminate  his  adventurous 
career,  in  the  75th  year  of  his  age.     He  cannot  be  ac- 
quitted from   the  heavy   charge  of  blood,  which  lies 
against  all  the  conquerors  of  South   America ;  but  he 
had  more  of  the  feelings  of  a  man  than  the  rest  of  his 
associates.     Equal  to  any  of  them  in  point  of  an  enter- 
prising spirit,  and  military  skill,  he  surpassed  them  all 
in  generosity  and  good  faith.    His  friends,  whom  he  en- 
gaged by  the  frankness  and  liberality  of  his  conduct, 
deeply  regretted  his  fall ;  and  the  Indians,  whom  he 
had  often  protected  from  the  rigour  and  rapacity  of  the 
other  commanders,  honoured   his  ashes  with  tears  of 
unfeigned  sorrow.  Mod.  Un.  Hist.  vol.  xxxviii.  p.  289 — 
366.  Robertson's  America,  (q) 

ALMAGRO,  son  of  Diego  de  Almagro  and  an  Indian 
woman,  was  about  sixteen  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his 
father's  death ;  and  was  left  heir  to  his  estate,  as  well  as 


successor  to  his  government.  But  he  was  dispossessed 
of  both  by  Pizarro,  and  confined  as  a  prisoner  in  Lima.' 
He  resembled  his  father  in  courage  and  generosity  f 
while  he  excelled  him  in  personal  accomplishments,  and 
the  advantages  of  education.  He  was,  in  everj'  respect, 
well  calculated  to  attach  to  himself  the  friends  of  his 
father,  and  to  conduct  them  in  any  attempt  to  recover 
their  possessions  and  power.  But  all  who  favoured  hi» 
cause,  were  persecuted  by  Pizarro,  with  unrelenting 
severity.  Stigmatized  and  outlawed,  their  condition  was 
completely  deplorable,  and  their  spirits  were  rendered 
desperate.  Determined  to  avenge  the  murder  of  their 
former  leader,  the  cruel  treatment  of  his  son,  and  their 
own  aggravated  injuries,  they  ranged  themselves  under 
the  command  of  the  young  Almagro,  and  began  to  con- 
cert plots  against  the  life  of  Pizarro.  In  the  mean  time, 
they  were  reduced  to  such  extremities,  that  Almagro, 
and  seven  of  his  friends,  possessed  only  one  cloak  among 
them,  which  they  used  by  turns,  when  they  went  abroad 
to  view  the  aspect  of  their  affairs.  When  their  party 
amounted  to  three  hundred,  they  resolved,  without  fur- 
ther delay,  to  avenge  themselves  upon  their  tyrannical 
oppressor;  and,  after  having  been  foiled  in  several  of 
their  schemes,  they  decided,  as  their  last  resource,  to 
make  a  direct  attack  upon  the  person  of  Pizarro.  Thir- 
teen of  the  most  daring,  with  Almagro  at  their  head, 
and  with  drawn  swords  in  their  hands,  rushed  towards 
the  palace  of  their  adversary,  crying  aloud,  "  Long  live 
the  king,  but  let  the  tyrant  perish." — After  a  desperate 
conflict,  and  a  most  heroic  resistance,  Pizarro  sunk  under 
the  fury  of  their  assault.  Returning  to  the  market-place, 
they  congratulated  their  friends  who  were  there  assem- 
bled, and  proclaimed  Almagro  governor  of  Peru.  The 
majority  of  the  Spaniards  and  Indians,  with  the  Inca, 
Manco  Capac,  acknowledged  his  authority;  but  many 
refused  to  tieclare  themselves,  till  the  arrival  of  Baca- 
de  Castro.  This  nobleman  was  on  his  way  from  the  Spa- 
nish court,  invested  with  a  commission  to  examine  into 
the  differences  between  Almagro  and  Pizarro,  and  ap- 
pointed successor  to  the  latter  in  case  of  his  decease. 

In  consecjuence  of  the  misconduct  of  the  insui^ents, 
and  the  respect  which  was  entertained  for  the  royal 
mandate,  the  party  of  the  new  viceroy  daily  increased 
in  strength.  The  ardour  with  which  the  Spaniards  had 
supported  the  cause  of  Almagro,  was  greatly  cooled  by 
the  violent  measures  of  his  friends;  and  he  himself  v.as 
strongly  reprobated  for  having  cruelly  tortured  and  put 
to  death  Pizarro's  secretary,  Picado.  Dissentions  arose 
among  his  principal  officers,  and  a  conspiracy  even  had 
been  formed  against  bis  life.  He  hastened,  therefore, 
as  speedily  as  possible,  to  oppose  the  progress  of  De 
Castro ;  and  he  l,>egan  his  marcli  with  700  veteran  Spa- 
nish soldiers,  and  several  thousand  Indians.  He  was  de- 
sirous to  come  to  a  friendly  accommodation;  but  deter- 
mined, if  that  could  not  be  done,  to  support  his  claims 
by  force.  Proposals  were  made  by  both  parties,  and 
negociations  commenced ;  but  Almagro,  having  found 
reasons  to  suspect  De  Castro's  sincerity,  and  having  ac- 
tually detected  his  attempts  to  seduce  his  adherents, 
prepared  to  decide  their  differences  by  the  sword.  The 
two  armies  met  in  the  vale  of  Chapas.  More  than  one 
half  of  the  troops  on  both  sides  were  killed  or  wounded 
in  the  engagement;  but  through  the  treachery  of  Alma-- 
gro's  commander  of  artillery,  his  party  was  defeated, 
and  driven  from  the  field.  Almagro  himself,  after  hav- 
ing given  the  most  astonishing  proofs  of  his  intrepidity 
and  skill,  saved  himself  by  flight,  and  sought  refuge  iu. 

3T2 


dl» 


AOl 


ALM 


the  city  of  Cusco ;  but  the  very  friends  whom  he  had  in- 
vested with  the  government  of  the  town,  delivered  him 
up  to  the  victorious  viceroy.  With  scarcely  the  for- 
mality of  a  trial,  he  was  instantly  beheaded,  in  the  20th 
year  of  his  age.  By  his  death  the  name  of  his  family 
became  extinct,  and  his  parly  was  completely  suppress- 
ed. Mod.  Un.  Hist.  vol.  xxxviii.  p.  336 — 390.  Robert- 
ton'i  History  of  Anurka.  (9) 

ALMAMON,  a  celebrated  astronomer,  and  one  of 
the  caliphs  of  Bagdad,  was  the  second  son  of  the  caliph 
Harun-al-Raschid,  and  was  born  in  the  year  786.     Ha- 
run,  who  died  in  809,  endeavoured  to  provide  for  the 
tranquillity  of  his  subjects,  by  appointing  his  children 
to  reigu  in  succession;  but  tlie  wise  views  of  the  caliph 
were  soon  frustrated  by  the  vices  and  incapacity  of  his 
eldest  son.     No  sooner  had  Al  Amin  assumed  the  reins 
of  government,  than  he  began  to  display  that  villany  of 
character  which    embittered  his  short    and  turbulent 
reign.     From  motives  which  neither  ambition  nor  in- 
terest could  inspire,  he  cherished  the  most  unnatural 
resentment  against   AIniamon,  and  formed  the  design 
of  excluding  him   from  the  succession.     His  first  iig- 
gression  was  to  order  the  forces  of  his  brother,  who 
was  governor  of  Khorasan,  to  repair  to  Bagdad  4  but 
this  insult  did  not  shake  the  fidelity  of  Almamon,  who 
continued  to  support  the  jrovernment  of  his  brother,  and 
even  commanded  the  inhabitants  of  Khorasan  to  swear 
allegiance  to  Al  Amin.     This  act  of  generosity,  how- 
ever, did  not  disarm  the  hostility  of  the  caliph :  De- 
Toted  to  gaming,  and  stupified  by  intoxication,  he  aban- 
doned the  direction  of  his  government  to  an  unprinci- 
pled vizier,  who  persuaded  him  to  proclaim  war  against 
his  brother.     A  force  of  60,000  men   were   instantly 
despatched  to  the  frontiers  of  Khorasan  ;  but  Almamon 
was  prepared  to  oppose  them  with  a  powerful  army, 
under  the  command  of  Thahen-ebn-Hosein,  one  of  the 
most  skilful  generals  of  the  age.     After  a  few  engage- 
ments justice  triumphed  over  oppression ;  the  army  of 
Al  Amin  was  dispersed  i  the  provinces  of  Syria,  Egypt, 
Yemen,  and  HeJHh,  submitted  to  the  conqueror,  and  Al- 
mamon was  proclaimed  caliph  throughout  the  depen- 
dencies of  Bagdad.     This  successful  campaign  paved 
the  way  for  a  complete  revolution,  in  which  Al  Amin 
was  deposed  and  assassinated,  and  the  full  possession  of 
the  caliphate  conveyed  to  Almamon,  (A.  D.  213.)    But 
this  illustrious  prince  was  not  permitted  to  seat  himself 
quietly  on  his  throne.     While  he  wielded  the  sceptre  in 
one  hand,  he  was  obliged  to  brandish  his  sword  in  the 
other.    At  the  instigation  of  his  yizier  Fadel,  he  publicly 
aTOwed  his  attachment  to  the  sect  of  Ali,  and  obliged 
his  courtiers  and  soldiers  to  assume  the  green  turban, 
which  was  the  badge  of  this  Mahometan  party.     The 
house  of  Abbaa  and  the  orthodox  Musselmans,  alarmed 
at  the  preference  which  was  thus  publicly  shown  to  their 
enemies,  excited  an  insurrection  in  the  metropolis,  and 
proclaimed  Ibrahim,  Almamon's  uncle,  caliph  of  Bag- 
dad.    These  commotions  would  have  overturned  the 
throne  of  any  other  sovereign  than  Almamon  ;  but  by 
the  vigour  of  his  efforts,  and  the  prudence  of  his  ad- 
ministration, he  succeeded  in  extinguishing  the  flame 
which  was  about  to  involve  his  subjects  in  ali  the  hor- 
rors of  a  civil  war.     The  assassination  of  his  vizier  by 
the  insurgents  contributed  to  allay  the  popular  discon- 
tent.    His  death  was  regarded  as  an  atonement  for  the 
injuries  of  the  people  :  Their  rebellious  spirits  fell :  Il>- 
rahim  was  deposed;  and  the  inhabitants  of  Bagdad  again 
aibmitled  to  the  government  of  Almamon.      During 


these  commotions,  Thalen  revolted  against  his  mas- 
ter; and  having  usurped  the  government  of  Khora- 
san, he  established  a  dynasty  which  continued  for  sixty- 
years. 

No  sooner  was  tranquillity  restored  at  Bagdad,  than 
Almamon  began  to  mature  those  great  and  liberal  plans 
which,  even  in  early  life,  he  had  formed  for  the  civili- 
zation of  his  sul  jects.  During  the  reign  of  his  father, 
when  he  had  scarcely  arrived  at  the  age  of  manhood, 
he  had  established  a  society  at  Khorasan,  directed  by 
Mesne,  a  celebrated  Christianphysician  from  Damascu^', 
and  com|)osed  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  various  na- 
tions, whom  he  had  invited  into  his  territories.  The 
appointment  of  a  Christian  to  a  high  office  in  a  Maho- 
metan country,  did  not  fail  to  excite  the  pious  alarms 
of  the  faithful.  The  caliph  Harun  remonstrated  against 
the  imprudence  of  his  son ;  but  Almamon  reminded 
him,  that  the  learning  of  the  times  was  confined  to  Jews 
and  Christians,  and  that  Mesne  was  not  a  teacher  of 
religion,  but  of  learning.  When  Almamon  succeeded 
to  the  throne,  his  efforts  for  the  diffusion  of  knowledge 
among  his  sulijects  increased  with  his  power.  He 
formed  an  academy  at  Bagdad,  and  invited  to  his  me- 
tropolis, from  every  quarter,  the  most  distinguished 
scholars  and  philosophers  of  the  age.  He  visited  in 
person  the  schools  which  he  established  throughout 
his  dominions.  The  respect  which  he  felt  due  to  tn- 
lents,  he  willingly  paid  to  the  professors  and  teachers 
of  youth;  and  by  his  influence,  as  well  as  his  example, 
he  gave  encouragement  to  every  plan  which  had  the  re- 
motest tendency  to  advance  the  interests  of  science,  or 
form  the  minds  of  his  people.  A  proficient  in  the  sci- 
ence of  astronomy,  he  knew  the  value  of  that  sublime 
and  interesting  study,  and  laboured  to  expand  the  minds 
of  his  countrymen  with  the  grand  and  elevating  views 
which  it  unfolds.  By  the  command  of  Almamon,  Ihe 
Sv>Ta|i«  Miyi;*,  or  Almagest  of  Ptolemy,  a  complete 
body  of  astronomical  science,  was  translated  into  the 
Arabic  language ;  and  a  new  work,  which  still  exists 
in  MS.  was  composed  upon  the  same  subject,  entitled 
"  Astronmnia  elaborata  a  Compluribus,  D.  D.jussu  Regis 
Maiinon."  With  the  rude  instruments  of  his  time,  he 
observed  the  obliquity  of  the  ecliptic,  and  employe<l  the 
ablest  geometers  to  measure  a  degree  of  the  raeridian 
upon  the  extensive  plains  of  Mesopotamia. 

By  thus  encouraging  the  advancement  of  literature, 
and  by  translating  the  most  v.-iluable  works  from  the 
Greek,  Chaldean,  Persian,  and  Coptic  languages,  a  love 
of  learning,  and  a  spirit  of  inquiry,  were  inspired  into 
his  subjects ;  and  the  untamed  and  ferocious  minds  of 
the  Saracens,  were  softened  by  the  influence  of  know- 
ledge and  refinement,  when  surrounding  nations  were 
eunk  in  ignorance  and  barbarity.  These  innovations 
did  not  escape  the  prying  notice  of  the  orthodox  Mus- 
sulmans. They  murmured  at  the  religious  toleration 
which  reigned  throughout  the  dominions  of  Almamon, 
an<l  denounced  him  as  an  infidel  for  affording  an  ar^ylum 
to  Christian  heretics,  who  trampled  upon  the  holy  doc- 
trines of  the  prophet. 

While  Almamon  was  realizing  these  enlightened 
views,  his  attention  was  occasionally  diverted  by  some 
I>etty  warfares,  which  we  cannot  stop  to  record.  A  re- 
bellion in  Egypt  compelled  him  to  march  to  that  dis- 
tant province,  from  which  he  was  destined  never  to  re- 
turn. After  quelling  the  insurrection,  and  penetrating 
into  the  dominions  of  the  Greek  emperor,  he  directed 
his  march  towards  Bagdad.     His  camp  was  pitched  on 


AI.M 


ALai 


517 


the  banks  of  the  river  Cadandum.  Impelled  by  thirgt, 
Jie  drank  freely  from  the  stream,  and  having  after- 
waids  eaten  plentifully  of  dates,  he  was  seized  with  a 
Tiolent  fever,  which  terminated  his  existence  in  the 
48th  or  49th  year  of  his  age,  after  a  brilliant  reign  of 
nearly  21  years. 

In  retracing  the  events  of  Almamon's  reign,  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  persuade  ourselves  that  we  have  been  reading 
the  history  of  a  period  coeval  nearly  with  the  darkest 
ages  of  Europe.  At  a  time  when  the  very  name  of  a 
Christian  was  offensive  lo  the  followers  of  the  prophet; 
and  when  the  sectaries  even  of  the  Christian  church 
were  hunting  each  other  down,  by  the  most  atrocious 
persecutions,  we  find  a  Saracen  calij)h,  Avho  was  far 
from  being  indifferent  (o  the  interests  of  his  faith,  invi- 
ting Christians  into  his  dominions,  living  in  amity  with 
men  of  every  religion,  and  governing  his  people  on  the 
broad  and  liberal  principles  of  universal  toleration. 
While  the  fairest  parts  of  Europe  were  enveloped  in 
the  thickest  darkness,  the  rays  of  science  were  gilding 
the  horizon  of  Bagdad  ;  and  the  few  votaries  of  wisdom, 
whom  time  and  superstition  had  spared,  were  instilling 
lessons  of  knowledge  and  virtue  into  the  minds  of  the 
Saracens.  And  yet  these  were  the  people  whom,  but 
a  few  centuries  afterwards,  the  barbarous  crusaders  of 
Europe  combined  to  extiri)ate ! 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  portion  of  history  more  preg- 
nant with  instruction  than  that  of  the  caliphate  of  Al- 
mamon.  Legislators  and  statesmen  may  learn  from  it, 
that  religious  liberty,  and  the  cultivation  of  the  public 
mind,  are  the  grand  secrets  of  national  tranquillity  ;  and 
that  uulcss  the  heterogeneous  materials  of  which  every 
state  is  composed,  are  consolidated  by  some  common 
tie  of  interest  or  affection,  they  will  prove  the  elements 
of  perpetual  discord.  There  are,  perhaps,  no  two  sys- 
tems of  Christian  faith  at  such  decided  variance,  as 
were  the  Mahommetan  houses  of  Ali  and  Abbas.  By 
the  advice  of  a  wrong-headed  minister,  Almamon  at- 
tempted to  elevate  his  favourite  sect ;  but  he  soon  re- 
pented of  his  rashness,  and  changed  his  schemes  of  re- 
ligious exclusion  into  a  syBtem  of  unlimited  toleration. 
The  only  commotions  which  disturbed  his  reign  sprang 
from  the  attempt  to  depress  the  house  of  Abbas ;  and 
had  he  persisted  in  his  views,  Ibrahim  would  have  con- 
tinued to  reign.  But  when  he  began  to  govern  on  more 
liberal  principles-,  he  gidiied  the  hearts  even  of  those 
who  had  raised  his  rival  to  the  throne :  He  was  rein- 
stated in  the  caliphate,  and  thus  secured  tranquillity  to 
himself,  and  happiness  to  his  people. 

The  private  character  of  Almamon  was  marked  by 
virtues  of  the  most  amiable  kind.  Magnanimous  and 
merciful,  he  never  exhibited  the  harsh  and  unbending 
features  of  a  Saracen  conqueror.  He  had  learned  to 
forgive  even  his  enemies,  and  he  derived  the  most  un- 
mingled  pleasure  from  such  dispensations  of  mercy. 
After  his  uncle  Ibrahim  had  been  dragged  from  his 
concealment  in  Bagdad,  and  condemned  to  die  by  the 
council,  he  was  brought  into  the  presence  of  Almamon  : 
"Your  counsellors,"  said  Ibrahim,  "  have  judged  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  government;  if  you  pardon  me  you 
will  not  indeed  judge  according  to  precedent,  but  you 
will  have  no  equal  among  sovereigns."  The  feelings 
of  Almamon  were  roused  at  this  appeal  to  his  affections : 
Embracing  his  relation,  he  tenderly  replied,  "  Uncle,  be 
of  good  cheer,  I  will  not  injure  you."  Ibrahim  was 
instantly  released,  and  a  fortune  suitable  to  his  rank 
was  provided  for  him  by  his  generous  nephew.    The 


compliments  which  were  on  this  occasion  paid  to  Al- 
mamon by  his  courtiers,  drew  from  him  this  noble  ex- 
clamation;— "  Did  men  but  know  the  pleasure  I  feel  in 
pardoning,  all  who  have  offended  me  would  come  and 
confess  their  faults."  See  Anquetil.  Hist.  Univers.  torn. 
V.  p.  105,  6,  7,  8.  Hardion,  Hist.  Univers.  tom.  ii.  p. 
737.  Modern  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  ii.  p.  170.  Hist,  des 
MaihcnuU.  par  Montucla,  tom.  i.  p.  350.  D'Herbelot 
Biblioth.  Orient,  voc.  Almamon.     See  Alkendi.     (;8) 

ALMANAC,  from  the  ArabicaZand  manocA,  to  count, 
a  book,  or  diary;  containing  the  days  of  the  year;  the 
feasts  of  the  calendar ;  the  phenomena  of  the  tides ;  the 
rising,  southing,  and  setting  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  the 
other  planets ;  the  eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon ;  the 
occultation  of  the  planets  and  stars ;  and  the  position 
and  aspects  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 

Almanacs  seem  to  have  been  first  constructed  by  the 
Arabians,  from  whom  they  were  probably  introduced 
into  Europe  by  the  Saracens.  The  celebrated  astrono- 
mer Uegiomontanus  seems  to  have  been  the  first  who 
computed  an  almanac  resembling  those  which  now  ex- 
ist. It  is  said  to  have  appeared  in  1474.  The  Nautical 
Almanac,  published  by  order  of  the  commissioners  of 
Longitude,  is  the  most  correct  and  valuable  work  of  this 
kind,  and  shall  be  described  in  its  proper  place,     (o) 

ALMANDINE.     See  Alabakdine. 

ALMANSOR,  was  the  second  caliph  of  the  Abas- 
sides,  and  succeeded  his  brother  in  the  year  753.  No 
sooner  was  he  seated  ou  the  throne,  and  proclaimed  ca- 
liph in  Anbar,  the  capital  of  the  Moslem  empire,  than 
his  uncle  Abdallah-ebn-Ali  laid  claim  to  the  sovereignty, 
and  levied  a  powerful  army  to  support  his  ambitious  pre- 
tensions, Tilie  forces  of  Almansor,  commanded  by  Abu- 
Moslem,  attacked  the  rebels  on  the  banks  of  the  Masiug, 
near  Nisibis,  and,  by  a  total  defeat,  in  754,  crushed  the 
power  of  the  insurgents.  The  talents  of  Abu-Moslera, 
and  the  services  which  he  had  rendered  the  caliph,  did 
not  screen  him  from  the  insidious  plans  of  his  enemies. 
He  became  an  object  of  jealousy  with  Alniansor,  who 
ordered  him  to  be  assassinated  in  his  presence. 

The  othercommotions  which  disturbed  the  tranquillity 
of  Almansor's  reign,  are  too  insignificant  to  be  narrated 
here.  Having  detected  a  conspiracy  to  dethrone  him. 
he  put  to  death  most  of  the  rebels.  His  uncle  Abdallah, 
who  had  been  assured  of  pardon,  was  confined  in  a 
building  which  was  so  constructed  as  to  fall  to  pieces 
and  crush  him  in  its  ruins.  Almansor  had  the  honour 
of  building  the  city  of  Bagdad,  where  he  fixed  the  resi- 
dence of  his  government,  in  768.  In  774,  when  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  he  was  seized  with  a  mortal  dis- 
ease ;  and  having  sent  for  his  son  and  successor,  Al 
Mohdi,  he  gave  him  the  following  advice,  worthy  the  at- 
tention of  princes.  "  Treat  your  relations  every  where 
with  the  greatest  marks  of  distinction.  Increase  the 
number  of  your  freedmen,  and  load  them  with  kindness; 
they  will  be  of  use  to  you  in  adversity  :  Never  permit 
any  of  your  women  to  intermeddle  in  affairs  of  state,  nor 
to  have  too  much  inGiience  over  your  counsels.  These 
are  my  last  commands,  and  to  God  I  recommend  you." 
Pursuing  his  journey  towards  Mecca,  he  died  at  Bir- 
Maimun,  at  the  age  of  63,  and  in  the  21st  year  of  hi« 
reign.  ''-' 

The  most  opposite  qualifies  were  combined  in  tlilT 
formation  of  Almansor's  character.  In  private  life,  he 
was  mild,  affable  and  affectionate;  but  in  the  capacity 
of  a  sovereign,  he  was  cruel,  implacable,  and  treacbei- 
cus.  His  attaciiraent  to  the  peaceful  pursirits  of  literature 


518 


ALM 


ALM 


and  nstronomy,  was  not  able  to  wear  off  the  asperities 
of  his  public  character.  He  had  the  high  honour  of 
being  the  great  grand-father  of  Almamon.  See  Modem 
Univ.  Hist.  vol.  ii.  p.  100.     (o) 

ALM  ANZ  A,  a  small  town  in  New  Castile,  in  Spain, 
remarkable  for  the  battle  fought  in  its  neighbourhood,  in 
1 707,  in  which  the  French,  under  marshal  Berwick,  de- 
feated the  allies  under  the  marquis  de  las  Minos,  and 
the  earl  of  Galway,  and  secured  the  Spanish  throne  for 
Philip  the  V.     Population  1600.     (m) 

ALMEH,  or  Alma,  in  Eastern  manners,  singing  or 
dancing  girls,  who,  like  the  improvisatori  of  Italy,  can  oc- 
casionally pour  forth  extemporaneous  poetry.  We  have 
been  favoured  with  an  accountof  an  entertainment  given 
by  a  native  of  the  country  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of 
the  Presidency  of  Madras,  treating  concisely  on  the 
general  principle  of  their  dancing  and  singing,  which  we 
shall  introduce,  after  having  given  an  account  of  the  an- 
tiquity, customs,  and  manners,  of  this  class  of  females. 

The  practice  of  educating  and  maintaining  dancing 
girls,  appears  to  have  existed  among  the  Hindoos  from 
the  remotest  ages.  From  them  the  custom  descended 
to  the  Israelites,  as  we  learn  from  the  history  of  David. 
They  are  called  almeh,  because  they  are  better  educated 
than  the  other  females  of  the  country,  in  which  they 
form  a  celebrated  society,  and  the  entertainment  which 
they  supply  is  called  natch,  or  the  feats  of  dancing 
girls. 

The  qualifications  requisite  for  admission  into  the  so- 
ciety of  these  females,  are  a  good  voice,  a  knowledge  of 
the  language,  and  of  the  rules  of  poetry,  and  an  ability  to 
adapt  their  songs  to  the  occasion  on  which  they  have 
been  called.  They  add  to  the  splendour  and  the  enter- 
tainment of  a  marriage,  where  they  precede  the  bride, 
playing  on  instruments;  and  they  increase  the  lamenta- 
tions and  the  solemnity  of  funerals,  by  every  tone  of  sor- 
row, and  every  gesture  of  grief  and  of  despair.  It  is, 
however,  but  for  the  rich  men  and  the  powerful,  that  the 
most  elegant  class  allow  themselves  to  mourn,  or  to  re- 
joice. In  the  lower  order,  there  is  also  an  inferior  class, 
whose  imitations  of  the  former  are  but  humble ;  without 
the  knowledge,  the  elegance,  or  the  grace  of  the  higher 
order,  they  frequent  the  public  places  and  the  general 
walks ;  and  to  a  polished  mind,  create  disgust  when  they 
wish  to  allure.  The  almeh  of  the  higher  class  know  by 
heart  all  the  new  songs ;  they  commit  to  memory  the 
most  beautiful  elegiac  hymns,  that  bewail  the  death  of 
a  hero,  or  the  successes  or  misfortunes  incident  to  love. 
No  festival  can  be  complete  without  their  attendance ; 
nor  is  there  an  entertainment  in  which  the  almeh  is  not 
an  ornament,  or  the  chief  excitement  of  pleasurable,  and 
too  popular  sensations. 

If  the  European  of  high  life  has  instrumental  music 
during  his  public  entertainments,  the  more  luxurious 
Asiatic  produces  enjoyments  for  the  eye  and  for  the  ear. 
Senses  equally  capricious  are  regaled  with  sensations 
more  entrancing  and  aerial  than  the  gross  enjoyments  of 
the  palate.  When  the  stranger  has  been  satiated,  and 
the  taste  has  been  glutted  with  its  eiyoyment,  the  al- 
mSh  descend  into  the  saloon,  and  form  dances  unallied  in 
cither  figure  or  step  to  those  of  Europe.  The  usual  oc- 
currences of  life  are  sometimes  represented  by  them  ; 
but  they  are  principally  employed  to  depict  the  origin, 
the  growth,  the  successes,  the  misfortunes,  or  the  mys- 
teries of  love.  Their  bodies  are  surprisingly  flexible, 
and  their  command  of  countenance  leads  the  spectator 
slmost  from  the  fable  of  the  scene  to  the  reality  of  life ; 


the  indecency  of  their  attitudes  and  of  their  dress  is  fne 
quently  carried  to  excess.  Their  looks,  their  gestures, 
every  thing  speaks  the  warmth  of  their  agitations,  and 
that  with  so  unequivocal  or  so  bold  an  accent,  that  a 
foreigner  to  their  language  needs  not  a  preparation  for 
the  approaching  witchery  of  feeling ;  they  lay  aside 
their  veils,  and  with  them  their  small  remains  of  female 
timidity.  A  long  robe  of  very  thin  silk  goes  down  to 
their  heels,  which  is  but  slightly  fastened  with  a  rich 
girdle,  perhaps  the  original  of  the  cestus,  whilst  their 
long  black  hair,  braided  and  perfumed,  entangles  and 
captivates,  in  the  language  of  the  poet  of  Shiray,  "  the 
hearts  of  their  beholders."  A  shift,  as  transparent  as 
the  finest  gauzes  of  their  country,  scarcely  hides  their 
bosoms,  which  they  wish  as  little  to  couceal ;  the  shape, 
the  contour  of  their  bodies,  seem  to  develope  themselves 
successively,  as  tlieir  motions  are  regulated  by  the 
sounds  of  the  flute,  the  Castanet,  the  tambours  de  basque, 
and  the  cymbals.  Whilst  their  inclinations  are  in- 
flamed by  songs  adapted  to  the  scene,  they  appear  in  an 
intoxication  of  the  senses,  in  a  voluptuous  delirium ; 
they  throw  off  every  reserve,  they  abandon  themselves 
to  the  overwhelming  disorder  of  their  senses ;  and  then 
it  is  that  a  people  who,  in  their  chastest  moments,  are 
far  from  delicate,  and  who  almost  detest  the  retiring 
modesty  of  nature ;  then  it  is  that  their  auditors  re- 
double their  applauses,  which,  stimulating  the  almeh, 
increase  their  efforts  to  delight  and  entrance  the  specta- 
tors. 

But  it  is  not  to  the  desire  of  the  eye,  the  gratification 
of  the  ear,  or  to  the  fulfilment  of  loose,  inordinate,  and 
grosser  excitements,  that  the  almeh  of  the  distinguished 
class  confine  their  meretricious  interference.  Their 
qualifications  introduce  them  into  the  harams  as  well  83 
the  saloons  of  the  great ;  these  girls,  with  cultivated  un- 
derstandings, with  a  peculiar  purity  of  phraseology,  and 
the  most  engaging  softness  of  manners,  obtained  from 
so  entire  a  dedication  of  themselves  to  poetry,  and  the 
kinder  feelings,  possess  a  familiarity  with  the  softest 
as  well  as  the  most  sonorous  expressions  of  their  lan- 
guage. They  repeat  with  a  great  deal  of  grace,  and 
they  sing  the  unsophisticated  harmonies  or  airs  of  their 
country,  without ''  the  borrowed  aid  of  Italian  art."  We 
shall  now  proceed  to  give  an  account  of  the  education 
of  the  almeh. 

This  race  of  women  among  the  Hindoos,  &c.  is  formed 
into  three  grand  divisions. 

1st,  A  particular  set  is  employed  in  the  service  of  the 
temples,  where  dancing  is  performed  at  regulated  inter- 
vals. These  are  not  remarkable  for  their  beauty,  be- 
cause they  are  the  refuse  of  the  following  class. 

2d,  The  fashionable  set — The  women  in  this  class  arc 
invariably  preferred;  they  are  accomplished  in  every  art 
of  allurement ;  they  are  generally  handsome  ;  they  live 
decently,  with  the  exceptions  of  their  profession ;  and 
the  greatest  number  of  them  are  in  comfortable,  (pecu- 
niary,) situations. 

The  3d  and  lowest  class,  are  a  shameless  race.  They 
are  the  common  women,  who  have  no  pretensions  to  any 
sort  of  acquirements,  and  wholly  depend  for  the  neces- 
saries of  life  on  the  trade  te  which  they  are  devoted. 

The  fashionable  class,  with  whose  theatrical  repre- 
sentations the  "  great  vulgar"  is  entertained,  are  origi 
nally  descended  from  the  tribe  of  Kicolm,  or  weavers, 
who  from  immemorial  usage  had  dedicated  the  female 
offspring  of  each  family  to  the  service  of  the  temples  and 
the  public.     Happy  for  human  nature,  this  absurd  anc| 


ALM 


AIM 


519 


degrading  custom  is  not  in  much  practice  now ;  as  the 
uninterrupted  employment  which  that  class  find  under 
the  auspices  of  the  honourable  company,  together  with 
tlie  melioration  of  their  circumstances,  has  improved 
their  feelings  of  honour  and  of  virtue.  The  deficiency 
arising  from  the  above  cause,  is  made  up  by  the  pur- 
chase of  girls  from  different  parts  of  the  country,  where 
the  calamities  of  war  and  of  famine,  domestic  misfor- 
tunes, and  peculiar  religious  customs,  drive  parents  to 
the  necessity  of  disposing  of  their  children.  An  elderly 
woman,  and  one  or  two  girls,  form  a  set,  which  is  distin- 
guished after  the  young  or  the  old  lady's  name,  as  for- 
tune, fame,  or  chance,  may  render  either  of  them  con- 
spicuous. The  young  girls  are  sent  to  the  dancing- 
school  at  about  five  or  six  years  of  age ;  and  at  eight 
they  begin  to  learn  music,  either  vocal  or  instrumental ; 
some  attain  a  great  proficiency  in  dancing,  others  in 
singing ;  but  the  first  art  is  limited  to  a  certain  period 
of  life ;  for  dancing,  in  the  Hindoo  style,  requires  great 
agility  and  strength  of  constitution :  and  no  female  after 
the  age  of  25  years  is  reckoned  competent  to  the  task. 

The  expense  attending  the  education  of  a  girl,  with 
such  accomplishments,  will  probably  amount  to  between 
three  and  fourhundred  pagodas.  This  is  either  managed 
by  contracts,  or  monthly  payment,  to  the  Naluva,  the 
dancing-master,  and  Pataca,  the  singer. 

When  the  girl  attains  a  certain  degree  of  proficiency, 
the  friends  and  the  relations  of  the  old  mother  are  invited ; 
and  afterobservingcertainformalities and  ceremonies,  the 
young  aspirajite  is  introduced  into  the  assembly ;  where 
her  merit  and  her  proficiency  are  examined  and  tried. 

The  expense  of  this  first  exhibition  is  great,  including 
the  presents  to  the  dancing-master  :  and  it  is  supported 
either  by  the  betrothed  gallant  of  the  girl,  or  the  friend 
of  her  mother.  After  this  ceremony,  and  not  till  then, 
the  set  gain  admittance  to  the  favour  of  the  public,  and 
are  asked  to  attend  marriages  and  every  other  enter- 
tainment, funerals,  and  every  other  solemnity. 

With  regard  to  their  revenues,  the  first  source  of 
emolument  proceeds  from  their  destination  as  public 
women.  When  the  young  female  arrives  at  the  age  of 
puberty,  she  is  consigned  to  the  protection  of  a  man 
who  generally  pays  a  large  premium,  besides  a  suitable 
monthly  allowance  :  changes  of  i)rotectors  are  made  as 
often  as  it  suits  the  conveniency  and  advantage  of  the 
old  matron. 

The  second  channel  of  benefit  arises  from  he  pre- 
sents ma<le  to  them  for  dancing  and  singing ;  unfortu- 
nately no  standard  of  hire  was  ever  established,  but  it 
is  entirely  left  to  the  arrangements  of  the  parties. 

A  set  will  probably  receive  from  30  to  500  rupees  for 
the  performance  of  three  or  four  days,  as  the  circum- 
stances and  disposition  of  the  person  who  requests  their 
attendance  may  admit ;  sometimes  the  spectators  give 
a  few  ruijees  to  them,  either  from  liberality  or  vanity. 
The  produce  of  this  supply  goes  in  shares,  to  every  in- 
dividual forming  the  set  thus  :  Five  or  ten  per  cent,  on 
the  whole  is  taken  off  for  charities ;  the  residue  is  then 
divided  into  two  shares,  one  of  which  is  allowed  to  the 
dancins  woman,  the  other  subdivided  into  6i  shares,  of 
which  2i  are  given  to  NoUuva,  or  the  dancing-master ; 
li  to  Pataca,  or  the  singer;  1  to  Pillangolo,  or  the 
flute-player;  1|  to  Maddalagar,  or  the  trumpeter;  1^ 
to  Strutyman,  or  the  bellows  blower ;  this  is  paid  by  the 
dancing  woman  out  of  her  share. 

It  is  stated,  that  Bharata  Nateya,  or  dancing,  should 
be  composed  of  five  angas,  parts  or  divisions.  1st,  NtOd, 


the  Pictamau,  who  regulates  the  time,  equivalent  to 
the  ancient  Coryphajus,  and  our  leader  or  timeist ;  2d, 
Mindenga,  or  small  drum ;  3d,  Paltua,  the  singer ; 
4thly,  Srutes,  the  bellows,  which  blows  the  easy  tunes; 
and  5thly,  PtUra,  the  female,  who  recites.  An  actress, 
as  we  before  mentioned,  must  be  young  and  healthy; 
the  females  of  Siata,  Gohorjara,  and  Sourastra,  are  said, 
in  the  Pooranas,  to  be  beautiful.  The  females  of  Car- 
nata  Virata  are  pretty,  and  the  girls  of  Dravida  are  of 
the  ordinary  kind.  Madras  is  situated  in  the  last  divi- 
sion of  the  country,  so  that  their  dancing  ^irls  are  not 
remarkable  for  personal  beauty.  See  Wittman'a  TrOr 
vels  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  p.  376,  and  Savary's  iMlers,  vol. 
i.  p.  176.  (f) 

ALMERIA,  the  Magnits  Partus  of  the  ancients,  is 
a  sea-port  town  in  Granada,  in  Spain,  which  has  now 
dwindled  into  insignificance.  It  was  formerly  the  strong- 
est place  in  the  possession  of  the  Moors,  from  whom 
it  was  taken  by  don  Alplionso,  in  1147,  assisted  by  the 
French,  Genoese,  and  Pisans.  In  the  distribution  of 
the  plunder,  the  Genoese  obtained  the  valuable  eme- 
rald vessel,  which  still  remains  in  their  treasury.  Many 
valuable  minerals  are  said  to  be  found  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Almeria,  and  its  climate  and  productions  have 
been  highly  praised  by  travellers.  W.  Long.  2"  15'.  N. 
Lat.  36"  51'.  (w) 

ALMEYDA,    Don  Francis,    the  first   Portuguese 
viceroy  of  the  East  Indies.     After  the  Portuguese  had 
been  a  short  time  settled   in  India,  the  Mahometans 
foreseeing  that  their  interference  would  ruin  their  com- 
merce, succeeded  in  exciting  the  jealousy  of  the  Samo- 
rin,  (the  title  of  the  sovereign  who  reigned  at  Calicut,) 
to  such  a  degree,  that  he  requested  the  assistance  of 
the  Mamelukes,  to  enable  him  to  expel  the  strangers, 
whom  he  was  taught  to  consider  as  the  invaders  of  his 
dominions.   The  news  of  these  proceedings  spread  great 
consternation  amongst   the  Portuguese   in  India,  and 
obliged  them  to  send  to  Portugal,  to  request  immediate 
assistance.     Upon  this   don  Francis   Almeyda,  count 
d'Abrantes,  was  despatched  with  thirteen  large  vessels, ' 
and  six  smaller  ones,  and  a   considerable   number  of 
troops  on  board.     On  arriving  in  India,  he  took  the 
most  effectual  methods  to  promote  the  Portuguese  in- 
terest.    During  his  administration  the  great  island  of 
Madagascar  ^vas  discovered.  His  son,  Lorenzo  Almey- 
da, first  surveyed  the  Blaldive  islands,  and  afterwards 
discovered  Ceylon,   the  chief  monarch  of  which    he 
compelled  to  submit  to  the  power  of  Portugal.     This 
gallant  young  man  fell  in  a  great  naval  engagement  with  ' 
the  Samorin,  in  which,  however,  the  ships  under  his  ' 
command  gained  a  decisive  victory.     Almeyda  was  su- ' 
perseded  in  his  command  by  the  famous  Alphonso  AI-  • 
buquerque,  afterwards  so  renowned  in  India.     Having " 
resigned  the  command,  he  prepared  to  return  to  Europe 
with  the  great  riches  which  he  had  acquired.     He  found 
it  necessary  to  land  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  procuring  some  fresh  provisions.    Here  a  dispute 
arose  between  some  of  his  sailors  and  the  natives,  in 
which  Almeyda  imprudently  interfering,  was  slain,  to- 
gether with  57  of  his  attendants,  (g) 

ALMIRANTE  Islands,  a  cluster  of  small  islands 
on  the  coast  of  Zanguebar,  in  AfKca.     They  lie  be- 
tween the  parallels  of  E.  Longitude  51o  40',  and  52»  5o 
and  between  the  S.  Latitudes  5o  30*  and  5°  45'.  (n) 

ALMOHEDES,  the  name  of  an  African  dynasty, 
which  succeeded  that  of  the  Morahites,  or  Almoravides,  ' 
in  Barbary,  about  the  beginning  of  the  12th  century.' " 


520 


ALM 


AIM 


(See  Algiers.)  This  dynasty  was  founded  by  Abdal- 
la!i,  an  obscure  Berber  of  the  tribe  of  Muzamada, 
whose  popularity  as  a  preacher  inspired  him  with  the 
presumptuous  design  of  supplanting  his  sovereign  AI 
Abraham,  or  Brahem.  Assuming  for  this  purpose  the 
title  of  Molidi  or  Mohedi,  he  declared  himself  the 
leader  of  the  Orthodox  or  Unitarians,  v.hose  number 
increased  so  rapidly  as  to  alarm  Brahem,  and  compel 
him  to  march  against  them  with  an  army.  In  the  first 
engagement  the  rebels  were  victorious;  Abdallah  se- 
cured the  capital ;  and  BraJiem,  pursued  as  a  fugitive, 
fled  for  refuge  first  to  Fez,  and  afterwards  to  Oran ; 
the  inhabitants  of  which,  unable  to  defend  themselves 
against  a  hostile  assault,  urged  him  to  leave  their  town. — 
While  the  unfortunate  monarch  was  retiring  from  that 
place  in  a  dark  night,  with  his  favourite  wife  on  horse- 
back behind  him,  his  flight  was  discovered  by  his  ene- 
mies ;  and,  in  a  fit  of  despair,  he  forced  his  horse  over 
a  lofty  precipice,  where  he  and  his  wife  were  dashed 
to  pieces  by  their  fall. 

Abdolmumen,  the  general  of  Abdallah,  on  returning 
to  Morocco  after  the  defeat  of  Brahem,  found  that  his 
master  was  dead;  and  was  immediately  appointed  to 
succeed  him  as  king  of  the  Almohedes.  Before  his 
death  Abdallah  had  appointed  a  council  of  forty  preach- 
ers of  his  sect,  some  of  whom  were  commissioned  to 
regulate  all  public  affairs,  and  to  travel  at  proper  sea- 
ions  as  itinerant  preachers,  for  the  purpose  of  dissemi- 
nating their  doctrines ;  and  others,  to  the  number  of 
sixteen,  were  to  be  employed  as  sectaries.  The  king 
and  chief  priest  (both  which  offices  were  to  be  united  in 
one  person)  could  only  be  chosen  from  the  first  of  these 
classes.  These  sectaries  were  distinguished  by  no  pe- 
culiarity in  their  roJigious  tenets;  but  by  inveighing 
against  the  tyranny  of  the  Almoravides,  and  clamouring 
loudly  for  liberty,  acquired  such  influence  over  the  minds 
of  their  countrymen,  as  enabled  them  to  effiect  a  com- 
plete revolution  in  the  government.  The  followers  of 
AI  Mohedi  were  denominated  Mohammedin,  or  Al  Mo- 
haddin ;  and  by  the  Spaniards,  Almohedes ;  and  the 
descendants  of  that  tribe,  while  their  dynasty  prevailed, 
retained  the  appellation  of  Emir  Al  Mumenin,  chiefs 
of  the  true  believers. 

Abdallah  commenced  his  reign  by  strangling  the  son 
of  Brahem,  and  extirpating  the  Almoravedic  race.  He 
distinguished  himself  greatly  as  a  warrior,  reduced  un- 
der subjection  the  Numidians  and  Galatians,  the  king- 
doms of  Tunis  and  Tremecen,  and  the  greatest  part  of 
Mauritania  and  Tingitana  ;  drove  the  Christians  out  of 
Mohedia,  and  other  cities  on  the  African  coast ;  and 
passing  over  to  Europe,  made  several  conquests  both 
in  Spain  and  Portugal.  Yakub,  surnamed  Al  Mansur, 
or  the  Conqueror,  the  second  in  succession  after  Abdal- 
lah, became  master  of  the  whole  country  lying  be- 
tween Numidia  inclusive,  and  the  entire  length  of 
Barbary  from  Tripoli  to  Morocco,  and  from  the  Medi- 
terranean to  the  deserts  of  Libya,  extending  in  length 
about  1200  leagues,  and  in  breadth  about  480.  In  Spain, 
too,  his  dominions  were  extensive,  and  he  was  acknow- 
ledged as  sovereign  by  more  of  the  Arabian  Moorish 
princes  in  that  country.  His  son  Mohammed,  surnamed 
AI  Nahur,  on  his  accession  to  the  throne,  invaded  Spain 
with  an  army,  consisting  of  more  than  300,000  foot,  and 
120,000  horse;  and  engaging  the  Christians  on  the 
plains  of  Tholoaa,  wag  defeated  with  the  loss  of  1 50,000 
foot,  and  30,000  horse  ;  besides  50,000  who  were  taken 
prisoners.     After  thia  fatal  battle,  which  tv«s  fougkt  in 


the  617th  year  of  the  Hegira,  (A.  D.  1220,)  he  returned! 
to  Africa,  where  the  shame  of  his  defeat,  and  the  cold- 
ness and  aversion  with  which  he  was  received  by  hit 
subjects,  so  preyed  upon  his  mind,  as  in  a  short  time 
to  occasion  his  death.  His  grandson  Yeyed  Arrax,  whom 
he  had  nominated  his  successor,  was  assassinated  by  k 
prince  of  the  tribe  of  Zeneti,  and  with  him  terminated 
the  dynasty  of  Almohedes,  after  it  had  continued  for 
about  1 70  years.     See  Almoravides.     (k) 

ALMOND.  See  Amgydalus,  Botany  Index. 

ALMONER,  is  the  name  of  an  officer  in  religions 
houses,  or  in  the  household  of  a  sovereign,  who  dis- 
penses charily  to  the  poor.  The  lord  high  almoner  of 
England  is  an  ofBcer  of  this  description.  He  is  gene- 
rally a  bishop,  and  has  the  power  of  giving  the  first 
dish  from  the  king's  table  to  whatever  poor  person  he 
selects,  (w) 

ALMORAVIDES,  in  history,  a  tribe  of  Arabs,  Who 
retired  from  their  native  country,  and  occupied  a  dis- 
trict of  Africa,  under  the  pretence  of  devoting  them- 
selves to  the  rigid  and  scrupulous  observance  of  the 
precepts  delivered  to  them  in  the  Koran.  Hence  they 
took  the  name  of  Morabites,  an  appellation  which  was 
changed  by  the  Spaniards  into  that  of  Almoravides. 

The  first  chief  of  this  tribe  was  Abubeker  Ben  Omar. 
He  had  the  influence  to  assemble  a  great  army  from 
the  provinces  of  Numidia  and  Libya ;  and,  supported 
by  the  troops  of  those  warlike  countries,  he  founded 
the  dynasty  of  the  Almoravides  in  Barbary,  A.  D.  1051, 
Abubeker,  called  likewise  by  the  Spanish  historians 
Texefien,  was  succeeded  by  Yusef,  or  Joseph,  his  son. 
This  young  monarch  having  reduced  the  kingdoms  of 
Fez,  Tunis,  and  Tremecen,  to  a  state  of  dependence, 
passed  over  into  Spain,  attacked  the  Christians  with 
resistless  impetuosity,  and  quickly  subjected  the  pro- 
vinces of  Mufcia,  Granada,  Cordova,  and  Leon,  io  the 
Mahomedan  power.  Intrusting  the  command  of  these 
provinces  to  his  nephew,  he  embarked  for  Africa.  Upon 
his  arrival  in  his  own  country,  he  announced,  in  a  pub- 
lic declaration,  a  gaizc,  or  holy  war ;  assembled  a  nu- 
merous army  with  a  view  to  disseminate  the  religion 
of  the  prophet ;  and,  joining  his  nephew  in  Andalusia, 
he  laid  waste  that  populous  district  with  fire  and  sword. 
In  the  year  1107,  he  again  invaded  the  Spanish  territories, 
forced  his  way  into  the  kingdom  of  Portugal,  and  took 
the  city  of  Lisbon.  But  having  lost  the  towns  of  Algu- 
azin  and  Gibraltar,  and  being  defeated  at  sea,  he  pro- 
posed a  truce  with  the  Europeans  ;  to  which,  however, 
they  would  not  consent,  unless  the  Moor  should  acknoir- 
ledge  himself  to  be  the  tributary  of  Spain.  Brave, 
haughty,  and  a  stranger  to  submission,  Yusef  rejected 
with  scorn  the  humiliating  terms;  and  passing  into 
Africa,  he  made  diligent  and  extraordinary  preparations 
for  a  new  invasion,  affirming  that  he  would  never  desist 
till  he  had  extirpated  the  Christian  religion  from  the 
Spanish  dominions.  Accordingly,  be  landed  at  Malaga, 
and  proceeded  in  the  execution  of  bis  design.  But  his 
courage  was  not  seconded  by  prudence  in  the  conduct 
of  war;  and  his  measures  were  often  inconsiderately 
taken  and  rashly  executed.  The  consequence  of  this 
was,  that  though  he  was  victorious  in  the  famous  battle 
of  the  Seven  Cmmls,  yet  he  lost  so  many  of  his  troops 
in  the  engagement,  that  he  was  unable  to  contiuue  his 
progress,  and  was  obliged  to  return  to  Africa.  He  died 
soon  after,  full  of  disappointment  and  regret,  at  his 
capital  of  Morocco. 

Yusef  was  succeeded  by  his  ion  Ali,  A.  D.  1110. 


ALN 


ALO 


521 


This  prince  was  of  a  dispotition  lea  warlike  and  am- 
bitious than  hie  father.  Instead  of  attemptiag  the  con- 
quest of  any  foreign  country,  he  appears  to  have  studied 
the  arts  of  peace,  and  to  have  devoted  himself  to  the 
improvement  of  his  subject?.  The  great  mosque  of 
Morocco  was  erected  in  his  time,  and  many  other  build- 
ings were  undertaken  under  his  patronage,  and  execu- 
ted at  his  expense.  But  Alphonso,  king  of  Arragon, 
having  attacked  the  Moorish  dominions  in  Spain,  and 
possessed  himself  of  many  cities  of  importance,  Ali 
was  constrained  to  quit  his  capital  for  Europe,  in  order 
to  support  the  declining  interests  of  his  countrymen. 
In  this  expedition  he  was  very  unfortunate,  and  was  at 
last  defeated  and  slain  by  Alphonso,  after  a  reign  of  five 
years  and  six  mouths. 

Al  Abraham,  the  successor  of  Ali,  was  so  tyrannical 
in  his  government,  and  oppressed  the  Moors  with  such 
heavy  taxes,  that  they  rose  in  arms  against  him ;  and 
in  the  25th  year  of  his  reign,  the  sovereignty  was  trans- 
ferred from  the  tribe  of  the  Almoravides  to  that  of  the 
Almohedes.     See  Almohedes.     Mod.  Un.  Hist. 

ALMUCANTARS,iu  Astronomy,  is  an  Arabic  word 
employed  to  denote  the  imaginary  circles  parallel  to 
the  horizon,  which  are  supposed  to  pass  through  every 
degree  of  the  meridian,  (w) 

ALNWICK,  the  county  town  of  Northumberland, 
in  England,  30  miles  from  Berwick,  and  84  from  Edin- 
burgh, on  the  north  ;  35  from  Newcastle,  and  310  from 
London,  on  the  south.  The  principal  streets  lead  in 
nearly  a  straight  line  to  a  spacious  square,  which  forms 
a  very  convenient  market-place;  on  one  side  of  the 
square  are  the  shambles,  and  on  another  a  neat  and  com- 
modious town-house,  where  the  quarter  sessions  and  the 
county  courts  are  held,  and  the  members  of  parliament 
elected.  Alnwick  was  formerly  surrounded  with  a  wall 
having  several  gates ;  one  of  these  being  in  a  ruinous 
state,  was  taken  down  a  few  years  ago;  another,  which 
is  on  the  east  in  the  form  of  a  tower,  is  felt  by  the  inha- 
bitants as  well  as  strangers  as  a  great  nuisance,  and  owes 
its  preservation  solely  to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  present 
duke  of  Northumberland,  for  the  memory  of  the  gallant 
Hotspur,  by  whom  this  unshapely  pile  was  erected. — 
But  the  chief  boast  of  Alnwick  is  the  castle,  the  seat 
of  the  renowned  family  of  Percy.  Its  situation  is  on 
an  eminence,  whence  there  is  a  commanding  prospect 
of  the  sea,  and  an  extensive  tract  of  an  uncommonly 
rich  and  beautiful  country.  From  the  most  authentic 
records,  it  appears  to  have  been  anciently  a  place  of 
great  strength ;  but  it  remained  for  a  long  period  almost 
in  ruins,  till  it  was  completely  repaired  by  the  late  duke 
of  Northumberland ;  so  that  it  may  now  justly  be  con- 
sidered as  one  of  the  most  magnificent  models  of  a 
great  baronial  castle  in  the  kingdom.  In  the  structure 
of  the  building  itself,  which  is  gothic,  and  particularly 
in  the  various  gothic  ornaments  which  have  been  either 
embellished  or  renewed,  the  happiest  union  of  taste  and 
judgment  has  been  displayed.  The  internal  decorations 
are  in  a  style  of  splendour  combined  with  elegance,  wor- 
thy of  the  princely  fortune  of  this  noble  family.  The 
chapel,  however,  generally  attracts  most  notice.  The 
east  window,  containing  exquisite  specimens  of  painted 
glass,  is  said  to  he  copied  from  a  beautiful  one  in  York 
Minster,  the  ceiling  from  King's  College,  Cambridge, 
and  the  mouldings  and  stucco  work  are  gilt  and  painted 
in  the  style  of  the  great  church  of  Milan.  During  the 
residence  of  the  family  at  Alnwick  Castle,  there  are 
certain  days  when  the  gentlemen  of  the  county,  or 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


strangers  with  a  proper  introduction,  are  expected  to 
dine  with  the  duke.  The  grounds  about  the  castle, 
which  exhibit  every  species  of  natural  and  artificial 
beauty,  are  five  miles  in  length ;  and,  except  during  the 
presence  of  the  family,  they  are  open  to  the  inhabitant!) 
of  the  town.  The  remains  of  two  abbeys,  at  a  small 
distance  from  each  other,  and  a  noble  tower,  90  feet  in 
height,  lately  erected  on  a  hill  at  the  termination  of  the 
pleasure  grounds,  contribute  to  render  the  scenery  in 
the  highest  degree  picturesque  and  romantic. 

The  town  of  Alnwick  is  governed  by  four  chamber- 
lains, who  are  annually  chosen'out  of  a  common  council 
of  twenty-four.  A  singular  and  ludicrous  custom  exists 
here  in  making  freemen.  On  St.  Mark's  day,  the  can- 
didates for  this  privilege  are  com[)elled  to  ride  round 
the  lands  belonging  to  the  town,  and  in  this  route  they 
arrive  at  a  muddy  pool,  called  the  Freemen's  Well, 
which  is  purposely  deepened  and  agitated  for  the  occa- 
sion. Here  they  dismount,  and  drawing  themselves 
up  in  a  bo<!y,  plunge  precipitately  into  the  well,  and 
scramble  through  as  fast  as  possible.  As  the  water  is 
always  very  foul,  and  numbers  of  them  are  generally 
tumbled  over  in  the  bustle,  they  come  out  in  the  most 
deplorable  condition,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the 
crowds  who  assemble  to  witness  the  scene.  The  even- 
ing is  spent  in  every  kind  of  festivity.  This  ridiculous 
practice  is  attributed  to  king  John,  who,  having  himself 
been  mired  on  the  spot,  when  engaged  in  the  chase, 
made  it  an  article  in  the  charter  of  the  town,  as  a  pun- 
ishment for  the  inhabitants  not  keeping  the  roads  in  bet- 
ter repair,  that  all  the  freemen  should  submit  to  the 
same  disaster  which  he  had  himself  experienced.  The 
revenues  of  the  town  are  considerable,  and  are  employ- 
ed in  supplying  it  with  water,  and  for  other  beneficial 
purposes;  but  particularly  in  supporting  three  free 
fchools,  where  almost  every  branch  of  liberal  education 
is  taught,  and  to  which  the  children  of  freemen  only 
are  admitted  gratis,  while  very  moderate  fees  are  ex- 
acted from  other  persons.  There  are  no  public  works, 
and  little  foreign  trade  in  this  palce.  A  woollen  mann- 
factory  was  once  attempted  by  some  gentlemen,  but  it 
did  not  succeed.  Besides  the  established  church,  which 
is  a  perpetual  curacy,  there  are  three  chapels  in  Aln- 
wick, two  belonging  to  the  Methodists,  and  one  to  the 
Roman  Catholics,  and  three  dissenting  meeting  houses, 
which  are  tolerably  well  attended. 

Aluwick  has  been  particularly  fatal  to  the  kings  of 
Scotland.  In  the  reign  of  William  Rufus,  Malcolm  III. 
was  here  treacherously  stabbetl  by  an  English  soldier, 
who  pretended  to  be  despatched  from  the  castle  for  the 
purpose  of  surrendering  the  keys  into  the  hands  of  the 
Scottish  prince.  His  son  Edward,  attempting  to  revenge 
his  death,  was  also  slain,  and  his  army  defeated.  In 
1147,  William,  surnamed  the  Lion,  while  laying  siege 
to  Alnwick,  being  surprised  by  a  party  of  Englishmen, 
at  a  distance  from  his  camp,  was  made  prisoner,  and 
carried  in  the  most  ignominious  manner  to  Henry  IJ. 
from  whom  he  was  afterwards  ransomed  for  the  sum  of 
L.100,000.  In  commemoration  of  these  events,  monu- 
ments have  been  erected  on  the  spot  where  they  happen- 
ed, and  they  are  sufficiently  conspicuous  to  attract  the 
attention  of  visitors  from  Scotland.  Population  in  1801 
4719.  Number  of  houses,  735.  E.  Long.  1<>  10'.  n' 
Lat.  55»  24'.  («•) 

ALOE,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hexandria,  and 
order  Monogynia.  See  Botany,  (w) 

ALOPECIA,  or  ALOPBX,theDame  of  a  disease  which 
3   U 


322 


ALP 


ALP 


makes  the  hair  fall  from  the  head,  and  other  parts  of  the 
body.  It  is  thought  to  be  derived  from  the  word  kAwtijJ, 
a  fox,  either  because  this  animal  is  subject  to  the  game 
disease,  or  because  its  urine  renders  barren  every  place 
on  which  it  falls.  Hippocrates  calls  the  disease  Alopex. 
It  is  mentioned  by  Callimachus  in  his  hymn  to  Diana. 


But  thou  Diana  ■ 


•  He  (Vulcan)  on  his  kneel. 


Smiling  received  thee,  when  from  his  rough  breait 
The  hair  thou  dauntless  pluckedst ;  there  the  skin 
Produced  no  future  harvest,  still  despoiled 
As  by  the  wasting  Alopecia'i  power. 

See  Pliny's  Nat.  Hist.  lib.  xxviii.  cap.  11.  and  Hippo- 
crates rifi  o»6civ,  sect.  9.  (i) 

ALOPECURUS,  or  Foxtail,  a  genus  of  plants  of 
the  class  Triandria,  and  order  Digynia.     See  Botany. 

W 

ALP  Arslan,  the  second  sultan  of  the  dynasty  of 

Seljeikiu  Persia,  was  born  A.  D.  1030.     After  many 

splendid  conquests,  he  died  A.  D.  1072. 

The  original  name  of  this  prince  was  Ismael ;  and  he 
obtained  the  surname  of  Alp  Arslan,  or  the  valiant  lion, 
from  his  military  prowess  and  success  in  war.  After 
commanding  for  ten  years  in  Khorasan,  under  his  uncle 
Togrul  Beg,  he  succeeded  him  in  the  government,  A. 
D.  1063.  At  the  commencement  of  his  reign,  he  found 
many  of  his  subjects  in  open  rebellion  ;  but  by  the  de- 
cision of  his  measures,  and  the  able  assistance  of  his 
vizier,  he  quickly  reduced  the  insurgents  to  obedience. 
He  then  declared  his  sou  Jlalek  Shah  his  successor; 
and  having  placed  him  on  a  throne  of  gold,  he  exacted 
an  oath  of  allegiance  to  him  from  the  chief  officers  and 
captains  of  the  empire.  The  authority  of  Alp  Arslan 
was  now  confirmed.  Stimulated  by  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing immense  booty  in  the  temple  of  St.  Basil,  in  Cesarea, 
he  crossed  the  Euphrates  at  the  head  of  the  Turkish 
horse,  entered  the  city,  and  plundered  it  of  all  its  riches. 
The  conquest  of  Armenia  and  Georgia  was  somewhat 
more  difficult.  In  the  former  country  indeed,  the  very 
name  of  independence  was  soon  extinguished;  but  the 
Georgians  retiring  to  the  woods  and  fortresses  of  Mount 
Caucasus,  struggled  for  some  time  with  the  power  of 
the  Sultan.  They  were,  however,  finally  reduced  to 
subjection  (A.  D.  1065;)  and  were  condemned  by  the 
orders  of  Alp  Arslan  to  wear  horse  shoes  of  iron  at 
their  ears  as  the  mark  of  their  degraded  condition. 

Id  1068,  Alp  Arslan  invaded  the  Roman  dominions. 
At  that  time  Eudocia,  an  able  princess,  ruled  at  Constan- 
tinople. Sensible  of  the  danger  which  threatened  her 
empire,  and  of  her  own  incapacity  for  leading  the 
troops,  she  married  Diogenes  Romanus,  a  soldier  of 
great  bravery,  and  elevated  him  to  a  seat  upon  the 
throne.  Notwithstanding  the  exhausted  condition  of 
his  resources,  the  new  emperor  made  bead  against  the 
Turks,  and  sustained  the  declining  fortune  of  Rome, 
with  all  the  heroic  valour  for  which  he  was  conspicu- 
ous. In  tliree  severe  campaigns  his  arms  were  victori- 
ous, and  the  Turks  were  obliged  to  retire  beyond  the 
Euphrates.  But  in  the  fourth,  having  advanced  to  the 
relief  of  Armenia  with  100,000  soldiers  under  his  com- 
mand, he  was  met  by  Alp  Arslan  in  person,  and  40,000 
of  the  Turkish  cavalry.  The  sultan  offered  peace,  but 
the  emperor  indignantly  rejected  his  terms.  "  If  the 
barbarian  wishes  for  peace,"  said  he,  "  let  him  evacuate 
the  ground  which  he  occupies  for  the  encampment  of  the 
Boraans,  and  surrender  his  city  and  palace  of  Rei  as  the 


pledge  of  his  sincerity."    It  is  said  that  Alp  Arslaa 
smiled  at  this  vain  demand ;  but  reflecting  that  an  awful 
engagement  was  about  to  follow,  he  wept  at  the  thought 
of  the  slaughter  which  would  take  place,  and  of  the 
many  brave  and  faithful  Moslems  who  should  perish  in 
the  struggle.     The  legions  of  the  emperor  advanced  in 
a  solid  phalanx.     The  Turks,  who  were  loosely  drawn 
up  in  the  form  of  a  crescent,  yielded  to  the  impetuosity 
of  the  Romans,  and  suffered  them  to  waste  their  strength 
in  fruitless  encounters  with  detached  bodies  of  their 
horse.     The  whole  day  was  spent  by  the  emperor  in 
these  ineffectual  attempts.     At  length,  wearied  with  ex- 
ertion,  he  was  forced  to  retreat ;  and  the  barbarians 
pressing  hard  upon  him,  threw  his  troops  into  confu- 
sion, and  hastened  their  discomfiture.     Still,  however, 
the  native  courage  of  Romanus  was  unbroken ;  he  at- 
tempted to  rally  the  legions,  and  maintained  for  a  time 
the  unequal  contest ;  but  being  wounded  by  an  arrow, 
he  fell  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  was  recognized,  and 
taken  prisoner.     When  brought  into  the  presence  of 
Alp  Arslan,  he  showed  none  of  that  cowardly  submis- 
sion which  is  the  attribute  of  little  minds ;  and  it  is  ex- 
tremely improbable,  from  the  general  character  of  the 
sultan,  that  he  leaped  from  his  throne,  as  Scylitzes  and 
Constantine  Manasses  have  related,  and  put  his  foot 
upon  the  neck  of  the  captive  emperor,  when  prostrate 
before  the  divan.     Nor  is  this  at  all  consistent  with  the 
treatment  which  Romanus  otherwise  experienced;  for 
the  sultan  raised  him  from  the  ground,  embraced  him 
affectionately,  and  assured  him  that  his  life  ivas  in  no 
danger  Irom  a  prince  in  whose  eyes  the  bravery  even  of 
an  enemy  could  be  respected,  and  who  was  not  ignorant 
of  the  changes  which  take  place  in  tlie  condition  of 
kings.     Generous  and  polite,  to  a  degree  of  which  there 
are  few  examples  even  among  a  civilized  people.  Alp 
Arslan  conversed  freely  with  his  illustrious  captive, 
during  the  period  of  eight  days ;  and  suffered  not  a  word 
or  a  look  to  escape  from  him  which  might  wound  the 
sensibility,  or  insult  the  misfortunes  of  the  emperor. 
At  length,  when  the  terms  of  his  ransom  were  about  to 
be  settled,  Romanus  was  asked  by  the  conqueror,  what 
treatment  he  expected  to  receive.     To  this  que»tion  the 
fallen  emperor,  with  unsul)dued  magnanimity,  replied  in 
the  following  words  :  "  If  you  are  cruel,  you  will  take  my 
life ;  if  you  listen  to  pride,  you  will  drag  me  at  your  cha- 
riot wheels  ;  if  you  consult  your  interest,  you  will  ac- 
cept of  a  ransom,  and  restore  me  to  my  country  :"  "  And 
what,"  continued  the  sultan,  "  would  have  been  your 
own  behaviour,  had  fortune  smiled  upon  your  arms  ?" 
"  Had  I  vanquished,"  said  Romanus,  "  1  would  have 
inflicted  on  thy  body  many  a  stripe."     This  firm  and 
ungrateful  reply  did  not  provoke  the  resentment  of  the 
Turkish  conqueror.    He  smiled  at  the  words  of  his  cap- 
tive, observed  that  the  Christian  religion  enjoined  us  to 
love  our  enemies,  and  to  forgive  those  who  have  injured 
us  :  and  generously  avowed  his  resolution  not  to  imitate 
an  example  which  his  judgment  could  not  approve. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  emperor  should  pay  to  the 
Asiatic  ruler  1,000,000  pieces  of  gold  as  his  ransom, 
and  30,000  pieces  as  an  annual  tribute ;  that  an  inter- 
marriage should  take  place  between  the  royal  children; 
and  that  all  the  Moslems  in  the  power  of  the  Greeks 
should  be  instantly  set  free.  To  these  humiliating  con- 
ditions Romanus  submitted  with  reluctance.  Nor  was 
his  reception  among  his  own  subjects  at  alt  calculated  to 
diminish  the  sorrow  which  he  experienced  on  account 
of  his  misfortunes.     Many  of  the  provinces  had  rebelled 


>/ 


ALP 


ALP 


523 


tjuiing  his  captivity ;  and  the  officers  of  the  palace,  and 
numbers  of  the  soldiers,  had  disclaimed  their  allegiance 
to  one  who  was  a  prisoner  at  a  foreign  court.  He  was 
unable  to  collect  the  sum  which  had  been  agreed  upon 
for  his  ransom,  and  could  remit  no  more  than  200,000 
pieces ;  and  even  these  were  procured  with  the  utmost 
difficulty.  The  sultan,  however,  prompted  by  ambition, 
or  perhaps  influenced  by  friendship,  was  inclined  to 
espouse  the  cause  of  the  unfortunate  emperor,  and  to 
support  him  with  his  troops ;  but  the  defeat,  imprison- 
ment, and  death  of  Romanus,  constrained  him  to  relin- 
quish his  purpose. 

After  the  death  of  Romanus,  Alp  Arslan  saw  himself 
the  undisputed  master  of  the  fairest  part  of  Asia  and 
1200  princes  surrounding  his  throne.  His  army  con- 
sisted of  200,000  men.  Naturally  ambitious,  and  confi- 
dent of  the  valour  of  his  troops,  he  now  meditated  a 
greater  enterprise  than  any  which  he  had  yet  undertaken, 
and  resolved  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Turkeston,  the 
original  seat  of  his  ancestors.  Having  finished  his  pre- 
parations, he  marched  from  Bagdad  with  a  powerful 
army ;  and  arriving  at  the  Axus,  he  threw  a  bridge  over 
that  river.  Finding  it  necessary  to  reduce  some  cas- 
tles in  the  vicinity  of  the  Axus,  Joseph  Cathual,  a  Ca- 
rizniian,  defended  one  of  these  with  such  vigour  and 
perseverance,  that  a  stop  was  put  to  the  career  of  the 
sultan.  The  place,  however,  was  reduced,  and,  fatally 
for  Alp  Arslan,  its  commander  was  brought  info  his 
presence.  Instead  of  praising  his  valour,  the  Sultan  re- 
proached him  for  his  presumption  and  obstinacy  ;  till 
Cathual,  roused  to  indignation,  forgot  the  respect  which 
■svas  due  to  the  lord  of  Asia,  and  replied  with  arrogance 
and  contempt.  This  was  not  to  be  borne  by  a  monarch 
flushed  with  successful  warfare,  and  elated  with  exten- 
sive dominion.  He  was  ordered  to  be  tied  by  the  hands 
and  feet  to  four  stakes  driven  into  the  earth,  and  left  to 
perish  in  that  miserable  situation.  But  when  the  sen- 
tence was  pronounced  in  his  hearing,  Cathual  drew  a 
poignard  which  he  had  concealed  in  his  boots,  and, 
rushing  towards  the  sultan,  attempted  to  stab  him  upon 


the  throne.  The  guards  interposed,  and  would  instantly 
have  despatched  the  captive,  had  not  Alp  Arslan,  trust 
ing  to  his  superior  skill  in  archery,  checked  their  zeal, 
and,  ordering  them  to  retire,  aimed  an  arrow  at  his 
heart.  Either  the  aim  was  untrue,  or  the  foot  of  the 
monarch  slipt  as  he  drew  his  bow  :  for  the  arrow  glanc- 
ed to  a  side,  and  Cathual,  improving  the  opportunity, 
plunged  his  dagger  into  the  breast  of  the  sultan.  Alp 
Arslan  lived  only  a  few  hours ;  but  previous  to  his  death 
he  bequeathed  the  following  admonition  to  the  pride  of 
kings :  "  In  my  youth,"  said  he,  "  I  was  advised  by  a 
wise  man  to  humble  myself  before  God,  never  to  con- 
fide in  my  own  strength,  or  to  despise  the  most  con- 
temptible enemy.  These  lessons  I  have  neglected,  and 
my  neglect  has  been  deservedly  punished.  Yesterday, 
as  from  an  eminence,  I  beheld  the  numbers,  the  disci- 
pline, and  the  spirit  of  my  armies ;  the  earth  seemed  to 
tremble  under  my  feet ;  and  I  said  in  my  heart,  surely 
thou  art  the  king  of  the  world ;  the  greatest  and  most 
invincible  of  warriors ;  what  power  on  earth  can  oppose 
thee  ?  what  man  dares  to  attack  thee  ?  To-day,  trusting 
to  my  personal  strength  and  dexterity,  I  foolishly  check- 
ed the  alacrity  of  my  guards,  and  have  fallen  by  the  hand 
of  an  assassin."  Alp  Arslan  died  in  the  44th  year  of  his 
age,  and  the  10th  of  his  reign.  His  remains  were  de- 
posited at  Marce,  in  the  burying  place  of  the  Seljeikan 
dynasty;  and  the  following  epitaph  was  inscribed  upon 
his  tomb  :  "  0  ye  who  have  seen  the  glory  of  Alp  Ars- 
lan exalted  to  the  heavens,  repair  to  Marce,  and  you 
will  behold  it  fallen  in  the  dust." — The  annihilation  of 
the  inscription,  says  Gibbon,  and  of  the  tomb  itself,  more 
forcibly  proclaims  the  instability  of  human  greatness. 

This  prince  was  distinguished  by  his  tall  and  erect 
figure,  and  his  commanding  aspect  and  voice.  lie  was 
valiant,  liberal,  just,  and  sincere.  He  was  succeeded  in 
the  government  by  Maiek  Shah,  his  son.  G  ibbon's  Dec. 
and  Fall  of  the  Rmnan  Empire,  vol.  v.  p.  6.09.  Elmacin. 
Hist.  Saracen,  pp.  343,  344.  Al  de  Guignes,  torn.  iii.  p. 
212.  Jhulpluirat:.  Dj/nast.  p.  227.  (THcrbclol,  p.  102.  et 
seq.    Constantinc  Manasses,  p.  134.    (A) 


ALPHABET. 


Alphabet,  the  usual  or  customary  series  of  the  several 
letters  of  a  language.  The  word  is  derived  from  <»A^« 
and  /Jura,  the  first  and  second  letters  of  the  Greek  alpha- 
bet. Letters  being,  properly  speaking,  written  marks 
for  denoting  the  elemental  sounds  of  which  spoken  lan- 
guage is  composed,  the  number  of  letters  in  the  alphabet 
of  any  people  ought  to  correspond  exactly  to  the  number 
of  elemental  sounds  which  have  a  place  in  their  speech. 
But  in  no  language  is  this  accurate  coincidence  found. 
Alphabets  are  sometimes  defective,  sometimes  redund- 
ant ;  defective,  from  the  want  of  distinct  characters  to 
mark  all  the  varieties  of  elemental  sounds :  redundant, 
as  well  from  the  admission  of  more  than  one  character 
to  express  the  same  sound,  as  from  the  introduction  of 
•  characters,  to  denote  not  only  the  elemental,  but  also 
some  of  the  compound  sounds  occurring  in  the  language. 
Hence,  though  the  number  of  elemental  sounds  in  use 
among  different  people  admits  of  no  very  great  diver- 


sity ;  yet,  in  the  alphabets  of  different  nations,  the  num- 
ber of  letters  varies  considerably.  The  English  alpha- 
bet contains  26  letters;  the  French  contains  23;  the 
Italian  20 ;  the  Spanish  27 ;  the  Dutch  26;  the  Sclavonic 
27  ;  the  present  Russian  41  ;  the  Latin  22 ;  the  Greek 
24  ;  the  Hebrew,  Samaritan,  Syriac,  and  Chaldean,  each 
22 ;  the  Arabic  28  ;  the  Persic  and  Egyptian  or  Coptic 
each  32;  the  Turkish  33;  the  Georgian  36;  the  Ar- 
menian 38 ;  the  Sanscrit  50 ;  the  Ethiopic  or  Abys- 
sinian 202;  and  the  Indian  or  Brachmanic  240.  The 
Chinese  have  written  characters;  but  these  canuot  be 
called  alphabetic,  being  signs  not  of  sounds  but  of  ideas, 
and  independent  of  anj'  particular  language ;  they  are 
generally  allowed  to  exceed  80,C0».  The  Japanese,  al- 
though they  read  the  Chinese  characteis  in  their  own 
language,  have  at  the  same  time  a  species  of  alphabet 
peculiar  to  themselves,  consisting  of  about  50  charac- 
ters*. 


*  In  many  of  these  alphabets,  the  characters,  thoagli  termed  letters,  are  in  fact  frequently  sylHbic  ;  frequently  too,  an  elemental  sound, 
radically  the  same,  is  marked  by  different  characters,  according  to  the  tone,  time,  or  mode  of  pronouncing  it.  This  is  particularly  the 
casa  in  the  Sanscrit  and  other  Oriental  alphabets,  in  which  an  inspeotion  of  the  powers  of  the  letters  (see  Plate  XU.)  will  at  once  show 

3  U  2 


524 


ALPHABET. 


Few  sutyects  have  given  rise  to  more  discussion  thaa 
the  origin  ol'alphabetic  characters.  If  they  are  of  liumaa 
invention,  they  must  be  considered  as  one  of  the  most 
admirable  eflbrts  of  the  ingenuity  of  man.  So  wonder- 
ful is  the  facility  which  they  afford  for  recording  human 
thought ;  so  ingenious,  and  at  the  same  time  so  simple 
is  the  analysis  which  they  furnish  for  the  sounds  of  ar- 
ticulate speech,  and  for  all  the  possible  variety  of  words ; 
that  we  might  expect  the  author  of  this  happy  invention 
to  have  been  immortalized  by  the  grateful  homage  of 
succeeding  ages,  and  his  name  delivered  down  to  pos- 
terity with  the  ample  honours  it  so  justly  merited.  But 
the  author  and  the  sra  of  this  admirable  discovery  are 
both  lost  in  the  darkness  of  remote  antiquity.  Even  the 
nation  to  which  the  invention  is  due,  cannot  now  be  as- 
certained. The  Egyptians,  the  Assyrians,  the  Phoe- 
iticians,  the  Persians,  the  Indians,  have  ail  laid  claim  to 
the  honour  of  this  discovery  :  and  each  have  named  its 
inventor  among  the  remote,  and  probably  fabulous  per- 
sonages that  figure  in  the  earlier  ages  of  their  history. 
In  consequence  of  this  uncertainty  respecting  the  author 
of  Alphabetic  writing,  and  the  high  value  and  extreme 
difficulty  of  the  invention  itself,  many  have  been  inclin- 
ed to  attribute  this  art  to  an  immediate  revelation  from 
the  Deity ;  contending  that  it  was  communicated  with 
other  invaluable  gifts  from  above,  in  remote  ages,  to  the 
descendants  of  Abraham,  and  probably  to  the  patriarch 
Moses,  who  was  the  author  of  the  most  ancient  com- 
positions in  alphabetical  writing  that  we  at  present  pos- 
sess. To  enable  our  readers  to  estimate  the  validity  of 
this  opinion,  it  will  be  proper  first  to  give  a  theoretical 
sketch  of  the  natural  progress  of  writing,  from  its 
rudest  beginnings,  as  far  as  it  can  be  traced,  towards  the 
invention  of  alphabetic  characters ;  illustrating  what  is 
obscure  in  the  ancient  history  of  the  art,  by  the  better 
known  facts  of  modern  times ;  next  to  examine  the 
pretensions  of  different  nations  to  the  honour  of  the  in- 
vention, in  order  to  discover  whether  history  will  en- 
able us  to  ascertain  with  any  precision  the  people  among 
whom  it  originated ;  and  lastly,  from  the  facts  thus  ex- 
hibited, to  examine  the  ground  upon  which  the  divine 
origin  of  alphabetic  writing  has  been  maintained. 

1.  Man  enjoys  the  noble  prerogative  of  being  able  to 
communicate  his  ideas  by  articulate  sounds.  But  these 
sounds  cannot  reach  beyond  the  time  and  place  where 
they  are  uttered.  If  we  wish  to  perpetuate  our  ideas, 
some  method  must  be  discovered  of  giving  permanency, 
cither  to  these  sounds,  or  to  the  notions  which  they  de- 
note, by  means  of  certain  durable  signs  or  marks,  so  con- 
trived, as  to  recall  to  the  memory  the  thoughts  with 
which  they  arc  meant  to  be  associated.  The  most  natu- 
ral expedient  that  presented  itself,  was  to  make  a  pic- 
ture, or  rejjresentation  of  the  very  object  spoken  of. 
Thus,  to  signify,  that  one  man  had  killed  another. 


nothing  could  be  more  obvious  thau  to  draw  the  figure 
of  one  man  stretched  upon  the  ground,  and  of  another 
standing  by  him,  with  some  instrument  ofdeathinhis 
hand.  To  denote  that  strangers  had  arrived  in  a  country 
by  sea,  it  was  natural  to  draw  a  man  eitting  in  a  ship ; 
and  so  in  other  cases. 

There  i?  good  reason  to  believe,  that  such  was  the 
earliest  kind  of  writing,  if  it  can  properly  be  so  called, 
among  the  Egyptians,  Phoenicians,  and  other  anoient  na.- 
tions.  (See  Essai  sur  Us  Hicroglyphes  des  Egyplicns.) 
We  may  also  conclude,  that  the  Grecian  writing  was 
originally  of  the  same  kind,  since  we  find  the  same  word 
ypu^ti,  employed  to  signify  both  rvriting  and  painting. 
When  the  people  of  Mexico  were  first  visited  by  the 
Spaniards,  the  art  of  writing  had  advanced  no  further 
among  them.  The  inhabitants  of  the  sea-coast,  in  order 
to  give  notice  of  the  arrival  of  these  strangers  to  their 
emperor,  Montezuma,  sent  him  a  large  cloth,  in  which 
they  had  painted  a  representation  of  every  thing  remark- 
able that  they  had  observed.  {Acosta,  1.7.)  A  speci- 
men of  these  Mexican  paintings  is,  we  believe,  still  to 
be  seen  in  the  Bodleian  library  at  Oxford*. 

This  method  of  writing  is  evidently  laborious  and 
cumbersome.  To  abridge  the  toil  attending  it,  men 
would  naturally  be  induced  to  substitute  abbreviations, 
or  characteristic  parts,  instead  of  the  whole  objects 
themselves.  ■  That  this  second  stage  in  the  art  of  repre- 
senting ideas,  was  also  practise<l  among  the  Egyptians, 
we  learn  from  the  authority  of  Horus  Apollo.  Accord- 
ing to  that  author,  the  Egyptians  anciently  represented 
a.  fuller  of  cloths,  by  painting  a  man's  two  feet  in  water; 
and  they  signified J?«,  by  a  painting  of  smoke  ascending 
in  the  air.  (1.  2.  c.  IC.)  On  the  same  principle,  a  sca- 
ling-ladder denoted  a  siege ;  and  two  hands,  the  one 
holding  a  buckler,  the  other  a  bow,  signified  a  battle. 
(1.  2.  c.  28.) 

As  soon  as  it  became  the  practice  io  write  much,  it 
would  be  discovered  that  even  this  expedient  was  alto- 
gether incompetent  to  express  a  great  number  of  the 
thoughts  which  it  was  necessary  to  communicate.  There 
are  many  things  familiarly  spoken  of,  such  as  the  pas- 
sions and  feelings  of  living  creatures,  the  judgments 
and  opinions  of  the  human  mind,  which  it  is  altogether 
impossible  to  express  by  such  representations,  as  they 
are  not  of  a  corporeal  but  an  intellectual  nature.  Hence 
the  origin  of  writing  by  symbols,  or  of  denoting  things 
that  are  intellectual,  by  sensible  objects  to  which  they 
are  supposed  to  have  a  certain  analogy  or  resemblance. 
Thus,  ingratitude  was  denoted  by  a  viper ;  Providence, 
by  the  head  of  a  hawk,  remarkable  for  its  penetrating 
eye ;  a  man  shunned  by  society  by  an  eel,  which  is  sup- 
posed never  to  be  found  in  the  company  of  other  fish ; 
iieet  standing  upon  water,  an  impossibility.  This  kind 
of  symbolic  writing  was  greatly  practised  among  (he 


that  the  «ame  vowel  often  assumes  a  iliffurent  character,  as  it  it  pronoaneed  long  or  short,  and  the  same  consonant,  as  it  is  toun<]cd  vith 
or  without  an  aspiration.     Hence  a  preat  source  of  the  difference  in  point  of  number  in  the  characters  of  different  alphabets. 

•  Tlic  Mexican  paintings  in  the  Bodleian  library,  were  copied  and  given  to  the  worlil  by  Piirthas,  in  6(i}plates.  His  work  is  divided 
into  three  parts.  The  first  contains  the  history  of  the  Mexican  empire,  under  its  ten  inonarclis ;  the  second  is  a  tribute  roll,  represent- 
ing  what  each  conquered  town  paid  into  the  royal  treasury  ;  and  the  third  is  a  code  of  their  institutions,  ciril,  political,  and  military.  The 
•riginals  were  among  Mr.  Seldon's  MSS.  No.  3134.  "  In  the  same  library,"  says  Mr.  Astle,  "  No  2S58,  is  a  book  of  Mexican  hiero- 
glyphics, painted  upon  thick  skins,  which  are  covered  with  a  chalky  composition,  and  folded  in  eleven  folds.  No.  SI 35,  is  a  book  of 
Mexican  hieroglyphics,  painted  upon  similar  skins,  and  folded  in  folds.  No.  3'207,  is  a  roll  containing  Mexican  hieroglyphics,  painted  on 
bark.     These  paintings,"  he  subjoins,  "  are  highly  worthy  the  attention  of  the  curious." 

Besides  the  engravings  of  Purchas,  several  other  specimens  of  Mexican  picture  writing  have  been  given  to  the  public.  One  by  tb* 
archbishop  of  Toleilo,  in  3i  plates,  conuining  a  tribute  roll  and  other  matters.  One  by  M.  Thevenot,  from  an  original  in  the  French 
king's  library,  containing  a  kind  of  history  of  Mexico,  with  an  account  of  its  government  and  laws.  And  a  third,  published  by  Gemelli  at 
Naples,  representing  the  travels  of  the  Mexicans  from  their  departure  out  of  the  northern  regions  of  America,  to  their  establisbraent  on 
the  borders  of  the  UJlc,  in  the  middle  of  vhich  the/  erected  their  capital.    See  Mem.  de  PMad.  dct  Truci  ip.  t.  6. 


AI^HABET. 


625 


Egyptians ;  and  from  the  nses  to  which  it  was  applied 
by  them,  it  obtained  the  name  of  Huroglyphic,  or  sacred 
sculpture.     See  Hierogjl.yphic8. 

As  this  manner  of  communicating  thoughts  came  to 
be  more  frequently  used,  convenience,  and  even  necesr 
sity,  would  lead  to  the  abbreviating  more  and  more  these 
symbolic  delineations  ;  a  dot  instead  of  a  circle  might 
stand  for  the  sun ;  a  zig-zag  line  for  a  saw,  might  sig- 
nify a  carpenter,  and  so  of  other  symbols.  By  these 
repeated  abbreviations,  the  original  resemblances  would 
gradually  become  obscure,  and  at  last  entirely  disappear; 
the  character  would  then  become  a  mere  arbitrary  mark, 
conveying  only  the  remote  idea,  witliout  suggesting  at 
all  the  object  from  which  the  symbol  was  originally 
taken.  The  characters  of  the  Chinese  at  the  present 
day  appear  to  be  entirely  of  this  kind ;  and  as  the  de- 
tails which  we  have  lately  received  concerning  this  re- 
markable peculiarity  throw  a  great  deal  of  light  upon 
the  natural  progress  of  the  art  of  writing,  they  are  well 
worth  an  attentive  consideration.  It  is  disputed  whether 
or  not  the  Chinese  characters  are  founded  upon  a  re- 
semblance between  the  sign  and  the  thing  signified. 
Sir  George  Staunton  asserts  that  they  are,  and  Mr.  Bar- 
row denies  it;  but  all  agree  that  the  Chinese  charac- 
ters denote  things,  and  not  words;  and  therefore,  by 
those  who  understand  them,  they  may  be  read  or  re- 
solved into  any  other  language  as  well  as  the  Chinese. 
This  has  been  thought  to  be  a  consideriible  advantage ; 
but  the  benefit  of  it  is  questionable,  and  at  any  rate  is 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  immense  muitiplica- 
tion  of  characters  to  which  this  manner  of  writing  gives 
rise.  In  the  case  of  the  Chinese,  there  are  incompara- 
bly more  characters  than  words  in  the  language,  for 
every  idea  or  object  of  thought  must  have  its  distinct 
character;  but  in  all  languages  many  different  ideas  are 
denoted  by  a  single  word;  and  in  Chinese,  this  takes 
place  much  more  than  in  any  other  with  which  we  are 
acquainted.  According  to  sir  George  Staunton,  the 
number  of  words  in  the  Chinese  language  does  not  ex- 
ceed 1500,  while  the  number  of  characters  extends  to 
80,000,  making,  at  an  average,  near  30  characters  to 
every  w  ord ;  a  circumstance  which  must  occasion  a 
wonderful  ambiguity  in  the .  spoken  language,  and  fre- 
quently, as  Mr.  Barrow  assures  us,  obliges  them,  in  con- 
versation, to  write  or  draw  the  character,  in  order  to 
remove  the  ambiguity*. 

In  the  structure  of  the  Chinese  characters,  there  are 
what  are  properly  termed  elementary  signs.  These  are 
the  characters  of  simplest  form,  which  are  intended  to 
denote  the  principal,  or  more  general  objects  of  nature. 
They  consist  of  a  lew  lines  or  strokes,  and  5  or  6  of 
them  ar*  formed  by  a  single  line.  They  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  genera,  or  roots,  under  each  of  which  are 
ranked  a  variety  of  species.  Thus  tlie  Itcart  is  a  genus, 
represented  by  a  curve  line,  somewhat  typical  of  its  ob- 
ject ;  and  the  species  referable  to  it,  include  all  the  sen- 
timents, passions,  and  affections  that  agitate  the  human 
breast.  Under  the  genus  hand,  are  arranged  most 
trades  and  manual  exercises.  Under  the  genus  rvord, 
every  sort  of  speech,  study,  writing,  and  debate.  The 
five  elements  of  which  the  Chinese  suppose  all  bodies 


to  consist,  form  so  many  genera,  each  of  which  compre- 
hends a  great  number  of  species  under  it.  The  species 
are  discriminated  by  more  compound  characters,  which 
sometimes  consist  of  no  fewer  than  70  strokes.  But  in 
each  compound  character  or  species,  the  peculiar  mark 
of  the  genus  is  discernible,  which  serves  as  an  explana- 
tory key ;  and  also  as  a  mark  of  reference  to  the  Chinese 
Dictionary.  There  the  genera  are  arranged  at  the  be- 
ginning in  an  order  which,  being  invariable,  soon  be- 
comes familinr.  The  species  under  each  genus,  follow 
each  other  according  to  the  number  of  additional  strokes 
of  which  each  consists,  and  thus  are  easily  found. 

In  Chuta,  therefore,  the  knowledge  of  characters  is 
the  knowledge  of  things ;  and  the  Chinese  Dictionary, 
were  it  properly  constructed,  would  be  in  fact  a  syste- 
matic Encyclopedia  of  all  the  learning  and  science  of 
the  country.  \Ve  need  not  wonder,  therefore,  that  the 
examinations  of  those  who  aspire  to  office,  should  be 
confinetl  to  a  knowledge  of  the  character,  and  an  ability 
to  write  it  with  accuracy  and  elegance.  This  cannot  be 
attained  without  much  labour  and  long  study.  "  The 
youth  of  China,"  says  Mr.  Barrow,  "generally  begin  to 
study  the  language  when  they  are  about  six  years  of 
age.  The  first  step  of  their  education  is  to  learn  the 
names  of  tlie  characters,  without  any  knowledge  of 
their  signification ;  the  next  is  (o  be  able  to  trace  or  de- 
lineate them;  and  the  last,  which  commences  about  fif- 
teen years  of  age,  is  to  analyze  the  characters  by  the 
help  of  the  Dictionary,  when  they  first  begin  to  know 
the  use  and  meaning  of  the  written  character.  Having 
now  made  himself  master  of  various  standard  works, 
the  student  is  ready,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  to  take  liis 
first  degree ;  but  in  order  to  be  qualified  for  any  high 
employment,  he  must  study  at  least  ten  years  longer." 
Such  is  the  immense  labour  of  learning  to  read  and 
write  a  character  which  is  not  expressive  of  words  or 
sounds,  but  of  things,  or  real  objects ;  and  hence  may  be 
perceived  at  once  the  prodigious  value  of  that  expe- 
dient which  enables  us  to  communicate  our  ideas  with 
accuracy  to  others,  by  means  of  a  few  arbitrary  signs, 
variously  combined  together,  to  suggest  the  words  that 
are  expressive  of  our  thoughts. 

In  the  progress  we  have  hitherto  traced  of  hierogly- 
phical,  symbolical,  and  representative  characters,  we 
still  find  no  approach  to  alphabetic  writing.  All  the 
apecies  of  characters  already  mentioned,  denote  imme- 
diately objects  or  ideas,  without  referring  to  the  me- 
dium of  speech ;  and  all  of  them,  however  modified,  are 
in  fact  only  refinements  upon  jticture  writing ;  the  natu- 
ral advances  of  that  obvious  mode  of  delineating  what 
we  wish  to  make  tlie  object  of  thought.  But  between 
this  species  of  writing,  and  the  analysis  and  notation  of 
the  sounds,  by  which  in  spoken  language  these  ideas 
are  conveyed,  the  gulf  is  interposed,  which  it  has 
been  doubted  if  bumnn  ingenuity  would  ever  have  beea 
able  to  pass.  How  in  fact  this  transition  was  effected, 
has  never  yet  been  satisfactorily  explained.  Some  par- 
ticulars, however,  in  regard  to  Chinese  writing,  have 
been  lately  communicated  by  sir  George  Staunton  and 
Mr.  Barrow,  which  seem  to  indicate  the  commencement 
of  a  progress  from  the  one  to  the  other  ;  and  these,  as 


•  In  rtie  year  1804,  it  was  intimated  at  Paria,  tliat  the  Chinese  characters  cnt  in  wood,  which  had  lain  above  CO  years  in  the  natisnal 
library,  had  been  lately  transferred  to  the  printing-office  of  the  republic,  for  the  use  of  Dr.  Haggar.  Before  their  removal  they  were 
counted  by  a  commissary  of  the  library,  and  a  commissary  of  the  print'mg-ofRce  ;  and  the  number  of  them  was  found  to  amount  to  68,41 7. 
They  were  contained  in  23*  boxes  ;  and  M.  de  la  Rue,  one  of  the  commissioners,  undertook  to  class  them,  according  to  the  S14  elemen- 
tary signs,  and  arrange  them  in  a  cabinet  appropriated  to  that  purpose. 


626 


ALPHABET. 


Illustrating  the  history  of  writing,  merit  a  particular 
examination  ;  though  iu  reality  they  carry  us  but  a  little 
way  towards  ascertaining  the  actual  invention  of  alpha- 
betic notation. 

The  Chinese  characters,  it  has  been  already  mention- 
ed, denote  not  words  but  ideas.  It  is  evident  that,  in 
this  mode  of  writing,  many  of  the  characters  must  stand 
for  objects  of  familiar  and  constant  recurrence  ;  when 
this  is  the  ease,  the  object  and  (he  character  will  soon 
be  so  completely  associated  in  the  mind,  that  the  one 
will,  upon  every  occasion,  instantly  suggest  the  other. 
It  is  no  less  evident,  that  as,  in  the  course  of  human 
aftairs,  the  same  objects  must  likewise  become  con- 
stantly the  subjects  of  speech,  the  sounds  by  which  they 
are  denoted  will  be  no  less  completely  associated  wth 
the  object  or  the  idea.  In  this  manner  the  character 
and  the  sound  being  both  associated  with  the  same  ob- 
ject, and  constantly  and  familiarly  recurring  along  with 
it,  will  themselves  soon  become  the  subjects  of  a  no  less 
close  association  ;  so  that  the  written  character,  when  it 
calls  to  mind  the  objects  denoted,  will  at  the  same  time, 
and  almost  with  equal  readiness,  call  to  mind  the  word 
or  the  sound  by  which  it  is  expressed  in  speech.  Here 
therefore  is  a  connexion  formed  between  writing  and 
speech,  in  such  a  manner  that  a  character  may  represent 
not  only  an  objeet,  but  a  sound.  If,  then,  at  any  time  it 
is  wished  to  signify  the  sound  alone,  without  bringing  to 
view  the  object,  this  may  be  done  by  exhibiting  the 
character,  giving  intimation,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  is 
the  sound  alone  which  it  is  intended  to  express ;  and  if 
two  or  more  of  these  sounds  constitute  the  component 
parts  of  the  name  of  some  other  object  less  familiarly 
known,  that  whole  name  can  be  expressed  at  once  by 
the  union  of  the  characters  suggesting  these  component 
sounds.  Thus  by  degrees  many  of  the  written  charac- 
ters of  objects  may  come  to  be  used,  to  represent  words, 
or  the  parts  of  words,  though  originally  appropriated  to 
objects  or  ideas  alone. 

In  this  manner  it  actually  appears  that  the  Chinese 
have  proceeded,  both  in  the  formation  of  their  dictiona- 
ries, for  explaining  difficult  terms,  and  in  the  application 
of  their  characters,  to  express  the  words  in  foreign  lan- 
guages, which  the  necessity  of  trade  has  compelled 
them  to  make  use  of.  The  following  account  is  given 
by  Mr.  Barrow,  of  the  construction  of  a  Chinese  diction- 
ary, and  the  manner  in  which  a  character,  unknown  to 
the  student,  is  rendered  intelligible.  "  All  the  212 
roota  or  keys,"  says  he,  "  are  drawn  fair  and  distinct  on 
the  head  of  the  page,  beginning  with  the  most  simple, 
or  that  which  contains  the  fewest  number  of  lines  or 
points,  and  proceeding  to  the  most  complicated  ;  and  on 
the  margins  of  the  page  are  marked  the  numeral  charac- 
ters, one,  two,  three,  &c.  which  signify  that  the  root  or 
key  at  the  top  will  be  found  to  be  combined  on  that 
page  with  one,  two,  three,  &c.  lines  or  points.  Suppose, 
for  example,  a  learner  should  meet  with  an  unknown 
character,  in  which  he  perceives  that  the  simple  sign 
expressing  water,  is  the  key  or  root,  and  that  it  contains, 
besides  this  root,  six  additional  |)oints  or  lines ;  he  im- 
mediately turns  over  his  dictionary  to  the  place  where 
the  character  tvater  stands  en  the  top  of  the  page,  and 
proceeding  with  his  eye  directed  to  the  margin,  until 
the  numeral  character  six  occurs,  he  will  soon  perceive 
the  one  in  question ;  for  all  the  characters  in  the  lan- 
guage belonging  to  the  root  mater,  and  composed  of  six 
other  lines  or  points,  will  follow  successively  in  this  place. 
The  tutmc  or  smmd  of  the  character  is  placed  imme- 


diately after  it,  expressed  iu  such  other  characters  a? 
are  supposed  to  be  most  familiar.  Suppose  the  name  of 
the  character  under  consideration  to  be  ping.  If  no 
single  character  be  thought  sufficiently  simple  to  ex- 
press the  sound  ping,  immediately  after  it  will  be  placed 
two  well-known  characters  pe  and  ing ;  but  as  every 
character  in  the  language  has  a  monosyllabic  sound,  it 
will  readily  be  concluded  that  pe  and  ing,  when  com- 
pressed into  one  syllable,  must  be  pronounced  ping. 
After  these  the  meaning  or  explanation  follows,  in  the 
clearest  and  mosteasy  characters  tfaatcan  be  employed." 

A  similar,  though  less  minute  account,  is  given  of  the 
Chinese  dictionary,  by  sir  George  Staunton,  who  further 
informs  us,  that  the  inhabitants  of  Canton,  prompted  by 
the  necessities  of  trade,  have  constructed  a  vocabulary 
of  English  words  expressed  in  Chinese  characters, 
which  are  merely  indicative  of  sotmd.  These  charac- 
ters are  in  very  familiar  use,  and  are  therefore  readily 
interpreted ;  and  in  the  vocabulary,  a  particular  mark  is 
annexed  to  each,  which  denotes,  that  the  character  is 
not  intended  to  denote  the  idea,  but  merely  the  foreign 
sound  attached  to  it.  Thus  the  necessity  of  explaining 
an  unknown  character,  or  of  conveying  the  sound  of  an 
unknown  word,  has  suggested  the  expedient  of  marking 
sounds  by  characters  in  familiar  use,  whose  pronuncia- 
tion will  therefore  very  readily  occur.  If  the  sound  is 
in  this  manner  designated  by  the  aid  of  two  or  more 
such  characters,  a  syllabic  writing  is  introduced,  calcu- 
lated, from  its  superior  simplicity,  to  supersede  the  use 
of  symbolic  characters,  indicative  of  things. 

Not  only  the  Chinese,  but  the  Japanese  also,  who 
make  use  of  the  Chinese  characters,  appear  to  have 
been  in  this  manner  led  to  adopt,  to  a  certain  degree, 
a  mode  of  writing  by  syllabic  charactei-s;  and  they 
seem  to  have  carried  it  further  than  even  the  Chinese 
themselves ;  as  we  are  assured,  they  have  a  fixed  syl- 
labic alphabet,  consisting  of  about  tifty  characters,  the 
figures  of  them  evidently  borrowed  from  the  represen- 
tative characters,  but  the  characters  themselves  denoting 
sounds,  not  ideas. 

It  is  the  opinion  of  M.  Goguet,  that  those  nations  of 
Asia,  known  to  the  ancients  by  the  names  of  Syrians  and 
Assyrians,  used  the  syllabic  way  of  writing.  This 
opinion  he  grounds  upon  an  ancient  tradition  preserved 
by  Diodorus,  according  to  which,  the  invention  of  writ- 
ing is  ascribed  to  the  Syrians,  but  the  Phoenicians  are 
said  to  have  improved  and  completed  it.  (Diod.  lib.  5.) 
This,  according  to  M.  Goguet,  denotes,  that  the  Syrians 
invented  syllabic  writing,  and  the  Phoenicians  alphabetic 
characters.  (Origin  des  loix,  &c.  lib.  ii.  c.  6.)  M.  Freret, 
in  a  paper  on  this  sulyect,  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Aca- 
demie  des  Inscriptions,  maintains,  that  syllabic  writ- 
ing was  employed  by  the  Abyssinians  or  Ethiopians, 
whose  alphabet,  he  says,  contained  200  characters;  by 
the  Indian  Brahmins,  whose  characters  do  not  differ 
much  from  the  Ethiopian,  and  amount  to  240  ;  by  the 
people  of  Malabar,  of  Bengal,  of  Boutan,  and  of  the 
two  Thibets,  whose  writing  is  in  use  in  all  western 
and  northern  Tartary,  from  the  frontiers  of  China  to 
the  north  of  the  Caspian  Sea;  by  the  inhabitants  of 
Ce)'lon,  of  Siam,  of  Java,  and  probably  other  eastern  na- 
tions, which,  says  he,  employ  a  kind  of  writing,  wherein 
the  syllables  compounded  of  consonants  and  vowels  are 
expressed  by  a  single  character.  These  opinions,  how- 
ever, it  must  be  oirned,  rest  upon  very  questionable 
grounds ;  M.  Freret,  in  particular,  has  evidently  l)een  led 
into  error,  by  mistaking  for  distinct  syllabic  characters 


ALPHABET. 


527 


the  ab!»reviated  juuclions  of  vowel  anil  consonant  fre- 
quently occurring  in  oriental  writing,  abbreviations  en- 
tirely similar  to  the  well-known  contractions  in  Greek, 
which  are  only  dilTerent  modes  of  writing  certain  letters 
when  occurring  together.  But  be  this  as  it  may,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  at  least  among  the  Chinese  and 
Japanese,  if  not  among  any  other  people,  the  syllabic 
mode  of  writing  has  been  to  a  certain  degree  super- 
induced U|)on  the  symbolic  or  representative  characters. 

Thus  far  we  may  consider  ourselves  as  pretty  well 
supported  by  facta  in  our  account  of  the  progress  of 
written  characters  i  but  we  are  utterly  unable  to  trace 
with  any  certainty  the  succeeding  steps  of  the  invention. 
It  has  been  supposed,  that  when  syllabic  characters  had 
come  into  common  use,  men  would  be  prompted  to 
simplify  them,  and  reduce  their  number,  by  resolving 
them  into  the  fewest  possible  elementary  sounds,  and 
that  thus,atlength,  analphabetofvouelsand consonants, 
or  of  mere  letters,  would  be  formed.  This,  however, 
was  by  no  means  an  easy  or  an  obvious  undertaking; 
the  vowels,  indeed,  are  only  syllabic  sounds  of  the  sim- 
plest form,  but  the  consonants  being  rather  elements  of 
sound  than  actual  sounds  themselves,  and  incapable  of 
being  distinctly  articulated  without  the  aid  of  a  vowel, 
either  prefixed  or  affixed,  the  resolution  of  these  could 
not  be  effected  without  a  very  refined  speculation  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  articulate  speech,  and  a  careful 
analysis  of  the  various  organs  employed  in  the  utterance 
of  language.  By  whom,  or  in  what  manner,  this  was 
accomplished,  is  still  the  great  desideratum  in  tracing 
theoretically  the  history  of  the  progress  of  alphabetic 
writing;  and  nothing  appears  to  have  been  yet  dis- 
covered capable  »f  elucidating  this  stage  of  the  in- 
quiry. It  is  certain  the  resolution  has  been  effected, 
but  when  and  how  it  was  done  remains  yet  to  be  dis- 
covered. 

II.  Though  the  progress  of  the  mind  in  the  inven- 
tion of  alphabetic  characterscannot  be  completely  traced, 
yet,  to  follow  out  as  far  as  possible  the  actual  history 
of  the  invention,  it  may  be  in  some  measure  satisfac- 
tory, shortly  to  review  the  pretensions  of  the  different 
nations,  who  have  laid  claim  to  the  honour  of  the  inven- 
tion. 

This  invention  has  been  claimed  by  a  number  of 
different  people.  The  Phoenicians,  the  Egyptians,  the 
Chaldeans,  and  the  Indians,  hare  all  made  pretensions 
to  it. 

The  Greeks  ascribed  the  invention  of  their  alphabet 
to  Cadmus  the  Phoenician,  who  planted  a  colony  iu 
Thebes.  Bythis,however,weareonlytounder!,tand)that 
Cadmus  was  the  first  who  made  alphabetic  characters 
known  in  Greece.  That  he  was  not  regarded  as  the 
actual  inventor  is  clear ;  for  Plato,  the  most  learned  of 
the  Greeks,  expressly  says,  that  Thaut  the  Egj/pliun 
was  the  first  that  divided  letters  into  vowels  and  con- 
sonants, mutes  and  liquids.  This  Thaul  or  Taaut,  is 
also  mentioned  by  Sanchouiatho,  the  Phoenician  his- 
torian, as  the  inventor  of  letters,  and  is  claimed  by  him 
as  a  Phcemiian  ;  he  is  sjiid  to  have  lived  in  the  12th  or 
13th  generation  after  tlie  creation,  and  to  have  been  the 
son  of  Misor,  and  grandson  ol  Huniyn.  To  reconcile 
these  different  accounts  of  tiie  country  of  Thaut,  Mr. 
Jackson,  in  his  Chronological  Antiquities,  maintains, 
that  letters  having  been  invented  by  Taaut,  or  Thoth, 
the  Phffinician,  son  of  Misraim,  who  lived  about  500 
years  after  the  deluge,  were  introduced  into  Egypt  by 
a  second  Taaut,  who  lived  about  4O0  yearn  after  the 


former.  Taaut  was  by  the  Greeks  called  Hermes,  and 
by  the  Latins  Mercury  ;  and  this  second  Hermes,  who 
obtained  the  name  of  Trismegistus,  was,  according  to 
Diodorus,  the  inventor  of  grammar,  music,  letters,  and 
writing,  as  well  as  the  author  of  numerous  books,  and 
many  important  inventions. 

The  Phoenicians  and  Egyptians  are  not  the  only  an- 
cient nations  that  have  preferred  a  claim  to  the  inven- 
tion of  the  alphabet ;  the  Chaldeans,  the  Syrians,  the 
Persians,  and  the  Arabians,  have  all  made  the  same  pre- 
tension, and  have  all  had  their  respective  advocates.  But 
the  gi-ounds  of  their  pretensions  appear  to  be  by  far  too 
vague  to  establish  their  claim. 

According  to  some  late  writers,  the  pretensions  of 
the  Indians  to  this  honour  rest  upon  better  grounds. 
The  Sanscrit,  or  more  refined  language  of  that  country, 
is  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  most  ancient  in  the  world, 
and  the  parent  of  almost  every  dialect  from  the  Persian 
Gulf  to  the  Chinese  Sea.  The  Hindoos  assert,  that 
they  were  in  possession  of  letters  belore  any  other  na- 
tion in  the  world ;  and  that  many  of  their  ancient  books 
describe  the  Egyptians,  and  other  nations  of  antiquity, 
as  their  disciples,  and  as  seeking  in  Hindostan  that  in- 
stniction  which  their  own  country  did  not  afford.  But 
extravagant  pretensions  to  antiquity  are  common  to  all 
nations,  and  many  of  the  assigned  dates  of  the  ancient 
Hindoo  writings  have  been  proved  to  be  highly  exag- 
gerated, or  altogether  fabulous. 

Among  these  different  pretensions,  it  is  not  very  easy 
to  come  to  a  certain  determination.  Mr.  Aatle,  after 
stating  the  claims  of  the  several  nations,  thus  estimates 
their  validity:  "  The  vanity  of  each  nation  induces  it 
to  pretend  to  the  most  early  civilization;  but  such  is 
the  uncertainty  of  ancient  history,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
decide  to  whom  the  honour  is  due.  It,  however,  should 
seem,  from  what  hath  been  advanced,  that  the  contest 
may  be  confined  to  the  Egyptians,  the  Phoenicians,  and 
the  Chaldeans.  The  Greek  writers,  and  most  of  those 
who  have  copied  them,  decide  in  favour  of  Egypt,  be- 
cause their  information  is  derived  from  the  Egyptians 
themselves.  The  positive  claim  of  the  Phojnicians 
doth  not  depend  upon  the  sole  testimony  of  Sanchonia* 
tho,  as  the  credit  of  his  history  is  so  well  supported  by 
Philo  of  Biblus  his  translator.  Porphyry,  Pliny,  Curtius, 
Lucau,  and  other  .ancient  authors,  who  might  have 
seen  his  works  entire,  and  whose  relations  deserve  at 
least  as  much  credit  as  those  of  the  Egyptian  and  Greek 
writers. 

"  The  Phoenician  and  Egyptian  languages  are  very 
similar,  but  the  latter  is  saitl  to  be  more  large  and 
full,  which  is  an  indication  of  its  being  of  a  later  date. 
The  opinion  of  Mr.  Wise,  however,  that  the  ancient 
Egyptian*  had  not  the  knowledge  of  letters,  seems  to 
be  erroneous;  as  they  had  commercial  intercourse 
with  their  neighbours  the  Phoenicians,  they  probably 
had  the  knowledge  of  letters,  if  their  policy,  like  that 
of  the  Chinese  at  this  day,  did  not  prohibit  the  use  of 
them. 

'•  The  Clialdeans,  who  cultivated  astronomy  in  the 
most  remote  ages,  used  symbols,  or  arbitrary  marks,  in 
their  calculations ;  and  we  have  shown,  that  these  were 
the  parents  of  letters.  This  circumstance  greatly 
favours  their  claim  to  the  invention  ;  because  Chaldea, 
and  the  countries  adjacent,  are  allowed  by  all  authors, 
both  sacred  and  profane,  to  have  been  peopled  be- 
fore Egypt;  and  it  is  certain,  that  many  nations,  said 
to  be  descended  from   Shem  and  Japhet,  had  their 


o2S 


ALPHABET. 


letters  from  the  Phoenicians,  who  were  descended  from 
Bam. 

"  It  is  observable,  that  the  Chaldeans,  the  Syrians, 
Phccniciaiis,  and  Egyptians,  all  bordered  upon_  each 
other :  and  as  the  Phoenicians  were  the  greatest,  as 
well  as  the  most  ancient  commercial  nation,  it  is  very 
probable  that  they  communicated  letters  to  the  Egyp- 
tians, the  ports  of  Tyre  and  Sidon  being  not  far  distant 
from  each  other. 

"Alr.Jackson  is  evidently  mistaken  when  he  says,  that 
letters  were  invented  2019  years  before  the  birth  of 
Christ.  The  deluge,  recorded  by  Moses,  was  2349 
years  before  that  event ;  and  if  letters  were  not  invented 
till  350  years  after,  as  he  asserts,  we  must  date  their 
discovery  only  1 799  years  before  the  Christian  aera, 
which  is  410  years  after  the  reign  of  Menes,  the  first 
Idng  of  Egypt,  who,  according  to  Syncellus  and  others, 
is  said  to  have  been  the  same  person  with  the  Misor  of 
Sanconiatho,  the  Mizraim  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the 
Osiris  of  the  Egyptians;  but  whether  this  be  true  or  not, 
Egypt  is  frequently  called  in  Scripture,  the  Land  of 
Miiraim. 

"  This  Mizniim,  the  second  son  of  Amyn,  or  Ham, 
seated  himself  near  the  entrance  of  Egypt,  at  Zoan,  in 
the  year  before  Christ  2188,  and  160  years  after  the 
flood.  He  afterwards  built  Thebes,  and  some  say 
Memphis.  Before  the  time  that  he  went  into  Egypt, 
his  son  Taaut  had  invented  letters  in  Phoenicia  j  and  if 
this  invention  took  place  ten  years  before  the  migration 
of  his  father  into  Egypt,  as  Mr.  Jackson  supposes,  we 
may  trace  letters  as  far  back  as  the  year  2178  before 
Christ,  or  150  years  after  the  deluge  recorded  by  Moses  ; 
and  beyond  this  period,  the  written  annals  of  mankind, 
which  have  been  hitherto  transmitted  to  us,  will  not 
enable  us  to  trace  the  knowledge  of  them ;  though  this 
want  of  materials  is  no  proof  that  letters  were  not  known 
until  a  century  and  an  half  after  the  deluge.  As  for 
the  pretensions  of  the  Indian  nations,  we  must  be  bet- 
ter acquainted  with  their  records  before  we  can  admit 
of  their  claim  to  the  first  use  of  letters ;  especially  as 
none  of  their  manuscripts  of  any  great  antiquity  have 
yet  appeared  in  Europe.  That  the  Arabians  were  not 
the  inventors  of  letters,  has  appeared  by  their  own  con- 
fession. Plato  somewhere  mentions  Hyperborean  let- 
ters very  different  from  the  Greek ;  these  might  have 
been  the  cliaracters  used  by  the  Tartars,  or  ancient 
Scythians." 

Mr.  Astle  having  thus  balanced  the  evidence  in  fa- 
Tonr  of  the  various  claimants  to  the  invention  of  the 
alphabet,  makes  also  observations  on  the  subject  of  an- 
tediluvian letters.  "  It  may  be  expected,"  says  he, "  that 
something  should  be  said  concerning  those  books  men- 
tioned by  some  authors  to  have  been  written  before  the 
deluge.  Amongst  others,  Dr.  Parsons,  in  his  Remaitis 
of  Japhet,  p.  346 — 359,  supposes  letters  to  have  been 
known  to  Adam ;  and  the  Sabians  produce  a  book  which 
they  pretend  was  written  by  Adam.  But  concerning 
these,  we  have  no  guide  to  direct  us  any  more  than  con- 
cerning the  supposed  books  of  Enoch;  some  of  which, 
Origen  tells  us,  were  found  in  Arabia  Felix,  in  the  domin- 
ions of  the  queen  of  Saba.  Tertullian  affirms,  that  he  saw 
and  read  several  pages  of  them ;  and  in  his  treatise  De 
Habibi  MuKcntm,  he  places  those  books  among  the  can- 
onical :  but  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Austin  look  upon  them  to 
be  apocryphal.  William  Postellus  pretended  to  com- 
pile his  book  De  Originibus,  from  the  book  of  Enoch ; 
and  Thomas  Bangias  published  at  Copenhagen,  in  1657, 


a  work  which  contains  many  singular  relations  concern- 
ing the  manner  of  writing  among  the  antediluvians, 
which  contains  several  pleasant  stories  concerning  the 
books  of  Enoch.  With  regard  to  this  patriarch,  indeed, 
St.  Jude  informs  us  that  he  prophesied;  but  he  does  not 
say  that  he  wrote.  The  writings,  therefore,  attributed 
to  the  antediluvians,  must  appear  quite  uncertain, 
though  it  might  be  improper  to  assert,  that  letters  were 
unknown  before  the  deluge  recorded  by  Moses."  Up- 
on the  whole,  Mr.  Astle  gives  his  opinion  in  these 
words :  "  It  appears  to  us,  that  the  PlKcnicians  have 
the  best  claim  to  the  honour  of  the  invention  of  let- 
ters." 

In  forming  this  conclusion,  however,  Mr.  Astle  ap- 
pears to  have  had  in  view  only  the  evidence  arising  from 
the  vague  and  dubious  traditions  of  the  Greeks ;  and  it 
is  rather  surprising,  that,  while  examining  the  preten- 
sions of  the  Egyptians,  Phoenicians,  Arabians,  and  Sy- 
rians, he  seems  to  have  altogether  overlooked  the  better 
authenticated  claims  of  the  Hebrews  to  the  invention  of 
alphabetic  writing.  It  is  incontestible,  that  the  ancient 
Israelites  were  in  possession  of  an  alphabet,  and  that  al- 
phabet too,  little  less  perfect  than  those  in  use  at  the  pre- 
sent day,  at  a  perioil  when  no  authentic,  or  even  very  cre- 
dible, accounts  attest,  that  among  any  other  nation  or  peo- 
ple any  alphabet  existed.  This  certainly  affords  a  strong 
ground  of  presumption,  that  if  the  Hebrews  were  not 
absolutely  the  inventors  of  letters,  at  least  they  had  the 
knowledge  of  them  prior  to  any  of  those  nations  whose 
claim  to  the  invention  has  been  thought  the  most  plau- 
sibly supported.  Indeed  there  seems  great  reason  to 
believe,  that  when  the  Greeks  spoke  of  the  Phoenicians 
as  very  early  acquainted  with  letters,  they  confounded 
them  with  the  Hebrews;  the  proximity  of  situation,  and 
similarity  of  language,  preventing  them  from  knowing 
the  distinction.  When  therefore  the  Phoenician  alpha- 
bet is  mentioned  as  the  most  ancient,  there  is  little 
doubt  that  either  the  Hebrew  alphabet  itself  was  really 
meant,  or  a  transcript  of  it  more  or  less  perfect  adopt- 
ed by  their  neighbours  the  Phoenicians,  from  whom  the 
invention  was  communicated  to  the  ancient  Greeks.  In 
concluding,  therefore,  that  the  evidence  in  favour  of  the 
claim  of  the  Phoenician  to  the  honour  of  the  invention 
rather  preponderates,  we  may  consider  ourselves  as 
warranted  in  doing  so  in  opposition  to  the  claims  of  the 
Egyptians,  Arabians,  Chaldeans,  and  Syrians;  but  if 
the  Phoenician  and  the  Hebrew  alphabet  were  not  the 
same,  the  pretensions  of  the  Phcenicians  must  give  way 
to  the  better  established  claim  of  the  Hebrews. 

Such  is  the  general  result  of  the  information  we  pos- 
sess concerning  the  formation  of  the  alphabet,  and  the 
era  and  the  authors  of  that  invention.  The  evidence  is 
certainly  insufficient  to  enable  us  to  form  a  decisive  opi- 
nion. So  uncertain  and  doubtful,  indeed,  is  the  history 
of  this  invention,  that  it  has  frequently  been  maintained, 
and  that  too  with  very  plausible  arguments,  that  alpha- 
betic writing  is  not  a  human  invention,  but  of  divine 
revelation. 

III.  It  will  be  proper,  therefore,  now  to  state  the 
grounds  upon  which  this  opinion  of  the  divine  origin  of 
alphabetic  writing  has  been  maintained. 

The  arguments  which  are  brought  in  support  of  the 
divine  revelation  of  the  alphabet,  are  chiefly  these : 
1st,  The  high  antiquity  of  the  use  of  letters ;  the  He- 
brew characters  having  existed  in  a  jicrfect  state  when 
Moses  composed  the  Pentateuch,  the  most  ancient  wri- 
ting now  known  to  be  extant.     2d,  The  similarity  be> 


ALPHABET. 


529 


iween  the  various  alphabets  of  different  nations,  which, 
for  the  most  part,  are  the  same,  in  the  order,  power,  and 
even  form  of  their  letters,  with  tlie  Hebrew.  3d,  The  com- 
plete want  of  alphabetic  characters  among  those  nations 
which  have  been  cut  oCf  from  all  communication  witii 
the  ancient  civilized  world ;  or  that  part  of  the  human 
race  which  had  no  opportunity  of  borrowing  the  system 
of  written  characters,  revealed  to  the  Hebrews.  4th, 
The  difficulty  of  the  invention,  considering  the  rude 
state  of  society  at  which  it  should  seem  that  it  must 
have  been  accomplished. 

let.  It  has  been  urged,  that  the  alphabet  certainly 
esisted  in  a  very  remote  period  of  antiquity,  in  as  great 
a  state  of  perfection  as  at  present;  for  the  Hebrew  al- 
phabet, as  employed  by  Moses,  is  hardly  less  perfect 
than  any  other  system  of  written  characters,  ancient  or 
modern.  But  it  is  entirely  opposite  to  the  course  of 
nature,  that  an  invention  of  great  difficulty  should  at 
once  be  brought  to  a  perfect  state,  it  being  invariably 
found,  that  arts  in  their  origin  are  very  rude  and  defec- 
tive, and  are  not  brought  to  a  stale  of  maturity  without 
the  labour  and  care  of  successive  ages.  The  arts  of 
sculpture,  painting,  architecture,  metallurgy,  and  a 
thousand  others,  were  not  brought  to  perfection  till  af- 
ter the  lapse  of  many  ages,  and  when  men  had  attained 
to  refinement  of  manners,  and  scientific  skill.  But  if 
alphabetic  characters  were  the  invention  of  men,  it  must 
be  supposed  that  the  art  of  writing  might  be  perfected, 
while  they  were  yet  in  a  state  of  ignorance  and  barba- 
rity ;  a  supposition  altogether  repugnant  to  the  natural 
course  of  things. 

It  is  further  alleged,  that  the  very  period  at  which 
alphabetical  characters  were  communicated  from  above, 
is  expressly  stated  in  the  books  of  Moses.  This  period, 
was  the  delivery  of  the  laws  of  the  two  tables  of  stone 
upon  Mount  Sinai,  which,  according  to  the  testimony 
of  Moses,  were  written  by  the  finger  ofQod.  "  And  he 
gave  unto  Moses,  upon  Mount  Sinai,  two  tables  of  tes- 
timony, tables  of  stone,  written  with  the  finger  of  God." 
Exod.  xxxi.  18,  And  again,  "  And  Moses  went  down 
from  the  mount,  and  the  two  tables  of  the  testimony 
were  in  his  hand ;  the  tables  were  written  on  both  their 
sides.  And  the  tables  were  the  work  of  God  ;  and  the 
writing  was  the  writing  of  God,  graven  upon  the  tables." 
Exod.  xxxii.  15,  16.  To  this,  however,  it  is  objected, 
that  writing  is  mentioned  by  Moses  as  a  thing  well 
known  before  the  delivery  of  the  tables  of  the  law  oh 
Mount  Sinai ;  it  occurs  in  the  1 7th  chapter  of  Exodus, 
in  which  Moses  is  commanded  to  rvrite  in  a  book  ;  and 
this  was  before  the  arrival  of  the  Israelites  at  Mount 
Sinai.  A  command  is  given  to  engrave  the  names  of 
the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel  upon  stones,  like  the  engra- 
vings of  a  signet ;  a  command  which  implies,  that  wri- 
ting had  been  known  and  practised  among  them  for  a 
considerable  time.  The  people  were  directed  to  write 
the  law  upon  their  door  posts ;  another  proof  that  the 
art  of  writing  must  have  been  well  known.  Writing  is 
alluded  to  by  Moses  in  various  other  passages;  as 
Numb.  c.  xxxiii.  v.  1.  c.  xvii.  v.  18.  c.  xxxi.  v.  9.  19, 
26 ;  and  no  where  is  it  spoken  of  as  a  new  invention,  or 
a  divine  revelation.  But  had  either  been  the  case,  it 
might  have  been  supposed,  that  it  would  have  been 
commemorated  by  the  Jewish  legislator,  who  has,  on 
other  occasions,  recorded  the  invention  of  music,  me- 
tallurgy, and  other  lets  important  arts;  and  who  would 
hardly  have  omitted  to  state  so  important  a  circum- 
stance as  the  immediate  revelation  of  letters,  by  the 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


Divinity  himself.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  asserted  with 
consistency,  that  there  is  any  evidence  in  scripture  for 
the  divine  revelation  of  alphabetic  characters;  and  it  is 
even  rendered  probable  by  the  testimony  of  Moses  hini- 
Belf,  that  they  had  been  in  familiar  use  before  his  time. 
It  appears  more  probable,  that  he  carried  the  art  with 
him  from  Egypt,  and  probably  may  have  acquire<I  it 
while  an  exile  in  Arabia. 

2d,  It  has  been  said,  that  if  alphabetical  writing  were 
a  mere  human  invention,  diOerent  nations  would  have 
fallen  upon  the  same  expedient,  without  borrowing  it 
from  each  other.  But  on  the  contrary,  the  alphabets  of 
different  nations,  instead  of  being  as  diversified  as  the 
nations  themselves,  may,  with  little  trouble,  be  referred 
to  one  common  original.  Thus,  the  alphabets  of  the 
modern  nations  of  Europe,  have  all  evidently  been  de- 
rived from  the  Roman.  The  Roman  alphabet  is  plainly 
derived  from  the  Greek.  The  Greeks  acknowledged 
that  they  owed  their  alphabet  to  the  Phoenicians,  who, 
as  well  as  their  colonists  the  Carthaginians,  spoke  a 
dialect  of  the  Hebrew,  scarce  varying  from  the  original. 
The  Coptic,  or  Egyptian,  resembles  the  Greek  in  most 
of  its  characters,  and  is  therefore  to  be  referred  to  the 
same  source.  The  Chaldee,  Syriac,  and  latter  Sama- 
ritan, are  dialects  of  the  Hebrew,  without  any  consider- 
able deviation,  or  many  additional  words.  The  Ethi- 
opic  differs  more  from  the  Hebrew,  but  less  than  the 
Arabic;  yet  these  languages  have  all  issued  from  the 
same  stock,  as  the  similarity  of  their  formation,  and  the 
numberless  words  common  to  them  all,  sufficiently 
evince;  the  Persic  is  very  nearly  allied  to  the  Arabic. 
It  may  fairly  be  inferred  then,  that  all  these  languages, 
and  their  alphabetical  characters,  have  been  connected 
immediately  or  remotely  with  those  of  the  Hebrews, 
who  have  handed  down  the  earliest  specimens  of  wri- 
ting to  posterity. 

This  view  of  the  subject  is  greatly  confirmed  by  the 
sameness  of  the  artificial  denominations,  and  of  the 
order  of  arrangement  of  the  letters  in  the  Latin,  Greek, 
and  Oriental  languages.  This  order  is  entirely  artifi- 
cial ;  for  though  it  might  be  deemed  according  to  na- 
ture, to  begin  the  alphabet  with  the  latter  A,  the  sim- 
plest of  the  vowel  sounds,  no  good  reason  can  be  assigned 
ibr  proceeding  next  to  B,  one  of  the  consonants  called 
mutes ;  yet  such  is  the  order  in  most  of  the  alphabets 
above  mentioned.  In  all  of  them  likewise  a  great  simi- 
larity is  found  in  the  succession  of  the  rest  of  their 
letters.  In  many  of  them  likewise  there  is  an  evident 
likeness  in  the  forms  of  the  corresponding  characters. 
These  alphabets,  therefore,  have  manifestly  been  bor- 
rowed the  one  from  the  other. 

If  in  many  cases  we  are  unable  to  trace  a  resemblance 
in  the  characters  of  different  alphabets,  still  this  is  no 
argument  that  the  alphabets  have  not  been  derived  from 
a  common  source,  if  we  find  the  order  and  power  of 
their  letters  nearly  alike.  A  variety  of  causes  may  be 
assigned  for  a  variation  in  the  form  of  written  charac- 
ters, casually  or  intentionally  introduced ;  such  as  the 
fancy  of  transcribers,  the  vanity  of  introducing  innova- 
tions, the  veneration  for  ancient  symbols,  and  the  insen- 
sible effects  of  the  lapse  of  lime.  Before  the  art  of 
printing  was  invented,  and  when  every  work  was  copied 
by  manual  labour,  we  may  easily  conceive  how  many 
alterations  in  the  form  of  alphabetic  characters  might 
be  introduced  from  these  or  other  sources;  and  from 
what  has  taken  place  in  the  form  of  the  letters  of  our 
own  language  during  the  lapse  of  ages,  it  will  be  ad- 
3  X 


630 


ALPHABET. 


Diitted,  that  these  causes  are  sufficient  to  account  for  a 
total  departure  from  the  original  resemblance  that 
might  have  prevailed  between  different  alphabets.  It 
is  almost  certain,  that  the  alphabets  of  the  old  Samari- 
tan and  the  Hebrew  were  originally  the  same  ;  as  the 
two  languages  have  so  great  a  resemblance,  that  the 
Samaritan  Pentateuch  does  not  vary  from  the  Hebrew, 
by  a  single  letter  in  twenty  words;  yet  the  characters 
in  which  these  two  languages  have  descended  to  us, 
are  totally  different.  We  are  informed  by  Herodotus, 
that  the  Greeks  first  used  the  Phoenician  characters 
imported  by  Cadmus ;  but  in  process  of  time,  as  (he 
pronunciation  altered,  the  form  of  the  letters  was  also 
changed.  The  Phoenician  letters,  however,  continued 
to  be  used,  with  little  variation,  by  the  lonians,  who 
dwelt  in  the  country  adjacent  to  the  Phoenician  terri- 
tory. 

It  has,  however,  been  maintained  by  Mr.  Astle,  that 
it  will  be  impossible  to  reduce  all  the  known  alphabets 
to  a  common  source,  even  by  the  most  liberal  allowance 
for  casual  variation.  There  are,  ke  asserts,  a  variety 
of  alphabets  used  in  different  parts  of  Asia,  which  can- 
not be  derived  from  the  Hebrew  or  Phoenician,  as  they 
vary  not  only  in  the  figure  and  number,  but  in  the  name, 
order,  and  power  of  their  letters.  The  foundation  of 
many  of  these  Eastern  alphabets  appears  to  be  that  of 
the  Sanscrit,  which  has  fifty  characters,  and  therefore, 
according  to  him,  must  have  many  marks  of  sounds. 
Which  are  not  required  in  the  notation  of  the  languages 
of  Europe.  There  are  also,  according  to  the  same  au- 
thority, several  alphabets  used  in  different  parts  of 
Asia,  entirely  different  not  only  from  the  Phcenician  or 
Hebrew,  and  all  its  derivatives,  but  also  from  the  San- 
scrit, and  all  those  that  may  probably  have  proceeded 
from  it.  Such,  says  he,  are  the  alphabet  of  Pegu,  the 
Batta  characters  used  in  the  island  of  Sumatra,  and  the 
Barman  or  Boman  characters  used  in  some  parts  of 
Pegu.  He  therefore  concludes,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
assimilate  the  forms,  names,  order,  or  power  of  these 
alphabets,  either  with  the  Phoenician,  or  Sanscrit ;  so 
that  we  must  be  forced  to  admit,  that  alphabetic  writing 
is  not  the  invention  of  one,  but  of  several  different  na- 
tions. 

In  these  assertions,  however,  we  may  remark,  Mr. 
Astle  is  much  too  rash,  and  seems  to  be  rather  ill  foun- 
ded. The  coincidence  of  all  the  alphabets  in  use  to 
the  westward  of  Persia,  with  the  Hebrew  or  Phoeni- 
cian, admits  of  no  dispute ;  it  is  only  to  those  existing 
in  the  country  to  the  eastward,  that  his  opinion  of  pal- 
pable discrepancy  in  their  nature,  form,  and  structure, 
will  apply.  Now  there  is  very  little  doubt,  notwith- 
standing Mr.  Astle's  averment,  that  all  these  Indian 
alphabets  may  be  traced  as  derivatives,  either  imme- 
diate or  remote,  from  the  Sanscrit;  a  more  accurate 
acquaintance  with  Indian  literature  has  established  this 
fact,  even  with  respect  to  some  of  those  formerly  re- 
garded as  irreconcileably  dissimilar ;  and  further  know- 
ledge will  in  all  probability  evince  the  same  of  the 


rest,  though  accidental  circumstances  may  have  given 
rise  to  smaller  diversities*.  If  then  it  shall  be  found 
upon  examination,  that  the  Sanscrit  alphabet  itself  has 
proceeded  from  the  same  source  with  the  alphabets  in 
use  to  the  westward,  the  argument  against  the  common 
origin  of  Indian  and  European  letters,  taken  from  the 
discrepancies  apparently  existing  between  them,  must 
fall  to  the  ground.  Our  acquaintance  with  the  Sanscrit 
is  yet  too  imperfect  to  enable  us  to  follow  out  this  in- 
vestigation fully ;  but  as  the  coincidence  of  the  Sanscrit 
language  with  Persian,  Araljic,  and  Greek,  not  in  de- 
tached words  only,  but  even  in  the  radical  parts  of  (he 
language,  has  been  noticed  iu  strong  terms  by  those 
best  versed  in  Indian  learningt,  this  coincidence  can 
hardly  admit  of  a  doubt ;  and  surely  if  the  languages  be 
radically  similar,  the  sources  of  the  alphabets  cannot 
well  be  supposed  radically  different ;  if  the  former  bear 
marks  of  a  common  origin,  it  may  well  be  presumed 
that  the  latter  has  a  common  origin  also.  In  confirma- 
tion of  this  opinion,  the  actual  similarity  of  more  than 
one  of  the  Sanscrit  characters  as  they  exist  at  the  pre- 
sent day,  with  (he  corresponding  characters  in  the  old 
Hebrew  or  Samaritan  alphabet,  may  be  adduced.  This 
similarily  in  some  of  the  characters,  has  been  inci- 
dentally remarked  by  sir  William  Jones;  and  furlher 
coincidences  might  be  traced,  could  we  carefully  fol- 
low out  the  forms  of  the  letters  in  both,  through  the 
different  variations,  which  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  and  pro- 
gress through  different  countries,  they  must  have  un- 
dergonej. 

The  deversity  in  the  order  of  (he  letters  in  (hese  dif- 
ferent alphabets,  is  a  circumstance  of  little  or  no  weight 
in  deciding  the  present  question.  It  is  well  known,  that 
in  some  alphabets,  confessedly  derived  from  each  other, 
(the  Hebrew  and  Persic  for  example,)  great  variations 
in  this  respect  have  taken  place,  either  from  convenience 
or  caprice.  The  Hebre^v  indeed  has  retained  its  origi- 
nal order;  but  in  (he  Persic,  considerable  changes  have 
been  introduced,  in  consequence  of  which,  (he  nume- 
rical powers  of  several  of  the  letters  in  the  latter  do  not 
at  all  correspond  to  their  numerical  places  in  the  pre- 
sent alphabet,  but  coincide  exactly  with  the  numerical 
places  of  the  corresponding  letters  in  the  former.  In 
like  manner,  changes  at  different  times,  and  from  differ- 
ent causes,  may  have  occasioned  the  different  order  now 
observed  in  the  Indian  and  western  alphabets,  though 
they  had  originally  emanated  from  one  source. 

Upon  the  most  attentive  examination,  therefore,  we 
seem  to  be  warranted  in  concluding,  that  no  sufficient 
grounds  have  yet  been  adduced  lor  rejecting  the  opinion 
of  the  common  origin  of  all  the  alphabets  at  present  ex- 
isting. 

3d,  It  has  been  argued,  that  alphabelic  writing  is  only 
to  be  found  among  nations  (hat  had  a  channel  of  inter- 
course wi(h  the  ancient  Phoenicians,  or  Chaldwans,  or 
Hebrews,  or  whatever  eastern  trilie  it  was  among  whom 
the  characters  of  (he  alphabel  were  first  in  use.  In  (he 
western  continent  of  America,  no  traces  of  alphabetic 


•  An  ciiception  should  perhtps  be  made  of  what  are  called  the  Pali,  or  Sacred  Characters,  which  seem  to  be  quite  of  a  different 
kind  from  the  characters  in  common  use.  These,  liowever,  it  is  probable,  were  inrcnted  by  the  i)riests  for  the  express  purposes  of 
concealment  and  mystery  ;  the  structure  of  tticse,  therefore,  no  more  invalidates  the  general  argument,  tlian  tlie  existence  of  short- 
hand writing,  or  of  secret  cyphers  among  us,  would  disprove  the  assertion,  that  our  alphabet  was  derived  from  the  Koman. 

f  In  particular  Mr.  Ilalhed. 

i  It  will  be  sufficient  here  just  to  mention  the  similarity  of  the  Sanscrit  Ma,  with  the  SamariUn  and  Hebrew  Mem  .-  the  Sanscrit  Sa, 
with  the  Samaritan  and  Hebrew  Samech ,-  the  Sanscrit  JBa,  with  the  Samaritas  JBeth  ,•  and  the  Sanscrit  A'a,  with  the  Samaritan  Cap/i. 
(Compare  Plates  X.  and  XI.)  Further  resemblances  might  be  shown,  but  it  would  have  required  several  plates  to  exhibit  the  progres- 
it'ne  alteratioiu  ia  the  form  of  a  character  passinj;  from  one  age  or  people  to  another. 


ALPHABET 


631 


Writing  have  been  disco? ered,  although  various  ingenious 
attempts  at  communicating  thought  by  visible  symbols 
have  been  found  among  the  Mexicans,  Peruvians,  and 
some  other  American  nations.  Nay,  in  the  eastern  dis- 
tricts of  Asia,  inhabited  by  the  Chinese,  and  scarcely 
known  to  the  ancient  world,  alphabetic  writing  has  never 
been  introduced.  Among  this  people,  celebrated  for 
their  ingenuity,  their  discoveries  in  the  arts,  and  their 
early  civiliration,  writing  has  made  no  greater  progress 
than  the  expression  of  thought  by  representative  sym- 
bols, which  render  it  an  art  of  the  greatest  intricacy 
and  difficulty.  After  the  lapse  of  many  ages,  there  is 
no  appearance  in  China  of  any  approach  towards  the 
simplicity  of  alphabetic  writing ;  but  on  the  contrary, 
the  characters  of  that  country  are  every  day  becoming 
more  complicated  and  voluminous.  To  take  away  the 
force  of  this  argument,  however,  it  has  been  observed, 
that  the  Chinese  are  of  all  nations  the  most  averse  to  in- 
novation; not  only  the  art  of  writing,  but  almost  every 
art  of  life,  have  been  stationary  among  them,  since  they 
have  become  an  object  of  observation  to  Europeans;  and 
that  there  is  no  wonder  the  art  of  writing  in  alphabetic 
characters  was  not  invented  by  the  American  nations, 
nor  has  been  found  among  remote  uncivilized  tribes ;  as 
this  is  an  art  which  never  will  be  resorted  to  till  men  are 
somewhat  advanced  ia  intellectual  improvement,  and 
strongly  impelled  to  give  permanency  to  their  thoughts 
and  speculations. 

4th,  This  naturally  introduces  our  final  argument  for 
the  divine  revelation  of  alphabetic  characters  ;  the  rude- 
ness of  the  period  at  which  the  alphabet  originated,  and 
the  great  difficulty  of  the  invention.  Can  it  be  supposed, 
it  is  said,  that  an  invention  so  refined  and  ingenious  as 
that  of  the  alphabet,  could  have  ever  occurred  to  a  bar- 
barous and  illiterate  people,  employed  chiefly  in  provid- 
ing for  the  necessities  of  life,  and  ignorant  of  every  kind 
of  refinement,  and  every  department  of  science  ?  But  to 
this  it  is  answered,  that  long  before  the  age  of  Moses, 
many  of  the  eastern  nations  had  made  very  considerable 
advances,  not  only  in  the  arts,  but  in  many  branches  of 
scientific  knowledge.  The  Scripture  testities,  that  the 
arts  of  metallurgy,  music,  and  some  others,  were  well 
known  to  the  antediluvians.  In  Egypt,  the  arts  of  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  architecture,  were  far  advanced  in 
the  ages  immediately  succeeding  the  floort;  and  in  that 
country,  in  Chaldaea,  and  in  India,  the  sciences  of  cal- 
culation, and  the  phenomena  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
were  studied  with  great  care  from  the  most  remote  pe- 
riod of  historic  records.  That  age,  therefore,  can  hardly 
be  termed  barbarous,  uncivilized,  or  even  illiterate,  to 
which  the  invention  of  alphabetic  characters  is  ascribed. 
At  a  period  when  astronomical  observations  were  made 
with  success,  and  the  future  appearances  of  the  hea- 
vens predicted  with  considerable  accuracy,  it  is  not  un- 
reasonable to  suppo8e,that  the  communication  of  thought 
by  characters,  representing  the  elements  of  articulate 
•peecb,  might  have  occurred  by  some  happy  coincidence 
of  circumstances  to  one  or  more  individual's,  distinguish- 
ed for  ingenuity  and  acuteness.  After  all,  however,  it 
must  he  acknowledged,  that  taking  into  view  the  situa- 
tion and  circumstances  of  the  Hebrew  nation,  at  the  time 
when  the  use  of  alphabetic  characters  most  probably 
originated,  and  certainly  was  universally  known  among 
them,  it  will  be  found  very  difficult  indeed,  upon  the 


supposition  of  this  being  a  mere  human  inventioij,  to 
account  for  the  fact  of  so  astonishing  an  advance  being 
made  by  them  in  an  art  so  refined  and  difficult  as  that  of 
representing  words  by  means  of  alphabetic  characters. 

Thus  have  we  endeavoured  to  state,  with  impartiality, 
the  arguments,  both  for  and  against  the  divine  revela- 
tion of  alphabetic  writing,  and  the  evidence  upon  which 
each  side  has  been  supported.  It  can  scarcely  be  said 
that  the  reasoning  is  conclusive  on  either  part;  the 
question  must  still,  and  will  probably  for  ever,  remain 
undetermined. 

Having  thus  discussed  the  three  proposed  branches 
of  the  history  of  alphabetic  writing,  we  shall  next  pro- 
ceed to  make  some  remarks  on  the  more  impoitant 
known  alphabets,  ancient  and  modern,  their  different  re- 
lations, and  their  dependence  on  one  another. 

The  most  ancient  of  all  the  alphabets  with  which  we 
are  acquainted,  is  certainly  the  old  Hebrew  or  Samari- 
tan. It  consists  of  22  letters,  all  of  which  are  by  many 
reckoned  consonants,  though  others,  upon  pretty  solid 
grounds,  regard  five  of  them  as  vowels,  and  only  17  as 
consonants.  Though  this  alphabet  is  tolerably  complete, 
in  regard  to  the  language  for  which  it  is  used,  yet  it  is 
by  no  means  perfect ;  it  is  both  defective  and  redundant : 
it  is  certainly  defective  in  regard  to  the  vowel  charac- 
ters ;  for  even  admitting  five  of  the  constituent  letters 
to  have  been  vowels,  yet  there  are  many  words  where 
none  of  these  occur ;  and  where  therefore  the  want  of 
vowels  must  be  supplied  either  by  the  conjecture  of  the 
reader,  or  by  the  complex  and  operose  machinery  of 
vowel  points;  it  is  redundant,  both  by  allotting  more 
than  one  letter  to  the  same  power  and  sound,  as  o  and 
t>  to  denote  S,  a  and  ?  to  express  K,  and  by  reckoning 
double  letters  among  the  elements  of  speech,  as  p  for 
Ts.  In  this  alphabet  the  names  of  the  letters  are  all 
significant;  Aleph,  signifying  an  ox;  Beth,  a  house; 
Gimel,  a  camel,  and  so  on.  In  what  manner,  and  on 
what  principles,  the  order  of  the  letters  adopted  in  the 
Hebrew  alphabet  was  established,  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
jecture ;  the  order  is  certainly  inartificial  and  confused; 
perhaps  it  arose  from  some  accidental  circumstance  of 
the  letters  ha|)pening  to  follow  one  another  in  that  order 
ia  the  earliest  writings  to  which  they  were  applied. 

The  form  of  the  old  Hebrew  characters  appears  to 
have  undergone  several  variations.  It  is  generally  be- 
lieved, that  the  Chaldaic,  or  square  Hebrew,  was  adopt- 
ed by  the  Jews  during  the  Babylonish  captivity,  and 
ever  alXerwards  retained  among  them,  while  the  old  form 
was  preserved  among  the  Samaritans. 

From  the  ancient  Hebrew  alphabet,  one  of  the  ear- 
liest derivations  was  the  Phoenician*.  The  two  languages 
were  kindred  dialects,  and  the  forms  of  the  letters  have 
a  considerable  resemblance.  By  comparing  the  1st  and 
2d  columns  of  Plate  X.  and  the  Cth  column  of  Plate 
XI.,  the  similarity  will  be  manifest.  The  Phoenician 
alphabet  indeed,  as  we  have  it  now,  is  not  so  full  as  the 
Hebrew,  containing  only  seventeen  letters,  but  proba- 
bly it  has  reached  us  in  an  imperfect  state.  There  is  a 
Phrenician  alphabet  found  in  an  inscription  preserved  at 
Oxford,  (see  Plate  X.  at  the  foot,)  difleringa  little  from 
the  other;  the  difference,  however,  is  slight,  and  only 
serves  to  show  to  what  accidental  variations  the  same 
alphabet  may  be  occasionally  su!>jected.     ■ 

Closely  connected  with  the  Phoenician  alphabet,  we 


*  Mr.  Astle  has  reversed  this  onler,  making  the  Phcenician  the  parent  of  the  Hebrew  ;  hot  he  has  offered  no  argaments  in  support 
of  this  notion,  and  the  superior  antiquity  of  the  Hebrev  appears  the  more  probable  supposition. 

3X2 


632 


ALPHABET. 


find  the  BastitUui*,  Palmyraanf,  and  PtmiVJ,  all  of  them 
only  different  modes  of  writing  the  Phoenician,  which 
require,  therefore,  no  particular  observations. 

From  the  Hebrew  alphabet,  it  is  evident,  originated 
the  Syriac,  the  Arabic,  and  the  Persian  ;  they  differ  in- 
deed, in  some  degree,  in  the  number  and  position  of  the 
letters,  but  their  general  resemblance  sufficiently  proves 
their  origii!. 

All  of  these  aijihabels  were  written  from  right  to  left, 
a  mode  of  writing  stiij  preserved  in  all  of  them  to  the 
present  day. 

From  the  same  source,  the  Ectrew,  or  its  immediate 
derivative,  the  Phoenician  alphabet,  srose  the  old  Pelas- 
^ic,  destined  itself  to  become  the  fertile  parent  of  most 
of  the  European  alphabets.  As  the  Pelasgi  were  un- 
doubtedly of  Phoenician  origin,  they  brought  witii  them 
into  Greece  a  knowledge  of  the  Phoenician  alphabei.'c 
characters.  At  first  we  are  told  their  letters  were  only 
sixteen  in  number,  brought  into  Greece  by  Cadmus;  to 
these  Palamedes  added,  about  the  time  of  the  Trojan 
war,  the  three  aspirates,  ©OX,  and  the  double  letter 
S ;  and  Simonides  afterwards  increased  the  alphabet  to 
24,  by  adding  the  long  vowels  H  and  fi,  and  the  double 
letters  i-  and  Z§.  At  first  the  ancient  Greek,  like  its 
parent  alphabet,  was  written  from  right  to  left ;  after- 
wards the  lines  were  made  to  run  alternately  from  right 
to  left,  and  from  left  to  right ;  a  mode  of  writing,  deno- 
minated /Sarfa^oJ'o*,  as  resembling  the  progress  of  an  ox 
in  ploughing  a  field.  At  last,  about  430  or  460  years, 
as  it  is  thought,  before  our  sera,  the  Ionic  mode  of  form- 
ing the  letters  from  left  to  right  was  introduced ;  and, 
from  the  experience  of  its  superior  convenience,  began 
gradually  to  prevail. 

It  was  not,  however,  universally  used  for  some  ages, 
even  in  Greece.  The  Athenians  did  not  adopt  it  till 
about  350  years  before  Christ,  nor  the  Samnites  for 
eighty  years  after.  At  length  it  became  universal  over 
Europe,  and  has  since  been  retained.  The  Ionic  Greek 
alphabet||  differed  a  little,  but  not  essentially  from  the 
Pelasgic ;  in  Plate  X.  columns  5th  and  6th,  both  of  them 
are  put  down. 

From  the  Pelasgic  alphabet  proceeded  the  Etruscan^, 
said  to  have  been  carried  into  Italy  in  the  time  of  Deuca- 
lion, and  from  the  Etruscan  the  Oscan**,  the  characters 
of  which  seem  to  hold  a  middle  rank  between  the  Pelas- 
gic and  Ionic. 

The  Arcadian,  Coptic^,  Ethiopic,  ancient  Gaulish\f, 
Htmic§§,  lUyrian,  Russian,  G<»tftic||||,  Armenian  and  Scla- 
vonic, are  all  derived  from  the  Ionic  alphabet. 

From  the  Ionic  also  came  the  Roman  or  Latin  alpha- 
betirir,  said  to  have  been  first  adopted  in  the  reign  of 
their  fifth  king,  Tarquinius  Ptiscus.  The  Roman  cha- 
racters, it  is  certain,  constituted  the  source  whence  al- 
most all  our  alphabets  in  mo<lern  Europe  have  taken 
their  rise.     The  form  of  its  letters,  as  still  found  in  the 


ancient  inscriptions,  hardly  differs  from  the  form  of  our 
capitals  at  the  present  day. 

The  Greek  alphabet  may  then  be  regarded  as  the 
parent,  immediate  or  remote,  of  the  alphabets  in  use  in 
modern  Europe.  It  is  itself  one  of  the  most  complete 
with  which  we  are  acquainted,  copious,  accurate,  and 
exhibiting  an  elegant  analogical  structure.  Still,  how- 
ever, it  cannot  be  said  to  be  perfect ;  its  double  letters 
are  altogether  superfluities,  as  their  places  might  be 
more  properly  supplied  by  the  combined  single  charac- 
ters whose  room  they  occupy,  and  whose  power  they 
exactly  denote.  Deficiencies  are  also  to  be  found  in  it ; 
there  is  no  single  character  to  denote  the  sound  indica- 
ted by  the  double  y  in  xyytXtt,  although  that  is  a  simple 
and  peculiar  sound.  The  Roman  alphabet  is  still  more 
defective  than  the  Greek ;  it  has  no  distinct  characters 
for  the  long  vowels,  and  ivants  the  two  aspirates  X  and 
©.  The  modern  alphabets  derived  from  it,  have  depart- 
ed yet  further  from  the  simplicity  and  regular  structure 
by  which  an  alphabet  ought  to  be  characterized.  These 
defects,  ?o  far  as  regards  our  own  alphabet,  will  be  af- 
terwards more  particularly  considered. 

In  regard  to  the  form  and  structure  of  the  letters  in 
the  principal  European  alphabets,  the  following  particu- 
lars, taken  from  Astle's  Origin  of  Writing,  are  curious, 
and  worthy  of  notice. 

"  The  ancient  Gaulish  letters  are  derived  from  the 
Greek,  and  their  writing  approaches  more  nearly  to  the 
Gothic  than  that  of  the  Romans :  this  appears  by  the 
monumental  inscription  of  Gordiari,  messenger  of  the 
Gauls,  who  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  third  century, 
with  all  his  family.  These  ancient  Gaulish  characters 
were  generally  used  by  that  people  before  the  conquest 
of  Gaul  by  Ca;8ar ;  but  after  that  time  the  Roman  let- 
ters were  gradually  intrwluced.  The  ancient  Spaniards 
used  letters  nearly  Greek  before  their  intercourse  with 
the  Romans.  The  ancient  Gothic  alphabet  was  very 
similar  to  the  Greek,  and  is  attributed  to  Ulphilas, 
bishop  of  the  Goths,  who  lived  in  Msesia  about  370  years 
after  Christ.  He  translated  the  Bible  into  the  Gothic 
tongue.  This  circumstance  might  have  occasioned  the 
tradition  of  his  having  invented  these  letters ;  liut  it  is 
probable  that  these  characters  were  in  use  long  before 
this  time.  The  Runic  alphabet  is  derived  from  the  an- 
cient Gothic. 

The  Coptic  letters  are  derived  immediately  from  the 
Greek.  Some  have  confounded  them  with  the  ancient 
Egyptian ;  but  there  is  a  very  material  difference  be- 
tween them.  The  Ethiopic  alphabet  is  derived  from 
the  Coptic. 

The  alphabet  proceeding  from  that  of  the  Scythians 
establishe<l  in  Europe,  is  the  same  with  what  St.  Cyril 
calls  the  Servian.  The  Russian,  Illyrian,  or  Sclavo- 
nic, and  the  Bulgarian,  are  all  derived  from  the  Greek. 
The  Armenian  letters  differ  very  much  from  the  Greek, 


•  The  Bastuli  were  a  Phsnician  coIODy,  very  early  settled  in  Spain  j  their  alphabet  is  giren  Plate  X.  eol.  :3d. 
f  See  Plate  X.  at  the  foot. 
4  Sec  Plate  XI.  col.  Ut. 

$  According  to  other  accounts,  Palamedes  added  only  the  three  aspirates  9.  ♦  x-  Epicharmus,  the  Sicilian,  afterwards  invented 
«he  double  kuers  f,  f,  4i  and  Simonides,  the  two  long  Yowels  »,  ».  Some  will  hare  it  that  the  Cadmsan  letters  were  only  thirteen 
in  number.  The  two  aspirates,  6,  f ,  howcTer,  and  the  long  vowel »,  are  of  greater  antiquity  than  the  Trojan  war,  if  the  date  of  that 
mast  ancient  inscription  found  at  Amyclea,  in  Laconia,  be  correctly  fixed  at  between  one  and  two  hundred  years  before  that  period,  for 
an  these  letters  are  to  be  found  in  i.      See  Astle's  Origin  and  Prtgrcss  of  fVritittg,  p.  66.  and  67. 

I)  Plate  X.  Col.   6th.  fl  Plate  X.  Col.  4th.  ••  Plate  XI.  Col.  3d. 

ti  Plate  X.  Col.  10th.  ♦♦  Plate  XI.  Col.  5th.  J$  Plate  X.  Col.  Jlh. 

U  Vi»^  ^  Col.  9(h.  nil  Plate  X.  Col.  7th. 


ALPHABET. 


533 


from  which  they  are  derived,  as  well  as  from  the 
Latin. 

With  regard  to  the  alphabets  derived  from  the  Latin, 
the  Lombanlic  relates  to  the  manuscripts  of  Italy  ;  the 
Visigothic  to  those  of  Spain ;  the  Saxon  to  those  of  Eng- 
land ;  the  Galilean  and  Franco-Gallicor  Merovingian  to 
the  manuscripta  of  France;  the  German  to  those  of  that 
country ;  and  the  Caroline,  Capetian,  and  modern  Gothic, 
to  all  the  countries  of  Euro|)e  who  read  Latin.  The 
first  six  of  these  alphabets  are  before  the  age  of  Charle- 
magne, the  last  three  posterior  to  it.  They  are  more 
distinguished  by  their  names  than  the  forms  of  their 
characters;  and  the  former  indicate  all  of  them  to  have 
been  of  Roman  extraction.  Each  nation,  in  adopting 
the  letters  of  the  Romans,  added  a  taste  and  manner  pe- 
culiar to  itself,  which  obviously  distinguished  it  from 
the  writings  of  all  other  people;  whence  arose  the  dif- 
ferences between  the  writings  of  the  Lombards,  Spa- 
niards, French,  Saxons,  Germans,  and  Goths,  and  all  the 
strange  turns  observable  in  the  writings  of  the  Francic 
Gauls,  or  Merovingians;  and  those  of  the  Carlovingians, 
their  successors,  may  be  traced  from  the  same  source. 
From  these  distinctions  the  name  oinational  nriting  was 
derived. 

The  writing  of  Italy  was  uniform  till  the  irruption  of 
the  Goths,  who  disfigured  it  by  their  barbarous  taste. 
In  569,  the  Lombards,  having  possessed  themselves  of 
all  Italy,  excepting  Rome  and  Ravenna,  introduced  that 
form  of  writing  which  goes  under  their  name ;  and  as 
the  popes  used  the  Lombardic  manner  in  their  bulls,  the 
name  of  Roman  was  sometimes  given  to  it  in  the  11th 
century;  and  though  the  dominion  of  the  Lombards 
continued  no  longer  than  206  years,  the  name  of  their 
writing  continued  in  Italy  from  the  7th  to  the  13th  cen- 
tury, and  then  ctased ;  when  learning,  having  declined 
in  that  as  well  as  in  other  countries,  the  manner  of  wri- 
ting degenerated  into  the  modern  Gothic. 

The  Visigoths  introduced  their  form  of  writing  into 
Spain,  after  havingoverrunthat  country ;  but  it  was  abo- 
lished in  a  provincial  synod,  held  at  Leon  in  1091,  when 
the  Latin  characters  were  established  for  all  public  in- 
struments, though  the  Visigothic  were  used  in  private 
writings  for  three  centuries  afterwards. 

The  Gauls,  on  being  subjected  by  the  Romans,  adopt- 
ed their  manner  of  writing ;  but  by  subsequent  additions 
of  their  own,  their  characters  were  changed  into  what  is 
called  the  Gallican,  or  Roman  Gallic  mode.  This  was 
changed  by  the  Francs  into  the  Franco-Oallic,  or  Mero- 
vingian mode  of  ivriting,  being  practised  under  the 
kings  of  the  Merovingian  race.  It  took  place  towards 
the  close  of  the  sixth  century,  and  continued  till  the  be- 
ginning of  the  ninth. 

TheGermauraode  of  writingwasimproved  by  Charle- 
magne ;  and  this  improvement  occasioned  another  dis- 
tinction in  writing,  by  introducing  the  alphabet  named 
Caroline,  which  declined  in  the  1 2th  century,  and  was 
succeeded  in  the  1 3th  by  the  modern  Gothic.  In  France 
it  had  degenerated  by  the  middle  of  the  10th  century, 
but  was  restored  in  987  by  Hugh  Capet,  whence  it  ob- 
tained the  name  of  Capetian.  It  was  used  in  England, 
as  well  as  Germany  and  France. 

The  modern  Gothic,  which  spread  itself  all  over 
Europe  in  the  12th  and  13tli  centuries,  is  improperly 
named,  as  not  deriving  its  origin  from  the  writing  an- 


ciently used  by  the  Goths.  It  is,  however,  the  worst 
and  most  barbarous  way  of  writing,  and  originated 
among  the  schoolmen  in  the  decline  of  the  arts ;  being 
indeed  nothing  else  than  Latin  writing  degenerated. 
It  began  in  the  12th  century,  and  was  in  general  use, 
especially  among  monks  and  schoolmen,  in  all  parts 
of  Europe,  till  the  restoration  of  arts  in  the  15th  century, 
and  continued  longer  in  Germany  and  the  northern  na- 
tions. Our  statute  books  are  still  printed  in  Gothic  let- 
ters. The  most  barbarous  writing  of  the  seventh,  eighth, 
and  ninth  centuries,  was  preferable  to  the  modern 
Gothic.  It  is  diversified  in  such  a  manner  as  can 
scarce  admit  of  description  ;  and  the  abbreviations  used 
by  the  writers  were  so  numerous,  that  it  became  very 
difficult  to  read  it ;  which  was  one  of  the  great  causes 
of  the  ignorance  of  those  times.  Along  with  this,  how- 
ever, the  Lombardic,  Gothic,  Roman,  Caroline,  and  Ca- 
petian modes  of  writing,  were  occasionally  used  by  indi- 
viduals." 

Having  taken  a  view  of  the  old  Hebrew  and  Phoeni- 
cian alphabets,  with  all  their  numerous  derivatives  and 
ramifications,  it  still  remains  to  advert  a  little  to  the 
Oriental,  or  Indian  alphabets.  With  these,  however, 
our  acquaintance  is  as  yet  very  imperfect ;  our  obser- 
vations must  therefore  necessarily  be  general  and  short. 

In  the  extensive  country  to  the  eastward  of  the  Indies, 
it  is  certain  there  are  in  use  a  variety  of  alphabets,  ap- 
parently different  from  any  that  we  have  yet  taken  notice 
of.  Of  these,  it  is  generally  allowed,  that  the  Sanscrit, 
or  S«n^.?crit,  is  the  parent.  The  term  S'«n§-serrt  signi- 
fies something  brought  to  perfection,  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  Prakrit,  which  denotes  something  vulgar  or  un- 
polished ;  hence  the  refined  and  religious  languages  and 
characters  of  India  areknowntiy  the  former  denomina- 
tion, the  vulgar  mode  of  writing  and  expression  by  the 
latter.  There  are  reckoned  seven  different  sorts  of  In- 
dian hand-writing,  all  com|)rised  under  the  general 
term  of  Nagaree,  which  may  be  interpreted  writing ;  of 
these  the  most  elegant  Sanscrit  writing  is  denominated 
Daeb-nagaree,  or  Deva-nagaree,  properly  the  writings 
of  the  immortals ;  for  the  Bramins  hold  the  letters  to 
be  of  divine  original :  |)robably  they  are  a  refinement 
from  the  more  simple  Nagaree  of  former  ages.  The 
following  observations  on  this  alphabet,  by  Mr.  Carey, 
in  the  preface  to  his  Sanscrit  Grammar,  lately  publish- 
ed at  Calcutta,  are  calculated  to  convey  some  general 
ideas  of  it  structure. 

"  The  Devornagaree  alphabet,  in  which  the  Sanscrit 
language  is  usally  written,  deserves  attention,  on  ac- 
count of  its  singular  nature  and  peculiar  arrangement. 
All  alphabetical  systems  may  probably  be  reduced  to 
two;  in  one  of  which  the  consonants  have  certain  powers,, 
and  the  vowels  follow  in  their  proper  forms  to  make 
syllables,  as  in  Greek  and  all  the  European  languages, 
and  perhaps  in  some  others.  In  the  other  system,  the 
vowels  are  expressed  by  certain  symbols,  each  of  which 
being  combined  with  a  consonant,  forms  as  it  were  a 
constituent  part  thereof;  and  with  it  is  pronounced  as 
one  syllabic  sound.  In  the  Deva-nagaree  system,  the 
alphabet  contains  original  characters  for  the  vowels  as 
well  as  for  the  consonants ;  and  whenever  a  vowel  pre- 
cedes a  consonantin  forming  a  syllable,or  whenit  forms  a 
syllable  itself,  it  retains  its  original  form ;  but  when  it  fol- 
lows aconsonant,  it  is  represented  by  asymbolicalmark*. 


*  What  Mr.  Carey  here  teiins  symbolical  mark',  appear,  upon  a  strict  examination,  to  be  really  the  proper \owe]  characters  contract* 
«d  or  abridged. 


$34 


ALPHABET. 


"  This  alphabet  exceeds  all  others  iu  the  regularity 
of  its  arrangement ;  it  consists  of  five  classes  of  conso- 
nants, each  containing  five  letters,  and  of  nine  miscella- 
oeous  letters.  All  the  letters  of  each  class  are  pro- 
nounced by  the  same  organ ;  the  second  and  fourth  are 
the  aspirates  of  the  first  and  third,  and  the  fifth  is  a 
vowel.  The  four  first  and  two  last  of  the  miscella- 
neous letters  are  semivowels,  and  the  three  others  sibi- 
lants*. 

"  This  plan  forms  the  basisof  every  alphabet  in  India. 
The  forms,  and  even  the  number,  of  letters  differ  widely 
in  different  countries ;  but  the  names  and  the  arrange- 
ments are  the  same ;  the  MahtaUa  ;  the  Telinga\ ;  the 
Kamata ;  and  the  common  Nagaree  alphabets,  with 
those  of  Orissa  and  Gasarat,  have  all  the  letters  of  the 
Tteva^nagaree.  In  the  Tamul  alphabet^,  all  the  letters 
of  each  class  are  rejected,  except  the  first  and  the  last; 
and  in  some  of  these  alphabets,  only  one  sibilant  is  re- 
tained. The  alphabet  of  Tibet^,  those  used  in  the  Bur- 
maf>\\  empire,  and  two  at  least  of  those  used  in  Sumatra, 
agree  in  the  sound  and  arrangement  with  the  Deva-naga- 
ree,  and  only  differ  in  the  form  of  the  letters.  In  these 
languages,  some  of  the  letters  are,  however,  rejected,  as 
being  esteemed  unnecessary." 

To  these  remarks  it  is  only  necessary  to  add,  that  the 
Sanscrit,  or  Deva-nagaree  alphabet,  contains  50  letters, 
16  vowels,  and  34  consonants.  It  is  evident  from  inspec- 
tion of  the  figures,  (see  Plate  XI.  Col.  1.)  that  many  of 
these  characters  are  in  fact  double  characters  for  the 
same  elementary  sound,  modified  only  by  a  slight  shade, 
either  of  accentuation,  quantity,  or  aspiration. 

At  what  time  the  Sanscrit  or  other  Indian  alphabets 
were  formed,  we  are  totally  iu  the  dark  ;  the  fables  of 
the  Bramins  being  unworthy  of  notice.  It  certainly  is 
of  great  antiquity,  and  has  obtained  very  extensive  cur- 
rency. From  this  source  are  derived  the  sacred  charac- 
ters of  Thibet,  the  Cashmericai,  Bcngalese,  Malabaric'^, 
Singakse,  Simnese,  Birman,  and  many  other  alphabets. 

In  Plate  XII.  are  given  several  Oriential  alphabets,  all 
of  them  evidently  related  to  and  derived  from  the  Deva- 
nagaree  Sanscrit.  Though  the  forms  of  the  letters  are 
different,  yet  the  essential  resemblance  of  each  of  the 
alphabets  to  the  parent  stock,  indicate  beyond  a  doubt 
from  what  source  they  proceeded. 

The  Bramins  through  all  India  make  use  of  the  San- 
scrit language,  as  the  learned  language  in  which  they 
correspond  among  themselves;  the  Deva-nagaree  thus 
becomes  their  great  medium  of  communication. 

Copious  as  the  Sanscrit  alphabet  seems  to  be,  it  is  so 
more  in  appearance  thad  reality  ;  indeed  it  may  be  ques- 
tioned whether  it  be  even  as  well  adapted  for  use  as  the 
alpbabeta  of  Europe.  The  number  of  its  vowel  characters 
is  unnecessarily  multiplied,  by  having  separate  marks 
for  them  when  aspirated  and  not  aspirated,  instead  of 
the  simple  contrivance  of  either  a  mark,  as  in  the  Greek 
alphabet,  for  the  aspiration  applicable  to  all,  or  a  separate 
letter,  as  in  the  alphabets  of  Europe.  In  the  consonants, 
likewise,  the  adoption  of  separate  characters  for  each, 
when  immediately  followed  by  an  aspiration,  gives  com- 


plexity, without  possessing  any  advantage  over  the 
method  in  our  European  alphabets  of  denoting  such 
sounds,  by  subjoining  the  h  when  necessary.  The  San- 
scrit alphabet,  on  the  other  hand,  seems  deficient  in 
having  no  characters  either  single  or  complex,  to  ex- 
press the/,  or  the  th,  for  the  aspirated  consonants  are 
not  in  Sanscrit  pronounced  with  the  aspirate  as  one 
sound  ;  but  the  two  are  kept  separate  in  pronunciation, 
as  with  us,  the  bh,  in  the  word  abhor,  the  th,  in  hot- 
house, the  ph,  in  loophole.  But  our  information  in  re- 
gard to  this  language  is  as  yet  too  limited  to  enable  us 
to  ascertain  properly  the  merits  and  defects  of  either  its 
grammiir  or  alphabet. 

1'he  other  Oriential  alphabets  require  no  particular  ob- 
servations. Allot  them,  as  already  mentioned,  seem 
formed  originally  from  the  Sanscrit,  though  in  some  of 
them  a  few  of  the  superfluous  characters  have  been 
dropped  as  unnecessary.  In  Plate  XII.  as  many  Indian 
alphabets  are  g:iven,  as  will  serve  to  convey  a  general 
idea  of  their  niiture  and  structure.  The  Pali,  or  sacred 
characters,  being  iu  fact  contrivances  for  secret  and 
myEterious  writings,  the  illustration  of  them  does  not  be- 
long f.roperly  to  the  present  article. 

Having  thus  nti-onsiderahle  length  taken  a  view  of  the 
history  of  alphabetic  writing  in  different  countries,  and 
among  differetit  people,  it  only  remnins  now  to  offer  a 
few  observations  on  the  requisites  and  proper  construc- 
tion of  alphabets  in  general,  which  will  wff.ird  an  opportu- 
nity of  noticing  the  defects  in  our  own  alphabet,  with  the 
schemes  pro;  ostd  for  removing  them. 

Letters,  it  was  remarked,  in  the  beginning  of  the  ar- 
ticle, are  marks  ibr  denoting  the  simple  elementary 
sounds  occurring  in  the  language  to  which  they  are  ap- 
plied ;  and  the  alj'habet  of  a  language  is  the  assemblage 
of  these  letters  in  their  usual  established  order.  It  fol- 
lows, therefore,  that  to  constitute  a  complete  alphabet, 
there  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  a  character  for  each 
elementary  sound;  and  no  character  superfluous.  Com- 
pound sounds  ought  to  have  no  phice  there,  but  should 
be  expressed  by  the  combination  of  the  simple  sounds  of 
which  they  arc  composed.  On  the  other  hand,  every 
established  and  sanctioned  elementary  sound  occurring 
in  the  language,  ought  to  have  a  separate  character  in- 
variably appropriated  to  it ;  though  accidental  or  pro- 
vincial variations  ought  not  to  be  regarded.  It  is,  how- 
ever, no  easy  matter  to  ascertain  the  number  of  elemen- 
tary sounds  that  naturally  belong  to  the  human  organs, 
or  into  which  a  language  is  capable  of  being  resolved- 
On  this  subject  a  great  diversity  of  opinion  hasprevailed. 
The  learned  author  of  Hermes  informs  us,  that  "  to 
about  20  |)lain  elementary  sounds  we  owe  that  variety 
of  articulate  voices,  which  have  been  sufficient  to  ex- 
plain the  sentiments  of  such  an  innumerable  multitude 
of  all  the  past  and  present  generations  of  men."  (Herat. 
Book  iii.  c.  2.)  The  ingenious  Wachter  {Naturx  tt 
Scripturte  Concordia,  p.  64.)  endeavours  to  show,  that  ten 
characters  only  are  sufficient  for  this  purpose.  Hi* 
scheme  is  as  follows : 


*  See  Plate  XO.  CoL  lit 
$FUteXU.Col.6tI>. 


\  Pbte  XII.  Col.  Sth. 
PUte  Xa  Col.  4th. 


i  Piste  Xn.  Col.  Sd. 
K  Plate  XU.  CoL  7th 


ALPHABET. 


536 


Genus. 

Figura. 

Potestas. 

Vocal. 

O 

a.  e.  i.  0.  u. 

Guttural. 

O 

1 

k.  c.  ch. 
q.  g.  h. 

m 

^ 

1. 

Lingual. 

Lingual. 

-- 

d.t. 

Lingual. 

r. 

Dental. 

n 

s. 

... 

Labial. 

3 

b.q. 

Labial. 

n 

m. 

» ■ 

Labial. 

cr 

s.  ph.  V.  w. 

' 

Nasal. 

A 

n. 

Theodore  Bibliamler  is  of  opinion,  that  all  sounds,  both 
articulate  and  inarticulate,  may  be  sufficiently  expressed 
by  13  letters  and  an  aspiration,  viz.  the  five  ordinary 
•vowels,  and  the  consonants,  h,  g,  d,  I,  m,  n,  r,  s.  {De 
rationc  communi  omnium  linguamm.)* 

*  It  is  certainly  a  very  difficult  task  to  ascertain  the 
precise  number  of  elementary  sounds  which  enter  into 
the  composition  of  the  various  languages  of  men,  and 
which  may  he  uttered  by  the  human  voice.  The  man  who- 
would  undertake  it  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  a  nice  ear  to  discriminate,  and  of  flexible  vocal 
organs  to  imitate.  He  ought  to  have  travelled  among 
Tarious  nations,  and  to  have  critically  acquired  the  know- 
ledge and  practice  of  those  sounds  which  are  peculiar  to 
each  language.  He  ought  to  be  well  acquainted  with 
the  anatomy  of  the  oi^ans  of  speech,  so  as  to  be  able 
accurately  to  describe  their  action  in  giving  utterance  to 
each  particular  sound.  He  ought  lastly  to  possess  a 
clear  analytical  head,  and  a  mind  accustomed  to  cool 
reflection  and  accurate  discrimination ;  to  which  should 
be  added  the  talent  of  communicating  his  observations 
and  discoveries,  wiiich  is  not  so  common  as  is  generally 
imagined. 

The  want  of  all  these  qualifications  in  one  individual, 
has  hitherto  rendered  abortive  the  various  attempts 
which  have  been  made  to  enumerate,  describe,  and  clas- 
sify, the  diflerent  sounds  that  are  utterable  by  the  hu- 
maa  orgauo.  Those  who  have  communicated  to  the  world 


This  excessive  simplification  of  the  number  of  dis- 
tinct and  articulate  sounds,  the  learned  bishop  Wilkin* 


the  result  of  their  observations  upon  this  subject  appear 
to  have  been  miserably  deficient  in  some  of  the  most 
essential  requisites.  Wachter,  for  instance,  although  a 
German,  reckons  but  five  vowels,  a,  e,  i,  o,  w,  among 
simple  sounds,  and  omits  o  and  ii,  ^vhich  very  frequently 
occur  in  his  own  language,  and  although  they  are  diph- 
thongs to  the  eye,  are  beyond  a  doubt  simple  sounds  to 
the  least  exercised  ear.  Among  the  consonants  he 
classes p/i,  v,  and  m,  as  three  distinct  sounds;  whereas 
ph,  orf  and  v,  are  sounded  precisely  alike  in  the  Ger- 
man language,  which  he  clearly  had  in  view,  for  he 
places  rv  immediately  after  them  ;  the  sound  of  which  in 
the  same  language  is  similar  to  that  of  our  v.  TIub 
author  certainly  wanted  that  nicety  of  discrimination 
which  is  indispensable  for  the  execution  of  the  task 
which  he  had  undertaken. 

After  describing,  as  we  have  done,  the  qualifications 
that  are  requisite  for  the  performance  of  this  difficult 
task,  we  will  not  presume  to  attempt  it.  But  we  will 
throw  out  a  few  ideas  that  have  occurred  to  us  in  con- 
sidering this  interesting  subject. 

We  have  not  been  able  to  discover  in  any  language, 
that  has  come  within  the  scope  of  our  observation,  more 
than  eight  primitive  vowels  :  four  of  which  are  broad  or 
open,  and  four  are  acute. 

The  four  open  vowels  are, 

1.  A.  German,  French, Italian, &c.  and  EnglishinaW. 

2.  Ja.  French  i  in  tele,  English  ai  in  air. 

3.  O.  As  pronounced  in  almost  every  language. 

4.  CFj.  German,  Danish,  and  Swedish  a  or  d;  French 
and  Low  Dutch  cu. 

The  four  acute  vowels  arc, 

1.  E.  French  accented  i — English  a  in  grace. 

2.  I.  French  i,  English  ee. 

3.  U.  German  u,  English  oo,  Dutch  oc,  French  oa- 

4.  Y.  French  and  Low  Dutch  u,  German  n. 

In  this  list  we  do  not  include  the  nasal  vowels,  which 
are  but  modifications  of  the  four  broad  or  open  ones, 
as  will  be  explained  in  a  subsequent  note. 

These  eight  vowels,  however,  are  not  uttered  ex- 
actly alike  in  every  language ;  the  sound  given  to  them 
is  more  or  less  open  oracute;  and  those  various  shades 
of  pronunciation  may  be  said  in  some  degree  to  resem- 
ble the  semi-tones  in  the  musical  scale,  being  mid- 
dle sounds  between  the  full  accurate  sound  of  two  neigh- 
bouring vowels,  and  which  the  nice  ear  will  still  further 
discriminate  into  something  like  quarter  tones  in  music, 
as  they  approach  nearer  to  the  one  or  the  other  vowel, 
of  the  sound  of  which  they  are  compounded.  Thus  the 
sound  of  O  in  the  word  God,  in  the  English  language,  ii 
neither  the  precise  sound  of  A  apertum,  nor  that  of  O  in 
ouralphabet,  but  is  something  between  the  two.  We  are 
apt  to  believe  that  mechanical  instruments  might  be  made, 
by  which  our  eight  vowels,  and  their  various  shades  and 
compounds,  might  be  accurately  expressed  to  the  ear, 
and  the  truth  of  our  system  might  in  this  manner  be 
easily  tested.  As  the  sound  of  vowels  proceeds  entirely 
ffom  the  operation  of  air  issuing  out  of  an  aperture  dis- 
posed in  a  particular  manner  to  receive  it,  we  do  not 
know  why  instruments  might  not  be  so  contrived  as  to 
produce  a  correct  and  properly  graduated  imitation  of 


636 


ALPHABET. 


pronounces  irrational,  and  requiring  no  particular  refu- 
tation. On  such  a  subject  the  bishop  is  certainly  very 
high  authority  ;  few  men  ever  bestowed  so  much  atten- 
tion to  investigate  the  true  constituent  principles  of  ar- 
ticulate speech,  or  the  various  methods  of  expressing  it 
by  writing ;  and  few  have  been  better  qualified  to  ascer- 
tain what  was  doubtful  in  the  principles,  by  extensive 
learning,  great  ingenuity,  and  indefatigable  perseve- 
rance. In  his  Essay,  towards  a  real  character  and  phi- 
losophical language,  he  gives  it  as  the  result  of  his  in- 
vestigation, that  34  characters  would  be  requisite  to  ex- 
press all  the  articulate  sounds  that  are  commonly  used 
in  the  various  known  languages ;  and  this  number  he 
thinks  would  be  sufficient.  The  following  is  a  list  of 
these  characters,  expressed  as  nearly  as  may  be  in  Eng- 
lish spelling,  with  the  bishop's  remarks  subjoined  con- 
cerning their  frequent  or  more  rare  occurrence. 

An,  (as  in  larv,)  is  frequently  used  by  other  nations, 
but  not  owned  with  a  distinct  character  by  the  English. 

J,  (as  in  man,)  is  frequently  used  by  ui  Englishmen, 
but  not  so  much  by  other  nations. 

E,  (as  in  send,)  is  generally  received,  but  very  ambi- 
guously pronounced. 

I,  fas  in^,)  is  not  owned  by  us  for  a  distinct  vowel, 
though  we  frequently  use  the  power  of  it ;  and  the  Mexi- 
cans are  said  not  to  use  this  letter.  {Purckas.  lib.  v. 
c.  9.) 

O,  (as  in  long,)  is  not  in  the  Armenian  alphabet,  nor 
do  the  Syrians  own  it,  but  use  n,  or  aw  instead  of  it. 
Some  of  the  ancient  cities  of  Italy,  the  Utnbri  and  Tusci 
for  instance,  do  not  use  this  vowel,  but  u  instead  of  it. 
(Priscian.  Bishop  Walton,  Introd.  et  Proleg.  lib.  xiii.  5.) 

Oo,  (as  in  foot,)  according  to  the  true  power  of  it,  is 
not  owned  by  us,  nor  by  many  other  nations,  with  a  dis- 
tinct character. 

17,  (as  in  hit,)  is  scarce  acknowledged  by  any  nation 
except  the  Welsh,  as  requiring  a  separate  character. 

U,  (aspronounced  by  the  French,)  "  is  I  think,"  sayi 
the  Bishop,  "  proper  to  the  French,  and  used  by  none 
else.*"  (*) 


vocal  sounds.  But  we  are  not  sufficiently  acquainted 
with  the  principles  of  the  mechanic  arts  to  decide  on 
the  practicability  of  this  plan. 

We  might  suVjoin  here  our  analysis  and  classification 
of  the  consonants  on  analogous  principles  to  that  of  the 
vowels  which  we  have  here  exhibited.  But  the  object  of 
this  work  is  to  collect  together  the  knowledge  and  dis- 
coveriesof  which  the  world  is  already  in  possession,  and  it 
might  be  thought  presumptuous  in  an  annotator  to  exhi- 
bit at  large  in  this  place  the  whole  details  of  a  system 
which  never  has  and  never  may  receive  the  sanction  of 
public  approbation.  And  it  would  require,  besides,  such 
a  developement  as  could  not  easily  be  contained  in  the 
apace  allotted  for  notes  to  this  publication.  Dupohceau. 
*  It  is  used  also  hy  the  Low  Dutch ;  and  by  the  Mila- 
nese and  Venetians,  who  pronounce  this  vowel  precisely 
as  the  French  do.  It  is  probable  that  the  vowel  u,  while 
the  Latin  tongue  was  vernacular,  was  pronounced  like 
the  English  oe  hy  the  Italians  beyond  the  Rubicon,  and 
by  the  Spaniards  ;  and  that  the  inhabitants  of  Cisalpine 
and  Transalpine  Gaul,  pronounced  it  as  the  French  and 
Low  Dutch  do  at  present.  In  Bohemia  and  some  parts 
of  Germany,  the  it  is  pronounced  like  the  French  u  ;  in 

(*)  It  U  u*ed  in  the  proTincial  dialect  of  most  parts  of  Scotland. 


M  and  N  are  so  general,  that  I  have  not  yet  met  wiffi 
an  account  of  any  nation  by  whom  they  are  not  used. 

A^^  is  not  owned  for  a  letter  by  any,  except  perhaps 
the  Hebrews. 

F  is  not  pronounced  by  the  Mexicans,  Arabians,  Per- 
sians, Saxons. 

Dh  seems  difficult  to  most  nations,  though  frequently 
used  by  us  Englishmen. 

Gh  is  not  any  where  used  except  amongst  the  Irish. 

L  is  not  used  by  the  Brazilians,  {ViTtcent  le  Blanc, 
Part  iii.  16.)  nor  the  men  of  Japan.  (Alex.  Rhodes' 
Diction.  Anim.  c.  1.)  Many  of  the  Italians,  especially 
the  Florentines,  do  seem  to  dislike  this  letter,  though 
others  style  it  the  sweetest  of  all  the  rest,  saith  sir  Tho- 
mas Smith.  (De  recta  scriptimie  lingua  Anslicame.) 

R  is  not  used  by  the  Mexicans,  Brazilians,  nor  the 
men  of  China,  (say  several  of  the  same  authors.)  The 
Americans  near  New  England,  pronounce  neither  L  nor 
R  ;  but  use  N  instead  of  both,  pronouncing  Nobstan  for 
Lobster. 

Z  is  not  owned  for  a  letter  by  the  inhabitants  of  Co- 
cbin-China.  (Alex.  Rhodes,  ibid.) 

Zh  is  not  owned  for  a  distinct  letter  either  by  us  Eng- 
lish, or  almost  any  other|. 

Hm,  Hn,  Hng,  are  not,  for  aught  I  know,  owned  by 
any,  excepting  only  the  Welsh  and  Irish ;  and  the  last 
perhaps  by  the  Jews. 

F  is  not  pronounced  by  the  Brazilians. 

7%  seems  difficult  to  many  nations,  and  is  owned  by 
very  few  to  be  a  distinct  letter. 

Ch  is  not  used  by  any,  (for  aught  I  can  find,)  except 
the  Grecians  and  the  Welsh.  (§) 

HI  is  almost  proper  to  the  Welsh,  and  scarce  used 
by  others. 

Hr,  though  frequent  amongst  the  Grecian9,yet  is  rarely 
used  by  others. 

S  is  not  used  by  the  Mexicans.  {Purchas.  lib.  v. 
c.  9.) 

Sh.  That  this  was  not  universal  among  the  Jews,  may 
appear  by  the  Scripture  story  ofSkibokth,  nor  is  it  either 
in  the  Greek  or  Latin. 

B  is  not  pronounced  by  the  men  of  China  or  Japan. 
{Id.  lib.  X.  c.  3.) 

D  is  not  used  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  China. 
{Itetn,  vol.  v.  c.  18.  sect.  6.) 

G  is  not  pronounced  by  the  Mexicans.  (Fossius  de  Gr. 
cap.  27.) 

P  is  not  acknowledged  in  the  Arabic,  nor  was  this 
used  amongst  the  Jews  before  the  invention  of  points. 

Tis  not  used  by  the  inhabitants  of  Japan. 

C,  as  restrained  to  the  power  of  K,  is,  for  aught  I 
know,  of  general  use.  (Essay  towards  a  rtal  Cliaractcr, 
Part  iii.  c.  14.) 

It  must  be  owned,  that  this  alphabet  of  bishop  Wil- 
kins',  is  ingeniously  constructed ;  and  if  brought  into 
use,  it  would  be  sufficiently  copious  for  the  notation  of 


other  parts  of  that  country  it  has  a  mixed  sound,  pa> 
taking  of  the  French  u  and  of  the  i,  something  between 

both.       DUPONCEAU. 

t  It  has  a  distinctsound  among  the  French  and  Portu- 
guese, represented  by  the  Letters  G  and  J  ;  among  the 
Russians  by  a  particular  character  of  their  own ;  and  in 
Polandby  the  letter  Z,  with  a  comma  or  accent  overit  Id. 

($)  The  Scot!  ought  to  have  been  added.    Ed. 


ALPHABET. 


587 


I 


Rlmost  any  language  with  which  we  are  acquainted ;  in- 
deed it  may  be  rather  deemed  unnecessarily  copious, 
as  there  would  undoubtedly  be  no  great  occasion  ever 
to  adopt  separate  characters  for  sounds  so  seldom  occur- 
ring, as  the  hi,  hm,  or  hn. 

For  the  notation  of  most  of  the  modern  European  lan- 
guages, with  sufficient  precision  and  fulness,  it  would 
appear  that  an  alphabet,  consisting  of  28  or  29  distinct 
letters,  might  completely  suffice,  provided  each  of  these 
were  invariably  apjiropriated  to  a  different  elementary 
sound,  and  noue  of  them  rendered  superfluous,  by  either 
expressing  a  compounded  instead  of  a  simple  sound,  or 
by  expressing  a  sound  already  marked  by  another  cha- 
racter*. 


*  As  far  as  we  are  acquainted  with  some  of  the  mo- 
dern European  languages,  Ave  think  that  it  would  require 
at  least  from  38  to  40  distinct  characters  to  express  the 
simple  sounds  which  are  to  be  found  in  them.  Those 
are  at  least  1 2  or  1 4  vowels,  one  aspirate,  and  2S  conso- 
nants, which  we  shall  here  enumerate. 

Vowels. 

1.  The  eight  primitive  vowels  which  we  have  men- 
tioned in  a  preceding  note. 

2.  The  four  nasal  vowels  of  the  French  language, 
which  are  expressed  in  writing  by  the  combinations  of 
letters  an,  in,  on,  un.  Those  are  nothing  else  than  the 
four  broad  or  open  primitive  vowels  uttered  through  the 
nose,  and  might  be  expressed  by  the  characteristic  let- 
ters of  those  vowels  with  a  line  underneath,  thus  A,  /E, 

To  wliich  ought  to  be  added  various  compound  or 
scmitmic  vowels,  which  are  to  be  found  in  particular 
languages,  as  for  instance,  the  o  apertum  in  the  English 
words  Ood,  not,  and  in  the  Italian  word  foglio,  which 
sound  is  something  between  that  of  o  and  a,  but  cannot 
be  reckoned  among  the  primitive  vowels.  It  is  the 
same  with  the  acute  o  in  the  Italian  word  oggi,  which  is 
something  between  o  and  u,  and  is  very  different  from 
'.he  proper  natural  sound  of  o  in  the  English  words  robe, 
globe.  Those  semitone  vowels  occur  more  frequently  in 
the  modern  European  languages  than  is  generally  ima- 
gined, and  nothing  can  be  more  difficult  than  to  express 
them  accurately  to  the  eye  in  an  universal  alphabet. 
The  different  nations  of  the  world  differ  much  more 
from  each  other  in  the  pronunciation  of  vowels  than  in 
that  of  consonants. 

Aspirate. 

The  same  which  is  expressed  in  English  by  the  let- 
ter H. 

Consonants. 

1.  Fourteen  of  those  which  are  used  and  sounded 
alike  in  the  English  and  most  of  the  other  modern  lan- 
guages of  Europe,  to  wit,  b,  c  or  k,  d,f,  g  as  sounded 
before  a  and  o,  I,  m,  n,p,  r,  s,  t,  v,  s. 

15.  The  Spanish  n,  Italian  and  French  gtj  and  English 
ng,  as  sounded  after  the  letter  i. 

16.  The  Spanish  double  U,  Portuguese  Ih,  Italian  g-/, 
and  French  I  mouillic. 

17.  The  Polish  crossed  +  and  the  /I  of  the  Russians, 
tlie  sound  of  which  is  guttural. 

18.  The  German  cli  in  macJwn. 

19.  The  same  in  ich,  different  from  the  former. 
Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


In  examining  the  modern  alphabets  by  the  principles 
which  ought  to  regulate  the  construction  of  a  complete 
alphabet,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  considerable  defects 
will  appear.  These  alphabets  being  formed  from  the 
Roman,  it  is  no  way  surprising  that  they  should  not  in 
all  respects  be  fully  adapted  to  languages  in  great  part 
derived  from  the  northern  tongues.  After  all,  however, 
these  imperfections  do  not  materially  affect  their  use 
and  application  to  the  expression  of  almost  any  words 
whatever,  which  we  wish  to  signify  in  writing ;  we  can 
conceive  indeed,  that,  by  certain  alterations,  this  might 
sometimes  be  done  with  greater  simplicity,  conciseness, 
and  perspicuity;  but  still,  even  with  the  present  form 
and  structure  of  our  letters,  the  object  may  in  general 
be  fully,  and  withoutany  extraordinary  difficulty,  attain- 


20.  The  Gh  of  the  Flemish  and  Low  Dutch,  and  r  of 
the  Russians,  the  sound  of  which  is  guttural,  and  differs 
from  ch  precisely  as  G .  durum  differs  from  K. 

21.  The  English&'/i,  French  ck,  Russian  r^,  and  Polish 
sz. 

22.  The  French  and  Portuguese  j,  which  is  the  III 

of  th«  Russians,  and  accented  Z  of  the  Poles. 

23.  The  English  th  in  thimdcr,  thought. 

24.  The  same  in  then,  that. 

25.  The  English  J/  in  young,  which  is  the  same  with 
the  G  erman  g  in  billig,  and  in  gem. 

Making  in  the  whole,  as  we  have  said  above,  25  sim- 
ple consonants,  which  all  would  require  to  be  expressed 
by  a  distinct  character. 

If  a  general  alphabet  of  simple  sounds  were  to  be 
made  as  proposed  by  bishop  Wilkins,  it  cannot  be  ex- 
pected that  it  would  very  soon,  if  ever,  be  introduced 
into  universal  use,  except  among  the  learned,  who  by 
means  of  it  would  be  enabled  to  express  to  the  eye  the 
true  pronunciation  of  the  languages  of  distant  nations, 
and  of  the  proper  names  of  distant  men  and  places. 
Thus  a  Frenchman  who  finds,  in  a  book  of  travels,  the 
proper  names  of  Onhyhce  and  Lee-Boo,  would  no  longer 
read  the  former  0-vee-ha,  and  the  latter  La-a-Bo-o  ;  and 
monsieur  de  Lille  would  not  have  written  this  line,  which 
sounds  so  uncouth  to  an  English  ear ; 

Qu'cu  »naM«ur<i/.r  Bo-o  tan  sort  doit /aire  ertvie. 

L' Imagination,  Chant  I. 

To  render  such  an  alphabet  as  extensively  useful  as 
possible,  care  should  be  taken  not  to  introduce  into  it 
many  new  and  unknown  characters,  but  to  make  use, 
whenever  it  can  bedone,  of  thoseofthe  Roman  alphabet, 
giving  to  each  letter  the  |)roper  sound  which  it  most  ge- 
nerally obtains  among  the  nations  of  Europe,  and  extend- 
ing their  application,  by  the  use  of  accents  and  commas 
above  and  below,  and  of  little  strokes  across  some  of  the 
letters;  by  means  of  which  the  Polish  nation  has  been 
able,  with  the  Roman  alphabet  alone,  to  express  all  the 
sounds  of  the  more  copious  alphabets  of  the  Sclavo- 
nic idioms ;  so  that  a  Russian  may  as  easily  write  big 
language  with  the  Polish  alphabet  as  with  his  own, 
which  he  could  not  do  with  that  of  any  other  Euro- 
pean nation.  There  would  be  in  this  manner  a  greater 
chance  of  its  being  adopted  at  first  for  the  purposes 
of  literary  communication ;  and  when  the  eye  had 
once  long  been  accustomed  to  it,  there  is  no  knowings 
how  far  its  use  might  not  be  afterwards  extended. 

DupoNCEAt;. 
3  Y 


r 


.538 


ALPHABET. 


ed.  As  defects  however  are  found,  these  have  at  differ- 
ent tiroes  engaged  the  attention  of  ingenious  men,  anil 
schemes  for  a  more  perfect  system  of  letters  have  been 
given  to  the  world.  It  may  be  worthwhile  to  take  a  short 
view  of  one  or  two  of  the  schemes  thus  proposed. 

Our  English  alphabet,  it  has  been  justly  remarked, 
is  both  redundant  and  defective.  In  itseveral  characters 
are  superfluous ;  as  C,  whose  place  is  supplied  some- 
times by  K,  sometimes  by  S  ;  and  J,  which  may  be  sup- 
plied either  by  G  or  1.  In  other  cases,  there  is  a  defi- 
ciency of  characters,  as  in  the  instance  of  the  vowels,  of 
which  many  more  are  used  in  pronunciation  than  five, 
the  number  of  the  vowel  letters  :  and  frequently,  where 
the  sound  is  simple,  the  character  is  complex.  Thus 
shin  shape  is  a  simple  sound;  as  is  th  in  thumb,  and  ng 
in  king.  These  defects  are  aggravated  by  the  very  arbi- 
trary orthography  introduced  by  custom  into  the  Eng- 
lish language,  which  deviates  often  more  widely  from 
a  just  representation  of  the  words  as  they  are  uttered, 
and  from  the  principles  of  a  regular  analogy,  than  the 
orthography  of  any  other  language  of  Eurojie.  Thus 
the  following  words,  though  they  are  spelt  differently, 
are  pronounced  exactly  alike  ;  Dear,  Deer  ;  Heart,  Hart ; 
Son,  Sun  ;  To,  Two,  Too,  &c.  Some  words,  on  the  other 
hand,  though  spelt  alike,  are  differently  pronounced ; 
as  Give,  (the  verb,)  and  Give  (a  chain,)  <fec.  read  in  the 
present  and  read  in  the  past  tense.  The  most  remark- 
able of  these  anomalies  is  in  the  case  of  the  termina- 
tion migh,  which  in  different  words  is  pronounced  in  no 
fewer  than  nine  different  manners;  it  has  the  sound  of 
up  in  hiccough;  of  now  in  bough  ;  of  o  in  dough  ;  of  off' 
in  cough  ;  of  ock  in  lough;  of  uff  in  tough;  of  ou  in 
through  ;  of  o  short  in  thorough  ;  and  of  aw  in  tlwughl*. 

This  is  a  very  wide  violation  of  the  precept  of  Quin- 
tilian,  that  words  ought  to  he  written  exactly  as  they  are 
pronounced,  in  order  that  they  may  be  a  fit  sign  to  those 


*  The  greatest  difficulty,  in  the  way  of  reducing  the 
notation  of  the  English  alphabet  to  the  representation 
of  simple  sounds,  is  the  great  number  of  semitone  vow- 
els that  are  to  be  found  in  the  pronunciation  of  that  lan- 
guage ;  the  sound  of  many  of  which  is  so  doubtful  and 
ambiguous,  that  they  may  almost  be  said  to  be  inarticu- 
late, and  their  pronunciation  incapable  of  being  fixed  by 
signs  with  a  sufficient  degree  of  discrimination  and  pre- 
cision. Indeed,  there  is  an  immense  number  of  unac- 
cented syllables  in  the  English  idiom,  in  which  any  one 
of  the  six  vowels  may  be  substituted  for  another,  with- 
out any  perceptible  change  in  the  sound.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, the  word  labor,  the  last  syllable  of  it  may  be  writ- 
ten with  any  one  vowel,  between  Ihetwo  consonants  A,  r; 
thus  :  lobar,  laber,  labir,  labor,  labur,  labyr,  and  the  pro- 
nunciation will  not  he  varied  by  the  change.  The  same 
may  be  done  with  the  a  in  the  second  syllable  of  inad- 
vertence, and  the  e  in  the  second  syllable  of  aperture. 
A  nice  ear  may,  perhaps,  discern  some  small  shade  of 
diff«'rcuce  between  the  proper  sound  of  the  a  in  re- 
spectalile,  and  that  of  the  i  in  contemptible  ;  but  that  dif- 
ference is  so  small  that  the  vulgar  will  fref|uently  spell 
the  last  syllable  of  words  ending  in  ahle  or  ible  indis- 
•riniinately  with  an  a  or  an  i.  In  short,  in  almost  every 
•ne  of  the  English  polysyllables,  the  pronunciation  of 
the  unaccented  vowels  is  so  vague  and  indeterminate, 
that  nothing  would  be  more  difficult  than  to  fix  it  by 
signs  precisely  adapted  to  each  particular  sound. 

UUPONCEAU. 


who  read  them,  of  the  sounds  they  are  intended  to  con- 
vey. "  Ego  nisi  quod  consuetudo  obtinuerit,  sit  scriben- 
dum  quodque  jtidico  quomodo  sonat :  hie  enim  usus  est 
literantm,  ut  custodiant  voces  et  retut  (Uposilum  redilanl 
legentibus  ;  itaquc  id  cxprimcre  dcbent,  quod  dicturi  Kunt." 
(Inst.  Oral.  I.  1.  c.  7.)  It  is  unfortmiate,  that  custom  is 
with  great  difficulty  got  the  better  of  in  this  particular; 
and  when  once  a  mode  of  orthography  is  sanctioned  by 
habit,  it  too  often  obstinately  withstands  all  innovation  or 
improvement.  It  is  related,  that  Chilperick,  king  of 
France,  having  enjoined  by  edict,  that  the  Greek  du- 
plices  and  aspirates  5-,  ^,  p,  |,  -4^,  should  be  employed 
throughout  his  dominions  for  the  greater  commodious- 
ness  of  writing,  and  taught  in  the  schools;  no  sooner 
was  he  dead  than  they  were  entirely  disused.  The  great 
Augustus  himself  declared,  that  he  was  unable  to  bring 
into  use  a  single  new  word.  Some  improvements,  how- 
ever, have,  by  perseverance,  been  made  in  our  ortho- 
graphy. We  now  no  longer  write  indiscriminately  v 
for  u,  am\j  for  i,  as  our  forefathers  did ;  but  give  to  the 
V  and  J  the  constant  power  of  consonants,  and  to  the  u 
and  t  their  proper  effect  as  vowels;  and  doubtless  more 
improvements  might  be  accomplished  if  gone  about  in 
a  cautious  and  judicious  manner. 

Theingenious  Ur.  Franklin  had  bestowed  considerable 
attention  on  the  reformation  of  the  English  orthography, 
and  actually  constructed  a  new  ali>babet  and  system  of 
spelling,  apparently  free  from  any  of  the  above  objec- 
tions. In  the  alphabet  of  Franklin,  c  was  omitted  as 
superfluous,  k  supplying  its  hard  sound,  and  f  its  soft ; 
k  also  supplied  the  place  of  q,  and  with  an  s  added,  the 
place  of  a: ;  q  and  x  Mere  therefore  omitted  also.  The 
vowel  u  being  sounded  as  oo,  made  iv  unnecessary.  The 
y,  where  used  simpl}',  was  supplied  by  i,  and  where  as 
a  diphthong,  by  two  vowels;  it  was  therefore  likewise 
omitted,  as  was  the  _;,  whose  place  was  otherwise  sup- 
plied. In  the  room  of  these  six  discarded  letters,  six 
new  characters  were  introduced,  all  expressive  of  sim- 
ple sounds  employed  in  the  English  language,  and  dis- 
tinguished by  peculiar  forms.  The  first  of  these  was 
meant  to  express  the  long  a,  as  in  atvl,  ball,  folly,  <tc. ; 
to  avoid  introducing  new  characters,  we  shall  mark  it 
by  "a,"  with  a  line  under  it  thus  a-  The  second  was 
for  the  short  u,  as  in  umbrage,  unto,  <tc.  and  may  be  ex- 
pressed by  «  ;  the  third  was  for  sh  in  ship,  rvixh,  <tc.  and 
may  be  marked j;  the  fourth  was  for  ng  in  throng, 
among, &i.c.  and  may  be  marked  |-;  the  fifth  was  for  th 
in  think,  and  may  be  marked  t;  and  the  sixth  was  for 
dh  in  thy,  and  may  be  marked  rf.  The  difference  be- 
tween short  and  long  vowels  was  expressed  by  a  single 
vowel  where  short,  and  a  double  one  where  long.  Thus, 
for  mend,  write  mend ;  but  for  remained,  write  remeend ; 
for  did,  write  did ;  but  for  deed,  write  diid,  &e. 

These  twenty-six  characters,  which  were  supposed 
to  comprehend  all  the  simple  sounds  in  the  English 
language,  Franklin  arranged  in  a  new  order,  which  he 
supposed  more  agreeable  to  nature  than  the  common 
one.  He  began  with  the  vowels  which  are  chiefly 
sounded  by  the  windpipe,  with  very  little  help  from  the 
tongue,  teeth,  or  lips,  in  the  following  oi-der ;  o,  a,  a,  e,  i, 
u,  u ;  then  followed  the  aspirate  h  ;  then  the  consonants 
formed  by  the  roof  of  the  tongue  next  to  the  windpipe, 
viz.  g,  k,  s,  g;  then  those  formed  more  forward  by  the 
forepart  of  the  tongue  against  the  roof  of  the  mouth,  viz. 
n,  r,  t,  d  ;  then  those  formed  still  more  forward  in  the 
mouth,  by  the  tip  of  the  tougue  applied  first  to  the  roots 
of  the  upper  teeth,  viz.  I,  s,  z ;  then  those  formed  by 


ALPHABET. 


539 


Ihe  tip  of  the  tongue  applied  to  the  ends  or  edges  of  the 
upper  teeth,  viz.  l,d;  then  those  formed  still  more  for- 
ward, by  the  under  lip  applied  to  the  upper  teeth,  viz. 
f,  V ;  then  those  formed  yet  more  forward,  by  the  upper 
and  under  lip  opening  to  let  out  the  sounding  breath, 
viz.  b,  p;  and  lastly,  the  shutting  up  of  the  mouth,  or 
closing  the  lips,  while  any  vowel  is  sounding,  viz.  m. 

We  give  tlie  two  following  specimens  of  wriling,  ac- 
cording to  Franklin's  method,  which,  being  well  known 
passages  of  poetry,  may  be  easily  decyphered  by  our 
readers. 

So  huen  sura  Knd^el  bui  diruin  kamand 
Uid  ruizig  tempests  seeks  e  gilti  land  ; 
(Suiu  as  av  leet  or  peel  Biitania  past) 
Kalm  and  siriin  hi  dmivs  di  fuirius  blast ; 
And  pliizM  cT  alcouitis  ardurs  tu  purfoiin, 
Ruids  in  di  Hiuirluind  and  duirckts  di  starra. 


So  di  pnir  limpid  striim  huen  foul  uit  steena 

^8  ruisig  tarents  and  diseiidig  recns, 
Uurks  itself  kliir  ;  and  az  it  runs  rifuins ; 
Til  hu'i  (ligriis,  «le  floti^  mirur  stnns, 
Riflekls  iits  flaur  dat  an  its  harder  groz, 
And  e  nu  hevn  in  its  feer  busuro  suz. 

See  Franklin's  fVorks,  vol.  ii.  p.  357 — 366.* 


*  Other  Americans  have  attempted,  but  without  suc- 
cess, to  reform  the  alphabet  of  the  English  language, 
and  some  have  published  elaborate  works  ujion  the  su!)- 
j«ct,  among  which,  the  following  are  the  most  deserving 
of  notice. 

Cadmus,  or  a  Treatise  on  the  elements  of  mittm  Lan- 
guage, illustrating  hy  a  philosophical  division  of  Speech, 
the  power  of  each  character,  thereby  mutually  fixins  the 
Tthography  and  orthoepy  By  WilliamlTliornton,  M.  D. 
member  of  the  societies  of  Scots  Antiquaries  of  E'linburgh 
and  Perth,  tlie  Medical  Society,  and  the  Society  of  Natural 
History  of  Edinburgh ;  the  American  Philosophical  So- 
oiety,&c.     110  pages  8vo.     Philadelphia,  Aitkin,  1793. 

The  Columbian  Alphubct,  being  an  attempt  to  tim- 
modcl  the  English  Alphabet  in  such  manner  as  to  mark 
every  simple  sound  by  an  appropriate  character,  tlurcby 
rendering  the  spelling  and  pronunciation  more  determinate 
and  correct,  and  the  art  of  reading  and  yvriting  more  ea- 
sily attainable.  By  James  Ewing,  23  prges  8vo.  Tren- 
ton, Day,  1798. 

Mr.  Noah  Webster,  well  known  among  us  as  a  respec- 
table literary  character,  has  adopted  a  new  system  of 
English  orthograi)hy,  which  he  has  made  use  of  in  seve- 
ral of  his  works,  but  has  not  written  any  thing  that  we 
know  of,  to  explain  or  develope  the  principle  of  his  in- 
novations. Neither  his  plan  nor  those  ol  Dr.  Thornton 
and  Dr.  Ewing  have  been  adopted  in  practice. 

Dr.  Thornton's  alphabet  consists  ot  thirty  letters,  of 
which  seven  are  vowels,  twenty-two  consonants,  and  one 
aspirate.  Two  of  the  vowels  and  live  of  the  consonants 
are  represented  by  new  characters.  One  of  these  let- 
ters standsj'or  nih,  which  in  our  opinion  is  erroneously 
exhibited  as  a  simple  sound. 

Mr.  Ewing's  alphabet  has  thirty-three  letters,  eleven 
vowels,  twenty -one  consonants,  and  one  aspirate,  among 
which  are  also  several  new  characters. 

Mr.  Webster  has  not  added  any  new  letters  to  the 
English  alphabet ;  his  orthography  consists  only  in  a  dif- 


Other  authors  give  a  different  estimate  of  the  num- 
ber of  simple  sounds  in  the  English  language.  Accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Sheridan,  the  number  of  these  sounds  is  28. 
He  nearly  coincides  with  Franklin  in  his  enumeration 
of  the  simple  consonants ;  but  reckons  more  vowels,  and 
rejects  from  the  number  of  real  letters  the  aspiration  h. 
See  his  Rhetorical  G-rammar,  p.  9. 

The  following  is  his  scheme  of  the  English  alphabet: 
Number  of  simple  sounds  in  our  tongue  28. 

3       12         3         2         3         111 
9  Vowels,     aaa         e         o         o         eiu 
hall  hat  hate  beer    note    noose  bet  fit  but* 

short  oo  short  ee 


ferent  manner  of  employing  those  that  are  already  in 
use,  of  which  the  following  is  a  specimen  : 

"  Our  forefathers  took  mesures  to  preserve  the  reputa- 
tion of  skools,  and  the  morals  of  yuth,  by  making  the 
business  of  leeching  them  an  honourable  emploj  ment. 
Every  town  or  district  has  a  committee  whose  duty  ig 
to  procure  a  master  of  talents  and  karactcr,  and  the  prac- 
tice is  to  [jrocure  a  man  of  the  best  clmracter  in  the 
town  or  nabourhood." 

In  this  short  paragraph,  taken  at  random  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  book,  Mr.  Webster  has  himself  furnished  a 
striking  example  of  the  difficulty  of  introducing  such 
innovations  into  universal  practice,  by  forgetting  his 
own  rules  in  several  places.  He  writes,  for  instance, 
the  word  biisiness  according  to  the  old  orthograj)hy| 
while  he  writes  is,  has,  ivhose,  &c.  while  to  be  consis- 
tent he  should  write  business,  or  bisiness,  or  perhaps 
bisncss.  So  in  the  word  cliaracter,  he  employs  in  one 
place  the  letter  k  and  in  another  the  letter  c  to  express 
the  same  sound;  he  spells  it  karacter,  whereas,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  principle,  it  should  be  either  karakter  or 
caracter  ;  and  so  completely  does  he  forget  himself,  that 
in  the  next  line  he  entirely  reverts  to  the  old  mode  of 
spelling  cliaracter.  See  Webster's  Collection  of  Essays 
&n(\  fugitiv  writings,  page  337. 

This  writer  therefore  atfords  a  strong  practical  ar- 
gument against  great  and  sudden  alterations  in  the  or- 
thography of  a  living  language.  The  most  celebrated 
authors  have  failed  in  similar  attempts;  even  such  a 
man  as  Voltaire  found  the  greatest  difficulty  in  in- 
troducing a  trifling  alteration  in  the  spelling  of  a  few 
French  words ;  and  his  orthography  is  yet  very  far  from 
being  universally  adopted. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  time  and  usage  have  actually 
effected  a  change  in  the  manner  of  writing  certain  words, 
it  is  in  vain  to  attempt  to  restore  the  exploded  ortho- 
graphy. Thus,  Dr.  Johnson,  who  deserved  to  be  styled 
the  colossus  of  literature,  notwithstanding  the  immense 
weight  of  his  authority  and  influence,  was  not  able  to 
restore  the  ancient  mode  of  spelling  Ihe  words  honor, 
emperor,  music,  &c.  and  it  is  now  looked  upon  as  childish 
aflectation  to  spell  those  words  as  they  were  written  in 
the  days  o!  Addison  and  Steele,  honour,  emperour,  nm- 
sick,  &c      Dlponceau. 

*  The  sound  of  the  vowel  o  in  note,  and  that  of  u  in 
hut,  are  not  two  distinct  simple  sounds  ;  the  two  vowels 
are  pronounced  exactly  alike,  with  the  difference  only, 
that  the  one  is  long,  and  the  other  short.  If  their  quantity 
were  the  same,  the  v/orAnote  would  be  pronounced  nut 
3  Y  2 


o40 


19  Consonants, 


ALPHABET. 


eb  ed  ef  eg  ek  el  em  en  ep  er  es  et 
ev  ez  eth  cth  esh  ezh  ing. 


ek 
eb 


ep 
ed 


et 

eg- 


er  ess  ev  ez  eth  cth  esh 


2  Superfluous,  c,  which  has  the  power  off*  or  tss  ; 
g,  that  oiek  before  u. 

2  C<mqimtnd,j,  which  stands  for  edsh  ; 

X,  for  ks  or  gs. 
1  No  letter,  h,  merely  a  mark  of  aspiration. 
Consonants  divided  into  mtdes  and  Semivowels. 
6  Mutes,     eb     ed    eg     ek    ep     et. 
3  Pure  Mutes, 
3  Impure, 
13  Semivowels  )  ef  el  em  en 
or  liquids,      ^      ezh  ing. 

9  Vocal,        el  em  en  er  ev  ez  eth  ezh  ing. 
4  Aspirated,  ef  ess  eth  esh. 

Divided  again  into 
4  Lahial,      eb  ep  ep  pef. 
8  Dental,     ed  et  eth  cth  ez  ess  ezh  esh. 
4  PalattHe,  eg  ek  el  er. 
3  Nasal,     em  en  ing. 

To  make  our  alphabet  complete,  Mr.  Sheridan  thinks 
would  require  nine  additional  characters ;  but,  on  the 
other  band,  several  of  Qur  superfluous  letters  might  be 
thrown  out. 

Other  schemes  for  the  reformation  of  the  English 
alphabet  have  been  proposed ;  but  none  of  them  seem 
to  require  particular  notice.  Custom,  it  is  probable,  will 
ever  be  found  too  powerful  an  obstacle  to  their  adoption, 
were  their  advantages  unequivocally  certain.  One  in- 
convenience, it  is  pretty  clear,  would  result  from  the 
substitution  of  any  one  formed  alphabet  in  room  of  our 
present  one ;  the  analogy  of  the  languages  and  the  deri- 
vations of  words,  would  often  be  entirely  lost  sight  of, 
and  thus  the  language  might  lose  in  one  way  as  much 
as  it  gained  in  another. 

Before  concluding  this  article,  it  may  be  proper  to 
make  a  very  few  observations  on  the  forms  of  letters. 
Whence  these  were  originally  taken,  it  is  impossible 
now  to  ascertain.  Some  have  supposed  them  to  be  ta- 
ke^  from  the  outlines  of  figures  in  the  picture  writing 
which  preceded  them,  or  the  contracted  figures  of  some 
of  the  most  familiar  objects;  a  conjecture  thought  to 
be  supported  by  the  significations  of  the  names  of  the ' 
letters  in  the  Hebrew  and  Samaritan  alphabet,  some 
fancied  resemblances  being  traced  between  the  form  of 
the  letter  and  the  outlines  of  the  object  which  its  name 
expressed.  Others  have  found  tlie  forms  of  the  letters 
in  the  position  of  the  organs  of  'peech,  or  in  their 
pronunciation.  Of  these  opinions,  the  former  appears 
tb^  more  probable,  though  neither  can  be  regarded  as 
certain.     M.  Nelme,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Origin  of 


or  the  word  hut  would  sound  like  bole.  The  same  oh- 
serviition  will  apply  to  a  in  Itaic  and  e  in  bet,  which  are 
similar  in  sound,  and  differ  only  in  quantity.  It  will  ap- 
ply also  to  ai  in  fair,  and  a  in  luit,  which  are  sotmded 
alike,  though  the  former  is  long  and  the  latter  short. 
Yet  Mr.  Sheridan  has  not  included  the  diphthong  a,i  in 
his  list  of  simple  sounds,  although  there  is  as  much  rea- 
son to  distinguish  it  from  a  in  hut,  as  there  is  to  distin- 
guibh  0  in  note  from  u  in  but,  and  a  in  hate  from  e  in  bet. 
Mr.  Sheridan's  classificntion  cannot  therefore  be  consi- 
dered assutficiently  analytical  and  correct.    Duposceau. 


Letters,  has  bestowed  much  pains  in  showing  that  t^ll 
elementary  characters  or  letters  derive  their  forms  from 
the  line  and  the  circle.     His  alphabet  consists  of  13 
radical  letters,   four  diminished  and  four  augmented; 
and  he  proves  that  his  characters  are  very  similar  to 
those  of  the  ancient  Etruscans.     Mr.  Nelme,  however, 
might  have  saved  all  his  trouble  ;  for  as  all  characters 
must  of  necessity  be  composed  either  of  lines,  circles, 
or  parts  of  circles,  his  investigations  only  proved  what 
was  before  evident  at  first  sight.     After  all,  however, 
the  forms  of  alphabetic  characters  have  been  so  much 
varied  in  different  countries,  that  it  is  impossilile  to 
enter  into  any  particular  discussion  of  them ;  nor  indeed 
is  this   necessary  for  elucidating   the   suLject.     It  is 
sufficient  to  observe,  that  for  the  perfection  of  an  alpha- 
bet, it  would  be  desirable,  in  regard  to  the  forms  of  the 
letters,  that  they  should  be   perspicuous  and  distinct, 
BO  as  to  avoid  the  hazard  of  being  confounded  or  mis- 
taken ;  that  their  conformation  should  be  sufficiently 
simple  and  regular,  so  as  to  be  formed  with  ease  and  ex- 
pedition ;  that  the  shape  should  be  such  as  readily  to 
unite  into  words,  without  losing  their  distinctive  figure; 
and   that,  if   possible,   some  degree    of  elegance  and 
beauty  should  be  attained,  so  far  as  this  can  be  done 
without  sacrificing  perspicuity.     In  these  different  res- 
pects, few  alphabets  surpass  the  Greek  and  the  Roman ; 
and   though  ingenious   men   have  amused  themselves 
with  imagining  characters  which   they  suppose  more 
simple  or  more  convenient  thaa  those  now  in  use,  none 
of  these  appear  to  possess  such  advantages  as  are  likely 
to  bring  them  into  use.     To  contrive  a  new  set  of  cha- 
racters is  no  difficult  task,  but  to  demonstrate  their  su- 
perior utility,  would  probably  be  found  a  more  arduous 
undertaking. 

Those  who  wish  for  a  more  particular  investigation 
of  the  subject  of  alphabetic  writing,  may  consult  the 
following  authors:  Hermanus  Hugo  rfe  prima  sci-ibendi 
origine,  1617;  a  small  tract  evincing  diligence  in  re- 
search, though  not  distinguished  by  much  ingenuity  or 
acuteness.      Inquiry  into  the  Antiquity  and  Original  of 
Letters,  1726;  nearly  of  the  same  character  as  the  pre- 
ceding, and  disfigured  with  credulous  observations  on 
the     antediluvian    letters.       jMons.    Gebelin's    Monde 
Priinitif,  vo\.  iii.   1775;  a  work  of  vast  erudition,  but 
which,  in  treating  of  subjects  of  remote  antiquity,  re- 
curs often  to  conjecture  instead  of  proof.      Wiikins' 
Essay  on  a  Real  Character.and  Philosophical  Lauiuage; 
in  which  he  pro|)Oses  his  reformed  alphabet,  already 
particularly  noticed.  Bishop  Warburton's  Divine  Lega- 
tion, particularly  the  Dissertation  on.Hieroglyphic  Cha- 
racters;   a  dissertation  distinguished  by  much  of  the 
characteristic  erudition,  ingenuity  and  vigour  of  thought 
for  which  the  bishop  is  justly  celebrated.     Conjectural 
Oliservations  ou  the  Origin  and  Progress  of  Alphabetic 
Writing,  1772;  a  tract  containing  some  curious  obser- 
vations on  the  origin  of  letters,  though  in  several  points 
rather  inconclusive.     Astle  on  the  Origin  and  Progress 
of  Writing;  a  very  valuable  work,  so  far  as  regards  the 
history  of  writing  in  Europe,  from  I  he  decline  of  the 
Roman  Empire  downwards  ;  but  in  regard  to  the  remote 
history  of  alphabetic  writing,  vague  and  unsatisfactory. 
(Jilbert  Wakefield's  Dissertation  on  the  Origin  of  Al- 
phabetic Writing,  in  the  4lh  volume  of  the  Transac- 
tions of  the  Manchester  Society.     Wise's  Essay  on  the 
Origin  of  the  Language  and  Letters  of  EuiOjie.     Win- 
der's Essay  on  Knowledge.     Jackson's  Chronological 
Antiquities.    Ancient  Universal  History,  voJb.  iii.  and 


ALP 


4:mt^m^4 


ALP 


541 


XX.  Anselm  Bailey's  Introduction  to  Language.  Lon- 
don Philosophical  Transactions,  vol.  xvi.  N"  182.  vol. 
xl.  N"  445.  vol.  xlviii.  N"  87.  Sir  'William  Jones's 
Essay  on  the  Ortliogra[)hy  of  Asiatic  words,  in  the  first 
Tolume  of  the  Asiatic  Transactions. 

In  the  French  Encyclopeilie,  vol.  iu  of  the  Plates, 
there  is  a  large  collection  ol  alphabets,  ancient  and  mo- 
dern, 49  in  number,  splendidly  engraved,  and  collected 


with  great  labour  and  attention.  Fry's  Pantc^raphia, 
lately  published,  contains  a  more  numerous  collection 
of  alphabets,  but  by  no  means  so  well  formed  and  ar- 
ranged as  those  in  the  Encyclopedic. 

For  a  particular  account  of  the  systems  invented  by 
Bishop  Wilkins,  Leibnitz,  Lodovick,  and  others,  for  a 
real  and   universal  character,   see   Character.      (^) 

w 


ALPHONSO  I.  or  Don  Alonso  Enri^uez  the  first 
king  of  Portugal,  was  horn  in  the  year  1109.  He  was 
the  son  of  Henry  Count  of  Burgundy,  and  of  Theresa, 
daughter  of  Aljihonso  VI.  king  of  Leon  and  Castile. 
His  father  had  received,  as  a  dowry  with  his  wife,  the 
greater  part  of  Portugal,  which  he  held,  with  the  title 
of  Count,  of  the  king  of  Castile,  his  father-in-law.  Af- 
ter his  death  in  1112,  Theresa,  with  the  assistance  of 
Ferdinand  Perez,  Count  of  Frastemara,  continued  to 
govern  Portugal  till  the  year  1128.  At  this  period,  the 
nobles,  having  become  jealous  of  the  [lower  of  Perez, 
or  havina;  been  oflended  by  the  reports  of  his  intima- 
cy with  the  queen,  advised  Alphonso,  who  was  now  in 
his  eighteenth  year,  to  assume  the  sovereign  authority. 
His  mother  and  her  party  had  recourse  to  arms ;  but 
the  young  prince,  by  the  advice  of  his  nobility,  gave 
them  battle,  and  gained  a  complete  victorj'.  He  took 
Theresa  [irisoner,  and  held  her  in  confinement  till  her 
death,  which  took  place  about  two  years  after  this  event. 
After  defeating  the  Moors,  <\ho  had  made  an  inroad 
into  his  territories,  he  turned  his  arms  against  the 
kingdom  of  Gallicia,  under  the  pretence  of  pursuing 
Ferdinand  Perez,  who  had  retired  thither;  but,  in 
reality,  with  a  view  to  recover  some  places,  which  hia 
mother  had  possessed  in  that  country.  This  attack 
drew  upon  him  the  vengeance  of  his  cousin  Alphonso 
VII.  king  of  Leon  and  Castile,  who  entered  Portugal 
with  a  numerous  army,  and  ravaged  the  country  to  a 
great  extent.  He  concluded  a  peace  with  that  prince 
in  1137,  on  the  conditions,  that  all  places  and  prisoners, 
taken  on  both  sides,  should  be  restored ;  and  as  the 
Pope's  legate  had  used  his  influence  to  procure  such 
favourable  terms,  the  Count  Alphonso  voluntarily  ac- 
knowledged himself  tributary  to  the  Roman  see,  and 
engaged  to  pay  annually  four  ounces  of  gold.  In  1139 
he  completely  routed  a  numerous  army  of  the  floors 
in  the  plains  of  Ourique ;  and,  immediately  after  the 
victory,  was  proclaimed  by  his  soldiers  king  of  Por- 
tugal. Having  made  some  further  conquests  from  the 
Moors,  he  assembled  the  states  of  his  kingdom  in  1145; 
and,  with  their  unanimous  consent,  was  crowned  by  the 
archbishop  of  Braga.  They  declared  him  independent 
of  the  king  of  Leon  and  Castile,  and  of  every  other 
prince  :  vowed  to  support  him  in  his  sovereignty ;  and 
drawing  their  swords,  exclaimed  with  enthusiasm, 
"  We  are  free,  our  king  is  free,  and  we  owe  our  liberty 
to  our  courage;  and  if  he  shall  ever  submit  to  do  ho- 
mage, he  deserves  death,  and  shall  neither  reign  over 
us,  nor  remain  among  us."  After  his  coronation  he  mar- 
ried Matilda,  daughter  of  Amadeus,  Count  of  Maurienne 
and  Savoy  ;  and  spent  some  time  in  visiting  the  several 
provinces  of  his  kingdom.  In  1147,  by  the  assistance 
of  a  band  of  adventurers,  who  were  on  their  way  to  the 
Holy  land,  he  recovered  Lisbon  from  the  Moors,  and 
added  many  other  places  to  his  dominions.     He  ap- 


plied himself  (o  preserve  and  improve  the  territories 
which  he  had  acquired ;  and  in  all  his  plans  he  found 
an  able  and  active  assistant  in  his  queen  Matilda.  He 
repaired  the  cities  which  had  fallen  into  decay,  and  en- 
couraged strangers  to  settle  among  his  subjects.  He 
restored  the  Episcopal  see  of  Lisbon ;  and  appointed  as 
bishop  an  English  divine  named  Gilbert,  who  had  been 
among  the  crusaders,  by  whom  he  was  assisted  in  cap- 
turing the  place.  In  his  old  age,  he  was  engaged  in 
frequent  disputes  with  his  son-in-law,  Ferdinand,  king  of 
Leon,  who  re(|uired  him  to  do  homage  for  his  dominions. 
In  the  latter  part  of  his  reign,  he  was  greatly  assisted 
by  his  son  Don  Sancho,  who  commanded  his  troops  on 
several  occasions  ;  and  who  gained  a  memorable  victory 
over  the  Moors  at  Santaren  in  1 1 83.  This  decisive  de- 
feat |)rocured  a  seasou  of  re|)ose  for  the  aged  king, 
who  had  retired  to  C'oimbra,  where  he  was  attended  by 
his  nobility,  to  concert  measures  for  the  future  security 
of  his  territories;  and  where  he  died  in  1185,  in  the 
76th  year  of  his  age,  and  57th  of  his  reign.  He  was 
greatly  regretted  bj'  his  subjects,  and  buried  with  much 
solemnity.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  person  of  ex- 
traordinary strength,  about  seven  feet  in  height,  and 
possessed  of  great  military  courage.  He  is  more  de- 
serving, however,  of  admiration,  for  the  free  constitution 
and  excellent  laws  which  he  established  at  his  corona- 
lion  ;  and  for  the  anxiety  which  he  showed  to  have  these 
benefits  secured  to  his  subjects.  See  Mod.  Un.  Hist.  vol. 
xxii.  p.  14—36.  {q) 

ALPHONSO,  or  Alokso  II.  surnamed  the  Fat, 
king  of  Portugal,  succeeded  his  father  Don  Sancho,  in 
1212.  He  was  27  years  of  age  when  he  began  to  reign. 
He  assisted  the  king  of  Castile,  and  favoured  the 
knights  of  the  order  of  Avis.  These  two  acts  procured 
him  considerable  reputation  ;  but  the  lustre  of  his  name 
was  soon  tarnished  by  the  quarrels  in  which  he  engaged 
with  his  own  family.  His  father  having  observed  that 
he  showed  little  affection  towards  his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, endeavoured  to  render  them  as  independent  of  him 
as  possible.  To  the  former  he  had  given  much  wealth 
in  money  and  jewels;  and  to  the  latter,  some  of  the  best 
places  in  the  kingdom,  with  their  revenues.  Alphonso 
insisted  that  it  was  not  in  his  fathers  power  to  dis- 
member his  dominions ;  endeavoured  to  persuade  his 
sisters  to  restore  their  possessions  to  the  crown ;  and 
when  his  remonstrances  failed,  he  hnd  recourse  to  arms. 
The  princesses  were  favoured  by  the  noliility,  and  de- 
fended themselves  with  vigour.  They  applied  for  pro- 
tection to  Ferdinand  king  of  Leon,  and  to  Pope  Innocent 
HI.  The  former  invaded  Portugal,  but  at  length  con- 
cluded a  peace  with  Alphonso,  through  the  mediation 
of  the  king  of  Castile.  The  latter  laid  Alphonso  and  hi-- 
dominions  under  an  interdict ;  and  then  effected  a  re- 
conciliation between  that  prince  and  his  sisters.  Th«; 
peace  of  the  kingdom  was  again  v«ry  soon  disturbed  by 


sii 


ALPHONSO, 


the  incursions  of  the  Moors ;  but,  by  the  assistance  of  an 
army  of  Germans  and  Flemings,  bound  for  the  Holy 
Land,  who  had  come  to  refit  in  the  port  of  Lisbon,  he 
completely  routed  the  army  of  the  Moors,  and  took  from 
them  the  fortress  of  Alcngar-do-sal,  which  had  been 
deemed  impregnable.  The  further  progress  of  the  war 
was  interrupted  by  the  interference  of  Pope  Honorius, 
who  refused  to  allow  the  crusaders  to  remain  longer  in 
Portugal.  Alphonso  was  again  harassed  by  internal 
dissentions  in  his  kingdom.  The  people  complained  of 
the  severity  of  the  laws ;  and  the  clergy  refused  their 
contribution  of  troops  and  money.  The  king  seized  the 
revenues  of  the  archbishop  of  Braga,  and  obliged  him 
to  quit  his  dominions.  The  Pope  excommunicated  the 
king,  and  put  the  kingdom  under  an  interdict.  The 
confusion  occasioned  by  this  sentence,  obliged  Alphonso 
to  enter  into  negociations  with  bis  su'ijects ;  but  before 
any  reconciliation  could  be  accomplished,  he  died  in  the 
12th  year  of  his  reign,  A.  D.  1223.  He  was  a  prince  of 
extraordinary  size  and  strength,  and  was  animated  by 
such  a  courageous  sinrif,  that  his  subjects  found  it 
necessary  to  restrain  him  in  the  field  of  battle.  He 
enacted  a  number  of  statutes  for  the  relief  and  protection 
of  the  lower  classes;  friimcd  a  body  of  laws  for  Ibe 
direction  of  the  judges;  and  protected  the  laity  against 
the  oppressive  measures  of  the  ecclesiastics.  Most  of 
the  disturbances  during  the  latter  part  of  his  reign  were 
occasioned  by  these,  and  similar  regulations,  for  the  im- 
partial distribution  of  justice,  rather  than  his  own 
misconduct.     See  Mod,  Un.  Hist,  vol.  xxii.  p.  41 — 45. 

ALPHONSO.  or  Alonso  IIL  king  of  Portugal,  was 
appointed  regent  by  the  pope,  during  the  life  of  his  bro- 
ther Sancho,  in  1245  ;  and  succeeded  him  on  the  throne 
in  1248,  in  the  38th  year  of  his  age.  Though  he  had 
employed  many  dishonourable  means  to  seduce  the  sub- 
jects of  his  brother  from  their  allegiance,  and  had  bribed 
several  of  his  governors  to  surrender  their  charges  into 
fais  hands ;  yet,  as  soon  as  he  became  king  of  Portugal, 
he  showed  no  regard  to  those,  who  had  thus  served  liim 
at  the  expense  of  their  honour,  but  received  into  his 
favour  and  councils  all  who  had  remained  faithful  to 
bis  predecessor.  He  made  considerable  conquests  from 
the  Moors,  and  acted  with  great  prudence  and  address 
in  the  administration  of  bis  internal  affairs.  He  enacted 
several  useful  laws,  reformed  a  multitude  of  abuses,  and 
restrained  the  factious  and  licentious.  He  married  Donna 
Beatrix,  the  natural  daughter  of  Alphonso,  the  wise 
king  of  Leon  and  Castile ;  but  on  account  of  several 
irregularities  attending  this  match,  pope  Alexander  IV. 
put  bis  kingdom  under  an  interdict.  Upon  the  death  of 
his  first  queen,  whom  he  had  divorced  for  sterility,  pope 
Urban  IV.  removed  the  interdict,  and  legitimated  the 
children  of  Donna  Beatrix.  By  means  of  commissioners, 
he  settled  with  the  king  of  Castile  the  boundaries  of 
their  respective  dominions  ;  and  at  length,  upon  a  visit 
to  that  prince,  who  was  bis  father-in-law,  he  had  the  ad- 
dress to  obtain  an  exemption  of  the  crown  of  Portugal 
irom  all  homage  to  that  of  Castile.  Encouraged  by  his 
successes,  he  proceeded  to  extend  the  authority  of  the 
crown,  and  obliged  the  clergy  to  contribute  to  the  ex- 
penses of  the  state.  This  rekindled  former  disputes, 
t^id  by  the  influence  of  Martin,  archbishop  of  Braga, 
the  kingdom  was  again  put  under  an  interdict  in  1208. 
Alphonso  amused  the  court  of  Rome  with  fruitless  ne- 
gociations ;  but  in  the  mean  time,  received  the  cardinals 
and  legate!  who  came  to  Portugal,  with  the  utmost 


magnificence  and  respect.  At  length,  a  short  time  be- 
fore bis  death,  he  made  a  full  submission  to  the  church, 
received  absolution,  and  died  in  1279,  in  the  69th  year 
of  his  age,  and  31st  of  his  reign.  He  left  the  kingdom 
of  Portugal  greatly  augmented  and  improved.  He  had 
repaired  old  cities  and  founded  new  ones;  erected 
churches,  and  endowed  convents.  He  particularly  prov- 
ed himself  the  friend  of  the  poor;  provided  many 
things  for  their  advantage  ;  and  in  a  time  of  scarcity, 
he  even  pawned  his  crown  to  supply  them  with  food. 
He  was  a  prince  who  punished  severely,  and  rewarded 
generously ;  who  acted  the  politician  as  far  as  was  neces- 
sary, but  at  other  times  was  frank  and  engaging  in  hig 
manners  ;  who  affected  magnificence  when  his  revenues 
would  permit,  but  observed  economy  when  his  atlairs 
required  it ;  and  who  would  have  left  behind  him  an  un- 
blemished reputation,  had  he  treated  his  brother  with 
greater  gentleness  and  justice.  Mod.  Un.  Hist.  vol.  xxii. 
p.  51—59.     (y) 

ALPHONSO,  or  Alonso  IV.  king  of  Portugal,  sur- 
named  the  Brave,  succeeded  his  father  Don  Denis  in 
1324,  in  the  34th  year  of  his  age.  While  he  was  heir 
apparent,  be  had  repeatedly  rebelled  against  his  father; 
and  had  conducted  himself  with  much  violence  and  ol^- 
stinacy.  When  he  got  possession  of  the  crown,  he 
thought  himself  at  liberty  to  act  as  he  pleased ;  and 
pursued  his  pleasures  without  control.  Hunting  was 
his  favourite  amusement,  and  he  spent  the  greater  |)art 
of  his  time  in  the  forests  of  Cintra,  while  the  allairs  of 
government  were  wholly  neglected.  At  length,  return- 
ing to  Lisbon,  and  entering  into  bis  council,  he  proceed- 
ed, with  much  frankness  and  s))irit,  to  give  a  detail  of 
his  sports,  during  the  preceding  month.  When  he  had 
concluded  his  report,  one  of  his  counsellors,  a  person  of 
the  first  rank,  rose  up  and  reminded  him,  "  that  kings 
were  designed  for  courts  and  camps,  not  for  woods  and 
deserts ;  that,  as  they  are  public  characters,  a  whole  na- 
tion suffers  when  they  prefer  recreation  to  business ; 
that  they  were  now  assembled  for  other  purposes  than 
to  hear  of  exploits,  which  could  be  agreeable  and  intel- 
ligible only  to  grooms  and  falconers ;  that  if  he  would 
attend  to  the  interests  of  his  people,  he  would  find  them 
obedient  subjects,  but  if  not" — here  the  prince,  starting 
with  passion,  exclaimed, "  If  not,  what  th^n  .'"  "  If  not," 
continued  the  nobleman,  in  the  same  firm  tone  of  voice, 
"  they  must  look  for  another  and  a  better  king."  At 
this  Alphonso  lost  all  patience,  expressed  his  resentment 
in  the  strongest  terms,  and  left  the  council  in  a  trans- 
port of  rage.  But,  after  reflecting  with  himself,  be  re- 
turned composetl,  and  expressed  himself  thus  :  "  1  per- 
ceive the  truth  of  what  you  have  said.  He  cannot  long 
have  subjects  who  will  not  be  a  king.  Remember,  that 
from  this  day,  you  hare  nothing  more  to  do  with  Al- 
phonso the  sportsman,  but  with  Alphonso  king  of  Por- 
tugal."' He  kept  bis  resolution ;  and  as  he  was  pos- 
sessed of  good  sense  as  well  as  great  sjiirit,  he  gradually 
entered  into  the  knowledge  and  discharge  of  his  regal 
duties.  He  showed  respect  to  the  memory  of  his  father; 
punished  the  crimes  of  some  of  his  former  favourites ; 
and  promoted  those  who  had  most  keenly  opposed  him. 
But  with  all  his  good  qualities,  he  could  not  overcome 
the  unreasonable  aversion  which  he  bad  conceived 
against  his  natural  brother  Don  Alonso  Sanchez;  and 
notwithf  landing  the  respectful  behaviour  of  Sanchez,  he 
persisted  in  treating  him  as  a  traitor,  till  he  drove  him 
to  rebellion;  but  at  length,  by  the  interpo!<ilion  of  his 
mother  Donna  Isabella,  he  recalled  his  brother,  and  re- 


ALPHONSO. 


543 


ceived  him  into  favour.     His  daughter,  Donna  Maria, 
was  married  about  this  time  to  Aloiiso  XF.  king  of  Cas- 
tile; Initas  she  was  treated  with  great  indignity  by  that 
prince,  her  father  interposed  in  her  behalf.     After  long 
altercations   and  reciprocal  injuries,  the   two  princes 
came    (o   an    open  rupture;  and  the  sulyects  of  both 
kingdoms  were  exposed  to  the  miseries  of  war  for  the 
space  of  12  years.     At  length  a  peace  was  concluded; 
and  the  kings  of  Portugal   and   Castile,  uniting  (heir 
forces,  carried  on  war  with   great  success  against   the 
Moors.     Don  Pedro,  prince  of  Portugal,  after  the  de.ith 
of  his  first  wife,  had  privately  married  Donna  Agnes  de 
Castro,  the  daughter  of  a  Castilian  gentleman,  who  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  Portuguese  court.  Alphonso,  through 
the  instigations  of  his  counsellors,  and  his  own  impetu- 
ous passions,  cruelly  issued  orders   for  the  murder  of 
this  princess;  and  was  so  infatuated,  as  to  avow  and 
Tindicate  the  deed.     His  son,  enraged  by  his  barbarous 
conduct,  broke  out  into  open  rebellion  ;  but  Alphonso, 
who  was  easily  made  sensible  of  his  errors,  wnd  who  was 
always  earnest  to  repair  them,  brought  about  a  submis- 
sion on  the  part  of  the  prince,  and  used  every  method  in 
his  power  to  effect  a  complete  reconciliation.     As  Al- 
phonso advanced  in  years,  he  employed  himielf  in  va- 
rious acts  of  charily  and  piety,  in  redressing  grievances 
throughout  his  dominions,  in  estal)lishing  laws   for   the 
»up;>re3sii;n  of  vice,  and  in  dictating  proper  maxims  for 
the  government  of  the  kingdom.  He  laboured  anxiously 
to  remove  from  the  mind  of  his  son  all  remaining  re- 
sentment on  account  of  the  injury  which  he  had  sus- 
tained ;  and  in  order  to  prevent  any  acts  of  revenge  after 
his  death,  he  presented   sums  of  money  to  the   three 
courtiers,  who  had  both  prompted  and   perpetrated  the 
bloody  deed,  and  enjoined  them  to  retire  into  Castile. 
He  died  in  A.  D.  1357,  in  the  67th  year  of  his  age,  and 
.32d  of  his  reign.     He  has  been  called,  with  truth,  "  an 
unduiiful  son,  an  unnatural  brother,  and  a  cruel  father  ;" 
but  in  other  respects,  he  was  a  great  man  and  a  good 
king ;  brave  and  successTul  in  war,  strict  in   the  admi- 
nistration of  justice,  tender  of  property,  attentive  to  the 
public  welfare,  a  friend  to  industry,  and  attached  to  his 
subjects  as  his  children.     But  though  he  secured  their 
respect  by  the  use  he  made  of  his  power,  he  could  not 
conciliate  their  affection  to  his  person.     See  Mod.  Un, 
Hist.  vol.  xxii.  p.  70 — 84.     (q) 

ALPHONSO,  or  Alonso  V.  king  of  Portugal,  sur- 
named  the  African,  succeeded  his  father  king  Edward 
in  1 438,  when  he  was  only  six  years  of  age.  He  was  at 
first  under  the  tuition  of  his  mother  Leonora;  but  she 
was  removed  from  the  regency  in  1440,  and  Don  Pedro, 
duke  of  Cambra,  uncle  to  the  young  prince,  was  cho- 
sen in  her  place.  The  regent's  administration  was  mild, 
but  steadj'.  He  comi)letely  possessed  the  confidence  of 
the  jieople,  and  supported  the  dignity  of  the  crown  of 
Portugal  with  great  ability.  According  to  the  will  of 
the  late  king,  he  married  his  daughter  to  Alphonso ; 
and  was  very  attentive  to  the  edLcation  of  that  prince. 
In  1440,  he  laid  down  his  office,  with  the  approbation 
of  the  cortes  or  parliament ;  but  by  the  malicious  in- 
sinuations of  his  enemies  the  young  king  was  prejudiced 
against  him,  and  at  length  persuaded  to  pursue  liim  as 
a  traitor.  Don  Pedro  look  arms  in  his  own  defence, 
but  was  slain  in  the  first  encounter,  together  with  the 
best  and  bravest  of  the  nobility,  who  knew  his  worth, 
and  Supported  his  cause.  Several  of  his  adherents  were 
tortured  and  put  to  death  ;  but  his  innocence  was  soon 
made  manifest,  and  acknowledged  by  Alphonso,  who 


paid  resjicct  to  his  memory,  showed  great  attachment 
to  the  queen  his  daughter,  and  restored   his  son  to  his 
estates  and  employments.  In  1456,  Alphonso  equipped 
a  large  fleet,  and  prepared  a  numerous  body  of  troops, 
for  a  crusade  against  the  Turks;  and,  upon  this  occa- 
sion, it  is  said  that  the  Portuguese  coin  cruzadoe  was 
originally  struck.     But  this  scheme  having  been  ren- 
dered abortive  by  the  civil  wars  in  Italy,  and  the  death 
of   the   pope,    Alphonso  turned  his  arms   against  the 
Moors  in  Barbary.     He  made  several  expeditions  into 
Africa,  reduced  Alcazar,  Arzila,  Tangier,  and  Sequer, 
gave  signal  proofs  of  his  piety  and  generosity  as  well 
as  of  his  courage  ;  and,  on  account  of  his  exploits,  was 
distinguished  by  the  appellation  of  The  African.     His 
reputation  was  now  at  the  greatest  height,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  his  reign  might  have  been  equally  happy 
and  honourable,  had  he  not  embarked  in  a  contest  with 
Ferdinand  and  Isabellaof  Castile,  respecting  the  claims 
of  his  niece  to  the  crown  of  that  kingdom.     Having 
been  very  unsuccessful  in  his  'first  attempts,  he  made  a 
journey  into  France,  to  solicit  the  assistance  of  Louis 
XL;  but  having  been  comi)letely  deceived  by  that  mo- 
narch, he  formed  a  design  of  visiting  the  city  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  of  retiring  for  ever  from  the  world.     He 
wrote  a  letter  to  Portugal  resigning  his  crown,  and  di- 
recting his  son  Don  Juan   to  be  proclaimed  king;  but 
he  was  dissuaded  from  his  purpose,  and  returned  home 
after  an  absence  of  about  one  year.     The  prince  his  son, 
who  had  governed  with  great  ability,  received  him  with 
every  testimony  of  satisfaction,  and  resigned  the  sove- 
reignly into  his  bands.  Alphonso  resumed  the  war  with 
Castile,   and  alter  two  years'  hostilities,  concluded  a 
peace  in  1 4  79.     Weakened  by  a  severe  illness,  and  ren- 
dered melancholy  by  the   ravages  of  the  plague  in  his 
dominions,  he  determined  to  retire  into  a  monastery; 
but  on  his  way  to  the  retreat  which   he  had  chosen,  he 
was  seized  with  the  plague,  and  died  at  Cintra  in  1481, 
in  the  49th  year  of  his  age  and  43d  of  his  reign.     This 
prince  was  graceful  in  his  person,  courteous  in  his  man- 
ners, and  much  beloved  by  his  subjects.     He  was  boun- 
tiful almost  to  an  extreme,  chaste  and  temperate  in  his 
manner  of  life,  a  lover  of  letters,  a  patron  of  learned 
men,  and  the  first  king  of  Portugal  who  had  a  library  in 
his  palace.     See  Mod.  Un.  Hist.  vol.  xxii.  p.  141 — '168. 

(?) 

ALPHONSO,  or  Alonso  III.  surnamed  the  Great, 
king  of  Leon  and  Oviedo,  was  born  in  849,  was  asso- 
ciated in  the  sovereignty  with  his  father  Don  Ordogno, 
in  862,  and  succeeded  him  in  865.  Immediately  after 
the  death  of  his  father,  he  was  driven  from  the  throne 
by  Don  Proila ;  but  this  rebel  was  assassinated  in  the 
palace  on  account  of  his  tyranny;  and  Alphonso  was 
restored  amidst  the  acclamations  even  of  the  usurper's 
army.  After  suppressing  two  other  insurrections,  he 
turned  his  attention  to  the  security  of  his  dominions ; 
built  fortifications  on  the  frontiers,  and  adopted  various 
measures  for  the  advantage  of  his  subjects.  While  thus 
employed,  he  was  attacked,  in  869,  by  two  powerful 
Moorish  armies,  both  of  which  he  defeated  successively 
with  great  slaughter,  and  made  considerable  additions 
to  his  territories.  He  proceeded  to  regulate  the  civil 
constitution  of  his  kingdom ;  increased  the  privileges 
of  the  people,  and  restrained  the  power  of  the  nobles. 
These  measures  occasioned  several  commotions ;  but 
these  he  speedily  suppressed,  and  went  on  with  his  be- 
neficial plans.  After  having  secured  the  civil  liberties 
of  bis  subjects,  he  took  measures  to  provide  for  their 


544 


ALPHONSO. 


religious  idstructioB ;  held  an  assembly  of  the  clei^y ; 
assigned  thein  revenues  ;  and  formed  many  useful  regu- 
lations for  the  prosperity  of  the  established  church. 
From  these  peaceful  employments  he  whs  again  sum- 
moned to  take  the  field  against  his  former  enemies,  the 
Moor;-,  v/hom  he  discomfited  with  his  usual  success  in 
several  engagements.  Upon  his  return  from  these  ex- 
peditions, he  hiul  to  contend  with  an  unexpected  and 
unnatural  rebellion.  His  son,  Don  Garcias,  who  had 
married  the  daughter  of  Nunnez  Fernando,  the  most 
powerful  nobleman  ia  the  kingdom,  had  formed  a  design 
to  depose  his  father,  and  to  seize  upon  the  crown.  Al- 
phonso,  by  (he  activity  of  hia  measures,  soon  suppress- 
ed this  insurrection,  seized  the  person  of  his  son,  and 
committed  him  to  close  confinement.  About  three  years 
afterwards,  however,  in  consequence  of  the  solicitations 
of  his  queen  Xemone,  and  the  machinations  of  Nunnez 
Fernando,  he  found  himself  ol)Iiged  to  abdicate  the 
throne,  in  order  to  prevent  a  civil  war.  He  assembled 
the  states ;  declared  his  eldest  son  Garcias  king ;  and 
nssigned  the  province  of  Galticia  to  his  other  son  Or- 
dogno.  The  two  princes  prostrated  themselves  at  the 
feel  of  tlieir  father,  and  entreated  his  pardon  for  all  that 
had  passed.  During  the  remainder  of  his  life,  he  con- 
tinued to  assist  Ids  eon  witli  his  advice  and  service,  both 
in  regulating  the  affairs  of  state  and  in  repelling  the 
attacks  of  his  enemies.  He  frequently  commanded  the 
troops  in  person ;  and  after  a  very  successful  campaign 
against  the  Moors,  in  912,  he  died  at  the  age  of  63,  two 
years  after  his  abdication.  He  was  a  prince  of  unaffected 
piety,  and  an  illustrious  patron  of  learned  men.  He  was 
also  eminent  for  bis  own  literary  acquisitions ;  and  is 
said  to  have  been  the  author  of  the  Chronicle,  which  was 
afterwards  ascribed  to  Sebastian,  bishop  of  Orensa,  who 
had  been  his  chaplain  or  preceptor,  and  at  whose  re- 
quest it  had  been  composed.  See  Mod,  Un.  Hist.  vol. 
xix.  p.  515— 528.     (q) 

ALPHONSO,  or  Alonso  X.  sumamed  the  JVisc, 
king  of  Leon  and  Castile,  succeeded  his  father  Ferdi- 
nand in  the  year  1252.  He  was  justly  regarded,  at  his 
accession,  as  a  prince  of  great  qualities ;  and  high  ex- 
pectations were  formed  of  liis  government.  But,  by  en- 
gagijig  in  a  multitude  of  ambitious  projects,  beyond  his 
strength  and  resources,  he  soon  involved  himself  in  end- 
less dilTiculties,  and  oppressed  his  subjects  with  intolera- 
ble burdens.  Almost  at  the  same  time,  he  made  an  at- 
tempt upon  Gascony,  in  opposition  to  Henry  III.  of 
England  ;  prepared  an  ex|)edition,  which  his  father  had 
meditated,  against  the  Moors  in  Barbary  ;  advanced  a 
claim,  which  he  derived  from  the  right  of  his  mother,  to 
the  dutchy  of  Siiabia  ;  and  even  became  a  competitor 
for  the  imperial  dignity  in  Germany.  By  these,  and 
other  extravagant  plans,  his  treasury  was  exhausted, 
and  his  subjects  filled  with  discontent ;  frequent  insur- 
rections excited,  and  favourable  opportunities  a£forde<I 
to  the  Moors  for  invading  his  dominions.  In  the  midst 
of  these  troubles,  he  displayed  the  greatest  activity  and 
presence  of  mind.  He  calmed  the  connnotions  among 
his  i>eopIe  by  good  management,  and  as  much  condescen- 
sion and  clemency  as  possible.  And,  in  repelling  the 
hostile  aggressions  of  the  Moors,  he  proved  himself  to 
be  |)o»ses8ed  both  of  personal  courage  and  military  skill. 
He  had  long  meditated,  and  frequently  attempted  a 
journey  to  Italy,  in  order  to  enforce  his  diiferent  claims 
in  a  personal  interview  with  the  [)opc.  This  plan  was 
op]>osed  by  his  nobles,  and  was  the  occasion  of  the 
most  formidable  conspiracies  against  bis  authority.    In- 


tent, however,  upon  obtaining  the  high  title  of  emperor, 
he  at  length  left  bis  dominions  under  his  eldest  son  as 
regent,  and  met  the  pope  at  B;uicaire,  iu  Praiice.  But 
all  his  arguments  and  endeavours  were  unavaiiing  ;  and 
he  returned  without  any  encouragement  or  success. 
During  his  absence,  his  kingdom  had  been  exposed 
to  new  invasions,  and  involved  in  new  diseentions.  On 
his  return,  he  found  t!-..it  the  prince  regent  was  dead, 
and  that  his  second  son,  Don  Sancho,  was  claiming  a 
right  to  the  crovyn,  in  preference  to  the  children  of  hia 
elder  brother.  The  pretensions  of  Sancho  were  acknow- 
ledged by  an  assembly  of  the  states;  but  Philip,  lung  of 
France,  who  was  uncle  to  the  children  of  the  deceased 
prince,  supported  their  cause,  and  threatened  Alphonso 
with  a  war.  Pope  John  XXI.  however,  who  was  more 
friendly  to  Alphonso  than  his  predecessor  had  bcen.inter'- 
posed  his  authority  ;  and  it  was  agreed,  that  the  king- 
dom of  Murcia  should  be  given  to  the  Infant  Don  Alon- 
so  de  Cerda,  upon  condition  of  his  doing  homage  to. 
Don  Sancho,  when  he  should  be  king  of  Castile.  But 
the  states,  at  the  instigation  of  Sancho,  refused  to  ratify 
this  agreement,  deposed  Alphonso,  and  appointed  San- 
cho regent.  The  aged  king,  in  the  bitterness  of  hia 
heart,  disinherited  his  son  with  the  most  solemn  impre- 
cation?, and  sought  assistance  against  his  adversaries 
from  tlie  Jloors.  His  party  increased  and  prevailed  ; 
and  Sancho  was  anxious  to  appease  his  indignation. 
When  Alphonso  was  informed  that  his  son  was  labour- 
ing under  a  dangerous  distemper,  and  that  he  professed 
contrition  for  his  conduct,  he  retracted  his  curses,  re- 
scinded his  will,  and  died  a  short  time  afterwards,  in 
the  81st  year  of  his  age,  in  1284.  He  was  a  prince  of 
eminent  talents  and  extensive  knowledge;  but  was  de- 
ficient in  wisdom  to  distinguish,  and  in  steadiness  to  pur- 
sue the  proper  objects  of  his  attention  as  a  sovereign. 
From  this  want  of  a  directing  mind,  his  very  virtues  and 
attainments  frequently  became  the  sources  of  his  errors. 
His  generous  disj)osition  led  him  into  profusion ;  and  his 
love  of  learning  turned  his  thoughts  too  much  from  the 
interests  of  his  kingdom.  Amidst  all  the  troubles, 
however,  in  which  he  was  involved,  he  found  means  to 
confer  upon  his  subjects  several  permanent  benefits. 
He  improved  the  Castilian  tongue,  and  caused  a  general 
history  of  Spain  to  be  composed  in  that  language.  He 
augmented  the  privileges  of  the  university  of  Salamanca, 
and  corrected  many  errors  in  its  original  statutes.  He 
prohibited  the  use  of  Latin  terms  in  law  proceedings, 
and  directed  them  to  be  carried  on  in  tlie  language  of 
the  country.  He  completed  the  compilation  of  laws 
which  his  father  had  begun;  caused  them  to  be  ar- 
ranged under  proper  heads ;  and  published  them,  for  the*' 
instruction  of  his  subjects,  under  the  title  of  Las  Parti- 
das.  He  paid  great  attention  to  the  improvement  of 
astronomy  ;  invited,  from  all  parts  of  Europe  persons 
well  skilled  in  that  science;  and  employed  them  in 
correcting  the  astronomical  tables  of  Ptolemy.  The 
work  which  was  thus  completed  under  his  direction,  in 
1251,  and  which  occasioned  him  an  immence  expense,  ia 
justly  inscribed  with  his  name,  and  is  known  by  the  title 
of  the  Alphonsvu  Tables.  He  composed  a  variety  of 
treatises  on  physics  and  ethics,  which  he  entitled, "  The 
Treasure ;"  and  is  said  also  to  have  written  two  volumes 
on  chemistry.  He  has  been  charged  with  the  following 
impious  si)eech,  "  that  if  he  had  been  consulted  by  the 
Deity,  he  would  have  advised  him  to  form  the  universe 
on  a  better  plan."  This  saying  has  generally  been  con- 
sidered, at  moat,  at  only  a  sarcasm  upon  the  confusion  of 


ALP 


ALi* 


o4-> 


Hie  Ptolemaic  system ;  but,  even  in  this  Tiew,  the  ex- 
pression is  so  shockingly  prorane,  tliat  it  is  much  doubt- 
ed, whether  it  was  ever  uttered  by  this  prince.  It  ia 
at  least  very  inconsistent  with  another  circumstance  re- 
lated of  him  ;  namely,  that  he  had  carefully  perused  the 
sacred  Scriptures  fourteen  times,  with  various  commen- 
taries. There  is  as  good  authority  for  the  truth  of  the 
one  anecdote  as  of  the  other;  and  if  this  be  admitted,  it 
must  also  be  acknowledged,  that  it  is  not  very  probable, 
that  he,  who  showed  so  great  regard  for  the  divine  word, 
should  indulge  in  such  irreverent  reflections  on  the 
olivine  works.  See  Riccioli  Almagest,  t.  1.  p.  444; 
Weidler's  Hist.  Astron.  p.  280 ;  and  Mod.  Un.  Hist.  vol. 
XX.  p.  208—232.     (g) 

ALPHONSO,  or  Alonzo  V.  surnamed  the  Magnani- 
mous, succeeded  his  father  Ferdinand  the  Just,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Arragon,  in  the  year  1416.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  his  reign  he  was  harassed  by  pope  Benedict 
XIII.  who  declared  him  a  schismatic,  and  unworthy  of 
his  regal  dignity  ;  but,  notwithstanding  this  treatment, 
he  generously  permitted  a  supply  of  provisions  to  be 
furnished  to  that  Pontiff,  when  he  was  reduced  to  great 
straits  in  the  fortress  of  Pensacola.  At  the  same  time, 
he  discovered  a  conspiracy  among  several  of  his  nobility 
against  his  life  :  and  with  equal  magnanimity,  he  tore 
to  pieces  a  paper  which  contained  the  names  of  the  con- 
spirators without  reading  it ;  and  contented  himself 
with  saying,  that  he  would  at  least  force  them  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  he  had  a  greater  regard  for  their  lives 
than  they  had  for  his.  He  went  to  Sardinia,  and  com- 
posed the  commotions  which  prevailed  in  that  country ; 
and  then  proceeded  to  conduct  an  expedition  into  Sicily. 
While  he  was  preparing,  Joan,  queen  of  Naples,  solicited 
his  assistance  against  the  pope,  the  duke  of  Anjou,  and 
the  constable  Sforza,  promising  to  adopt  him  as  her 
son  and  heir,  and  to  give  him  immediate  possession  of 
the  dutchy  of  Calabria.  Alphonso  accepted  the  propo- 
sal ;  sent  a  body  of  troops  to  her  relief;  raised  the  siege 
of  her  capital ;  and  was  immediately  declared  duke  of 
Calabria,  and  heir  apparent  to  the  throne  of  Naples. 
But  his  successes  in  her  service  rendered  her  suspicious 
of  his  power.  She  took  measures  to  revoke  her  adop- 
tion of  him  as  her  heir;  and  even  formed  a  design 
against  his  life.  This  occasioned  a  civil  war  between 
them,  in  the  course  of  which  the  queen  was  driven  from 
her  capital.  Alphonso,  leaving  his  brother  Don  Pedro 
as  his  viceroy  in  Naples,  embarked  for  Arragon  ;  and  in 
his  way,  took  possession  of  Marseilles,  which  belonged 
to  the  duke  of  Anjou.  His  soldiers  pillaged  the  town ; 
but  he  placed  a  guard  for  the  protection  of  the  ladies, 
who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  churches.  They  offered 
him  in  return  a  valuable  present  out  of  the  jewels  which 
they  had  saved ;  but  lie  declined  accepting  it ;  and  said, 
that  he  revenged  the  injuries  which  he  had  received  as 
a  prince,  but  did  not  come  there  for  plunder.  The  duke 
of  Anjou  having  over-run  the  greater  part  of  Najjles,  the 
queen  made  a  second  application  to  Alphonso  for  as- 
sistance; and  he  prepared  for  another  expedition  to 
Italy.  In  the  mean  time,  driven,  it  is  said,  by  the  too 
well-founded  jealousy  of  his  queen,  to  dissipate  his  cares 
in  action,  he  made  a  successful  attack  upon  the  king  of 
Tunis  ;  took  and  garrisoned  the  island  of  Gerbes  ;  and 
retired  to  Sicily.  In  1434,  he  landed  in  Italy,  and  made 
himself  master  of  Capua.  He  then  besieged  the  for- 
tress of  Gaeta,  which  was  held  for  the  duke  of  Milan, 
and  the  republic  o'\  Genoa.     While  the  siege  was  going 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


on,  the  women  and  children  were  sent  out  of  town  to 
save  the  provisions ;  and  Alphonso  was  advised  to  drive 
them  back  again  as  a  sure  method  of  reducing  the  garri- 
son to  surrender.  But  he  relieved  and  dismissed  them 
with  this  generous  speech,  "  that  he  had  much  rather 
lose  any  city  in  his  dominions  than  the  reputation  ot 
humanity."  In  a  desperate  engagement  with  the  Ge- 
noese fleet,  which  was  sent  to  relieve  Gaeta,  Alphonso 
lost  all  his  ships,  and  was  himself  made  prisoner  by  the 
duke  of  Milan.  By  this  prince  he  was  treated  with 
much  magnificence  and  respect,  and  soon  ingratiated 
himself  so  much  in  his  favour,  that  the  duke  became  his 
friend  and  ally.  He  was  dismissed  from  Milan  with 
great  honours^  and  without  ransom  ;  received  the  most 
liberal  support  from  his  hereditary  dominions  j  rendered 
himself  absolute  master  of  Naples  in  1443 ;  and  resided 
in  that  kingdom  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  His 
declining  years  were  embittered  by  the  intrigues  and 
contentions  of  his  friends  ;  and  he  was  particularly  so 
much  affected  by  the  ingratitude  of  his  nephew  Don 
Carlos,  prince  of  Viana,  that  he  fell  into  a  fever,  and 
died  in  1458,  in  the  43d  year  of  his  reign.  He  was  an 
able  statesman,  and  the  most  gallant  commander  of  his 
age.  He  conducted  his  political  transactions  ivithout 
cunning,  and  his  wars  without  cruelty.  He  was  also  a 
distinguished  patron  of  learning,  and  used  to  say,  that 
"  an  unlettered  king  was  but  a  crowned  ass."  It  was 
another  of  his  sayings,  that  "  the  dead,"  that  is,  books  j 
"  were  the  best  counsellors  of  the  living,  because  they 
told  the  simple  truth  without  fear  or  shame,  unmoved 
by  hatred  or  favour."  When  he  was  at  war  with  the 
republic  of  Genoa,  he  happened  to  find  a  Genoese  sol- 
dier lying  dead  on  the  shore  :  he  immediately  called  his 
attendants,  and  humanely  assisted  them  in  burying  the 
body.  When  his  treasurer  was  giving  him  10,000 
ducats,  he  overheard  an  officer  saying,  "  I  should  only 
wish  that  sum  to  make  me  happy :"  "  You  shall  be 
happy,"  said  the  king,  and  commanded  the  money  to 
be  given  to  him.  He  possessed  many  and  great  virtues; 
and  the  vices  which  he  had,  regarded  his  private  rather 
than  his  public  life.  An  irregular  intercourse  with  the 
fair  sex  was  his  principal  failing,  and  the  source  of 
many  of  his  distresses;  but  he  died,  it  is  said,  with 
great  marks  of  penitence,  and  was  unquestionably  the 

freatest  king  that  ever  reigned  in  Arragon.  See  Mod, 
hi.  Hist.  vol.  xxi.  p.  124—139.  (?) 
ALPINI  A,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Monandrla 
and  order  Monogyuia.  The  name  is  taken  from  Alpini, 
the  subject  of  the  following  article.  See  Botany,  (w) 
ALPINI,  Prospero,  in  biography,  a  celebrated  physi- 
cian and  naturalist,  was  born  at  Marostica,  a  small  town 
in  the  states  of  Venice,  on  the  23d  of  November,  1553. 
At  an  early  period,  he  discovered  a  strong  inclination 
for  the  military  life,  excited  probably  by  the  example 
of  his  brother  Paul ;  but  in  consequence  of  the  entrea- 
ties of  his  mother,  and  his  other  friends,  he  devoted  him- 
self to  letters  and  the  profession  of  his  father,  who  was 
a  physician  of  considerable  eminence.  At  the  Univer- 
sity of  Padua,  he  distinguished  himself  so  much  by  his 
talents  and  industry,  that  in  1558,  only  four  years  after 
he  commenced  his  studies,  he  was  promoted  to  the  im- 
portant employments  of  depute  to  the  rector  and  sj'ndic 
of  the  students,  offices  which,  though  they  exposed  him 
peculiarly  to  the  attacks  of  envy  and  prejudice,  he  dis- 
charged with  a  moderation  and  prudence,  which  equally 
attracted  the  esteem  of  the  professors  and  scholars. 
3  2 


546 


ALP 


ALP 


After  obtaining,  wilh   much  applause,  the  degrees  of 
doctor  in  medicine  and  philosophy,  he  settled  for  a  sl-.ort 
period  as  physician  in  a  town  called  Campo  San  Pietro, 
Where,  besides  having  a  ptibiic  salary,  he  found  his 
emoluments  and  practice  daily  increase.     Eut  the  mind 
of  Alpini  was  not  to  be  contented  with  so  obscure  and 
confined  a  sphere.     He  resolved  to  sacrifice  all  these 
advantages,  and  like  his  master  Galen,  to  encounter 
every  inconvenience,  in  travelling  to  gratify  his  ardent 
curiosity,  and  particularly  his  thirst  for  information  on 
subjects  connected  with  his  profession.     Fortune  was 
not  long  in  granting  him  an  opportunity  of  accomplish- 
ing his  wishes.      Through  the  interest  of  his  fpther, 
Alpini  was  chosen  physician  to  George  Emo,  the  Vene- 
tian consul  for  Egypt,  and  sailed  from  Venice  for  that 
country  on  the  12lh  September,  1580.     The  voyage 
proved  to  be  long  and  dangerous ;  but  this  misfortune 
was  not  unfavourable  to  Alpini's  views,  as  it  obliged 
the  vessel  to  take  shelter  for  some  time  in  a  port  of 
Greece,  and   gave  him  an  opportunity  of   examining 
with  attention  many  of  the  natural  productions,  and 
other  remarkable  objects  in   that  country.     He  spent 
three  entire  years  in  Egypt,  traversed  it  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  experienced  every  hardsliip  and  difficulty  in 
prosecuting  his  researches.     His  favourite  object  seems 
to  have  been  to  obtain  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  in- 
digenous plants  of  Egypt  and  Aral)ia  employed  in  medi- 
cine, particularly  of  the  celebrated  balm  of  Gilead  ;  an 
ample  account  of  which,  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  forms 
a  complete  volume  of  his  works.     He  also  examined 
with  much  attention  the  peculiar  practice  of  the  Egyp- 
tians in  medicine  and  surgery,  and  by  his  example  and 
writings  recommended  it  in  a  variety  of  operations  to 
the  physicians  of  Europe.     Indeed,  no  information  of  an 
interesting  or  useful  kind,  connected  with  the  various 
branches  of  natural  history,  escaped  iiis  persevering  in- 
«iuiries ;  and  though  he  complains  frequently  of  his  cu- 
riosity having  been  baffled  by  the  ignorance  and  preju- 
dices of  individuals  whom  be  consulted,  the  books  which 
he  composed,  evenwhilein  Egypt,  afford  ample  evidence 
of  the  success  of  his  labours.     It  would  be  improper  to 
omit  noticing,  that  Alpini  ascertained  the  remarkable 
fact  of  the  male  palm,  or  date,  being  employed  by  the 
natives  of  the  East  in  a  peculiar  manner  to  promote  the 
fructification  of  the  female  ;  a  fact  which  was  first  an- 
nounced by  Theophrastus,  but  till  the  time  of  Alpini  had 
been  disregarded,  and  which,  having  been  confirmed  by 
the  observations  of  succeeding  naturalists,  is  now  cm- 
ployed  as  one  of  the  most  striking  arguments  in  favour 
of  the  sexual  system  of  Linnaeus. 

After  returning  from  Egypt  in  15S6,  Alpini  became 
physician  to  Andrew  Doria,  prince  of  Melfi,  and  general 
of  the  Spanish  army ;  his  reputation  now  rapidly  extend- 
ed, and  soon  eclipsed  that  of  all  his  medical  contem])o- 
raries.  The  states  of  Venice,  unwilling  to  be  any  longer 
deprived  of  bo  splendid  an  ornament  to  his  country,  in- 
vited him  home  from  Genoa;  and  in  1593,  he  was  ap- 
pointed  to  the  professorship  of  botany  in  the  university 
of  Padua,  with  a  salary  of  200  florins,  which.in  the  course 
of  a  few  years,  was  raised  to  G30,  from  the  liigh  sense 
which  was  entertained  of  his  merit. 

During  the  last  part  of  his  life,  Alpini  was  afflicted 
with  a  complication  of  disorders,  the  consequence  chiefly 
of  the  incessant  labour  to  which,  in  the  course  of  his 
trav<;ls  and  researches,  he  had  been  subjected.  At  a 
still  later  |)rriod,  he  was  seized  with  almost  a  total  deaf- 
ness ;  aud  it  is  perhaps  worth  Dienlioning,  that  this  se- 


vere calamity  induced  him  to  write  a  medical  treatise 
on  the  subject,  which  he  contended  no  physician  had 
hitherto  duly  considered.  When  Alpini  had  made 
some  progress  in  this  work,  a  slow  fever  terminated  his 
labours  on  the  Sth  February,  1617,  in  the  64th  year  of 
his  age. 

The  chief  works  published  by  Alpini  are  1 .  Dc  Mc- 
diciiia  Egypliorwn,  lib.  iv.  Venet.  1591.  4to.  2.  De 
Plantis  Egi/pti,  Venet.  1591.  3.  De  Bc/samo,  Venet. 
1591.  4.  De  presagicnda  rita  ct  mortc  trgrotantium,  Mb. 
vii.  Venet.  1601.  5.  De  Medicina  Mcthodica,  lib.  xiii. 
Patav.  1611.  6.  De  Rhapo7itico,  difptit.  Inaug.  Patav- 
1612.  7.  D<;PZffl««i>  JS.ro/tcw,  lib.  ii.  Venet.  1627.  8. 
Hisioria  Egypti  naiuralis,  pars  Prima.  Lugdun,  Batav. 
1735. 

His  works  in  pianuscript  are,  1 .  Pralcctiones  in  Gym- 
nas.  Patav.  2.  De  Surdidaie.  3.  De  Medicina  Egyptio- 
rum,  liber  5tws.  4.  Uistarice  Egypti  naturalis,  pars  sc- 
cunda.     (er) 

ALPS,  a  celebrated  chain  of  mountains,  extending 
from  the  gulf  of  Genoa  in  a  kind  of  semicircular  form 
through  Swisserland,  and  terminating  on  the  north  of 
the  Adriatic,  occupying  a  space  of  near  600  miles. 

Much  labour  and  ingenuity,  as  usual,  have  been  em- 
ployed in  tracing  the  origin  of  the  name.  Some  regard 
it  as  a  corruption  of  the  Latin  alius,  a  conjecture  evi- 
dently suggested  by  the  wliite  appearance  of  their  sum- 
mits; others  have  had  recourse  to  a  fabulous  origin,  de- 
riving the  name  from  Albion,  the  son  of  Neptune,  whom 
Hercules  slew  for  attempting  to  oppose  his  passage  over 
these  mountains  ;  while  a  third  party,  with  greater  plau- 
sibility, trace  it  to  a  Celtic  word,  signifying,  land higldy 
elvatcd,  or  mountains  abounding  in  pasture. 

Whether  we  consider  their  vast  extent  and  elevation, 
the  rich  treasures  of  mineral  productions,  and  geological 
science  contained  in  their  bowels,  or  the  wonderful  and 
sublime  scenery  presented  on  every  part  of  their  sur- 
face ;  the  Alps  undoubtedly  claim  a  peculiar  share  of 
attention.  Yet,  it  is  important  to  remark,  that  thisfield, 
to  rich  in  physical  facts  and  interesting  discovery,  has, 
till  of  late  years,  been  left  wholly  uncultivated.  The 
Alps  were  long  regarded  as  a  blank  in  the  creation,  as 
a  display  merely  of  magnificent  power,  or  as  insur- 
mountable barriers,  calculated  chiefly  to  exhibit  heroic 
courage  and  perseverance,  and  known  only  by  the  ex- 
ploits of  a  Hercules,  or  a  Hannibal.  Saussure  and  Bou:  ■ 
rit  are  the  first  who  can,  with  any  jiropriety,  be  said  to 
have  examined  these  mountains  with  a  philoijophical 
eye.  On  the  former,  indeed,  we  must  rtly  entirely  for 
our  information  respecting  their  stru<!ture  and  compo- 
sition ;  and  must  therefore  regret,  that  he  has  confined 
his  labours  chiefly  to  the  French  and  Italian  Alps. 
JMuch,  however,  has  been  done  by  him  in  the  way  of  ex- 
ample and  encouragement  toothers;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
that  ere  long  some  person  more  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  language  of  mineralogy,  and  possessed  of  his 
ardour  and  |)erseverance,  will  not  only  retrace  his  steps, 
but  put  us  also  in  possession  of  tlie  geological  facts, 
which  the  retuainiug  portions  of  the  Alps  promise  to  fur- 
nish. 

In  presenting  to  our  readers  an  account  of  the  Alps, 
we  shall  first  consider  the  diflierent  portions  or  subdi- 
visions of  this  great  chain  of  mountains,  pointing  out 
the  relative  situation  and  geographical  position  of  each 
part:  we  shall  next  attempt  to  describe  some  of  the 
more  interesting  and  remarkable  phenomena  exhibited 
on  the  different  parts  of  their  surface  j  and  lastly,  wc 


ALPS. 


547 


bball  offer  some  general  observations,  and  detail  what 
iuforniatioa  we  have  been  able  to  collect  respecting  the 
composition,  Btructure,  and  attitude  of  the  most  distin- 
gished  mountains  in  each  subdivision.  The  Alps  have 
in  ancient  and  modern  times  been  divided  into  the  fol- 
lowing chains  or  subdivisions,  viz.  the  Maritime,  the 
Cottian,  the  Gruecian,  the  Helvetian,  the  Pennine,  the 
Rhstian,  the  Cannic,  and  Julian  Alps. 

It  is  difficult  to  determine  with  accuracy  where  the 
Maritime  Alps  commence,  because  the  Alpine  chain 
runs  insensibly  into  that  of  the  Apennines.  They  are 
commonly  represented  as  rising  from  the  sea  to  the 
west  of  Jineglia ;  and,  after  proceeding  for  some  time 
in  a  north-west  direction,  turning  to  the  north,  and  ter- 
tninatin&;in  Mount  Viso,  between  Dauphiny  and  Pied- 
mont. Saussure,  however,  describes,  under  the  name  of 
Maritime  Alps,  the  whole  of  that  chain  of  mountains 
which  runs  along  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean  from 
Nice  to  Genoa.  He  tells  us  that  the  Alps,  as  they  ap- 
proach the  sea,  gradually  diminish  in  height ;  and,  at 
Nice,  divide  into  two  branches,  the  one  proceeding 
westward  through  Provence,  and  the  other  following  the 
coast  of  Genoa,  and  losing  itself  in  the  Apennines. 
Saussure,  vol.  v.  p.  319. 

To  the  Maritime  Alps  succeed  the  Cottian,  {Alpes 
CoUia,  or  CoUianct,)  following  nearly  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  extending  from  Mount  Viso  to  Mount  Cenis. 
This  chain,  in  modern  times,  is  sometimes  known  by 
the  appellation  of  Mont  G  enevre.  It  is  said  to  have  ob- 
tained the  name  of  Cottian  from  Cottius,  a  petty  prince 
in  that  country,  who,  by  paying  court  to  Augustus,  was 
allowed  to  retain  his  territory,  with  the  title  of  prajfect 
of  the  provinces  situated  in  this  part  of  the  Alps.  This 
territory,  however,  was  added  in  the  time  of  Nero  to  the 
general  mass  of  the  Roman  empire.  • 

The  Graecian  Alps  (Alpcs  Grxcx)  continue  to  follow  a 
northerly  direction,  forming  an  irregular  chain  of  moun- 
tains, between  Mount  Cenis  and  the  Great  St.  Bernard, 
having  Savoy  and  the  Tarentaise  to  the  west,  and  Pied- 
mont, with  the  dutchy  of  Aosta,  to  the  east.  It  is  now 
usually  called  the  Little  St.  Bernard.  Its  ancient  name, 
according  to  Pliny,  was  derived  from  Hercules,  who, 
with  his  Grecian  followers,  traversed  this  chain  of  the 
Alps  in  his  way  home  from  Spain.  {Pliny,  lib.  iii.  p.  67.) 
Ijivy,  however,  rejects  this  story  as  fabulous.  But 
whatever  may  be  the  origin  of  the  name,  it  is  certain, 
_.  that  at  the  time  when  the  Romans  invaded  Gaul,  this 
I  portion  of  the  Alps  was  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
Grai«  ;  and  that  the  people  who  inhabited  the  country  to 
the  west,  were  called  Ccn/rowes,  while  thoseon  the  north 
east  of  this  chain  took  the  name  of  Salasscs,  or  Salassi, 

The  Alps  now  assume  a  new  direction,  running  from 
soutli-west  to  north-east,  and  are  divided  into  two  great 
ridges,  usually  called  the  Helvetian  and  Pennine  chains; 
the  former  constituting  the  boundary  of  the  Vallais 
on  the  north,  the  other  separating  it  from  Italy  on 
the  south  Both  these  ridges  consist  of  a  number  of 
mountains,  which  have  received  distinct  appellations. 
The  northern  chain,  which  commences  at  Mount  Sa- 
netz,  and  terminates  in  St.  Gothard,  presents  the  follow- 
ing conspicuous  summits:  viz.  the  Blumlis-alp,  the 
Geishorn,  (he  Gemmi,  the  Tungfrau,  or  Virgin  horn, 
the  interior  and  exterior  Eiger,  the  Schreckhorn,  or 
Peak  of  Terror,  the  Griuiael,  the  Furca,  and  the  St. 
Gothard,  to  which  we  may  add  tiie  Badiir  on  the  north- 
east of  St.  Gothard,  and  the  Glaciersj^to  the  north  of  the 
further  Rhine. 


The  Pennine  Alps  begin  with  some  eminences  on  the 
west  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  extend  eastward  to  the  great 
St.  Gothard,  where  they  join  the  Helvetian  chain.  This 
soutliern  branch  comprehends  the  following  lofty  moun- 
tains, viz.  Mont  Blanc,  Great  St.  Bernard,  Mont  Maudit, 
Combin,  Cervin,  and  Mont  Rosa.  From  an  incidental 
resemblance  between  the  words  Poeni  and  Pennini,  some 
have  been  led  to  conjecture,  that  Hannibal  passed  tins 
part  of  the  Alps,  and  gave  to  this  lofty  chain  the  name 
of  Pennini,  in  honour  of  his  followers.  This  supposi- 
tion, however,  is  inconsistent  with  the  conlmon  opinion 
of  historians,  and  is  rendered  quite  unnecessary,  when 
we  reflect  that  the  word  pen  in  the  Celtic  language  sig- 
nifies a  head,  or  elevated  summit,  a  more  obvious  and  sim- 
ple method  of  accounting  for  the  origin  of  the  name. 
The  eastern  part  of  this  chain,  comprehending  the 
mountains  from  Mont  Rosa  to  St.  Gothard,  is  sometimes 
denominated  the  Lepontine  Alps,  from  the  name  of  a 
people  who  inhabited  the  country  near  the  sources  of 
the  Rhone  and  the  Tesino. 

After  the  union  of  the  two  great  central  chains  near 
Adula  or  St.  Gothard,  the  Alps  proceed  in  an  easterly 
direction  through  the  south  part  of  the  country  of  the 
Grisons,  assuming  the  general  name  of  Rhaatian  Alps. 
The  same  appellation  is  usually  given  to  the  trjountains 
of  the  Tyrol,  and  that  part  of  the  chain  which  bounded 
the  ancient  Venetian  territory  on  the  north,  though  some 
choose  to  distinguish  them  by  the  names  of  Tridentine 
and  Noric  Alps. 

To  the  Rhsetian  succeed  the  Carmic  and  Julian  Alps, 
the  former  extending  to  the  springs  of  the  Save,  and  the 
latter  to  the  source  of  the  Kulpe.  This  part  of  the 
Alps  is  sometimes  called  Alpes  Venelce  and  Alpes  Pan- 
nonicee. 

Here  the  great  Alpine  chain  terminates,  after  having 
traversed  a  space  of  nearly  600  miles.  Some  authors 
are  disposed  to  lengthen  the  chain  considerably  at  both 
extremities,  by  connecting  the  Julian  Alps  with  the 
mountainsofDalmatia,  Macedonia,  and  Thrace;  and  by 
tracing  the  western  branch  of  the  Maritime  Alps  through 
the  south  of  France,  till  it  terminates  in  the  Pyrennees. 
As  we  are  unqualified  to  jud^e  respecting  the  ex- 
pediency of  this  arrangement,  we  shall  content  our- 
selves with  this  short  sketch  of  the  geographical  posi- 
tion of  those  mouutaius  which  are  commonly  known  by 
the  name  of  Alps. 

After  having  given  a  general  outline  of  this  great 
range  of  mountains,  and  pointed  out  the  relative  po- 
sition of  their  different  subdivisions,  we  shall  noAV  intro- 
duce our  readers  to  some  of  the  more  remarkable 
pheenomena  exhibited  on  the  different  parts  of  their  sur- 
face. As  any  general  description  would  convey  but  a 
very  imperfect  idea  of  those  interesting  scenes,  while  a 
minute  detail  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  limits  pre- 
scribed to  this  article,  we  propose  to  select  a  particular 
subdivision,  and  to  conduct  our  readers,  by  such  a  route, 
as  will  enable  them  to  form  some  general  idea  of  Alpine 
scenery.  We  need  scarcely  observe,  that  the  great  cen- 
tral chain  seems  the  best  calculated  for  our  purpose. 
We  shall  therefore  follow  the  common  route  from  thf 
lake  of  Lucern  to  St.  Gothard,  cross  the  Furca  and 
Grimsel,  view  the  Helvetian  chain  on  the  north  side, 
descend  into  the  Vallais  by  (he  pass  of  Gemmi,  examine 
the  neighbourhood  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  the  Great  St. 
Bernard,  and  finish  w  ith  Mont  Rosa,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  mountains  in  the  Pennine  Alps. 

Upon  quittiog  Altdorf,  a  town  situated  at  the  southern 
3Z  2 


548 


ALPS. 


eslremity  of  tbe  lake  Lucerne,  the  traveller  proceeds 
southward  to  St.  Gothard,  keeping  close  by  the  channel 
of  the  Reuss.  For  nine  miles  after  leaving  this  city,  he 
passes  through  a  Avell  cultivated  valley  of  considera- 
ble breadth,  bounded  on  the  east  and  west  by  calcareous 
hills.  Afterwards  the  valley  contracts,  and  takes  the 
uame  of  Schscllenen.  The  road  now  winds  along  the 
sleep  sides  of  the  mountains,  and  the  Reuss,  confined 
to  a  narrower  channel,  is  heard  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance below,  forcing  its  way  through  the  opposing 
rocks,  now  presenting  a  beautiful  cascade,  and  now  sul- 
lenly retiring  to  the  shade  of  firs  and  pines.  The 
scenery  on  every  side  is  romantic  in  the  highest  degree. 
On  the  right  and  left  are  beheld  sheets  of  water  dash- 
ing from  rock  to  rock,  and  forming  ten  or  fifteen  cas- 
cades before  they  lose  themselves  in  a  forest  of  pines, 
whose  dark  foliage  forms  a  delightful  contrast  to  their 
while  spray.  Here  are  seen  houses  of  a  particular  con- 
struction, placed  against  the  projecting  rock  to  shelter 
them  from  tbe  desolating  fury  of  the  avalanches,  or  huge 
masses  of  hardened  snow  which  are  constantly  rolling 
down  from  the  impending  moimtains;  there  rough 
arches  of  stone,  joining  two  frightful  precipices,  and 
large  trunks  of  trees  thrown  across  the  Reuss,  and  the 
torrents  which  descend  from  the  mountains.  Hitherto 
the  country  appears  well  peopled,  and  beat's  some  marks 
of  cultivation.  The  sides  of  the  hills  are  occasionally 
strewed  with  cottages,  and  in  the  lower  part  of  the  val- 
ley, where  it  accidentally  widens,  thriving  hamlets  arc 
sometimes  discovered  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  But 
upon  leaving  Wasen,  a  small  village  where  the  travel- 
ler usually  passes  the  night,  the  scene  suddenly  changes; 
the  trees  become  thinner  at  every  step,  the  rocks  are 
bare  and  craggy,  and  no  human  habitation ;  scarce  a 
blade  of  grass  is  to  be  seen.  Nothing  is  now  found  to 
relieve  the  eye  but  the  incessant  dashing  of  the  cascades 
from  the  impending  heights.  While  contemplating 
these  inferior  exhibitions  of  wild  nature,  the  attention  of 
the  traveller  is  suddenly  roused  by  the  distant  murmur- 
ing of  cataracts ;  and  upon  advancing  nearer,  he  per- 
ceives before  him  an  immense  cloud  of  spray.  But  he- 
fore  he  can  discover  the  secret  cause  of  all  this  uproar, 
he  finds  himself  placed  on  a  bridge  of  a  single  arch, 
thrown  across  a  deep  and  narrow  chasm,  where  he  be- 
holds the  Reuss  forcing  its  way  with  resistless  fury,  fal- 
ling from  rock  to  rock,  and  dragging  along  with  it  huge 
masses  of  granite,  which  it  had  undermined  in  its 
impetuous  course.  After  passing  this  bridge,  usu- 
ally called  TcufePs  Brack,  or  the  Devil's  Bridge,  the 
traveller  is  unexpectedly  intro<luced  into  a  subterra- 
nean gallery  above  200  feet  in  length.  This  passage 
has  lately  been  cut  through  the  solid  rock,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  afllicting  accidents  which  were  daily  occur- 
ring on  the  old  road,  when  it  run  along  the  face  of  the 
precipices  which  overhang  the  bed  of  the  Reuss.  Here 
all  is  silence  and  darkness,  except  where  a  ray  of  light 
breaks  through  the  opening  rock,  thus  forming  a  re- 
markable contrast  to  the  violence  and  uproar  of  the  last 
(cene. 

But  scarcely  has  the  traveller  time  to  reflect  upon 
tbe  change  of  situation,  when  the  curtain  again  rises, 
presenting  before  him  an  open  plain  clothed  with  ver- 
dure ;  and  the  river  which  was  recently  all  foam  and 
agitation,  now  flowing  silently  in  its  channel,  and  roll- 
ing its  limpid  waters  through  rich  meadows  and  cul- 
tivated fields.  This  valley,  which  takes  the  name  of 
UtMren,  is  about  six  leaguw  in  Icpgth,  etnd  picturesque 


in  the  highest  degree.  The  lower  part  presents  a  plain 
of  an  oval  form,  divided  into  small  pasturages.  On  the 
right  and  left  are  naked  mountains  thinly  covered  with 
verdure.  In  the  back  ground,  towanls  the  south,  ap- 
pear the  mountains  of  St.  Gothard,  rising  in  gloomy 
greatness.  The  edge  of  the  stream  is  fringed  with 
bushes,  among  which,  at  considerable  intervals,  a  tali 
willow  is  seen  to  rise.  Here  and  there  are  iound  scat- 
tered cottages  of  wood,  or  a  solitary  shed  on  the  lirow 
of  the  hill.  On  the  left  is  the  village  of  ludremat,  and  in 
the  bottom  of  the  valley,  further  to  the  south,  that  ol 
Hopital,  situated  on  the  ridge  of  a  rock  at  the  junction 
of  the  little  Reuss,  a  small  stream  which  descends  from 
the  Furca.  Near  this  last  village,  the  cross  roads  from 
the  Vallais  and  Orisons  join  the  high  road  to  Italy  by 
the  pass  of  St.  Gothard. 

The  traveller  now  turns  to  the  left,  after  which,  the 
ascent  of  St.  Gothard  properly  begins.  The  path  be- 
comes steep  and  rugged,  winding  through  a  narrow 
valley,  bounded  on  the  right  and  left  by  bare  mountains, 
whose  craggy  summits  and  projecting  cliffs  threaten 
every  moment  to  fall,  and  bury  the  traveller  in  theit 
ruins.  As  he  ascends,  the  valley  gradually  closes  be- 
fore him,  leaving  scarcely  an  opening  for  the  road ;  and 
the  channel  of  the  Reuss,  now  a  rapid  torrent,  descends 
on  his  left  with  tumultuous  uproar,  darting  from  rock 
to  rock,  or  forcing  its  way  between  huge  fragments  ot 
granite  which  occasionally  interrupt  its  passage.  The 
whole  of  the  valley,  indeed,  is  strewed  with  these  frag- 
ments of  rocks  from  the  neighbouring  heights,  some  of 
which  are  of  a  remarkable  size.  At  a  particular  spot, 
says  Bourrit,  (tom.  ii.  p.  54.)  where  the  road  passes 
over  the  face  of  a  rock,  by  stejis  cut  in  the  form  of  a 
stair,  an  immense  block  of  granite  80  feet  in  height,  and 
some  thousand  feet  in  front,  is  seen  overhanging  the  bed 
of  the  torrent.  After  about  an  hour's  climbing,  the 
traveller  perceives  his  horizon  gradually  opening,  and 
is  surprised  to  find  himself  at  the  entrance  of  a  circular 
plain,  three  miles  in  diameter,  surrounded  on  all  sides 
with  lofty  mountains,  whose  ru^ed  tops  are  continually 
covered  with  snow.  This  circular  group  of  mountains 
takes  the  general  name  of  St.  Gothard,  while  some  of 
the  more  prominent  of  them  have  received  distinct  ap- 
pellations, such  as  the  Salla,  Prosa,  and  Surechia,  on 
the  east ;  the  Fendo,  Petiiia,  and  Locendro,  on  the  west; 
the  Ursino  on  the  north  ;  and  the  rocks  of  Val.  Maggia 
on  the  south.  On  the  right,  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Petina,  one  of  the  highest  of  these  mountains,  is  sittiated 
a  lake  of  considerable  extent,  from  which  the  Reuss 
obtains  its  first  supplies.  Upon  advancing  further  into 
the  plain,  the  traveller  discovers,  at  a  small  distance  be- 
fore him,  the  house  of  the  Capuchin  friars,  situated  be- 
yond some  other  lakes  of  small  extent,  which  furnish 
the  first  streams  of  the  Tesino.  Adjoining  to  the  house 
of  the  friars  is  a  small  inn,  where  the  traveller  is  some- 
times obliged  to  pass  the  night,  and  in  the  morning  be- 
gins to  descend  into  Italy.  But  instead  of  pursuing  this 
route,  we  shall  again  descend  into  the  delightful  valley 
of  Urseren,  and  proceed  westward  by  the  mountains  o» 
the  north  of  the  Vallais,  commonly  called  the  Helvetian 
Alps,  of  which  the  more  prominent  are  the  Furca,  the 
Grimsel,  the  Schreckhorn,  the  Eiger,  the  Jungfran- 
horn,  and  the  Gemmi. 

The  road  to  the  Vallais,  we  have  already  ohservcil, 
leaves  the  vale  of  Urseren  at  the  village  of  Hopital;  and 
from  this  place  proceeds  in  a  westerly  direction  over 
ike  soutb  brow  of  tbe  Furcft.    Tbis  votuttaio  lies  N- 


ALPS. 


64,9 


W.  from  St.  Gothard,  and  is  (he  first  of  the  great 
Helvetian  chain.  It  is  distinguislied  by  the  form  of 
its  summit,  which  consists  of  a  number  of  rocks  of  a 
forked  shajie,  piled  one  above  another;  a  circumstance 
which  Fetms  evidently  to  have  suggested  its  name.  It 
is  rendered  chiefly  interesting  to  travellers,  from  its 
supporting  on  its  side  an  immense  glacier,  from  which 
issue  the  first  waters  of  the  Rhone.  The  road  from  the 
valley  of  Urseren  to  the  top  of  the  Furca  is  remarkably 
steep  and  rugged,  sometimes  lying  on  the  edge  of  a 
dreadful  precipice,  sometimes  passing  through  an  angry 
torrent,  and  sometimes  completely  buried  in  the  ruins 
of  some  neighbouring  rock,  which  a  recent  avalanche 
has  dragged  along  with  it  in  its  fall.  Nor  do  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  journey  cease  upon  arriving  at  the  top ; 
the  descent  for  a  considerable  way  is  equally  rugged 
and  wild,  presenting  nothing  to  amuse  the  eye  but  bro- 
ken rocks  and  craggy  precipices.  At  last  the  glacier 
of  the  Furca  suddenly  bursts  upon  the  view  of  the 
traveller  towards  the  right,  and  he  feels  himself  more 
than  recompensed  for  all  his  labours.  He  sees  before 
him  a  valley  of  Ice,  three  miles  in  length,  and  one  in 
breadth,  stretching  in  the  form  of  an  immense  scaffolding 
between  two  rocks  of  the  Furca,  more  rugged,  if  pos- 
sible, than  any  of  the  adjoining  mountains.  The  rays 
of  the  sun  cause  it  to  glisten  like  crystal,  and  the  blue 
tints  reflected  from  its  surface  appear  inexpressibly 
beautiful.  A  thousand  romantic  shapes  seem  to  rise 
before  the  eye  of  the  beholder.  One  would  imagine, 
says  Bourrit,  that  he  is  viewing  the  streets  and  houses 
of  a  magnificent  city,  built  in  the  form  of  an  amphithea- 
tre, and  embellished  by  sheets  of  water,  cascades,  and 
torrents.  While  dwelling  with  continued  delight  on 
these  romantic  beauties,  the  traveller  is  surprised  to 
learn  that  he  sees  before  him  only  the  least  part  of  this 
immense  glacier.  For,  upon  ascending  a  mountain  to 
the  west,  he  beholds  a  new  field  of  ice  open  gradually 
to  view ;  and  the  shaggy  rocks  which  crowned  the  for- 
mer scene,  now  become  the  basis  of  a  new  glacier, 
more  extensive  and  more  beautiful  than  the  first.  The 
snow  is  of  a  more  virgin  white,  the  pyramids  of  ice 
more  bold,  and  the  blue  tints  more  lively  and  animated. 
The  traveller  leaves  this  enchanted  scene  with  feelings 
of  regret ;  and  after  reaching  his  former  station,  pursues 
the  road  to  the  Vallais,  by  the  side  of  the  lower  glacier. 
The  descent  continues  steep  and  rugged.  In  a  short 
time,  however,  he  arrives  at  the  lower  part  of  the  glacier, 
where  he  beholds  the  Rhone  issuing  witli  considerable 
noise  and  impetuosity  from  two  magnificent  arches  of 
ice.  The  streams  which  burst  from  these  splendid 
vaults,  are,  even  at  their  first  appearance,  of  considera- 
ble magnitude ;  Coxe  informs  us,  that  upon  attempting 
to  cross  them,  on  the  shoulders  of  his  guide,  both  of 
them  were  in  danger  of  being  carried  down  by  the 
rapidity  of  tlie  torrent.  Yet  they  have  not  the  honour 
of  being  considered  as  the  sources  of  the  Rhone  ;  a  pre- 
eminence usually  claimed  by  some  hot  springs  in  the 
neighbourhood,  from  the  circumstance  of  their  continu- 
ing to  flow  during  all  seasons  of  the  year. 

After  leaving  the  glacier,  the  road  proceeds  by  a  nar- 
roAV  and  steep  valley,  through  which  the  Rhone  des- 
cends with  dreadful  impetuosity,  forming  a  continual 
cataract.  The  scenery  around  is  dreary  and  desolate 
in  the  highest  degree,  bearing  a  striking  resemblaitce 
to  the  valley  of  Schselenen.  Not  a  tree  or  shrub,  or 
pile  of  grass  is  to  be  seen  ;  and  it  is  only  after  having 
travelled  more  tbaa  a  league  from  the  foot  of  the  glacier, 


that  a  few  straggling  willows  begin  to  appear.  The 
hills  now  become  more  and  more  covered  with  verdure 
and  trees,  and  the  appearance  of  a  few  cottages  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Rhone  announces  the  approach  of 
the  Vallais. 

Having  passed  the  night  at  Munster,  or  Obergestlen, 
two  villages  situated  in  the  upper  extremity  of  the 
Vallais,  the  Alpine  traveller,  instead  of  accompanying 
the  Rhone,  i>artly  retraces  his  steps,  and  begins  to  as- 
cend the  Grimsel  on  the  left.  The  ascent  of  this  moun- 
tain, as  usual,  is  steep  and  rugged,  requiring  about  three 
hours  to  reach  the  highest  part.  From  the  summit  on 
the  southern  side,  the  road  descends  for  the  space  of  two 
miles  over  a  ridge  of  rocks,  and  leads  to  a  small  plain 
or  hollow.  In  the  centre  of  this  plain  is  situated  a 
solitary  hoase  on  the  borders  of  a  dark  lake,  called  the 
Lake  of  the  Dead,  from  its  being  the  common  recepta- 
cle of  the  dead  bodies  of  those  who  die  in  passing  these 
mountains.  This  house  is  kept  open  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  travellers  during  nine  months  of  the  year,  at  the 
expense  of  the  Canton  of  Berne  ;  and  the  landlord  who 
rents  the  pasture  grounds  in  the  neigbourhood,  is  en- 
gaged, upon  quitting  his  solitary  mansion  at  the  approach 
of  winter,  to  leave  behind  him  a  quantity  of  cheese, 
salted  meat,  and  fuel,  in  case  any  unfortunate  wanderer 
should  come  this  way  after  his  departure. 

From  this  place  the  traveller  usually  proceeds  west- 
ward, towards  the  Schreckhorn,  to  visit  the  glaciers 
which  supply  the  first  streams  of  the  Aar.  After  climb- 
ing the  rocks  which  shelter  this  dreary  mansion  on  the 
N.  W.  he  comes  in  sight  of  a  small  plain,  half  covered 
with  verdure,  through  which  the  Aar  is  seen  flowing 
with  gentle  rapidity.  By  following  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  he  arrives  in  a  short  time  at  the  opening  of  a 
large  valley,  running  from  east  to  west,  and  bounded 
on  the  north  and  south  by  lofty  mountains  of  granite. 
After  an  hour's  walking,  close  by  the  northern  chain 
of  mountains,  he  comes  to  the  foot  of  the  glacier  called 
Lauteraar.  This  glacier  has  nothing  interesting  in  its 
appearance.  Its  surface  is  entirely  covered  with  stones, 
the  wreck  of  the  neighbouring  mountains  ;  and  the 
Aar,  instead  of  forming  a  magnificent  arch  like  the 
Rhone,  creeps  quietly  from  beneath  an  inclined  plane 
of  ice,  the  lower  edge  of  which  almost  touches  the 
ground.  There  is  something  dreadful,  however,  in  the 
appearance  of  the  fissures  through  which  the  river  is 
sometimes  seen  in  the  abyss  below,  forcing  its  way  be- 
tween blocks  of  ice  that  occasionally  inferrujit  its  pas- 
sage. But  what  renders  this  glacier  peculiarly  magni- 
ficent, is  its  situation  in  the  midst  of  granite  mountains 
of  a  prodigious  height,  which  enclose  it  on  all  sides 
except  towards  the  east;  the  Schreckhorn,  or  Peak  of 
Terror,  forming  an  insurmountable  rampart  on  the 
north  and  north-east;  the  Finsteraarhorn  almost  shut- 
ting out  the  day  on  the  west,  and  the  Zinckenstorf  look- 
ing down  in  awful  grandeur  on  the  south.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  this  last  mountain  lies  another  large 
valley  of  ice,  called  the  glacier  of  Oberaar,  from  which 
the  Aar  derives  part  of  its  waters :  but  it  has  nothing 
remarkable  in  its  appearance,  being,  like  the  former, 
completely  covered  with  the  debris  of  the  surrounding 
summits. 

As  the  mountains  on  the  west  of  these  glaciers  are 
quite  impassable,  tlie  traveller,  who  is  anxious  to  obtain 
a  more  complete  view  of  the  Helvetian  chain,  must 
return  to  the  solitary  hovel  on  the  Grimsel,  and  follow 
the  Aar  in  its  descent  to  the  territory  of  Hasli,  in  the 


650 


^ 


ALPS. 


Canton  of  Berne.  The  scenery  in  the  vale  of  the  Aar 
bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  that  of  Shaelenen,  with 
this  iliflerence,  that  the  Aar  rushes  down  its  channel 
ivith  more  impetuosity  than  tlie  Reuss,  and  is  frequently 
so  swelled  with  torrents  as  to  ravage  all  the  adjacent 
country.  According  to  Bourrit,  this  valley  presents 
scenes  more  interesting  and  varied  than  any  other  pas- 
sage of  the  Alps.  "  A  tout  moment,''''  says  this  author, 
"  le$  sitiiations  changent ;  tantot  VAar  passe  sur  la  tite 
du  voyageur,  tantot  il  la  voit  bien  ati-dcssoiis  de  sespieds  ; 
en  contcmple  les  cascades  qu^cllc  forme,  cclle  des  torrens 
qu'on  voit  s'y precipiter  du  hant  de  sommets,  les  contrastes 
de  Vohscurite  dun  vallon  torleux  avec  la  blancJuur  de 
ses  catix  fouetties  par  la  force  de  Icur  chutes,  le  cou- 
rant  d^air  gu'elles  txcitcnt,  les  blocs  inmunses  de  roes 
qii'elles  rmlait  et  entasscnt  le  long  de  la  gorge,  des 
ponts  hardis  et  scabrcux  qu'U  faut  passer  phisieurs  fois, 
de  dcssus  lesqucls  la  passagcr  voit  a  I'un  de  ses  cotes  la 
riviere  presque  la  toucher,  iandis  que  de  Vautre  il  a  de 
la  peine  a  la  suivrc  des  yeux  dans  ses  gouffres  profonds. 
Au  milieu  de  ce  fracas,  on  admire  la  magnificence  des 
rochers,  leurs  eclatantes  cmdeurs,  Icurs  fractures  pitto 
.resques,  leurs  excavations,  leurs  sommets  dechires,  et  les 
lambtaux  de  neige  et  de  glace  qui  les  chamarrent ;  enfin 
les  yeux  se  reposent  auec  plaisir  sur  une  agrcalle  el  riante 
prarie,  sur  des  montagncs  boisees  qii'on  a  cesse  de  voir 
dcpuis  long  terns,  et  sur  les  richcsses  dhin  pays  de  pdtu- 
rages  et  de  champs.''^ 

Upon  arriving  at  Mcyringen,  the  chief  village  in  the 
V'aJe  of  Hasii,  the  traveller  now  ])roceeds  southwards 
to  visit  the  glaciers  of  Grindelwald  and  Lauterbrun- 
nen,  and  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of  the  great  Helvetian 
chain.  From  Meyringen  the  nearest  road  to  Grindel- 
wald is  by  crossing  the  Sheidic,  a  mountain  covered 
with  a  fine  forest  of  beeches,  poplars,  mountain-ash, 
any  pines,  and  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  Wetterhorn, 
beyond  which,  further  to  the  south,  tovrers  the  Schreck- 
horn,  or  Peak  of  Terror.  The  usual  route,  however, 
to  the  glaciers  of  Lauterbrunnen  and  Grindelwald,  is 
from  Innerlachen,  a  small  village  between  Lake  Thun 
and  Brientz,  where  the  Lutchinen  enters  the  Aar.  From 
this  place,  which  is  properly  the  vestibule  of  the  Hel- 
Tctian  Alps,  there  runs  towards  the  south  a  narrow 
Valley,  which  the  river  Lutchinen  seems  to  have  scooped 
out  across  a  range  of  mountains  which  forms  the  fore- 
i^round  of  the  great  granitical  chain.  After  about  two 
iiours'  walking  through  this  romantic  delile,  the  road 
opens  into  two  vallies  of  considerable  extent,  both  of 
which  have  their  further  extremity  closed  by  a  lofty 
mouutain.  The  valley  on  the  right  leads  to  Lauter- 
brunnen, and  is  terminated  by  the  lofty  Jungfrau-horn 
or  A'irgin  Horn;  while  that  on  the  left  conducts  to 
Grindelwald,  having  the  Slettenberg  at  its  further  ex- 
tremity. Grindelwald  is  a  beautiful  village,  consisting 
of  a  number  of  cottages,  scattered  over  the  plain,  and 
upon  the  rising  bills,  from  which  are  seen  extensive 
Tallies  of  ice  stretching  along  the  steep  sides  of  the 
mountains  and  beautifully  skirted  with  wood.  Those 
vallies  are  called  the  Superior  and  Inferior  Glaciers  of 
Grindelwald,  and  are  separated  from  one  another  by 
the  Mcttenberg  mountain,  which  constitutes  the  base 
of  the  Schrcckhorn.  The  former  lies  between  the  Wet- 
terhorn and  Mettenberg ;  the  latter  between  the  Met- 
tenberg  and  Eigerhorn. 

The  village  of  Lauterbrunnen,  like  that  of  Grindel- 
wald, consists  of  a  number  of  cottages  scattered  through 
the  valley  and  accessible  parts  of  the  hills.     Near  the 


village  is  the  celebrated  fall  of  the  Staubach,  where  a 
torrent  is  seen  falling  perpendicularly  from  a  height  of 
above  900  feet.  The  greater  part  of  the  water  falls 
clear  of  the  overhiinging  mountain,  and  is  resolved  into 
fine  spray  before  it  reaches  the  ground ;  while  the 
remaining  part,  dashing  against  a  projection  of  the 
rock,  flies  off  with  great  violence. 

For  a  more  particular  account  of  the  interesting  sce- 
nery presented  in  the  vallies  of  Grindelwald  and  Lau- 
terbrunnen, we  must  refer  our  readers  to  Bourrit's 
Description  des  Glaciers,  torn.  ii. 

After  admiring  the  fall  of  tlie  Staubach,  some  travel- 
lers proceed  to  the  extremity  of  the  vale  of  Lauter- 
brunnen, ascend  the  glaciers  which  stretch  at  the  feet 
of  the  Breithorn  and  Grosshorn,  and  pass  the  moun- 
tains to  Kandersteig ;  but  as  this  road  is  practicable 
only  to  foot  passengers,  the  usual  route  is  to  return  by 
the  valley  of  Lauterbrunnen  to  Innerlachen,  then  to 
proceed  westward  to  the  village  of  Eschi,  and  from 
thence  to  ascend  the  Kander  to  Kandersteig.  "  In  the 
valley  of  Kander,"  says  Cose,  "  the  rudeness  and  height 
of  the  mountains,  which  almost  enclose  it,  contrasted 
with  the  beauty  and  fruitfulness  of  the  plains,  fertilized 
by  a  lively  torrent,  form  a  thousand  picturesque  scenes, 
ever  changing,  and  impossible  to  be  described ;  it  is 
still  further  embellished  by  the  number  of  ruined  cas- 
tles perched  upon  points  seemingly  inaccessible."  After 
about  an  hour's  ascent  from  this  place,  the  traveller 
enters  into  a  waving  plain,  in  which  he  ohservs  a  few 
huts  and  several  herds  of  cattle.  Soon  after,  he  dis- 
covers the  barren  rocks  of  the  Gemmi,  enclosing  the 
lake  of  Daubensee ;  and  from  the  southern  ridge  of 
these  mountains  enjoys  a  moat  extensive  prospect  of  the 
fertile  country  of  the  Vallais,  with  the  rugged  Alps  of 
Savoy.  U|)on  arriving  at  the  edge  of  the  precipice 
which  overlooks  the  Vallais,  the  traveller  is  surprised 
to  learn,  that  he  must  descend  by  the  face  of  these  rocks 
before  he  can  reach  that  delightful  valley.  The  road 
is  about  nine  feet  broad ;  in  some  parts  for  a  conside- 
rable space,  it  is  a  hollow  way,  open  only  at  one  side, 
the  rock  above  projecting  over  it.  The  effect  is  pecu- 
liarly singular;  for  as  the  path  winds  continually,  the 
scene  also  continually  changes;  so  that  atone  moment 
the  traveller  commands  an  extensive  view,  and  the  next 
is  enclosed  with  barren  rocks.  The  descent  from  the  top 
to  the  baths  of  Leuk  is  aboutjtwo  leagues :  from  which 
place  the  traveller  proceeds  along  the  right  bank  of  the 
Rhone  to  Sion,  the  chief  town  in  the  Vallais. 

Before  we  attempt  to  sketch  the  general  features  of 
the  great  southern  chain,  we  shall  take  a  retrospec- 
tive view  of  the  mountains  we  have  passed,  and  olTer 
some  remarks  upon  their  structure,  composition,  and 
height. 

On  the  north  of  Aldtorf,  where  our  route  commenced, 
grey  wacke  is  frequently  found.  In  the  neighbourhood 
of  A  Idtorf,  the  grey  wacke  is  succeeded  by  transition 
limestone.  As  we  ascend  the  valley  of  the  Reuss,  this 
transition  limestone  is  found  resting  upon  primitive 
rock,  which  in  some  places  is  mica  slate,  in  others 
gneiss;  and  still  higher  up,  we  meet  with  that  particu- 
lar variety  of  granite,  named  by  Saus=ure  veined,  or 
more  properly  slaly  granite.  The  strata  of  the  granite 
are  nearly  vertical,  dipping  a  little  to  the  N.  E.  Saua- 
sure,  however,  remarks,  that  ai  a  particular  place  be- 
tween Schaslenen  and  the  Devil's  Bridge,  the  strata 
seem  to  be  horizontal.  This  appearance,  he  conceives, 
may  arise  from  fissures  perpendicular  to  the  plains  of 


AJJS. 


551 


the  strata :  for  at  a  little  distance  the  vertical  strata 
again  recur.  [Sauss.  torn.  vii.  p.  81.)  At  particular  places 
thin  strata  of  clay  slate,  having  a  shining  lustre,  and 
consetjuently  of  the  oldest  formation,  arc  seen  resting 
ou  granite.  The  rock  through  which  the  subterranean 
gallery  is  cut,  and  those  that  overhang  the  Reuss  at 
the  Devil's  Bridge,  consist  of  stratified  granite,  with 
the  strata  almost  vertical,  or  dipping  to  the  N.  E.  After 
p  ■.ssing  through  the  Unner-loch,  the  granite  rock  gra- 
dually passes  into  gneiss,  mica  slate,  and  clay  slate, 
having  fissures  perpendicular  (o  the  plains  of  their  stra- 
ta, (torn.  vii.  p.  68.)  In  the  valley  of  Urseren,  near  the 
bed  of  the  river,  are  found  what  Saussure  caUs  pierres 
argiUeuses.  The  hills  on  the  right  of  this  valley  are 
composed  of  grey  limestone  to  a  considerable  height, 
after  which  appear  mica  slate.  On  the  left  of  the  river, 
potslone  is  found,  reaching  nearly  to  the  same  height 
as  the  limestone  on  the  opposite  side,  (Sauss.  torn.  vii. 
p.  65.)  In  the  valley  which  forms  the  ascent  to  St. 
Gothard,  Saussure  observed  the  strata  to  have  the 
usual  direction,  viz.  from  N.  E.  to  S.  W.  and  composed 
principally  of  slaty  granite.  Upon  arriving  at  the  plain 
on  the  top  of  St.  Gothard,  he  found  great-grained  gra- 
nite, (Sauss.  torn.  vii.  p.  60.)  From  examining  the  de- 
bris of  tlie  rocks  which  cover  (he  plain  of  St.  Gothard, 
we  <ire  led  to  suppose,  that  the  surrounding  summits 
consist  chiefly  of  granite.  In  order  to  verify  this  con- 
jecture, Saussure  ascended  two  of  the  highest  moun- 
tains, viz.  the  Prosa  and  Feudo,  and  found  them  both 
to  consist  of  massive  granite.  It  is  of  importance  to 
remark,  that  a  granite  of  the  newer  formation  has  been 
found  by  Humboldt,  near  the  Hospice  de  St.  Gothard. 

The  Furca,  as  far  as  we  know,  has  not  been  accu- 
rately examined  by  any  on  whose  Ojiinion  we  can  rely. 
If  we  may  judge  of  (he  composition  of  that  mountain 
from  the  broken  masses  found  near  the  glacier  of  the 
Rhone,  it  seems  composed  chiefly  of  granite  and  gneiss. 

The  south  side  of  the  Grimsel  consists  of  gneiss  of 
a  reddish  colour,  of  which  the  strata  are  nearly  verti- 
cal, or  dipping  as  usual  N.  E.  After  descending  for 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  strata  become  more 
horizontal ;  and,  in  general,  they  seem  to  incline  towards 
the  Vallais,  or  the  exterior  of  the  mountain.  These  stra- 
ta of  gneiss  are  sometimes  found  covered  by  mica  slate, 
and  towards  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  clay  slate  also 
occasionally  appears,  with  the  strata  iu  the  same  direc- 
tion as  the  gneiss. 

On  the  north  and  south  of  the  valley,  leading  to  the 
glacier  of  Lauteraar,  the  mountains  are  composed  of 
granite.  A  thick  fog,  which  rested  for  some  days  upon 
the  tremendous  summits  of  the  Schreckhorn  and  Fins- 
teraar,  prevented  Saussure  from  examining  these  moun- 
tains ;  but  he  inferred  from  the  debris  which  covers  the 
glacier,  that  they  are  composed  of  massive  granite, 
veined  granite,  and  sienite.  Here  also  he  found  a  par- 
ticular stone,  which  he  calls  byssolite.  At  the  foot  of 
the .  Zinchenslorf,  which  forms  the  boundary  between 
the  two  glaciers,  he  met  thin  strata,  of  a  soft  greyish 
rock,  mixed  with  quartz,  mica,  and  hornblende.  The 
strata  were  nearly  vertical,  running  from  N.  E.  to  S. 
W.  and  leaning  a  little  to  the  body  of  the  mountain.  On 
the  top  of  this  mountain  he  found  granite,  having  its 
strata  parallel  to  those  in  the  valley  of  Lauteraar.  The 
mountains  to  the  south  of  the  glacier  of  Oberaar,  are 
composed  of  a  schistose  rock  in  a  state  of  decomposi- 
tion. (Saiiss.  torn.  vi.  p.  270.) 

From  the  house  on  the  Grimsel  to  the  village  of  Gut- 


tannen,  nothing  is  seen  but  granite  rocks,  at  one  time 
stratified,  and  fit  another  in  tables.  Near  Guttannen,  the 
granite  disappears,  and  is  succeeded  by  gneiss,  which 
continues  for  some  time,  and  is  in  its  turn  covered  by 
limestone,  through  which,  at  some  particular  places,  is 
discovered  a  brown  micaceous  rock  mixed  with  feldspar. 
(Sauss.  torn.  vi.  p.  287.)  The  Aar  has  formed  to  itself  a 
channel  through  these  rocks,  and  presents  on  the  oppo- 
site banks  the  same  inclination  of  the  strata.  These 
limestone  hills  also  bound  the  valley  of  Meyringen  on 
the  east. 

For  any  information  we  have  been  able  to  collect  re- 
specting the  remaining  mountains  of  the  great  Helvetian 
chain,  we  are  chiefly  indebted  to  the  letter  of  the  rev. 
Mr.  Wyttenbach  to  Coxe,  to  which  we  must  refer  our 
readers  for  particular  details.  From  this  author  we 
learn,  that  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Berne,  hills  begin  to 
arise,  which  continue  increasing  in  height,  till  they  ter- 
minate in  the  elevated  and  almost  inaccessible  peaks, 
which  constitute  the  northern  chain  of  the  Alps.  These 
hills,  which  form  the  foreground  of  the  great  centra! 
chain,  are  composed  of  limestone,  standing  on  a  base  of 
clay  slate  ;  and  are  often  found  at  such  great  heights  as 
almost  to  conceal  the  primitive  bed  of  granite.  Hence, 
in  ascending  the  valley  of  Lauterbrunnen,  we  find  cal- 
careous rocks  even  to  its  further  extremity;  and  in  the 
valley  of  Grindehvald  nothing  appears  butclay  slate  and 
limestone.  The  external  parts  of  the  Eiger,  Mettenberg, 
and  Wetterhorn,  are  also  chiefly  calcareous.  Some- 
times a  red  stratum,  seemingly  composed  of  clay  slate, 
and  a  fine-grained  iron  ore,  forms  a  separation  between 
the  granite  and  the  calcareous  rocks.  All  the  mountains 
which  compose  the  Helvetian  chain,  discover  granite  on 
their  summits,  except  Mount  Gemmi,  where  nothing  is 
found  but  limestone  and  clay  slate.  This  limestone, 
which  forms  so  striking  a  feature  in  the  Helvetian 
mountains,  and  which  extends  onwards  through  the  Ty- 
rol, Salzberg,  Austria,  and  Styria,  to  the  frontiers  of 
Hungary,  appears  to  belong  to  the  first  jUtts  linuslone 
of  Werner,  the  Alpine  liinestone  of  Karsten.  In  several 
places  it  is  observed  resting  on  the  transition  rocks 
that  skirt  the  Helvetian  range,  and  which  have  now 
been  traced  onwards  to  the  Tyrol,  Saltzberg,  &c.  We 
shall  conclude  this  short  sketch  of  the  Helvetian  Alps, 
by  presenting  a  table  of  the  heights  of  the  principal 
mountains. 

A  Table  of  the  Height  of  the  Pnncipal  Mountains  in  the 
Helvetian  Alps,  according  to  Saussure  and  professor 
Tralles. 

SoMssure  Earomttricalli/. 

Above  the  level  of  the  sea 
Eng.  Feet. 

Plain  of  St.  Gothard 6816 

Peudo,  a  mountain  of  St.  Gothard     .     .     .  8819 

Prosa,  a  mountain  of  St.  Gothard  .     .     .     .  8816 

House  on  the  Grimsel 6003 

Highest  part  of  the  pass  of  tlie  Grimsel  to- 
wards the  Vallais 7155 

Tralles  Geometrically. 

Eng.  Feet. 

Jungfrauhorn 13,739 

Schreckhorn 13,397 

Finsteraarhorn 14,116 

Wetterhorn 12,217 

Eiger 13,086 


552 


ALPS. 


We  shall  now  rt 3ume  our  route  to  the  southern  chain, 
er  Pennine  Alps.  From  Sion,  the  traveller  continues 
his  journey  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhone  to  Martigny,  sup- 
posed to  be  the  ancient  Octoilurum,  now  a  village  situa- 
ted in  a  small  plain,  encircled  by  high  mountains,  and 
divided  by  the  river  Draiice.  Here  the  road  to  Mont 
Blanc  turns  to  the  left ;  but  before  pursuing  this  route, 
it  is  usual  to  make  a  short  excursion  to  St.  Maurice, 
situated  in  the  lower  extremity  of  the  Vallais.  From 
Martigny,  the  Helvetian  and  Pennine  chains  begin  to 
approach  one  another,  and  almost  close  at  St.  Maurice, 
leaving  scarce  a  passage  for  the  Rhone.  The  road  to 
St.  Maurice  is  jieculiarly  romantic,  running  under  a 
chain  of  rocks,  and  presenting,  on  the  right,  the  Rhone 
winding  through  the  middle  of  a  fertile  vale.  On  the 
left,  about  half  way,  the  Tricnt,  a  turbid  torrent,  is  seen 
issuing  from  a  narrow  and  obscure  glen  ;  and  soon  after, 
the  Sallenche,  bursting  from  a  cleft  in  the  middle  of  a 
rock,  through  hanging  shrubs,  forming  the  much  cele- 
brated cascade  of  the  Pisse  Vache.  In  a  little  time  the 
bridge  of  St.  Maurice  begins  to  appear,  with  the  villages 
built  upon  the  rock  at  the  foot  of  some  steep  mountains. 
This  bridge  consists  of  a  single  arch,  whose  span 
measures  130  feet.  St.  Maurice  is  chiefly  distinguished 
«8  being  the  eijtrance  from  the  Canton  of  Berne  into  the 
Vallais. 

The  traveller  now  returns  to  Martigny,  and  pursues 
his  journey  to  Mont  Blanc.  The  road  from  this  place  to 
Trient  is  carried  over  a  gentle  acclivity,  through  the 
middle  of  a  thick  forest.  From  Trient,  the  shortest  way  , 
to  Chamouni  is  by  the  passage  usually  called  the  Col  de 
Balme  5  but  owing  to  the  steepness  of  the  ascent,  which 
renders  it  peculiarly  dangerous  before  the  melting  of  the 
snows,  travellers  sometimes  prefer  the  mere  circuitous 
route  by  the  Tete  Noire,  a  dark  and  rugged  path,  pas- 
sing through  forests  of  firs  and  pines,  and  over  the  edge 
of  Black  rocks.  To  those,  however,  who  are  willing  to 
encounter  the  different  hazards  of  the  other  passage,  the 
top  of  the  Col  de  Balme  presents  one  of  the  most  exten- 
sive and  sublime  views  in  Swisserland.  On  the  north  is 
seen  the  Vallais,  with  its  numerous  towns  and  villages, 
now  appearing  like  small  country  seats  scattered  along 
the  banks  of  the  Rhone ;  beyond  which,  rise  the  moun- 
tains of  Berne,  piercing  the  clouds  with  their  snowy 
summits.  On  the  east,  are  discovered  the  Alps  of  St. 
,  Bernard,  with  a  tempestuous  sea  of  mountains  inter- 
vening; andiu  the  south,  Mont  Blanc,  risingmajestically 
amidst  the  surrounding  heights.  Nor  is  the  scene,  which 
lies  more  immediately  under  the  eye,  less  interesting 
and  sublime.  Numberless  rocks  are  seen  on  all  sides 
boldly  rising  above  the  clouds,  some  of  whose  tops  are 
bare,  others  covered  with  snow  ;  many  of  these  peaks 
gradually  diminishing  towards  their  summits,  end  in 
eharp  points  called  Needles.  Between  these  rocks,  Tal- 
lies of  ice  are  seen  on  all  sides,  often  stretching  several 
leagues  in  length,  and  uniting  at  the  fool  of  Mont 
Blanc. 

From  the  Col  de  Balme  the  road  begins  to  descend, 
winding  gently  along  the  banks  of  the  Arve,  and  opens 
ioto  the  rich  and  cultivated  vale  of  Chamouni.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  astonishment  of  the  traveller  upon  see- 
ing, for  the  first  time,  this  romantic  vale,  surrounded  on 
every  side  by  lofty  mountains,  and  presenting  at  one  view 
all  the  beauty  and  luxuriance  of  a  southern  climate,  inti- 
mately blended  with  the  horrors  and  devastation  of  an 
arctic  winter.     For  a  particular  description  of  this  en- 


chanting scene,  we  must  refer  our  readers  to  the  works 
of  Saussure  and  Bourrit.  The  traveller,  who  proposes  to 
spend  some  time  amidst  these  Alpine  regions,  usually 
selects  for  his  place  of  residence,  the  priory,  situated  ia 
the  middle  of  this  valley,  whence  he  makes  daily  excur- 
sions to  the  more  remarkable  scenes  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Of  these  excursions,  by  far  the  most  difficult  and 
perilous  is  the  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc.  This  was  long 
considered  as  impracticable  ,•  an  opinion  which  seemed 
justified  by  the  repeated  failure  of  the  attempts  of  those 
who  engaged  in  this  enterprise ;  among  whom  we  must 
reckon  Saussure  and  Bourrit.  The  difficulty  arose  not 
so  much  from  the  nature  of  the  ascent,  as  from  the  dis- 
tance of  the  journey,  which  it  was  necessary  to  accom- 
plish in  one  day ;  there  being  no  intermediate  stage, 
where  the  traveller  might  pass  the  night,  between  the 
priory  and  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  This  difficult 
enterprise,  however,  was  at  last  happily  effected  by  one 
James  Balma,  a  guide  of  Chamouni.  Since  that  time 
Mont  Blanc  has  been  repeatedly  scaled ;  and,  among 
others,  by  the  celebrated  Saussure,  to  whose  interest- 
ing narrative  of  this  event  we  must  refer  our  readers  for 
further  particulars.     (Sauss.  torn.  7.) 

After  Mont  Blanc,  the  next  most  interesting  excur- 
sion is  to  the  glaciers  on  the  east  of  Chamouni.  Of 
these,  the  glacier  of  Bois  usually  attracts  the  first  notice 
of  the  traveller,  both  on  account  of  its  being  easily  ap- 
proached, and  because  it  presents  a  complete  general 
outline  of  these  wild  and  magnificent  scenes.  From  the 
priory  the  traveller  begins  to  ascend  Montanvert,  a 
beautifully  wooded  mountain,  forming  the  eastern  boun- 
dary of  Chamouni.  The  road  at  first  passes  obliquely 
over  the  lower  part  of  the  valley,  winding  gently  through 
meadows,  and  well  cultivated  fields.  It  soon  after  enters 
into  a  thick  forest  of  birch  and  fir,  and  becomes  gradually 
more  steep  and  rugged.  During  the  whole  of  the  as- 
cent, however,  the  traveller  never  loses  sight  of  the 
valley  below  him,  watered  through  its  whole  extent  by 
the  river  Arve,  and  adorned  with  a  crowd  of  villages  and 
hamlets,  delightfully  situated  amidst  trees  and  cultivated 
fields.  Upon  reaching  the  top  of  Montanvert,  the  scene 
suddenly  changes  :  instead  of  a  fertile  and  smiling  val- 
ley, the  traveller  now  finds  himself  placed  on  the  edge 
of  a  precipice,  looking  dov/n  upon  a  valley  of  greater  ex- 
tent than  Chamouni ;  completely  filled  with  snow  and 
ice,  and  surrounded  by  colossal  mountains  of  tremendous 
aspect.  The  surface  of  the  ice,  when  seen  from  Mon- 
tanvert, appears  broken  into  irregular  ridges  and  deep 
chasms,  presenting  an  image  of  waves  instantaneously 
frozen  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  storm ;  but  upon  reach- 
ing the  edge  of  the  glacier,  these  waves  assume  the  ap- 
pearance of  mountains,  and  the  intervals  between  them 
become  vallies  of  considerable  magnitude.  The  chasms 
and  fissures  on  the  surface  now  increase  in  size  and 
depth,  aud  seem  to  forbid  all  attempts  to  cross  the  ice. 
Few,  however,  rest  satisfied  with  this  distant  view.  This 
glacier  has  been  traversed  thoughout  its  whole  extent 
by  a  number  of  travellers,  who  all  agree  in  stating,  that 
it  is  only  by  advancing  a  considerable  way  upon  its  sur- 
face, we  can  form  any  adequate  idea  of  this  very  singu- 
lar scene.  For  an  account  of  the  difficulties,  and  dan- 
gers, and  surprising  incidents  connected  with  an  excur- 
sion of  this  nature,  we  must  refer  our  readers  to  the 
authors  whom  we  have  frequently  quoted. 

The  glacier  of  Bois  communicates  with  several  others, 
viz.  the  glacier  of  Tacu,  which  stretches  towards  Mont 


Alps, 


662 


Blanc,  behlml  tlie  pointed  rocks  on  the  S.  E.  of  Montan- 
vert,  called  Aiguilles  tics  Charmos  ;  and  the  glaciers  of 
L'Echaut  and  Talefre,  running  towards  the  east,  near 
which  rises  the  Couvercle,  a  rock  of  a  singular  appear- 
ance, from  the  top  of  which,  the  traveller  obtains  a  com- 
plete view  of  the  whole  of  this  magnificent  scene. 

He  now  returns  to  the  priory  by  the  same  difficult  and 
dangerous  route  ;  traversing  anew  the  whole  extent  of 
the  glacier  of  Bois,  near  the  lower  extremity  of  which 
the  river  Arveiron  is  seen  issuing,  like  the  Rhone,  from 
an  immense  vault  of  ice,  above  100  lectin  height. 

After  ascending  some  of  the  adjoining  summits,  such 
as  iMont  Breven  on  the  west,  and  Mont  Buet  on  the 
north-west,  the  traveller  leaves  the  delightful  vale  of 
C'hamouni,  and  pursues  his  journey  to  St.  Bernard.  This 
mountain,  though  it  lies  almost  directly  east  from  Mont 
Blanc,  and  at  the  distance  only  of  u  few  leagues,  cannot 
be  a]>proached  on  that  side.  He  must,  therefore,  either 
search  his  way  into  Italy,  through  the  mountains  that  en- 
compass Mont  Blanc,  or  retrace  his  steps  to  the  Vallais, 
and  join  at  Martigny,  the  great  road,  called  the  pass  of 
St.  Bernard.  From  St.  Bernnrd  he  usually  proceeds  to 
Mont  Rosa,  a  remarkable  mountain  in  the  eastern  ex- 
tremity of  the  Pennine  Alps,  and  afterwards  to  Mont 
Cervin,  which  lies  immediately  west  of  Mont  Rosa.  As 
the  routes  usually  followed  by  those  who  visit  these 
mountains  have  nothing  worthy  of  particular  description, 
or  at  least  present  scenery  in  a  great  measure  similar  to 
what  we  have  already  so  amply  detailed,  we  shall  con- 
clude our  remarks  with  a  short  sketch  of  the  composi- 
tion and  structure  of  the  four  principal  mountains  of  the 
Pennine  Alps,  referring  our  readers  for  minute  details  to 
the  volumes  of  Saussure. 

The  first  thing,  says  Satissure,  that  strikes  the  spec- 
tator placed  on  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc,  is  the  remarkable 
confusion  and  disorder  which  seems  to  prevail  in  the 
disposition  of  the  mountains  in  its  neighbourhood.  In- 
stead of  being  arranged  in  chains,  or  regular  lines,  as 
one  would  expect  when  viewing  them  from  the  plain  ; 
they  present  irregular  groupes,  detached  from  one 
another,  and  collected  only  by  their  bases.  Mont  Blanc 
itself  appears  an  insulated  mass,  the  diflferent  parts  of 
which  are  grouped  together  in  the  same  irregular  form. 
Notwithstanding  this  seeming  confusion,  however.in  the 
distribution  of  these  great  masses,  the  greatest  regular- 
ity seems  to  prevail  in  the  structure  and  composition  of 
their  parts,  which  consist  of  strata  of  granite,  almost 
vertical,  running  parallel  to  one  another,  and  dipping  a 
little  to  the  N.  E.  It  would  appear  from  the  observations 
of  Saussure,  and  from  specimens  preserved  in  cabinets, 
that  the  higher  parts  of  Mont  Blanc  are  composed  of  a 
rock  belonging  to  one  of  the  primitive  overlying  forma- 
tions, (sienite.) 

The  mountains  wliich  constitute  the  great  St.  Bernard, 
consist  of  a  variety  of  schistose  rocks,  of  a  great  degree 
of  hardness,  with  their  strata  considerably  inclined, 
and  sometimes  traversed  by  Veins  of  quurtz.  Of  these 
iocks,  mica-slate  and  clay-slate  are  the  more  predomi- 
nant. Granite  is  only  found  on  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain in  detached  fragments.  (See  Voyage  dans  la  Suisse, 
torn.  i.  p.  41.) 

Mont  Rosa  is  distinguished  from  the  other  mountains, 
both  by  its  external  form  anti  the  position  of  its  strata. 
It  consists  of  an  uninterrupted  serins  of  stupendous 
peaks,  nearly  of  equal  size  and  elevation,  which  forms 
a  kiud  of  amphitheatre,  enclosing  in  its  centre  the  vil- 
lage of  Macutnaga.     These  peidis,  according  to  SauB- 

Voi,.  I.     Part  II. 


sure,  are  composed  of  veined  granite  and  gneiss ;  and 
what  is  peculiarly  remarkable,  the  strata,  instead  of  be- 
ing vertical,  like  Mont  Blanc  and  the  other  primitive 
mountains,  are  in  general  horizontal,  or  inclined  more 
than  90  degrees.     (Saussure,  torn.  viii.  p.  54.) 

Mont  Cervin,  on  the  west  of  Mont  Rosa,  seems  to  be 
composed  chiefly  of  beds  of  serpentine,  alternating  with 
gneiss  and  mica  slate.  The  beds  incline  towards  the 
N.  E.  nearly  at  an  angle  of  45  degrees.  (Sauss,  torn, 
viii.  p.  159.)  Another  summit  to  the  S.  E.  of  Mont 
Cervin,  called  the  Breit  Horn,  presents  nearly  the  same 
structure  and  composition. 

A  Table  of  the  tnost  retnarkable  heights  of  the  Penning 
Alps. 

Above  the  level  of  the  sea.- 

Mont  Blanc     .;.;...  15,680  Eng.  feet. 

Col  de  Balme       ......  7,625 

Mont  Breven 8,358 

Mont  Buet 10,106 

Priory  of  Cbamouni     ....  3,354 

Montanvert 6,108 

Convent  of  St  Bernard     .     .     .  8,006 
Mont  Velan,  the  highest  of  the 

mountains  of  St.  Bernard    .     .  11,011 

Mont  Rosa,  highest  peak    .     .     .  15,552 

Peak  of  Mont  Cervin     ....  14,784 

Breit  Horn 12,813 

For  further  particulars  respecting  the  Alps  in  general, 
the  reader  may  consult  Saussure's  Voyage  dans  Us 
Alpes  ;  Bourrit,  Description  des  Qlacicrs ;  Coxe's  Srvis- 
scrland;  Beaumonfs  Travels  through  the  different  de- 
partments of  the  Alps  ;  and  Voyage  Pittoresque  dans  la 
Suisse.  See  also  in  this  work,  Brenner,  Cenis,  Val- 
lais, &c. 

ALPS,  Higher,  Department  of,  is  one  of  the  de- 
partments of  France,  formed  out  of  the  old  provinces* 
of  Brian9onnois,  Gapen9ois,  and  Embrunois.  It  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  the  department  of  Mont  Blanc ; 
on  the  west,  by  the  departments  of  the  Iser,  and  of  the 
Drome;  on  the  south,  by  that  of  the  Lower  Alps;  and, 
on  the  east,  by  the  Alps.  Two  thirds  of  this  depart- 
ment are  occupied  by  mountains,  and  the  rest  is  covered 
with  snow  during  seven  or  eight  months  of  the  year. 
The  chief  resource  of  the  fanner,  therefore,  is  in  his 
cattle.  The  sheep,  which  have  excellent  pasturage 
in  the  mountainous  district,  are  remarkable  for  the 
beauty  of  Iheir  wool,  and  the  admirable  quality  of  their 
flesh.  In  this  department  there  is  no  commerce,  and 
but  little  industry.  Its  superficies  is  about  5.'J3,56Q 
hectares,  or  1,084,614  acres.  The  forests  occupy  nearly 
43,000  hectares.  Contributious  in  1 803,  726,331  francs. 
Population  118,322.  Gap  is  the  capital  of  this  depart- 
ment, (o) 

ALPS,  Lower,  Department  of,  is  one  of  the  depart- 
ments in  Prance,  formed  out  of  tl^e  oKI  dioceses  of 
Sisteron, Digue,  Ricz,  Senez,  and  Lodeve.  It  is  bounded 
on  (he  north  by  the  department  of  the  Higher  Alps; 
on  the  west,  by  those  of  the  Drome  and  the  Vaucluse  ; 
on  the  south,  by  those  of  the  Bouches  du  Rhone  and 
the  Var;  and  on  the  east,  by  the  Alps.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  department   devote    themselves  chiefly  to  the 


*  These  were  not  properly  provinces,  but  districts, 
which  were  all  contained  within  the  province  of  Dau- 
phine.     DupoNceau. 

4    A 


5d4 


ALS 


ALT 


cultivation  of  potatoes;  and  it  is  a  curious  fact,  that  tlie 
years  in  wliich  this  crO|)  has  been  most  productive,  have 
been  distinguished  by  the  birth  of  a  great  number  of 
chiUlren.  See  Statislique  generale  fie  la  France,  torn. 
y.  p.  420.  The  superficies  of  the  department  is  about 
745,007  hectares,  or  1,459,699  acres.  The  forests  oc- 
cupy about  56,000  hectares.  Contriliutlons  in  1803, 
4,007,311  francs.  Population  140,121.  The  chief  town 
is  Digne.     (o) 

ALPS,  Maritime,  Department  of,  is  one  of  the  de- 
partments of  France,  formed  out  of  the  county  of  Nice, 
and  the  principality  of  Monaco.  These  districts  were 
placed  under  tlie  protection  of  France  in  1 793 ;  and,  by 
a  decree  of  the  convention,  united  to  the  Republic. 
This  department  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  that  of  the 
Stura;  on  the  west  by  those  of  the  Lower  Alps,  and 
the  Var;  on  the  south,  by  the  sea;  and  on  the  east,  by 
the  Ligurian  Republic.  The  superficies  of  the  depart- 
ment is  about  322,674  hectares,  or  632,619  acres.  The 
forests  occupy  nearly  37,000  hectares.  Contributions 
in  1803,  622,821  francs.  Population  87.071.  Nice  is 
the  principal  town  of  the  department,     (o) 

ALPUXARRAS,  Las,  or  Mantes  Solis,  the  name  of 
a  group  of  high  mountains  in  Granada,  in  Spain.  They 
are  visible  from  the  African  coast  between  Tangiers  and 
Ceuta,  and  extend  from  Velez  to  Almeria,  about  15 
miles  from  west  to  east,  and  about  33  from  north  to 
south.  Among  these  mountains  there  is  said  to  be  a 
spring  which  instantly  dyes  the  thread  of  silk  and  linen, 
and  a  cavern,  the  exhalations  of  which  immediately  de- 
stroy animal  life,     (jv) 

ALSACE,  the  name  of  one  of  the  old  provinces  of 
France,  which  now  forms  the  departments  of  the  Higher 
and  the  Lower  Rhine.  This  province,  called  Alsatia  by 
the  Romans,  was  inhabited  by  the  Triboci.  It  was  pos- 
sessed by  the  Burgundians  about  the  fifth  century ;  and 
after  that,  by  the  kings  of  France,  till  it  was  governed 
by  landgraves.  It  then  passed  to  the  house  of  Austria, 
who  ceded  it  to  Lewis  XIV.  in  1648,  by  the  treaty  of 
lilunster.  The  description  of  this  province  will  be 
given  under  the  articles  Rhine,  Lomer  and  Higher, 
Departments  of.  (rv) 

ALSEN,  thje  name  of  an  island  belonging  to  Den- 
mark, and  situated  in  the  Lesser  Belt,  between  the 
Island  of  Funen  and  the  coast  of  Sleswick,  from  which 
it  is  separated  by  a  narrow  channel,  called  Alsen-sund. 
The  island,  which  is  about  20  English  miles  long  and 
9  broad,  abounds  in  fruits,  and  produces  all  kinds  of 
grain  except  wheat.  The  fine  woods  with  which  it  is 
covered  abound  in  game,  and  its  lakes  contain  great 
quantities  of  fish.  The  chief  towns  of  the  island  are 
Norborg  and  Sonderborg.  E.  Long,  of  the  centre  of 
the  island  9°  55'.     N.  Lat.  54»  56'.     (n) 

ALSINE,  or  Chick  weed,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the 
class  Pentandria,  and  order  Trigynia.  See  Botany,  (w) 

ALSTON,  Charles,  M.  D.  a  writer  on  medicine 
and  botany,  and  lecturer  on  botany  and  materia  medica 
in  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  He  was  born  in  the 
west  of  Scotland,  in  1 683,  and  received  the  first  parts 
of  his  education  at  Glasgow.  While  a  student  there,  he 
had  the  good  fortune  to  be  taken  under  the  patronage 
of  the  dutchess  of  Hamilton ;  and  by  the  assistance  of 
that  lady,  he  was  enabled  to  accomplish  the  design  which 
he  had  already  formed,  of  attaching  himself  to  physic. 
For  some  time  he  continued  to  exert  himself  in  acquir- 
ing such  a  knowledge  of  anatomy  and  chemistry,  as 
Scotland,  ia  those  days,  could  afford  him  the  means  of 


attaining ;  and,  at  the  age  of  33,  he  accompanied  the 
celebrated  Alexander  Monro  to  Leyden,  and  studied 
under  Boerhaave,  who  then  enjoyed  a  high  reputation 
in  tliat  city.  On  their  return,  these  distinguished  indi- 
viduals, in  conjunction  with  Plummer,  Sinclair,  and 
Rutherford,  began  their  lectures,  in  the  University  of 
Edinburgh;  and  by  their  talents,  their  activity,  and  zeal, 
laid  the  foundation  of  that  school  of  physic.  The  de- 
partments undertaken  by  Alston  were  those  of  botany 
and  materia  medica ;  and  in  these  branches,  an  acquain- 
tance with  which  is  indispensably  necessary  to  every 
one  who  would  accomplish  himself  in  the  therapeutic 
art,  he  laboured  with  increasing  reputation  till  his  death, 
which  happened  in  1 760.  In  the  year  1 753,  Dr.  Alston 
published  a  dissertation  on  the  sexes  of  plants,  in  which 
he  combats  with  no  little  ability  the  doctrine  of  Lin- 
nKus  upon  the  same  subject.  This  treatise  appeared  in 
the  Edinburgh  Physical  and  Literary  Essays ;  and  he 
indulged  in  it  an  asperity  of  language  which  was  very 
unsuitable  to  a  discussion  of  a  philosophical  nature,  but 
which  Linnaeus  had  provoked  by  some  of  his  descrip- 
tions. He  published  also,  in  the  Edinburgh  Medical 
Essays,  a  paper  on  the  effects  of  tin  as  an  anthelminthlc. 
It  was  given  in  substance  to  the  extent  of  an  ounce, 
and  carried  off  in  the  succeeding  days  by  means  of  the 
less  violent  purgatives.  It  is  still  a  medicine  of  consi- 
derable repute.  Dr.  Alston  likewise  engaged  in  a  con- 
troversy with  Dr.  Whytt  about  quicklime ;  but  the  most 
valuable  of  all  his  works  are  his  Lectures  on  the  Mate- 
ria Medica,  in  two  volumes  4to.  They  were  published 
in  the  year  1770,  and  contain  many  interesting  and  use- 
ful statements  :  though,  from  the  improvements  of  later 
and  more  cultivated  times,  they  could  not  be  pursued  at 
present  with  any  great  prospect  of  advantage.  See 
Edin.  Physical  and  Lit.  Essays,  vol.  i.  and  the  Edin.  Med. 
Essays,  vol.  v.  (h) 

a'lSTONIA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Po- 
lyandria,  and  order  Monogynia,  so  called  from  Dr.  Al- 
ston, the  subject  of  the  preceding  article.  See  Botany. 

(JV) 

ALSTROEMERIA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class 
Hexandria,  and  order  Monogynia.  The  name  is  derived, 
from  baron  Alstroemer.  See  Botany,     (jw) 

ALT,  a  German  word,  signifying  old,  which  is  often 
prefixed  to  the  names  of  places,  as  Alt-dorf.     (w) 

ALT,  in  Music,  a  word  applied  to  the  high  notes  of 
the  scale  which  lie  between  P  above  the  treble  cliff 
note,  and  G  in  Altissimo.  Busby's  Mus.  Diet.  (/») 

ALT  A,  in  Music,  signifies  higher,  as  8va  Atta,  ani 
octave  higher. 

ALTAI,  or  Altay  Mountains,  are  an  extensive 
chain  of  mountains  in  the  north  of  Asia,  extending 
about  5000  miles,  from  the  70th  to  the  140th  degree  of 
east  longitude.  The  Altai  mountains  are  divided  into 
the  Greater  and  Lesser  Altai ;  the  former  proceeding 
to  the  north-north-east  by  various  windings,  and  the 
latter  running  between  Soongovia  and  the  government 
of  Kolhyvan.  The  various  ridges  and  individual  moun- 
tains  which  compose  this  immense  chain,  have  not  hi- 
therto received  uniform  and  appropriate  appellations; 
nor  are  geographers  agreed  with  respect  to  the  differ- 
ent branches  which  ought  to  be  included  under  the  Al- 
taian range.  The  individual  mountains,  some  of  which 
vie  with  those  of  the  Alps  in  magnitude  and  sublimity, 
will  be  described  under  their  proper  heads,    (w) 

It  would  appear,  from  the  observations  of  Renovantz, 
Herman,  Laxman,  Pallas  Fatrio,  and  others,  that  the 


ALT 


ALT 


555 


geognostic  delations  of  this  vast  range  of  mountain 
groDpe3,  correspond  with  those  of  other  Alpine  coun- 
tries. The  centre  and  highest  parts  of  the  groupes  are, 
in  general,  composed  of  the  first  or  oldest  granite  for- 
mation, on  which  rest,  with  lower  and  lower  levels  cor- 
responding to  the  age  of  the  formation,  gneiss,  mica 
slate,  and  clay  slate.  Along  with  these  rocks,  beds  of 
trap,  serpentine,  and  lime-stone,  are  observed ;  and  the 
whole  series  are  frequently  covered  with  the  second 
porphyry,  (the  porphyry  contains  jasper,)  second  ser- 
pentine, and  sienite  formations. 

We  have  not  met  with  any  account  of  the  occurrence 
of  transition  rocks,  although  (here  is  not  a  doubt,  that 
careful  examination  will  discover  them  in  this  great 
range. 

Mineralogists  mention  chalcedony,  canieliau,  &c.  as 
occurring  in  different  parts  of  (he  range ;  it  is  probable 
that  they  belong  either  to  the  transition,  or  floetz  trap. 
The  lower  parts  of  the  range  are  in  many  places  com- 
posed of  flffitz  rocks,  as  sand-stone  conglomerate,  sand- 
stone, lime-stone,  gypsum,  marl,  trap,  ii:c.  but  the  for- 
mations have  not  been  aseertained.  The  lowest  parts, 
as  the  valleys  and  plains,  ar«  covered  with  alluvial 
rocks  of  different  kinds.  Metalliferous  repositories, 
containing  gold,  silver,  copper,  lead,  zinc,  and  iron, 
occur  in  different  places,  and  in  some  in  great  abun- 
dance. 

Several  of  the  most  extensive  and  important  mines  in 
Siberia  are  situated  in  the  Altaian  range;  thus  the  sil- 
ver mines  of  Kolhyvan,  the  richest  of  the  kind  in  (he 
Russian  empire,  are  in  this  range.  These  mines  em- 
ployed, in  1 786,  about  54,000  workmen.  They  afforded, 
from  the  year  1745  to  1787,  24,460  poods  of  fine  silver, 
and  about830  poods  of  fine  gold, which  together  amounts 
in  value  to  upwards  of  thirty  millions  of  rubles.  The 
expenses  for  this  whole  time,  even  including  the  charges 
of  separation  at  St.  Petersburgh,  come  not  to  above  se- 
ven millions  of  rubles ;  consequently  here  is  a  pure 
gain  of  23  millions  of  rubles,  which  is  very  much  in- 
creased, if  we  estimate  the  copper  coin,  in  which  this 
expense  is  paid,  at  its  real  value  ;  and  consider,  that 
even  this  is  got  and  coined  at  the  mines  themselves. 
The  copper  mines  afford  annually  about  15,000  poods  of 
pure  copper.  The  iron  mines  also  are  very  extensive, 
and  afford  a  great  quantity  of  this  valuable  metal ;  (he 
manufacture  and  exportation  of  which,  forms  one  of  the 
greatest  branches  of  the  wealth  of  Russia. 

Vid.  Tooke's  Russian  Empire,  vol.  i.  p.  118.  vol.  iii. 
§  10.  Pinkerton,  vol.  ii.  p.  12,  70,  149.  Pallas.  Travels, 
H.  M.  Renvoantz  Mlmralogisch  geographische  nachri- 
chten  von  den  AUaischcn  gebirgcn  Rtissisch  Kayserlichen 
aidheils.E.  Revel,  1788.  4to.  B.  F.  Hermann's  Ferzeich- 
niss  (lev  vorsiiglichsten  steinarlcn,  welche  durch  die  1786 
ins  Altaischc  gchirge  ausgcschickte  schiirfcxpcdition  cnt- 
deckt  warden,  in  his  Beytrdge  sur  physik,  &c.  der  Rus- 
sischen  lander,  3  Band,  p.  31 — 54.  Hermann  iiber  die 
porphyrgebirge  am  westlichen  atisgehcndcn  des  Altaisclun 
ersgehirges.  Crell's.  Chem.  Annalen,  1789.  1.  Band,  p. 
488 — 496.  P.  S.  Pallas  Bericht  vmi  dan  neutn  gruben- 
hau  amfinssc  Buchturma,  atisserhalb  dm  Kolyrvanishtn 
grdnslinie.  iVoi.  Nord.  Beytrag  5.  Band,  p.  266 — 270. 
Brunnicb's  Mineralogie.  Hermann's  Statist,  schilder. 
Berg  mdnnistlus  Journal,     (r) 

ALTAR,  a  pile,  constructed  in  various  forms,  and 
of  various  materials,  on  which  sacrifices  were  offered. 
Altars  are  no  doubt  of  very  high  antiquity :  They  are 
supposed  by  many  tp  be  as  ancient  as  sacrifices  Ihera- 


selres,  whicli  appear  to  be  nearly  coeval  with  religious 
worship.  It  does  not,  however,  necessarily  follow,  that 
altars  are  as  ancient  as  sacrifices  :  for  it  does  not  appear 
to  be  essential  to  sacrificing,  that  it  should  be  perform- 
ed on  an  altar.  Hence  we  learn  from  Hesychius  and 
Phavorinus,  that  there  were  «Tofa^(«(  ^uFicti,  or  sacri- 
fices which  were  offered  without  altars  ;  and  Strabo  tells 
us,  that  the  Persians  had  neither  images  nor  altars,  but 
sacrificed  to  the  gods  «»  i:p>i>Lii  nTra,  upon  some  high 
place.  The  first  altars  were  very  rude  and  inartificial 
in  their  structure;  the  altar  which  .lacob  set  up  at  Bethel, 
was  the  stone  which  had  served  him  as  a  pillow.  This, 
however,  was  perhaps  not  so  much  an  altar  as  a  consecra- 
ted pillar ;  and  it  may  have  been  the  origin  of  that  super- 
stitious reverence,  which  was  paid  by  most  of  the  hea- 
then nations  to  unformed  blocks  of  stone.  What  is 
very  remarkable,  these  rude  blocks  were  denominated 
/3«(Tt/Ai«,  a  word  evidently  of  Hebrew  or  Phosnician 
origin,  derived  from  Bethel,  which  signifies  the  house  q)' 
God,  the  name  given  by  Jacob  to  the  place  where  he 
set  up  his  pillar.     Gen.  xxviii.  18. 

Among  the  heathens,  altars  were  of  different  height?, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  gods  to  whom  they  were 
dedicated.  The  altaria,  so  called,  we  are  (old,  ab  alti- 
ittdine,  were  appropriated  to  the  celestial  gods ;  the 
arte,  which  were  lower,  to  the  terrestrial.  The  Greek 
word  /3*/<.«f,  comprehends  both  the  altaria  and  the  arct , 
and  the  distinction  between  these  two  words  is  not  al- 
ways preserved  by  the  Latin  authors.  To  the  heroe?, 
sacrifices  were  offered  on  altars  only  one  step  high, 
called  in  Greek  irx»(xi.  The  infernal  gods  had  trenches 
instead  of  altars,  called  Acckxoi  and  /3»5f«(,  and  to  the 
nymphs  sacrifices  were  offered  in  A»Tf«,  or  cave?. 

In  the  more  refined  ages  of  idolatry,  altars  were 
adorned  with  sculpture,  and  generally  bore  either  the 
image  or  symbols  of  the  gods  to  whom  they  were  dedi- 
cated. But  as  the  number  of  the  gods  came  at  last  to 
be  prodigiously  multiplied,  it  was  found  rather  incon- 
venient to  assign  to  each,  separate  temples  and  altars  ; 
their  votaries,  therefore,  fell  on  a  frugal  expedient  of 
showing  their  piety,  whilst  at  the  same  time  they  spared 
their  purses.  For  this  purpose,  a  number  of  gods  were 
clubbed  together,  who  had  one  temple  and  one  altar 
assigned  to  them ;  and  who,  from  this  circumstance, 
were  called  crvivxet,  as  being  worshipped  in  one  common 
temple,  and  iftoCa/tiii,  as  having  one  common  altar.  On 
this  principle  the  pantheon  at  Rome  was  dedicated  to 
all  (he  gods,  and  All-Saints'  day  in  the  popish  calendar, 
to  all  the  saints. 

Altars  were  of  various  forms ;  round,  square,  or  ob- 
long ;  hot  whatever  their  form  might  be,  they  appear, 
in  general,  to  have  had  one  circumstance  in  common,— 
they  were  almost  all  adorned  with  horns.  The  figures 
of  Roman  altars  on  medals,  are  never  without  horns  ; 
the  same  appears  to  have  been  the  case  with  the  Gre- 
cian altars.  Nonnus  introduces  Agave  offering  a  sheep 
by  the  direction  of  Cadmus,  tvx'.^acu  va^a  iui*co.  Moses 
also  was  directed  to  erect  an  altar  with  four  horns. 
These  horns  served  for  various  purposes ;  the  victims 
were  fastened  (o  them,  as  is  intimated  in  the  llSfh 
Psalm,  "  Bind  tht  sacrijice  with  cards,  even  unto  the  horns 
of  the  altar  /'  and  when  suppliants  fled  to  the  altar  for 
refuge,  they  always  laid  hold  of  the  horns.  This  cir- 
cumstance would  seem  to  indicate,  that  the  horns  were 
reckoned  the  most  sacred  parts  of  the  altars;  and  in- 
deed their  original  design  seems  to  be  to  serve  as  em- 
blems of  honour  and  sanctity.  In  (his  sense,  we  find 
4  A  2 


6SM 


ALT 


ALT 


hmms  employed  in  a  great  variety  of  places  ia  the  sacred 
writings;  and  it  appears  to  have  been  an  emblem  uni- 
versally understood  throughout  the  East.  Jupiter,  Bac- 
chus, Serapis,  and  Isis,  are  represented  as  adorned  with 
horns :  and  Astarte  is  said  to  have  worn  horns,  a( 
fiairiMtxi  vuf»iniiA.tt,  88  the  ensign  of  royalty.  As  there- 
fore the  ancients  ascribed  horns  to  their  gods,  as  an 
honourable  distinction,  it  was  natural  enough  to  transfer 
them  to  their  altars.  It  may  be  objected  to  tliis  expla- 
nation, that  though  it  accounts  for  the  origin  of  horns 
in  the  heathen  altars,  it  does  not  clear  the  matter  as  to 
the  Jewish  altars.  But  we  have  shown  the  same  figure 
was  common  both  to  the  Jews  and  heathens  ;  and  we 
know,  that  God  appointed  to  the  Jews  those  signs  which 
were  best  understood,  and  which,  of  course,  would  be 
most  impressive;  nay,the  prophet  Habakkuk,iii.  4.  says, 
of  the  true  God,  "  His  brightness  was  as  the  light,  lie 
had  horns  coming  mit  of  his  hand.'''' 

Those  altars  on  which  the  sacrifices  were  consumed 
with  fire,  were  called  tn^rvfoi ;  such  was  the  altar  of 
burnt-offerings  among  the  Jews ;  those  on  which  no  fire 
was  used  were  called  a;rv;«i;  and  those  on  which  no 
bloo<l  was  shed  were  called  avecz/iiaxToi;  such  was  the 
altar  of  shetv-bread.  The  heathen  altars  were  very  ge- 
nerally erected  under  the  shade  of  a  consecrated  tree; 
which  was  the  situation  of  Priam's  altar. 

iEdibusin  meiliis,  medioque  sub  setheiis  axe, 
lagens  ara  fuit,  juxtaque  velerriraa  laurus 
Incumbens  arse,  atque  umbra  complexa  Penates. 

Ma.  ii.  512. 

This  practice  of  erecting  altars  in  groves,  and  under  the 
shade  of  trees,  was  so  universal,  and  had  been  so 
grossly  abused,  that  God  gave  this  express  command 
to  the  Jews, "  Thou  shalt  not  plant  thee  a  grove  of  any 
trees  near  unto  the  altar  of  the  Lord  thy  God."  Deut. 
xvi.  21.    Judges  vi.  25.  2  Kings  xxi.  3. 

Altars  were  esteemed  peculiarly  sacred,  and  in  gene- 
ral afforded  an  inviolable  asylum  to  such  as  fled  to  them 
for  refuge.  This  privilege,  however,  was  grossly  abused ; 
and  the  altars,  instead  of  affording  protection  to  the  in- 
nocent, became  much  more  frequently  the  retreats  of 
the  guilty.  Hence  Tacitus,  {Aniial.  lib.  lii.  c.  60.)  com- 
plains, that  the  Grecian  temples  and  altars  were  crowd- 
ed with  profligate  slaves,  and  criminals  who  had  fled 
from  justice  :  and  Euripides,  in  the  person  of  Ion,  loudly 
protests  against  such  abuses,  urging  very  sensibly, 

Tat  ;■*(»  y«f  i^iicvt  fiiif-m  ax  '?"'  '^S"" 
AAA'  i^iAKOffu'  ovSt  yitf  T^auti)/  x«Aay 

The  altars  among  the  Jews  also  afforded  an  asylum  to 
malefactors ;  but  they  were  not  considered  as  inviolable 
sanctuaries.  Accordingly,  when  Joab  laid  hold  of  the 
horns  of  the  altar,  and  refused  to  leave  if,  Solomon  or- 
dered him  to  be  killed  where  he  was.  1  Kings  ii.  31. 
The  Greeks  also,  on  urgent  occasions,  continued  to 
elude  the  strict  obligation,  of  observing  the  inviolability 
of  their  asyla.  When  Fausanias  fled  to  the  temple  of 
Minerva  Chrtlria;cuB,  the  Lacedemonians  unroofed  the 
temple,  blocked  up  the  doors,  and  left  him  to  starve 
with  cold  and  hunger.  It  was  also  lawful  to  drive  out 
the  criminals  by  fire.  Hence  in  Plautus,  a  master  tlnis 
threatens  his  slave  who  had  fled  to  an  altar  for  pro- 
tection: 

Jam  jub«bo  ig:Qcin  ct  sarmenta,  caraife.';,  cirourndkri. 


Some  of  the  ancients,  however,  were  by  no  means  cere- 
monious in  showing  their  contempt  for  the  sanctity  of 
altars ;  and  Diogenes  in  particular,  to  show  how  little 
he  respected  them,  took  a  louse  and  cracked  it  ou  the 
altar  of  Diana. 

By  the  phrase  Pro  oris  et  focis,  is  generally  under- 
stood, our  religious  and  civil  liberties.  This,  however, 
does  not  appear  to  be  the  true  meaning  of  the  words : 
both  of  them  have  a  reference  to  religion.  Ara  is  the 
altar  in  the  impluvium,  or  middle  of  the  house  where 
the  Penates  were  worshipped;  Focus  is  the  hearth  in 
the  atrium,  or  hall,  where  the  Lares  were  worshipped. 
As  therefore  the  Penates,  according  to  Servius,  were 
the  same  as  the  Magni  Dii,  whilst  the  Lares  were  the 
domestici  et  familiar es,  that  is,  such  as  were  worshipped 
by  particular  families,  the  phrase  pro  arts  et  focis  may 
more  properly  mean,  "  for  our  public  and  private  rights." 

Much  has  been  said,  to  very  little  purpose,  respect- 
ing the  altar  at  Athens,  To  the  unknown-God.  The  sub- 
ject has  been  obscured  chiefly  by  the  comments  and  ex- 
planations of  the  fathers.  All  that  we  know  with  cer- 
tainty on  the  subject  is,  that  an  altar,  with  the  inscri])- 
tion  «y >«rto  •&£»  existed  at! Athens  in  the  time  of  St.  Paul. 
As  to  tlie  occasion  on  which  this  altar  was  erected,  we 
are  entirely  in  the  dark ;  and  we  do  not  think  it  neces- 
sary to  swell  this  article  with  the  idle  conjectures  which 
have  been  formed  on  the  subject.  For  the  most  satis- 
factory account,  we  refer  to  Doddridge  and  Hammond, 
in  loco;  and  for  a  detailed  view  of  various  conjectures, 
to  Calmet,  word  Mtar.  For  a  particular  account  of  the 
Jewish  altar  of  burnt-offerings,  see  Prideaux's  Connect. 
vol.  i.  p.  199.  For  the  Grecian  and  Roman  altturs,  see 
Potter's  Artt.  of  Greece,  vol.  i.  p.  185,  4th  edit,  and 
Adams'  Rotn.  Antiq.  p.  327.     (g) 

ALTAR,  in  the  Christian  church,  a  table  set  apart 
for  the  celebration  of  the  Eucharist.  It  was  called  an 
altar,  from  the  popish  notion  of  the  Eucharist  being  a 
real  i)ropitiatory  sacrifice.  The  early  reformers  protest- 
ed with  reason  agaimt  this  notion,  and  were  for  abolish- 
ing both  the  name  and  use  of  altars  in  the  Christian 
churches,  as  tending  to  foster  erroneous  and  supersti- 
tious opinions,     (g) 

ALTDORF,  or  Alttorf,  the  capital  of  the  canton  of 
Uri,  in  Switzerland.  It  is  a  handsome  town,  embo- 
somed in  steep  mountains  covered  with  trees,  and  is 
celebrated  as  the  birth-place  of  William  Tell,  who,  by 
resisting  the  tyrannical  oppression  of  Gesler,  contributed 
toestablish  the  liberties  of  his  country.  Population  4000. 
It  is  situated  to  the  south  of  the  lake  of  the  four  Can- 
tons, in  E.  Long.  8»  24'.  N.  Lat.  46"  55'.     (o) 

ALTENA.     See  Ai,tona. 

ALTENBURG,  anciently  PZisnf,  the  capital  of  AN 
tenburg,  a  German  principality  in  Upper  Saxony.  His 
large  and  populous,  and  is  situated  upon  the  river  Pleiss, 
which  runs  into  the  Sala.  Altenburg  contains  a  college ; 
a  place  of  education  for  young  ladies  of  decayed  fami- 
lies; a  house  belonging  to  the  Teutonic  order;  a  mu- 
seum and  library ;  an  hospital  for  orph.ins  ;  a  gymna- 
sium, founded  in  1703.  E.  Long.  12»  33'.  N.  Lat.  50*: 
50'.     (0) 

ALTERNATE  Profortion.  ^ 

ALTHEA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Monadel- 
phia,  and  order  Polyandria.     See  Bota\y.     (w) 

ALTIMETRY,  a  term  sometimes  employe<l  to  sig- 
nify the  mensuration  of  accessible  and  inaccessible 
heights.    See  Trioo^ometrt.    (w) 


ALT 


ALT 


557 


ALTIN,  or  Altyn,  called  by  the  Russians  Telelzko, 
is  a  large  lak^  in  Siberia,  situated  at  a  great  height  on 
the  noTth-^lSe  of  the  Altaian  mouutains.  This  lake  has 
a  rocky  bottom,  and  the  northern  part  of  it  is  sometimes 
frozen  so  bard,  as  to  be  passable  on  foot,  while  its  south- 
ern part  is  nerer  frozen.  Its  length  is  about  40  miles, 
and  its  breadth  20.  E.  Long.  ]0.i».  N.  Lat.  49<>.  (o) 

ALTING, Henry,  an  eminent  Protestant  divine,  was 
horn  at  Embden,  on  the  17th  February,  1583.  Being 
designed  for  the  profession  of  his  father,  who  bad  the 
honour  to  be  one  of  the  first  that  preached  the  doctrines 
of  the  Reformation  at  Groningen,  under  tlie  oppressive 
"■overnment  of  the  duke  of  Alva,  he  was  sent  to  the 
university  of  Herborn  in  1602,  after  having  gone  through 
the  common  course  of  preparatory  study.  The  rapid 
nrooress  which  he  made  in  the  sciences  of  the  times, 
pointed  him  out  to  Frederic,  electoral  prince  Palatine, 
as  a  proper  person  to  superintend  the  education  of  the 
counts  Nassau,  Solms,  and  Isenbei^,  who  were  then 
studying  at  Sedan.  Alting  entered  upon  this  new  situa- 
lioninl605;  but  the  storm  with  which  Henry  IV. threat- 
ened the  duke  of  Bouillon,  induced  the  electoral  prince 
to  retire  with  the  three  young  noblemen  to  Heidelberg. 
Alting  was  there  emjiloyed  in  reading  lectures  on  geo- 
i^rapby  and  history  to  Frederic,  and  was  appointed  his 
preceptor,  in  1608.  In  1612,  he  accompanied  the  young 
elector  to  England,  where  he  was  introduced  to  the 
celebrated  Dr.  King,  and  to  Dr.  Abbot,  arclibishop  of 
Canterbury.  After  the  marriage  between  the  elector 
and  the  princess  Elizabeth  of  England  was  solemnized, 
Alting  returned  to  Heidelberg  in  1 013,  and  was  appoint- 
ed professor  of  divinity  in  that  university. 

In  1616,  he  was  elected  regent  of  the  college  of  Wis- 
dom at  Heidelberg ;  and  by  the  death  of  Coppenius  in 
1618,  he  was  offered  the  vacant  chair  of  the  second  pro- 
fessorship of  divinity ;  but  this  offer  he  refused  to  accept, 
and  procured  it  for  his  friend  Scultetus.  Alting  was 
one  of  the  deputies  that  were  sent  by  the  university  to 
the  synod  of  Dort,  where  he  found  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity for  displaying  the  extent  of  his  learning  and  the 
richness  of  his  eloquence. 

The  prospects  of  Alting  now  began  to  brighten  and 
♦"stend,  and  he  looked  forward  to  riches  and  preferment 
from  the  unexpected  but  short-lived  elevation  of  his  pa- 
tron. The  Evangelic  league  in  Bohemia,  which  the 
Lutherans  and  Calviuists  combined  to  form,  had  now 
become  a  powerful  and  formidable  bulwark  of  the  re- 
formed religion ;  and  uo  sooner  was  the  imperial  throne 
vacantby  the  death  of  Mathias,  (1 618,)than  the  majority 
of  the  people  determiaed  that  a  catholic  king  should 
no  longer  sway  the  sceptre  of  Bohemia.  The  crown 
•was  accordingly  offered  to  the  elector  palatine,  the  most 
powerful  protestant  prince  in  Germany.  Dazzled  by 
the  splendour  of  the  present,  Frederic  incautiously  ac- 
cepted the  diadem,  and  thus  involved  himself  in  all  the 
calamities  %vhich  embittered  the  remainder  of  his  days. 
The  catholic  league,  aided  by  the  imperialists,  opposed 
the  accession  of  Frederic ;  and  the  defeat  which  he  ex- 
perienced at  the  battle  of  Prague,  completely  extinguish- 
ed his  hopes  of  retaining  the  Bohemian  throne.  The 
electorate  even  was  wrested  from  him  by  the  im|)erial 
forces ;  and  thus  from  a  desire  to  occupy  the  throne  of 
another,  he  was  finally  dispossessed  of  his  own.  When 
Heidelberg  was  taken  by  count  Tilly,  in  1 622,  and  given 
up  to  the  barbarous  violence  of  an  unprincipled  soldiery, 
Alting  was  saved  from  their  fury  by  an  escape  almost 
miraculous.    Having  attempted  to  save  himself,  by  pass- 


ing through  a  back  door  into  the  chancellor's  house, 
which  count  de  Tilly  had  protected  by  a  strong  guard, 
he  was  stopped  by  the  colonel,  who,  brandishing  a  bat- 
tle-axe in  his  hand,  thus  addressed  himself  to  Alting : 
"  With  this  I  have  already  killed  ten  men,  and  Dr.  Al- 
ting should  be  the  eleventh,  did  1  but  know  where  he 
had  concealed  himself — Who  are  you  ?"  With  uncom- 
mon presence  of  mind,  Alting  replied,  "  I  have  been 
regent  in  the  College  of  Wisdom."  The  colonel  pro- 
mised to  save  him ;  but  the  Jesuits  having  taken  pos- 
session of  the  house,  Alting  was  obliged  to  hide  himself 
in  a  garret,  where  he  was  secretly  supplied  with  provi- 
sions by  a  cook,  who  contrived  to  get  him  safely  con- 
ducted to  his  own  house.  Here  Alting  found  every 
thing  in  confusion,  and  his  study  possessed  by  a  captain, 
who  politely  offered  him  liberty  to  carry  off  what  book 
he  pleased.  Alting  did  not  accept  of  the  offer,  but 
mildly  replied,  "  That  if  these  things  belonged  to  him. 
he  wished  that  God  would  bless  him  with  a  longer  pos- 
session of  them  than  he  had  done  their  former  owner." 
In  returning  to  his  concealment,  he  escaped  a  thousand 
dangers ;  and  after  three  days'  confinement,  he  was  al- 
lowed by  count  Tilly  to  retire  to  his  family,  ivho  had 
been  formerly  removed  to  Heilbron. 

At  the  entreaties  of  the  electoress,  Alting  was  per- 
mitted by  the  duke  of  Wirtemberg  to  reside  in  Schorn- 
dorff;  but  though  he  had  just  escaped  from  the  fury  of 
his  enemies,  he  could  not  find  either  sympathy  or  shelter 
among  his  friends.  From  the  proximity  of  the  palatinate 
to  the  dutchy  of  Wirtemberg,  the  professors  of  Tubin- 
gen and  Heibelberg  were  involved  in  perpetual  conten- 
tions about  the  lesser  points  of  religion,  and  cherished 
towards  each  other  sentiments  of  animosity  and  hatred, 
which  could  scarcely  have  been  expected  in  men  who 
were  professed  adherents  of  the  protestant  faith.  It 
might  have  been  presumed,  that  the  unrelenting  ho^ 
tility  of  the  catholics  would  have  compressed  into  one 
phalanx  the  friends  of  reform,  and  would  have  extin- 
guished their  mutual  jealousies  and  disseutious,  for  the 
advancement  of  the  common  cause.  The  Lutheran  mi- 
nisters of  Schorndorff  sided  with  their  countrymen  of 
Tubingen ;  and  the  generous  feelings  of  the  heart,  if 
such  men  could  possess  them,  were  completely  extin- 
guished by  the  inveteracy  of  their  theological  conten- 
tions. They  complained  to  the  duke  of  Wirtemberg, 
that  a  Heidelberg  professor  was  allowed  to  reside  in 
their  vicinity;  and  thus  the  good  and  unfortunate  Alting, 
whose  suflerings  would  have  procured  him  an  asylum 
among  a  nation  of  barbarians,  could  not  screen  himself 
from  persecution  among  an  assembly  of  divines. 

Alting  was  thus  obliged,  in  1623,  to  retire  with  his 
family  to  Embden.  He  afterwards  went  to  the  Hague 
on  a  visit  to  the  king  of  Bohemia,  who  detained  him  to 
instruct  his  eldest  son,  and  prevented  him  from  accept- 
ing the  protestant  church  of  Embden,  and  a  professor- 
ship of  divinity  in  the  academy  of  Franeker,  which  ivere 
olTered  to  him  in  1 625.  He  was,  however,  permitted  to 
accept  of  the  theological  chair  at  Groningen  in  1C27; 
and  each  was  the  fame  of  his  learning  and  genius,  that 
the  university  of  Leyden  was  solicitous  to  have  the  bene- 
fit of  his  talents.  The  estates  of  Groningen  would  not  ■ 
consent  to  the  removal  of  Alting,  who  continued  to  lec- 
ture in  their  university  till  the  day  of  his  death.  He  had 
determined  indeed  to  accede  to  the  proposal  of  |)rince 
Lewis  Philip,  administrator  of  the  palatinate,  to  re-esta- 
blish the  academy  at  Heidelberg,  anil  the  churches  of 
the  electorate,  and  to  hold  the  cYice  of  professor  of 


558 


ALT 


ALV 


dirinity,  ami  ecclesiastical  senator;  but  no  sooner  hail 
he  left  Groningen,  and  arrived  at  Franckfort  through 
innumerable  dangers,  than  his  progress  was  stopped  by 
(lie  triumphs  of  the  imperial  arms  at  the  battle  of  Nord- 
Hngen.  His  prospects  of  honour  and  usefulness  were 
thus  blasted,  and  he  was  compelled  to  return  by  many 
l>y-roads  to  Groningen. 

The  remainder  of  Alting's  life  was  embittered  by  per- 
sonal distress  and  domestic  misfortunes.  The  death  of 
his  eldest  daughter,  in  1639,  involved  him  in  a  settled 
melancholy,  which  threw  him  into  a  quartan  ague.  This 
disease  ended  in  a  dangerous  lethargy,  which  was  nearly 
cured,  when  the  death  of  his  wife,  in  1 843,  sunk  him  in 
fresh  calamities,  «hich  pat  a  period  to  his  life  on  the 
25th  of  August,  1044. 

There  are  few  characters  in  which  distinguished  ta- 
lents and  amiable[dispositions  have  been  so  happily  com- 
bined as  in  that  of  Alting.  Sincere  in  his  profession  of 
Christianity,  he  never  disgraced  it  by  his  practice,  but 
exhibited  its  influence  over  his  mind  in  a  train  of  public 
and  domestic  virtues.  His  piety  was  not  sullied  by  the 
austere  manners  of  the  age ;  nor  was  his  learning  ob- 
scured by  the  subtilities  of  scholastic  theology.  Though 
a  zealous  adherent  of  the  reformed  religion,  he  despised 
the  trifling  controversies  which  were  agitated  among 
his  brethren,  and  deplored  the  evil  consequences  to 
which  they  generally  led.  The  liberty  of  thought  which 
he  claimed  for  himself,  he  willingly  extended  to  otliers; 
but  lie  disliked  nothing  so  much  as  innovations  in  reli- 
gion, ni;d  lie  iamrnted  the  folly  of  those  who  obscured 
(he  doctrines  of  their  faith,  by  the  distinctions  and  quib- 
bles of  soi)histry,  and  who  were  losing  the  little  truth 
that  they  had  found,  in  the  mazy  labyrinths  of  error. 

The  works  of  Alting  are  Notre  in  Decadem  Prohlcma- 
tum  JoJi.  Behm.  Heidelb.  1610;  Loci  Communes. — Proh- 
Ipnata. — Explicat.  Catecheseos  Palatin.  Amst.  1646; 
Exegesis  August.  Cotifcss.  Amst.  1647;  Methodus  Theo- 
togiiK,  Amst.  ]6i0;  Medulla  Hist.  Profan.     (/3) 

ALTITUDE.     See  Astronomy,  Barometer,  Tri- 

GONOMETaV. 

ALTO,  a  term  in  music  applied  to  that  part  of  the 
great  vocal  scale  which  lies  between  the  mezzo  soprano 
and  the  tenor.     Busby's  Mus.  Did. 

ALTO  Rklievo.     See  Relievo. 

ALTON  A,  the  capital  of  Holstein,  and  the  third  city 
in  Denmark,  is  situated  near  to  Hamburgh,  on  the  north 
bank  of  the  river  Elbe.  It  was  originally  a  village  of 
the  parish  of  Ottcnsen.  In  1640  it  became  subject  to 
Denmark,  and  was  constituted  a  city  in  1664.  It  was 
nearly  reduced  to  ashes  by  the  Swedes,  under  count 
Bteinboch,  in  1713,  but  it  was  afterwards  rebuilt  and 
surrounded  with  walls.  It  was  the  port  of  the  Danish 
East  India  Company.  Population  24,500.  E.  Long.  U^ 
55'.  N.  Lat.  53"  35<.     (o) 

ALVA,  Ferdinand  Alvares  de  Toledo,  duke  of, 
was  born  of  a  noble  family  in  Spain,  in  the  year  1508, 
and  is  said  to  have  been  instructed  in  the  military  art 
by  his  grandfather,  Frederic  de  Toledo.  He  made  his 
first  appearance  as  a  general  in  1538,  in  the  service  of 
Charles  V.  and  in  this  capacity  he  acquired  great  re- 
putation by  his  defence  of  Perpignan,  in  1542,  against 
the  dauphin  of  France.  He  was  the  first  in  command 
when  Charles  commenced  hostilities  against  the  Ger- 
man protcstants,  in  1546;  was  chosen  by  that  emperor 
as  a  proper  person  to  preside  in  the  court  martial,  which 
vondenined  to  death  the  elector  of  Saxony ;  and  was 
employed  also  to  execute  a  similar  act  of  injustice  in 


detaining  the  landgrave  of  Hesse  in  custody,  after 
diaries  had  promised  hiai  his  liberty.  In  1552,  he  was 
appointed,  in  conjunction  with  the  marquis  de  IMarig- 
nano,  to  conduct  the  siege  of  Metz;  and,  in  1555,  he 
was  sent  into  Piedmont,  with  the  sole  command  of  tho 
imperial  army,  to  oppose  the  maiechal  Brissac.  He 
owed  this  last  appointment  to  the  intrigues  of  a  rival, 
as  well  as  to  the  emperor's  opinion  of  his  military  ta- 
lents. He  had  courted,  with  much  assiduity,  the  favour 
of  Philip,  the  son  of  Charles ;  and  as  he  resembled  that 
prince  in  many  features  of  his  character,  he  soon 
wrought  himself  into  his  confidence.  Ruy  Gomez  de 
Silva,  Philip's  favourite,  in  order  to  remove  so  formida- 
ble a  competitsr,  requested  the  emperor  to  honour  Alva 
with  the  command  in  Piedmont.  Though  the  duke  well 
knew  to  what  motives  he  owed  this  distinction;  yet,  as 
it  was  both  a  difficult  and  hazardous  station,  he  thought 
himself  bound  in  honour  to  accept  of  it ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  insisted  upon  his  own  terms,  namely,  that  he  should 
be  constituted  the  emperor's  vicar  general  in  Italy,  with 
the  supreme  military  command  of  all  the  imperial  and 
Spanish  «Iominions  in  that  country.  To  all  these  de- 
mands Charles  readily  acceded ;  and  Alva  entered  on 
his  new  dignity  with  almost  unlimited  authority.  "  His 
first  operations,  however,  were  neither  proportioned  to 
his  former  reputation,  and  the  extensive  powers  with 
which  he  was  invested ;  nor  did  they  come  up  to  the 
emperor's  expectations.''  And  '•  after  having  boac-ted, 
with  his  usual  arrogance,  tliat  he  would  drive  the  French 
out  of  Piedmont  in  a  few  weeks,  he  waa  obliged  to  re- 
tire into  winter  quarters,  with  the  ignominy  of  beins: 
unable  to  preserve  entire  that  part  of  the  country,  of 
which  the  emperor  had  hitherto  kept  possession."  (Ro- 
bertson's Charles  V.)  He  continued  to  hold  the  samn 
command  under  Philip,  to  whom  Charles  resigned  his 
dominions  in  1556;  advanced  into  the  ecclesiastical 
states,  and  made  himself  master  of  the  Campagna  di 
Romaua.  In  the  following  year,  he  negociated  a  peace 
with  the  pope  ;  and,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  trea- 
ty, went  in  person  to  Rome,  kissed  the  feet  of  his  holi- 
ness, and  implored  forgiveness  for  having  invaded  the 
patrimony  of  the  church,  "  Such  was  the  superstitious 
veneration  of  the  Spaniards  for  the  papal  character,  that 
Alva,  though  perhaps  the  proudest  man  of  the  age,  and 
accustomed  from  his  infapcy  to  a  familiar  intercourse 
with  princes,  acknowledged,  that  when  he  approached 
the  pope,  he  was  so  overawed,  that  his  voice  failed,  and 
his  presence  of  mind  forsook  him."  (Robertson's 
Charles  V.)  In  1559,  Alva  was  sent  to  Paris,  to  es- 
pouse, in  the  name  of  Philip,  Elizabeth,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Henry,  second  king  of  France  ;  and,  in  1567, 
he  was  selected,  as  the  fittest  instrument,  to  execute 
the  oppressive  measures  of  the  Spanish  court  in  the 
Netherlands.  He  entered  that  dpvoted  country  at  the 
head  of  a  well-disciplined  army,  and  invested  with  the 
most  absolute  powers  as  governor.  As  soon  as  he  ar- 
rived at  Brussels,  he  began  to  put  in  practice  the  treach- 
erous and  iniquitous  system  to  which  he  had  been 
habituated  »nder  his  former  master  Charles,  to  which 
he  was  directed  by  the  instructions  of  his  present  sove- 
reign, and  to  which  he  was  well  inclined  by  his  own 
cruel  temper.  He  invited  count  Egmont  and  count 
Horn  to  his  house,  under  the  pretence  of  consultiuE 
them  respecting  a  citadel,  which  he  proposed  to  build 
at  Antwerp;  and  having,  in  this  insidious  manner, 
drawn  them  into  his  power,  he  ordered  them  Iwth  into 
custody ;  while  they  in  vain  protested,  that,  33  knights  of 


^. 


ALVA. 


,U9 


♦lie  golden  fleece,  they  could  be  judged  only  by  their 
peers,  and  imprisoned  only  by  their  authority.  The  lord 
of  Beclcerze!,  count  Egmonfs  secretary,  and  several 
other  persons  of  di^^tiuction,  suffered  a  similar  fate. 
Men  of  all  ranks  became  alarmed,  and  more  than  1000 
individuals  sought  refuge  in  foreign  countries.  A  coun- 
cil of  twelve  members  was  instituted,  to  take  cogni- 
zance of  those  who  had  either  directly  or  indirectly  fa- 
voured the  plans  of  the  reformers.  Of  this  council  the 
duke  himself  was  president ;  and  in  his  absence,  Vargas, 
a  Spanish  lawyer  noted  for  his  cruelty  and  avarice,  di- 
rected their  deliberations.  This  assembly  he  named 
"  the  Council  of  Tumults ;"  but  the  severity  of  their 
proceedings  soon  procured  them  the  designation  of 
"  the  Bloody  Council ;"  the  country  was  filled  with  im- 
prisonments, confiscations,  and  executions.  There  was 
no  distinction  made  of  age,  sex,  or  condition.  "  In  the 
space  of  a  few  months,  upwards  of  1800  persons  suffer- 
ed by  the  hands  of  the  executioner ;  yet  the  duke  of 
Alva's  thirst  of  blood  was  not  satiated." — "  His  soldiers, 
accompanied  by  the  inquisitors,  like  so  many  wolves, 
were  let  loose  among  the  protestants ;  who  were  seized 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  in  their  beds,  and  from  thence 
dragged  to  prisons  and  dungeons.  JMany  who  had  been 
only  once  present  at  the  protestant  assemblies,  even 
although  tliey  declared  their  faith  in  the  catholic  reli- 
^  gion  to  be  firm  and  unshaken,  were  hanged  or  drowned ; 
while  those  who  professed  themselves  to  be  protestants, 
or  refused  to  abjure  their  religion,  were  put  to  the  rack, 
in  order  to  make  them  discover  their  associates.  They 
were  then  dragged  by  horses  to  the  place  of  execution  ; 
and  their  bodies  being  committed  to  the  flames,  their 
sutTerings  were  prolonged  with  ingenious  cruelty.  To 
jirevent  them  from  bearing  testimony,  in  the  midst  of 
their  torments,  to  the  truth  of  their  profession,  their 
executioners  were  not  satisfied  with  barely  confining 
their  tongues.  They  first  scorched  them  with  a  glowing 
iron,  and  then  screwed  them  into  a  machine,  contrived 
on  purpose  to  produce  the  most  excruciating  pain.  It 
is  shocking  to  recount  the  numberless  instances  of  in- 
human cruelty  perpetrated  by  Alva  and  his  associates." 
— "  Even  the  members  of  the  bloody  council  began  to 
feel  their  hearts  revolt  against  the  reiterated  instances 
of  cruelty  to  which  their  sanction  was  required.  Some 
of  them  a|)p!ied  for  dismission,  others  had  the  courage 
to  absent  themselves ;  and  out  of  the  twelve,  of  which 
the  council  was  composed,  there  were  seldom  above 
three  or  four  present."     Watson's  Philip,  v.  i. 

At  length,  many  of  the  Catholic  nobility,  and  even  the 
Pope  himself,  remonstrated  v,ith  Philip  on  these  pro- 
ceedings; but,  at  the  iostigations  of  the  inquisitors  in 
Madrid,  Alva  and  Vargas  were  authorized  to  continue 
the  prosecutions ;  and  they  showed  themselves  most  wil- 
ling agents  in  the  service.  In  the  mean  time,  the  prince 
of  Orange,  and  several  other  noblemen,  who  had  left 
the  Netherlands  before  Alva's  arrival,  and  whose  es- 
tates he  had  confiscated,  made  an  attempt  to  relieve 
their  oppressed  country ;  but,  after  a  few  partial  succes- 
ses, they  were  forced  to  retire  into  Germany.  Before 
Alva  marched  to  oppose  the  prince  of  Orange,  he  put 
to  death  eighteen  persons  of  rank,  who  had  been  seiz- 
ed at  his  first  arrival  in  the  Low  Countries ;  tortured 
Casembrat,  lord  of  Beckerzel,  count  Egmont's  secre- 
tary, to  make  him  accuse  his  master,  and  then  ordered 
his  body  to  be  drawn  asunder  by  horses ;  and  brought 
to  a  !brmal  trial,  condemned,  and  beheaded,  counts  Horn 
and  Egraont.   After  his  success  over  the  prince  aud  his 


party,  the  duke  displayed  his  arrogance,  by  causing  a 
statue  of  himself  to  be  erected  in  tlie  citadel  of  Antwerp, 
by  which  he  is  represented  as  triumphing  over  his  ene- 
mies ;  and  he  gave  additional  proofs  of  his  sanguinary 
disposition,  by  murdering  the  greater  part  of  his  pri- 
soners, as  well  as  by  bringing  to  the  scaffold  all  who 
were  suspected  of  having  favoured  the  insurgents.  He 
denounced  as  rebels  even  the  innocent  i)erson8  who  fled 
to  other  countries,  and  threatened  to  punish  as  traitors 
any  of  their  friends  who  should  hold  intercourse  with 
them.  His  vanity  was  flattered,  and  his  bloody  zeal  was 
stimulated  by  a  present  of  a  consecrated  hat  and  sword, 
which  he  received,  about  this  time,  from  the  Pope,  and 
which  was  usually  bestowed  only  upon  princes.  He  had 
now  completely  subdued  or  extirpated  the  reformers, 
and  had  established  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Ro- 
mish church  in  all  the  provinces.  But  his  arbitrary 
measures  soon  excited  new  and  formidable  disturban- 
ces. He  was  much  in  need  of  money  for  the  payment 
of  his  troops,  and  for  defraying  the  expense  of  the  for- 
tifications which  he  had  erected.  He  considered  the 
Flemings  as  so  thoroughly  subjected  that  they  would 
not  dare  to  resist  any  of  his  demands ;  and  he  proceed- 
ed to  impose  the  most  ruinous  and  oppressive  taxes. 
In  spite  of  the  counsels  of  his  sovereign's  most  faithful 
and  experienced  ministers,  the  remonstrances  of  the 
states,  and  the  refusal  of  several  provinces,  he  deter- 
mined to  enforce  the  levying  of  these  contributious.  A 
general  revolt  was  the  consequence.  The  states  assem- 
bled at  Dort,  and  invited  the  prince  of  Orange  to  aid 
them  in  the  recovery  of  their  liberty.  War  raged  in  all 
its  horrors  throughout  the  Netherlands;  and  the  most 
shocking  barbarities  were  committed  by  Alva  and  his 
son  Frederic  de  Toledo.  After  a  variety  of  military  ope- 
rations, which  it  is  not  the  business  of  this  article  to 
detail,  carried  on  by  both  parties  with  the  utmost  bra- 
very and  skill,  and  which  was  attended  with  various 
turns  of  success,  the  Protestants  increased  in  strength, 
and  the  Spanish  court  became  convinced  that  a  change 
of  measures  was  necessary.  Alva  was  not  ignorant  of 
the  representations  which  were  made  against  his  pro- 
ceedings ;  and  apprehending  that  his  office  might  soou 
be  conferred  upon  another,  he  resolved  to  solicit  his  re- 
cal.  This  he  requested  upon  the  pretence,  that  the 
moisture  of  the  climate,  and  the  fatigues  which  he  had 
undergone,  injured  the  state  of  his  health.  Philip  con- 
sented that  he  should  retire  from  the  regency,  and  he 
left  the  Low  Countries  in  1573,  after  a  government  of 
five  years  and  a  half.  During  the  first  five  years  after 
his  return  to  Spain,  he  continued  to  enjoy  the  favour  and 
confidence  of  his  sovereign  ;  but  the  arrogance  of  his 
manners  rendered  him  so  intolerable,  that  Philip  at 
length  embraced  the  following  opportunity  to  dismiss 
!iim  from  his  presence.  His  son  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo 
had  debauched  one  of  the  maids  of  honour,  under  a 
promise  of  marriage.  Philip  put  him  under  arrest,  and 
gave  orders  that  he  should  not  be  released  till  he  should 
consent  to  fulfil  his  engagement.  Alva,  however,  as- 
sisted his  son  to  make  his  escape ;  and,  in  order  to  de- 
feat the  king's  intention,  concluded  a  marriage  between 
Don  Garcia  and  a  daughter  of  the  marquis  de  Villeua. 
Philip  was  so  i)rovoked  by  this  contempt  of  his  author- 
ity, that  he  banished  the  duke  from  court,  and  confined 
him  to  the  castle  of  Uzeda.  Alva  bore  this  indignity 
with  the  utmost  impatience,  and  procured  intercessious 
to  be  made  in  his  behalf  by  the  Pope,  and  some  other 
foreign  prineee.     But  all  his  applications  were  ineflVc- 


660 


ALT 


ALU 


(ual ;  ftnd  he  continued  in  confinement  neai-ly  two 
years,  when  he  was  very  unexpectedly  called  by  Phi- 
lip, in  1580,  (o  take  the  conimand  of  the  army  which 
he  had  prepared  for  the  conquest  of  Portugiil.  'JMie 
duke,  without  hesitittion,  accepted  the  appointment  of 
his  sovereign,  and  immediately  set  out  to  receive  his 
instructions.  But  he  in  vain  solicited  permission  to  jiay 
his  respects  to  Philip  in  person ;  and  was  ordered  to  join 
the  army  without  being  admitted  to  his  presence.  He 
conducted  tliis  expedition  with  great  ability,  but  with 
his  usual  treachery  and  cruelty.  He  rendered  Philip 
rcaster  of  Portugal  in  less  than  one  year,  but  he  himself 
did  not  long  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  success.  He  died 
in  the  74th  year  of  his  age,  A.  D.  1582. 

Historians  are  all  agreed  as  to  the  character  of  Alva, 
and  represent  him  as  a  most  inhuman  tyrant.  In  private 
intercourse  he  was  haughty  and  arrogant,  morose  and 
severe,  revengeful  and  relentless.  In  a  military  capa- 
city, he  was  one  of  the  ablest  commanders  of  the  age  in 
which  lie  lived ;  inured  from  his  infancy  to  the  use  of 
arms,  and  possessed  of  consummate  skill  in  the  art  of 
war;  proudly  brave,  prudently  cautious,  penetrating,  pa- 
tient, and  persevering.  These  talents,  however,  as  they 
Tvere  generally  engaged  in  the  worst  of  causes,  only 
rendered  him  a  greater  scourge  to  his  fellow-creatures. 
In  his  government  of  the  Netherlands,  he  showed  him- 
self either  utterly  incapable  to  consult  for  the  good  of 
his  province,  or  cruelly  determined  to  destroy  its  pros- 
perity. He  received  it  in  a  state  of  tranquillity,  but  soon 
filled  it  with  disturbances  and  devastation.  By  his  in- 
tolerant system  of  taxation,  and  his  neglect  of  the  ma- 
rine department,  he  ruined  its  extensive  commerce.  By 
his  oppressive  measures,  and  bloody  persecutions,  he 
greatly  reduced  the  amount  of  its  population.  In  the 
space  of  live  years  and  a  half,  more  than  a  hundred 
and  twenty  thousaud  of  its  most  industrious  and  ingeni- 
ous inhabitants  were  forced  to  take  refuge  in  other  coun- 
tries. Eighteen  thousand,  according  to  his  own  state- 
ment, were  brought  to  the  scaffold ;  and  a  still  greater 
nnmber  were  put  to  the  sword.  See  Robertson's  Hist. 
»f  Charles  V.  Watson's  Hist,  of  Philip  H.  Modern 
fjniv.  Hist.  vol.  xxxi.  (q) 

ALVAKES  DE  Luna,  in  Biography,  high  treasurer 
■to  John  II.  king  of  Castile,  and  a  remarkable  favourite 
of  that  prince.  He  was  bom  in  1388,  and  was  the  ille- 
gitimate son  of  Alvaro  de  Ivuna,  a  nobleman  of  Arragon, 
and  of  an  inferior  woman,  whose  character  was  that  of 
the  most  corrupted  of  her  sex.  While  yet  a  child,  pope 
Benedict  XIII.  was  so  pleased  with  his  sprightliness 
and  wit,  that  he  changed  his  name  from  Peter  to  Alva- 
res,  and  afforded  him  his  countenance  and  protection. 
He  was  introduced  at  court  A.  D.  1408,  and  made  a  gen- 
tleman of  the  bed-chamber  of  king  John.  Prom  this 
olTice  he  gradually  rose  to  others  of  extensive  patro- 
nage, and  high  responsibility ;  though  not  without  the 
opposition  of  the  barons,  who  despised  his  unwarlike 
qualifications,  and  envied  him  for  the  influence  which 
he  bad  acciuired  and  maintained  over  the  king.  The 
consequence  of  this  opposition  was,  that  Alvares  was 
banished  from  the  royal  presence,  and  remained  for  a 
year  and  a  half  at  a  distance  from  court.  But  John,  who 
seems  to  have  been  a  feeble  prince,  was  so  distressed 
at  his  removal,  and  felt  so  painfully  the  uneasiness  to 
■which  it  gave  rise,  that  he  recalled  him  from  exile,  in- 
Tested  liim  with  his  former  authority,  and  loaded  him 
with  new  marks  of  his  favour.  No  sooner  was  he  re- 
instated in  power,  thaa  he  exerted  all  his  influence 


against  those  who  had  driven  him  from  the  society  of  th« 
king.  The  nobles  were  banished  in  their  turn;  and 
they  had  the  mortification  to  see  every  office  ol  dignity 
or  emolument  engrossed  by  the  favourite,  or  thrown 
away  upon  his  minions.  Nothing  was  done  without  his 
orders ;  all  the  places  within  the  kingdom  were  at  his 
disj)Osal ;  he  was  master  of  the  treasury,  and  to  profuse 
in  his  bounties,  that  though  the  eyes  of  the  monarch 
were  at  length  opened,  he  was  unable  to  relieve  himself, 
and  afraid  to  coinjilain.  But  the  time  of  inquiry  and  of 
retribution  was  approHching.  The  royal  favour  had  de- 
parted from  this  unworthy  minister;  the  nobles,  who 
had  long  cherished  the  most  determined  hatred  against 
him,  perceived  the  change,  and  rejoiced  in  the  oppor- 
tunity of  turning  it  to  their  advantage.  Alvares  was 
seized  and  confined.  The  voice  of  popular  approbation 
was  now  on  the  side  of  his  enemies,  and  his  fall  was 
contemplated  without  interest  or  emotion,  even  by  those 
whom  he  had  raised  to  distinction  and  to  wealth.  He 
attempted  oftener  than  once  to  procure  an  interview 
with  the  king  ;  but  all  his  attenijjts  failing,  he  wrote  to 
him  a  letter,  expressive  of  the  sense  which  he  entertained 
of  his  goodness,  a  goodness  which,  he  remarked,  ought 
to  have  induced  him,  as  his  sovereign,  to  fix  proper  li- 
mits to  his  fortune;  begging  that  10,000  crowns,  with 
which  he  had  furnished  the  treasury  by  unjust  means, 
should  be  restored  to  those  from  whom  they  had  been 
taken,  and  requesting  that  this  might  be  done,  if  not 
from  a  regard  to  his  past  services,  at  least  from  the 
reasonableness  of  the  request. 

This  letter,  however,  had  no  effect  upon  the  king 
Alvares  was  tried  and  condemned;  and  being  removed 
to  Valladolid,  he  was  beheaded  in  the  market  place  of 
that  city  ;  leaving  his  name  to  give  force  to  the  precepts 
of  the  moralist,  and  to  enlarge  the  catalogue  of  such  as 
have  been  raised  by  princely  favour  to  power  and  riches; 
have  rioted  in  the  extravagance  of  dominion,  and  have 
suffered  the  punishment  due  to  their  insolence  and  their 
crimes.  See  Abrigi  de  CHistoire  de  Espagne,  par  P. 
Isla,  torn.  ii.  p.  270.     (h) 

ALUDELS,  are  earthen  pots  without  Iwttoms,  insert- 
ed into  each  other,  and  formerly  used  in  chemical  ope- 
rations. 

ALVEARIUM,  is  the  bottom  of  the  hollow  cavity 
formed  by  the  coucha,  or  external  part  of  the  ear,  where 
the  bony  part  of  the  canal  begins,  and  where  the  wax  is 
secreted.     See  Anatomv.     (/) 

ALVEOLI,  the  sockets  of  the  jaw  bone  in  which  the 
teeth  arc  fixed.     See  Anatomy. 

ALUM.  This  saline  substance  is  one  in  such  com- 
mon use,  and  is  applied  to  so  many  purposes  in  the 
arts,  that  it  may  be  necessary  to  take  some  notice  of  it, 
especially  what  regards  its  manufacture,  besides  the 
general  account  of  it  to  be  given  under  the  article  Che- 
mistry. 

The  salt,  which  now  receives  the  name  of  Alum,  was 
not  known  to  the  ancients ;  the  Alwnen  of  the  Romans, 
from  the  description  that  has  been  given  of  it,  appear- 
ing to  have  been  rather  a  sulphate  of  iron,  or  at  least  to 
have  contained  a  considerable  portion  of  that  metal. 
The  art  of  extracting  and  preparing  alum  was  brought 
into  Europe  from  the  Levant.  The  mo?t  ancient  of  the 
alum-works  known,  is  that  of  Rocca  in  Syria,  now  called 
Edeesa ;  whence  the  name  of  Rork  alum,  applied  to  a 
particular  variety  of  this  salt,  has  been  derived.  Prom 
this  pl.ice,  the  alum  used  in  Europe  continued  to  be 
imported,  until  in  the  fifteenth  century,  some  Genoese, 


ALUM, 


501 


wlio  had  learntil  in  tlie  Levant  tlie  mode  of  fabricating 
it,  were  fortunate  enough  to  discover  alum  ores  in 
Italy  and  to  extract  it  from  them.  The  alum  works 
at  Tolfa,  near  Civita  Vecchia,  attained  celebrity,  and 
still  ajford  a  larsie  quantity  of  this  salt.  In  the  six- 
teenth century,  the  art  of  fabricating  alum  was  known 
in  other  parts  of  Europe  :  The  manufacture  appears  to 
have  been  established  in  England  during  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth,  at  Whitby,  in  Yorkshire,  where  it  is  still 
carried  on. 

The  properties  of  the  peculiar  earth  which  forms  the 
basis  of  alum,  were  first  pointed  out  by  Geoffroy  and 
Ueliot,  and  it  was  shown  by  these  chemists  to  be  the 
same  with  that  which  is  the  basis  of  pure  clay ;  which 
from  modern  chemists  has  received  the  name  of 
argil,  or  alumine.  This  earth.  Pott  and  Margraaf 
proved  to  be  contained  in  alum.  The  acid  combined 
with  it  was  known  to  be  the  sulphuric;  and  this  acid 
being  present  in  excess,  or  the  salt  being  always  sensi- 
bly acidulous,  alum  was  regarded  as  a  supersulphate  of 
argil. 

More  light,  however,  was  thrown  on  the  composition 
of  this  salt  a  few  years  ago  by  the  researches  of  Vauque- 
lin,  and  of  Chaptal.  It  had  been  known,  that,  in  some 
of  the  i)rocesses  for  manufacturing  alum,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  add  to  the  saline  ley,  to  cause  it  to  crystallize,  a 
quantity  of  potash,  or  of  ammonia,  or  of  some  substance 
capable  of  affording  either  of  these  alkalis.  This  was 
supposed  to  operate  by  correcting  the  too  great  excess 
of  acidity,  which  it  was  imagined  prevented  the  crystalli- 
zation. Bergman,  however,  observed,  that  soda,  or 
lime,  which  would  equally  correct  any  excess  of  acid, 
cannot  be  employed  with  advantage ;  and  Vauquelin 
and  Chaptal,  by  an  analysis  of  the  different  varieties  of 
alum  of  commerce,  proved,  that  potash  is  always  an 
ingredient  in  them,  and  is  essential  to  the  composi- 
tion of  the  salt.  From  the  experiments  of  these  che- 
mists it  appears,  that  the  varieties  of  alum  which  are 
met  with  in  commerce,  are  not  altogether  uniform  in 
composition.  Some  of  them  consist  of  sulphuric  acid, 
argil,  and  potash ;  the  composition  of  this  variety,  as 
stated  by  Vauquelin,  being  49  of  sulphate  of  argil,  7  of 
sulphate  of  potash,  and  44  of  water.  In  others,  am- 
monia is  present,  as  is  evident  from  the  ammoniacal 
smell  which  they  exhale  on  the  addition  of  lime  to  the 
solution.  Frequently,  too,  they  contain  a  portion  of 
iron. 

The  knowledge  of  the  composition  of  this  salt,  enables 
lis  better  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  processes  by 
which  it  is  prejjared.  These  vary  considerably  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  the  substance  from  which  it  is  pro- 
cured. This  substance  is  usually  a  kind  of  slate,  which, 
from  affording  this  product,  has  received  the  name  of 
alum  ore,  or  alum  slate,  and  which  contains  the  elements 
necessary  to  the  formation  of  alum  in  a  more  or  less 
perfect  state. 

The  following  is  the  process  followed  at  the  celebra- 
ted alum  works  of  Tolfa  : — The  ore  is  blown  up  with 
gunpowder  :  it  is  separated  from  the  pieces  of  the  rock 
that  adhere  to  it :  it  is  calcined  in  furnaces,  nearly  in  the 
same  manner  as  lime  is  burned  :  in  six  or  seven  hours, 
being  sufficiently  calcined  and  friable,  it  is  taken  out, 
and  laid  on  pavements  of  a  long  shape,  surrounded 
with  walled  trenches :  on  these  it  is  laid  in  heaps  of 
a  moderate  height,  which  are  watered  for  forty  days 
with  water  from  the  trenches.  The  ore  being  thus  de- 
comi)osed,  it  is  boiled  jn  large  cauldrons ;  and  when  the 

Vol.  I.    Part  II, 


water  is  saturated  to  a  certain  point,  it  is  poured  into  the 
crystallizing  pan ;  where,  after  it  is  cold,  it  deposits  the 
alum  in  large  crystalline  masses.  Journal  iks  Mines, 
No.  117.  p.  179. 

Alum  is  obtained  in  a  different  manner  at  Solfaterra, 
near  Puzzuola.  Here  nature  acts  synthetically.  Fumes 
pregnant  with  sulphurous  and  sulphuric  acid,  are  con- 
tinually issuing  from  little  crevices  in  the  volcanic  soil 
of  this  place ;  the  former  of  which  deposit  a  concrete 
sulphur;  the  second  gradually  penetrate  the  ancient  la- 
vas, which  are  of  an  argillaceous  nature,  combine  with 
their  alumine,  and  thus  form  an  alum  ore,  which  after- 
wards affords  by  lixiviatiou  and  crystallization  a  very  pure 
alum. 

In  other  varieties  of  alum  ore  the  process  is  different. 
Those  which  are  hard,  and  contain  much  pyrites  or  sul- 
phuret  of  iron,  require  to  be  roasted  or  calcined.  Those 
which  are  softer  require  merely  exposure  to  air  and  hu- 
midity. The  ore  is  placed  in  large  heaps,  sloping  to  a 
ridge  like  the  roof  of  a  house,  and  left  exposed  to  the 
open  air  for  a  year  or  more.  When  its  decomposition, 
which  is  particularly  promoted  liy  damp  air,  is  suffi- 
ciently advanced,  it  is  distributed  into  long  flat  troughs, 
and  lixiviated.  When  the  water  is  sufficiently  satura- 
ted with  the  salts,  which  are  sulphate  of  alumine  and 
sulphate  of  iron,  it  is  carried  to  the  manufactory,  and 
boiled  in  leaden  cauldrons,  till  the  proof  liquor  taken 
out  becomes,  on  cooling,  a  crystalline  mass  of  the  con- 
sistence of  honey.  During  the  long  boiling  of  the  lixi- 
vium, the  greater  part  of  the  sulphate  of  iron  is  de- 
composed, the  iron  passes  io  a  higher  degree  of  oxyda- 
tion,  in  which  state  so  much  of  it  cannot  be  dissolved 
in  sulphuric  acid,  and  it  is  deposited  in  the  form 
of  brown  oxyde.  When  the  lixivium  is  sufficiently 
boiled  down,  it  is  carried  to  the  settling  troughs,  and  as 
soon  as  it  has  grown  clear  by  standing  a  little,  it  is  drawn 
off  into  other  troughs,  where  it  is  mixed  with  the  quantity 
of  potash  necessary  for  making  it  into  alum. 

In  the  process  which  is  followed  at  Whitby,  the  ore  is 
laid  in  large  heaps,  and  burned  with  wood  or  thorns,  un- 
til it  he  white ;  or  it  is  sometimes  burned  by  rearing  a 
pile  of  the  ore,  and  of  coal,  in  alternate  layers,  kindling 
it  at  the  bottom.  When  it  is  sufficiently  calcined,  it  is 
put  into  a  pit,  about  ten  feet  long,  six  feet  broad,  and  five 
feet  deep,  where  it  is  macerated  in  water  for  eight  or 
ten  hours ;  the  ley  is  then  drawn  off  into  a  large  cistern, 
or  reservoir,  and  a  fresh  quantity  of  water  is  put  on  the 
calcined  ore  in  the  pit.  This  after  some  time  having 
acquired  a  sensible  but  weaker  saline  impregnation  than 
the  former,  is  likewise  run  off  into  the  cistern.  From 
this  the  layer  is  conveyed  into  pans,  where  it  is  kept 
boiling  for  twenty-four  hours.  There  is  then  added  to 
it  a  ley  pre|)ared  from  kelp;  and  after  some  time,  the  li- 
quor is  drawn  off  into  a  vessel,  where  it  may  settle,  or 
the  impurities  subside.  When  clear,  it  is  run  into 
coolers,  where  it  is  allowed  to  remain  about  four  days 
and  nights,  and  a  quantity  of  putrid  urine,  in  the  propor- 
tion of  about  eight  gallons  to  a  ton  of  liquor,  is  added. 
The  alum  crystallizes;  the  residual  liquor  is  removed, 
and  mixed  with  the  liquor  obtained  from  a  fresh  quan- 
tity of  materials  which  is  to  be  evaporated.  The  crys- 
tallized alum  is  washed,  the  water  being  allowed  to  dra^n 
from  it :  it  is  melted  in  a  pan  ;  it  is,  while  liquid,  con- 
veyed into  tuns,  in  which  it  is  allowed  to  remain  about 
ten  days,  so  as  to  become  fully  concrete.  *Y\\e  tuns  are 
unhooped,  and  the  large  masses  of  alum  broken  down 
and  stored  for  the  market. 

4  B 


5d3 


ALUM. 


In  the  preparation  of  alum  at  lord  Dumlaa's  works,  in 
Yorkshire,  muriate  of  potash  is  added  instead  of  kelp. 
The  proportion  employed  is  abont  4icwt.  for  every  tun 
of  alum  produced. 

Alum  being  thus  obtained  from  these  mineral  sub- 
stances, it  is  obviously  an  interesting  subject  to  discover 
their  composition,  whether  they  contain  it  ready  formed, 
or  only  its  elements;  and  whether  these  are  present  in 
the  proportions  and  combinations  most  favourable  to  its 
production.  This  has  accordingly  engaged  the  attention 
of  Klaproth  and  Vauquelin. 

Klaproth  analyzed  the  alum-stone  of  Tolfa,  and  found 
that,  in  its  natural  state,  it  contains  the  three  essential 
constituent  principles  of  alum ;  sulphuric  acid,  argil,  and 
potash.  Its  ingredients  and  their  proportions  were 
«ilex  56.5,  argil  19,  sulphuric  acid  16.5,  potash  4,  water 

3.  The  same  ingredients  had  been  discovered  in  it  by 
Vauquelin  in  proportions  somewhat  different.  The 
alum-earth  of  Freien wald,  that  which  affords  alum  by  the 
third  process  above  described,  Klaproth  found  to  be  of  a 
very  different  composition.  It  appears  to  consist  essen- 
tially of  sulphur  and  carbon,  with  argil,  and  saline  sub- 
stances having  a  base  of  potash.  The  results,  as  stated 
by  this  chemist,  are  sulphur  28.5,  carbon  196.5,  argil 
1 60,  silex  400,  oxide  of  iron,  with  a  trace  of  manganese, 

04,  sulphate  of  iron  18,  sulphate  of  lime  15,  magnesia 
2.5,  sulphate  of  potash  15,  muriate  of  potash  5,  water 
107.5.  This  substance  is  peculiar,  as  not  containing 
the  sulphur  in  combination  with  iron,  but,  as  Klaproth 
supposes,  combined  with  carbon.  It  becomes  oxygeni- 
zed from  exposure  to  the  air,  and  thus  forms  the  sulphu- 
ric acid  which  combines  with  the  argil,  and  this  receiv- 
ing potash  from  the  sulphate  and  muriate  of  potash,  the 
alum  is  formed. 

The  varieties  of  aluminous  slate  which,  by  calcina- 
tion, and  subsequent  exposure  to  air  and  humidity,  af- 
ford alum,  appear  to  consist  of  the  usual  earthy  ingre- 
dients of  slate, — silex,  argil,  and  perhaps  magnesia, 
with  sulphate  of  iron  ;  or  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  slate 
impregnated  with  pyrites,  or  sulphuret  of  iron.  The 
calcination  is  of  utility  in  disposing  the  sulphuret  of 
iron  to  oxygenation  from  the  action  of  the  atmospheric 
»ir,  and  of  water ;  by  the  exposure,  oxygen  is  absorbed, 
sind  the  sulphur  is  converted  into  sulphuric  acid ;  this 
may  in  part  combine  with  the  argil,  but  it  is  not  impro- 
bable, that  its  combination  is  at  first  principally  with  the 
oxide  of  iron.  The  sulphate  of  iron,  by  long  exposure, 
absorbs  oxygen ;  the  oxide,  which  is  its  base,  passes  to 
a  higher  state  of  oxidation,  and  in  this  state  exerts  a 
less  energetic  action  on  the  solphuric  acid  ;  it  is  there- 
fore more  easily  attracted  by  the  argil ;  and  by  these 
successive  changes,  the  whole  of  it,  or  nearly  so,  may  at 
length  be  combined  with  that  earth.  In  the  natural 
formation  of  alum,  which  takes  place  slowly  in  some  fos- 
sils of  this  kind,  we  accordingly  find  the  alum  in  various 
degrees  of  intermixture  with  sulphate  of  iron,  that  in 
which  the  process  is  furthest  advanced  being  probably 
most  free  from  it.  These  slates  must  also  contain  a 
quantity  of  potash ;  a  substance  which  it  is  now  suflS- 
ciently  established  is  frequently  found  in  the  mineral 
kingdom.  From  the  practice,  however,  in  the  alum 
manufacture,  of  adding  a  proportion  of  potash  to  the  li- 
quor previous  to  crystallization,  it  appears  not  to  exist 
in  the  slate  in  the  full  proportion  necessary  to  convert 
the  whole  sulphate  of  argil  into  the  triple  salt  which 
forms  alum.  The  manufacturers  have  found,  that  it  is 
equally  advantageous  to  employ  iulphate  of  potaeb..  or 


muriate  of  potash,  to  contribute  to  the  formation  of  the 
alum ;  and  these  salts  being  products  of  various  chemi- 
cal jjrocesses,  and  being  scarcely  applicable  to  any  other 
useful  purpose,  are  economically  employed.  The  one, 
the  sulphate  of  potash,  is  obtained  in  the  manufacture 
of  aquafortis ;  the  other,  the  muriate  of  potash,  from  the 
residual  liquor  in  the  manufacture  of  soap.  The  manu- 
facturers prefer  the  muriate  to  the  sulphate  of  potash, 
for  which  a  very  good  reason  has  been  assigned.  The 
principal  impurity  to  which  alum  is  liable,  and  which  it 
is  an  object  of  importance  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible, 
is  from  the  presence  of  iron,  in  the  state  of  sulphate  of 
iron.  When  muriate  of  potash  is  added,  the  potash, 
uniting  with  the  sulphuric  acid  and  argil,  enters  into 
the  composition  of  the  alum ;  while  the  muriatic  acid 
unites  with  the  oxide  of  iron,  retains  it  in  solution,  and 
forms  an  uncrystallizable  salt,  which  remains  in  the  mo- 
ther water.  The  kelp  employed  at  Whitby  cannot  be 
considered  as  operating  by  the  soda  whicli  it  contains; 
for  this  alkali  Bergman  found  to  be  of  no  utility  in  pro- 
moting the  crystallization  of  alum,  but  probably  by  the 
sulphate  and  muriate  of  potash  which  exist  in  it.  The 
urine  which  is  used  must  furnisli  that  variety  of  alunt 
which  contains  ammonia. 

It  appears  that  when  circumstances  are  favourable,  » 
natural  formation  of  alum  takes  place,  from  some  varie- 
ties of  aluminous  or  bituminous  slate.  A  remarkable 
example  of  this  kind  is  to  be  found  in  the  Hurlett  mine, 
or  pit,  near  Glasgow,  from  which  within  these  few  years 
a  very  large  quantity  of  alum  has  been  procured.  A 
brief  account  is  given  of  it  in  the  1 6th  volume  of  Nichol- 
son's Journal.  In  this  coal  mine,  a  stratum  of  slate  or 
shale,  about  ten  inches  thick,  placed  above  the  coal,  has 
been  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  atmosphere  above 
200  years,  the  mine  having  been  open  during  that  pe- 
riod ;  it  is  protected  by  situation  from  the  infiltration  of 
much  water.  Under  these  favourable  circumstances, 
the  natural  formation  of  alum  has  taken  place  to  a  con- 
siderable extent,  and  it  is  found  disseminated  in  silky- 
like filaments,  and  even  in  congeries  of  small  crystals, 
in  the  interstices  of  the  shale,  accompanied  with  sul- 
phate of  iron.  It  is  extracted  by  lixiviation,  along  with 
a  portion  of  sulphate  of  iron,  which  has  been  formed  by 
the  same  natural  process.  The  ley  is  evaporated,  and 
the  sulphate  of  iron  is  removed  as  much  as  possible,  by 
priority  of  crystallization ;  muriate  of  potash  is  then 
added,  probably  with  the  view  of  preventing  the  impu- 
rity of  the  alum  frotn  the  presence  of  iron,  by  the  ope- 
ration already  explained.  The  ley  is  lastly  evaporated  to 
the  specific  gravity  1 .450,  and  is  set  aside  to  crystallize. 

The  presence  of  sulphate  of  iron  in  this  natural  for- 
mation, renders  it  probable,  according  to  the  view  stated 
above,  that  alum  has  been  formed  from  the  oxygenation 
by  the  gradual  action  of  the  atmosphere,  of  the  sulphu- 
ret of  iron  or  pyrites  contained  in  the  shale,  the  sulphu- 
ric acid  of  which  has  been  transferred  to  the  argil.  And 
as  the  salt  exists  ready  formed  and  crystallized,  a  por- 
tion of  potash  must  also  be  contained  in  this  particular 
variety  of  slate. 

A  manufacture  of  alum  was  established  by  Chaptal  in 
France,  in  which  it  was  formed  by  the  direct  combina- 
tion of  its  principles,  pure  clay  being  exposed  to  the  va- 
pours of  sulphuric  acid :  and  sulphate  of  potash  being 
added  to  the  ley  o'ltiiined  by  washing  the  materials  after 
a  certain  period.  This  mny  afford  a  pnre  alum,  but  the 
process  must  be  more  expensive  than  the  indirect  modes 
by  which  the  aluoi  is  usually  procured, 


AMA 


AMA 


663 


''  'We  have  entered  on  these  details  with  regard  to  the 
extraction  and  manufacture  of  tliis  salt,  as  it  is  one  of 
considerable  importance  in  some  of  the  manufactures 
of  this  country;  and  there  is  reason  to  believe,  (hat 
there  are  many  situations  in  wliich  the  preparation  of  it 
might  be  successfully  conducted.  Its  i)articular  chemi- 
cal properties  will,  with  more  propriety,  be  considered 
under  its  history  in  the  article  Chemistrt. 

There  arc  several  varieties  of  alum,  it  has  been  men- 
tioned, to  be  found  in  commerce,  some  of  which  are  pre- 
ferred to  others  for  particular  purposes.  The  English 
alum  is  in  large  irregular  masses,  of  a  crystalline  struc- 
ture, transparent  and  colourless.  The  rock  alum  is  in 
small  pieces,  covered  with  an  efflorescence  of  a  reddish 
colour.  The  Roman  alum  is  in  fragments,  having  an 
irregular  crystalline  form,  opaque  from  efflorescence, 
and  has  been  considered  the  purest  of  any.  The  differ- 
ences among  these  have  been  very  imperfectly  investi- 
gated. The  English  alum  has  been  said  to  have  a  more 
sensible  impregnation  of  iron  than  the  others;  and  hence 
its  inferiority  in  the  art  of  dyeing  in  the  comjwsition  of 
BOme  of  the  more  delicate  colours.  The  rock  alum, 
from  its  colour,  may  be  suspected  to  contain  a  slight  im- 
pregnation of  cobalt  or  manganese. 

The  principal  consumption  of  alum  is  in  the  arts  of 
dyeing  and  calico  printing.  It  is  one  of  the  most  power- 
ful of  the  mordants,  or  substances  which  either  modify 
the  tint  from  colouring  materials,  or  render  the  colour 
more  permanent.  It  also  enters  into  the  composition  of 
lakes  or  pigments.  It  is  used  in  the  art  of  tanning;  is 
added  to  tallow  to  give  it  greater  hardness  in  the  manu- 
facture of  candles ;  and  is  employed  for  various  purposes 
in  the  practice  of  medicine,     (ft) 

ALUM  Slate,  a  species  of  the  clay-slate  family. 
See  Oryctognosy.  (r) 

ALUM  Stone,  a  species  of  the  clay  family.  See 
Oryctognosy     (r) 

ALUM  E.vRTH,  a  sub-species  of  the  brown  coal  spe- 
cies.    See  Oryctognosy  and  Geognosy,  (r) 

ALURNUS,  in  Zoology,  a  small  genus  of  coleopte- 
rous insects  very  little  known.    See  Entomology.  (/) 

ALYSSUM,  or  Madwort,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the 
class  Tetradynamia,  and  order  Siliculosae.  See  Botany. 
(n,) 

AMACK.     See  Amak. 

AMADAN,  or  Hamadan,  supposed  by  some  to  be 
the  ancient  Ecbaiana,  is  one  of  the  |)rincipal  cities  of 
the  province  of  Ira  Ajemi,  in  Persia.  It  is  situated,  ac- 
cording to  Hanway,  on  the  N.  W.  of  the  Elwend  moun- 
tains, on  the  road  from  Mecca  to  the  northern  parts  of 
Asia.  The  surrounding  country  is  fertile  in  corn  and 
rice  ;  and  the  air  is  uncommonly  salubrious,  though  the 
cold  is  exceedingly  intense  in  winter.  On  account  of 
the  delightful  situation  of  Amadan,  the  Persian  kings 
used  to  retire  to  it  in  summer,  from  which  it  obtained 
the  name  of  the  Royal  Cily.  This  city  is  remarkalde 
for  its  gardens  and  numerous  springs,  and  for  many 
beautiful  mausolea.  Among  these  is  the  mausoleum  of 
the  sheik  Abou-A'ly-Cyna,  the  celebrated  Arabian  phy- 
sician, who  is  better  known  by  the  nme  of  Avicenna. 
E.  Long.  48°  2'.  N.  Lat.  35»  13' 20".  See  Travels  to 
Mecca,  by  Abdoul-Kerim,  translated  into  French  by 
Langles  and  Hanway,  vol.  i.  p.  163.     (o) 

AMADES  V.  count  of  Savoy,  succeeded  to  the 
sovereignty  in  1285.  He  acquired  the  surname  of"  The 
Great,"  by  his  valour  and  success;  particularly  by  his 
j^allant  defeDce  of  Rhodes  against  the  Turks  in  1311, 


This  island  was  at  that  time  considered  as  the  barrier 
of  Christendom  against  the  infidels;  and  the  histories 
of  that  period  are  full  of  the  praises  of  Amadcus,  for  his 
heroic  defence  of  this  important  station.  In  memory  of 
this  event,  he  and  his  successors  assumed  for  their  de- 
vice these  four  letters,  P.  E.  R.  T.  the  initials  of  the 
Latin  words  "  Vartiludo  ejus  lihodum  tenuit." — "  His 
valour  preserved  Rhodes.''  lie  died  in  1323,  after  a 
reign  of  38  years.  He  was  beloved  and  respected  by 
all  the  sovereigns  of  Europe,  and  was  generally  the  me- 
diator in  their  dilferences.  Mod.  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  xxxiv. 
p.  16.  (g) 

AMAUEUS  VIII.  count  of  Savoy,  succeeded  to  the 
sovereignty  in  1391.  He  was  called  the  "  Pacific,"  and 
"  the  Solomon  of  the  age."  He  was  certainly  a  most 
singuiiir  character.  He  was  completely  devoted  to  plea- 
sure ;  but  not  choosing  to  expose  his  gratifications  to 
the  profane  eyes  of  the  world,  he  retired  to  the  luxu- 
rious retreat  of  Ripaille,  under  the  pretence  of  religious 
seclusion.  In  this  retirement,  whilst  he  and  his  asso- 
ciates, (whom  he  had  formed  into  what  he  called  the 
religious  order  of  St.  Maurice,)  were  devoted  solely  to 
sensual  gratifications,  he  acquired  so  great  fame  for 
sanctity  abroad,  that  he  thought  himself  qualified  to  as- 
pire to  the  papacy.  Accordingly,  though  he  had  never 
taken  holy  orders,  he  was  elected  pope  by  the  council  of 
Basil,  which  had  deposed  Eugene  IV.  Europe  beheld 
with  astonishment  this  extraordinary  election,  and  a 
schism  was  the  consequence.  Amadeus,  who  had  taken 
the  name  of  Felix  V.  was  excommunicated  by  Eugene, 
to  whom  the  greater  part  of  Europe  still  adhered. 
Amadeus  not  finding  himself  very  comfortable  in  his 
new  dignity,  was  induced  on  the  death  of  Eugene  to 
resign  his  pretensions.  He  made,  however,  a  very  pro- 
fitable compromise;  he  was  appointed  cardinal  bishop 
and  apostolical  legate,  and  was  allowed  to  retain  most 
of  the  pontifical  insignia.  He  died  iu  14al,  at  the  age 
of  69.  See  Fleuri  Hist.  Ecctesiust.  torn.  xv.  p.  75 — 97. 
Hist,  des  Papes,  torn.  iv.  p.  126—128.     (g) 

AMADEUS  IX.  the  grandson  of  the  former,  suc- 
ceeded his  father  Lewis  in  1464.  Though  of  a  very 
feeble  bodily  constitutiou,  he  acquired  nevertheless  the 
surname  of  the  "  Happy,"  from  his  equanimity  and  his 
love  of  piety  and  justice.  One  day  a  foreign  minister 
asked  him  whether  he  kept  hounds.  "  A  great  many," 
answered  he,  "  and  if  you  will  visit  me  to-morrow  you 
shall  see  them."  The  minister  came  accordingly ;  and 
Amadeus  leading  him  to  a  window  which  look«d  into  a 
large  square,  "  There,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  great 
number  of  poor  people,  who  were  seated  at  tables,  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  "  are  my  hounds  with  whom  I  go  in 
chase  of  heaven."  He  died  in  1472,  aged  37,  altera 
reign  of  seven  years.  Mod.  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  xxxiv. 
p.  82.     (£■) 

AMAK,  a  small  island  situated  on  the  south  of  Co- 
penhagen, to  which  it  is  connected  by  a  bridge  at  Chris- 
tianshaven.  This  island  is  inhabited  by  the  descendants 
of  a  colony  of  Dutehmen  from  East  Friesland,  who  were 
settled  there  in  1516,  by  the  queen  of  Chrisliern  II. 
who  was  niece  to  3Iargaret,  governess  of  the  Low 
Countries.  The  object  of  this  settlement  was  to  supply- 
Copenhagen  with  vegetables,  cheese,  and  butter;  and 
such  has  been  the  industry  of  the  colonists  in  cultivating 
the  soil,  that  it  now  supplies  the  islands  of  Zealand  and 
Funen  with  these  articles.  From  the  intermarriages  of 
the  colonists  with  the  Danes,  their  language  is  a  mix- 
ture of  low  Dutch  and  Danish)  though,  in  other  respects; 

4  B  2 


S9i 


AMA 


AMA 


Ihey  retain  llie  original  dress  and  manners  of  the  colb- 
hy.  The  island  is  about  two  miles  lone;,  and  a  mile 
broad,  and  contains  above  3000  inhabitants,  (o) 

AMALARIC,  one  of  the  kings  of  the  Visigoths.  At 
the  a^e  of  five  years  he  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  his 
father  Alaric  II.  but  the  sovereignty  being  usurped  by 
his  natural  brother  Gensalaic,  he  was  comjiflled  to  fly 
for  shelter  to  Spain.  His  grandfather  Theodoric,  king 
of  the  Ostrogoths,  took  up  arms  in  defence  of  the  infant 
king ;  expelled  the  usurper  from  the  throne,  and  charged 
himself  with  the  government  of  the  Visigoths,  till  his 
death  in  526  left  the  throne  vacant  for  Amalaric.  The 
attachment  of  Amalaric  to  the  cause  and  doctrines  of 
Arius,  proved  the  ruin  of  this  unfortunate  prince.  His 
wife  Clotilda,  daughter  of  Clovis,  king  of  France,  having 
inheritetl  the  orthodox  principles  of  her  mother,  resisted 
every  attempt  that  was  made  by  her  husband,  to  instil 
into  her  the  opinions  of  Arius.  Enraged  at  the  obsti- 
nacy of  Clotilda,  Amalaric  at  last  resorted  to  violent 
means  :  but  the  patience  of  the  queen  was  now  exhaust- 
ed, and  being  no  longer  able  to  suffer  in  silence  the  un- 
taanly  treatment  of  her  husband,  she  applied  for  assist- 
ance to  her  brother  Childibert,  king  of  France,  and  sent 
him  a  handkerchief  stained  with  her  blood,  to  testify 
Ihe  brutal  violence  of  Amalaric.  The  French  king  in- 
vaded the  territories  of  the  Visigoths  with  a  powerful 
lirmy,  defeated  Amalaric,  and  entered  Narbonne,  the 
residence  of  his  court.  The  vanquished  monarch  took 
refuge  in  his  fleet,  but  imprudently  returned  to  the  city 
to  recover  the  treasures  which  he  had  left.  The  enemy 
having  just  entered  Narbonne,  compelled  him  to  retreat 
into  a  catholic  church,  where  he  was  stabbed  by  a  com- 
mon soldier  in  531.  According  to  some  historians,  be 
fled  into  Spain  after  his  defeat,  and  died  a  natural  death 
at  Barcelona.  See  Mod.  Univ.  Hist.  vol.  xvi.  p.  10.  (o) 

AMALASONTHA,  queen  of  Italy,  and  daughter  of 
Theodoric,  king  of  the  Ostrogoths,  was  distinguished 
by  her  talents  and  virtues,  as  well  as  by  the  misfortunes 
which  marked  her  short  and  unhappy  reign.  She  was 
born  in  1498,  and  M'as  married  in  1515  to  Eutharic,  the 
lastdescendant  of  the  Amali,  who  was  destined  by  Theo- 
doric to  succeed  him  in  the  throne  of  the  Ostrogoths.  In 
consequence  of  the  premature  death  of  Eutharic,  Ama- 
lasontha  was  left  with  the  charge  of  her  infant  son  Atha- 
laric,  whose  early  education  she  watched  with  the  most 
affectionate  concern.  Upon  the  death  of  Theodoric  in 
1526,  Amalasontha  was  left  the  guardian  of  her  son,  and 
regent  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  The  abilities  of  Ama- 
lasontha were  admirably  titled  for  this  important  charge. 
The  natural  talents  which  she  had  inherited  from  her 
father  were  improved  by  the  most  liberal  e<lucation,  and 
a  deep  acquaintance  with  the  human  heart,  as  well  as 
■with  the  philosophy  and  sciences  of  the  age,  ins|)ire<l 
her  with  a  vigour  and  intrepidity  of  mind,  which  were 
Ifvorthy  of  a  more  brilliant  reign.  Her  knowledge  of 
the  Greek,  Latin,  and  Gothic  languages,  which  she 
bpoke  with  equal  fluency  and  elegance,  prompted  her 
to  advance  the  interests  of  learning,  and  to  court  the 
society  of  its  friends.  Cassiodorus,  the  Calabrian,  one 
•rthe  most  distinguished  literary  characters  of  the  age, 
was  placed  at  the  head  of  her  government ;  the  salaries 
•of  the  public  teachers  were  regularly  paid,  and  the  chil- 
dren of  Boetius,  the  philosopher,  were  restored  to  the 
inheritance  of  which  they  had  been  unjustly  de|)riTed. 
By  such  means  Amalasontha  revived  the  prosperity  of 
Tier  father's  reign  ;  and  while  she  imitated  the  virtues, 
•nid  protected  tlie  wise  inatitutioua  of  Theodoric,  she 


strove  to  atone  for  the  ferrors  of  his  govemmeftt,  ami  to 
remove  the  restrictions  which,  in  the  decline  of  age  and 
of  judgment,  he  had  imposed  upon  his  people. 

At  peace  with  surrounding  nations,  and  happy  in  the 
affection  of  her  subjects,  Amalasontha  devoted  the 
whole  of  her  attention  to  the  education  of  her  infant  son. 
She  placed  him  under  the  charge  of  three  learned 
Goths,  to  inspire  him  with  the  virtues  that  were  suitable 
to  a  prince,  and  to  instruct  him  in  the  sciences  that  were 
useful  for  the  management  of  a  kingdom  ;  but  the  ob- 
stinate tem|)er  of  Athalaric  required  a  severity  of  disci- 
pline which  the  gooti  sense  and  affection  oi  his  mother 
compelled  her  to  exercise.  When  the  boy  had  one  day 
been  punished  by  his  mother,  he  escaped  from  her  apart- 
ment into  a  public  meeting  of  the  Goths,  in  the  palace 
of  Ravenna,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  complained  oC 
the  harshness  with  which  he  was  treated.  The  sympa- 
thy of  the  barbarians  was  excited :  They  charged  the 
queen  regent  with  a  design  against  the  life  of  her  son, 
and  dragged  the  prince  from  beneath  the  wing  of  his 
parent.  Athalaric,  being  thus  liberated  from  every 
restraint,  abandoned  himself  to  the  most  licentious  ex- 
travagance, and  took  every  ojjportuiiity  of  harassing  the 
feelings,  and  thwarting  the  measures,  of  the  queen. 

The  happiness  of  Amalasontha  being  thus  at  the  mer- 
cy of  an  unfeeling  faction,  she  determined  to  throw  her- 
self under  the  protection  of  Justinian;  but  her  proud 
spirit  could  not,  upon  reflection,  brook  such  a  humiliat- 
ing surrender,  and  she  made  one  bold  etTort  to  recover 
her  authority.  Three  of  the  most  active  partisans  of 
Athalaric,  who  had  been  imprisoned  on  the  frontiers  of 
Italy,  were  assassinated  by  her  command ;  and  though 
this  daring  measure  re-established  her  authority,  it  did- 
not  extinguish  the  hostility  and  discontent  of  her  sub- 
jects. At  this  dangerous  crisis,  the  death  of  Athalaric, 
who  fell  a  victim  to  intemperance,  completed  the  ruin  of 
Amalasontha.  Deprived  by  law  of  all  share  in  the  go- 
vernment, she  conceived  the  project  of  uniting  with  her 
cousin  Theodotus  in  the  usurpation  of  the  supreme  pow- 
er, and  Cassiodorus  announced  to  the  emperor  and  the 
senate,  that  Amalasontha  and  Theodotus  were  hence- 
forth to  fill  the  Italian  throne.  The  weak  mind  of  Theo- 
dotus being  easily  wrought  upon  by  the  enemies  of  the 
queen,  he  was  instigated  to  imprison  her  in  a  small 
island  in  the  lake  Bolsena,  where  after  a  short  confine- 
ment she  was  strangled  in  the  bath,  (A.  D.  535.)  See 
Gibbon's  Hist  vol.  vii.  p.  206.     ()8) 

AMALEKITES,  a  powerful  people  of  Arabia  Petrsea, 
are  generally  considered  as  the  descendants  of  Amaiek, 
the  son  of  Elephaz,  and  grandson  of  Esau.  (Gen.  xxxvi. 
12.  16.)  It  is  not  easy,  however,  to  conceive  how  they 
could  have  become  a  numerous  tribe  in  the  space  of 
two  generations  ;  and  how  they  should  have  been  so  for- 
midable to  the  Israelites,  who  were  the  offspring  of  .la- 
cob,  the  brother  of  Esau,  and  consequently  had  increas- 
ed for  two  generations  before  the  birth  of  Amaiek.  Be- 
sides, Moses  speaks  of  the  Amalekites  in  the  time  of 
Abraham.  {Grn.  xiv.  7.)  They  are  always  mentioned 
too,  in  conjunction  with  the  Canaanites  and  Philistines, 
and  not  with  the  Edomites,  who  were  the  general  off- 
spring of  Esau.  It  is  much  more  likely,  therefore,  that 
the  Amalekites,  according  to  the  Arabian  account, 
were  descended  from  a  grandson  of  Noah,  named  Ama- 
iek ;  and  that  there  were  difierent  tribes  of  that  name. 
One  of  the  most  numerous  and  warlike  of  these  trib« 
was  peculiarly  hostile  to  the  Israelites  in  their  progrew 
from  Jigypt  to  Caaaao.    Scarcely  bad  the  latter  j 


AMA 


AM.4 


506 


the  Red  sea,  when  Ihene  inhabitan'.s  of  the  desert  cut 
offtbe  strng8;!ing  and  fatigued.  'I'he  Israelites  found 
it  necessary,  therefore,  to  pre[)are  themselves  for  repel- 
ling these  attacks.  After  being  formed  and  disciplined 
as  an  army,  tliey  gave  battle  to  the  Amalekites ;  and  by 
the  gowl  conduct  of  Joshua,  they  gained  a  complete 
victory.  {Exod.  xvii.  12. — Joseph.  Antiq.  I.  iii.  c.  2.) 
The  same  people  began  to  oppress  the  Israelites  under 
the  Judffes,  hut  were  defeated  and  driven  back  by  Gi- 
deon. {J wig.  iii.  13.)  Saul  at  length  fully  avenged  the 
injuries  which  they  had  committed  against  his  people, 
and  cut  off  the  greater  part  of  the  Amalekites  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Canaan.  (1  Sam.  xv.)  A  few  bands 
of  those  who  had  escaped  this  destruction,  afterwards 
attacked  and  pillaged  Ziklag,  where  David  had  left  his 
family  and  substance  ;  but  he  came  up  with  them,  dis- 
pei-sed  their  party,  and  retook  the  spoil.  (1  Sam.  xxx. 
1,  2.)  After  this,  there  is  no  further  mention  of  them 
made  in  history.  See  Calmet's  Did.  Amalek  ;  and  Jo- 
sephus,  Antiq.  Jud.  lib.  vi.  c.  8.  Lib.  iii.  c.  2.  (f) 

AMALFI,  or  Amalphi,  a  sea-port  town  on  the  west 
coast  of  the  Gulf  of  Salerno,  about  7  miles  west  of  the 
town  of  Salerno,  and  30  miles  south  of  Naples.  The 
history  of  its  origin  is  somewhat  obscure ;  but  the  most 
general  opinion  is,  that  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth 
century,  a  number  of  families  having  sailed  from  Rome 
for  Constantinople,  were  driven  by  the  tempest  to  the 
shores  of  Saleruo ;  and  being  afraid  again  to  encounter 
the  ()eril8  of  the  ocean,  they  resolved  to  settle  on  the 
coast  to  which  they  had  escaped,  and  founded  the  city  of 
Amalfi.  The  territory  which  they  occupied  around  it, 
though  exceedingly  fertile,  was  of  narrow  extent ;  but 
the  sea  was  open  before  them,  and  they  availed  them- 
selves of  the  advantages  of  their  situation.  By  carrying 
on  an  extensive  trade  to  (he  East,  with  whose  produc- 
tions and  manufactures  they  supplied  the  western  world, 
they  soon  rose  to  such  a  height  of  opulence  and  reputa- 
tion, as  excited  the  envy  of  their  neighbours,  and  pro- 
voked their  hostility.  About  the  year  825,  an  epidemical 
disonler  had  raged  at  Salerno,  and  had  so  thinned  its 
population,  that  Sico,  its  prince,  marched  a  body  of 
troops  to  Amalfi  ;  and,  surprising  it  by  night,  carried  off 
the  greater  number  of  its  inhabitants  to  his  own  city,  to 
supply  the  place  of  those  who  had  fallen  victims  to  the 
plague.  It  was  not  long  till  this  outrage  was  amply  re- 
venged ;  for  while  the  chieftains  of  Salerno  were  absent 
on  an  expedition,  the  Amalfitans  rose  in  arms,  and,  alter 
sacking  and  burning  the  city  of  their  oppressors,  march- 
ed back  in  triumph  to  Amalfi.  Their  first  care,  after 
returning  to  their  own  country,  was  to  new-model  their 
constitution,  to  frame  a  better  code  of  laws,  and  to  adopt 
such  regulations  as  might  most  effectually  ensure  the 
safety  and  prosperity  of  their  commonwealth.  Amalfi 
now  rose  to  the  summit  of  its  glory  ;  acquired  the  dig- 
nity of  an  archiepiscopal  city  ;  and  lor  its  zeal  against 
the  infidels,  received  from  Pope  Leo  IV.  the  distin- 
guishing title  of  Defender  of  the  Faith.  The  whole  trade 
of  the  Levant  passed  into  their  hands,  and  their  naval 
reputation  was  so  high,  that  the  emperor  of  Constanti- 
noi)le  established  at  Amalfi  a  court  for  the  decision  of 
all  maritime  disiwtes,  whose  codes  and  decrees  became 
of  general  authority.  To  the  ingenuity,  or  the  good 
fortune  of  the  inhal.itauts  of  Amalfi,  is  ascribed  the  dis- 
covery of  the  mariner's  tmhpass,  which,  giving  more 
boldness  to  their  adventurous  sjiirit,  enabled  them  to 
extend  their  trade  to  the  coasts  of  Africa,  Arabia,  and 
India.     In  this  period  of  meridian  splendour,  tiieir  walls 


eontaineil  50,000  inhabitants;  and  in  Arabia,  Antiocb, 
Jerusalem,  and  Alexandria,  they  formed  settlements 
which  actpiired  the  privileges  of  independent  colonies. 
Under  the  patronage  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  an  order 
of  knighthood  was  estalilished  at  Amalfi,  the  members 
of  which  were  afterwards  called  Knights  of  Rhodes, 
and  have  since  become  celebrated  as  the  Knights  of 
Malta.  To  the  honour  of  these  traders,  it  is  recorded, 
that  they  made  use  of  the  influence  which  their  com- 
mercial greatness  gave  them  with  the  niussulmeu,  to 
erect  at  the  caliph's  court,  (A.  D.  1026,)  two  small  hos- 
pitals, and  a  chapel,  for  the  use  of  votaries  coming  from 
the  west  of  Europe. 

The  distinguished  prosperity  of  the  Amalfitans  natu- 
rally created  many  enemies;  but  the  intervention  of  the 
holy  war  gave  them  a  temporary  respite  from  their  as- 
saults. At  length,  after  three  hundred  years  of  happi- 
ness and  glory,  it  was  overwhelmed  by  the  power  of  the 
Normans,  who  abolished  every  trace  of  its  republican 
constitution.  From  that  hour  which  destroyed  its  liber- 
ties, its  grandeur  declined,  and  its  power  was  rapidly 
diminished.  The  Pisans,  who  had  long  regarded  it  with 
an  eye  of  jealousy,  now  attacked  it  in  its  feeble  state, 
and  pillaged  it  without  mercy.  On  this  occasion,  the 
conquerors  are  said  to  have  obtained  possession  of  the 
Pandects,  a  copy  of  the  code  which  was  formed  by  Jus- 
tinian I.  The  ruin  of  Amalfi  was  completed  by  the 
alienation  of  its  lordship  to  feudal  proprietors.  It  was 
first  granted  to  Colonna,  brother  to  Pope  Martin  V. ; 
next  to  the  Sanseverini ;  then  to  the  Orini ;  and,  lastly, 
to  Picolomini,  with  the  title  of  duke. 

At  present,  Amalfi  scarcely  retains  any  trace  of  its 
ancient  grandeur.  Its  inhabitants,  not  more  than  4000 
in  number,  are  miserably  poor.  Its  buildings  are  mean  ; 
and,  except  the  ruins  of  a  cathedral,  an  arsenal,  and  the 
palaces  of  some  of  its  ancient  merchants,  nothing  re- 
mains to  form  any  contrast  with  the  poverty  of  the  fisher- 
men by  whom  it  is  now  occupied.  See  Gibbon,  v.  x.  p. 
280.  and  Swinburne's  Travels,  v.  iii.  p.  220.  {k) 

AMALGAM,  is  a  chemical  term  applied  to  the  com- 
bination of  quicksilver  with  another  metal.  The  amal- 
gam is  of  course  various  with  regard  to  its  consistence 
or  solidity,  according  to  the  proportion  of  quicksilver 
which  enters  into  its  composition,  and  is  very  different 
in  its  properties,  according  to  the  metal  with  which  the 
quicksilver  is  combined.     See  Chemistrt.  (6) 

AMALGAM,  Natural,  a  species  of  the  family  of 
Native  Silver.  For  an  account  of  the  species,  and  a 
vindication  of  this  arrangement,  see  Ortctognosy.  (r) 

AMALTHEA,  the  name  of  the  Cumsean  Sibyl,  who 
sold  nine  books  of  Prophecies  to  Tarquin  the  Proud. 
She  has  also  been  called  Hierophile  and  Demophile. 
See  Aulus  Gellius,  i.  19.  Plim/,  xiii.  13.  Varro. — Tibull. 
ii.  el.  5.  V.  67.  See  also  Sibyl,  (w) 

AMALTHEO,  the  name  of  three  brothers,  who  were 
all  distinguished  inltaly  asLatinandltalian  poets.  They 
were  the  sons  of  Francesco  Amaltheo,  Professor  of 
Belles  Lettres  at  Sacile,  and  flourished  about  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century. 

Girolamo,  or  Jerome,  was  born  at  Oderzo,  in  the 
Trevisan,  in  1506.  His  father  instructed  him  in  the 
Latin  and  Greek  languages,  as  well  as  in  the  arts  and 
sciences  of  the  times;  and  such  was  his  progress  ia 
these  studies,  that  he  was  soon  created  doctor  of  philo- 
so!)hy  and  medicine  in  the  university  of  Padua.  In  the 
26th  year  of  his  age  (1532,)  he  was  appointed  to  teach 
medicine  in  that  seminary,  and  iu  the  following  year  be 


56a 


AMA 


AMA 


was  chosen  lecturer  on  moral  philosophy.  In  (his  eitaa- 
tion,  however,  he  did  not  coutinue  long.  He  returned 
to  Oderzo,  and  in  1330  settled  as  a  physician  in  Ceneda, 
from  which  he  removed  to  Serravallein  1539.  Here  his 
reputation  ivas  so  great,  that  in  1542  he  was  solicited 
by  the  queen  of  Poland  to  be  her  physician  ;  but  he  de- 
ciiacd  this  honour,  and  continued  in  the  exercise  of  his 
profession  at  Serravalle.  The  infirmities  of  age  had  now 
begun  to  render  the  duties  of  a  physician  too  laborious, 
and  he  therefore  determined  to  retire  in  1358  to  his  na- 
tive city,  where  he  died  on  the  13th  September,  1574,  in 
Ike  67th  year  of  his  age,  amid  the  regrets  of  all  who 
knew  him.  His  fellow  citizens  were  so  sensible  of  his 
talents  and  virtues,  that  they  erected  a  aiouument  to  his 
memory,  with  the  following  epitaph  : 

HiERONTMO  AmALTHEO, 

Consummate;  PcniTi.E, 

Medico  et  Poet.e, 

Alteri  AroLLiNr, 

CivES  Opitercini 

P.  P. 

Muretus,  in  a  letter  to  Lambinus,  considers  Anialtheo 
as  the  best  Italian  poet  and  physician  that  was  then  alive. 
His  Oigantomachia  has  been  much  admired  ;  and  the  fol- 
lowing epigram  ou  "  Aeon  and  Leonilla"  has  been  highly 
praised : 

Lumine  Aeon  dcxfro,  capta  est  Leonilla  sinistro  j 
Et  potemt  forma  vincere  iiterque  Divos. 
Parre  puer.  Lumen  quod  habes  concede  sorori ; 
Sic  tu  cxcus  Amor,  sic  erit  ilia  Venus. 

The  following  translation,  which  may  be  acceptable 
1o  many  of  our  readers,  conveys  the  meaning,  though 
not  the  point  of  the  original : 

Of  the  right  eye  fair  Aeon  was  bereft. 

And  Leonilla  too  had  lost  the  left ; 

Yet  beautv,  greater  than  the  gods  can  show, 

Smiled  on  their  chei-ub  cheeks  with  heavenly  glow. 

Then,  lovely  Aeon,  do  not  now  deny 

To  Leonilla  thy  heart-piercing  eye  ; 

That  thou,  blind  Cupid,  by  the  gift,  may  prove. 

And  she  may  stand  confessed  the  Queen  of  Love. 

Oiambatista,  or  John  Baptist  Amaltheo,  was  bom  at 
Odereo,  in  the  year  1525.  He  studied  at  Padua,  and 
made  such  an  early  and  rapid  progress  in  the  belles 
lettres,  and  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  that  he 
has  received  the  highest  encomiums  from  the  most  cele- 
brated writers,  and  has  been  honoured  with  a  place  in 
Scultetus's  Teatro  deW  crudita  Gioventu,  "  Theatre  of 
learned  young  men."  In  1546,  he  was  called  to  Venice 
fo  instruct  the  youth  of  the  noble  family  of  Lippomana. 
It  appears,  however,  from  his  letters,  that  he  left  this 
situation  about  1 530,  when  he  went  to  Milan ;  and  that 
in  1554,  he  accompanied  the  Venetian  ambassatlor  Mi- 
chele  to  England.  In  1560,  he  was  made  secretary  to 
the  republic  of  Ragusa.  In  1561,  he  returned  to 
Venice  ;  and  in  the  same  year  he  went  to  Rome,  at  the 
request  of  his  friend  Paulus  Manutius.  Here  his  lite- 
rary reputation  obtained  him  universal  notice ;  and  he 
was  appointed  to  many  lucrative  places  and  pensions, 
which  he  enjoyed  till  the  day  of  his  death.  He  was 
made  a  Roman  citizen ;  secretary  to  Pius  IV.  a  knight 
of  the  order  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  secretary  to  the  car- 
dinals deputed  to  the  council  of  Trent.  Being  seized 
with  catarrh, he  died  at  Rome,  in  the  month  of  February, 
J573.    He  wrote  eclogues,  elegies,  aad  epigrams,  both 


in  the  Latin  Sud  Italian  language.  He  began  a  (ragedy, 
called  Ino ;  and  his  letters  are  pulDlished  in  the  Haccot- 
ta  delta  Ldtere  Volgari  di  diversi  Venez.  1567. 

Cornelio  Anialtheo  was  also  a  good  Latin  poet.  He 
was  employed  along  with  Paulus  Manutius,  and  Poggia- 
no,  to  reduce  the  Roman  Catechism  into  pure  Latin. 

The  poems  of  these  three  brothers  have  been  collect- 
ed in  the  DelUm  Poctarum  Ilalorum ;  and  have  also 
been  published  separately,  under  the  title  of  Trium  Fra- 
trumAmalthcorum  Carmina.     Venet.  1627.     (o) 

AM  AND,  Mark  Anthony  Gerard,  SiEua  de 
Saint,  a  member  of  the  French  academy,  and  a  cele- 
brated French  poet,  was  born  at  Rouen  in  1594.  His 
father,  whose  surname  was  Gerard,  served  in  the  Eng- 
lish navy  during  the  reign  of  queen  Elizabeth,  and  com- 
manded a  squadron  of  her  fleet  for  22  years.  He  was 
admitted  into  the  French  academj"  at  its  establishment 
in  1633  ;  and  in  1C37,  he  obtained  leave,  at  his  own  re- 
quest, to  be  freed  from  the  obligation  of  making  an  in- 
troductory speech,  on  condition  that  he  should  collect 
the  grotesque  and  burlesque  terms  for  the  Dictionary 
undertaken  by  the  academy.  Amand,  as  he  himself  in- 
forms us,  travelled  during  his  youth  in  America  and 
Africa.  He  came  to  England  in  1643,  in  the  retinue  of 
count  Harcourt,  ambassador  from  the  French  court ;  but 
we  are  not  informed  in  what  capacity  he  accompanied 
the  ambassador.  In  1647,  he  sent  a  portion  of  his  poem 
called  Moyse  Sauve,  or  Moses  Saved,  to  Mary  Louisa 
Gonzago,  queen  of  Poland,  who  was  married  in  1 645  to 
king  Sigismond;  and  in  1647,  to  Casimir,  his  brother 
and  successor.  The  Polish  queen  seems  to  have  been 
highly  pleased  with  St.  Amand's  present,  as  he  was,  in 
1 641,  by  the  interest  of  the  Abbe  de  Marolles,  appointed 
gentleman  in  ordinary  of  the  queen's  chamber,  with  an 
annual  pension  of  3000  livres.  He  immediately  set  out 
for  Poland,  to  occupy  his  new  situation ;  but  he  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  confined  by  the  scouts  of  St.  Omer's; 
so  that  he  did  not  arrive  in  Poland  till  the  year  1650. 
Here  St.  Amand  remained  only  for  a  short  time  ;  and, 
from  motives  with  which  we  are  not  acquainted,  he  re- 
turned to  his  native  country  in  1654,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  his  days  in  the  metropolis  of  France.  From  a  pas- 
sage in  the  first  satire  of  Boileau,  it  would  appear,  that 
the  pension  from  the  Polish  queen  was  withdrawn  from 
St.  Amand : 

Saint  Amand  n'eut  du  eiel  que  sa  veine  en  partage, 
L'habit  qu'il  eut  sur  lui  fut  son  seul  heritage  ; 
Un  lit  et  deux  placets  coroposoient  tout  son  bien, 
Ou,  pour  en  mieux  parler.  Saint  Amand  n'avoit  ricn. 

In  the  early  part  of  his  life,  Amand  abandoned  himself 
to  the  most  licentious  pleasures;  but  he  seems  to  hare 
been  afterwards  reformed,  either  from  a  conviction  of  his 
errors,  or  from  the  penury  of  his  circumstances.  He 
died  at  Paris  in  1661,  in  the  67th  year  of  his  age.  The 
works  published  by  Amand  are,  1 .  IjCS  Oeuvres  de  St. 
Amand,  3  vols.  Paris,  1627, 1643, 1049.  2.  Stances  /nir 
la  Grossesse  de  la  Reine  de  Pologne  et  de  Suede,  1 650.  3^ 
Mot/se  Saut!t,Jth/iie  Heroime,  Paris,  1653, 1660.  A.  Stan- 
ces a  M.  Comeille  stir  son  imitation  de  Jesus  Christ.  Paris, 
1 656.  5.  Rome  Ridicule.  6.  A  poem  on  The  Moon,  in 
which  he  complimented  Louis  XI  V.on  his  skill  in  swim- 
ming. The  French  king,  it  is  said,  could  not  bear  to 
hear  this  poem  read;  a  circumstance  which  so  mortified 
St.  Amand,  that  he  died  soon  alter. — See  Hist,  de  CAcad. 
Franc,  par  Pelisson,  p.  101.  and  Olivet's  edition,  1730, 
p.  61.     Boileau's  RefUctimi  Crit.  sur  L«ngin.  c.  8.  (o) 


AMA 


AMA 


5t)7 


AM  ARANTE,  the  name  of  an  order  of  knighthood, 
instituted  in  16fi3,  by  Cliristiiia  queen  of  Sweden,     (w) 

AMARANTHUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Mo- 
noecia  and  order  Pentandria.     See  Botany,     (w) 

AMARYLLIS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Hexan- 
dria  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany.     (»») 

AM  ASIA,  Amasich,  or  Amasha,  the  capital  of  Ama- 
sia,  a  division  of  Asiatic  Tuikey.  It  is  situated  in  the 
midst  of  steep  and  rugged  uiuuutains,  on  the  river  Shi- 
zilermak,  or  Jekil-Ermak,  which  empties  itself  into  the 
Black  sea.  It  is  the  residence  of  the  governor  of  Cag- 
herbag,  and  also  of  the  eldest  son  of  the  grand  signior, 
till  he  is  invited  to  the  throne.  The  town  is  large  and 
populous,  and  still  exhibits  some  remains  of  the  magni- 
ficence which  it  formerly  derived  from  being  the  seat  of 
tlie  kings  of  Cappadocia.  It  is  defended  by  a  castle, 
situated  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice.  There  is  only  one 
mosque  at  Amasia,  the  greater  part  of  the  inhabitants 
being  Christians.  The  vines  cultivated  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood furnish  excellent  wine,  resembling  sherry. 
This  town  is  said  to  have  given  birth  to  the  celebrated 
Straho,  and  also  to  the  Ottoman  emperor  Selim  I.  Long. 
36"  10'.  N.  Lat.  40°  44'.     (o) 

AMASIAH,  king  of  Judab,  succeeded  his  father 
Joash  in  the  25th  year  of  his  age ;  and  in  the  year  before 
Christ  839.  At  the  commencement  of  his  reign,  he 
showed  some  reverence  to  divine  authority  ;  and  when 
he  punished  the  murderers  of  his  father,  he  spared 
their  families  from  a  regard  to  the  law  of  Moses,  and 
with  a  clemency  not  very  common  in  those  times.  {Deut. 
xxiv.  10.)  He  soon  became  intoxicated  by  his  great 
power  and  brilliant  successes  against  the  Idumseans,  and 
was  so  very  infatuated,  that  he  attached  himself  to  the 
idols  of  that  conquered  people.  Before  his  expedition 
into  Edom,  he  had  dismissed,  by  the  advice  of  a  prophet, 
100,000  troops,  whom  he  had  hired  from  the  king  of 
Israel ;  and  they  considering  their  discharge  as  an  in- 
sult, ravaged  his  territories  in  a  cruel  manner,  on  their 
return  home.  Returning  victorious,  and  elated  by  his 
conquests,  he  sought  rejiaration  for  this  offence,  by 
sending  a  haughty  defiance  to  Joash,  king  of  Israel. 
This  prince,  e(|ually  proud  of  his  power,  and  convinced 
of  his  invincibility,  and  having  just  concluded  a  very 
eucccssful  war  against  the  Syrians,  held  the  king  of 
Judah  in  the  utmost  contempt ;  and  answered  his  chal- 
lenge by  a  very  sarcastic  fable.  (2  Kings  xiv.  9.)  Ama- 
siah,  swelling  with  indignation,  hastened  to  the  contest, 
and  met  his  enemy  at  Eethshemesh.  His  troops  were 
struck  with  a  panic  at  the  first  onset ;  fled  without 
making  any  resistance,  and  left  him  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  Joash.  This  conqueror,  pursuing  his  victory, 
marched  straight  to  Jerusalem  with  his  royal  captive ; 
plundered  the  palace  and  temple ;  broke  down  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  walls  of  the  city ;  and  then  left 
the  humbled  Amasiah  at  liberty  in  his  ruined  capital. 
About  15  years  subsequent  to  this  defeat,  he  was  cut  off 
by  a  conspiracy  in  the  29th  year  of  his  reign. — 2  Kitigs, 
chap.  xiv.  2  Chrmi.  xxiv.  and  xxv.  Joseph.  Antiq.  1. 
ix.  c.  10.     Anc.  Un.  Hist.  vol.  iv.  1.  1.  c.  7.     (q) 

AMASIS,  a  king  of  the  Egyptians,  began  to  reign  in 
the  year  before  Christ  569.  Prom  the  station  of  a  com- 
mon soldier,  he  became  one  of  the  principal  officers  in 
the  court  of  Apries.  A  number  of  the  Egyptians  having 
rebelled  against  the  authority  of  that  prince,  Amasis 
was  sent  to  appease  the  insurgents,  and  bring  them  back 
to  their  allegiance.  While  he  was  addressing  them, 
according  to  his  instructions,  they  place<}  a  crown  upon 


his  head,  and  proclaimed  him  king  of  Egypt.  Amasis 
accepted  the  dignity,  put  himself  at  their  head,  and  was 
soon  joined  by  the  greater  part  of  his  countrymen. 
Apries  retired  to  Upper  Egypt,  where  he  maintained 
himself  for  several  years.  In  the  mean  time,  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, king  of  Babylon,  taking  advantage  of  these  in- 
testine divisions,  invaded  Egypt  with  a  powerful  army, 
overran  the  whole  country,  and  at  length,  having  entered 
info  a  treaty  with  Amasis,  left  him  as  his  deputy,  in 
possession  of  the  kingdom,  (A.  C.  569.)  After  the  de- 
parture of  the  Babylonians,  Apries  collected  a  body  of 
troops,  and  attempted  to  recover  the  throne  of  Egypt ; 
but  was  defeated,  taken  prisoner,  and  strangled  by  Ama- 
sis. The  new  king,  about  the  beginning  of  his  reign, 
was  in  danger  of  being  despised  by  his  subjects  on  ac- 
count of  his  low  extraction ;  but  he  speedily  conciliated 
their  affections  by  his  mild  and  beneficent  conduct.  It 
is  said  also,  that  he  removed  their  prejudices  by  the  fol- 
lowing device  :  He  caused  a  golden  vessel,  in  which  he 
was  accustomed  to  wash  his  feet,  to  be  moulded  into  the 
statue  of  a  divinity ;  and,  when  the  Egyptians  were 
paying  their  adorations  to  this  idol,  he  reminded  them, 
that  in  the  same  manner  as  they  worshipped  this  statue 
in  its  present  form,  though  its  materials  had  once  com- 
posed a  vessel  employed  in  the  meanest  services,  so  they 
ought  to  respect  him  as  their  prince,  though  be  had 
formerly  filled  an  obscure  place  among  them.  He 
greatly  improved  and  beautified  the  country  of  Egypt ; 
and  erected  a  magnificent  temple  to  Isis.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  the  author  of  that  law  which  Solon  afterwards 
borrowed  from  the  Egyptians,  and  recommended  to  the 
Athenians;  viz.  That  every  person,  under  pain  of  death, 
should  annually  state,  before  a  magistrate,  what  was  his 
employment,  and  how  he  subsisted.  He  continued  to 
reign  in  Egypt,  highly  respected  and  beloved  by  his  sub- 
jects, for  the  space  of  44  years  ;  and  died  while  Camby- 
ses  was  preparing  to  invade  his  kingdom,  in  the  year  be- 
fore Christ  526.  See  Hcrodot.  1.  ii.  Diod.  Siculus.  1.  i. 
part  ii.     (q) 

AM  ASONI  A,  or  Amazons,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the 
class  Didynamia,  and  order  Angiospermia.  See  Bota- 
ny,    (w) 

AMATORII  MuscuLi.     See  Anatomy. 

AMAUROSIS,  or  Gutta  Serena,  from  a/ntifurif, 
obscuraiio,  a  disease  in  the  optic  nerve,  which  prevents 
it  from  conveying  to  the  brain  the  impressions  made 
upon  the  retina,     (w) 

AMAZONS,  originally  called  the  Maragnon,  a  river 
of  South  America,  which  takes  its  name  fro>n  a  race  of 
savages  without  beards,  who  inhabit  its  banks,  and  who 
were  at  first  regarded  as  women  by  the  Europeans.  It 
is  one  of  the  largest  in  the  world,  and  is  distinguished  by 
the  length  of  its  course ;  the  number  of  its  tributary 
streams ;  and  the  mass  of  waters  which  it  rolls  to  the 
sea. 

From  the  latest  accounts,  it  appears,  that  the  primary 
stream  is  the  Apurimac,  which  has  its  origin  near  the 
town  of  Arequipa,  in  Peru,  on  the  western  side  of  the 
lake  Tificaca,  and  in  Lat.  1 6"  30'  South.  According  to 
Ulloa,  however,  the  Maragnon  issues  from  the  lake 
Lauricocha,  not  far  from  the  city  of  Guanuco,  in  Lat. 
11"  South,  and  about  90  miles  from  Lima.  From  the 
lake  Lauricocha,  it  runs  tov/ards  the  south  ;  and  bending 
eastwards  through  the  country  of  Jauja,  it  passes  on  the 
north  of  the  city  of  Jaen.  It  then  proceeds  in  its  long 
course  towards  the  east,  and  falls  into  the  Atlantic,  after 
»  progress  irbich,  including  its  different  windings,  is 


r>68 


AMA 


AMA 


not  less  Ihan  3300  miles.  But  as,  in  a  very  early  part  of 
its  course,  it  is  joined  by  the  Apurimac,  a  river  of  much 
greater  Eize,  lliis  last  is  unquestionably  to  be  considered 
as  the  original  and  proper  Maragnon.  In  its  progress 
towards  tlie  Atlantic,  the  river  of  the  Amazons,  besides 
many  smaller  streams,  receives  from  the  north,  the 
Napo,  the  Izaparana,  the  Upura,  and  the  united  waters 
of  the  Negro,  and  the  Parima;  and  from  the  south,  the 
Yavari,  the  Yutay,  the  Teli,  the  Puruz,  and  the  great 
Madeira,  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Marmori  and 
the  Ytenas.  Many  of  these  rivers  have  a  course  of  500 
or  000  miles  :  and  some  of  them  are  not  inferior  in  point 
of  size  to  the  Danube,  or  the  Nile.  The  Maragnou 
opens  into  the  Atlantic  almost  under  the  equator;  it  is 
150  miles  in  breadth  at  its  mouth;  and  at  the  distance 
of  1 500  miles  from  the  sea,  it  is  nearly  40  fathoms  deep. 
M.  de  la  Condamine,  who  sailed  down  this  river  in  the 
year  1 743,  found  that  its  descent,  in  a  straight  course  of 
1860  miles,  was  about  1020  English  feet,  or  6i  inches  in 
a  mile.  The  tides  are  perceptible  at  the  distance  of  600 
miles  from  its  mouth  ;  but  only  at  an  elevation  of  90  feet. 
Pinkerton's  Geog.  vol.  iii.  p.  505.  ct  scq.  Philosoph. 
Transact,  vol.  Ixxi.  pp.  39 — 109.  Relation  abreg.  (Tun 
Voyage  dans  rinteritur  de  VAtnerique  Meredion.  par  M. 
de  la  Condamine.  Paris,  1745,  8vo.;  and  Maestricht, 
1778,  Bvo.  Lettere  de  Mad.  Godin,  a  M.  de  la  Conda- 
mine,   (h) 

AMAZONIA, a  large  country  in  South  America,  so 
called  from  tlie  Amazons,  or  female  warriors,  by  whom 
it  was  said  to  be  inhabited.  Amazonia  is  about  1 400 
miles  long,  and  900  broad ;  extending  from  the  equator 
to  about  20"  S.  Lat.  and  ix)unded  on  the  north  by  Terra 
Firma,  and  Guiana;  on  the  east  by  the  Atlantic  ocean 
and  Brasil ;  on  the  south  by  Paraguay  ;  and  on  the  west 
by  Peru.  This  country  was  first  discovered  about  the 
year  1541,  by  Francisco  Ovellana.  This  adventurer  ac- 
companied Gonzalo  Pizarro,  governor  of  Quito,  in  his 
famous  expedition  to  discover  and  subdue  the  countries 
east  of  the  Andes,  After  encountering  incredible  hard- 
ships, they  arrived  at  last  on  the  banks  of  the  Coca,  or 
Napo,  one  of  the  rivers  whose  waters  pour  into  the  river 
of  the  Amazons.  Here  with  infinite  labour  they  con- 
structed a  bark,  which  they  hoped  might  be  useful  in 
carrying  provisions,  anil  in  transporting  them  across  the 
river.  This  vessel  was  manned  with  fifty  soldiers,  un- 
der the  command  of  Ovellana.  By  the  rapidity  of  the 
stream,  they  were  soon  carried  fara-head  of  their  coun- 
trymen ;  and  Ovellana  being  now  beyoud  the  reach  of 
his  commander,  formed  the  bold,  though  treacherous 
design  of  deserting  him,  and  of  making  new  conquests 
and  discoveries.  With  this  view,  he  suffered  the  ves- 
sel to  be  carried  down  the  stream ;  and  after  a  voyage 
of  seven  months,  attended  with  many  perilous  adven- 
tures, he  at  last  reached  the  ocean  in  safety.  From 
thence  he  proceeded  to  Spain,  and  filled  all  Europe  with 
the  account  of  his  extraordinary  adventures.  The 
world  was  at  that  time  prepared  to  receive  the  most 
wonderful  accounts,  and  Ovellana  gave  them  an  ample 
•pecimen  of  the  marvellous.  He  pretended  to  have  dis- 
covered nations  so  rich,  that  the  roofs  of  their  houses 
were  covered  with  gold,  and  a  republic  of  women  with 
all  the  warlike  qualities  of  the  ancient  Amazons.  From 
this  extravagant  fable,  the  country  was  called  by 
Europeans  Amazonia,  and  the  Maragnon  was  trans- 
formed into  the  river  of  the  Amazons.  This  river,  by 
its  inundations  during  the  rainy  season,  converts  a  great 


part  of  country,  which  is  generally  flat.  Into  lakes  and 
morasses.  Auiazoniii  abounds  with  all  the  tropical  pro- 
ductions ;  and  though  the  air  is  cooler  than  in  many 
l)laces  lying  under  the  same  latitude,  owing  to  thp 
heavy  rains  and  the  cloudiness  of  the  atmosphere,  yet 
the  climate  appears  to  be  unhealthy.  This  country,  e^ 
cept  where  it  borders  on  the  river,  is  almost  entirely 
unknown  to  Europeans.  The  Spaniards  made  several 
attempts  to  plant  it,  but  always  without  success ;  they  at 
last  deserted  it  entirely,  chiefly  because  they  did  not 
find  what  they  most  valued,  mines  of  gold  and  silver. 
The  nations  on  both  sides  of  the  river  are  numerous  and 
barbarous;  they  are  governed  by  chiefs  or  caziques. 
whose  regalia  are  a  crown  of  feathers,  a  wooden  sword, 
and  a  chain  of  tygers'  teeth  or  claws,  Avhich  hang  round 
the  waist.  The  Portuguese  have  a  few  inconsiderable 
settlements  near  the  mouth  of  the  river;  but  with  the 
exception  of  these,  the  natives  are  in  the  sole  posses- 
sion of  the  country.  M,  de  la  Condamine  explored 
Amazonia,  so  far  at  least  as  it  touches  on  the  river,  in 
the  year  1743,  having  sailed  from  Cuenca  to  Para,  a 
navigation  much  longer  than  that  of  Ovellana.  The 
same  voyage  was  undertaken  in  1769,  by  Madame 
Godin  des  Odinais,  from  motives  of  conjugal  affection. 
The  narrative  of  the  dangers  to  which  she  was  ex- 
j)Osed,  and  of  the  disasters  which  befel  her,  is  one  of 
the  most  singular  and  affecting  stories  in  any  lan- 
guage. See  letter  de  M.  Godin  d  M.  de  la  Conda- 
mine.    (g) 

ABIAZONS,  in  ancient  history,  a  nation  of  female 
warriors,  who  are  said  to  have  formed  a  society  from 
which  men  were  entirely  excluded.  Authors,  however, 
are  not  perfectly  agreed  on  this  point :  Some  inform  us, 
that  the  Amazons  killed  all  their  male  children  as  soon 
as  they  were  born ;  others,  that  they  sent  them  to  their 
fathers :  whilst  others  tell  us,  that  they  kept  them 
amongst  themselves,  and  employed  them  in  spinning, 
and  every  species  of  domestic  drudgery ;  having  pre- 
viously rendered  them  unfit  for  war,  by  luxations  of  the 
hip  bone,  or  by  otherwise  crippling  their  limbs.  This 
was  no  doubt  very  hard  usage,  but  it  was  perfectly  con- 
sistent with  the  steriniess  of  character  ascribed  to  those 
ancient  heroines ;  for  they  do  not  seem  to  have  shown 
much  more  tenderness  for  their  female  progeny.  Their 
first  concern  was  to  sear  off  the  right  breast  of  their 
daughters,  that  it  might  not  impe<le  their  exertions 
in  the  use  of  the  bow  and  the  javelin.  If  any  of  our 
readers  should  be  disposed  to  wonder  how  the  nation 
of  the  Amazons  should  subsist  and  flourish  without 
having  any  men  amongst  them,  we  must  inform  them, 
that  the  Amazens  were  sufliciently  industrious  in  keep- 
ing up  the  race  ;  and  as  they  held  an  opinion,  which  still 
very  generally  prevails,  that  '■^ fortes generatur fortibus^' 
they  scrupled  not  to  travel  some  hundreds  of  miles  to 
meet  with  heroes  whom  they  thought  wortliy  of  peo- 
pling their  singular  republic.  Plutarch,  in  his  life  of 
Pompey,  informs  us,  that  they  lived  two  months  in  the 
year  witli  a  neighbouring  nation,  with  the  patriotic  view, 
no  doubt,  of  procuring  recruits  for  the  stale ;  for  it 
would  be  injustice  to  the  heroines  of  whom  we  are 
speaking,  to  ascribe  to  them  any  other  feeling. 

The  chief  seat  of  the  Amazons  was  on  the  river 
Thermoddon,  which  falls  into  the  Euxinc,  or  Black  Sea. 
But  Diodorus  Biculus  mentions  another  race  of  Ama- 
zons, who  inhabited  the  western  parts  of  Libya,  and 
whom  iie  represents  as  more  ancient  than  tliose  who 


umA 


AMAZONS. 


BUA 


869 


lived  near  tlie  Thermodou.  Polyasnus*  speaks  of  the 
Amazons  in  India.  Others^  say,  that  they  dwelt  in 
Ethiopia.  They  are  said  atone  time  to  have  possessed 
all  louia:};.  We  also  read  of  their  being  settled  in  Italy. 
Those,  however,  whose  exploits  are  cliiefly  recorded, 
are  the  Amazons  on  the  Black  Sea.  They  were  attack- 
ed by  Hercules ;  and  as  this  hero  was  always  invincible, 
they  were  of  course  overcome.  To  be  revenged  for 
this  unprovoked  aggression,  they  resolved  to  carry  their 
arms  into  Greece.  After  many  perilous  adventures, 
they  at  last  arrive  at  Athens,  and  fall  furiously  on  the 
troops  that  came  out  to  oppose  them.  On  this  occa- 
sion we  are  told,  the  Athenians  would  have  been  utterly 
routed,  for  they  had  already  shamefully  turned  their 
backs  to  women,  had  not  timely  succours  come  to  their 
relief,  which  enabled  them  to  repel  these  furious  in- 
Taders.  This  happened  in  the  time  of  Theseus ;  and  so 
calamitous  did  this  enterprise  prove  to  the  Amazons, 
that  we  are  told  their  very  name  became  extinct : 
T«ii  eavTUt  jTJtTfiJ"*  ^i»  Ti|F  rvft-^t^iti  uiaivft,tf  ivtitirtii. — 
Ltsias.  We  should,  therefore,  expect  after  this,  to 
hear  no  more  of  their  exploits.  They  are  again,  how^- 
ever,  brought  into  action  in  the  Trojan  war.  Homer 
represents  them  as  coming  to  the  assistance  of  Priam, 
find  Virgil  celebrates  the  achievements  of  their  queen 
Penthesilea,  iu  the  defence  of  Troy  : 

JOucit  ^maxonidum  lunatis  agmina  peltit, 
Penthesika  furent,  mediisgue  in  millibus  ardel, 

Axirca  subriectens  exscrix  uns^ula  mamma;. 

JEkew,  i.  405. 

We  hear  little  more  of  the  Amazons  till  the  time  of 
Alexander  the  Great.  As  if  the  history  of  his  exploits 
was  not  sufficiently  marvellous,  liis  historians  must  make 
him  have  an  interview  with  the  queen  of  the  Amazons. 
The  visit  on  the  part  of  the  lady,  was  avowedly  for  the 
purpose  of  an  assignation.  T-ut  on  this  occasion,  the 
king  was  wofully  deficient  in  gallantry;  he  began  to 
talk  of  war,  instead  of  listening  to  the  soft  tales  of  love ; 
and  it  was  only  after  thirteen  days'  earnest  solicitation, 
that  the  fair  petitioner  succeeded  in  softening  his  callous 
heart.  After  all,  however,  admitting  the  reality  of  this 
adventure,  we  do  not  think  that  it  aflbrds  any  sufficient 
proofs  either  of  Alexanders  insensibility  to  female 
charms,  or  of  his  great  moderation  with  regard  to  the 
sex,  as  some  of  his  eulogists  have  pretended ;  for  the 
appearance  of  Thalestris,  the  queen  of  the  Amazons, 
was  certainly  not  very  prepossessing.  She  leaped  from 
her  horse,  bridishing  two  javelins  in  her  hand,  and 
casting  on  the  king  a  look  of  intrepidity,  mixed  with 
some  contempt  on  surveying  his  rather  diminutive  per- 
son. With  such  a  figure  as  this,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
Alexander  should  think  of  war  rather  than  of  dalliance  ; 
and  that  he  should  revolt  at  the  idea  of  having  his  heart 
taken  by  storm.     See  Q.  Curt.  1.  vi.  c.  5. 

From  this  period,  the  Amazonian  heroines  seem  to 
have  been  almost  entirely  forgotten ;  and  indeed,  con- 
sidering their  peculiar  habits,  we  may  well  be  surprised 
how  they  should  have  existed  so  long.  Plutarch,  in  his 
life  of  Pompey,  makes  the  last  attempt  to  draw  them 
into  view.  He  says  it  was  repoited,  that  the  Amazons 
came  to  the  assistance  of  the  Albanians  against  the  Ro- 
mans, and  that  they  fought  stoutly  in  an  engagement 
which  took  place  between  these  two  nations.  He  con- 
fesses, however,  that  the  only  proofs  which  the  Ro- 


mans had  of  the  Amazons  being  present  in  the  battle, 
arose  from  some  shields  and  buskins,  which  were 
found  after  the  engagement,  and  were  supposed  to 
belong  to  the  Amazons;  but  he  candidly  acknow- 
ledges, that  there  was  not  a  woman  found  among  the 
slain. 

Our  readers  have  probably  anticipated  our  judg- 
ment respecting  this  singular  community.  We  confess 
that  we  attach  the  same  degree  of  credit  to  the  history 
of  the  Amazons,  as  we  do  to  that  of  the  Cynocephali, 
or  people  with  dogs' heads,  mentioned  by  Herodotus; 
or  to  the  Cyclops,  Centaurs,  and  Gorgons,  mentioned 
by  almost  all  the  Greek  authors.  We  are  sensible,  that 
a  host  of  authorities  may  be  mustered  against  us  ;  and 
that  Homer,  Herodotus,  Diodorus  Siculus,  and  fifty 
others,  may  be  brought  in  formidable  phalanx  to  overset 
our  narrow  scruples.  We  are  also  sensible  of  the  dan- 
ger of  disbelieving  every  thing  that  does  not  accowl  with 
our  experience  or  our  prejudices ;  but  after  all,  we  can- 
not think  that  we  are  bound  to  believe, 


-Quicquid  Grcecia  mendax 


Axidet  in  hittoria- 

In  spite,  too,  of  the  learning  of  Petit,  the  credulity  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  and  all  the  instances  of  Amazonian  prow- 
ess which  may  be  deduced  from  modern  history,  we  are 
still  forced  to  retain  our  skepticism.  We  are  glad  we 
have  on  our  side  respectable  ancient  authorities  for 
pronouncing  the  whole  story  of  the  Amazons  to  be  a 
fable.  Plutarch,  who  is  as  much  addicted  to  gossipping 
as  most  of  his  Grecian  brethren,  is  nevertheless  forced 
to  yield  to  the  dictates  of  common  sense,  and  to  give  up 
some  of  the  most  prominent  parts  of  the  history  of  the 
Amazons asincredible.  wt^upximhiKt ia-vIm »ai^x»Tft.aTi. 
In  Theseo,  p.  13.  It  is  evidcnth/  a  rmnance  and  a  fable. 
Pal«3phatus,  a  man  of  much  good  sense,  and  who  made  a 
laudable  attempt  to  free  the  history  of  his  country  from 
the  rubbish  of  fiction,  gives  no  credit  to  the  accounts  con- 
cerning the  Amazons.  'SiT^a.Tcixi  ^tyvitci^im  nhxoT!  tixat 
j^titrtac  nit  ya,^  »»»  nixftu.  It  is  not  likely  that  a  race  of 
female  warriors  ever  existed;  nor  are  they  now  any  nlure 
to  be  found.  Strabo  is  still  more  explicit,  and  seems 
indignant  that  such  an  absurdity  should  have  obtained 
currency  so  long  .  His  authority  is  entitled  to  particular 
regard,  as  he  was  anativeof  Cappadocia,one  of  the  coun- 
tries which  the  Amazons  were  said  to  have  possessed, 
and  where  it  was  most  likely  that  traces  of  their  his- 
tory might  be  found;  yet  he  thus  expresses  himself: 
"  Many  stories  have  a  mixture  of  truth ;  and  most  ac- 
counts admit  of  some  variation.  But  the  history  of  the 
Amazons  has  been  uniformly  the  same ;  the  whole  a 
monstrous  and  absurd  detail,  without  the  least  share  of 
probabilitj%  For  who  can  be  persuaded,  thatacommunity 
of  women,  either  as  an  army,  or  a  city,  or  a  state,  could 
subsist  without  men ;  and  not  only  subsist,  but  make 
expeditions  into  other  countries,  and  gain  the  sove- 
reignty over  kingdoms ;  not  merely  over  the  lonians 
and  those  who  were  in  their  neighbourhood;  but  to 
pass  the  seas,  and  carry  their  arms  into  Europe.  To 
accede  to  this,  were  to  suppose,  that  nature  varied  fron* 
her  fixed  principles ;  and  that  in  those  days  women  were 
men,  and  men  women."  Lib.  xi.  p.  770. 

We  are  not  sure,  however,  but  that  Strabo  go«s 
somewhat  further  on  this  subject  than  we  should  choose 
to  follow  him.  The  authorities  which  have  been  already 


Vol.  I. 


•  Lib. 

Part  II. 


,p.  11. 


t  Schol  in.  AptUon,  h.  ii.  v.  S6G. 


t  Steph.  Byzaot 
4  C 


570 


AMB 


AMB 


quoted,  seem  sufficiently  to  prove,  that  there  was  a  race 
of  people  called  Amazonides,  that  they  sent  out  colonies, 
and  had  extensive  possessions.  If  there  is  any  depend- 
ence at  all  on  ancient  history,  this  point  seems  to  be 
clearly  made  out.  We  do  not,  therefore,  (lispute  the 
existence  of  the  Amazonians ;  we  only  question  their  at- 
tributes; that  is,  we  deny  that  they  were  a  community 
of  women,  or  that  they  either  maimed  the  legs  of  their 
sons,  or  cut  off  the  breasts  of  their  daughters. 

How  then,  it  may  be  asked,  has  this  improbable  fiction 
arisen  ?  We  need  not  go  far  for  a  solution ;  the  plastic 
genius  of  the  Greeks  was  equal  to  much  more  than  this, 
and  has  produced  stories  much  more  unaccountable. 
But  as  most  fables  have  either  their  origin  in  truth,  or 
arise  from  etymological  deductions,  or  allegorical  inter- 
pretations, it  might  be  interesting  to  inquire,  how  the 
story  of  the  Amazons  has  arrived  at  such  an  overgrown 
height  of  absurdity  ?  and  though  we  are  far  from  enter- 
taining the  presumptuous  hope  of  explaining  half  the 
aberrations  of  the  human  understanding,  yet  ancient  his- 
tory seems  to  supply  sufficient  materials  for  explaining 
the  Amazonian  legends.  Herodotus,  (lib.  iv.  c.  110.) 
for  instance,  tells  us,  that  the  Amazons  were  called, 
amongst  the  Scythians,  Oiorpala.  Mr.  Bryant,  in  con- 
formity witii  his  favourite  system,  tells  us  that  Oiorpata 
signifies  the  priests  or  worship|)ers  of  Orus.  But  Hero- 
dotus says,  that  it  is  compounded  of  two  words,  Oior,  a 
inan  ;  and  Pala,  to  kill ;  consequently  the  word  Oior- 
pata, is  the  same  as  'A» J)f «kt«fo{,  man-killer.  We  believe 
this  to  be  the  origin  of  the  fable  about  the  Amazons 
killing  their  husbands ;  but  we  are  persuaded  that  the 
name  was  not  given  them  on  that  account,  but  because 
they  were  notorious  for  the  barbarous  custom  prevalent 
amongst  the  savage  nations  of  autiquity,  of  sacrificing 
the  unfortunate  strangers  who  happened  to  be  cast  on 
their  shores.  The  notion  of  their  being  women,  of 
their  cutting  off  their  breasts,  &:c.  arose  from  another 
blunder  in  etymology.  The  Greeks,  who  never  went 
beyond  their  own  language  for  the  origin  of  any  term, 
supposed  that  the  word  Amazon  was  compounded  of  ct, 
piiv.  and  fn»^««,  a  breast.  Here  then  were  ample  mate- 
rials for  a  fertile  imagination,  to  paint  women  without 
breasts,  murderers  of  their  husbands,  and  delighting  in 
war  and  bloodshed,  together  with  the  whole  tissue  of 
absurdities  interwoven  with  this  improbable  story.  Who- 
ever is  acquainted  with  the  structure  of  Grecian  fables, 
must  be  convinced,  that  many  of  the  most  celebrated 
stories  of  the  ancient  mythology,  were  founded  on  cir- 
cumstances not  more  substantial  than  those  which  have 
been  slated  as  the  origin  of  the  Amazonian  history. 
They  who  wish  for  further  information  respecting  the 
Amazons,  may  consult  the  authors  quoted  or  referred  to 
in  this  article ;  particularly  in  favour  of  the  common  ac- 
counts, Petri  Petiti,  Philosophi  et  Medici,  tie  Amazmi- 
bus  Disscrtatio  lLM\.ei\?R  Parisior.  1605.  Against  them, 
Bryant's  Mythology,  vol.  i.  p.  52.  and  vol.  v.  p.  110.  3d 
edit.  \g) 

The  Hindus  have  also  had  their  Strirajya,  or  country 
governed  hy  women.  They  assert  that  the  sovereign 
of  it  was  always  a  queen,  and  that  all  her  oflTicers,  civil 
and  military,  were  females,  while  the  great  body  of  the 
nation  lived  as  in  other  countries ;  but  they  have  not  in 
this  respect  carried  the  extravagance  of  the  fal)le  to  the 
name  pitch  with  the  Greeks.  It  is  related  in  one  of 
tbeir  ancient  books,  that  when  Ravana  was  ap|)rchensive 
of  being  totally  defeated,  he  sent  bis  wires  to  distant 


countries,  where  they  might  be  secure ;  that  they  first 
settled  on  the  Indian  peninsula, near  the  site  of  Sriranga- 
pattana,  or  Seringapatam  ;  but  that  being  disturbed  in 
that  station,  part  of  them  proceeded  to  the  north  of 
Dwaraca^in  Gujasat,  and  part  into  Sanc'-hadwipa,  where 
they  formed  a  government  of  women,  whence  their  set- 
tlement was  called  Strirajya.  It  was  on  the  sea-shore 
near  the  Oula  mountains,  extending  about  40  yojanas  in 
length,  and  surrounded  by  low  swampy  grounds,  named 
Jalabhuml  in  Sanscrit,  and  Daldal  in  the  vulgar  idiom. 
Strirajya,  therefore,  must  be  the  country  of  Saba,  now 
Assab,  w  hich  was  governed  by  a  celebrated  queen,  and  the 
land  round  which  has  to  this  day  the  name  of  Tattal.  (.) 

AMBARVALIA,  or  Suevotaurilia,  from  amhio,to 
go  round,  and  arvum,  a  field,  the  name  of  a  ceremoni- 
ous procession  among  the  Romans,  in  honour  of  Ceres. 
In  order  to  induce  this  goddess  to  grant  them  a  good 
harvest,  they  conducted  a  bull,  a  sow,  and  a  sheep,  in 
procession  round  the  ploughed  fields,  and  afterwards 
immolated  these  victims  on  the  altar.  The  itmbarvalia 
were  held  twice  a-year,  in  April  and  July.  In  the  public 
celebration  of  this  festival,  the  twelve  Fralres  Arvolcs 
officiated,  and  marched  at  the  head  of  the  populace,  who, 
crowned  with  oak  leaves,  sung  hymns  in  honour  of 
Ceres.  See  Cato  De  Re  Ruslica,  cap.  141.  Virgil's 
Georg.  lib.  i.  339—345.  Tibullus,  lib.  ii.  Eleg.  i.  19.  (w) 

AMBASSADOR,  the  representative  of  one  sove- 
reign power  at  the  court  of  another.  As  this  is  the 
character  in  which  an  ambassador  has  always  been  view- 
ed, great  difficullies  have  occurred  in  the  Asiatic  king- 
doms concerning  the  reception  of  envoys  from  the  vice- 
roys of  the  Dutch  and  English  possessions,  who  claimed 
the  character  of  ambassadors. 

Special  privileges  are  conferred  by  the  law  of  nations 
on  an  ambassador ;  the  first  of  these  is  his  reception  by 
the  power  to  which  he  is  accredited;  and  therefore  n 
refusal  to  receive  him,  is  regarded  as  a  violation  of  that 
law.  As  soon  as  his  credentials  are  delivered,  he  and 
his  whole  train  are  exempt  from  the  effects  of  the  mu- 
nicipal law  of  the  country  which  he  visits ;  and  hence  it 
is  a  practice  iu  London,  for  persons  of  desperate  fortunes 
to  procure  their  nomination  in  the  suit  of  foreign  ambas- 
sadors, in  order  to  protect  themselves  from  imprison- 
ment for  debt.  In  England,  this  exemption  is  recognized 
by  a  special  statute,  which  sprung  from  the  following 
event :  In  the  year  1 708,  theRussianambassador  having 
been  arrested  for  debt  and  taken  out  of  his  coach,  he 
found  bail,  and  then  complained  to  the  queen.  Seventeen 
persons  concerned  were  prosecuted  by .  the  attorney 
general,  and  convicted;  but  the  question, how  far  they 
had  done  a  criminal  deed,  was  reserved  to  be  argued 
before  the  judges.  In  the  mean  time,  the  emperor  of 
Russia  highly  resented  the  injury,  and  demanded,  that 
not  only  the  whole  private  individuals,  but  also  the  she- 
riff of  Middlesex,  should  be  instantly  put  to  death.  The 
queen  an8^vered,  that  she  could  inflict  no  punishment, 
even  on  the  meanest  subject,  unless  when  warranted  by 
the  laws  of  her  kingdom  ;  but  that  she  had  caused  a  new 
act  to  be  passed,  which  would  guard  against  a  similar 
accident  in  future.  This  act  was  transmitted  by  an  am- 
bassador extraordinary  to  the  Russian  monarch.  In  this 
act,  all  suits  against  an  ambassador  at  the  instance  of  a 
private  person  are  declared  void  ;  pains  or  penalties  are 
decreed  against  the  pursuer,  and  he  is  dejiriveil  of  trial 
by  jury.  But  there  is  a  more  difficult  question,  con- 
cerning the  exemption  of  the  person  of  an  ambassador. 


AMB 


AMB 


571 


6T  the  persona  of  his  suite,  in  the  commission  of  crimes. 
If  guilty  of  treason  against  the  country  that  receives 
him,  an  ambassador  loses  his  privilege.  The  French 
ambassador  was  beheaded  by  the  dulce  of  Milan  for  trea- 
sonable practices.  But  for  offences  of  inferior  degree, 
it  has  been  forcibly  urged,  that  the  right  of  punishment 
resides  in  the  sovereign  of  the  offender,  which  is  cer- 
tainly more  consistent  with  the  general  faith  of  nations. 
At  the  same  time  there  are  instances  of  the  reverse.  In 
1654,  the  brotlier  of  the  Portuguese  ambassador  to  the 
Rnglish  court,  who,  it  is  said,  was  joined  in  the  same 
letters  of  credence,  was  tried  along  with  several  do- 
mestics for  an  atrocious  murder  committed  in  Loudon, 
and  was  condemned  to  lose  his  head  ;  and  this  sentence 
was  put  in  execution  on  the  very  day  that  a  treaty  of 
peace  was  signed  between  the  two  kingdoms.  In  West- 
minster al)bey,  have  been  preserved  for  many  years, 
two  unburied  coffins,  containing  the  bodies  of  two  foreign 
ambassadors,  arrested  after  their  death  for  debt. 

On  a  declaration  of  war,  the  mutual  ambassadors  of 
the  hostile  powers  are  allowed  to  withdraw  in  safety. 
This,  liowevcr,  is  infringed  by  the  barbarous  policy  of 
the  Turkish  government,  which  seizes  the  ambassador, 
to  imprison  him  in  a  castle  in  Constantinople,  called  the 
Seven  Towers.  Tliere  have  Cormerly  been  examf)les 
where  an  ambassador  was  returned  with  the  nose  slit, 
and  his  ears  cut  off;  and  Alexander  the  Great  is  known 
to  have  inflicted  a  cruel  i)unishment  on  the  city  of  Tyre 
for  an  offence  against  his  .ambassadors. 

The  ceremonies  attending  the  reception  of  ambassa- 
dors are  various.  It  is  contrarj'  to  the  customs  of  the 
Birmaii  court  for  an  ambassador  to  leave  his  dwelling 
before  his  first  presentation.  In  China,  an  ambassador 
must  prostrate  himself  nine  times  before  the  throne,  a 
humiliation  towhich  theminister  of  even  Peterthe  Great 
of  Russia  submitted;  but  in  the  recent  mission  from  this 
country,  the  British  ambassador  declined  doing  greater 
homage  to  the  emperor  than  his  own  sovereign  received 
from  his  subjects  :  a  refusal  which  was  reluctantly  sanc- 
tioned. An  ambassador,  at  a  foreign  court,  has  no  pri- 
vate character  of  his  own  ;  he  represents  the  person  of 
his  sovereign  alone;  but  if  he  abuses  his  privleges,  or 
conducts  himself  offensively,  he  may  be  sent  home,  and 
accused  before  his  master,  as  was  done  with  count  Gyl- 
lenberg,  the  Swedish  ambassador  to  London,  in  1716. 

There  are  some  instances  of  females  of  high  rank 
having  been  invested  with  the  di|)lomatic  character.  In 
Europe,  the  French  ambassador,  before  the  revolution, 
was  allowed  the  precedence  in  other  courts  ;  and  in 
France,  the  same  distinction  was  given  to  the  Pope's 
nuncio. — See  Grofius  de  jure  Iielli  et  pacts,  lib.  ii.  cap. 
19.  Vattel,  le  Droit  des  Gens,  1.  4.  Hale,  Placita  Co- 
ronm,  vol.  i.  ji.  99.  Stat.  7.  Jnnc,  c.  12.  Boyer's  Jnmls 
of  Queen  Anne,  Blackstone's  Comnuntaries.  vol.  i.  p.  253. 
vol.  iv.  p,  85.  Hargrave's  State  Trials,  vol.  i.  2.  5.  7.  (c) 

AMBER,  (Bemstejn,  Germ.;  Succin,  Carabe,  Ambre 
.Tamu,  Ft.  ;  EUctrum,  Succimim,  Lat.)  is  a  yellow-co- 
loured inflammable  mineral,  divided  by  W^ernerinto  two 
sub-s[iccies,  viz.  white  and  yellow,  which  are  distin- 
guished from  each  other  by  colour,  external  surface, 
lustre,  fracture,  and  transparency.  During  pulverization 
it  gives  out  a  slight  and  not  unpleasant  odour,  which 
becomes  much  stronger  when  the  mass  is  heated  or 
melted.  It  cannot  be  brought  to  a  fluid  state  without  a 
commencement  of  decomposition,  and  the  volatihzation 
«f  a  part  of  its  acid ;  at  a  little  higher  temperature,  if 


exposed  to  llie  air,  it  talces  fire,  and  burns  with  a  yel- 
lowish flame,  mixed  with  blue  and  green,  exhaling  a 
pungent,  dense,  aromatic  smoke ;  a  light  shining  black 
coal  is  left  behind,  which,  with  some  difficulty,  is  reduci- 
ble to  ashes.  The  proportion  of  residue  varies  consi- 
derably; from  half  a  pound  of  amber,  M.  Bourdelin 
obtained  in  one  instance,  4|  grains  of  ashes,  and  in 
another  12  grains.  Water,  whether  cold  or  hot,  has  no 
effect  on  amber.  Spirit  of  wine,  by  long  digestion,  or 
still  better  by  repeated  distillation  from  finely  pulverized 
amber,  dissolves  a  small  portion,  and  becomes  of  a  deep 
reddish-brown  colour,  forming  the  tincture  of  amber. 
Levigated  amber,  by  slowdigestion,  with  an  equal  weight 
of  caustic  potash  dissolved  in  water,  combines  into  a 
thick  saponaceous  mass,  which  is  readily  soluble  both 
in  water  and  spirit  of  wine ;  with  the  latter  it  forms  the 
tinctura  succini  tartarisata,  once  an  article  of  repute  in 
the  materia  metlica.  Neither  the  expressed  nor  volatile 
oils  have  any  action  on  amber,  by  common  digestion, 
except  this  latter  has  been  previously  roasted  or  melted ; 
when  this  is  the  case,  it  is  readily  soluble  in  both  kinds 
of  oil,  either  separate  or  mixed,  forming  the  base  of 
amber  varnish.  (See  Varnish.)  Hoffman,  however, 
found,  that  if  one  part  of  pulverized  amber  was  put  into 
a  glass  vessel,  with  two  parts  of  oil  of  almonds,  and  the 
whole  enclosed  in  a  Papin's  digester  filled  with  water, 
the  oil  and  amber  in  a  short  time  united  into  a  jelly-like 
mass.     Ether  has  a  slight  action  on  amber. 

When  amber  is  exposed  to  dry  distillation  in  closed 
vessels,  it  swells,  puffs  u[i,  and  discharges  a  large  quan- 
tity of  carbonic  acid  and  carburetted  hydrogen  :  toge- 
ther with  these  gases,  there  comes  over  first  a  colour- 
less empyreuniatic  watery  fluid,  with  a  peculiar,  not  a 
disagreeable  odour,  and  containing  a  little  acetous  acid ; 
this  is  called  spirit  of  amber :  next  follows  a  thin  clear 
yellowish  oil,  smelling  like  rock  oil,  partly  mixed  with 
it,  and  partly  holding  in  solution,  a  crystalline  salt,  the 
acid  of  amber,  or  succinic  acid:  as  the  distillation  goes 
on,  the  oil  becomes  more  coloured,  and  of  a  thicker 
consistence,  so  that  towards  the  end  of  the  process 
it  is  almost  black,  and  somewhat  viscid.  There  re- 
mains in  the  retort  a  black  shining  coal,  which  is  em- 
ployed as  basis  of  the  finest  black  varnish.  The  oil  of 
ajnber  is  separated  from  the  acid,  with  which  it  is  mix- 
ed by  washing  with  warm  water,  and  may  be  further 
purified  by  subsequent  rectification.  This  oil  is  used 
medicinally  only  as  an  ingredient  of  Eau  de  Luce.  See 
Pharmacy. 

Amber,  when  rubbed,  acquires  a  strong  negative  elec- 
trical virtue.  This  property  was  known  to  the  ancients, 
who  termed  amber  clecinim :  from  whence  is  derived 
the  word  electricity. 

Its  geognostic  relations  have  been  accurately  ascer- 
tained. It  is  found  in  flcetz  and  alluvial  rocks,  and  i» 
observed  to  occur  more  abundantly  in  newer  than  older 
formations.  Small  embedded  grains  occur  in  the  slate 
or  oldest  coal  formation  :  the  greatest  quantities  are 
found  in  alluvial  land,  and  there  either  in  beds  of  bitu- 
minous wood  or  earth-coal ;  or  in  the  layers  of  clay  that 
are  interposed  between  the  bituminous  wood  and  earth, 
coal.  It  is  sometimes  found  in  gravel  beds  near  Lon- 
don, and  near  Sisteron,  in  Provence.  It  occurs  also  in 
detached  pieces  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  sea,  on  the 
coasts  of  certain  countries. 

Various  conjectures  have  been  proposed  respecting 
its  origin  and  formation.     By  some  it  is  held  to  be  * 
4  C  2 


*7!? 


»^' 


AMBER. 


vegetable  resin  or  gum ;  others,  as  prol'esBor  Herrab- 
stadt,  consider  it  as  a  mineral  oil,  thickened  by  absorp- 
tion of  oxygen;  Mr.  Parkinson  is  of  opinion,  that  it  is 
inspissated  mineral  oil ;  and  Patrin  maintains,  that  it  is 
honey  modified  by  time,  and  mineral  acids,  which  have 
converted  it  into  bitumen. 

It  occurs  more  abundantly  in  the  northern  parts  of 
Europe  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  globe :  and  jiarti- 
cularly  on  the  shores  of  the  Baltic,  between  Konings- 
berg  and  Memel,  in  East  Prussia.  It  is  also  found  in 
eonsiderable  abundance  in  the  sandy  plains  of  Poland; 
in  the  brown  coal  formation  in  Saxony;  in  rolled  masses 
■with  large  fragments  of  coal,  in  the  gulf  of  Kara,  on  the 
coa&t  of  the  Arctic  ocean  ;  in  the  alluvial  soil  of  Cour- 
land,  LieBand,  Zeeland,  and  Wurtemburg.  There  are 
twominesof  it  in  the  province  of  Asturias  in  Spain;  and 
it  is  found  floating  on  the  coasts  of  the  Baltic,  England, 
Genoa,  and  Sicily*. 

It  very  frequently  includes  bodies  of  different  kinds, 
as  grains  of  sand,  pieces  o(  iron  pyrites,  and  also  insects, 
which,  according  to  Jussieu,  are  not  natives  of  the  con- 
tinent of  Europe.  Born  mentions  a  specimen  of  amber 
containing  a  species  of  gorgonia;  Alexander  Sapieha 
describes  another,  including  the  seed  vessels  of  thept- 
nus  abies ;  in  certain  cabinets  there  are  specimens  in- 
cluding beautiful  pinnated  leaves  resembling  ferns,  and 
euch  are  very  rare  and  of  great  value ;  and  in  others  are 
specimens  including  drops  of  transparent  water,  and  in- 
sects of  different  kinds. 

This  substance  is  either  fished  on  sea  coasts,  or  dug 
«ut  of  the  earth.  After  storms,  on  the  shores  of  the 
Baltic,  great  quantities  of  it  are  observed  floating  on 
the  surface  of  the  sea;  this  is  immediately  collected  by 
means  of  a  particular  kind  of  net,  and  is,  in  general, 
found  to  be  better  than  that  which  is  dug.  The  amber 
mines  are  very  irregular,  consisting  principally  of  in- 
considerable galleries  and  shafts.  As  the  amber  found 
in  the  Prussian  territories  is  the  property  of  the  crown, 
it  is  delivered  by  the  fishers  and  miners  to  the  proper 
pfBcers  at  a  certain  rate,  and  is  by  them  deposited  in  the 
sonber  warehouses,  where  it  is  arranged  and  sold  ac- 
cording to  size  and  colour.  It  is  said,  that  the  Prussian 
government  derives  from  this  article  a  revenue  of  1 7,000 
dollars  annually.  The  largest  and  most  beautiful  pieces 
are  denominated  sorliment.stiicke  ;  the  second  kind  ton- 
ncnstein,  because  they  are  sold  in  tons,  a  particular 
German  weight.  The  smallest  pieces  are  divided  into 
what  are  called  femitz  and  schluck.  The  sortiment- 
stiicke  are  sold  at  300  dollars  the  ton  ;  when  the  pieces 
are  large,  pure,  and  of  good  colour,  they  are  sold  single ; 
a  good  piece,  of  a  pound  weight,  will  sell  for  fifty  dol- 
lars :  pieces  of  two  or  three  pounds  weight  seldom  oc- 
cur. In  the  year  1576,  a  piece  weighing  eleven  pounds 
was  found  in  Prussia,  and  sent  to  Prague,  as  a  present 
to  Rudolph  II.  Very  lately,  a  mass  weighing  thirteen 
pounds  was  also  found  in  Prussia,  for  which  5000  dol- 
lars are  said  to  have  been  offered,  and  which,  the  Arme- 
nian merchants  assert,  would  sell  in  Constantinople  for 
30,000  or  40,000  dollars. 

The  tonnenstein  are  sold  at  233  dollars  the  ton ;  the 
femitz  at  100  dollars  the  ton  ;  and  the  schluck  at  20  dol- 
lars the  ton.     The  three  last  meutictned  kinds  are  dis- 

•  Amber  is  foun<l  in  the  state  of  New  .lersey  in  a 
creek  near  BordentowD,  on  the  river  Delaware,  in  small 
fragments. 


posed  of  to  the  amber  turners  in  Stolpe  and  Konings-. 
berg,  who  again  sell  considerable  quantities  to  the  Jews, 
who  carry  it  to  the  I>evant,  where  it  is  in  great  request. 
Amber  dealers,  however,  sometimes  sultlitute  for  it 
different  gums  and  resins;  also  dried  white  of  eggs, 
and  even  coloured  glass. 

On  account  of  its  beautiful  yellow  colour,  its  great 
transparency,  and  the  fine  polish  it  receives,  it  is  cut 
into  necklaces,  bracelets,  snuff-boxes,  and  other  articles 
of  luxury.  Before  the  discovery  of  the  diamond,  aud 
other  precious  stones  of  India,  it  was  considered  as  the 
most  precious  of  jewels,  and  was  employed  in  all  kinds 
of  ornamental  dress.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  cut 
the  pale-coloured  varieties  into  burning  glasses  and 
lenses  for  microscopes.  See  Bredatier  Sammlungen, 
70.     r«-«/c/i.  1719,  S.  116. 

The  wax  and  honey  yellow  varieties  are  most  highly 
valued,  not  only  on  account  of  their  beauty,  but  because 
they  are  more  solid  than  tli'e  yellowish  white  coloured 
varieties.  Gottlieb  Samuelson  of  Breslau,  and  others, 
invented  methods  of  rendering  opaque  and  dark-coloured 
amber  transparent ;  and  also  of  communicating  to  am- 
ber colours  of  different  kinds,  as  red,  blue,  green,  and 
yellow.  Most  of  these  processes  have  jierished  with 
their  inventors ;  but  the  two  following  were  the  gene- 
ral methods  of  rendering  amber  transparent :  First,  By 
surrounding  it  with  sand  in  an  iron  pot,  aud  cementing 
it  in  a  gentle  heat  for  40  hours,  some  small  pieces  be- 
ing occasionally  taken  out  to  judge  of  the  progress  of 
the  operation.  Secondly,  (which  was  the  usual  method,) 
by  digesting  and  boiling  the  amber  for  about  20  hours 
in  rape-seed  oil,  by  which  it  became  both  clearer  and 
harder ;  amber  thus  clarified,  however,  is  much  less 
electric  than  when  in  its  natural  state. 

When  worked  into  ornaments,  it  is  first  split  on  a 
leaden  plate,  aud  then  turned  on  a  particular  kind  of 
whet-stone  from  Sweden.  The  polishing  is  done  with 
chalk  and  water,  or  chalk  and  vegetable  oil ;  and,  lastly, 
the  work  is  finished  by  rubbing  the  whole  carefully  with 
clean  flannel.  Amber  often  becomes  very  hot,  and 
either  flies  into  pieces,  or  takes  fire  during  the  splitting, 
cutting,  or  polishing.  To  jirevent  this,  workmen  keep 
the  i)iece  but  a  short  time  on  the  wheel,  and  the  work 
is  not  interrupted  by  their  alternating  with  a  great 
many  pieces.  Workmen  are  frequently  seized  with  a 
violent  tremor  in  their  arms  and  body,  evidently  caused 
by  the  electricity  excited  by  the  friction  of  the  amber. 
Watch  cases,  mirror  frames,  sword  handles,  <fcc.  are 
formed,  by  joining  together  several  cut  and  polished 
pieces  of  amber  ;  the  extremities  of  the  different  pieces 
are  streaked  with  linseed  oil,  and  the  w  hole  is  held  over 
a  charcoal  fire,  by  which  means  the  pieces  become  in- 
timately united  together.  It  is  said  that  certain  artists 
possess  the  art  of  softening  amber  to  such  a  degree,  that 
it  can  be  run  into  moulcbs,  and  this  without  injuring  its 
beauty.  Specimens  of  amber,  reported  to  have  been 
liquified  in  this  manner,  are  said  to  be  preserved  in  the 
electoral  cabinet  in  Dresden. 

Much  of  the  amber  of  commerce  is  purchased  by  Ar- 
menians, who  are  believed  to  dispose  of  it  to  the  Egyp- 
tian merchants,  who  carry  it  to  Persia,  China,  and  Ja- 
pan ;  great  quantities  are  also  purchased  by  pilgrims  in 
undertaking  their  journey  to  Mecca;  and  which  Ibey 
burn  at  the  shrine  of  the  prophet  Mahomet.  The  most 
consifierable  amber  manufactures  are  at  Sfolpen,  Ko- 
ningsbirg,  Danzig,  Elbingen,  and  Lubeck.  At  the 
Crst-meBtioned  place,  there  are  macufacturcd  annually 


AMB 


AMB 


573 


amber  ornaments  to  the  value  of  from  50  to  60,000  dol- 
lars. It  is  also  manufactured  in  Constantino|>le,  Leg- 
liorn,  Catauea,  and  Sicily.  See  Isaac  Thilo,  dissa-tatio 
de  sitccino  BorsuAsonnn.  Lijjs.  1663,  4to.  J.  T.  Schenc- 
kis,  Preside,  Dissert,  de  sitccino.  Resp.  Goltrf.  Schultz. 
Jenee,  1671.  -Ito.  Thomas  Bartholinus,  De  siiccino  cx- 
pcrimenta  in  ejus  Act.  Hufniens,  1571  p.  110,  115.  De 
succini  gencratione,  rcsoliUione  et  viribus.  Act.  Hafnicns, 
1673,  p.  306 — 314.  Phil.  Jacob  Hartmann.  Succin. 
Frussici  historia,  p.  291.  Frankforti,  1677.  8vo.  J.  S. 
Elsholtius.  De  sitccino  fossili.  Ephem.  Ac  Nat  Cur. 
Dec.  1.  Ann.  9  and  10.  p.  223—225.  Philippo  R. 
Schroedero  Preside,  Dissert,  de  jure  sitccini  in  Regno 
Bontssice.  Resp.  Jul.  ^gid.  Negelein.  Regiomonti,  1 722. 
L.  Fr.  Henckel.  De  sitccino  fossili  in  Saronia  Electorali, 
Act.  Acad.  Nat.  Curios,  vol.  iv.  p.  31.3 — 316.  Von  dem 
gegrabnen  Bernstein  im  ChuTfurstenlhum  Sachsen  in  seine 
Kleine  Schriften,  p.  589 — 592.  Claude  Louis  Bourdelin. 
Memoire  sur  le  Succin.  Mem.  de  CAcad.  des  Sc.  de  Pa- 
ris, 1742,  p.  143 — 175.  J.  Amb.  Beurerus.  De  natura 
succini,  Phil.  Trans,  vol  xlii.  No.  468.  p.  322—324.  John 
Fothergill.  An  Extract  of  his  Essay  upon  the  Origin  of 
Amber.  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xliii.  No.  472.  p.  21—25.  F. 
S.  Bock's  Versuch  einci-  Kur2cn  naturgeschichle  des 
Preussischen  Bemsteins,  und  eincr  ncuen  rvahrscheinlich- 
en  erkldning  seines  ursprunges,  p.  1J6.  Koningsberg, 
1767.  8vo.  F.  August  Cartheuser  voni  ursprunge  des 
BetTistein'sMineralog.  Abhandbing,  1 .  Thcil.  p.  1 72 — 1 90. 
Journal  fur  Fabrick,  1798.  S.  399.  Voight's  Kleine 
Schriften.  A.  Band.  S.  235.  N.  Sendelis's  Historia  Suc- 
cinorum  Corpora  alicna  involventium  ct  naturce  opere  pic- 
toncni  et  ccelalorum,  ex  Regis  Anguslorun)  Cimeliis 
Dresdm  conditis  aeri  insculptortim  conscripta.  fol.  Leip- 
sic.  A.  1742.  Parkinson's  Organic  Rexains,  vol.  ii. 
Jameson's  Mineralogy,  vol.  ii.  See  also  Ouyctognosy 
and  Geognosy,     (r) 

AMBER,  a  species  of  the  amber,  or  resin  genus. 
See  Oryctognost.     (r) 

AMBERG,  a  town  in  the  circle  of  Bavaria,  and  the 
Upper  Palatinate,  situated  on  the  river  Vils  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  hill.  It  is  defended  with  ditches,  ramparts, 
and  bastions,  and  has  an  electoral  palace,  a  cathedral,  a 
collegiate  church,  and  three  convents.  In  1297,  it  was 
formed  from  a  village  into  a  town ;  and  when  the  elector 
was  put  under  the  ban  of  the  empi"e,  it  was  seized  by 
the  Imperialists.  Amherg  was  taken  by  the  Austrians 
in  1743,  and  by  the  French  in  1796;  and  in  the  same 
year,  a  well-contested  battle  was  fought  at  Amberg,  be- 
tween the  French  and  Austrians,  the  former  of  whom 
ke|)t  the  field,  but  afterwards  retreated  from  Bavaria. 
In  the  neighbourhood  of  Amberg  is  an  iron  mine  which 
gives  considerable  trade  to  the  inhabitants.  E.  Long. 
11"  48'  20".     N.  Lat.  49"  27'  52".     {w) 

AMBERGRIS,  sometimes  also  called  grey  anther, 
kas  an  ash-grey  colour,  marked  with  yellowish  brown, 
and  white  streaks.  It  occurs  in  irregular  sha])ed 
masses,  which  have  a  compact  texture;  its  specific  gra- 
vity varies,  from  0.78  to  0.92,  according  to  Brisson. 
Bouillon  la  Grange  found  its  specific  gravity  from  0.849 
to  0.844.  It  has  an  agreeable  smell,  which  improves 
by  keeping.  Its  taste  is  insipid;  when  heated  to  122o, 
it  melts  without  frothing.  By  raising  the  heat  suffi- 
ciently, it  may  be  volatilized ;  when  distilled,  we  obtain 
a  white  coloured  acrid  liquid,  and  a  light  volatile  oil ;  a 
bulky  charcoal  remains  behind.  It  is  insoluble  in  water, 
and  aci<ls  have  little  action  on  it.  According  to  JBouii- 
toD  la  Grange,  it  is  composed  of 


52.7  adipocire 

30.8  resin 

11.1  benzoic  acid 
5.4  charcoal 

100.0 

Wallerius,  in  his  System  of  Mineralogy,  describes  this 
substance  as  a  particular  mineral  genus  under  the  name 
(unbra,  of  which  he  describes  two  species,  viz.  ambra 
grisea  and  ambra  unicolor. 

It  is  seldom  found  pure,  but  generally  includes  beaks 
of  the  cuttle  fish,  and  other  extraneous  matter.  It  some- 
times occurs  in  very  large  masses.  Neuman,  in  his 
history  of  Ambergris,  published  in  the  Philosophical 
Transactions  for  1 734,  mentions  a  famous  mass  of  am- 
bergris thrown  on  shore  on  the  island  of  Tidor,  and  pur- 
chased from  the  king  of  that  island  by  the  Dutch  East 
India  company  in  1 693,  for  1 1 ,000  dollars,  which  weigh- 
ed 1821b.  measured  5  feet  8  inches  in  length,  and  2  feet 
2  inches  in  thickness.  It  was  long  exhibited  at  Am- 
sterdam, and  at  last  broken  up  and  sold.  The  grand 
duke  of  Tuscany  offered  50,000  dallars  for  this  remark- 
able mass.  In  1755,  the  French  East  India  Company 
had  in  their  possession  a  still  larger  mass ;  it  weighed 
225  pounds,  and  was  sold  for  52,000  francs  According 
to  captain  William  Keching,  the  Moors  are  said  to  find 
masses  of  ambergris  of  20  quiutals  weight,  upon  the 
coasts  of  Monbassa,  Magadoxa,  and  de  Brava.  Hist, 
gen.  des  Voyag.  tom.  i.  p.  469. 

It  is  generally  found  in  the  sea  or  upon  sea-coasts. 
According  to  Flaccourt,  {Voy.  p.  150.)  it  occurs  pretty 
frequently  on  the  coast  of  Madagascar,  and  the  island  of 
Saint  Mary;  it  is  also  collected  in  the  bay  of  Honduras, 
(Dampier,  Voy  vol.  i.  ;Jupon  the  coasts  of  Brazil,  Chili, 
and  in  the  Archipelago  of  Chiloe,  (31oiina,  Citili  French 
Trans,  p.  61.)  near  the  coasts  of  Japan,  according  to 
Kempfer,  {Hist.  Gen.  des.  Voyag.  t.  x.  p.  657 ;)  on  the 
shores  of  Morocco,  (Marmol,  Afriq.  t.  ii.  p.  30  ;)  ac- 
cording to  Vanderbroeck,  {Voy.  t.  iv.  p.  308,)  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Gambia  of  Saint  Domingo ;  Cape  de  Verde 
islands,  Mozambique,  andSofala.  (Taveruier,  Voy.  t.  iv. 
p.  73;  Saris  in  the  Hist.  Gen.  Voy.  ib.  p.  185.)  at  the 
island  of  Lolo,  one  of  the  Manilla  islands.  (Legentil. 
Voy.  dans  Us  Mers  de  Vlnde,  t.  ii.  p.  84  ;)  at  the  Bermu- 
das, according  to  Lade,  (Voy.  t.  ii.  p.  48,  72,  99,  492,) 
and  even  the  coasts  of  France,  as  in  the  gulf  of  Gas- 
cony.  {Journal  de  Physiq.  1 790,  Mars.)  Mandeslo  in- 
forms us,  that  it  is  found  in  the  shores  of  Bengal  and 
Pegu,  {Voyage  d'Olearius,  t.  ii.  p.  139.)  See  also  Lins- 
chooten,  Gaetan-Charpy,  and  the  older  accounts  of  In- 
dia. The  Malays,  and  the  inhabitants  of  Tenior,  collect 
it  in  considerable  quantities,  (Rumphius,  Cabinet  cTAm- 
boine,  p.  255 ;)  as  also  the  inhabitants  of  the  Maldire 
islands,  (Lopez  de  Castagnetia;  fails  des  Portugais 
dans  kslnd.  Orient,  c.  35.)  The  ambergris  of  Sumatra 
and  Madagascar  is  said  to  be  the  best.  Quadrupeds, 
birds,  fishes,  crabs,  and  cataceous  animals,  are  remark- 
ably fond  of  it. 

The  smell  of  ambergris  when  recently  taken  from  the 
whale,  or  even  when  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  ocean, 
is  very  strong,  and  rather  fetid ;  but,  by  keeping,  the  of- 
fensiveness  goes  off,  and  it  acquires  a  faint  musky  odour. 
W  hen  heated,  or  burnt,  it  liquifies,  and  yields  that  pe- 
culiar penetrating  fragrant  smell,  for  which  it  is  so 
much  valued;  and  the  same  takes  place  when  in  solu- 
tion, or  mixed  with  other  gcents ;  so  that,  like  musk,  it 


574 


AMB 


AMB 


is  too  powerful  for  most  organs,  till  tliiutcd  or  diffuseil 
in  air.  In  England,  ambergris  is  principally  used  in 
perfumery.  The  tincture  in  spirit  of  wine,  or  essence, 
is  the  prepartion  chiefly  employed.  A  drop  or  two  is 
mixed  with  a  large  quantily  of  lavender  water  of  the 
shops,  and  adds  much  to  the  fragrance  of  its  scent.  It  is 
employed  to  perfume  hair-power,  toofh-jjowder,  Avasli- 
balls,  &c.  It  was  formerly  much  used  as  an  article  of 
the  materia  medica,  but  has  been  found  of  little  efBcacy ; 
hence  it  is  now  very  generally  dii»used,  as  a  medicine, 
in  most  parts  of  Europe.  The  chief  marts  for  it  are 
Turkey,  Persia,  and  the  East,  where  it  is  used  in  cook- 
ery, medicine,  perfumery,  and  as  an  aphrodisiac,  though 
its  virtues  in  this  respect  are  altogether  imaginary. 

The  price  of  Ambergris  is  very  high  :  in  London,  ac- 
cording to  Aitkin,  it  is  retailed  at  from  20  to  24  shillings 
per  ounce;  and  hence  its  frequent  adulteration  with 
wax,  benzoin,  lal)danum,  wood  of  aloes,  storax,  &c. 
scented  with  musk  ;  it  is  difficult,  however,  to  imitate  it 
accurately. 

Many  different  opinions  have  been  found  regarding 
its  origin.  Metzger,  in  his  Ambrologia,  and  Schroek, 
have  collected  the  different  opinions  of  authors  on  this 
subject.  It  would  afford  but  little  amusement  or  in- 
struction to  give  a  detail  of  these  hypotheses  ;  we  shall 
therefore  mention  only  what  appears  to  be  the  most 
probable  explanation  of  the  origin  and  formation  of  this 
interesting  production. 

Ambergris  has  been  frequently  found  in  the  intestines 
of  a  particular  species  of  whale,  denominated  by  natu- 
ralists, the  Physcler-Macroccphalus,  Linn,  and  hence  is 
conjectured  to  he  an  animal  product.  So  early  as  the 
385  and  337  Nos.  of  (he  Philosophical  Transactions,  a 
fp.ct  of  this  kind  is  related.  Kempfer,  in  his  History  of 
Japan,  informs  us,  that  the  Japanese  obtain  their  amber- 
gris principally  from  a  species  of  whale  common  on 
their  shores ;  that  it  is  contained  in  their  intestines,  and 
is  intermixed  with  the  fseces.  In  Chili,  ambergris  is 
denominated  Majjene,  which  signifies  the  excrement  of 
whales.  (Molina,  Hist  Nat.  du  Chili,  Trad.  Fr.  p.  61.) 
According  to  Julius  Scaliger,  (Exercit.  suit.  104.)  the 
books  of  the  Arabians  contain  numerous  instances  of 
ambergris  found  in  whales.  Monardus  mentions  a  whale 
which  produced  an  hundred  pounds  of  ambergris.  {Mis- 
cell.  Nat.  Cur.  Dec.  2  Ohs.  21.)  Captain  James  Coffin, 
master  of  a  ship  employed  in  the  southern  whale  fishery, 
was  examined  by  a  committee  of  privy  council,  in  the 
year  1 791 ,  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  ambergris.  He 
related,  that  he  found  362  ounces  of  this  substance  in 
the  intestines  of  a  female  whale,  struck  off  the  coast  of 
Guinea;  part  of  it  was  voided  from  the  rectum  on  cut- 
ting up  the  blubber,  and  the  remainder  was  collected 
within  the  intestinal  canal*.  The  whales,  that  contain 
ambergris,  are  always  lean  and  sickly,  yield  but  very 
little  oil,  and  seem  almost  torpid;  so  that  when  a  sper- 
maceti whale  has  this  appearance,  and  does  not  emit 
Iteces  on  being  harpooned,  the  fishers  generally  expect 
to  find  ambei^ris  within  it.     It  appears  highly  probable, 


^  Philos.  Tratis.  vol.  Ixxxi.  Dr.  Swediaur  confirms 
this  statement,  Philos.  Trans,  vol.  Ixxiii.  Sec  alsoiMc- 
dical  Repository  of  Nem-York,  Hcxade  2d,  vol.  i.  and 
Hex.  3d,  vol.  ii.  A  very  good  account  of  this  substance 
may  be  found  in  Fourcroy's  Chemistry,  translated  by 
Ntcboison,  vol.  x.     Ambergris  is  very  rarely  met  with. 

Measg. 


that  all  ambergris  is  generated  in  the  boweU  of  the 
physeter  macrocephalus,  or  spermaceti  whale  ;  but  it  is 
uncertain  whether  it  is  the  cause  or  effect  of  disease. 
Another  proof  of  this  origin  of  ambergris  is,  that  it  ge- 
nerally has  a  number  of  hard  bony  fragments  included 
in  it,  which  are  the  beaks  of  the  sepia,  or  cuttle  fish,  on 
which  the  spermaceti  whale  is  known  to  feed,  and  which 
are  always  found  mixed  with  the  whale's  excrements, 
more  or  less  broken  down  in  the  intestinal  canal.  See 
J.  Fidus  Klobius,  Amhra;  Historia  Wittenbergce,  1666, 
4to  Heuricus  Vollgnad,  De  Ambra  Augustana  insolen- 
tioris  ponder  is,  Ephem.  Ac.  Nat.  Curios,  Dec.  1.  Ann.  iii. 
p.  448.  Robert  Bovle's  Letter  concerning  Ambergreece, 
Phil.  Trans,  vol.  viii.  No.  97.  p.  6113—6115.  Robert 
Fredway's  account  of  a  great  piece  of  ambergris  thrown 
on  the  island  of  Jamaica.  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  xix.  No.  232. 
p.  711,712.  f^.  Che\a\ier,  Description  de  la  piece  d'Am^ 
bregris,  que  la  chambre  d'' Amsterdam  a  recu  des  Indes 
Orientates,  pesant  182  livres,  Amsterdam,  1700,  4to. 
Boylston  on  Ambergris  found  in  whales,  Phil.  Travs. 
vol.  xxxiii.  N.  385.  p.  193.  Casparus  Neumann,  Dt 
ambra  grisea,  Phil.  Trans.  \o\.  xxxviii.  Abraham  Abel- 
even,  sur  Vorigine  dc  T Ambergris.  Hist,  de  VAcad.  Ber- 
lin, 1763,  p.  125,  123.  Francis  Schwediauer's  account 
of  Ambergris,  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  Ixxiii.  p.  226,  241.  Rome 
d'Lisle  Lettcre  sur  les  bees  de  Seche  qui  se  recontrent  ilans 
FAmbregris.  Journal  de  Physique,  t.  xxv.  p.  372 — 374. 
On  the  production  of  Ambergris,  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  Ixxxi. 
p.  43,  47.  Uher  die  erzeugung  dcs grauen  ambers  Voigls 
Magasin.  8.  Band.  1.  Stuck,  p.  77,  83.     (»•) 

AMBIDEXTER,  from  ambo,  "  bolh,^'  and  dtiter, 
"  the  right  hand,"  is  the  name  given  to  those  who  can 
nse  both  hands  with  equal  facility  and  energy.  The 
ancient  Scythians  were  compelled  by  law  to  use  both 
hands  alike ;  and  the  Grecian  pikemen  and  halberdeers 
employed  their  right  and  left  hands  with  equal  ease. 
The  Roman  gladiators  were  sometimes  trained  up  to 
this  practice;  and  we  are  informed  in  Scripture,  that 
the  tribe  of  Gad  furnished  700  men,  who  fought  equally 
well  with  both  hands.     (»») 

AMBIGENAL,  a  name  first  given  by  sir  Isaac  New- 
ton to  certain  hyperbolas  of  the  third  order,  which  have 
one  of  their  infinite  branches  inscribed  within  its 
asymptote,  and  the  other  circumscribed  about  its 
asymptote.  See  Newton's  Enmneratio  Linearum  Tertii 
ordinis.     (»») 

AMBLE.     See  Horsemanship. 

AMBOISE,  the  capital  of  the  district  of  Tours  in 
France,  in  the  department  of  the  Indre  and  Loire.  It 
is  celebrated  as  the  place  where  the  protestanls  formed 
their  conspiracy  in  1560,  and  where  the  civil  war  first 
originated.  On  a  little  island  in  the  river  Loire,  near 
Amboise,  a  conference  was  held  f)etween  Alaric  and 
Clovis.  Amboise  was  the  birth-place  of  Charles  VIII. 
whose  statue  is  still  shown  in  the  castle,  which  is  placed 
upon  a  high  rock.  Population  5100.  W.  Long.  59'  7". 
N.  Lat.  47"  24'  51".     (o) 

AMBOULE,  a  town  in  the  valley  of  Amlioule,  a  pro- 
vince of  Madagascar.  It  is  situated  on  the  south-east 
coast  of  the  island,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Manam- 
pani,  which  irrigates  the  whole  valley.  Near  this  town 
is  a  hot  spring,  within  seven  yards  of  a  small  rivulet, 
whose  sand  is  almost  tmrning  hot.  The  water  of  this 
spring  is  reckoned  a  specific  for  the  gout,  and  is  said  ta 
boil  an  egg  hard  in  aljout  two  hours.  E.  I..ong.  46<>  45'. 
S.  Lat.  25o  28'.  See  Mod.  Vnir.  Hist.  vol.  xi.  p.  464, 
and  Madagascab.    («) 


AMB 


AMB 


67o 


AMBOYNA,  one  of  the  principal  of  (he  Molucca 
islands,  and  the  only  one  in  which  cloves  are  permitted 
to  be  cultivated.  It  is  situated  in  the  archipelago  of 
St.  Lazarus,  iu  S.  Lat.  3*  42',  and  128°  east  of  London. 
U  lies  about  120  leagues  east  of  Batavia  ;  and  is  about 
70  miles  in  circumference.  It  is  divided  into  two  pe- 
ninsulas, connected  with  each  other  by  a  narrow  neck 
of  land,  both  of  which  are  very  mountainous,  and  almost 
entirely  overgrown  v.  ith  wood.  Amboyna,  with  its  de- 
pendencies, is  supposed  to  contain  about  45,000  inhabit- 
ants, a  motley  mixture  of  all  religions.  The  Mahome- 
tans from  the  isle  of  Java,  first  begun  the  v.ork  of  con- 
version, and  soon  made  a  number  of  proselytes.  The 
Portuguese  were  the  first  Europeans  who  discovered 
and  took  possession  of  Amboyna,  and  they  were  no  less 
zealous  in  making  converts  to  the  Catholic  faith.  The 
Dutch,  upon  their  gaining  possession  of  the  island,  at- 
tempted in  their  turn,  to  bring  over  the  natives  to  the 
protestaut  religion  ;  and  as  they  had  been  already  accus- 
tomed to  changes,  and  appear  to  have  been  no  wise  te- 
nacious of  their  religious  opinions,  (hey  found  little 
difficulty  in  professing  the  faith  of  their  masters.  In 
1796,  when  the  settlement  was  f;iken  by  (he  English 
under  admiral  Rainier,  U|)wards  of  17,000  of  the  natives 
were  reported  to  be  protestants  ;  the  rest  are  Mahome- 
tans, Roman  Catholics,  and  Pagans*.  It  appears,  how- 
ever, that  the  Amboynese  Christians  are  little  better 
than  Pagans  in  reality  j  for  it  is  reported  by  Stavorinus, 
who  resided  a  considerable  time  amongst  them,  (hat 
they  still  sacrifice  to  the  evil  spirit,  who,  they  believe, 
resides  in  a  hill  on  the  coast  of  Ceram ;  they  never  pass 
Itis  habitation  without  attempting  to  propitiate  him,  by 
setting  afloat  a  few  flowers,  and  some  small  pieces  of 
money  in  cocoa-nut  shells. 

The  Amboynese,  though  of  a  very  dark  complexion, 
approaching  nearer  to  black  than  to  brown,  have  never- 
theless very  regular  features.  Neither  the  thick  lips, 
nor  the  depressed  noses,  which,  according  to  our  ideas 
of  beauty,  deform  "  the  human  face  divine,"  in  other 
Lot  countries,  are  seen  here  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  and 
especially  among  the  females,  perfectly  symmetrical 
countenances  are  the  general  characteristic  of  the  in- 
habitants. 

There  are  neither  lions,  tigers,  wolves,  nor  any  other 
beast  of  prey  in  Amboyna.  The  most  noxious  animals 
are  snakes,  of  which  there  are  about  twenty  different 
kinds.  The  woods  abound  with  deer,  and  with  the  babi- 
roussa,  or  hog-deer,  as  the  name  signifies.  The  flesh 
of  these  creatures  is  almost  the  only  animal  food  that  is 
eaten  in  Amboyna ;  and  that  chiefly  by  the  Europeans, 
as  the  natives  can  seldom  afford  to  purchase  it.  The 
chief  article  of  subsistence  among  the  Amboynese,  is 
the  farinaceous  pith  of  the  sago-tree  ;  of  this  substance 
they  form  bread,  resembling  the  cassava  of  the  West- 
Indies,  and  use  it  for  all  the  various  purposes  for  which 
meal  is  employed  in  other  countries.  But  the  staple 
commodity  of  Amboyna,  and  for  which  alone  it  is  covet- 
ed by  Europeans,  is  cloves.  The  lucrative  trade  arising 
from  this  valuable  article  of  commerce,  or  of  luxury,  is 
entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Dutch,  who  guard  their  mo- 
nopoly with  the  most  illiberal  jealousy.  Cloves  are 
only  produced  in  Amboyna  and  theneighbouringislands, 
all  of  which  are  in  the  possession  of  the  Dutch ;  but  to 
prevent  smuggling,  and  to  make  their  command  of  the 
market  more  secure,  tbey  have  been  at  the  utmost  pains 


10  extirpate  the  clove  trees  from  all  the  other  islands 
and  to  confine  the  culture  of  them  to  Amboyna  alone. 
For  this  purpose,  the  governor  of  Amboyna  makes  a 
circuit  every  year,  attended  by  a  numerous  retinue,  with 
the  exi)ress  design  of  cutting  down  all  the  clove  trees 
which  may  be  found  on  the  other  islands. 

We  could,  however,  excuse  them,  hr.d  these  been  the 
only  means  which   they  employed   to  secure  this  lucra- 
tive commerce.     But  Amboyna  is  not  so  remarkable 
for  its   vuluable  productions,   as  for  being  the  scene 
of  one  of  the  most  violent  outrages  against  humanity 
which  lias  disgraced  the  history  of  modern  times.     Af- 
ter the  Portuguese  were  expelled  by  the  Dutch,  the 
English  had  been  allowed  to  establish  themselves  in  the 
island,  under  the  protection  of  the  Dutch  govern.iicnf. 
It  was  natural  enough  to  suppose,  that  in  these  circum- 
stances, ditlcrences  should  arise  amongst  the  rival  tra- 
ders.    The  adjustment  of  these  dificrcuces  had  been  re- 
ferred to  the  English  and  Dutch  East  India  companies. 
But  the  Dutch  government  of  Amboyna  not  being  able 
to  wait  the  slow  but  equitable  decision   which  might 
have  been  expected  from  this  reference,  contrived  by 
one  of  the  clumsiest  and  most  infernal  plots  (hat  ever 
was  hatched  by  human  depravity,  (o  get  possession  of 
the  whole  island,  before  the  cause  had  well  received  a 
hearing  ia  Europe.     Two  soldiers  in  the  Dutch  service, 
the  one  a  Japanese,  the  other  a  Portuguese,  were  put  to 
the  torture,  and  forced  to  emit  a  decl.iration,  that  a 
conspiracy  was  formed  by  the  English  to  dispossess  the 
Dutch  of  one  of  the  principal  forts  on  the  island.     On 
this  evidence  all  the  English  Avere   seized;  and,  not 
content  with  despatching  them  at  once,  the  dialiolical 
wretches  glutted  their  revenge,  by  making  them  expire 
under  the  most  unheard  of  tortures;  and  though  all  the 
papers  of  the   English  were  seized,  there  could  not   be 
found  the  most  distant  allusion  to  this  pretended  con- 
spiracy.    This  infamous  transaction  happened  during 
(he  inglorious  reign  of  James  I.  and  as  that  monarch 
was  then  embroiled  with  Spain,  through  the  perverse 
counsels  of  his  favourites,  he  did  not  fiud  it  convenient 
(o  break  wi(h  (he  s(a(es  of  Holland.     He  (herefore  pa- 
tiently submitted  to  this  national  indignity,  sheltering 
bis  pusillanimity  under  this  Christian  maxim,  "  I  for- 
give them,  and  I  hope  God  will;  but  my  son's  son  shall 
revenge  this  blood,  and  punish  this  horrid  massacre.'* 
But  his  majesty,  though  a  tolerable  divine,  was  no  pro- 
phet ;  it  was  not  reserved  for  any  of  his  family,  to  vin- 
dicate the  national  honour  ;  but  Cromwell,  after  having 
defeated  the  Dutch  in  war,  made  it  one  of  the  articles 
of  peace,  that  they  should  deliver  up  the  Island  of  Po- 
lerone  into  the  bands  of  the  East  India  company,  and 
pay  300,000?.  as  a  compensation  for  the  outrage  at  Am- 
boyna. The  best  account  of  Amboyna  is  to  be  found  in 
Valentyn's  large  work  on  the  Dutch  possessions  in  the 
East  Indies,  1728,  5th  vol.  folio,  a  book  very  valuable, 
very  scarce,  and  almost  inaccessible,  as  there  is  not,  so 
far  as  we  know,  a  translation  of  it  from  the  Dutch.     A 
pre((y   detailed  account  may  also  be  found  in  Stavori- 
nus's  Voyage  to  the  East  Indies.     See  also  Campbell's 
Collection  of  Travels,  Pennant's  Outlines,  iv.  1 68 ;  and 
Rhymer's  FoeJera,  xvii.  1 70.     (g) 

AMBRACI  A,  a  city  of  Thespotia,  in  Epyrus.  It  was 
built  on  the  river  Aractus,  and  from  its  vicinity  to  the 
gulf  of  Arta,  that  inlet  was  called  the  Sinus  Ambraciug; 
No  traces  of  this  city  remain  at  present;  but  tb«  geo- 


*  It  was  rettored  to  the  Duttb  at  the  peace  of  Aroiena. 


S7» 


AMB 


AMB 


graphical  position  of  Arba  in  Upper  Albania,  seems  to 
correspond  best  willi  the  description  of  it,  which   may 
be  gathered  from  lAvy.  The  modern  name  of  the  Arac- 
tus  is  SpagtiMgnmrisi.     The  early  history  of  Ambracia 
ia  not  marked  by  any  interesting  occurrences.     Lilie 
many  other  cities  of  Greece,  it  was  at  first  under  the 
ilirection  of  magistrates,  who  were  chosen  by  the  people; 
it  was  next  conquered  by  the  descendants  of  the  ^Ecidas, 
who  made  it  the  phice  of  their  residence ;  the  jEtolians 
occupied  it  until  the  year  189,  A.  C.  and  at  that  time  it 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans,  after  a  vigorous  and 
gallant  resistance.     The  strength  of  the  fortifications, 
and  the  natural  advantages  of  the  place,  together  with 
the  determined  resolution  of  the  inhabitants,  seemed  for 
a  while  to  baffle  all  the  skill  and  valour  of  Fulvius,  who 
at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army,  sat  down  before  it. 
The  Roman  general  formed  two  camps  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  city ;  then  drew  lines  of  circumvallation 
and  contravellalion  around  the  place ;  and  erected  a 
wooden  tower  opposite  the  citadel.     On  the  other  hand 
the  ^tolians  were  not  inactive.  They  watched  the  mo- 
tions of  the  consul  with  the  utmost  care ;  and  before  his 
lines  were  completed,  they  had  the  address   to  throAV 
about  1000  men  into  the  place.     The  besieged  made  a 
vigorous  defence.     They  lessened  the  force  of  the  bat- 
tering rams  by  interrupting  them  in  their  progress  to- 
wards the  walls;  and  they  diminished  the  power  of  the 
scythes  and  other  instruments,  which  the  Romans  used 
for  dilapidating  the  works,  by  catching  them  with  horses, 
and  pulling  them  into  the  city.    In  the  meantime,  they 
were  reinforced  by  a  detachment  of  500  men,  whom  Ni- 
cander,  the  .^tolian  pra;tor,  had  sent  under  the  orders 
of  Nicodamus  to  their  assistance.     This  aid  was  joy- 
fully received.  And  Nicodamus  having  agreed  with  the 
•praitor  to  sally  forth  upon  the  Romans,  while  he  attack- 
ed them  with  the  chief  strength  of  his  troops  from  with- 
out, the  Ambracians  yet  entertained  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  repel  the  besiegers,  and  of  delivering  their  city 
from  the  power  of  Rome.     Nicodamus,  punctual  to  his 
engagement,  advanced  from  the  walls  at  the  proper 
time  ;  and  though  the  praetor  declined  to  support  him, 
he  gave  considerable  alarm  to  the  enemy,  made  a  pro- 
digious slaughter  of  the  legionaries,  and  collecting  the 
garrison,  withdrew  into  the  citadel.     After  this  attempt 
the  inhabitants  continued  to  defend  themselves  with 
astonishing  vigour.     If  a  breach  was  made,  it  was  in- 
stantly repaired.     If  any  part  of  the  wall  was  thrown 
down,  a  new  one  was  immediately  raised  behind  it.  The 
besieged  were  night  and  day  upon  the  battlements,  and 
appeared  to  set  all  the  art  and  valour  of  Rome  at  defi- 
ance.   The  consul,  therefore,  determined  to  change  his 
plan  of  operation.  Instead  of  endeavouring  to  carry  the 
place  by  attack,  he  resolved  to  undermine  the  wall,  and 
advance  into  the  city  before  the  inhabitants  could  have 
time  to  build  a  new  one.    For  a  while  he  concealed  his 
purpose  from  the  townsmen.  But  perceiving  an  unusual 
quantity  of  earth  thrown  up,  they  suspected  his  design, 
and  instantly  get  themselves  to  counteract  if.  The  mea- 
sure  which  they   adopte<1   with  this  view,  was   both 
ingenious  and  effectual.   They  began  to  form  a  mine  in 
their  turn ;  and  having  dug  a  trench  of  the  same  depth 
as  they  Bupi>osed  that  of  the  enemy  to  be,  they  carried 
it  along  towards  the  wall,  and  immediately  opposite  the 


place  where  they  heard  the  noise  of  Roman  pickaxes. 
The  workmen  of  both  parties  met,  and  a  battle  ensued. 
But  the  Ambracians,  more  at  ease  than  their  antagonists, 
prevented  them  from  advancing,  and  employing  an  en-  ' 
gine  of  an  unusual  construction,  to  throw  smoke  in  their 
faces,  they  drove  them  from  the  mine. 

Fulvius  the  consul  I'.eing  disappointed  in  this  attempt, 
had  recourse  to  negociation  ;  and  by  the  influence  of 
Amynander,  king  of  the  Athamanens,  he  persuaded  the 
Ambracians  to  surrender.  He  was  then  admitted  within 
the  walls,  and  presented  with  a  crown  of  gold,  together 
with  many  pictures  aud  statues,  with  which  Pyrrhus  had 
adorned  the  city.  Prom  this  time  the  Ambracians  made 
no  figure  in  history. — See  Adam's  Geograph.  Index, 
Art.  Ambracia.  Livy,  book  xxxviii.  cap.  3.  and  9.  and 
43.  and  44.     (o) 

AMBRONES,  a  people  of  ancient  Gaul,  who  were 
deprived  of  their  territories  by  the  encroachments  of  the 
sea,  and  who  subsisted  by  rapine  and  plunder.  They 
lived  on  the  north  and  south  of  the  Po,  and  assisted  the 
Cimbri  and  Teutoaes  in  their  invasion  of  the  Roman 
territories.  They  were  defeated  with  great  slaughter  by 
Marius  about  102  years  before  Christ.  See  Phctarck 
in  Mario,     (o) 

AMBROSE,  a  deacon  in  the  Christian  Church  at 
Alexandria,  who  was  converted  by  Origen  from  the 
errors  of  the  Marcionites  and  Valcntinians.  He  was  a 
person  of  high  rank  ;  and  was  possessed  of  great  wealth. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  particularly  friendly  to  sacred 
literature,  to  have  first  suggested  to  Origen  the  writing 
of  commentaries;  and  to  have  maintained  several  per- 
sons to  assist  him  in  those  compositions.  He  made  a 
confession  of  his  Christian  principles  before  the  empe- 
ror Maximin ;  and  suffered  martyrdom  during  his  reign 
about  the  year  239.     See  Euscbius.     (y) 

AMBROSE,  St.  was  born  at  Aries,  where  his  father 
resided  as  governor  of  Gaul;  and  while  he  lay  in  his 
cradle,  a  swarm  of  bees,  it  is  said,  were  seen  to  settle 
on  his  lips.  This  is  considered  as  having  been  a  pro- 
phetical indication  of  his  eloquence ;  and,  on  account  of 
the  sweetness  of  his  expressions,  he  was  afterwards  cal- 
led Mellifluous.  He  was  appointed  by  Probes  the 
prefect  to  be  governor  of  Milan ;  and  was  charged  by 
him  to  act  in  his  office,  not  as  a  judge,  but  as  a  bishop. 
This  was  probably  intended  merely  as  an  advice  to  con- 
duct himself  as  a  magistrate,  who  respected  religion; 
but  it  was  afterwards  considered  as  a  prophecy,  when 
Ambrose,  really  became  a  bishop.  While  he  resided  at 
Milan,  there  were  violent  contests  between  the  Arians 
and  orthodox,  about  the  election  of  a  Bishop  for  that  city. 
As  the  people  were  on  one  occasion  remarkably  tumul- 
tuous, in  this  affair,  Ambrose  addressed  them  in  such  a 
pathetic  and  persuasive  manner,  on  the  beauty  and  bene- 
fit of  concord,  that  they  were  enraptured  with  his  elo- 
quence, and  exclaimed  that  he  should  be  their  bishop. 
He  wished  to  decline  the  office,  and  is  said  to  have 
employed  some  very  extraordinary  means  to  prevent  his 
being  chosen*.  But  the  emperor  Valentinian  approved 
the  choice  of  the  people,  recommendetl  it  to  Ambrose 
to  signify  his  acceptance,  and  witnessed  in  person  the 
ceremony  of  his  ordination.  It  is  related  that  he  wan 
only  a  catechumen,  and  not  yet  baptized,  when  he  was 
thus  appointed  to  be  a  bishop;  but  his  abilities  and 


•  lie  i>  fM  ttj  have  intentionally  pronounced  some  tract  scntcnccj,  that  lie  might  disgust  the  people  i  tb  have  enRagaJ  courteaani 
to  enter  tu<  houM  publicly,  that  he  might  be  considered  as  unchaste;  ard  to  hare  at  las':  attempted  t9  csc.ijc  IVom  Ihc  ciiy.— 
Bodcatl.  Ilisl.  torn.  ii.  p.  330. 


AMB 


AMB 


577 


Tirfues  orercame  every  disqualificalion  of  that  nalire. 
He  was  much  respected  by  ValentiMian,  and  still  more 
by  liis  successor  (iratian.  After  the  death  of  Gratian, 
who  had  been  no  Irieud  to  tlie  support  of  the  heathen 
mylliology,  an  attempt  was  made  by  Symmaclius,  pre- 
fect of  Rornc,  a  person  of  high  rank  and  great  eloquence, 
to  persuade  Valentinian,  the  brother  and  successor  of 
Gratian,  to  restore  the  vestals,  and  to  replace  the  altar 
of  Victory.  Ambrose  resisted  this  proposal  with  all  Ids 
influence,  and  prevented  it  from  being  adopted.  At  the 
reqnest  of  the  young  prince,  he  went  on  an  embassy  to 
the  tyrant  Maximin,  who  had  revolted  in  the  reign  of 
Gratian,  who  was  in  possession  of  Gaul  and  Spain,  and 
v/ho  was  threatening  an  invasioninto  Italy.  He  prevailed 
with  that  monster  of  cruelty  to  lay  aside  his  hostile  in- 
tention, and  saved  Valentinian  from  his  power.  He  made 
a  second  visit  to  Maximin  at  Treves,  to  demand  the 
body  of  Gratian,  but  was  not  so  successful  in  his  nego- 
ciations.  Notwithstanding  those  dangerous  and  difHcult 
services,  which  he  had  rendered  to  the  emperor,  he 
found  that  both  he  and  his  mother  .lustina,  were  more 
favourable  to  the  Arians  than  to  his  friends ;  and  he 
firmly  resisted  them,  in  several  measures  which  he  con- 
ceived were  hurfful  to  the  cause  of  peace  and  truth. 
He  was  equally  bold  in  his  remonstrances  with  the  em- 
peror Theodosius ;  and  on  one  occasion,  made  him  sub- 
mit publicly  to  the  censures  of  the  church.  The  inha- 
l)itants  of  Thessalonica  had  risen  in  a  tumultuous  man- 
ner, and  had  slain  one  of  liis  generals.  The  emperor 
punished  their  guilt,  by  sending  a  body  of  troops,  and 
making  a  general  massacre  in  the  city.  For  this  act  of 
cruelty  and  injustice,  Ambrose  denounced  him  as  a 
murderer,  and  refused  to  perlbrm  the  sacred  rites  of 
religion  in  his  presence,  till  the  emperor  consented  to 
give  a  solemn  testimony  of  his  penitence.  This  faith- 
ful bishop,  however,  discharged  those  painful  duties 
with  so  much  humility  and  affection,  that  he  was  often 
respected  by  those  whom  he  reproved.  Theodosius, 
particularly,  instead  of  being  offended  by  this  instance 
of  his  integrity  and  zeal,  became  more  attached  to  him 
than  before.  He  used  to  say  tliat  he  never  knew  a  bishop 
but  Ambrose  ;  and  on  his  death-bed,  recommended  his 
children  to  his  care.  Ambrose  discharged  the  office  of  a 
bishop  with  the  most  exemplary  piety,  hospitality,  tem- 
perance, and  charity,  during  23  years ;  and  died  amidst 
the  tears  of  his  friends,  and  the  lamentations  of  his  peo- 
ple, A.  D.  397,  in  the  64th  year  of  his  age.  Pew  of  his 
writings  are  extant ;  and  some  have  been  ascribed  to 
him,  (such  as  Commentaries  an  the  Epistles  of  Paul,) 
which,  in  the  opinion  of  many  authors,  could  not  have 
come  from  his  pen.  His  sentiments  are  sublime  and 
eloquent ;  but  his  style  is  full  of  conceits,  and  his  6gures 
Tery  confused.  See  Paulinus.  Baronius,  Eusebius.  Go- 
dean,  hist,  de  VEglise,  v.  ii.  (q) 

AMBROSE,  Isaac,  a  presbyterian  clergyman  of 
great  learning  and  piety.  He  was  born  in  1591;  but 
his  parentage  is  unknown.  He  appears,  however,  to 
have  been  liberally  educated;  and  is  said,  by  his 
biographers,  to  have  studied  the  classics  and  Belles 
Lettres  with  much  attention.  He  was  thoroughly  skilled 
in  every  branch  of  theology  ;  and  was  particularly  ac- 
quainted with  Jewish  antiquities,  and  the  writings  of  the 
fathers.  During  the  long  parliament  of  Cromwell,  he 
was  settled  at  Preston  in  Lancashire  ;  thence  removed 
to  Garstang;  and  at  length  ejected  by  the  act  of  uni- 
formity in  1602.  He  employed  the  remainder  of  his  life 
in  revising  his  former  publications,  and  in  composing 

Vol..  1.     Paut  II. 


new  tracts.  He  was  one  of  those  divines  who  resisted 
the  Autinomian  errors,  which  were  so  prevalent  in  his 
time  ;  who  taught  the  necessity  of  an  inward,  as  well  as 
an  imputed  righteousness  ;  and  who  illustrated  the  faith 
of  the  gospel  as  a  practical  and  purifying  principle.  He 
is  described  by  Calamy,  as  "  a  man  of  substantial  worth, 
eminent  piety,  and  exemplary  life ;"  and  the  same  au- 
thor relates  of  him,  that  "  it  was  his  usual  custom,  once 
a  year,  for  the  space  of  a  month,  to  retire  into  a  little 
hut,  in  a  wood;  and,  avoiding  all  human  intercourse,  to 
devote  himself  to  contem|ilation."  He  died  in  18C4,at 
the  age  of  72.  His  works  are,  1.  The  first,  middle,  and 
last  things ;  viz.  Regeneration,  Sanctificafion,  and  Me- 
ditations on  Life,  Death,  Judgment,  Sic.  2.  Looking 
unto  Jesus.  3.  War  with  Devils,  and  ministration  of 
Angels.  4.  Sermon  on  redeeming  the  Time. — See 
Calamy's  Lives,  vol.  ii.  (q) 

AMBROSIA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Monoecia, 
and  order  Pentandria.  See  Botanv.  (m) 

AMBROSIA,  a  species  of  food  used  by  the  heathen 
deities,  and  supposed  to  have  the  power  of  healing 
wounds,  and  conferring  immortality,     (w) 

AMBROSINIA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class 
Gynandria,  and  order  Polyandria.     See  Botany,     (tv) 

AiAIBROSI  US,  Ai'KELiA.vus,  a  general  of  the  ancient 
Britons,  though  of  Roman  extraction.  He  was  brought 
up  at  the  court  of  Aldroen  of  Armorica;  and  was  sent  by 
that  prince  into  Britain,  at  the  head  of  10,000  men,  with 
a  view  to  aid  the  southern  inhabitants  of  the  island 
against  the  Saxons.  These  freebooters  had  been  invited 
from  the  continent,  and  having  delivered  the  Britons 
from  the  attacks  of  the  Picts  and  Scots,  had  kept  pos- 
session of  their  country  for  themselves.  Ambrosius  had 
no  sooner  landed  than  he  began  his  operations.  He  de- 
feated the  Saxons  in  many  battles,  and  compelled  Vor- 
tigcrn,  with  such  of  the  Britons  as  adhered  to  him,  to 
give  up  all  the  western  part  of  the  kingdom,  which  was 
immediately  subjected  to  his  authority.  This  division 
was  separated  from  the  eastern  by  the  highway,  called 
Watling  Street.  Some  time  after,  the  fortune  of  Vor- 
ligern  declining,  he  was  deserted  by  many  of  his  troops, 
and  retired  into  Wales.  He  was  followed  by  Ambro- 
sius,  and  closely  besieged :  but  the  castle  in  which  he 
was  shut  up  having  taken  fire,  he  perished  in  the  con- 
flagration, and  left  his  rival  sole  monarch  of  Britain. 
Ambrosius  now  directed  his  attention  to  the  internal 
administration  of  his  kingdom.  He  therefore  assembled 
the  chief  men  and  first  captains  of  the  empire  at  York, 
and  gave  orders  for  repairing  the  churches,  and  res- 
toring the  public  worship  of  God,  which  had  been 
shamefully  neglected  during  the  struggle  with  the 
Saxons.  This  conduct  has  procured  for  Ambrosius  no 
small  share  of  commeudation  from  the  monkish  his- 
torians who  have  written  of  his  actions ;  and  it  has  per- 
haps contributed  to  the  very  high  character  which 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  has  drawn  of  that  successful 
leader.  "  He  was,"  says  he,  "  a  man  of  such  bravery 
and  courage,  that  when  he  was  in  Gaul,  no  one  durst 
enter  the  lists  with  him ;  for  he  was  sure  to  unhoree  his 
antagonist,  or  to  break  his  spear  into  shivers.  He  was, 
moreover,  generous  in  bestowing,  careful  in  perform- 
ing religious  duties,  moderate  in  all  things,  and  more 
especially  aldiorred  a  lie.  He  was  strong  on  foot, 
stronger  on  horseback,  and  perfectly  qualified  to  com- 
mand an  army."  Tlie  same  historian  ascribes  the  build- 
ing of  Stonehenge,  near  Salisbury  in  Wiltshire,  to  Am- 
brosius, and  gives  a  long  account  of  the  magicians, 
4   D 


AME 


T  1»   «'  lf«    ■»"»  ? 


AME 


giants,  and  others,  whom  the  king  employed  as  his 
assistants,  or  who  were  in  one  way  or  another  concerned 
in  the  undertaking.  He  likewise  states,  that  Ani- 
brosius  was  slain  by  Eopa,  a  Saxon ;  but  the  common 
opinion  is,  that  he  was  killed  in  a  battle,  which  he  (ought 
with  Cerdic,  a  general  of  the  same  people,  about  the  year 
508.  (A) 

AMBUBAJiE,  among  the  Romans,  were  a  set  of 
lascivious  minstrels,  resembling  the  almeh  of  eastern  na- 
tions, who  supported  themselves  by  dancing,  playing  on 
the  flute,  and  by  the  prostitution  of  their  persons. 
These  festivals  are  said  to  have  been  of  Syrian  origin, 
and  to  have  derived  their  name  from  dbvA,  a  Syriac 
tvord,  sigoifying  a  flute.  Antiquaries  have  disputed  upon 


this  subject  without  being  able  to  obtain  any  satisfactory 
conclusion.  See  Horace,  lib.  i.  2.  Sueton.  jniVfr.  27.  (w) 

AMBULI  A,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Uidynamia, 
and  order  Angiospermia.     See  Botany,  (w) 

AMBUSCADE.or  Ambush,  in  military  tactics,  is  the 
place  where  a  body  of  men  conceal  themselves,  in  order 
to  fall  unexpectedly  ui)en  the  enemy,  (o) 

AMEDABAU.  See  Ahmedabad. 

AMELLUS,  or  Stauwort,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the 
class  Syngenesia,  and  order  Polygamia  superflua.  See 
Botany,  {m) 

AMERCEMENT,  or  Amerciament,  in  English  law, 
is  an  arbitrary  fine  imposed  upon  an  offender  by  the 
court,  and  not  determined  by  any  statute.  (_;') 


AMERICA. 


1.  America  is  a  great  continent,  situated  between  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans,  and  reaching  from  the  54tli, 
or,  if  the  Terra  del  Fuego  be  included,  from  the  56th  de- 
gree of  south  latitude  to  the  unknown  regions  of  the  Arc- 
tic circle.  It  extends  in  longitude  from  the  35th  to  the 
170th  dcg.  west  of  the  meridian  of  Greenwich.  Itis  sepa- 
rated from  Europe  and  Africaby  the  Atlantic,  or  Western 
Ocean;  and  from  Asia,  by  the  Pacific  Ocean,  or  Great 
South  Sea;  and  is  fitted,  by  its  position,  for  carrying  on  a 
direct  intercourse  with  the  other  three  quarters  of  the 
globe.  America  is  divided  into  two  grand  portions ; 
North  America,  and  South  America.  These  are  joined 
together  at  about  9"  N.  Lut.  by  the  isthmus  of  Panama, 
which  is  only  60  miles  in  breadth ;  and  which,  together 
■with  the  northern  and  southern  continents,  forms  the 
▼ast  Gulf  of  Mexico.  In  North  America,  which  reaches 
from  fio  30'.  N.  Lat.  to  70"  or  75",  or  perhaps  to  a 
parallel  still  nearer  the  pole,  and  from  SO"  to  1 70'>  W. 
liong.  are  comprehended  the  divisions  of  Labrador, 
Canada,  the  United  States  of  America,  Florida, 
Louisiana,  California,  Mexico,  and  others  of  less 
note;  and  in  South  America,  extending  from  about 
12"  N.  Lat.  to  56"  of  S.  Lat.  and  from  35"  to  82"  W. 
Long,  are  included  those  of  Terra  Firma,  and  New 
Granada,  Peru,  Guiana,  Brazil,  Paraguay,  Chili, 
Patagonia,  and  the  Terra  del  Fuego.  For  the 
particular  geography  and  history  of  these  provinces, 
we  refer  to  the  articles  attached  to  their  respective 
names. 

2.  Tlie  chief  rivers  of  North  America,  are  the 
MissisiPPi,  and  the  Ohio,  the  Illinois,  and  Missouri, 
which  run  into  it ;  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Potomac,  the 
Delaware,  the  Hudson,  the  Rio  Bravo,  or  Rio  del  Norte, 
and  the  Oregon,  or  River  of  the  West.  Those  of  South 
America  are  the  Oroonoco ;  the  River  of  the  Amazons, 
or  Maragnon ;  ami  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  or  Parana. 
The  principal  mountains  of  the  New  World,  are  the 
Andes  in  the  South;  and  the  Stony,  and  Allegany, 
or  Appalachian  mountains,  in  the  North.  (See  the  arti- 
cles under  the  names  of  these  rivers  and  mountains.) 
As  it  would  be  impossible  in  a  work  like  the  present,  to 
mention  here  all  the  islands,  bays,  and  capes  belonging 
to  this  extensivf  continent,  tFiose  who  wish  for  distinct 
and  minute  information,  with  regard  to  these  particulars, 
may  consult  the  works  referred  to  at  the  end  of  this 
article,  upder  the  title  of,  Books  relating  to  the  geogra- 
phy of  America. 


3.  The  discovery  of  America,  prior  to  the  expedi- 
tion of  Columbus,  has  been  claimed  by  several  nations. 
The  Welsh  historians  and  antiquaries  have  atSrmed, 
that  Madoc,  a  princeof  their  country,  quitted  his  native 
land  in  the  year  1170,  and  sailing  westward,  arrived  at 
those  regions  to  which  the  name  of  America  was  after- 
wards given.  But  the  traditions  on  which  the  authority 
of  this  account  must  ultimately  rest,  are  confused  and 
discordant,  as  well  as  remote;  (Lyttelton,  HiM.  of  Henry 
II.  I.  V.  p.  371 .)  and  the  report  of  a  tribe  of  Indians,  wh» 
are  said  to  have  been  found  in  North  America,  and  to 
speak  a  lauguage  which  bears  some  resemblance  to  the 
Welsh,  is  equally  unworthy  of  credit. 

The  pretensions  of  the  Norwegians  to  the  discovery 
of  the  New  World,  appear  to  be  better  fouuded.  There 
is  unquestioned  evidence  that  they  settled  in  Iceland 
A.  D.  874,  and  in  the  year  982  they  landed  upon  Green- 
land, and  established  themselves  in  thctt  country.  From 
Greenland  they  sailed  towards  the  west;  and  if  we 
give  credit  to  Snorro  Sturlosons,  in  his  Chronicle  of 
Olaus,  p.  104,  IlO,  32(5,  they  reached  a  country  more 
pleasant  and  invitingthan  theinhosjjifableregrons  which 
they  had  left.  Here  they  remained  forborne  time,  and 
l)Ianled  a  colony.  The  account  of  Snorro,  however,  is 
liable  to  many  objections.  The  tale  of  the  discoveries 
of  Lief  and  Bioni,  the  Norwegian  adventurers,  is  ut- 
terly confused  It  is  not  easy  to  gal  her  from  it  on  what 
part  of  America  they  se UU'd,  though,  from  the  lenglh  of 
the  days  and  nights  at  the  time  of  the  3-ear  when  they 
arrived,  it  must  have  been  some  part  of  Labrador,  and 
as  far  north  as  the  58th  degree  ;  yet  as  they  gave  to  the 
region,  wherever  it  was,  the  name  of  Viuland,  from  the 
grapes  which  they  found  there,  it  seems  to  be  evident, 
that  it  must  have  appronched  much  nearer  to  the  south. 
(Mallet.  Introd.  a  FHist.  ik  Danntmarc,  p.  175.)  But 
notwithstanding  this  ditliculty,  and  others  which  could 
be  mentioned,  it  is  generally  allowed,  that  the  Nor- 
wegians landed  on  the  American  8hore,nnd  that  acolony 
planted  hy  adventurers  from  that  nation  existed  for 
some  time  in  the  New  World.  The  settlers,  however, 
lorn  hy  divisions  among  themselves,  and  forgotten  or 
neglected  by  their  countrymen,  speedily  perished. 

The  claim  of  the  Germans  is  more  questionable  than 
that  of  the  Norwegians.  From  the  archives  of  the  city 
of  Nuremberg  it  appears,  that  Martin  Bi-haim,  or  Be- 
henira,  a  native  of  that  city,  and  the  pupil  of  Regio- 
moQtanus,  bad  made  -such  advances  in  cosraographical 


AMERICA. 


579 


knowledge,  as  led  him  to  visit  those  parts  of  the  world, 
the  situation   and  physical   properties  of  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  describe,  but  wliich  h«d  not  as  yet 
been  sufficiently  explored.     With  this  view,  he  entered 
the  service  of  the  Portuguese,  and  was  employed,  A.  I). 
1483,  as  the  commander  of  a  squadron,  fitted  out  for 
the  purposes  of  discovery.     After  having  established 
himself  at  Fayal,  one  of  the  islands  called  the  Azores, 
he  is  reported  to  have  sailed  far  towards  the  east  and 
south,  and  to  have  reached  the  coast  of  Guinea,  nearly 
eight  years  before  the  expedition  of  Columbus.     He 
was  the  intimate  friend  and  frequent  associate  of  the 
Genoese  navigator;  and,  upon  his  visit  to  Nuremberg, 
in  the  year  1492,  he   constructed  a  terrestrial  globe, 
from  the  inspection  of  which,  Magellan  is  said  to  have 
formed  the  design  of  pursuing  the  course  which   he  af- 
terwards followed.      (See  two  papers  in    Nicholson's 
Journal,  vol.  i.  pp.  73.  and  107.)  But  as  Behaim  was  the 
friend  and  associate  of  Columbus,  it  is  as  probable  that  he 
derived  his  ideas  of  the  unexplored  regions  from  the 
conjectures  which  the  latter  had  for  many  years  been 
revolving  in   his  mind,  as  it  is,  that   Columbus  was  in- 
debted to  Behaim  for  his  first  thoughts  of  the  western 
continent.     Nor  is  it  at  all  certain  that  Behaim  ever 
visited  any  part  of  America.     A  copy  of  the  map  which 
was  drawn  with  his  own  hand,  and  left  with  his  family 
at  Nuremberg,  has  been  published  by  Dopplemayer,  in 
bis  account  of  the  mathematicians  and  artists  of  that 
place :  but  it  is  remarkable  for  little  else  than   the  im- 
perfection of  the  cosmographical  knowledge  of  those 
times.     It  is  true,  Behaim  delineates  an  island  to  which 
he  gives  the  name  of  St.  Brandon,  and  which  he  places 
considerably  to  the  west  of  Africa-     This,  however,  ajj- 
pears  to  be  nothing  more  than  one  of  those  imaginary 
islands  which  were  often  introduced  at  that  period  to 
occupy  an  empty  space  in  the  charts  of  geographers ;  and 
the  existence  of  which  rested  on  authority  equally  ques- 
tionable with  that  which  is  given  for  the  legend  of  St. 
Brandon  himself. 

Of  the  pretensions  of  the  Welsh,  or  the  attempts  of 
the  Scandinavians,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that 
Columbus  had  any  knowledge;  and  since  the  claim  of 
Behaim  is  extremely  doubtful,  we  may  still  consider  the 
Genoese  navigator  as  entitled  to  his  full  share  of  honour 
in  the  discovery  of  America. 

At  a  time  when  darkness  had  long  settled  upon  Eu- 
rope, when  science  was  beginning  only  to  lift  its  head, 
«nd  the  guides  to  knowledge  were  few,  and  often  igno- 
rant themselves,  Christopher  Columbus  of  Genoa  form- 
ed the  design  of  crossing  the  Atlantic,  in  search  of 
new  countries  towards  the  west.  This  extraordinary 
man  was  led  to  the  belief  that  these  countries  existed, 
by  a  number  of  conspiring  circumstances.  Though,  in" 
the  fifteenth  century,  the  inlbrmatiom  of  such  as  addict- 
ed themselves  to  geogra[)hical  inquiries,  was  incorrect 
as  well  as  narrow  ;  though  philosophers  had  at  this  time 
made  but  little  progress  in  the  search  after  truth;  yet 
certain  steps  had  been  taken,  and  certain  observations 
recorded,  which,  if  not  highly  useful  in  themselves,  were 
very  beneficial  in  the  consequences  to  which  they  gave 
rise.  Even  in  that  age,  those  who  were  accustomed  to 
read  and  to  reflect,  had  formed  pretty  accurate  ideas  with 
regard  to  the  magnitude  of  the  earth.  From  the  sha- 
dow which  is  thrown  upon  the  moon  in  an  eclipse  of 
that  satellite,  they  had  inferred,  that  the  globe  on  which 
we  live  was  round  It  was  perceived,  that  Europe, 
Asia,  and  Africa,  occupied  hut  a  small  portion  of  our 


planet ;  and  it  seemed  to  be  altogether  unlikely,  that 
the  remaining  part  was  covered  with  avast  and  joyless 
ocean,  unsupjilied  with  continents  or  islands  intended 
for  the  residence  of  man.  Marcus  Paiilus,  a  Venetian  of 
good  family,  and  others,  who  had  travelled  by  land  into 
India,  and  penetrated  into  the  regions  beyond  the  Gan- 
ges, had  related  that  the  Asiatic  countries  stretched  far 
towards  the  east ;  so  that,  the  rotundity  of  the  earth 
being  known,  it  was  obvious  that  they  might  be  reached 
by  holding  a  course  directly  west,  sooner  and  more  cer- 
tainly than  by  any  other  way.     The  efficacy  of  these 
reasonings  was  confirmed  by  other  circumstances  of  an 
inferior,  but  perhaps  of  a  more  striking  nature.     Several 
pieces  of  wood,  nicely  carved,  and  apparently  from  a 
distant  country,  had  been  thrown  upon  the  western  coast 
of  the  Madeiras.     A  tree,  likewise,  of  a  species  with 
which  Europeans  were  unacquainted,  had  been  taken  up 
near  the  Azores ;  and,  what  Avas  still  more  decisive,  the 
bo<lies  of  two  men,  of  a  strange  colour,  and  unusual  ap- 
pearance, had  been  found  upon  the  coast.     From  all 
these  circumstances  Columbus  inferred,  that  the  lands 
which  he  afterwards  visited  really  existed  ;  and  that 
they  might  unquestionably  be  f cached  by  following  the 
course  which  he  pointed  out.     Still,  however,  the  exist- 
ence of  these  lands  was  nothing  more  than  a  plausible 
conjecture  ;  and  it  might  have  remained  as  such  in  the 
thoughts  or  the  books  of  the  ingenious,  if  Columbus  had 
not  been  prompted  by  considerations  of  a  more  effec- 
tual nature,  to  ascertain  whether  they  could  actually  be 
visitetL 

To  discover  a  (lassage  to  the  East  Indies  by  sea,  was 
at  this  time  the  great  object  of  investigation.  The  Ve- 
netians had  long  engrossed  the  profitable  trade  of  that 
country ;  and  their  wealth,  arising  chiefly  from  this 
source,  had  excited  the  envy  and  the  hatred  of  all  the 
European  kingdoms.  From  the  beginning  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  the  Portuguese  navigators  had  been 
stretching  towards  the  south  of  Africa ;  and  had  found, 
in  opposition  to  the  ancient  geographers,  that  the  torrid 
zone  was  habitable.  It  was  the  i)eriod  of  bold  and  haz- 
ardous adventure.  The  human  mind  was  stimulated  to 
its  utmost  activity.  Whatever  appeared  to  be  true,  or 
even  remotely  probable,  was  instantly  ascertained  by  di- 
rect and  fearless  experiment.  New  islands  were  dis- 
covered; unknown  regions  were  traversed  and  explored. 
Partly  by  design,  and  partly  by  the  violence  of  the 
winds,  the  Portuguese  had  doubled  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  and  readied  the  coast  of  Malabar;  they  had  trad- 
ed successfully  with  the  inhabitants  of  India;  and  the 
riches  of  eastern  commerce  had  been  jjoured  into  their 
native  country.  To  find  therefore  a  shorter,  and  more 
definite  route  to  India,  was  the  immediate  object  of  Co- 
lumbus, in  proposing  to  undertake  a  voyage  of  dis- 
covery. The  riches  of  the  east  were  the  bribe  which 
he  held  out  to  the  sovereign,  or  the  state,  that  should 
enable  him  to  execute  his  purpose ;  and  it  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  the  prospect  of  wealth  had  a  similar  effect 
upon  himself. 

But  none  of  the  raonarchs  or  rulers  of  Europe  had 
either  sufficient  reach  of  thought  to  comprehend  the 
schemes  of  Columbus,  or  sufficient  generosity  to  en- 
courage an  adventurous  speculation,  even  with  the  pro- 
bability of  the  fullest  return  from  the  success  of  the  un- 
dertaking. He  was  considered  as  a  dreamer  by  many, 
lie  was  rejected  by  the  dignified  and  the  great,  because 
he  was  a  man  of  low  con<lition  ;  and  he  was  repelled  by 
the  learned,  because  they  were  mortified  to  hear  that 
4  D  2 


580 


AIHERICA. 


an  obscure  pilot  had  found  what  had  escaped  the  dis- 
cerument  of  more  cultivated  minds.  He  applied,  first  to 
the  Genoese,  his  countrymen,  who  were  satisfied  with 
the  productions  of  India  as  tliey  were  brought  to  their 
hands;  tlien  to  the  Portuguese,  whose  bishops  and 
physicians  objected  to  his  design  with  every  argument 
which  their  ignorance  or  ingenuity  could  supply,  and 
among  whom  he  was  almost  deprived,  by  treachery,  of 
the  iionour  which  would  attach  to  the  discoverer  of  the 
New  World ;  then  to  Spain ;  and  then,  l>y  means  of  Bar- 
tholomew, his  brother,  to  Henry  VII.  of  England.  All 
these  applications,  however,  were  unsuccessful ;  objec- 
tions were  every  where  raised,  and  difficulties  exhibited; 
the  refusal  of  one  monarch  was  urged  as  a  reason  for  a 
similar  conduct  on  the  part  of  another ;  and  had  not  the 
perseverance  of  Columbus  been  equal  to  bis  genius,  the 
American  continent  might  yet  have  been  unknown  to 
the  inhabitants  of  Europe. 

But  the  time  was  not  far  distant  when  more  encou- 
raging prospects  were  about  to  open.     The  Moors  had 
been  driven  from  Spain,  and  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  the 
sovereigns  of  that  country,  had  leisure  for  attending  to 
objects  which  pressed  less  immediately  upon  their  notice. 
The  chivalrous  spirit  of  the  age  had  been  sufficiently 
employed  in  the  contest  with  the  African  intruders  ;  but 
now,  it  wanted  some  other  object,  and  required  to  be 
guided  into  a  dififerent  channel.  Columbus,  disappointed, 
but  not  moved  from  his  purpose,  was  at  this  time  about 
to  quit  the  Spanish  territories  for  England,  whither  his 
brother  Bartholomew  had  already  been  sent.     By  the 
orders  of  Isabella,  he  was  desired  to  relinquish  his  in- 
tention of  soliciting  the  patronage  of  foreign  courts ;  and 
invited  into  her  presence,  with  every  mark  of  condescen- 
sion and  respect.     The  character  and  dispositions  of 
Columbus  were  such  as  highly  recommended  him  to  the 
rulers  of  Spain.     To  that  quickness  and  decision  which 
are  the  usual  indications  of  genius,  he  added  that  so- 
lemnity of  aspect,  and  gravity  of  manners,  which  the 
6|)aniards  cultivate  with  so  much  care,  and  which  con- 
tribute to  distinguish  them  from  the  other  nations  of 
Europe.     His  appearance  was  dignified,  and  his  beha- 
viour respectful ;  he  was  resolute  in  bis  purposes,  and 
firm  in  his  demands.     At  his  interview  with  Isabella,  he 
rf  I  ~  ed  in  nothing  of  what  he  had  originally  proposed  : 
the  conditions  on  which  he  declared  himself  willing  to 
undertake  the  expedition  were  still  the  same  ; — that  he 
•    should  be  appointed  admiral  of  all  the  seas  which  he 
might  explore,  and  governor  of  all  the  continents  and 
islands  which  he  might  visit ;  that  these  offices  should 
be  hereditary  in  his  family;    and  "that  the  tenth  of 
every  thing  bought,  bartered,  found,  or  got,  within  the 
bounds  of  his  admiralship,  abating  only  the  charge  of  the 
conquest,"  should  be  settled  upon  him,  and  should  de- 
scend to  his  heirs  in  case  of  his  death.     {Life  of  Colum- 
bus, chap,  xiv.)     It  was  his  desire,  that  a  small  fleet 
should  be  equi|>ped  and  put  under  his  command,  in  or- 
der that  he  might  attempt  the  discovery ;  and  to  demon- 
strate bis  integrity,  as  well  as  his  firm  hope  of  success, 
be  offered  to  advance  an  eighth  part  of  the  money  which 
iTOuld  be  necessary  for  building  the  ships,  provided  he 
were  allowed  a  corresponding  share  of  the  advantage  re- 
suiting  from  the  enterprise.     John  Perer,  guardian  of 
the  monastery  of  Rabida,  near  the  town  of  Pnlos,  and  the 
friend  and  confidant  of  Columbus,  was  the  person  to 
vhom  he  was  indebted  for  this  interview  with  Isabella. 
He  wag  ronfefsor  to  the  queen,  and  an  pcclesiastic  of 
great  wspectability  and  influence.    By  bi9  representa" 


tious,  and  by  those  of  Alonzo  de  Quiatanilfa,  aad 
Lewis  de  Santangel,  both  officers  in  high  place  under 
the  Spanish  crown,  a  favourable  ear  was  lent  to  the  pro- 
positions of  tlie  Genoese  adventurer.  They  stated  to 
Isabella  that  he  was  a  person  of  a  sound  and  collected 
mind,  of  acknowledged  integrity,  well  informed  in  geo- 
graphy and  history,  and  practised  in  the  art  of  naviga- 
tion ;  tliey  s[)oke  to  her  of  the  glory  which  would  result 
from  the  success  of  the  enterprise,  and  which  would  for  • 
ever  attach  to  her  reign ;  and  of  the  extension  of  the 
Christian  faith,  which  would  be  promulgated  in  the  re- 
gions that  might  be  discovered.  The  time  was  propi- 
tious. Granada  had  surrendered  to  the  arms  of  Spain  ; 
and  the  Moors  were  expelled  from  the  provinces  which 
they  had  long  occupied  in  the  heart  of  the  kingdom. 
And  such  were  the  exertions  of  Quintanilla  and  of  San- 
tangel, that  Isabella  resolved  to  patronise  Columbus,  and 
engage  him  in  her  service  on  his  own  terms.  Orders 
were  issued,  that  a  squadron  should  be  fitted  out  from 
the  harbour  of  Pnlos.  It  consisted  of  three  vessels  :  but 
as  the  art  of  building  ships  was  then  rude,  aud  in  its  in- 
fancy, and  as  distant  voyages  were  comparatively  un- 
known, the  largest  of  these  vessels  was  of  inconsidera- 
ble dimensions,  and  the  others  were  not  much  above  the 
size  of  ordinary  boats.  They  were  victualled  for  twelve 
months,  and  had  on  board  ninety  men.  The  expense  of 
building  and  equipping  the  whole  was  not  more  than 
L.4000  ;  yet  the  greatness  of  this  expense  was  the  cause 
of  much  serious  alarm  to  tlie  Sjjanish  rulers,  and  contri- 
buted not  a  little  to  prevent  them  from  acceding  to  (he 
proposals  of  Columbus. 

All  things  being  ready,  Columbus,  influenced  by  d»i 
votional  feelings,  went,  with  those  under  his  authority^ 
in  solemn  processiou  to  the  monastery  of  liabida ;  and 
there,  confessing  his  sins,  and  partaking  of  the  sacra- 
ment, he  implored  the  blessing  of  heaven  throughout  the 
voyage  which  he  designed  to  uudertalte. 

Early  next  morning,  (on  the  3d  of  August,  A.  D. 
1492)  he  set  sail  from  the  harbour  of  Palos,  in  the  Santa 
Maria,  the  largest  of  the  vessels  which  bad  been  fitted 
out  at  his  desire.  The  others  were  called  the  Plata, 
and  the  Nina  ;  the  former  of  which  was  commanded  by 
Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon,  und  tl;e  latter  by  Vincent  Yanaz 
Pinzon,  his  brother.  In  six  days  the  admiral  reached 
the  Canaries  without  any  occurrence  deserving  of  par- 
ticular notice,  except  only  that  the  rudder  of  the  Pinta 
broke  loose ;  an  accident  whicb  the  superstition  of  his 
associates  interpreted  as  an  omen  at  once  unfavourable 
and  alarming.  After  refitting  at  tbe  Canaries,  Colum- 
bus proceeded  (Sept.  6.)  on  his  voy:ige.  He  passed  into 
seas  which  no  vessel  bad  yet  entered,  without  a  chart  to 
direct  him,  and  without  any  know  ledge  of  the  tides  and 
currents  which  might  interrupt  his  progress.  And 
many  of  the  sailors,  reflecting  on  the  hazardous  mi  lure 
of  the  enterprise,  began  alre;^dy  to  beat  their  l)rea8ts  iu 
dejection  and  dismay,  and  relinquished  all  hopeof  visi^. 
ing  again  their  country  and  their  friends. 

Columbus  was  admirably  qualified  for  the  expedition 
which  he  had  undertaken.  He  was  patient  and  perse*- 
vering,  master  of  himself,  and  skilful  in  the  government 
of  other  men.  In  naval  science,  as  well  as  experience^ 
he  was  far  sufierior  to  any  of  his  associates.  He  con- 
ducted every  thing  by  his  preseoce  and  aiithority,  al- 
lowing himself  only  a  very  few  hours  for  the  necessary 
refreshment  of  his  body.  At  all  other  tmus  he  was 
upon  deck,  watching  the  flieht  of  binls,  ascertaining  the 
depth  of  the  ocean,  and  marking  tbe  appearance  of  tbe 


AMERICA. 


581 


weeds  wLicb  floated  upoB  its  surftice."  He  moved  ra- 
pidly before  the  trade  wind,  which  blows  invariably 
from  the  east  within  the  tropics,  judiciously  concealing 
from  his  men  the  number  of  leagues  which  he  had  sailed; 
an  artitice  wliich  he  employed  during  the  rest  of  the 
■«oyage.  Nor  did  any  bad  consequence  result  from  this 
imposition ;  for  so  great  was  the  ignorance  of  his  com- 
l^nions,  that  none  of  them  was  able  to  detect  it.  About 
the  14tb  of  September,  Columbus  was  distant  nearly  200 
leagues  from  the  most  westerly  of  the  Canaries ;  and 
here  the  magnetic  needle  was  observed  to  vary  from  its 
direction  to  the  polar  star,  and  incline  towards  the  west ; 
an  appearance  which  is  now  familiar,  but  for  which  phi- 
losophy has  in  vain  attempted  to  account.  It  was  the  oc- 
casion of  serious  alarm  in  the  breast  of  Columbus,  and 
it  filled  his  associates  with  a  terror,  by  no  means  un- 
reasonable. They  were  far  from  land,  and  far  from  the 
track  of  other  navigators ;  all  aroundlhem  was  uncertain; 
all  before  them  was  unknown ;  nature  seemed  to  be  de- 
parting from  her  steadiness,  and  the  guide  on  which 
they  had  formerly  relied,  appeared  to  be  no  longer  en- 
titled to  their  confidence.  With  astonishing  presence 
of  mind,  Columbus  declared,  that  the  needle  did  not 
point  directly  to  the  pole,  but  that  in  particular  circum- 
stances it  described  a  compass  round  it;  a  solution 
which,  though  it  was  wholly  unsatisfactory  to  himself, 
had  the  effect  of  silencing  the  murmurs  of  his  qrew. 
See  ChurchUVs  Voyages,  vol.  ii.  p.  504. 

The  alarm,  however,  to  which  the  variation  of  the 
needle  gave  rise,  was  not  the  only  difficulty  which  Co- 
lumbus had  to  surmount.  In  a  short  time  after  that 
phenomenon  had  been  observed,  the  murmurs  of  his 
sailors  broke  out  with  greater  violence  ;  first  among  the 
ignorant  and  wavering;  but  the  disaffection,  spreading 
gradually,  reached  at  length  those  who  were  more  ad- 
venturous and  better  informed,  and  extended  with  un- 
propitious  influence  through  the  whole  fleet.  The  men 
blamed  their  sovereign  for  listening  inconsiderately  to 
tlie  schemes  of  a  dreaming  adventurer,  and  for  sporting 
with  the  lives  of  his  subjects,  iu  order  to  carry  them 
into  execution.  The  iadicalious  of  land  had  all  proved 
fallacious :  They  would  be  amused  and  deceived  no 
longer :  They  agreed  that  Columbus  should  be  forced 
to  relinquish  an  undertaking,  which  seemed  to  issue  iu 
nothing  but  unavoidable  destruction ;  and  some  of  the 
more  daring  talked  of  throwing  him  into  the  sea  as  a  vi- 
sionary projector,  whose  death  would  never  be  inquired 
into,  or,  if  inquired  into,  would  be  considered  as  merited 
by  his  rashness  and  folly. 

In  the  midst  of  this  disaffection,  the  admiral  appeared 
with  a  steady  and  cheerful  countenance,  as  if  pleased 
with  what  he  had  done,  and  a  stranger  to  despondency. 
He  soothed  his  companions,  and  expostulated  with  them : 
he  endeavoured  at  one  time  to  influence  their  desire  of 
riches,  and  at  another  their  love  of  lame;  he  assumed  a 
tone  of  authority,  and  threatened  them  ivith  the  ven- 
geance ol  their  sovereign,  and  with  everlasting  infamy, 
if  they  should  abandon  him  in  the  prosecution  of  the  un- 
dertaking. These  encouragements  and  expostulations 
were  not  mthout  their  effect.  But  the  apprehensions  of 
the  crew  at  length  prevailed  over  the  remonstrances  of 
the  admiral ;  they  assembled  tumultuously  upon  deck, 
and,  officers  and  men,  all  insisted  upon  returning  im- 
mediately to  Spain.  In  these  alarming  circumstances, 
Columbus  perceived  that  opposition  would  be  danger- 
ous ;  he  therefore  yielded  to  their  importunity  so  fat  aa 


to  propose  that  they  should  continue  the  voyage  for 
three  days  more,  and  that,  if  at  the  end  of  that  period 
no  land  v.'ere  discovered,  he  should  instantly  return. 
Notwithstanding  the  mutinous  disposition  of  the  sailors, 
and  their  ardent  desire  to  revisit  their  native  country, 
this  proposal  did  not  appear  to  them  extravagant  or  un- 
fair; and  the  admiral  in  making  it  did  not  hazard  a  great 
deal,  by  restricting  himself  to  so  sliort  a  time.  The  no- 
tices of  land  were  almost  indubitable.  The  water  had 
gradually  become  more  shallow  ;  flocks  of  strange  birds 
were  seen;  a  staff  curiously  wrought  and  adorned  had 
been  taken  up  by  the  Piotii,and  weeds  of  a  kind  dill'erent 
from  any  which  they  had  hitherto  observed.  A  cane 
which  seemed  to  have  been  lately  cut,  and  a  thorn  with 
red  fruit  upon  it,  were  found  and  examined.  A  light 
was  perceived  at  a  distance,  andapjieared  to  move  from 
place  to  place,  as  if  carried  by  some  fisherman  or  travel- 
ler. These  tokens  were  decisive  and  joyous  ;  and  Co- 
lumbus did  not  fail  to  make  use  of  them,  in  elevating 
the  hopes,  and  diminishing  the  apprehensions  of  his  as- 
sociates. He  gave  orders  that  the  ships  should  lie  to; 
and,  at  length,  on  the  morning  of  the  12th  of  October, 
an  island  appeared  about  six  miles  to  the  north,  with 
extensive,  flat,  and  verdant  fields,  furnished  with  wootls, 
and  diversified  by  rivulets.  The  crew  of  the  Pinta  be- 
gan the  Te  Deum,  and  they  were  instantly  joined  by  the 
rest  of  their  companions.  This  expression  of  gratitude 
to  the  Almighty  was  followed  by  acknowledgments  of 
their  rashness  and  disobedience  towards  their  command- 
er ;  and,  like  those  who  are  suddenly  and  greatly  moved 
by  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  they  passed  from  one  ex- 
treme to  another,  and  looked  up  to  the  man,  whom,  a  few 
days  before,  they  had  reviled  and  insulted,  as  one  whom 
the  Deity  had  endowed  with  penetration  and  persever- 
ance above  the  common  lot  of  mortals. 

When  the  sun  arose,  Columbus  landed  in  a  gorgeous 
dress ;  and  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand  and  the  royal 
standard  displayed,  took  possession  of  the  island  for  the 
crown  of  Castile  and  Leon  ;  all  his  followers  kneeling 
on  the  shore,  and  kissing  the  ground  with  tears  of  joy. 
The  natives,  who  had  assembled  in  great  numbers,  ou 
the  first  apjjearance  of  the  ships,  stood  around  the  Spa- 
niards, and  gazed  in  speechless  astonishment ;  utterly 
ignorant  of  what  the  Europeans  were  doing,  and  unable; 
to  foresee  the  dreadful  consequences  which  were  to  re- 
sult from  this  visit  of  the  formidable  strangers.  They 
considered  their  new  guests  as  beings  of  a  higher  or- 
der, who  had  the  thunder  and  the  lightning  at  their  com- 
mand :  they  regarded  them  as  tlie  children  of  the  suu, 
who  had  descended  from  heaven  to  abide  for  a  little 
among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.  See  Hcrrcra,  dec.  i. 
lib.  i.  c.  13.  and  the  Life  of  Columbus,  c.  22,  23. 

Amidst  the  splendour  of  discovery,  and  the  success 
of  adventurous  speculation,  let  us  pause  for  a  moment, 
and  inquire  by  what  right  the  Spaniards  were  authorized 
to  consider  themselveg  as  the  masters  of  a  country  to 
which  they  were  strangers,  and  which,  a  little  beibre, 
they  had  only  conjectured  to  exist  ?  Tbey  were  not 
the  first  occupants,  for  others  were  already  in  posses- 
sion. The  mere  circumstance  of  having  crossed  the 
Atlantic  would  surely  not  entitle  them  to  regard  the 
islands  which  they  bad  visited  as  their  own.  Here  the 
causes  which  lead  to  invasion  and  to  conquest  amono' 
Eurojiean  nations,  cannot  be  allowed  to  have  any  place. 
The  Spaniards  had  no  differences  to  adjust  with  the 
inhabitants  of  America,  and  no  shadow  of  a  pretence 


sM 


AMERICA 


Tor  interfering  with  tliem  in  the  management  of  their 
concerns.  It  is  true,  that,  after  the  return  of  Columbus, 
the  pope  granted  in  full  right  to  the  sovereigns  of 
Spain,  all  the  countries  possessed  by  infidels,  except 
those  which  he  had  before  given  to  the  Portuguese; 
and,  in  the  ignorance  of  the  filteenth  century,  and  the 
plenitude  of  apostolical  power,  it  was  not  denied  that  it 
belonged  to  him  to  do  so.  At  the  present  time,  how- 
ever, no  man  will  contend  for  the  authority  of  the  pope, 
to  dispose  of  kingdoms.  That  authority  which,  by 
clif eking  inquiry,  brought  darkness  and  depression  along 
with  it,  has  been  overthrown  in  a  great  part  «f  Europe, 
and  restrained  and  limited  where  it  has  not  been  over- 
thrown. But  history  records,  and  laments  while  she 
records,  that  the  jiropagation  of  the  Christian  faith  was 
held  out  as  the  chief  reason  for  taking  possession  of 
America ;  and  that  it  was  ever  thought,  that  the  reli- 
gion of  Jesus  could  be  promoted  by  the  injustice,  cru- 
elty, bloodshed,  and  slavery,  which  the  unprotected 
islanders  of  the  New  World  were  destined  to  experience 
from  their  unprincipled  invaders. 

The  island  on  which  Columbus  landed  was  called  by 
tlie  natives  Guanahani,  but  by  the  admiral,  San  Salva- 
dor. It  is  one  of  that  group  of  islands  which  are  named 
the  Bahamas,  and  is  situated  above  3000  miles  from  Go- 
mara,  tlie  most  westerly  of  the  Canaries,  and  only  four 
degrees  to  the  south  of  it.  Columbus  also  discovered, 
and  touched  at  many  of  the  islands  which  are  situated  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  Bahamas,  and,  conformably  to 
the  theory  which  he  had  adopted,  he  believed  them  to 
be  at  no  great  distance  from  India.  They  were  consi- 
dered as  attached  to  that  unexplored  country ;  and,  as 
they  had  been  reached  by  a  western  passage,  they  were 
called  the  West  Indies  jEven  when  increaeing  know- 
ledge had  detected  the  error,  the  appellation  was  conti- 
nued; and  it  is  still  given  to  these  islands.  Columbus 
undertook  several  voyages  to  the  New  World,  planted 
a  colony,  and  built  a  city  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola,  or 
St.  Domingo.  To  this  city  he  gave  the  name  of  Isabella, 
in  honour  of  the  queen,  under  whose  patronage  he  had 
sailed.  At  length,  in  his  third  expedition,  he  discover- 
ed the  continent  of  America,  landing  at  different  places 
on  the  coasts  of  Paria  and  Cumana,  and  surveying  their 
beauty  and  fertility  with  rapturous  pleasure.  But 
Americus  Vespucius,  a  Florentine  gentleman,  who  vi- 
sited that  continent  some  years  after  Colutnbus,  and 
transmitted  to  his  friends  in  Europe  a  history  of  his  ad- 
Tentures,  written  with  considerable  elegance,  and  with 
much  vanity,  had  the  address  so  to  frame  his  narrative 
as  to  pass  for  the  discoverer  of  the  main  land  in  the  New 
World,  and  to  rob  Columbus  of  the  honour  which  he  so 
justly  deserved.  The  consent  of  all  nations  has  bestow- 
ed the  name  of  America  on  the  western  continent;  and 
at  this  distance  of  time,  we  can  only  regret  an  act  of 
injustice  which  custom  has  forced  us  to  sanction. — (See 
Vespucius.)  At  what  period  this  appellation  was  given, 
we  have  not  the  meansof  ascertaining  with  accuracy 

For  a  short  history  of  the  progress  which  the  Spa- 
niards made  in  the  American  continent,  under  Cortes 
and  Pizarro,  we  refer  to  the  articles  Mexico  and  Peru, 
where  the  reader  will  likewise  find  some  observations 
on  the  inhabitants  of  those  countries,  and  the  state  of 
knowledge,  and  of  the  arts  among  them,  at  the  lime  of 
the  Spanish  conquests.  For  an  account  of  the  animals, 
vegetables,  and  minerals,  which  belong  to  the  New 
World,  see  the  articles,  Botanv,  Oryctognobv,  and 
the  other  branchea  of  Natural  History. 


I.  The  general  Aspect  of  the  American  Cotdinettt. 

When  we  cast  our  eyes  on  the  western  world,  or,  at 
least,  on  those  parts  of  it  which  are  habitable,  the  first 
thing  which  strikes  us  is  its  extraordinary  magnitude. 
If  we  compare  it  with  Europe,  Asia,  or  Africa,  the 
known  divisions  of  the  eastern  hemisphere,  we  shall 
find  that  it  is  no  less  distinguished  from  them  by  its 
size,  than  by  other  appearances  which  are  peculiar  to 
itself.  Excepting  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  it  is  broken  by 
no  sea  to  which  the  name  of  Mediterranean  can  be  ap- 
plied :  but  its  rivers  are  large  and  rapid,  beyond  those 
of  the  ancient  continent,  and,  afterfalling  into  the  ocean, 
they  give  rise  to  currents  which  are  perceptible  at  a 
very  great  distance  from  their  mouths.  The  Marag- 
non,  or  river  of  the  Amazons,  the  Oroonoco,  and  the 
Plata,  in  South  America,  and  the  Missisippi  and  St. 
Lawrence,  in  North  America,  are  all  conspicuous  for 
the  width  of  the  channels  in  which  they  flow,  and  the 
prodigious  mass  of  waters  which  they  roll  into  the 
ocean.  The  mouth  of  the  river  La  Plata  is  150  miles 
in  breadth,  and  that  of  the  Maragnon  is  still  more  ex- 
tensive. In  the  western  continent,  the  operations  of 
nature  seem  to  have  been  conducted  on  a  larger  scale, 
and  with  a  greater  proportion  of  materials,  than  in  any 
other  quarter  of  the  globe.  All  is  noble  and  and  magnifi- 
cent. The  Alps  and  Pyrenees  sink  before  the  Andes, 
whose  bases,  in  many  places,  reach  nearly  the  same 
height  with  the  most  elevated  land  of  the  eastern  hemi- 
spere.  Chimborajo,  the  loftiest  point  of  the  Andes,  is 
20,280  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  5000  feet 
higher  than  Mont  Blanc.  As  the  mountains  of  the  New 
World  are  elevated  and  grand,  so  its  plains  are  exten- 
sive and  beautiful.  In  some  places,  and  at  certain  sear 
sons  of  the  year,  the  eye  feels  its  imperfection  when  it 
attempts  to  look  over  the  verdant  surface,  and  the  travel- 
ler wishes  in  vain  for  rocks  and  woods  to  relieve  hia 
sight.  In  other  places,  the  forests,  composed  of  the 
largest  trees  and  the  thickest  brushwood,  are  widely 
extended,  and  almost  impenetrable,  except  to  the  ani- 
mals which  occupy  them,  or  to  the  savages  by  whom 
those  animals  are  pursued.  Its  lakes  are  equally  re- 
markable. In  North  America,  a  chain  of  lakes  extends 
from  east  to  west,  with  which  the  Old  World  has  no- 
thing to  compare.  They  ought  rather  to  be  called  in- 
land seas  than  lakes.  Each  of  them  rivals  the  Caspiaa 
in  magnitude;  and,  that  sea  excepted,  the  lake  of  a  se- 
cond or  even  of  a  third  class  in  America,  equal,  if  they 
do  not  excel,  the  greatest  collection  of  water  of  which 
the  Old  Worid  can  boast.     (A) 

II.  Ttu  Climate  of  America, 

If  the  continent  of  America  be  distinguished  from  the 
Old  World  by  the  grandeur  of  its  general  features,  it 
exhilnts  a  contrast  not  less  remarkable  in  the  wide  di- 
versity of  its  climate.  On  this  interesting  subject  much 
has  been  written,  and  many  loose  and  fanciful  theories 
advanced  ;  but  amidst  all  the  profusion  of  remarks,  we 
seek  in  vain  for  any  thing  like  accuracy  of  detail.  Me- 
teorology, as  a  science,  is  yet  in  its  infancy ;  several  in- 
struments of  essential  importance  are  still  wanting,  or 
very  little  known  ;  and  the  delicate  art  of  observing 
seems  to  make  a  slow  and  doubtful  progress.  Concern- 
ing the  nature  of  the  climate  of  America,  we  must, 
therefore,  content  ourselves  at  present  with  a  meagre 
and  unfinished  outline.  Yet  from  a  close  examination  of 


AMERICA. 


58£ 


such  imperfect  facts  08  are  within  our  reach,  we  shall, 
perhaps,  be  able  to  dispel  some  of  the  obscurity  that 
kangs  over  the  subject,  to  correct  certain  erroneous 
opinions  which  have  prevailed,  and  to  place  the  whole 
matter  in  a  light  which  will  better  harmonize  with  the 
general  laws  of  nature. 

It  is  well  known  that  islands,  from  the  proximity  of 
the  balancing  influence  of  the  ocean,  enjoy  a  more  equa- 
ble temperature  than  extensive  continents.  But  the 
continent  of  America  suffers  the  impressions  of  heat  and 
cold  in  their  widest  range,  and  with  their  most  rapid 
changes.  In  most  parts  of  that  vast  region,  the  sum- 
mers are  extremely  sultry,  and  the  winters  proportion- 
ally severe.  Nor  are  the  transitions  less  extraordinary. 
The  magnificent  rivers  of  North  America  are  not  un- 
frequently  frozen  over  in  a  single  uigtit.  Even  in  the 
etate  of  Virginia,  which  is  advanced  so  far  towards  the 
south,  an  intense  frost  will  often,  within  the  space  of 
twenty-four  hours,  succeed  to  oppressive  heats.  Tra- 
vellers, who  have  visited  that  country,  relate  with  asto- 
nishment, that,  after  passing  a  sultry  day,  and  retiring  to 
rest,  they  have  sometimes  awakened  at  an  early  hour, 
benumbed  with  cold,  and  have  found  the  part  of  the  co- 
verlet which  was  exposed  to  their  breath,  crusted  over 
•with  solid  ice*.  In  Virginia,  and  the  more  southern 
states  of  America,  a  curious  phasnomenon  at  times  oc- 
curs in  winter.  The  rain  congeals  the  moment  it  falls; 
the  lofty  forests  of  pine  and  cedar  soon  groan  under  a 
load  of  pendant  icicles ;  and  while  the  rays  of  a  vivid  sun 
play  among  those  lustres,  the  whole  assemblage  of  ob- 
jects forms  a  spectacle  of  the  most  dazzling  brilliancy 
and  enchanting  magnificence.  Towards  the  northern 
parts  of  the  American  continent,  the  summers  are  still 
hot,  but  of  very  short  duration  ;  the  winter  sets  in  early, 
and  with  excessive  rigour.  About  Hudson's  Bay,  in  the 
depth  of  the  season,  the  snow  appears  not  in  flakes,  but 
resembles  the  finest  sand,  which,  if  blown  against  the 
face,  gives  such  an  acute  sensation  as  to  excoriate  the 
skin.  In  that  remote  settlement,  the  rivers  are  frequent- 
ly covered  with  ice  eight  feet  thick.  Nothing  can  resist 
the  intense  action  of  the  frost ;  the  strongest  liquors  are 
converted  into  a  solid  cake,  and  trees  are  sometimes  split 
with  violent  explosion.  Nor  are  these  effects  compen- 
sated by  the  return  of  a  transient  summer.  The  frozen 
ground  is  only  thawed  to  the  depth  of  two  or  three  feet, 
and  below  that  has  a  perpetual  bed  of  ice.  "  In  the  New- 
World,"  says  Dr.  Robertson,  "  cold  predominates.  The 
rigour  of  the  frigid  zone  extends  over  half  of  those  re- 
gions, which  should  be  temperate  by  their  position. 
Countries  where  the  grape  and  the  fig  should  ripen,  are 
buried  under  snow  one  half  of  the  year  ;  and  lands  situ- 
ated in  the  same  parallel  with  the  most  fertile  and  best 
cultivated  provinces  in  Europe,  are  chilled  with  per- 
petual frosts,  which  almost  destroy  the  power  of  vege- 
tation. As  we  advance  to  those  parts  of  America  which 
lie  in  the  same  parallel  with  provinces  of  Asia  and 
Africa,  blessed  with  an  uniform  enjoyment  of  such  ge- 
nial warmth  as  is  most  friendly  to  life  and  to  vegetation, 
the  dominion  of  cold  continues  to  be  felt,  and  winter 
reigns,  though  during  a  short  period,  with  extreme  se- 
verity. If  we  proceed  along  the  American  continent 
into  the  torrid  zone,  we  shall  find  the  cold  prevalent  in 
the  New  World,  extending  itself  also  to  this  region  of 


the  globe,  and  mitigating  the  excess  of  its  fervour. 
While  the  negro  on  the  coast  of  Africa  is  scorched  with 
unremitting  heat,  the  inhabitant  of  Peru  breathes  an  air 
equally  mild  and  temperate,  and  is  perpetually  shaded 
under  a  canopy  of  grey  clouds,  which  intercept  the 
fierce  beams  of  the  sun,  without  obstructing  his  friendly 
influence.  Along  the  eastern  coast  of  America,  the 
climate,  though  more  similar  to  that  of  the  torrid  zone 
in  other  parts  of  the  earth,  is  nevertheless  considerably 
milder  than  in  other  countries  of  Asia  and  Africa  which 
lie  in  the  same  latitude.  If  from  the  southern  tropic 
we  continue  our  progress  to  the  extremity  of  the  Ame- 
rican continent,  we  meet  with  frozen  seas,  and  countries 
horrid,  barren,  and  scarcely  habitable  for  cold,  much 
sooner  than  in  the  north." 

Such  is  the  notion  universally  entertained  respecting 
the  climate  of  America.  The  New  World  is  believed 
on  the  whole  to  be  ten  degrees  colder  by  Fahrenheit's 
scale  than  the  corresponding  parallels  in  the  ancient 
continent.  The  character  of  excessive  humidity  has 
likewise  been  ascribed  to  the  American  climate.  The 
surface  of  the  ground,  covered  with  a  boundless  extent 
of  impervious  forest,  never  feels  the  direct  influence  of 
the  sun ;  while  the  atmosphere  becomes  charged  with 
moisture  from  the  |)ersi)iration  of  the  multiplied  sur- 
faces of  the  leaves.  In  confirmation  of  this  principle,  it 
is  asserted,  that  since  the  first  settlement  of  North  Ame- 
rica, the  climate,  in  proportion  as  cultivation  spreads, 
has  grown  sensibly  milder,  drier,  and  more  salubrious. 
The  western  continent,  still  cold  and  humid  from  the 
bosom  of  the  ocean,  betrays  its  recent  origin*.  Yet  the 
persevering  industry  of  man  will  in  time  correct  the 
defects,  and  suhdae  the  luxuriance  of  nature ;  and,  by 
draining  the  marshes,  and  o[)ening  the  surface  of  the 
ground  to  the  genial  action  of  the  solar  beams,  it  will 
not  only  heighten  the  productive  powers  of  the  soil,  but 
will  gradually  soften  and  improve  the  quality  of  the 
atmosphere. 

Much  indeed  can  be  effected  by  the  labour  and  inge- 
nuity of  man.  But  the  theory  now  sketched,  is,  we  fear, 
to  be  regarded  rather  as  the  birth  of  a  lively  fancy,  than 
the  offspring  of  accurate  science.  We  are  even  disposed 
to  question  the  exactness  of  the  statements  on  which  it 
rests.  America  furnishes  no  register  of  the  indications 
of  the  hygrometer,  and  with  instruments  so  radically 
defective,  the  few  observations  of  that  kind  which  have 
been  made  in  Europe,  can  scarcely  be  deemed  of  any 
value.  But  from  a  simple  fact  noticed  by  Dr.  Franklin, 
we  may  fairly  conclude,  that,  in  Pennsylvania  at  least, 
the  air  is  on  the  whole  drier  than  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  London,  or  even  of  Paris.  The  American  philoso- 
pher remarked,  that  a  small  mahogany  case,  which  fitted 
exactlyin  England, constantly  shrunk,  and  became  loose, 
after  having  been  carried  across  the  Atlantic ;  but  re- 
covered, in  a  great  measure,  its  original  dimensions, 
when  conveyed  to  France. 

The  cold  which  prevails  in  most  parts  of  America 
through  the  winter,  is,  no  doubt,  most  intense  :  but,  iu 
return,  those  regions  during  summer  are  likewise  op- 
pressed by  excessive  heat.  Nor  have  we  any  sufficient 
proof  that  the  climate  of  the  New-World,  taking  the 
average  of  the  seasons  throughout  the  year,  is  really 


This  must  be  considered  as  the  traveller's  license. 

Tenca  Cose. 


*  The  idea  of  a  recent  rising  from  the  water  is  very 
erroneous  as  to  the  continent  of  America,  and  is  opposed 
by  the  peculiar  elevation  of  its  mountains.  Tench  Coxe. 


o84 


AMERICA. 


colder  on  flie  whole  than  iu  that  oF  theancient  continent. 
It  is  more  consistent  with  reason  to  believe,  that,  though 
America  exhibits  botl)  extremes  of  the  scale,  yet  the 
rigours  of  winter  are  there  compensated  by  the  scorch- 
ing heats  of  summer,  and  that  the  mean  temperature, 
for  a  series  of  years,  is  the  same  beyond  the  Atlantic, 
as  in  any  other  part  of  the  globe  having  the  same  lati- 
tude and  elevation.  We  can  place  very  little  reliance 
on  the  scanty  registers  of  the  thermometer  kept  in 
America*.  Nay,  from  the  mode  in  which  such  observa- 
tions are  usually  made,  there  is  an  evident  tendency  to 
give  results  considerably  below  the  truth.  The  degrees 
of  the  thermometer  are  generally  noted  in  the  morning 
and  the  evening,  and  about  the  height  of  the  day.  But 
not  long  after  sun-set,  the  cold  continues  with  very  lit- 
tle increase  until  day-break  ;  so  that  the  cold  during  the 
night  is  nearly  stated  twice  in  the  register,  while  the 
greatest  heat  of  the  day  only  appears  once  i  and  conse- 
quently the  mean  of  the  three  numbers  must  be  really 
less  than  what  would  have  been  obtained  from  a  more 
equal  distribution.  The  preferable  method  of  ascer- 
taining the  mean  temperature  of  any  place,  is  to  exa- 
mine the  heat  of  the  ground  at  some  considerable  depth, 
and  ^vhich  may  be  discovered  with  great  precision,  by 
plunging  a  thermometer  in  a  copious  spring,  or  in  wa- 
ter fresh  drawn  from  a  deep  close  well,  or,  still  better, 
in  what  flows  from  a  pump  which  has  been  worked  for  a 
few  minutes.  Earth  and  rock  are  such  slow  conductors 
of  heat,  that,  not  many  feet  below  the  surface,  the  vicis- 
situdes that  mark  the  revolution  of  the  year  are  con-: 
founded  and  lost,  in  the  uniform  temperature  which  per- 
vades the  general  mass,  and  which  is  the  result  of  those 
accumulated  impressions  made  during  a  long  succession 
of  ages.  The  heat  of  a  well  at  New-York,  and  that  of 
another  at  Kingston,  in  the  Island  of  Jamaica,  which  lies 
in  the  American  Archipelago,  have  both  been  carefully 
observed,  and  found  to  agree  very  nearly  with  the  for- 
mula given  by  professor  Mayer  of  Gottingen,  for  the 
mean  temperature  of  the  corresponding  parallels  in  Eu- 
rope and  Asia.  It  is  indeed  alleged,  that  a  draw-well 
near  Philadelphia  was  several  degrees  cplder ;  but  the 
bottom  of  an  open  jrit  must  evidently  be  cooled  below 
the  standard,  since  it  will  experience  the  full  impres- 
sion of  winter  without  receiving  the  influence  of  sum- 
mer, the  chilled  air,  by  its  superior  gravity,  constantly 
descending,  while  the  warmer  air  hangs  stagnant 
over  the  mouth  of  the  shaft.  The  springs  about  Hud- 
son's Bay,  are  also,  it  would  appear,  unusually  cold. 
These  springs,  however,  are  merely  superficial,  and  flow 
through  a  bed  of  frozen  earth.  But  if  we  pierced  through 
that  hard  crust,  we  should,  no  doubt,  meet,  at  a  certain 
depth,  with  a  milder  and  unchanging  temperature.  This 
limiting  depth,  which,  in  Europe,  is  only  about  four  feet, 
must  be  proportionally  greater  in  America,  and  particu- 


*  One  of  the  best  evidences  of  temperature  Is  the 
perfection  of  the  sweet  orange,  in  open  grounds,  In  Lis- 
bon of  Euro[)e,  and  St.  Augustine  and  New  Orleass  of 
North  America.  The  climates  of  the  New  World  are 
colder  than  those  of  Europe,  in  the  same  parallels  of 
latitude,  probaltly  because  there  is  less  land  in  the  wes- 
tern hemisphere  than  in  the  eastern,  and  more  water 
containing  mountains  of  ice.  It  is  to  the  want  of  land 
and  prevalence  of  ice  in  the  southern  hemisphere,  that 
the  superior  cold  of  the  southern  hemisphere  is  owing. 

TfiNCH  Cose. 


larly  towards  the  more  northern  parts,  where  the  vicis- 
situdes of  heat  and  cold  are  extreme. 

The  sun  is  the  great  fountain  of  heat,  which  is  very 
difl'erently  apportioned  over  the  surface  of  our  globe. 
The  annual  quantity  which  any  place  receives,  being 
compounded  of  the  force  and  duration  of  the  solar  beams, 
depends  therefore  altogether  on  the  latitude.  But  the 
subsequent  diffusion  of  that  heat  is  performed  by  the 
agency  of  the  atmosphere,  which,  encircling  the  earth 
with  its  irregular,  yet  incessant  motions,  blends  the  op- 
posite extremes,  and  tempers  to  a  considerable  degree 
the  original  inequalities  of  climate.  Whether  the  calo- 
rific impressions  are  directly  made  on  the  surface,  or 
absorbed  in  the  clouds,  or  spent  among  the  foliage  of 
the  lofty  trees,  it  hence  matters  little ;  since  they  must 
ultimately  be  communicated  to  the  ground,  and  be  min- 
gled in  the  common  store.  Whatever  serves  to  facilitate 
the  motion  of  air  along  the  surface,  must  have  an  in- 
fluence to  equalize,  in  some  degree,  the  vicissitudes  of 
the  seasons.  The  progress  of  cultivation,  therefore,  in 
a  new  country,  can  have  no  real  effect  in  changing  the 
mean  temperature;  but,  by  removing  the  obstacles  t« 
the  free  passage  of  the  wind,  it  may  contribute  to  soften 
the  roughness  of  the  climate,  and  diminish  the  exces- 
sive distance  betweeri  the  heat  of  summer  and  the  cold 
of  winter. 

If  the  motions  of  the  air  were  quite  instantaneous, 
an  uniform  temperature  would  have  been  maintained 
over  the  whole  surface  of  our  globe.  The  imperfect 
mobility  of  that  fluid,  and  the  remoteness  of  the  poles 
from  the  equator,  prevent  the  inequality  of  the  sun'a 
action  from  being  completely  correctc<l,  and  occasion  all 
that  gradation  of  climate  which  marks  the  successive 
zones. 

But  the  commixture  of  the  higher  and  lower  strata 
of  the  atmosphere  is  a  process  incomparably  easier, 
than  what  is  eflected  by  the  transfer  and  interchange 
of  the  heated  portions  of  air  in  the  vast  extended  line 
between  the  north  and  the  south.  The  region  of  clouds 
no  where,  perhaps,  exceeds  five  miles  in  height,  while 
the  distance  of  the  poles  from  the  equator  is  more  than 
six  thousand  miles.  Every  part  of  a  perpendicular  co- 
lumn of  air  has,  therefore,  an  equal  share  of  heat.  But 
though  the  absolute  quantity  of  heat  thus  distributed 
vertically  be  the  same,  its  api)arent  intensity  is  very 
different,  and  the  temperature  of  the  air  at  any  elvation, 
must  be  inversely  proportional  to  the  capacity  for  heat 
correspontling  to  its  diminished  density.  The  capacity 
of  atmospheric  air,  as  aa°ected  by  its  density,  beinji;, 
therefore,  ascertained  from  experiment,  the  decreasing 
gradation  of  temperature,  at  successive  heights,  may 
be  thence  deduced.  Winds,  blowing  from  a  northern 
quarter,  will  cool  the  surface,  and  those  from  the  south 
must  warm  it.  We  might  presume,  that  air  which  has 
traversed  elevated  tracts,  will  descend  into  the  plain 
impregnated  with  cold.  Yet  this  notion,  so  generally 
received,  will  appear,  on  examination,  to  be  unfounded. 
The  air  becoming  denser  in  its  descent,  has  its  ca|>aci- 
ty  diminished,  and  consequently  the  share  of  heat  which 
it  naturally  retains,  nmst  now  indicate  a  higher  tempe- 
rature. But  we  reserve  the  full  di8cussi<in  of  this  impor- 
tant subject  for  the  article  Ci.i.mati:.  Sec  also  Atmoo- 
PHDRE,  Capacity,  Elevation,  and  Heat,  (x) 

III.  The  kuntan  species  as  existing  in  America. 

With  the  exception  of  two  great  nations,  of  which  an 
account  will  be  given  in  another  part  of  this  work,   (see 


AMERICA. 


5^^ 


Mexico  and  Peru,)  the  inliabitants  of  America,  when 
discovered  by  the  Spaniards,  were  all  in  that  state  to 
which  the  name  of  savage  has  been  applied ;  and  there 
was  an  astonishing  similarity  in  the  features  of  their  con- 
dition through  the  whole  of  the  regions  which  they  in- 
habited. There  is  an  infancy  with  regard  to  the  human 
mind,  as  well  as  the  body.  It  likewise  has  its  period  of 
imbecility,  when  its  ideas  have  not  been  multiplied  by 
education,  and  when  its  powers  have  not  been  unfolded 
and  strengthened  by  exercise.  This  is  true,  both  of 
nations  and  of  individuals.  There  is  a  time  when  nu- 
merous tribes,  and  even  the  people  of  whole  continents, 
are  elevated  only  a  few  degrees  above  the  animals, 
which  man,  in  hisadvanced  and  cultivated  state,  denomi- 
nates irrational.  Their  faculties  may  then  be  said  to  be 
in  embryo.  Their  curiosity  is  unawakened,  and  the 
sphere  of  all  their  mental  operations  is  narrow.  As  yet 
philosophy  has  not  begun  to  investigate  things  human 
and  divine ;  it  is  not  once  inquired  by  what  means  we 
see,  or  hear,  or  feel;  reasoning  and  research  are  nn- 
known ;  speculation  has  not  learnt  to  anticipate  discove- 
ry ;  words,  the  vehicles  of  thought,  are  few,  and  as  they 
are  applied  to  a  great  number  of  objects,  their  import 
is  various.  In  this  state  of  the  human  understanding 
and  attainments,  the  deficiencies  of  vocal  utterance  are 
supplied  by  extravagant  looks  and  gestures,  and  the  sa- 
Tage  communicates  his  ideas,  and  expresses  his  desires, 
not  with  his  tongue  only,  but  with  his  whole  body. 

In  the  early  stages  of  society,  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence alone  excite  and  occupy  the  attention  of  man.  His 
thoughts  are  limited  by  the  severe  necessity  of  his  con- 
dition to  his  immediate  support,  and  whatever  may  con- 
tribute to  it ;  and  all  beyond  (his  either  escapes  his  oIj- 
servation,  or  is  regarded  with  indifference.  As  his  ideas 
are  scanty,  so  his  stock  of  words  is  small.  His  bow  and 
arrows,  the  river  and  the  wood,  his  friend  and  his  ene- 
my, constitute  the  vocabulary  of  his  substantives  ;  and 
to  strike,  and  to  be  struck,  to  rise,  and  to  lie  down,  to 
eat,  to  drink,  to  sleep,  and  to  dance,  are  almost  the  only 
▼erbs,  with  which  he  is  acquainted.  All  his  notions  are 
individual ;  he  has  hardly  a  conception  of  a  class  of  ob- 
jects agreeing  in  some  particulars,  and  yet  differing  so 
much,  as  to  be  arranged  into  species,  and  distributed 
into  varieties.  Though  a  member  of  a  tnbe,  he  cannot 
perceive  its  interest  as  in  any  degree  separated  from 
his  own.  He  never  thinks  of  attending  to  one  quality 
in  a  substance,  and  of  excluding  the  rest  from  the  in- 
tellectual regard.  His  deities  are  local,  invested  with 
human  organs,  and  represented  in  terrific  shapes ;  and 
the  worship  which  is  offered  to  them  partakes  of  their 
dreadful  character.  It  is  chiefly  by  examining  the  lan- 
guage of  savage  nations,  that  we  can  ascertain  the  de- 
gree of  mental  improvement  which  they  have  reached. 
They  have  no  words  expressive  of  abstract  or  general 
ideas,  and  no  terms  by  which  the  operations  of  the  mind 
are  distinguished :  their  whole  phraseology  has  an  im- 
mediate reference  to  the  senses,  and  is  closely  associ- 
ated with  objects  which  are  without.  Duration,  exlen- 
eion,  subject,  aitrihtde,  unity,  divisihility,  and  a  thousand 
other  expressions  always  to  be  found  in  the  language  of 
atbinking  and  a  cultivated  peoi)le,are  entirely  unknown 
to  them.  The  character  of  the  American  Indians  cor- 
responds exactly  with  these  observations.  The  count- 
less tribes  which  wander  over  the  plains  of  Brazil,  Pa- 
raguay, and  Guiana,  or  inhabit  the  banks  of  the  Marag- 
non  and  Oroonoco,  are  utterly  unacquainted  with  every 
thing  beyond  the  preservation  of  their  Uvea,  or  the  in- 

Vou.  I.    Pabx  II. 


dulgence  of  their  appetites.  Their  mental  powers  are 
unexercised  and  dormant ;  notliing  is  to  be  seen  among 
them  which  implies  any  reach  of  thought,  or  ingenuity 
of  contrivance.  Not  a  few  of  them  are  destitute  of 
houses  or  huts,  to  protect  themselves  from  the  incle- 
mency of  the  weather,  but  roam  in  naked  wildness  from 
place  to  place,  and  follow  their  prey,  hardly  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  brute  creation.  The  people  whom 
Columbus  found  in  the  Bahamas,  and  some  of  the  neigh- 
bouring islands,  were  in  a  situation  not  very  different. 
An  extreme  simjdicity,  which  ran  through  all  their  ac- 
tions ;  a  stupid,  staring,  and  lifeless  eye;  an  ignorance  of 
every  thing  which  should  occupy  the  earliest  thoughts 
of  rational  beings ;  an  imbecility  of  mental  energy,  and 
an  incapacity  for  bodily  exertion;  these,  and  other  cir- 
cumstances equally  degrading,  struck  the  Europeans, 
when  Ihey  first  visited  Amerief,  as  descriptive  of  the 
Indian  race;  and  made  such  an  impression  upon  their 
minds,  that  they  were  unwilling  to  rank  them  with  hu- 
man creatures.  This  opinion,  which  the  interest  and 
avarice  of  the  settlers  contributed  to  establish,  was  the 
cause  of  much  of  the  cruelly  which  was  exercised 
against  those  unhappy  people ;  and  it  required  a  bull 
from  the  pope  to  show  that  it  was  false.  Nor  have  the 
rude  inhabitants  of  America  improvedin  any  remarkable 
degree  since  the  discovery  of  the  western  hemisphere. 
They  still  remain  in  all  their  native  ignorance  and  bar- 
barity ;  and,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  the  uninstructed, 
they  regard  themselves  as  supremely  endowed  with 
every  qualification  which  can  elevate  and  dignify  the 
human  species ;  a  circumstance  which  renders  their 
condition  only  the  more  truly  wretched  and  deplorable. 
"  Since  the  time  of  Columbus  and  those  who  followed 
him,"  says  the  elegant  Robertson,  "  persons  more  en- 
lightened and  impartial  than  the  discoverers  or  conquer- 
ors of  America,  have  had  an  opportunity  of  contempla- 
ting the  most  savage  of  its  inhabitants ;  and  they  have 
been  astonished  and  humbled  with  observing  how  nearly 
man,  in  this  condition,  approaches  to  the  level  of  the 
brutes."  See  Tlie  Hist,  of  America,  vol.  i.  book  iv.  p. 
344.  12mo. 

Another  circumstance,  which  proves  the  degraded 
condition  of  the  American  Indians,  is  their  Ignorance  of 
arithmetic,  or  the  art  of  computation ;  an  art  which  must 
be  regarded  as  indispensably  necessary,  wherever  pro- 
perty is  known  and  distribution  is  frequent,  and  which 
in  the  eastern  hemisphere  has  been  i)ractised  from  a 
time  so  remote  that  the  name  of  its  inventor  has  been 
lost.  But  savages,  who  are  in  a  great  measure  strangers 
to  property ;  who  have  no  possessions  to  contend  for,  or 
wealth  to  distribute  ;  and  whose  ideas  are  few  and  littlfe 
diversified,  have  hardly  any  occasion  for  this  useful  art. 
Even  if  they  were  instructed  in  it,  it  would  be  rather  an 
encumbrance  to  them  than  an  advantage.  It  is  enough 
for  an  Indian  that  he  goes  to  war  with  his  tribe ;  he  can 
distinguish  all  its  members  by  their  look  and  external 
appearance,  and  considers  it  as  both  unnecessary  and 
troublesome,  that  they  should  be  divided  into  companies 
of  hundreds  or  fifties.  In  some  parts  of  America,  arith- 
metic appears  to  be  altogether  unknown.  We  have  the 
authority  of  Condamine,  of  Stadius,  of  Lery,  and  others, 
for  asserting,  that  the  numeration  of  many  tribes  goes 
no  further  tlian  three.  Several  can  reckon  as  far  as  ten, 
and  some  can  proceed  to  twenty.  When  they  talk  of 
any  number  higher  then  these,  they  point  to  the  leave* 
of  the  forest,  or  to  the  hairs  of  their  head,  intimating 
that  It  is  60  great  as  not  to  be  counted.  Of  any  arith- 
4E 


586 


AMERICA. 


metlcal  process,  such  as  that  of  addition  or  subtraction, 
they  are  wholly  ignorant.  What  we  have  now  stated, 
however,  does  not  obtain  universally  throughout  the 
American  continent.  The  Iroquois,  or  Indians  of  the 
Six  Nations,  in  Canada,  the  Algonquins,  the  Chippe- 
ways,  and  other  tribes,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  river  St 
Lawrence  and  the  Lakes,  have  made  very  considerable 
progress  in  tlie  art  of  calculation,  when  compared  with 
the  more  southern  inhabitants  of  the  New  World.  This 
las  arisen  both  from  their  greater  advancement  in  civili- 
zation, introducing  a  greater  variety  of  objects  and  ideas, 
and  from  their  intercourse  with  the  Europeans,  with 
whom  they  carry  on  a  regular  trade  in  furs.  But  not- 
withstanding these  advantages,  even  their  arithmetic 
does  noi  reach  above  a  thousand ;  in  some  instances,  as 
among  the  Cherokees,  not  above  a  tenth  part  of  that 
number.  And  the  smaller  tribes,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  Cherokees,  having  less  immediate  connexion 
with  Europeans,  and  retaining  more  of  their  indigenous 
barbarity,  have  no  words  by  which  they  can  reckon 
higher  than  twenty. 

A  savage  is  wholly  occupied  with  what  he  sees,  and 
hears,  and  feels.     His  present  wants  alone  rouse  him 
from  indolence,  and  promi)t  him  to  exertion.  He  seldom 
thinks  of  the  future ;  he  has,  of  course,  no  anxiety  to 
provide  against  evils  at  a  distance,  and  lays  down  no 
extensive  plaus  for  tlje  continuation  of  his  enjoyments. 
Many  examples  of  this  thoughtless  inattention  to  futu- 
rity have  been  recorded  by  those  who  have  visited  and 
^-xamined  the  American  tribes.     Borde  relates  in  his 
•'  Description  des  Caraibes,"  that  when  an  individual  of 
that  nation  has  been  tired  with  the  labour  of  the  day, 
and  is  anxious  to  go  to  rest,  nothing  will  induce  him  to 
part  with  his  hammock  ;  but  iu  the  morning,  when  he 
is  refreshed  with  sleep,  and  invited  by  his  companions 
to  business  or  amusement,  he  will  sell  it  for  a  trifle. 
Mr.  Ellis  observes  of  the  North  Americans,  that  though 
the  greatest  part  of  their  lives  is  spent  in  making  pro- 
vision for  themselves  and  their  families,  they  are  total 
strangers  to  frugality  ;  and  devour,  with  inconsiderate 
greediness,  in  one  day,  the  food  which,  with  proper  ma- 
nagement, might  support  them  for  a  week.     {Voyage  to 
N.Anur.  p.  104.)  The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  they 
are  often  distressed  with  the  severest  famine.     And  in- 
stances are  not  unfrequent  of  such  an  extraordinary 
scarcity  among  them,  that  they  are  obliged  to  remove 
the  hair  from  the  skins  which  they  have  collected,  in 
order  to  sell  them  to  the  Europeans,  and  feed  upon  the 
leather.     Even   when  painful   experience   has   taught 
them  to  look  forward  to  consequences,  their  skill  in 
providing  against  them  appears  to  be  very  limited  and 
defective.    The  same  calamities  oppress  them  year  af- 
ter year,  and  year  after  year  they  are  <li»ting«ishcd  by 
the  same  thoughtlessness,  and  the  same  inability   to 
Ruard  against  the  evils  to  which  they  are  exj^sed. 
When  the  winter  is  over,  they  will  begin  with  much  ea- 
gerness and  activity  to  construct  their  huts  as  a  shelter 
against  the  inclemency  of  the  succeeding  season  :  but  no 
aoouerdoes  the  fine  weatlier  approach,  than  they  relin- 
4)ui8h  the  undertaking,  and  think  of  it  no  more,  till  they 
are  forced  by  the  cold  to  resume  their  diligence,  when 
diligence  can  be  of  little  avail. 

la  the  savage  state  every  man  acts  for  himself.     He 

revenges  his  injuries  with  his  own  hand ;  and  cannot  see 

,  why  the  community  should  take  cognizance  of  an  action 

nhicb  has  been  performed  by  au  indivMual  j  or  trhy  the 


punishment  should  not  be  InBicted  by  him  who  has  sd^ 
fered  the  wrong.  In  conformity  with  this  observation, 
a  North  American  will  undertake  a  journey  of  several 
months,  through  rivers  and  bogs,  unmindful  of  difficulty, 
and  regardless  of  danger,  in  order  to.  satiate  hi»  revenge 
upon  some  person  of  another  tribe,  from  whom  he  has 
received,  or  fancies  that  he  has  received,  an  injury.— 
"  In  these  jouruies,"  says  Adair,  "  they  disregard  eve- 
ry obstacle  which  nature  opposes  to  them,  if  they  are  so 
happy  as  to  get  the  scalp  of  the  murderer  or  enemy,  to 
satisfy  the  craving  ghosts  of  their  relations."  Hist,  of 
the  Atmr.  Indians,  p.  150. 

I.  The  Political  State  of  the  American  Indians. 

The  originof  government  has  been  traced  by  political 
writers,  either  to  the  natural  authority  of  a  father  and 
master  of  a  family  over  his  children  and  dependents ;  or 
to  that  of  a  leader  in  war,  or  in  hunting,  the  most  adven- 
turous and  hardy  of  his  tribe  :  or  it  has  been  traced  to 
both  of  these  united.     In  America,  the  pow-er  of  the 
ruler  may  be  supposed  to  have   originated   from   the 
union  of  the  two  principles  which  have  just  been  men- 
tioned, but  especially  from  the  last;  because,  in  the  New 
World,  the  authority  of  a  father  over  his  children  is  very 
limited ;  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  observe  when  we 
treat  of  the  domestic  conditionof  its  inhabitants.  Among 
the  greater  part  of  the  tribes  which  are  scattered  over 
the  central  regions  of  America,  the  tjonds  of  political 
association  are  extremely  slight.  The  individuals  inha- 
biting a  certain  district,  appear  to  combine,  not  from  a 
perception  of  the  advantages  which  would  result  from 
order  and  subordination  among  themselves,  but  rather 
with  a  view  to  watch  the  motions  of  their  enemies,  and 
to  act  against  them  with  united  vigour.     When  the  at- 
tack is  finished,  or  the  invasion  repelled,  the  authorKy 
of  the  leader  is  disregarded  ;  every  man  recovers  his  in- 
dependence ;  and  thinks  of  being  directed  and  governed 
only  when  a  new  attack  is  meditated,  or  a  new  invasion 
must  be  repelled  by  the  combined  force  oi  his  tribe. 
Laws  and  the  regular  administration  of  justice  are  un- 
known.    Their  rulers  are  their  military  cojnmanders, 
rather  than  their  political  chiefs.     No  established  and 
acknowledged  power  enforces  obedience.     And  even 
>vhen  an  excursion  is  proposed,  and  a  warrior  of  tried 
bravery  offers  to  conduct  it,  the  rest  may  either  follow 
him  or  not,  according  to  their  own  inclinalion.     In  this 
respect  the  natives  of  America  ajipear  to  resemble  the 
ancient  inhabitants  of  Germany,  who  exercised  a  cor- 
responding freedom  of  choice  in  things  relating  to  their 
military  service.    "  Alquc  uhi  quis  ex  principibus,^''  says 
Caesar,  "  in  concilia  se  dixit  duccm  fore,  ut  qui  segiii  re- 
lint  prqfiteanttir  ;  consurgunt  ii  qui  it  causa7n  ct  hmnineni 
probent,  stmmqtie  auxilltum  poUiccntur."     De  Bell.  Gal- 
lic, lib.  vi.  c.  22.     Among  the  Indians,  the  chief  men 
are  denominated  caciques  or  ulmens.    Their  autliority  is 
often  temporary ;  existing  only  while  the  community  is 
engaged  iu  war,  and  never  extending  to  matters  of  life 
and  death ;  in  other  instances  it  is  hereditary,  though 
even  in  these  instances,  which  are  rare,  the  line  of  suc- 
cession is  frequently  broken ;  and  he  who  can  win  the 
first  place  is  entitled  to  hold  it.     In  hardly  any  instance 
does  the  power  of  the  ruler  trench  in  any  degree  upon 
the  liberty  of  the  subject.     The  members  of  a  tribe  are 
fathers,   brothers,  and  friends;  their  huts,  their  arms, 
and  their  dress,  are  the  same;  one  sentiment  of  equality 
animates  tliem  all ;  every  individual  feels  the  importai^cc 


AMERICA. 


58? 


ef  his  own  exertions,  and  values  himself  in  relation  to 
that  importance. 

Amidst  all  the  evils  of  an  uncivilized  state,  ignorance, 
famine,  and  the  want  of  security,  it  has  in  America  at 
least  one  blessing  which  is  unknown  to  many  polished 
nations  of  the  ancient  world.  This  blessing  is  that  of 
independence.  While  myriads  of  human  beings  follow 
in  the  train  of  an  Asiatic  prince,  the  slaves  of  his  will, 
and  the  sport  of  his  caprice ;  while  they  tremble  before 
him,  or  fall  down  at  his  presence,  knowing  that  he  can 
<)ispo?e  of  their  lives  with  a  nod ;  the  rude  inhabitant  of 
America  wanders  where  his  choice  directs  him,  and 
breathes  the  air  of  his  native  plains,  unrestrained  by  the 
voice  or  the  look  of  a  superior.  What  avails  it  the 
wretch  whom  the  eastern  despot  has  consigned  to  de- 
slruction,  that  the  man  who  wills  him  to  perish  lives  in 
all  the  splendour  of  royal  magnificence ;  drinks  the 
most  costly  wines,  and  is  attended  by  millions  of  slaves, 
watchful  of  his  desires,  and  prompt  to  execute  his  com- 
mands ?  The  death  of  the  sufferer  may  be  more  pomp- 
ously cruel  ,•  but  his  life  is  a  period  of  unconditional 
servitude ;  and  deprived  of  freedom,  he  is  a  stranger  to 
many  of  the  highest  enjoyments  of  which  our  nature  is 
capable. 

It  may  be  agreeable,  as  well  as  useful,  to  trace  the 
origin  of  that  spirit  of  independence  which  prevails 
among  the  rude  inhabitants  of  America  whom  we  are 
now  considering.  It  will  be  found  to  take  its  rise  from 
the  circumstances  in  which  they  are  placed,  and  parti- 
cularly from  the  state  of  society  among  the  uncivilized 
natives  of  that  extensive  continent. 

The  savages  of  the  New  World  are,  1.  Those  who 
<lepend  for  subsistence  on  the  bounty  of  unsolicited 
nature.  2.  Those  who  live  chiefly  by  fishing.  3. 
Those  who  support  themselves  principally  by  killing 
the  wild  animals;  and,  4.  Those  who  supply  the  de- 
ficiency of  hunting  or  fishing  by  a  partial  agriculture. 
To  the  individuals  belonging  to  all  these  classes,  just 
ideas  of  property,  either  in  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  or 
in  the  soil  itself,  are  in  a  great  measure  unknown. 
They  have  no  fixed  and  continued  residence,  but  wan- 
der from  place  to  place  in  quest  of  their  food.  They 
are,  of  consequence,  divided  into  a  number  of  small 
communities  or  tribes.  In  small  communities  the 
exertions  of  every  individual  are  requisite,  in  order  that 
any  enterprise  may  succeed,  or  that  any  operation  may 
be  effectual.  Hence  every  individual  considers  him- 
self and  his  exertions,  as  necessary  to  the  welfare  of 
the  community ;  and  knowing  this,  he  maintains  his  in- 
dependence, and  spurns  at  the  thought  of  obeying  the 
commands  of  another. 

In  some  parts  of  the  western  continent,  the  human 
species  appears  in  the  most  degraded  condition,  which 
it  ever  has  presented  to  the  eye  of  a  philosopher.  Not 
a  few  of  the  tribes  which  inhabit  the  more  fertile  re- 
gions of  South  America,  are  wholly  unacquainted  with 
any  artificial  means  of  procuring  subsistence.  They  are 
strangers  to  foresight  and  to  ingenuity,  and  trust  to  the 
spontaneous  productions  of  the  earth  for  the  support  of 
their  lives.  According  to  Nieuhoff,  the  Tapoyers  of 
Brazil  neither  sow  nor  plant.  They  do  not  even  cul- 
tivate the  manioc,  from  the  root  of  which  the  Cassada 
bread  is  made,  but  eat  it,  like  the  inferior  animals,  with- 
out preparation  or  care.  A  similar  account  is  given  by 
Teco  and  Simon,  of  the  Guaserons,  the  Moxes,  the 
Caiguas,  and  other  nations  of  Terra  Firmaand  Paraguay. 


They  live  on  fruits,  berries,  and  leguminous  Tegeta- 
bles,  Avith  which  the  soil,  unusually  productive,  supplies 
them  in  extraordinary  abundance;  or  on  lizards  and 
reptiles  of  various  kinds,  which  are  at  once  sutficiently 
numerous,  and  easily  taken.  No  effort  of  industry  is 
requisite,  and  no  exertion  is  made.  Other  tribes  sup- 
port themselves  chiefly  by  fishing.  In  South  America, 
lakes  and  marshes  are  annuallj'  formed  by  the  inundation 
of  the  rivers,  and  in  these  the  fish  is  left  Ibr  the  use  of 
the  inhabitants.  They  swarm  in  prodigious  numbers, 
and  are  caught  without  art  or  slull.  In  the  larger  rivers, 
as  the  Maragnon  and  Oroonoco,  they  are  yet  more 
abundant.  P.  Aquina  asserts,  that  the  former  of  these 
may  be  taken  with  the  hand ;  and  Gumilla,  an  author 
of  the  highest  respectability,  declares,  when  speaking 
of  the  latter,  that  they  equal  the  sands  upon  its  shore 
for  multitude.  In  consequence  of  this  liberal  supply, 
many  nations  resort,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  to 
the  banks  of  the  rivers,  and  depend  entirely  for  sub- 
sistence on  what  the  waters  can  afford  them.  The  in- 
habitants of  some  provinces  have  discovered  a  method 
of  intoxicating  the  fish,  by  means  of  vegetable  juices  ; 
so  that  they  float  motionless  upon  the  surface,  and  re- 
quire only  to  be  lifted  from  the  element  to  which  they 
belong.  Other  tribes  have  found  out  a  way  of  preserv- 
ing them  without  salt,  by  drying  them  in  the  sun,  or 
smoking  them  upon  hurdles.  In  this  part  of  the  world, 
fishing  seems  to  have  been  the  earliest  employment 
of  our  species ;  and  as  it  requires  less  exertion  and  less 
dexterity  than  hunting  or  agriculture,  the  Americana 
who  live  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Maragnon  and 
Oroonoco,  are  perhaps  the  most  inactive  and  the  least 
improved  of  the  Indian  race. 

But  man,  however  rude  and  ignorant  he  may  be  in 
the  western  hemisphere,  maintains  his  superiority  over 
the  lower  animals,  and  supports  the  dignity  to  which 
his  nature  entitles  him.  If  he  cannot  reduce  them  to 
complete  subjection,  he  destroys  them  by  various  arts 
and  contrivances,  and  depends  on  their  tlestruction  for 
his  subsistence.  It  is  obvious,  that  those  only  who 
reside  in  the  vicinity  of  lakes  and  rivers  can  live  by 
fishing.  Hence  the  tribes  which  are  remote  from  any 
great  collections  of  water,  support  themselves  chiefly 
by  killing  the  land  animals,  with  which  their  forests 
abound.  From  this  source,  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
the  American  Indians  derive  their  subsistence.  The 
chase  is  with  them  a  necessary  and  constant  pursuit. 
They  follow  their  jirey  through  the  woods  with  aston- 
ishing perseverance;  and  laying  aside  the  indolence 
and  stupidity  of  their  nature,  become  active,  skilful,  and 
acute.  They  mark  the  footsteps  of  a  wild  animal  where 
no  other  eye  can  distinguish  them ;  and  if,  at  any  time, 
they  pursue  it  into  regions  which  they  have  not  visit- 
ed before,  they  cut  down  the  branches  of  the  trees 
at  regular  distances,  in  order  to  facilitate  their  return. 
Their  arrow,  pointed  with  bone  or  flint,  seldom  devi- 
ates from  the  object  at  which  they  aim.  No  heast  can 
avoid  their  snares.  Among  some  tribes,  the  youth  are 
not  allowed  to  marry,  till  they  have  proved,  by  their 
skill  and  address  in  hunting,  that  they  are  able  to  support 
a  family.  And  as  the  use  of  the  bow  in  the  chase  is  often 
connected  with  its  use  as  a  pastime,  they  acquire  such  a 
dexterity  in  the  management  of  it,  that  in  their  hands  it  i« 
a  weapon  equally  destructive  with  the  musket  in  those  of 
European  nations. 

Nor  is  the  dexterity  here  alluded  to  the  only  advaK- 
■     4  E2 


S88 


AMERICA. 


tage  which  they  possess  when  engaged  in  hunting. 
They  dip  their  arrows  in  a  poison",  which  renders  the 
slightest  wound  inflicted  by  means  of  them  instantly 
fatal ;  tlie  animal,  whose  skin  is  pierced,  falls  at  once 
to  the  ground;  its  blood  congeals,  and  its  whole  body 
becomes  stiflf  and  cold.  Yet  however  violent  this  ex- 
traordinary poison  may  he,  and  however  quick  in  its 
operation,  such  is  its  peculiar  character,  that  it  never 
taints  the  flesh,  or  unfits  it  for  the  purposes  of  nutrition. 
Many  instances  of  these  effects  are  recorded  by  the 
missionaries  and  travellers  who  have  visited  the  western 
continent,  and  directed  their  attention  to  its  central 
regions;  all  the  nations  of  which  are  acquainted  with 
this  destructive  composition.  Guniilla,  in  particular, 
relates,  that  he  examined  the  carcass  of  an  ape  which 
had  been  killed  by  a  poisoned  arrow ;  and  that  after 
liaving  opened  it  as  quickly  as  possible,  he  found  the 
blood  thick  and  clotted,  and  its  temperature  surprisingly 
diminished,  even  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  heart. 
The  life  of  the  animal  was  completely  extinguished ; 
and  its  members  ceased  to  vibrate  when  sharp  instru- 
ments were  applied  to  them.  But  notwithstanding  all 
these  circumstances,  the  Indians  of  the  party  boiled  it 
without  delay,  and  Gumilla  himself  partook  of  the  re- 
past. "  1  asked  them,*'  says  he,  "  many  questions  about 
it,  and  was  so  satisfied  with  their  answers,  that  I  ven- 
tured to  cat  one  of  the  limbs  of  the  ape,  which  appeared 
to  nie  as  savoury  as  the  most  delicate  pig;  and  af- 
terwards, they  never  killed  any  thing  which  I  did  not 
taste." — {Hislmre  dc  VOrenoque  Trad,  dc  PEspagnol, 
tom.  iii.  p.  3.  ct  seg.")  The  chief  ingredient  in  this 
poison  of  such  deleterious  energj',  is  the  juice  of  the  root 
curare,  a  species  of  willow ;  and  the  tnanchenille,  used  in 
other  parts  of  America  with  a  similar  intention,  produces 
likewise  the  same  effects. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  dexterity  of  the  hunter,  or 
the  efficacy  of  his  weapons,  the  chase  cannot  afford  a 
regular  subsistence.  At  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  the 
pursuit  of  the  wild  animals  must  be  entirely  suspended. 
Hence  those  nations  of  the  American  continent,  who  are 
strangers  to  agriculture,  often  experience  the  most 
severe  and  desolating  famine ;  the  unhappy  individuals 
being  forced  to  eat  lizards  and  toads,  and  unctuous 
earth ;  and  to  subsist  on  the  bones  of  fish  and  serpents, 
which  they  grind  into  powder,  and  form  into  bread. 
According  to  Alvar  Nugnez  Cabeca  de  Vaca,  one  of 
the  most  brave  and  virtuous  of  the  Spanish  adventurers, 
tliis  was  frequently  the  case  with  the  savages  of  Florida, 
among  whom  he  resided  for  a  period  of  nine  years. 
{Naufragias,  chap,  xviii.  p.  20  etseq.  and  c.  xxiv.  p.  27.) 
It  is  by  agriculture  alone  that  a  regular  supply  of  food 
can  be  procured.  There  are  very  few  nations  of 
America  who  live  by  hunting,  that  do  not  at  the  same 
time  cultivate  the  ground ;  and  derive  a  part  at  least  of 
their  subsistence  from  the  productions  which  their  in- 
dustry has  raised.  But  the  agriculture  of  the  Indians 
is  neither  systematic  nor  laborious.  They  live  chiefly 
upon  game  and  fish ;  and  their  only  object  in  cultivating 
the  earth,  is  to  supply  the  accidental  deficiency  of  these. 


*  It  is  not  considered  that  this  is  a  practice  of  the  red 
peopla  of  North  America.     Tengh  Coxe. 


and  to  guard  against  the  evils  of  famine.  Both  Ihe 
plough  and  the  harrow  are  unknown  among  them ;  and 
the  instruments  which  they  use  are  exceedingly  awk- 
ward and  rude.  Their  exertions  are  confined  to  the 
rearing  of  a  few  plants,  which,  in  a  fertile  soil,  spring 
up  and  ripen  with  very  little  care.  The  chief  of  these 
are  maize,  or  Indian  wheat ;  the  manioc,  from  a  species 
of  which  the  Cassada  bread  is  made;  the  plantain,  which 
grows  to  the  height  of  a  tree,  but  which,  notwith- 
standing, vegetates  so  rapidly,  as  in  less  than  a  year 
to  atlbrd  its  increase  ;  the  potatoe,  a  root  now  common 
in  Europe,  and  a  variety  of  pepper  called  Pimento,  the 
fruit  of  which  the  Americans  reckon  one  of  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  and  mingle  with  their  food  in  such  quanti- 
ties, that  it  excoriates  the  tongues  of  those  who  are  unae- 
customed  to  its  use.  These  productions  might  yield  a 
full  supply  even  to  a  numerous  people;  but  among  the 
American  tribes,  agriculture  is  only  a  collateral  or  auxili- 
ary employment.  Slothful  by  nature,  and  accustomed  ia 
the  irregular  and  wandering  life  of  hunting,  they  cannot 
submit  to  the  labours  of  the  field  with  any  consecutive 
application  of  industry  to  the  subjects  of  cultivation. 
Their  provision  from  that  source  is  limited  and  scanty; 
and  upon  a  failure  of  their  usual  success  in  killing  the 
wild  animals,  they  are  reduced  to  such  extremities,  that 
many  of  them  perishf. 

We  have  now  given  a  general  view  of  the  mode  ia 
which  subsistence  was  procured  by  the  natives  of  the 
western  continent,  at  the  time  when  they  were  first  visit- 
ed by  the  Europeans :  in  the  islands  it  was  somewhat 
different,  though,  for  the  most  part,  the  same.  On  the 
arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  no  animal  was  to  be  found  in 
these  islands  whose  carcass  could  recompense  the 
trouble  of  killing  it ;  a  species  of  rabbit,  and  a  little  dog 
that  could  not  bark,  being  the  only  creatures  of  size 
which  were  discovered  upon  them.  Theiuhabitants  lived 
sometimes  by  killing  birds,  or  by  fishing ;  at  other  times, 
they  fed  upon  lizards,  and  reptiles  of  unknown  shapes, 
and  disgusting  appearance.  Agriculture  was  known  in 
some  degree ;  but  the  grain  raised  was  exceedingly 
small,  and  afforded  a  very  limited  maintenance  ;  so  that, 
if  the  Spaniards  settled  in  any  district  for  a  short  time, 
the  unusual  consumption  exhausted  the  scanty  posses- 
sions of  the  inhabitants,  and  famine,  with  all  its  train  of 
consequences,  ensued. 

If  we  compare  the  American  Indians  with  the  natives 
of  Europe,  or  of  Asia,  we  shall  find,  that  the  superiority 
displayed  by  the  latter  in  conducting  the  operations  of 
agriculture,  depends  chiefly  U|iod  two  circumstances— 
the  subjugation  and  use  of  the  lower  animals,  and  an 
acquaintance  with  the  harder  and  more  servicealile  me- 
tals. But  the  |)eople  of  America  had  not  reduced  the 
lower  animals  to  subjection  ;  and  of  the  harder  and  more 
serviceable  metals  they  were  completely  ignorant.  Hence 
their  agriculture  was  extremely  imperfect,  and  their 
power  was  limited  in  all  its  efforts  and  operations. 

In  everj'  part  of  the  Old  World,  man  has  subjected 
the  irrational  creatures  to  his  dominion,  and  taught  them 
to  obey  his  commands.  Not  to  speak  of  more  civilized 
nations,  the  Laplander  moves  along  the  ice  in  a  car, 
drawn  by  the  rein-<leer ;  the  Tartar  pursues  his  enemies 
on  horseback,  and  clothes  himself  with  the  wool  of  hie 
flocks ;  the  Arab  travels  through  the  desert  on  the  ca^ 


■{■  The  rollnwing  arldren  of  a  Cacique  to  GumilLt  is  «o  striking,  that  it  detervea  to  be  intrmlueed  here : — Pere,  ti  tn  apporin 
fvclgve  chute  pour  manger,  noiw  tnprofittrtni  tout,  car  da/u  ttxitt  lapeuplcuk  iln'i/apat  un  tettl utoreeau pour  mcUre  a  la  b(mche-~Bit- 
.■life  Ce  rOrenejw,  U.  821), 


AMERICA. 


S89 


mel,  ami  profits  by  its  docilify  and  strength ;  and  even 
the  Kamschatkadale,  the  rudest  perhaps  of  all  the  Asi- 
atics, has  constrained  the  dog  to  labour  in  his  service. 
In  the  operations  of  agriculture,  the  aid  of  the  inferior 
animals  is  peculiarly  requisite.  It  is  by  means  of  their 
aesistance,  that  the  European  or  Asiatic  subdues  the 
hardened  soil,  and  renders  it  fit  to  receive  the  seed 
which  he  casts  into  it.  Under  his  direction  the  ox  ap- 
plies his  shoulder  to  the  draught ;  and  the  furrow  is  made 
by  the  exertions  of  the  horse.  In  the  ancient  continent, 
man  appears  lo  be  the  lord  of  the  creation  ;  he  exacts 
obedience  from  various  tribes  of  animals,  which  submit 
to  his  authority,  and  depend  for  subsistence  and  protec- 
tion on  his  bounty  or  care.  In  the  New  World,  how- 
ever, reason  is  so  partially  improved,  and  the  union  of 
its  inhabitants  is  so  incomplete,  that  the  dominion  of  the 
buman  kind  has  not  been  established  over  a  single  spe- 
cies of  the  brute  creation.  All  the  animals  retain  their 
liberty.  The  savage  of  America  knows  how  to  chase  and 
to  kill  theiti ;  but  not -to  subdue  them  to  his  purposes, 
to  improve  their  strength,  or  to  multiply  their  numbers. 
INor  does  this  arise  altogether  from  the  want  of  those 
animals  which  have  been  tamed  or  domesticated  in  the 
eastern  hemisphere.  The  cow  and  the  bison  are  of  one 
species ;  (Buffon,  Art.  Bison,)  and  the  rein-deer  of  Lap- 
land is  not  different  from  that  of  America.  The  bear  is 
a  native  of  the  western  continent,  and  might  have  easily 
been  broken  and  employed  to  facilitate  the  operations  of 
its  inhabitants*. 

The  next  circumstance  which  has  retarded  the  im- 
provement of  the  Americans,  by  limiting  their  power, 
is  their  ignorance  of  the  harder  metals,  and  especially 
of  iron.  Gold  and  silver  may  be  found  almost  pure  in 
the  beds  of  rivers,  in  the  clefts  of  rocks,  or  on  the  sides 
of  mountains ;  but  iron,  the  most  useful  of  the  metals, 
is  never  found  in  its  perfect  state  ;  it  must  be  separated 
from  its  impurities  by  artificial  and  laborious  processes, 
and  it  must  be  united  with  a  foreign  substance  (charcoal) 
before  it  acquires  that  temper  which  renders  it  fit  for 
operations  of  much  exertion.  When  the  New  World 
was  discovered,  itsinhabitantswerewholly  unacquainted 
with  iron;  and  indeed  with  all  the  metals  excepting  gold, 
an  inconsiderable  quantity  of  which  they  picked  up  aud 
used  for  the  embellishment  of  their  persons.  The  con- 
sequence of  this  ignorance  was,  that  the  simplest  opera- 
tion was  to  them  a  business  of  much  difficulty  and  extra- 
ordinary labour.  Not  less  than  two  months  were  neces- 
sary in  order  to  cut  down  a  tree,  when  no  other  instru- 
ments were  used  but  hatchets  of  stone ;  this,  if  we  may 
believe  Gumilla,  was  their  own  computation,  and  a  year 
was  requisite  to  hollow  a  canoe,  or  to  form  it  into  shape. 
In  agriculture,  their  progress  was  equally  slow.  The 
trees  with  which  their  forests  are  crowded  are  of  the 
hardest  wood;  and  the  shrubs  and  herbs  immediately 
above  the  surface  of  the  earth,  are  so  numerous  and 
closely  interwoven,  that  the  efforts  of  a  whole  tribe  are 
scarcely  sufficient  to  clear  a  small  piece  of  ground,  mark- 
ed out  for  the  purposes  of  cultivation.  The  rest  of  the 
labour  is  generally  left  to  be  performed  by  the  women, 
who,  after  stirring  the  field  with  poles  burnt  in  the  fire, 
throw  the  grain  into  it ;  and  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  ra- 


*  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  to  what  use  the  clumsy  and 
nntractable  bear  could  be  judiciously  or  safely  trained. 
Though  often  playful  in  his  chain,  he  is  never  safe  to 
epoit  with.     Tench  Coxe. 


ther  than  the  industry  of  the  people,  often  secures  to 
them  an  increase  eciual  to  their  wants.  (Gmiiilla,  iii.  1 66. 
et  scq.  LcUrcs  Edifiantes  et  Curiettscs,  xii.  10.)  Hence 
it  is  that  agriculture,  which  even  in  Europe  is  a  work 
of  great  labour,  is  exceedingly  imperfect  among  the  in- 
habitants of  America  :  And  hence  it  is  not  surprising, 
that  the  rude  natives  of  the  western  continent,  who  have 
not  broken  the  inferior  animals  to  tlie  yoke,  and  are  un- 
acquainted  with  instruments  of  iron,  should  depend  for 
their  subsistence  chiefly  on  hunting  and  fishing. 

From  a  similar  account  of  the  means  by  which  sub- 
sistence is  procured  in  the  greater  part  of  the  New 
World,  Dr.  Robertson  has,  with  bis  accustomed  ability, 
deduced  the  form  and  character  of  the  political  institu- 
tions existing  among  the  Indians  of  America,  and  traced 
the  origin  of  that  spirit  of  independence,  which  distin- 
guishes them  from  the  numerous  slaves  of  despotism  ia 
Asia  or  Europe. 

In  the  first  place,  they  were  divided  into  small  and 
distinct  communities.  This  was  the  natural  and  un- 
avoidable result  of  their  mode  of  life.  Men  who  derive 
their  subsistence  from  the  spontaneous  productions  of 
the  earth,  or  from  the  precarious  resources  of  hunting 
or  fishing,  are  prevented  from  associating  in  any  con- 
siderable number.  Among  hunters  especially,  a  large 
extent  of  ground  is  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  a 
very  small  tribe.  The  wild  animals  are  by  nature  soli- 
tary :  and  even  those  of  them  which  are  gregarious, 
withdraw  to  the  recesses  of  the  forests,  when  men  begin 
to  increase,  and  to  disturb  them  in  the  quiet  possession 
of  the  open  country.  If  they  are  followed  through  the 
woods  and  thickets,  those  who  pursue  them  must  neces- 
sarily pursue  them  in  small  bodies;  and  the  domain 
which  every  petty  community  regards  as  its  own,  must 
be  cleared  of  every  rival  that  would  encroach  on  the 
territory  appropriated  to  its  use.  The  enemies  of  the 
tribe  must  be  driven  to  a  distance.  In  exact  conformity 
with  these  statements,  it  has  been  observed,  that  in 
America,  the  word  nation  has  not  the  same  meaning 
which  it  has  in  other  parts  of  the  globe.  That  term  has 
been  injudiciously  applied  to  small  companies  of  wan- 
dering and  disorderly  savages,  often  not  exceeding  a 
hundred  persons,  and  sometimes  not  above  fifty.  The 
central  regions  of  the  New  World  are  remarkable  for 
these  inconsiilerable  greups  of  individuals,  separated 
from  one  another,  not  only  by  implacable  and  everlast- 
ing hatred,  but  even  by  their  manners,  habits,  and  lan- 
a!uage.  Towards  the  northern  extreiiaty  of  the  con- 
tinent, the  tribes  are  somewhat  larger.  More  resident 
and  more  addicted  to  agriculture  than  the  inhabitants  of 
the  southern  provinces,  the  Algouquins,  or  Chippeways, 
might  be  reckoned  a  numerous  people,  when  contrasted 
with  any  of  the  inferior  societies  on  the  banks  of  the 
Maragnon  or  Oroonoco.  But  though  the  larger  com- 
munities are  distinguished  by  one  appellation,  they  are 
in  reality  divided  into  smaller  parties,  eachof  which  acts, 
in  a  great  measure,  independently  of  the  rest.  The 
Iroquois,  or  Indians  of  the  Six  Nations  iti  Canada,  who 
have  long  been  associated  for  the  purposes  of  mutual 
defence,  ought  rather  to  be  viewed  as  a  combination  of 
republics  than  as  an  individual  people,  subject  to  the 
dominion  of  established  rulers,  and  a  fixed  administra- 
tion of  justice.  These  nations,  though  combined,  still 
preserve  their  distinguishing  characters;  and  during 
the  contests  of  the  French  and  English  in  North  Ame- 
rica, one  i)art  of  thnm  was  considered  as  attached  to  the 
interests  of  our  countrymen,  and  the  other  to  those  of 


590 


AIVIERICA. 


their  anlagonisfs.  But  though  the  American  tribes  are 
in  general  exceedingly  small,  yet  it  is  not  uncommon  to 
find  each  of  them  occupying  an  extent  of  territory  great- 
er than  some  of  the  liingdoms  in  Europe.  In  the  re- 
gions which  border  on  the  Oroonoco,  it  is  possible  to 
travel  for  several  months  without  discovering  a  single 
hut,  or  the  least  trace  of  human  society ;  and  where  the 
climate  is  more  severe  the  desolation  is  yet  more  joy- 
less, and  the  horrid  silence  is  interrupted  only  by  the 
frightful  cries  of  the  wild  animals  hastening  after  their 
prey.  (Lafitau,  Maurs  des  Scaiv.  ii.  1 79.  Let.  Edif.  ii. 
360.) 

Secondly,  People  who  derive  their  subsistence  chiefly 
from  hunting,  must  have  very  incorrect  notions  of  pro- 
perty ;  and  therefore  must  be  strangers  to  those  institu- 
tions to  which  property  gives  rise.  While  the  animals 
roam  at  large  in  the  woods,  they  cannot  be  said  to  belong 
to  any  one.  Whoever  is  able  to  kill  them,  thinks  him- 
self entitled  to  feed  upon  their  carcasses.  A  piece  of 
ground  is  possessed,  not  by  the  individual,  but  by  the 
community  ;  all  who  choose  are  free  to  hunt  within  its 
limits;  and  in  many  instances,  the  game  is  laid  up, 
during  the  excursion,  in  a  common  repository,  to  which 
all  have  an  equal  right.  When  this  piece  of  ground  is 
deserted  by  one  tribe,  it  may  instantly  be  occupied  by 
another.  It  is  agriculture  alone  which  gives  rise  to  the 
idea  of  property,  either  in  the  soil  or  in  its  fruits.  He 
who  takes  possession  of  a  field  and  sows  it,  and  reaps 
the  produce,  naturally  looks  upon  the  field  and  the  crop 
as  his  own.  But  so  loose  and  desultory  is  the  life  of  the 
Americans,  and  such  is  the  form  or  character  which  it 
has  received  from  their  employment  as  hunters,  that 
even  agriculture  has  not  introduced  among  them  the 
perfect  notion  of  individual  property.  It  is  true  this 
notion  is  to  be  found  in  sufficient  exactness  among  some 
of  tlje  more  stationary  tribes;  but  among  others,  the 
fields  are  cultivated  by  the  women,  while  the  men  are 
engaged  in  the  chase,  and  the  harvest  is  enjoyed  indis- 
criminately by  all  the  members  of  the  society.  In  cer- 
tain districts,  the  produce  of  the  land  is  kept  in  a  public 
granary,  and  distributed  by  the  elders  as  tlie  wants  of 
the  community  may  require.  Even  where  individuals, 
more  fortunate  or  more  industrious  than  their  neigh- 
bours, collect  or  obtain  possession  of  a  store,  they  have 
no  such  exclusive  right  to  it,  as  enables  them  to  riot  in 
abundance  while  their  fellows  are  in  want.  The  mul- 
titude is  not  divided,  as  among  civilized  nations,  into  the 
rich  and  the  poor;  these  words  form  no  part  of  the  In- 
dian languages  ;  whoever  is  hungry,  satisfies  his  appe- 
tite in  the  readiest  and  most  obvious  way;  and  if  famine 
assails  the  community,  ail  its  members  are  doomed  to 
Buffer. 

From  these  ol)servations,  the  propriety  of  our  general 
inferences  will  be  sufficiently  evident.  It  will  appear, 
that  the  natives  of  the  American  continent  will  retain  a 
high  sense  of  independence ;  and  that  among  them  the 
influence  of  political  authority  will  be  very  inconsider- 
able. 

In  small  societies,  where  the  exertion  of  every  man 
is  wanted,  and  where  that  exertion  bears  directly  and 
powerfully  on  the  effect  which  is  produced,  every  man 
•will  perceive  his  own  importance.  Where  property  is 
little  known,  bodily  strength  and  dexterity  will  be  the 
chief  and  most  enviable  distinctions,  and  the  display  of 
these  qualities  the  only  road  to  eminence.  Accordingly, 
in  war,  when,  more  than  at  any  other  time,  the  Indians 
discover  a  sense  of  political  subordination,  the  most  ad- 


Tenturous  and  experienced  leader  coiiJucls  tliera  to  the 
villages  of  the  hostile  tribes ;  but  if  another,  bolder,  and 
more  skilful  than  he,  shall  at)pear,  the  latter  is  entitled 
to  occupy  the  place  where  the  danger  is  greatest ;  and 
to  plan  the  stratagem  in  which  most  art  is  required.  In 
the  chase,  the  most  daring  and  hardy  of  the  community 
is  followed  by  the  rest ;  he  guides  them  through  the 
thicket,  and  shows  them  where  the  game  is  most  abun- 
dant. If  any  badge  of  distinction  is  worn,  it  is  referable 
to  the  personal  qualifications  of  him  who  wears  it ;  to  his 
prowess  in  attacking  his  enemies ;  his  skill  and  perseve- 
rance in  torturing  them ;  or  the  number  of  their  scalps 
which  he  has  brought  off  in  triumph.  In  the  council  of 
the  nation,  every  one  is  entitled  to  speak.  When  the 
old  men  are  listened  to,  it  is  because  they  have  fought 
in  many  battles,  as  well  as  seen  many  days  ;  and  unless 
their  advice  corresponds  with  the  present  feelings  of  the 
tribe,  it  is  wholly  (Usregarded.  There  is  no  law,  no  ma- 
gistrate among  these  simple  children  of  nature ;  and  no 
punishment  is  inflicted,  either  by  the  society,'or  by  any 
officer  whom  that  society  might  appoint.  Every  maa 
thinks  and  acts  for  himself;  he  feels  his  independence, 
and  rejoices  in  the  possession  of  it.  Hence,  among  the 
natives  of  America,  a  sense  of  injuries  is  exceedingly 
quick,  and  revenge  is  prompt  and  effectual ;  "  to  look  at 
them  with  a  suspicious  eye  is  to  strike  them,  and  to 
strike  them  is  to  put  them  to  death."  Every  member 
of  the  community  perceives  that  his  own  exertions  are 
equal  to  the  supply  of  his  wants;  and,  a  stranger  to 
submission,  he  will  sooner  die  than  part  with  his  liberty, 
or  acknowledge  himself  to  be  in  any  way  the  servant  of 
another.  Many  of  the  Indians  perished  through  grief, 
when  they  discovered  that  the  Spaniards  treated  them 
as  slaves ;  and  many  of  them  sunk  under  the  pressure 
of  authority,  and  put  an  end  to  their  own  existence.  See 
Oviedo,  lib.  iii.  ch.  6.  p.  07 ;  and  Labat,  ii.  138. 

The  description  given  above  may  be  considered  as 
applicable,  in  general,  to  the  rude  inhabitants  of  the 
western  hemisphere;  and  especially  to  those  who  oc- 
cupy the  more  temperate  latitudes.  In  some  provinces, 
however,  even  where  the  debilitating  influence  of  the 
climate  is  inconsiderable,  we  may  perceive  the  begin- 
nings of  political  associations ;  as  in  these  provinces, 
several  of  the  inferior  tribes,  whether  from  local  cir- 
cumstances or  conveniency,  are  so  far  attached  to  one 
another  as  to  be  comprehended  under  one  general 
name.  But  they  are  conjoined  rather  than  united. 
They  seldom  or  never  act  in  concert ;  and  have  no  con- 
ception of  an  enlarged  or  extensive  plan  of  conspiring 
oi)crations.  The  Californians,  several  of  the  nations  io 
Paraguay,  and  some  of  the  larger  tribes  on  the  banks  of 
the  Oroonoco,  aud  the  Saint  Magdalene  in  New  Grana- 
da, may  be  referred  to  this  class.  In  other  j)art8  of 
America,  government  seems  to  have  advanced  much 
further  than  we  should  expect  to  find  it  among  people 
in  the  infancy  of  civiliitation.  The  Iroquois  might  be 
distributed  with  sufficient  propriety  into  the  chiefs,  the 
nobles,  and  the  multitude.  The  natives  of  Florida  had 
long  been  accustomed  to  subordination,  when  they  were 
first  known  to  Europeans ;  their  caciques  were  here- 
ditary; the  warriors  of  the  royal  name  were  distin- 
guished by  a  peculiar  dress,  and  a  variety  of  ornaments ; 
and  their  privileges  were  numerous,  and  established. 
The  sceptre  of  power  had  been  stretched  over  the  peo- 
ple ;  the  yoke  of  servitude  was  effectually  and  fatally 
applied ;  obedience  was  exacted, and obediencewas paid. 
But  the  Natchez,  a  tribe  ouce  occupying  a  province  in 


AMERICA. 


59i 


I.ouisiana.but  now  extinct,  and  theinhabitanfs  of  Bogota, 
seem  to  offer  the  most  perfect  examples  of  tyranny  and 
submission  which  the  New  World  can  present  to  the 
eye  of  a  pliilosophcr.  Among  the  Natchez,  the  people 
■»vere  considered  as  vile,  and  formed  to  obey.  Above  the 
people,  were  the  families  which  were  denominated  re- 
spfclabk ;  and  those  were  in  possession  of  high  ho- 
nours and  dignities,  which  descended  to  their  children. 
At  the  head  of  all  was  the  chief,  the  first  minister  of  the 
Sun,  which  Ihey  worshipped,  and  reputed  the  brother  of 
t|)e  god;  a  company  of  chosen  youths  attended  hira 
wherever  he  went,  and  devoted  their  lives  to  his  ser- 
vice :  his  will  was  the  law,  and  disobedience  to  his  au- 
thority Avas  the  principal  crime  which  was  recognized 
by  the  state.  When  he  entered  the  temple,  the  people 
olTered  to  him  the  same  homage  which  he  was  conceived 
to  pay  to  the  divinity.  And  when  he  died,  the  youths 
devoted  to  his  person,  together  with  his  wives  and  fa- 
vourites, were  sacrificed  at  his  tomb,  that  he  might  ap- 
pear in  the  future  world  with  an  attendance  suitable  to 
liis  rank.  Thus  the  superstition  of  the  Natchez  had  ri- 
veted the  chains  of  uncontrolled  authority  ;  and  thoH?;h 
liot  far  advanced  in  civilization,  they  had,  by  a  melancho- 
ly fatality,  experienced  the  worst  of  those  evils  which 
polished  and  enfeel-.led  nations  are  destined  to  suffer. 
In  the  province  of  Bogota,  and  in  some  of  the  islands,  a 
limilar  system  of  tyranny,  arrogance,  cruelt)',  and  super- 
stition was  to  be  found.  The  injunctions  of  the  ruler 
were  identified  with  the  mandates  of  heaven ;  the  peo- 
ple had.  learned  to  submit ;  the  splendour  of  dominion, 
long  establishetl  and  regularly  supported,  had  dazzled 
their  eyes ;  they  grasped  their  fetters  in  barbarous 
transports  of  joy,  and  looked  upon  themselves  as  the 
noblest,  as  well  as  the  happiest  of  mortals. 

II.  Of  the  mode  of  Warfare  prevalent  among  the 
Indians  of  America. 

The  first  principle  which  is  instilled  into  the  breast 
of  an  American  savage  is  revenge.  This  principle  ac- 
quires additional  strength  as  he  advances  in  life;  the 
few  objects  which  his  education  presents  to  his  eye  have 
all  a  tendency  to  cherish  it ;  both  the  counsels  of  the  old 
men,  and  the  example  of  the  warriors  of  his  tribe,  con- 
spire in  teaching  him,  that  it  is  dishonourable  to  relent, 
and  infamous  to  forgive.  To  tear  off  the  scalp  of  an 
enemy,  or  to  eat  his  flesh,  is  the  highest  gratification 
which  an  Indian  can  receive.  Even  the  women  seem 
to  be  animated  with  this  destructive  and  restless  |)rinci- 
ple.  The  following  narrative  of  an  Algonquin  woman 
has  been  given  as  a  proof  of  their  thirst  for  blood.  "  The 
Afgonquins  being  at  war  with  the  Iroquois,  she  hap- 
pened to  be  made  prisoner,  and  was  carried  to  one  of 
the  villages  belonging  to  that  nation.  Here  she  was 
stripped  naked;  and  her  hands  and  feet  were  bound 
with  ropes  in  one  of  their  cabins.  In  this  condition  she 
remained  for  ten  days ;  the  savages  sleeping  around  her 
every  night.  On  the  eleventh  night,  when  they  were 
asleep,  she  found  means  to  disengage  one  of  her  hands, 
and  freeing  herself  from  the  ropes,  she  went  immediate- 
ly to  the  door  of  the  hut  where  she  was  lodged.  Though 
she  had  now  an  opportunity  of  escaping  unperceived, 
her  revengeful  temper  could  not  let  slip  so  favourable 
an  opportunity  of  killing  one  of  her  enemies.  The  at- 
tempt was  manifestly  at  the  hazard  of  her  own  life ;  yet 
•eizing  a  hatchet,  she  plunged  it  into  the  head  of  a  sa- 
TBge  who  lay  next  her,  and  fled."    The  desire  of  ven- 


geance is  so  prominent  a  feature  in  the  character  of  the 
American  Indians,  that  it  olteu  shows  itrcif  in  iudiscri- 
mate  fury  agninst  inanimate  objects.  If  one  of  tlicni 
is  struck  accidentally  by  a  stone,  he  seizes  it  in  a  pa- 
roxysm of  anger,  and  dashes  it  upon  the  ground  :  if  he 
is  wounded  by  an  arrow  in  battle,  he  will  tear  it  from 
his  body,  and  break  it  in  pieces  with  his  teeth.  Tho 
same  principle  directs  his  public  conduct.  Asjainst  the 
enemies  of  his  tribe,  his  vengeance  !ias  no  limits.  Time 
cannot  efface  the  remembrance  of  an  injury  ;  it  is  che- 
rished and  kept  alive  with  the  most  studious  care ;  and 
it  even  goes  down  from  one  generation  to  another  with 
all  its  associated  feelings,  and  with  these  feelings  in  all 
their  exercise.  The  blood  of  the  offender  alone  can 
expiate  the  transgression.  If  the  domain  appropriated 
to  hunting  be  invaded,  or  if  an  individual  of  a  tribe  be 
cut  off,  the  desire  of  vengeance  swells  in  every  breast 
with  instinctive  emotion, and  instantly  kindles  into  rage. 
It  sparkles  in  every  eye,  and  gives  activity  to  every 
limb.  The  resentment  of  the  nation  becomes  implaca- 
ble ;  they  determine  never  to  be  reconcilt  d,  never  to 
make  peace.  (Golden.  Hist,  of  the  Five  Nations,  i.  108, 
and  ii.  120.  Lafitau,  i.  416.)  Months  and  years  roll 
away,  and  the  purpose  of  vengeance  continues  deep  in 
the  heart,  and  rankling  in  all  its  malignity ;  and  it  shows 
itself,  in  tremendous  execution,  when  it  is  least  expect- 
ed or  feared.  The  Indian  fights  not  to  conquer  his 
enemies,  but  to  satiate  his  revenge ;  and  that  destruc- 
tive passion  is  not  gratified  fill  he  has  glutted  himself 
with  the  blood  of  the  hostile  tribe,  and  rejoiced  in  tho 
extinction  of  its  name. 

In  a  small  community,  the  death  of  an  individual  is 
felt  as  a  loss  by  the  whole;  and  all  the  members  of 
which  it  is  composed  regard  themselves  as  bound  to 
avenge  it.  As  they  have  few  objects  to  exercise  their 
thoughts,  the  diminution  of  their  number,  by  the  attack 
or  the  treachery  of  an  enemy,  is  continually  before  their 
eyes ;  and  resentment  is  kept  awake  by  reflecting  on  the 
courage  and  the  military  virtues  of  him  whom  they  have 
lost.  His  faithful  attachment  to  his  tribe,  his  boldness 
and  address  in  hunting,  with  many  associated  circum- 
stances of  endearment,  rush  into  their  minds;  their 
grief  is  changed  into  hatred  of  those  who  have  caused 
their  sorrow,  and  they  rise  to  go,  '•  aud  eat  the  nation 
which  has  iniisred  them."  It  is  to  the  principle  of  re- 
venge that  the  leaders  of  a  tribe  apply  themselves, 
when  they  would  rouse  the  young  men  to  follow  them 
to  the  field.  The  speeches  which  are  made  on  such  oc- 
casions are  in  a  bold  and  figurative  style,  and  delivered 
with  gestures  equally  violent  and  expressive.  Some  of 
these  specimens  of  savage  eloquence,  the  most  accom- 
plished orators  of  a  cultivated  age  and  people  might  be 
proud  to  own.  "  The  bones  of  our  countrymen,"  say 
the  chiefs,  "  lie  uncovered ;  their  blootly  bed  has  not 
been  washed  clean ;  their  spirits  cry  against  us ;  they 
must  be  appeased.  Let  us  go  and  devour  the  people  by 
whom  they  have  been  slain.  Sit  no  longer  inactive 
upon  your  mats  ;  lift  the  hatchet ;  console  the  spirits  of 
the  dead,  and  fell  them  that  they  shall  be  avenged." 
See  Charlevoix  Hist,  de  la  Nouvelle  France,  iii.  21 6,  2 1 7, 
and  Lery  apud  d«  Bry.  iii.  204. 

If  the  war  is  of  a  private  and  excursive  nature,  and 
not  undertaken  by  the  whole  tribe,  a  band  of  adventu- 
rers attach  themselves  to  the  chief  who  is  to  lead  them, 
and  they  set  out  without  delay.  But  when  the  whole 
nation  is  concerned  in  the  expedition,  their  proceedings 
are  regular  and  solemn.    The  eldere  of  the  tribe  assem- 


492 


AlVIERICA. 


Me ;  and  the  afifair  is  debated  in  conncil.     They  estimate 
the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  the  war,  with  a 
calculation  of  probabilities,  far  beyond  what  could  be 
expected  of  men,  whose  passions  in  other  instances  lead 
directly  to  their  olyects,  and  hurry  them  into  action 
with  resistless  precipitancy.     The  number  of  their  ene- 
mies, their  ralour  and  skill,  the  situation  of  the  coun- 
try which  they  inhabit;  these,  and  many  other  circum- 
stances, are  examined  and  weighed.     The  priests,  or 
soothsayers,  are  consulted,  and  even  the  advice  of  the 
women  is  asked  and  followed.     If  war  is  the  result  of 
their  deliberations,  they  prepare  for  it  with  e([aal  so- 
lemnitjs  and  with  a  fixed  and  awful  resolution.     The 
hatchet  is   publicly  raised;  while  means  are  taken  to 
conceal  their  design,  and  to  lull  their  enemies  in  more 
dangerous  security.     A   leader  offers   to  conduct   the 
expedition.     All  who  choose  may  attach   themselves 
to  his  standard  ;  but  no  one  is  compelled  to  bear  arms ; 
the  service  is  voluntary,  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the 
word.      Each  individual    is  master  of  his  own  con- 
duct, notwithstanding  the  resolution  of  the  community  ; 
but  if  any  one  is  inclined  to  take  part  in  the  war,  he 
gives  to  the  leader  a  piece  of  wood,  (la  huchelte,)  often 
euriously  wrought  and  adorned,  as  the  mark  of  his  de- 
termination.    The  chief  then  fasts  for  several  days  and 
nights  ;  during  which  he  maintains  a  profound  silence, 
and  is  particularly  attentive  to  the  state  of  his  dreams. 
These  are  generally  explained  so  as  to  favour  the  expe- 
dition.   A  solemn  prayer  is  ofiTered  to  the  god  of  battles. 
(See  Lafitau,  ii.  190.)  The  war-kettle  is  put  on,  indica- 
tive of  a  resolution  on  the  part  of  the  tribe  to  eat  the  flesh 
of  their  enemies ;  and  the  shell  is  sent  round,  inviting 
their  allies  to  come  and  to  drink  their  blood.     To  con- 
stitute and  support  an  alliance,  the  nations  who  agree 
Biust  have  the  same  enmities  and  the  same  sentiments. 
On  the  day  which  has  been  fixed  for  their  departure, 
the  warriors  assemble  near  the  hut  of  their  chief,  all 
completely  armed,  and  adorned  in  their  most  elegant 
manner.     The  women  go  before  them,  carrying  their 
provisions,  and  attend  them  till  they  reach  the  confines 
of  the  province  where  the  enemy  is  known  to  reside. 
Here  the  Indians  make  a  solemn  pause;  and  delivering 
to  their  wives,  or  their  sisters,  whatever  is  not  absolutely 
necessary  for  their  journey,  they  advance  into  the  hos- 
tile country.     The  wars  of  the  American  savages  are 
oonducted  on  principles  very  different  from  those  which 
regulate  the  military  operations  of  European  kingdoms. 
They  never  take  the  field  in  large  parties;  and  (hey 
seldom  or  never  risk  the  issue  of  a  fair  and  open  con- 
test.    Their  principal  objects  are  to  surprise  their  ene- 
mies, and  to  cut  them  off  in  the  midst  of  the  alarm, 
which  it  is  their  study  to  excite ;  and  therefore,  if  they 
fail  in  their  first  attempt,  they  do  not,  in  general,  return 
to  the  charge,  but  take  measures  for  a  new  stratagem, 
on  which  they  depend  for  better  success.     They  pur- 
sue their  enemies  through  the  forest  ivith  the  same 
caution  and  spirit  which  they  exhibit  in  following  the 
beasts  of  prey.     They  mark  their  footsteps  with  the 
same  accuracy  ;  and  such  is  the  effect  of  habitual  obser- 
Tation,  that  they  can  tell  when  they  passed,  of  what 
number  the  detachment  consisted,  and  to  what  nation 
it  belonged.     While  yet  at  a  great  distance  they  ascer- 
tain their  approach  by  the  smell  of  the  fires  whiah  they 
raise.     They   know,  however,  that  their  enemioe  are 
equally  skilful  and  vigilant  mth  themselves,  and  make 
use  of  all  their  itrt  to  deceive  them.     They  paint  their 
bodies  of  the  same  colour  with  the  leaves  and  brush- 


wood ;  lie  close  to  the  ground  all  day,  and  travel  only 
during  the  night;  they  refrain  from  killing  the  wild 
animals,  and  subsist  on  the  provisions  which  they  have 
brought  along  with  them ;  and  marching  in  a  line  of 
individual  warriors,  and  with  a  dead  silence,  the  last  of 
the  train  covers  the  footsteps  of  his  companions  with 
grass  and  weeds,  in  order  to  prevent  detection.  But  in 
one  matter  of  the  utmost  importance,  their  caution  fails. 
They  sleep  without  centinels ;  and  trusting  to  the  ob- 
servations which  they  have  made,  or  to  the  intelligence 
which  they  have  received,  they  are  often  slaughtered  by 
their  enemies,  or  carried  off  as  prisoners  of  war.  if, 
however,  they  are  so  fortunate  as  to  remain  undisco- 
vered, they  enter  the  villages  of  the  hostile  tribe,  when 
the  young  men  are  engaged  in  the  chase,  set  fire  to  the 
huts,  and  massacre  the  women  and  children  with  indis- 
criminate and  remorseless  fury,  or  compel  them  to  rush 
into  the  flames.  When  they  are  perceived,  they  gene- 
rally retire  ;  for  with  them  it  is  a  disgrace  to  fall  in  bat- 
tle, and  a'proof  that  they  have  been  deficient  either  in 
vigilance  or  skill. 

In  a  small  troop  of  warriors,  the  loss  of  a  single  man 
is  important  and  irreparable.  The  most  complete  suc- 
cess is  dishonourable  to  a  chief,  if  many  of  his  country- 
men have  perished  in  the  attack  ;  and  though  vain  of 
their  exploits  in  other  circumstances,  they  rarely  boast 
of  a  victory  in  which  the  blood  of  their  friends  has  been 
profusely  spilt.  If  they  persevere  in  the  combat  at  all, 
they  shelter  themselves,  each  behind  a  tree,  and  throw- 
ing themselves  upon  the  ground  as  often  as  they  dis- 
cliai^e  their  weapons,  continue  their  fight.  When  no 
ojiposition  is  made,  they  carry  off  the  prisoners,  whom 
they  reserve  for  a  more  dreadful  treatment ;  and  whom 
they  guard  with  the  utmost  care,  till  they  reach  the 
place  of  their  abode. 

Those  nations  who  have  been  furnished  with  mus- 
kets by  the  Europeans,  still  carry  on  their  wars  in  the 
same  manner,  though  perhaps  with  more  destructive 
effect.  If  they  fall  in  with  their  enemies,  they  allow  a 
part  of  them  to  march  forward  undisturbed  ;  when,  ris- 
ing all  at  once  from  the  place  which  concealed  them, 
with  a  fearful  cry,  they  pour  in  their  bullets,  and  shelter 
themselves  as  before.  It  is  the  practice,  however,  among 
the  North  Americans  especially,  when  the  force  on  both 
sides  is  nearly  equal,  to  abandon  their  distant  warfare, 
and  rush  upon  each  other  with  their  clubs  and  hatchets  ; 
mingling  with  their  blows  the  bitterest  reproaches  and 
the  keenest  insults.  They  bite  their  enemies,  and  tear 
off  their  scalps  with  a  knife,  which  they  carry  for  that 
purpose ;  they  wallow  in  their  blood  with  savage  frenzy^ 
and  delight,  till  at  last,  meeting  with  opposition  no  lon- 
ger, their  rage  abates,  and  (hey  secure  the  prisoners. 
These  unhappy  men  are  doomed  to  suffer  all  that  cruelty 
is  able  to  inflict,  and  all  that  huniau  fortitude  is  able  to 
endure. 

If  the  conquerors  hope  to  effect  their  escape  without 
difficulty,  the  prisoners  are  treated  with  some  degree  of 
humanity,  till  the  victors  reach  the  frontiers  of  their 
I)eculiar  residence.  But  here  they  begin  to  feel  the 
misery  of  their  situation.  A  messenger  is  despatched 
to  announce  (heir  arrival,  and  to  inform  (he  elders  of 
the  tribe,  that  the  expedition  has  been  successful;  the 
cry  of  death  is  raised ;  and  the  women,  and  young  men 
who  are  incapable  of  bearing  arms,  come  forth  to  meet 
the  captives,  and  bruize  (hem  as  they  pass,  with  cluba 
and  stones  in  the  most  shocking  manner.  {Ijohantati,  ii. 
18.)     To  Ibis  succeed  lamentations  on  the  part  of  the 


AMERICA. 


593 


conquerors  for  those  who  hare  fallen ;  and  these  are 
changed  by  a  rapid  and  unexpTted  transition  into  re- 
joicings lor  the  victory  which  they  have  gained.  Both 
their  sorrow  arid  their  joy  are  accompanied  with  extra- 
vagant looks  and  gestures,  all  barbarously  expressive  of 
the  feelings  with  which  they  are  animated.  The  old 
men  then  determine  the  fate  of  the  prisoners.  They 
are  either  adopted  into  the  community,  or  they  are  tor- 
tured to  death,  in  order  to  appease  the  ghosts  of  those 
who  have  been  slain,  or  to  satiate  the  revenge  of  the 
conquerors,  who  eat  their  flesh  with  transports  of  avi- 
dity and  pleasure. 

As  it  is  a  maxim  of  Indian  warfare,  seldom  to  give 
quarter  or  to  take  it ;  and  as  every  warrior  fights,  not 
to  overcome  his  enemies,  but  to  destroy  them  ;  the  race 
of  American  savages  would,  in  a  few  generations,  have 
been  extinct,  if  some  method  of  recruiting  their  num- 
bers had  not  been  devised.      Hence,  the  resentment  of 
the  tribe  occasionally  yields  to  the  necessity  of  support- 
ing the  population,  and  the  captives  are  admitted  to  all 
the  privileges  and  protection  which  the  society  can  af- 
ford.   They  are  led  to  the  huts  of  those  who  have  been 
killed:  if  the  women  receive  them,  their  sufferings  are 
at  an  end;  theybecomeinstantly  a  part  of  the  community, 
and  they  are  allowed  to  sit  on  the  mats  of  the  deceased. 
They  hold  the  rank  of  those  whose  places  they  occupy ; 
and,  ever  after,  they  are  treated  with  the  respect  and 
kindness  which  are  due  to  a  father  or  a  brother,  to  a 
husband  or  a  friend.     By  their  own  tribe  they  arc  consi- 
dered as  degraded  and  lost.    They  never  think  of  return- 
ing to  their  former  associates,  and  they  would  not  be  ad- 
mitted into  their  number,  if  they  should  do  so*.    They 
incorporate  with  those  who  have  spared  them,  and  adopt 
their  jealousies,  their  hatreds,  and  their  resentments. 
With  as  much  zeal  as  if  (hey  had  originally  belonged  to 
the  community  into  which  they  have  been  received.  But 
if  the  women  refuse  to  admit  them,  their  doom  is  irre- 
vocably fixed  :  nothing  can  save  them  from  torture  and 
death.     In  the  mean  time,  while  their  fate  is  undecided, 
the  prisoners  do  not  testify  the  smallest  concern  :  they 
converse  with  those  who  are  near  them,  by  interpreters, 
or  otherwise,  on  matters  of  indifference ;  and  smoke 
as  quietly  and  freely  as  if  they  had  no  interest  what- 
ever in  the  proceedings  of  the  victorious  tribe.     Wlieu 
their  destiny  is  announced  to  them,  they  still  maintain 
their  inflexibility,  and  prepare  to  suffer  with  all  their 
fortitude. 

It  is  seldom  that  the  resentment  of  a  savage  yields  to 
considerations  of  policy :  and  nothing  but  the  experience 
that  wars  cannot  be  carried  on,  and  that  resentment 
itself  cannot  he  gratified  without  supporting  their  num- 
bers, could  induce  the  American  Indians  to  spare  the 
lives  of  those  who  fall  into  their  hands.  Unaccustomed 
to  the  institutions  of  happier  countries,  and  a  milder 
religion,  they  have  no  conception  of  the  soft  and  secret 
pleasure  which  attends  an  act  of  compassion  towards  an 
eneniy  ;  hut  to  torture  their  prisoners,  and  to  devour 
them,  are  the  sources  of  the  highest  and  most  exquisite 
delight  to  their  barbarous  natures. 

The  cpptives  are  gathered  into  one  place,  and  the 
whole  nation  assembles  as  to  a  festival.  A  scaffold  is 
erected,  aid  the  prisoners  are  lied  to  a  stake,  but  so  as 
to  have  lii.erty  to  move  around  it ;  here  they  raise  their 


death-song,  and  set  the  utmost  cruelly  of  their  enemies 
at  defiance.     The  mind  which  is  not  altogether  a  stran- 
ger to  pity,  revolts  at  the  scene  which  follows.     The 
fortitude  of  the  sufferers  calls  upon  us  for  admiration  ; 
but  the  ingenuity  in  giving  pain,  and  the  ceaseless  per- 
severance of  their  tormentors,  excite  our  wonder  and 
our  abhorrence.    Men,  women,  and  children,  rush  upon 
the  unhappy  victims.     They  beat  them  with  clubs,  they 
tear  them  with  pincers,  they  burn  their  limbs  with  hot 
irons,  they  drag  their  nails  from  their  fingers,  one  by 
one,  they  wound  them  with  knives,  and  cut  circles  and 
gashes  in  various  parts  of  their  bodies;  and  these  they 
instantly  sear,  in  order  to  prevent  an  effusion  of  blood, 
which  would  terminate  the  agony  of  the  sufferer.  They 
vie  with  each  other  in  refinements  of  torture.      One 
takes  a  finger  in  his  month,  and  gnaws  it,  and  tears  oft' 
the  flesh  with  his  teeth ;  another  thrusts  the  mangled 
finger  into  the  bowl  of  a  pipe,  made  red-hot,  and  smokes 
it  like  tobacco ;  a  third  pounds  the  toes  of  the  wretch 
between  two  stones;  and  a  fourth,  smearing  his  face 
with  the  blood  of  the  victim,  dances  round  the  stake  in 
a  transport  of  fury  and  joy.    Some  twist  the  bare  nerves 
and  tendons ;  and  ethers  pull  and  stretch  the  limbs  in 
every  way  that  can  increase  the  torment.    Nothing  sets 
bounds  to  their  rage,  but  the  fear  of  killing  the  sufferer 
at  once ;  and  so  cautiously  do  they  refrain  from  hurting 
the  vital  parts,  that  this  scene  of  misery  often  continues 
for  several  days.    They  sometimes  unbind  the  prisoner, 
to  give  a  breathing  to  their  vengeance,  and  to  think  of 
other  tortures.     They  do  it  also  in  order  to  refresh  the 
sufferer,  who  has  perhaps  fallen  into  a  profound  sleep, 
worn  out  with  pain,  and  wearied  with  enduring.    They 
rouse  him,  however,  by  the  application  of  fire,  and  tie 
him  again  to  the  stake.     Their  cruelty,  which  seems  to 
have  gathered   strength  in  the  interval,  is  renewed. 
They  pull  out  his  teeth,  and  thrust  out  his  eyes;  they 
stick  him  all  over  with  matches,  of  a  wood  which  burns 
slowly,  yet  easily  takes  fire ;  they  run  sharp  reeds  into 
the  fleshy  parts  of  his  body ;  they  tear  the  skin  from  his 
head,  and  pour  boiling  water  on  the  naked  skull ;  and 
after  having  burnt  and  mangled  him,  so  that  he  has  al- 
most lost   the  appearance  of  a  human  creature,  they 
once  more   release  him  from  his  bonds ;    when  torn, 
roasted,  and  blind,  staggering  through  weakness  from 
side  to  side,  and  falling  into  their  fires  at  every  step,  he 
is  despatched  with  a  dagger  or  a  club.     This  last  opera- 
tion is  generally  performed  by  one  of  the  chiefs,  who, 
weary  with  cruelty,  or  hungry  for  the  remaining  flesh 
of  the  victim,  puts  an  end  to  his  sufferings  and  his  exis- 
tence.    In  these  transactions  of  blood  and  horror,  the 
women,  strangers  to  every  feeling  of  humanity  and  mo- 
desty, even  outdo  the  men:  while  the  elders  of  the  tribe 
sit  quietly  round  the  stake,  smoking  and  looking  on  ^vith 
an  utter  absence  of  emotion. — See  Charlevoix,  Hisl.  de 
la  Nouv.  Fmnce,  iii.  243.   Lafitau,  Moevrs  des  Sauv.  ii. 
277,  and  particularly  Memoires  Philosoph.  &c.  par  Don 
Ulloa,  ii.  406,  note. 

The  Conduct  of  the  sufferer  is  no  less  extraordinary. 
In  the  intervals  of  torture,  he  smokes  too,  and  converses 
with  his  tormentors;  or  he  defies  their  cruelty,  and 
chaunts  his  death-song,  scorning  to  complain.  He  en- 
dures without  a  groan,  or  a  look  of  impatience,  what  it 
seems  almost  impossible  for  human  nature  to  bear.     He 


*  This  Wen  is  natnral  to  nil  rude  nations.      Among  tlie  Ronsns,  !n  the  early  periods  of  the  comiDonwealth,  it  was  a  maxim,  that  a 
prisoner  "  turn  decessisae  videtur,  cum  caputs  «/.'' — Digett,  lib.  ilii.  tit.  1 5.  c.  1 8.  Sec  Uobertsou's  America,  vol.  ii.  Note  Iwv. 
Vol.  I.    Part  II.  4  F 


594 


AMERICA. 


reproaches  his  enemies  with  unskilfulness  in  tlie  art  of 
tormenting;  reiounts  his  own  exploits,  and  threatens 
with  a  signal  revenge  from  the  tribe  out  of  which  he  has 
been  tat  en.  He  even  points  out  to  them  more  exquisite 
mo.'e;  of  giving  him  pain.  "  I  am  brave  and  intrepid," 
he  exclaims,  "  I  do  not  fear  death,  nor  any  kind  of  tor- 
tur»  s  t  those  who  fear  them  are  cowards ;  they  are  less 
than  women.  Life  is  nothing  to  those  who  are  possessed 
of  courage.  May  my  enemies  be  confounded  with  de- 
spair and  rage.  O  that  I  could  devour  them!  I  %vould 
di ;  :ik  their  blood  to  the  very  last  drop.  Forbear,"  said 
an  aged  cliief  of  the  Iroquois,  "  forbear  these  stabs  of 
your  knife ;  and  rather  let  me  die  by  fire,  that  those  dogs, 
your  allies,  from  beyond  the  sea,  may  learn,  by  my  ex- 
ample, to  suffer  like  men." 

Those  who  have  contemplated  the  rude  inhabitants 
of  the  American  continent  with  a  philosophic  eye,  have 
been  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  extraordinary  fortitude 
displayed  by  the  sufferers  amidst  the  tortures  which  we 
have  noiv  described.  The  women  possess  this  fortitude, 
in  some  tlegree,  as  well  as  the  men ;  though  their  op- 
portunities of  showing  it  are  happily  fewer.  Some  have 
referred  it  to  a  peculiarity  of  constitution,  and  ascribed 
it  to  a  certain  thickness  of  the  skin,  and  rigidity  of  the 
muscular  fibres :  and  it  has  been  thought  that  this  is 
proved  by  the  numerous  cases  of  insensibility  to  pain, 
where  the  sufferer  could  have  no  such  motives  to  dis- 
play his  fortitude,  as  he  may  be  supposed  to  have  when 
he  defies  the  rage  of  his  enemies,  and  threatens  them 
with  awful  retaliation  from  the  community  to  which  he 
belongs.  An  Indian  was  under  the  necessity  of  being 
cut  for  the  stone.  This  operation,  which,  in  ordinary 
oases,  lasts  but  a  few  minutes,  was,  from  particular  cir- 
cumstances, protracted  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  Yet, 
during  all  this  time,  he  exhibited  no  symptoms  of  the 
acute  pain  wliich  generally  attends  that  hazardous  ope- 
ration. The  Indians  of  North  America  can  bear  the  se- 
verities of  their  climate  with  scarcely  any  covering;  and 
follow  the  chacc  with  undiminished  activity  amidst  the 
utmost  rigour  of  winter.  It  is  said  also,  that  the  thorns 
and  briars  slide  smoothly  over  their  bodies  as  they  pass 
(hrough  the  woods,  and  that  they  are  seldom  or  never 
lacerated  as  Europeans  would  be  in  similar  circumstan- 
ces. From  all  this  it  has  been  inferred,  that  the  extra- 
ordinary patience  in  suffering,  which  characterizes  the 
inhabitants  of  the  New  World,  depends  on  the  thick- 
ness of  their  skins,  and  a  comparative  torpor  of  the  ner- 
vous t-yslem.  To  this  opinion,  however,  there  are  seve- 
ral objections.  That  the  skins  of  the  Americans  are 
thicker  and  harder  than  those  of  Europeans,  may  be  al- 
lowed, because  anatomists  tell  us  that  they  have  found 
them  so.  (^Noticia.i  Americanos,  pp.  313,  314.)  But  the 
facts  which  have  been  mentioned,  are  not  sufficient  to 
warrant  I'ne  conclusion  which  has  been  drawn  from  them, 
respecting  the  insensibility  of  the  Indians  to  pain.  The 
operation  of  lithotomy  is  often  performed  in  Europe, 
without  a  groan  on  the  part  of  the  individual  who  is 
obliged  to  submit  to  it.  Besides,  in  the  case  of  the 
savage  alluded  to,  a  desire  to  maintain  the  reputation 
for  '-uffering  manfully,  on  which  all  his  countrymen  are 
kii.ivvn  to  pride  themselves,  may  he  conceived  to  have 
had'ils  influence  in  exciting  his  fortitude.  The  power 
of  haiiit,  in  enabling  the  human  body  to  endure  the  se- 
vcri'iies  of  winter,  may  be  learned  from  the  circum- 
v.tanc.e,  that  in  Lapland,  in  Iceland,  and  in  Greenland, 
one  )jart  of  the  body,  the  fnce,  is  exnosed,  without  any 
coTcripg,  to  all  the  inteuseness  of  the  cold  in  the  lati- 


tudes of  these  countries.  And  as  to  the  fact,  of  the  In- 
dians escaping  with  safety  from  the  thorns  and  I'riars,  as  " 
they  pass  through  the  woods,  it  may  be  explained  from 
their  known  practice  of  smearing  themselves  with  un- 
guents and  gums,  as  well  as  from  the  thickness  of  their 
skins. 

Those  who  have  had  opportunities  of  examining  th'K 
American  Indians,  and  of  attending  to  them  in  different 
combinations  of  circumstances,  infofm  us,  that  their  per- 
ception of  insults  is  unusually  quick ;  and  that  their 
sensations  of  pleasure  are  more  lively  and  acute  than 
those  of  the  polished  nations  in  the  ancient  world. 
Their  joy  lives  in  their  countenances,  and  lightens  from 
their  eyes.  It  displays  itself  in  every  part  of  their  bo- 
dies. They  spring  from  their  mats  to  engage  in  the 
dance,  and  show  the  tumultuous  rapture  which  fills 
their  breasts,  by  a  thousand  wild  and  irregular  contor- 
tions. Without  going  to  America,  we  know  that  the 
man  who  is  most  alive  to  sensations  of  pleasure,  is 
also  most  alive  to  sensations  of  pain.  Joy  is  counter- 
balanced by  sorrow.  He  who  in  the  morning  is  full  of 
life  and  activity,  may  in  the  evening  be  sunk  in  gloom 
and  silence,  a  stranger  to  comfort,  and  the  prey  of  des- 
pondency. It  is  so  with  the  Indians  of  the  western 
hemisphere.  Their  fortitude  and  patience  must  there- 
fore be  derived  from  other  sources  than  their  ins<;nsi- 
bilily.  We  must  deduce  it  from  their  education,  which 
is  chiefly  of  a  military  nature ;  and  an  essential  part  of 
which  consists  in  training  the  youth  to  suffer  with  mag- 
nanimity. We  must  refer  it  ultimately  to  the  power  tif 
habit. 

That  the  influence  of  habit  is  great,  will  appear  wlien 
we  consider  that  our  forefathers  marched  to  the  combat, 
and  fought,  under  a  load  of  armour  which  an  European 
of  our  own  times  would  not  be  able  to  support  for  half  an 
hour.  The  Hindoos  subject  themselves  to  the  most  ex- 
cruciating varieties  of  penance,  not  only  without  mur- 
muring, but  even  with  satisfaction,  though  a  native  of 
Great  Britain  would  rather  die  than  submit  to  what  they 
voluntarily  endure.  It  is  the  first  and  the  last  study  of 
the  American  Indians,  to  acquire  the  faculty  of  suffer- 
ing with  an  obstinate  and  heroic  courage,  when  their 
fortitude  is  put  to  the  proof.  They  harden  their  fibres 
by  repeated  trials,  and  accustom  themselves  to  endure 
the  most  tormenting  pain  without  a  groan  or  a  tear.  In 
the  northern  division  of  the  continent,  a  boy  and  a  girl 
will  put  a  flaming  c»al  between  their  naked  arms,  and 
vie  with  one  another  in  maintaining  it  in  its  place. 
{Charlevoix,  iii.  307.)  The  probation  of  a  warrior  who 
aspires  to  the  rank  of  a  leader,  does  not  consist  in  feats 
of  courage  and  hardy  adventure,  but  in  displays  of  forti- 
tude, and  in  trials  of  patience  :  he  must  prove  that  he  is 
able  to  suffer;  and  rigorous  fasting,  and  severe  flagella- 
tion, are  among  the  means  by  which  his  virtues  ar  as- 
certained. He  is  suspended  in  his  hammock,  and  ants, 
whose  bite  occasions  the  most  exquisite  pain,  are  thrown 
upon  him  :  a  fire  of  stinking  herbs  is  kindled  below,  and 
he  is  scorched  with  the  heat,  and  almost  suffocated  with 
the  smoke;  while  the  judges  of  his  merit,  standing  at  a 
convenient  distance, examine  his  looks  and  motions,  any 
one  of  which,  indicative  of  impatience  or  sensihility, 
would  exclude  him  for  ever  from  the  honour  to  which  he 
aspires.  These  trials  are  so  severe,  that  many  perish 
while  they  submit  to  them;  but  those  who  pass  them 
with  approbation  or  applause,  are  invested  at  once  with 
the  ensigns  of  dignity,  and  are  regarded  as  men  of  known 
fortitude,  and  undoubted  resolution.    This  dreadful  pro- 


AaiERICA. 


o95 


batioa  is  most  common  in  the  southern  regions  of  Ame- 
rica; though  in  the  more  northern  provinces  likewise, 
the  constancy  of  the  warrior,  ambitious  of  distinction, 
or  of  the  youth  desirous  to  march  against  the  enemies 
of  his  country,  is  proved  by  blows  and  by  lire ;  or  by  in- 
sults and  taunts,  often  less  easily  borne  than  any  corpo- 
real infliction.  The  point  of  honour  too,  among  the  in- 
hahitants  of  the  American  continent,  is  placed  in  suffer- 
ing with  magnanimity.  Of  the  few  ideas  which  influence 
their  minds,  this  is  the  chief;  and  it  operates  with  an 
immediate  and  a  decisive  effect.  Unbroken  and  inflexi- 
ble constancy  is  with  them  the  noblest  distinction,  and 
the  highest  glory  of  a  warrior;  and  he  who  yields  under 
pain,  or  shrinks  from  the  trial  of  his  fortitude,  is  looked 
upon  as  one  who  has  fallen  from  the  perfection  of  his  na- 
ture ;  and  is  degraded  to  a  level  with  Europeans,  who 
know  not  how  to  suffer. 

But  the  mode  of  treating  their  prisoners  is  not  the 
same  throughout  the  whole  of  the  American  tribes. 
Among  the  Indians  of  South  America,  it  differs  consi- 
derably from  that  which  we  have  detailed  above ;  though 
it  is  equally  destructive,  and  almost  as  horrible.  There 
the  prisoners,  after  being  received  in  as  cruel  a  man- 
ner as  those  of  the  Iroquois  or  Algonquins,  are  never- 
theless exempted  from  suffering,  and  are  treated  for  a 
while  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  care.  A  hut  is  al- 
lotted to  them  ;  they  are  feasted  and  caressed ;  they  are 
permitted  to  mingle  in  the  dance  with  their  captors ; 
and  some  of  the  most  beautiful  women  of  the  tribe  are 
ordered  to  attend  them,  and  to  minister  to  their  com- 
fort. But  notwithstanding  these  endeavours  to  attach 
them  to  life,  their  destiny  is  unalterably  fixed.  The 
spirits  of  those  who  have  fallen  in  battle  cry  for  their 
blood.  On  the  day  which  has  been  appointed,  the  war- 
riors assemble ;  and  the  prisoner  is  brought  forth  with 
much  pomp,  and  with  many  observances  of  an  extraordi- 
nary nature.  When  he  arrives  at  the  place  where  the 
elders  wait  to  receive  him,  the  chief  of  the  victorious 
tribe  addresses  him  in  the  following  manner :  "Are  you 
of  that  hostile  nation  which  has  killed  so  many  of  our  fa- 
thers, our  brethern,  our  wives,  our  children,  and  our 
allies  ?"  To  this  inquiry  the  captive  generally  answers 
in  words  like  these  :  "  Yes,  I  am  of  that  hostile  nation, 
and  I  exult  in  calling  it  mine :  I  have  done  you  every 
injury  in  my  power :  I  have  killed  your  fathers,  your 
brethren,  and  your  allies ;  I  have  killed  them  with  these 
bands,  and  have  assisted  in  eating  their  flesh.  If  you 
put  me  to  death,  my  friends  will  avenge  me,  and  my 
life  shall  cost  you  dear."  (Lafitau,  Maetirs,  ii.  302.) 
No  sooner  is  this  declaration  made,  than  the  prisoner  is 
struck  to  the  earth  with  a  single  blow  of  a  club ;  and 
the  women,  laying  hold  of  the  body,  prepare  it  for  the 
barbarous  feast  which  is  to  succeed.  They  tear  it  in 
pieces ;  giving  to  their  children  the  brain  and  the 
tongue,  and  smearing  their  faces  with  the  blood ;  in  or- 
der to  kindle  in  their  youthful  minds  that  hatred  of  their 
enemies,  which  is,  ever  after,  to  he  the  ruling  principle 
of  their  natures.  All  then  join  in  devouring  the  car- 
cass. To  eat  up  an  enemy  is  considered  as  the  most 
exquisite  gratification  of  revenge;  and  wherever  the 
people  are  cannibals,  it  is  seldom  that  a  prisoner  is 
spared.  Stadius,  a  German  officer,  in  the  service  of 
the  Portuguese,  was  taken  captive  by  the  Toupinambos, 
a  nation  of  Brazil,  and  remained  among  them  for  a  pe- 
riod of  nine  years ;  he  often  witnessed  the  feasts  of  hu- 
man flesh,  which  he  describes  in  his  narrative,  {Apud 
de  Bry.  iii.  34.)  and  was  himself  doomed  to  a  similar 


fate  with  liis  companions  in  misfortune;  but  he  saved 
himself  by  his  courage  and  address.  The  Atacapas  of 
Louisiana  ate  up  a  Frenchman  named  Charleville,  in 
the  year  1719;  and  the  Caribs  of  the  main  land  were 
seen  to  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Maroons,  who,  in  17tj4,  re- 
volted against  the  Dutch  in  their  settlements  on  the 
Berbice.  (Natur  geschiehie  von  Guinea,  ^  \n.)  Some 
of  the  inferior  nations  likewise  roast  their  prisoners. 
The  same  barbarous  practice,  of  eating  those  who  are 
taken  in  war,  subsisted  in  Mexico,  and  traces  of  it  may 
be  found  among  the  gentler  inhabitants  of  Peru. 

But  though  the  greater  part  of  the  American  savages 
agree  in  eating  the  ilesh  of  their  prisoners,  or  did  so 
when  they  were  first  visited  by  the  Europeans,  yet  the 
fiercest  tribes  devour  none  but  their  enemies,  and  those 
who  appear  in  arms  against  them.  The  women  and 
children,  who  are  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  the  fury  of 
their  inroads  and  attacks,  more  rarely  suffer  from  the 
deliberate  expression  of  their  vengeance.  This  state- 
ment is  confirmed  by  the  testimonies  of  those  who  have 
had  frequent  opportunities  of  examining  the  manners 
of  these  savage  nations.  In  the  expedition  of  Narvaez 
into  Florida,  A.  D.  1528,  the  Spaniards  were  compel- 
led, by  the  serverity  of  famine,  to  eat  up  those  of  their 
countrymen  who  happened  to  die.  This  appeared  so 
dreadful  to  the  natives,  whose  manners  permitted  them 
to  devour  their  captives  only,  that  they  regarded  the 
Europeans  with  horror ;  and  looked  upon  them  as  men 
destitute  of  affection  towards  one  another.  It  may  be 
safely  affirmed,  that  human  flesh  was  never  used  by  any 
people  as  their  ordinary  food.  It  was  the  bitterness  of 
unrelentingvengeancethatfirstledtothe  horrid  festivals, 
of  which  we  cannot  read  without  shuddering ;  and  the 
enemies  of  the  tribe  were  the  only  victims  which  were 
sacrificed  to  this  malignant  passion.  Among  several 
of  the  American  nations,  however,  the  practice  of  de- 
vouring those  who  fall  into  their  hands,  does  not  exist 
at  present;  though  we  are  yet  unacquainted  with  all 
the  circumstances  which  have  effected  its  abolition. 
We  cannot  ascribe  the  change  wholly  to  the  custom  of 
adopting  the  prisoners,  for  in  many  tribes  that  custom 
is  unknown.  Yet  among  these  tribes,  the  practice  al- 
luded to  must  at  one  time  have  been  general ;  as  all 
travellers  agree,  that  it  has  entered  into  their  language, 
and  that  many  expressions,  to  which  it  must  have  given 
birth,  are  still  in  use.  The  Iroquois  signify  their  reso- 
lution of  making  war  iigainst  an  enemy,  by  calling  upon 
one  another  "  to  rise  and  eat"  the  people  with  whom 
they  are  at  variance ;  and  when  they  solicit  their  allies 
to  join  them,  they  invite  them  to  "  come  and  eat  broth 
made  of  the  flesh  of  their  enemies."  (Charlevoix,  Hist. 
N.  F.  pp.  208.  209,  Ltt.  xxiii.  Edif.  et  Cur.  241.)  From 
this  horrid  practice,  too,  the  war-rsong  seems  to  have 
derived  its  peculiar  character.  "  I  go  to  war,"  exclai-ns 
a  savage,  animated  with  all  the  fury  of  his  barbarous 
nature,  "  I  go  to  war,  to  revenge  the  death  of  my  bro- 
thers: I  will  kill ;  I  will  exterminate;  I  will  burn  my 
enemies;  I  will  bring  away  prisoners;  I  will  devour 
their  hearts,  dry  their  flesh,  and  drink  their  blood. 
I  will  tear  off  their  scalps,  and  make  cups  of  their 
skulls."  See  Bossu's  Trav.  through  Louisiana,  vol.  i. 
p.  102. 

III.  Of  the  Religion  of  the  American  Tribes. 

Nothing  has,  in  a  greater  degree,  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  those  who  have  visited  the  New  World,  than 

4F2 


596 


A^fERTCA. 


(he  religion  of  its  inhabitants.  Unfortunately,  however, 
the  accounts  of  it,  in  as  far  at  least  as  they  respect  the 
less  cultivated  tribes,  are  neither  very  distinct,  nor 
founded  on  very  accurate  observation.  Priests  and  mie- 
sioiiaricE,  often  ignorant,  and  always  more  desirous  to 
propagate  their  own  doctrines,  and  introduce  the  cere- 
monies of  their  own  religion,  than  to  observe  that  of  the 
people  to  whom  they  are  sent,  have  fancied  that  they 
have  discovered  traces  of  Christianity  among  several  of 
the  American  tribes.  By  pursuing  analogies  to  an  un- 
warrantable length,  and  interpreting  some  phrases  with 
a  hiameable  precipitancy,  and  hardly  any  acquaintance 
Avitli  the  language  of  the  natives,  they  have  imagined 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  the  mystery  of  Christ's 
incarnation,  and  the  virtue  of  his  propitiatory  sacrifice, 
were  not  unknown  to  these  people.  They  have  even 
gone  so  far  as  to  assert,  that  purgatory  is  received 
among  them,  and  that  prayers  for  the  dead  are  in  use. 
I  f  these  statements  were  correct,  it  would  surely  be  no  dif- 
ficult matter  to  convert  the  American  tribes  to  the  belief 
of  our  religion ;  but  as  this  has  not  been  done  with  any 
good  measure  of  success,  we  have  little  reason  to  admit 
that  the  truths  of  Christianity  are  at  all  known  to  the  sa- 
vages of  the  western  continent.  In  the  uninformed  and 
credulous  guides  above  alluded  to,  we  can  have  no  confi- 
dence; and  the  observation  of  Robertson  isjust,  that  even 
when  we  make  our  choice  of  conductors  with  the  great- 
est care,  we  ought  not  to  follow  them  with  implicit  faith. 

The  religious  notions  of  any  people  may  be  consider- 
ed in  reference  to  the  being  of  a  God ;  the  means  of 
averting  his  displeasure,  or  of  procuring  his  favour; 
and  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state. 

An  inhabitant  of  Europe,  accustomed  to  think  of  a 
Deity,  to  reflect  on  his  works  of  creation,  and  to  rejoice 
in  the  bounties  of  his  providence,  is  apt  to  imagine,  that 
the  ideas  which  are  familiar  to  him  must  be  coeval  with 
the  first  efforts  of  thought,  and  must  be  possessed,  in 
some  degree,  by  every  human  creature.  But  if  We  in- 
quire into  the  religious  opinions  of  those  in  the  inferior 
ranks  of  life  among  otirselves,  it  will  appear,  that  their 
system  of  belief  is  derived,  not  from  examination,  but 
from  instruction.  Even  in  enlightened  and  civilized 
countries,  the  ideas  of  such  as  have  not  been  trained  to 
the  exercise  of  abstraction,  are  gross  and  corporeal. 
But  among  a  people,  where  the  first  notices  of  the  di- 
vine will,  which  were  received  by  man  from  his  Crea- 
tor, are  lost;  the  mind,  destitute  of  instruction,  and  a 
stranger  as  yet  to  inquiry,  is  long  unable  to  infer  the 
existence  of  a  Divinity  from  the  contemplation  of  his 
works.  Those  visionary  fears,  which  tonnent  our  spe- 
cies in  the  darker  periods  of  society,  proceed  invariably 
from  the  misconception  of  the  phenomena  of  nature. 
As  if  the  real  evils  incident  to  life  were  not  enough, 
ihe  mind  is  ever  at  work  in  creating  factitious  distress. 
Insensible  to  the  beauty  and  order  which  pervade  the 
universe,  the  distempered  imagination,  harbouring  ter- 
ror and  dismal  farebodings,  is  only  struck  with  the  ap- 
parent derangement  of  the  system,  and  the  convulsion 
of  the  elements  :  it  every  where  sees  the  operations  of 
a  malignant  genius,  actuated  by  the  dark  passions  of 
••nvy,  cruelty,  and  revenge. 

Among  the  various  definitions  which  logicians  have 
given  of  man,  one  is,  that  he  is  the  animal  that  prays. 
This  definition,  intended  to  convey  to  us  that  man  is  the 
only  one  of  the  creatures  of  God,  which  acknowledges 
hi*  soperintendence,  will  not,  however,  apply  universal- 
ly :  for  Bome  tribe*  have  been  discovered  on  the  Ameri- 


can continent,  that  have  no  idea  of  a  Supreme  Being, 
and  no  observMnces  of  religious  institutions.  They  have 
not  been  able  to  trace  the  attributes  of  power  and  wis- 
dom in  the  appearances  of  nature  ;  but  live,  inattentive 
to  the  glorious  spectacle  around  them,  occupied  with 
eating  and  drinking ;  or  sunk  in  the  gratification  of  their 
indolence.  "  Our  ancestors  and  we,"  said  a  cacique  of 
the  Abiponians,  "  have  been  so  solicitous  to  find  food 
upon  the  earth,  that  we  never  dreamt  of  the  stars  or 
their  architect."  Strangers  to  science,  to  inquiry,  and 
almost  to  thought,  even  the  terrible  revolutions  in  the 
heavens  and  the  earth,  the  eclipse  and  the  comet,  the 
pestilence  and  the  storm,  have  no  other  effect  on  their 
untutored  minds,  than  that  of  awakening  them  from 
their  inactivity,  to  stare  for  a  moment  in  wild  and  me- 
lancholy ignorance,  and  instantly  to  relaspe  into  stupid- 
ity and  sloth.  They  have  not  in  their  liinguage  a  name 
for  a  deity.  In  this  unhappy  state,  man  seems  to  have 
parted  with  the  distinctive  qualities  of  his  nature,  and 
to  be  separated  by  a  small  interval  from  the  brutes. 
The  authors  who  have  described  the  most  uncivilize<l 
nations  of  America,  are  uniforii;  in  their  testimony,  that 
there  are  no  appearances  of  religion  among  them.  The 
following  is  the  declaration  of  P.  Ribas,  concerning  the 
inhabitants  of  Ciualoa;  and  it  agrees  in  every  thing  with 
that  of  Lery,  (Aptd  de  Bry.  iii.  221,)  of  Nieuhoff, 
(Churchill's  Fot/ages,  ii.  132,)  of  Gumilla,  {Hist,  de 
TOrmoque,  ii.  157,)  of  Ulioa,  {Xolicias  American.  335. 
ct  seq.)  and  of  many  others  who  have  visited  and  de- 
scribed different  parts  of  the  western  hemisphere.  "  I 
was  extremely  attentive,"  says  Ribas,  •'  during  my  stay 
among  the  Cinaloans,  to  ascertain  whether  they  w-ere  to 
be  considere<l  as  idolaters ;  and  it  may  be  affirmed  with 
the  most  perfect  exactness,  that  though  among  some  of 
them  there  may  be  traces  of  idolatrj',  yet  others  have 
not  the  least  knowledge  of  God,  or  even  of  any  false 
deity :  nor  pay  any  formal  adoration  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  who  exercises  dominion  over  the  world ;  nor 
have  they  any  conception  of  the  providence  of  a  Creator 
or  Governor,  from  whom  they  expect,  in  the  next  life, 
the  reward  of  their  good,  or  the  punishment  of  their 
evil  deeds."  See  Hist,  de  los  Triumph,  de  Nuestra  Santa 
Fe,  (fee.  par  P.  And.  Perez  de  Ribas,  p.  16,  ct  scq. 

But  religion  is  congenial  to  the  mind  of  man.  The 
extraordinary  appearances  of  nature  attract  his  notice, 
and  at  last  fix  his  attention;  and  he  is  led,  though  per- 
haps slowly,  to  the  apprehension  of  an  invisible  and 
powerful  cause.  He  dreads  the  repetition  of  the  evils 
which  he  has  formerly  experience<l,  and  which  depend 
on  circumstances  beyond  the  operation  of  his  strength 
or  dexterity ;  and  is  eager  to  propitiate  a  Being,  whose 
influence  over  human  concerns  so  materially  alfects  his 
happiness.  The  Deity  is  represented  as  the  avenger 
of  trangrcssion  ;  and  the  unlooked  for  motions  and  con- 
cussions of  the  elements  are  regarded  as  the  tokens  of 
his  displeasure.  His  anger  is  shown  in  the  tempest 
and  the  inundation ;  when  he  descends  at  midnight  to 
punish  the  guilty,  the  thunder  announces  his  approach, 
and  the  earth  trembles  in  bis  presence.  In  conformity 
with  what  has  now  been  slated,  the  deities  which  were 
acknowledged  among  such  of  the  American  tribes  aa 
had  any  rude  notions  of  a  superior  power,  were  all  of  a 
malignant  nature,  and  hostile  to  the  interests  ami  the 
welfare  of  man.  They  were  considered  as  interfering 
with  human  concerns,  only  to  watch  the  deviations  of 
the  transgressor,  ami  to  mark  him  for  punishment. 
Their  names  were  either  expressive  of  this  dreadful 


AMERICA. 


0&7 


cliaracf  er ,  or  referable  <o  Oiose  ftwfai  natural  calamltlcB, 
which  desolate  tlie  earth,  and  terrify  its  iiiliaLitaiits. 
The  Brazilians  were  so  much  affrighted  by  thunder, 
which  in  their  country  is  tremendous  and  fre(|uent,  that 
it  was  not  only  the  object  of  reverence  among  them,  but 
the  word  which  conveyed  an  idea  of  it  (o  their  minds 
was  their  most  common  and  significant  appellation  for 
the  divinity  whom  they  feared.  They  named  him  Tou- 
pan,  or  Thunder.  But  besides  the  calamities  arising 
from  the  more  terrible  revolutions  of  nature,  the  dan- 
gers ol  the  savage  state  are  so  many  and  formidable, 
that  man,  encompassed  with  difficulty,  and  feeling  his 
weakness,  is  rendered  thoughtful  by  distress  ;  and  has 
no  resource,  but  in  a  protection  and  guidance  superior 
to  those  of  mortals.  He  thinks  of  various  means  for 
procuring  the  interference  of  an  unseen  arm,  and  is 
constant  and  zealous  in  executing  whatever  may  be  ne- 
cessary for  the  accomplishment  of  his  wishes.  The 
invisible  and  powerful  agent,  whose  assistance  he  prays 
for,  is,  however,  considered  as  a  local  being,  and  in  the 
idea  of  the  savage,  is  invested  with  the  human  form  :  he 
is  regarded  as  pos8esse«l  of  the  same  feelings,  inclina- 
tions, and  passions,  with  those  who  dread  his  anger,  or 
sue  for  his  kindness. 

When  the  mind  has  been  enlightened  by  revelation, 
or  instructed  by  science,  it  is  still  beyond  the  power  of 
the  human  faculties,  to  form  a  direct  and  enlarged  no- 
tion of  a  spiritual  agent ;  and  it  is  only  by  transferring 
the  thought,  of  which  we  are  conscious,  to  a  being  who 
possesses  it  in  a  superior  degree,  that  we  can  arrive  at 
any  thing  that  approaches  to  that  notion.  Our  know- 
ledge of  the  Divinity  is  of  an  imperfect  and  negative 
kind.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered,  therefore,  that  the  sa- 
vage, who  is  a  stranger  to  reflection,  uninformed  and 
rude,  should  imagine,  that  the  beings  whose  vengeance 
he  fears,  or  whose  aid  he  solicits,  are  of  a  nature  similar 
to  his  own.  Among  a  few  of  the  American  tribes,  in- 
deed, there  appears  to  be  something  like  an  irregular 
pointing  at  more  correct  notions  of  a  deity;  thej'  have 
some  indistinct  and  wavering  discernment  of  a  being, 
who  made  the  world,  and  presides  over  the  changes 
which  take  place  upon  the  earth.  They  even  call  him 
the  Great  Spirit  ;  but  they  attach  no  idea  to  the  word 
spirit,  which  would  lead  us  to  believe  that  they  have  any 
conception  of  a  God  who  is  divested  of  corporeal  organs. 
They  have  no  temples,  no  ministers  of  religion,  and  no 
established  form  of  public  worship.  (Gu»i?7ia,  ii.  157.) 
And  their  mythology  is  so  wild,  so  incoherent,  and  ab- 
surd, that  it  does  not  merit  a  place  in  any  regular  his- 
tory. Areskoui,  or  Agriskoue,  the  god  of  battle,  is  the 
chief  divinity  of  the  North  American  Indians.  Him 
they  invoke,  by  a  solemn  imprecation,  and  appease  by 
various  ceremonies  when  they  go  forth  to  war  ;  and  they 
believe  that  they  will  be  successful,  or  otherwise,  ac- 
cording as  he  is  more  or  less  disposed  to  favour  their 
wishes.  They  acknowledge  also  a  being  whom  they 
denominate  the  Master  of  Life  ;  and  a  great  number  of 
inferior  spirits,  or  genii,  who  take  part  in  the  concerns 
of  mortals,  and  occasion  their  happiness  or  miserj'. 
These  are  of  course,  divided  into  the  beneficent  and  the 
malign ;  from  the  latter,  the  diseases  and  calamities  inci- 
dent to  human  nature  are  supjiosed  to  originate ;  and  on 
the  agency  of  the  former,  the  cure  of  diseases,  and  suc- 
cess in  undertakings  of  smaller  importance,  are  ima- 
gined to  depend. 

After  endeavouring  to  trace  the  notions  of  a  superior 
power,  which  the  uncivilized  inhabitants  of  the  western 


continent  hare  been  able  to  form,  let  us  next  attend  to 
the  means  empk>ye<l  by  these  uncultivated  people  for 
averting  the  displeasure,  or  securing  the  protection,  of 
the  divinities  which  they  acknowledge. 

Among  a  people  in  the  infancy  of  reflection  and  im- 
provement, the  deities  themselves  are  not  so  much  the 
objects  of  attention,  as  the  great  changes  and  revolutions 
of  nature  to  which  they  are  conceived  to  give  rise.  To 
avert  the  calamities  which  threaten  them,  is,  therefore, 
the  chief  concern  of  the  rude  tribes  scattered  over  the 
American  continent.  In  order  to  effectuate  this  purpose, 
they  have  not  recourse,  as  among  nations  more  civilized, 
to  prayers  and  penance,  offerings  and  victims  ;  but  to 
charms,  amulets,  and  incantations,  which  are  fancied  to 
have  the  power  of  saving  them  from  all  events  of  a  dis- 
astrous nature.  Witchcraft  prevaiU  in  every  quarter  of 
the  New  World.  It  was  perhaps  from  knowing  that 
some  kinds  of  matter  were  useful  in  healing  wounds,  and 
painful  affections  of  the  body,  that  other  kinds  of  it  were 
supposed  to  be  possessed  of  a  higher  and  more  opera- 
tive virtue  ;  and  able  to  rescue  those  who  employed 
them  from  evils  of  greater  malignity,  and  calamities  of 
more  destructive  influence.  Accidents  of  all  descrip- 
tions, whether  affecting  individuals  or  communities, 
were  believed  to  lie  within  the  reach  of  these  portions 
of  matter,  duly  worn  or  used.  Hence,  among  all  rude 
nations,  there  is  a  wonderful  connexion  between  super- 
stition and  medicine.  The  Manitous,  or  Okkis,  of  the 
North  Americans,  were  sometimes  regarded  as  amulets 
or  charms,  which  could  preserve  them  from  all  dangers ; 
and  sometimes  as  divinities,  whose  aid  they  might  im- 
plore in  circumstances  of  distress.  The  Autmoins, 
Piayas,  and  Alexis,  in  other  parts  of  the  New  World, 
i\'ere  the  pliysicians,  as  well  as  the  diviners  or  priests, 
of  the  tribes  to  which  they  belonged.  As  diseases  and 
misfortunes  were  attributed  to  supernatural  influence, 
a  variety  of  mysterious  rites,  equally  solemn  and  ridicu- 
lous, were  prescribed  and  performed,  in  order  to  coun- 
teract that  influence,  or  convert  it  to  the  advantage  of 
those  ^\  ho  dreaded  its  effects  ;  and  to  these  ceremonies, 
the  Iroquois,  and  other  North  Americans,  have  recourse 
with  a  childish  simplicity,  as  often  as  they  are  exposed 
to  suflering. 

But  some  tribes  of  the  western  continent  have  made 
greater  advances  towards  a  regular  worship :  and  in- 
stances are  not  wanting  of  hill?,  trees,  and  lakes,  mark- 
ed out  as  the  residence  of  particular  divinities,  and  con- 
secrated to  their  service.  The  Natchez,  however,  and 
the  people  of  Bogota,  as  they  were  by  far  the  most  ci- 
vilized of  the  ruder  nations  which  inhabit  America,  so 
their  religious  ideas  were  much  more  improved  than 
those  of  the  surrounding  tribes.  Among  the  Natchez, 
the  sun  was  the  chief  object  of  reverence.  Temples 
were  built  and  dedicated  to  this  luminary;  and  in  tliese 
structures,  which  were  comparatively  magnificent,  a  sa- 
cretl  fire  was  kept  perpetually  burning,  as  the  purest 
and  most  expressive  symbol  of  the  divinity  whom  they 
worshipped.  An  aged  woman,  together  with  other  mi- 
nisters devoted  to  the  service  of  the  temple,  iiad  it  ia 
charge  to  watch  and  to  feed  the  holy  flame.  Festivals 
were  appointed  in  honour  of  the  god.  At  these  the 
whole  nation  assembled,  relinquishing  theii"  ordinary 
pursuits  ;  consecrating  their  time  and  tlieir  thoughts  to 
the  divinity ;  and  performing  the  rites  and  ceremonies 
which  were  believed  to  be  most  acce|ilable  to  him,  and 
most  effectual  in  i>rocuring  liis  favour.  These  rites 
were  numerous  aad  eolema  ;  and  whetlier  it  arose  from 


598 


AMERICA. 


the  mild  Influeuce  of  the  power  Tvlilch  llicy  acknow- 
ledged, or  Croiti  some  other  cause  which  Las  not  been 
mentioned,  no  bIoo<l  was  shed  in  their  sacred  observan- 
ces. {Dumont,  i.  158.  LaJUau,  i.  167.)  To  man,  unin- 
structed  by  revelation,  the  sun  appears  to  be  the  most 
natural  and  attractive  object  of  religious  contemplation. 
His  presence  diifuses  light,  fertility,  and  joy  ;  and  when 
he  witlidraws  himself  from  the  view  of  mortals,  darlc- 
ness,  with  all  its  associated  terrors,  Eucceeds.  His  in- 
fluence is  benignant,  animating,  and  universal.  As  fire 
is  the  purest  of  the  elements,  and  as  it  strikes  the  senses 
with  the  greatest  effect,  it  was  chosen  among  the 
Natchez  as  the  most  proper  emblem  of  their  divinity  ; 
and  in  this  circumstance,  as  well  as  in  (he  object  of 
their  ivorship,  they  resembled  the  ancient  Persians,  a 
nation  far  superior  to  the  Natchez,  yet  agreeing  with 
them  in  the  most  refined  and  innocent  species  of  super- 
stition, which  men,  destitute  of  revelation,  have  any 
where  adopted.  Among  the  Romans  too,  a  sacred  fire, 
watched  and  fed  by  priestesses  of  spotless  purity,  was 
not  unknown.  In  conjunction  with  the  sun,  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Bogota  worshipped  also  the  moon.  Though  the 
influence  of  this  latter  body  upon  the  earth  is  neither  so 
decisive  nor  so  useful  as  that  of  the  former ;  yet  unen- 
lightened and  barbarous  nations  have  generally  received 
them  both  into  the  number  of  their  divinities.  The  Bo- 
gotans  had  a  religious  system  more  fixed  and  complete 
than  that  of  the  Natchez.  They  had  temples,  priests, 
altars,  and  sacrifices.  Human  victims  were  offered  to 
the  deities  whom  they  feared ;  and  the  blood  of  a  child, 
a  sister,  or  a  friend,  streamed  in  the  places  hallowed  to 
their  worship,  in  order  to  avert  their  displeasure,  or 
stimulate  their  kindness. 

With  regard  to 'the   doctrine  of  a  future  state,  the 
notions  of  the  American  tribes  are  in  some  respects 
peculiar  to  themselves.     They  have  no  distinct  concep- 
tion of  an  existence,  wholly  spiritual,  beyond  the  grave. 
Their  ideas  do  not  reach  so  far,  as  either  to  admit  or  to 
doubt  of  an  eternal  duration  in  the  future  world  ;  but 
satisfied  that  death  does  not  put  an  end  to  their  being, 
they  look  not  beyond  an  indefinite  time,  which  succeeds 
the  dissolution  of  the  body.     That  there  is  a  future 
state,  however,  is  an  opinion  entertained  from  one  ex- 
tremity of  America  to  the  other;  and  is  indeed  so  gen- 
eral, wherever  man  is  found,  that  it  may  be  regarded  as 
coeval  with  his  nature.     In  some  i)Iaces  of  the  New 
World,  the  marks  by  which  we  can  discover  it  are  in- 
distinct and  rare  ;  but  in  no  part  of  the  western  con- 
tinent is  it  altogether  unknown.  "  The  Bra7ilians,"  says 
Nieuhoff,  with  equal  simplicity  and  truth,  "  have  a  tradi- 
tion among  them,  that  their  souls  do  not  die  with  their 
bodies,  but  thut  they  are  transformed  either  into  de- 
vils or  spirits;  or  else  enjoy  a  great  deal  of  pleasure, 
with  dancing  and  singing  in  some  pleasant  fields,  which 
they  say  are  behind  the  mountains.     These  fields  are 
«njoyed  by  all  the  brave  men  and  women  who  have  kil- 
led and  eaten  many  of  their  enemies."     (Fm/agcs  and 
Travels  to  Brazil.     Churchill's  Collec.  ii.  132  )     The 
ideas  «f  the  American  tribes,  with  regard  to  the  condi- 
tion of  man  in  the  future  state,  are  taken  from  what  con* 
alitutes  his  chief  happiness  in  this.     They  believe  that 
after  death,  he  exists  in  a  country  where  the  sun  shines 
•with  unclouded  light,  and  no  whirlwind  tears  up  the 
trees  by  the  roots;  where  the  rivers  are  stored  with 
fish,  and   the  forests  are  stocked  with   game  ;  where 
liuncer  is  unknown,  and  plenty  continues  throughout 
ihe  y«ar  without  effort  or  care.    Hia  occupations,  too, 


are  Imagined  to  be  oF  tlie  sanie  kind  RB  in  the  prcseiif 
life  ;  and  eminence  and  reputation  are  supposed  to  be 
procured  by  the  qualities  which  entitle  their  possessor 
here  to  honour  and  to  fame.  They  give  the  first 
places,  in  their  land  of  spirits,  to  the  courageous  war- 
rior, who  has  put  to  death  the  greatest  number  of  hi:* 
enemies,  and  devoured  their  flesh  ;  and  to  the  hunter 
who  has  distinguished  himself  the  most,  in  the  exertions 
of  the  chace ;  and  it  is  their  practice  to  bury  the  hatchet 
and  the  bow  of  a  leader  in  the  same  grave  with  his 
body,  that  he  may  not  be  destitute  of  arms  when  he  en- 
ters upon  the  future  world.  They  likewise  deposit  in 
his  tomb,  the  skins  and  stuffs  of  which  their  garments 
are  made,  Indian  corn,  venison,  drugs,  utensils  of  dif- 
ferent kinds,  and  whatever  else  they  hold  to  be  neces- 
sary or  convenient,  in  their  simple  estimate  of  life. — See 
Creuxii,  Hist.  Can.  p.  91.  De  Rochefort  His.  des  Antil- 
les, p.  568.  De  la  Potherie,  ii.  44.  iii.  8 ;  and  Golden,  Five 
Nat.  i.  1 7. 

In  some  districts,  a  more  remarkable  custom  pre- 
vails. When  a  cacique  is  buried,  a  number  of  his 
■wives,  officers,  and  favonrifes,  are  put  to  death,  that  he 
may  be  attended  in  the  country  of  spirits  as  his  dignity 
requires  ;  and  such  has  been  the  rage  of  dying  in  this 
manner,  that  the  elders  of  a  tribe  have  been  known  to 
interfere,  lest  the  strength  of  the  community  should  be 
impaired  by  the  too  rapid  diminution  of  its  numbers. 
By  the  account  of  Dumont,  however,  it  appears,  that 
this  extraordinary  zeal  is  bj'  no  means  universal.  That 
gentleman  relates  in  his  Maiioir  sur  iMuisiane,  i.  227." 
that  he  was  present  at  the  funeral  of  a  great  chief  among 
the  Natchez,  and  that  the  feelings  of  those  who  were 
about  to  suffer  on  that  awful  occasion,  were  extremely 
different.  Some  courted  with  eagerness  and  impatience 
the  honour  of  being  interred  with  their  leader;  others 
dreaded  their  fate,  and  wished  to  avoid  it ;  and  a  few  of 
them  saved  their  lives  by  escaping  into  the  woods.  Nor 
are  the  savages  altogether  destitute  of  attention  to  the 
condition  of  the  victims.  For,  as  the  Bramins  give  an 
intoxicating  draught  to  the  women  who  are  to  die  by 
fire  in  honour  of  their  husbands,  that  their  sufferings 
may  be  lessened  by  the  approach  of  insensibility ;  so  the 
Indians  give  pills  made  of  tobacco,  which  has  a  similar 
effect,  to  those  who  are  appointed  to  accompany  their 
chiefs  into  the  world  of  spirits.  These  pills  they  oblige 
the  victims  to  swallow. 

There  are,  among  the  American  tribes,  many  pre- 
tenders io  a  knowledge  of  futurity.  The  number  of 
diviners,  sorcerers,  or  jugglers,  is  exceedingly'  great ; 
and  their  predictions  are  listened  to  with  attention,  and 
received  with  implicit  confidence.  But  these  conjurors, 
or  wizards,  not  only  pretend  to  an  acquaintance  with  all 
that  is  past,  and  all  that  is  to  come ;  they  likewise  give 
out,  that,  by  means  of  their  si)ella  and  incantations,  they 
are  able  to  command  what  is  future,  and  regulate  the 
order  of  events  which  are  yet  to  take  place.  Hence 
they  are  applied  to  in  all  cases  where  good  is  expected, 
or  evil  is  feared.  If  Ihe  Indians  have  been  unsuccessful 
in  hunting,  or  if  they  have  been  surprised  and  over- 
powered by  their  enemies,  the  sorcerers  employ  their 
whole  art  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  their  misfortunes,  and 
the  issue  of  the  calamities  which  have  befallen  them. 
For  this  purpose,  a  thousand  ridiculous  practices  are  in 
use.  The  delusion  of  the  multitude  is  inconceivable; 
the  wizards  have  acquired  a  name  and  authority ;  and 
such  is  their  influence  among  the  people  of  America, 
that  nothing  is  undertaken  witiiout  their  approbation  and 


AMERICA. 


599 


advice.  Superstilion  appears  in  tl»e  form  of  wliich  we 
are  now  speaking,  even  where  the  savages  of  the  New 
World  are  least  improved.  Where  the  reasoning 
faculty  is  almost  unexercised,  where  the  ideas  are  few 
and  incorrect,  where  language  has  as  yet  assumed  no 
detinite  appearance,  where  records  are  unknown,  and 
tradition  passes  speedily  away ;  even  there,  man,  pre- 
sumptuous in  his  ignorance,  dares  to  remove  the  veil 
which  the  Almighty  Spirit  kindly  interposes  between 
us  and  futurity,  to  pry  into  the  secret  determinations  of 
omniscience,  and  to  guide  the  counsels  of  infinite  wis- 
dom. 

We  have  now  contemplated  the  rude  natives  of 
America,  in  regard  to  their  political  state,  their  mode  of 
warfare,  and  their  religion ;  let  us  therefore  proceed  to 
consider  them  a  little  more  closely,  and  attend  to  them 
in  the  privacy  of  domestic  life. 

IV.  Of  the  Domestic  State  of  the  American  Indians. 

The  duration  of  that  union,  which  has  for  its  object 
the  propagation  of  the  species,  is  always  limited  l)y  the 
ease  or  difficulty  with  which  theoffspriug  is  reared.  This 
law  of  nature  is  general.  Where  infancy  is  long  and 
helpless,  the  care  of  both  parents  is  required  ;  and  a 
connexion,  equally  intimate  and  durable,  takes  place. 
The  infancy  of  man  is  longer,  more  feeble,  and  depen- 
dent, than  that  of  other  animals :  it  is  after  a  tedious 
education  that  he  reaches  his  maturity,  and  is  fitted  for 
the  active  duties  which  he  is  called  to  perform.  Hence 
it  is,  that  the  union  between  husband  and  wife  has  been 
regarded  in  the  earliest  times,  and  by  the  most  unciviliz- 
ed nations,  as  a  covenant  at  once  sacred  and  lasting. 
Even  among  the  rudest  tribes  of  America,  who  have  no 
settled  habitation,  and  live  without  religion  and  without 
law,  this  union  was  established  ,•  and  the  rights  of  mar- 
riage were  fixed  and  respected.  Where  subsistence 
was  procured  with  difficulty,  the  male  confined  himself 
to  one  wife ;  it  was  particularly  so  with  the  Hurons  and 
Iroquois,  among  whom  polygamy  was  unknown;  but 
in  more  benignant  regions,  where  the  hardships  of  the 
savage  state  were  less  severely  felt,  the  practice  of  hav- 
ing many  wives  was  introduced,  and  had  become  gener- 
al among  the  inhabitants.  In  some  provinces  the  ma- 
trimonial union  continued  through  life ;  in  others  it  was 
broken  on  the  most  trifling  pretexts,  and  often  without 
any  reason  which  the  husband  thought  it  necessary  to 
assign. 

But  whether  marriage  was  lasting  or  not,  the  condi- 
tion of  the  women  in  the  New  World  was  universally 
degrading,  abject,  and  wretched.  They  were  the  slaves, 
rather  than  the  com|)anions  of  their  husbands.  Unlike 
the  polished  nations  of  Europe,  and  unlike  some  of  its 
rudest  inhabitants  which  history  has  described,  as  the 
Goths  and  Scandinavians,  the  uncivilized  people  of  Ame- 
rica regarded  their  females  with  indifference  and  con- 
tempt. Among  them,  the  matrimonial  contract  was  iu 
reality  a  purchase ;  and  wherever  this  is  the  case,  the 
women  are  the  property  of  those  who  buy  them,  and 
.■>re  treated  as  such  :  Ihey  fall  at  once  to  (he  level  of  ser- 
vants ;  and  among  barbarous  nations,  a  servant  is  liut 
another  name  for  a  slave.  (Karnes'  Sketches  of  the  Hist, 
nf  Man,  i.  184.)  As  money  is  unknown,  the  means  of 
purchase  are  various;  in  one  place,  the  suiter,  after  de- 
claring liis  intention  of  marriage,  gives  presents  of  furs, 
hatchets,  arrows,  or  whatever  he  considers  as  most  ex- 
cellent and  valuable,  to  the  parents  of  the  maiden  whom 
he  courts ;  in  another  he  supplies  them  with  game ;  in 


a  third,  he  assists  them  iu  hollowing  and  shaping  their 
canoes ;  and,  in  a  fourth,  he  aids  them  iu  cultivating 
the  ground  for  a  definite  portion  of  time.  AVhen  the 
I)resents  are  accepted,  or  the  stated  service  is  perform- 
ed, he  demands  and  obtains  his  wife.  But  such  is  the 
misery  of  the  women  in  the  American  continent,  that 
slavery  is  a  name  by  far  too  gentle  and  respectful  for 
their  deplorable  condition.  They  arc  doomed  to  all  the 
offices  of  labour  and  fatigue.  Tasks  are  imposed  upon 
them  without  feeling  or  consideration,  and  they  are  se- 
verely beaten  if  they  neglect  to  perform  them.  Tlieir 
services  are  exacted  and  received  without  requital,  ac- 
knowledgment, or  complacency.  They  approach  their 
tyrants  with  reverence  and  fear;  and  it  is  seldom  that 
they  approach  them  but  when  they  are  commanded : 
they  are  not  allowed  to  eat  in  their  presence ;  they  share 
in  none  of,  their  amusements ;  and  such  is  their  awful 
perce|)tion  of  this  barbarous  distinction  between  the 
sexes,  that  instances  are  recorded  of  mothers  who  have 
destroyed  their  female  children  as  soon  as  they  were 
born,  in  order  to  free  them  from  a  state  of  harsh  and 
unmitigated  subjection.  Gumilla  having  reproached  a 
mother  of  South  America  for  killing  her  infant  daugh- 
ter, the  woman  made  the  following  pathetic  reply,  which, 
he  says,  is  literally  translated  from  the  Betoyan  lan- 
guage. "  Father,  (these  were  her  words,)  if  )-ou  will 
allow  me,  1  willtell  youwhat  I  have  in  my  heart.  Would 
to  God,  father,  would  to  God,  that  my  mother,  when  she 
bore  me,  had  had  sufficient  love  and  compassion  for  me, 
to  spare  me  the  toil  and  the  pangs  which  I  have  sufier- 
ed  to  this  day,  and  which  1  shall  suffer  to  the  end  of  my 
life.  If  my  mother  had  buried  me  when  I  was  born,  I 
should  have  been  dead,  but  I  should  not  have  felt  death ; 
and  I  should  have  been  freed  from  lasting  pains,  equal 
to  those  of  dying ;  pains  which  I  cannot  escape,  more 
than  the  daily  toil  which  wrings  my  soul.  Ah  !  who  can 
tell  what  anguish  yet  awaits  me  before  I  shall  die !  Re- 
present to  j-ourself,  father,  the  cruel  toils  to  which  a 
woman  among  us  is  subject.  The  men  go  to  see  us 
work,  and  only  carry  their  bows  and  arrows ;  while  we 
are  loaded  with  heavy  baskets;  often  one  child  at  our 
breasts,  and  another  at  our  backs.  Our  husbands  kill 
a  bird,  or  catch  a  fish,  while  we  dig  the  earth,  and  sup- 
port all  the  labours  of  the  harvest,  amidst  the  heat  of  a 
burning  sun.  They  return  in  the  evening  without  any 
burden ;  and  we,  besides  our  children,  bring  roots  to 
eat,  and  maize  for  their  drink.  Our  husbands,  on  their 
arrival,  converse  with  their  friends ;  and  we  are  obliged 
to  increase  our  daily  toil  in  searching  for  wood  and 
water,  and  in  preparing  their  supper.  When  they  have 
eaten,  they  go  to  sleep,  while  we  pass  almost  all  the 
night  in  pounding  maize  to  make  their  chica.  And  what 
benefit  do  we  derive  from  thus  watching  to  procure 
them  pleasure  ?  They  drink  their  chica ;  they  become 
drunk;  and  losing  their  senses,  they  beat  us  with 
clubs.  They  drag  us  by  the  hair,  and  trample  us  under 
their  feet.  Would  to  God,  father,  that  my  mother  had 
buried  me  the  instant  1  was  born ! — What  greater  bless- 
ing can  an  Indian  woman  procure  for  her  daughter  than 
an  exemption  from  pains  and  servitude,  a  thousand  times 
worse  than  death  ?  O  father,  if  my  mother  had  buried 
me  when  she  brought  me  forth,  my  heart  would  not  have 
had  so  much  to  suffer,  nor  my  eyes  so  much  to  weep." 
See  Hisloire  do  VOrenoque,  tome  ii.  p.  239. 

Thus  the  inhabitants  of  the  western  continent  are  ut- 
ter strangers  to  some  of  the  most  refined  enjoyments 
which  man  can  experience ;  enjoyments  which  arise 


m 


AMERICA. 


from  the  union  of  the  sexes,  regulated  by  temperance, 
and  supported  bj'  equality.  And  women,  destined  by 
the  Creator  of  the  human  race,  to  be  our  assistants  in 
prosperity,  and  our  comforters  in  distress,  are  sunk  in 
America  to  the  condition  of  slaves,  timid  and  trembling 
in  the  presence  of  their  lordly  masters,  the  drudges  of 
their  will,  and  almost  excluded  from  their  society. 

Among  the  savages  of  the  New  World,  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  attention  is  war.  Every  part  of  their  education 
has  an  immediate  reference  to  this;  and  their  minds  are 
constantly  occupied  in  forming  schemes  to  surprise  or 
ai.noy  their  enemies.  While  the  young  men  of  a  tribe 
pursue  the  wild  animals,  on  which  they  depend  for  sub- 
sietence,  it  is  one  great  concern  among  them  to  show, 
bj  their  dexterity,  boldness,  and  perseverance,  that  tliey 
are  qualified  to  be  enrolled  among  the  warriors  of  their 
tribe,  and  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  country.  Every 
thino-  which  tliey  see  and  hear  is  fitted  to  ii^spire  them 
■with  a  love  of  military  fame.  To  this  passion  for  war, 
which  is  universal  among  the  rude  natives  of  the  west- 
ern continent,  their  indifference  towards  their  females 
has  been  ascribed ;  but,  in  all  probability,  the  cause  of 
that  indifference  lies  deeper  in  their  constitution.  If 
the  American  savages  had  not  been  destitute,  in  a  good 
measure,  of  that  ardour  for  the  opposite  sex,  which  the 
youth  of  other  nations  experience,  the  passion  for  war 
would  not  have  taken  the  exclusive  possession  of  their 
minds.  The  love  of  military  fame  is  the  effect,  rather 
than  the  cause,  of  the  coldness  with  which  they  regard 
their  females  ;  and  that  coldness  must  ultimately  be  as- 
cribed to  a  peculiarity  in  their  constitution,  aided  and 
confirmed  by  some  powerful  circumstanoes  in  their 
mode  of  life.  Accordingly,  the  success  of  the  Spa- 
niards, in  many  of  their  expeditions,  as  in  that  of  Cortez 
to  the  Mexican  capital,  depended  chiefl3'  on  their  fa- 
iBOur  with  the  women  ;  a  favour  which  was  to  be  ascribed, 
more  to  the  keen  passions  and  vigour  of  the  Europeans, 
than  to  any  art  or  contrivance  by  which  it  was  pro- 
cured. 

It  is  owing  to  the  depressed  state  of  the  females  in  ' 
the  New  World,  combined  in  many  places  with  an  ex- 
treme scarcity  of  provisions,  that  they  bear  fewer  chil- 
dren than  those  in  the  ancient  continent.  That  exer- 
cise, which,  if  it  were  moderate,  would  give  health  to 
the  constitution,  and  vigour  to  its  efforts,  overpowers 
among  them  the  principle  of  action,  because  it  is  pro- 
longed into  toil,  and  because  that  toil  is  incessant.  Their 
bodily  vigour  is  impaired  by  the  labours  to  which  they 
are  subjected.  In  less  favouralile  climates,  where  sub- 
eistence  is  not  easily  procured,  the  mother  cannot  at- 
tempt to  rear  a  second  child,  till  the  first  is  able  to  pro- 
vide for  itself.  Accordingly,  it  is  related  by  Herera, 
that  the  Indian  women  suckle  their  children  for  many 
years;  even  when  they  are  considerably  advanced  in 
childhood,  the  milk  of  the  mother  is  still  a  part  of  their 
food ;  and  it  is  a  law  of  the  female  economy,  that  a  wo- 
man does  not  again  become  pregnant  till  the  period  of 
nursing  is  at  an  end.  In  some  of  the  more  barbarous 
tribes,  it  is  a  maxim  not  to  rear  above  two  children  ; 
and  when  twins  are  born,  one  of  them  is  exposed  .nnd 
forsaken.  If  a  mother  dies  while  she  is  nursing  a  child, 
it  is  buried  in  the  same  grave  with  its  parent.  Large 
families,  such  as  exist  in  the  polished  societies  of  Eu- 
rope or  of  Asia,  are  not  to  be  found  among  the  rude 
inhabitants  of  the  western  hemisphere.  Anil  when, 
foy  indolence,  and  the  want  of  foresight  nittural  to  sa- 
TBges,  the  Uilficulty  of  suj)porting  even  their  less  nu- 


nnmerous  offspring  is  very  great,  affection  towards  their 
children  yieldb  to  the  imperious  dejnunds  of  hunger, 
and  they  abandon  them,  or  put  them  to  death.  (Vene- 
ga.  Hist,  of  Caiifortiia,  i.  82.)  The  voice  of  nature  is 
stilled,  and  the  emotions  of  parental  fondness  are  re- 
pressed, by  the  hardships  of  their  situation.  But  in 
more  auspicious  climates,  where  food  is  abundant,  the 
alfection  of  the  American  Indians  towards  their  proge- 
ny, while  young  and  helpless,  is  as  warm  and  active  as 
among  any  otlier  people.  This  affection,  however,  is 
confined  to  the  period  of  infancy ;  as  the  children 
advance  in  years,  their  parents  cease  to  regard  thera 
as  the  objects  of  their  care ;  their  wants  are  few,  and 
the  means  of  supplying  them  are  generally  within 
their  reach ;  they  dre  soon  able  to  provide  for  them- 
selves ;  and  they  learn  by  the  example  of  those  among 
them,  who  are  eminent  for  their  skill  in  war  or  in  hunt- 
ing, rather  than  by  parental  instruction,  all  that  is  neces- 
sary to  fit  them  for  the  duties  of  their  simple  life. 
When  they  arrive  at  maturity,  they  are  left  entirely  to 
their  own  direction,  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  liberty. 
They  are  seldom  instructed  or  advised ;  and  chiding 
nnd  chastisement  are  altogether  unknown.  A  young 
Carib  having  struck  his  father,  who  had  disobliged 
him,  the  latter  testified  no  displeasure  on  account  of  the 
blow ;  and  a  Spaniard  having  remonstrated  with  liim, 
and  urged  him  to  punish  the  insolence  of  his  son,  the 
Indian  addressed  him  in  the  following  words ;  "  Do  you 
believe,  my  friend,  that  our  children  are  in  the  same 
circumstances  with  yours?  It  is  not  so:  if  1  should 
punish  my  son  for  the  injury  which  I  have  now  received, 
he  would  kill  me  as  soon  as  he  is  grown."  {Gumilla, 
ii.  213.)  In  an  American  hut,  there  is  neither  govern- 
ment, nor  order,  nor  union :  the  children  do  not  obey 
their  parents,  and  the  jiareuts  are,  for  the  most  part, 
indifferent  about  their  children.  The  members  of  a 
family  in  the  New  World  seem  as  if  they  had  been 
accidentally  brought  together ;  no  common  interest  aji- 
pears  to  cement  their  association,  and  no  affection 
towards  each  other,  to  fill  their  bosoms  or  to  regulate 
their  conduct.  The  wife  is  the  slave  of  the  husband, 
and  he  detains  her  near  him,  because  her  service  is  ne- 
cessary for  his  support :  and  the  children  attach  them- 
selves to  their  parents,  because  they  find  the  hut  in 
which  they  live  already  built  to  afford  them  a  shelter 
from  the  weather. 

V.  Of  the  Dress,  Arms,  Huts,  Utensils,  of  the  American 
Indians,  and  tlu  Arts  relating  to  these,  which  are  imwii 
amo/ig  them. , 

The  arts  of  a  people  who  have  not  subjected  the 
lower  animals  to  their  dominion,  and  are  ignorant  of  the 
useful  metals,  must  be  few  and  imi)erfect.  It  may  be 
of  advantage,  however,  to  attend  to  them,  in  as  far  as 
they  exhibit  the  genius  and  dispositions  of  human  be- 
ings in  the  early  stages  of  improvement ;  and  as  tliey 
point  out  one  remarkable  difference,  among  others,  be- 
tween the  inhabitants  of  the  OhI  World  and  the  New. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  said,  that  the  people  of  America  were, 
at  the  time  when  they  were  discovered  by  the  Spa- 
niards, fully  three  centuries  behind  those  of  Europe  or 
Asia,  in  whatever  contributes  to  unite  and  to  civilize 
mankind. 

It  would  be  the  first  concern  of  a  savage  to  provide 
some  covering  for  his  :.ody.  In  the  warmer  latitudes 
of  America,  where  the  changes  which  take  place  iu  the 


AltfERICA. 


(>0l 


atmos))here  have  little  effect  upon  the  constitution,  most 
of  the  barbarous  natives  wore  wholly  destitute  of  clothes. 
Others,  deviating  a  little  from  this  state  of  naked  sim- 
plicity, had  a  slight  covering  for  those  parts  which 
modesty  requires  us  to  conceal.  But  though  the  Ame- 
rican savages  were  destitute  of  clothes,  they  were  not 
unacquainted  with  ornaments.  I'hey  smeared  their 
bodies  with  substances  of  various  hues,  and  dressed 
their  hair  with  much  art  and  anxiety.  Though  of  a  red 
or  copper  colour  themselves,  they  affected  the  same 
colour  as  an  ornament;  and  the  mines,  where  cinnabar 
was  to  be  found,  were  of  no  other  use  to  them  than 
that  of  furnishing  them  wilh  a  pigment  for  the  embel- 
lishment of  their  persons*.  They  impressed  upon 
their  bodies  the  figures  of  different  animals ;  and  they 
spent  no  little  time,  and  bore  much  pain,  while  they 
decorated  themselves  after  this  fantastic  manner.  They 
wore  also  glittering  stones,  shells,  and  small  pieces  of 
gold,  in  their  noses,  ears,  and  cheeks.  But  the  object 
of  the  savage  in  dressing  himself,  is  not  the  same  with 
that  which  prompts  the  young  men  in  civilized  coun- 
tries to  adorn  their  persons;  the  embellishments  of  the 
Indian  have  a  reference  to  war  more  than  to  gallantry. 
Such  is  the  degraded  state  of  the  women  in  the  New 
World,  that  it  is  reckoned  beneath  the  dignity  of  the 
male  to  adorn  himself,  in  order  to  appear  amiable  in 
their  presence.  It  is  when  he  designs  to  march  against 
his  enemies  that  the  Indian  puts  on  his  most  valuable 
ornaments;  it  is  when  he  is  about  to  enter  (he  coun- 
cil of  his  nation,  to  appear  among  the  heroes  of  his 
tribe,  who  can  enumerate  many  scalps,  and  have  paci- 
fied with  much  blood  the  spirits  of  the  dead;  it  is  in 
these  circumstances  that  he  decks  himself  with  all  his 
art  and  care,  and  shines  in  all  the  horror  of  barbarous 
decoration. 

The  American  Indian  spends  much  of  his  time  in 
preparing  himself  for  the  council  or  the  field ;  the  bu- 
siness of  dressing  and  sorting  the  colours  to  his  taste, 
is  held  to  be  one  of  the  first  importance ;  and  his  ut- 
most care  and  assiduity  are  employed  to  finish  it  in  the 
most  perfect  manner.  (Ulloa,  Memoircs  stir  la  Decou- 
verte,  &c.  torn.  ii.  p.  8.)  Among  some  tribes,  the  wo- 
men are  occupied  during  a  great  part  of  the  day  in 
adorning  their  husbands;  effacing  whatever  does  not 
meet  with  their  approbation ;  compounding  the  colours 
anew,  and  repeating  the  a[)plication  with  more  exact- 
ness than  before.  Two  lines  are  drawn  upon  the  eye- 
lids, two  upon  the  lips,  and  the  same  number  upon  the 
eyebrows  and  ears ;  the  chin  and  neck  receive  their  pe- 
culiar ornaments,  and  a  thick  covering  of  vermilion 
distinguishes  the  cheeks.  The  colours,  among  which 
the  red  predomin<ates,  are  introduced  by  puncturing  the 
skin ;  and  the  extent  of  the  surface  which  is  thus  adorn- 
ed, is  always  proportioned  to  the  exploits  which  the 
warrior  can  enumerate ;  some  painting  only  their  arms, 
others  their  arms  and  legs,  and  others  their  thighs. 
But  he  who  has  reached  the  perfection  of  renown,  is 
decorated  from  the  waist  upwards,  and  has  the  figures 
of  bows  and  arrows,  hatchets,  and  animals  of  different 
kinds  imprinted  on  his  body.  These  marks  consti- 
tute the  heraldry  of  the  savages ;  and  among  them,  its 
distinctions  are  applied  with  greater  attention  to  per- 


sonal qualifications,  t&an  amoog  die  polished  nations  oT 
the  ancient  world.  The  work  of  dressing,  however,  is 
not  yet  finished.  The  hair  being  cut  off  from  the  head, 
or  pulled  out  by  the  roots,  excepting  only  a  small  por- 
tion on  the  top  of  the  crown ;  this  lock  is  stiffened  with 
gums,  and  adorned  with  beads,  shells,  wampum,  and 
feathers  of  various  hues.  The  cartilages  of  the  ears 
having  been  split  quite  round,  are  extended  wilh  cords, 
so  as  to  meet  on  the  nape  of  the  neck,  where  they  are 
tied.  The  head  itself  is  painted  of  a  bright  vermilion 
colour,  so  far  down  as  the  eyebrows ;  and  when  the 
warrior  is  in  full  attire,  it  is  sprinkled  with  a  white 
jiowder;  the  nose  is  likewise  bored  and  hung  wilh 
trinkets ;  and,  to  complete  the  whole,  plumes  and  tufta 
of  feathers  are  attached  to  the  arms,  legs,  and  ankles. 
These  last,  however,  are  the  tokens  of  valour,  and  none 
but  such  as  have  distinguished  themselves  in  the  field 
are  permitted  to  wear  them.  When  an  Indian  is  thus 
adorned,  he  is  the  vainest  of  all  human  beings;  he  walks 
more  erect ;  his  eyes  sparkle  with  satisfaction  and  de- 
light; and  he  is  incessantly  employed  in  contemplating 
himself,  and  changing  his  attitudes,  in  order  to  exhibit 
his  pereon  with  greater  variety  and  effect. 

Among  the  natives  of  America,  the  love  of  ornament 
and  show,  which  is  the  favourite  passion  of  European 
women,  is  confined  almost  exclusively  to  the  males. 
The  decorations  of  the  females  are  few  as  well  as  sim- 
ple; and  in  a  state  of  society,  where  they  are  looked 
upon  as  no  better  than  beasts  of  burden,  they  have  hardly 
any  motive  to  adorn  their  persons.  The  women  of  South 
America,  in  particular,  dress  their  hair  in  the  style  of 
what  is  called  the  urcu,  a  word  which,  among  them,  de- 
notes elevation.  It  consists  in  throwing  the  hair  for- 
ward from  the  crown  of  the  head  upon  the  brow ;  and 
in  bringing  it  round  from  the  ears  to  the  parts  above 
the  eye ;  so  that  the  forehead  and  eye-brows  are  com- 
pletely hid.  In  many  of  the  northern  regions  a  similar 
custom  prevails.  The  rest  of  the  hair  is  tied  behind, 
in  one  and  the  same  manner  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
American  continent;  and  with  an  uniformity  so  exact, 
that  this  circumstance  has  been  thought  to  countenance 
the  opinion  of  such  writers  as  ascribe  a  common  origin 
to  all  the  people  of  the  western  hemisphere. 

The  rudest  tribes,  and  those  who  are  least  acquainted 
with  ornament,  are,  however,  far  from  being  satisfied 
with  the  attention  of  nature  to  the  beauty  of  their  per- 
sons. 

They  mouhl  the  heads  of  their  children,  as  soon  as 
they  are  born,  into  a  vsj-iety  of  shapes,  and  press  them, 
in  one  instance,  into  the  figure  of  a  cone;  and  in  an- 
other into  that  of  a  square.  They  extend  the  ears  and 
the  nose  by  different  processes;  and  in  some  districts, 
they  apply  tight  bandages  to  the  calves  of  the  legs,  in 
order  to  increase  their  size  and  deformity.  {Ociedo,  Hist. 
lib.  iii.  c.  5.  Gumilla,  i.  197,  et  seq.)  And  such  is  the 
obstinacy  of  the  Indians  in  these  perverse  attempts  to 
derange  the  plans  of  nature,  or  improve  ui)on  her  works, 
that  the  children  frequently  die  in  consequence  of  the 
violent  treatment  whichincorrectnotions  of  beauty  have 
doomed  them  to  endure. 

From  the  dress  of  the  American  savage,  we  are  led, 
in  the  natural  progress  of  inquiry,  to  attend  to  his  habi- 


*  Un  Muvagc  q'.]c  I'on  demandoit  hors  de  chez  loi,  repondit,  qu'il  ctoit  aud,  et  qu'il  ne  poovoit  pas  paroitre ;  sa  femme  ne  I'avoit  pas 
encore  frotte  :  son  prctendu  habillement  etoit  une  oiiction  de  graisse. — Jii'M'y^res  par  Ulloa,  torn.  ii.  p.  406,  obs.  et  add.  All  savages  ap- 
pear to  be  fond  of  painting  tlieir  bodies.  "  Omnes  vero  se  Britanni,"  says  Julius  Ciesar,  speaking  of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  tlu»  «oun- 
tiv,  "  vitro  se  inficiunt.''     See  also  P.  .Mela  lib.  iii.  cap.  G,  and  Plinv,  lib  xxii.  c.  1. 

Vol.  I.     Part  II.  '  1  G 


602 


AMERICA. 


th- 


tation.     With  him,  indeed,  this  seems  to  be  an  object  of 
very  little  thought  or  care.     AVar  being  his  chief  con- 
cern, lie  paints  anc!  adorns  himself  with  no  other  view 
Ihan  to  exhibit  his  military  character,  and  support  his 
pretensions  to  warlike  fame;  and  he  is  indifferent  about 
the  enjoyment  of  peaceful  or  domestic  life.     While  he 
is  most  anxious  to  decorate  his  person,  he  is  altogether 
luimiiidrul  of  the  convenience  or  neatness  of  his  hut. 
Some  of  the  American  Indians  have  no  houses  at  all; 
but  roam,  during  the  day,  from  place  to  place,  and  retire 
under  thick  trees,  from  the  heat  of  the  sun  ;  while  in  the 
niiht  they  shelter  themselves  with  branches  and  leaves 
from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.     When  the  rainy 
season  approaches,  they  withdraw  into  caves,  and  sel- 
dom venture  from  them,  unless  they  are  compelled  by 
hunger  to  quit  their  retreat.     "  The  people  of  Cinaloa, 
a  province  of  California,"  says  Ribas,  "  as  they  have  no 
habitations  to  afford  them  shelter,  gather  bundles  of 
reeds  or  strong  grass,  and  binding  them  together  at  one 
eml,  they  open  them  at  the  other;  and  fitting  them  to 
their  heads,  they  are  covered  as  with  a  large  cap,  which, 
like  a  penthouse,  throws  off  the  rain,  and  will  keep  them 
dry  for  several  hours.     During  the  warm  season,  they 
form  a  shed  with  the  branches  of  trees,  which  protects 
them  from  the  sidfry  rays  of  the  sun.     When  exposed 
to  cold,  they  make  large  fires,  round  which  they  sleep 
in  the  oijenair."    {Uisloria  de  los  Ttiumphes,  &c.  p.  7.) 
Other  tribes,  more  advanced  than  the  Cinaloaus,  live  in 
temporary  huts,  called  nigwams ;  these  they  erect  with 
great  expedition ;  and  as  they  are  not  provided  with  any 
domestic  furniture,  they  abandon  tiiem  without  any  con- 
cern.    Throughout  the  western  continent,  the  habita- 
tions of  the  savages  are  mean,  raised  only  with  a  view 
to  shelter,  totally  destitute  of  elegance,  and  close  and 
filthy  beyond  all  conception.     They  are  in  general  so 
low,  that  the  natives  must  creep  on  their  han<!s  and  feet 
be!"ore  they  can  enter  them;  and  as  they  have  no  win- 
dows, a  large  hole  in  the  top  serves  at  once  to  admit  the 
light  and  the  rain  ;  and  affords,  at  the  same  time,  a  pas- 
sage for  the  smoke.     Their  domestic  utensils  are  few, 
and  nwkward  in  (he  exlremc.    In  some  of  the  provinces 
they  have  vessels  of  earthen  ware ;  but  these   are  for 
the  most  part  unknown;  in  others,  they  hollow  a  block 
of  wood,   and  filling  it  with   water,  cause  the  fluid  to 
!;ojl  by  means  of  hot  stones,  which  they  throw  into  it. 
Instruments,  rudely  made  of  bone  or  of  flint,  are  their 
fu'.istitutes  for  knives. 

When  their  huts  are  so  numerous  as  to  constitute  a 
village,  they  are  placed  without  the  least  attention  to 
regularity,  and  therefore  no  street  can  be  perceived 
among  them.  According  to  Barrere,  their  aspect  is 
melancholy  and  disagreeable  ;  the  fields  which  surround 
them  have  no  gayety,  and  every  thing  in  their  neigh- 
bourhot>d  is  gloomy  and  savage.  In  most  of  the  villa- 
ges there  are  two  houses  of  distinction ;  tluit  of  the 
chief,  and  that  in  wliich  the  council  of  the  nation  is 
held ;  though  it  often  happens,  that  the  elders  and  war- 
riors assemble  in  the  building  appropriated  to  the  leader 
of  the  tribe.  Sometimes  also  large  houses  are  con- 
structed for  the  reception  of  different  families,  who  live 
under  the  same  roof,  sit  round  the  same  fire,  and  have 
no  separate  aparttneuts  in  which  they  eat  or  sleep.  The 
women  are  therefore  in  common ;  yet  in  these  habita- 
tions, where  so  many  individuals  are  crowded  together, ' 
•the  utmost  concord  prevails,  and  animosities  and  quar- 
relling are  seldom  to  be  met  with ;  a  proof,  Ihat  the  In- 
dians are  either  much  more  gentle,  or  mucb  more 


phlegmatic,  than  the  natives  of  Europe  or  .\sia.  For 
some  particulars  relating  to  the  chain  of  forts  which 
have  been  discovered  in  North  America,  see  Ohio. 

The  arms  of  the  American  Indians  are  chiefly  those 
of  an  offensive  kind  ;  they  are  prepared  «'ith  consider- 
able ingenuity  ;  and  when  we  remember  that  the  savages 
in  whose  hands  they  are  found,  are  not  only  strangers 
to  regular  labour,  but  unacquainted  with  instruments  of 
iron,  our  surprise  at  the  neatness  and  efficacy  of  their 
weapons  will  be  greatly  increased.  Their  clubs  are  large, 
often  curiously  wrought,  and  ornamented  with  shell*. 
Their  lances  are  formed  of  wood,  which  they  harden  in 
the  fire,  or  point  with  bone;  and  these  they  throw  with 
such  dexterity,  that  they  rarely  miss  the  object  at  which 
they  aim.  The  Brazilian  savages  are  remarkable  for 
their  skill  in  heaving  the  javelin.  The  bow  and  arrow, 
however,  is  the  weapon  which  is  most  effectual,  except- 
ing the  musket,  in  annoying  an  enemy  at  a  distance  ; 
and  accordingly  it  was  used  for  that  purpose  in  the  an- 
cient continent,  by  the  rudest  of  its  inhabitants,  whih; 
the  arts  were  yet  in  the  infancy  of  their  improvement. 
In  the  western  hemisphere  too,  this  weapon  is  in  gene- 
ral use ;  not  indeed  among  those  tribes  which  are  least 
civilized ;  for  Piedrahita  informs,  that  in  some  provinces 
the  bow  is  unknown;  (Conquista  del  Kuevo  Reyno,  ix. 
12.)  but  among  all  the  nations  who  derive  any  part  of 
their  subsistence  from  the  chace.  In  the  construction  of 
this  instrument,  no  little  ingenuity  is  showa.  It  is  often 
composed  of  three  pieces,  very  nicely  aiid  exactly  joined 
together;  these  pieces,  among  the  Norlh  Americans, 
are  coinnionly  of  fir  or  larch;  but  as  tliis  wood  has 
neither  suiricitiit  strength  nor  elasticity,  they  stiffen  the 
thicker  part  of  the  bow  with  lines  made  of  the  sinews 
of  their  deer;  and  moistening  it  in  water,  to  make  it 
draw  more  powerfully,  they  shoot  with  great  dexterity 
and  effect.  But  the  weapon  most  generally  used  by  the 
savages  of  the  New  World,  is  the  hatchet  or  tomahawk; 
With  this  dreadful  and  fatal  instrument  in  their  hands, 
they  rush  upon  their  enemies,  and  put  them  to  death.  It 
is  usually  made  of  stone,  and  furnished  with  an  edge 
and  a  point ;  though  its  appeur.ince  varies  considerably 
in  the  different  regions  of  America.  In  all  of  ihem,  how- 
ever, a  single  hatchet  is  of  great  value,  as  it  is  not  form- 
ed without  much  labour  and  care.  To  this  lis^t  of  wea- 
pons, which  the  ingenuity  of  man  has  invented,  anil  his 
diligence  has  prepared  for  the  purposes  of  destruction, 
we  must  add  another:  for  the  Indians  of  Nortii  America 
have  been  supplied  by  the  Europeans  with  the  musket ; 
and  the  effects  of  gunpowder  are  experienced  in  all  their 
engagements,  and  felt  throughout  the  forests  with  wliick 
their  country  abounds. 

But  the  perfection  of  Indian  workmanship  is  the 
canoe.  In  every  province  of  America,  the  rivers  and 
lakes  are  so  numerous,  that  its  inhabitants  perforn* 
many  of  their  journeys  by  water.  The  people  of  Ca- 
nada will  enter  the  current  of  St.  Lawrence  in  vessels 
which  they  make  with  the  bark  of  trees;  and  these 
vessels  are  so  light,  that  they  carry  them  without  dilfir 
culty  or  inconvenience,  when  shallows  or  cataracts  pre- 
vent them  from  sailing.  The  Esquimaux  form  their 
canoes  of  wowl  or  whalebone ;  Ibey  smear  them  with 
oils,  and  cover  them  with  skins;  and  protecting  them- 
selves in  a  similar  manner,  they  continue  whole  months 
on  the  ocean,  fiom  which  they  derive  their  subsistence. 
(Ellis.  Voy.  p.  134.  Lafilau,  Monirs.  ii.  21.3.)  In  the 
southern  regions,  the  vessels  of  the  natives  are  formed 
entirely  of  wood.    They  cut  down  a  large  tree,  reduce  it 


AMEPJCA. 


003 


to  the  proper  shape,  nnd  hollow  it  with  ninch  labour  oml 
patifiice.  And  notwitJisfanding  its  hulk  and  gravity, 
tliej'  move  it  so  dexterously  fhroiigh  the  water,  and  turn 
it  according  to  tiieir  incliuations,  that  Europeans,  ac- 
quainted with  nil  the  improvements  of  Uie  nautical  art, 
have  been  astonished  at  the  velocity  of  tlicir  course,  and 
the  quickness  of  their  evolutions.  The  pirogues,  or  men 
of  war  belonging  to  the  Indians,  are  such  as  miglit  be 
useful  even  to  British  seamen,  and  are  often  so  large  as 
to  contain  fifty  persons.  The  form  and  structure  of  all 
these  vessels  are  well  adapted  io  the  service  for  which 
they  are  designed  ;  and  in  most  instances,  the  workman- 
ship is  so  neat,  and  the  ornaments  so  splendid,  as  to  he 
thought  litterly  beyond  tlie  execution  of  savages,  igno- 
rant of  the  harder  metals,  and  in  other  respects  so  des- 
titute of  taste. 

But  unless  they  are  impelled  by  necessity,  the  opera- 
tions of  the  American  Indians  are  awkward  and  tedious. 
Such  is  the  deficiency  in  the  instruments  they  employ, 
and  so  great  is  their  natui-al  indolence,  that  any  work 
which  they  undertake,  advances  under  their  hands  with 
the  most  extraoiilinary  slowness.  Gumilla,  who  had 
frequent  opportunities  of  witnessing  it,  compares  its 
progress  to  the  growth  of  an  herb  in  the  field.  The 
trunk  of  a  tree  which  they  have  cut  down,  and  which 
they  design  to  form  into  a  canoe,  often  begins  to  rot  be- 
lore  their  labour  is  at  an  end.  When  a  Caiib  builds  a 
house,  he  will  sufler  one  part  of  it  to  decay  before  his 
indolence  will  allow  hiui  to  finish  the  other.  Days  and 
months  roll  away,  and  the  task  is  not  completed.  Even 
ivhen  the  Europeans  have  furnished  them  with  the  tools 
of  a  more  active  and  cultivated  people,  the  habitual  in- 
dolence of  the  American  savages  prevails ;  and  accord- 
ingly, among  the  Spaniards,  "  the  work  of  an  Inilian," 
is  a  phrase  by  which  they  express  any  thing,  in  the  per- 
formance of  which  much  time  has  been  wasted,  and 
much  labour  thrown  away.  See  the  Lcttrcs  Edifiantes 
et  Curicuscs,  xv.  348.  and  the  Voyage  d'Ulloa,  335. 
et  seg. 

6.     Of  the  Language  of  the  American  Tribes. 

As  all  the  natives  of  America,  whom  we  are  now  con- 
sidering, are  in  a  state  in  which  civilization  has  made 
but  little  progress,  we  should  expect  to  find  their  lan- 
guage deficient  in  arliitrary  sounds,  and  chiefly  compos- 
ed of  such  as  are  held  to  be  natural.  This  is  said  Io  be 
in  reality  the  case.  The  number  of  their  words,  which 
have  an  associated  and  conventional  meaning,  is  incon- 
siderable. Their  speech  is  full  of  exclamations,  and 
accompanied  with  a  variety  of  gestures,  introduced  ei- 
ther to  complete  the  expression  of  the  idea  w  hich  it  is 
their  intention  to  impart,  or  to  convey  it  with  greater 
effect.  Among  some  of  the  ruder  tribes,  a  sentence 
appears  to  be  a  continued  and  unbroken  sound ;  diversi- 
1U<I,  however,  by  considerable  changes  of  intonation, 
and  assisted  by  looks,  and  various  motions  of  the  body. 
Among  others,  tliis  length  of  sound  is  divided  into  por- 
tions uttered  with  short  intervals  between  them.  Still, 
however,  their  words  are  much  longer  than  those  of  any 
civilized  people  ;  and  even  their  numerals,  adverbs,  and 
•onjunctions,  are  not  exempted  from  this  redundancy  of 
vocal  expression.  In  North  America, a  name  (or  a  thing 
often  comprehends  an  enumeration  of  its  qualities,  and 
is  rather  a  definition  than  a  name.  (Colden,  Hist,  of  the 
Vive  Nations,  vol.  1.  j).  10.  Long's  Travels,  Appendix.) 

It  has  already  been  observed,  that  in  the  languages  of 


the  Americaa  tribes,  the  words  are  intimately  connect- 
ed with  olijects  which  are  without.  They  have  no 
general  or  abstract  ideas,  and  ol  course  no  terms  by 
which  such  ideas  are  communicated  to  others,  l/i 
polished  society,  and  when  man  begins  to  reflect  on  the 
operations  of  intellect,  the  words  by  which  the  miud  ami 
its  qualities  are  expressed,  lose,  by  degrees,  their  cor- 
poreal signification,  and  acquire  that  which  may  be  de- 
nominated mental.  A  neiv  association  is  formed;  the 
term  is  now  allied  to  mind;  and,  as  often  as  it  is  used, 
it  calls  up  the  idea  of  something  intellectual.  This 
might  be  illustrated  by  innumerable  examples.  Though 
the  word  Ap(nh«,in  Latin, originally  signified  the  breath, 
it  came,  in  the  progress  of  thought,  to  denote  the  living 
principle  within  us,  to  \vhich  the  breath  was  supposed 
to  bear  a  resemblance ;  (Reid's  Inquiry  into  the  Hum. 
Mind,  c.  vii.  p.  448.)  and  in  English  we  talk  of  a  spirii 
as  an  existence  divested  of  bodily  oigans,  and  distinct 
from  matter.  The  Greek  word  Pjijv,  originally  signifi 
ed  the  diaphragm.  In  the  language  of  the  American, 
tribes,  there  are  few  expressions  which  have  the  im- 
proved and  intellectual  meaning  of  which  we  are  speak- 
ing; throughout  all  the  less  cultivated  societies,  the 
first  associations  of  sound  with  external  objects  remain 
in  their  full  force.  The  language  is  gross  and  material. 
The  mind  of  the  savage  has  not  yet  been  turned  upon 
itself;  and  though  its  powers  are  sometimes  exerted, 
their  operation  is  unnoticed  and  unknown. 

Words  are  used  to  express  the  ideas  which  the  mind 
has  formed;  ideas  must  therefore  exist,  before  the  lan- 
guage which  expresses  them  is  iutro<luced.  As  ideas 
hold  the  firtt  place,  it  is  obvious  that  their  number  may 
increase  in  a  proportion  greater  than  that  of  the  sounds 
which  are  already  in  use ;  and  that  in  a  scarcity  of  vocal 
enunciation,  the  same  word  may  be  employed  to  ex|)ress 
a  variety  of  ideas.  Hence  it  is,  that  in  all  languages 
not  highly  cultivated  and  copious,  the  words  are  s-«^i/ 
rti/An,  or  have  many  significations.  The  most  ancient 
tongue  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  ihe  Hebrew,  is 
remarkable  for  the  various  import  "i  its  words.  The 
language  of  every  nation  in  the  in'<incy  of  improvement, 
possesses  a  similar  character;  it  is  figurative  to  a  great 
degree,  abounding  in  metaphors  and  allusions.  The 
speech  of  all  the  American  tribes  is  of  this  description; 
and  its  figurative  character,  united  with  the  simplicity 
which  pervades  the  savage  life,  renders  it  peculiarly  ef- 
fectual in  the  moufhs  of  the  orators,  when  they  harangue 
in  the  councils  of  the  nation  to  which  they  belong.  It 
is,  in  this  resfiect,  not  so  much  the  language  of  a  pecu- 
liar people,  as  the  language  of  man  in  a  particular  state 
of  society. 

As  the  nations  of  the  American  continent  are  small, 
and  separatejl  from  one  another  by  the  circumstances 
of  their  condition,  as  well  as  by  unextinguishable  en- 
mity, there  are  almost  as  many  languages  to  be  lound 
in  the  New  World  as  there  are  tribes.  In  every  valley 
there  is  a  different  people  and  a  different  tongue. 
Whether  these  languages  are  referable  to  a  common 
source,  we  have  not  information  sufficient  to  determine. 
It  is  not  to  be  questioned,  however,  that  a  considerable 
atfinity  may  be  discovered  among  many  of  the  dialects 
in  the  western  hemisphere;  and  hence  the  speech  of 
some  tribes  has  been  pointed  out  as  radical,  and  that  of 
others  as  derived.  The  general  opinion  is,  that  the  pri- 
mary languages  of  North  America  are  those  of  the  Hu- 
rons  and  Algonquins;  while  in  the  central  and  southern 
regions,  the  Quichua.  or  speech  of  the  Peruvians,  the 
4G  2 


G04 


AMERICA. 


Betoyan,  tlic  Jariian,  and  that  ot  the  Caribs,  hold  a 
simihir  place.     (GumiUa,  i\.  190.     Memoires  Philosophi- 
ques,  par  Utloa,  ii.  110.)     But  whatever  affinity  may 
subsist  among  the  various  dialects  of  the   New  World, 
it  seldom  happens,  that  the  individuals  belonging  to  dif- 
ferent tribes  are  able  to  converse,  unless  by  gestures 
and  signs.     In  North  America,  these  signs  are  peculiar, 
and  are  deserving  of  notice.     When  an  inhabitant  of 
Canada  approaches  a  tribe,  with  whom  he  has  no  differ- 
ences to  adjust,  and  no  inclination  to  quarrel,  he  bears 
in  his  hand  a  large  pipe,  formed  of  clay  or  marble, 
adorned  with  feathers,    and  styled   "  tlie  calumet  of 
peace."     It  is  the  token  of  amity  ;  and  whenever  it  is 
offered  and  accepted,  all  the  injuries  are  supposed  to  be 
i'crgiven,  and  perfect  harmony  is  er4abll8hed.     A  con- 
siderable part  of  Indian  politeness  consists  in  presenting 
ihe  calumet.     Among  the  North  Americans,  likewise, 
lielts  of  wampum  are  used,  in  order  to  express  their 
purjwses,  and  confirm  their  assertions.     These  belts  are 
continually  iu  their  hands  ;  and  as  it  is  by  means  of  them 
that  they  preserve  the  memory  of  events  which  are  past, 
.ind  the  articles  of  the  treaties  into  which  they  have  en- 
tered, cither  witii  the  Europeans  or  with  one  another, 
they  may  be  considered  as  the  written  language  of  the 
North  Americans,  as  well  as  the  indication  of  their  de- 
bires  and  resolution?.     They  consist  of  shells,  wrought 
info  the  form  of  beads,  and  of  different  colours,  genernlly 
black  and  white.     The  shells  are  perforated,  and  strung 
upon  a  thong  ;  and  several  of  these  thongs  constitute  a 
belt.     Whenever  the  North  Americans  engage  in  any 
alliance,  a  belt  of  wampum  is  uniformly  presented,  and 
each  of  the  parties  holds  one  of  its  extremities ;  these 
extremities  are  composed  of  the  black  beads;  and  the 
■white  ones  are  placed  in  the  middle,  to  signify,  that  the 
parties  have  no  hatred  or  animosity  towards  one  another. 
•'  Wampum,"  says  Mr.  Long,  "  is  of  several  colours,  but 
the  white  and  black  are  chiefly  used :  the  former  is 
made  of  the  inside  of  the  conqui,  or  clam-shell ;  the 
latter  of  the  mussel :  both  are  worked  in  the  form  of  a 
long  bead,  and  perforated,   in  order  to  be  strung  on 
leather  and  made  up  in  belts.     These  bells  are  for  va- 
rious purposes  :  When  a  council  is  held,  they  are  given 
oat  with  the  speeches,  and  always  proportioned,  in  the 
size  and  the  numberof  rows  of  wampum  which  they  con- 
tain, to  the  idea  which  the  Indians  entertain  of  the  im- 
irortance  of  the  meeting:  they  freqtiently  consist  of  both 
colours.     Those  given  to  Sir  Williarn  Johnson  were  in 
several  rows,  black  on  each  side,  and  wljite  in  the  mid- 
dle :  the  white,  being  placed  in  the  centre  was  to  ex- 
press peace,  and  that  the  path  between  thejn  was  fair  and 
open.     In  the  centre  of  the  l)eU  was  the  figure  of  a 
diamond,  made  of  white  wampum,  which  the  Indiana 
rail  the  council  lire.     When  Sir  William  Johnson  held 
a  treaty  with  the  savages,    he  look  the  belt  by  one 
<;nd,  while  the  Indian  chief  held  the  other  :  if  the  chief 
had  any  thing  to  say,  he  moved  his  finger  along  the 
white  streak  :  if  Sir  Willian  had  any  thing  to  commu- 
nicate, he  toucheti  the  diamond  in  the  middle.     These 
belts  are  also  the  records  of  former  transactions;  and, 
being  worked  in  particular  forms,  are  easily  decyphered 
by  the  Indians,  and  referred  to  in  every  treaty  with  the 
white  people.     When  a  string,  or  belt  of  wampum,  is 
returned,  it  is  a  proof  that  the  proposed  treaty  is  not  ac- 
cepted, and  that  the  nrgociation  is  at  an  end."' — Long's 
Travels,  p.  45.     See  Canada. 


7.  MiacclUtntous  Purticulars  respecting  the  Xalives 
of  America. 

The  first  of  these  which  merits  our  attention,  in  a 
general  article  of  this  kind,  is  the  use  of  tobacco.  The 
practice  of  smoking  is  common  among  all  the  Indian 
tril)es  which  Europeans  have  had  an  opportunity  of  ex- 
amining. It  forms  a  j)art  of  every  entertainment;  and 
in  the  intervals  of  hunting,  sleeping,  and  eating,  it  oc- 
cupies no  small  portion  of  their  time.  In  many  of  their 
religious  ceremonies,  tobacco  is  used,  either  as  an  of- 
fering to  their  divinity,  or  in  order  to  produce  a  lempo- 
rar}'  enthusiasm  among  the  worshippers ;  and  instances 
have  been  mentioned,  where  it  has  been  taken  in  such 
extraordinary  quantify,  that  death  has  been  the  una- 
voidable consequence. 

The  practice  of  dancing  is  likewise  general  through- 
out the  American  continent.  When  the  native  o:  'he 
western  hemisphere  hag  the  prospector  engiiging  in  the 
dance,  he  shakes  off  his  slumbers  and  his  indolence;  he 
rises  from  the  shade  under  which  he  has  reposed,  or 
springs  from  his  mat ;  and  becoming  at  once  ;ictive  and 
frolicsome,  he  prepares  to  acquit  himself  with  the  ut- 
niost  exertion  of  his  dexterity.  Among  the  savages  of 
the  New  AVorld,  this  amusement  is  to  be  considered 
rather  as  a  business  than  a  pastime.  It  mingles  with  all 
the  serious  occupations  of  life.  When  war  is  \o  be  pro- 
claimed it  is  done  by  means  of  a  dance,  in  which  they 
express  their  resentment,  and  the  plan  of  operations 
which  they  design  to  follow  ;  and  when  an  alliance  is 
concluded,  or  |»eace  is  restored,  a  movement  of  a  simi- 
lar kind,  but  corresponding  to  the  change  of  circum- 
stances, takes  place.  If  a  child  is  liorn  or  dies,  if  they 
bewail  the  loss  of  a  chief,  or  lament  the  death  of  a 
friend;  if  any  thing  important  and  interesting  has  oc- 
curred, the  expression  of  their  feelings  is  still  the  same. 
All  the  dances  of  the  Indians  are  of  that  kind  which 
may  be  styled  descriptive*.  They  are  intended  to  ex- 
hibit some  action,  or  series  of  actions,  generally  relating 
to  war;  and  the  imitation  is  often  so  close, and  so  happily 
executed,  that  the  most  indifferent  spectator  can  disco- 
ver the  intention  of  the  performers.  The  following  list 
of  the  dunces  in  use  among  the  North  Americans  has 
been  given  by  Mr.  Long.     See  Travels,  p.  35. 

1.  The  calumet  dance.      7.  The  prisoners  dance. 


2.  The  war  dance. 

D.  The  chiei's  dance. 

4.  The  set  out  dance. 

b.  The  scalp  d;;nce. 

0.  The  ds'ad  dance. 


The  return  dance. 
9.  The  spear  dance. 

10.  The  marriage  dance. 

11.  The  sacrifice  dance. 


Of  all  these,  the  war  dance  is  the  most  remarkable, 
and  is  frequently  composed  of  several  of  the  other  dan- 
ces. It  is  the  exact  image  of  an  Indian  campaign.  It 
represents  the  departure  of  the  warriors,  their  arrival 
nt  the  confines  of  the  hostile  nations,  their  method  of 
encampment,  the  attack,  the  sc  alpiug  ol'  such  as  fall  into 
their  hands,  the  return  of  the  vic'orious  tribe,  and  the 
tortures  and  heroism  of  the  prisoners.  In  |)prformiug 
these  parts,  the  sava.'ces  exhibit  n  wonderful  dexterity ; 
and  enter  into  them  with  such  enthusiasm,  that  Euro- 
pean spectators  have  forgotten  for  a  moment  th:;t  it  was 
only  a  rejtresentation,  and  have  Fhuddercd  at  the  imagi- 
nary scent.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  dances  of  the 
Indians  are  accompunied  with  any  other  music  than  an 


•  D«ncea  of  Oiis  kind  were  lately  in  use  Rmoac  the  Hiaflilandcra  of  Svotlaad. 
r.  283.  ed.  4tU. 


See  Bo»-»cIl'»  Jaurnnl  if  a  W»r,  Wc.  leith  JDi:  Jtfaam. 


AMERICA. 


tiUo 


irregular  hoop  ;  though  singing  is  frequent  among  them, 
anti  musical  instniments  are  not  unknown.  In  most  of 
the  exercises  specified  above,  the  males  are  the  only 
perlormers ;  in  some  of  them,  however,  the  females  are 
introduced,  but  without  altering  in  any  degree  the  char- 
acter of  the  movement;  and  there  are  others  in  wliich 
the  men  take  no  part.  The  lascivious  dances,  so  well 
known  in  Persia  and  Turkey,  and  so  frequently  prac- 
tised by  the  natives  of  Otaheife,  are  not  generally  in 
use  among  the  savages  of  the  western  hemisphere. 

All  the  American  tribes  are  addicted  to  drunkenness. 
The  most  uncivilized  inhabitants  of  the  New  World  have 
discovered  the  metho<l  of  preparing  liquors  by  which 
the  spirits  are  raised,  and  the  mental  functions  disturbed. 
In  some  provinces,  an  intoxicating  beverage  is  procured 
from  the  juice  of  the  palm-tree  ;  {GumiUa,  iii.  196.)  hut 
the  draught  most  common  among  the  Indians,  is  got 
by  an  operation  similar  to  that  of  brewing  from  maize, 
or  the  root  of  the  manioc,  substances  which  they  like- 
wise change  into  bread.  In  all  transactions  between 
the  North  Americans  and  the  French  or  English,  rum  is 
an  essential  requisite.  The  passion  for  strong  liquors, 
which  with  a  very  few  exceptions,  distinguishes  (he 
Indians  from  one  extremity  of  the  continent  to  the 
other,  must  depend  upon  some  cause,  equally  general  in 
its  operation,  with  the  practice  to  which  it  bas  given  rise. 
This  cause  we  may  discover  in  the  uniformity  of  tlie 
savage  life.  For  a  great  part  of  his  time,  (lie  Indian  is 
tlestitute  of  employment.  War,  and  the  chase,  indeed, 
engage  his  attention  at  intervals,  rouse  his  faculties  to 
their  exercise,  and  render  him  bold  and  persevering; 
but  unless  when  he  finds  himself  in  interesting  situations, 
his  life  is  a  course  of  dulness,  stupidity,  and  silence. 
.He  sits  upon  his  mat  with  his  body  inclined,  and  his 
head  placed  upon  his  knees;  and  if  he  rises  at  any 
time,  it  is  only  to  stare  about  for  a  little,  in  search  of  a 
retreat,  where  he  may  dose  away  his  time  without  the 
fear  of  interruption.  But  strong  liquors  awaken  him 
from  his  torpor ;  they  give  a  quicker  (low  to  his  spirits, 
and  make  his  pulse  beat  with  the  firmness  of  active  life. 
The  sensation  of  pleasure  throbs  through  every  limb ; 
!ie  continues  to  swallow  the  inebriating  draught;  rage 
and  riot  succeed;  till  at  last  his  senses  are  overpower- 
ed, aad  he  falls  motionless  to  the  ground.  Many  of  the 
Indian  festivals  are  appointed  for  the  express  purpose  of 
drinking.  On  these  occasions,  which  are  anticipated 
with  anxiety,  and  welcomed  with  joy,  the  whole  tribe 
assembles;  a  large  quantity  of  cAi'ca  is  prepared,  and  all, 
without  exception,  men,  women,  and  children,  warriors 
of  distinguished  prowess,  and  elders  who  have  number- 
ed many  years,  engage  in  the  debauch,  and  prolong  it  for 
several  days.  The  usual  consequerxes  take  place ;  the 
noise  increasee,  every  one  is  singing  or  talking,  and 
every  one  is  in  the  right ;  the  tumult  thickens,  and  the 
festivity  is  seldom  coniluded  without  fighting  and  blood- 
shed. "  The  rum,"  says  Mr.  Long,  "  being  taken  from 
aiy  house,  was  carried  to  the  wigwam  of  the  savages, 
.ind  they  began  to  drink.  The  frolic  lasted  four  days 
and  nights;  and  notwithstanding  all  our  precaution, 
(securina-  the  gun?,  knives,  and  tomaiiawks,)  two  hoys 
were  killed,  and  six  men  wounded  by  the  Indian  wo- 
men ;  one  of  the  chiefs  was  also  murdered." — V<n/ages 
and  Travels  in  North  America,  p.  56.  See  also  Mevioircs 
par  VUoa,  torn.  ii.  p.  17.  and  Bancroft's  A'^ai.  Hist,  of 
Guiana,  p.  275.  These  consequences  are  so  generally 
expected,  thftt  in  some  tribes  they  endeavour  to  prevent 
'hem,  by  observing  a  considerable  degree  of  method  in 


their  debauches.  They  do  not  all  drink  at  the  same- 
time,  but  one  part  of  them  takes  care  of  the  other  while 
intoxicated ;  and  these  agai.,  watch  over  their  brethren 
till  their  reason  is  restored  to  its  exercise. 

From  causes  similar  to  those  Avhich  have  led  the 
American  Indians  to  indulge  in  strong  Uquors,  we  may 
deduce  their  immoderate  love  of  play.  Games  of  chance 
are  frequent  among  the  rude  inhabitants  of  the  western 
continent.  A  strong  inclination  to  these  amusements 
will  always  be  found  to  exist  where  regular  industry  is 
either  not  known,  or  not  practised;  audit  is  because 
they  have  liKle  else  to  occupy  their  thoughts,  that  the 
rich  and  the  idle,  in  civilized  countries,  have  recourse 
to  the  pastimes  which  we  are  now  considering,  and  de- 
vote so  much  of  their  attention  to  them.  Both  the  sa 
vage  of  America,  and  the  polite  European,  feel  the  dif- 
ficulty of  spending  (heir  time  with  satisfaction  ;  and  both 
run  with  eagerness  to  those  exercises  which  engage  the 
mind  without  fatiguing  its  jiowers.  The  Indians,  so 
phlegmatic  and  indift'erent  on  other  occasions,  become 
interested,  violent,  and  almost  frantic  with  keenness, 
when  they  engage  in  [ilay.  Like  the  ancient  Germans, 
they  will  stake  their  arms,  their  clothes,  and  even  their 
liberty,  more  valuable  to  them  than  any  possession,  on 
a  single  throw  of  the  dice.  Travellers  have  observed 
them  retire  from  the  gaming  table,  even  in  the  colue 
regions,  destitute  of  every  thing  which  could  protect 
them  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.  The  spec- 
tators appear  to  be  equally  interested  and  keen  with 
those  who  are  principally  concerned  ;  and  the  practice 
of  betting  is  frequent.  But  among  the  savages  of  Ame- 
rica, gaming  is  not  an  amusemeut  only,  it  is  often  per- 
formed as  a  religious  duty.  For  it  happens  not  unfre- 
quently,  that  when  a  tribe  is  wasted  by  pestilence  or  by 
famine,  the  conjuroi-s  ordain  a  solemn  match  by  play,  as 
a  method  effectual  at  once  to  propitiate  the  gods  whom 
they  worship,  and  (o  stop  the  progress  of  disease. 

It  is  an  observation  of  Leibnitz,  that  the  human  ge- 
nius appears  more  early  in  the  invention  of  games,  than 
in  any  other  department  whatever.  To  the  truth  of  this 
observation,  the  savages  of  America  form  no  exception. 
Their  games  are  either  sedentary  or  gymnastic.  Of  the 
fi^imer  kind,  the  list  is  very  numerous ;  and  in  many  of 
the  species,  a  wonderful  degree  of  ingenuity  is  display- 
ed. Among  some  tribes,  whose  improvement  in  other 
respects  may  be  considered  as  yet  in  embryo,  the  game 
of  chess  has  been  long  known  and  practised ;  they  are 
not  unacquainted  with  backgammon ;  and  entertain 
ments  of  a  similar  description,  and  to  which  the  Euro- 
peans are  utter  strangers,  are  common  among  them. 
The  gymnastic  exercises  are  different  in  the  different 
provinces.  In  some  places  f lie  boys  shoot  tiieir  arrows 
at  a  hoop  as  it  runs,  and  pierce  it  with  amazing  dexteri- 
ty ;  in  others,  the  pfi/co,  and ;pR/jVa»,  are  the  customary- 
entertainments;  the  former  of  Iheserepreseniingthe  siege 
of  a  fortress,  or  the  sacking  of  a  village  ;  and  the  latter 
a  battle.  See  Long's  Travels,  p.  52.  and  Pinckerton's 
Ccoipaphi/,  iii.  709. 

It  would  be  end'tss  to  mention  all  the  customs  whicli 
distinguish  the  savage  tribes  of  tiie  New  World,  froin 
the  inhal>it!ints  of  the  ancient  continent,  or  from  one 
anoJhcf.  We  must  therefore  refer  the  reader  to  the 
books  of  travellers  and  missionaries,  where  his  curiosity 
will  be  aaipiy  gratified.  There  are,  however,  two  cu; 
toius  which  we  cannot  pass  over,  and  of  v/hich  it  will 
be  proper  to  give  a  short  account. 

Tbc  first  of  these  is  of  a  peculiar  and  awful  nature- 


606 


AMERICA. 


In  many  provinces  of  tl.e  western  K-nnspliere  the  In- 
dians  rise,  at  certain  fixed  and  l«Ilo"  cd  t.me«  thronsl.- 
ont  all  their  villages,  and  ;«--P"r«  themselves  for  a  les- 
lival  It  is  with  them  an  occasion  of  dreadlul  solem- 
,,itv  ■  for  the  hour  is  come  «  hen  thev  are  to  celebrate 
the  Feaet  of  th-'  Dead,  the  Feast  of  Houls  Tl.e  graves 
are  opened,  and  each  man  of  the  tribe  lifts  Irom  the 
earth  tJ^e  body  of  his  parent  or  his  friend,  often  dropping 
in  putrefaction,  and  carries  it  to  the  place  where  the 
nation  has  been  ordered  to  assemble.  Here  the  corpses 
are  exposed  to  view ;  the  air  is  filled  with  mournful 
cries  and  sad  bewailing  ;  a  dance  is  begun,  now  solemn 
and  slow,  and  now  diversified  by  irregular  movements  ; 
the  performers  cutting  themselves  with  knives,  and  the 
blood  streaming  from  dilferent  parts  of  their  bodies.  A 
fire  is  then  kindled,  the  bones  of  the  dead  are  burnt, 
and  their  ashes,  being  mingled  with  the  drink  of  the 
survivors,  are  swallowed  with  greediness  and  satisfac- 
lion.  This  is  the  general  way  in  which  the  Indians 
celeiirate  the  Feast  of  the  Dead;  but  in  some  provinces 
P,  large  pit  is  dug,  and  the  carcasses,  after  being  exposed 
for  a  definite  time,  are  buried  in  a  common  receptacle. 
See  Lafdati,  li.  444. 

From  what  principle  this  extraordinary  usage  is  de- 
rived, those  who  have  had  opportunities  of  visiting  the 
American  continent  have  not  intbrmed  us.  It  has  been 
ascribed  to  a  peculiar  warmth  of  attachment  which  the 
Indians  arc  supposed  to  have  for  their  friends ;  but  that 
feeling  of  independence  which  the  savages  of  the  west- 
ern heniisphere  cherish  as  their  greatest  and  noblest 
honour,  prevents  them  from  yielding  to  the  calls  of  be- 
nevolence, and  renders  the  union  between  man  and  man 
exceedingly  slight.  An  Indian  can  neither  stoop  to  per- 
form an  action  by  which  his  fellows  alone  are  benefited, 
nor  can  he  endure  the  weight  of  gratitude,  for  benefits 
which  are  conferred  upon  himself.  He  lives  attached 
rather  to  his  tribe  than  to  any  one  of  its  members.  The 
solemnity  above  mentioned  ought  therefore  to  be  de- 
duced from  some  other  principle  than  the  strength  of 
friendship  among  the  natives  of  America.  It  is  probably 
connected  with  their  religion ;  but  we  are  yet  too  little 
acquainted  with  the  varieties  of  superstition,  existing 
among  the  Indians,  to  say  with  accuracy,  from  what 
part  of  their  belief  it  takes  its  rise. 

The  second  of  the  practices  to  which  we  referred  is 
equally  uncommon,  and  bears  an  aspect  of  a  different 
kind.  It  seem?,  at  first  sight,  to  imply  an  extraordinary 
degree  of  cruelty  towards  those  whom  nature  enjoins 
us  to  respect  and  to  solace.  When  the  parents  or  rela- 
tions of  the  American  savages  become  old  and  oppress- 
ed with  infirmities,  instead  of  cherishing  and  condorting 
them,  as  humanity  would  require,  they  put  them  to 
death,  in  order  to  be  relieved  from  the  trouble  of  sup- 
porting them*^.  They  commit  the  same  act  of  violence 
as  often  as  their  frienrts  are  attacked  by  any  disease, 
which  their  partial  knowledge  of  medicine  renders 
ihem  un.able  to  cure.  This  prActice  was  general  among 
all  the  less  cultivated  tribes,  fron;i  Hudson's  Bay  to  the 
Uio  de  la  Plata,  where  these  tribes  were  first  visited  by 
the  Europeans;  and  however  opposite  it  may  be  to  the 
natural  feelings  and  attachments  of  man,  Uie  hard  con- 
dition of  the  savage  life  reconciles  him  to  it.  As  a  tribe 
of  hunters  cannot  rear  many  children,  because  they  are 


'*  It  is  not  considered,  that  this  practice  is  known 
amoDg  the  Indians  of  North  America.     Tencu  Coxe. 


unable  to  provide  for  them ;  so  they  cannot  support  any 
individual  who  contributes  nothing  by  his  own  exertions 
to  their  maintenance  and  security.  The  old  man  is  as 
helpless  and  as  useless  as  the  child;  the  community  are 
as  unable  to  procure  food  lor  the  one  as  for  the  other. 
The  old  men  cannot  endure  the  fatigues  of  war,  or  the 
toils  of  the  chase ;  and  they  regard  it  as  an  act  of  mercy 
when  their  days  are  shortened  by  the  hands  of  their 
friends.  The  old  Indian,  of  his  free  choice,  places  him- 
self in  the  grave  which  he  has  ordered  to  be  dug ;  and 
it  is  his  son,  or  his  nearest  relative,  that  he  invites  to 
pull  the  thong  or  inflict  the  blow  which  terminates  his 
existence.  Cassani,  Hist,  de  la  Prov.  de  Cotnp.  de  Jesus 
del  Nuevo  Reyno  de  Granada,  p.  300.  Fiso,  p.  t).  G«- 
miUa,  i.  333. 

We  have  now  considered  the  less  civilized  inhabitants 
of  the  American  continent,  in  respect  of  their  minds; 
and  have  attended  to  those  circumstances  with  regard 
to  them,  in  which  ingenuity  and  contrivance,  and,  iujge- 
neral,  the  mental  qualities  and  dispositions,  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  been  exercised.  We  have  viewed  them 
in  their  political  state,  their  mode  of  warfare,  in  their 
religious  observances,  and  in  their  domestic  condition ; 
we  have  turned  our  thoughts  to  the  arts  which  were 
known  among  them  when  they  were  discovered,  to  their 
language,  and  to  some  remarkable  customs,  by  whicii 
they  are  distinguished  from  the  natives  of  the  ancient 
world.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  consider  the  inhabitants 
of  the  western  continent,  in  relation  to  the  appearance 
and  constitution  of  their  bodies. 

With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  provinces  in  the 
north,  and  a  few  individuals  in  the  central  regions,  the 
people  of  America  are  all  of  a  light  brown,  or  copper 
colour.  Little  or  no  distinction  of  hue  is  to  be  observed 
throughout  the  whole  continent ;  and  if  a  shade  of  differ- 
ence prevails  in  any  place,  it  is  to  be  attributed  rather 
to  the  elevation  or  depression  of  the  country,  or  to  some 
other  cause,  than  to  its  distance  fi-om  the  equator,  or  its 
approach  to  it.  The  adventurers  who  first  landed  on 
ih-i  parts  of  America  which  are  situated  between  the 
tropics,  were  astonished  to  find  that  there  were  no  ne- 
groes there.  The  inhabitants  of  the  torrid  zone,  in  the 
New  World,  are  of  the  the  same  complexion  with  those 
who  occupy  the  more  temperate  regions.  "  The  In- 
dians," says  Ulloa,  "  who  live  »s  far  as  forty  degrees 
and  upwards,  south  or  north  of  the  equator,  are  not  to 
be  distinguished,  in  point  of  colour,  from  those  imme- 
diately under  it."  One  uniform  tinge  of  red  exists;  and 
has  been  thought  to  mark  the  natives  of  the  western 
continent  as  the  descendants  of  a  peculiar  race  of  men.. 

In  the  ancient  world,  the  negroes  are  confined  to  the 
torrid  zone,  and  the  regions  adjacent  to  it.  From  this 
it  has  been  inferred,  that  the  blackness  of  their  colour 
is  to  he  ascribed  to  the  intensity  of  the  heat  in  the  tro- 
pical climates ;  and  the  inference  is  warranted  by  the 
consideration,  that  among  the  negroes  themselves,  the 
palms  of  their  hands,  and  those  parts  of  the  body  which 
are  less  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  sun,  a -e  compara- 
tively white.  It  is  known,  likewise,  that  the  Europeans 
become  swarthy  if  they  are  constantly  in  the  open  air 
during  the  months  of  summer;  and  (hat  their  com- 
plexion undergoes  a  change,  even  by  a  short  residence 
in  the  West  India  Islands.  At  the  same  time,  there  is 
reason  to  admit,  that  the  heat  of  the  sim  is  not  the  only 
circumstance  to  which  the  difference  of  colour  among 
human  beings  is  to  be  attributed ;  or  that  this  great 
cause  is  modified  in  its  operation  by  others  of  an  infe 


A3IERICA. 


607 


rior  and  less  active  ebaracltr.     For  it  is  ascertained, 
that  the  people  of  Lapland,  n  ho  inhabit  a  very  noitherly 
part  of  Europe,  are  by  no  means  so  f;iir  as  (lie  natives 
of  Great  Britain,  an  island  wiiich  lies  comparatively  to 
the  south  ;  and  that  the  Tartars  are  of  a  darker  colour 
than  the  inhaliitants  of  Europe,  under  the  same  parallels 
of  Intitude.     What  the  circumstances  are,  whicli  modify 
the  heat  in  producing  the  differences  of  complexion,  it 
is  not  easy  to  say  ;  it  is  uncertain,  from  the  fncts  which 
have  been  mentioned,  that  such  modifying  circi:nistances 
dp  exist.     Let  us  now  put  the  two  questions,  in  order  to 
answer  which,  these  observations  have  been  introtluced. 
First,  How  is  it,  that  in  America  there  are  no  negroes 
in  the  torrid  zone  ?  and,  secondly.  How  is  it,  thai  the 
red  colour  prevails  unabated  throuirhout  almost  all  the 
inhabitants  of  the  western  continent  ? — To  the  first  of 
these  questions,  it  may  be  answered,  (hat  America  is 
destitute  of  negroes,  because  there  the  heat  of  (he  torrid 
zone,  if  not  less,  is  more  unequally  distributed  than  it  is 
iu  Africa:  and,  therefore,  the  same  effect  could  not  be 
produced  in  both  regions  of  the  world  in  the  same  de- 
fjree.    And  as  to  the  other  question,  it  may  be  answered, 
that  the  red  colour  is  preserved  in  the  higher  latitudes 
of  the  New  World  by  the  state  of  society,  which  is  uni- 
form among  the  rude  natives  of  America,  or  by  some  of 
the  modifying  circumstances  which  we  know  to  exist, 
but  which  we  cannot  easily  point  out. 

When  it  is  said,  that  the  Indians  are  of  one  uni- 
form red  colour,  this  must  be  undcrstnod  with  Fome 
exceptions.  The  Esquimaux,  who  inhabit  the  most 
northerly  region  of  America,  and  who,  though  a  wretched 
people,  distinguish  themselves  by  (he  name  of  Kerabit, 
or  Men,  are  of  a  lighter  hue,  and  ap()roach,  in  their 
complexion,  to  that  of  the  Greenlauilers,  from  whom 
their  origin  is  unquestionably  to  be  derived.  In  the 
Isthmus  of  Uarien,  there  are  men  to  be  found  entirely 
white,  and  separated  from  the  other  natives  of  the  west- 
ern hemisphere  by  many  qualities  peculiar  to  them- 
selves. (Wafer,  Descripl.  of  Isth.  aj).  Dampier,  iii.  p. 
:546.)  Their  skin  is  covered  with  a  down  of  a  milky 
hue,  but  without  the  ruddy  look  which  gives  so  much 
beauty  to  the  European  complexion.  The  hair  of  their 
heads,  their  eye-brows  and  eye-lashes,  are  of  the  same 
chalky  colour.  Their  eyes  are  so  weak,  that  they  can- 
not endure  the  light  of  the  sun;  but  they  see  well  by 
moon-light,  and  are  active  and  playful  in  the  night. 
Notwithstanding  these  peculiarities,  however,  they  are 
not  to  be  regarded  as  a  distinct  species,  but  resemble 
(hose  individuals  in  Africa,  who  are  called  Albinos  by 
the  Portuguese,  and  are  of  a  white  colour,  in  (he  midst 
of  a  people  whose  complexion  is  black.  They  do  not 
propagate  their  kind  :  and  the  parents,  both  of  the 
whites  in  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  and  of  the  Albinos  in 
Africa,  have  the  same  colour  and  the  same  tem|)era- 
ment  with  the  other  inhabitants  of  their  respective  coun- 
tries. Their  peculiar  hue  is  to  be  considered  as  the 
effect  of  some  disease  in  their  parents  or  in  themselves, 
rather  than  as  a  circumstance  which  characterizes  them 
as  n  separate  race.     See  Albino. 

It  is  particularly  deserving  of  notice,  that  among  the 
rude  niitives  of  America,  there  is  not  an  indivi<lual  to  be 
seen  who  is  lame  or  deformed ;  or  at  least  who  is  known 
to  have  been  so  from  his  infancy.  This  was  at  first 
ascribed  to  the  ease  with  which  the  Indian  women  pro- 
duce their  children  :  and  it  was  su|)posed  that  nature, 
yvht-n  unrestrained  and  free  in  her  operations,  accom- 
plished her  work  in  the  most  regular  and  perfect  man- 


ner.    It  is  allowed,  that  the  Indian  women  bring  forth 
their  children  with  great  ease.     Historians  relate,  that, 
before   (he  arrival  of  (he  Spaniards,    they   had  never 
heard   of  midwives  at  Peru.     But  thou-h  something 
may  be  ascribed  (o  (his  circumstance,  the  great   cause 
of   the  jierfect  formation   which   was  observed  among 
the  savages  of  America,  is  that  they  expose,  or  put  to 
death,  such  of  (heir  children  as  are  weak,  or  defornud 
in  (heir  bodily  connguration.     The  same  practice  exist- 
ed among  the  Laccdamonians  of  ancient  times,  and  for 
reasons  which  are  nearly    the  same.     A  child,  whose 
organization  is  feeble  or  defective,  cannot  support  itself 
when  it  is  grown,  by  fishing  or   hunting.     It  is  an  in- 
cumbrance, rather  than  an  advantage,  to  tlie  community. 
This  is  foreseen    by  the  natives  of  America;  and,  in 
order  to  prevent  it,  they  destroy  all  those,  in  theirinfancy, 
whose  form  renders  (him  incapable  of  exertion.  Hence 
none  are  [lerniiKed  to  live,  but  such  as  are  duly  propor- 
tioned:  and  hence  the  perfection  of  bodily  structure, 
which  a|)peared  so  wonderful  to  the  first  settlers  in  the 
continent  of  Aiiierica. 

The  whole  race  of  Indians  is  distinguished  by  a 
peculiar  thickness  of  (he  skin.  Anatomists  have  ex- 
amined it,  and  found  it  so.  This  is  a  quality  w  hich  is 
natural  to  the  peojile  of  America;  though  it  may  be 
ascriljed,  iu  some  degree,  to  the  practice  of  besmearing 
themselves  with  ointments  and  paint;  a  practice  which, 
as  we  have  menlioneil  already,  is  general  in  every  quar- 
ter of  the  New  World.  From  this  thickness  of  the  skin, 
the  sijiul(-[iox,  oneol  tlie  most  desolating  of  tlie  eruptive 
diseases,  was  particularly  fatal  to  the  inhabitants  of 
America,  when  it  was  introduced  among  them  by  tlie 
Europeans.  The  morbific  matter  escaped  with  difficulty, 
because  the  pustules  were  not  easily  formed  ;  and  thou- 
sands of  the  Indians  perished  under  the  ravages  of  that 
wasting  disorder. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  American  Indians  is,  that 
they  have  no  beards,  and  no  hair  on  any  part  of  the. 
body,  except  the  head.     The  want  of  those  tokens, 
which  indicate  a  manly  firmness  of  constitution,  was 
given  as  an  evidence  by  the  Sjjaniards,  that  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  New  World  were  of  a  different  species 
from  those  of  the  old;  that  they  were  beneath  the  level 
of  human  nature,  and  ought  to  be  treated  in  the  same 
manner  with  the  brutes.     To  this  idea,  the  debility  of 
frame,  which   marked  the  natives  of  the  Islands  first 
visited  by  the  Europeans,  contributed  not  a  little,  as  well 
as  their  astonishing  ignorance  of  the  most  common  arts 
and  inventions,  and  their  total  want  of  curiosity.     Ac- 
cordingly, in  the  famous  bull,  promulgated  by  Paul  III. 
in   15815,    it  was   stated,    that  though   the   settlers   in 
America  had  regarded  the  natives  uli  brula  animalia, 
they  were  to  be   considered  as  real  men  :  and,  in  the 
same   mandate  of  the  pope,  tbey  were  declared  to  be 
capable  of  receiving  the  doctrines,  and  enjoying  the 
advantages  of  the  Christian   faith.     A  more  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  New  World  has  taught  us,  that 
the  Indians  are  not  beardless  by  nature;  but  that  it  is 
their  constant  practice  to  pull  out  the  hairs  by  the  roots 
as  soon  as  they  appear.     The  instrument  which  is  used 
for  this  purpose  is  a  split  stick,  between  the  columns  of 
which  the  hairs  are  introduced,  and  eradicated  by  force. 
{Magasin  ie  Gottingue,  torn.  i.   vi. ;  et  Cayen.  p.  262.) 
Nor  are  xll  the  inhabitants  of  the  western  continent  des- 
titute of  beards.  The  hair  on  the  chins  of  the  Esquimaux 
is  long  and  bushy ;  and   this  circumstance,  as  well  as 
their  language  and  manners,  points  them  out  as  a  race 


608 


ATMERICA. 


of  men  totally  distiuct  from  the  other  natives  of  that 
quorter  of  the  globe. 

The  ordinary  stature  of  the  Americans  is  not  very 
different  from  that  of  the  Europeans.     But  whether  it 
arises  from  their  inactive  life,  or  from  some  constitu- 
tional tendency,  they  are  more  plump  ami  full  than  the 
natives  of  the  opposite  hemisphere.     The  Esquimaux, 
Jiowever,  a  people  who  must  be  excepted  from  every 
general  statement  with  regard  to  America,  do  not  rise 
above  the  height  of  four  feet,  and  are  of  a   peculiar 
make ;  and  if  we  give  credit  to  the  reports  of  travellers, 
the  southern  regions  of  the  New  World  are  inhabited 
by  the  Patagoniaus,  or  Puelchcs;  a  clas*»f  men  of  a 
gigantic  stature,  and  of  a  most  formidable  appearance. 
They  were  first  observed  by  Magellan,  as  he  approached 
the  straits  which  bear  his  name ;  and  the  first  accounts 
of  them  were  given  by  his  officers  and  sailors,  when 
they  arrived  in  Europe.     But  those  who,  in  later  times, 
have  visited  the  regions  of  South  America,  have  not 
confirmed  the  relation  of  the  people  who  accompanied 
that  navigator ;  and  have  declared,  that  these  regions 
are  inhabited  by  men  not  differing  in  any  surprising  de- 
gree from  the  rest  of  the  American  tribes.  If  we  reason 
from  analogy,  we  should  certainly  not  expect  to  find  a 
race  of  giants  in  the  coldest  climate  which  modern  dis- 
covery has  brought  to  our  knowledge.  It  is  in  the  mild- 
er latitudes  that  the  human  species  acquires  its  highest 
honours,  and  rises  nearest  to  perfection.     Tall  men  are 
perhaps  to  he   found  among  the  inhabitants  of  South 
America,  as  tall  men  are  to  be  found  everywhere;  but 
in  the  language  of  Dobri-ihoffer,  the  missionnry,  "  Me 
suasore  Patagomspro  gigantibtis,  desinas  habere.'" — His- 
toria  de  Abiponibus,  vol.  ii.  p.  15,  A:c.  Echavarri,  an  au- 
thor of  great  credit,  says,  that  the  Indians  of  South 
America  are  nearly  of  the  same  stature  with  the  Spa- 
niards.    Rei/no  Jesuitico,  p.  238.     See  Patagonia. 

The  reader  who  wishes  for  more  accurate  informa- 
tion concerning  the  Patagonians,  may  consult  the  Re- 
chtrches  PMlosophiques,  par  M.  de  Puaw,  vol.  i.  281,  and 
vol.  iii-  181,  &c  where  the  testimonies  of  different 
travellers  are  collected  and  stated  with  considerable 
precision.  See  also  Phil.  Trans,  vol.  Ivii.  p.  78,  and  vol. 
Ix.  p.  22.  Bougainville,  Vcyag.  129.  Falkener,  Descrip. 
of  Patagonia,  Introd.  p.  20,  and  p.  102. 

After  these  general  observations  on  the  American 
Indians,  as  fo  the  constitution  of  their  bodies,  it  may  be 
proper  to  introduce  some  account  of  their  aspect  and 
features.  They  are  thus  described  by  the  Chevalier 
Pinto.  "  Those  who  live  in  the  high  country,  are  fairer 
than  those  on  the  marshy  lands  on  the  coast.  Their 
face  is  round ;  further  removed,  perhaps,  than  that  of 
any  people  from  an  oval  shape.  Their  forehead  is  small ; 
the  extremity  of  their  ears  far  from  the  face ;  their  lips 
thick  ;  their  noses  flat ;  their  eyes  black,  or  of  a  chesnut 
r.olour,  small,  but  capable  of  discerning  objects  at  a 
great  distance.  Their  hair  is  always  thick,  and  sleek, 
and  without  any  tendency  to  carl.  At  the  first  aspect,  a 
South  American  appears  to  be  n\jld  and  innocent ;  but 
on  a  more  attentive  view,  one  discovers  in  his  counte- 
nance something  wild,  distrustful,  anA  sullen." 

We  may  now  inquire  from  what  part  of  the  Ancient 
World  America  Was  first  peopled. 

This  inquiry  is  attended  with  many  difficulties ; 
though  the  numl>er  of  these  has  been  increased  without 
necessity  by  the  authors  who  have  discussed  this  sub- 
ject, and  who  h;ive,  perhaps,  been  more  willing  to  state 
tbeir  difBculties  than  to  reeolre  tbein.    Thiu,  for  exam- 


ple, It  has  been  considered  as  utterly  improbable,  that 
one  hemisphere  of  oar  i.l.inet  should  have  been  destitute 
of  inhabitants,  while  the  other  was  peopled.  But,  when 
this  objection  is  urged,  it  is  forgotten,  that  if  we  sup- 
pose all  mankind  to  be  derived  from  one  pair,  originally 
settled  in  a  particular  quarter  uf  the  Old  World,  the 
other  regions  of  the  ancient  continent  must  have  been 
destitute  of  inhabitants,  till  the  primitive  race  had 
multiplied  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  have  it  in  their  jiower 
to  occupy  those  regions.  It  is  not,  however,  to  be 
denied,  that  the  investigation,  which  we  are  about  to 
undertake,  is  encompassed  with  difficulties ;  some  of 
these  we  shall  mention  afterwards,  and  shall  state 
likewise  what  we  have  found  in  authors,  and  what 
occurs  to  ourselves,  in  order  to  obviate  or  surmount 
them. 

We  regard  it  as  true,  that  the  whole  human  race  is 
sprung  from  a  single  pair.     For  this  we  have  the  un- 
questionable authority  of  revelation  ;   which  declares, 
that  Adam  and  Eve  were  the  first  progenitors  of  our 
species;  that  they  occupied  a  part  of  Asia  near  the 
river  Euphrates;     and    that  their  descendants    were 
miraculously  separated  from  one  another,  and  scattered 
over  the  earth.     As  they  separated,  they  formed  them- 
selves into  distinct  communities,  which  gradually  in- 
creased into  nations ;  and  from  one  or  more  of  which  it 
is  believeii  that   the  New  World  was  peoiiled.     We 
are  not  ignorant  of  the  opinion  which  Lord  Karnes  has 
maintained  on  this  subject.     (^Sketches  of  Man,  vol.  i.) 
He  contends  that  it  is  impossible  to  account  for  the  dif- 
ferences, which  we  know  to  exist  among  human  beings, 
with  regard  to  their  form,  their  colour,  and  their  man- 
ners ;  unless  we  admit,  that  the  various  races  are  the 
specific   descemlants,   each  of  a  single   pair,    whose 
elementary  characters  it  still  preserves.  Thus,  according 
to  him,  the  negroes  of  Africa  must  have  descended  from 
parents  who  were  originally  black ;  the  inhabitants  of 
France  and  of  Great  Britain,  from  parents  who  were 
originally  white ;  and  the  Indians  of  America,  from 
parents  who  were  originally  of  a  copper  colour,  or  red. 
To  this  it  may  be  replied,  I.  That  the  form,  colour,  and 
dispositions  of  men,  are  influenced  by  the  climate  under 
which  they  live,  by  their  local  situation,  and  by  moral 
and  political  causes;  so  that  no  inference  against  the 
common   opinion   can   be   drawn   from  these  circum- 
stances.    The  Jews  are  undoubtedly  of  one  race,  and 
that  race  has  lieen  kept  distinct  and  pure;  j'et  they  are 
of  all  complexions;  fair  in  Britaio  and  Germany,  brown 
in  Spain  and  Portugal,  olive  in  Syria  and  Chaldea,  jind 
copper  coloured  in  Arabia  and  Egypt.     (Buffon,  Nat. 
Hisl.  vol.  iii.)     The  descendants  xjf  the  Spaniards  in 
South  America  hare  already  the  same  tinge  with  the 
aboriginal  inhabitants.     {PhiL  Trans.  No.  470.)     The 
people  of  the  United  States,  though  sprung  from  many 
different  nations  of  Europe,  have  an  uniform  cast  of  fea- 
tures and  shade  of  complexion ;  and  (he  negroes,  in 
many  parts  of  the  same  country,  though  intermarrying 
with  one  another,  are  losing  Ihe  dark  hue  and  curled 
hair  of  their  African  progenitors'*,  (Smith  on  ihe  Causes 
of  Complexion  and  Figure  of  the  Human  Species,  pas- 
sim.')    2.  Th.Tt  we  are  not  acquainted  with  every  cause 
which  may  affect  the  human  appearance,  nor  can  we 
ascertain  the  limits  within  which  the  operation  of  any 

•  This  win  not  be  considered  a  correct  view  of  lh»* 
(Subject  by  many.     Tench  Coxe. 


AMERICA. 


COS) 


single  cauje  is  to  be  confined.  3.  That  it  is  a  principle 
in  sound  philosophy,  never  to  intruduce  a  supernatural 
power  to  account  for  any  eflect,  when  we  are  able  to 
account  for  it  by  causes  which  are  natural,  and  within 
onr  view.  There  is  no  i)ropriety  in  supposing,  that  the 
omnipotence  of  the  Deity  was  exewised  in  creating 
many  pairs,  of  different  characters,  yet  all  of  the  same 
species,  in  order  to  show  how  America  was  peopled,  if 
we  can  establish  a  connexion  between  the  Old  World 
and  the  Ne^v,  so  as  to  admit  of  a  passage  from  the  one 
to  the  other.  4.  That  although  we  should  suppose  as 
many  pairs  and  as  many  races  as  any  philosopher  would 
re(iuire,»8till  there  are  differences  of  families  and  of 
individuals  to  be  found  in  any  single  race  which  may  be 
chosen  for  the  purpose  of  cxamiiialion.  One  family  is 
distinguished  by  a  peculiar  set  of  features,  and  another 
family  by  another  set;  one  man  is  tall,  and  another 
man  is  short ;  one  is  active  and  hold,  and  another  sloth- 
ful and  cowardly.  And  surely,  if  there  be  differences 
of  families  and  of  individuals  in  a  single  race,  deriving 
its  origin  from  one  (lair,  there  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  conclude,  that  there  may  be  differences 
among  the  races  themselves,  though  ail  of  them  are 
sprung  from  a  common  source.  Lastly,  That  even,  if 
■we  could  not  account  for  the  varieties  among  the  people 
who  inhabit  the  earth,  by  the  operation  of  natural  causes, 
it  would  by  no  means  follow,  that  the  different  races 
were  sprung  from  different  pairs  ;  we  could  only  infer, 
that  philosophers  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  accounting 
for  the  varieties  among  the  people  that  inhabit  the  earth 
by  the  operation  of  natural  causes. 

In  prosecuting  the  inquiry  which  we  have  underta- 
ken, it  is  necessary  to  determine  at  what  points  the  con- 
tinent of  America  approaches  nearest  to  Europe  or  to 
Asia,  or  to  both  of  these  divisions  of  the  globe.  For- 
tunately, the  discoveries  of  modern  times  enable  us  to 
ascertain  this  matter  with  considerable  precision.  It  is 
now  very  generally  admitted,  that  Greenland  is  a  part 
of  the  American  continent,  or  at  least  that  it  is  separated 
from  it  by  a  very  narrow  strait.  Here  then  is  one  way 
in  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  Old  World  may  have 
reached  the  New,  and  have  settled  there.  But  in  stating 
it  as  likely  that  the  northern  regions  of  America  were 
peopled  by  emigration  from  the  coast  of  Greenland  or 
from  Iceland,  we  are  not  left  to  supposition  alone.  There 
are  facts  which  render  it  not  only  probable,  but  as  nearly 
certain  as  any  matter  which  depends  for  its  truth  on  the 
evidence  of  history,  and  the  reasoning  from  analogies 
which  are  obvious  and  close.  The  Esquimaux,  of  whom 
we  have  spoken  so  frequently,  inhabiting  a  part  North 
America  which  stretches  from  Labrador  towards  the 
pole,  resemble  the  Greenlanders,  in  their  form,  their 
manners,  and  in  almost  every  other  respect.  And  what 
puts  the  question  beyond  all  doubt  is,  that  the  language 
of  both  countries  is  the  same.  A  missionary,  who  had 
passed  from  Greenland  to  the  American  shore,  found, 
that  the  language  of  the  Greenlanders  was  perfectly 
understood  by  the  Esquimaux,  who  received  him  as  a 
brother  and  a  friend.  In  adtlition  to  all  this,  the  lower 
animals,  in  the  north  of  Europe,  are  the  same  with  those 
"which  belong  to  the  northern  provinces  of  America. 
The  wolf,  the  bear,  the  fox,  the  elk,  the  deer,  and  the 
roebuck,  are  to  be  found  in  the  contiguous  regions  both 
of  the  Old  World  and  of  the  New ;  and  this  circumstance 
gives  additional  firmness  to  the  belief,  that  the  one  con- 
tinent was  peopled  by  emigration  from  the  other. 

Vol.  I.    Part  II. 


The  tribes  which  inhabited  liie  north  of  Europe  in 
early  times,  were  remarkable  for  their  adventurous  and 
roving  spirit.  Having  increased  their  numbers,  so  as  to 
press  hard  on  the  limits  of  the  sustenance  vhich  thei; 
country  was  able  to  afford  them,  and  having  multipliei! 
so  rapidly  as  to  be  in  danger  of  perishing  through  fa- 
mine, they  were  constrained  to  send  oil"  their  redundant 
population  in  quest  of  new  regions,  and  in  order  to  form 
new  settlements.  It  is  probable,that,  at  aperiod  towhicli 
history  does  not  reach,  some  of  these  tril)e8  emigrate*! 
from  the  higher  latitudes  of  Norway;  and  that,  passing- 
to  Iceland  and  to  Greenland  in  successive  adventures, 
they  established  themselvesin  the  continent  of  America. 
We  are  sure,  at  least,  that  so  early  as  the  year  982, 
Greenland  was  visited  by  the  Norwegians,  and  that  iu 
the  year  1003,  they  planted  a  colony  either  in  Labrador 
or  Newfoundland.  This  colony  was  soon  destroyed  by 
intestine  quarrels.  (Pinkerton's  Oeog.  vol.  iii.  p.  3.  Mem. 
par  Ulloa,  tom.  ii.  p.  478.)  But  the  emigration,  or  suc- 
cessive emigrations,  which  gave  inhabitants  to  the  north- 
ern part  of  America,  took  place,  in  all  probability,  at  a 
time  earlier  than  either  of  the  dates  which  bave  been 
mentioned  ;  though  the  limited  progress  which  the  In- 
dians have  made  iu  the  arts,  and  their  total  ignorance 
of  science,  have  induced  some  to  believe,  that  they 
hiid  not  existed  very  long  in  the  country  which  they 
possess. 

But  the  continent  of  America  approaches  that  of  Asia, 
as  well  as  that  of  Europe.  This  has  not  been  known 
with  certainty  till  of  late  years.  It  is  true,  that  when 
the  extent  of  North  America  from  east  to  west  came  to 
be  ascertained  with  any  reasonable  precision,  men  of 
learning,  who  thought  of  this  subject,  inferred  at  once, 
that  that  division  of  the  New  W^orld  could  be  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  north-eastern  extremity  of  Asia.  From 
the  discoveries  of  the  Russians,  under  the  auspices  of 
the  czar  Peter  and  the  empress  Catharine  II.  it  appears, 
that  the  two  continents  are  not  separated  by  any  great 
interval  from  one  another  And  it  is  rendered  com- 
pletely certain,  by  the  voyages  of  Cooke,  the  English 
nfivigator,  and  his  successorClarke.that  the  strait  which 
divides  the  Old  World  from  the  New  is  not  much  wider 
than  the  narrow  sea  between  Dover  and  Calais.  Nor  is 
this  all ;  there  are  islands  in  the  strait  of  Behring  it- 
self, which  would  render  easy  the  communication  be- 
tween Asia  and  America.  Prom  the  Islands  both  the 
continents  may  be  seen  at  the  same  time.  It  cannot  be 
doubted,  therefore,  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  north-eas- 
tern parts  of  Asia,  little  attached  to  the  soil,  and  sub- 
sisting chiefly  by  hunting  and  fishing,  might  pass  either 
in  their  canoes  in  summer,  or  upon  the  ice  in  winter, 
from  their  own  country  to  the  American  shore.  Or  a 
passage  of  this  kind  might  not  be  necessary.  It  is  by  no 
means  unlikely,  that  the  strait  of  Behring  was  former- 
ly occupied  by  the  land  ;  and  that  the  isthmus,  which 
joined  the  Old  World  to  the  New,  was  subverted  and 
overwhelmed  by  one  of  those  great  revolutions  of  nature 
which  shake  whole  continents,  and  extend  the  dominion 
of  the  sea  to  places  where  its  waters  are  unknown.  This 
is  not  a  mere  conjecture  ;  there  are  islands  mentioned  by 
Julius  CsBsar,  as  existing  in  the  English  channel,  which 
are  to  be  seen  no  more.  Naples  was  at  one  time  united 
to  Sicily,  and  Eubooa  to  Boeotia.  It  is  certain,  (says 
Buffon,)  that  in  Ceylon,  the  land  has  lost  about  thirty 
or  forty  leagues,  which  the  sea  has  taken  from  it.  The 
islands  to  be  found  in  the  strait,  which  separates  Ame- 
.4H 


6l0 


AMERICA. 


rica  from  Aeia,  are  probably  the  mountains  and  the 
elevated  country  belonging  to  the  isthmus,  which  we 
suppose  to  have  been  shattered  by  an  earthquake,  and 
sunk  undc"  the  level  ol'  the  ocean.  Iftbis  was  the  case, 
if  an  isthmus  uniting  the  trto  continents  did  exist,  there 
cannot  be  the  shadow  of  a  difficulty  in  admitting,  that 
the  New  World  may  have  been  peopled  by  emigration 
from  the  Old. 

That  the  inhabitants  of  Asia  did  pass  from  the  one 
continent  to  the  other,  is  rendered  extremely  probable, 
by  the  following  considerations. 

1.  At  the  time  when  the  interior  of  America  was 
visited  by  Cortes  and  the  Spanish  adventurers,  a  tradi- 
tion prevailed'  among  the  people  of  Mexico,  the  most 
enlighened  of  the  American  nations,  that  their  ances- 
tors had  migrated  from  the  north,  and  had  ultimately 
settled  in  the  regions  which  they  occupied  at  that  time. 
2.  Of  the  twenty-five  species  of  animals  inhabiting  the 
laud,  which  Mr.  Pennant  has  enumerated  as  belonging  to 
K:im6chatka,  seventeen  are  to  be  found  in  America. 
And,  lastly,  from  the  resemblances  which  we  can  trace 
between  the  uncivilized  natives  of  Asia  and  those  of  tlie 
American  continent,  it  is  as  probable  as  any  matter  of  the 
same  description  can  be,  that  a  communication  lias  taken 
place  between  the  Old  World  and  the  New,  by  the  route 
which  we  have  mentioned  above.  Some  of  these  resem- 
blances it  may  be  proper  to  state.  The  custom  of  scalp- 
ing their  enemies  prevailed  among  the  Scythians,  and  is 
continued  in  America  to  the  present  day.  A  particular 
race  of  the  same  people  were  denominated  Anthropo- 
phagi, from  their  practice  of  eating  human  flesh ;  a 
practice  which  was  so  common  among  the  Indians,  as  to 
give  a  tinge  and  complexion  to  their  language,  in  coun- 
tries where  it  no  longer  exists.  The  Kamschatkans 
never  marched  in  an  aggregated  body,  but  in  a  line  of 
individual  warriors ;  and  the  same  custom  is  observed 
exactly  by  the  American  tribes.  The  Tungusi,  a  nation 
resident  in  Siberia,  prick  their  faces  with  a  needle  in 
various  shapes,  and  fill  up  the  punctures  with  charcoal ; 
a  practice  which  still  exists  in  many  parts  of  the  New 
World.  The  canoes  of  the  Tungusi  and  those  of  the 
Canadians  resemble  one  another;  they  are  light,  and 
made  of  the  bark  of  trees ;  the  paddles  of  the  former 
nation  are  broad  at  each  end,  and  those  of  the  people 
near  Cooke's  River  are  of  a  similar  form.  It  would  be 
endless  and  impossible  to  mention  all  the  circumstances 
of  resemblance  l)etwcen  the  natives  of  Asia  and  those 
of  America;  but,  from  the  coincidences  which  have 
been  stated,  there  is  little  reason  to  doubt,  that  the  latter 
country  derived  its  inhabitants,  (the  Esquimaux  except- 
ed,) from  the  former.  And  this  opinion  must  be  consi- 
dered as  probable,  whatever  the  ditficulties  attending 
the  subject  may  be. 

The  difficulties  to  which  we  allude  relate  particularly 
to  the  migration  of  the  lower  animals,  from  the  Old 
World  to  the  New.  For  there  are  animals  in  the  ancient 
continent  which  are  not  to  be  found  in  America ;  and 
there  are  animals  in  America,  which  are  not  to  be  found 
in  the  ancient  continent. 

With  regard  to  the  first  of  these  statements,  the  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulty  is  neither  remote  nor  intricate.  It 
is  not  contended,  tliat  all  the  species  of  animals  migrated 
from  the  Old  World  to  the  New.  Many  kinds  may  have 
been  left  in  their  original  situations;  prevented  by  cli- 
mate, and  by  other  natural  and  accidental  causes,  from 
trhangiog  the  places  to  whkli  they  had  become  fami- 


liarized. But  the  difficulty  contained  in  the  second  part 
of  the  statement  is  not  so  easily  resolved.  For  it  is 
plain,  that  no  animal  could  pass  from  tiie  Old  World  to 
the  New,  unless  it  had  previously  existed  in  the  Old 
World;  but  there  are  animals  to  tie  found  in  Ame.ica, 
which  exist  in  no  part  either  of  Europe,  Africa,  or  Asia, 
witli  which  we  are  accjuainted.  The  difficulty,  therefore, 
is  prominent  and  conspicuous. 

In  order  to  obviate  it  in  some  degree,  let  it  be  observ- 
ed, first,  that  many  animals  belonging  to  the  New  World, 
which  have  been  thought  to  form  a  species  of  them- 
selves, are  the  same  animals  with  those  of  the  ancient 
continent,  in  an  altered  and  degenerated  state.  Thus, 
for  example,  the  lion  and  the  tiger  o!  America,  are  the 
same  with  the  lion  and  the  tiger  of  the  eastern  hemis- 
phere ;  though,  from  the  difTerencc  of  situations,  they 
are  less  ravenous  and  fierce.  That  animals  suffer  great 
changes  by  the  operation  of  climate,  is  evident  from  this; 
that  the  dogs,  which  are  sent  from  Europe  to  North 
America,  alter  their  co'our,  without  an  exception,  as 
the  winter  approaches,  and  recover  it  again  during  the 
summer.  And,  if  our  inquiries  were  sulficien  iy  mi- 
nute and  accurate,  we  should  probal;ly  find  that  more 
important  revolutions  take  place  in  their  nature  and  ha- 
bits. It  is  worthy  of  notice  likewise,  that  the  same  spe- 
cies may  be  produced  in  endless  varieties  by  crossing 
the  breed;  and  that  some  of  these  varieties  may  have 
been  regarded,  by  careless  observers,  as  a  new  species. 
Secondly,  that  some  species  may  have  become  extinct 
in  the  Old  World,  as  there  is  reason  to  believe,  one  spe- 
cies, at  least,  lias  become  extinct  in  the  New.  When  we 
say  that  there  were  animals  once  alive  on  the  continent 
of  America,  which  do  not  exist  there  at  present,  we 
allude  to  the  large  bones  which  have  been  found  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  in  North  America,  and  which  must 
have  belonged  to  creatures  of  a  size  far  greater  than 
any  which  have  yet  been  discovered  in  the  eastern  he- 
misphere. The  molar  tooth,  in  the  possession  of  the 
Abbe  Chappe,  who  died  not  long  ago  in  California, 
weighed  no  fewer  than  eight  pounds :  and  M.  Alzate 
affirms,  that  at  Mexico,  there  is  preserved  a  bone  of 
the  leg,  the  knob  of  which  is  a  foot  in  diameter.  The 
late  Mr.  Hunter  of  London,  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  comparative  anatomy,  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that 
the  bones  to  which  we  allude  must  have  belonged  to  a 
carnivorous  animal ;  {Phil.  Trans.  1 76  >,)  the  appear- 
ances, however,  on  which  this  opinion  was  founded,  were 
not  very  distinct,  and  the  opinion  itself  may,  perhaps, 
be  considered  as  doubtful.  At  any  rate,  they  must  have 
belonged  to  an  animal  of  great  size,  which  does  not  at 
present  exist  on  the  American  continent.  The  species 
has  become  extinct.  And  if  a  species  of  animals  has 
become  extinct  in  America,  why  may  we  not  suppose 
that  one  or  more  species  may  have  become  extinct  in 
Asia,  Africa,  or  Europe  ?  This  supposition  is  not  un- 
supported by  facb*.  Bones  of  an  immense  size  have 
been  found  in  difl'erent  parts  of  the  Russian  empire,  and 
in  provinces  where  the  elephant  or  hippopotamus  could 
not  exist.  These  are  animals  of  warm  climates.  Uut 
the  organic  remains  to  which  we  refer,  have  been  disco- 
vered in  the  Arctic  regions  of  Asia.  Near  the  mouth  of 
the  Lena,  M.  Adams  of  Petersburgh  found  a  whole 
mammoth,  bones  and  muscles,  in  the  year  1806.  It  was 
imbedded  in  ice,  and  surrounded  with  it,  like  flies  in 
amber.  The  animal  itself  appears  to  have  been  about 
aiae  feet  in  height;  and,  what  is  alaiust  incredible,  its 


AMERICA 


on 


two  liorns  weighed  400lb.  lis  skeleton  is  now  to  be 
set-n  at  Petershurgli.  Julius  Cffisar  describes  several 
animals  belonging  to  Gaul,  with  which  naturalists  of 
modern  times  are  wholly  unacquainted.  {De  Bell.  Qall. 
h.  vi.  c.  25.)  And  though  the  remark  is  not  sufficiently 
general  in  its  application,  yet  it  deserves  to  be  attended 
to,  that  not  a  sinsJe  wolf  exists  at  present  in  Great  Bri- 
tain, where  they  lurmerly  abounded  in  such  numbers, 
that  it  was  one  of  the  chief  occupations  of  the  British 
princes  to  hunt  and  destroy  them.  Their  very  names 
w<-re  often  derived  from  their  skill  in  that  exercise. 
Thirdly,  we  are  not  acquainted  with  all  the  animals  of 
the  ancient  continent,  as  is  justly  observed  by  Clavigero, 
{Hist,  of  Mexico,  vol.  ii.  diss.  1 .)  The  interior  of  Africa, 
and  a  great  part  of  Asia,  are  yet  unexplored  :  and  no 
one  can  tell  what  species  may  exist  in  those  regions,  and 
how  many  different  kinds  there  may  be.  This  can  be 
ascertained  by  examination  alone;  and  till  that  exami- 
nation has  taken  place,  we  can  draw  no  inference  against 
the  common  opinion  with  regard  to  the  peopling  of 
America,  from  the  fact,  that  there  are  animals  in  that 
continent  which  we  do  not  yet  know  to  exist,  or  to  have 
existed,  in  Europe,  Asia,  or  Africa. 

But  a  difficulty  yet  remain*.  For  though  we  regard 
it  as  probable,  that  the  animals  of  one  continent  have 
removed  to  the  other  by  the  Arctic  passages,  and  allow 
that  this  supposition  has  been  freed  from  any  objection 
of  much  force,  it  is  evident  that  the  animals  of  the 
northern  latitudes  only  could  reach  America  in  the  way 
to  which  we  allude.  But  it  is  certain,  that  there  are 
animals  of  warm  climates,  as  the  lion,  the  tiger,  and  the 
alliff.itor,  to  be  found  in  the  New  World  ;  and  as  those 
could  not  pass,  either  by  the  north  of  Europe,  or  of 
Asia,  because,  (say  the  objectors,)  they  could  not  live 
there ;  it  is  obvious,  if  we  adhere  to  the  principle  that 
the  animals  of  the  New  World  came  originally  from  the 
Old,  we  must  account  for  their  migration  by  some  other 
route  than  those  which  have  yet  been  mentioned.  The 
equinoctial  animals,  it  is  said,  could  pass  only  by  a  com- 
munication in  the  regions  of  the  torrid  zone  :  or,  at  least, 
in  those  regions  where  the  heat  is  considerable  during 
a  great  part  of  the'year,  and  where  tlie  general  teuijie- 
rature  is  moderate. 

In  order  to  obviate  the  difficulty  which  has  now  been 
stated,  it  deserves  to  be  remarked,  that  there  are  very 
few  animals  of  the  torrid  /one  to  be  found  in  America. 
This  is  so  much  the  case,  that  Buffon  has  absolutely 
denied,  that  any  quadruped  habituated  to  a  warm  cli- 
mate in  the  Old  Worid,  exists  in  the  New  :  but  the  asser- 
tion of  that  distinguished  naturalist  has  not  in  this  in- 
stance, a  sufficient  support  from  an  unbiassed  view  of 
animated  nature,  as  it  appears  on  the  American  conti- 
nent. It  is  nnquestionable,  however,  that  the  number 
of  animals  belonging  to  the  warmer  climates  in  the  New 
World  is  exceedingly  small.  Only  a  few  species  are  to 
be  found  there  :  of  course,  only  a  few  species  have  pass- 
ed from  the  eastern  to  the  western  hemisphere.'  Now, 
though  it  is  certain  that  the  animals  of  the  torrid  zone 
are  peculiar  to  that  region  of  the  earth,  and  those  which 
are  contiguous  to  it;  yet  it  is  equally  certain,  that  these 
animals  Cfn  exi=t  in  the  more  northern  latitudes.     The 


inferior  creatures,  as  well  as  man,  are  capable  of  ac- 
commodating themselves  to  almost  every  climate.  If. 
Iherel'ore,  any  cause  has  driven  a  few  species  towards 
the  north  of  Asia,  and  continued  to  operate  for  any 
length  of  time,  or  has  been  succeeded  liy  other  Muses, 
detainingtheniinthelattersituation.thoy  may  gradually 
have  been  accustomed  to  the  less  hospitable  regions': 
and  at  length  may  have  passed  from  Kainschatka  to 
the  American  shore,  undergoing,  either  in  their  pas' 
sage  in  their  way  to  it,  or  after  it  had  taken  place,  some 
of  the  changes,  to  which  we  know,  from  Iheir  appear- 
ance in  the  Western  World,  they  have  been  subjected. 
If  any  of  the  individuals  remained  for  a  while  in  the 
northern  latitudes,  they  may  either  have  perished  from 
accidental  circumstances,  or  have  been  destroyed  by  the 
inhabitants  of  those  regions  ;  Iheir  numbers  being  small, 
and  their  physical  strength  diminished  by  the  influence 
of  the  climate. 

There  is  more  ground  for  this  supposition  than  ap- 
pears at  first  view.  It  is  extremely  probable,  that  such 
causes  as  we  have  mentioned  really  operated,  and  gave 
rise  to  the  effects  which  we  have  ascribed  to  them. 
We  know  that  the  population  of  the  ancient  continent 
advanced  from  the  equatorial  regions  towards  the  high 
er  latitudes,  and  especially  towards  the  north.  If  this 
be  allowed,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  admit,  that,  in  the 
progress  and  multiplication  of  human  beings,  some 
animals  of  the  torrid  zone  may  have  been  driven  before 
them  from  their  early  and  more  favourable  abodes ;  that 
these  animals  may  have  reached  the  Asiatic  shore, 
which  is  nearest  to  America,  passed  over  to  that  conti- 
nent, and  at  length  found  there  a  region  suited  to  their 
natures,  where  they  continued  to  live,  and  where  they 
exist  at  the  present  day.  Those  of  them  which  re- 
mained in  the  northern  latitudes  of  Asia  and  America, 
enfeebled  by  the  climate,  may  have  been  destroyed  by 
the  same  cj^use  which  forced  them  thither — the  increase 
and  progress  of  the  human  species.  Hence  it  is,  that 
their  original  abodes  in  the  eastern  hemisphere,  and 
their  corresjionding  haunts  in  the  western,  where  they 
have  preserved  or  partially  regained  their  physical 
strength,  are  the  only  regions  in  which  they  are  to  be 
round  at  present,  because  in  these  regions  alone  they 
have  been  able  to  resist  the  approaches  and  the  art  of 
man. 

If  what  has  been  said  is  not  reckoned  sufficient  to  ob- 
viate the  difficulty  which  we  have  stated,  there  remains 
no  other  solution,  as  it  appears  to  us,  than  that  the  con- 
tinentof  Asia  was  formerly  united  to  the  Western  World, 
in  the  more  southern  latitudes ;  and  that  the  innumera- 
ble islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  are  the  higher  parts  of 
the  land,  which  completed,  above  water,  the  connexion 
between  the  Old  AVorld  and  the  New.  Or,  if  this  hy- 
pothesis likewise  is  exceptionable,  we  must  suppose 
that  the  peninsula  of  Africa  was  joined  to  the  eastern 
hemisphere,  in  ages  unknown  to  research  :  and  that  the 
islanils  of  St.  Matthew,  St.  Thomas,  and  St.  Helena,  to- 
gether with  the  Canaries,  the  Cape  Verd  islands,  and 
those  of  the  West  Indies,  are  the  remains  of  the  union 
which  once  existed  between  the  continents  on  the  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  Atlantic.  (A) 
4H2 


012 


AMERICA. 


AMERICAN  UNITED  STATES. 


The  united  STATES  of  AMERICA,  are  a  great 
division  of  North  America,  bounded  on  the  east  by  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  ;  on  the  west  by  the  Missisippi,  the 
mountains  of  Namlii,  and  Rio  Bravo;  on  the  north  and 
north-east  by  the  lakes  of  Canada ;  and  on  the  south  by 
the  Spanish  dominion  of  East  Florida  and  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico.  These  states,  including  Louisiana,  are  1 7  in 
number.  In  the  following  Table,  their  names,  and  the 
population  of  each  state,  estimated  by  the  census  of 
1810,  are  exhibited. 
States.  Population. 

Virginia 966,079 

New-York 959,220 

Pennsylvania 810,163 

Massachusetts  (proper) 472,040  >,,     ., 

Maine         229,705  $  '"''^^^ 

North   Carolina 563,526 

South  Carolina 414,935 

Kentucky 406,511 

Maryland 380,546 

Connecticut 261,042 

^  S  West 160,360  >  „p,  _„, 

Tennessee    J  j,^^^        jOj  3^^  j  201,727 

Georgia 252,433 

New-Jersey 245,562 

Ohio 230,760 

Vermont 217,913 

New-Hampshire 214,414 

Rhode-Island       76,931 

Delaware 72,674 

Territorial  Governments. 

Orleans 76,556 

Missisippi        40,352 

Indiana 24,520 

Columbia  (the  Federal  District)      ....  24,023 

Louisiana 20,845 

Illinois        12,282 

.Hicbigan        4,762 

Total  7,237,521 

The  chief  rivers  of  the  United  States,  are,  Hudson's 
river,  the  Delaware,  Susquehanna,  Fotowmac,  Savannah, 
Ohio,  Kentucky  river,  Cumberland,  Illinois,  and  Missi- 
sippi ;  its  mountains,  are,  the  Allegany,  or  Appalachin  ; 
its  bays,  those  of  the  Chesapeake  and  Delaware ;  and  its 
capes,  Ann,  May,  Cod,  James,  Charles,  Henry,  Hatteras, 
{..ookout,  and  Fear. 

The  country,  now  possessed  by  the  people  of  the 
United  States,  was  originally  occupied  by  different 
tribes  of  Indians,  which  have  cither  been  extirpated  by 
wars  among  themselves,  or  with  the  new  settlers,  or 
have  been  driven  to  the  remote  forests,  by  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  Europeans.  Of  these  Indians,  the  Pequods, 
ihe  Naragansets,  (this  tribe  could  muster  2000  fight- 
ing men  in  1675,)  the  Woinponoags,  the  Delawares, 
the  Susquehannoes,  (destroyed  by  the  Five  Nations,) 
(he  Powhatans,  (containing  8000  souls  in  1607,)  the 
Chowannoes,  the  Nottoways,  the  Corees,  and  the  Tus- 
caroras,  were  the  most  distinguished  and  best  known. 
The  Catawbag,  Creeks,  and  the  Cherokees,  still  re- 
tain th»ir  names,  and  a  {lortiou  of  their ancieot  territories. 


The  English  were  the  first  who  visited  and  planted 
colonies  in  North  America.  In  the  year  1497,  Giovanni 
Gaboto,  a  Venetian,  called  by  the  English  John  (Jabot, 
acting  under  a  commission  from  Henry  Vll.,  discover- 
ed Newfoundland,  and  inspected  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  American  shore  :  and  in  the  year  1578,  sir  Hum- 
phrey Gilbert  of  Devonshire,  obtained  a  commission 
from  Elizabeth  to  establish  a  colony  in  North  America  : 
but  approaching  the  land  too  far  towards  the  north,  he 
was  deterred  Irom  the  execution  of  his  purpose  by  the 
unfavourable  appearance  of  the  country.  A  patent, 
similar  to  that  of  Gilbert,  was  granted  to  sir  Walter 
Raleigh  in  the  year  1584.  He  despatched  two  small 
vessels,  which  approached  the  American  shore  by  the 
gulf  of  Florida;  and  sailing  northwards,  touched  at  the 
island  of  Ocakoke,  in  the  inlet  in  Pamplico  Sound. 
They  afterwards  proceeded  to  Roanoke,  near  the  mouth 
of  Albemarle  Sound,  and  here  the  adventurers  carried 
on  a  profitable  traflick  with  the  natives.  The  ships  then 
returned  to  England,  and  the  country  which  they  had 
visited  was  called  by  Elizabeth,  Virginia.  These  at- 
tempts were  made  to  settle  in  the  island  of  Roanoke,  in 
consequence  of  Raleigh's  exertions ;  but  no  colony  was 
as  yet  established.  At  length,  James  VI.  having  divi- 
ded that  part  of  America  which  extends  from  lat.  34» 
to  450  N.  into  two  great  [jortions ;  the  one  called  the  first 
or  South  colony  of  Virginia  ;  and  the  other,  the  seconil 
or  North  colony;  authorized  sir  Thomas  Gates,  sir 
George  Summers,  and  their  associates  in  London,  to 
settle  in  any  part  of  the  former  which  they  might  choose : 
and  sundry  knights,  gentlemen,  and  merchants  of  Bris- 
tol and  Plymouth,  to  occupy  the  latter.  As  James  de- 
rived no  little  consequence,  in  his  own  opinion,  from  his 
skill  in  the  science  of  government,  the  supreme  ad- 
ministration of  the  colonies  was  vested  in  a  council  re- 
siding in  England,  and  nominated  by  himself;  and  the 
subordinate  jurisdiction  in  a  council  resident  in  Ameri- 
ca, which  was  likewise  appointed  by  the  royal  authority. 
At  this  time  the  English  were  accustomed  to  the  arbi- 
trary rule  of  their  monarchs,  and  the  limits  ef  the  royal 
prerogative  were  unknown.  It  was  either  not  |ter- 
ceived,  or  not  attended  to,  that  by  placing  the  legislative 
and  executive  powers  in  a  council  nominntrd  l>y  the 
king,  every  settler  in  America  was  deprived  of  the 
chief  privilege  of  a  free  man — that  of  giving  his  voice 
in  the  election  of  those  who  frame  the  laws  Which  he 
is  to  observe,  and  impose  the  taxes  which  he  is  to  pay. 
But  this  was  not  the  only  error  of  James.  He  allowed 
the  settlers  to  trade  with  foreign  nations :  and  thus  the 
mother  country  was  prevented  from  enjoying  the  bene- 
fit of  an  exclusive  commerce,  which  is  supposed  to  l/e 
the  principal  advantage  resulting  from  the  formation  of 
colonies. 

When  this  charter  was  issued,  neither  the  king,  wire 
granted  it,  nor  the  ))eople  who  received  it,  had  any  idea 
that  they  were  about  to  lay  the  foundation  of  great  and 
opulent  states,  which  were  one  day  to  rise  in  successful 
opposition  against  tlie  power  by  which  they  were  first 
established. 

In  consequence  of  the  grants  which  we  have  men- 
tioned, both  companies  prepared  to  take  possession  of  the 
lands  which  had  been  assigned  to  them :  and  in  a 
short  time  colooies  were  established  in  Virginia  and 


AMERICA. 


ma 


New  Englnnd;  tlic  former  in  the  south,  ami  the  latter 
in  llie  north.  As  these  colonies  were  the  first  which 
were  planted  in  this  diFision  ol  the  New  World,  and  are 
to  be  considered  us  the  parent  settlements  under  whose 
protection  the  others  were  founded,  it  will  he  siiflicient 
to  trace  their  origin  and  progress,  and  to  state,  in  a  few- 
words,  at  what  time,  and  t;j'  what  means,  the  inferior 
settlements  were  established. 

Of  the  principal  colonies,  Virginia  is  the  most  ancient, 
and  has  the  first  claim  to  our  attention. 

In  the  year  1608,  captain  Newport  sailed  from  Eng- 
land with  three  ships  and  103  men,  who  were  destined 
to  remain  in  the  country  which  they  were  about  to  visit. 
Among  these  were  some  gentlemen  of  distinguished 
families,  particularly  Mr.  Percy,  brother  to  the  earl  of 
Northumberland,  and  several  olficers  of  reputation,  who 
had  carrie«l  arms  during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  Though 
they  followed  the  old  course,  and  sailed  towards  the 
West  Indies,  yet  when  they  had  reached  the  American 
shore,  they  were  driven  to  the  north  of  Roanoke  by  a 
storm,  and  accidentally  discovered  Cai)e  Henrj'.  This 
is  the  southern  boundary  of  Chesapeake  bay.  They 
stretched  at  once  info  that  noble  harbour,  which  re- 
ceives the  waters  of  the  Powhatan,  the  Potomac,  the 
Susquelianna,  and  all  the  rivers  which  give  fertility  to 
this  province  of  America,  and  adapt  it  so  wonderfully  to 
the  pursoses  of  inland  navigation.  Newport  sailed  up 
the  Powhatan,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  James 
River,  in  honour  of  the  sovereign  under  whose  authori- 
ty he  acted :  antl  here  he  chose  a  place  of  residence 
for  the  adventurers  who  were  to  settle  in  the  country. 
They  raised  a  few  huts  to  protect  them  from  the  in- 
clemency of  (he  weather:  and  the  council,  who  were 
nominated  l>j'  the  king,  and  were  to  reside  in  America, 
opened  their  coinmiEsions,  and  entered  upon  their  ol- 
lice.  The  infant  settlenient  was  called  James-town ; 
an  appellation  which  it  still  retains :  and,  though  it 
never  rose  to  great  wealth  or  dii-tinction,  it  was  the  first 
of  the  English  establishments  in  the  New  World,  and 
has  all  the  honour  among  the  American  states  that  an- 
tiquity can  confer. 

The  Indians,  among  whom  the  European  adventurers 
had  settled,  were  divided  into  small  and  independent 
tribes,  and  separated  from  one  another  by  hereditary 
and  unabating  resentment.  They  were  able,  however, 
to  disturb  the  colony  by  their  petty  hostilities ;  though 
they  could  not,  at  this  time,  muster  a  force  sufficient  to 
destroy  it.  But  this  was  not  the  only  calamity  which 
the  Europeans  were  doomed  to  suffer.  The  stock  of 
provisions  which  they  had  lirought  with  them  from 
England  was  nearly  exhausted :  and  what  remained 
was  of  a  quality  so  bad,  that  it  was  unlit  to  be  eaten. 
This  scanty  allowance  to  which  they  were  reduced,  as 
well  as  the  influence  of  a  climate  to  which  they  were 
not  yet  habituated,  gave  rise  to  diseases,  and  quickened 
their  virulence ;  so  that  the  number  of  the  colonists 
gradually  diminished.  In  this  exigency,  they  were  re- 
lieved by  the  talents  and  activity  of  captain  Smith. 
Immediately  after  the  arrival  of  the  settlers,  and  in  con- 
sequence of  tne  disagreements  which  had  taken  place 
during  the  voyage,  he  had  been  expelled  from  the 
council,  though  chosen  by  the  king  as  one  ol  its  mem- 
bers :  hut  sucli  were  his  abilities  and  enterprising  tem- 
per, that  he  was  now  unanimously  called  to  his  seat,  and 
invited  to  take  a  chief  part  in  the  administration.  He 
■WPS  not  unworthy  of  the  charge,  or  unequ:!l  to  the  du- 
ties which  his  situation  required.     He  fortified  James- 


town, so  as  to  protect  the  colonists  from  the  injuries  of 
the  savages,  lie  marched  in  quest  of  those  triiies  who 
had  given  most  disturl.ance  to  the  Europeans:  and 
partly  by  force  of  arms,  and  partly  by  address  and  good 
treatment,  he  put  an  end  to  their  hostilities,  and  pro- 
cured from  them  a  supply  of  provisions,  of  which  the 
colony  was  so  much  in  need.  By  the  exertions  of  Smith, 
contentment  was  speedily  restored  :  and  this  he  consi- 
dered as  a  sutBcicnt  recompense  for  all  his  toils  and 
dangers.  But,  unfortunately,  in  one  of  his  excursions, 
he  was  surprised  by  a  numerous  party  of  Indians,  and 
compelled  to  retreat;  and  the  savages  pressing  hard 
upon  him,  he  sunk  to  the  neck  in  a  morass,  and  was 
taken  prisoner.  He  was  carried  to  Powhatan,  the  most 
considerable  sachem,  or  chief,  of  Virginia,  and  would 
have  suffered  a  cruel  death,  if  Pocahuntas,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Powhatan,  animated  by  that  concern  for  the  Eng- 
lish which  the  adventurers  from  the  west  never  failed 
to  experience,  had  not  rushed  between  him  and  the 
executioner,  and  begged  her  father  to  spare  his  life. 
Her  request  was  granted  :  and  she  afterwards  procured 
him  his  liberty ;  and  from  time  to  time  sent  provisions 
to  the  colony. 

When  Smith  returned  to  James-town,  he  found  no 
more  than  38  persons  within  the  walls  which  he  had 
lately  raised.  The  spirits  of  the  colony  were  completely 
broken.  Every  individual  was  filled  with  despondency, 
and  anxious  to  leave  a  country  which  was  so  inhospita- 
ble. He  prevailed  upon  them,  however,  to  remain  for 
some  time  :  and  provisions  arriving  from  England,  abun- 
dance and  satisfaction  were  happily  restored.  Smith 
had  formed  a  determination  of  visiting  and  examining 
the  country  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  place  where 
the  English  had  settled ;  and,  in  order  to  prosecute  his 
design,  he  embarked  with  a  handful  of  adventurers 
(A.  n.  1609,)  in  an  open  vessel,  ill  adapted  to  the  pur- 
pose for  which  it  was  intended.  He  advanced  towards 
the  north,  as  far  as  the  river  Susquehanna,  and  visited 
the  country  both  on  the  east  and  the  west ;  and  trading 
with  some  of  the  natives,  and  fighting  with  others,  he 
taught  them  to  respect  the  English  for  their  superiority 
in  knowledge  and  in  arts,  and  to  dread  the  operation  of 
the  weapons  which  they  used.  He  afterwards  made  a 
second  excursion ;  and  at  length  drew  out  a  map  of  the 
creeks  and  inlets  which  he  had  entered,  as  well  as  the 
adjacent  country,  with  such  accuracy,  that  his  delinea- 
tion has  served  as  a  basis  and  a  model  for  all  those  who 
have  since  attempted  to  exhibit  the  geography  of  the 
United  States. 

In  the  same  year  (1609,)  a  remarkable  change  took 
place  in  the  constitution  of  the  colony.  A  new  charter 
was  issued,  of  a  more  enlarged  and  liberal  nature  than 
the  former.  The  boundaries  of  the  settlement  were  ex- 
tended ;  the  council  resident  in  America  Avas  abolished, 
and  the  administration  of  afliurs  vested  iu  a  council,  re- 
sident in  London.  A  numerous  body  of  respectable 
merchants  and  others  were  joined  to  the  former  adven- 
turers, and  they  were  all  incorporated  under  the  name 
of  "  The  Treasurer  and  Company  of  Adventurers  of  the 
city  of  London,  for  the  first  colony  in  Vii^inia."  The 
proprietors  of  this  company  were  allowed  to  choose  the 
persons  of  whom  the  council  was  to  be  composed;  and 
powers  were  granted  them  to  elect  a  governor,  who 
w  as  to  manage  their  affairs  in  the  colony,  and  to  execute 
the  orders  which  should  l)e  issued  from  England.  They 
were  further  authorized  to  enact  ^uch  laws,  and  intro- 
duce such  regulations,  as  they  should  judge  most  ad- 


614 


AMERICA. 


vantageous  for  the  selllers  in  America.  These  ample 
privileges  were  conferred  in  an  ;\ge  when  privileges  of 
a  similar  nature  were  not  often  conferred  :  but  it  is  pro- 
bable that  James,  with  all  his  sagacity,  did  not  per- 
ceive (he  consequences  in  which  they  were  likely  to 
terminate. 

As  soon  as  the  company  had  got  the  management  of 
(heir  atfairs  info  their  own  hands,  the  proprietors  ;!  i!y 
increased  bo(h  in  num'^ers  and  reijsectability. 

The  first  governor  who  was  sent  out  to  Americ ;i  un- 
der the  new  charter,  ■"as  lord  lielaware.  No!  iieing 
able  to  leave  England  immeiliately,  Ihis  nobleman  des- 
patched sir  Thomas  Gates,  and  sir  George  Siinimers, 
with  nine  ships,  and  five  hundrod  spttlers.  Eight  of 
these  vessels  arrived  at  James-town  :  but  the  ship  In 
which  Gates  and  Summers  were  embarked,  was  sepa- 
rated from  the  rest,  and  cast  ashore  npon  Bermuda ; 
and  as  these  gentlemen  alone  had  lieen  commissioned  to 
act  in  the  room  of  the  governor,  none  of  those  who  had 
reached  America  could  produce  any  authority  for  nndcr- 
taking  the  administration  of  the  colony.  At  (his  time, 
Sirith  was  unable  to  exert  himself  with  his  usual  vi- 
gour. He  lay,  burned  and  mangled  by  an  explosion  of 
gunpowder;  and  at  length  became  so  ill  that  his  friends 
judged  it  necessary  to  remove  him  to  England.  After 
his  departure,  all  subordination  and  industry  ceased 
among  the  colonists.  Anarchy  prevailed  throughout 
the  settlement.  The  Indians,  ever  on  the  watch,  saw 
the  misconduct  which  had  now  become  general;  and 
learning  that  the  man  who  had  taught  them  to  reverence 
the  Enslish  name  was  at  a  distance,  they  withheld  the 
customary  supplies  of  provisions,  and  harassed  the 
planters  with  uninterrupted  hostilities.  The  stores 
■which  were  brought  from  England  were  speedily  con- 
sumed ;  the  domestic  animals  which  had  been  sent  to 
breed  in  the  country,  were  taken  and  devoured ;  the 
scarcity  increased :  and  in  the  extremity  of  their  dis- 
tress, the  Europeans  were  forced  to  subsist  on  the  bodies 
of  the  Indians  whom  they  had  killed,  or  those  of  their 
countrymen  who  had  perished  through  sickness  and 
fatigue.  With  one  voice,  they  resolved  to  quit  the  set- 
tlement, and  return  to  their  native  country.  Nor  did  the 
arrival  of  Summers  and  Gates  prevent  them  from  ad- 
hering to  the  resolution  which  they  had  formed.  They 
embarked  and  sailed  down  the  river;  but,  just  as  they 
had  reached  its  mouth,  thcj'  were  met  by  lord  Delaware, 
with  three  ships,  well  appointed  with  every  thing  ne- 
cessary for  the  defence  and  benefit  of  the  colony.  Of  an 
amiable  and  conciliatory  disposition,  and  not  destitute  of 
the  firmness  which  his  situation  required,  lord  Dela- 
ware gained  the  aflfection  of  (he  settlers,  and  accustomed 
ihem  once  more  to  subordination  and  discipline.  The 
license  of  the  Indian  depredations  was  checked,  and  the 
colony  began  to  assume  a  flourishing  appearance;  but 
unfortunately  the  governor's  health  declined;  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  the  country;  and  having  nominated 
Mr.  Percy  as  his  successor,  he  sailed  for  the  West  In- 
dies. 

Sir  Thomas  Dale  was  the  next  governor.  He  was 
empowered  by  the  company  to  rule  by  martial  law, 
which  even  the  Spaniards  had  not  the  boldness  to  intro- 
duce into  their  settlements;  but  it  was  approved  of  in 
this  instance,  by  sir  Francis  Bacon,  one  of  the  greatest 
philosophers  and  civilians  of  his  time.  In  consequence 
of  the  authority  with  which  Dale  was  invested,  and 
which  he  exercised  with  becoming  moderation,  the 
activity  of  the  planters  increased,  and  industry  prevail- 


ed throughout  the  colony.  The  friendship  of  the  Eng- 
lish was  courted  by  the  Udtives.  A  .'owi  rful  tribe  near 
the  river  Chickahominy  declared  themselves  to  be  the 
subjects  of  Great  Britain,  took  the  name  of  Englishmen, 
and  agreed  to  furnish  the  settlers  annually  with  a  stijju- 
lated  |>or(ion  of  corn.  Mr.  Rolfe,  a  young  gendeman 
of  the  colony,  smitten  with  the  beauty  of  Pocahuntas, 
the  (laughter  of  Powhatan,  asked  her  in  marriage  of 
her  father,  and  obtained  her  own  consent  to  the  union. 
An  alliitnce  with  Powhatan  was  the  consequence  of  this< 
marriage;  and  (he  land  being  now  divided,  for  the  first 
time  among  the  settlers,  and  granted  to  them  in  full 
properly,  industry  was  excited  by  the  hope  of  wealth; 
and  improvements  of  every  kind  took  place.  Tobacco, 
as  alfoi'ding  (he  most  certain  return,  was  eagerly  culti- 
vated "ind  exported.  Still  however  the  colony  consisted 
chiefly  of  males.  Few,  if  any,  of  the  planters  hid  imi- 
tated the  example  of  Rolfe ;  and  the  only  way  in  wnich 
the  strength  of  the  association  could  be  augmented, 
was  by  fresh  and  consecutive  arrivals  from  the  mother 
country.  In  order  to  remedy  this  deficiency,  young 
women  of  humble  origin,  but  of  good  character,  were 
sent  out  from  England, and  the  planters  were  encouraged 
to  marry  them  by  premiums  offered  by  the  company. 
They  were  fondly  received  by  the  American  settlers, 
and  were  established  so  much  to  their  s.itisfaction,  that 
others  hearing  of  their  prosperous  fortune,  ventured 
across  the  Atlantic,  and  became  wives  and  mothers  in 
a  short  time. 

The  Europeans  now  began  to  feel  an  interest  in  tlie 
welfare  of  a  country  which  they  looked  upon  as  their 
own.  This  interest  was  further  excited  aud  quickened 
by  an  act  of  sir  George  Yeardley,  the  new  governor.  In 
the  year  1619,  he  called  the  first  general  assembly  which 
was  held  in  Virginia,  and  raised  the  colonists,  who,  till 
then,  had  been  nothing  more  than  the  servants  of  the 
company,  to  the  distinction  and  the  privileges  of  free 
men.  In  this  assembly,  which  met  at  James-town,  ele- 
ven corporations  were  present,  by  their  representatives ; 
and  (hough  the  laws  which  they  enacted  were  neither 
numerous,  nor  of  great  consequence,  yet  the  meeting 
itself  is  to  be  regurdcd  as  an  important  era  in  the  his- 
tory of  Virginia.  The  constitution  was  now  formed  on 
the  model  of  that  which  was  established  in  England. 
The  highest  legislative  authority  was  lodged,  partly  in 
the  governor  representing  the  sovereign,  partly  in  a 
council  named  by  the  company,  and  representing  the 
peerage,  and  meant  also  to  assist  the  governor  in  the 
executive,  and  partly  in  a  body  of  men  chosen  by  (he 
settlers,  and  enjoying  (he  righ(s  and  privileges  of  the 
English  commons.  A  negative  was  reserved  to  the  so- 
vernor;  and  no  ordinance  was  held  to  be  of  force,  till 
it  was  seen  and  ratified  by  the  company  in  Europe. 

About  the  time  when  the  first  assembly  was  convok- 
ed, a  Dutch  ship  from  Africa,  arriving  at  James-town, 
a  part  of  her  cargo  of  negroes  was  purchased  by  the 
colony;  and  these  rapidly  increasing  their  numbers,  (he 
whole  field-work  in  Virginia  was,  in  a  short  time,  per- 
formed by  the  bands  of  slaves. 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  tranquillity  and  success,  a 
calamity  was  approaching,  which  was  both  unlooked 
for  and  severe.  Powhatan,  the  Indian  chief,  was  dead. 
He  was  succeeded  by  Opechancanough  his  son :  who 
not  only  inherited  the  dominion  of  his  father,  but  equal- 
led him  likewise  in  his  influence  over  the  neighbouring 
tribes.  With  impenetrable  secrecy,  and  no  small  ad- 
dress, he  formed  a  conspiracy  to  massacre  the  English, 


AMERICA. 


Glo 


and  to  deliver  the  country  froin  these  unwelcome  intru- 
deff,  who  were  living  in  the  utmost  security,  or  wan- 
dering from  |)li\ce  to  place,  unsuspicious  ol'  dsinger,  and 
unprepared  for  assault.  Not  a  word  or  look,  which 
could  indicate  Iheir  purpose,  escaped  IVoni  the  savages. 
They  traded  with  the  Europeans  as  formerly ;  they 
brought  in  provisions,  and  w(  re  considered  as  friends, 
w 'lom  there  was  no  reason  either  to  sus|>ect  or  io  dread. 
But  every  trihe  had  its  station  allotted  to  it,  and  the  day 
consecrated  to  vengeance  was  fixed.  On  the  22d  of 
March,  1&18,  they  rushed  upon  (he  English  in  all  their 
settlements,  and  in  the  fury  of  that  vindictive  spirit 
which  characterizes  the  American  savages,  they  butch- 
ered men,  women,  and  children,  without  pity  or  re- 
morse. In  many  places,  not  a  single  European  escaped  ; 
and  the  blow  was  bo  completely  unexpected,  that  they 
knew  not  from  whence  it  came.  One  man  only  of  the 
whole  conspiracy,  touched  with  compassion  for  the  set- 
tlers, or  moved  by  the  influence  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion, which  he  had  adopted,  felt  within  himself  a  dis- 
position to  reveal  the  secret ,  and  he  communicated  it 
(o  his  master  in  such  time,  as  to  prevent  James-town, 
and  some  of  the  adjacent  settlements,  from  experien- 
cing the  dreadful  effects  of  Indian  vengeance.  A  bloody 
war  ensued :  the  English,  by  their  arms,  their  disci- 
pline, and  the  succours  which  arrived  from  Europe, 
were  still  more  than  a  match  for  the  savages.  They 
hunted  them  like  wild  beasts ;  they  allured  them  from 
their  retreat  by  the  hopes  of  peace :  and  falling  upon 
their  settlements  at  the  time  of  the  harvest,  they  mur- 
dered them  with  relentless  cruelty,  and  destroyed  their 
possessions.  In  consequence  of  this  awful  retaliation, 
the  colony  was  left  undisturbed  by  the  natives,  and  the 
hopes  of  the  English  hecan  to  revive. 

But  the  company  in  London  were  by  no  means  so  pli- 
ant to  the  will  of  James  as  he  had  expected.  That 
sapient  monarch  now  discovered,  that  he  had  acted  un- 
wisely in  granting  to  them  the  high  privileges  which 
(hey  enjoyed.  They  delighted  to  thwart  his  inclinations, 
and  defeat  his  purposes ;  and  as  the  parties  which  now 
divide  the  British  senate  were  then  forming,  the  meet- 
ings of  the  council  were  the  theatre  on  which  the  popu- 
lar orators  displayed  their  eloquence ;  and  canvassed 
(he  measures  ol^  the  sovereign,  with  a  freedom  not  at  all 
agreeable  either  to  his  notions  of  his  own  wisdom,  or  of 
the  royal  prerogative.  He  attempted  to  model  anew 
the  government  of  Virginia ;  but  the  company  resisted, 
and  pleaded  the  validity  of  the  charter  which  they  had 
received.  This  exasperated  James  in  the  highest  de- 
gree. He  issued  a  writ  of  qito  warranto,  against  the 
pre|>rietors ;  the  cause  was  tried  in  the  court  of  king's 
bench,  and  decided  in  favour  of  the  crown  :  the  compa- 
ny was  dissolved,  and  its  rights  and  privileges  being 
forfeited,  returned  to  the  sovereign  by  whom  they  were 
bestowed.  James  unfortunately  died  when  he  was  em- 
ploying all  his  wisdom  in  contriving  a  suitable  mode  of 
government  for  the  colony  in  Virginia. 

Charles  I.  who  succeeded  James,  adopted  the  opi- 
nions of  his  father,  with  regard  to  the  American  settle- 
ments; and,  during  a  great  part  of  his  reign,  the  plan- 
ters knew-  no  other  law  than  the  will  of  the  sovereign. 
Harvey,  the  governor,  en!orced  every  act  of  power  with 
such  cruelty,  that  the  colonists,  rising  in  opposition  to 


his  authority-,  seized  his  person,  and  sent  him  prisoner 
to  England,  accompanied  witli  two  of  their  number  to 
eulistantiate  the  charges  which  they  brought  against 
him*.  This  was  looked  upon  by  Charles  as  little  short 
of  rebellion;  and  lUirvey  being  restored  to  his  office, 
was  iiitmsted  with  more  ample  [towers  than  before. 
The  deputies  were  not  even  allowed  to  prefer  their 
accusations  in  the  hearing  of  the  king.  Dissatisfaction 
prevailed  among  the  colonists.  Nor  could  the  mil-d  and 
temperate  governrnfut  of  sir  William  Berkeley,  who 
was  appointed  not  long  after  in  the  room  of  Har\fy, 
pacify  their  discontents;  till  Charles,  by  an  extraordi- 
nary deviation  from  bis  usual  conduct  respecting  the 
American  settlers,  ailowe<l  writs  to  be  issued,  ami  the 
representatives  of  the  (leople  to  be  called ;  (hat,  in  con- 
junction with  the  governor  and  his  council,  they  might 
give  their  voices  in  whatever  related  to  the  chief  inter- 
ests of  the  colony.  Berkeley  was  ordered  likewise  to 
establish  courts  of  justice  on  the  model  of  those  in 
England.  This  sudden  alteration  in  the  conduct  of 
Charles  is  ascribed,  by  Dr.  Robertson,  to  his  fears.  He 
was  about  to  convoke  his  parliament,  where  he  knew 
that  the  complaints  of  the  settlers  would  be  readily  at- 
tended to,  and  urged  as  the  evidences  of  his  arbitrary 
disposition ;  and  "  he  endeavoured  to  take  the  merit  of 
having  granted  voluntarily  to  his  people  in  V^irginia, 
such  privileges  as  he  foresaw  would  be  extorted  from 
him." — Hist.  ofJmer.  vol.  iii.  p.  273.  ed.  1801. 

After  the  downfal  and  the  death  of  Charles,  when  his 
authority  was  no  longer  acknowledged  in  England,  it 
was  still  preserved  in  Virginia.  Arms  alone  compelled 
sir  William  Berkeley  to  relinquish  the  government,  and 
descend  to  the  condition  of  a  private  man.  Here,  as  in 
other  places,  the  forces  of  the  parliament  were  success- 
ful ;  and,  under  officers  appointed  by  Cromwell,  the 
settlers  enjoyed  an  unbroken  tranquillity  during  a  period 
of  nine  years.  But  their  loyalty,  though  suppressed, 
was  by  no  means  extinguished.  They  returned  to  their 
allegiance ;  and  forcing  Berkeley  to  quit  his  retirement, 
they  elected  him  governor  of  the  colony,  and  were  the 
first  of  British  subjects  who  made  open  declaration  of 
their  attachment  to  Charles  II.  and  proclaimed  him  with 
all  his  titles. 

This  display  of  loyalty  was  not  rewarded  by  Charles, 
as  the  colonists  were  entitled  to  expect,  or  as  they  per- 
haps deserved.  But  the  king,  though  he  neither  enlarged 
the  boundaries  of  the  settlement,  nor  introduced  any 
regulation  Avhich  was  very  advantageous  to  its  com- 
merce, was,  nevertlieless,  sensible,  that  the  planters  had 
shown  themselves  attached  to  his  family,  and  spoke  of 
their  zeal  in  terms  of  high  commendation.  The  spirit 
which  influenced  the  parliament,  however,  was  by  no 
means  favourable  to'  the  American  settlers.  The  re- 
straints which  had  been  imposed  upon  their  commerce, 
during  the  usurpation,  were  not  removed.  They  were 
even  obliged  to  trade  within  more  narrow  limits.  The 
celebrated  Navigation  Act  was  passed  by  the  commons: 
and  in  this  memorable  statute,  it  was  ordained,  (12  Car. 
II.  c.  131.)  that  no  commoditie.-i  should  be  imported  into 
any  foreign  settlement,  unless  in  vessels  built  either  in 
England  or  its  plantations,  and  manned  witli  sailors,  of 
whom  three-fourths  were  the  subjects  of  Great  Britain  : 
that  none  but  Englishmen,  born  or  naturalized,  should 


*  The  discontents  which  took  place  during  the  time  that  Harvey  was  govenior,  were  augmented  hy  injudicious  g:-r.nts  of  land  within 
the  limits  of  the  colony ;  the  most  conspicuous  instance  of  which  was  that  of  Marjiimd  to  Uic  lord  B.iltimorc.  MjrshuH's  Li^e  o«" 
WatUngton,  »ol.  i.  p.  81, 


016 


AMERICA. 


act  as  nicrcliauU  or  factors  in  any  or  the  colonies :  that 
no  ginger,  tobacco,  sugar,  cotton,  wool,  indigo,  or  other 
articles  enumerated  in  the  bill,  should  be  exported  from 
the  colonies  to  any  country  but  England:  and  (A.  D. 
1063.)  that  no  European  commodity  should  be  imported 
into  the  colonies  that  had  not  been  shipped  in  England, 
and  in  vessels  built  and  manned  as  has  been  stated 
above.  The  Act  of  Navigation,  however,  allowed  the 
.-iettlers  in  America  to  export  the  enumerated  commo- 
dities from  one  plantation  to  another,  without  paying 
?iny  duty  :  but  in  the  year  1672,  they  were  further  sub- 
jected to  a  tax  equivalent  to  what  was  paid  by  the  con- 
sumers of  the  same  commodities  in  England.  In  the 
.subsequent  transactions  of  the  mother  country  and  the 
colonies,  we  shall  find  a  perpetual  and  undeviating  ef- 
fort on  the  part  of  the  former  to  support  these  restraints ; 
and  on  the  part  of  the  latter  to  break  through  or  elude 
them. 

As  soon  as  the  intelligence  of  what  the  commons  had 
done,  in  passing  the  act  of  navigatioa,  reached  Virgi- 
ni'.i,  that  imi)ortant  statute  was  felt  as  a  grievance  by  all 
the  settlers.  They  petitioned  earnestly  for  relief,  but 
■without  effect.  Murmurs  and  dissatisfaction  spread 
through  the  colony.  It  was  openly  maintained,  that  they 
ought  to  assert  their  rights  by  force  of  arms;  and  they 
wanted  nothing  but  a  leader  to  carry  them  to  all  the 
extravagances  of  actual  rebellion.  This  leader  they 
found  in  Nathaniel  Bacon,  a  man  of  great  influence 
among  the  people  ;  eloquent,  ambitious,  and  daring.  He 
had  been  appointed  by  the  council  to  conduct  the  war 
against  the  Indians,  at  the  heads  of  the  rivers,  who  had 
lately  become  troublesome,  and  even  formidable  to  the 
settlers :  but,  instead  of  marching  against  the  savages, 
he  turned  directly  towanis  James-town,  drove  the  go- 
vernor across  the  bay  to  the  eastern  shore,  and  took  the 
supreme  authority  into  his  own  hands.  Nor  was  he 
destitute  of  support  in  his  new  situation.  Many  of  the 
respectable  planters  acknowledged  his  Jurisdiction,  and 
declared  their  resolution  of  adhering  to  him  with  Iheir 
lives  and  fortunes,  till  such  time  as  they  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  laying  their  grievances  before  their  sovereign. 
Meanwhile,  Berkeley  had  transmitted  an  account  of  the 
insurrection  to  Europe,  and  a  body  of  troops  arrived 
from  England.  But  just  as  he  was  about  to  take  the 
tield  with  all  his  strength.  Bacon  sickened  and  died,  (A. 
D.  1677,)  and  his  followers,  deprived  of  their  leader, 
submitted  without  reluctance  to  the  authority  of  the 
governor.  Soon  after,  colonel  Jefferies  was  appointed 
in  the  room  of  sir  William  Berkeley ;  and  from  that 
period  to  the  revolution  in  1688,  there  is  scarcely  any 
memorable  occurrence  in  the  history  of  Vii^inia. 

The  administration,  however,  was  still  carried  on  in 
the  full  spirit  of  arliitrary  dominion ;  and  the  Virginians, 
though  their  constitution  resembled  that  of  England  in 
its  form,  were  so  utterly  unacquainted  with  liberty,  that 
they  were  denied  even  the  privilege  of  complaining,  the 
last  consolation  of  the  oppressed :  for  they  were  pro- 
Iribited  by  a  law,  and  under  severe  penalties,  "  from 
speaking  disrespectfully  of  the  governor,  or  defaming, 
either  by  words  or  writing,  the  administration  of  the 
colony."  (Robertson's  Atncr.  vol.  iii.  p.  288.)  Yet, 
notwithstanding  these  circumstances,  they  doubled  their 
numbers  in  lesg  than  twenty-eight  years. 

The  efforts  of  the  company  at  Plymouth  were  neither 
EO  vl);orou!>,  nor  at  firat  so  successful,  as  those  of  the 
eomiiany  in  London. 


For  a  while,  their  attempts  were  limited  to  Toyageg 
made  for  the  purpose  of  taking  fish,  or,  at  most,  of  trad- 
ing with  the  natives,  and  procuring  furs.  In  one  of 
these  attempts  Captain  Smith,  ol  whom  we  have  spoken 
in  the  history  of  Virginia,  explored  with  accuracy, 
(A.  n.  1614,)  that  part  of  the  American  coast,  which 
stretches  from  Penobscot  to  Cape  Cod  :  and  having  de- 
lineated a  map  of  the  country,  he  presented  it  to  Charles, 
prince  of  Wales,  who  gave  to  the  region  that  Smith 
had  visited  the  name  of  New  England,  which  it  still 
retains. 

But  what  the  exertions  of  the  company  were  unable 
to  accomplish,  was  effected  by  a  principle  which  has, 
at  all  times,  had  a  chief  share  in  the  revolutions  that 
take  place  in  human  affairs.  AA'hen  the  light  oi'  ihe 
Reformation  had  dawned  upon  Europe,  the  extravagant 
doctrines  and  absurd  practices  of  the  Romish  church 
filled  the  minds  of  those  who  had  ventured  to  think 
freely  on  religious  topics,  with  horror  and  irreconcilea- 
ble  aversion.  The  spirit  which  prevailed  at  that  time 
was  by  no  means  satisfied  either  with  the  partial  changes 
which  took  place  in  the  reigns  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Eli- 
zabeth, or  the  imperious  manner  in  which  these  sove- 
reigns dictated  a  creed  to  their  people  :  and  the  less  so, 
as  the  opinions  of  the  royal  theologians  themselves,  es- 
pecially those  of  the  former,  had  undergone  consider- 
able alterations.  Elizabeth  determined  that  all  her 
subjects  should  conform  to  the  belief  which  she  had 
chosen  for  them,  established  a  High  Commission  for 
ecclesiastical  affairs ;  with  powers  not  inlerior,  or  less 
hostile  to  the  rights  of  conscience,  than  those  of  the  In- 
quisition in  Spain.  Some  attempts  were  made  in  the 
bouse  of  commons  to  check  these  arbitrary  and  odious 
proceedings  :  but  Elizabeth  interfered  with  her  preroga- 
tive, and  the  guardians  of  the  people  were  silent.  They 
even  consented  to  an  act,  by  which  those  who  should 
be  absent  from  church  for  a  month,  were  subjected  to  a 
fine  and  imprisonment,  and  if  they  persisted  in  their 
obstinacy,  to  death,  without  benefit  of  clergy.  In  con- 
sequence of  this  iniquitous  statute,  and  the  distresses  in 
which  the  puritans  were  involved,  a  bmly  of  them,  called 
Brownisis,  from  the  name  of  their  founder,  left  England, 
and  settled  at  Leyden,  in  Holland,  under  the  care  of 
Mr.  John  Robinson,  their  pastor.  But  this  situation  at 
length  proving  disagreeable  to  them,  and  their  children 
intermarrying  with  the  Dutch,  they  were  afiprehensive 
lest  their  church,  which  they  regarded  as  a  model  of 
untarnished  purity,  should  gradually  decay ;  and  having 
obtained  a  promise  from  James  I.  that  they  should  not 
be  molested  in  the  exercise  of  their  religion,  they  fled 
to  America,  and  founded  the  colony  of  New  Plymouth. 
They  continueil  for  some  time  to  adhere  to  their  reli- 
gious opinions,  but  never  became  so  numerous  as  to  at- 
tract, in  any  great  degree,  the  attention  of  the  mother 
country.  They  were  afterwards  united  to  the  colony  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,  the  origin  and  progress  of  which 
we  shnll  now  relate. 

From  the  tranquillity  which  the  Brownisfs  had  enjoy- 
ed at  New  Plymouth,  and  the  sufferings  to  which  those 
who  held  the  same  opinions  were  exposed  in  England, 
an  association  was  formed  by  Mr.  White,  a  clergyman 
at  Dorchester,  in  order  to  lead  a  new  colony  to  that  part 
of  America  where  their  bre  Ihren  were  settled.  They 
apiilied  to  the  Grand  tjouncil  of  Plymouth,  of  which  the 
duke  of  Lennox  and  the  marquis  of  Buckingham  were 
members,  (for  the  original  company  had  been  dissolved 
by  the  authority  of  the  king,)  and  purchased  from  them 


AMERICA. 


617 


all  that  part  of  New  England,  which  lies  three  miles  to 
the  south  of  Charles  river,  and  three  miles  to  the  north 
ot  Merrimac  river,  and  extends  from  the  Atlantic 
ocean  to  the  Soulh  sea.  They  obtained  a  charter  from 
Charles  I.  hy  which  the  same  ample  privileges  were 
conferred  upon  them,  which  James  had  conferred  upon 
the  two  companies  of  Virginia :  and  they  obtained  it 
with  a  facility  which  appears  to  us  altogether  unac- 
countable, when  we  think  of  the  principles  and  vieivs  of 
those  to  whom  it  was  granted.  They  embarked,  to  the 
number  of  300,  in  five  ships,  (A.  D.  1629,)  and  landed 
at  New  England.  They  found  there  the  remains  of  a 
small  body  of  puritans,  who  had  loft  their  country  the 
year  before,  under  Endicott,  a  frantic  enthusiast :  and 
uniting  with  these,  they  settled  at  a  place  to  which  En- 
dicott had  given  the  name  of  Salem.  This  was  the  first 
permanent  town  in  Massachusetts. 

All  these  emigrants  were  puritans  of  the  strictest 
sort,  and  their  notions  of  ecclesiastical  affairs  were  re- 
duced to  the  lowest  standard  of  Calvinistic  simplicity. 
But  with  an  inconsistency  of  which  there  are  many 
examples,  and  with  which  no  particular  sect  can  be 
charged  to  the  exclusion  of  others,  the  very  men  who 
b.  d  just  escaped  from  the  intolerance  of  persecution  in 
England,  shortly  after  their  arrival,  banished  two  of  their 
number  from  the  settlement,  on  account  of  a  diflerence  in 
religious  opinion. 

It  was  by  no  means  agreeable  to  the  planters  in  Ame- 
rica, that  they  should  be  governed  by  the  company  in 
England,  the  members  of  which  were  at  a  distance,  and 
unacquainted  with  their  circumstances  :  and  not  a  few 
of  the  proprietors  themselves  were  disheartened  by  the 
ofipression  of  Laud,  and  eager  to  be  disengaged  from  an 
adventure  which  was  yet  unpromising.  It  was  there- 
fore determined  t>y  general  consent,  that  "  the  charter 
should  be  transferred,  and  the  government  of  the  cor- 
poration settled  in  Massachusetts  Bay."  This  is  per- 
haps the  most  remarkable  occurrence  in  the  history  of 
English  colonization.  The  right  of  the  company  to 
make  such  a  translerence  is  very  questionable.  The 
indifference  of  the  king  in  allowing  it  to  take  place  is 
no  less  astonishing :  but  he  was  engaged  at  this  time 
in  disputes  with  his  parlinraent,  and  perhaps  was  not 
displeased  that  a  body  of  his  subjects,  who  were  known 
for  their  dislike  to  his  government,  were  removed  to  a 
country  where  their  turbulent  spirit  could  not  so  easily 
prove  dangerous  to  his  interests.  Whatever  was  the 
reason  of  Charles's  connivance,  the  adventurers  pro- 
ceeded without  delay  to  execute  their  plans.  In  a  gene- 
ral court,  Winthrop  was  chosen  governor,  and  eighteen 
persons  were  nominated  his  assistants;  and  in  these, 
together  with  a  body  of  freemen  who  should  settle  in 
New  England,  all  the  rights  of  the  company  were  vest- 
ed. In  consequence  of  this  alteration,  seventeen  vessels, 
and  three  hundred  planters,  sailed  for  America.  As 
!.oon  as  they  arrived  at  New  England,  they  explored  the 
country  in  quest  of  a  better  station  than  that  of  Endicott 
at  Salem,  and  laid  the  foundations  of  many  towns,  espe- 
cially those  of  Charlestown  and  Boston. 

As  the  same  causes  which  at  first  led  to  emigration 
continued  to  operate,  the  number  of  the  settlers  increas- 
ed, by  arrivals  from  Europe  almost  every  year.  Among 
those  who  left  their  country  about  this  time,  were  two 
])ersons,  afterwards  distinguished  on  a  more  conspicuous 
theatre — Peters,  the  chaplain  and  assistant  of  Oliver 
Cromwell,  and  Mr.  Vane,  son  to  sir  Henry  Vane,  a  man 
gf  note,  a  privy  counsellor,  and  of  great  influence  with 
Vol.  I.    Part  II. 


the  king.  Mr.  Vane  was  received  by  the  planters  with 
the  fondest  admiration.  His  grave  and  mortified  ap- 
pearance, and  his  reputation  for  wisdom  and  piety,  to- 
gether with  the  attention  which  he  paid  to  the  leading 
members  of  the  church,  all  conspired  to  render  him  the 
favourite  of  the  people;  and  he  was  appointed  to  the 
office  of  governor  with  universal  approbation.  But  the 
part  which  he  took  in  the  religious  disputes  which  then 
agitated  the  colony,  detaching  many  of  his  adherent* 
from  his  interest,  he  quitted  America  in  disgust,  unrc- 
gretted  even  by  tliose  who  had  so  lately  admired  him. 

Besides  the  meetings  for  the  worship  of  God  on  Sun- 
day, and  the  lecture  every  Thursday,  the  inhabitants  of 
Boston  assembled  on  the  other  days  of  the  week,  for  the 
purposes  of  religious  conference  and  theological  discus- 
sion. With  a  pro|)riety  which  has  not  always  distin- 
guished the  enthusiastic  and  the  visionary,  the  females 
^vere  strictly'  excluded  from  these  assemblies.  But  Mr?. 
Hutchinson,  a  woman  of  some  talents,  and  not  deficient 
in  eloquence,  instituted  a  meeting  of  the  sisters  also : 
and  her  lectures  were  at  first  attended  by  many  respect- 
able persons  of  her  own  sex.  The  number  of  these 
daily  increased.  The  doctrines  of  Mrs.  Hutchinson  soon 
l)ecame  public,  and  generally  Itnown :  and  Vane,  the 
governor,  whose  prudence  always  forsook  him,  when  his 
thoughts  were  turned  towards  religious  subjects,  es- 
poused the  wildest  of  her  tenets  with  the  zeal  which 
characterized  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  She  main- 
tained, that  purity  of  life  was  not  an  evidence  of  accept- 
ance with  God  :  that  those  who  inculcated  tlie  necessity 
ofa  virtuous  conduct,  preached  only  a  covenant  of  works: 
and  that  as  the  Holy  Ghost  dwells  personally  in  such  as 
are  justified,  they  have  no  occasion  Ibr  positive  laws  to 
regulate  their  actions.  These  tenets,  equally  hostile  to 
good  sense,  and  pernicious  to  society,  were  adopted  and 
defended  by  many  of  the  colonists.  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  in 
order  to  separate  her  followers  from  such  as  opposed 
her,  drew  a  marked  line  of  distinction  between  them  : 
the  former  she  described  as  under  a  covenant  of  grace, 
and  in  a  state  of  favour  with  the  Almighty ;  and  the  lat- 
ter, as  under  a  covenant  of  works,  and  the  objects  of  his 
displeasure.  Disseotions  prevailed,  and  rose  to  a  great 
height.  Religious  conferences  were  held  ;  days  of  fast- 
ing and  humiliation  were  appointed;  a  general  synod 
was  called ;  and,  at  last,  to  the  honour  of  our  rational 
nature,  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  opinions  were  condemned  as 
erroneous ;  and  she  herself  was  banished  from  the  colo- 
ny. It  was  after  this  decision  that  Vane  quitted  the 
settlement. 

But  whatever  the  pernicious  consequences  of  these 
theological  disputes  might  be,  they  certainly  contributed 
to  the  more  speedy  population  of  America.  The  pro- 
ceedings against  Mrs.  Hutchinson  excited  no  little  dis- 
gust in  the  minds  of  those  who  adhered  to  her  senti- 
ments. A  party  of  these  withdrawing  from  the  commu- 
nion of  their  brethren,  joined  themselves  to  the  tlisciples 
of  Williams,  who  was  banished  from  Salem  in  the  yeai 
1  t;3J ;  and  purchasing  from  the  Indians  an  Island  in  Nar- 
raganset-bay,  they  gave  it  the  name  of  Rhode  Island, 
and  settled  there.  The  colony  of  Connecticut  owes  its 
origin  to  the  dissentions  between  Hooker  and  Cotton, 
two  favourite  preachers  in  Massachusetts;  and  those  of 
New  Hampshire  and  Maine,  chiefly  to  the  separation  of 
Wheelwright,  a  proselyte  of  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  from  the 
rest  of  the  commuuity  in  the  same  province. 

These  new  establishments  exposed  the  English  io 
great  dangers  from  the  Indians,  by  whom  they  wer** 
4  I 


(318 


AMERICA. 


surrounded.  The  Pequods,  an  ancient  and  martial  tribe, 
were  the  first  who  took  the  alarm.  Relinquishing  their 
former  animosities,  they  proposed  to  the  Narragansets 
that  they  should  unite  against  the  common  enemy  ; 
whose  numbers  became  every  day  more  formidable,  and 
whose  progress  threatened  them  both  with  indiscrimi- 
nate ruin.  But  such  was  the  love  of  revenge,  or  the 
want  of  foresight  on  the  part  of  the  Narragansets,  that 
instead  of  joining  with  the  Pequods  in  defence  of  their 
country  and  their  freedom,  they  communicated  the  pro- 
jwsal  which  had  been  made  to  them  to  the  governor  of 
Massachusetts-bay ;  and  united  with  him  against  the 
Indians,  whom  it  was  the  English  interest  to  oppose. 
The  Pequods,  exasperated  rather  than  discouraged,  look 
the  field,  and  laid  siege  to  Fort-Saybrooke.  Captain 
Tenderhill  was  despatched  to  its  relief;  and  it  was 
agreed  by  the  colonies  of  Massachusetts,  Plymouth,  and 
Connecticut,  that  they  should  march  next  year  into  the 
country  of  the  enemy,  and  put  a  final  termination  to 
their  hostilities.  The  troops  of  Connecticut  were  first 
in  motion.  But  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  was  divided 
about  the  covenant  of  works  and  the  covenant  of  grace : 
It  was  found,  that  some,  both  of  the  officers  and  men 
who  were  to  fight  its  battles,  were  yet  under  the  cove- 
nant of  works :  the  others  therefore  declared,  that  the 
blessing  of  God  could  not  rest  on  the  arms  of  such  as 
differed  from  them  on  this  metaphysical  question ;  and 
it  was  not  till  after  much  alarm,  and  many  changes,  that 
they  were  sufficiently  pure  to  begin  the  war.  In  the 
meanwhile,  the  troops  of  Connecticut  were  obliged  to 
advance  against  the  enemy.  The  Indians  were  posted 
on  a  rising  ground,  not  far  from  the  head  of  the  river 
Mystic,  and  had  fortified  themselves  with  pallisadoes; 
the  only  method  of  defence  with  which  they  were  ac- 
quainted. They  had  been  deceived  by  the  movement 
of  the  English  vessels  from  Saybrooke  to  Narraganset; 
and,  imagining  that  the  expedition  was  abandoned,  had 
given  themselves  up  to  riot  and  security.  At  the  break 
of  day,  while  the  Indians  were  overpowered  with  sleep, 
the  colonists  approached  ;  and  had  not  the  savages  been 
alarmed  by  the  barking  of  a  dog,  their  surprise  and  de- 
struction would  have  beep  complete.  They  instantly 
raised  the  war-cry,  and  flew  to  such  arms  as  they  pos- 
sessed. But  though  tiieir  courage  was  great,  they  were 
speedily  discomfited  by  the  discipline  and  bravery  of  the 
Europeans.  The  English  shot  at  them  through  tlie 
palisadoes,  forced  their  way  through  the  works,  and  set 
fire  to  their  huts.  Many  of  the  women  and  children 
perished  in  the  flames.  The  confusion  and  terror  be- 
came general,  and  scarcely  any  of  the  party  escaped. 
Tills  blow  was  followed  by  others  equally  effectual.  The 
troops  of  Connecticutbeing reinforced  at  length  by  those 
of  Massachusetts,  they  pursued  the  enemy  from  one 
retreat  to  another;  and  in  less  than  three  months,  the 
Pequods  were  so  completely  extirpated,  that  their  very 
•  name  as  a  tribe  was  lost.  A  few  individuals,  who  es- 
caped the  general  carnage,  were  incorporated  with  the 
neighbouring  Indians. 
I  In  consequence  of  this  decisive  campaign,  which  was 

marked  by  cruelties,  required  neither  by  good  policy  nor 
by  necessity,  the  English  enjoyed  a  long  tranquillity  in 
ail  their  colonies. 

Immediately  after  the  termination  of  the  war.  New- 
haven  was  settled. 

The  number  of  emigrants  from  England  still  con- 
tinued to  increase.  Multitudes,  driven  from  their  coun- 
try by.  the  oppresslou  of  its  rulers,  found  safety  and  pro- 


tection in  the  colonies  of  America.  Charles  1.  alarmed 
at  the  diminution  of  his  subjects  at  home,  issued  a  pro- 
clamation, by  which  the  masters  of  ships  were  forbidden 
to  carry  passengers  to  New  England  without  his  per- 
mission ;  a  mandate,  wliich,  though  it  was  often  disre- 
garded, operated  in  one  instance  with  a  full  and  fatal 
effeet.  Sir  Arthur  Haslerig,  Oliver  Cromwell,  John 
Hampden,  and  others  of  the  same  principles,  had  hired 
some  ships  to  carry  them  to  America  :  and  the  king  laid 
an  embargo  on  the  vessels  just  when  they  were  ready 
to  sail.  By  this  means,  he  forcibly  detained  in  England 
the  persons  who  afterwards  disturbed  his  tranquillity,  in- 
volved the  nation  in  a  civil  war,  overturned  the  throne, 
and  brought  the  monarch  himself  to  the  scaffold.  The 
order  of  Charles  was  utterly  insufficient  to  stop  the  pro- 
gress of  emigration.  In  the  year  1638,  above  three 
thousand  persons,  choosing  rather  to  incur  the  displea- 
sure of  the  king,  than  remain  under  the  tyranny  of  his 
government,  embarked  for  New  England,  and  were 
gladly  received  by  the  planters.  Enraged  at  this  con- 
tempt of  his  authority,  Charles  issued  a  writ  of  quo  war- 
ranto against  the  corporation  of  Massachusetts-bay,  and 
its  patent  was  declared  to  be  forfeited.  But  as  the  trou- 
bles of  his  reign  were  approaching,  he  was  prevented 
from  atteuding  to  the  situation  of  the  colonies  in  the 
Western  World. 

When  the  parliament  took  the  government  of  England 
into  their  own  hands,  the  causes  of  emigration  ceased 
at  once  to  operate.  The  puritans  were  not  only  delivered 
from  oppression,  but  constituted  a  great  body  of  the  na- 
tion, and  directed  every  thing  by  their  authority  and  in- 
fluence. The  effects  of  this  change  upon  the  colonies 
were  immediate.  The  price  of  provisions  fell  in  all  the 
settlements.  A  milch  cow,  which  was  sold  for  30/.  at 
the  time  when  the  influx  of  strangers  was  greatest, 
might  now  have  been  purchased  for  0/.  and  other  arti- 
cles, necessary  to  life,  sustained  an  equal  diminution. 
The  properly  of  the  colonists  became  more  fixed  and 
settled,  and  the  rewards  of  industry  more  secure.  And 
it  was  towards  the  close  of  the  period  at  which  we  have 
arrived,  that  the  planters  had  the  first  returns  for  their 
stock ;  as  about  that  time  they  were  able  to  export  a 
small  quantity  of  corn  to  the  West  Indies.  Every  act 
of  the  parliament  was  friendly  to  the  interest  of  the  set- 
tlers. They  exempted  them  from  all  duties  whatso- 
ever, either  on  the  goods  which  they  received  from  Eu- 
rope, or  on  those  which  they  imported  into  the  mother 
country:  and  this  umisual  exemption  was  afterwards  con- 
firmed to  them  in  its  utmost  extent.  The  leaders  of  the 
commons  in  England  appear  to  have  considered  the 
Americans  as  friends,  whom  they  could  not  sufficiently 
oblige,  and  whose  encroachments  they  had  no  reason  to 
fear.  Thoy  allowed  the  colonies  of  Plymouth,  Massa- 
chusetts, Connecticut,  and  Newhaven,  to  enter  into  a 
league  of  perpetual  confederacy,  offensive  and  defen- 
sive ;  which  these  colonies  regarded  as  necessary,  in 
onlcr  to  protect  themselves  from  the  Indians,  and  from 
the  Dutch  at  Manhadoes,  whose  views  were  supi)osed  to 
be  hostile.  It  was  agreed  by  the  confederates,  that  they 
should  be  distinguished  by  the  name  of  The  United 
Colonies  of  New  England;  that  each  colony  should  re- 
tain a  distinct  and  separate  jurisdiction  ;  that  in  every 
war  each  colony  should  furnish  its  proportion  of  men, 
according  to  its  population ;  that  all  questions  of  gene- 
ral interest  should  be  determined  by  commissioners  ap- 
pointed by  the  colonies,  that  each  colony  should  appoint 
two  commissioners  for  tJiat  purpose ;  aad  tJiat  every  de- 


A>IERICA. 


Old 


ierminatioD,  in  which  six  of  the  commissioners  agreed, 
shouhi  be  obligatory  upon  the  whole  assoriation.  From 
this  conlederacy  Rhode-island  was  excluded. 

But  the  indulgence  of  the  parliament  towards  these 
settlers  in  New  England  did  not  stop  here.  They  even 
permitted  them  to  usurp  the  privileges  of  royalty,  and  to 
coin  money  at  Boston,  without  notice  or  remonstrance. 
A  peace  was  concluded  with  the  Dutch.  The  Indians 
had  ceased  to  infest  the  colony;  and  the  planters,  exert- 
ing themselves  with  vigour  under  all  tlicir  privileges 
and  encouragements,  enjoyed  an  unbroken  tranquillity 
till  Charles  U.  was  restored  to  (he  dominions  of  his  an- 
cestors, and  the  authority  of  the  puritans  abolished. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  favourable  circumstances, 
the  intolerant  spirit  of  their  religious  sentiments  re- 
mained in  its  full  force.  The  government  exerted  it- 
self in  maintaining  the  purity  of  the  faith,  and  in  the 
holy  work  (as  it  was  called)  of  punishing  heretics. 
They  were  deprived  of  their  rights  as  freemen;  they 
were  fined  and  imprisoned ;  they  w  ere  scourged,  and 
put  to  death.  The  quakers,  who  were  branded  with  the 
name  of  open  and  public  blasphemers,  suffered  particu- 
larly from  the  rigom-  of  these  proceedings ;  but  none  of 
those  who  differed  from  the  opinions  of  the  men  in 
power,  were  permitted  to  escape.  At  this  unhappy 
time  it  was  not  discovered,  that  it  is  beyond  the  author- 
ity of  the  magistrate  to  regulate  the  decisions  of  intel- 
lect, and  that  persecution  is  the  worst  engine  that  can 
be  employed  (or  abolishing  the  differences  of  religious 
opinion. 

The  restoration  of  Charles  was  an  event  by  no  means 
agreeable  to  the  settlers  in  New  England.  They  had 
been  fostered  under  the  care  of  the  parliament  and 
Cromwell,  and  were  republicans  both  in  religion  and 
politics.  No  sooner  had  the  monarch  been  seated  on 
his  throne,  than  his  attention,  as  well  as  that  of  his  peo- 
ple, was  turned  to  the  colonies  of  America.  The  navi- 
gation act  was  passed  and  enforced.  The  settlements 
of  Rhode-island  and  Connecticut  were  established  by 
charter.  The  people  of  Massachusetts,  though  they 
neither  proclaimed  the  king,  nor  formally  acknowledged 
his  authority,  received  with  respect  and  kindness, 
Whaley  and  Goff,  the  judges  Avhom  he  had  appoint- 
ed. But  all  doubt  of  the  universal  and  joyful  submis- 
sion to  Charles  being  dispelled,  with  the  flexibility  of 
men  who  have  much  to  lose,  they  voted  an  address,  full 
of  loyalty  and  attacliment  to  their  sovereign,  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  without  giving  up  what  they  conceived  to  be 
their  rights.  Not  long  after,  it  was  determined  by  the 
general  court,  that  the  royal  warrant  to  apprehend  Wha- 
ley and  Goff,  for  sonie  offence  against  the  king,  should 
be  faithfully  executed :  but  these  persons  were  allowed 
to  escape  to  Connecticut,  and  to  remain  there  during  the 
rest  of  their  lives.  The  republican  spirit  still  prevail- 
ed among  the  settlers.  They  neglected  to  comply  with 
the  orders  of  the  king,  enjoining  more  liberality  in 
ecclesiastical  affairs  :  and  though  they  received  his 
commissioners,  appointed  to  hear  com|>Iaints  and  ap- 
peals, and  enabled  them,  by  their  assistance,  to  conquer 
the  Dutch,  and  take  possession  of  their  settlements,  yet 
their  obedience  was  that  of  necessity,  and  different  alto- 
gether from  the  promptitude  of  voluntary  service.  They 
declared  in  a  general  court,  that  the  proceedings  of  the 
commissioners  had  been  a  disturbance  of  the  public 
peace;  and  Charles  having  heard  what  the  sentiments 
of  the  colonists  were  respecting  the  officers  whom  he 


had  appointed,  summoned  the  latter  into  his  presence, 
and  ordered  the  agents  of  the  former  to  appear  at  the 
same  time.  But  the  court  affected  to  disbelieve  the  au- 
thenticity of  the  letter  containing  the  order  for  their  at- 
tendance, and  excused  themselves  in  the  best  manner 
they  could.  After  the  departure  of  the  commissioner?. 
New  England  was  for  some  time  quiet  and  prosperous. 

The  repose  of  the  colonists  was  inten-upted  by  the  In- 
dians in  the  neighbourhood  of  Massachusetts-bay.  Phi- 
lip, their  leader,  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  confederacy, 
obliged  the  settlers  to  contend,  not  for  their  possessions 
only,  but  also  for  their  lives.  The  struggle  was  long 
and  bloody.  The  progress  of  the  Indians  was  marked 
wherever  they  went  with  slaughter  and  desolation  :  and 
six  hundred  of  the  colonists,  the  strength  and  flower  of 
New  England,  either  fell  in  battle,  or  were  murdered  by 
the  enemy.  The  result  of  the  whole  was  favourable  to 
the  English. 

As  the  republican  spirit  continued  to  show  itself  in 
every  transaction  of  the  settlers,  a  writ  of  qvo  warranto 
was  issued  by  Charles  II.  against  the  company  of  Mas- 
sachusetts; and  in  1684,  "  the  letters-patent,  and  the 
enrolment  thereof,"  were  cancelled.  The  other  colo- 
nies were  deprived  of  their  charters  in  the  arbitrary  and 
oppressive  reign  of  .lames  11.  and  reduced  to  a  total  de- 
pendence upon  the  crown.  But  the  people  of  New  Eng- 
land did  not  submit  to  the  king  without  great  reluct- 
ance ;  they  thwarted  his  measures ;  they  disregarded 
the  navigation  act ;  and  some  intelligence  of  the  pro- 
gress of  William  of  Orange  having  reached  them,  they 
assembled  tumultuously  at  Boston,  and,  seizing  the  go- 
vernor and  his  assistants,  they  threw  them  into  prison. 
William  and  Mary  were  afterwards  proclaimed  with 
universal  demonstrations  of  joy. 

Having  traced  the  origin  and  progress  of  the  colonies 
in  Virginia  and  New  England,  we  shall  here  introduce 
the  dates  of  the  other  settlements,  which  form  a  part  of 
the  United  States  of  America. 


Name*  of  placet.  When  settled. 


New- York,    -     .     about  1614, 


New-Jersey,  .     .    A.  D.  1664, 

South  Carolina,  .     .     .-     1669, 
Pennsylvania,     .     .     .     1682, 

North  Carolina,     about  1728, 

Georgia, 1732, 

Kentucky,      .     .     .     .     1773, 

Vermont,  .     .    .    about  1764, 

Territory  north-west  of  the 
Ohio, 1787, 

Tennessee,  on  the  south  of 
Kentucky. 

412 


By  wfcora. 

!  By  the  Dutch;  aftel^ 
wards  taken,  and 
established  by  the 
English. 
{Granted  to  the  duke 
of  York  by  Charles 
II.  but  settled  be- 
fore. 

By  governor  Sayle. 
(  By  Wm.Penn,anda 
\  colony  of  quakers. 
C  Erected  into  a  se|>a- 
l  rate  government ; 
(    settled  before. 

<  By   general    Ogle- 
\    thorpe. 

By  col.  Daniel  Boon. 

fBy  emigrants  from 
Connecticut,  and 
other  parts  of  New 
England- 

<  By  the   Ohio,  and 
\    other  companies. 


^20 


ABIERICA. 


Besides  the  Iniliaus,  the  Frencli  iu  Canada  and  Aca- 
dia were  destined,  tor  a  while,  to  check  the  pretensions, 
and  mar  the  prosperity  of  the  English  colonies.  The 
rival  nations  attempted  to  settle  in  America  about  the 
same  time;  and  in  the  year  1608,  James  I.  of  England 
granted  to  the  companies  of  Virginia  a  part  of  the  ter- 
ritory v.'hich  had  been  allotted,  three  years  before,  to  M. 
de  Monts,  by  Henry  IV.  of  France.  This  was  an  imme- 
diate cause  of  dispute  and  ^varfare.  Under  various  com- 
missions and  dififerent  leailers,  the  French  had  possess- 
ed themselves  of  Canada  and  Acadia ;  and  at  the  peri- 
otl  to  which  we  have  brought  the  history  of  the  English 
colonies,  they  had  gained  over  the  Indians  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood, and  were  preparing  to  attack  the  settlement 
of  New-York.  The  chief  stations  of  the  French  in  North 
America,  were,  Quebec,  Montreal,  and  Port-Royal. 

The  fate  of  the  colonies,  like  that  of  other  dependants, 
was  wholly  regulated  by  the  measures  which  their  su- 
periors ado;)ted.  About  this  time,  Louis  XIV.  was  mak- 
ing rapid  strides  towards  universal  dominion ;  and  Wil- 
liam of  Orange,  now  elevated  to  the  English  throne,  was 
equally  zealous  and  active  in  resisting  his  ambitious  at- 
tempts. When  hostilities  commenced  in  Europe,  the 
colonies  in  America  began  likewise  to  annoy  each  other 
in  their  several  possessions.  The  French,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  their  Indian  allies,  made  predatory  incursions 
into  ditferent  parts  of  New  England  :  and  a  war  of  this 
kind,  attended  with  much  expense,  and  no  little  indivi- 
dual misery,  was  for  some  time  carried  on. 

It  was  frequently  intended  by  the  ministry  in  Great 
Britain,  to  send  an  armament  into  North  America  for 
the  protection  of  the  colonies,  and  the  invasion  of  Can- 
ada ;  but  the  affairs  of  Europe  requiring  all  their  atten- 
tion, the  settlers  were  obliged  to  arm  in  their  own  de- 
fence. At  length.  Colonel  Nicholson  was  despatched  to 
England  in  order  to  represent  the  state  of  the  country 
to  queen  Anne ;  and  to  petition  for  such  assistance  as 
would  enable  them  to  attack  the  French  in  their  pos- 
sessions, and  to  deliver  themselves  from  an  enemy  who 
was  both  troublesome  and  dangerous.  Soon  after,  Ni- 
cholson returned  with  five  frigates  and  a  bomli-Icetch:  but 
the  colonies  were  to  furnish  the  troops  which  might  he 
requisite  for  the  expedition.  It  was  resolved  to  attack 
Port-Royal  in  Acadia.  The  whole  armament,  consisting 
of  one  regiment  of  marines,  and  four  regiments  of  pro- 
vincials, sailed  from  Boston,  (A.  1).  1707,)  and  invested 
the  place,  which  surrendered  without  opposition.  Vetch 
was  appointed  governor ;  and  the  name  of  the  town  was 
changed  from  Port-Royal  to  Annapolis,  in  honour  of  the 
queen.  This,  however,  was  a  trifling  and  an  inefTectual 
blow.  More  powerful  aid  was  necessary  :  and  Nicholson 
was  again  despatched  to  Europe,  in  order  to  solicit  the 
prompt  and  decided  interference  of  England.  Contrary 
to  all  expectation  and  belief,  hia  mission  was  successful. 
Hean-ived  at  Boston  in  the  year  1711,  with  instructions 
lo  the  governors  of  the  colonies  to  have  their  propor- 
tions of  men  in  readiness,  by  the  time  that  the  fleet  and 
army  should  reach  them  from  Europe.  The  interval 
was  exceedingly  sliort ;  but  as  the  service  was  agree- 
able to  the  people,  as  well  as  the  governors,  Ihey  exert" 
ed  themselves  with  unusual  vigour,  and  all  difficulties 
were  overcome.  The  general  court  of  Massachusetts 
issued  bills  of  credit  lo  tlie  Value  of  4O,0O0i.  in  order  to 
iupply  the  money  which  the  English  treasury  could  not 
advance :  the  whole  settlers  were  enjoined  to  furnish 
the  army  with  provisions ;  each  colony  brought  in  the 
proportion  which  was  assigned  it ;  and  all  things  being 


ready,  the  expedition  set  out  from  Boston  on  the  30th  of 
.luly,  and  proceeded  without  delay  to  the  river  Si.  Law- 
rence. The  number  of  troops  which  had  arrived  irora  Eu- 
rope was  considerable.  They  consisted  of  seven  veteran 
regiments  which  had  fought  under  the  illustrious  duke  of 
Marlborough,  and  one  regiment  of  marines;  and  these, 
together  with  the  provincials,  amounted  to  6300  men; 
a  force  equal  to  that  which  afterwards,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Wolfe,  reduced  Quebec,  when  it  was  fortified 
with  more  skill  and  defended  by  an  abler  general.  One 
fata!  night,  however,  blasted  the  hopes  of  the  colonists. 
As  they  sailed  down  the  river,  eight  of  the  trans{)orts 
were  wrecked  on  Egg-Island;  and  the  weather  was  so 
unfavoin-able,  that  they  were  more  than  a  week  in  reach- 
ing Quebec.  The  expedition  was  soon  after  abandoned  j 
and  the  treaty  of  Utrecht  being  signed  in  Europe,  a  ter- 
mination was  put  to  the  war.  The  Indians,  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  French,  no  longer  prompted  to  hostilities, 
and  no  longer  supported  by  their  allies,  sued  for  peace. 

During  the  peace,  the  republican  spirit  of  the  colo- 
nics in  New  England  showed  itself  in  disputes  and  quar- 
rels with  their  governors  :  and  these  disputes  were  in- 
creased by  the  arbitrary  manner  in  which  the  governors 
enforced  the  orders  of  the  crown.  In  most  instances, 
however,  the  colonies  had  the  advantage  :  knowing  what 
was  due  to  them  as  the  subjects  of  Eng!an<l,  they  de- 
termined not  to  sacrifice  any  of  their  rights  to  the  en- 
joyment of  a  temporary  repose.  They  had  the  money 
of  the  country  in  their  possession,  and,  as  h.ul  been  done' 
in  Europe,  they  might  withhold  the  supplies  of  all  kinds, 
till  their  object  was  gained. 

In  the  year  1703,  lord  Cornbury  was  appointed  gov- 
ernor of  New- York.  Needy,  profligate,  and  tyraunical, 
he  scrupled  not  to  convert  to  his  private  use  the  money 
which  had  been  raised  for  the  protection  of  the  settle- 
ment ;  and  refused  to  give  an  account  of  his  disburse- 
ments. The  legislature  took  the  alarm.  They  nomi- 
nated a  treasurer  of  their  own  ;  and  put  the  money,  des- 
tined for  the  service  of  the  pulilic,  into  his  hands.  This 
was  far  from  being  acceptable  to  the  governor;  but  he 
found  himself  obliged  to  comply,  and  at  last  declared, 
that  the  general  assembly  were  permitted  to  name  the 
oflicer  who  should  manage  the  supplies  raised  for  ex- 
traordinary uses,  and  forming  no  part  of  the  standing 
revenue.  Cornbury  proceeded  in  his  career  of  tyranny 
and  extortion,  till  the  queen,  informed  of  his  unpopular 
measures,  consented  to  recal  him.  Amidst  the  quar- 
rels which  took  place  during  his  administration,  it  was 
resolved  by  the  assembly  of  New- York,  that ''  the  im- 
posing and  levying  of  any  monies  upon  her  majesty's 
subjects  of  that  colony,  under  any  pretence  or  colour 
whatsoever,  without  their  consent,  in  general  assembly, 
is  a  grievance  and  a  violation  of  the  people's  property." 
But  it  is  likely,  that  this  resolution  was  meant  to  apply 
only  to  the  governor ;  and  that  the  legislature  did  not,  at 
that  time,  question  the  right  of  the  sovereign  to  impose 
taxes  on  the  colonies  without  their  ap|)rol)ation.  It  ap- 
pears, however,  to  have  been  understood  in  the  other 
settlements,  that  the  crown  had  no  such  right :  and  this 
fundamental  principle  of  liberty  becoming  gradually 
universal  in  its  operation,  at  length  dismemiiered  the 
empire,  and  separated  the  colonies  from  the  parent 
state. 

Disputes  of  a  similar  kind  with  those  of  New- York 
prevailed  at  Masaachusells.  The  representatives  of  the 
people  denied,  that  the  governor  could  refuse  to  ac- 
knowledge a  speaker  who  was  chosen  by  them ;  and 


AMERICA. 


621 


pei-sistiug  in'their  election  of  Mr.  Cooke,  they  were  dis- 
solved, aud  new  wrils  .veie  issued.  The  same  persons, 
however,  were  rednned;  and,  at  the  opening  of  the  next 
session,  they  remonstrated  with  Shute,  the  governor, 
on  the  dissolution  of  the  former  assembly,  and  resolved, 
"  that  those  who  advised  his  excellency  in  tliat  matter, 
did  not  consult  his  majesty's  (George  1.)  interest,  nor 
the  public  weal  and  quiet  of  the  government."  They 
refused  to  make  a  present  to  the  Indians  of  the  Penob- 
scot tribe,  according  to  the  wishes  of  the  executive; 
and  when  they  were  desired  to  reconsider  their  vote, 
they  would  give  no  more  than  ten  pounds.  Though  ad- 
journed to  a  certain  day,  they  met  before  the  interval 
had  elapsed ;  and  |)assed  a  resolution  against  the  east- 
ern Indians,  which  was  equal  to  a  declaration  of  war,  and 
%vhich  the  governor  justly  considered  as  an  invasion  of 
his  privileges.  It  was  therefore  negatived  by  the  coun- 
cil. They  hesitated  about  augmenting  the  salary  of  the 
governor,  and  refusetl  to  say  what  they  would  allow  him 
in  time  to  come.  They  set  themselves  in  opposition  to 
all  his  schemes.  At  the  beginning  of  the  next  session, 
A.  D  1721,  he  expressed  a  wish,  that  they  should  take 
mea^iures  in  order  to  prevent  the  depreciation  of  the 
currency ;  to  punish  the  authors  of  factious  and  sedi- 
tious papers ;  to  provide  a  present  for  the  Indians  of  the 
Five  Nations  ;  to  suppress  a  trade  carried  on  with  the 
French  at  Cape  Breton,  and  to  enlarge  his  salary  :  but 
they  neglected  to  comply  with  his  inclinations  in  all 
these  respects.  They  even  appointed  a  committee  of 
their  numlier,  "  to  vindicate  the  proceedings  of  the  house 
from  the  insinuations  made  by  the  governor,  of  their 
want  of  duty  and  loyalty  to  his  majesty."  JSor  did  their 
encroachments  stop  here.  They  attempted  to  direct  the 
conduct  of  the  militia  in  the  Indian  war:  and  thus  to 
deprive  the  king's  representative  of  a  privilege  which  is 
always  considered  as  belonging  exclusively  to  royalty. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  governor  left  the  settlement,  and 
returned  [irivately  to  England.  He  reported,  that  the 
proceedings  of  the  planters  were  violent,  presumptuous, 
and  inimical  to  the  best  interests  of  the  country  ;  and 
the  points  in  dispute  being  examined,  with  a  reference 
lo  the  charter  by  which  their  privileges  were  conferred, 
every  question  was  decided  against  the  house.  It  was 
determined,  that  the  governor  had  a  right  to  negative 
the  election  of  a  speaker ;  and  that  the  assembly  had  no 
power  to  meet  in  any  interval  of  adjournment.  A  char- 
ter, explanatory  of  the  original  one,  was  prepared,  and 
passed  the  seals ;  and  it  was  left  to  the  option  of  the 
general  court,  either  to  accept  or  to  refuse  it ;  but  they 
were  told,  that  if  they  refused  it,  the  whole  subject  of 
difference  between  the  governor  and  the  house  of  repre- 
sentatives would  instantly  be  laid  before  the  parliament. 
The  result  of  a  parliamentary  investigation  was  dreaded 
by  the  colonists;  as,  fiom  the  temper  of  the  ministry, 
no  issue,  favourable  to  their  interests,  could  be  expected. 
Tliey  even  feared,  that  their  ancient  charter,  the  foun- 
dalion  of  all  their  immunities,  and  the  bulwark  of  their 
prosperity,  would  be  withdrawn.  The  spirit  of  the  <is- 
sembly,  too,  was  considerably  changed.  No  longer  irri- 
tated by  the  presence  and  opposition  of  the  governor, 
the  violence  of  their  passions  had  subsided ;  and  reason 
being  restored  to  its  place,  they  perceived  that  they  had 
acted  irregularly  and  unwisely.  In  this  dis[iosition,  the 
majority  agreed  to  accept  the  explanatory  charter. 

The  next  governor  was  Air.  Uurnet.  He  was  received 
with  great  pomp  nt  Hoston;  and  on  the  meeting  of  the  as- 
sesibly,  be  told  them,  that  he  bad  it  in  command  to  insist 


upon  an  established  allowance ;  aud  that  he  was,  in  this 
respect,  resolved  to  adhere  to  his  instructions.  The 
court  voted  the  sura  of  1700/.  to  defray  the  expenses 
of  his  journey,  and  to  support  him  in  the  rank  of  gover- 
nor and  commander  in  chief;  but  they  would  not  a<!;ree 
to  any  act  fixing  a  salary,  which  their  descendants  should 
be  obliged  to  pay.  Memorials  passed  on  both  sides.  The 
governor  threatened  them  with  an  appeal  to  England, 
and  the  abrogation  of  their  charter.  But  they  persisted 
in  adhering  to  their  resolution,  and  declined  to  establish 
any  allowance.  The  house  prepared  a  statement  of  the 
controversy,  which  they  transmitted  to  all  their  towns; 
and  at  the  end  of  the  paper,  they  assigned  the  reasons  of 
their  conduct;  reasons  in  themselves  of  such  force,  that 
it  was  difficult  to  see  what  could  be  opposed  to  them, 
unless  it  were  a  determination  on  the  part  of  the  gover- 
nor to  listen  to  no  reason  that  could  be  offered.  "  We 
cannot  agree  to  fix  a  salary,  (they  declare,)  even  for  a 
limited  time :  First,  Because  it  is  an  untrodden  path, 
which  neither  we  nor  our  predecessors  have  gone  in ; 
and  ive  cannot  certainly  foresee  the  many  dangers  that 
may  be  in  it ;  nor  can  we  depart  from  that  way  which  has 
beeufouud  tobesafeand  comfortable.  Secondly, Because 
it  is  the  undoubted  right  of  all  Englishmen,  by  Magna 
Charta,  to  raise  and  dispose  of  money  for  the  public 
service  of  their  own  free  accord,  without  compulsion. 
Thirdly,  Because  it  must  necessarily  lessen  the  dignitj 
and  freedom  of  the  house  of  representatives,  in  making 
acts,  and  raising  and  applying  taxes  ;  and  consequently 
cannot  be  thought  a  proper  method  to  preseri'e  that  ba- 
lance in  the  three  branches  of  the  legislature,  which 
seems  necessary  to  form,  maintain,  and  support  the  con- 
stitution. And,  lastly.  Because  the  charter  fully  em- 
|)owei*3  the  general  assembly  to  make  such  laws  and 
orders,  as  they,  shall  judge  to  be  for  the  good  and  wel- 
fare of  the  inhabitants,"  &c. — Marshall's  Life  of  Wash- 
ington, vol.  i. 

Notwithstanding  these  reasons,  the  governor  still  re- 
fused to  accept  of  any  grant  in  place  of  an  established 
allowance.  He  removed  the  court  from  Boston  to  Salem, 
on  i)retencfc  that  the  members  were  controlled  in  their 
resolutions  by  the  violence  of  the  townsmen;  he  deprived 
the  representatives  of  the  money  which  they  should 
have  received  to  defray  the  expense  of  their  attendance, 
by  refusing  to  sign  a  warrant  upon  the  treasurer  for  that 
purpose ;  and  animated  by  a  wish  to  observe  his  instruc- 
tions, he  declared  his  resolution  of  adhering  to  them  in 
their  utmost  extent.  But  in  the  midst  of  these  conten- 
tions, he  was  seized  with  a  fever  and  died.  The  death 
of  Mr.  Burnet,  however,  did  not  put  an  end  to  the  dis- 
pute in  which  he  was  engaged.  It  continued  (o  distract 
the  settlement  after  his  decease ;  and  was  finally  termi- 
nated to  the  advantage  of  the  people,  by  instructions 
from  the  crown,  that  the  governor  should  accept  of  the 
allowance  which  was  annually  voted  by  the  a-ssembly. 

Of  the  different  varieties  of  governments  established 
'r.\  the  colonies,  whether  that  of  the  king  in  the  ])erson 
of  hi;  representative,  that  of  officers  chosen  by  X'as  peo- 
j)le,  or  that  of  the  proprietors,  (o  whom  lands  in  North 
America  were  granted  by  the  crown,  the  last  appears  to 
have  been  the  worst  calculated  to  give  protection  to  the 
settlers.  In  the  year  1 63:1,  r.'iir.rlcs  If.  granted  the  pro- 
vince of  Carolina  to  the  duke  of  Albemr.ric,  the  lorda 
Clrirendon,  Craven,  and  others,  and  to  their  laivful  de- 
Ecendrsntg,  in  absolute  property.  Under  t!ip  .Guardianship 
of  these  noblemen,  a  colony  was  sent  thither,  and  fur- 
nished Bt  length  with  a  plnn  of  government  hy  the  cele- 


m-i 


AMERICA, 


brated  Mr.  Locke.  But  however  well  sldlleil  that  philo- 
sopher niiglit  Lie  in  analyzing  the  qualities  of  the  human 
mind,  antl  distinguishing  its  operations,  it  was  soon  found 
that  he  was  very  moderately  accomplished  in  the  sci- 
ence of  governing  nieu.  His  laws  were  approved  of  and 
adopted;  hut  when  reduced  to  practice,  they  were  so 
disagreeable  to  the  settlers,  that  the  constitution  which 
he  reconiniended  was  abandoned  in  a  short  time,  and  the 
former  system  revived.  After  the  change  of  the  consti- 
tution, the  settlers  increased  in  numbers  and  wealth; 
and  though  their  prosperity  was  interrupted  hy  the  Spn- 
ni::rds  and  the  Indians  in  (htir  pay,  they  maintained 
their  positions,  and  supported  the  character  of  English- 
men, both  for  conduct  and  bravery. 

In  this  colony,  as  well  as  in  the  others,  differences 
arose  l.;etween  the  people  and  (heir  rulers.  The  govern- 
ment of  the  proprietors  fell  into  disrepute,  as  they  were 
eith.  r  unable  or  unwilling  to  afiTord  the  assistance  which 
was  required ;  and  some  encouriigtnient  being  held  out 
to  the  planters  by  the  sovereign,  they  took  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  province  into  their  own  hands.  The  ques- 
tion was  tried  by  the  lords  of  regency  and  council  in 
England,  (ti.e  king  being  then  in  Hanover,)  it  was  de- 
clared that  the  proprietors  had  forfeited  their  charter; 
and  Mr.  Francis  Nicholson  was  apjiointed  governor  of 
the  colonies  in  the  name  of  (he  king.  The  proprietors, 
with  the  exception  of  lord  Carteret,  afterwartls  sold  their 
right  and  interest  to  the  crown  for  L. 17,300;  and  his 
lordship  himself  relinquished  all  concern  in  the  govern- 
ment, though  he  retained  his  right  of  property.  The 
agreement  between  the  crown  and  the  proprietors  was 
confirmed  by  act  of  parliament.  This  transaction  was 
followed  by  a  rebellion  of  the  slaves  in  the  province, 
and  a  war  with  Spain ;  the  former  was  suppressed,  and 
the  latter,  which  continued  long,  was  ultimately  favoura- 
ble to  the  English  interest.  Before  the  termination  of 
the  war,  Charleston,  the  capital  of  South  Carolina,  was 
destroyed  by  fire.  The  loss  of  the  inhabitants  was  im- 
mense ;  but  the  legislature  applied  to  (he  British  par- 
liament,and  with  the  liberality  of  the  national  character, 
L.20,000  was  voted  for  their  relief. 

The  connexion  between  the  different  families  of  the 
house  of  Bourbon,  rendered  it  very  unlikely  that  the 
French  would  continue  at  peace,  while  the  Spaniards 
were  at  vrar  with  the  British.  An  attempt  was  made  to 
destroy  the  English  fishery  at  Canseau.  Louisburg, 
the  capital  of  the  island  of  Cape  Breton,  was  besieged 
by  the  provincials ;  and  the  Vigilant  man  of  w ar,  which 
had  supplies  of  all  kinds  on  board,  being  taken,  Du- 
cbambon,  the  governor,  surrendered  the  place. 

In  the  year  17-15,  very  important  and  exttnsive  ope- 
tations  were  planned  by  the  rival  nations.  The  French 
had  in  view  the  recovery  of  Cape  Breton  and  Nova 
Scotia,  together  with  the  total  devastation  of  the  coast 
along  the  whole  of  the  British  possessions ;  and  Eng- 
land, on  her  side,  looked  forward  to  the  reduction  of 
Canada,  and  the  expulsion  of  the  French  from  the 
American  continent.  It  will  soon  appear,  that  the  hopes 
of  the  English  were  better  founded  than  those  of  their 
antagonists.  The  resources  of  the  French,  however, 
were  by  no  means  inconsiderable.  They  were  in  pos- 
session of  Canada,  and  had  fortitied  Quebec;  their  towns 
were  numerous,  their  stations  well  chosen ;  and  by  their 
intrigues  with  the  Indians,  they  had  secured  the  assist- 
ance, or  gained  the  neutrality,  of  many  powerful  tribes. 
Nor  was  this  all :  They  had  extended  (heir  discoveries 
along  the  banks  of  the  Misgisippi,  and  advanced  to- 


wards the  great  lakes ;  they  bad  occupied  tile  COUdtfJ- 
of  Upper  Louisiana,  a  fertile  region,  capable  ol  sup- 
porting an  immense  population,  and  gratifying  the  moat 
ample  views  of  conquest.  The  settlements  of  the 
French  stretching  from  north  to  south,  interfered  with 
those  of  the  English,  which  extended  from  east  to  west. 
The  former  nation  meditated  the  union  of  Louisiana 
with  Canada,  hy  which  they  could  more  readily  act  iu 
concert,  and  annoy  the  English,  whose  encroachments 
on  the  aboriginal  tribes  they  had  projiosed  to  check. 
They  had  acquired  the  command  of  Lake  Champlain, 
by  erecting  a  fort  at  Crown  Point ;  and  their  posts  ex- 
tended up  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  and  along  the  great 
lakes.  It  was  now  designed  to  connect  these  posts  with 
the  Wissisippi,  The  white  population  of  the  French 
colonies  amounted  to  52,000  men.  Their  whole  power 
was  marshalled  under  one  ruler.  The  temper  of  the 
people,  as  well  as  the  genius  of  the  government,  was 
military.  With  (he  exception  of  the  Six  Nations,  (for- 
merly the  Five  Nations,  a  new  tribe  having  entered  the 
confederacy,)  all  the  Indians  were  attached  to  France; 
(hey  were  trained  to  war  after  the  European  manner; 
the  efficacy  of  their  assistance  had  already  been  expe- 
rienced, and  their  aid  was  the  more  important  and  va- 
luable, as  they  were  acquainted  with  the  recesses  of  the 
country  -which  was  to  become  the  theatre  of  war.  In 
opposing  the  force,  and  defeating  the  plans  of  the 
French,  the  English  colonies  laboured  under  many  dis- 
advantages. They  were  separated  into  distinct  govern- 
ments and  interests ;  excepting  those  of  New  England, 
they  were  altogether  unaccustomed  to  union ;  they  were 
not  inured  even  to  obedience,  for  they  were  jealous  of 
the  crown,  and  involved  in  frequent  disputes  with  (heir 
immediate  rulers.  They  were  spread  over  a  large  terri- 
tory, and  in  the  central  provinces,  (he  people  had  lived 
in  such  tranquillity,  and  for  so  long  a  time,  that  they 
were  wholly  unacquainted  with  military  operations. 
Their  population,  however,  exceeded  that  of  the  French 
by  one  half,  and  was  equal  to  a  million  of  souls. 

The  execution  of  the  plan  for  uniting  Canada  with 
Louisiana,  was  probably  hastened  by  an  act  of  the  Eng- 
lish legislature.  The  Ohio  company  was  formed  about 
this  time ;  and  in  the  year  1 750,  (hey  obtained  a  grani; 
from  the  crown  of  60,000  acres,  in  the  country  to  which 
both  nations  pretended  (hey  had  a  right.  Measures  were 
inslantly  taken  by  the  company,  (o  secure  all  the  advan- 
tages which  they  expected  from  (heir  new  acquisitions ; 
houses  for  carrying  on  a  trade  wi(li  the  Indans  of  these 
parts  were  established,  and  surveyors  were  appointed  to 
ascertain  and  to  fix  the  lands  which  had  been  allotted  to 
them.  Though  the  survey  was  made  as  secretly  as  pos- 
sible, the  intentions  of  the  English  in  visiting  the  Ohio, 
became  quickly  and  generally  known. 

The  English  traders  were  seized.  Major  Washington, 
who  afterwards,  in  a  Hiigher  command,  led  (he  people  of 
America  to  independence  and  to  empire,  was  despatch- 
ed by  the  governor  of  Virginia,  ivith  a  letter,  requiring 
(he  French  general  to  quit  the  dominions  of  his  Britan- 
nic majesty.  The  French  general  having  declined  to 
comply  with  the  requisition,  Wasliina;(on,  af(cr  the  gal- 
lant defence  of  a  small  stockade,  hastily  erected  at  the 
Little  Meadows,  was  obliged  to  capitulate.  Fort  du 
Quesne  was  raised  by  the  French  on  the  dis|)uted  pro- 
perty. It  was  perceived  that  a  great  struggle  would 
ensue.  Onlers  arrived  from  England,  to  cultivate  the 
friendship  of  the  Six  Nations,  and,  if  possible,  to  dis- 
lodge the  French  from  the  settlement  on  the  Ohio.     A 


AMERICA 


G23 


tionference  witli  the  Indians  was  lield  at  Albany.  A  pro- 
posal was  made  by  governor  Shirley,  that  the  colonies 
should  unite  for  their  mutual  defence  ;  and  that  a  grand 
council  should  be  formed,  in  order  to  secure  the  ready 
co-operation  of  all  the  English  in  America  ;  but,  not- 
withstanding the  magnitude  and  immediate  pressure  of 
the  danger,  the  proposal  was  objected  to,  both  in  the 
colonies  and  in  England  The  ministry  were  acquainted 
with  the  refractory  disposition  of  the  Americans  ;  and 
were  afraid  that  the  union  might  be  detrimental  to  the 
interests  of  the  parent  state.  The  war  continued  with 
various  success.  The  English  possessed  themselves  of 
Nova  Scotia,  according  to  their  own  definition  of  its 
limits.  General  Braddock,  the  commander  in  chief, 
resolved  to  attack  Fort  Uu  Quesne,  but  was  surprised 
on  his  march,  by  a  party  of  Indians,  with  whose  mode 
of  fighting  he  was  entirely  unacquainted ;  the  van,  under 
the  orders  of  lieutenant  colonel  Gage,  was  thrown  into 
confusion  ;  and  the  main  body  advancing,  the  enemy 
were  supposed  to  be  dispered  ;  but,  in  an  instant,  they 
rose  from  the  ground  where  they  had  Ci)ncealed  them- 
selves, and  firing  upon  the  English,  completed  their 
disorder.  The  defeat  was  total;  sixty-four  oflicers  out 
of  eighty-five,  and  nearly  the  half  of  the  privates,  were 
killed  or  wounded.  The  army  fled  precipitately  to  the 
camp  of  major  Dunbar,  where  general  Braddock  ex- 
jiire<l.  The  earl  of  Loudon  was  then  appointed  to  the 
command  of  all  tlie  English  forces  in  North  America ; 
and  the  marquis  de  Montcalm,  an  able  general,  succeed- 
ed Dieskan  in  the  government  of  Canada,  and  the 
French  possessions.  Oswego  was  taken  and  destroyed 
by  the  enemy.  The  small-pox  having  broken  out  in 
Albany,  wasted  the  provincials.  A  military  council  of 
tlie  different  governors  was  held  at  Boston  under  the 
direction  of  the  earl  of  Loudon.  Montcalm  advanced 
against  fort  William  Henry,  and  urged  his  approaches 
with  so  much  vigour  and  skill,  that  the  garrison  found 
it  necessary  to  capitulate,  delivering  up  to  the  French 
all  the  ammunition  and  stores  ;  and  agreeing  not  to  serve 
against  his  most  Christian  majesty,  or  his  allies,  for  the 
:<pace  of  eighteen  months.  Butthe  Indians  in  the  French 
army,  unacquainted  with  the  maxims  of  honour  which 
regulated  the  conduct  of  the  Europeans,  and  disregard- 
ing the  articles  of  capitulation,  fell  upon  the  troops,  after 
Ihey  had  evacuated  the  place,  dragged  them  from  the 
ranks,  and  put  them  to  death  with  their  tomahawks. 
Montcalm  exerted  himself  to  prevent  these  outrages ; 
but  much  injury  was  done  before  his  interposition  was 
effectual. 

The  earl  of  Loudon,  unsuccessful  in  all  his  attempts, 
and  disappointed  in  the  hope  of  gaining  laurels  by  his 
victories  in  Canada,  placed  his  army  in  winter  quarters. 
This  was  followed  by  a  controversy  with  the  settlers  in 
Massachusetts  about  the  extent  of  the  act  of  parliament 
for  liilleting  soldiers.  The  people  firmly  maintained  that 
it  did  not  apply  to  his  mHJesty's  subjects  iu  the  planta- 
tions ;  and  addressing  the  earl,  they  olfercd  such  reasons 
lor  their  opinion  and  their  conduct,  and  made  such  sub- 
missions, as  induced  him  to  recal  the  orders  which  he 
bad  issued  for  the  marching  of  troops,  in  order  to  force 
Ihem  to  obedience. 

Instead  of  producing  tear  and  repressing  activity,  the 
ill  success  of  the  British  arms  excited  the  indignation 
of  the  people  both  in  England  and  the  colonies,  and 
urged  them  to  more  vigorous  preparations.  Mr.  Pitt, 
afterwards  created  earl  of  Chatham,  was  raised  to  the 
head  of  the  administration  in  Europe.     Powerful  in  de- 


bate, and  able  in  the  cabinet,  of  a  noble  independence 
of  spirit,  cajiable  of  forming  great  schemes,  and  of  exe- 
cuting them  with  unusual  decision  and  unremitting 
perseverance,  this  accomplished  statesman  had  the  com- 
plete direction  of  the  strength  and  the  riches  of  Iiis  coun- 
try. In  no  part  of  the  empire  was  his  character  more 
popular  than  in  America.  He  assured  the  governors  of 
the  provinces,  in  a  circular  letter  which  he  addressed  to 
them,  that  an  effectual  force  should  be  sent,  to  act  against 
the  French,  both  by  sea  and  land;  and  he  called  upon 
them  to  raise  as  large  bodies  of  men  as  the  population  of 
the  colonies  would  allow.  These  were  to  be  supplied 
with  arms  and  ammunition  by  the  crown.  A  vigorous 
activity  diffused  itself  through  all  the  plantations;  and 
the  designs  of  the  minister  were  seconded  by  the  cheer- 
ful and  unabatiug  exertions  of  the  peoi)Ie.  A  powerful 
armament,  equipped  with  extraordinary  despatch,  sailed 
from  the  harbours  of  England.  The  Earl  of  Loudon 
having  returned  to  Europe,  the  command  of  all  the 
British  forces  in  America  devolved  on  general  Aber- 
crombie.  This  officer  was  at  the  head  of  50,000  men ; 
of  which  20,000  were  troops  raised  in  the  provinces. 
Three  expeditions  were  resolved  on,  (A.  D.  1758;)  the 
first  against  Louisbourg,  which  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  French ;  the  second  against  Ticonderoga  and 
Crown  Point;  and  the  third  against  Fort  du  Quesne. 
The  troops  destined  to  act  against  Louisbourg,  consist- 
ing of  14,000  men,  were  commanded  by  major  general 
Amherst;  and  admiral  Boscawen,  with  20  sail  of  the 
line,  and  18  frigates,  was  ordered  to  co-operate  witii 
him  in  reducing  the  place  The  army  embarked  at  Ha- 
lifax on  the  24th  of  May,  and  arrived  before  Louisbourg 
on  the  2d  of  June.  The  fleet  intercepted  the  supplies 
which  were  designed  by  the  enemy  for  the  relief  of  their 
colonies.  The  approaches  of  the  British  were  regular 
and  decisive.  General  Wolfe  was  detached  with  2000 
men  to  seize  a  post  at  the  Lighthouse  Point,  from  which 
the  enemy  could  be  annoyed  with  greater  hope  of  suc- 
cess ;  and  that  young  and  gallant  officer  executed  the 
service  with  so  much  promptness  and  ability,  that  the 
French  were  driven  from  their  position,  and  several 
batteries  of  heavy  artillery  were  erected  upon  it.  The 
cannonade  began,  and  it  was  perceived  that  the  town 
must  ultimately  fall.  One  of  the  enemy's  ships  in  the 
harbour  was  blown  up  ;  the  flame  was  speedily  commu- 
nicated to  two  others,  which  shared  the  same  fate. 
Another  large  vessel  that  had  run  aground,  was  destroy- 
ed by  a  detachment  of  seamen  under  captains  Laforey 
and  Balfour;  and  another  being  towed  off  in  triumph, 
the  English  took  possession  of  the  harbour,  A  gene- 
ral assault  was  meditated  by  the  enemy  ;  but  Drucourt 
the  governor,  influenced  by  the  wishes  of  the  traders 
and  inhabitants,  agreed  to  capitulate;  and  resigned  the 
place,  with  all  its  artillery  and  stores,  to  the  British 
commander. 

The  expedition  against  Ticonderoga  and  Crown 
Point,  was  led  by  general  Abercrombie  in  person ;  six- 
teen thousand  effective  men  were  under  his  orders,  and 
he  was  provitled  ivith  every  thing  necessary  for  the 
success  of  the  enterprise.  The  troops  embarked  on 
Lake  George,  and  landed  without  opposition,  under 
the  cover  of  some  heavy  pieces  of  artillery  mounted 
upon  rafts.  They  were  divided  into  four  columns,  and 
n)arched  in  that  order  towards  the  vanguard  of  the 
enemy ;  but  the  French,  not  being  in  sufiicient  force  to 
oppose  them,  deserted  their  camp  and  made  a  hasty 
retreat.     The  English  general  then  aUvaaced  towards 


024 


AaiERICA. 


the  fortress  of  Ticoutleroga,  throi;gh  woods  which  were 
almosi.  impassable,  and  under  tlie  direction  of  unskilful 
guides :  ?o  that  the  columns  were  driven  upon  each 
other,  and  thrown  into  unavoidable  confusion.  Lord 
Howe,  at  the  head  of  the  right  centre  division,  fell  in 
a  skirmish  with  a  wandering  party  of  the  French,  and 
died,  lamented  by  the  whole  army.  The  British  having 
taken  possession  of  a  post  at  the  Saw-mills,  about  two 
miles  from  Ticonderogn,  and  Abercrombie  having  learn- 
ed that  a  reinforcement  of  3000  men  was  daily  expected 
by  the  enemy,  it  was  resolved  to  storm  the  place,  before 
thf  reinforcement  shonld  arrive,  and  even  without  wait- 
•ng  for  the  artillery  which  was  necessary  to  reduce  it. 
The  attempt  was  unsuccessful,  nolwithstandine  the 
extraordinary  bravery  of  the  soldiers ;  so  that  after  a 
contest  of  four  hours,  the  general  thought  it  prudent  to 
order  a  retreat,  and  relinquish  the  expedition.  Fort 
Frontignac  was  destroyed  liy  Colonel  Kradstreet ;  and 
the  demolition  of  that  strong  hold  facilitated  the  en- 
deavours of  the  English  against  Fortdu  Quesne,  which, 
after  a  short  time,  fell  into  their  hands.  Thus  termin- 
ated the  campaign  of  1758;  during  which,  though  the 
:*ccess  of  the  British  was  notef|ual  to  the  expectations 
which  were  formed  from  the  mighty  force  brought  into  ac- 
tion, their  advances  were  both  considerable  and  decisive. 

Alter  the  disaster  at  Ticonderoga,  the  chief  com- 
mand was  given  to  major  general  Amherst :  and  the 
bold  design  was  formed  of  expelling  the  enemy  from 
Canada,  during  the  next  campaign.  As  the  English 
Avere  superior  at  sea,  and  had  a  numerous  and  powerful 
fleet  on  the  American  station,  the  reinforcements  which 
were  sent  by  the  French  lofheir  colonies  were  generally 
intercepted.  The  British  army  was  divided  into  three 
parts,  and  distributed  in  the  following  order :  The  first 
division  under  brigadier  general  AVolfe,  who  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  at  the  siege  of  Louisbourg,  was  to 
make  an  attempt  on  Quebec,  the  principal  fortress  of 
the  enemy  in  Canada;  the  second  division  under 
Amherst,  the  commander  in  chief,  was  to  be  led  against 
Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point ;  and  general  Prideaux 
was  to  conduct  the  third,  consisting  of  Provincials  and 
Indians,  against  the  important  strong  hold  of  Niagara ; 
after  the  reduction  of  which,  he  was  to  embark  on  Lake 
Ontario,  and,  proceeding  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  to  at- 
tack Montreal.  The  second  division  was  ultimately  to 
unite  with  th&t  under  Wolfe,  before  Quebec.  On  the 
approach  of  Amherst,  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point 
■were  evacuated.  Niagara  was  besieged  in  form,  and 
the  French  made  great  efforts  to  relieve  it ;  but  the 
Indians  in  their  alliance,  deserted  them  in  the  heat  of 
an  engagement  which  followed,  and  victory  declared  in 
favour  of  the  English.  This  battle  determined  the 
fate  of  the  place.  In  these  attempts,  however,  the  loss 
of  the  British  was  considerable.  General  Prideaux 
was  killed  by  the  bursting  of  a  cohorn  at  Niagara:  and 
the  season  being  far  advanced,  it  was  not  judged  advisa- 
ble to  attack  Montreal ;  where  Vaudreuil,  the  governor 
of  New  France,  at  the  head  of  5000  men,  was  posted  to 
great  advantage. 

The  expedition  under  the  young  and  valiant  Wolfe, 
calls  for  more  particular  attention.  As  soon  as  the 
•waters  were  sufficiently  clearof  ice,  he  sailed  from  Louis- 
bourg with  8000  men,  and  a  formidable  train  of  artil- 
lery ;  and  anchoring  after  a  prosperous  voyage,  near 
Ihe  iebnd  of  Orleans,  which  lies  below  Queltec,  and  ex- 
tends to  the  basin  of  that  town,  he  eflected  a  landing 


without  much  inconvenience.  From  this  position,  lie 
took  a  view  of  the  fortifications ;  and  such  a;,peared  to 
he  their  strength,  that  adventurous  as  he  was,  and  fear- 
less of  danger,  he  declared  that  he  had  but  liltle  hopp 
of  success.  Quebec  stands  on  the  north  side  of  the  river 
St  Lawrence,  and  on  the  west  side  of  the  St.  Charles. 
It  consists  of  two  towns,  the  upper  and  the  lower.  The 
upper  town  is  built  on  a  lofty  rock,  which  extends  with 
a  bold  and  steep  front  far  towards  the  west,  and  renders 
the  city  impregnable  on  that  side ;  and  the  lower  town 
is  raised  on  a  strand  at  the  base  of  the  same  rock.  On 
the  other  side,  the  place  is  defended  by  (he  St.  Charies. 
The  channel  of  this  river  is  broken ;  and  its  borders 
are  intersected  with  ravines.  On  its  left,  or  eastern 
bank,  the  French  were  encamped,  strongly  entrenched, 
and  amounting,  by  some  accounts,  to  10,000  men.  Their 
rear  was  covered  by  an  impenetrable  wood.  At  the 
head  of  this  formidable  army  was  a  general  of  tried  skill 
and  established  character;  the  same  Marquis  de  Mont- 
calm, who,  in  the  preceding  year,  had  reduced  wi(h 
astonishing  celerity,  the  forts  of  Oswego  and  William 
Henry,  and  had  driven  the  English,  under  Abercrom- 
bie, from  the  walls  of  Ticonderoga.  Such  was  the 
|)lace  before  which  Wolfe  and  the  British  army  had 
taken  their  station ;  and  such  was  the  leader  with  whom 
they  were  to  contend.  But  though  the  difficulties 
which  the  English  general  had  to  surmount  were  great, 
his  mind  was  too  ardent,  and  too  full  of  military  enthu- 
siasm, to  harbour  for  a  moment  the  idea  of  relinquishing 
the  enterprise,  while  any  human  means  forits  accomplish- 
ment were  unemployed. 

He  took  possession  of  point  Levy,  on  the  south  side 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  reduced  many  of  the  houses 
to  ashes  :  but  the  fortifications  were  too  strong  to  be  at- 
tacked, and  his  batteries  at  too  great  a  distance  to  make 
any  effectual  impression  upon  the  city. 

He  then  resolved  to  pass  the  dioutmorcncy,  and  to 
attack  the  enemy  in  their  entrenchments.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  determination,  13  companies  of  grena- 
diers, and  a  part  of  the  second  battalion  of  Royal  Ame- 
ricans, were  landed  near  the  mouth  of  that  river ;  while 
Generals  Townshend  and  Murray  prepared  to  cross 
it  higher  up.  The  first  part  of  the  design  was,  to  at- 
tack a  redoubt  which  could  not  easily  be  protected  by 
the  enemy,  in  the  hope  that  their  ardour  would  lead 
them  to  a  general  engagement.  But  the  cautious  Mont- 
calm, knowing  the  advantages  of  his  situation,  permitted 
the  English  to  take  possession  of  the  redoubt,  without 
making  any  attempt  to  support  those  who  defended  it ; 
Wolfe,  therefore,  on  the  appearance  of  some  confusion 
in  the  enemy's  camp,  led  forward  his  grenadiers  to  the 
entrenchments;  but  he  was  received  with  a  fire  so 
steady,  and  well  maintained,  that  he  was  obliged  to  give 
orders  for  repassing  the  Montmorency,  and  returneil  to 
the  island  of  Orleans.  His  whole  attention,  therefore, 
was  again  directed  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  He  attempted 
in  conjunction  with  the  admiral,  lo  destroy  the  French 
ships,  but  he  failed  in  this  also.  He  landed,  however,  at 
Chambaud,  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  burned  a  magazine  filled  wilh  arms,  ammunition, 
provisions  and  clothes.  But  still,  ttie  chief  object  of  the 
expepition  seemed  in  no  respect,  more  within  his  reach  ; 
and,  intelligenceof  (liegoood  fortune  which  badatiended 
the  British  at  Niagara,  Ticonderoga,  niiil  Crown  Point, 
having  reached  the  army,  WfilCe  could  not  help  con- 
trasting the  embarrassments  which  he  experienced,  with 


AMERICA. 


6i% 


the  success  of  his  confederates.  While  his  mind  was 
lofty,  it  wag  likewise  susceptible ;  and  the  chagrin  ofdis- 
aippointraent  preying  upon  his  delicate  constitution,  his 
health  began  to  decline.  He  expressed  a  resolution  not 
to  survive  the  disgrace  which  would  attend  the  failure 
of  the  enterprise.  His  despatches,  addressed  at  (his 
time  to  Mr.  Pitt,  seem  to  have  been  written  with  a  view 
to  prepare  the  English  nation  lor  the  ill  success  which 
was  to  follow.  "  We  have,"  says  he,  "  almost  the  whole 
force  of  Canada  to  oppose.  In  such  a  choice  of  difficul- 
ties, I  own  myself  at  a  loss  how  to  determine.  The 
affuirs  of  Great  Britain,  I  know,  require  the  most  vi- 
gorous measures ;  but  the  courage  of  a  handful  of  brave 
men  should  lie  exercised  only  where  there  is  hope  of  a 
favourable  event."  Amherst,  the  commander  in  chief, 
■who  had  agreed  to  advance  in  onler  to  assist  him,  after 
the  reduction  of  'J'iconderoga  and  Crown  Point,  had  led 
his  army  into  winter  quarters ;  but  Wolfe,  though 
severely  disappointed  at  the  failure  on  the  part  of  that 
general,  suffered  not  a  word  to  escape  which  reflected  on 
his  conduct,  and  appeared  to  be  convinced,  that  every 
thing  possible  had  been  done;  for  this  distinguished 
man,  whose  character  history  is  prond  to  delineate, 
was  as  remnrkable  for  his  delicacy  as  for  the  other 
qualities  oi"  his  noble  mind.  It  is  certain,  at  the  same 
time,  that  the  misfortunes  and  cruel  embarrassments  of 
the  English,  were  wholly  owing  to  the  want  of  exertion 
in  the  commander  in  chief. 

It  was  next  resolved  to  attempt  a  landing  above  the 
town.  The  camp  at  Orleans  was  therefore  broken  up; 
and  the  whole  army  having  embarked  on  board  the  fleet, 
one  division  of  it  was  put  on  shore  at  Point  Levi,  and 
the  other  carried  higher  up  the  river.  A  plan,  suited 
to  the  enterprising  genius  of  the  British  commander, 
was  then  formed.  It  was  proposed  to  scale  a  pre- 
cipice on  the  north  bank  of  the  river,  during  the  night, 
and  in  this  way  to  reach  the  heights  of  Abraham, 
behind  the  city.  The  preci]>ice  was  accessible  only 
by  a  narrow  path.  The  stream  was  rapid,  the  shore 
irregular,  the  landing  place  such  as  could  not  easily 
be  found  in  the  dark,  and  the  steep  above,  very  diffi- 
cult to  be  ascended,  even  without  opposition  from 
an  enemy.  If  the  English  general  should  succeed, 
he  knew  that  he  could  bring  the  French  to  an  en- 
gagement; but  he  knew  also,  that  if  the  attempt 
should  fail,  the  destruction  of  a  great  part  of  the  troops 
would  be  the  unavoidable  consequence.  Something, 
however,  was  to  be  done.  A  strong  detachment  was 
put  on  board  the  vessels  destined  for  the  service  ;  and 
falling  silently  down  with  the  tide,  (he  English  arrived 
an  hour  before  day-break,  at  the  place  which  had  been 
fixed  upon.  Wolfe  was  the  first  man  who  leaped  on 
shore ;  he  was  followed  by  the  Highlanders  and  the 
light  infantry,  who  composed  the  van ;  as  these  Avere  in- 
tended to  secure  a  battery  not  far  from  the  entrenched 
path  by  which  the  troops  were  (o  ascend,  and  to  cover 
the  landing  of  their  associates.  Though  they  had  been 
forced  by  the  violence  of  the  stream  to  some  distance 
from  the  place  of  debarkation,  and  were  obliged  to 
scramble  up  the  rock  by  the  assistance  of  its  projec- 
tions, and  the  branches  of  the  trees  which  grew  in  the 
cliffs,  such  was  the  ardour  of  the  general,  and  such  (he 
alacrity  of  the  soldiers,  that  they  reached  (he  heights  in 
a  short  time,  and  almost  instantly  dispersed  the  guard 
by  which  they  were  defended.  The  battery  was  secur- 
ed; the  whole  army  followed  ;  and  when  the  sun  arose, 
the  troops  were  ranged  under  their  respective  officers. 

Vol.  I.  Part  II. 


The  marquis  de  Monlcalni  s&w,  al  once,  the  advan- 
tage which  the  English  general  had  gained,  and  per- 
ceived that  a  battle,  which  would  decide  (he  fate  of 
Quebec,  and  of  Canada,  was.unavoidable;  he  therefore 
prepared  for  it  with  a  courage  and  activity  worthy  of 
his  former  exploits.     He  left  his  strong  position  on  the 
Montmorency,  and  passed  the  St.  Charles,  to  attack  the 
ai-my  of  the  besiegers.     As  soon  as  the  movement  of  the 
French  was  perceived,  Wolfe  eagerly  formed  his  order 
of  battle.     His  right  wing  was  under  the  command  of 
general  Monckton,  and  covered  by  (he  Louisbourg  gre- 
nadiers; and  his  left  under  that  of  general  Townshend. 
protected  by  the  Highlanders  and  the  light  infantrj-. 
The  reserve  consisted  of  Webb's  regiment.     The  right 
and  left  wings  of  the  enemy  were  composed  of  Euro- 
pean and  colonial  troops ;  a  body  of  Freniih  were  in  (he 
centre,  and  they  advanced  against  the  English   under 
the  support  of  two  field  pieces,  and  preceded  by  an 
irregular  corps  of  militia  and  Indians,  who  kept  up  a 
galling  fire.     The  movements  of  the  French  indicating 
a  design  to  turn  his  left,  Wolfe  ordered  the  battalion  of 
Amherst,  and  two  battalions  of  royal  Americans,  to  that 
part  of   his  line ;    and  here  they  were  formed  under 
general   Townshend,   en  potence,  presenting  a  double 
front  to  the  enemy.     The  French  marched  up  briskly, 
and  began  the  attack ;  but  the  English  reserved  their 
fire  till  the  enemy  were  almost  at  hand,  when  they  gave 
it  with  decisive  effect.    The  two  generals  were  opj)osed 
to   each  other,  Wolfe  on  the  right  of  the  British,  and 
Montcalm  on  the  left  of  the  French.  The  English  com- 
mander ordered  the  grenadiers  to  charge ;  and  putting 
himself  at  their  head,  advanced  with  all  the  zeal  and  all 
(he  intrepidity  of  his  character,  when  he  unfortunately 
received  a  mortal  wound,  and  was  obliged  to  be  carried 
to  the  rear.     He  was  succeeded  in  the  chief  command 
by  general  Monckton,  and  he  by  general  Townshend. 
The  marquis  de  Montcalm  fell.      His  principal  oflicers 
experienced  the  same  fate.     The  French  gave  way,  the 
English  pressed  forward  with  their  bayonets  fixed,  and 
the  Highlanders  with  their  broad  swords ;  and  in  a  short 
time,  victory  declared  in  favour  of  Great  Britain.  The 
enemy  made  one  attempt  to  rally,  but  were  driven  partly 
into  Quebec,  and  partly  into  the  river  St.  Charles.  They 
failed  completely  in  endeavouring  to  turn  the  left  of  the 
English.     Meanwhile,  Wolfe  surveyed   the  field  with 
the  utmost  anxiety ;  forgetful  of  his  suSerings,  and  alive 
only  to  glory.     He  had  been  shot  through  the  wrist  in 
the  beginning  of  the  action,  but  without  manifesting  (he 
least  uneasiness,  he  wrapt  a  handkerchief  about  his  arm, 
and  continued  to  animate  his  soldiers;  another  bullet 
pierced  his  groin,  and  immediately  after,  he  received, 
as  we  have  stated,  a  wound  in  the  breast,  which  forced 
him  to  be  removed  from  the  heat  of  the  conflict,  and 
of  which  he  soon  expired.       Still  his  eye  was  fixed  on 
the  engagement.     Faint   through  loss  of  blood,  he  re- 
clined his  head  on  the  shoulder  of  an  officer  who  was 
near  him,  eagerly  inquiring  about  the  fate  of  the  day ; 
and,  though  nature  was  almost  exhausted,  he  roused 
himself  at  the  words,  "  they  fly,  they  fly,"  which  reach- 
ed his  ears.     "  Who  fly  ?"  he  exclaimed.     He  was  told 
it  was  the  enemy.     "  Then,"  said  the  hero,  "  I  depart 
content;"  and  having  said  this,  he  expired  in  the  arms 
of  victory.     Thus  fell  the  young  and  gallant  Wolfe ;  a 
man  from  whom  his  country  had  formed  the   highest 
expectations,  and  whose  conduct  through  the  whole  of 
his  short  life,  demonstrated  that  these  expectations  were 
not  formed  of  one  who  was  either  unable  or  nnwitling 
4K 


(>26 


'ATMEIIICA. 


to  support  them.  Brave,  enterprising,  dignified,  and 
humane,  he  possessed  all  the  virtues  of  the  military 
character.  His  actions  are  still  held  up  to  the  imitation 
of  every  British  soldier ;  and  numerous  songs  and  bal- 
lads proclaim  his  merits,  and  perpetuate  his  fame  among 
the  British  people.  While,  however,  we  pronounce  the 
eulogium  of  successful  intrepidity,  let  us  not  forget 
that  bravery  may  be  displayed  when  it  is  not  rewarded 
by  fortune ;  and  that  if  the  victors  in  this  memorable 
battle  are  celebrated  for  their  courage  and  their  conduct, 
the  vanquished  likewise  are  entitled  to  praise.  The 
marquis  de  Montcalm  was  an  antagonist  worthy  of  the 
gallant  Wolfe.  Their  minds  were  of  kindred  vigour ; 
the  same  love  of  glory  animated  them  both,  and  it  led 
them  both  to  the  same  fearlessness  of  danger,  and  the 
same  contempt  of  death.  His  troops  being  defeated, 
notwithstanding  all  his  exertions,  Montcalm  expressed 
the  highest  satisfaction  that  his  wound  was  declared  to 
be  mortal ;  and  when  he  was  told  that  he  could  not 
live  more  than  a  few  hours,  he  said,  "  it  is  so  much  the 
better;  I  shall  not  then  live  to  see  the  surrender  of 
Quebec." 

The  battle  of  the  heights  of  Abraham  was  followed 
by  the  reduction  of  the  city,  and  ultimately  by  the  sub- 
jugation of  the  French  in  Canada.  They  made,  how- 
ever, some  attempts  to  recover  the  dominion  and  the 
places  which  they  had  lost ;  and  Monsieur  de  Levi,  after 
a  successful  encounter,  opened  his  batteries  before  Que- 
bec ;  but  a  strong  fleet  arriving  from  England,  he  was 
compelled  to  raise  the  siege,  and  retire  with  precipita- 
tion to  Montreal.  Here  Vaudreuil,  the  governor  gene- 
ral of  Canada,  fixed  his  head-quarters,  and  calling  in 
bis  detachments,  gathered  around  him  the  whole  strength 
of  the  colony.  In  the  mean  time,  Amherst,  the  British 
commander  in  chief,  i)repared  to  attack  the  French  ;  and 
to  secure  to  his  countrymen  the  possession  of  Canada, 
with  the  smallest  loss  which  might  be  possible,  on  his 
?ide.  After  making  the  necessary  ])reparations,  he  set 
out  in  person  at  the  head  of  1 0,000  men,  and  was  joined 
at  Oswego  by  sir  AVilliam  Johnson,  and  a  strong  body 
of  Indians;  whose  fidelity  to  the  English,  that  gentle- 
man had  exerted  himself  to  preserve  and  to  confirm. 
The  army  embarked  on  Lake  Ontario ;  and  the  British 
general,  having  taken  possession  of  the  fort  of  Isle 
ftoyale,  which  commanded,  in  a  great  measure,  the 
entrance  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  proceeded  down  the  river, 
and  notwithstanding  the  dithculty  of  the  navigation  at 
that  time  of  the  year,  he  arrived  at  Montreal.  General 
Murray  appeared  below  the  town,  with  as  many  of  the 
troops  as  could  be  spared  from  the  garrison  of  Quebec, 
on  the  same  day  that  Amherst  approached  it  from  above. 
Colonel  Haviland  joined  the  English  with  a  detachment 
from  Crown  Point.  Against  such  a  force  as  was  now 
before  the  place,  the  French  were  utterly  unable  to  con- 
tend. The  governor  offered  to  capitulate ;  and  in  the 
month  of  September,  A.  D.  1700,  Montreal,  together 
with  Detroit,  Michilimakinac,  and  all  the  possessions 
of  France  in  Canada,  were  surrendered  to  his  Britannic 
majesty.  The  troops  of  the  enemy  were  to  be  trans- 
ported to  their  own  country  in  Eurojje ;  and  the  Cana- 
dians were  to  be  protected  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  their 
property  and  their  religion. 

Thus,  after  a  long  and  arduous  struggle,  after  much 
expense  and  much  distress,  the  power  of  the  French  in 
America  was  overthrown :  and  the  safety  of  the  British 
colonists  was  secured  asainst  the  attacks  of  a  rival, 
irbo  had  botb  the  inclination  and  the  ucaos  to  aujioy 


them.  In  the  course  of  the  war,  the  most  atrociotu 
cruelties  were  practised  by  the  Indians  :  the  cottage  of 
the  peasant,  and  the  house  of  the  more  wealthy  settler, 
were  equally  the  objects  of  their  resentment  and  their 
fury  :  neither  age  nor  sex  was  spared ;  and  the  toma- 
hawk and  the  scalping-knife,  instruments  the  most 
dreadful  to  the  reflection  of  man,  were  employed  with- 
out discrimination,  and  without  remorse.  Nor  could 
the  one  people  be  chHrged  with  encouraging  this  dis- 
honourable warfare,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other.  After 
the  taking  of  Montreal,  however,  it  was  believed  that 
such  cruelties  would  cease ;  and  it  was  hoped,  that 
the  Indians,  no  longer  excited  by  a  rival  nation,  and 
depending  on  the  English  alone,  would  leave  the  plant- 
ers undisturbed  to  the  prosecution  of  their  commercial 
interests,  and  the  enjoyment  of  their  domestic  happi- 
ness. 

When  the  French  wereexpelled  from  Fort  duQuesne, 
they  retired  into  Louisiana,  and  endeavoured  to  seduce 
the  Cherokees  from  their  alliance  with  Great  Britain. 
A  war  between  the  English  and  the  savages  of  that  na- 
tion ensued.  The  inhabitants  of  South  Carolina  were 
greatly  distressed  by  their  predatory  lio^tiiities;  and 
colonel  Montgomery  was  ordered  to  (he  assistance  of 
the  planters,  with  a  body  of  regular  troops,  which  ar- 
rived in  the  spring  of  the  year  1 760.  The  utmost  exer- 
tions being  made  in  the  province,  Montgomery  entered 
the  country  of  the  Cherokees,  where  meeting  with  the 
savages,  a  fierce  encounter  took  jilace :  l,ut,  though  the 
English  claimed  the  victory,  they  thought  it  imprudent 
to  advance  further,  and  the  Indians,  in  reality,  suffered 
no  defeat.  The  war  continued  to  rage.  Amherst  was 
again  applied  to  for  assistance.  Early  in  June,  1701, 
colonel  Grant  attacked  the  savages  near  the  town  of 
Elchoc  :  the  contest  was  severe :  but  the  discipline  and 
valour  of  the  English  at  length  prevailed  over  the  fierce 
but  artless  courage  of  the  Cherokees.  Their  houses 
were  destroyed,  and  their  whole  country  wasted  :  and 
such  was  the  extremity  to  which  they  were  reduced, 
that  they  earnestly  sued  for  peace.  A  treaty  being  con- 
cluded in  the  course  of  the  year,  the  southern  provinces 
were  delivered  from  the  inroads  of  the  savages. 

The  expulsion  of  the  French  from  their  possessions 
in  North  America,  was  followed  by  a  war  with  Spain,, 
which  was  carried  on  with  signal  advantage  to  Great 
Britain.  The  princes  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  having 
formed  the  alliance,  called  the  Family  Compact,  in  or- 
der to  sup|)ort  and  to  heighten  their  own  aggrandize- 
ment, the  sovereign  of  France  could  not  be  idle  while 
his  catholic  majesty  was  in  arms  against  England.  Hos- 
tilities commenced  both  in  Europe  and  America.  Gre- 
nada, St.  Lucia,  Martinique,  St.  Vincent,  and  all  the 
Caribbee  islands,  were  taken  from  the  French ;  ami 
Havannah,  an  important  city,  which  commanded,  in 
some  <legree,  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  was  wrested  front 
Spain.  No  force  which  the  enemy  could  bring  into  ac- 
tion seemed  able  to  stop  the  British  in  the  career  of 
victory  and  conquest :  but,  for  reasons  unnecessary  to 
be  mentioned  in  this  place,  preliminaries  of  peace  were 
signed  at  Paris,  and  tranquillity  was  restored  on  both 
sides  of  (he  Atlantic,  By  the  treaty  which  was  after- 
wards concluded,  "  his  Christian  majesty  ceded  to  Great 
Britain,  for  ever,  all  the  conquests  made  by  that  (lower 
on  the  continent  of  North  America,  together  with  the 
river  and  port  of  Molsile:  and  all  the  territory  to  which 
France  was  entitled  on  the  left  Iwnk  of  the  Missisippi, 
reserviiig  ouly  the  iblaad  of  New  Orleans.    And  it  wii» 


AMERICA. 


OS? 


agreed,  that  for  the  future  the  confines  between  the 
dominions  of  the  two  crowns  in  that  quarter  of  the 
world,  should  be  irrevocaiily  fixed  by  a  line  drawn  along 
the  middle  of  the  river  Missisippi,  from  its  source,  as 
faras the  river  Iberville,  and  from  thence  by  a  line  drawn 
alone  the  middle  of  this  river,  and  of  the  lakes  Maure- 
pas  and  Port  Chartrain,  to  the  sea.  The  Havannah  was 
exchan«;ed  with  Spain  for  the  Floridas :  and  by  es- 
tablishing these  i;reat  natural  boundaries  to  the  British 
empiic  in  North  America,  every  cause  for  future  con- 
test respecting  that  continent  with  any  potentate  of 
Europe,  appeared  to  be  removed  lor  ever."  Marshall's 
Life  of  fVashinglon,  vol.  i.  p.  564. 

The  love  of  liberty  is  natural  io  man.  In  the  savage 
stnte,  this  principle  is  exercised  with  little  restraint : 
every  individual  acts  for  himself,  looks  to  his  own  cou- 
rage and  his  own  arm  for  detience ;  and  as  he  requires 
not  the  protection  of  a  superior,  he  disdains  to  acknow- 
ledge his  iiutliorily.  When  men  are  united  in  society, 
it  is  perceived  that  subordination  is  necessary  to  their 
happiness,  and  even  to  their  existence  in  that  society  : 
those  who  are  accustomed  to  reflect,  naturally  take  the 
lead  in  every  thing  where  reflection  is  wanted ;  and 
those  whose  valour  or  address  is  most  conspicuous,  have 
the  places  assigned  to  them,  where  these  qualities  are 
most  requisite,  either  for  attack  or  defence.  Laws  are 
framed  to  promote  the  good  of  the  community  ;  and  that 
laws  may  be  executed,  some  one  must  be  obeyed.  Thus 
the  authority  of  a  chief  being  established,  reason  tells 
us  that  it  ought  to  be  maintained  :  for  if  otherwise,  sub- 
ordination, which  is  necessary  to  (he  very  existence  of 
socifty,  and  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  benefits  which  re- 
sult from  union,  cannot  lie  preserved.  The  love  of  licen- 
tious freetlom  is  checked,  and  should  be  checked,  by  the 
power  of  the  ruler.  But  if  the  ruler  shall  attempt  to 
enlbrce  what  is  obviously  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of 
the  state;  if,  reganlless  of  the  laws  which  reason  has 
prescribed  and  expediency  has  required,  he  shall  follow 
the  dictates  of  his  own  will  or  caprice;  if  liberty  is  not 
only  sul  jected  to  wholesome  restraint,  but  in  danger  of 
utter  annihilation  ;  the  voice  of  justice  and  of  nature 
cries  out,  that  resistance  is  necessary,  and  that  bounds 
should  be  set  to  the  uncontrolled  extravagance  of  do- 
minion. When  Xerxes  is  meditating  the  invasion  of 
Greece,  Greece  must  unite  in  its  own  defence.  It  was 
Ihe  love  of  freedom  which  led  Miltiades  to  the  plain  of 
Marathon,  and  Leonidas  to  the  pass  of  Thermopyla; ; 
and  it  was  the  same  principle  which  glowed  in  the  breast 
of  Wallace,  and  animated  the  exertions  of  Tell  in  the 
service  of  his  country.  But  before  this  principle  is  called 
into  action,  it  should  be  dertermined,  whether  the  good 
which  is  expected  from  resistance  will  counterbalance 
the  evils  of  insurrection,  when  order  is  destroyed,  and 
liberty  degenerates  into  licentiousness  ;  and  it  should 
not  be  forgotten,  that  the  evils  of  insurrection  are  cer- 
tain and  imminent,  while  the  good  which  is  expected 
from  resistance  is  [irobable  and  remote. 

Of  the  conduct  of  the  Americans  in  the  war,  the  par- 
ticulars of  which  we  are  a^out  to  relate,  we  leave  our 
readers  to  judge  for  themselves;  as  it  is  our  desire  to 
maintain  an  impartiality  suited  to  the  nature  of  our  work. 


We  are  no  longer  lo  consider  the  Colonies  of  Ame- 
rica as  feeble  settlements,  without  numbers,  and  almost 
wholly  depending  on  foreign  aid,  but  as  opulent  and 
powerful  states,  abounding  in  men*,  and  fertile  in  re- 
sources. Their  population  had  increased  to  a  very  great 
degree,  notwithstanding  the  wars  in  which  they  had 
been  engaged  :  their  trade  was  extensive ;  and  the  cha- 
racter of  the  people  adventurous  and  persevering,  fond 
of  bold  undertakings,  and  not  easily  deterred  from  the 
execution  of  their  purposes.  Flushed  with  the  extra- 
ordinary success  which  had  attended  them  in  all  their 
military  operations,  and  feeling  the  benefits  and  the 
importance  of  their  commerce,  they  justly  regarded 
themselves  as  no  inferior  part  of  the  British  empire, 
and  as  contributing  largely  to  its  wealth  and  prosperity. 
Either  with  the  permission  or  the  connivance  of  Eng- 
land, their  ships  had  visited  every  port  in  the  western 
hemisphere.  They  had  explored,  and  were  continually 
exploring,  new  sources  of  trade,  and  were  to  be  met 
with  in  every  place  where  business  of  any  kind  was 
transacted.  With  this  enlarged  and  vigorous  commerce, 
they  joined  a  remarkable  attention  to  tJie  agriculture  of 
the  provinces  which  they  occupied.  Whatever  could 
be  done  by  art,  by  labour,  and  by  economy ;  whatever 
judgment  could  plan  or  ability  could  execute,  for  im- 
proving the  advantages  of  their  soil  and  climate,  for 
remedying  the  evils  of  their  situation,  or  extending  the. 
happiness  of  domestic  life,  had  been  undertaken  and 
prosecuted  with  unusual  success.  To  all  this  they  add- 
ed a  firmness,  a  prudence,  and  a  lenity  in  the  concerns 
of  government,  which  have  rarely  been  equalled,  and 
never  exceeded,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
But  in  the  midst  of  their  prosperity,  when  every  thing 
was  fair  to  the  eye,  and  no  cloud  interposed  to  diminish 
the  brightness  of  the  view,  a  storm  was  about  to  gather, 
which  was  to  darken  for  a  while  their  clearest  prospects, 
and  introduce  terror  and  confusion  into  all  their  settle- 
ments. 

No  sooner  had  the  treaty  of  peace  been  ratified  at 
Paris,  than  the  French  appear  to  have  formed  the  design 
of  prompting  the  colonies  in  America  to  throw  off  the 
dominionof  Great  Britain.  Animated  by  national  hatred, 
and  galled  by  the  loss  of  their  possessions  in  Canada 
and  Louisiana,  they  despatched  their  emissiariesinto  the 
English  provincesf,  and  succeeded  but  too  well,  in  alien- 
ating the  affections  of  the  people  from  the  mother  coun- 
try. The  colonists  were  by  no  means  unacquainted  with 
resistance  to  the  authority  of  Great  Britain.  They  had 
been  driven  at  first,  by  the  tyranny  of  absolute  dominion, 
to  take  refuge  in  the  Western  world  :  they  had  long 
cherished  the  republican  principles  which  had  carried 
them  thither:  they  had  been  involved  in  frequent  dis- 
putes with  their  immediate  governors,  and  in  these  they 
had  often  been  successful ;  and  though  they  had  derived 
the  most  etfectual  assistance  from  England  during  their 


t  The  opposition  of  the  people  of  North  America  to 
the  claims  of  the  British  king  and  parliament,  between 
the  peace  of  1762-3,  and  the  separation  in  1776,  was 
not  produced  by  French  agency,  but  by  the  nature  of 
things.     Tench  Coxe. 


•  ITiioughout  llie  northern  provinces  of  America,  the  population  has  heeii  found  to  double  itself  erery  25  years.  The  original 
numVicr  of  persons  wiio  hud  settled  in  the  four  provinces  of  New  England  in  ifii.j,  was  Sl.'iOO;  afterwards,  it  was  calculated  that 
more  left  thera  tlian  went  to  theiii ;  yet  in  the  year  1760,  they  were  increased  to  half  a  million.  Malthas  On  Population,  vol.  ii.  p. 
"iS,  Cvo. 

4K2 


6i!S 


AMERICA. 


late  conte£t3  with  the  French,  yet  they  dreaded  her  influ- 
ence, and  viewed  her  rather  in  the  light  of  a  sovereign 
than  a  parent. 

Since  the  time  of  their  earliest  migration,  the  settlers 
in  America  had  been  accustomed  to  acknowledge  the 
authority  of  the  British  parliament,  in  regulating  the 
affairs  of  their  commerce ;  nor  had  they  always  distin- 
guished between  such  enactments  as   respected  their 
trade,  and  such   as   respected   their  internal  circum- 
stances.    But  Ihey  were  now  disposed  to  question  the 
right  of  England  to  interfere,  whether  in  matters  of 
commerce,  or  in  those  of  civil  institution;  as  they  were 
not  present  by  their  representatives  in  the  legislative 
assembly  of  the  nation,  and  thtrrfore  could  neither  give 
nor  refuse  their  consent  to  any  measure  by  which  their 
prosperity  might  be  affected.     To  do  this,  they  consi- 
dered as  the  chief  and  the  unalienable  privilege  of  Eng- 
lishmen.    They  argued  further,  that  though  they  had 
submitted  in  former  times  to  the  duties  which  parlia- 
ment had  laid  upon  their  commerce,  the  practice  was 
wrong,andthat  when  an  evil  was  perceived  andacknow- 
ledged,  no  precedent  ought  to  sanction  its  continuance. 
Thesereasonings,  however,  were  not  the  consequence 
of  abstract  and  philosophical  speculation.     In  the  year 
1764,  a  bill  was  introduced  into  parliament,  by  which 
the  colonists  were  to  pay  certain  duties  on  goods  brought 
from  such  of  the  West  India  islands  as  did  not  belong 
to  the  crown  of  Great  Britain  :  and  these  duties  were 
to  be  paid  into  the  exchequer  in  specie.   By  another  act 
of  the  same  year,  the  paper  currency  was  subjected  to 
certain  limitations  throughout  the  colonies.    As  soon  as 
the  intelligence  of  these  statutes  had  reached  America, 
they  appearetl  to  all  the  settlers  as  ©dious  in  a  great  de- 
gree :  the  profitable  commerce  which  they  had  long 
maintained  with  the  French  and  Spaniards  in  different 
parts  of  the  New  World,  was  to  be  instantly  and  rigor- 
ously suppressed  by  taxes,  which  were  equal,  in  their 
judgment,  to  a  prohibition  of  trade ;  and  these  taxes 
were  to  be  gathered  by  the  sudden  conversion  of  all  the 
naval  officers  on  the  American  station  into  collectors  of 
the  revenue.     Such  men  being  unacquainted  with  the 
proper  duty  of  their  new  character,  rendered  the  law, 
which  was  disagreeable  in  itself,  still  more  hateful  in 
its  execution.     And  as  the  penalties  and  forfeitures  un- 
der the  act  were  recoverable  in  the  vice-admiralty  courts 
in  America,  to  the  exclusion  of  a  fair  trial  by  jury,  this 
last  circumstance  gave  an  additional  spur  to  the  dissa- 
tisfaction of  the  people.  Thewholeconlinent  was  thrown 
into  fermentation ;  vehement  remonstrances  were  made ; 
petitions  were  transmitted  to  the  king,  and  memorials 
to  both  houses  of  parliament;  every  argument  which 
ingenuity  could  furnish,  or  interest  could  enforce,  was 
employed  in  order  to  procure  the  repeal  of  the  obnoxious 
statutes  ;  but  all  without  effect.     A  committee  was  ap- 
pointed at  Massachusetts,  to  act  during  the  recess  of 
ihe  general  court :  and  those  who  composed  it  were  in- 
structed to   communicate  with  the  other  settlements, 
and  to  entreat  their  concurrence  and  aid.     In  the  mean- 
time, associations  were  formed  in  all  the  provinces,  in 
order  to  diminish  the  use  of  British  manufactures:  a 
stei)  which,  besides  its  immediate  eflects,  rendered  the 
merchants  of  England  a  party  ngainst  the  ministry,  and 
Increased  the  opposition  with  which  those  in  power  were 
obliged  to  contend. 

But  the  ministry  were  determined  not  to  stop  at  what 
they  had  already  done.  Under  pretence  of  enabling  the 
Americans  to  defend  themselves  against  any  foreign 


enemy,  and  with  a  firmness  worthy  of  a  better  cause, 
they  proceeded  to  complete  the  plan  which  they  had 
laid  down  forthe  taxation  of  the  colonics.  Mr.  Grenville, 
therefore,  brought  into  parliament,  a  bill  for  imposing 
stamp  duties  in  America;  and  after  a  struggle  with  the 
opposition,  and  many  animated  debates, it  passed  through 
both  houses,  and  received  his  majesty's  assent.  In  an- 
swer to  the  reasoning  which  was  employed  in  support  of 
the  bill,  colonel  Bi'rre  distinguished  himself  by  the  vi- 
gour of  his  eloquence  :  stating,  with  a  manly  freedom, 
that  the  same  spirit  which  had  actuated  the  people  at 
first  yet  continued  with  them ;  and  insinuating,  in  a  way 
that  could  not  be  mistaken,  what  would  be  the  eflects 
of  the  measure  which  England  was  about  to  adojit.  He 
declared  that  he  spoke  from  a  particular  acquaintance 
with  the  character  of  the  Americans :  and  expressing 
his  belief,  that  while  they  were  jealous  of  their  rights, 
they  were  loyal  to  their  king,  he  entrcatpd  the  ministry 
to  pause  before  they  ordained  that  the  privileges  of  Eng- 
lishmen were  to  be  invaded  or  destroyed. 

The  reception  of  the  stamp  act  among  the  colonies 
was  such  as  might  have  been  expected.  Comitinations 
were  every  where  formed  to  prevent  its  execution.  At 
Boston  in  particular,  when  the  news  arrived,  ami  a  copy 
of  the  act  itself,  the  utmost  alarm  was  excited  :  the  l-.ells 
were  muffled,  and  a  peal  was  rung,  which  the  inhabitants 
considered  as  the  knell  of  departing  liberty.  The  vio- 
lence of  the  populace  arose,  and  could  with  difficulty  bo 
restrained.  The  act  which  was  the  o' ject  of  their  aver- 
sion, was  hawked  in  the  streets,  with  a  death's  head  at- 
tached to  it :  it  was  styled  the  Folly  of  Enghind,  and  the 
Huin  of  America:  the  stamps  were  destro3'ed  where- 
ever  they  could  be  found  l>y  the  enraged  multitude ; 
who,  with  all  theintemperanceol' popular  agitation,  burnt 
and  plundered  the  houses  of  such  as  adhered  to  the  gov- 
ernment. It  is  true,  these  outrages  were  committed  Uy 
the  lowest  of  the  people ;  Imt  Ihey  were  first  tolerated, 
and  then  encouraged,  by  those  of  greater  respectability 
and  influence.  The  disaflection  appeared  to  spread.  A 
meeting  of  deputies  from  all  the  settlements  was  ad- 
vised by  the  house  of  representatives  in  Massacluisetis  : 
and  at  the  time  appointed  commissioners  from  that  state, 
and  those  of  Rhode  Island,  Connecticut,  New-York,  New- 
Jersey,  Pennsylvania,  the  three  lower  counties  on  the 
Delaware,  Maryland,  and  South  Carolina,  assembled  at 
New-York;  and  Timothy  Buggies,  Esq.  of  Massachu- 
setts, being  elected  president,  the  following  resolutions 
were  passed ; 

I.  That  his  majesty's  subjects  in  these  colonies  owe 
the  same  allegiance  to  the  crown  of  Great  Britain,  that 
is  owing  from  the  subjects  horn  within  the  realm ;  and 
all  due  subordiiKition  to  that  august  body,  the  parliament 
of  Great  Britain.  II.  That  his  majesty's  liege  subjects 
in  these  colonies  are  entitled  to  all  the  inherent  rights 
and  liberties  of  his  natural  born  subjects  within  the  king- 
dom of  Great  Britain.  III.  That  it  is  inseparably  es- 
sential to  the  freedom  of  a  people,  and  the  undoubted 
right  of  Englishmen,  that  no  taxes  be  imposed  upon 
them,  but  with  their  own  consent,  given  personally,  or 
by  their  representatives.  IV.  That  the  people  of  these 
colonies  are  not,  and,  from  their  local  circumstances 
cannot  be,  represented  in  the  House  of  Commons  in 
GreatBritain.  V.  Thattheonly  representatives  of  these 
colonies  are  pei-sons  chosen  therein  by  themselves  ;  and 
that  no  taxes  ever  have  been,  or  can  be,  constitution- 
ally imposed  upon  th*>m,  but  by  their  representative  le- 
gislatures.   VI.  That  all  supplies  to  the  crowa  being 


AMERICA. 


(J29 


free  gifts  from  the  people,  it  is  unreasonable  and  incon- 
eisltnt  with  the  spirit  of  the  British  constitution,  for  the 
pfople  of  Greiit  liritaiu  to  E;r.in(  to  his  majesty  the  pro- 
perty of  the  colonists.  VII.  That  trial  l)y  jury  is  the 
inherent  and  invuluaMe  riglit  of  every  British  subject  in 
these  colonies.  VIII.  That  the  late  act  of  parliament, 
entitled,  "  An  Act  lor  granting  and  supplying  certain 
Stamp  Duties,  and  other  Duties  in  the  British  Colonies 
and  Plantations  in  America,"  &c.  by  imposing  taxes  on 
the  inhabitants  of  these  colonies;  and  that  the  said  act, 
and  several  other  acts,  l.y  extending  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  courts  of  admiralty  Leyond  its  ancient  limits,  have  a 
manifest  tendency  to  su'.>vert  the  rights  and  liberties  of 
tlie  colonists.  IX".  Th  it  the  duties  imposed  by  several 
late  acts  of  parliament,  from  the  peculiar  circumstances 
of  these  colonies,  will  be  extremely  burthensome  and 
grievous,  and  that  from  the  scarcity  of  specie,  the  pay- 
ment of  them  will  be  absolutely  impracticable.  X.  That 
as  the  profits  of  the  trade  of  these  colonies  ultimately 
centre  in  Great  Britain,  to  pay  for  the  manufactures 
which  they  are  obliged  to  take  from  thence,  they  eventu- 
ally contribute  very  largely  to  all  supplies  granted  to 
the  crown.  XI.  That  the  restrictions  imposed  by  seve- 
ral late  acts  of  parliament  on  the  trade  of  these  colonies, 
will  render  them  unable  to  purchase  the  manufactures 
of  Great  Britain.  XII.  That  the  increase,  prosperity, 
and  happiness  of  these  colonies,  depend  on  the  full  and 
free  enjoyment  of  their  rights  and  liberties,  and  an  in- 
tercourse with  Great  Britain,  mutually  aCfectionate  and 
advantageous.  XIII.  That  it  is  the  right  of  the  British 
subjects  in  these  colonies  to  petition  the  king,  or  either 
house  of  parliament.  Lastly,  That  it  is  the  indispensa- 
ble «luty  of  these  colonies,  to  the  best  of  sovereigns,  to 
the  mother  country,  and  to  themselves,  to  endeavour, 
hy  a  loyal  and  dutiful  address  to  his  majesty,  and  humble 
applications  to  both  houses  of  parliament,  to  procure  the 
repeal  of  the  "  Act  for  granting  and  applying  certain 
Stamp  Duties,"  and  of  all  clauses  of  any  other  acts  of 
parliament,  whereby  the  jurisdiction  of  the  admiralty  is 
extended  as  aforesjiid,  and  of  the  late  other  acts  for  the 
restriction  of  the  American  commerce. 

From  a  careful  examination  of  these  resolutions,  it 
will  appear  that  the  colonists  were  desirous  at  this  time 
to  maintain  (heir  allegiance  to  their  sovereign,  while 
they  stood  forth  in  the  defence  of  their  rights ;  and  that 
they  were  even  willing  to  acknowledge  the  authority  of 
the  British  parliament  in  regulating  their  commerce, 
while  they  contended  that  it  was  unjust  and  subversive 
of  all  liberty  to  tax  them  without  their  consent. 

It  was  now  perceived  by  the  niinistrj'in  Europe,  that 
they  nmst  either  repeal  the  obnoxious  statutes,  or  oblige 
the  Americans  to  sul>mit  to  them  by  force  of  arms.  The 
confederacy  against  them  was  general,  systematic,  and 
alarming  :  it  v.as  universally  agreed  that  no  articles  of 
British  manufiiCture  should  be  imported,  and  that  those 
which  were  prepared  in  the  colonies,  though  both  dearer 
and  of  worse  quality,  should  he  employed  in  all  the  set- 
tlements. Even  (he  ladies,  animated  with  a  similar  spirit, 
aheerfully  relinquished  every  species  of  ornament  which 
was  manufactured  in  England  The  proceedings  in  the 
courts  of  justice  were  suspended,  that  no  stamps  might 
be  used ;  and  tiie  colonists  were  earnestly  and  frequently 
exhorted  by  those  who  took  the  lead  on  this  occasion,  to 
terminate  their  disputes  by  reference.  In  addition  to 
this,  not  a  few  of  the  people  at  home  espoused  the  cause 
of  tLe  Americans,  o))enly  declaring,  that  the  imposition 
of  a  tax  upon  them,  without  their  consent,  was  nothing 


else  than  levying  a  contribution  :  and  that,  if  the  minis- 
try persevered  in  doing  so,  they  would  persevere  in 
violating  the  rights  of  every  British  subject.  Mr.  Pitt, 
whom  we  have  already  seen  conducting  the  war  against 
the  French  in  America,  with  unexampled  vigour  and 
success,  was  now  in  opposition.  He  entered  warmly 
into  the  views  of  the  colonists  on  the  present  emergen- 
cy :  and  maintained  in  his  place,  with  all  the  eloquence 
for  which  he  was  conspicuous,  "  that  taxation  is  no  part 
of  the  governing  or  legislative  power;  but  that  taxes 
are  a  voluntary  gift  and  grant  of  the  commons  alone;" 
and  he  concluded  his  speech  with  a  motion,  that  the 
stamp  act  be  repealed  absohUcli/,  totalis/,  and  iimnedialeli/. 
About  this  time  the  celebrated  Dr.  Franklin  was  ex- 
amined before  the  house  of  commons,  and  gave  it  as  his 
opinion,  that  the  tax  in  question  was  impracticable  and 
ruinous;  asserting,  that  it  had  alienated  the  affections 
of  the  colonists  from  the  mother  country ;  and  that  they 
regarded  the  people  of  England  as  conspiring  against 
their  liberties,  and  the  parliament  as  willing  to  oppress, 
rather  than  to  assist  them.  A  petition  was  received 
from  the  congress  at  New- York ;  and  some  change  hav- 
ing taken  place  in  the  cabinet,  the  existing  administra- 
tion agreed  with  Mr.  Pitt,  and  the  stamp  act  was  repeal- 
ed, to  the  universal  joy  of  the  Americans.  In  Virginia 
in  particular,  it  was  resolved  by  the  house  of  burgesses, 
that  a  statue  should  be  erected  to  his  majesty,  as  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  high  sense  which  they  entertain- 
ed of  his  attention  to  the  rights  and  the  petitions  of  his 
people. 

But  though  the  ministry  had  consented  to  repeal  the 
stamp  act,  they  had  not  abandoned  the  purpose  of  draw- 
ing a  revenue  from  the  colonies  in  America.  They  fan- 
cied likewise,  that  (hey  liad  yielded  too  much  by  com- 
plying with  the  wishes  of  the  settlers :  the  pride  of  do- 
minion was  wounded;  and,  in  order  to  sup|)ort  the  dig- 
nity of  the  crown,  and  the  credit  of  their  adfninistratiou, 
they  published  a  bill,  in  wiiich  the  superiority  of  Great 
Britain  over  her  colonics  was  declared  to  extend  to  alt 
cases  whatever.  The  assertion  of  the  right  of  England^ 
in  this  instance,  greatly  diminished  the  joy  which  the 
repeal  of  the  stamp  act  had  occasioned.  It  was  consi- 
dered by  the  Americans  as  a  foundation  on  which  any 
future  ministry  might  oppress  tliem  under  the  sauctioa 
of  parliamentary  authority ;  and  it  liad  no  other  effect, 
than  that  of  rendering  them  more  sus(»iciou3  of  arbitrary 
designs,  and  more  solicitous  to  mark,  with  a  jealous  eye, 
the  first  encroachments  of  power. 

An  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  this  spirit  was  not 
long  wanting.  An  act  had  been  passed  by  the  Rock- 
ingham administration,  for  providing  the  soldiers  in  the 
colonies  with  the  necessaries  and  accommodations  whicb 
their  circumstances  might  require.  But  the  assembly 
of  New-York  explained  this  act  accordiu^  to  their  own 
inclinations  ;  and  asserted,  that  it  was  meant  to  apply  to 
the  troops  only  when  they  were  marching  from  place  to 
place.  The  assembly  at  Boston  followed  the  example 
of  that  in  New-York  :  they  proceeded  even  further;  and 
rrsolved,  that  the  conduct  of  the  governor  ia  issuing 
money  from  the  treasury,  in  order  to  furnish  llie  artil- 
lerj'  with  provisions,  was  unconstitutional  and  unjust; 
and  that  it  disabled  them  from  granting  cheerfully  to 
the  king  the  aids  which  his  service  demanded.  These 
resolutions  of  the  colonists,  however,  were  not  approved 
of  in  England,  by  many  of  those  who  had  espoused  their 
interests  on  other  occasions.  Their  disDOsition  seemed 
to  them  uow  to  be,  not  that  of  a  rational  defence  of  t^heir 


030 


AlkrERTCA. 


rights  and  privileges,  but  that  of  a  systematic  opposition 
to  the  ruling  powers.  It  is  not  easy  to  discover  on  what 
principle  this  change  of  sentiinent  was  rested  ;  but  it  is 
acknowledged,  that,  in  conse(|uencc  of  the  change,  the 
bill  which  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Townshend,  the  chan- 
cellor of  (he  exchequer,  imposing  a  duty  on  all  tea,  pa- 
per, colours,  and  glass,  imported  into  the  colonies,  was 
pa6sedi(A.  D.  1768,)  with  much  less  opposition  than  it 
would  otherwise  have  experienced.  And  in  oi-dcr  to 
punish  the  refractory  spirit  of  the  assemblies,  the  legis- 
lative power  was  taken  from  that  of  New-York,  till  it 
should  comply  with  the  requisitions  of  the  parent  stair. 
The  act  for  imposing  the  new  taxes  was  received 
with  greater  aversion  than  the  stamp  act  itself.  Letters 
were  sent  from  Massachusetts  to  all  the  other  colonies, 
inveighing  against  the  injustice  and  tyranny  of  the  Jlri- 
lish  legislature ;  and  affirming,  that  the  proceedings  of 
the  parliament  were  subversive  of  liberty,  and  hostile  to 
the  rights  of  British  subjects.  They  complained  loudly 
of  Bamand,  their  governor;  charged  him  with  misre- 
presenting their  conduct;  and  wrote  to  the  English  mi- 
nistry in  their  own  defence  :  they  declared  that  he  was 
unfit  to  continue  in  the  station  which  he  occupied,  and 
petitioned,  with  great  eagerness,  that  he  might  instantly 
be  removed.  On  the  other  hand,  the  governor  was  oi^ 
"dered  to  proceed  with  vigour;  and,  showing  no  inclina- 
tion to  yield  to  the  people,  to  use  his  utmost  endeavours 
to  carry  into  effect  the  measures  of  the  crown.  A  tu- 
mult took  place  at  Boston,  in  consequence  of  the  seizure 
of  a  vessel,  the  master  of  which  had  neglected  to  com- 
ply with  the  new  statutes.  The  multitude  laid  violent 
bands  on  the  officers,  and  beat  them  severely;  and  hav- 
ing seized  the  collector's  books,  they  burnt  them  in 
triumph,  and  patroled  the  streets  without  opposition. 
They  attacked  the  houses  of  the  commissioners  of  ex- 
cise, and  broke  their  windows :  and  such  was  their  vio- 
lence, that  they  obliged  the  officers  of  the  revenue  to 
take  refuge,  first  on  board  the  Romney,  and  afterwards 
in  Castle-William,  a  fortress  situated  near  the  entrance 
of  the  harl)Our.  The  governor  dissolved  the  assembly. 
This  measure,  the  last  resource  of  inefficient  power, 
was  not  followed  by  the  consequences  which  were  ex- 
pected to  result  from  it.  Frequent  meetings  of  the  peo- 
ple were  held  at  Boston,  and  in  the  different  provinces : 
a  remonstrance  was  made  to  the  governor;  and  a  peti- 
tion was  transmited  to  him,  in  which  he  was  desired  to 
remove  the  ships  of  war  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
town ;  a  request  with  which  he  was  neither  able  nor 
willing  to  comply.  Every  thing  now  appeared  to  indi- 
cate a  rupture  between  the  colonies  and  the  parent  state. 
The  agent  for  the  provinces  was  refused  admission  to 
the  presence  of  the  king.  A  report  was  circulated,  that 
troops  had  been  ordered  to  march  into  Boston  :  a  dread- 
ful alarm  took  place;  and  all  ranks  of  men  joined  in  be- 
seeching the  governor,  that  a  general  assembly  might 
be  convoked.  The  answer  of  the  governor  was,  that, 
by  his  last  instructions  from  England,  he  was  prevented 
from  complying  with  the  wishes  of  the  people.  The 
inhabitants  of  Boston,  therefore,  determined  to  form  a 
convention;  in  which  it  was  resolved,  that  they  should 
defend  their  violated  rights  at  (he  peril  of  their  lives 
and  fortunes;  that  as  they  dreaded  a  war  wilh  France, 
the  people  should  furnish  themselves  with  arms;  and 
that  a  committee  of  their  number  should  meet  in 
the  town,  in  order  to  correspond  with  the  delegates 
which  mipht  arrive  from  the  other  jirovinces.  At  the 
tame  time,  they  thought  it  proper  to  assure  the  gover- 


nor of  their  pacific  intentions,  and  requested  again  that 
a  general  assembly  might  be  called  :  but,  after  trans- 
mitting to  Eugland  an  account  of  their  proceedings,  and 
the  reasons  which  had  induced  them  to  assemlile,  they 
were  again  refused,  and  stigmatized  with  the  appella- 
tion of  rebels. 

On  the  day  before  the  convention  rose,  two  regiments 
arrived  from  Great  Britain.  Their  landing  w.is  protect- 
ed by  the  fleet,  which  was  drawn  up  with  the  broad- 
sides of  the  vessels  opposite  the  town,  with  springs  on 
their  cables,  and  everything  re;tdy  for  action.  In  con- 
sequence of  these  formidable  appearances,  the  troops 
marched  into  Boston  without  any  resistance  on  the  part 
of  the  inhabitants :  and  the  council  having  refused  to 
provide  them  with  quarters,  the  state-house  was  opened 
for  their  reception,  by  the  command  of  the  governor : 
a  step  which  gave  much  offence,  and  exasperated  the 
peo|)le  to  a  high  degree.  The  presence  of  the  soldiers, 
however,  had  great  influence  in  restraining  the  excesses 
of  the  po|>ulace.  But  the  hatred  of  the  colonists  towards 
England  was  become  fixed  and  unalterable :  and  the 
news  having  reached  them,  that  both  houses  of  parlia- 
ment, in  their  address  to  his  majesty,  had  recommended 
vigorous  measures,  in  order  to  force  them  to  obedience, 
they  united  in  closer  association,  and  resolved  to  sub- 
mit to  all  losses,  rather  than  to  that  of  their  rights  as  free 
men,  and  as  British  sul>ject8. 

On  the  5th  of  March,  1770,  an  affray  took  place  at 
Boston  between  the  military  and  someof  the  inhabitants, 
in  which  four  persons  were  killed.  The  bells  were  in- 
stantly rung;  the  people  rushed  from  the  country  to 
the  aid  of  the  citizens ;  the  whole  jjrovince  rose  in  arms ; 
and  the  soldiers  were  oliliged  to  retire  to  Castle-Wil- 
liam, in  ortler  to  avoid  the  fury  of  the  enraged  multitude. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  parliament  of  Great  Britain  show- 
ed, that  it  had  neither  sufficient  vigour  to  compel  the 
Americans  to  submit,  nor  sufficient  liberality  to  yield  to 
their  remonstrances,  and  grant  what  they  petitioned  so 
earnestly  to  obtain.  The  ministry  agreed  to  take  off  all 
the  duties  which  had  lately  been  imposed,  except  that 
on  tea  :  but  it  was  predicted  by  (he  opposition,  that  their 
indulgence  would  have  no  good  effect,  if  any  duty  what- 
ever were  imposed  upon  the  Americans  without  their 
consent.  What  was  predicted  by  the  opposition  was  in 
the  end  found  (o  be  (rue.  It  was  resolved,  that  the  (ea 
should  not  be  landed,  but  sent  back  to  Europe  in  the 
same  vessels  which  had  brought  it ;  for  it  was  obvious 
to  all,  that  it  would  be  extremely  difficult  to  hinder  the 
sale,  if  (he  commodity  should  once  be  received  on  shore. 
Accordingly,  the  |)cople  assembled  in  great  number?  at 
Boston  ;  forced  those  to  whom  it  had  been  consigned  to 
give  up  (heir  appointments,  and  to  swear  that  they 
would  abandon  them  for  ever:  and  public  tests  being 
agreed  upon,  (hose  who  refused  to  take  them  were  de- 
nounced as  the  enemies  of  their  country.  This  dispo- 
sition was  not  confined  to  Massachusetts  alone:  the 
same  spirit  appeared  in  all  the  colonies :  and  the  same 
resolution  to  defend  their  rights,  by  checking  the  vio- 
lence of  arbi(rary  power. 

Such  was  (he  si(ua(ion  of  affairs,  when  three  shipi, 
laden  with  tea,  arrived  at  (he  port  of  Boston.  The 
captains  of  these  vessels,  alarmed  at  the  menaces  of  the 
people,  offered  to  return  with  th.ir  cargoes  (o  England, 
provided  they  could  o'tnin  the  necessary  discharges 
from  (he  merchants  to  whom  the  (eis  had  been  consign- 
ed, Hnd  likewise  from  the  governor  and  (he  officers  of 
(he  custom-house.    But,  though  afraid  to  issne  order* 


AMERICA 


mi 


for  landing  the  tea,  the  merchants  and  officers,  in  con- 
junclion  with  the  governor,  refused  (o  grant  the  rtis- 
ohnrges,  and  the  ships  were  obliged  to  remain  in  the 
liarliour.  The  peo|)Ie,  however,  apprehensive  that  the 
•hnoxious  commodity  wouhl  he  landed  in  small  quan- 
tities, if  the  vessels  should  continue  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  town,  resolved  to  destroy  it  at  once.  For 
thib  purpose,  they  disguised  themselves  as  Indians  of 
the  Mohawk  nation  ;  and  having  boarded  the  ships  dur- 
ing night,  they  threw  their  cargoes  into  the  water,  and 
retired  without  making  any  further  disturbance.  No 
fewer  than  three  hundred  and  forty-two  chests  of  tea 
were  lost  on  this  occasion.  In  other  places,  the  aver- 
sion of  the  people  was  equally  great,  though  their  vio- 
lence was  less  conspicuous.  At  Philadelj)hia,  the  pilots 
were  enjoined  not  to  conduct  the  ships  into  the  river : 
and  at  New-York,  though  the  governor  ordered  some 
of  the  tea  to  be  landed  under  the  protection  of  a  man  of 
war,  he  was  obliged  to  deliver  it  into  the  custody  of  the 
people,  who  took  all  possible  care  that  none  of  it  should 
be  sold. 

These  troubles  were  introductory  to  a  general  rup- 
ture. The  |)arIiHment  of  England  resolved  to  punish 
the  town  of  Boston  in  an  exemplary  manner,  by  im- 
posing a  fine  upon  the  inhabitants  equal  to  the  value  of 
the  tea  which  had  been  destroyed ;  and  to  shut  up  their 
port  by  an  armed  force,  till  their  refractory  spirit  should 
be  subdued :  an  event  which  they  supposed  would  take 
place  in  a  short  lime,  as  by  the  last  of  these  measures 
their  trade  would  be  completely  stopped.  A  general 
infatuation  appears  to  have  seized  the  parliament ;  and 
it  was  believed  by  men  of  every  rank  and  degree,  that 
the  Americans  would  not  persevere  in  resisting  the  au- 
thority of  Great  Britain;  or  if  they  should  do  so,  that 
their  resistance  would  be  of  no  avail.  In  consecjuence 
of  this  belief,  it  was  likewise  determined,  that  if  any 
person  should  be  indicted  for  murder  in  the  province  of 
Massachusetts  bay,  and  if  it  was  clear,  from  evidence 
given  upon  oath,  that  the  deed  had  been  committed  in 
(he  exercise  or  aid  of  magistracy,  while  attempting  to 
suppress  the  riots ;  and  if  it  was  further  probable,  that 
an  equitable  trial  could  not  be  obtained  in  the  colonies ; 
the  persons  who  were  accused  might  be  sent  to  Europe, 
in  order  to  be  tried  before  an  English  jury.  Nor  was  this 
all :  such  was  the  majority  in  favour  of  the  crown  when 
these  resolutions  were  adopted,  th;it  a  fourth  bill  was 
passed;  by  which  it  was  provided,  that  the  government 
of  Canada  should  be  vested  in  a  council,  the  members 
of  which  were  to  I.e  appointed  by  the  king,  and  remove- 
able  at  pleasure  :  and  the  council  was  to  have  the  exer- 
cise of  eve'ry  legislative  power,  except  that  by  which 
taxes  are  imposed.  All  these  laws  were  highly  often- 
sive  to  the  Americans,  and  exasperated  them  beyond  the 
possibilit}'  of  reconciliation. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tiimults  occasioned  by  the  lale  acts 
of  parliament,  and  especially  by  the  stop  which  had  been 
put  to  the  trade  of  Boston,  General  Gage,  the  new  go- 
vernor, arrived  from  England.  He  removed  the  assem- 
bly from  Boston  in  Massachusetts,  to  Salem,  another- 
town  of  the  same  province.  When  the  purpose  of  the 
governor  was  communicated  to  the  members,  they  made 
no  other  re|>ly,  than  th.it  ol'requesling  him  to  appoint  a 
d  .y  for  humiliation  and  prayer;  in  order  to  avert  the 
wrath  of  heaven,  which  seemed  al-.out  to  inflict  its  most 
awful  judgments  on  the  American  states.  Their  re- 
quest was  not  com  died  with;  and  their  final  resolutions 
appear  to  have  been  taken.     The  general  court  met,  by 


the  appointment  of  the  governor,  at  Salem.     They  de- 
clared it  necessary,   that  a  congress  of  delegates,   from 
all  the  provinces,  should  assemble,  to  take  tlie  affairs  of 
the  colonies  into  their  most  serious  consideration  :  and 
they  nominated  five  gentlemen,  each  of  them  remarka- 
ble for  his  opposition  to  England,  as  the  representatives 
of  the  people  in  the  division  of  Massachusetts,  to  which 
they  belonged.     They  recommended  it  to  the  whole 
province  to  abandon  the  use  of  tea;  and  urged  the  ne- 
cessity of  giving  all  the  encouragement  in  their  power 
to  the  manufactures  of  America.     In  the  mean  time, 
the  governor,    having    learnt   what   their   proceedings 
were,  sent  an  officer  to  dissolve  the  assembly  in  the 
king's  name :  but  he,  finding  that  the  door  was  shut, 
and  that  he  could  not  be  admitted,  was  compelled  to 
read  the  order  of  dissolution  aloud  on  the  stair-case. 
The  inhabitants  of  Salem,  which  was  now  become  the 
metropolis  of  the  colony,  appear  to  have  adopted  the 
same  spirit  with  those  of  Boston.  They  published  a  de- 
claration in  favour  of  the  latter;  in  which  they  as- 
serted, that  nature,  in  forming  their  harbour,  had  pre- 
vented them  from  becoming  their  rivals  in  trade;  and 
that  even  if  it  were  otherwise,  they  would  regard  them- 
selves as  lost  to  every  idea  ofjustice,  and  all  feelings  of 
humanity,  could  they  indulge  one  thought  of  seizing 
upon  the  wealth  of  their  neighbours,  or  raising  their 
fortunes  on  the  distresses  of  their  countrymen.     The 
cause  of  Boston  was  espoused  by  the  rest  of  the  colo- 
nies, without  exception.     The  1st  of  June,  the  day  on 
which  that  city  was  to  be  blockaded  by  the  king's  ships, 
■was  observed  in  Virginia  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  humi- 
liation ;  and  a  public  intercession  in  behalf  of  the  Ame- 
rican people,  was  enjoined   throughout  the  province. 
The  style  of  prayer  on  this  occasion  was,  "  that  God 
would  give  them  one  heart  and  mind,  firmly  to  oppose 
every  invasion  of  American  rights."     The  A'irginians, 
likewise,  recommended  a  general  congress;  they  de- 
clared, that  if  any  one  of  the  colonies  was  taxed  without 
its  consent,  the  rights  of  the  whole  were  violated ;  and 
that,  in  the  present  case,    fhey  regarded    the  injury 
which  was  done  to  the  inhabitants  of  Boston  as  done  to 
themselves.     The  provinces  of  New-York  anJ  Pennsyl- 
vania, though  the  most  wavering,  were  at  last  fixed  is 
irreconcileable  opposition  to  Great  Britain.    An  univer- 
sal enthusiasm  prevailed.  A  solemn  covenant  was  form- 
ed at  Boston,  in  order  to  suspend  all  commercial  inter- 
course with  England,  or  her  agents,   till  the  obnoxiou* 
statutes  should  be  repealed,  and  the  harbour  opened: 
and  though  general  <3age  denounced  this  agreement  as 
illegal,  traitorous,  and  destructiveof  the  peace  and  safety 
of  the  community,  the  inhabitants  retorted  the  charg* 
of  illegality  on  his  own  proclamation  ;  and  affirmed,  tliat 
they  were  permitted  by  law  to  assemble,  whenever  their 
grievances  required  that  a  general  meeting  should  tak« 
place.     The  time  when  the  proclamations  of  goveruons 
were  to  have  any  effect  had  now  passed  away.     At 
length,  on  the  4tli  of  September,  A.  I).  1774,  the  first 
congress  of  the  Americ:in  slates  assembled  at  Pbiladel- 
l>hia  :  and  Peyton  Randolph,  Esq.  late  speaker  of  tiie 
house  of  burgesses  in  Virginia,  was  chosen  president, 
by  the  unanimous  suffrage  of  the  delegates.     To  this 
august  body  of  citizens,   met  for  the  highest  purposes 
which  can  affect  the  temporal  interests  of  man,  the  eyes 
of  the  people,  in  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  life,  were 
turned  with  anxious  concern  :  Nor  were  the  officers  and 
dependents  of  the  crown   without  alarm,  on  hearing  the 
news  of  this  iniportact  nseetijig :  they  dreadeij  the  coe- 


632 


AMERICA. 


sequences  of  that  spirit  which  prevailed  among  the 
members  and  began  to  anticipate  the  result  of  their  de- 
liberations. The  following  is  a  list  of  the  delegates 
who  composed  the  first  congress  in  America. 


John  Sulliran, 
Nathaniel  Polsom, 
James  Bovvdoin, 
Thomas  Cashing, 
Samuel  Adams, 
John  Adams, 
Robert  Treat  Paine, 
Stephen  Hopkins, 
Samuel  Ward, 
Eliphalet  Dyer, 
Boger  Sherman, 
Silas  Deane, 
James  Duane, 
Henry  Wisner, 
John  Jay, 
Philip  Livingston, 
Isaac  Low, 
John  Alsop, 

William  Floyd 

James  Kinsey, 

William  Livingston, 

John  Dehart, 

Stephen  Crane, 

Richard  Smith, 

Joseph  Galloway, 

Charles  Humphreys, 

Samuel  Rhoads, 

George  Ross, 

John  Morton, 

Thomas  Mifflin, 

Edward  Biddle, 

John  Dickinson, 

Cffisar  Rodney, 

Thomas  M'Kean, 

George  Read, 

Robert  Goldsborough, 
Thomas  Johnson, 

William  Paca, 
Samuel  Chase, 
Matthew  Tilghman, 
Peyton  Randolph, 
Richard  U.  Lee, 
George  Washington, 
Patrick  Henry, 
Richard  Poland, 
B<  njamin  Harrison, 
Edmund  Pendleton, 
William  Hooper, 
Joseph  Hughes, 
Richard  Caswell, 
Henry  Middleton, 
John  Rutledge, 
Thomas  Lynch, 
Christopher  Gadsden, 
Edward  Rutledge, 


>  From  New  Hampshire. 


y  From  Massachusetts  bay. 


'  From  Rhode  Island,  and 
Providence  plantations. 

I  From  Connecticut. 


From  the  city  and  county  of 
New-York,  and  the  other 
counties  in  the  province  of 
New-York. 

From  the  county  of  Suffolk,  in 
the  province  of  New-York. 


>  From  New- Jersey. 


>  From  Pennsylvania. 


From  Newcastle,  Kent,  and 
Sussex  on  Delaware. 


From  Maryland. 


>  From  Virginia. 


•  From  North  Carolina. 


>  From  South  Carolina. 


These  men  having  resolved  that  each  colony  should 
have  only  one  vote,  and  that  their  deliberalioiis  should 
take  place  without  the  admission  of  strangers,  (iroceetl- 
ed  to  the  liigh  duty  which  their  countrymen  had  impos- 
ed upon  them. 


They  first  cspressed  their  approbation  of  what  had 
been  done  by  the  iohabitiots  of  Massacl^usetts-bay ; 
warmly  exhorted  them  to  perseverance  in  the  cnuse  of 
freedom ;  and  voted,  that  contributions  should  be  made 
for  them  in  all  the  provinces,  and  continued  so  long, 
and  in  such  a  manner,  as  their  circumstances  might  re- 
quire.    They  next  addressed  a  letter  to  general  Gasje; 
in  which  they  informed  him  of  their  unalterable  resolu- 
tion, to  oppose  every  attempt  to  carry  the  British  acts  of 
parliament  into  eifect ;  and  entreated  him  to  desist  from 
his  military  operations,  lest  a  difl'erence  altogether  iTc- 
concileable  should  take  place  between  the  colonies  and 
the  parent  state.     Their  next  step  was  a  declaration  of 
their  rights,  in  the  shape  of  resolutions :  these  resolu- 
tions were  nearly  the  same  with  those  which  the  reader 
■will  find  in  a  preceding  page ;  but  should  he  wish  for 
more  accurate  information,  we  refer  him  to  Marshall's 
Life  of  JViishinglon,  vol.  ii.  p.  214,  ed.  8vo.  1804,  where 
the  resolutions  themselves  are  given  in  a  note,  and  ex- 
pressed in  the  words  of  the  congress.     The  assemtOy 
then  proceeded  to  petition  the  king,  stating  the  griev- 
ances under  which  they  laboured  ;  grievances  which, 
they  said,  were  the  more  intolerable,  as  the  colonies 
were  born  the  heirs  of  freedom,  and  had  long  enjoyed 
it  under  the  aus]>ice9  of  former  sovereigns  :  and  stating 
also,  that  they  wished  for  no  diminution  of  the  preroga- 
tive, and  no  privileges,  or  immunities,  except  those 
which  were  their  rightful  inheritance  as  the  subjects 
of  Great  Britain ;  concluding  the  whole  mth  an  earnest 
prayer,  that  his  majesty,  as  the  father  of  his  people, 
would  not  permit  the  ties  of  blood,  of  law,  and  of  loyalty, 
to  be  broken,  in  expectation  of  consequences,  which, 
even  if  they  should  take  place,  would  never  compen- 
sate for  the  sufferings  to  which   they  must  give  rise. 
The  petition  to  the  Iting  was  followed  by  an  address  to 
the  people  of  England,  conceived  with  great  vigour,  and 
expressed  in  the  most  energetic  language.     "  Be  not 
surprised,"  they  say,  "  that  we,  who  are  descended  from 
the  same  common  ancestors,  that  we,  whose  forefathers 
participated  in  the  rights,  the  liberties  and  the  constitn- 
tion  you  so  justly  boast  of,  and  who  have  carefully 
conveyed  the  same  fair  inheritance  to  us,  guaranteed 
by  the    plighted  faith  of  government  and  the    most 
solenm  compact  with  British  sovereigns,  should  refuse 
to  surrender  them  to  men,  who  found  their  claims  on 
no  principles  of  reason,  and  who  prosecute  them  with 
a  design,  that,  by  having  our  lives  and  property  in  their 
power,  they  may,  with  the  greater  facility,  enslave  you. 
Are  not,"  they  ask, "  the  proprietors  of  the  soil  of  Great 
Britain  lords  of  their  own  property  ?     Can  it  be  taken 
from  them  without  their  consent '!  Will  they  yield  it  to 
the  arbitrary  disposal  of  any  man,  or  number  of  men, 
whatever  ?     You  know  they  will  not.     Why,  then,  are 
the  proprietors  of  America  less  lords  of  their  property 
than  you  are  of  yours  ?  or  why  should  they  submit  it  to 
the  disposal  of  your  parliament,  or  any  other  parliament 
or  council  in  the  world,  not  of  their  own  election  ?  Can 
the  intervention  of  the  sea  that  divides  us  cause  disparity 
in  rights  ?  or,  can  any  reason  be  given,  why  English 
subjects  who  live  three  thousand  miles  from  the  royal 
palace,  should  enjoy  less  liberty  than  those  who  are 
three  hundred  miles  distant  from  it  ?      Reason  looks 
with  indignation  on  such  distinctions,  and  freemen  cau 
never  perceive  their  propriety."      This  address  was 
succeeded  by  a  memorial  to  their  constituents;  in  which 
they  applaud  them  for  the  spirit  which  they  had  shown 
in  the  defence  of  their  rights ;  enjoin  them  to  perse- 


AMERICA. 


638 


rerc  ia  abstaining  from  tfae  nee  of  every  thing  manu- 
factured or  prepared  iu  England ;  and  hint  at  the  neces- 
sity of  looking  forward  to  melancholy  events,  and  of 
being  ready  for  every  contingency  which  might  take 
place. 

The  inclinations  of  the  people  were  in  exact  agree- 
ment with  the  decisions  of  the  congress.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  Boston  were  supplied  by  contributions  from  all 
quarters.  Even  those  who  by  their  situation  appeared 
the  most  likely  to  <lerive  advantages  from  the  cessation 
of  their  trade,  were  most  forward  to  relieve  them  in  their 
distress ;  and  the  people  of  Marblehead,  a  town  at  no 
great  distance,  generously  offered  them  the  use  of  their 
harbour,  and  of  their  wharves  and  warehouses,  free  of  all 
expense.  Every  one  who  could  procure  arms  was  dili- 
gent in  learning  how  to  use  them.  The  whole  country 
of  the  Massachusetts  seemed  ready  to  rise.  In  the 
mean  time,  British  troops  assembled  in  greater  numbers 
at  Boston;  and  general  Gage  thought  it  prudent  to  for- 
tify the  neck  of  land  which  joins  that  city  to  the  conti- 
nent. Ife  also  seized  the  magazines  of  gunpowder, 
ammunition,  and  military  stores,  at  Cambridge  and 
Charlestown  ;  and  thus,  by  depriving  the  colonists  for  a 
time  of  the  means  of  annoying  him,  he  rendered  them 
less  able  to  carry  their  designs  into  execution.  An  as- 
sembly was  called,  and  its  sitting  immediately  counter- 
manded; but  the  representatives,  met,  notwithstanding 
the  proclamation  of  the  governor;  and  after  wailing  a 
day  for  his  arrival,  they  voted  themselves  "  a  provincial 
congress."  A^^inter  approached;  the  peoi)le  refused  to 
supply  the  troops  either  with  lodging  or  clothes;  the 
select  men  of  Boston  obliged  the  workmen  employed  in 
erecting  the  barracks  to  desist;  and  the  merchants  of 
New-York  declared,  that  they  would  "  never  supply  any 
article  for  the  beneiit  of  men  who  were  sent  as  the 
enemies  of  their  country. 

All  hope  of  reconciliation  with  Britain  was  now  at  an 
end.  The  provincials  took  possession  of  the  stores  which 
belonged  to  the  government  wherever  they  were  able  to 
secure  them  ;  and  at  Newport  in  Rhode  Island,  the  in- 
habitants carried  off  no  fewer  than  40  pieces  of  cannon, 
intended  for  (he  defence  of  the  place;  alleging,  that  they 
seized  them  in  order  to  prevent  them  from  being  used 
against  their  liberties  and  their  lives.  The  assemblies 
in  all  the  colonies,  voted  that  ammunition  should  be 
procured  at  the  general  expense ;  and  it  required  but 
little  foresight  to  discover,  that  a  civil  war  with  all  its 
fearful  consequences  was  about  to  ensue. 

General  Gage  having  received  intelligence,  that  a 
number  of  field  pieces  were  collected  at  Salem,  des- 
patched a  party  of  foldiers  to  take  possession  of  them  in 
the  name  of  the  king.  The  people,  however,  assem- 
bling in  great  numbers,  prevented  the  military  from  ad- 
vancing to  the  town,  by  pulling  up  a  drawbridge  which 
it  was  necessary  for  them  to  ppss  ;  and  they  returned  to 
the  governor  without  accomplishing  their  purpose.  The 
next  attempt  was  followed  by  more  interesting  conse- 
quences. The  provincials  had  deposited  a  large  quanti- 
ty of  ammunition  and  stores  at  Concord,  about  20  miles 
from  Boston ;  these  general  Gage  resolved  to  seize  or 
to  destroy;  and  with  that  view  he  sent  a  detachment  of 
800  men,  under  the  command  of  major  Pitcnirn,  and 
colonel  Smith,  ordering  them  to  proceed  with  the  ut- 
most expedition,  and  with  all  possible  secrecy.  But 
notwithstanding  his  care,  and  the  alacrity  of  the  soldiers, 
the  provincials  had  immediate  notice  of  his  design  ;  and 
when  the  British  troops  arrived  at  Lexington,  within 
Vol,.  I.     Part  II. 


five  miles  of  Concord,  the  militia  of  the  place  were 
drawn  up  on  the  parade,  and  ready  to  receive  them.  A 
skirmish  ensuing,  several  of  the  Americans  were  killed. 
The  rest  fled  without  making  any  further  resistance ; 
and  the  detachment  proceeding  to  Concord,  destroyed, 
or  took  possession  of   the  stores  which   were   there. 
Having  effected  their  purpose,  the  military  now  began 
to  retire,  but  the  colonists  pressingupon  them  on  all  sides, 
they  were  driven  from  post  to  post,  till  they  arrived  at 
Lexington;  where,  their  ammunition  being  expended, 
they  must  infallibly  have  been  cut  off,  if  lord  Percy  had 
not  been  sent  by  the  governor  with  a  strong  party  to  their 
assistance.     In  consequence  of  this  reinforcement,  they 
quitted  Lexington,  and  continued  their  march  toward* 
Boston,  which  they  reached  the  day  after ;  though  not 
without  frequent  interruption  and  very  great  difficulty. 
In  the  affair  of  Lexington,  which  has  been  justly  regard- 
ed as  the  commencement  of  the  American  war,  and  in  the 
retreat  from  that  place,  the  British  lost  nearly  250  men. 
The  colonists,  elevated  with  their  success  in  this  en- 
gagement, became  more  and  more  fixed  in  their  oppo- 
sition, and  even  meditated  the  total  expulsion  of  the 
English  from  Boston.  An  army  of  20,000  men  encamped 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  city  :  and  that  force  was 
soon  increased  by  the  arrival  of  the  troops  from  Con- 
necticut, under  General  Putnam,  an  officer  of  great  bra- 
very, and  of  tried  skill  in  the  military  art ;  but  Gage  had 
fortified   the  town,  so  strongly,  that,  numerous  as  they 
were,  the  provincials  durst  not  attempt  it  by  assault; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  governor  was  too  weak  to 
contend  with  them  in  the  field.  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  he  was  able  to  act  on  the  offensive.     A  powerful 
reinforcement    arrived  from  England,  under  generals 
Howe,  Burgoyne,  and  Clinton :  Martial  law  was  pro- 
claimed, and   pardon  was  offered   to  such  as  would  re- 
turn to  their  allegiance.     On  the  16th  of  June,  A.  D. 
1775,  the  Americans  took  possession  of  Bunker's  Hill, 
an  eminence  which  overlooks  and  commands  the  town 
of  Boston  ;  and  labouring  with  incredible  diligence  and 
secrecy     (hey  threw  up  a  redoubt,  and  protected  it  by 
means  of  an  fjilrenchment,  before  the  approach  of  day 
enabled  (he  Brjdsh   to  discover  what  they  had  done. 
Froii  this  position  general   Gage  thought  it  necessary 
to  dislodge  them.     Accordingly,   he  directed  a  strong 
bo<ly  of  men,  under  the  orders  of  Generals  Howe  and 
Pigot,  to  land  at  the  foot  of  Bunker's  Hill,  and  to  pro- 
ceed with  a  detachment  of  the  artillery  against  the  Ame- 
ricans.    But  the  latter  having  the   advantage  of  the 
ground,  poured  upon  them  such  an  incessant  and  deadly 
fire  of  musketry,  that  the  British  were  thrown  into  con- 
fusion ;  and  so  many  of  the  officers  were  killed,  that 
general  Howe  was  left  almost  alone.  Yet  though  twice 
repulsed,  the  king's  troops  rallied  and  advanced  again 
towards  the    fortifications   which    the  provincials  had 
erected.     The  redoubt  was  now  attacked  on  three  sides 
at  once ;  the  ammunition  of  the  colonists  began  to  fail ; 
and  the  British  pressing  forward,  the   Americans  were 
constrained  to  abandon  (he  post,  and  to  retreat  in  the 
face  of  the  enemy  over  Charlestown  Neck ;  where  they 
were  exposed  to  a  galling  fire  from  the  ships  in  the  har- 
bour.    In  this  battle,  the  town  of  Charlestown,  which  is 
separated  from  Boston  by  a  narrow  sheet  of  water,  was 
reduced  to  ashes  by  the  orders  of  general  Pigot,  who  was 
saved  by  that  measure,  as  well  as  by  the  arrival  of  gen- 
eral Clinton,  from  the  ignominy  of  a  defeat. 

Though  the  victory  in  the  attack  at  Bunker's  Hill  was 
justly  claimed  by  the  royalists,  it  was  not  gained  with 
4L 


634 


AMERICA.. 


out  considerable  loss  on  their  part.  The  flower  of  the 
English  Iroops  in  America  were  engaged, and  their  killed 
and  wounded  amounted  to  1054;  ivhile  those  of  the 
provincials  were  not  above  half  of  that  number.  But 
while  the  colonists  suffered  a  defeat  in  this  encounter, 
they  were  elated  in  no  ordinary  degree  at  the  intrepidity 
which  their  forces  had  displayed  ;  and  they  entertained 
the  hoi>e  that  patriotism  and  an  ardent  love  of  freedom 
would  enable  them  to  withstand  the  assaults  of  the  Brit- 
ish, tin  experience  should  render  them  equal  to  them  in 
discipline  and  military  skill. 

They  erected  fortifications  on  the  heights  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Charlestown,  and  reduced  the  king's 
troops  in  Boston  to  very  great  distress,  for  want  of  pro- 
visions. Far  from  entertaining  any  thought  of  submis- 
sion, they  redoubled  their  exertions,  and  increased  their 
vigilance.  In  the  meantime,  the  congress,  which  had 
awain  been  assembled,  acted  with  all  the  decision  which 
was  expected  from  them  :  they  drew  up  articles  of  per- 
petual union;  they  published  adeclaration,  in  which  they 
justified  the  measures  wliich  had  been  ado|)ted  at  Bun- 
ker's Hill ;  they  resolved  to  establish  an  army,  and  to  is- 
sue a  large  quantity  of  paper  money  in  order  to  support 
it.  They  held  a  solemn  conference  with  the  Indians,  by 
whom  they  were  surrounded ;  telling  them  that  the 
English  had  begun  the  war  with  a  view  to  enslave  them, 
as  well  as  their  own  connlrymen  in  America;  and  by 
this,  in  conjunction  with  other  arguments,  they  induced 
many  of  tlie  savage  tribes  either  to  assist  them,  or  to 
remain  neuter  during  a  great  part  of  the  contest  which 
followed. 

Tlie  provincials  now  wanted  nothing  but  a  leader  to 
enable  them  to  take  effectual  measures  against  the  Bri- 
tish ;  and  they  soon  found,  in   the  person  of  George 
Washington,  a  man  qualified  in  every  respect  to  occupy 
that  high  and  important  station.     He  was  the  third  son 
of  Augustine  Washington,  a  settler  in  Virginia.     His 
education  was  liniiied  to  what  could  be  obtainecl  from 
l)Ooks  written  in  the  English  language ;  but  he  derived 
from  nature,  a  mind  of  extraordinary  capacity  ;  and  was 
endowed  with  prudence,  courage,  and  perseverance,  be- 
vond  the  degree  which  is  allotted  to  common  men.     At 
the  age  of  nineteen,  he  held  the  rank  of  major  in  \\v. 
provincial  troops  of  Virginia.     He  afterwards  distin- 
guished himself  against  the  French,'in  their  attempts  to 
unite  their  possessions  in  Canada  with  those  in  Louisi- 
ana ;  and  had  the  command  of  a  regiment  about  the  same 
time.     At  the  conclusion  of  the  war  which  terminated 
in  the  suiTender  of  Canada  to  the  British,  he  retired  to 
his  estate  at  Mount  Vernon,  and  devoted  himself  to  agri- 
cultural employments  ;  till  the  troubles  in  which   the 
Americans  were  involved  led  him  to  take  an  active  part 
in  their  defence  against  the  attempts  of  the  English  ca- 
binet to  tax  them  without  their  consent.  He  was  chosen  a 
member  of  the  first  grand  Congress  at  Philadelphia, 
where  his  exampleand  influenceproduced  very  consider- 
able effects;  and  now  that  the  situation  of  the  provincials 
called  for  a  man  of  tried  firmness,  and  approved  judg- 
ment, he  was  unanimously  elected,  "  general  and  com- 
mander in  chief  of  the  army  of  the  United  Colonics." 
When  his  apiwintment  was  intimated  to  him  by  the  pre- 
sident of  the  congress,  he  modestly  observed,  that  he  was 
not  equal  to  the  duties  of  the  station  to  which  their  par- 
tiality had  raised  him ;  but  he  declared  at  the  same  time 
tha(  he  was  rendy  to  exert  whatever  talents  he  might 
have,  in  the  service  of  his  country,  and  willing  to  enter 
iaune«li&tely  on  the  perfonnaiice  of  bis  duly. 


On  arriving  at  Cambridge,  the  head-quarters  of  the 
American  army,  general  Washington  inspected  and  re' 
viewed  the  troops.  He  found  them  animated  with 
great  zeal,  and  prepared  to  follow  him  to  the  most  des- 
perate undertakings ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  he  per- 
ceived, that  they  were  unacquainted  with  subordination, 
and  strangers  to  military  discipline.  The  spirit  of 
liberty,  which  had  brought  them  together,  showed  itself 
in  all  their  actions.  In  the  province  of  Massachusetts 
the  officers  had  been  chosen  by  the  votes  of  the  soldiers, 
and  felt  themselves  in  no  degree  superior  to  them.  The 
congressional  and  colonial  authorities  likewise  interfered 
with  one  another.  The  Iroops  were  scantily  supplied 
with  arms  and  ammunition;  and  all  their  operations 
were  retailed  by  the  want  of  engineers.  These  diffi- 
culties, however,  were  overcome  by  the  talents  and  per- 
severance of  Washington;  he  formed  the  soldiers  into 
brigades,  and  accustomed  them  to  obedience;  he  re- 
quested the  congress  to  nominate  a  commissary-general, 
a  quarter-master-general,  and  a  paymaster-general,  all 
of  which  officers  they  had  neglected  to  appoint;  a  num- 
ber of  the  most  active  men  were  constantly  employed  in 
learning  te  manage  the  artillery ;  and  such  were  the  ef- 
forts of  the  commander  in  chief,  that  in  no  very  long 
time,  the  army  was  completely  organized  and  fit  for  ser- 
vice. 

It  was  not  the  temper  of  Washington  to  remain  inac- 
tive. His  troops  were  speedily  and  regularly  encamped 
before  the  town  of  Boston ;  and  occupied  a  space  of 
ground  nearly  twelve  miles  in  length.  The  English 
were  strongly  entrenched  on  Bunker's  Hill,  and  Ro.\- 
bury  Neck  :  and  defended  by  the  floating  batteries  in 
Mystic  river,  and  a  shi))  of  war  that  lay  betwen  Boston 
and  Charlestown.  The  American  general  determined, 
after  a  long  blockade,  to  force  general  Howe,  wlio  had 
succeeded  general  Gage  in  the  chief  command,  either 
to  meet  the  provincials  in  the  field,  or  to  evacuate  Bos- 
ton :  and  with  this  intention  he  opened  his  batteries  on 
the  east  and  west  sides  of  the  town,  (Blarch  2,  A.  D. 
1776,)  and  continued  the  bombardment  without  inter- 
ruption. Howe,  finding  that  the  place  was  no  longer 
tenable,  resolved,  if  possible,  (o  drive  the  colonial  troops 
from  their  works.  A  vigorous  attack  was  meditated  on 
Dorchester  Neck,  which  they  had  fortified  with  great 
care,  and  every  thing  was  in  readiness,  when  n  dreadful 
storm  prevented  the  British  from  making  the  attempt ; 
and  next  day  it  was  thought  advisable  to  desist  from  it 
altogether.  Nothing  remained,  therefore,  but  to  eva- 
cuatethetown.  The  Americans,  however,  did  notnnnoy 
the  English  in  their  retreat,  as  they  knew  that  it  was  in 
their  power  to  reduce  the  place  to  ashes;  a  loss,  which 
the  labour  of  many  years,  and  the  profits  of  the  most 
successful  trade,  could  not  easily  have  repaired.  For 
this  reason,  they  allowed  them  to  embark  with  great 
deliberation ;  and  to  take  with  them  whatever  might 
be  thought  necessary  for  their  voyage,  together  with  as 
many  of  the  inhabitants  as  chose  rather  to  leave  their 
country  than  expose  Ihemselves  to  the  consequences  of 
their  attachment  to  the  royal  cause.  After  remaining 
for  some  time  in  Nanlasket  road,  the  whole  fleet  set 
sail;  and  the  army  of  the  Americans  proceeded  in 
divisions  to  New-York,  which  Washington  supposed  to 
be  the  place  to  which  the  English  were  gone. 

During  these  transactions  at  Boston,  events,  of  con- 
siderable importance  took  pliice  in  olherpartsof  .America. 
The  fortresses  of  Crown' Point  and  Ticonderoga  having 
been  occupied  by  the  provincials  some  time  before,  the 


AMERICA. 


§35 


reduction  of  Canada  appeared  to  be  more  obvious  and 
easy.  Three  hundred  men,  under  the  command  of  gen- 
erals Schuyler  and  Montgomery,  were  sent  by  the  orders 
of  the  congress  into  that  country,  where  they  were  op- 
posed by  the  English  general  Carleton,  an  officer  of 
much  experience  and  activity.  The  provincials  laid 
siege  to  St.  John's,  and  the  British  commander  made 
haste  to  relieve  the  place.  But  he  was  attacked  by  the 
provincials  with  a  superior  force  while  yet  on  his  march, 
and,  being  utterly  defeated,  was  compelled  to  retire  to 
Quebec.  The  garrison  of  St.  John's  surrendered  them- 
selves prisoners  of  war  :  Montreal  was  taken  by  general 
Montgomery :  Arnold  penetrated  into  Canada  with  a 
strong  body  of  Americans  during  all  the  severity  of  win- 
ter ;  and  after  uniting  his  forces  with  those  of  Mont- 
gomery, he  endeavoured  to  take  Quebec  by  surprise. 
But  altera  desperate  engagement,  in  which  Monlgoniery 
was  killed,  together  with  the  best  part  of  his  officers, 
the  provincials  were  overpowered,  and  forced  to  abandon 
the  attempt.  Arnold,  having  removed  to  some  distance 
from  Quebec,  was  enabled  by  the  kindness  of  the  peo- 
ple, to  endure  the  hardships  of  an  encampment  in  the 
midst  of  winter,  and  under  a  climate,  to  the  rigour  of 
•which  his  soldiers  were  but  little  accustomed.  Not- 
withstanding his  defeat,  he  was  created  a  brigadier,  by 
the  unanimous  voice  of  the  Congress.  General  Sullivan 
then  took  the  command  of  the  provincial  troops :  the 
Americans  were  defeated  with  great  loss  at  the  Three 
Rivers,  and  were  finally  obliged  to  retire  from  Canada. 
In  Virginia,  the  war  was  carried  on  with  great  ac- 
tivity, and  was  in  general  favourable  to  the  American 
interest. 

After  all  attempts  towards  a  reconciliation  with  Great 
Britain  appeared  to  be  fruitless,  the  Congress  proceeded 
in  full  assembly  to  renounce  their  allegiance  to  the 
sovereign  of  that  country,  and  to  declare  that  the  United 
Colonies  were  inde|)endent  of  all  authority  in  Europe. 
Thefollowingis  the  conclusion  of  the  declaration,  which 
was  published  on  this  occasion.  It  is  at  once  firm, 
temperate,  and  solemn.  "  We,  the  representatives  of 
the  United  States  of  America,  in  general  Congress  as- 
sembled, appealing  to  the  Supreme  Judge  of  the  World, 
for  the  rectitude  of  our  intentions,  do,  in  the  name  and 
by  the  authority  of  the  people  in  these  colonies,  solemnly 
publish  and  declare,  that  these  United  Colonies  are, 
and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  states; 
that  they  are  absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the  Bri- 
tish crown  ;  that  all  political  connexion  between  them 
and  the  state  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought  to  be,  totally 
dissolved  ;  and  that,  as  free  and  independent  states,  they 
have  full  power  to  levy  war,  conclude  peace,  contract 
alliances,  establish  commerce,  and  do  all  other  acts  and 
things  whicli  independent  states  may  of  right  do.  And, 
for  the  support  of  this  declaration,  with  a  firm  reliance 
on  the  protection  of  Divine  Providence,  we  mutually 
pledge  to  each  other  our  lives,  our  fortunes,  and  our  sa- 
cred honour." 

After  this  declaration  of  independence,  (he  Americans 
had  to  struggle  with  great  difficulties  in  supporting 
their  pretensions.  The  king's  standard  was  erected  in 
North  Carolina,  by  Colonel  M'Donald ;  and  Charles- 
ton, the  capital  of  South  Carolina,  was  furiously  at- 
tacked by  a  fleet  from  England.  ftl'Don.ild,  however, 
V  being  met  by  the  provincial  general  Moore,  was  totally 
defeated  by  that  officer;  and  the  bombardment  from  the 
ships,  though  violont  and  continued  for  a  long  time,  pro- 
duced no  great  effect  upon  the  town. 


But  as  the  chief  part  of  the  colonial  troops  was  as- 
sembled in  the  division  of  New- York,  under  W<ashing- 
ton  their  commander,  and  as  that  province  was  most 
accessible  by  sea,  the  English  resolved  to  make  an  at- 
tempt upon  it  with  all  their  forces.  Six  ships  of  the 
line,  and  thirty  frigates,  with  many  smaller  vessels,  com- 
posed the  fleet.  It  was  under  the  orders  of  lord  Howe, 
who  had  arrived  from  Europe  some  time  before,  and 
the  land  army  was  commanded  by  sir  William  Howe, 
his  brother.  Soon  after  his  appearance  off  the  coast, 
lord  Howe  sent  a  letter  to  the  American  commander  in 
chief,  addressed  to  "  George  AVashingtoii,  Esq."  but  the 
general  refused  to  open  it,  as  the  address  was  not  in  a 
style  corresponding  to  the  dignity  of  the  situation 
which  he  held.  Another  letter  was  sent  directed  to 
"  George  Washington,  etc.  &c.  <Sjc."  but  this  also  was 
refused.  "  it  did  not  acknowledge,"  he  said,  "  the 
public  character  with  which  he  was  invested  by  the 
Congress,  and  in  no  other  character  would  he  have  any 
intercourse  with  his  lordship."  The  communication, 
however,  to  which  these  leiter^i  gave  rise,  afforded  the 
British  an  opportunity  of  exerting  themselves  in  order 
to  efllect  a  reconciliation.  With  this  view,  the  American 
general  was  informed,  that  lord  Howe  was  invested 
with  full  powers  to  receive  the  submission  of  the  co- 
lonists, and  to  reinstate  them  in  the  favour  of  their  law- 
ful sovereign;  but  Washington  declared,  that  these 
powers  appeared  to  consist  in  nothing  but  granting  par- 
dons ;  and  that  as  the  provincials,  in  defending  their 
rights,  had  been  guilty  of  no  crime,  they  required  no 
forgiveness. 

Both  sides,  therefore,  prepared  to  terminate  their 
disputes  by  arms ;  and  hostilities  began  as  soon  as  the 
English  troops  were  collectedat  their  appointed  stations. 
The  character  of  the  forces  which  were  now  about  to 
engage  was  very  difl'erent.  The  British  were  numerous, 
regularly  disciplined,  and  accustomed  to  military  opera- 
tions; while  the  Americans  were  inferior  in  numbers, 
and  inexperienced,  newly  embodied,  and  not  well  pro- 
vided with  artillery  and  ammunition.  Washington 
marked  the  condition  of  his  army  with  very  great  con- 
cern. It  amounted  to  no  more  than  18,000  effective 
men ;  while  that  of  the  English  was  nearly  25,000  strong. 
As  the  American  government  had  no  established  re^ 
venue,  and  as  the  sources  of  their  commerce  were  com- 
pletely dried  up,  the  difficulties  which  the  general  had 
to  encounter  were  such  as  no  human  ability  and  perse» 
verance  could  easily  surmount.  "  These  things,"  said 
he  in  a  letter  to  the  Congress,  "are  melancholy,  but  they 
are  nevertheless  true.  I  hope  for  belter.  Under  every 
disadvantage,  my  utmost  exertions  shall  be  employed  to 
bring  about  the  great  end  we  have  in  view;  and  so  far 
as  I  can  judge  from  the  professions  and  apparent  dis- 
position of  my  troops,  I  simll  have  their  support.  The 
superiority  of  the  enemy,  and  the  expected  attack,  do 
not  seem  to  have  depressed  their  spirits.  These  con- 
siderations lead  me  to  think,  that  though  the  appeal  to 
arms  may  not  terminate  so  happily  as  I  could  wish,  yet 
the  enemy  will  not  succeed  in  their  views  without  con- 
siderable loss.  Any  advantage^they  may  gain,  I  trust, 
will  cost  them  dear." 

Notwithstanding  the  difficulties  which  Washin<'toa 
had  to  encounter,  he  maintained  his  positions, "and 
availed  himself  of  every  circumstance  which  might  en- 
courage  his  troops  or  improve  their  discipline.  He  ani- 
mated them  by  his  exhortations  and  example;  he  told 
them  that  the  day  was  approaching  which  would  decide 
4L2 


636 


AlVIERICA. 


whether  the  American  people  were  to  be  freemen  or 
slaves;  and  he  infonned  them,  that  (he  happiness  of 
myriads,  yet  unborn,  depended  on  their  courage  and 
conduct.  He  promised  rewards  to  those  who  should 
distinguish  themselves  by  acts  of  extraordinary  bra- 
very, and  threatened  such  as  were  doubtful  or  dilatory 
with  the  utmost  severity  of  punishment,  if  they  should 
desert  the  cause  in  which  they  were  engaged.  The 
time  was  at  hand  when  the  effect  of  these  exhortations 
was  to  be  ascertained.  In  the  month  of  August,  A.  D. 
1776,  the  English  made  a  descent  upon  Long  Island, 
with  forty  pieces  of  cannon,  and  under  cover  of  their 
ships.  On  a  peninsula,  formed  by  the  East  River  and 
Cowan's  Cove,  and  constituting  part  of  ihe  same  island, 
lay  Putnam,  the  American  general,  strongly  fortified, 
and  waiting  the  approach  of  the  king's  troops.  Between 
the  armies  there  was  a  range  of  hills,  the  principal  pass 
through  which  was  near  a  place  called  Flat  Bush.  At 
this  place,  the  Hessians,  forming  the  centre  of  the  Roy- 
alists, took  their  station.  The  left  wing,  under  the  or- 
ders of  general  Grant,  was  close  upon  the  shore,  and  the 
right  commanded  by  general  Clinton,  earl  Percy,  and 
lord  Cornwallis,  and  comprehending  the  chief  strength 
of  the  British  forces,  approached  the  opposite  coast  of 
Flat  Land.  Putnam  had  directed  that  all  the  passes 
should  be  secured  by  strong  detachments  of  the  provin- 
cial troops.  The  orders  to  this  purpose,  though  not  dis- 
obeyed, were  not  complied  with  to  the  extent  which  that 
general  required;  and  one  road  through  the  hills,  of  the 
utmost  importance,  was  entirely  neglected  :  an  oversight 
Avhich  was  speedily  communicated  to  the  British,  and 
which  they  were  too  wise  not  to  improve  to  their  ad- 
vantage. On  the  evening  of  the  2Bth,  general  Clinton 
drew  otT  the  right  wing  of  the  English  army,  in  order 
lo  gain  the  heights.  Nearly  about  day-break,  he  reached 
the  pass  undiscovered  by  the  enemy,  and  immediately 
look  possession  of  it.  The  detachment  under  lord 
Percy  followed;  and  when  the  day  appeared,  the  royalists 
advanced  into  the  level  country  between  the  hills  and 
Brooklyn,  a  village  situated  on  the  peninsula,  where  the 
Americans  were  encamped.  Without  loss  of  time, 
Clinton  fell  upon  the  rear  of  the  provincials,  and  the 
Hessians  attacking  (hem  in  front  at  the  same  instant, 
neither  valour  nor  skill  could  save  them  from  a  defeat. 
Inspirited,  however,  by  their  generals,  and  the  presence 
of  Washington,  (hey  continued  the  engagement  for  a 
while,  and  fought  wi(h  all  the  bravery  of  men,  whom  the 
love  of  freedom  animates  to  deeds  of  heroism ;  but  pres- 
sed by  superior  numbers,  and  thrown  into  confusion, 
they  gave  way  on  every  side,  and  fled  with  the  utmost 
precipitation  to  (he  woods.  Nor  was  (his  the  only  part 
of  the  army  which  suffered ;  the  right  wing  engaged 
with  general  Grant,  experienced  a  similar  fate.  And 
thus,  in  one  fatal  day,  the  Americans  lost  4000  of  their 
best  troops,  and,  what  was  of  more  value  to  them,  their 
confidence  of  success  :  a  confidence  which  till  now  had 
supported  them  amidst  all  their  sufferings,  and  had  es- 
tablished in  their  minds  a  rcsolulion  of  parting  with 
their  liberty  only  with  their  lives.  In  this  engagement 
the  British  fought  with  extraordinary  valour,  and  their 
antagonists,  (hough  less  experienced  in  (he  art  of  war, 
were  equally  distinguished  by  the  steadiness  of  their 
conduct.  Of  a  regiment  consisting  of  young  gentlemen 
from  Maryland,  the  greater  part  was  cut  in  pieces,  and 
not  one  of  those  who  survived  escaped  without  a 
wound. 

After  the  defeat  at  Brooklyn,  and  the  evacuation  of 


Long  Island  by  the  Americans,  proposals  for  an  accom- 
modation were  made  by  lord  Howe.  But  as  his  lordsiiip 
was  not  authorized  to  treat  with  the  congress  as  a  legal 
assembly,  he  invited  such  of  its  members  as  were  desir- 
ous of  peace  to  a  private  conference.  To  this  invitation 
the  congress  replied,  that  as  they  were  the  representa- 
tives of  the  free  and  independent  states  of  America,  it 
was  not  possible  for  them  to  send  any  of  their  number, 
to  confer  with  the  English  commanders  in  thcii-  indivi- 
dual capacity;  bu(  that,  as  it  was  exceedingly  to  be  wish- 
ed, that  an  accommodation  should  take  place,  on  rea- 
sonable terms,  they  would  ilirect  a  couuuittee  to  receive 
the  proposals  of  the  British  government.  Accordingly 
(hey  nominated  for  this  purpose  the  celebrated.  Dr. 
Franklin,  Mr.  J.  Adams,  and  Mr.  Rutledge,  all  zealous 
and  faithful  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  But  notwithstand- 
ing tbe  disposition  of  lord  Howe,  which  was  certainly 
towards  peace,  and  the  late  misfortunes  of  the  provin- 
cial troops,  the  conference  was  altogether  inefi'ectual : 
his  lordship  would  not  acknowledge  the  depufies  as  the 
commissioners  of  a  free  people;  and  the  deputies  would 
not  treat  with  him  on  any  other  condition.  It  was  re- 
solved, therefore,  on  both  si<les,  to  prosecute  the  ^var 
with  all  their  vigour  and  their  utmost  resources. 

The  provincial  army  under  the  orders  of  Washing- 
ton, was  now  stationed  in  the  vicinity  of  New-York. 
They  had  erected  many  batteries  near  the  place,  and 
from  these  they  kept  up  an  incessant  fire  upon  the  Bri- 
tish ships.  Between  the  armies  lay  the  East  River, 
which  the  royalists,  for  some  days,  had  manifested  a  de- 
sire to  cross.  Accordingly,  after  (he  Heet  had  silenced 
the  American  batteries,  they  landed  on  (he  opposite 
shore,  at  Kipp's  Bay,  nearly  three  miles  distant  from 
New-York;  and  marching  rapidly  towards  the  city,  they 
forced  the  enemy  to  abandon  their  works,  and  to  retreat 
with  the  utmost  precipitation.  Leaving  the  town  itself, 
and  their  baggage,  provisions,  and  military  stores,  in 
possession  of  the  British,  the  Americans  withdrew  to 
the  northern  part  of  the  island,  where  the  chief  strength 
of  their  forces  was  collected.  Here  Washington  deter- 
mined to  wait  the  approach  of  the  king's  troops;  and  in 
the  mean  time,  he  used  every  method  in  his  power  to 
restore  the  courage  of  his  soldiers,  and  elevate  their 
fallen  hopes.  He  had  long  ago  formed  that  plan  of  ope- 
rations which  is  usually  successful  against  an  invading 
army;  though  with  the  intention  of  deviating  from  it  as 
circumstances  mighc  require.  It  was  his  design  at  pre- 
sent not  to  rii<k  a  general  engagement,  but  to  harass  the 
English  by  continual  skirmishes,  by  cutting  off  their 
su|iplies,  and  exhausting  their  patience.  The  object  of 
the  British  general  war,  exactly  the  contrary  of  thb; 
his  safety,  as  well  as  his  success,  lay  iu  bringing  the 
Americans  s[ieedily  to  action,  and  in  terminating  the 
war,  if  possible,  by  a  single  blow.  The  fortune  of  the 
royalists  was  now  predominant.  In  almost  every  attack 
the  superiority  of  regular  discipline  had  been  shown. 
Washington  had  been  forced  to  quit  his  strong  position 
at  Kingsbridge,  in  New- York  Island,  and  had  saved  his 
army  by  retiring  towards  the  main  land  of  Connecticut. 
He  was  followed  by  the  English  general  as  soon  as  the 
troops  could  be  landed,  and  the  proper  reinforcements 
had  arrived. 

After  some  ineffectual  skirmishing,  both  armies  met 
at  a  place  called  the  White  Plains;  the  royalists  began 
the  assault,  and  made  such  an  impression  on  the  Ameri- 
can lines,  that  Washington  was  compelled  again  to  re- 
treat,    lie  withdrew  in  good  order,  and  occupied  an  ad- 


AMERICA. 


637 


TJinlageOus  post  at  a  considerable  distance  from  that 
which  Jie  had  just  aliraidoned.  Uiit  sir  William  Howe, 
finding  Iiimseh'  unable  to  bring  on  a  general  action,  re- 
linquished the  pursuit,  and  employed  his  troops  during 
the  rest  of  the  campaign,  in  reducing  and  taking  posses- 
sion of  Die  forts  which  the  enemy  still  retained  in  the 
vicinity  of  New-York.  In  this  he  succeeded  to  his  ut- 
most wish;  the  Jerseys  were  laid  open  to  the  incursions 
of  the  British  forces,  and  if  the  Americans  had  not 
seized  the  boats,  and  removed  them  to  a  distance,  Phi- 
ladelphia itself  must  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Ihe 
royal  army. 

In  other  parts  of  the  continent,  the  success  of  the 
British  was  equally  great.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  took  pos- 
session of  Rhode  island  without  losing  a  man.  'J'he 
American  fleet  under  commodore  Hopkins,  was  obliged 
to  remain  in  the  river  Providence,  entirely  useless.  In 
Canada,  general  Burgoyne,  w  ho  had  already  distinguish- 
€<1  himself  against  the  provincials,  and  forced  them  to 
retreat  across  Lake  Champlain  to  Crown  Point,  ordered 
a  number  of  ships  to  be  Ijuilt;  and  attacking  those  of 
the  republicans,  commanded  by  Arnold,  defeated  them 
with  great  slaughter;  compelling  tliem  to  run  their 
vessels  ashore,  and  to  set  them  on  fire.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  disaster  was,  that  the  garrison  of  Crown 
Point,  having  destroyed  or  carried  off  their  provisions 
and  military  stores,  retired  (o  Ticonderoga. 

In  the  midst  of  these  calamitous  events,  the  spirit  of 
Washington  remained  unbroken.  Though  his  soldiers 
had  deserted  him  in  great  numbers,  and  though  Lee, 
one  of  the  ables-t  of  Ihe  provincial  generals,  had  been 
taken  prisoner,  he  never  despaired  of  success.  He  had 
frequently  written  to  the  congress,  and  re|)resented  to 
that  body  the  condilion  of  his  army.  It  was  originally 
composed  of  a  loose  iniiilia,  and  of  volunteers  from  Ihe 
different  provinces,  once  full  of  palriolism,  and  eager  to 
engage  ;  but  now,  dispirited  by  misfortune,  and  ready  (o 
abandon  their  general  on  the  first  a])pearance  of  the 
king's  (roops.  In  addition  to  this,  the  time,  during  which 
the  militia  were  bound  to  serve,  had  almost  expired. 
The  congress,  therefore,  determined  to  recruit  the  ar- 
my, by  offering  a  bounty  in  land  to  all  those  who  would 
enrol  their  name?)  and  pledge  themselves  to  continue  in 
the  field  during  the  remainder  of  the  war.  Their  efforts 
were  nobly  seconded  by  the  zeal  and  actiritj-  of  the  com- 
mander in  chief.  He  kept  his  troops  constantly  em- 
ployed ;  and  being  successful  in  many  of  the  skirmishes 
in  which  they  were  engaged,  and  reinforced  by  num- 
bers of  (heir  countrymen,  the  soldiers  began  to  resume 
their  wonted  courage,  and  to  be  animated  with  better 
hopes.  When  the  English  approached  Philadelphia, 
the  American  general  had  thrown  himself  into  that 
city,  and  slrenglhened  it  by  every  method  in  his  power. 
The  royal  army  now  lay  in  cantonments  at  some  distance 
from  the  place  ;  the}'  occupied  a  great  extent  of  coun- 
try, and  one  of  the  divisions,  consisting  of  the  Hessians 
in  the  king's  service,  was  stationed  at  Trenton,  about 
thirty  miles  from  the  American  capital.  This  division 
Washington  resolved  to  attack,  and,  if  possible,  to  sur- 
prise. Accordingly,  he  put  himself  at  (he  head  of  a 
body  of  his  troops  ;  and  marching  all  night,  and  with 
the  utmost  expedition  which  the  roads  would  allow,  he 
fell  upon  the  enemy,  who  had  not  the  slightest  intelli- 
gence of  his  ap|iroach,  and  routed  them  with  great 
slaughter.  Colonel  Kawle,who  commanded  the  royalists 
in  that  quarter,  did  every  thing  which  could  be  expect- 
ed from  an  officer  at  oiio«  brave  and  accustomed  to  mili- 


tary operations ;  but  the  attack  was  sudden  and  impetu- 
ous, and  directed  by  Washington  himself;  the  Hessians 
gave  way  on  all  sides;  their  artillery  was  seized,  and 
1000  of  their  best  troops  remained  prisoners  of  war. 

Some  of  the  colonial  reinforcements  having  at  length 
arrived,  the  provincial  army  not  only  increased  in  num- 
ber, but  improved  in  courage  and  zeal.  Emboldened  by 
his  success,  Washington  resolved  to  leave  Philadelphia, 
and  to  make  another  attempt  against  the  British  forces. 
In  consequence  of  this  determination,  he  advanced  with 
great  secrecy  towards  Maidenhead-town,  situated  be- 
tween Trenton  and  Princeton,  where  three  regiments, 
under  colonel  Mawhood,  had  taken  post;  and,  attacking 
the  royalists  on  their  march,  he  threw  them  into  confu- 
sion, and  obliged  them  to  retreat  with  considerable  loss. 
The  British  troops,  astonished  at  the  exertions  of  the 
American  commander,  whose  affairs  they  supposed  to 
be  desperate,  withdrew  towards  Brunswick;  in  order  to 
prevent  that  town,  and  the  stores  which  it  contained, 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  provincial  array. 
Washington  lost  no  time  in  availing  himself  of  their 
retreat.  He  divided  his  troops  into  small  bodies,  which, 
though  dispersed  over  an  extensive  country,  could  be 
united  without  difficulty  ;  and,  by  his  activity,  vigilance, 
and  skill,  he  eoon  regained  possession  of  all  the  impor- 
tant places, 

Thus  terminated  the  campaign  of  1776,  and  not  al- 
together unfavourable  to  the  American  interest:  for 
though  the  provincial  troops  had  often  been  worsted, 
and  still  more  frequently  obliged  to  retreat,  yet  they 
prosecuted  their  design  of  harassing  the  enemy  with 
great  success ;  and,  while  the  royalists  kept  possession 
of  New- York,  they  were  constrained  to  act  with  as 
much  circumspection,  as  if  Washington  and  the  whole 
force  of  the  colonists  had  besieged  them  in  that  city. 

The  next  campaign  opened  with  considerable  indica- 
tions of  vigour  on  the  part  of  sir  William  Howe.  After 
a  number  of  predatory  excursions,  in  which  some  forts 
were  reduced,  and  magazines  destroyed,  that  general 
resolved  to  make  an  attempt  on  Philadelphia.  It  was  at 
first  llioughl  that  this  could  be  done  by  marching  through 
the  Jerseys ;  but  Washington,  now  in  possession  of  the 
open  country,  and  strongly  reinforced,  had  taken  his 
measures  so  effectually,  that  it  was  declared  to  be  im- 
practicable. It  was  therefore  determined  to  approach 
Philapelphia  by  sea.  The  expedition,  led  by  the  British 
general  in  person,  sailed  on  the  23d  of  July  from  Sandy 
Hook ;  on  the  29th,  the  troops  arrived  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Delaware ;  but  having  received  intelligence,  that 
the  navigation  of  that  river  was  effectually  obstructed, 
they  proceeded  to  Chesapeake  bay,  in  Maryland,  from 
which  they  could  in  a  short  time  reach  the  capital  of 
Pennsylvania.  At  length,  sailing  up  the  Elk  as  far  as 
was  practicable,  the  royal  army,  to  the  number  of  1 8,000 
effective  men,  landed  without  opposition.  On  the  news 
of  their  arrival  in  the  Chesapeake,  Washington  gave  im- 
mediate orders  for  all  the  colonial  troops  to  Join  him 
without  delay;  and  advanced, byrapid  marches,  to  check 
the  progress  of  Howe.  His  exertions,  however,  for  that 
purpose,  were  not  effectual ;  and  it  was  perceived,  that 
a  battle,  which  would  decide  the  fafe  of  the  American 
capital,  was  unavoidable.  The  royal  army  had  pushed 
forward  towards  the  IJrandewine,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
which  the  provincials  were  stationed;  the  river  was  for- 
dable,  and  could  therefore  present  no  effective  obstacle 
to  a  general  engagement.  This  was  ardently  sought  by 
the  English  commander;  and  in  his  present  circum- 


638 


AlklERICA. 


stances,  it  was  not  aToided  by  Washington.  On  the 
raorning  of  the  11th  of  September,  the  king's  troops 
advanced  towards  Chadd's  Ford;  various  manoeuvres 
and  skirmishing  there  took  place,  and  with  varied  suc- 
cess; till  about  four  in  the  evening,  when  the  action  be- 
gan between  the  main  strength  of  the  contending  forces. 
The  right  wing  of  the  Americans  was  thrown  into  con- 
fusion at  the  very  commencement  of  the  attack  ;  and, 
before  Washington  could  lead  his  battalions  to  its  sup- 
port, the  whole  line  gave  way ;  the  rout  became  gene- 
ral, arid  night  alone  saved  the  provincials  from  a  total 
defeat. 

This  victory,  on  the  part  of  the  British,  opened  their 
way  to  Philaddtihia.  Acconliugly,  a  short  time  after  it 
was  gained,  sir  William  Howe  took  possession  of  that 
city  ;  but  the  troops,  during  their  march,  were  incessant- 
ly annoyed  by  Washington;  who  hung  upon  their  rear, 
cut  off  their  detached  parties,  and  showed  them,  that 
though  he  had  been  compelled  to  retreat,  he  was  not 
overcome.  In  the  whole  conduct  of  this  extraordinary 
man,  we  are  forced  to  admire  the  prudence,  persever- 
ance, and  activity  which  marked  his  character.  He  had 
been  repulsed  in  almost  every  attack,  where  a  large  body 
of  the  provincials  had  been  engaged  with  the  enemy ; 
his  troops  had  deseMed  him  in  great  numbers,  and  on 
the  most  important  occasions ;  and  he  had  frequently 
been  distressed  by  the  want  of  military  stores;  yet,  not- 
withstanding these  adverse  circumstances,  he  made  head 
against  an  army  of  regular  troops,  commanded  by  a 
general  of  acknowledged  ability,  well  disciplined,  and 
provided  with  all  the  means  of  successful  warfare.  No 
sooner  had  the  Engilsh  general  taken  possession  of  Phi- 
ladelphia with  a  part  of  his  forces,  and  stationed  the  rest 
at  Germantown,  than  Washington  formed  a  resolution 
of  attacking  the  division  at  the  latter  place.  In  this  at- 
tempt, also,  he  was  unfortunate  ;  the  British  had  early 
notice  of  his  approach;  and  he  was  obliged  to  retire 
with  very  considerable  loss.  But  such  was  his  uncon- 
querable spirit,  and  so  firm  his  conviction,  that  the  mea- 
sures which  he  pursued  would  at  length  bring  the  war 
to  a  favourable  issue,  that,  in  his  letters  to  the  congress, 
he  exhorted  them  to  perseverance ;  and  rejected  every 
offer  towards  an  accommodation,  but  that  which  acknow- 
ledged the  independence  of  the  United  Stales.  The 
English  general,  now  in  possession  of  Philadelphia, 
employed' himself  for  some  time  in  taking  or  destroying 
the  forts  on  the  Delaware.  The  principal  of  these  were 
Mud-island  and  Red-bank.  Aided  by  three  ships  of  the 
line,  and  well  supported  by  the  officers  who  executed 
his  commands,  he  speedily  reduced  the  forts  :  and  many 
of  the  ships  belonging  to  the  provincials  either  fell  into 
his  hands,  or  were  driven  ashore  and  burnt  by  their 
possessors. 

In  the  northern  provinces,  the  campaign  wore  an  as- 
pect less  friendly  to  the  royal  interest.  An  expedition 
to  New  England  had  been  projected  by  the  ministry  in 
Europe,  as  the  most  effectual  scheme  for  reducing  the 
colonies  to  obedience.  An  army  of  7000  chosen  troops 
bad  been  put  under  the  orders  of  general  Burgoyne : 
these  were  to  be  assisted  by  levies  from  Qtieliec ;  and 
means  were  used  to  engage  the  Indians  of  Canada  in 
the  service  of  Great  Britain.  The  first  attempts  of 
Burgoyne  were  as  successful  as  the  condition  of  his 
army  entitled  the  minislry  to  expect.  The  Indians, 
gained  by  presents,  or  stimulated  by  the  hope  of  plun- 
der, joined  him  in  considerable  bodies ;  and  to  the  ho- 
nour of  the  British  commander,  we  must  add,  that,  in 


his  first  address  to  those  new  allies,  he  exhorted  them 
to  kill  none  but  such  as  appeared  in  arms  against  them, 
and  to  spare  the  women  and  children,  whom  the  fortune 
of  war  might  put  into  their  hands.  On  the  2d  of  July, 
the  English  army  encamped  on  both  sides  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  at  a  short  distance  from  Ticonderoga.  To  this 
strong  fortress  the  Americans  had  retired  at  the  end  of 
the  preceding  year ;  and  now  it  was  garrisoned  with 
about  6000  men,  and  defended  by  the  provincial  general 
St.  Clair.  The  approaches  of  the  British  were  rapid  and 
decisive.  Soon  after  their  appearance  before  the  Ame- 
rican works,  they  took  possession  of  Sugar-hill;  an  emi- 
nence which  overlooked  the  fortifications,  and  enabled 
them  to  place  their  batteries  to  great  advantage,  but 
which  the  enemy  had  imagined  it  ^vas  impossible  to  as- 
cend. On  the  5th,  every  step  had  been  taken  in  order 
to  render  the  investment  complete.  St.  Clair,  however, 
conscious  of  his  inability  to  defend  the  place,  and  anxious 
at  the  same  time  to  prevent  the  troops  which  he  com- 
manded from  surrendering  themselves  prisoners  of  war, 
abandoned  the  works,  and  retreated  over  Blount  Inde- 
pendence to  Charleslown,and  thence  to  Skeensborough, 
in  the  vicinity  of  Lake  George.  Previous  to  his  depar- 
ture, he  had  ordered  the  baggage  and  military  stores  to 
be  sent  by  water  to  the  same  place ;  but  the  vessels 
which  were  employed  for  that  purpose  were  attacked  bj^ 
the  English  ships,  and  either  captured  or  rendered  unfit 
for  service  :  and  in  consequence  of  this  disaster,  the 
Americans  set  fire  to  their  boats  and  fortifications  at 
Skeensborough.  On  land  the  royalists  were  equally 
successful ;  colonel  Francis,  and  a  body  of  the  provincial 
troops,  were  defeated  with  great  slaughter  by  general 
Reidesel ;  and,  by  the  skilful  manojuvres  of  llurgoyne, 
St.  Clair  was  prevented  from  reaching  Fort  Anne.  An 
engagement  then  look  place  in  the  woods,  in  which  the 
Americans  were  routed,  and  compelled  to  retire  to  Fort 
Edward  on  the  Hudson. 

The  loss  of  Ticonderoga  was  one  for  which  the  Unit- 
ed States  were  not  prepared,  and  which  was  severely 
felt  through  all  the  colonies.  Neither  the  strength  of 
the  invading  army,  nor  the  weakness  of  the  garrison, 
appears  to  have  been  understood.  It  was  universally 
believed,  that  the  whole  force  of  Canada  did  not  amount 
to  6000  men  ;  and,  therefore,  no  ailequate  measures  had 
been  t.iken,  in  order  to  enable  St.  Clair  and  the  troops 
under  his  command,  to  resist  such  an  army  as  advanced 
against  them.  Of  the  indistinct  information  which  had 
been  transmitted  to  him,  and  its  fatal  consequences, 
Washington  complains  in  a  letter  addresse*!  at  this 
time  to  general  Schuyler;  but,  while  he  laments  the 
successes  of  the  British,  and  the  misfortunes  of  his 
countrymen,  he  hopes  for  better  days,  and  inculcates 
the  necessity  of  more  active  exertions.  "  The  evacua- 
tion of  Ticonderoga  and  Mount  Independence,"  says  he, 
"  is  an  event  of  chagrin  and  surprise;  not  apprehended, 
nor  within  the  compass  of  my  reasoning.  This  stroke 
is  severe  indeed,  and  has  ditressed  us  much.  But,  not- 
withstanding things  at  present  wear  a  dark  and  gloomy 
aspect,  I  hope  a  siiirited  opposition  will  check  the  pro- 
gress of  general  Ilurgoyne's  arms ;  and  that  the  confi- 
dence derived  from  success,  will  hurry  him  into  mea- 
sures that  will,  in  their  consequences,  le  favourable  to 
us.  We  should  never  despair.  Our  situation  has  be- 
fore been  unpromising,  and  has  changed  for  the  better  : 
so,  I  trust,  it  will  again.  If  new  difficulties  arise,  we 
must  only  put  forth  new  exertions;  and  pi-oporlion  our 
efforts  to  the  exigency  of  the  time'. ■' 


AMERICA. 


639 


It  Eoon  appeared  that  the  hopes  of  the  American 
general  were  not  entertained  without  a  reasonable  foun- 
dation. Burgoync,  elated  with  his  success,  and  hitherto 
uninstructed  liy  adverse  fortune,  i>roceeded  with  great 
ostentation  of  zeal  and  activity  to  finish  the  campaign. 
After  waiting  at  Skeensborough  for  the  arrival  of  tents 
and  provisions,  and  spending  a  long  time  in  clearing  the 
ground,  in  order  to  facilitate  the  passage  of  his  troops, 
he  reached  Fort  Edward,  about  the  end  of  July.  lu  the 
inter»'al  afforded  by  this  delay,  gcnerol  Schuyler  recruit- 
ed the  shattered  battalior.s  of  the  Americans,  and,  unit- 
ing the  parties  whicli  were  stationed  in  different  quar- 
ters, convinced  the  British  that  much  was  still  to  be 
done.  The  royal  army  now  suffered  greatly  from  the 
want  of  provisions.  They  had  attemptpd  to  seize  the 
magazines  at  Bennington ;  but  the  delaclinient«  iiml»-r 
colonels  Baum  and  Breyman,  who  were  employed  for 
that  purpos^e,  were  utterly  defeated  by  general  Starke, 
to  whom  the  defence  of  the  place  was  intrusted.  The 
expedition  on  the  Mohawk  river,  undertaken  by  colonel 
St.  Leger,  had  likewise  failed.  Notwithstanding  these 
misfortunes,  however,  Burgoyne,  fatally  for  the  cause  in 
which  he  was  engaged,  continued  to  advance;  and  hav- 
ing collected  with  great  care  and  indefatigable  exertion, 
provisions  for  thirty  days,  he  encamped  on  the  heights 
and  plains  of  Saratoga ;  resolved  to  decide  by  one  vigor- 
ous ellbrt  the  fortune  of  the  campaign.  On  the  1  7th  of 
September,  the  English  army  was  only  four  miles  dis- 
tant from  that  of  the  provincials,  commanded  by  general 
Gates.  This  officer,  leaving  his  camp  in  the  islands,  had 
been  joined  by  all  the  troops  destined  for  the  northern 
provinces;  and,  marching  towards  Siilhvater  with  the 
ntmost  despafcli,  showed  no  inclination  to  avoid  an  en- 
gagement. Accordingly,  when  the  British  appeared, 
without  wailing  for  the  assault,  he  attacked  their  centre, 
while  Arnold,  who  commanded  on  the  left  of  the  pro- 
vincials, made  head  against  the  right  of  the  enemy ;  a 
fierce  encounter  then  ensued;  and  ha<I  not  the  artillery 
arrived  during  the  hottest  of  the  action,  and  checked 
the  Americans,  the  discipline  of  the  British  must  have 
yielded  to  the  valour  and  impetuosity  of  the  colonial 
troops.  In  this  battle,  the  royalists  lost  only  300  men, 
while  1500  of  their  antagonists  were  cither  killed  or 
wounded ;  yet  the  English  generals  were  astonished  at 
Ihe  resolution  which  the  Americans  had  displayed,  and 
bagan  to  anticipate,  with  sorrow,  the  final  issue  of  their 
exertions. 

The  condition  of  the  army  under  Burgoyne  was  now 
almost  desperate.  Their  stock  of  provisions  was  nearly 
exhausted;  the  Indians,  their  allies,  who  had  marked 
the  service  with  bloodshed  and  cruelty,  withdrew  from 
them  in  great  numbers,  and,  to  complete  the  mortifica- 
tions of  the  general,  he  had  received  no  intelligence 
from  Clinton,  whose  assistance  or  co-operation  he  had 
long  expected.  After  some  days,  however,  a  letter  from 
that  officer  arrived,  informing  Burgoyne,  that  he  intend- 
ed to  make  a  diversion  in  his  favour :  but,  as  this  aid 
tvas  distant  and  dubious,  the  communication  of  the  de- 
sign had  little  effect  in  raising  the  spirits  of  the  soldiers, 
or  animating  their  general  with  confidence. 

In  their  |)resent  distressful  circumstances,  it  was  ob- 
vious, that  nothing  but  a  victory  could  save  the  royalists 
from  the  ignominy  of  surrendering  at  discretion.  Ac- 
cordingly, on  the  7th  of  October,  the  English  general 
moved  with  his  whole  strength  towards  the  camp  of 
the  provincials.  His  design  was  quickly  perceived  by 
Gates,  the  American  commander,  who  resolved  to  at- 


tack him  without  loss  of  time  :  the  assault  was  impetu- 
ous and  bloody  ;  but  the  English,  resisting  for  a  while, 
at  last  gave  way,  and  Eraser,  one  of  their  ablest  gene- 
rals, was  killed  on  the  spot.  Arnold  pressed  hard  on 
the  right,  where  Burgoyne  commanded  in  person ;  and 
though  the  king's  troops  in  that  quarter  displayed  their 
wonted  courage,  the  British  were  compelled  to  retreat, 
and,  with  the  utmost  difficulty,  regained  their  camp. 
They  were  pursued  to  their  entrenchments  by  Arnold, 
and  furiously  assaulted ;  but  that  officer  having  received 
a  dangerous  wound  at  the  very  moment  when  his  divi- 
sion was  entering  the  lines,  the  Americans  were  forced 
to  retire.  On  the  left,  the  provincials  were  still  more 
successful;  the  Germans  were  routed  with  great  loss; 
colonel  Breyman  fell ;  and  all  the  artillery  and  baggage 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  colonial  army. 

This  was  the  most  fatal  disaster  which  the  English 
had  experienced  since  the  attack  at  Bunker's  Hill.  The 
number  of  killed  and  wounded,  both  of  the  Germans 
and  British,  was  very  great;  but  the  chief  misfortune 
was,  that  the  Americans  were  now  enabled  so  to  ar- 
range their  posts,  as  to  enclose  the  arm_v,  and  eiTectually 
to  prevent  their  escape.  There  was  only  one  road  by 
which  it  was  possible  for  them  to  retreat.  It  was,  there- 
fore, resolved  to  repair  the  bridges  on  the  way  to  Fort 
Edward ;  to  decamp  suddenly,  and  march  towards  that 
place  in  the  night;  and,  forcing  the  passages  of  the 
Hudson,  to  effect  an  union  with  sir  Henry  Clinton,  and 
the  troops  under  his  command.  It  was  resolved  also, 
that  the  baggage  should  be  left,  and  that  the  soldiers 
should  carry  their  provisions  attached  to  their  knap- 
sacks. All  these  resolutions  indicate  the  extreme  ne- 
nessity  to  which  the  British  were  reduced.  Thedesio-u, 
however,  wfis  found  to  be  impracticable.  Intelligence 
was  received,  that  the  Americans  had  erected  strong 
batteries  at  the  fords ;  that  they  had  taken  possession  of 
an  eminence  between  Fort  Edward  and  Fort  Georo-e, 
from  which,  it  was  said,  they  could  annoy  the  army  on 
their  march;  that  their  numbers  were  daily  increasing; 
and  that  the  fresh  troops,  as  well  as  their  associates, 
were  animated  with  all  the  zeal  of  men,  ardent  in  the 
cause  of  freedom,  and  their  country.  The  state  of  the 
royal  army,  and  of  its  general,  was  now  truly  deplorable. 
Burgoyne  himself  had  projected  the  expedition;  an 
officer  of  tried  abilities  had  been  removed  to  make  way 
for  him ;  and,  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign,  his  en- 
deavours had  been  followed  with  success.  But  a  mourn- 
ful reverse  of  circumstances  had  taken  jdace ;  he  was 
deserted  by  his  allies;  his  provisions  were  exhausted ; 
he  was  enclosed  by  an  enemy,  rejoicing  in  his  misfor- 
tunes, aud  anticipating  bis  fall.  "  In  these  circumstan- 
ces," says  he,  in  a  letter  to  lord  George  Germain,  "  I 
called  a  council  of  all  the  generals,  field  officers,  and 
captains  commanding  corps ;  and,  by  their  unanimous 
concurrence  and  advice,  I  was  induced  to  open  a  treaty 
with  major-general  Gates."  In  consequence  of  this 
treaty,  the  British  forces,  to  the  number  of  GOOO  men, 
laid  down  their  arms  ;  having  pledged  thsmselves  not 
to  serve  in  America  during  the  war,  and  stipulated,  that 
they  should  be  permitted  to  return  to  their  native  coun- 
try. Such  was  the  agreement ;  and  to  this  agreement 
the  congress  ought  unquestionably  to  have  adhered : 
but  when  the  transports  appeared  in  the  harbour  of 
Boston,  and  the  troojjs  were  preparing  to  embark,  the 
American  rulers,  suspecting  that  they  might  be  employ- 
ed against  their  interest  in  other  parts  of  the  conti- 
nent, would  not  permit  them  to  remove,  till  the  treaty 


640 


AMERICA. 


should  be  ratified  by  the  English  cabinet.  The  surren- 
der of  Burgoyne  led  to  the  immediate  evacuation  of 
Ticonderoga  and  Mount  Independence;  and  the  pro- 
vincials saw  themselves  once  more  sole  masters  of  the 
north. 

The  congress,  however,  not  satisfied  with  the  exer- 
tions of  the  provinces  in  behalf  of  their  rights,  had  re- 
course to  the  aid  of  foreign  powers.  In  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1 778,  they  entered  into  an  alliance  with  the 
French ;  who,  as  the  rivals  of  the  British,  and  smarting 
with  the  loss  of  their  possessions  in  Canada,  eagerly 
embraced  the  proposals  of  the  American  States.  On 
the  6th  of  February,  the  articles  of  agreement  be- 
tween the  two  nations  were  formally  signed.  It  was 
declared  in  these  articles,  ] .  That  the  principal  end  of 
the  treaty  was,  to  support  in  an  effectual  manner,  the 
independency  of  the  United  Colonies ;  2.  That  if  Great 
Britain  shonid,  ia  consequence  of  (lie  treaty,  proceed  to 
hostilities  against  France,  the  two  nations  would  assist 
each  other,  as  circumstances  might  require ;  3.  That  if 
those  places  in  North  America,  still  subject  to  the  Bri- 
tish crown,  should  be  conquered  by  the  United  States, 
they  should  either  be  confederated  with  them,  or  sub- 
jected to  their  jurisdiction  ;  4.  That  ifany  ofthe  isl.inds 
in  the  West  Indies  should  be  taken  by  the  French,  they 
should  be  considered  as  the  property  of  that  nation ;  5. 
That  no  formal  treaty  with  Great  Britain  should  be  con- 
cluded by  the  French  or  Americans,  acting  separately ; 
and  that  both  parties  would  continue  in  arms  till  the 
independence  of  the  United  States  should  be  acknow- 
ledged; 6.  That  such  powers  of  Europe  or  America, 
as  had  received  injuries  from  Great  Britain,  should  be 
invited  to  engage  in  the  common  cause ;  7.  That  the 
United  States  guaranteed  to  Prance  all  the  possessions 
in  the  West  Indies  which  she  might  be  able  to  conquer ; 
and  that  France,  in  her  turn,  guaranteed  the  uncondi- 
tional independence  of  the  United  States,  and  their  su- 
preme authority  over  every  country  which  they  possess- 
ed, or  which  they  might  acquire  during  the  continuance 
of  the  war. 

When  this  treaty  was  notified  to  the  court  of  London, 
it  produced  an  immediate  declaration  of  war  against  the 
French.  The  English  parliament,  in  their  address  to 
the  king,  expressed  their  resolution  of  adhering  to  him 
in  all  his  endeavcnrs  to  tubdue  the  revolted  colonies, 
and  promised  to  assist  him  with  thp  whole  strength  of 
the  empire.  The  address,  however,  was  not  voted  with- 
out a  considerable  difference  of  opinion.  The  mem- 
bers in  opposition  loudly  affirmed,  that  the  war  was 
equally  tyrannical  and  unjust;  that  the  ministry,  by  their 
ignorance  and  ill  success,  had  forfeited  the  confidence 
of  the  British  nation  ;  that  the  Americans  were  strug- 
gling for  independence,  and  would  at  last  attain  it ;  and 
that  every  attempt  to  compel  them  to  obedience  would 
assuredly  be  friutless.  Of  the  injustice  of  the  war, 
from  its  commencement  to  the  present  time,  the  minis- 
try themselves,  by  their  wavering  and  indecisive  mea- 
sures, apjiear  to  have  been  conscious.  They  now  in- 
troduced into  parliament,  a  bill  for  reconciling  the  dif- 
ferences between  the  Americans  and  Great  Britain; 
and  should  (he  terms  which  (hey  offere<l  be  rejected  by 
the  United  States,  they  declared  their  fixed  and  unal- 
terable purpose  of  reducing  them  to  compliance  by  force 
of  arras.  Commissioners  were  therefore  despatched  to 
the  congress,  in  order  to  communicate  to  them  the  pro- 
posals of  the  English  administration :  but  as  they  ar- 
rived immiediately  after  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne,  and 


the  conclusion  of  the  treaty  with  France,  they  were 
received  with  the  utmost  indifference,  and,  in  many 
places,  with  the  utmost  contempt.  The  general  an- 
swer was,  that  the  day  of  reconciliation  was  past ;  and 
that  Great  Britain,  by  her  tyranny  and  haughtiness,  had 
extinguished  all  filial  regard  in  the  breasts  of  the  Ame- 
rican people.  The  congress  resolved  without  delay, 
that,  as  a  political  body,  they  would  not  receive  the  com- 
missioners till  their  independence  was  acknowledged  ; 
that  whoever  made  a  separate  agreement  with  Britain, 
was  an  enemy  to  his  country;  and  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  all  the  States  to  exert  themselves  to  the  utmost  in  re- 
cruiting the  army,  or  in  adding  to  the  number  of  its  bat- 
talions. 

In  the  meantime,  the  season  for  action  was  approach- 
ing. While  tlie  congress  were  yet  deliberating  on  the 
answer  which  they  should  give  to  the  proposals  from 
England,  sir  Henry  Clinton,  now  raised  to  the  chief 
command,  evacuated  Philadelphia.  On  hb  march  from 
that  place,  he  was  followed  and  harassed  by  the  provin- 
cial troops,  whom  Washington  had  directed  to  obstruct 
his  progress;  but  Lee,  the  American  general,  having 
failed  in  an  attempt  to  seize  the  baggage  of  the  royalists, 
they  effected  their  retreat,  were  conveyed  on  board  the 
ships,  and  joined  their  countrymen  at  New- York.  For 
his  misconduct  on  this  occasion,  as  well  as  his  insolence 
towards  the  commander  in  chief,  I<ee  ^vas  afterwards 
tried  by  a  court  martial,  and  sentenced  to  a  temporary 
suspension  from  his  office,  as  a  general  in  the  army ;  « 
punishment,  which,  though  slight,  operated  with  a  pow- 
erful effect  throughout  the  colonial  forces. 

While  the  British  ships  were  employed  in  transport- 
ing the  troops  from  Sandy  Hook  to  New-York,  intelli- 
gence was  received  that  a  strong  fleet,  under  (he  or- 
ders of  count  D'Estaign,  had  arrived  from  France.  It 
consisted  of  12  ships  ofthe  line,  besides  frigates,  and 
had  6000  marines,  or  soldiers,  on  board.  To  oppose 
this  force,  the  British  had  only  six  ships  of  the  line, 
three  of  50  guns,  and  a  few  vessels  of  smaller  size ;  yet 
they  posted  themselves  so  advantageously  before  the 
entrance  into  New-York,  that  the  French  admiral 
thought  it  would  be  hazardous  to  attack  (hem,  and  pru- 
dently declined  an  engagement.  The  arrival  of  foreign 
succours  was  the  occasion  of  much  joy  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  United  States.  The  cojigrcss  immediately 
wrote  to  Washington,  instructing  him  to  co-operate 
with  D'Estaign,  and  authorizing  him  to  employ  (he 
militia  from  New  Hampshire  to  New  Jersey,  as  well  as 
the  militia  of  (hese  provinces,  for  wlsafever  undertakings 
he  might  judge  to  be  necessary.  But  the  success  of 
the  allied  powers  was  not  equal  to  tiie  magnitude  of 
their  preparations.  An  expedition  was  agreed  on,  and 
Sullivan,  the  American  general,  landed  on  Rhode  Island 
with  10,000  men,  resolved  to  lay  siege  to  Newport,  the 
capital  of  that  state.  But  Pigof,  to  whom  sir  Henry 
Clinton  had  intnisted  the  defence  of  (he  place,  had  for- 
tified himself  so  strongly,  that  the  Americans  found  it 
impossible  to  succeed  without  the  aid  of  (he  fleet. 
D'Estaign,  however,  shattered  by  a  storm,  and  dreading 
the  approach  ofthe  English  admiral,  withdrew  fwm  the 
harbour,  and  sailed  for  Boston  in  order  to  refit.  In  con- 
sequence of  his  departure,  Sullivan  was  obliged  to  re- 
tire, and  the  garrison  of  Newport  rushing  forth,  and 
pressing  hard  upon  him,  the  provincial  troops  were 
thrown  into  confusion,  and,  with  no  lidlo  difTicidty  ac- 
complished their  retreat.  The  conduct  of  D'Estaign 
at  Rhode  Island  gave  tlie  highest  offence  to  the  people 


AMERICA. 


641 


of  New  England,  wlio  did  not  hesitate  to  express  their 
doubts  of  tiie  admiral's  courage ;  it  produced  a  quarrel 
between  him  and  Sulliran,  which  Washington  long 
attempted  to  heal ;  and  the  resentment  occasioned  by 
these  differences,  in  the  minds  of  the  French,  contribu- 
ted greatly  to  diminish  their  exertions  in  behalf  of  the 
colonies. 

The  war  was  now  prosecuted  with  varied  success. 
The  whole  province  of  Georgia  was  reduced  by  the 
English.  Carolina  was  invaded,  and  Charleston,  its 
principal  city,  had  nearly  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
royalists.  Several  expeditions  against  the  provinces  in 
North  America  were  likewise  successful.  On  the  other 
liand,  the  Spaniards,  joining  in  the  confederacy  against 
Britain,  made  an  irruption  into  Florida,  and  took  pos- 
session of  that  country  without  opposition.  Not  a  few 
of  the  states  of  Europe  contemplated  the  exertions  of  the 
Americans  with  a  favourable  eye.  And  the  Indians 
who,  at  the  instigation  of  the  British,  had  molested  the 
provinces  by  continual  depredations,  were  effectually 
and  completely  subdued  by  general  Sullivan ;  their  vil- 
lages were  burnt,  and  their  plantations  destroyed ;  so 
that  when  the  invading  army  had  quitted  the  district 
occupied  by  the  savages,  "  there  was  not  a  house,  nor  a 
field  of  corn,  nor  a  fruit  tree,  left  upon  the  ground  :"  nor 
was  there  an  Indian  to  be  seen  throughout  the  whole 
••act. 

During  the  whole  of  the  American  war,  there  appears 
to  have  been  one  capital  and  fatal  error  on  the  part  of  the 
British  generals.  They  never  collected  their  forces, 
and  advanced  against  the  enemy  with  their  whole 
strength ;  a  mode  of  conduct  which  would  have  brought 
the  war  to  a  point,  and  enabled  their  discipline  and  skill 
to  operate  with  decisive  and  awful  execution  against  the 
rude  valour  of  the  provincial  troops.  On  the  contrary, 
they  divided  their  forces  into  small  bodies  ;  invaded  the 
colonies  in  separate  detachments ;  gave  the  Americans 
every  opportunity  of  harassing  them  and  cutting  off  their 
supplies;  and  were  finally  constrained  to  yield  to  the  per- 
severance and  boldness  of  men  inferior  to  them  in  milita- 
ry knowledge,  and  almost  destitute  of  those  advantages 
which  influence  the  success  of  military  operations.  This 
error  of  the  British  commanders  was  perceived  by  Wash- 
ington, and  he  availed  himself  of  it.  "  From  your  ac- 
counts," says  he  to  Schuyler,  in  a  letter  written  after 
the  fall  of  Ticonderoga,  "  general  Burgoyne  appears  to 
be  pursuing  that  line  of  conduct,  which,  of  all  others,  is 
most  favourable  to  us  ;  I  mean,  acting  in  detaclunent. 
This  conduct  will  certainly  give  room  for  enterprise  on 
our  side,  and  expose  his  parties  to  great  hazard.  Could 
we  be  so  happy  as  to  cut  one  of  them  off,  though  it 
should  not  exceed  four,  five,  or  six  hundred  men,  it 
would  inspirit  the  people,  and  do  away  much  of  their 
anxiety." — Marshall's  Life  of  Washington,  vol.  iii.  p. 
262. 

In  the  year  1780,  the  war  was  effectually  transferred 
to  the  southern  provinces.  On  the  19th  of  February, 
sir  Henry  Clinton,  who,  inconjunction  with  vice-admiral 
Arbuthnot,  had  left  New-York  some  time  before,  ap- 
peared off  Charleston;  on  the  20th  of  March,  the  Eng- 
lish squadron  entered  the  harbour  of  that  city;  and  on 
the  29th  of  the  same  month,  the  troops  effected  a  land- 
ing at  Charleston  Neck.  The  British  then  summoned 
the  town  ;  but  Lincoln,  who  commanded  there,  under 
the  authority  of  the  United  States,  expressed  his  reso- 
lution of  defending  the  place.  In  framing  his  answer 
to  the  summons  of  the  English  general,  he  was  influen- 

Vol.  I.     Part  II. 


ced  considerably  by  the  expectation  of  reinforcements 
and  supplies  from  the  neighbouring  provinces;  these, 
however,  came  in  very  slowly ;  and  a  body  of  militia, 
which  Avas  proceeding  to  his  relief,  was  attacked  and 
dispersed  by  the  earl  Cornwallis  and  colonel  Tarleton. 
The  city  was  now  invested  in  every  direction ;  Fort  Sul- 
livan was  in  possession  of  the  royalists  ;  and  the  prepa- 
rations for  a  general  assault  were  nearly  completed  ; 
when  Lincoln,  disappointed  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  suc- 
cour from  without,  and  indifferently  supported  by  the 
troops  under  his  command,  agreed  to  the  proposals  of 
Clinton,  and  allowed  the  English,  under  general  Leslie, 
to  march  into  the  place.  The  loss  of  Charleston  was  a 
severe  blow  to  the  American  interests  ;  2487  men  ivere 
taken  prisoners,  besides  1000  sailors  in  arms;  and  the 
quantity  of  ordnance  and  military  stores  which  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  king's  troops,  was  not  only  great,  but 
in  the  present  state  of  the  colonial  affairs,  could  with 
difficulty  be  spared.  Such,  however,  was  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  provinces,  and  such  the  aversion  to  the  Eng- 
lish which  the  Americans  had  long  cherished  in  their 
breasts,  that  instead  of  being  dispirited  by  their  misfor- 
tunes, they  united  with  greater  cordiality  and  firmness* 
and  prompted  each  other  to  more  vigorous  exertions. 
It  is  true,  that  after  the  surrender  of  Charleston,  the 
English  general  issued  a  proclamation,  in  which  he  ex- 
horted the  people  to  return  to  their  allegiance,  and 
threatened  them  with  the  utmost  severity  of  punish- 
ment, if  they  refused  to  comply ;  and  that  some  indi- 
viduals were  found  who  petitioned  to  be  admitted  into 
the  number,  and  restored  to  the  condition  of  British 
sultjects.  But  these  were  regarded  by  the  majority  of 
their  countrymen  as  the  slaves  of  tyranny ;  and  looked 
upon  as  unworthy  to  be  enrolled  under  the  same  banner, 
or  to  fight  in  the  same  cause  with  the  champions  of 
freedom. 

Amidst  the  ravages  and  desolation  of  war,  the  con- 
gress were  not  inattentive  to  the  arts  of  peace.  A 
committee  of  their  number  was  instructed  to  examine 
the  ground,  as  jet  unoccupied,  in  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  to  choose  a  place  for  a  building  where  the 
representatives  of  the  American  people  might  assemble 
in  a  manner  suitable  to  their  dignity.  They  determined 
to  erect  a  statue  in  honour  of  their  general,  Montgo- 
mery, who  had  fallen  at  Quebec ;  and  authorized  Dr. 
Franklin  to  agree  with  an  artist  of  Paris  for  that  pur- 
pose ;  they  established  a  court  in  which  all  appeals  from 
the  admiralty  to  the  United  States,  relating  to  captures, 
might  be  heard ;  they  reforme<l  the  currency,  and  ar- 
ranged their  finances,  so  that  the  army  might  be  regu- 
larly supplied  with  pay  and  clothing,  and  furnished  with 
every  thing  which  the  general  might  require.  They 
celebrated  the  4th  of  July,  the  anniversary  of  their  in- 
dependence, with  great  pomp ;  and  on  the  same  day, 
the  first  degrees  in  the  arts  were  conferred  by  the  pro- 
vost and  masters  belonging  to  the  college  at  Philadel- 
phia. On  this  occasion,  the  members  of  congress,  the 
chevalier  de  la  Luzerne,  minister  plenipotentiary  from 
the  French  king  to  the  United  States,  together  with 
other  persons  of  distinction,  were  present. 

Not  long  after  these  transactions  a  second  fleet  arri- 
ved at  Rhode  Island  from  France.  This  fleet,  consisting 
of  seven  ships  of  the  line,  was  under  the  orders  of  M. 
Ternay ;  and  had  on  board  6000  men,  well  appointed 
and  disciplined,  and  led  by  Rochambeau,  an  officer  of 
great  talents  and  experience.  As  the  aid  which  the 
Americans  bad  now  received  was  botli  unexpected  sod 
4M 


643 


A^IERICA. 


considerable,  the  joy  which  it  occasioned  was  very- 
great  ;  the  assembly  at  Rhode  Island  went  in  a  body  to 
congratulate  the  French  general  on  his  arrival ;  and  he, 
in  return,  assured  them,  that  the  troops  which  he  com- 
manded were  only  the  first  division  of  a  larger  force, 
■which  the  king,  his  master,  would  send  to  their  assist- 
ance. No  sooner  was  it  communicated  to  the  British 
that  the  provincials  had  been  strengthened  by  aid  from 
Europe,  than  they  formed  a  scheme  in  order  to  render 
it  ineffectual.  It  was  agreed  by  sir  Harry  Clinton  and 
the  English  admiral,  to  make  an  attack  by  sea  and  land 
on  the  French  vessels  and  the  allied  troops  at  Rhode 
Island.  But  Washington,  having  received  intelligence 
of  the  design,  passed  the  North  River  with  an  army  of 
12,000  men,  and  advancing  by  a  rapid  movement  to 
Kingsbridge,  threatened  with  a  siege  the  town  of  New- 
York,  where  Clinton  commanded  in  person.  This  judi- 
cious and  timely  movement  produced  the  desired  efifect. 
The  English  general  immediately  altered  his  plan,  and 
ordered  his  troops  to  disembark;  in  consequence  of 
which,  the  Americans  likewise  withdrew  from  Kings- 
bridge,  and  returned,  by  slow  marches,  to  their  former 
ttation.  They  were  soon  after  followed  by  general 
Knyphausen,  who  attempted  to  surprise  and  cut  off 
their  advanced  posts ;  in  this,  however,  he  was  unsuc- 
cessful, and  having  set  iire  to  Springfield,  and  wasled 
the  neighbouring  country,  he  joined  the  main  army  at 
New- York. 

About  this  time,  general  Gates,  who  had  already  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  the  contest  with  Burgoyne,  was 
appointed  to  the  chief  command  of  the  provincial  forces 
in  South  Carolina.  He  was  opposed  by  the  earl  Corn- 
wallis,  and  colonel  Tarleton,  officers  of  high  name  and 
respectability ;  whose  services  in  the  reduction  of 
Charleston  we  have  already  mentioned.  On  the  16th 
of  August,  an  action  took  place  near  Cambden,  between 
the  royal  army  and  that  of  the  Americans.  Prior  to  this 
action,  the  situation  of  the  king's  troops  was  exceeding- 
ly critical.  The  position  at  Cambden,  though  advan- 
tageous in  some  respects,  was  not  well  chosen  for  sus- 
taining an  attack ;  the  force  under  Cornwallis  did  not 
exceed  2000  men,  while  that  of  the  provincials  was 
more  than  double  that  number ;  the  consequence  of  a 
defeat  might  be  the  loss  of  South  Carolina,  and  the  ef- 
fect of  a  victory,  the  complete  establishment  of  the  royal 
authority  in  thatextensive  province.  General  Gates  was 
advancing  with  rapidity  ;  and  intelligence  was  received, 
that  it  was  the  design  of  that  commander  to  attack  the 
British  lines. 

In  these  circumstances,  the  skill  and  resolution  of 
Cornwallis,  and  the  decisive  bravery  of  lord  Rawdon, 
(now  earl  31oira,)  not  only  saved  the  English  from  de- 
feat, but  enabled  them  to  gain  a  signal  victory  over  the 
provincial  troops.  On  the  evening  of  the  15th,  the 
British  general,  having  resolved  not  to  wait  for  the 
approach  of  the  Americans,  led  out  his  small  but  de- 
termined bawl,  in  order  to  attack  them  ;  and  nearly  at 
the  same  moment,  Gates  advanced  towards  Cambden, 
with  a  similar  intention.  The  two  armies  met  in  anar- 
row  place,  where  the  colonial  troops  could  not  avail 
themselves  of  their  superior  numbers;  the  English  per- 
ceiving the  advantage  which  the  ground  afforded  them, 
began  the  assault,  and  in  a  short  time  the  action  became 
general  and  warm.  The  onset  of  the  royalists,  who  ad- 
vanced with  their  bayonets  fixed,  was  irresistibly  impe- 
tuous; the  provincial  militia,  lately  raised,  and  strangers 
to  regular  service,  first  gave  way  ;  and  the  continental 


battalions,  influenced  by  their  example,  yielded  on  all 
sides,  and  fled  in  the  utmost  disorder.  Many  of  the  co- 
lonists fell  in  this  engagement,  and  more  in  the  pur- 
suit;  1000  men  were  taken  prisoners,  and  seven  pieces 
of  cannon,  together  with  all  the  ammunition  and  stores 
of  the  provincial  army,  remained  in  the  hands  of  the 
English.  While  the  action  was  at  the  hottest,  the  baroa 
de  Kalb,  a  Prussian  officer  in  the  American  service, 
distinguished  himself  by  the  heroic  valour  with  which 
he  fought ;  he  maintained  his  position  against  a  furious 
assault  of  the  enemy,  and  charged  them  at  the  head  of 
the  battalion  which  he  commanded ;  till,  overpowered 
by  the  English  horse,  and  wounded  in  eleven  parts  of 
his  body,  he  gave  his  sword  to  a  British  officer  who  was 
near  him,  and  resigned  himself  a  prisoner  of  war.  From 
the  royalists  he  received  every  attention  which  it  was  in 
their  power  to  bestow ;  but  his  wounds  were  mortal, 
and  in  a  few  hours  he  expired.  The  last  moments  of 
this  gallant  soldier  were  spent  in  acknowledging  the 
kindness  of  the  English,  and  in  declaring  his  unqualified 
approbation  of  the  officers  and  men,  who  had  fought 
under  his  orders,  or  fallen  by  his  side.  And  the  con- 
gress afterwards  ordered  a  monument  to  be  erected  ta 
his  memory,  in  testimony  of  their  sense  of  his  worth, 
and  their  gratitude  for  his  services. 

But  while  the  Americans  were  doomed  to  suffer  by 
the  power  of  their  enemies,  their  misfortunes  were  near- 
ly completed  by  "the  treachery  of  their  friends.  Arnold, 
a  leading  man  in  Philadelphia,  governor  of  that  city  in 
the  name  of  the  United  States,  and  a  general  of  conspi- 
cuous abilities,  was  induced  to  quit  the  service  of  his 
country,  and  attach  himself  to  the  royal  cause.  Different 
motives  have  been  assigned  for  this  inglorious  conduct. 
It  has  been  said,  that  he  was  unfriendly  to  the  declara- 
tion of  independence,  and  disgusted  at  the  alliance 
with  France;  and  it  has  been  urged,  with  greater  plau- 
sibility, that  the  origin  of  his  treachery  is  to  be  looked 
for  in  the  fickleness  of  his  temper,  and  the  unfortunate 
issue  of  the  speculations  in  which  he  engaged.  He  had 
been  accused  by  the  government  of  Philadelphia  for 
the  appropriation  of  goods,  belonging  to  the  public,  to 
his  own  use ;  and  had  been  tried  for  certain  actions, 
which,  though  not  declared  to  be  highly  blameable,  or 
injurious  to  the  state,  were,  nevertheless,  of  a  very  sus- 
picious nature.  Those,  who  have  written  of  the  Ame- 
rican war,  have  not  informed  us  whether  any  attempts 
were  made  to  corrupt  his  fidelity,  or  whether,  by  a  pro- 
posal originating  with  himself,  he  betrayed  the  cause  of 
freedom,  and  the  interests  of  his  country.  It  is  certain, 
however,  that  he  had  frequent  interviews  with  major 
Andrfe,  on  board  the  Vulture,  in  North  River ;  and  when 
that  officer  was  taken  in  the  disguise  of  a  peasant,  seve- 
ral documents  of  a  public  nature,  in  the  hand-writing 
of  Arnold,  as  well  as  a  plan  of  the  fortifications  at  West 
Point,  where  the  traitor  commanded,  were  found  in  bis 
possession.  From  the  documents  alluded  to,  it  is  pro- 
bable, that  the  designs  of  the  American  general  were 
of  an  extensive  nature,  and  that  he  meditated  the  scheme 
of  re-annexing  the  colonies  to  the  British  empire.  But 
whether  his  designs  Avere  limited  or  extensive,  they 
were  all  frustrated  by  the  apprehension  of  major  Andrd. 
This  unfortunate  gentleman,  equally  remarkable  for  the 
amiableness  of  his  dispositions,  and  his  attainments  in 
classical  learning,  was  accidentally  prevented  from  reach* 
ing  the  king's  troops,  by  means  of  the  vessel  which  had 
conveyed  him  to  the  shore ;  and  was  discovered  and 
seized  on  his  way  to  New-York.     His  case  was  referred 


AMERICA. 


643 


by  Ihe  commander  in  chief  lo  a  board  ofoSicerg,  con- 
aistingof  General  Greene,  Lord  Sterling,  the  marquis  de 
la  Fayette,  baron  Steuben,  two  major-generals, and  eight 
brigadiers.  Before  these  distinguished  persons,  it  was 
ascertained,  that  he  had  often  come  on  shore  during  the 
night,  and  conversed,  in  a  secret  manner,  with  general 
Arnold :  that  he  changed  his  dress  within  the  American 
lines,  and  under  a  fictitious  name,  and  a  disguised  ha- 
bit, had  passed  the  American  works  at  Stony  and  Ver- 
planck'g  Points;  that  he  was  taken  on  the  23d  of  Sep- 
tember by  three  American  soldiers*,  when  hastening 
to  join  the  British  ;  and  that  certain  papers,  containing 
intelligence  for  the  enemy,  were  found  in  his  boots.  It 
was  therefore  determined  by  the  court,  that  he  should 
be  considered  as  a  spy  from  the  royal  army ;  and  that 
in  conformity  with  the  law  of  nations,  and  the  practice 
of  European  countries,  he  ought  to  suffer  death.  In 
Tain  did  sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  Arnold  himself,  write 
to  general  Washington,  and  petition  that  his  life  might 
be  spared  :  the  provincials,  galled  by  their  late  dis- 
tresses, were  inexorable,  and  Andr6  was  hanged,  on  the 
2d  of  October,  at  Tappan,  in  the  division  of  New-York. 
He  met  his  fate  with  courage  and  composure ;  but  re- 
gretted, that  the  usages  of  war  would  not  permit  him 
to  terminate  his  days  in  a  more  honourable  manner,  and 
to  die,  not  as  a  criminal,  but  as  a  soldier. 

But,  as  his  example  was  imitated  by  few  of  his  coun- 
trymen, the  defection  of  Arnold  was  of  no  great  and 
permanent  advantage  to  the  royal  cause.  The  aifairs  of 
the  British  in  the  southern  provinces  at  length  began  to 
decline.  The  king's  troops  had  made  an  inetfectual 
attempt  to  possess  themselves  of  North  Carolina :  Tarle- 
ton  was  defeated  with  considerable  loss  ;  and  though 
Greene,  the  American  general,  at  the  head  of  a  power- 
ful division,  was  twice  constrained  to  yield  to  the  abilities 
of  Cornwallis,  and  the  valour  of  Rawdon,  the  provin- 
cials quickly  recovered  their  ground,  repulsed  the  ene- 
my in  their  turn,  and  seemed  every  day  to  increase  in 
numbers,  and  to  improve  in  discipline.  The  royalists 
were  often  in  great  distress  from  the  want  of  provisions, 
and,  on  many  occasions,  were  totally  destitute  of  bread. 
No  succours  had  arrived  from  sir  Henry  Clinton,  the 
commander  in  chief.  That  general,  opposed  by  Wash- 
ington, and  deceived  by  the  artifices  of  the  American 
leader,  was  in  daily  apprehension  of  an  attack  upon  New- 
York,  and  unable  to  afford  the  least  assistance  to  the 
army  in  Carolina.  In  consequence  of  an  action,  which 
took  place  between  the  French  and  British  fleets,  the 
allies  became  masters  of  the  Chesapeake.  Washing- 
ton, informed  of  the  condition  to  which  the  English  were 
reduced,  took  every  method  in  his  power  in  order  to 
compel  them  to  surrender.  With  this  view,  he  quit- 
ted his  station  in  the  vicinity  of  New- York,  and,  accom- 
panied by  the  marquis  de  la  Fayette  and  the  count  de 
Rochambeau,  proceeded  to  Williamsburg,  in  Virginia; 
where,  putting  himself  at  the  the  head  of  the  French  and 
American  troops,  he  advanced  to  Yorktown  ;  and,  after 
the  disembarkation  of  the  stores,  laid  siege  to  that 
place.  The  utmost  alacrity  prevailing  among  the  allied 
iorces,  and  the  whole  army  exerting  itself  with  unusual 
vigour,  the  lines  were  completed  in  a  short  time.  The 
Mtuation  of  lord  Cornwaliis,  and  the  British  under  his 
command,  now  became  desperate.  The  works  which 
they  had  raised  had  fallen  before  the  artillery  of  Wash- 


*  Paulding,. VanTerf,  and  William*. 


ington;  their  attempts  to  repel  the  besiegers,  to  slop 
their  progress,  and  even  to  escape  through  Ihe  Ameri- 
can lines,  had  all  proved  inetfectual ;  every  day  brought 
the  provincials  nearer  to  their  object;  and  nothing  at 
length  remained,  but  to  capitulate  on  the  most  honour- 
able terms.  Accordingly,  on  the  19th  of  October  1781, 
the  English  general  yielded  to  the  necessity  which 
pressed  upon  him,  and  surrendered  himself  and  his 
whole  army  prisoners  of  war.  The  artillery,  arms,  and 
accoutrements  belonging  to  the  royalists,  together  with 
their  military  chest  and  stores  of  every  description, 
were  given  up  to  the  Americans ;  and  7000  men,  the 
flower  of  the  British  troops,  remained  under  the  guard 
or  escort  of  the  continental  battalions. 

The  success  of  the  allies  in  the  capture  of  York-town, 
is  chiefly  lo  be  ascribed  to  the  skill  and  prudence  of 
Washington.  No  little  artifice  was  employed  to  im- 
press sir  Henry  Clinton  with  the  belief  that  New-York 
was  in  danger,  and  to  keep  that  general  in  perpetual 
alarm  ;  while,  in  these  very  circumstances,  the  Ameri- 
can commander  was  forming  his  plans,  and  collecting 
his  supplies,  in  order  to  march  against  Cornwallis  ia 
the  south.  The  artifice  alluded  to,  was  maintained  with 
such  ability,  that  Clinton  did  not  once  suspect  the  in- 
tentions of  the  provincial  leader,  and  was  effectually 
prevented  from  supporting  the  falling  fortunes  of  his 
countrymen.  The  British  general  was  not  deficient  in 
those  qualities  which  lead  to  bold  and  adventurous  ex^ 
ertions ;  but  he  was  deceived  by  appearances,  which 
induced  him  to  think  rather  of  defending  the  capital  in 
his  possession,  than  of  diminishing  his  strength  in  order 
to  secure  more  distant  acquisitions.  When  the  design 
of  the  Americans,  however,  was  known,  he  made  an 
eflbrt ;  and,  though  it  was  late  and  inefficient,  it  showed 
his  inclination,at  least,  to  aid  the  operations  in  the  souths 
ern  countries.  To  the  skill  of  the  French  engineers, 
likewise,  the  success  of  the  allies  should,  in  a  great 
degree,  be  imputed  :  but,  above  all,  it  ought  to  be  as- 
cribed to  the  persevering  patriotism  of  the  colonist* 
themselves,  and  that  invincible  hatred  of  oppression, 
which  animated  them  in  every  struggle,  and  prompted 
them,  after  every  defeat,  to  renewed  endeavours  in  the 
cause  of  liberty. 

The  joy  dififused  throughout  the  United  States  by  the 
surrender  of  the  army  under  lord  Cornwallis,  was  equal 
to  the  anxiety  which  it  had  occasioned.  The  people  of 
America  regarded  the  brilliant  achievement  of  their 
commander,  which  put  the  allies  in  possession  of  York- 
town,  as  determining  the  issue  of  the  contest ;  and  from 
that  moment  they  looked  forward  to  the  reward  of  all 
their  toils,  and  a  full  co/npensation  for  all  their  suffer- 
ings. By  the  congress  the  intelligence  was  received 
with  the  highest  satiifaction.  They  voted  the  thanks 
of  the  United  States  to  Washington,  to  the  count  de 
Rochambeau,  and  to  the  oflicers  and  men  of  the  south- 
ern army  :  they  resolved,  that  a  marble  column  should 
be  erected  at  Yorktown  in  Virginia,  with  emblems  comi 
memorative  of  the  alliance  between  the  United  States 
and  his  most  Christian  majesty;  they  determined  to  go 
in  full  and  solemn  procession  to  the  Dutch  Lutheran 
church,  and  give  thanks  to  Almighty  Got!  for  the  sue-; 
cess  of  their  general  and  the  forces  under  his  command ; 
and  they  issued  a  proclamation,  appointing  the  13th  of 
December  as  a  day  of  thanksgiving  and  prayer  on  ac^i 
count  of  the  signal  interposition  of  Divine  Providence 
which  they  had  experienced. 

But  if  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis  was  the  occasion  af 

4M? 


644 


AMERICA. 


joy  to  the  Americans,  it  was  fhe  occasion  of  much  and 
aerious  concern  to  the  British.  The  war,  into  which 
the  Eno-Iish  nation  had  at  first  entered  with  great  ala- 
crity, was  now  become  universally  unpopular.  The 
Americans,  having  secured  the  alliance  of  the  French, 
were  more  able  than  ever  to  resist  the  force  of  the  Bri- 
tish arms ;  and  the  spirit  which  had  given  rise  to  the 
defection  of  the  colonies,  30  far  from  being  subdued, 
continned  to  influence  them  in  all  their  determinations. 
It  was  )7erceived,  that  the  reduction  of  the  provinces 
could  not  be  accomplished  without  a  great  waste  of 
blood  and  treasure  :  And  perhaps  the  injustice  of  forcing 
the  Americans  to  contribute  to  the  support  of  a  govern- 
ment, which  allowed  them  no  place  in  its  councils,  had 
at  len<Tth  become  evident  to  the  British  people.  But, 
from  whatever  cause  it  arose,  it  is  certain,  that  a  re- 
markable change  had  taken  place  in  the  sentiments  of 
tlie  English  nation ;  and  that  a  desire  for  peace  was 
every  where  prevalent.  Accordingly  on  the  4th  of 
March,  1782,  it  was  resolved  by  the  House  of  Com- 
nious,  notwithstanding  a  violent  opposition  from  the 
ministry,  "  that  Ihe  House  will  consider  as  enemies  to 
his  majesty  and  the  country,  all  those  who  advise  or  at- 
tempt a  further  prosecution  of  the  offensive  war  on  the 
continent  of  North  America."  A  change  of  adminis- 
tration then  took  place.  On  the  5th  of  May,  sir  Guy 
Carleton  arrived  at  New-York,  and  was  joined  with  ad- 
miral Digby  in  a  commission  to  treat  of  peace  with  the 
people  of  America :  on  the  30th  of  November,  the 
articles  were  signed  at  Paris ;  and  the  colonies  of  New- 
Hampshire,  Massachusetts-bay,  Rhode  Island,  and  Pro- 
vidence plantations,  Connecticut,  New-York,  New-Jer- 
sey,  Pennsy  I  vania,  Delaware,Mary  land,  V  Irginia,  North 
Carolina,  South  Carolina,  and  Georgia,  were  acknow- 
ledged to  be  "  free,  sovereign  and  independent  states." 
In  this  acknowledgment  the  French  had  already  agreed, 
and  their  example  was  speedily  followed  by  the  other 
nations  of  Europe. 

Thus  ended  the  war  between  Great  Britain  and  Ame- 
rica :  a  war  which  began  in  an  injudicious  and  tyranni- 
cal endeavour  to  procure  a  revenue  from  the  colonies,  antl 
which  terminated  in  their  freedom  and  sovereignty ;  a 
war  in  which  much  blood  was  spilt,  and  many  cruelties 
exercised ;  and  the  issue  of  which  will  remain  as  a  les- 
son to  those  who,  unmindful  of  the  rights  of  the  people, 
would  lift  against  them  the  arm  of  power,  and  force  them 
io  a  compliance  with  their  unjust  demands. 

But  though  the  Americans  had  succeeded  in  procur- 
ing an  acknowledgment  of  theirindependence,  the  peace 
of  the  colonies  was  not  yet  established.  H  they  for- 
merly dreaded  the  encroachments  of  an  external  poAer, 
the  army  at  home  seemed  now  to  be  an  equal  object  of 
fear ;  and  apprehensions  were  entertained  that  the  colo- 
nies might  be  forced  to  exchange  the  government  of 
Britain,  which  was  comparatively  mild  and  equitable, 
for  the  iron  rule  of  military  despotism.  But  Washing- 
ton, while  he  laboured  to  free  his  country  from  the 
terror  of  a  foreign  yoke,  had  no  wish  to  make  its  liberties 
the  prey  of  his  ambition,  or  to  raise  himself  by  the  de- 
pression of  the  American  people.  At  this  time,  the  vir- 
tues of  that  distinguished  man  shone  forth  with  peculiar 
and  unrivalled  lustre.  Not  elevated  to  an  undue  degree 
by  the  success  of  his  arms,  but  enjoying  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  performed  the  duty  to  which  the  voice  of 
hie  countrymen  had  called  him,  he  assembled  the  offi- 
cers of  the  different  battalions  and  companies,  exhorted 
them  to  moderation  in  demanding  theif  arrears,  pro- 


mised to  exert  his  whole  influence  in  their  faronr;  and 
conjured  them,  "  as  they  valued  their  honour,  as  they 
respected  the  rights  of  humanity,  and  as  they  regarded 
the  military  and  national  character  of  the  American 
states,  to  express  their  utmost  detestation  of  the  men 
who  were  attempting  to  open  the  floodgates  of  civil  dis- 
cord, and  to  deluge  their  rising  empire  with  blood." 
These  words,  as  those  of  one  whom  they  had  been  ac- 
customed to  reverence,  were  weighty  and  decisive. 
His  speech  was  followed  by  a  solemn  pause  ;  after  which 
it  was  proposed,  and  unanimously  carried,  that  no  cir- 
cumstances of  distress  should  induce  the  army  of  the 
United  States  to  sully  their  honour,  or  to  distrust  the 
justice  of  their  country.  But  Washington  did  not  con- 
fine himself  to  the  exhortation  of  others ;  he  resolved  to 
give  to  his  countrymen,  and  to  the  whole  world,  an  ex- 
ample of  virtuous  moderation,  and,  with  absolute  power 
within  his  reach,  to  resign  his  commission  as  general 
into  the  hands  of  those  by  whom  it  had  been  conferred. 
Accordingly,  he  proceeded  to  Annapolis,  where  the 
congress  was  sitting,  and  on  the  23d  of  December,  A.  D. 
1783,  he  declared  himself  no  longer  invested  with  any- 
public  character.  After  this  declaration  he  withdrew 
from  the  meeting,  and,  retiring  to  his  estate  at  Mount 
Vernon,  on  the  banks  of  the  Potowmac,  in  Virginia, 
he  addicted  himself  to  the  peaceful  pursuits  of  agricul- 
ture. 

A  general  constitution  for  the  American  states  was 
then  framed.  They  entered  into  a  perpetual  union,  or 
confederation*  with  each  other,  for  their  mutual  defence 
and  advantage  :  they  agreed,  that  delegates  should  be 
appointed  by.  each  state  to  meet  in  congress  on  the  first 
Monday  of  every  year  ;  that  no  state  should  be  repre- 
sented by  fewer  delegates  than  two,  or  by  more  than 
seven  ;  that  each  colony  should ha^e  a  single  vote  :  and 
that  the  laws  and  decisions  of  the  supreme  assembly 
should  be  obligatory  on  all  the  provinces  under  its  juris- 
diction. Each  state,  however,  was  to  be  governed 
wholly  by  its  own  legislature  ;  and  with  the  enactment! 
of  that  legislature  the  congress  had  no  right  to  inter- 
fere. It  was  not  difficult  to  perceive,  that  this  constitu- 
tion had  not  within  itself  sufficient  energy  to  produce 
and  ensure  a  vigorous  administration  of  affairs.  The 
congress  had  no  authority  over  individuals ;  it  had  au- 
thority over  the  states  only  as  political  bodies  ;  it  had 
no  power  to  force  even  the  states  to  a  compliance  with 
its  injunctions  ;  and  in  case  of  any  quarrel,  it  could  not 
prevent  them  from  making  war  upon  each  other.  Diffi- 
culties occurred,  and  distresses  were  multiplied  on  every 
side.  The  army,  though  disbanded,  had  received  only 
four  months'  pay  ;  the  debts  contracted  by  the  congress, 
as  well  as  by  many  of  the  individual  states,  had  not  beea 
discharged,  and  therefore  were  daily  increasing ;  and 
the  government,  possessing  no  revenue,  could  give  no 
effectual  value  to  its  paper  currency.  Taxes  were  im- 
posed by  some  of  the  provincial  legislatures  ;  but  as  they 
were  far  beyond  the  means  of  the  inhabitants,  and  levied 
with  the  utmost  rigour,  they  occasioned  very  general 
discontent.  And  though  it  had  been  fondly  expected, 
that,  after  the  termination  of  the  war,  the  commerce  of 
the  United  States  would  revive,  it  was  still  embarras*- 
ed  and  languid. 


•  This  confederation  was  completed  in  Ihe  year  1781, 
after  a  very  deliberate  consideration  in  several  of  the 
state  legislatures.    Tekcu  Coxe. 


AMERICA. 


6i6 


In  the  midst  of  these  distresses,  it  ivas  proposed,  that 
a  general  convention  should  be  hehl,  in  order  to  frame 
a  belter  plan  of  government,  or  so  to  alter  the  existing 
constitution,  as  to  remedy  the  evils  which  pressed  upon 
the  community.  Accordingly  in  the  year  1787,  dele- 
gates from  all  the  states,  with  the  exception  of  Rhode 
Island,  assembled  at  Philadelphia  ;  and,  after  choosing 
general  Washington  for  their  president,  they  proceeded 
to  the  arduous  duty  which  they  had  undertaken  to  per- 
form. Their  sentiments  were  by  no  means  as  uniform 
Jis  might  have  been  expected.  Some  of  the  commis- 
sioners were  zealous  advocates  for  a  republican  consti- 
tution ;  and  others  wished,  by  elevating  and  strengthen- 
ing the  executive,  to  give  to  the  new  system  a  monar- 
chical tendency  and  character.  Hence  arose  the  two 
parlies  in  the  American  states,  which  have  divided  the 
councils  of  the  nation,  or  obstructed  its  energy,  from  the 
sittings  at  Philadelphia  to  the  present  day.  They  have 
in  later  times  been  distinguished  by  the  names  of  fede- 
ralists and  anti-federalists* ;  the  former  consisting  gene- 
rally of  those  whose  sentiment  are  believed  to  be  favour- 
able to  monarchy t;  and  the  latter  of  those  who  have  at- 
tached themselves  to  republican  principles.  In  the  con- 
vention at  Philadelphia,  the  opinion  of  such  as  wished 
to  strengthen  the  executive  part  of  thegovernmentseems 
to  have  prevailed ;  for  many  articles  of  the  new  consti- 
tution gave  high  offence  to  the  keener  republicans.  In 
the  number  of  these  we  must  reckon  the  celebrated  Dr. 
Franklin.  But  that  eminent  philosopher  and  statesman, 
relinquishing  his  private  opinion,  yielded  to  the  deter- 
mination of  the  majority,  and  received  the  constitution 
with  all  its  defects.  The  speech  which  he  made  on  this 
occasion  is  remarkable  for  the  genuine  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism Avhich  it  breathes  :  "  In  the  long  career  I  have  al- 
ready run,"  said  he,  "  I  have  more  than  once  been  com- 
pelled to  abandon  opinions  which  I  had  openly  main- 
tained, and  which  I  thought  well  founded,  from  the  deep 
consideration  which  I  had  given  them.  As  I  grow  older 
1  am  more  and  more  disposed  to  question  my  own  judg- 
ment, and  to  pay  respect  to  that  of  others.  There  are 
some  men,  as  well  as  some  religious  sects,  who  imagine 
that  reason  is  entirely  on  their  side ;  and  that  their  op- 
ponents plunge  deeper  into  error  in  proportion  as  they 
depart  from  their  opinions.  Struck  with  these  exam- 
ples, which  are  but  too  common,  I  accept  of  this  consti- 
tution with  all  its  faults,  even  supposing  that  I  am  not 
mistaken  in  my  opinion  of  its  faults  :  for  I  am  persuaded 
that  a  general  government  is  necessary  to  our  safety ; 
and  that  no  form  of  government  which  is  well  adminis- 
tered is  incapable  of  producing  the  happiness  of  the 
people.  I  think,  also,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  that 
this  constitution  will  be  Well  administered  for  many 
years ;  and  that  it  will  not  end,  as  many  other  govern- 
ments have  done,  in  despotism  ;  unless  the  American 
people  shall  reach  that  degree  of  corruption,  in  which, 
at  once  incapable  of  being  directed  by  a  free  constitu- 
tion, and  unworthy  of  its  blessings,  despotism  becomes 
necessary  to  their  existence.  I  therefore  give  my  vote 
for  this  constitution,  both  because,  in  the  present  cir- 

t  It  is  unjust  to  consider  it  as  a  general  characteristic 
of  the  federalists,  that  they  are  attached  to  monarchy. 

Tench  Coxe. 


cunistances  of  the  nation,  I  cannot  hope  to  see  one  more 
perfect,  and  because  I  am  not  sure  this  is  not  as  perfect 
as  any  it  can  have.  I  make  a  sacrifice  of  the  opinion 
which  1  have  expressed  of  its  defects  to  the  puldic  hap- 
piness. I  trust,  that,  both  for  our  own  safety  as  memberg 
of  (he  community,  and  for  the  sake  of  our  posterity,  we 
shall  be  of  one  mind,  in  recommending  this  constitution 
wherever  our  inQuence  reaches ;  and  that,  afterwards, 
our  whole  thoughts  will  be  bent  to  its  happy  adminis- 
tration. And  I  cannot  forbear  to  form  the  wish,  that 
such  of  us  as  still  entertain  objections  to  this  constitu- 
tion, will  follow  my  example,  and,  doubting  a  little  of 
their  own  infallibility,  will  sign  this  constitutional  act, 
that  no  question  may  be  left  of  our  own  unanimity." 
The  effect  of  this  speech  was  instantaneous  and  decisive; 
the  constitution  was  agreed  to  by  all  the  members;  and 
the  following  general  articles  were  transmitted,  with 
many  subordinate  clauses,  for  the  acceptance  of  the 
different  states. 

1.  All  legislative  power  shall  be  vested  in  a  congress 
of  the  United  States,  which  shall  consist  of  a  senate  and 
a  house  of  representatives.  2.  The  executive  power 
shall  be  vested  in  a  president  of  the  United  States  of 
America;  who,  as  well  as  the  vice-president,  shall  liold 
his  office  during  the  term  of  four  yeass.  (The  way  in 
which  the  president  is  elected  is  somewhat  peculiar. 
See  Hillhouse  on  the  Amendment  of  the  American  Consli- 
iutiohl.)  3.  The  judicial  power  of  the  United  States 
shall  be  vested  in  one  supreme  court,  and  in  such  in- 
ferior courts  as  the  congress  may  from  time  to  time  or- 
dain and  establish.  The  judges,  both  of  the  supreme 
and  inferior  courts,  shall  hold  their  offices  during  their 
good  behaviour;  and  shall,  at  stated  times,  receive  for 
their  services  a  compensation  which  shall  Hot  be  dimin- 
ished during  their  continuance  in  office.  4.  Full  faith 
and  credit  shall  be  given  in  each  state  to  the  public  acts, 
records,  and  judicial  proceedings  of  every  other  state  : 
and  the  congress  Jmay,  by  general  laws,  prescribe  the 
manner  in  which  such  acts,  records,  and  proceedings 
shall  be  proved,  and  the  effect  thereof.  5.  The  congress, 
whenever  two  thirds  of  both  houses  shall  deem  it  neces-' 
sary,  shall  propose  amendments  to  this  constitution  ;  or, 
on  the  application  of  the  legislatures  of  two-thirds  of  the 
several  states,  shall  call  a  convention  for  proposing 
amendments,  which,  in  either  case,  shall  be  valid  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  as  part  of  this  constitution,  when 
ratified  by  the  legislatures  of  three-fourths  of  the  several 
states,  or  by  conventions  in  three-fourths  thereof;  as  the 
one  or  the  other  mode  of  ratification  may  be  proposed  by 
the  congress.  6.  All  debts  contracted,  and  engagements 
entered  into,  before  the  adoption  of^  this  constitution, 
shall  be  as  valid  against  the  United  States,  under  this 
constitution  as  under  the  confederation.  7.  The  ratifi- 
cation of  the  conventions  of  nine  states  shall  be  sufficient 
for  the  establishment  of  this  constitution,  between  the 
states  so  ratifying  the  same. 

Such  is  a  very  general  outline  of  the  system  proposed 
by  the  commissioners  at  Philadelphia  for  the  political 
administration  of  the  United  States.  It  was  afterwards 
rendered  more  complete  by  the  addition  of  many  other 

J  The  amendment  proposed  by  Mr.  Hillhouse  was 
not  adopted.     Tench  Coxe. 


♦  These  appellations  were  likewise  in  UH  at  the  time  of  the  eonTention  at  Pbil»clell>luii,  bat  with  a  meanipg  nearly  the  reyersc  of 
-what  ivaa  afterwards  attacliccl  to  Uiem. 


646 


AMERICA. 


articles,  tending  cliiefly  to  secure  the  rights  and  liberties 
of  the  people  ;  and,  with  the  improvements  alluded  to,  it 
was  tinally  adopted  by  all  the  colonial  assemblies.  No 
Eooner  had  it  begun  to  operate,  than  a  new  vigour  seemed 
to  be  diSused  through  all  the  provinces.  The  finances 
were  arranged  ;  the  public  debt  was  gradually  reduced ; 
a  national  bank,  with  a  capital  of  10,000,000  dollars,  was 
established ;  the  arrears  due  to  the  army  were  paid ;  a 
small  permanent  force  was  organized ;  the  administra- 
tion of  justice  was  decisive,  but  equitable;  and  though 
some  disturbances  arose  on  account  of  the  taxes,  or  the 
way  in  which  they  were  collected ;  yet  the  peace  and 
"prosperity  of  the  colonies  were  happily  secured. 

In  the  year  1789,  the  first  congress,  elected  according 
to  the  new  institute,  met  at  New-York.  Before  this 
great  national  assembly  was  convoked,  it  was  the  unani- 
mous desire  of  the  American  States,  that  their  late  com- 
mander in  chief,  who  had  so  illustriously  conducted  them 
to  independence,  and  had  aided  them  in  forming  their 
political  system,  should  allow  himself  to  be  chosen  pre- 
sident. This  desire  was  expressed  in  various  letters, 
and  these  »vere  seconded  by  the  earnest  entreaties  of  his 
friends.  But  Washington  having  retired  to  the  bosom  of 
his  family,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  improvement  of 
his  estate,  was  unwilling  to  relinquish  the  tranquillity  of 
•private  life  for  the  bustle  and  anxiety  of  public  affairs. 
Yielding,  however,  to  the  solicitations  of  those  whose 
opinions  he  valued,  he  at  last  agreed  to  accept  of  the  ho- 
nour which  the  United  States  were  anxious  to  confer 
upon  him ;  and  accordingly,  on  the  first  Wednesday  of 
February,  A.  D.  1 789,  by  the  unanimous  and  unbiassed 
Toice  of  the  States,  he  was  called  to  the  chief  magistracy 
of  the  American  nation.  And  on  the  same  day,  Mr. 
John  Adams,  who  had  supported  Mr.  Jefferson  in  pro- 
curing the  original  declaration  of  Independence,  was 
chosen  vice-president. 

When  the  appointment  of  Washington  was  officially 
announced  to  him,  he  signified  his  willingness  to  com- 
ply :  and,  bidding  adieu  to  Mount  Vernon,  to  private 
life,  and  domestic  felicity,  he  proceeded,  without  delay, 
to  New-York.  In  his  progress  to  that  city,  he  was  met 
by  numerous  bodies  of  the  people,  who  bailed  him  as  the 
father  of  his  country  ;  triumphal  arches  were  erected  to 
commemorate  his  achievements  ;  aged  women  blessed 
him  as  he  passed  ;  and  vii^ins  strewing  roses  in  his 
way,  expressed  their  hope,  that  he,  who  had  defended 
the  injured  rights  of  their  parents,  would  not  refuse  his 
protection  to  their  children.  {Life  of  Washington,  vol. 
T.  p.  185.)  He  approached  New- York  by  sea,  attended 
by  a  deputation  from  the  congress  ;  he  was  received  by 
the  governor  on  one  of  the  wharfs  as  he  landed,  and, 
amidst  the  roar  of  artillery,  and  the  acclamations  of  the 
multitude,  took  possession  of  the  apartments  which  had 
been  provided  for  his  reception.  Here  he  was  visited 
by  the  foreign  ambassadors,  by  the  representatives  of 
the  public  bodies,  and  the  citizens  of  chief  distinction; 
and  brilliant  illuminations  concluded  this  day  of  festivity 
and  joy. 

As  all  the  members  of  the  congress  approved  of  the 
new  constitution,  they  all  agreed  in  supporting  it.  For 
a  time,  therefore,  the  utmost  harmony  prevailed  in  the 
national  councils  :  but,  by  degrees,  the  spirit  of  oppo- 
sition crept  in,  and  parlies  began  to  be  formed.  They 
were  radically  the  same  with  those  which  had  nearly 
divided  the  convention  at  Philadelphia,  and  were  distin- 
guished by  the  names  which  we  have  already  mentioned. 
The  Federalists,  whose  principles  inclined  towards  mo- 


narchy, or  at  least  towards  aristocracy,  concnrred,  with 
uniform  steadiness,  in  supporting  the  new  authorities; 
while  the  Anti-federalists,  or  the  more  zealous  republi- 
cans, opposed,  in  many  instances,  the  proceedings  of  the 
government.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the  period  of  the 
French  revolution,  that  these  parties  became  exasperated 
against  each  other.  The  influence  of  that  important 
event,  which  shook  the  foundation  of  every  throne  in 
Europe,  was  not  confined  to  the  ancient  continent,  but 
extended  beyond  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  and  carried 
agitation  and  discord  into  the  American  States.  The 
democratic  party  beheld  with  pleasure  the  dissemination 
of  their  principles ;  they  rejoiced  in  the  downfal  of 
kings ;  and  though  they  contemplated  with  horror  the 
sanguinary  proceedings  of  Marat  and  Robespierre,  they 
trusted  that  when  the  first  commotions  were  assuaged, 
a  republic  of  the  most  perfect  kind  would  be  established, 
and  would  remain  as  a  proof  to  the  whole  world,  that 
good  order  and  liberty  were  not  inconsistent  with  each 
other.  But  the  Federalists,  connected  with  Britain  by 
the  various  ties  of  commercial  interest,  shocked  with  the 
crimes  of  the  French  rulers,  and  alarmed  at  the  system 
of  disorganization  which  they  had  introduced,  repressed 
every  appearance  of  popular  cabal,  and  supported  the 
executive  with  all  their  authority  autl  influence. 

At  this  time,  however,  the  American  government 
seems  to  have  regarded  the  French  with  a  favourable 
eye.  The  congress  paid  to  the  rulers  of  France  the 
debt,  which  the  United  States  had  contracted  to  Louis 
XVI,  by  sending,  in  a  fleet  of  1 60  transports,  a  quantity 
of  grain  equal  to  the  value  of  the  money  which  they 
owed* ;  and  though  the  French  men  of  war,  which  pro- 
tected the  ships,  were  destroyed  or  disabled  by  lord 
Howe  on  the  1st  of  June  1 794,  the  provisions  were  safe- 
ly conveyed  into  the  harbour  of  Brest.  Yet,  notwith- 
standing this  cfiTectual  assistance,  it  appears  to  have  been 
the  general  wish  of  the  United  States,  not  to  interfere, 
by  any  decisive  exertion,  in  the  contests  of  the  European 
powers,  but  rather  to  maintain^a  neutrality,  with  which 
neither  party  could  justly  be  offended.  At  the  same 
time,  the  commerce  of  the  United  States  was  greatly 
impeded  by  the  English,  who,  in  order  to  increase  the 
distresses  of  the  French,  seized  all  the  vessels  from 
America  which  carried  provisions  to  that  people,  and 
detained  them  as  prizes  lawfully  captured  in  war.  The 
parties  which  agitated  the  Union,  now  raged  with  great 
violence ;  the  debates  in  the  house  of  representatives 
tvere  keen,  and  protracted  to  an  extraordinary  length ; 
the  feelings  of  the  multitude  were  roused  ;  and  had  not 
W^ashington  at  last  declared  his  opinion  in  favour  of 
Great  Britain,  an  universal  anarchy  might  have  been  in- 
troducedf.     This  declaration  of  the  executive  was  fol- 

•  This  is  inaccurate.  The  foreign  governments  and 
foreign  officers  were  all  paid  by  the  United  States  in 
specie.     Tench  Coxe. 

+  There  is  no  reason  to  consider  the  late  president 
Washington  as  unduly  confiding  in  the  British  govern- 
ment at  the  time  of  the  making  and  ratification  of  the 
treaty  of  1794.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  been  de- 
sirous of  connexions  with  that  country  den^atory  from 
our  rights  or  interests,  or  more  favourable  to  them  than 
our  corresponding  connexions  with  other  countries.  In 
the  situations  of  the  old  governments  of  Europe  at  that 
time,  there  were  innumerable  causes  of  collision  with- 
France ;  but  none  of  these  affected  us  so  much  as  the 


AMERICA. 


647 


lowed  by  several  steps  of  a  decisive  nature.  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson, the  leader  of  the  Anti-federaiists,  was  dismissed*, 
by  order  of  the  president,  from  his  situation  as  secre- 
tary of  state ;  colonel  Hamilton,  whose  principles  were 
known  to  be  favourable  to  Britain,  was  continued  at  the 
head  of  the  treasury  ;  and  Mr.  Jay  was  despatched  into 
England  for  the  purpose  of  negociating  with  the  British 
government.  These  arrangements  showed  the  people, 
by  evident  indication,  what  mode  of  procedure  the  con- 
gress had  resolved  to  adopt ;  and  such  was  the  authority 
of  Washington,  that  few  objections  were  made. 

In  the  end  of  the  year  1 764,  a  treaty  was  concluded 
between  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States.  By  this 
treaty,  the  English  agreed  to  indemnify  the  merchants 
of  the  United  States  for  the  loss  of  their  property  taken 
at  sea,  and  to  relinquish  the  forts  within  the  American 
territory,  which  had  not  yet  been  evacuated  by  the  king's 
troops ;  while  the  congress,  on  their  part,  agreed,  that 
the  French  goods,  conveyed  in  ships  belonging  to  the 
United  States,  might  be  law  fully  seized ;  and  that  no 
privateers  of  any  nation  at  war  with  either  party,  should 
be  allowed  to  bring  their  prizes  into  the  harbours  of  the 
other,  or  to  sell  them  there.  No  sooner  had  th€  French 
directory  received  intelligence  of  this  treaty,  than  they 
took  the  alarm.  They  instructed  their  ambassador, 
M.  Adet,  to  remonstrate  against  the  privilege  which 
had  been  granted  to  their  enemies,  of  seizing  French 
property  in  American  vessels;  they  suspended  the 
execution  of  the  treaty  of  1778,  by  which  the  French 
W€re  prevented  from  making  reprisals  upon  the  English 
in  similar  circumstances,  and  threatened  to  treat  all  neu- 
tral vessels  exactly  in  the  same  manner  as  others  were 
allowed  to  treat  the  ships  belonging  to  France.  The 
-congress,  however,  remained  firm  in  the  preference 
which  they  had  shown  towards  Great  Britain;  and,  by 
the  dexterous  management  of  Mr.  Monroe,  the  Ameri- 
can ambassador  at  Paris,  peace  was  still  maintained  with 
the  French  republic. 

To  the  moderation  of  Franceon  this  occasion,  anevent 
of  an  important  nature,  which  all  parties  foresaw  and  an- 
ticipated, certainly  contributed.  Washington,  now  ad- 
vanced in  years,  and  spent  with  long  service,  was  about 
to  resign  his  office  as  president  of  the  congress,  (see 
Washington  ;)  his  attachment  to  Great  Britain  was 
known ;  and  it  was  hoped,  that,  after  his  retirement, 
some  change  in  the  executive  of  the  United  States,  pro- 
pitious to  the  democratic  influence,  might  take  place. 
Not  many  years  elapsed  before  this  hope  was  completely 
realized.  For  though  Adams,  the  next  president,  be- 
longed to  the  party  of  the  Federalists,  yet  Jefferson,  who 
Bucceeded  him,  was  the  known  and  distinguished  leader 
of  the  opposite  faction.  That  gentleman  was  raised  to 
the  presidency  in  the  year  1800  ;  and  since  his  election 
to  the  present  time,  the  democratic  interest  has  been 
gradually  acquiring  the  ascendency  in  the  American 
States. 

The  wise  policy  of  America  was  eminently  conspicu- 


contest  between  that  country  and  Great  Britain,  from 
the  nature  of  our  French  treaty  of  1778.  The  weight 
given  to  this  circumstance  by  the  American  govern- 
ment may  have  occasioned  appearances  easily  misinter- 
preted by  men  of  strong  public  feelings  in  the  British 
nation.     Tench  Coxe. 

*  Mr.  Jefferson  resigned  the  office  of  secretary  of 
•late  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1 794.    Id. 


ous  in  Maintaining  a  steady  system  of  neutrality  during, 
the  whole  course  of  those  wars  which  broke  out  in  con- 
sequence of  the  French  revolution.  While  the  states  of 
Europe  were  occupied  with  plans  of  mutual  destruction, 
America,  engaged  in  far  different  pursuits,  was  seen 
hourly  clearing  the  paths  to  unbounded  opulence.  The 
colonial  commerce  of  France  and  Spain,  which  those  two 
different  powers  transferred  to  neutral  countries,  in  or- 
der to  avoid  the  pressure  of  our  maritime  hostility,  was 
of  itself  a  vast  accession  to  the  commerce  of  America ; 
not  to  mention  the  whole  of  that  branch  of  European 
trade  which,  in  consequence  of  the  general  war,  could 
not  be  safely  transported  in  native  ships,  and  which,  con- 
sequently, fell  into  the  hands  of  neutral  powers.  These 
opportunities  being  cultivated  by  America  with  great  as- 
siduity and  success,  frequently  excited  the  jealousy  of 
the  belligerents,  and  particularly  of  Britain,  whose  pre- 
ponderance at  sea  had  enabled  her  to  interrupt  all  Idnd 
of  communication  by  means  of  enemy's  ships.  A  claim 
was  urged  on  the  part  of  Britain,  of  preventing  all  trade 
in  war  which  was  not  open  to  an  enemy  in  time  of  peace. 
This  claim  being  resisted  on  the  part  of  America,  it 
was  agreed  that  she  should  be  allowed  to  transport  the 
produce  of  the  French  colonies  to  her  own  country,  and 
from  thence  to  Europe.  Her  increasing  riches,  how- 
ever, and  her  steady  determination  to  profit  by  Ojiportu- 
nities  which  we  were  squandering  away,  at  length  exci- 
ted jealousies  among  a  class  of  rich  and  powerful  mer- 
chants in  Britain,  who  appear  to  have  prevailed  in  dis- 
seminating their  violence  among  the  great  body  of  the 
people ;  and  it  is  much  to  be  feared,  that  their  prejudi-, 
ces  began  at  this  time  to  appear  in  the  policy  of  Britain 
towards  America.  The  increasing  rigour  in  the  de- 
cisions of  our  prize  courts,  which  were  supposed  to  pro- 
ceed on  mistaken  representations  of  the  trade  carried  on 
by  neutrals,  had  so  fettered  and  injured  American  com- 
merce, that  a  spirit  of  rising  hostility  became  about  this 
time  evidently  discernible  in  that  country.  The  dispute 
which  occurred  respecting  our  right  to  seize  British  de- 
serters on  board  American  merchantmen,  aggravated 
the  jealousies  which  already  prevailed,  and  America  was 
busy  in  preparing  measures  for  the  defence  of  her  com- 
merce, when  France  issued  her  hostile  decrees  against 
Britain,  declaring  this  country  to  be  in  a  state  of  block- 
ade, and  all  ships,  consequently,  which  carried  British 
goods,  liable  to  seizure ;  prohibiting  also  any  vessel 
which  had  touched  at  Britain  from  entering  a  French 
port.  By  way  of  retaliation,  an  order  was  issued  by  the 
king  in  council,  declaring,  that  no  ship  should  be  permit- 
ted to  proceed  to  the  continent  of  Europe  without  previ- 
ously touching  at  a  British  port,  and  such  duties  were 
then  to  be  levied  on  her  cargo  as  the  British  government 
should  think  proper  to  exact.  America  being  thus  ex- 
cluded, by  means  of  the  British  orders  in  council,  from 
all  commerce  with  the  continent,  except  through  the  me- 
dium of  Britain,  and  being  prohibited  by  the  decrees  of 
France  from  touching  at  Britain,  saw  herself  either  re- 
duced by  the  violence  of  the  European  powers  to  sub- 
mit to  the  most  degrading  concessions,  or  to  separate 
herself  for  a  time  from  all  connexion  with  Europe.  She 
chose  the  latter  alternative  ;  and  passed  an  act  of  con- 
gress, by  which  no  vessel  was  allowed  either  to  leave  or 
to  enter  her  ports.  The  distress  felt  in  America  in  con- 
sequence of  these  prohibitions,  was  very  great;  inso- 
much, that  she  lately  made  an  attempt  to  regain,  by  an 
amicable  settlement  with  France  and  England,  the  com- 
mercial freedom  which  she  once  enjoyed.    To  France, 


648 


AMERICA. 


she  proposed  to  re-establish  her  commerce  oa  such  a 
footiug,  that  Britain  should  not  share  in  the  benefit  to  be 
derived  from  it;  and  she  hinted,  that  if  the  peaceful 
communication  between  the  two  countries  should  be  in- 
terrupted by  England,  that  then  she  would  join  in  the 
war  against  her.  To  Britain,  she  proposed,  if  she  would 
acree  to  rescind  her  orders  in  council,  to  repeal  her  em- 
bargo, and  also  to  shut  her  ports  against  France,  provi- 
ded France  persisted  in  her  hostile  decrees. 

The  proposal  of  America  was  not  answered  by  France, 
and  it  was  rejected  by  Britain ;  although  it  is  not  easy  to 
conceive  what  could  be  the  motive  for  such  a  determi- 
nation, as  it  is  not  even  pretended,  in  the  answer  to  the 
American  ambassador,  that  the  orders  in  council  pro- 
duce any  one  substantial  advantage. 

During  these  greiit  political  movements,  some  events 
ofa  miscellaneous  description  took  place.  The  Indians 
made  an  incursion  into  the  western  territories,  and  were 
with  dilBcully  repelled.  The  cities  of  Philadelphia  and 
New-York  were  almost  desolated  by  the  yellow  fever. 
The  foundation  of  Washington,  the  new  capital  of  Ame- 
rica, was  laid ;  and  some  changes  in  the  ecclesiastical 
constitution  of  the  country,  but  of  no  very  great  impor- 
tance, were  introduced. 

Before  we  conclude  this  article,  it  may  be  proper  to 
introduce  some  details,  chiefly  of  a  statistical  nature, 
which  could  not  be  inserted  in  the  narrative  of  events 
recorded  in  the  preceding  pages. 

In  the  year  1 792,  a  mint  for  the  United  States  was 
established  by  a  law  of  the  congress,  and  the  division 
and  value  of  the  money  to  be  used  throughout  the  pro- 
vinces regulated  by  statute.  The  following  is  a  list  of 
the  American  coins. 

Gold  Pieces. 

The  eagle,  value  10  dollars,  containing  247^  gr.  of  pure 

gold,  or  270  of  standard  gold. 
The  half  eagle,  value  5  dollars,  containing  1233  p,  g,  or 

135  St. 
The  quarter  eagle,  2{  dollars,  containing  61  p.  g.  or 

671  St. 

Silver  Pieces. 

The  dollar,  value  100  cents,  containing  371}  gr.  of  pure 

silver,  or  416  gr.  standard. 
The  half  dollar,  50  cents,  containing  185f  p.  s.  or  280  st. 
The  quarter  dollar,  25  cents,  containing  Q2j\  p.  s.  or 

104  St. 
The  tenth  of  a  dollar,  10  cents,  containing  37|  p.  s.  or 

52  St. 
The  half  tenth,  5  cents,  containing  18^  p.  e.  or  26  st. 

Copper  Pieces. 

The  cent,  100th  of  a  dollar,  contains  11  dwts.  or  cop- 
per. 
The  half  cent,  200th  of  a  dollar,  contains  5^  dwts.  of 

cop. 
In  1804,  the  amount  of  the  coinage  was  as  follows. 

Gold  pieces, 43,597 

Silver  ditto, 191,092 

Copper  ditto, 1,812,159 

Total  value,.-..371,827  dels. 


The  revenue  of  the  United  States  is  chiefly  derived 
from  the  duties  on  imposts  and  tonnage,  and  has  been 
gradually  increasing  in  proportion  to  the  increasing  pros- 
perity of  the  colonies. 

In  1791,  the  revenue  amounted  to  3,329,750  dols. 

1795, 6,552,300 

1802, 10,500,000 

1804 11,500,000 

1805, 12,500,000 

1808, 18,000,000 

The  payments  made  on  the  1  st  of  January,  1 808,  along 
with  those  made  in  the  six  and  a  half  preceding  years, 
have  extinguished  33,580,000  dollars,  of  the  principal  of 
the  funded  debt,  amounting,  in  1796,  to  80,000  dollars, 
being  all  that  could  he  paid  within  the  limits  of  the  law 
and  the  contracts.  The  principal  thus  discharged,  has 
freed  the  revenue  from  2,000,000  of  dollars  of  interest, 
and  added  that  sum  to  the  disposable  surplus.  The 
estimate  of  expenditure  for  the  year  1806  was  3,375,435 
dollars;  viz.  942,092  dollars  for  the  military  establish- 
ment, 1,240,000  dollars  for  the  naval  establishment, 
262,550  for  expenses  of  intercourse  with  foreign  nations, 
and  611,911  for  miscellaneous  expenses. 

The  growing  prosperity  of  the  American  states  de- 
pends almost  entirely  on  their  commerce.  Disturbed  by 
no  wars  of  any  great  importance  since  their  establish- 
ment as  an  independent  nation,  and  possessing  a  spirit 
of  enterprise  hardly  surpassed  by  that  which  exists 
among  the  people  of  Britain ;  their  ships  have  visited 
every  quarter  of  the  world,  and  opulence,  the  result  of 
successful  trade,  has  been  introduced  into  all  the  pro- 
vinces. Various  accounts  have  been  given  of  the  exports 
from  the  United  States  ;  but  the  following  tables,  pub- 
lished by  authority,  and  subscribed  by  the  register  of 
the  treasury  department,  are  considered  as  the  most 
accurate.     See  Pinkerton's  Geography,  vol.  iii.  p.  104. 

Table  of  the  valtu,  (in  dollars,)  and  destination  of  the 
Exports  from  the   United  States  for  the  year  1 804. 


Exported  to  Russia,    .... 

Sweden, 

Swedish  West  Indies,       .     .     . 

Denmark  and  Norway,     .     .     . 

Danish  West  Indies,    .... 
East  Indies,     .... 

United  Netherlands,    .... 

Dutch  West  Ind.  and  Am.  Col. 
East  Indies,     .... 

England,  Man,  and  Berwick,    . 

Scotland, 

Ireland, 

Guernsey,  Jersey,  Alderney,  and 
Sark, 

Gibraltar, 

British  East  Indies,     .... 
West  Indies,  .... 

Newfoundland,  and  British  Fish- 
eries,      

British  American  Colonies, 

•  Other  British  Colonies      .    . 

Hamburgh,    and     the    Hanse 
Towns,     ....... 


Domestic 
Produce. 

409,321 
.    58,361 

400,848 

477,211 
1,081,018 
.  10,073 
2,064,158 
1,600,067 
.  80,176 
8,552,764 
1,561,350 
1,391,333 

282,212 

242,248 

.  16,452 

0,315,067 

"^1 75,597 

807,709 

.   1,185 

949,454 


Foreign  Pro- 
duce. 
776,795 
64,045 
168,721 
1,115,965 
642,383 
13,363 
11,757,002 
848,365 
97,049 
1 ,226,394 
140,888 
36,203 

15,202 

74,339 

113,820 

731,991 

32,666 

111,263 

364 

3,525,553 


'  Toul  of  tha  exiiorU  to  Britain,  2t  ,829,802  dolltri. 


AMERICA. 


649 


French  Europ.  Ports  in  the  At- 
lantic  

French  Europ.  Ports  in  the  Me- 
diterranean,   

French  West  Ind.  and  Colonies, 

Bourbon  and  Mauritius,  .     .     . 

Spanish  European  Ports  on  the 
Atlantic, 

Spanish  European  Ports  on  the 
Mediterranean, 

The  Canary  Islands,  .... 

The  Floridas, 

*Louisiana, 

Honduras,Cainpeachy,and  Mos- 
quito shore, 

Spanish  West  Indies  and  Col. 

Portugal, 

Madeira, 

The  Azores, 

Cape  de  Verd  Isles,  .... 

Other  African  Ports,        .     .     . 

Brazil  and  other  Am.  Colonies, 

Italy,       

Triest,  and  other  Austrian  Ports 
on  the  Adriatic,      .... 

Turkey,  Levant,  and  Egypt,     . 

Morocco,  and  Barbary,   .     .     . 

Cape  of  Good  Hope,    .... 

China, 

East  Indies,  (generally,)      .     . 

West  Indies,  (ditto,)  .... 

Europe,  (ditto,) 

Africa,  (ditto,) 

South  Seas, 

North- West  Coast  of  America, 

Total,    . 


Domestic 
Produce. 

3,139,206 


.     80,906 

1,742,368 

120,042 


Foreign  Pro- 
dace. 

5,384,523 

220,419 

1,867,522 

221,125 


1,628,079 

517,043 

676,114 

80,100 

120,084 

61,101 

60,738 

22,886 

117,430 

207,717 

149,344 

184,829 

1,725,662 

1,165,998 

1,282,169 

190,716 

586,860 

135,802 

8,957 

8,648 

88,273 

30,533 

10,834 

46,287 

107,770 

118,441 

1,552,708 

85,835 

247,963 

12,681 

31,975 

8,657 

676 

108.190 

59,727 

162,806 

35,795 

258,090 

538,226 

2,352,042 

972,252 

86,827 

534,064 

221,788 

126,248 

10,000 

20,641 

175,418 

77,699,074 


Table  of  the  Exports  from  each  State.     Value  in  Dollars. 


From  New  Hampshire,   .     .     . 

Massachusetts,        

Vermont, 

Rhode  Island, 

Connecticut 

New-York 

New-Jersey; 

Delaware, 

Maryland, 

District  of  Columbia,      .     .     . 

Virginia, 

North  Carolina, 

South  Carolina 

Georgia, 

Pennsylvania, 

Territory  of  the  United  States, 

Total. 


noraestic. 

Foreign. 

453,394 

262,697 

6,303,122 

10,591,256 

135,903 

55,795 

917,736 

81 7,935 

1,486,882 

29,288 

7,501,096 

8,580,185 

24,829 

180,081 

517,315 

3,938,140 

5,213,099 

1,157,895 

294,303 

5,394,903 

395,098 

919,545 

9,142 

5,142,100 

2,309,518 

2,003,227 

74,345 

4,178,713 

6,851,444 

1,729,184 

280,239 

77,699,074 


The  exports  from  America,  of  her  own  produce  and 
manufactures,  during  the  year  1805,  were  valued  at 
42,205,961 ;  of  which  16,459,766  went  to  Great  Britain. 


Of  her  exports,  both  of  foreign  and  domestic  produce, 
22,063,277  dollars  are  sent  to  Britain  and  her  colonies; 
8,245,013  to  France  and  her  colonies ;  5,523,428  to  Hol- 
land and  her  colonies ;  and  4,533,539,  to  Spain  and  heir 
colonies. 

Exports  Jrom  Territories  or  places  lately  occupied,  or 
forming  no  part  of  the  Union. 


Domestic' 

Detroit, 38,028 

Michilimackinac, 238,936 

Massac,   (for    the  fourth  quarter 

of  1803,) 

Fort  Adams,  (for  ditto,)   .     .     .        60,127 
New  Orleans,  (from   1st  Janua- 
ry, to  13  Sept.  1804,)    .     .     .  1,J92,093 


Foreign. 


17,320 

4,650 

208,269 


Total,  ....  1,959,423 

Of  the  value  of  the  imports  into  the  United  States, 
we  have  seen  no  very  accurate  and  comprehensive  ac- 
counts. According  to  Dr.  Barton,  the  manufactured 
goods  from  the  British  dominions  in  Europe  and  Asia, 
were  equal,  A.  D.  1802,  to  27,000,000  of  dollars;  and 
those  from  other  countries  to  10,000,000.  The  manufac- 
tured produce,  as  wine,  tea,  and  salt,  distilled  spirits, 
&c.  imported  from  places  not  British,  was  equal  at  the 
same  period  to  30,000,000,  and  that  from  the  British 
dominions  to  3,000,000. 

While  the  people  of  the  United  States  have  directed 
their  attention  to  commerce,  they  have  not  been  un- 
mindful of  literature.  The  number  of  institutions  for 
the  cultivation  and  advancement  of  learning  is  consi- 
derable. 

1.  Harvard  university,  in  Cambridge,  Massachu- 
setts. This  university  was  established  by  the  general 
court  of  the  province,  A.  D.  1 638  ;  and  two  years  after 
was  liberally  endo»red  by  the  rev.  John  Harvard,  from 
whom  it  takes  its  name.  Its  public  buildings  are.  Har- 
vard Hall,  Massachusetts'  Hall,  Hollis'  Hall,  and  Hol- 
den  Chapel.  In  the  year  1787,  the  library  attached  to 
HarvanI  Hall,  consisted  of  12000  volumes;  its  philo- 
sophical apparatus  cost  1500/.  2.  Yale  College,  ia 
Connecticut;  founded  A.  D.  1700,  and  rebuilt  A.  D. 
1 750.  Its  principal  benefactor  was  Governor  Yale.  3. 
The  College  of  William  and  Mary,  in  Virginia ;  found- 
ed about  the  same  time  with  Yale  College.  To  this 
college  a  considerable  donation  was  given  by  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Boyle ;  and  here,  too,  a  professorship  was  instituted 
by  the  same  gentleman  for  the  instruction  of  the  In- 
dians. It  has  at  present  only  a  few  students,  chiefly  in 
law.  4.  King's  College,  in  New-York  ;  founded  A.  D. 
1754,  by  the  British  Parliament.  It  is  now  called  Co- 
lumbia College,  and  has  about  two  hundred  students.  5. 
Nassau  Hall,  at  Princeton,  in  New-Jersey;  founded  by 
John  Hamilton,  Esq.  A.  D.  1 738,  and  enlarged,  A.  D. 
1 74?,  by  governor  Belcher.  Some  of  the  most  eminent 
theological  writers  of  America,  as  Dickenson  and  Ed- 
wards, have  been  presidents  of  this  college.  There  ii 
another  college  called  Queen's  College,  at  Brunswick,  in 
the  same  province,  butitis  now  little  frequented.  6.  Dart- 
mouth College,  at  Hanover,  in  New  Hampshire;  founded 
A.  D.  1769,  by  Dr.  Wheelock.  This  is  a  chief  resort 
of  the  youth  from  the  northern  provinces.  7.  Dickenson 
College, at  Carlisle,inPennsylvania,founde4ia]  783,and 


Vol.  I.    Part.  II. 


*  From  October  Itt  to  De«.  lit,  incIanTc. 


4  N 


650 


AMERICA. 


named  after  his  excellency  John  Dickenson,  one  of  the 
presidents  of  the  state.  8.  Franklin  College,  at  Lancas- 
ter, in  the  same  province  ;  founded  1787,  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  children  belonging  to  the  Germans  in  tiie  lan- 
guage of  their  country.  It  bears  the  name  of  the  cele- 
brated Dr.  Franklin.  Besides  these  colleges,  there  are  in 
Pennsylvania  many  societies  for  the  promotion  of  know- 
ledge. Here  the  American  Philosophical  Society  was 
established  A.  D.  1769;  and  it  has  since  (in  the  years 
1771  and  1786)  published  two  volumes  of  its  transac- 
tions*. The  university  of  Pennsylvania  was  founded 
at  Philadelphia  during  the  war  with  Great  Britain.  The 
American  College  of  Physicians  was  instituted  at  the 
same  place,  A.  D.  1787.  9.  Washington  College,  at 
Chester  Town,  in  Maryland :  founded  A.  D.  1802.  10.  • 
Jefferson  College ;  a  late  institution  in  the  Missisippi 
territory.  11.  The^  University  of  Georgia,  at  Louis- 
ville ;  likewise  a  new  foundation,  and  possessing  funds 
to  the  amount  of  50,000  acres  of  land. 

Of  the  religion  of  the  United  States,  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  say  much.  Its  general  character  is  the  reformed 
system  of  Christianity ;  but  thereis  no  church  established 
by  law,  and  every  sect  is  treated  with  universal  tolera- 
tion, or  rather  with  equal  independence.  The  following 
jects  are  more  or  less  prevalent  throughout  the  United 
States.  The  Congrecationalists,  Presbyteuians, 
Dutch  Reformed  Church,  Episcopalians,  Baptists, 
QrAK>3is,  Methodists,  Roman  Catholics,  German 
Lutherans,  German  Calvinists,  Moravians,  Tun- 
KERS,  Mennonists,  Universalists,  and  Shakebs. 
(See  Pinkerton'g  Geography,  iii.  52.)  Of  the  relative 
numbers  of  the  different  sects,  an  idea  may  be  formed 
from  the  statements  of  Morse,  who  thus  enumerates 
those  of  Massachusetts. 


Congrega- 

Number of  each 

Sects. 

tions. 

denomiimtion. 

Consrregationalists, 

-    400         -         . 

277,600 

Baptists, 

-      84 

58,296 

Iv))iscopallan3  - 

-      16 

11,104 

Quakers, 

-       10 

6,040 

Presbyterians, 

4 

2,776 

Universalists, 

2 

1,388 

Roman  Catholics, 

1 

694 

517 


358,798 


Carrazana's  Geograph.  Dcscript.  of  the  Coasts  of  the 
Spanish  West  Indies,  hond.  1740.  Chantreau,  S«iac<;  <fe 
rHistoire,  tom.  iii.  p.  194,  tt  scq.  Pinkerton's  Gcog.  vol. 
iii.  ed.  1307.  Morse's  Geography  of  the  United  Utatcs, 
passim.     Marshall's  Life  of  Washington. 


*  Since  (hat  time,  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth,  and  the 
first  part  of  t!ie  sixth  volume,  have  been  published 


Editors. 


GtoIH  Dissertation,  de  Origin.  Genl.  Americ.  et  Not. 
in  easdem  Joannis  de  Lait.  Mather's  America  known  to 
the  Ancients.  Monson's  Naval  Tracts,  to  lie  found  in 
Churchill's  CoZZcrt)o«,  iii.  371,  ft  seq.  Nicholson's  Jour- 
nal, p.  73.  Gomara,  Hist.  Gen.  de  las  Indias,  c.  13. 
Herrera  Hist.  Gen.  dec.  i.  lib.  1.  c.  2.  Powell's  Historia 
Catnbria;adann.ino.  Hackluyt'sF<»/a^c*,iii.  p.  1.  Phil. 
Trans,  vol.  Iviii.  p.  91.  Lyttleton's  Hist.  Hen.  H.  b.  5. 
p.  Zl\,  Notes.  The  Saga,  or  Chronicle  of  Olaus,  put),  at 
Stockholm,  A.  D.  1697.  Mallet,  I;i/ro(/«c.  a  tUisloirede 
DoMtutn,  p.  175,  et  scq.  Marcus  Paulus  de  Region.  Orient. 
lib.  ii.  c.  70.  lib.  iii.  c.  2.  Life  of  Columbus,  in  Chur- 
chill's Collect,  ii.  509.  Murr's  Disscit.  on  (lie  Globe  of 
Beliaim.  Leltres  Amcricaines,  par  Carii,  tom.  i.  p.  22, 
Note,  and  tom.  ii.  passim.  Robertson's  America,  vol.  i. 
Note  xvii.  and  p.  289,  et  seq.  8vo.  Memoires  \^».t  Ulloa, 
disc.  sxii.  tom.  ii.  p.  105,  et  Us  Add.  p.  474.  Quir's  Terra 
Australis  Incog.  Smith  on  the  Varieties  of  the  Human 
Species,  passim. 

De  Bry's  Collect,  tom.  iii.  &c.  Churchill's  Collect, 
ii.  iii.  &c.  Ramusio,  Racolto  delte  Navigatione  et  Viaggi. 
3  vols.  fol.  Acosta  Novi.  Orb.  Hist,  passim.  Herrera, 
Hist.  Gen.  translated  into  English  by  Stevens,  C  vols. 
Gumilla,  Hist,  de  fOrenoque,  3  vols.  Lafitau,  Mivurs  dcs 
Sauvages,  2  vols.  Adair's  Hist,  of  the  Am.  hid.  Char- 
levoix, Hist,  de  la  Nouvelle  France.  Recherchis  Philoso- 
phiques  sur  tes  Americ.  par  M.  de  Pauw.  Oviedo.  Ltttres 
Americaines,  par  CarIi,  2  vols.  Mcmoires,  par  Ulloa,  2 
vols.  Lome's  Travels,  4to.  Mackenzie's  Travels,  4lo. 
Brickell's  Hist,  of  Carolina.  Bancroft's  Hist,  of  Guiana. 
De  la  Potherie.  Bossu's  Travels  through  iMuisiana. 
Volney  on  tlie  Soil  and  Climate  of  America,  2  vols.  Paris, 
8vo.  Ulloa,  Vovage  Histor.  de  VAmcrique  Meridionale, 
2  torn.  Techo's  Account  of  Paraguay.  Dumont,  Me- 
moir c  sur  Louisiane.  Clavigero,  Hist,  of  Mexico,  Dls.icrt. 
Lettres  Edifiantes  et  Curicuses.  Prevot,  Hist.  Gen.  des 
Voyages.  Lery,  Hist,  de  VAmcrique.  Ellis,  Voyage  to 
Hudsmi's  Bay.  Malthus  on  PopulMion,  vol.  i.  Falkencr's 
Desc.  of  Patagonia.  Condaniine,  Relation  abreg.  iPun 
Voyage  dans  Cent,  de  FAmcriq.  Merid.  M(est.  1778.  (This 
edit,  contains  the  narrative  of  Mad.  Godin.)  Borde,  Des- 
cription des  Caraibcs. 

Hackluyt's  Voyag.  i.  213,  &c.  and  iii.  129,  <fec.  Cama, 
Annates,  p.  70.  edit.  1615,  fol.  Stith,  Hist,  of  Virginia, 
p.  35,  &:c.  Smith's  Travels,  passim.  Strachy's  Account 
of  the  Shipwreck  of  Gales  and  Summers,  pub.  by  Purchas, 
iv.  1734.  Beverley,  Hist,  of  Virgin.  Rt/tncr,  xvii.  618, 
&c.  Chalmer's  Ammls,'\.  118,  &c.  Neale's  Hist,  of 
the  Puritans,  i.  1 38,  &c.  Hutchin.  Hist,  of  Massaclius. 
p.  4,  &c.  and  Hutcli.  Coll.  of  PapiTS,  p.  25,  &c.  Charle- 
voix, Hist,  de  la  Nouvelle  France.  Life  of  tlu  Earl  of 
Chatham,  Sniollet's  Hist,  of  England,  Geo.  III.  Bel- 
shum's  Reign  of  Geo.  HI.  Marshall's  Life  of  Washington, 
5  vols.  Ramsay's  Life  of  Wa.sh.  Stedman's  Account  of 
the  Americ.  War,  2  vols.  The  Federalist.  Hilihousc  on 
tlie  Anunid.  of  the  Am.  Cmistitut.  passim,    (h) 


INDEX. 


AbcTcrurabie  is  defeated  at  Ticoode- 

rcza.  page  6il. 
Aboris^nal  iotuiMtants  of  the  United 

Account  of  tlie  rcliK'tm  of  ttic  Indiana 
iuiteeunitciinri  defective, A95. 
JkEriculture  of  the  liitliunR.  5ilH. 
Air,a  comaioni'[>'iiiian  nitli  regard  to, 

uiirouufled.  aH4. 
Alzonauin  womao,  e.\fra(>rdioarf  uar* 

ratixti  «r>d!itl. 


America,  eeo,STftrli  leal  pf«*tion  of ,578. 
aiie^eO  to  W  ct.l-'iT  than  the 
corre«pon.liiip  {i-irdllelsin  the 
ancieot  irtjiitnHut.d'O. 
hof  f.rst  iH*<iple(I,  608. 
Amcricus  Vesnucius  visits  ihe  New 
World  -ifUrCoImiil.m.fiaa. 
Ai)«lre,  Major    liis  iiiiliappy  fate  f*'i. 
Aliiliiala   of  ^va^m  rliniates  fuuud  in 
Amiiita,  01 J 
of  warm  cUiuaten.  how  th«y 
may  Iiavc  been  driveo  Ui* 
*t«udB  lU«  Kgrtb,  ib. 


ArmameDtofColiimbun,  itsnlze,  &09. 
ArnoiiUa  defeate<!  at  Quebec,  636. 

his  trea-  lit-ry,  O4;). 
Arrows  of  the  Indians,  itjB. 
Articles  of  Indiau  agriculture,  ib. 

H 
Baron*a  rehcllion  iD  Virginia,  fil8. 
Bahama  Inlea,  the  char-clrrofthe  peo- 
ple (ound  there  by  Colurohua, 
585. 
Barbarous  cu^toEn  rommoD  tn  somo 
parts  uf  America}  606. 


Battle  of  Brooklyn,  fine. 

of  lUmker's  Hill, 633. 
of  I..exin:-'1fin.  i^. 
Beards,  the  Aim^riran    Indtaoa  eridi< 

cate  thein,  i'if-7. 
Bogotans,  ttieir  reli'Tiott   598. 
Boues  of  an  extraoniinary  nia^itud* 

found  in  America,  GltK 
BordA,  curiouii  fact  related  by  him. 

fiKfi 
Boston  founded.  617. 

resistance  made  there  to  the 
duly  oa  tea,  630. 


AMERICA. 


^651 


Braddock,  Genenl,  'a  defeated  and  kill- 
ed, 623. 
Broiroiits,  they  faun'j  the  colony  of  Kew 

Plymn-Jtti,  61(i. 
Burgoyoe'g  exjje-titioa,  638. 

lie  is  (jtife&ted,  aod  citpituIateB, 
639. 


Cacique,  strlkin*  address  of  one  lo  Gu- 
milla,  5H8. 

Canoes   of  the    ludians,  descriptioa    of 
them.  m2. 

Chnrlestown  is  iftstroyed  by  fire,  622. 

CbiWreo,  i.reatment  of  amoog  the  In- 
diaus,  CO'). 

Chim^oraco,  ita  height,  582. 

CircumsUnces  tbat  have  led  sojoe  tribes 
to  worship  malignant  deities, 
536. 

Claims  of  different  nations  to  the  disco- 
very of  America,  578. 

Climate  of  America,  613. 

of  Aaerica,  its  mean  tempera- 
ture probably  not  different 
from  the  general  stanUanJ, 
5^2. 

Clinton,  sir  Kenry,  evacuates  Philadel- 
phia, 640. 

Close  fighting,  as  practised  among  the 
hidjaos,  692. 

Colonies  established  in,  K'ortb  America, 

612. 
of  America    unite    for    mutual 
defence,  618. 

Circumstances  that  concurred  to  engage 
Columbus  in  a  voyage  of  dis- 
covery, 579, 

Columbus  is  patronized  by  Isabella,  580. 
hh  character,  ib. 
he  marks  the  variation  of  the 

compass,  581. 
disrovers  the  New  World,  ib. 

Complexion  oi"  the  American  Indians, 
606. 

Confederation  of  the  American  States, 
641. 

Congress  declares  the  colonies  indepcn- 
iI.jDt,  635- 

Considerations  which  l«d  to  the  belief 
that  the  Kew  World  existed, 
679. 

Coatineot  of  America,  its  general  aspect, 
582. 

Cornwallis  surrenders,  643. 

Cromwell  prevented  from  going  to  Ame- 
rica, 618. 

Cruelty  of  the  Indians  toward  their  pri- 
soners of  war,  593. 

Causes  preventive  of  a  complete  equa- 
lization of  temperature,  584. 

Cultivation  hae  no  real  effect  In  chang- 
ing the  mean  temperature,  ib. 

Ctutom  among  the  Indians  of  adopting 
prisoners  of  war.  593. 
of  a  similar  nature  among  the 
Romans  in  the  early  periods 
of  the  comnionwealtb,  ih. 

D 

Dances  of  the  American  IndiaDE,  604. 

Death  of  general  Woire.625. 

Dexterity  of  the  Indians,  in  the  chaee, 
whence  arising,  i»fi7. 

DifT-culty  of  forming  the  conception  of  a 
Supreme  Bein?.  5?6. 

Dlfficultie?!  with  respect  to  the  peopling 
of  America,  610. 

ris^entions  atMaseachusetts,  620. 

Discontents  of  the  Americans,  628. 

Domestic  state  of  the  American  Indiana, 
5?'J. 

Divisions  comprehended  under    North 
America,  578. 
compvehemled      under      South 
Ameri'-a  ib. 

Division  of  the  Indians  into  small  com- 
munities, whence  arising,  589. 

Doubts  wiih  regard  to  the  suppo-t-d  pre- 
valence of  cold  in  America, 
534. 

IJress  of  the  American  Indians.  ROO. 

Duties,  all  of  them  laVen  off  in  the  colo- 
nies, except  those  on  tea,  630. 


T^iTect  of  elevation  on  the  temperature  of 
the  air,  584. 

Kmigratioj  from  Kurope,  causes  which 
led  to  It,  616. 

Ea-'tern  coast  of  America,  its  climate 
milder  than  in  the  coujitriea 
of  A-iia  and  Africa  whicli  lie 
in  the  same  latitude,  5i!:v 

Ktguimaux,  thei:-  comp;e.>iion  and  sta- 
ture, 603. 


Europe,  the  adventurous  disposition  of 

its  northern  inhabitants,  60y. 
Expedition  against  Philadelphia,  6J7, 


Facts  which  seem  to  prove  a  correspon- 
dence in  the  mean  tempera- 
ture of  America  with  tii  't  of 
the  correspond! -J!?  parollelB  in 
Europe  and  Asia.  6«4. 

Famine  often  felt  by  the  natiois  of  tlio 
American  continent,  583. 

Feast  of  the  dead,  an  account  of  it,  606. 

Features  of  the  American  Indiana,  603. 

Fish,  how  caught  by  the  American  In- 
diazss.  .'S97, 

Fondness  of  the  Indians  for  games  of 
hazard,  603. 

Foresight,  how  the  want  of  it  affects  the 
Btate  oi  the  American  tribes,, 
586. 

Fort  William  Henry  surrenders,  623. 

Fortitude  of  the  [.'.jiaDS  under  tortures, 
how  accounted  lor.  j93. 

Franklin,  Dr.  a  ''act  mentioned  by  him 
illustrative  of  the  nature  of 
the  American  climate,  583. 

Funerals  amon^  some  tribe:^  distiiiguish- 
ed  by  a  remarkable  custom, 
593. 


General    Gage    remOTes    the   assembly 

from  Boston  to  Salem,  631. 
he  fortifies  Boston  Neck,  633. 
Games  of  the  American  Indians,  60j. 
General  Gates  defeated  near  Cambden, 

642. 
Greenland,  probably  a  part  of  America, 

609. 
Gumilla,  curious  particulars  related  by 

him.  588. 
Gymnastic  exercises  of  the  Indians,  605. 

H 

Hair,  how  dressed  by  the  women  of  South 

America,  601. 
Heat  of  any  place,  how  depending  on  the 

latitude,  5H4. 
how  diffused  by  the  atmosphere, 

ib. 
Howe,  general,  addresses   a    letter    to 

Washington,  635. 
Hudson's  Bay,  the  extreme  intensity  of 

the  winter  there,  533. 
Human  species  as  existing  in  America, 

5B4. 
sprung  from  a  single  pair.  608. 
Humidity  of  the  American  climate,  583. 
Hunting,  thoskillof  the  Indians  in  tliis 

particular,  587. 
Huts  of  the  ludians,  602. 


Independence  of  the  American  States 

acknowledged,  644. 
Indians  of  America,  their  mental  attain- 
ments, 585. 
they  have  no  tame  animals,  589. 
have  incorrect  notions  of  pro- 
perty, 500. 
their  equality  and  independence,  ib. 
Indians,  the  different  char^i-  and  amu- 
lets used  by  them,  5^7- 
their  indifferenct  ro^vards  their 

^Tomen,  to  what  ( •  ing,  600 
at'Iicted  to  the  excf ssive  uae  of 

intoxicating  liquoi-a,  605. 
their  indolence,  60:! 
Iroquois,    the  state   of  society   among 

them.  590. 
Islands  in  the  A*ew  World,  how  called 

the  West  Indies,  582. 
Isthmus  of  Panama,  it=brea.ith,  673. 
Introduction  to  the  American  war,  627. 

E 

Kalb,  baron  de,  hig  death,  642. 

Kames,  lord,  his  opinion  rifh  regard  to 

the  manner  in  wjuch  tl/e  earth 

was  people. I,  601!. 
Knowlcd^re  of  ap:ricultn)-e   ciriumscrifed 

among  the  Indians,  and  from 

■what  causes,  5t'8. 


I.a  Plata  River,  breailth  of  it,  582. 
Lakes  of  America,  ib. 
Langiiage  of  the  American  tribes,  603. 
Laws,    unknown  among  the    American 

tribes,  f.86. 
Leibnitz,  his  observation  with  respect  to 

games,  £65. 


Locke,  his  constitution  for  tbe  eoIoDiM 

rejected  in  Carolina,  622. 
Louisbourg  tali.cn,  ib. 

M 

Mammoth  the  entire  body  of  One  found 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Lena, 
610 

Man,  his  limited  attainments  in  the 
early  stages  of  .society,  585. 

Marriage,  founded  in  the  nature  and 
circumstances  of  the  human 
being,  309. 

Martin,  Behaim,  ao  account  of  his  dis- 
coveries, 578. 

Massacres  of  the  Engl:sh  colony  lo  Vir- 
gtuta.  615. 

Means  of  averting  calamities  used  by 
the  American  tribes,  597. 

Members  of  the  first  American  coagrcas, 
632. 

Montreal  surrenders,  62fl, 

Mountains  of  America,  578. 

N 

Natchez,  their  religion,  597. 

Kativei  of  America,  in  what  resembling 
the  ancient  Germans,  586. 
Florida,    distinction    of     ranks 
am-ug  them,  590, 

Negroes,  whv  not  found  in  America, 
607. 

Navigation  act  complained  of  by  the 
colonies,  615. 

New-York  evacuated  by  the  Americans, 
636. 

New  England,  its  first  export,  618. 

North  America,  it»|geographicaI  position, 
578. 
discovered  by  whom,  6 12. 

Notions  of  the  Indians  respecting  a  fu- 
ture state,  598. 


Ohio  company  formed,  622. 

Orators  among  the  Indian*,  address  them- 
selves to  their  feeliiig-s  of  re- 
venge, 591. 

Origin  of  government    among  the    In- 
dians. 586. 
of  that   spirit  of  independence 
Observable  in  the  Indian  cha- 
racter, 587. 


Painting  the  body,  universality  of  the 

practice    among    savage    na- 
tions, 601. 
Parental  authority,  nature  of  it  among 

the  Indians.  600. 
Particulars    respecting    the   natives  of 

America,  604. 
Passion  of  the  Indiana  for  strong  liquors, 

cauje  of  it,  605. 
Patasonians.  their  gigantic   stature,  608. 
Peculiarities  in  the  bodily  appearance  of 

the    Indians    accounted    for, 

607. 
Pequods  exteHhinated,  618. 
•Pitt  raised  to  the  head  of  administration 

in  England,  623- 
Philadelphia  taken,  633. 
Political  state  of  the  American  Indians, 

5R5. 
Political  a-sociation,  first  steps  towards 

i:  K.mong  some  tribes.  5J0. 
Port  Royal  uil  en  by  the  colonists,  620. 
Presumptions    that  America   lias  l-eeu 

peopled  from  Greenland,  60".*. 
Property,  the  noliou  of  it-how  generated, 

5ito. 
Putoam  defeated,  636. 


Qualifications  bodily,  the  chief  cnitse  of 
distinction  among  the  ludians, 

Qualifications  '-odily.  from  what  circum- 
stances held  in  so  liigh  esteem, 
ib. 

duebec,  its  strength,  624. 

II 

Regular    government    not    establislied 

among  fie  Indians,  586. 
Red  colour,  why  predominant  among  the 

American  Indians.  607. 
Rerrion  of  the  American  tribes.  595. 
Religious  notions  consjdered  in  reference 

*o  their  ol.jects,  5i(b. 
ResemoJanee ''eti"»reM  the  Eastern  Asia- 

ti's  and   llie  Americans.  610. 
RcEolutiolis  a^^iostlLe  stamp  act,  629. 


Rhode  Island,  the  colony  of,  founded. 

617.  * 

Ribas,  his  observation  on  the  habitations 

of  the  Cioaloani,  602. 
Rivers  of  America,  578  and  682. 
Robertson,  Dr.  his  account  of  the  cli- 
mate Of  America,  583. 


Salem,  the  first  town  of  Massachusetts, 

617. 

San  Salvador,  the  first  land  distorered 

by  Columbus,  5b2. 
Savage  sute  described.  5S6. 

tribes  of  America    careless     of 

futurity.  586 
Savages  of  America  distinguislied  into 

four  classes.  5R7. 
Siege  of  Ijoulsbourg,  623. 
Signs  used  by  the  Indians  to  espreea  their 

idea^,  604. 
South  America,  its  geographical  position, 

bli. 
Spaniards,  whether  they  had  any  right 

to  O'-cupy  America,  dSJ. 
South  America,  its  primary  languages, 

603. 
Specimen  of  Indian  eloquence,  53L 
Speecli  of  Dr    Franklin,  6-15. 
Stamp  act  passed,  628. 
repealed,  629. 
Stature  of  the  American  Indians,  606. 
Subsistence,  means  of  proruriug  it  in  the 

New  World,  5',17 
how  procured  in  the  islands  of 

theNew  World,  538. 
Superioritjr  of  the  Europeans  ami  Asla- 

tica    in  agriculture,  to  what 

owing,  ib. 


Temperature  of  any  place,  how  best  as- 
certained, 584. 
of  the  air  at  any  elevation,  in- 
versely proportional  to  what, 
ib. 

Ticonderoga^taken,  638. 

Tobacco  greatly   used  by  the  Indians, 

604. 
Treatment  of  the  prisoners  of  war  in 

South  America,  695. 
Treaty  between  France  and  the  United 

States,  640. 

V 

TJIioa,  his  account  of  the  dreAi  of  the 
Indians,  601. 

Ulmens,  or  caciques,  the  extent  of  their 
authority,  586. 

United  States,  their  boundaries,  popu- 
lation, chiet"  towns,  rivers, 
mountains,  bays,  capes,  &c. 
612. 


Varieties  in  the  complexion  of  the  human 
species,  ij  what  owing,  606. 

Villages  of  the  Indians,  a  description  of 
the  ill.  502. 

Vindictive  temp.*r  of  the  North  Ameri* 
can?,  586. 

Virginia,  history  of  the  establishment  of 
this  colony,  613. 
sudden  changes  in  ita  tempera- 
ture, sua. 
curious  phenomenon  observable 
there, ib. 

W 

Wampum  belts,  what  and  how  t;s*id,  6^4. 
War,  how  carrie  i  on  by  the  In.^ians,  591. 
War  dance,  an  account  of  it  6O4. 
9on<;  of  the  Indians,  5&d. 
with  the  PiquO'Js.  618. 
with  the  In  lians,  did. 
Washington    is  appointed   to  the  rom- 
mind  of  tiie  American  troops, 
631, 
compels  the  English  to  erac-jate 

Boston,  ib. 
retreats.  636. 
compelled  to  retire  at  the  Bran- 

dywliie,638. 
hif  vlrt'ie  and  moderation,  644. 
Weapons  of  the  luitian?.  6^^. 
Wtile  men  f ouiid  in  the  isthmus  oT  Da- 

rien,  607. 
Wig-warns  oi'  the  Indians,  ocJoription  cf 

them,  502. 
Wolfe,  ?enerat,  tris  character.  G25. 
Womau,  Indian,  a. (eeting  speech  of,  599. 
Women,  Indian,  their"  degraded  coudi- 
t:on,lb. 
they  bear  fe^T  children,  600.  (A) 


4N2 


65a 


AMERICA. 


The  following  additional  facts  and  observations  re- 
specting the  United  States  of  America,  have  been  fur- 
nished by  Tench  Coxe,  Esq. 

The  actual  situation  of  the  United  States  of  America, 
at  this  time,  is  among  tlie  most  interesting  subjects  of 
contemplation  for  the  wise,  the  virtuous,  and  the  pru- 
dent, throughout  the  world.  From  the  day  on  which 
the  unskilful  and  half  civilized  Europeans,  in  (he  early 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  sent  forth  their  colo- 
nists to  the  American  forests,  little  more  than  two  hun- 
dred years  have  elapsed.  Whatever  were  "  the  talents" 
with  which  this  people  have  been  intrusted  by  divine 
providence,  it  is  believed,  tliat  it  will  be  found  that  they 
have  not  been  retained,  during  their  short  but  eventful 
history,  in  a  state  of  neglect. 

The  condition  of  religious  liberty,  compared  with  that 
of  other  countries,  is  the  most  favourable  on  the  records 
of  history,  under  the  federal  constitution.  It  is  equally 
favourable  under  the  constitutions  of  most  of  the  states ; 
and  there  is  very  little  to  amend,  on  this  subject,  in 
those  stales,  whose  constitutions  are  not  perfectly  fa- 
vourable. The  condition  of  things  on  this  subject,  in 
actual  practice,  under  the  existing  laws,  is  very  gene- 
rally sound  and  unexce|)tionable  ;  and  though  there  ap- 
pears occasionally  a  little  to  correct,  yet,  upon  the  whole, 
this  all-important  department  of  human  affairs  is  an- 
nually tending  towards  greater  practical  perfection.  In 
this  most  curious  and  most  interesting  state  of  the  reli- 
gious and  ecclesiastical  affairs  of  a  numerous,  diversi- 
fied, and  free  people,  it  is  a  highly  comfortable  truth, 
that  general  morality,  and  particularly  those  parts  of  the 
great  moral  field,  which  include  the  precious  institutions 
of  education  and  humanity,  steadily  improve.  The  seeds 
of  religious  knowledge  must  be  of  the  right  kinds, — 
they  must  be  sown  in  a  fit  soil,  since  they  are  cast  upon 
it  with  a  free  hand,  and  bring  forth  good  and  increasing 
fruits,  through  a  series  of  harvests.  To  dispense  and 
to  receive  the  blessings  of  an  unshackled  conscience, 
well  informed,  fits  our  species  for  its  highest  destinies, 
in  the  two  worlds. 

It  is  on  the  rock  of  religious  liberty,  which  lies  as  a 
broad  and  deep  subtratum,  under  the  United  States  of 
America,  that  their  civil  liberties  are  happily  founded. 
Hence  we  find,  that  the  rules  and  morality  of  religion 
have  been  the  principal  instruments  opposed  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  trade  in  slaves.  These  have  been  aided 
by  considerations  of  sound  policy,  and  man  can  no  longer 
enter  into  the  American  territory  in  a  state  of  enslave- 
ment. The  wide  and  horrible  ruin,  which  would  inevi- 
tably follow  the  emancipation  of  the  whole  of  the  co- 
loured people  in  the  United  States,  will  be  candidly 
considered  by  those  at  home  who  are  unconnected  ivith 
this  description  of  persons,  and  by  those  abroad,  who 
turn  their  minds  towards  our  siti^ation  and  our  conduct. 
The  system  of  gradually  abolishing  slavery,  wherever  it 
is  safe  to  do  so,  has  reduced  the  number  of  slaves,  in  the 
states  lying  north  of  Delaware  and  Maryland,  to  a  pro- 
portion of  less  than  one  person  in  every  hundred.  In 
those  two  states,  the  business  of  abolition  constantly 
proceeds ;  and  in  the  more  southern  states,  where  the 
attempt  would  draw  down  awful  miseries  upon  the 
blacks,  as  well  as  on  the  whiles,  the  condition  of  the 
Blaves  is  really  and  steadily  meliorating,  while  their 
constant  diffusion  among  more  numerous  whites  is  in- 
creasing the  safety  of  measures  of  emancipation. 

it  is  this  religion  also,  whicb  successfully  teacbeg  u« 


no  longer  to  maledict,  to  oppress,  or  to  beguile  of  their 
lands,  the  untutored  Indians,  who  live  on  our  extended  • 
borders.  American  justice  authorizes  the  Indians  to 
dispose  of  their  property  without  any  coei-cion  or  limita- 
tion of  price.  Like  the  white  natives  on  the  British 
and  American  sections  of  our  ancient  emf.ire,  they  can- 
not sell  at  common  law  to  any  alien.  The  process  of 
mitigating  the  ferocity  of  the  Indians  by  civilization  is 
a  constant  object  of  public  attention.  The  rights  of  con- 
science are  secured  to  the  Africans  and  to  the  American 
Indians. 

With  the  momentary  exceptions  of  these  coloured 
races,  circumstanced  as  we  see  they  are  at  this  time, 
constitutional  liberty  is  extended  to  all  the  people  of 
the  United  States.  An  equality  of  rights  is  uuiversally 
enjoyed,  except  in  the  cases  of  paupers  and  of  certain 
elections  ;  such  as  those  of  the  governors  of  some  of  the 
states.  The  rights  to  own  and  bear  arms,  to  fish  and  to 
hunt  in  waters  and  on  land  which  do  not  belong  to 
others,  to  erect  schools  and  places  of  divine  worship, 
to  pursue  every  occupation  and  profession,  to  manufac- 
ture, deal  in  and  export  all  things,  to  hold  and  elect  to  'k. 
office,  belong  to  all. 

There  were  in  the  year  1807,  seventy-nine  universi- 
ties, colleges,  and  academies  within  the  United  Stales  : 
and  many  others  have  been  since  established.  The 
private  schools  are  almost  innumerable;  and  measures 
for  extending  the  useful  and  elegant  instruction  of  the 
rising  generation,  male  and  female,  are  steadily  pursued. 

The  militia  of  the  United  States  embraces  all  the 
free  white  males  of  the  proper  ages,  and  exceeds,  in 
number,  twelve  hundred  thousand.  It  is  the  army  of 
the  constitution.  They  have  all  the  right,  even  in  pro- 
found peace,  to  purchase,  keep  and  use  arms  of  every 
description.  Provisions  to  a  great  extent  are  made  by 
such  purchases,  and  by  the  exertions  of  the  federal, 
state,  and  territorial  governments.  It  may  be  conve- 
nient to  state  in  this  place,  that  the  whole  population 
will  probably  exceed  seven  millions  and  six  hundred 
thousand  persons  in  the  second  quarter  of  the  year  1312. 

The  seamen  of  the  Uniteil  States  were  computed  in 
the  year  1807  at  70,000  persons.  .The  tonnage  of  the 
decked  vessels  was  about  1,000,000  in  the  same  year. 
The  value  of  the  imiwrts  was  107,000,000  dollars,  and 
that  of  the  exports  was  108,344,225  dollars,  of  which 
48,700,000  dollars  were  of  the  growth  or  manufacture 
of  the  country.  No  cotton  was  produced  at  home  and 
exported  in  the  first  year  of  the  federal  government. 
The  quantity  exported  in  1807,  exceeded  sixty  millions 
of  pounds  weight,  besides  a  great  quantity  consumed  in 
the  domestic  manufacture. 

One  hundred  and  eighty,  or  perhaps  more,  incorpo- 
rated or  associated  Banks  and  Insurance  companies, 
manifest  an  extensive  internal  and  foreign  trade.  Their 
capitals  were  ninety  or  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars, 
in  ISOT. 

The  manufactures  of  the  United  States  consume  all 
our  wool,  which  amounts  to  thirteen  millions  of  pounds 
weight  per  annum.  They  also  consume  all  our  llax, 
hemp,  hides  and  skins,  iron  and  lead,  antl  much  of  our 
cotton.  Besides  our  own  productions  of  these  things, 
we  import  much  iron,  hides  and  skins,  flax,  hcmj),  lead, 
and  some  wool.  All  of  these  are  manufactured.  There 
appears  the  best  reason  to  alfirm,  that  three  fourth-parts 
of  all  the  manufactures  consumed  in  the  United  States, 
are  made  in  our  own  families,  shops,  and  manufactories. 
!:)bips  and  rcsaels,  distilled  spiriu,  beer,  loaf  sugar. 


AMERICA. 


653 


ehecsc,  starch,  as  ■well  as  hats,  shoes,  iron  wares,  and 
piece  goods,  are  meant  to  be  included. 

Any  apparent  decrease  in  the  substance  of  our  ex- 
f)or(s  is  fully  mode  up  by  the  increase  of  our  manufac- 
ture?. This  will  be  evident,  if  we  consider  that  our 
produce  in  1811  was  within  7  per  cent  of  our  greatest 
former  year,  and  that  of  the  60,000,000  dollars,  in  fo- 
reir,n  gootls  exported  in  1807,  a  considerable  quantity, 
as  in  other  trading  countries,  merely  passed  through 
our  ports.  It  is  believed,  that  the  increase  in  the  cot- 
ton manufacture  alone,  for  home  consumption,  is  equal 
to  the  decrease  of  the  exports  of  our  own  produce  and 
manufactures.  The  decrease  in  the  importation  of  fo- 
reio;n  distilled  spirits,  and  of  molasses  as  the  foreign 
material  for  spirits,  is  countervailed  by  the  increase  of 
the  breweries  and  distilleries.  These  produce  an  iu- 
crpase  of  the  domestic  cooperage  to  make  up  for  the 
loss  of  the  exportation  of  hoops,  heading,  and  staves. 
The  Ijreweries  and  distilleries  of  Pennsylvania  alone 
have  been  estimated  at  four  millions  of  dollars  for  the 
year  1810.  They  were  greater  in  1811,  and  since  rum 
and  brandy  are  greatly  advanced  in  price,  the  breweries 
and  distilleries  will  flourish  in  1812,  far  beyond  all  past 
times. 

The  Merino  breed  of  sheep  is  obtained  in  the  United 
States,  so  as  to  ensure  to  us  the  utmost  quantity  of  fine 
woo],  which  we  can  want  for  our  own  use ;  and  as  our 
landed  capital  is,  in  effect,  unlimited,  the  increase  of  the 
fine  woolled  Merinos,  and  of  our  own  large  stock  of  ex- 
cellent common  wooled  sheep,  must  be  rapid  and  is 
certain.  The  breeds  of  Lincolnshire,  Leicestershire, 
and  Teeswafer,  in  England,  are  not  yet  numerous  in  the 
United  States.  Their  value  to  us  has  lately  become 
known :  and  they  will  of  course  be  industriously  and 
carefully  increased.  In  the  mean  time,  strong  cotton 
substitutes  for  cheap  woollen  goods  are  judiciously  ma- 
nufactured. Many  persons  in  this  country  are  convinced 
that  the  exclusion  of  cotton  goods  from  countries,  which 
do  not  make  them  out  of  our  cotton,  is  necessary  to  the 
prosperity  of  our  agriculture,  and  the  most  sure  method 
of  establishing  for  ever  the  cotton  manufacture.  It  is 
justly  considered  also  as  a  measure  which  will  aid  the 
growers  and  manufacturers  of  flax  and  hemp. 

The  people  of  America  have  proved  the  benefits  to 
themselves  of  manufactures  in  their  own  families,  by 
their  female  weavers,  by  labour-saving  machinery  and 
by  labour-saving  processes.  The  manufactures  of  red 
and  white  lead,  for  example,  have  suddenly  absorbed  all 
of  that  raw  material,  which  we  can  procure  from  onr 
own  mines  and  by  the  most  industrious  importation. 
The  shot  manufactory  has  been  added  in  the  same  mo- 
ment. 

A  few  mills  to  roll,  silt,  and  cut  iron,  and  to  make  it 
into  nails,  have  made  a  complete  revolution  in  that 
branch.  Machinery  to  bore  cannon  and  small  arms,  and 
to  grind,  cut  and  polish  iron  or  steel,  is  spreading  over 
the  face  of  the  country.  The  art  of  casting  the  various 
metuls,  of  much  importance  to  the  value  of  our  forests, 
is  greatly  extended  and  improved.  Operations  by  steana 
have  become  frequent  and  familiar ;  and  the  pendulum 
mid.  moved  by  the  multiplication  of  the  lever  power, 
promises  a  new  and  curious  aid  in  every  situation,  how- 
ever destitute  of  water  and  fuel,  as  the  means  of  obtain- 
ing the  ordinary  moving  powers.  To  engrave  the  let- 
ter, fii^ures  and  emblems  on  a  half-dollar  piece,  would 
occupy  a  considerable  portion  of  a  day.  But  the  steam 
engine  and  machinery  of  Bolton  and  Watt,  at  boho  iu 


England,  jnanufactures  thirty  thousand  ])iece8  of  coin 
in  a  single  hour.  To  reduce  a  pound  of  metal  to  the 
white  lead  pigment,  by  the  labour  of  a  chemist,  would 
be  an  operation  of  time  ;  buta  few  hands,in  a  little  cheap 
building  on  the  back  of  a  house  lot,  can  effect  the  manu- 
facture of  hundreds  of  tons  in  the  course  of  a  year,  by 
the  known  labour-saving  process.  This  paint  is  the 
most  simply  elegant  and  useful,  which  is  consumed  in 
architecture  ;  and  it  is  the  basis  of  many,  which  are  du- 
rable and  exquisite. 

The  military  manufactures,  which  are  necessary  to 
the  defence  of  the  United  States,  have  been  denied  to 
them  by  the  situation  or  the  laws  of  several  foreign 
countries.  These  things  have  therefore  been  particu- 
larly aided  by  the  federal  and  state  governments.  The 
manufacture  of  saltpetre  has  been  brought  to  a  state  of 
copious  and  regular  production. 

Most  of  the  operations  of  the  American  people,  in 
their  ordinary  business,  have  been  elicited  by  occasion. 
Hence  it  is,  that  the  desire  of  a  market  at  the  farmer's 
door  has  led  our  women  to  the  distaff  and  the  loom,  and 
has  created  the  distillery  wherever  fhpre  is  produced  a 
surplus  of  grain.  Hence  also  it  is,  that  mill-carders, 
spinuerB,  fallcrs,  weavers,  hatters,  shoemakers,  smiths, 
carriagp-mnkers,  and  many  other  of  those  useful  work- 
men, are  found  in  all  our  states  and  many  of  our  counties 
and  townships ;  and  they  often  form  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities,  towns,  villages  and 
hamlets. 

The  distance  of  the  United  states  from  the  countries 
which  would  consume  their  productions  and  furnish 
their  supplies,  with  the  consequent  charges  of  exporting 
the  first  and  im()orting  the  last,  are  found  to  operate  as 
a  powerful  encouragement  to  manufacturing  in  America. 
The  duties  on  entry  and  export  in  Europe,  and  of  entry 
here,  add  to  the  encouragement.  This  advantage  aris- 
ing from  the  nature  of  things,  can  never  fail,  or  even  be 
diminished. 

The  constant  excitement  on  the  subject  of  manufac- 
tures produced  the  cultivation  of  cotton,  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  Merino  sheep,  and  labour-saving  machinery, 
and  successful  experiments  in  the  labour-saving  pro- 
cesses. It  has  also  diffused  a  liberal  and  useful  pursuit 
of  chemical  science  and  practice,  and  many  advantages 
in  the  fossil  department  of  natural  history,  and  its  rela- 
tive arts  and  trades. 

Of  all  the  consequences  produced  by  the  successful 
national  industry  of  the  United  States,  none  is  more 
perceptible,  more  considerable,  or  more  pleasing,  than 
the  increased  expenditures  in  the  im;jortation,  manu- 
facture, and  purchase  of  hooks,  drawings  and  maps,  and 
descriptions,  models,  specimens,  in  the  useful,  liberal 
and  fine  arts,  and  in  the  circle  of  the  sciences.  Nor 
has  the  field  of  taste,  of  morals,  or  of  religion,  been 
forgotten  or  undervalued.  Our  numerous  gazettes, 
however  occupied  by  business,  politics,  and  party,  are 
great  channels  of  valuable  knowledge  ;  and  periodical 
publications,  both  professional  and  general,  have  every 
where  arisen. 

The  foreign  commerce  of  this  country  has  sustained 
many  changes  and  trials.  The  wars,  which  have  afflict- 
ed Europe  for  near  twenty  years,  have  occasioned 
passion  and  violence  often  to  encroach  upon  peaceful 
and  regular  neutral  nations.  Sometimes  also,  the  neu- 
trals have  -been  impelled  by  foreign  injustice,  or  tempt- 
ed by  their  own  desires  of  gain,  into  commercial  stra- 
tagems and  devices,  subjecting  them  to  natural  suspi- 


§m 


AMERICA. 


cions  and  lawful  coBdemnations.  The  pretentions  of 
belligerents  have  been  too  far  extended ;  and  tlie  pro- 
perty, flag,,  and  persons  of  neutrals,  have  been  subjected 
to  illegitimate  capture,  abuse,  and  coercion.  Tlie  in- 
juries received  from  belligerent  powers,  and  the  various 
expedients  of  our  own  country  to  prevent  or  to  cure  the 
disorders  of  commerce,  have  reduced  our  operations  in 
the  last  year  to  less  than  two-thirds  of  their  former 
greatest  amount.  The  exports  of  our  own  produce,  in- 
cluding the  outlets  by  land,  are  not  less  perhaps  than 
in  the  greatest  former  instance ;  but  those  of  foreign 
goods  cannot  amount  to  one-third  part  of  the  year  1 807. 
The  present,  perhaps,  as  the  moment  of  crisis,  is  that 
©f  the  utmost  difficulty  and  sufl'ering.  The  last  year 
however  exhibited  an  exportation  of  sixty-two  millions 
of  dollars,  which  is  nearly  equal  to  fourteen  millions 
sterling;  a  sum,  which,  in  proportion  to  the  total  num- 
ber of  national  population,  is  not  equalled  by  the  whole 
dominions  of  any  government  in  the  world.  No  ex- 
change between  sister  kingdoms  under  the  same  crow.n, 
or  between  the  metropolitan  states  and  their  own  colo- 
nies, can  be  fairly  introduced  in  this  comparison. 

There  is  a  great  operation  in  the  aecumulation  of 
wealth  in  the  United  States,  peculiar,  in  lis  degree,  to 
their  affairs.  The  clearing  of  lands,  the  making  of  new 
roads,  the  erection  of  new  bridges,  dwellings,  workBho()3 
and  manufactories,  and  other  new  establishments,  and 
the  building  of  shij)S  for  sale,  are  the  several  parts  of 
this  important  operation,  none  of  which  can  be  exhibit- 
ed in  the  statement  of  those  exports  of  merchandise, 
which  may  have  been  mistaken  for  the  total  surplus  pro- 
duction of  our  land  and  industry.  Let  us  suppose,  for  ex- 
ample, that  two  thousand  families,  in  a  section  of  the 
wooded  country  of  New- York,|Pennsy!vania)or  Virginia, 
had  enteretl  on  the  first  day  of  the  year  upon  two  thou- 
sand tracts  of  uncleared  land,  with  a  view,  respectively, 
to  settle  and  improve  one  farm  of  two  hundred  acres.  On 
the  last  day  of  the  same  year  they  have  respectively 
eleared  ten  acres,  erected  their  simple  log  dwellings, 
and  cover  for  their  litte  stock  of  cattle,  and  sowed  the 
ten  acres  with  seed  wheat.  In  1811,  the  year  of  the 
operation,  the  whole  mass  of  the  land  had  produced 
nothing,  being  universallj'  under  wood.  At  fifteen 
bushels  to  the  acre,  it  produces  in  1812,  an  aggregate 
«|uautity  of  300,000  bushels,  worth,  moderately,  as  many 
dollars.  Three  hundred  thousand  dollars  at  5  per  cent, 
is  the  interest  of  a  capital  of  six  millions.  The  builings 
are  erected  of  wood,  and  stone,  which  cost  nothing,  but 
cumber  the  ground,  and  interfere  with  cultivation.  In 
like  manner,  rentable  property,  is  so  fast  created,  that 
Philadelphia  and  New-York  have  each  passed  from  the 
forest  state  to  the  condition  of  comfortable  and  liand- 
some  cities  of  one  hundred  thousand  persons ;  and  Bal- 
timore, transcending  all  instances  of  private  effort,  un- 
aided by  a  government  or  by  redundant  capital,  has 
risen  to  nearly  half  the  numbers  of  Philadelphia  and 
New-York  in  forty  or  fifty  years.  Thus  it  is,  that  our 
farms  are  cut  out  of  the  forests,  and  our  cities  are  ma- 
nufactured by  the  hatchet  :md  the  trowel,  out  of  the 
spontaneous  productions  of  the  soil  and  the  quarry. 
By  such  means  have  we  grown  in  two  centuries  out  of 
unproductive  wilds  intoa  gcjodly  land,  producing  in  each 
of  two  several  years  astonishing  exportations,  worth  in 
our  markets  one  hundred  seven  millions  and  one  half  of 
specie  doll!>.rij. 

Excluding  from  the  estimate  now  proposed  the  value 
of  unimproved  grounds  in  th^  towns,  and  forest  land* 


in  the  states  and  territories,  it  appears  safe  to  estimate 
the  productive  real  and  personal  estate  (the  cultivated 
farms,  stock,  goods  and  money)  of  the  people  of  this 
country  at  three  thousand  millions  of  dollars.  One  hun- 
dred and  seven  millions  of  dollars  were  the  value  of  our 
exports  in  1806;  and  one  hundred  and  eight  millions 
in  1807.  Their  value,  in  1811,  was  sixty-two  millions 
of  dollars,  besides  ships  sold  abroad,  and  the  stores  of 
vessels  going  to  foreign  countries,  which  are  never 
placed  on  the  statements  oi  exports.  This  sum,  ac- 
cording to  the  rule  of  the  best  economists  or  statistical 
writei"s,  is  one  third  of  the  whole  result  of  the  national 
industry,  which  would  carry  us  to  one  hundred  and 
eighty -six  millions,  the  effective  jirincipal  of  three  thou- 
sand one  hundred  millions  of  dollars.  The  provisions 
of  all  ships,  and  the  value  of  those  sold  abroad,  are 
thrown  in  to  make  a  safe  calculation,  and  we  Hdd  the 
goods  and  coins,  which  go  by  land,  or  unreported,  to 
foreign  countries.  The  value  of  lots  or  grounds  in  our 
towns,  and  of  our  uncultivated  forests,  though  thrown 
out  of  the  estimate,  add  greatly  to  the  mass  of  our  in- 
trinsic wealth. 

The  surplus  cotton  of  the  United  States,  which  ia 
capable  of  use  in  winter  clothing,  is  three  or  four  times 
the  weight  of  the  wool  employed  in  foreign  countries 
to  make  the  clothing  consumed  in  United  America. 
Our  rower  to  i)roduce  col  ton  may  he  called  unlimited, 
since  the  small  proportion  of  600,000  acres  of  land,  at 
the  very  low  rate  of  one  hundred  |)ouads  of  clean  cotton 
to  the  acre,  would  produce  our  whole  exported  surplus. 
There  are  many  counties  in  the  southern  states  contain- 
ing that  quantity  of  land.  But  when  it  is  considered 
that  England  has  seven  sheep  to  every  eight  and  one 
half  or  nine  acres  of  land,  our  progress  in  the  multipli- 
cation of  that  animal,  and  in  the  growth  of  machines  for 
the  manufacture  of  wool,  cannot  be  doubted. 

Under  all  the  disadvantages  of  trade  in  the  year  1811, 
the  revenue  of  the  twelve  months,  ending  on  the  30tli 
of  September,  was  13,341,446  dollars. 

The  national  expenses  were. 

In  the  civH  department,  -  -  gl  ,360,858  98 
For  the  army,  fortifications,  arras, 

and  arsenals,           -        -        -  2,129,000  00 

For  the  navy  department,      -        -  2,136,000  00 

For  the  Indian  department,    ■■        -  142,726  00 

For  the  interest  of  the  public  debt,  -  2,225,800  00 

Total  current  expenses,  7,991,384  98 
A  temporary  debt  was  repaid,  of    -       -  2,750,000  00 
And  a  part  of  the  aggregate  of  the  pub- 
lic debt  was  repaid,  amounting  to  5,053,972  82 

There  remained  in  the  treasury  nearly  four  millions  of 
dollars. 

Above  forty-six  millions  of  the  public  debt  have  been 
rcpaitl  in  ten  years  following  the  last  day  of  March, 
1 801  i^and  a  debt  for  Louisiana  of  1 1 ,250,000  dollars  was 
contractedin  that  term.  The  whole publicdebtof  the  Uni- 
ted States  on  the  first  day  of  the  year  1812.  was 
45,154,189  dollars,  being  a  little  more  than  the  sum  of 
10,000.000/.  sterling.  The  first  lien  on  the  public  re- 
venues of  the  United  States,  is  the  interest  of  the  pub- 
lic debt.  It  is  the  best  secured  national  debt  in  the 
world,  considering  the  soundness  of  our  constitution  in 
regard  to  the  oldigation  of  contracts. 

A  considerable  portion  of  the  pablic  debt  of  the  Uni- 


ATVIERICA. 


«5^ 


fed  States,  is  clue  to  the  seTeral  states,  which  is  a  strong 
and  i)eculiar  security  lor  the  fulfilmeut  of  the  engage- 
ments to  tlie  public  creilitors. 

Diirijig  ten  years  of  peace,  there  lias  not  been  either 
an  internal  revenue  of  excise,  or  a  land  or  direct  tax 
among  tlie  revenues  of  the  United  States ;  and  during 
the  last  seven  of  those  years,  there  has  been  no  import 
duty  on  salt. 

The  increase  of  the  post  offices  and  post  roads  is  very 
rapid,  and  is  astonishing,  even  to  the  best  informed  of 
the  people  of  the  United  States;  and  the  beneficial  con- 
sequences under  a  form  of  government,  and  in  a  state 
of  human  aflaire,  requiring  prompt  and  accurate  intelli- 
gence, is  of  incalculable  importance  to  the  country. 
The  making  of  new  ortlinary  roads  is  incessant  and  ex- 
tensive. 

There  are  no  powerful  and  dangerous  neighbours  to 
the  United  States  on  the  continent  of  America,  either 
civilized  or  others,  nor  any  having  an  interest  to  invade 
their  dominions. 

Several  very  important  canals  are  either  completed, 
commenced,  authorized,  or  proj)osed,  in  various,  quar- 
ters. 

•  .The  system  of  mitigating  punishments  and  rendering 
them  more  effectujd  towards  ref^entance  and  reforma- 
tion, operates  in  a  manner  highly  honourable  to  (he  po- 
licy and  humanity  of  the  American  legislatures.  The 
riudictive  quality  i&. extracted  from  our  penal  code,  and 
cast  away,  as  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  religion,  and 
strongly  tending  to  the  deterioration  of  governments, 
■which  indulge  that  unworthy  passion.  The  good  of 
the  community,  and  of  the  criminal  himself,  and  the  ho- 
nour of  the  Deity,  by  the  amendment  of  the  offender 
against  divine  and  human  laws,  are  the  pure  and  ele- 
vated olijects  of  our  penal  regulations  and  institutions. 
The  experiment  was  an  early  work  of  the  peace  of  1 783, 
and  was  happily  commenced  in  the  state  of  Pennsylvania. 

If  our  public  councils  have  happily  been  slow  to  an- 
ger, the  military  character  of  the  United  States,  when- 
ever it  has  taken  the  name  of  action,  has  not  been  af- 
fected unfavourably  by  our  long  abstinence  from  regular 
war.  The  signal  defeat  of  the  Indians,  in  1794,  by  a 
departed  hero  of  the  American  revolution,  the  late  ma- 
jor-general Anthony  Wayne;  the  action  with  the  French 
frigate  Insurgente ;  the  daring  enterprise  against  the 
fleet  and  castles  of  Tripoli ;  and  the  reeent  defeat  of  ihe 
Indians,  by  governor  Harrison  and  colonel  Boyd,  with  a 
mixed  cor|is  of  militia  and  regulars,  under  a  variety  of 
inconvenient  and  disadvautitgeous  circumslauces ;  are 
continued  proofs  of  (he  cai)acity  and  resolution  of  the 
American  people  in  (he  field  of  ac(ion,  on  the  land  and 
on  the  ocean,  whether  the  foe  be  civilized  or  savage. 
Nor  ought  the  enterprise  of  Eaton  against  Derne  to  he 
omitted  in  this  place,  or  at  this  time,  when  the  wars  of 
Europe  seem,  more  than  at  any  former  moment,  tending 
to  involve  us. 

The  detail  of  fact?,  which  has  been  faithfully  exhibit- 
ed in  this  article,  will  naturally  excite,  lioth  at  home  and 
abroffd,  a  particular  consideration  of  the  nature  of  our 
country,  and  of  the  qualities  of  a  people,  distinguished 
by  so  rich  a  growth  of  religious,  moral,  and  intellectual 
good,  and  by  so  large  a  share  of  the  spontaneous  pro- 
ductions of  the  land  and  sea,  and  of  the  diversified  fruits 
of  skilful  cultivation- 


The  real  character  of  erery  independent  nation  is  a 
subject  of  interesting  consideration.  An  impartial  sur- 
vey of  any  one  of  those  distinct  political  families,  which 
are  destined  to  flourish  and  to  decline,  to  act  and  to 
suffer  in  constant  and  intimate  connexion  with  the  rest 
of  mankind,  in  the  same  defined  terraqueous  sphere, 
cannot  fail  deeply  to  affect  the  hearts  and  understand- 
ings of  their  fellow  men.  To  ourselves,  it  is  plain,  that 
a  profound  and  faithful  inquiry  into  all  the  causes,  na- 
tural, moral,  and  accidental,  which  have  tended  to  pro- 
duce our  true  character,  will  have  many  of  the  precious 
consequences  of  self-examination.  To  the  rest  of  man- 
kind, numerous  monitions  against  evil,  or  inducements 
to  good,  may  be  afforded  by  those,  who  happily  conduct 
such  investigations. 

But  the  present  character  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  as  the  only*  independent  civilized 
nation  of  this  grand  division  of  the  earth,  and  as  the 
youngest  people  of  our  globe,  as  well  as  from  other 
causes,  is  peculiarly  important  and  interesting.  It  has 
been  happily  observed,  with  great  truth  and  wisdom,  by 
one  of  the  best  and  most  sagacious  of  our  own  states- 
menf,  that  "  it  is  the  glory  of  the  people  of  America, 
that,  while  they  have  paid  a  decent  regard  to  the  opi- 
nions of  former  times  and  other  nations,  they  have 
not  suffered  a  blind  veneration  for  antiquity,  for  cus- 
tom, or  for  names,  to  overrule  the  suggestions  of  their 
own  ^ood  sense,  the  knowledge  of  their  own  situa- 
tion, and  the  icsanns  of  fheir  own  experience.  To 
this  manly  spirit,  posterity  will  be  indebted  for  the 
possession,  and  the  world  for  the  example,  of  the  nu- 
merous innovations  displayed  on  the  American  thea- 
tre, in  favour  of  private  rights  and  public  happiness. 
Had  no  important  step  been  taken  by  the  leaders  of 
the  revolution,  for  which  a  i)recedent  could  not  lie 
discovered,  no  government  established  of  which  au 
exact  model  did  not  present  itself,  the  people  of  the 
United  States  might,  at  this  moment,  have  been  num- 
bered among  the  melancholy  victims  of  misguided 
counsels,  or  must  at  best  have  been  labouring  under 
the  weight  of  some  of  those  forms,  which  have  crushed 
the  liberties  of  the  rest  of  mankind.  Happily  for  Ame- 
rica, happily  we  trust  for  the  whole  human  race,  tliey 
pursued  a  new  and  more  noble  course.  They  accom- 
plished a  revolution,  which  has  no  parallel  in  the  an- 
nals of  human  society :  they  reared  the  fabrics  of 
governments  which  have  no  model  on  the  face  of  the 
globe :  they  formed  the  design  of  a  great  confedera- 
cy, which  it  is  incumbent  on  their  successors  to  im- 
prove and  perpetuate." 

It  will  be  necessary  to  review,  with  the  utmost  deli- 
beration, and  without  a  prejudice,  a  number  and  variety 
of  natural  and  moral  causes,  which  seem  to  have  cu- 
riously combined  to  excite  and  to  modify  Ihe  character- 
istic distinclions  of  the  peo|)le  of  United  America. 

The  northern  part  of  the  American  continent,  which 
they  inhabit,  is  much  larger  than  all  Europe — than  all 
the  old  parts  of  the  civilized  world.  Their  extensive 
dominions  are  formed  into  one  connected  body,  combi- 
ning the  glowing  region  of  the  cane,  with  (hose  where 
the  rigour  of  the  north  forbids  vegetation  through  near- 
ly half  the  year. 

Their  great  inland  waters  invited  (hem  to  an  early 
familiarity  with  the  marine  cradles,  trained  them  as  ia 


*  This  inqiiiiy  was  written  before  llie  late  interesting  movementsi  in  the  southern  (Uvision  of  this  continent. 
t  The  president  Jladisou,  in  one  of  Jtia  numbers  of  "  Tlie  i'eilcicalist,''  chap.  14. 


650 


AMERICA. 


their  primary  nantical  school*,  and  have  regularly  drawn 
Djnny  of  them  on  to  meet  all  the  changes  of  the  incon- 
stant ocean,  with  a  perfect  familiarity.  The  skill  and 
facility  in  navigation,  acquired  by  habit,  and  improved 
by  all  the  relative  arts,  have  established  the  most  inti- 
mate connexion  between  them,  the  younger  children  of 
civil  polity*,  and  all  the  people  of  the  old  world,  and 
of  the  new  found  countries. 

Their  woods  and  forests  draw  many  of  the  United 
Americans  to  the  bold,  the  hardy,  and  the  active  chase, 
armed  always  against  beasts  of  prey ;  teaching  them  at 
once  the  use  of  defensive  arms,  and  to  bear  privations 
and  fatigues,  unknown  to  the  mass  of  the  people  of  the 
European  states. 

The  vigorous  exertions  of  agriculture  often  extend  far 
beyond  the  hoe,  the  plough,  and  the  harrow.  The  Ame- 
rican improver  is  frequently  required  to  rear  his  own 
buildings  for  man  and  beast.  He  must  conquer  the  stur- 
<ly  forest  and  the  deep  morass — laborious  though  gainful 
preparations  for  productive  cultivation.  In  many  of  the 
states,  the  judicious  agriculturist  is  always  an  improver. 
The  most  ancient  families,  and  those  of  the  first  intelli- 
gence, fortune,  and  standing,  as  well  as  foreign  emigrants 
cf  the  late»t  years,  are  engaged  in  the  settlement  and 
improvement  of  contiguous  or  adjacent  forests.  Where 
lately  every  production  of  nature  flourished  in  wildness, 
there  now  the  garden,  the  meadow,  and  the  harvest 
smile. 

Useful  and  necessary  rural  improvements  offer  to  all 
the  Americans  a  prudent  and  gainful  emi)loyment  for 
surplus  income,  producing  often  an  habitual  course  of 
moralizing  industry  and  economy. 

Anxious  parents,  in  country  life,  see  before  them  their 


children's  prospects  of  rising  in  the  World,  where  infant 
settlements,  increasing  with  our  honest  labour,  pervade 
the  land.  The  existing  generations  have  carved,  as  it 
were,  numerous  counties  and  several  states  out  of  the 
howling  wilderness.  Thus  are  the  Americans,  under  the 
favour  of  heaven,  the  energetic  temporal  creators  of 
their  own  cities,  towns,  and  villages,  their  own  goodly 
country,  and  all  the  copious  blessings  it  contains. 

As  the  American  people  have,  in  truth,  carved  their 
proiluctive  country  out  of  the  stupendous  forest,  which 
originally  covered  their  dominions,  so  have  they  made, 
out  of  the  systems  of  policy,  morals,  and  religion  of  the 
world,  their  own  plan  of  justice  and  civilization  in  rela- 
tion to  the  Indian  aborigines — their  own  penal  code  for 
unhappy  criminals — a  complete  extinction  of  the  com- 
merce in  men — their  own  constitutions  of  social  freedom 
aud  of  federative  union,  and  their  own  blessed  establish- 
ment of  religious  libertyf. 

An  enlightened  and  cordial  aUachment  to  religious 
liberty,  is  one  of  the  actual  characteristics;|of  the  United 
Americans.  Respect  for  the  rights  of  conscience  is,  in 
no  country,  so  general,  so  conspicuous,  or  so  well  se- 
cured "by  civil  institutions,  and  by  the  religious  dis- 
cipline, practice,  and  tenets  of  the  various  churches. 
We  see  here  the  Congregational  and  the  Presbyterian 
Calvinist*  worshipping  the  deity  in  each  other's  houses. 
So  of  the  German  Lutheran  and  German  reformed 
Calvinists.  So  of  the  English,  and  Swedish,  and  Ger- 
man Lutheran  congregations.  Some  religious  houses 
are  used  by  all.  Marriages  are  perfdrmed  by  the  minis<- 
ters  and  magistrates  of  each  of  the  various  churches  for 
the  members  of  others. 

The  ministers  of  these  societies  have  officiated  at  th« 


•  It  is  proper  to  repeat,  that  South  America  had  not  attempted  any  changes  when  this  inquiry  was  commenced. 

+  Although  the  great  mass  of  our  population  consists  of  the  descendants  of  the  natives  of  those  two  islands  which  now  constitute 
the  united  kingdoms  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  yet  those  three  different  races  are  hlended  together  and  intermixed  in  a  much  greater 
degree  than  they  are  either  in  England,  Scotland,  or  Ireland.  And  the  considerable  inSux  of  foreigners  from  various  nations  of  Europe,  ' 
who  have  come  into  our  country  as  well  before  as  after  the  period  of  our  revolution,  and  have  principally  settled  in  the  states  lying  be- 
tween the  Hudson  and  the  Potowmac,  has  had  its  share  of  influence  in  the  formation  of  our  national  character.  Their  various  and  some- 
times discordant  customs  usages,  religious  and  political  opinions,  by  *r  indisiiensable  collision  with  ours,  have  softened  the  asperities  of 
all,  have  made  us  reciprocally  cherish  a  proper  spirit  of  universal  toleration  and  benevolence,  and  contributed  not  a  little  to  create  in  th« 
nation  a  liberal  spirit  of  free  and  rational  inquiry,  and  to  put  us  on  our  guard  against  opinions  which  had  nothing  to  recommend  them 
but  their  antiquity.  Thus  while  we  have  preserved,  and  continue  to  cherish,  with  a  jealous  eye,  those  admirable  features  of  our  ancient 
common  law,  which  is  the  corner-stone  of  our  civil  liberties,  we  have,  in  the  other  branches  of  the  jurisprudential  science,  availed  our- 
selves of  the  light  afforded  by  the  eminent  men  of  other  nations,  and  particularly  by  the  legislators  of  imperial  Rome. 

To  the  feudal  law  of  primogenitui-e,  so  ill  adapted  to  the  situation  of  our  countiy,  we  have  substituted  the  eqnal  distribution  of  the 
•ivilians;  we  have  either  abolished  the  system  (<f  entails,  or  by  wise  regulations,  rendered  it  perfectly. harmless;  in  many  of  the  states, 
the  ju»  accreicendi  has  been  taken  away  from  joint-tenancy,  except  in  cases  in  which  (he  parties  have  clearly  expressed  their  intention  to 
retain  it;  we  have  greatly  simplified  the  forms  of  proceeding,  as  well  at  common  law,  .as  in  chancery  and  in  the  admiralty,  antl  we  have 
made  many  other  important  alterations  in  our  legal  polity,  which  wc  are  not  called  upon  to  detail  here,  but  which,  even  now,  would 
xffonl  to  a  man  of  investigation  and  leisure,  the  subject  of  an  interesting  volume.  Notwithstanding  the  great  intermixture  of  men 
from  different  nations  which  has  taken  place  in  our  country,  it  is  not  a  little  remarkable,  that  the  English  is  spoken  here  with  as  much 
purity  as  in  any  part  of  tlie  British  dominions,  and  with  a  degi-ee  of  uniformity  which  is  not  to  be  found  elsewhere.  With  very  litUe 
Tariation,  the  idiom  even  of  the  lowest  classes  of  society  is  the  same  in  New-Harapaliirc  as  in  Georgia  ;  no  barbarous,  uncouth,  or  unin- 
telligible provincial  jargon  or paloit  offends  or  distracts  the  ear  of  th*  traveller;  a  few  local  expressions,  or  a  slight  difference  in  the 
pronunciation  or  accentuation  of  a  few  wonts,  is  all  that  may  be  observed,  and  that  only  in  some  of  the  states ;  for  there  are  many  where 
even  the  backwoods  farmers  speak  the  English  language  with  almost  classical  purity.  We  have  been  seveiely  taken  to  task,  hy  the 
literati  of  Great  Britain,  for  having  introduced  a  few  new  words  into  our  common  idiom,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  word  length;/,  which 
teems  to  have  given  peculiar  offence  to  the  nice  ears  of  our  trans-atlanlic  brethren.  We  shall  not  consider  here  whether  or  not  thi* 
neologism  is  consistent  with  the  strict  analogy  of  the  language,  or  whether  the  length  of  a  stick  and  the  length  of  a  poem  are  things 
so  essentially  and  entirely  similar  as  to  oblige  us  to  reject  altogether  a  word  which  implies  some  shade  of  difference  between  them,  and 
helps  us  accurately  to  discriminate  between  the  one  and  the  other  ;  but  we  shall  only  observe,  that  if  America  has  adopted  a  few  words 
since  the  period  of  her  separation  from  Great  Britain,  England  has  adopted  a  great  many  more,  to  which  our  eyes  and  our  ears  bad  not 
been  formerly  accustomed.  Americans  have  observed  that,  since  the  French  revolution,  a  considerable  number  of  French  words  and 
phrases  has  been  introduced  into  the  English  i<liom  on  the  other  si.le  of  the  .\tlantic,  which  have  not  received  a  place  in  the  language 
spoken  on  this  side.  We  shall  only  instance  the  words  tombre,  aombrous,  compromit,  which,  with  many  others  of  the  like  kind,  are  only 
to  be  found  in  modem  English  publications.  These  do  not  appear  to  us  to  be  entitled  as  English  words  to  more  merit  than  the  woril 
knffthy.  The  fact  is,  that  our  language  is,  and  will  continue  to  be,  dividing  itself  into  twe  divergent  idioms,  which  are  destined  to  be  at 
a  future  day,  as  yet,  and  indeed,  very  far  distant,  two  different  languages,  neither  of  them  like  the  one  from  which  they  will  have  sprung, 
hut  which  will  serve  to  perpetuate  iu  fame  at  the  modeni  di»l»«»t  of  Europe  have  perpettuted  that  of  the  languages  of  Grctet  *9d 
Itone.    KsiTOss. 


AMERICA, 


m 


interment  of  deceased  person?  of  eacli  over's  charchcs. 
Families  of  all  religious  societies  intermarry.  The  con- 
stitution of  the  United  States  prohibits,  in  express  and 
peremptory  terms,  the  requiring  a  religious  test,  in  any 
case,  by  the  statutes  of  the  national  legislature.  The  con- 
stitutions of  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  several  states 
contain  similar  or  equivalent  securities  for  the  rights  of 
conscience.  In  one  of  the  states  the  members  of  the  cler- 
gy of  every  religious  society  may  be  considered  as  dis- 
franchised (as  all  but  the  bishops  are  in  a  degree  in 
England)  by  an  exclusion  from  every  civil  office.  Funds 
which  were  bestowed  by  legislatures  of  past  times  upon 
favoured  churches,  have  been  returned  to  the  treasuries 
of  certain  states  for  public  uses,  or  for  the  churches  at 
large,  or  for  the  instruction  of  youth.     A  bishop  or- 
dained by  the  Scotch  Episcopacy,  three  by  the  Pope, 
and  some  by  those  of  England,  are  found  here ;  but  they 
have  no  American  revenues,  palaces,  or  power,  except 
in  their  proper  ministry,  in  their  own  religious  society. 
There  are  no  other  dignitaries  of  any  church :  no  tythes  : 
BO    incorporation   beyond   a   rectory,   which   includes 
an  independent  lay  vestry,  and  excludes  the  assistant 
ministers :  no  convocation :  no  other  than  a  mere  as- 
sociated convention  or  synod,  or  yearly  meeting,  with- 
out any  foundation  at  law.     These  bodies  are  kindly 
and  equally  permitted  to  enjoy  an  undisturbed  exis- 
tence  by  the  just  and   free  spirit  of  our  civil  institu- 
tions, under  the  exclusive  government  of  divine  Pro- 
vidence.    Religion  in  North  America  is  a  Tluocraci). 
This  is  a  blessed  truth,  and  is  not  either  an  unsubstan- 
tial refinement  or  fanciful  suggestion  of  enthusiasm. 
There  is  here  no  war  among  the  different  societies  or 
churches.  None  has  the  sword  of  the  state  to  raise  against 
a  sister  church.     The  peaceful  churches  are  therefore 
as  free,  and  as  strong,  as  the  churches  which  admit 
defensive  resistance.     In  this  powerful  influence,  fAaf 
«f  religious  liberty,  is  to  be  found  the  precious  secret, 
which  amalgamates  the  minds  of  the  serious  native  and 
naturalized  citizens.  The  republic  of  oppressed  church- 
es from  Europe,  equally  protected  but  unestabliahed  in 
America,  the  influence  of  a  very  early,  but  inconsistent 
law  of  Maryland,  the  pious  institutions  of  Roger  Wil- 
liams in  Rhode  Island,  the  great  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  William  Penn,  and  the  peaceful  firmness  and  perse- 
verance of  the  religious  Society  of  the  Friends,  have 
■worked  for  us,  under  the  favour  of  divine  Providence, 
this  precious  and  transcendent  blessing. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  longer  even  upon  this  most 
important  of  all  temporal  subjects — this  subject,  which 
■will  deeply  concern  us  all  in  the  world  beyond  the 
grave. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  United  Americans  is 
considered  to  be,  an  enlightened  practical  hwnanity. 

The  declaration  of  American  independence  correctly 
affirms  it  to  be  a  self-evident  truth,  that  all  men  are  born 
tvitli  an  equal  right  to  pursue  happiness,  laying  the 
broadest  foundation  for  the  national  humanity.  Alex- 
ander the  Great,  and  a  Helot,  once  had ;  the  greater 
Napoleon  and  a  slave  have  now,  as  we  tliink,  equal 
rights  to  seek  the  blessings  of  this  sublunary  world — 
the  blessings  of  eternity. 

In  this  spirit,  the  Americans  have,  in  a  manner, 
pledged  themselves  to  admit  into  their  political  family 
such  persons  as  they  do  admit,  without  preference  to 


the  memberg  of  any  one  nation— ok  enlarged  and  red 
humaniiy. 

As  this  philanthropy  appears  to  have  been  accept- 
able to  every  state,  since  no  objection  to  the  consti- 
tutional provision  occurred  in  any  of  the  conventions, 
so  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  it  is  acceptable  also  to  the 
various  natives  of  other  countries  naturalized  in  Ame- 
rica. 

In  the  same  humane  spirit,  the  slavery  and  destruc- 
tion of  Indian  prisoners,  which  occurred  in  a  few  instan- 
ces in  the  earlier  days  of  some  of  the  late  American 
provinces,  have  entirely  disappeared.  The  mild  regi- 
men of  William  Penn,  of  his  legislative  coadjutors,  and 
of  his  religious  brethren,  have  been  adopted  and  main- 
tained under  our  four  successive  national  administra- 
tions. Missionaries  of  several  of  the  pacific  churches 
are  constantly  employed,  as  voluntary  auxiliaries  to  the 
national  government,  ivithout  reward  and  without  in- 
demnity, in  the  humane  and  pious  employment  of  win- 
ning the  Red  natives  to  the  sweet  peace  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  The  Indian  traflick  in  ardent  spirits,  as 
sure  provocatives  to  strife  and  murder,  and  in  good* 
convertible  to  war  aud  bloodshed,  is  not  permitted  with- 
out many  wholesome  restraints  and  precanliona.  Sales 
of  their  lands  in  moments  of  Indian  intoxication  and 
delusion,  are  carefully  prevented ;  for  though  accom- 
plished with  every  other  circumstance  of  regularity,  no 
sale  by  an  Indian  or  a  tribe  is  valid  in  law,  unless  effect- 
ed by  means  of  an  authorized  and  responsible  agent 
of  the  United  States.  All  sales  of  territory  liy  the  Red 
natives,  even  to  the  general  government  itself,  must  be 
of  their  own  free  will,  and  must  of  course  be  satisfac- 
tory to  them  in  the  terms  of  sale.  By  these  and  other 
fair  and  tender  means,  territory  is  acquired  with  the 
necessary  good-humour,  and  wars  with  the  natives  have 
been  unknown  for  the  last  fourteen  years*. 

The  same  characteristic  humanity  occasioned  several 
of  our  late  provincial  legislatures  to  obstruct  and  bur- 
den the  im|iortati<)n  of  slaves.  An  insupportable  duty 
on  that  trade  was  imposed  in  Pennsylvania  more  than 
forty  years  ago ;  but,  as  in  the  case  of  the  law  to  per- 
fect religious  liberty,  so  in  the  case  of  the  duty  on  slaves, 
the  negative  of  the  crown  in  Great  Britain  was  unhap- 
pily exercised.  The  extinction  of  that  royal  power,  by 
the  declaration  of  independence,  was  followed  by  the 
memorable  act  of  the  state  of  Virginia  ;  first  abolishing, 
on  the  great  principles  of  humanity,  the  future  importa- 
tion of  slaves.  Various  acts  of  the  other  legislatures, 
and  of  the  conventions,  have  since  followed,  till  at 
length,  on  the  first  day  of  January,  1803,  the  introduc- 
tion of  enslaved  men  into  the  country  was  terminated 
in  the  remaining  states  by  a  national  law. 

The  spirit  of  the  American  people  on  this  subject  was 
not  satisfied  by  a  mere  attempt  to  discontinue  the  im- 
port trade.  The  very  delicate  and  serious  work  of 
the  gradual  abolition  of  all  slavery  in  the  United  States, 
w.-)8  commenced  in  Pennsylvania  by  their  legislature,  in 
the  year  1779.  In  the  middle  states  the  absence  of 
all  danger  left  those,  who  had  first  in  America  en<lea- 
voured  to  obstruct  the  trade  by  duties,  at  liberty  to  adopt 
this  measure.  Considering  the  times,  however,  and  the 
contiguity  of  Pennsylvania  to  three  of  the  souther^ 
states,  it  is  probable  that  the  friends  of  abolition  there 
have  gone  the  whole  length  which  prudence  allowed. 


Vol.  I. 


This  was  written  before  the  late  momentary  war  of  the  profane  Indian  pretender,  calling  himself  (A;  Prophet. 
Part  II.  4  O 


658 


AMERICA. 


If  it  be  said,  that  they  ever  went  too  far,  it  proceeded 
from  personal  and  religious  teixlerness  towards  a  very 
large  and  very  unhappy  description  of  human  be- 
ings, according  with  the  characteristic  we  here  sug- 
gest. 

The  enlightened  humanity  of  those  who  wished  to 
arrest  importation,  impelled  them  to  exertions  for  the 
instruction  of  the  blacks  in  scholastic  knowledge,  and 
in  the  useful  arts  and  trades.  In  this  meritorious  and 
necessary  service,  and  in  the  more  important  duty  of  re- 
ligious instruction,  much  time,  abilities,  and  money,  are 
constantly  expended.  It  is  cojisidered  that  an  emanci- 
pated person  of  twenty-one  is  possessed  of  a  man's 
l)ody,  informed  often  by  the  knowledge  only  of  a  child. 
This  would  be  to  produce  strength  unattended  by  rea- 
son, dangerous  even  in  a  few  individuals,  but  highly 
formidable  in  multitudes  of  persons. 

Natural  affection*,  or  Uie  inutual  love  of  parent  and 
child,  is  an  amiable  and  precious  form  of  humanity.     It 
is  a  favourite  theme,  and  of  the  highest  estimation,  in 
-Ahe  judgment  of  the  moral  philosojjher.     It  is  an  inva- 
luable link  in  the  chain  of  domestic  and  civil  society. 
It  is  peremptorily  enjoined  by  religion.  In  our  munici- 
pal'regulations,  adopted  from  abroad  or  devised  at  home, 
the  peojjle  of  the  late  North  American  Provinces  in- 
creased the  influence  of  natural  affection  beyond  the 
rules  of  the  "  common  law"  of  the  empire.     In  England, 
before  our  revolution,   (and  it   is   at    this  time,)   the 
eldest  son  engrossed  all  the  real  property.  Sisters  older 
than  he,  and  brothers  and  sisters  younger,  were  unna- 
turally deprived   of  every  building,  and  of  every   por- 
tion of  the  father's  land,  of  every  perpetual  ground  rent ; 
and  where  (as  on  the  greater  part  of  our  slave  estates) 
they  were  considered  as  real  property,  the  sisters  and 
younger  brothers  were  deprived  of  all  the  slaves.  Thus 
families  bred  with  equal  indulgence,  and  even  the  ten- 
der sex,  were  sacrificed  to  the  pride  and  inhumanity  of 
primogeniture,  as  it  is  mostimproperly  called.  For  a  first 
Born  daughter  actually  has  not  this  fancied  right  against 
a  son,  who  is  younger.     Connecticut,  and  Pennsylvania 
in  the  greater  part,  did  away  the  English  common  law 
in  the  time  of  the  provinces.     So  probably  did  some 
others.     Last  wills  were  found  every  where  to  divide 
the  lands.     Since  the  American  revolution,  the  law  of 
descents  has  been  altered  in  favour  of  natural  affection, 
and  of  the  tender  love  of  female  children  in  all  the  states. 
The  manifest  inhumanity  of  our  old  English  law,  in  this 
respect,  is  now  every  where  rejected  in  the  United 
States.     The  descent  of  the  estates  of  persons  dying 
without  a  will,  to  distant  relations,  when  the  aged  father 
or  mother  remains  alive  and  there  are  no  children,  or 
widow  of  the  deceased,  has  been  considered  as  a  very 
unsound  and  painful  rule  of  the  common  law.     By  that 
law,  real  estates  do  not  aecend.  Some  of  the  state  legis- 
latures have  corrected  this  exceptionable   rule  of  the 
English  law,  giving  it,  under  various  circumstances, 
wholly  or  in  part,  to  the  fatber  and  mother.     The  pro- 
visions respecting  distribution,  tlowcr  and  descent  to 
women,  are  rendered,  in   some   other  respects,   more 
favourable  and  humane.  Moral  science  itself  appears  to 
have  been  defective  on  the  subject  of  the  rehttion  of 
husband  and  wife.     Much  more  so,  it  is  conceived,  have 
been  the  common  and  the  statute  law.     In  these  states 


we  have  gone  so  far,  in  the  cSse  bf  a  son  dying  intestate 
without  certain  relations,  ?3  to  give  the  whole  income 
of  the  real  estate  to  the  mother.  The  situation  of  the 
widow  has  also  been  meliorated  in  this  country.  Con- 
sidering the  female  sex,  as  they  truly  are,  unprotected 
by  any  share  in  the  government,  we  may  claim  from 
these  new  and  voluntary  attentions  to  their  helpless  con- 
dition, some  credit  for  a  refined  humanity . 

The  American  feeling  is  opposed,  on  the  score  of  prac- 
tical humanity,  to  the  custom  of  impressment.  It  is  often 
used  to  force  landsmen  away  from  their  connexions  to 
encounter  a  new  element.  Passengers  in  their  way  to 
their  property  or  families,  are  exposed  to  this  distressing 
operation.  The  young  seaman,  who  has  tried  the  stormy 
ocean  to  obtain  bread  for  a  widowed  mother  and  orphan 
family,  is  cruelly  torn  from  them  at  the  moment  of  his 
return;  and  the  married  sailor,  on  whom  alone  an  anx- 
ious wife  and  rising  family  depend  for  education  and  sub- 
sistence, is  only  allowed,  alter  a  long  voyage,  to  view,  at 
a  distance,  their  mournful  abode.  The  humanity  of  the 
people  of  these  states  will  never  allow  a  native  press- 
gang  to  erase  from  the  declaration  of  American  indepen- 
dence the  solemn  assurance,  that  the  honest  sailor  has 
the  same  fright  as  every  other  citizen  to  pursue  his  own 
happiness. 

The  value  and  strength  of  this  characteristic  trait, 
will  occasion  the  adduction  of  more  evidence  of  the  en- 
lighlcned  practical  humanUy  of  the  people  of  this  coun- 
try. 

We  shall  acquire  not  a  little  prool,  to  the  point  under 
examination,  iu  considering  our  penal  codes.  In  the 
solemu  and  reiterated  provisions  against  ecclesiastical 
tests,  and  other  infractions  of  religious  liberty,  and  in 
favour  of  the  rights  of  conscience,  we  behold  the  humane 
and  powerful  arm  of  a  free,  a  feeling,  aud  a  reflecting 
people,  tearing  from  their  penal  code  the  bloody  cata- 
logue of  agonizing  punishments,  with  which  impious 
men,  in  too  many  other  countries,  have,  for  a  season, 
subverted  religion,  and  afflicted  humanity.  Fines,  im- 
prisonments, privations,  exile,  and  torture,  (in  religious 
afifairs,)  are  held  by  us  to  make  uncharitable  barbarians 
of  every  branch  of  the  government*  that  inflict  them, 
and  of  all  the  people  who  can  bear  to  wituesa  their 
daily  use. 

The  defence  of  the  state  has  led  to  awful  severities 
in  other  countries,  in  the  punishment  of  treason.  The 
rack,  the  wheel,  fire  and  faggot,  decapitation,  embow- 
elling,  cutting  out  the  tongue,  and  tearing  out  the  heart 
of  the  crimin:il,  entailing  forfeiture  upon  the  unoffend- 
ing family,  and  even  the  malignant  corruption  of  their 
blood,  are  some  of  the  punishments  which  barbarou* 
man  has  inflicted  for  this  crime  upon  his  kind ;  often 
too  upon  his  own  kindred.  In  these  states,  humanity 
has  advanced  so  far  as  to  leave  it  in  the  power  of  the 
national  legislalure  to  reject  the  punishment  of  even 
the  least  [)ainlul  death  for  the  most  aggravated  treason. 
It  has  forbidden  to  that  legislature  the  ordaining  corrup- 
tion of  blood,  and  does  not  allow  it  to  direct  any  forfei- 
ture to  the  injury  of  the  widow  or  childrenf.  Thi-  of- 
fender alone  may  be  punished  by  the  deprivation  of  all 
estate  during  his  natural  life ;  but  it  is  left  iu  the  dis- 
cretion of  congress  to  determine  the  measure. 

In  several  of  the  states,  the   ancient  punishments 


*  The  Sto?v»  of  Ihe  raofHl  writers. 

\   It  w»«  M\pi\y  honouruble  to  American  humanity,  tliat  the  right  of  dower  was  not  destroyeJ  ia  some  parts  of  our  country  by  the  Trca. 
BBlAwSfin  Ue  revblutiooar)- war. 


AMERICA. 


639 


of  the  stocks,  the  pillory,  cutting  off  the  ears,  whip- 
ping, and  death,  are  abolished,  except  for  murder  of  the 
first  degree,  and  one  or  two  other  crimes,  for  which  an 
execution  by  hanging  may  be  awarded.  It  is  firmly  be- 
lieved in  this  country,  that  the  destruction  of  feeling, 
produced  by  public  exposure  at  the  stocks,  the  pillory, 
and  the  post,  occasions  a  desperation  in  the  criminals, 
as  to  regaining  character,  and  is  therefore  an  unwise 
and  inhuman  addition  to  the  minor  punisliments.  To- 
wards the  cidprit's  family  it  operates  as  a  corruption  of 
fame,  from  which  every  principle  of  justice  and  philan- 
thropy clearly  exempts  them.  To  the  wound  to  the 
family  character,  which  a  wicked  parent  or  husband  has 
inflicted,  the  people  of  this  country  will  uo  longer  make 
a  wanton  and  dreadful  addition.  Serious  doubts,  both 
religious  and  humane,  have  been  raised  against  the 
punishment  of  death.  The  Americans  are  making  a 
pious  experiment  of  admini:^tering  justice  in  greater 
mercy.  No  fatal  evil  can  attend  tho  trinl  nf  Ihpir  new 
plan.  No  doubts  have  ^et  arisen  ("rom  considerable  ex- 
perience. If  unhappily  it  should  be  found,  that  the 
punishment  of  death  cannot  ultimately  be  excluded  from 
our  code,  the  people  of  this  country  will  unfeignedly 
deplore  the  dreadful  necessity.  It  is  firmly  believed, 
and  it  is  humbly  trusted,  that  the  humane  citizens  of 
this  country  will  never  cease  to  weep  over  the  victims 
of  the  sword  of  inevitable  war,  and  of  impartial  jus- 
tice*. 

An  inestimable  mitigation  of  the  penal  codes  of  all 
other  nations  has  been  adopted  in  the  United  States,  by 
means  of  those  provisions  of  the  federal  constitutiou, 
which  expressly  forbid  all  our  legislatures,  as  well  of 
the  union  as  of  the  several  states,  to  pass  any  bill  of 
attainder,  or  any  law  ex  post  facto.  Laws  made  after 
the  commission  of  a  fact,  for  the  i>urpose  of  punishing 
the  commission  of  it,  are  against  all  notions  of  personal 
safety,  all  the  rules  of  justice,  all  ideas  of  humanity. 
They  have  been  a  dreadful  engine  in  the  hands  of  many 
governments.  They  fraudulently  reach  the  infliction  of 
the  severe  punishment  of  exile,  by  expulsion,  to  which 
the  humane,  policy  of  the  United  Americans  is  decidedly 
opposed.  Some  of  the  most  virtuous  and  eminent  cha- 
racters in  the  world  have  been  subjected  to  banishment, 
or  to  agonizing,  infamous,  and  fatal  punishments,  by 
these  retrospective  laws ;  and  that  too,  for  parts  of  their 
conduct  which  innocence  permitted,  which  patriotism 
and  philanthropy  enjoined,  and  which  no  authority  had 
previously  forbid.  The  poorest  citizen,  nay,  the  uncon- 
nected alien,  walking  with  decent  confidence  and  order, 
\inder  the  beloved  and  venerable  protection  of  known 
laws,  cannot  here  be  hurried  from  his  wretched  family, 
to  a  death  of  anguish  and  of  infamy,  by  the  inhuman 
contrivance  of  a  retrospective  statute. 

It  would  be  delightful  to  pursue  the  fruitful  inquiry 
concerning  this  godlike  characteristic  of  our  beloved 
country.  But  this  part  of  the  subject  will  be  closed, 
after  considering  the  topic  of  ilie  power  to  declare  war. 

The  American  people  remembered  that  this  power 
was  every  v/here  else  committed  to  the  ecclesiastical 
or  civil  princes  or  aristocracies.  The  actual  aud  imme- 
diate representatives  of  the  peojile  themselves,  who  are 
to  endure  the  expenses,  the  fatigues,  the  Mounds  and 
the  mortalities  of  war,  had  no  share  in  the  solemn  de- 
claration— no  power  to  forbid  such  a  declaration,  though 
manifestly  founded  on  light,  transitory,  or  unjust  causes. 


The  passions  of  princes  constantly  involve  unwillng  na- 
tions in  bloody  quarrels;  aud  the  sufifering  people  on 
both  sides  could  only  mourn  for  the  madness  of  the 
crowns  and  the  wanton  effusion  of  human  blood.  It 
was  surely  honourable  to  this  young  and  christian  nation, 
to  remember  the  injunctions  of  our  religion,  and  to  de- 
vise new  precautions  to  preserve  peace.  They  have 
therefore  given  to  those,  who  directly  represent  the  na- 
tion at  large,  and  to  those  who  represent  the  people  (in- 
directly,) of  the  seventeen  subdivisions,  in  the  several 
states,  the  whole  power  of  the  i>ubHc  sword.  The  de- 
puties in  senate,  of  nine  of  the  states,  can  preserve  us 
from  a  foolish,  passionate,  or  malignant  declaration  of 
war,  though  the  co-ordinate  deputies  of  eight  of  the 
states,  the  whole  of  the  immediate  representative  body, 
and  the  executive  magistrate  or  president,  with  all  bis 
auxiliary  officers,  were  ready  to  ordain  anil  to  make  war. 
Thus  have  we  sacrificed,  on  the  altar  of  humanity,  at 
home  and  abroad,  the  worst  passions  of  our  nature. 
Tlius  have  we  avoided  these  war  expenses,  which  lead 
governments  cruelly  to  griad  the  faces  of  their  own 
poor,  and  to  occasion  equal  miseries  to  the  innocent 
poor  among  their  enemies.  Thus  have  we  prevented 
the  rich  means  of  benevolent  systems  of  education,  em- 
ployment,andcharify,from  being  perverted  to  extinguish 
peace  and  good-will  among  men.  Thus  have  we  re- 
sisted the  barbarous  prejudices,  which  have  taught  ma- 
ny great  and  neighbouring  communities  to  forget  all  the 
charities  of  life  and  situation  towards  each  other,  and 
in  hollow  peace,  as  well  as  in  real  and  infuriated  war,  to 
consider  themselves  as  "  natural  enemies .'" 

Feeble  and  inefficient  as  our  government  is  repre«- 
sented  to  he,  we  have  extended  protection  and  justice, 
formerly  unknown,  to  the  remote  aborigines.  Eager  as 
we  are  said  to  be  for  the  profits  of  trade,  we  have  abo- 
lished the  commerce  in  the  natives  of  Africa.  Vitiated 
by  the  infusion  of  foreign  criminals,  as  we  are  pretend- 
ed to  be,  we  alone  have  taught  Europe  what  it  is  to 
exempt  our  fellow-men  from  the  unequalled  misery  of 
an  invaded  conscience.  Ignorant  and  unwise  as  foreign 
rivalship  would  describe  us,  we  have  collected  the  wis- 
dom of  every  code  of  laws,  divine  and  human,  and  of 
every  suggestion  of  our  minds  to  meliorate  the  condi- 
tion of  our  younger  sons,  our  beloved  daughters,  and 
the  lender  wives  of  our  bosoms — and  have  cast  indig- 
nantly from  us,  the  whole  unjust  and  barbarous  tyranny 
of  retrospective  legislation.  We  have  arrested  the  de- 
grading and  bloody  progress  of  the  penal  code,  and  car- 
ried the  tender  mercies  of  our  perfect  religion  into  the 
miserable  prisons  of  convicted  guilt,  teaching  the  hope- 
less criminal,  that  mercy  had  softened  the  wonted  rigour 
of  justice,  and  afforded  to  him  the  unexpected  opportu- 
nity of  an  availing  repentance.  By  the  new  forms  of  our 
solemn  and  binding  constitutions,  by  the  care  of  the 
blood  of  our  own  citizens,  by  the  sparing  of  the  means 
of  their  daily  bread,  of  their  youthful  instructions,  and 
of  their  family  establishments;  by  a  wise  forbearance 
towards  our  fellow-men  of  other  nations;  and  by  so 
true  an  obedience  to  the  injunctions  of  our  mild  reli- 
gion, do  we  claim,  of  an  impartial  and  observing  world, 
the  inestimable  character  of  practical  himanity. 

As  it  has  been  represented,  that  the  citizens  of  Unit- 
ed America  are  attached  to  the  true  principles  of  hu- 
manity, so  it  is  now  intended  to  be  maintained,  that 
they  are  sincere Jriexds  of  political  moralily. 


•  The  legislature  of  Fennsrlrania,  has  at  this  time,  1812,  vuider  consideration,  a  law  to  abolish  the  punislinicDt  of  death. 

4  0  2 


660 


AMERICA. 


The  law  of . nations  is  clearly  recognised  by  the  North 
Americans,  in  their  invaluable  constitution  of  public  wel- 
fare, union,  and  justice,  as  a  code  of  existing  rules  among 
civil  societies,  enjoining  on  each  what  is  right,  and  for- 
bidding to  all  what  is  wrong.  They  consider  the  law  of 
nations  as  the  public  lam  oftnarals.  Whatever  has  been, 
whatever  is,  and  whatever  may  be,  the  treatment  of  this 
general  law  by  the  sovereigns,  or  the  courts  of  other 
countries,  it  is  well  known  that  the  j  udiciary  department 
of  the  United  States  is  bound  to  adjudicate  by  those 
rules  of  political  morality,  which  are  to  be  collected  from 
the  great  system  of  this  prescriptive  or  common  law  of 
independent  states.  Aggrieved  and  injured  in  our  per- 
sons and  property  by  violations  of  this  hnv,  exceeding  all 
example,  we  have  never  consented  to  raise  our  voice  for 
its  future  abrogation.  We  have  not  countenanced  any 
derogation  from  its  true  force.  As  soon  could  we  think 
of  repealing  the  rules  of  honour,  of  private  morality,  or  of 
religion  itself.  They  compose,  in  truth,  altogether,  one 
great,  and  good,  and  binding  law,  with  a  precious  variety 
of  high  sanctions.  They  are  indeed  but  different  names 
for  the  same  inestimable  thing.  For  there  can  be  no  ho- 
nour, or  private  morals,  or  public  morality,  which  is  not 
founded  on  the  system  of  religion.  We  have  not  com- 
mitted to  our  executive  power  the  authority  to  dispense 
with  the  law  of  nations,  nor  have  we  accorded  to  the 
judges  permission  to  reject  its  venerated  rules.  We  have 
voluntarily  extended  its  benefits  even  to  those  Indians, 
who  were  not,  at  the  time,  within  any  of  our  municipal 
jurisdictions,  though  subject  to  the  power  of  our  arms. 
We  have  applied  it  between  our  contending  states,  be- 
tween every  state  and  the  Union,  between  a  state  and  an 
individual,  and  between  the  bo«ly  politic  of  our  whole 
confederacy  and  every  private  person,  whether  foreign 
or  native.  It  has  been  to  this  country,  in  and  out  of  our 
courts,  a  fixed  rule  of  conduct  and  of  judgment.  It  has 
been  our  constant  endeavour  to  maintain  its  salutary 
obligations  among  our  friends,  our  rivals,  and  our  open 
enemies. 

It  is  peculiar  to  the  constitutions  of  the  United  Ame- 
ricans, that  th?y  have  recognized  the  law  of  nations  as  a 
part  of  the  law  of  the  land,  while  other  countries  have 
permitted  it  to  suffer  the  most  serious  derogations  from 
the  hands  of  the  municipal  execulive  power.  National 
expediency,  susceptible  as  it  is  of  every  degree  of  inge- 
nious pretence  and  [lerversion,  has  not  been  allowed,  in 
the  United  States,  to  take  the  phice  of  those  accepted 
rules  of  political  moraliti),  which  are  calculated  to  pre- 
serve peace  on  earth  and  good  will  among  nations.  Prin- 
ces and  rulers,  as  well  as  private  men,  are  subject  to  the 
motions  of  conscience,  and  to  the  judgment  of  the  Al- 
mighty beyond  the  grave.  If  the  highest  temporal  ad- 
vantages ara  to  be  gained  to  a  nation  by  the  intentional 
destruction  txf  those  laws  vvhich  forbid  the  wanton  sa- 
crifice of  the  property  and  peo[ile  of  neighbouring  states 
for  every  light  and  transilory  cause,  for  every  bubble  of 
imaginary  honour,  let  the  Americans  continue  to  fore- 
go the  tf  mptalion.  It  cannot  be  laid  to  our  charge,  that 
by  contributing  to  annihilate  the  law  of  public  morals, 
we  have  run  into  each  other  the  extremes  of  the  civili- 
Kcd  and  savage  slate,  and  made  a  Tojihct  of  tire  terra- 
i)  jKOus  globe.  We  do  not  undertake  to  arraign  the  go- 
verumcots  of  other  countries,  for  such  is  not  at  all  the 
object  or  design  of  this  inqiury.  It  is  only  our  desire  to 
convince  the  uninformed,  that  the  mixture  of  ingredi- 
ents in  our  national  composition,  has  not  rendered  the 
whole  mats  of  a  negative  characttr,  or  pfjduced  any 


other  deplorable  effect,  derogatory  from  the  dignity  o£. 
human  nature,  or  contrary  to  the  great  plan  of  Divine 
Providence,  who  manifests,  in  the  free-will  oi)erations  of 
his  innumerable  and  variegated  creatures,  the  stupen- 
dous power  of  their  sole  Creator. 

If  success  has  attended  the  endeavour  to  prove  that 
the  United  Americans  are  the  friends  of  religious  liber- 
ty, of  humanity,  and  political  morality  ;  it  may  be  rea- 
sonably expected  that  they  have  a  considerable  sliare 
of  religious  character  ;  for  these  are  a  part  of  its  genuine 
elements. 

It  is  necessary  to  remember  in  relation  to  individnaU 
and  communities,  iha.t  yro/ession,  abroad  or  at  home,  is 
not  the  whole  of  true  religion ;  and  that  however  a  Di- 
vine Judge  may  require  the  reality  in  each  of  his  res- 
ponsible creatures,  tJu  character  of  nations,  on  this  sub- 
ject, is  really  comparative.  Barbarian  plunderers,  reject- 
ing every  good  rule  among  men,  must  be  deemed  inferi- 
or to  the  several  civilized  nations.  It  will  not  be  argu- 
ed that  we  are  as  pious,  as  just,  or  as  perfect,  as  we  ought 
to  be.  Nor  shall  we,  in  an  unworthy  spirit  of  self-righ- 
teousness, attempt  to  exalt  ourselves  above  any  particu- 
lar nation,  much  less  do  we  claim,  on  this  delicate  and 
all-important  subject,  merits  superior  to  all  others. 

From  the  mutual  charity  of  our  religious  societies,  by 
which  no  one  deprives  the  others  of  their  rights  in  tem- 
poral or  spiritual  affairs ;  from  the  equity  of  our  distri- 
butions of  the  good  things  of  this  world,  among  all  the 
children  of  our  families,  without  distiuction  of  ages  or 
sex  ;  from  the  increased  provision  for  the  tender  ob- 
jects of  conjugal  afSection,  and  for  the  venerable  parents 
of  our  human  lives  ;  from  the  principles  of  substantial 
equality,  on  which  our  constitutions  provide  for  the  dis- 
tribution of  right  to  ourselves  and  to  Aliens,  to  our  coun- 
try and  to  foreign  nations,  we  hope  and  trust,  (hat,  as  a 
people,  we  have  shown  no  uncommon  deficiency  of  re- 
spect for  the  first  member  of  the  Divine  command — 
"  Do  justice."  Torn  and  agitated  by  an  eight  years'  war ; 
left  in  a  distracted  condition  by  six  years'  absence  of 
federative  ligaments  :  the  unjust  passions  threatening  to 
overwhelm  us,  or  to  render  us  an  easy  prey  to  some 
foreign  destroyer,  we  rose,  in  the  strength  of  the  wis- 
dom and  virtue  which  heaven  had  infused  into  our 
characters;  we  rose  as  the  friends  of  man  lo  the  great 
rvork  of  rcfonniiig  the  empire.  In  all  our  endeavour* 
on  that  memorable  occasion,  to  bring  the  vessel  of 
the  state  into  the  port  of  safety,  eternal  justice  was  our 
polar  star.  Such  do  our  constitutions  prove  to  be 
the  piety  of  our  politics — the  true  religion  of  cur  civil 
instittttioHs.  Prudence,  Temperance,  and  Justice,  adora 
the  face  of  those  beloved  codes,  and  are  skilfully  trans- 
fused through  their  body  and  substance.  Mercy  too, 
as  we  have  already  shown,  shines  in  the  midst  of 
them,  with  the  mild  radiance  of  the  morning  star  ;  and 
where  justice  and  mercy  are,  there  surely  is  our  holy 
religion. 

It  is  thus,  as  a  nation,  considering  and  ordaining,  un- 
der the  favour  of  Divine  Providence,  for  ourselves  and 
our  posterity,  that  we  have  provided  a  wholesome  suc- 
cedaneum — a  glorious  substitution  for  an  established 
church. 

The  pomp,  the  luxury,  and  the  extreme  vohiptuoui- 
ness  of  the  church,  before  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ, 
required  his  reforming  power,  and  influence,  and  labour?. 
The  vain  pomp,  and  luxury  and  voluptuousness,  with  the 
anti-christiau  assumptioa  of  power,  of  the  church  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  again  dmDanded  the  effort  of  re- 


AJMERICA. 


(561 


formation.  The  contest  was  fluctuating ;  and  those  hu- 
man reformers  often  turned  their  impassioned  arms 
against  eacli  other.  The  victiniB,  on  both  sides,  in  many 
countries,  were  caused  to  shed  tears  of  blood,  and  were 
impiously  devoted  in  this  world  to  the  flaming  torments 
of  the  damned*.  Tlie  world  will  consider,  that  such  is 
not  the  religion  of  the  United  Americans.  On  the  con- 
trary, when  they  perceive,  even  in  this  day  of  general 
light,  that  some  countries,  nay,  some  churches,  in  Eu- 
rope, still  torture  the  body,  some  the  conscience  of 
man,  they  exclaim  in  deep  astonishment  and  sorrow, 
"  Merciful  God,  that  the  teachers  of  thy  religion  should 
ever  ivant  humanity .'" 

The  happy  simplicity  of  the  churches  in  America  oc- 
casions the  ministers  of  religion  not  to  be  led  into  those 
fatal  temptations,  which  have  produced  the  necessity  for 
the  great  reformations  in  various  ages.  It  is  a  reflec- 
tion favourable  to  man,  that  in  proportion  as  vice  is  not 
to  be  observed  in  persons  in  conspicuous  and  influential 
situations,  the  body  of  the  community  is  more  virtuous. 
So  far  therefore  as  religion  is  attained  by  abstaining 
from  many  evils,  the  United  Americans  exhibit  the  cha- 
racter. Nor  will  this  circumstance  Be  found,  on  consid- 
eration, of  little  importance,  or  of  a  negative  quality ;  for 
the  presence  of  habitual  vice  excludes  the  possibility  of 
the  presence  of  genuine  religion.  Considering  then  the 
ministers  of  religion  and  the  religious  societies  to  be  of 
moral  habits,  the  circumstance  is  of  great  importance, 
connected  with  the  other  evidences  of  a  religious  cha- 
racter. Blorality  too  may  be  said  to  keep  open  the  door 
for  the  entrance  of  religion,  while  immorality  prevents 
its  admission. 

An  attention  to  the  scholastic  and  religious  instruc- 
tion of  the  rising  generation  is  among  the  indispensable 
duties  of  a  pious  nation.  The  monies  expended  in  print- 
ing and  purchasing  books  necessary  to  such  instruction, 
have  greatly  increased,  are  at  thistime  very  considerable, 
and  seem  every  year  to  become  more  extensive.  Simi- 
lar observations  may  be  correctly  made  on  the  importa- 
tion of  books  for  the  same  purpose.  Every  male  youth 
is  taught  some  occupation,  trade,  calling,  or  profession ; 
for  it  is  held  that  independence  is  highly  favourable,  if 
not  absolutely  necessary,  to  virtue.  So  deep  are  the  im- 
pressions made  by  this  reflection,  that  it  has  given  rise 
to  thetlesire  of  bestowing  some  such  education  in  a  trade, 
occupation,  calling,  or  profession,  on  all  the  young  fe- 
males. To  them,  it  is  plain,  that  reputable  means  of 
subsistence  are  still  more  necessary  to  the  preservation 
of  their  many  and  their  precious  virtues.  Steady  ef- 
forts to  effect  such  meliorations,  resulting  in  ultimate 
success,  will  be  accepted  at  every  human  tribunal,  as 
evidences  of  a  religious  character.  Heaven  itself,  as  we 
humbly  trust,  will  survey  with  favour  and  approbation 
the  generous  heart,  guided  by  the  intelligent  and  vigo- 
rous mind,  in  its  virtuous  endeavours  to  secure  the  per- 
manent good  of  the  rising  generation. 

The  sincerity  and  genuine  goodness  of  the  religion  of 
the  Americans,  is  proved  by  the  enumerated  evielences 
of  their  humanity;  by  the  erection  of  churches,  more 
than  in  any  other  country,  by  means  of  voluntary  contri- 
butions; by  the  founding  of  hospitals,  and  other  charita- 
ble institutions,  before  they  have  established  galleries  of 


the  fine  arts  :  by  the  indulgence  which  they  extend  to 
every  emigration  from  foreign  countries,  of  persons  who 
have  endeavoured  to  exempt  religion  from  disgrace  and 
injury  iu  the  character  of  sober  reformers,  while  the 
churches  attempted  to  be  reformed,  are  kindly  indulged 
with  an  equal  tenderness.  There  are  some  things  in  all 
these  churches,  which  belong  to  the  true  religion.  In 
these  things  they  all  unite  and  accord.  By  these  things 
they  secure  to  themselves  the  merit,  and  to  our  country 
a  considerable  share  of  reputation  for  true  religion.  In 
lieu  of  persecution,  good-will  arises  among  men ;  and 
in  lieu  of  the  sword  of  human  power,  the  peace  of  Hea- 
ven in  the  church  upon  earth. 

This  part  of  our  inquiry  is  delicate  in  the  extreme  ; 
for  we  ought  ever  to  look  with  the  most  guarded  eye 
towards  the  dangers  of  hypocrisy,  of  self-righteousness, 
and  of  spiritual  pride.  It  is  therefore  from  the  fruits  of 
the  tree,  exhibited  in  their  religious,  civil,  benevolent, 
and  didactic  institutions,  that  it  has  been  thought  best  to 
deduce  the  character  of  the  United  Americans,  upon  the 
subject  of  true  neighbourhood  to  man,  and  humble  reve-* 
rential  love  to  the  Supreme  Being. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  country  have  declined  ostenta- 
tion in  all  matters  of  the  church  and  of  the  state.  They 
have  perhaps  more  than  any  other  people,  spiritualized 
religion.  The  instrumental  parts  in  the  diviue  worship 
among  them,  are  few  and  simple.  Their  estimation 
does  not  increase.  It  is  not  believed,  that  sacrifices 
and  oflerlngs  of  material  objects  can  be  of  any  value,  in 
the  sight  of  the  all-perfect  spiritual  Creator  and  pre- 
server of  the  universe.  The  conceptions  of  the  Ameri- 
cans, concerning  the  attributes  of  the  divine  nature,  are 
of  course  imperfect,  from  the  limited  powers  of  the  hu- 
man mind.  But  it  is  not  believed  easy  to  find  any  nation, 
whose  ideas,  on  this  profound  and  sublime  subject,  arc 
further  removed  from  the  grossness  of  idolatry,  and  the 
weakness  of  superstition.  The  coercive  dogmas  of  civil 
governments,  differing  often  as  much  from  religious 
truth  as  from  one  another,  are  not  necessarily  to  be  sup- 
posed to  comprehend  the  standard  of  the  divine  attri- 
butes. The  original  design  may  seem  no  inconsiderable 
presumption,  in  fallible  and  short-sighted  man.  To 
continue  their  operation  in  this  happy  country,  where 
the  freedom  and  elasticity  of  the  human  mind,  conse- 
quent on  the  various  reformations  in  ecclesiastical  af- 
fairs, is  remarkably  conspicuous,  would  be  to  partake 
deeply  in  the  error.  Instead  therefore  of  the  heathen 
mythology,  which  wrapt  the  Roman  people,  as  in  a 
dark  cloud  even  in  the  Augustan  age  ;  instead  of  the 
religious  dreams,  which  filled  Europe  in  the  fifteenth 
century  ;  and  instead  of  the  attributes  ascribed  to  hea- 
ven, by  discordant  governments  and  councils,  it  is  be- 
lieved to  belong  to  the  power  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man, 
to  instruct  him  in  the  nature  of  the  Being  we  were 
created  to  serve. 

A  high  inibpcndenl  personal  spirit  and  resolution,  are 
conceived  to  be  characteristics  of  the  United  Americans. 

Natural  causes  for  this  trait  of  character  are  found 
in  our  vicinity  to  the  dangers  of  the  ocean,  in  the  origi- 
nal wildness  of  our  country,  in  the  magnitude  and  num- 
bers of  our  bays,  and  our  rivers,  in  the  tonic  character^  of 
our  climate,  and  in  our  bright  sunshine,  which  favours  the 


•  The  peculiar  punishracat  of  burning  to  death  by  a  slow  fii'e  was  preferred  by  both  sides,  because  it  was  alleged  to  resemble  llell- 
fire. 

\  The  Sweet  Orange  tiec,  wliicli  Courishcs  in  the  latitude  of  40  degrees  north  in  Europe,  dies  for  want  of  steady  wsrinth  in  32  degrees 
N.  i«  the  Uuited  Stale;. 


CijSS 


A^IERICA. 


erectness  of  the  mincl.  The  effect  of  the  climate,  and 
other  natural  causes,  is  perhaps,  proved  by  tiiC  wonder- 
ful size  of  the  native  ilammotii,  and  the  warlike  temper 
of  tlie  red  Indigenes. 

But  the  moral  causes  of  our  national  character  are 
more  numerous  and  inQuentiai.  The  farly  American 
settlers  ncre  like  a  nation  of  Crusocs,  who,  having  left 
their  native  homes  in  search  of  religious  and  civil  free- 
dom, and  of  advancement  in  life,  were  cast  hy  Divine 
Providence  on  a  houseless  country,  and  had  every  thing 
to  do  for  their  own  defence,  comfort,  and  prosperity. 
Energy  is  life  :  The  want  of  it  is  pining  deiith,  in  such 
a  situation.  The  first  settlers,  and  several  classes  of 
successive  emigrants  from  Europe,  jvere  highly  excited 
in  mind,  and  toned  in  fibre,  by  the  incessant  duties  of  this 
real  condition  of  their  lives  and  bodies.  W  hen  success- 
ful exertion  has  raised  the  spirits,  and  invigorated  the 
frame  of  man,  courage  and  tJrmness  are  increased. 
When  reflection,  ingenuity,  perseverance,  and  other 
operations  of  the  mind,  have  occasioned,  accompanied, 
directed,  and  approved  our  bodily  exertions,  a  higher 
spirit  is  produced.  The  children  of  the  earlier  settlers 
were  born  and  educated  under  such  parents,  and  in  like 
circumstances.  The  long  series  of  emigrants  from 
Europe  came  by  degrees  among  such  a  people.  The 
contiguous  and  adjacent  forests  presented  to  both,  du- 
ties similar,  though  less  formidable  and  rigorous ;  but, 
enough  perhaps  to  produce  the  potent. body  and  the  de- 
termined spirit. 

The  attractive,  hardy,  and  laborious  pleasures  and 
business  of  the  chase,  dear  and  important  enough  in  a 
political  view  to  find  a  place  in  the  enumeration  of  our 
rights  in  many  of  the  American  constitutions,  confirmed 
this  characteristic  of  our  provincial  people;  and  the 
frequent  incursions  of  bur  Red  neighbours,  with  the  sur- 
rounding provinces  of  rivals  and  enemies,  till  the  treaty 
of  Paris  in  1703,  had  a  strong  and  similar  effect. 

The  original  opposition  to  Great  Britain  excited  a 
solemn  attention  to  arms  and  military  topics  through- 
out United  America.  That  great  event,  and  the  final 
separation  from  our  late  empire,  produced  that  peculiar, 
general,  and  organized  armament  of  the  people  of  this 
country,  which  is  called  the  militia :  a  real  constitutional 
arming  en  masse :  a  mighty  two-edged  sword  to  refist 
invasion  from  abroad  and  oppression  at  home  :  to  oj)- 
jiose  domestic  violence  and  maiutain  internal  pcKce,  or- 
der, and  government.  The  course  of  the  revolutionary 
war  gave  many  occasions  for  the  actual  service  of  this 
numerous  body  :  of  this  body,  which  is  every  where  pre- 
sent. On  the  hanks  of  the  Savannah,  in  the  glorious 
field  of  Saratoga,  at  liundreds  of  intermediary  places, 
tho  American  militia  were  called  upon  to  endure  the 
sufferings,  or  to  perform  the  successful  duties,  of  a  regu- 
lar army.  In  no  other  country  has  the  body  of  the  peo- 
ple received  the  lessons  of  an  eight  years'  internal  war. 
Independently  to  own  and  to  use  their  arms,  is  an- 
other of  the  rights  of  all  Americans,  which  they  have 
caufed  to  be  solemnly  engraven  on  the  immutable  ta- 
blets of  their  public  liberties.  The  universal  solicitude, 
prudence,  and  vigilance  on  the  subject  of  this  right,  i8 
an  evidence  of  the  erect  spirit  of  the  nation  ;  and  in  no 
otlter  parlicnlar  does  the  leniper  of  the  adopted  accord 
more  perfectly  with  that  of  the  most  determined  native 
citizens.     The  true  value  of  defensive  arms  can  be 


known  perfectly  only  by  a  people  thus  entitled  and  accus- 
tomed to  possess  auU  to  employ  them. 

The  activity,  vigour,  and  success  of  the  private  arm- 
ed ships  of  the  United  States,  in  the  war  of  the  revolu- 
tion, and  indeed  in  all  the  wars  in  the  times  of  the  pro- 
vinces,areindisputableand notorious;  and  whatever  may 
be  the  prowess  at  sea  of  any  other  nation,  the  courage, 
enterprise,  and  effect  of  the  American  navy,  according 
to  its  force,  have  ever  been  undisputed,  conspicuous, 
and  honourable. 

To  the  revolutionary  army  of  the  United  States  be- 
longs the  solid  military  reputation  of  supporting  an  eight 
years'  struggle  of  a  nation  of  less  than  two  millions  of 
whites,  against  one  of  six  or  seven  times  their  num- 
ber. To  them  belongs  the  palm  of  complete  ultimate 
success,  won  too  in  scenes  of  privation  and  of  sutl'ering, 
to  which  their  enemies  were  perfect  strangers.  To 
them  the  contest  was  complicated :  the  trials  severe. 
Through  the  night,  the  struggle  was  often  to  bear  up 
against  those  extreme  privations,  which  abate  the  bo- 
liiiy  energies  even  of  the  bnive.  Through  the  follow- 
ing day,  the  bloody  conflict  was  successfully  maintained 
agaiiut  a  well  pro^'ideil  and  veteran  enemy,  under  the 
anin  ating  influences  of  health  and  plenty. 

The  Ii.dian  wars  of  the  United  Stales,  which  have  oc- 
curred since  the  close  of  the  revolution,  will  furnish 
evidence  of  the  spirit  and  resolution  of  the  United 
Americans.  Whatever  were  the  issues  of  the  first  ac- 
tions, the  courage  and  fortitude  of  the  whole  of  the  lit- 
tle armies  were  fully  manifested.  It  would  be  easy  to 
prove  that  those  sult'erings  arose  from  causes  foreign 
from  the  valour  of  the  Americans.  But  Braddock  failed 
with  an  Euro()ean  force  as  well  as  these.  In  a  late  con- 
flict of  the  American  army  with  our  Red  neighbours,  the 
bravery  of  the  troops,  and  the  various  merits  of  the  gal- 
lant Wayne,  acquired  a  victory  lor  the  United  States,  to 
which  our  Indian  history  records  no  equal.  The  daring 
onset,  and  the  hot  pursuit,  broke  down  the  yielding  foe, 
and  forced  the  deluded  savages  to  give  the  blessed  olive 
to  our  country's  vows*. 

The  conduct  of  the  United  States  towards  the  Barbary 
powers  has  partaken  more  of  the  coercive  character,  in 
proportion  to  our  strength  and  to  our  navy,  than  the 
treatment  of  those  powers  by  any  other  nation.  Our, 
prisoners  there,  have  endured  their  trials  with  unex- 
ceeded  fortitude  ;  and  the  conflict  in  the  harbour  of  Tri- 
poli has  convinced  this  nation  and  all  mankind,  that  it  is 
practicable  for  each  of  the  great  maritime  states  to  de- 
stroy the  force  and  activity  of  their  predatory  fleets,  and 
the  fortifications  which  protect  their  naval  stations,  la 
our  struggles  with  them,  the  determined  dauntless  s;)irit 
of  the  officers  and  seamen  of  the  navy  of  the  United 
Slates  has  shed  a  splendid  honour  on  their  own  charac- 
ters and  on  their  country's  name. 

True  tnagnanimity  is  at  the  head  of  the  same  family, 
as  au  elevated  and  firm  spirit.  The  deportment  of  the 
United  States,  therefore,  towards  their  native  savages 
and  the  states  of  Barbary,  merit  consideration,  in  an 
inquiry  into  their  character  for  determined  courage. 
Debellare  superlos  seems  to  have  been  their  object, 
from  a  mere  sense  of  the  duty  of  defence.  But  having 
overcome  the  arrogant  hostility  of  the  savages  in  our 
own  country,  and  of  the  barbarians  of  Tripoli,  parcere 
s-uhjectis  appears  to  be  the  noble  disposition  of  their  pub- 


*  The  action  <inder  governor  Harrison  and  colonel  Rord  has  occurred  since  this  inquiry  vas  written  ;  and  confirraa  tlie  character  of 
the  army  of  ike  United  States,  and  of  the  militia,  in  respect  to  o  hi^h  personal tjiiril  and retolution. 


AMERICA. 


663 


iic  councils  anil  of  llie  people  of  America  at  large.  We 
hear  no  inurraurings  of  the  nation,  that  their  government 
have  not  songht  revenge,  or  still  fought  lor  "  the  bubble 
rcpiUation,''  on  the  shores  of  our  lakes,  or  on  the  coasts 
of  Barbaiy.  Whatever  were  our  injuries  from  savage 
and  barbarian  violence,  in  the  days  of  their  delusion  and 
insolence,  as  soon  as  we  had  enforced  upon  them  a  cor- 
rect deportment,  and  taught  them  the  fatal  errors  of 
their  conduct,  we  have  allowed  them  to  learn,  that  a 
righteous  enemy,  though  brave  to  their  own  knowledge, 
can  suffer  and  forgive.  Of  what  avail  are  the  lessons 
of  the  best  of  religions,  if  after  attaining  the  just  ends  of 
a  reluctant  war,  we  are  not  willing  to  accept  peace  ? 

The  course  of  events  since  the  American  revolution, 
and  particularly  since  the  commencement  of  that  of 
France,  may  have  been  occasionally  thought  to  require 
war  on  our  part,  as  a  high-spirited  and  injured  people. 

As  to  the  periotl  included  between  the  treaty  of  peace 
in  178.3,  and  the  adoption  of  the  present  constitution  in 
1789,  it  may  be  correctly  observed,  that  our  all-impor- 
tant revolution  wee  not  then  completed.  Far  was  it  from 
being  sufficiently  matured  and  confirmed.     When  the 
states   had  revised  and  regulated  their  own  separate 
constitutions ;  when  some  that  were  too  extensive  had 
effected,  in  peace,  convenient  and  salutary  divisions  of 
their  territory  and  jurisdiction;  when  the  critical,  com- 
plicated, and  litigated  case  in  the  north  had  been  con- 
clusively settled  by  the  voluntary  entry  of  Vermont, 
as  a  distinct  member,  into   the  present  union;  when 
the   late   crown   lands   of  the  western  territory    were 
ceded,  and  the  western  posts  were  surrendered  to  con- 
gress ;  when  the  great  territorial  litigations  among  the 
states  were  conceded,  adjudged,  or  compounded;  when 
the   new  federal  constitution  of  perpetual   union    had 
been  framed,  adopted,  and  amended  ;  then,  indeed,  did 
it  appear  to  the  sober-minded  and  intelligent  citizens, 
that  the  revolution  of  the  United  States  was  consum- 
mated, matured,  and  confirmed.    Till  the  actual  comple- 
tion of  all  these  things,  numerous  indeed  were  the  con- 
siderations, which  might  persuade  any  nation,  in  our 
predicament,  however  brave  and  full  of  resources,  to  re- 
frain from  war.  With  the  evidences  of  spirit  which  have 
been  suggested,  it  will  not  appear  a  want  of  gallantry  in 
our  citizens,  or  of  firm  resolution  in  our  councils,  to  have 
retained  us  in  i)eace  during  the  ten  years  which  fol- 
lowed the  last  general  treaty  of  Paris,  in  1783. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  French  revolution,  some 
of  the  considerations  which  have  been  just  stated  con- 
tinued to  require  our  anxious  attention.  The  stupen- 
dous workings  of  that  great  event,  transcendently  infiu- 
ential  from  day  to  day,  and  awfully  portentous,  as  to  ob- 
vious consequences,  imposed  upon  the  Americans  cor- 
responding obligations.  Every  feeling  of  their  own 
bosoms,  of  their  neighbours,  of  their  rivals,  of  their 
enemies,  and  of  the  powerful,  jealous,  and  resentful  bel- 
ligerents, was  excited  to  the  highest  pitch.  Many  eyes 
were  cas-t  on  plentiful  and  energetic  America.  The 
convulsions  of  nations  were  incessant  and  wonderful. 
The  circling  billows  were  every  where  felt  in  Europe, 
and  reached  the  distant  shores  of  the  United  States. 
Had  we  inconsiderately  partaken  in  the  war,  it  would 
have  been  without  a  possibility  of  benefit.  Instead  of  a 
conflict  of  an  ordinary  character,  all  the  enormous  pas- 
sions of  the  most  wonderful  crisis  in  human  affairs 
would  have  raged  against  our  unnecessary  interposition 
in  a  distant  contest.  Prudence  advised,  and  a  brave  spirit, 
»8  it  is  conscientiously  believed,  did  not  forbid,  a  golemu 


determination  to  stand  or  fall  on  the  soil  of  our  coiui' 

This  digression,  if  it  may  be  so  denominated,  seemed 
necessary  to  the  consideration  of  some  other  moral 
causes,  which  appear  to  have  contributed  to  the  spirit 
and  resolution  of  the  American  character. 

From  the  original  cheapness  of  land,  from  the  equal 
division  of  intestate  and  devised  property,  from  the  sus- 
pension of  much  of  our  commerce  in  the  revolutionary 
war,  and  from  the  predominant  agricultural  genius  of 
North  America,  it  is  safe  to  suggest,  that  there  are 
more  landholders  in  the  United  Stales,  in  proportion  to 
numbers,  than  in  any  other  country  in  the  world.     Of 
course  it  follows,  that  there  are  fewer  poor  and  depen- 
dent labourers.     In  tlie  states  where  there  are  black  ser- 
vants, whatever  are  the  bad  consequences  in  rarious 
other  respects,  the  elevation  of  spirit  produced  by  the 
contrasted  condition  of  the  slaves,  is  manifest  and  un- 
deniable.    The  planter  is  always,  in  some  respects,  like 
a  military  officer,  on  his  own  farm.     His  house  is  in  \, 
degree   armed ;  his  discipline  regular  and  strict;   his 
vigilance  keen  and  incessant.  Nor  is  this  a  singular  ac- 
companiment of  personal  slavery.    The  heroes  of  Ther- 
mopyla;,  the  w  arlike  Lacedemonians,  had-  their  Htlots  ; 
ami  ancient  Rome,  whose  arms  subdued  the  remotest 
nations  of  the  known  world,  exempted  her  citizens  from 
menial  services,  by  the  labour  of  slaves.     Even  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  people  into  plebeians,  or  commons  and 
privileged  urrters,  has  been  contended  to  elevate  the 
courage  of  some  princes  and  nobles.     We  must  repro- 
bate the  cause,  and  lament  its  existence,  whether  the 
ancient  plebeians  or  modern  slaves  are   the  unhappy 
means  of  producing  this  effect;  but  we  cannot  with 
correctness  deny  its  existence  in  the  American  cha- 
racter.- 

Plainness  and  simplicity,  by  diminishing  the  number 
of  imaginary  wants,  produce  independence  of  situation 
and  of  mind.  So  does  the  facility  of  finding  employ- 
ment, and  of  acquiring  property.  The  human  mercury 
falls  below  its  natural  degr«e,  under  the  chilling  influence 
of  miserable  poverty. 

The  causes  and  nature  of  the  various  institutions  of 
the  United  States,  religious  and  civil,  have  combined 
to  produce  the  noblest  elevation  of  the  public  mind. 
The  manifestoes  and  declarations  of  the  American  Con- 
gress, from  the  time  of  its  original  foundation,  display 
the  evils  which  the  people  were  unwilling  to  suffer,  the 
increasing  determination  to  obtain  a  remedy,  a  clear 
developement  of  rights  and  interests,  a  rejection  of  all 
authority  and  institutions  which  were  unjust,  illegal,  or 
dangerous,  and  the  creation,  by  their  own  will,  of  new- 
delegations  of  power,  and  institutions  calculated  to  se- 
cure the  princijiles  and  execution  of  free  government 
in  the  church  and  in  the  state.    The  volume  of  the  pub- 
lic acts,  of  the  disquisitious  and  constitutional  character, 
issued  with  all  the  authority  of  the  nation,  from  the  first 
proceedings  in  1  774,  to  the  time  of  the  completion  of  our 
existing  national  instrument  of  union,  will  be  found  to 
contain  more  to  elevate  the  spirit  of  man,  and  preserve  that 
spirit  end  and  vigorous,  than  is  recorded  in  the  history 
of  any  other  nation.  The  true  and  natural  result  is,  that 
iudependant  man  here  knows  not  any  laws,  save  those 
which  choice  and  common  good  ordain — no  master,  save 
preserving  Heaven. 

Another  general  characteristic  of  the  North  Ameri- 
cans is,  that  in  their  temporal  affairs,  they  are  a  people 
of  intelligence  and  exertion. 


664 


AMERICA. 


The  first  atfempfs  to  settle  this  country  were  only 
two  hundred  years  ago.  The  territory  of  the  United 
States  was  then  one  extended  and  unproductive  forest. 
In  two  centuries  we  have  risen,  from  the  poor  condi- 
tion of  importing  all  things,  to  export  by  water,  in  a 
single  year,  property  to  the  vast  amount  of  one  hun- 
dred and  eight  millions  of  dollars.  If  we  add  to  that 
prodigious  sum,  the  exports  by  land  to  the  foreign  pro- 
vinces and  to  the  savage  tribes  around  us,  the  supplies 
consumed  within  the  country  by  transient  foreigners, 
the  value  of  the  vessels  which  arrive  and  depart,  the 
ships  sold  to  foreign  persons,  the  cargoes  carried  from 
the  fisheries  without  coming  into  port  and  passing 
tlirough  the  custom-houses,  and  the  net  outward  freights 
in  our  own  vessels,  (all  of  which  constitute  a  part  of  the 
surplus  income  of  the  land  and  industry  of  the  country,) 
we  may  safely  compute  the  wonderful  aggregate  at  one 
hundred  and  twenty  millions  of  dollars  iu  a  single  year.. 
It  may  be  said,  that  this  is  the  momentary  result  of  an 
extraordinary  state  of  things.  But  yet  the  wliole  busi- 
ness was  actually  done,  and  the  United  Americans  have 
proved  their  right  to  the  character  of  intelligence  and 
exertion  in  using,  so  well,  a  transitory  opportunity. 
They  seized  "  the  fide  in  the  afifairs  of  life,  which  led 
to  fortune." 

But  if  the  ordinary  business  of  the  country,  in  its  ex- 
ports, freights,  and  other  modes  of  operation,  which  have 
been  just  now  detailed,  will  amount  only  to  half  the  sum, 
■where,  it  may  be  asked,  is  the  country  which  shows  a 
like  amount  for  a  population  less  than  eight  millions  ? 
The  shipments  of  the  three  British  kingdoms  are  not  so 
valuable  in  proportion  to  their  people,  deducting  those 
which  Great  Britain  sends  to  Ireland,  and  Ireland  to 
Great  Britain;  deducting  all  the  internal  excises  which 
remain  on  the  goods,  and  the  export  duties  with'which 
they  are  charged ;  and  allowing,  as  is  done  above,  one 
half  its  highest  amount  for  the  extraordinary  advantages 
they  also  have  had  in  their  greatest  year.  But  a  large 
addition  to  the  estimate  of  the  industry  of  the  United 
Americans  remains  to  be  made.  The  amount  of  the 
value  of  our  annual  clearings  of  land,  of  buildings  in 
our  towns  and  in  the  country,  and  of  other  improvements 
of  the  cities,  farms,  mill-seats,  canals,  roads,  and  other 
fixed  objects,  is  very  considerable.  An  accurate  com- 
putation of  the  whole  of  our  exports  and  im[)rovements 
appears  to  justify  the  opinion,  that  we  are  equal  in  the 
intelligence,  energy,  and  avails  of  our  exertions,  to  any 
other  nation.  We  have  industriously  traversed  every 
sea;  and  in  a  few  years,  we  have  made  new  towns, 
districts,  Counties,  and  states,  out  of  our  immense  for- 
ests. 

The  natural  demand;  the  presence  of  the  raw  mate- 
rials, which  agriculture  and  commerce  supply ;  the  in- 
genuity of  native  and  naturalized  artists ;  and  the  im- 
pediments to  commerce,  have  produced  a  rapid  growth 
of  the  manufactures,  which  began  vrith  our  early  settle- 
ments, and  which  have  arisen  since,  from  time  to  time. 
The  greatest  consumers  in  the  world  of  animal  food,  we 
export  none  of  the  skins  of  domestic  animals :  we  im- 
port many  :  we  manufacture  all.  So  of  hemp,  flax,  wool, 
and  metida.  Much  of  these  is  imported :  none  is  ex- 
ported worthy  of  notice,  except  a  little  iron  :  nearly  all 
of  these  are  manufactured.  Twenty  years  ago,  cotton 
was  worth  two  shillings  sterling  in  America,  because 
some  of  our  jealous  foreign  friends  happily  forbade  its 


shipment  hither.  We  coMmenced  its  cultivation ;  and 
we  now  find  it  at  one-third  of  the  price.  Its  rightful 
exportation  is  interfered  with:  the  promotion  of  its 
manufacture  is  therefore  full  as  rapid,  as  was  the  ad- 
vancement of  its  cultivation.  Such  a  people  must  know 
how  to  work.  They  must  be  willing  to  labour.  It  is 
suggested,  that  they  are  not  a  manufacturing  people  ; 
but  they  have  had  intelligence  and  energy  enough,  even 
in  this  business,  for  which  uninformed  persons  allege 
they  are  unfit,  to  make  annually  the  whole  of  their  wool, 
flax,  hemp,  skins,  metals,  and  some  other  raw  materials, 
into  a  great  mass  of  useful  things,  to  thrice  the  value  of 
all  their  exported  proiluctions.  What  must  be  the  bo- 
dies and  minds  of  a  people,  lightly  considered  as  merely 
agricultural  and  commercial,  who  shall  be  found,  on  a 
careful  inquiry,  and  after  fair  estimates,  to  have  imper- 
ceptibly reached,  in  the  least  supposable  line  of  their 
national  industry,  to  the  interesting  amount  of  nearly 
one  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  dollars  ? 

It  was  deeply  lamented  by  the  sagacious  and  patriotic 
De  Witt,  that  Holland,  in  his  time,  had  yet  among  her 
population  a  considerable  numrierof  the  ancient  Flemish 
noble  families,  with  large  trains  of  unnecessary  menials, 
averse  to  every  form  of  useful  exertion.  Among  the 
untitled  Americsms,  there  are  no  such  causes  for  politi- 
cal regret.  The  equal  division  of  intestate  property,  and 
the  faithful  operation  of  natural  affection,  in  the  forma- 
tion of  our  wills,  have  destroyed  the  seeds  of  such  a  de-' 
scription  of  men ;  and  our  law  of  naturalization  obliged 
the  foreign  nobleman  to  divest  himself  of  such  an  ap- 
pendage, l)efore  he  can  enter  into  our  political  famil}', 
in  the  character  of  a  citizen. 

Evidences  of  genius,  in  the  various  branches  of  hu- 
man industry,  and  of  success  in  the  practice,  arc  not  rare 
in  young  and  simple  America.  The  name  of  Hitter.' 
house,  as  a  mechanical  operator  and  philosopher,  is  yet 
to  be  equalled,  by  the  children  of  science  and  the  useful 
arts,  even  in  modern  Europe.  The  ever  active  and  sa- 
gacious mind  of  Franklin,  subjected  each  busy  trade  to 
its  uncommon  powers,  guiding  thera  all  with  profound 
science,  and  with  intuitive  wisdom ;  yet,  soaring  far 
above  this  useful  walk,  he  tempered  the  rigour  of  hu- 
man government,  and  drew  from  the  thundering  atmo- 
sphere its  fiery  dangers.  The  energetic  talents  of  our 
countrymen,  seeking  employment,  unceasingly  erass; 
some  valuable  commodity  from  the  list  of  our  import*; 
by  new  inventions,  or  the  skilful  execution  of  the  disco-' 
veries  of  Europe.  In  naval  architecture,  within  the' 
limits  of  our  past  occasions,  tl)e  world  has  given  us  the. 
most  favourable  award.  The  .American  whaler,navigator, 
and  mariner,  have  no  superiors.  AVe  have  Tnade  our- 
selves the  cultivators  of  the  cotton  of  the  worid ;  and 
lately  we  have  obtained,  after  many  a  fraitless  elTort, 
ttie  golden  fleece.  We  could  have  long  since  given  to 
our  agriculture,  certain  efficacious  supports  by  means 
ofinternalindusfrjsifothcr  considerations  of  momentary 
weight  had  not  persuaded  us  to  defer  the  sure  and  prac- 
ticable measures.  The  United  Americans  have  lent 
to  the  school  of  the  fine  arts,  in  the  metropolitan  state 
of  our  ancient  empire,  a  distinguished  class  of  painters, 
the  children  of  nature;  and  the  presidency  of  their  Royal 
Academy  has  been  awarded,  with  an  honourable  superi- 
ority over  prejudice,  to  a  native*  of  the  American  state*. 
It  may  be  correctly  affirmed,  as  a  conclusive  truth  upon 
the  subject  of  intelligence  and  energy  in  the  field  of  the 


*  Sir  Beojamin  Wot,  who  wM  bom  tod  educated  in  Fcaiu^lnai*. 


AMERICA. 


G65 


fBeful  art«,  that,  as  we  hare  nerer,  till  the  introduction 
of  the  cotton  cultivation,  possessed  a  quantity  of  any  raw 
material  beyond  our  actual  manufactory  of  it,  so  our  iu- 
dusfry  and  skill  were  really  lioiited  by  the  want  of  addi- 
tional means  of  employing  them,  that  is  to  say,  by  the 
manifest  deficiency  of  raw  materials. 

The  combination  of  hydraulic  and  mechanical  science, 
in  the  construction  of  mills,  for  every  variety  of  business, 
is  a  useful  and  intelligent  operation,  for  which  the  citi- 
zens of  America  are  justly  distinguished.  It  is  true, 
that  their  situation  occasions  the  constant  eliciting  of 
the  useful  powers  of  man ;  but  ex  quovis  ligno  nmi  Jit 
Mercurius:  if  the  Americans  had  not  the  natural  capa- 
city and  practical  skill  and  exertion,  mere  occasion  could 
not  draw  forth  these  works  of  intelligence  and  energy. 
Other  nations  require  the  milled  nail,  the  purified  alco- 
hol, the  unmalted  beer,  the  self-moving  steam-boat,  the 
quadrant*,  the  electric  rod,  and  the  revolving  and  pro- 
phetic planetarium ;  but  heaven  ordained  them  to  rise 
from  this  infantine  country.  A  few  lustres  only  hiive 
rolled  over  our  heads,  since  we  had  no  moneyed  capital. 
We  had  then  the  means,  to  proli'er  to  the  foreign  v.orld 
an  exportation  worth  but  eighteen  millions  of  dollars. 
We  have  now  a  capital  of  one  hundred  and  eight  mil- 
lions of  dollars  in  exportable  articles,  and  more  than 
forty  millions  in  ships  and  vessels.  Cattle,  rice,  grain, 
tobacco,  and  indigo,  become  redundant,  and  decline  in 
price  :  Ave  invent  the  farming  in  cotton  f.  Cattle,  rice, 
grain,  tobacco,  and  indigo,  rise  in  value  by  the  diversion 
in  their  favour  made  l»y  the  cotton  cultivation.  But  cot- 
ton is  raised  to  the  immense  amount  of  seventy  millions 
of  pounds;  and  becomes  redundant.  We  then  resume 
rice  and  indigo  in  part,  and  em|)loy  many  of  the  cotton 
labourers  in  the  cultivation  of  sugar,  and  in  the  propa- 
gation of  the  best  of  sheep.  The  hand  of  foreign  vio- 
lence arrests  our  crops  of  cotton  upon  the  free  ocean. 
We  manifest  the  impolicy  of  this  lawless  conduct,  by  the 
promotion  of  manufactures,  and  create  a  sure  and  new 
support  to  our  own  agriculture.  Thus  do  we  tread  the 
profitable  round  of  sound  intelligence  and  honest  indus- 
try, in  the  peace  of  heaven  and  of  our  favoured  land,  un- 
hurt, nay,  prospering,  amidst  the  war  of  nations,  the 
wreck  of  empires,  and  the  fall  of  thrones. 

The  rights  of  property,  which  are  in  their  nature 
founded  in  pure  morality  and  sound  policy,  are  objects 
of  intelligent  regard  and  decided  attachment  in  the 
United  States.  This  is  a  real  and  very  important  cha- 
racteristic of  the  Americans. 

Our  federal  and  state  constitutions  forbid  ex  post  facto 
laws,  and  statutes  impairing  the  obligations  of  contracts, 
as  derogatory  from  the  rights  of  property.  They  forbid 
the  states  to  make  any  paper  bills  a  legal  tender  in  pay- 
ment of  debts,  or  to  authorize  their  courts  to  lessen  the 
i'ecurity  of  property  provided  by  treaties.  In  most  of 
the  states  a  judgment  of  a  court  enables  the  creditor  to 
proceed  to  sell  real  property,  which  is  not  the  case  by 
the  law  of  England.  No  bank  notes  are  made  a  tender 
to  pay  debts  due  to  private  persons  in  the  United  Slates. 
A  mortgage  here  works  an  actual  hypothecation  or 
pledge  of  real  property,  and  in  most  of  the  states  a  sale 


may  be  made  in  one  year,  the  great  and  small  coins 
of  United  America  are  of  genuine  gold,  silver,  and  cop- 
per, worth,  with  the  expense  of  coinage,  more  than  the 
nominal  value.  There  are  none  of  mixed  or  base  me- 
tals. 

Literary  composition  is  conceived  to  be  on  a  v^.ey 
sound  and  useful  foundation  in  the  United  States.  Tiic 
written  productions  of  the  Americans  have  flovved  almost 
entirely  from  real,  and  generally  from  important,  occa- 
sions. The  political  disquisitions  between  England  and 
this  country,  upon  the  subject  of  the  claims  of  the  for- 
mer, and  the  rights  Oi  the  latter,  in  the  interesting  period 
which  intervened  between  the  peace  of  1703  and  that 
of  1733,  were  learned  in  constitutional  law,  and  sound, 
on  the  American  side,  especially  the  manifestoes  of 
congress.  The  principles  of  the  English  statutes,  and 
particularly  of  tlu  declaratory  acts  relating  to  the  United 
States  and  to  Ireland,  were  opposed  with  profound 
abilities  and  with  success;  for  the  Irish  act,  which  was 
like  the  American,  was  repealed  by  the  English  parlia- 
ment. That  of  America  was  not  decided  by  the  pen. 
The  correspondence  of  the  American  officers,  during 
the  revolution,  was  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  British. 
The  faithful  pen  of  secretary  Thompson  is  known  by 
every  diplomatic  man. 

The  constitutions  of  the  United  States  are  full  of  the 
relative  principles  of  law  and  moral  science,  well  ap- 
plied and  perspicuously  arranged. 

Centuries  passed  without  a  regular  and  separate  dis- 
quisition of  the  British  constitution,  when  at  length  De 
Lolme,  of  Switzerland,  presented  a  handsome  attempt 
in  a  single  volumej.  The  first  year  of  the  constitution  of 
the  United  States  gave  birth  to  a  more  voluminous,  and 
far  more  learned  and  profound  disquisition  of  that  brief 
but  pithy  instrument,  under  the  title  of  "  the  Federalist," 
from  the  pens  of  Hamilton  and  Madison. 

"  Tlie  Defence  oftlu  Constitutions  of  the  United  States," 
as  they  existed  in  the  time  of  our  first  confederation  of 
1781,  is  a  collection  of  historical  materials,  of  more  ex- 
tent than  any  at  this  moment  remembered,  upon  the 
subject  of  forms  of  government.  They  are  susceptible 
of  application  to  very  useful  purposes,  in  combination 
with  other  materials,  if  properly  used  by  a  writer  of 
sound  constitutional  principles. 

Since  the  separation  of  America  from  England,  a 
new  branch  of  law  writing  has  become  necessary.  The 
American  reporters  are  numerous  and  increasing.  A 
number  of  books  which  have  been  prepared  in  scenes, 
in  which  strict  common  law  notions  have  been  always 
prevalent,  are  highly  meritorious.  A  number  of  equal 
merit  have  arisen  within  the  spheres  of  the  regular 
courts  of  equity  or  chancery.  The  rest  contribute  ma- 
terially to  the  promotion  of  justice,  though  less  confor- 
mable to  technical  regularity  §. 

America,  in  this  very  early  stage  of  her  existence,  has 
produced  an  epic  poem  of  real  merit,  founded  on  the 
great  event  in  her  own  recent  history,  which  occasioned 
her  to  assume  a  i)lace  among  the  nations  of  the  earth. 
The  imagery,  machinery,  and  ornaments,  are  fictitious. 
The  events  are  recorded  by  the  head,  the  heart,  and 


•  Called  IlatUey's,  bnt  really  inTented  by  our  Godfrey,  of  New  Jersey. 

■)•  I'liblicly  reeommended  by  ihe  writer  of  thia  artirle,  in  1786  and  1787. 

t  Mr.  Hume  has  shaken  all  fjiitti  in  Mr.  De  Lolme,  in  the  minds  of  wise  and  Itarned  Englishmen.  Mr,  De  Lolme  is  completely 
refutrd,  as  to  the  colomal constittitions,  by  the  American  writers. 

§  The  principal  Knglish  reporters,  abridgcrs,  and  elementary  writers,  have  been  republished  in  the  United  States,  with  addition* 
and  notes  suited  to  the  sitiite  of  our  local  jurisprudence.  Several  of  the  most  interesting  works  of  the  European  civilians,  and  partiou- 
lavly  of  those  who  have  treated  of  the  law  of  nations  an<I  of  mercantile  law,  have  been  translated  from  the  Latin  and  French — enrichetf 
with  learned  notes.     And  we  have  a  number  of  valuable  original  elemeiitary  tre^Uses  adapted  to  the  law  of  our  own  country.    Eoirosst 

Vol.  I.     Part.  11.  A  P 


m 


AMERICA. 


the  hand  of  truth.  If  considered  in  a  manner  unconnec- 
ted with  the  prejudices  of  that  time,  or  of  this,  and  if  it 
be  remembered  that  to  write  a  history  of  tlie  living  ge- 
neration, is  the  task  of  uncommon  minds,  rendered  far 
more  difficult  by  a  poetic  dress,  the  impartial  world  will 
give  to  our  country  a  very  liberal  credit  for  this  fruit  of 
its  genius  and  learning. 

In  no  species  of  literary  composition  have  the  people 
of  the  United  States  exhibited  greater  or  more  diversi- 
fied knowledge,  or  more  real  abilities,  than  in  the  wri- 
ting of  essays  upon  the  various  interesting  subjects  of 
the  day.  The  chamber  of  the  press  may  be  considered 
as  a  great  national  forum,  co-extensive  with  our  domi- 
nions, in  which,  from  its  substantial  freedom,  every  per- 
son is  at  liberty  to  rise  and  deliver  his  sentiments,  for 
the  consideration  and  judgment  of  his  country.  With 
minds  as  free  and  firm  as  our  institutions,  it  is  easy  to 
believe,  that  writings  of  the  most  precious  value  may 
thus  appear.  Nothing  can  be  suppressed.  Every  thing 
may  be  discussed.  Truth,  which  is  ordained  even  from 
infantine  minds,  flows  often  here  from  the  untutored  pen, 
while  genius  and  learning  have  also  their  full  oppor- 
tunity to  instruct  and  to  inform. 

Errors,  however  supported,  may  be  ultimately  ex- 
ploded by  means  so  potent  and  free,  though  interest 
may  govern  and  modify  the  conduct  of  influential  and 
powerful  individuals. 

Considering  how  much  the  history  of  this  country  was 
involved  in  that  of  our  late  entire  empire  till  1776,  it  is 
a  strong  fact,  upon  the  subjcc,t  under  consideration,  that 
fourteen  histories,  general  or  partial,  on  the  American 
subject,  have  been  written  in  this  country,  and  perhaps 
more. 

1  It  is  considered  thnt  geographical  dictionaries,  manu- 
als, and  systems,  as  well  general  as  American,  for  pue- 
rile and  juvenile  instruction,  and  for  the  information  of 
mature  and  strong  minds,  have  been  com|)iled  and  writ- 
^.ten  with  uncommon  correctness  in  this  country. 

In  the  poetic  walk,  the  general  appearances  are  yet 
rather  symptomatic  than  decisive.  The  taste  in  poetry, 
particularly  in  our  own  language  and  in  the  Latin,  is 
discriminating,  correct,  refined,  and  elevated. 

Literature  and  science  have  intimate  and  important 
relations  to  the  theory  and  practice  of  medicine.  The 
range  of  study,  requisite  to  the  formation  of  a  successful, 
and  particularly  of  a  learned  jdiysician,  is  undoubtedly 
more  extended  than  that  which  is  necessary  even  to  the 
more  important  character  of  a  minister  of  rt- ligion,  as 
well  as  to  those  of  a  practitioner  of  the  law,  a  judge,  or 
a  chancellor.  There  is  no  department  of  learned  com- 
position, to  which  the  United  States  have  recently  ap- 
plied greater  attention,  than  that  connected  with  the 
healing  art,  and  the  philosophy  of  medicine.  We  may 
safely  claim  a  very  considerable  share  of  the  requisite 
talents,in  this  benign,  indis|)ensable,and  elevated  branch 
of  human  affairs.  Many  of  the  physicians  of  the  United 
States  have  studied  in  Europe,  in  the  schools,  and  under 
the  direction  of  Linneeus,  Hunter,  Cullen,  Munro,  Four- 
croy,  and  Chaptal,  and  other  eminent  teachers  in  medi- 
cine, and  now  exhibit  a  successful  combination  of  the 
genius  and  practice  of  the  new  world,  with  the  learning 
and  experience  of  the  older  nations. 

From  tiie  form  and  nature  of  our  governments,  the 
communications,  reports,  and  correspondence,  of  the 
principal  officers,  are  voluminous  nnd  frequent.  They 
display  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  right  theory  and 
practice  of  public  affaire. 


The  American  character,  on  the  subject  of  interesting 
and  much  injured  woman,  is  nature  meliorated  and  re- 
fined by  reason,  humanity,  morals,  and  religion.     The 
seraglios  and  nunneries,  which  respectively  injure  the 
character  and  happiness  of  Turkey  and  Italy,  are  both 
here  unknown.     Woman,  in   America,  receives  more 
justice,  enjoys  freedom,  and  is  the  best  and  truest  friend 
of  man.  Not  only  our  hearts,  but  our  just  minds,  confess 
their  merits ;  and  since  virtue  is  wisdom,  we  are  led  to 
question,  in  their  favour,  the  sujterior  sense  of  men, 
whose  characters  are  imbued  with  rapine,  voluptuous- 
ness, tyranny,  crafty  devices,  and  wild  ambition.     The 
influence  and  authority  of  woman  is  most  high  in  that 
religious  society,  which  approaches  as  near  as  any  other 
to  the  true  standard  of  religion,  morals,  and  public  use- 
fulness ;  or  in  other  words,  to  the  most  sound  criterion  of 
public  and  private  wisdom  and  virtue.     One  happy  and 
conclusive  evidence  of  the  real  merits  and  of  the  strong 
influence  of  the  women  of  this  country,  is  to  be  found 
in  the  rarity  of  conjugal  infidelity  in  that  part  of  society, 
in  which  it  is  most  frequent  in  the  old  world.     The  in- 
creasing attentions  of  parents,  brothers,  guardians,  and 
husbands,  to  female  education  and  improvement,  and 
the  progressive  melioration  of  our  laws  on  the  female 
subject,  are  substantial  proofs  of  a  reflected  attachment 
to  our  mothers,  our  wives,  our  daughters,  and  our  sis- 
ters.    Not  only  the  feudal  system,  but  every  minute 
fragment  of  that  scheme,  which  considered  women  a» 
noughts  in  the  creation,  is  abrogated  in  America.  Consi- 
dering woman  as  subjected  to  a  variety  of  injuries,  by  her 
defenceless  and  attractive  nature,  the  American  cha- 
racter, upon  this  subject,  is  not  less  estimable,  than  that 
of  any  otherpeople  of  former  ages,  or  ofthe  presen;  time. 
The  term  of  American  existence  is  nol  yci  thirty-iour 
years,  (1 809.)    Considering  our  numbers  as  two  millions 
of  white  persons  in  the  first  year,  and  seven  now,  the 
medium  is  found  at  three  millions  and  one  half.     For 
a  number  so  inconsiderable,  the  jiersons  of  high  esti- 
mation, who  have  lived  in  that  sliort  period,  are  surely 
not  few.     Were  it  not  lin'ile  to  o!jections,  it  is  be- 
lieved, that  ten  or  twenty  luimrs,  not  inferior,  in  high 
desert  and  talent,  to  an  equ-.i  i.ioportion  from  any  other 
country,  according  to  its  poiijli'lion,  might  lie  safely  in- 
scribed upon  the  tablet  of  competition.     The  weight  of 
such  a  fact  is  the  more  important,  because  the  Ameri- 
cans of  the  last  thirty-rour  j'cars,  were  not  educated  for 
public  life  ;  and  were  unexcited  by  the  rich  collections, 
in  every  walk  of  human  talent,  which  elicit  the  genius 
of  man  in  the  old  world.     Many  of  our  best  and  wisest 
men  had  not  seen  Europe  before  (hey  were  high  in  the 
records  of  deserved  fame.     Many  have  never  seen  any 
country  except  our  own.     If  we  <lesire  to  appreciate  the 
benefits  of  an  adventitious  intimacy  with  the  works  of 
humanity,  industry,  art,  and  science,  upon  the  youthful 
mind,  we  may  find  them  in  the  rich  and  variegated  ac- 
quisitions of  the  concjuering   Romans  from  su'yiigated 
Greece.     In  half  a  century  after  the  fall  of  .\thens,  illu- 
minated It.ily  slione  in  its  brightest  age.     It  is  not  the 
voice  of  partiality  ora(lu':ilion,  Iherelore,  which  suggests 
for  the  liberal  consideration  of  the  world,  as  tin-  judges 
in  our  cause,  that,  nor  Washington,  nor  Greene,  nor 
Riltenhouse,  nor   Hamilton,   nor  Madison,  ever  beheld 
the  instructive  exhibitions  of  enlightened  Europe. 

The  amalgamating  influence  of  the  course  and  con- 
dition of  things  in  A'nerica,  is  manifested  by  the  actual 
character  of  the  He!  rew  nation,  residing  among  us. 
Thib  circumstance  will  be  found  to  prove,  that  however 


AMERICA. 


087 


different  are  the  sonrces  from  which  our  population  is 
extracted,  the  powerful  influences  upon  the  hearts,  un- 
derstandings, and  habits  of  all,  who  reside  here,  occasion 
them  to  acquire  the  same  characteristics.  The  mutual 
huimosities  subsisting  in  Europe  between  Christians 
and  Jews,  and  between  Jews  and  Mahometans,  do  not 
prevail  at  this  time  in  America.  The  Hebrew,  left  to  the 
theocratical  power,  which  here  governs  the  conscience 
of  man,  has  no  cause  to  hate  or  to  fear  his  Christian 
neighbour,  who  does  him  no  injury  in  mind,  body,  or 
estate.  When  a  Mahometan  sultan,  in  times  not  very 
remote,  has  caused  a  itrocession  in  Constantinople,  at 
every  mile  of  which  a  Jew  was  ordered  to  be  slain,  the 
Hebrews  among  us  have  thanked  our  common  Father  in 
heaven,  that  they  enjoyed  peace  and  the  rights  of  con- 
science in  this  land.  When  they  found  that  American 
Christians  thus  extended  humanity  and  love  to  every 
neighbour,  they  ceased  to  despise  Christiansas  hypocriti- 
cal professors  of  a  mild  and  tender  religion,  which,  in 
too  many  other  countries,  was  impiously  turned  into  a 
church  of  persecution  and  cruelty.  The  inconsistencies 
of  proclaiming  peace  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  when 
the  oppressed  or  tortured  Jew  could  find  no  peace,  and 
of  converting  the  simplicity  and  self-denying  character  of 
Christianity  into  pomp,  voluptuousness,  and  a  thirst  of 
power,  they  did  not  find  here.  They  unite,  therefore, 
with  us,  as  men,  as  citizens,  as  patriots,  in  the  love  of 
God,  our  common  Creator,  dilTering  from  their  neigh- 
bours in  their  private  minds,  inasmuch  as  they  believe 
the  Messiah  is  yet  to  come.  Most  reverently  submitting 
the  consciences  of  ourselves  and  of  these  fellow-crea- 
tures to  the  divine  power,  which  ean  command  the 
light  to  shine  upon  them  and  us,  it  is  sufficient  for  our 
inquiry  to  ascertain,  that  the  Hebrews  from  England, 
Italy,  Spain,  Germany,  and  Portugal,  are  assimilated  to 
us  in  many  essential  particulars,  and  that  their  minds 
are  amalgamated  with  those  of  the  other  United  Ameri- 
cans, in  the  love  of  religious  and  civil  liberty,  humanity, 
virtue,  and  knowledge.  As  a  description  of  men,  the 
Hebrew  citizens  were  generally  attached  to  the  revolu- 
tion of  the  United  States ;  and  they  are  at  this  time  as 
friendly  as  any  other  church  whatsoever  to  the  princi- 
ples of  our  free  constitutions. 

It  may  be  correctly  iiRrmed,  that  no  people,  equally 
civilized,  have  derived  the  principles  and  structure  of 
their  various  institutions  in  so  great  a  degree  from  their 
own  will,  mind,  and  power,  as  the  United  Americans. 
We  are  more  original  than  any  others  in  our  policy  and 
economy.  Nor  have  any  people  varied  so  much  from 
systems  prevalent  in  the  Old  World,  as  we  have  done 
in  the  two  centuries  of  our  existence.  The  world  has 
surely  passed,  in  its  freest  parts,  to  greater  despotism ; 
and  we  have  progressed  to  greater  freedom.  Liberty 
has  been  won  by  the  sword,  and  confirmed  by  the  coun- 
cils of  the  United  States.  If  we  reflect  upou  the  civil 
and  religious  constitutions  of  Great  Britain,  and  upon 
her  internal  economy,  at  the  era  of  our  separation,  it 
will  be  found  thatour  country  has  materially  altered  both, 
and  much  more  than  Great  Britain  herself.  As  (he 
changes  in  America  result  from  the  proceedings  of  se- 
venteen subordinate  and  one  general  legislature,  the 
uniformity  of  the  national  character  is  manifested  to  be 
Qiuch  greater  than  has  heretofore  appeared  to  superficial 
observers. 

In  this  country,  one  language  is  spoken  by  all  the  white 


people,  with  a  very  small  exception,  principally  in  a  single 
state*,  among  persons  who  have  been  for  a  long  lime 
settled  and  patriotic  inhabitants.  We  mean  the  Ger- 
mans. These  have  always,  through  their  own  numerous 
gazettes,  the  fullest  information  of  the  business,  politics, 
and  general  affairs  of  the  United  States.  In  the  coun- 
try, from  which  we  have  been  separated,  four  several 
languages  are  spoken  by  numbers  of  persons  in  the  four 
European  grand  divisions.  In  three  of  those  languages, 
no  publications  respecting  the  affairs  of  the  country  are 
ever  made.  Three  religions  bear  a  forcible  sway  by  the 
operation  of  law  or  of  natural  strength.  The  colonies  are 
remote  from  the  metropolitan  state,  and  widely  separat- 
ed from  each  other  by  situation,  habits,  and  interests. 
These  observations  are  not  made  with  an  invidious  de- 
sign ;  but  if  nations  claiming  national  character  are, 
in  truth,  so  diversified  by  natural  and  moral,  or  habitual 
circumstances,  it  may  be  fairly  presumed,  that  we  also, 
less  diversified,  may  really  possess  national  characteris- 
tics. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  versatile  character  of  man  is 
quickly  formed  and  altered  by  the  influence  of  natural  or 
moral  causes.  It  is  therelbre  imgwrtant  that  general 
principles  are  so  universally  and  decidedly  established, 
after  mature  consideration,  in  the  United  States,  as  to 
produce  universal  eflects ;  and  this  too  upon  aliens  as 
well  as  natives.  The  laws  are  not  only  to  govern,  but 
to  protect  the  orderly.  This  coincides  with  the  interests 
and  feelings  of  the  many,  whether  foreign  or  American. 
They  all  rejoice  in  the  circumstance,  because  it  gratifies 
their  self-love  and  promotes  their  interests.  It  is  rea- 
sonal>le  to  believe,  that  no  men  would  more  earnestly 
oppose  an  inquisition,  a  conscription,  an  impressment,  a 
picketing,  the  torture,  or  an  established  church  in 
America,  than  those,  who  have  fled  from  their  native 
homes  to  enjoy  our  happy  exemptions  from  those  great 
and  obvious  evils.  This  description  of  men  might  be 
safely  expected  to  endure  every  hardship,  and  suffer  all 
the  severities  of  persecution  and  warfare,  before  they 
would  relinquish  our  protecting  constitutions. 

The  form  and  nature  of  our  country,  without  conquer- 
ed annexations,  or  dependent  colonies,  occasion  the 
condition  of  the  Americans  to  exhibit  a  perfect  civil 
uniformity,  unknown  and  impracticable  in  any  other 
maritime  empire,  and  highly  influential  upon  the  unifor- 
mity of  the  national  character.  The  white  and  free 
black  inhabitants  are  all  included  in  this  observation  ; 
for  if  is  a  truth,  that  the  free  blacks  regularly  adopt  and 
display  the  institutions,  apparel,  furniture,  and  habits 
of  the  whites.  They  are  generally  Episcopalians,  Cal- 
vinists,  and  Methodists,  in  those  places  where  all  the 
Christian  sects  are  within  their  free  observation.  It 
would  be  very  difficult  to  adopt  a  civil  constitution,  by 
which  the  white  inhabitants  of  the  West  Indian,  South 
American,  and  East  Indian  colonies  of  the  European 
states,  could  fully  partake  in  their  respective  national 
governments.  Yet  it  is  found  not  only  easy  in  this  coun- 
try, but  really  necessary  to  the  just,  convenient,  and 
uniform  operation  of  our  principles  and  systems.  illa;i 
is  justly  contemplated,  by  our  laws  and  by  our  political 
science,  as  an  intelligent  creation  of  the  divine  power. 
It  is  known  that  the  highest  intellect  of  the  red  and 
black  races  of  men  is  sensibly  better  than  that  of  the 
feeblest  of  the  whites.  As  we  cannot  discriminate  as 
to  rig}Us  &mOBg  the  whites  by  the  principle  of  intellect, 


*  Put  of  the  people  of  German  descent^  in  the  state  of  Penntylrania. 

4P2 


fi68 


AMERICA. 


the  same  rule  pr-esses  itself  npon  our  regard  with  re- 
spect to  tlie  free  people  of  the  reil  and  black  races. 
Divine  providence  has  ordained  the  existence  of  the 
coloured  races  of  men,  and  we  believe  and  know,  that 
the  same  supreme  authority  has  imperiously  oidain- 
ed  humanity  and  justice  among  his  intelligent  and  re- 
sponsible creatures.  Our  institutions,  therefore,  con- 
sider all  men  alike.  We  endeavour,  with  care,  pains, 
and  expense,  to  civilize  the  Red  people,  and  to  persuade 
them  to  embrace  our  political  economy,  our  civil  insti- 
tutions, our  morals,  and  our  religion ;  or,  in  other  words, 
to  conform  to  our  national  plan  of  public  and  private 
happiness.  So  of  the  blacks,  in  certain  degrees,  times, 
and  places;  though  it  is  true  and  manifest  that  their 
numbers  and  their  condition,  with  many  attending  cir- 
cumstances, r<;nder  the  operations  of  justice,  humanity, 
and  an  enlightened  policy  towards  them, awfully  danger- 
ous at  this  time,  and  insupportably  costly,  and  conse- 
quently very  gradual,  deliberate,  and  arduous.  Their 
natural  condition  is  a  manifest  dispensation  of  the  divine 
hand  ;  and  when  it  shall  appear  in  a  future  day,  that  the 
humanity  of  our*  white  people  has  raised  the  blacks 
from  the  African  condition,  which  is  but  a  little  higher 
than  the  next  inferior  class  of  beings,  to  the  knowledge 
and  practice  of  the  salutary  arts  of  civilization,  morals, 
and  religion,  the  meritorious  choice  of  good  on  the  part 
of  the  whites,  will  be  thereby  humbly  manifested  to  the 
universal  Father  of  men. 

The  comparative  wisdom  and  virtue  of  the  large  de- 
scriptions of  men  in  various  nations,  who  hold  the  nu- 
merous bodies  of  slaves,  which  exist  within  their  re- 
spective countries,  is  a  fair  subject  of  consideration ; 
and  it  is  believed  that  it  cannot  be  justly  made  to  ai)pear 
to  the  disadvantage  of  those  of  North  America.  The 
citizens  of  our  slave  states,  and  the  northern  slave- 
holders, liave  consented  to  and  co-operated  in  the  mea- 
sures of  this  country  for  the  arrestalion  and  abolition  of 
the  slave  trade.  They  have  softened  the  rigour  of  the 
ancient  slave  laws.  They  have  improved  the  apparel, 
food,  habitations,  and  general  treatment  of  the  black 
people.  In  most  of  those  states  and  districts,  where 
safely  permits  the  measures,  they  have  adopted  a  sys- 
tem for  the  gradual  abolition  of  slavery,  and  entered 
upon  the  operation  by  numerous  emancipations,  and  by 
the  substitution  of  a  contracted  service  for  a  term  of 
years,  in  lieu  of  personal  and  hereditary  slavery.  Did 
the  laws  of  Greece  and  Rome  go  further  ?  Do  those  of 
the  mo<lem  empires  of  Europe  go  so  far,  in  respect  to 
their  white  cerfs  or  African  slaves  ? 

When  it  is  considered  with  what  ease  and  prompti- 
tude doctrines  so  new  as  those  of  the  Newtonian  philo- 
sophy were  adopted  in  all  free  countries,  and  even  in 
others,  though  tiiey  were  the  fruit  of  the  wisilom  and 
learning  of  a  single  mind,  it  will  not  be  considered  as 
improbable,  that  the  political  principles  of  the  North 
Americans,  and  their  manifest  beneficence  to  the  many, 
should  as  easily  and  promptly  become  objects  of  adop- 
tion and  attachment  to  those  persons,  who  arrive  among 
us  from  other  climes.  These  acceptable  principles  oc- 
casion all  men,  who  have  not  opposing  interests  or  pre- 
judices, to  rally,  as  it  were,  around  them,  to  partake  of 
their  nature  and  spirit,  and  thus,  in  line,  to  exhibit  the 
same  characteristics.  Republican  principles,  or  in  other 
words,  their  own  just  rights  and  substantial  interests, 
must  be  acceptable  to  the  unbiassed  mass  of  every  com- 


munity ;  and  tliis  must  occasion  them,  where  it  is  safe 
and  lawful,  to  be  naturally  embraced  and  exhibited. 
Many,  nay,  aU,  may  enjoy  here  these  personal  rights. 
A  few  only  can  enjoy  the  advantages  of  aristocracy  and 
hierarchy  :  one  of  despotism  or  unlimited  monarchy. 
The  citizensofthiscountry, therefore, aswell  naturalized 
as  native,  easily  and  quetly  assimilate  themselves  in  a 
prudent  opposition  to  the  power  of  a  few,  and  in  an  open 
legitimate  maintenance  of  the  rights  of  the  whole  of  the 
members  of  the  community. 

As  the  United  Americans  have  displayed  a  distinct,  a 
strong,  and  almost  a  peculiar  character  on  the  impor- 
tant subject  of  religious  liberty,  so  they  have  very  con- 
siderably distinguished  themselves  hy  their  theory  and 
practice  in  civil  polity. 

The  present  North  American  constitutions  are  su- 
preme written  laws,  sanctioning,  recognizing,  and  adopt- 
ing, however,  the  law  of  nations,  and  the  comnwn  Ian  of 
our  original  confederated  empire.  They  place  in  a  state 
of  reparation  and  mutual  independence,  in  a  more  con- 
siderable degree  than  any  other  country,  the  legislative, 
executive,  and  judicial  powers.  It  is  on  the  subject  of 
removal  from  an  office,  and  incapacity  to  (ill  another,  in 
consequence  of  guilt,  that  the  senatorial  branch  of  the 
legislature  exercises  the  on/j/ judiciary  power,  which  is 
not  entirely  confined  to  the  judicial  courts  of  law,  equity, 
and  admiralty.  But  the  senate  can  award  no  punish- 
ment in  person  or  in  property. 

It  is  on  the  subject  of  apjjointment  io  ofiice  and  of 
treaties  with  foreign  powers,  that  the  senatorial  branch 
of  the  legislature  exercises  the  only  executive  power, 
which  is  not  entirely  confined  to  the  president  of  the 
United  States,  and  his  various  aids  and  suliordinates  in 
the  national  government. 

It  is  in  a  qualified  negative  on  the  bills,  prepared  for 
enacting  into  laws,  that  the  president  possesses  the  only 
legislative  power,  which  is  not  strictly  conBned  to  tlit 
congress  of  the  United  States.  But  the  president's  veto 
is  precisely  modified ;  for  if  two-thirds  of  the  congress 
shall,  on  reconsideration,  approve  of  a  constitutional 
bill,  it  becomes  a  binding  and  eflective  law,  although  it 
may  have  received  the  negative  of  the  president,  accom- 
panied by  his  reasons.  The  congress,  then,  composed 
of  the  representatives  of  the  seventeen  states  in  the 
senatorial  house,  and  of  the  representatives  of  all  the 
landholders  and  legitimate  citizens,  in  the  national  house 
of  representatives,  are  the  suprenu  organ  oftlu  sovereign- 
people  of  the  United  States.  Nearly  all  the  emolumenu 
of  public  ofiice,  power,  and  authority,  are  specifically 
granted  by  this  legislative  congress,  in  which  no  judi- 
cial, executive,  military,  or  naval  officer,  can  hold  a 
seat. 

There  is  no  religious  te&t  under  the  constitution  of 
the  United  States;  nor  can  such  test  be  prescribed  by 
their  statutes,  it  follows,  therefore,  that  no  person  can 
be  disqualified  from  exercising  any  ofiice  or  pow«r  by  hi* 
religious  opinions,  or  profession.  The  established  oaths 
are,  one,  "  to  support  the  constitution  of  the  United 
States,"  and  another,  faithfully  to  execute  the  public 
trust,  on  which  the  functionary  is  at>out  to  enter. 

The  provisions  of  the  constitution,  on  the  subject  of 
the  army,  prevent  troops  being  raised  by  the  executive 
power,  or  president :  so  of  the  navy.  The  army  cannot 
be  provided  for  more  than  two  years  at  a  time,  even  by 
the  legislature.     The  practice  is  to  provide  their  ex- 


*  Tlic  United  Americans  led  tbe  Europeani  into  die  Rbolition  of  the  (tare  trade. 


AMERICA. 


penses  for  one  year  at  a  time.  The  practice  respecting 
the  navy  is  the  same,  as  to  an  annual  provision. 

Tlie  judges,  even  in  chancery  and  in  the  admiralty, 
are  independent  of  the  people,  of  the  legislature,  and  of 
♦he  executive  power,  being  commissioned  to  act  during 
good  behaviour,  which  commission  cannot  be  vacated, 
but  by  death,  resignation,  or  conviction  on  an  impeach- 
ment by  the  house  of  representatives,  as  the  grand  in- 
quest of  the  nation,  and  after  trial  before  the  senate,  as 
the  tribunal  assigned  for  the  decidiug  on  impeachment. 
So  as  to  the  common  law  judges. 

The  members  of  (he  legislature,  to  preserve  their  in- 
dependence, and  military  officers  by  land  and  sea,  can- 
not be  impeached.  All  other  public  functionaries,  be- 
ing considered  as  "  civil  officers,"  can  be  impeached. 

The  unlawful  acts  of  all  public  officers,  subject  them 
to  trials  for  crimes  and  damages  at  (he  suit  of  the  Uni- 
ted States,  of  a  particular  state,  or  of  individuals. 

There  is  no  civil  impediment  fo  the  election,  employ- 
ment, or  appointment  of  a  minister  of  religion  in  any 
itation,  civil,  military,  or  naval,  under  the  constitution 
of  the  United  States. 

All  facts  are  ascertained,  under  the  same,  by  trial  by 
jury,  in  civil  as  well  as  criminal  -cases.  Testimony  in 
the  courts  of  law  is  oral,  except  in  the  case  of  going, 
sick  or  aged  witnesses  in  civil  suits,  or  those  who  are 
out  of  the  jurisdiction :  so  in  the  admiralty.  In  the 
courts  of  chancery,  testimony  is  allowed  to  be  oral  and 
written. — All  witnesses,  in  criminal  cases,  are  subject 
to  be  confronted,  in  open  court,  by  the  accused  with 
his  counsel.  In  such  cases,  the  jury  is  required  to  be 
of  the  vicinage. 

Military  officers,  by  land  and  sea,  may  be  subjected 
to  criminal  or  civil  proceedings  in  the  courts  of  law,  to 
criminal  proceedings  in  the  courts  martial,  to  calls  and 
detentions  from  places  of  authority  and  importance,  and 
to  executive  removals  from  office. 

A  numerical  census  of  the  people  of  the  United  States 
was  taken,  after  the  commencement  of  government,  un- 
der the  federal  constitution,  to  fix,  by  polls,  the  propor- 
tion of  representatives.  The  same  operation  has  been 
twice  repeated  after  lapses  of  ten  years,  for  the  same 
purpose,  in  execution  of  a  rule  of  the  constKution.  It 
is  ever  hereafter  to  be  performed  once  within  ten 
years. 

The  senatorial  branch  is  made  to  represent  the  seven- 
teen* several  states  or  members  of  the  American  imion, 
by  two  senators  from  each  ;  in  order  that  the  great  may 
not  injure  the  small,  and  that  this  important  branch  of 
the  government  may  ever  faithfully  and  effectually  pre- 
serve the  due  weight  and  the  existence  of  the  states. 
They  are  respectively  chosen  once  in  six  years,  by  the 
State  legislatures ;  but  death  and  resignation  have  occa- 
sioned them  to  be  more  frequent.  No  representative  in 
congress  can  be  sent  by  a  district  with  less  than  thirty 
thousand  inhabitants.  The  representatives'  districts  are 
required  to  be  equal.  The  members  of  the  senate  are 
thirty-four ;  and  they  cannot  deliberate  without  the  pre- 
sence of  a  majority  of  the  whole  body. — The  house  of 
representatives  are  subjected  to  the  same  constitutional 
rule ;  and  their  whole  number  is  one  hundred  and  forty- 
two.  The  legislature  must  assemble  once  jn  every  year, 
and  cannot  be  adjourned,  prorogued,  or  dissolved,  nor 
debarred  from  meeting  by  the  president  of  the  United 


Stales.  He  has  no  participation  in  the  choice  of  their 
speakers  or  presidents.  Tlie  chairman  of  the  represen- 
tatives is  called  (heir  speaker,  and  is  chosen  by  them- 
selves. The  vice-president  of  the  United  States  is,  ex 
officio,  president  of  the  senate.  In  his  absence  that  body 
chooses,  uncontrolled,  a  president  pro  tempore.  The 
legislature,  in  each  house,  judges  of  the  freedom  of 
speech  of  its  members.  No  other  authority  can  inter- 
fere. 

Seventeen  chambers  or  colleges  of  presidential  elec- 
tors are  chosen  by  the  seventeen  states  in  every  fourth 
year.  These  colleges  are  equal  to  the  whole  number  of 
representatives  and  senators,  which  the  several  states 
are  respectively  entitled  (o  send  to  the  national  legisla- 
ture. They  meet  on  the  same  day  in  distinct  colleges, 
in  their  own  proper  state;  under  the  protection  of  its 
government  and  its  freemen  or  militia ;  and  choose  by 
ballot  one  person  as  president  of  the  United  States,  and 
another  person  as  vice-president  of  the  United  States, 
each  to  serve  four  years.  In  the  event  of  the  death, 
resignation,  or  removal  of  the  president  of  the  United 
States,  (for  he  may  be  removed  on  impeachment  and 
conviction)  tlie  vice-president  becomes  our  chief  nation-- 
al  executive  magistrate  for  the  remaining  part  of  the 
four  years.  The  salaries  of  these  officers  are  fixed  at 
the  commencement  of  their  respective  terms  of  office, 
and  cannot  afterwards  be  increased  or  diminished.  The 
president's  salary  has  invariably  been  twenty-five  thou- 
sand American  dollars  per  annum,  with  a  corresponding 
provision  of  about  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  for  the  pur- 
chase of  furniture  during  his  term  of  office.  The  emo- 
luments of  the  vice-president  have  been  five  thousand 
dollars  per  annum.  Neither  of  these  officers  can  derive 
any  other  compensation  from  any  other  office. 

The  militia  of  the  United  States  embraces  every  free 
male  while  inhabitant  between  eighteen  and  forty-five 
years,  and  may  be  accurately  considered  as  the  stand- 
ing army  of  the  constitution.  As  it  embraces  all  free 
white  persons  of  that  age,  in  every  state,  county,  city, 
town,  and  section,  it  must  be,  every  where,  and  at  all 
times,  present.  In  cases  of  actual  national  service, 
the  President  of  the  United  States  is  its  commander 
whenever  present,  as  captain-general,  and  commander 
in  chief  of  all  the  forces  of  the  United  States  by  sea  and 
land.  The  governors  of  the  states  command  their  re- 
spective grand  divisions,  or  the  militia  of  their  own 
states ;  and  they  generally  appoint  their  major-generals 
and  adjutants  general.  The  other  officers  are  either 
ap[)ointed  bj'  the  governments  or  elected  by  (he  militia 
of  the  states.  All  officers  of  the  militia  are  commissioned 
by  the  chief  executive  magistrates  of  the  several  states. 
Ministers  of  religion  of  every  church  may  be  elected  to 
seats  in  either  branch  of  the  national  legislature ;  but 
they  have  no  extraordinary  power  or  influence,  in  virtue 
of  their  ecclesiastical  characler,  the  national  government 
being  restrained  by  the  people  and  the  states  from  all 
concern  in  ecclesiastical  power.  Religion,  like  morals, 
and  tenures  of  land  within  the  limits  of  each  state,  is 
exempted  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  national  legisla- 
ture, unless  any  attempt  should  be  made  to  make  an  an- 
ti-republican church  establishment.  Whenever  such 
an  attempt  is  made  by  any  state,  the  general  govern- 
ment must  interpose  its  prevention. 

The  president  of  the  United  States  is  required  to  be 


^  *  An  ei^itecnth  state,  under  tUe  name  of  Louitiana,  U  nearly  matured  for  iutroductioD  into  the  union. 


«^ 


AMERICA. 


thirty-five  years  of  age.  The  members  of  the  senate  of 
the  United  States  must  have  arrived  at  the  age  oftliirty 
years.  The  members  of  the  house  of  representatives 
must  have  arrived  at  the  age  of  twenty-five. 

The  legislators  receive  a  compensation  for  actual  ser- 
vice, but  are  not  permitted  to  hold  any  office  at  the  same 
time,  except  in  the  militia,  which  is  always  regarded 
with  favour  and  confidence  by  the  constitutions,  laws, 
functionaries,  and  people  of  the  union  and  of  the  states. 
It  is  the  natural  strength  of  the  country,  embodied  and 
organized — interested  in  the  national  freehold — in  its 
peace,  liberty,  safety,  and  prosperity  :  the  fathers,  hus- 
bands, brothers,  and  sons,  of  its  children,  and  its  ma- 
trons :  the  guardians  and  defenders  of  the  young,  the 
old,  the  peaceful,  the  tender,  and  the  intirm ;  tlu  true 
effective  constitutional  balance  of  the  regular  forces  by 
land  and  sea,  which  the  course  of  human  affairs  cannot 
but  occasionally  require.  There  are  no  prejudices  against 
regular  forces  in  the  United  States ;  but  the  history  of 
all  countries  teaches  our  civil  and  military  citizens  to 
be  aware  of  the  dangers  of  standing  armies  in  peace 
and  war.  Most  of  the  individuals,  who  are  considered 
to  have  jeopardized  the  United  States,  since  their  poli- 
tical birth,  were  military  men  ;  and  it  is  not  doubted  that 
they  contemplated,  as  their  means,  a  part  of  the  army 
of  the  time.  It  is  therefore  important  to  suppress  trea- 
son, as  well  as  to  repel  invasion,  that  the  fourteen  hun- 
dred thousand  United  Americans,  able  to  carry  arms, 
should  be  trained  and  provided. 

The  powers  of  the  several  legislatures  extend  to  all 
objects  necessary  to  provide  for  our  internal  concerns 
and  external  relations.  They  can  authorize  all  the  re- 
quisite measures,  and  grant  the  necessary  revenues. 

The  otherpowers  of  the  president  of  the  United  States 
extend  to  the  management  of  their  external  relations,  in 
a  defined  conjunction  with  the  senate,  to  the  command 
of  all  the  forces  by  sea  and  land,  and  to  the  superinten- 
dence and  enforcement  of  all  the  laws  enacted  by  con- 
gress. On  application  of  a  state,  the  general  govern- 
ment must  protect  it  from  domestic  violence. 

The  |K)weri  of  the  judiciary  departmentof  the  United 
States,  extend  to  all  cases  affecting  our  foreign  relations, 
cases  between  citizens  of  the  United  States  and  Coreign- 
ers,  and  cases  among  citizens  residing  in  or  claiming 
under  different  states. 

The  several  departments  of  the  state  governments  are 
similarly  divided  and  authorized  to  operate  in  their  le- 
gislative, executive,  and  judicial  departments.  They 
tan  exercise  their  legitimate  functions  without  the  in- 
terference of  the  national  government ;  and  they  can 


authorize  and  execute  the  training  of  the  militia  and  the 
appointment  of  its  officers,  without  control. 

So  comprehensive  and  so  completely  provisional  have 
the  numerous  articles  of  our  several  constitutions  beeo 
found,  after  the  experience  of  nearly  twenty  years,  that 
no  amendment  necessary  to  pxiblic  order  is  at  present 
ascertained  to  be  wanting,  except  it  be  an  eminent  ap- 
pellate tribunal  in  cases  of  difference  in  solemn  ad- 
judications of  the  federal  and  state  tribunals,  upon  mat- 
ters, which  the  constitutions  of  the  union  and  of  the 
state  are  held  subject  to  the  powers  and  to  the  con- 
sciences of  the  respective  courts.  No  stronger  proof 
than  this  very  comprehensive  mass  of  detailed  provi- 
sions, founded  on  principles  and  modified  by  prudence, 
can  well  be  adduced  to  establish  the  position,  that  the 
United  Americans  are  justly  distinguished  by  their  the- 
ory and  practice  in  civil  polity. 

Such  then,  it  is  believed,  as  has  been  cursorily  in- 
dicated in  these  papers,  are  some  of  the  genuine  cha- 
racteristics of  the  United  Americans.  A  people,  who 
manifest  their  humble  reverence  for  their  Creator,  by 
observing  a  respect,  perfect  and  profound,  for  his  sole 
authority  over  the  conscience  of  man :  a  people,  who 
prove  their  love  of  their  neighbours,  by  establishing 
equal  justice  for  all,  in  conscience,  person,  and  estate: 
a  people,  who  jealously  defend  their  peace  with  foreign 
nations,  by  exempting  the  power  over  war  from  indivi- 
dual ambition,  rage,  avarice,  or  caprice  :  a  people,  who 
have  softened  the  evils  of  the  slavish  and  the  savage 
life,  and  the  miseries  of  the  wretched  and  devoted  cri- 
minal :  who  have  restored  the  injured  rights  of  the  ten- 
der sex,  and  of  their  younger  children  :  who  have  raised 
themselves  by  industry,  economy,  and  skill,  from  the 
condition  of  the  unproductive  wilderness  to  unexampled 
prosperity :  who  have  produced  the  peace-loving  .sol- 
dier, the  moral  statesman*,  the  minister  of  religion  with- 
out temporal  reward,  the  philosopher  of  the  two  worlds, 
the  skilful  epitomizer  of  tlie  planetary  frame,  the  wisest 
institutes  of  man,  and  the  spiritual  worship  of  the 
DIVINE  SUPREME.  Such  are  the  strong  influences  of 
nature  and  of  necessity  upon  the  American  people ;  such 
the  influences  of  religious  reformations,  unchecked  by 
temporal  power;  such  the  influences  of  civil  reforma- 
tions, which  right  suggested,  and  distant  power  could 
not  prevent :  such  are  the  tenacious,  firm,  and  substan- 
tial materials,  of  which  the  American  frame  of  mind 
and  body  is  made  by  Providence  and  by  second  na- 
ture ;  and  such  is,  in  doubtless  truth,  the  genuine,  pecu- 
liar, and  well  marked  character  of  this  youthful  na- 
tion. 


AMES,  Fisher.  On  the  illustrious  subject  of  the 
present  article,  we  feel  most  sensibly  how  difficult  it  is  to 
think  without  emotion,  or  to  speak  with  that  coolness  and 
self-control,  that  temperance  and  impartiality,  that  be- 
come the  biographer.  If,  however,  on  any  point  of  his- 
tory, it  be  admissible  to  indulge  in  the  language  of  sen- 
sibility, it  is  when  attempting  to  portray  the  virtues  and 
talents,  the  dispositions  and  achievements,  of  so  excel- 
lent, so  amiable,  and  so  distinguished  an  individual.  He 
was  one  of  those  extraordinary  characters,  that,  at  long 


intervals,a  beneficent  providence  calls  into  existence,  \o 
instruct,  delight,  and  astonish  mankind.  Had  he  been  a 
citizen  of  Greece,  when  in  the  zenith  of  her  glory,  or 
of  Rome,  during  the  i)eriod  of  her  fairest  renown,  he 
would  have  been  pre-eminent  in  the  ranks  of  statesmen 
and  legislators,  patriots  and  orators.  In  modern  times, 
few  men,  devoted  exclusively  to  civil  pursuits,  have 
moved  in  a  sphere  more  elevated  and  radiant.  From 
the  commencement  till  near  (he  close  of  his  [tublic  ca- 
reer, which,  alas '.  was  almost  as  transient  as  it  was  bril- 


•  At  the  head  of  tlicse,  U  Uic  great  moral  autciroan,  the  late  preiident  Waitiington. 


AMES. 


«71 


liant,  although  associciled  with  the  ablest  men  of  the 
nation,  his  wisdom  in  council,  and  his  eloquence  in  de- 
bate, imposed  on  him  the  arduous  and  responsible  ofBce 
of  a  leader,  in  many  of  the  most  intricate  concerns  of 
legislation.  As  long  as  the  state  of  his  health  enabled 
him  to  persevere  in  the  exertions  necessary  for  main- 
taining the  station  he  had  acquired,  his  ascendency  in 
the  house  of  representatives  of  the  United  Stales  was 
as  sensibly  felt  and  as  generally  acknowledged,  as  that 
of  Fox  or  Pitt,  Burke,  or  even  Chatham,  in  the  British 
parliament. 

When  we  contemplate  him  surrounded  by  all  the  at- 
tributes of  character,  that  justly  appertained  to  him ;  a 
mind  rich  in  the  most  splendid  endowments  of  nature, 
heightened  by  whatever  cultivation  could  bestow;  a 
heart  pregnant  with  every  moral  virtue,  and  glowing 
with  the  purest  and  noblest  sentiments  ;  a  social  tem- 
perament consisting  of  every  quality  calculated  to  conci- 
liate, delight,  and  endear  ;  and  a  zeal  for  the  welfare  of 
his  country,  and  the  happiness  of  his  fellow  citizens, 
which  burned  with  a  vestal  purity  and  vigilance,  and  was 
too  ardent  for  the  strength  of  his  finely  organized  and 
sensitive  frame*; — when  we  view  him  thus  elevated  by 
his  native  powers,  and  clothed  in  excellencies  so  nume- 
rous and  resplendent,  we  can  with  difficulty  set  bounds  to 
our  admiration  and  esteem,  or  prevent  our  affection  from 
rising  to  enthusiasm.  It  is  when  engaged  in  the  con- 
templation of  such  a  character,  that  we  feel  most  incli- 
ned to  glory  in  our  birth-right,  and  experience  the  live- 
liest sense  of  gratitude  for  the  privilege  conferred  on  us, 
of  belonging  to  an  order  of  beings  so  exalted. 

When  society  is  deprived  by  death  of  an  individual  so 
eminent,  it  devolves  as  a  duty  on  those  who  survive 
him,  if  to  emulate  his  greatness  be  too  hopeless  an 
undertaking,  at  least  to  cherish  his  memory,  and  prac- 
tise his  virtues  ;  and,  by  recording  his  character  in  the 
most  public  and  permanent  form,  to  extend  and  per- 
petuate his  example  for  the  benefit  of  mankind. 

The  principal  end  of  biography  is  threefold  :  to  de- 
light, to  instruct,  and  to  stimulate.  The  first  of  these 
objects  is  effected  chiefly  by  a  recital  of  the  actions, 
and  a  view  of  the  virtues  and  dispositions,  of  eminent 
men,  connected  with  an  account  of  the  various  inci- 
dents and  events  of  their  lives;  the  second,  by  a  faith- 
ful representation  of  the  methods  and  measures,  by 
which  their  eminence  was  gradually  attained  ;  and  the 
third,  byholding  forth  the  honours  conferred  on  them,  and 
the  influence  and  consideration  they  had  acquired  in  the 
world,  as  incentives  to  awaken  the  emulation  of  others. 
When  biography  has  accomplished  this  treble  purpose, 
besides  doing  justice  to  distinction  and  worth,  and  grati- 
fying that  universal  and  laudable  curiosity,  which  is  so 
eager  to  be  made  acquainted  with  the  lives  of  great 
men,  she  encourages  the  timid,  gives  hope  to  the  de- 
sponding, rouses  the  innctive,  furnishes  the  enterprising 
with  a  chart  for  their  conduct,  and  teaches  every  one 
to  turn  to  the  best  account  the  powers  and  means  with 
which  he  is  intrusted.  With  a  view  to  the  promotion 
of  objects  like  these,  as  well  as  in  grateful  commemo- 
ration of  the  merits  of  the  deceased,  we  have  ventured 
to  prepare  a  biographical  notice  of  the  illustrious  per- 
sonage under  our  consideration. 

Fisher  Ames  was  the  youngest  of  a  family  consisting  of 


five  children.  He  wasborn  on  the  9th  of  April,  1 758,  in  the 
old  parish  of  Dedham,  a  pleasent  country  town,  situated 
in  the  country  of  Norfolk,  about  nine  miles  from 
Boston.  Descended  from  one  of  the  oldest  families 
in  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  he  was,  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word,  an  American.  In  this  respect,  his 
blood  wag  as  free  from  foreign  admixture,  as  his  spirit 
was  from  foreign  partialities.  Although  by  far  the 
most  able  and  eminent  of  his  line,  he  wasnot  the  only  one 
of  them  that  aspired  to  and  attained  distinction  in  letters. 
His  father,  a  man  of  uncommon  wit,  iicuteness,  and 
worth,  was  a  practitioner  of  medicine,  high  in  reputa- 
tion. In  addition  to  the  extent  of  his  professional  attain- 
ments, he  was  well  versed  in  natural  philosophy,  astro- 
nomy, and  mathematics.  He  died  in  July,  1 764,  when 
the  subject  of  this  article  had  but  little  more  than  com- 
pleted the  sixth  year  of  his  age.  He  also  numbered  in 
the  line  of  his  ancestry,  the  rev.  William  Ames,  who 
flourished  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  was  the  author  of  a  very  able  work,  denomina- 
ted Medulla  Theologias,  and  several  smaller  tracts  in  po- 
lemical divinity.  That celebratedEnglishdivine, unable 
to  brook  the  spirit  of  intolerance  by  which  he  was  assail- 
ed, under  the  authority  of  Christ's  College  in  Cambridge, 
emigrated  to  the  States  of  Friesland,  where  he  was  af- 
terwards chosen  a  professor  in  their  University.  He 
w^a»  an  active  member  in  the  Synod  of  Dort,  in  the  year 
1618.  That  he  might  be  still  further  removed  from  that 
most  galling  of  tyrannies,  which  interferes  with  the  rights 
of  conscience  and  the  forms  of  devotion,  he  had  made  de- 
finitive arrangements  for  emigrating  to  New  England, 
but  was  prevented  by  death  in  the  month  of  November, 
1 633.  VVe  mention  these  facts  to  show,  that  the  family 
of  Ames  had  been  long  distinguished  by  their  love  of 
freedom. 

On  the  death  of  young  Ames's  father,  his  mother  was 
left  with  a  family  in  straitened  circumstances,  to  strug- 
gle with  the  difficulties  incident  to  her  situation.  As  if 
inspired,  however,  with  a  presentiment  of  the  future 
destinies  of  her  son,  she  determined  to  bestow  on  him 
a  liberal  education.  She  accomplished  her  task,  lived 
to  rejoice  in  his  prosperity  and  eminence,  to  witness  the 
manisfestations  of  his  filial  piety,  and  to  weep,  alas!  over 
his  untimely  grave. 

In  a  notice  like  the  present,  much  that  is  important 
must  be  necessarily  omitted.  It  is  scarcely  allowable, 
therefore,  to  exhibit  even  a  transient  view  of  the  scin- 
tillations of  genius  in  the  morning  of  life,  when  they 
are  so  completely  lost  in  the  lustre  of  its  meridian.  Were 
such  a  step  admissible,  it  would  be  easy  to  show  the 
early  and  rapid  developement  of  the  faculties  of  Mr. 
Ames — that  he  surpassed,  in  vigour  and  activity  of  in- 
tellect, the  companions  of  his  chilhood,  no  less  than  the 
associates  of  his  riper  years. 

At  the  age  of  six  he  commenced  the  study  of  the  Latin 
language.  Here,  the  incompetency  of  teachers,  and  the 
frequent  interruptions  he  experienced  in  his  scholastic 
pursuits,  were  serious  barriers  in  the  way  of  his  improve- 
ment. The  energy  of  his  own  mind,  however,  aided  by 
a  degree  of  industry  exemplary  for  his  years,  supplied 
the  wnnt  of  every  thing  else,  and  hurried  him  along  in 
the  road  to  knowledge.  In  the  spring  of  1 770,  his  twelfth 
year  being  just  completed,  he  was  received  as  a  student 


•  Mr.  Ames,  aa  his  writings  evince,  regarded  with  more  than  usual  apprehension  and  horror,  the  strides  of  France  towapcts  universal 
empire.  If  his  death  was  uot  accelerated,  his  health  was  at  least  materiall}'  imi>uu-cd,  by  his  deep  aail  vouslact  sulicitude  about  th« 
libei'tiea  of  his  couutry. 


67* 


AMES. 


into  Harvjird  College.  Preparatory  to  his  admission,  he 
was  examined  by  one  of  the  ablest  scholarsof  the  country, 
who  had  long  been  a  teacher  of  the  learned  languages. 
On  this  occasion,  such  was  the  readiness  and  accuracy 
he  manifested,  and  such  his  acquaintance  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  language,  even  at  so  early  a  period,  that  his 
iicquirements  excited  admiration  and  a|)p]ause.  From 
that  time,  he  was  considered  as  a  youth  of  very  dis- 
tinguished promise. 

During  the  years  that  are  spent  in  college,  the  cha- 
racter usually  begins  to  unfold  itself.  To  young  Ames, 
this  developement  was  highly  honourable.  Persevering 
in  bis  studies,  conciliating  in  his  manners,  gentlemanly  in 
bis  deportment,  and  amiable  in  his  disposition,  he  was 
equally  the  ornamentanddelightof  theinstitution.  From 
his  strict  subordination  to  discipline,  the  correctness  of 
Itis  general  conduct,  and  his  distinguished  attainments  in 
learning,  he  became  and  continued  a  favourite  with  his 
teachers ;  while  his  associates  were  charmed  with  the 
affability  of  his  manners  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  parts. 

Among  the  subordinate  institutions  of  the  college, 
calculated  to  minister  to  the  improvement  of  the  youth, 
was  a  society  recently  established  for  the  cultivation  of 
elocution.  In  thisyoung  Amesdiscovercdan  objectcapa- 
ble  of  awakenffig  all  his  ambition;  for  even  nowhe  covet- 
ed fame,  and  was  warmly  enamoured  of  the  glory  of  elo- 
quence. In  the  declamations  which  he  practised  under  this 
establishment,  he  was  early  distinguished  by  the  proprie- 
ty, energy,  and  elegance  of  his  delivery.  In  specimens  of 
lofty  and  impassioned  eloquence,  in  particular,  his  man- 
ner was  peculiarly  forcible  and  impressive.  From  the  apt- 
ness of  his  genius  for  orator}-,  and  the  assiduity  with 
which  he  devoted  himself  to  its  cultivation,  he  might 
soon  be  said  to  stand  alone  in  the  society.  Discouraged 
and  humbled  by  the  acknowledged  superiority  of  a  youth 
so  far  behind  most  of  Ihem  in  point  of  j'ears,  his  fellovv- 
students  were  at  length  induced  to  yield  him  the  palm 
without  competition.  His  orations,  though  mostly  select- 
ed, were  occasionally  the  production  of  his  own  pen.  In 
Iheseinstances  he  manifested  a  capacity  for  the  style  and 
manner  of  the  orator.  Although  he  never  offered  him- 
self a  candidate  for  "  wreaths  of  rich  Parnassian  growth," 
the  invocation  of  the  muse  of  poetry  was  sometimes 
the  employment  of  his  leisure  hours.  Even  at  this  early 
period,  his  compositions  exhibited  something  of  the 
came  stamp  and  character  which  marked  them  so  strong- 
ly in  after  life.  They  were  figurative  and  sententious, 
highly  animated,  and  rich  in  ornament. 

Amidst  the  dissipation  which,  notwithstanding  the 
most  strict  and  salutary  laws,  is  too  often  attendant  on  a 
college  life,  it  was  the  felicity  of  young  Ames  to  pre- 
serve his  morals  free  from  taint.  Like  the  person  of 
Achilles  by  the  waters  of  the  Styx,  his  mind  was  render- 
ed invulnerable,  by  a  happy  temperament  and  a  virtuous 
education.  This  circumstance  amounts  to  no  ordinary 
praise.  When  vice  approaches  the  youthful  mind  in  the 
seductive  form  of  a  beloved  companion,  the  ordeal  be- 
comes threatening  and  dangerous  in  the  extreme.  Few 
possess  the  prudence  and  unyielding  firmness  requisite  to 
pass  it  in  triumphant  safety.  One  of  these  few,  was  the 
subject  of  this  article.  Those  who  have  been  accurately 
observantof  the  dependance  of  one  part  of  life  on  another, 
will  readily  concur  with  us,  that  his  future  character  de- 
rived much  of  its  lustre,  and  his  fortunes  much  of  their 
elevation,  from  the  untainted  purify  and  irreproachable- 
Bess  of  his  youth.  Masculine  virtue  is  as  necessary  to 
real  eminence,  as  a  powerful  intellect.     He  that  is  de- 


ficient in  either  will  neTer,  nnles*  from  the  influence  of 
fortuitous  circumstances,  be  able  to  place  and  maintain 
himself  at  the  head  of  society.  He  may  rise  and  flour- 
ish for  a  time,  but  his  fall  is  as  certain  as  his  descent 
to  the  grave. 

As  happily  illustrating  and  confirming  the  preceding 
observations,  we  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  intro- 
ducing ill  this  place,  a  few  very  sensible  and  well  ex- 
pressed sentiments  of  a  friend  to  Mr.  Ames,  in  relation 
to  his  early  habits  of  virtue,  and  the  influence  they  ex- 
ercised over  his  subsequent  character  and  standing  in 
society.  "  Young  Ames,"  says  this  elegant  writer,  "  did 
not  need  the  smart  of  guilt  to  make  him  virtuous,  nor 
the  regret  of  folly  to  make  him  wise.  He  seems  to  have 
been  early  initiated  in  that  caution  and  self-distrust, 
which  he  used  afterwards  to  inculcate.  He  was  ac- 
customed to  say,  "  we  have  but  a  slender  hold  of  our 
virtues;  they  ought,  therefore,  to  be  cherished  with 
care,  and  practised  with  diligence.  He  who  holds 
parley  with  vice  and  dishonour,  is  sure  to  become  their 
slave  and  victim.  The  heart  is  more  than  half  cor- 
rupted that  does  not  burn  with  indignation  at  the  slight- 
est attempt  to  seduce  it." 

"  His  spotless  youth,"  continues  his  biographer  and 
friend,  "  brought  blessings  to  the  whole  remainder  of  his 
life.  It  gave  him  th«  entire  use  of  his  faculties,  and 
all  the  fruit  of  his  literary  education.  Its  effects  ap^ 
peared  in  that  fine  edge  of  moral  feeling  which  he 
always  preserved ;  in  his  strict  and  often  austere  tem- 
perance ;  in  his  love  of  occupation  that  made  activity 
delight ;  in  his  distaste  for  public  diversions,  and  his 
preference  of  simple  pleasures.  Beginning  well,  he 
advanced  with  unremitted  steps  in  the  race  of  virtue, 
and  arrived  at  the  end  of  life  in  peace  and  honour." 
These  are  sentiments  which  we  earnestly  recommend 
to  the  notice  of  the  youth  of  our  country.  They  de- 
serve to  be  treasured  up  with  care  and  guarded  witll" 
more  than  miserly  vigilance.  They  are  precious  beyond 
gold  and  pearl  and  jewels,  and  all  that  is  comprised  in 
the  riches  of  the  east.  Besides  shielding  the  early 
])eriods  of  life  from  those  vices  and  dissipations,  which 
sow  the  seeds  and  quicken  the  germ  of  future  wretched- 
ness, they  will  tend  to  crown  a  manhowl  of  vigour, 
usefulness,  and  renown,  with  an  old  age  of  peace  and  ho- 
nour, and  to  scatter  blessings  on  the  verge  of  the  grave. 

In  the  year  1774,  when  he  had  just  completed  his 
sixteenth  year,  Mr.  Ames  was  admitted  to  the  degree 
of  Bachelor  of  Arts.  He  took  leave  of  college,  bearing 
along  with  him  an  equal  share  of  aifection  and  honour. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  excellence  of  his  scholarship,  he 
was  pronounced  the  most  eloquent  of  the  sons  of  Har- 
vard. 

The  struggle  of  the  American  colonies  for  freedom 
soon  afterwards  commencing,  rendered  the  times  per- 
plexing and  perilous.  They  were  particularly  so  for  the 
youth  of  the  countrj',  who  had  yet  their  principles  to 
settle,  and  their  plan  of  life  to  shape.  Too  young  to 
be  employed  in  the  public  councils,  and  not  having 
a  predilection  for  the  profession  of  arms,  Mr.  Ames  took 
no  active  part  in  the  contest  which  ensued.  His  soul, 
however,  with  its  best  wishes,  was  w^ith  the  sages  wlio 
toiled,  and  the  heroes  who  bled,  in  the  cau*e  of  Indepen- 
dence. Nor  was  this  all.  Juvenile  as  he  was,  his  pen  was 
frequently  employed  in  anonymous  addresses,  calculated 
by  their  wisdom  to  instruct  the  patriot,  and  by  Iheir 
impassioned  eloquence  to  animate  the  soldier. 

InQuenced  no  lees  by  the  v/ishes  of  his  mother,  f0 


AMES. 


673 


whom  his  ohedience  and  piety  were  exemplary,  than 
by  the  early  predileclion  of  hig  own  mind,  he  had  deter- 
mined, almost  from  his  childliood,  on  devoting  himself 
(o  forensic  pursuits.  He  did  not,  however,  enter  on 
the  study  of  his  profession  till  the  year  1781,  when  he 
commenced  under  the  direction  of  William  Tudor, 
Esq.  an  eminent  counsellor  of  the  town  of  Boston. 
The  interim,  from  his  leaving  college  to  this  period, 
Mr.  Ames  had  in  no  instance  misemployed  or  abused. 
On  the  contrary,  he  had  passed  it  in  a  manner  useful  to 
the  community,  as  well  as  advantageous  and  honoura- 
ble to  himself.  His  reading,  although  somewhat  irre- 
gular, had  been  so  extensive  and  multifarious,  as  to  ex- 
cite astonishment,  and  almost  surpass  belief.  His 
ardour  for  books  amounted  to  enthusiasm.  During  this 
period,  he  not  only  revised  the  classical  works  which  he 
had  previously  read  in  the  course  of  his  academical 
studies,  but  not  satisfied  with  this,  pushed  his  researches 
still  further  into  the  rich  stores  of  ancient  learning. 
No  man  relished,  in  a  higher  degree,  the  beauties  of 
Greek  and  Roman  literature.  Few  in  America  have 
been  more  familiar  with  them.  On  the  works  of  Virgil 
he  dwelt  with  rapture;  and  could  recite,  from  memory, 
with  an  eloquence  and  force  peculiar  to  himself,  all  his 
most  splendid  and  touching  passages.  His  rehearsal 
of  the  stories  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  Pallas  and  Evander, 
Lausus  and  Mezentius,  is  said  to  have  been  a  specimen 
of  most  pathetic  elocution.  Poetry  was  now  the  luxury 
of  his  mind.  He  read  with  attention  all  the  principal 
English  poets,  and  became  familiar  with  the  writings  of 
Milton  and  Shakspeare,  committing  to  memory  many 
passages  of  peculiar  excellence.  This  course  of  reading, 
although  possibly  in  some  instances  not  well  directed, 
tended  greatly  to  extend  and  liberalize,  enrich  and 
embellish  the  mind  of  the  young  student  It  aided  in 
supplying  him  with  that  fund  of  materials  for  writing 
and  speaking  which  he  possessed  and  exhibited  in 
such  inexhaustible  abundance.  It  was  also  the  source, 
in  part,  of  his  unprecedented  fertility  and  aptness  of 
allusion— his  ability  to  evolve,  with  a  felicity  we  never 
witnessed  in  any  other  speaker,  a  train  of  imagery 
suited  to  every  subject  and  every  occasion. 

Not  long  after  his  admission  to  the  bar,  Mr.  Ames 
was  called  on  to  appear  in  the  character  of  a  statesman 
and  a  legislator.  Having  been  attentive  to  the  native  im- 
pulses of  his  own  mind,  and  carefully  observant  of  the 
drift  of  his  genius,  he  had  now  a  sufficient  knowledge 
of  his  powers  to  perceive  that  the  senate  chamber,  ra- 
ther than  the  forum,  was  to  prove  eventually  the  theatre 
of  his  renown.  Notwithstanding,  therefore,  the  voice  of 
private  interest  to  the  contrary — for  what  honest  Ameri- 
can has  ever  grown  rich  in  the  service  of  his  country  ? — 
so  highly  was  he  enamoured  of  that  reputation  and  glory 
which  conscious  ability  whispered  was  awaiting  him,  and 
so  ardent  was  his  desire  to  move  for  a  time  in  his  proper 
sphere,  that  he  now,  perhaps,  courted  rather  than  declin- 
ed the  conspicuous  walks  of  public  life.  Nor  do  we 
regard  this  disposition  as  amounting  to  a  blemish  in  his 
character.  On  the  other  hand,  we  consider  it  as  tanta- 
mount to  a  virtue.  That  great  man  is  so  far  deficient  in 
greatness,  who  is  not  ambitious  of  his  just  reward,  the 
gratitude  and  applause  of  the  virtuous  and  discerning 
portion  of  the  world,  consequent  on  the  performance  of 
exalted  duties.  Even  Washington  himself,  that  resplen- 
dent epitome  of  all  that  is  great  and  excellent  in  our 
nature,  was  no  stranger  to  the  love  of  renown. 

After  having  acquired  distinction  in  the  discussion 
Vol.  I.    Part  II. 


and  arrangement  of  certain  points  oriocal  policy,  he  was 
elected  a  delegate  to  the  convention  of  the  state  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, which  met  in  the  year  1 788,  with  a  view  to 
the  ratification  of  the  federal  constitution.  Here  an  op- 
portunity  presented  itself  for  making  fresh  and  ample 
augmentations  to  his  fame.  The  subject  under  consi- 
deration was  eminently  momentous.  It  elevated  and  ex- 
panded his  views  to  its  own  dimensions,  and  called  forth 
all  the  fervours  of  his  mind.  It  was  a  decision  of  the 
question,  whether  the  United  States  should  be  blessed 
with  a  wise,  free,  and  efficient  government,  or  exhibit  the 
awful  spectacle  of  a  national  chaos;  a  people  passing  in 
convulsions  from  faction  to  anarchy,  and  from  that,  per- 
hajAS,  to  the  calm  of  a  military  despotism.  It  was  during 
the  session  of  this  convention  that  he  gained  such  high 
and  well  merited  eclat,  by  that  beautiful  specimen  of 
parliamentary  eloquence,  his  speech  on  the  subject  of 
biennial  elections. 

In  the  first  congress  under  the  federal  constitution, 
which  met  at  New- York  in  the  year  1789,  Mr.  Ames 
appeared  in  the  house  of  representatives,  as  a  member 
from  that  district  in  which  was  included  the  town  of 
Boston.  During  the  eight  j^ears  of  the  Washington 
administration,  he  retained  his  seat  in  that  august  as- 
sembly : — august  let  us  call  it ;  for  it  was  composed  of 
the  ablest  and  most  virtuous  men  of  the  nation.  Rome, 
in  her  best  days,  would  have  gloried  in  a  senate  so  en- 
lightened and  dignified;  and  the  states  of  Greece  would 
have  committed  their  destinies  to  a  council  so  pre-emi- 
nent in  patriotism  and  wisdom. 

This  period  of  eight  years,  during  which  Mr.  Amei 
held  a  seat  in  the  legislature  of  the  uuion,  was  all-im- 
portant to  the  people  of  America.  In  the  course  of  it,  tht 
most  momentous  concerns  of  the  nation  were  discussed 
and  adjusted  with  that  sagacity  and  discernment,  that 
wisdom  and  integrity,  which  their  weight  and  the  crisis 
so  pressingly  demanded.  The  complex  and  mighty  ma- 
chine of  a  government  calculated  to  maintain  its  own 
existence,  and  to  embrace  and  reconcile  the  different 
and  clashing  interests  of  an  extensive  country  and  a  nu- 
merous, high-spirited,  and  jealous  people,  was  construct- 
ed and  put  in  motion.  In  addition  to  this,  successful 
and  satisfactory  arrangements  were  made  on  the  score 
of  the  most  important  of  our  external  relations.  By  a 
wise  and  humane  system  of  policy,  combining  the  prin- 
ciples of  justice  and  force,  conciliation  and  firmness,  the 
friendship  of  the  Indian  tribes  was  secured.  With 
Great  Britain  and  Spain,  an  honourable  adjustment  was 
effected  in  relation  to  all  our  points  of  difference.  A 
spring  was  given  to  commerce  which  carried  our  flag 
to  every  sea,  and  brought  to  our  shores  the  products 
and  riches  of  every  climate  ;  and  by  a  dignified  neutra- 
lity, the  nation  was  preserved  from  the  threatening  vor- 
tex of  a  foreign  alliance. 

In  the  achievements  of  wisdom  and  the  duties  of  pa- 
triotism, necessarily  appertaining  to  these  transactions, 
Mr.  Ames  held  a  share  that  wiis  ample  and  distinguished. 
Persevering  in  his  attentions,  and  faithful  to  the  trust 
reposed  in  him  by  his  constituents,  in  no  instance  did  he 
indulge  himself  in  absence  from  his  post.  On  every 
question  of  interest  and  importance,  he  took  an  active 
and  responsible  part  in  debate.  His  eloquence  was  al- 
ways adapted  to  the  occasion — argumentative  or  impas- 
sioned, playful  or  serious,  lofty  or  satirical,  according  to 
the  subject,  and  the  prevailing  temper  and  disposition 
of  the  house.  It  was  rich  in  every  thing,  both  as  to 
matter  and  manner,  calculated  to  delight,  impress,  and 
4  Q 


674 


AMES. 


instruct.  Althougli  it  might  not  always  convince  liis 
opponents,  it  scliloni  offended  them,  and  never  failed  to 
excite  their  admiration,  and  command  their  respect. 

His  speech,  on  the  appropriations  for  carrying  into  ef- 
fect the  British  treaty,  ivas  certainly  the  most  august 
and  resplendent  exhibition  of  his  talents ;  and  may  al- 
most be  regarded  as  constituting  an  epoch  in  modern 
eloquence.  An  English  gentleman  of  distinguished 
attainments,  who  was  present  on  the  occasion,  frankly 
acknowledged,  that  it  surpassed,  in  effect,  any  thing  he 
had  ever  heard  in  the  British  parliament.  He  even 
preferred  it  lo  Sheridan's  celebrated  speech  in  the  case 
of  V/arren  Hastings.  It  had,  perhaps,  more  of  the  irre- 
sistible sway,  the  soul-subduing  influence  of  ancient 
eloquence,  than  any  thing  that  has  been  heard  since  the 
days  of  Cicero.  The  circumstances  attending  its  deli- 
very were  peculiar.  A  brief  recital  of  them  will  not,  we 
flatter  ourselves,  be  deemed  uninteresting,  or  regarded 
as  a  departure  from  the  duty  of  the  biographer. 

The  debate  on  the  subject  of  the  treaty  had  been  un- 
usually prolracted.  In  the  course  of  it  great  liberties 
had  been  taken  in  the  exercise  and  expression  of  indi- 
vidual feelings  ;  and  the  collision  of  party  politics  had 
been  inordinately  keen.  The  public  mind,  having  felt 
a  deep  and  lively  interest  in  it  at  first,  had  become 
weary  and  exhausted  by  its  unexpected  length,  and 
was  now  extremely  anxious  that  it  should  be  brought 
to  a  close.  The  house  itself,  particularly  the  great  body 
of  the  members  who  had  already  spoken,  gave  strong 
manifestations  of  the  same  temper.  For  several  days, 
the  question  had  been  repeatedly  called  for,  by  nume- 
rous voices  at  once,  with  a  vehemence  amounting  al- 
most to  disorder. 

During  all  this  time,  Mr.  Ames,  in  a  feeble  and  shat- 
tered state  of  health,  and  bowed  down  by  a  load  of  lan- 
guor and  despondency,  had  remained  a  silent  spectator 
of  the  conflict.  He  had  even  determined  not  to  speak  at 
all,  because  he  felt  himself  unequal  to  the  exertion,  and 
had,  therefore,  made  no  preparatory  arrangements.  As 
the  moment,  however,  approached  when  he  was  to  join 
in  the  vote — a  vote,  on  which,  in  his  estimation,  de- 
pended the  future  prosperity  and  happiness  of  his  coun- 
try, his  resolution  forsook  him,  and  his  patriotism  tri- 
umphed over  his  prudence.  From  an  expectation,  on 
the  part  of  some,  that  the  question  would  be  that  day 
decided,  and  of  others,  that,  perhaps,  Mr.  Ames  would 
be  induced  to  speak,  the  lobbies  and  galleries  of  the 
house  were  overflowingly  crowded.  The  flower  of  Phi- 
ladelphia was  present  on  the  occasion. 

Under  these  circumstances,  with  a  pale  countenance 
and  a  languid  air,  the  orator  tose,  and,  in  a  voice  feeble 
at  the  commencement,  addressed  himself  to  the  chair. 
When  he  first  took  the  floor,  a  murmur  of  approbation 
escaped  from  the  audience,  who,  in  their  keen  impa- 
tience that  the  del»ate  should  be  closed,  would  have  been 
tempted  to  frown  on  any  other  speaker.  To  this  invo- 
-  luntary  expression  of  the  public  satisfaction  succeeded 
the  most  profound  silence,  that  not  a  syllable  might  es- 
«ape  unheard.  Animated,  for  the  moment,  by  the  work- 
ings of  his  mind,  and  inspired,  as  it  were,  by  the  occa- 
sion, with  a  degree  of  life  and  strength,  to  which  his 
frame  had  long  been  a  stranger,  the  orator's  ardour  and 
energy  iucreased  ;  as  he  proceeded,  his  voice  accjuired 
a  wider  compass,  and  he  carried  the  house  triumphantly 
along  wiih  him.  Never  was  man  gazed  at  with  more 
steadfast  attention  ;  never  was  he  listened  to  with  more 
thrilling  delight.    PaU  and  sickly,  as  it  was,  bis  coun- 


tenance seemed  at  times,  under  the  irresistible  illusion 
of  the  moment,  to  be  irradiated  with  more  than  mor- 
tal fires,  and  the  intonations  of  his  voice  to  be  marked 
with  more  than  mortal  sweetness.  We  speak  feelingly, 
for  we  heard  him  throughout;  and  never  can  his  image 
be  eflaced  from  our  recollection,  nor  his  accents  seem  to 
fade  on  our  ear.  Even  now,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  six- 
teen years,  his  look,  his  gesture,  his  attitude — all  the 
orator  seems  embodied  before  us,  and  we  dwell  in  ima- 
gination on  the  sound  of  his  voice  with  undiminished 
delight.  He  addressed  himself  to  every  faculty  of  the 
mind,  and  awakened  every  feeling  and  emotion  of  the 
heart.  Argument,  remonstrance,  entreaty,  persuasion, 
terror,  and  warning,  fell,  now  like  the  music,  and  now 
like  the  thunder  of  heaven,  from  his  lips.  He  seemed 
like  Patriotism  in  human  form,  eloquently  pleading  for 
the  salvation  of  his  country.  The  effect  produced  re- 
sembled the  fabled  workings  of  enchantment.  He  threw 
a  spell  over  the  senses,  rendering  them  insensible  to 
every  thing  but  himself.  We  venture  to  assert,  that 
while  he  kept  the  floor,  no  person  present  had  the  slight- 
est consciousness  of  the  lapse  of  time. 

When  he  resumed  his  seat,  the  audience  seemed  to 
awake  as  from  a  dream  of  delight.  So  absorbed  were 
they  in  admiration-— so  fascinated  and  subdued  by  the 
charms  of  his  eloquence,  that  no  one  had  the  proper 
command  of  his  faculties.  Conscious  of  this,  a  leading 
member  in  the  opposition  moved  for  an  adjournment, 
that  the  house  might  have  time  to  cool,  and  the  vote  not 
be  taken  under  the  influence  of  the  overwhelming  sen- 
sibility which  the  orator  had  excitetl.  This  circumstance 
was  in  itself  a  tribute  to  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Ames  far 
beyond  what  language  can  bestow.  It  was  aconftssiou, 
extorted  from  a  political  adversary,  that  even  the  spirit 
of  party  was  van(|uished  by  his  powers. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  the  college  of  Prince- 
ton, in  consideration  of  his  distinguished  rank  as  a  scho- 
lar and  a  statesman,  conferred  on  Mr.  Ames  the  hono- 
rary degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws. 

His  health  being  somewhat  restored  by  regimen  and 
travel,  he  was  enabled  to  appear  in  the  national  legisla- 
ture during  the  winter  of  1798 — 7,  although  not  to  fill 
up  his  usual  sphere  in  the  duties  of  the  house.  Still, 
however,  he  was  a  leading  member.  The  splendour  of 
his  former  services  had  thrown  around  him  unfading 
honours,  and  given  him  an  ascendency  which  little  else 
than  his  presence  was  requisite  to  maintain.  But  even 
now  he  was  far  from  being  a  silent  spectator  of  events. 
In  the  debate  which  ensued  on  the  answer  of  the  house 
to  the  president's  speech,  he  vindicated  in  a  strain  of 
the  loftiest  eloquence,  and  in  a  style  of  eulogy  peculiar 
to  himself,  the  claim  of  Washington  to  the  unqualified 
love  and  gratitude  of  the  nation. 

On  the  close  of  this  session,  which  was  the  last  under 
the  auspices  of  the  Washington  administration,  Mr. 
Ames,  having  previously  declined  standing  a  candidate, 
returned  to  the  walks  of  private  life.  But  it  was  his 
'body  alone  that  sought  repose  from  public  toils.  His  love 
of  country  continuing  as  before,  his  predominant  passion, 
and  his  mind  still  delighting  to  mingle  in  exercises  where 
the  eminent  contend,  he  threw  even  now  a  large  portion 
of  light  into  the  councils  of  the  nation.  Through  the  me- 
dium of  the  public  prints,  under  various  signatures,  and 
in  a  style  rich  and  fascinating,  in  an  eminent  degree, 
he  imparted  to  his  fellow-citizens,  from  his  private  resi- 
dence, as  excjuisite  lessons  of  political  wisdom,  as  had 
issued  from  liie  lips  xa  the  bouse  of  representatives.   For 


AMES. 


675 


several  yeafs  his  prodnctions  Ihroiigh  this  channel  were 
multifarions  and  abundant.  Although  generally  written 
with  great  rapidity — frequently  amidst  the  interruptions 
of  a  court-house,  or  the  noise  of  a  public  inn,  where  he 
only  rested  for  the  night,  they  were  always  delightful 
and  instructive,  breathing  the  purest  sentiments  of  pa- 
triotism, and  hallowed  by  a  spirit  of  enlightened  philan- 
thropy. 

Among  his  compositions,  during  the  period  of  his 
retirement,  should  be  particularly  noticed  his  eulogy  on 
Washington,  to  the  delivery  of  which  he  was  appointed 
by  the  legislature  of  Massachusetts,  and  his  masterly 
sketch  of  the  character  of  Hamilton.  He  lived  long 
enough  to  weep  over  the  ashes,  and  to  celebrate  the 
praises,  of  these  two  wonderful  statesmen  and  heroes  ; 
and,  perhaps,  of  all  men  of  the  age,  he  was  most  worthy 
of  so  exalted  an  honour,  because  most  competent  to  the 
task  it  imposed.  His  affection  for  the  latter,  and  his 
sorrow  and  regret  for  his  untimely  fall,  he  pours  forth  in  a 
style  of  sensibility  and  pathos,  which  nothing  canexceed. 

"  The  tears,"  says  he,  "  that  flow  on  this  fond  recital, 
will  never  dry  up.  My  heart,  penetrated  with  the  re- 
membrance of  the  man,  grows  liquid  as  I  write,  and  I 
could  pour  it  out  like  water.  I  could  weep,  too,  for  my 
country,  which,  mournful  as  it  is,  does  not  know  the 
half  of  its  loss.  It  deeply  laments,  when  it  turns  its 
eyes  back,  aud  sees  what  Hamilton  wcui ;  but  my  soul 
stiffens  with  despair,  when  1  think  what  Hamilton  tvould 
have  been. 

"  His  social  affections  and  his  private  virtues  are  not, 
however,  so  properly  the  object  of  j)ublic  attention,  as 
the  conspicuous  and  commanding  qualities  that  gave 
him  his  fame  and  influence  in  the  world.  It  is  not  as 
Apollo,  enchanting  the  shepherds  with  his  lyre,  that  we 
deplore  him ;  it  is  as  Hercules,  treacherously  slain  in 
the  midst  of  his  unflnished  labours,  leaving  the  world 
overrun  with  monsters." 

In  the  year  1804,  Mr.  Ames  was  chosen  president  of 
Harvard  college.  To  the  infinite  regret,  however,  of 
the  institution,  the  broken  and  precarious  state  of  his 
health,  conjoined  with  other  considerations,  which  had 
no  influence  on  any  one  but  himself,  prevented  his  ac- 
ceptance of  so  responsible  an  office.  The  proper  edu- 
cation of  youth  was  a  subject  which  always  lay  near  to 
his  heart.  He  considered  it  not  merely  as  the  princi- 
pal ornament  of  the  edifice,  but  as  the  only  durable  ce- 
ment to  hold  the  fabric  of  a  representative  government, 
not  to  say  the  very  structure  of  society,  together.  Con- 
trary, however,  to  the  sentiments  of  others,  he  did  not 
think  his  habits  altogether  such  as  were  calculated  to  fit 
him  for  the  chief  of  a  college. 

In  relation  to  the  closing  years  of  the  life  of  Mr.  Ames, 
we  find  that  we  cannot  do  belter  than  to  copy  the  lan- 
guage of  his  biographer  of  Boston,  who,  as  formerly 
stated,  appears  to  have  been  in  the  number  of  his  per- 
sonal friends. 

"  From  1 795,"  says  this  interesting  writer, "  his  health 
continued  to  decline,  with  partial  and  flattering  inter- 
missions, till  his  death.  He  was  a  striking  example  of 
magnanimity  and  patience  under  suffering.  Retaining 
always  the  vigour  and  serenity  of  his  mind,  he  appeared 
to  make  those  reflections  which  became  his  situation." 
When  speaking  of  his  first  attack,  he  observes,  "  I  trust 
I  realize  the  value  of  those  habits  of  thinking,  which  I 
have  cherished  for  some  time.  Sickness  is  not  wholly 
useless  to  me.  It  has  increased  the  warmth  of  my  affec- 
tion to  my  friends.     It  has  taught  me  to  make  haste  in 


forming  the  plan  of  my  life,  if  it  should  be  spared,  more 
for  private  duties  and  social  enjoyments,  and  less  for 
the  splendid  emptiness  of  public  station,  than  yet  I 
have  done." 

"  At  length,"  continues  his  biographer,  "  after  an  ex- 
treme debility  for  two  years,  the  frame  which  had  so 
long  tottered,  was  about  to  fall.  With  composure  and 
dignity  he  saw  the  approach  of  his  dissolution.  He  had 
many  reasons  for  wishing  to  live.  The  summons  came 
to  demand  of  his  noon  of  life  the  residue  of  a  day  which 
had  been  bright  and  fair;  of  his  love  of  fame,  the  relin- 
quishment of  all  that  respect  and  honour,  which  the 
world  solicited  him  to  receive;  of  his  patriotism,  the 
termination  of  all  his  cares  and  labours  for  a  country, 
which  he  loved  with  inextinguishable  ardour;  of  his 
conjugal  affection,  a  separation  from  an  object  inexpres- 
sibly dear;  of  his  parental  tenderness,  the  surrender  of 
his  children  to  the  chances  and  vicissitudes  of  life  with- 
out his  counsel  and  care. 

"  But  these  views  of  his  condition  did  not  sink  his 
heart,  which  was  sustained  by  pious  confidence  and  hope. 
He  appeared  now  what  he  always  was,  and  rose  in  vir- 
tues in  proportion  to  his  trial,  expressing  the  tenderest 
concern  for  those  he  should  leave,  and  embracing  in  his 
solitude  his  country  and  mankind.  He  expired  on  the 
morning  of  the  fourth  of  July,  1808.  When  the  intelli- 
gence reached  Boston,  a  meeting  of  the  citizens  was 
held,  with  a  view  to  testify  their  resjject  for  his  charac- 
ter and  services.  In  compliance  with  their  request,  his 
remains  were  brought  to  the  capital  for  interment,  at 
which  an  eulogy  was  pronounced  by  his  early  friend 
Mr.  Qexter,  and  every  mark  of  respectful  notice  was 
paid. 

"  Funeral  honours  to  public  characters,  being  cus- 
tomary offices  of  decorum  and  propriety,  are  necessarily 
equivocal  testimonies  of  esteem.  But  Mr.  Ames  was  a 
private  man,  who  was  honoured  because  he  was  lament- 
ed. He  was  followed  to  the  grave  by  a  longer  proces- 
sion than  has,  perhaps,  appeared  on  any  similar  occasion. 
It  was  a  great  assemblage,  drawn  by  gratitude  and  ad- 
miration, around  the  bier  of  one  exalted  in  their  esteem 
by  his  pre-eminent  gifts,  and  endeared  to  their  hearts 
by  the  surpassing  loveliness  of  his  disposition." 

That  Mr.  Ames  held  a  place  in  the  foremost  ranks  of 
intellect,  and  is,  in  that  respect,  entitled  to  a  conspicu- 
ous station  in  the  temple  of  fame,  those  who  knew  him 
best  are  most  ready  to  allow.  Even  his  enemies, — if, 
indeed,  he  left  any  behind  him, — will  not  deny,  that  he 
was  endowed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  with  all  the  powers 
and  qualities  of  a  man  of  genius.  Whatever  his  imagi- 
nation conceived  and  his  judgment  approved,  his  fancy 
decorated  in  the  most  vivid  colours,  and  his  ardour  car- 
ried home  with  irresistible  effect. 

Although  eminent  as  a  jurist,  and  still  more  so  as  a 
writer,  he  was  most  distinguished  as  a  statesman,  and 
an  orator.  The  style  of  his  eloquence  was  peculiar  to 
himself.  We  know  of  no  model,  either  ancient  or  mo-* 
dern,  to  which  it  can,  in  strict  propriety,  be  compared. 
Too  rich  to  borrow,  and  too  proud  toimitate,  helooked  in- 
to himself,  and  drew  on  his  own  resources  for  whatever 
the  subject  and  occasion  demanded.  He  sought,  indeed, 
for  information  from  every  quarter ;  through  the  abun- 
dant channels  of  reading  and  conversation,  no  less  thaa 
those  of  observation  and  reflection.  But  when  know- 
ledgeonce  entered  his  mind,  it  ex|)erienced  so  many  new 
combinations,  and  underwent  such  a  thorough  digestion, 
as  to  be  completely  assimilated  to  his  own  genius.     AI- 

4  q2 


67G 


AMES. 


though  it  entered  as  knowledge  derived  from  another,  it 
soon  took  the  character  of  the  intellect  it  nourished,  and 
wentforth  again,  when  required,  to  appear  in  a  renovated 
and  more  radiant  form.  Nor  was  it  in  respect  to  its  form 
alone  that  it  sustained  a  mutation.  It  was  augmented  in 
its  bulk,  and  multiplied  in  its  ramifications,  like  a  cion 
planted  in  a  fertile  and  well  watered  soil.  In  relation  to 
the  modes  of  debate  it  pursued,  and  the  abundance  of  in- 
struments it  was  in  the  habit  of  using,  a  more  pregnant, 
plastic,  and  versatile  mind  perhaps  never  existed.  Na- 
ture and  art  were  alike  tributary  to  its  amazing  re- 
sources. With  an  ease  and  velocity  which  we  never, 
we  think,  witnessed  in  any  other  being,  it  would  bound 
through  the  range  of  space  from  pole  to  pole,  and  from 
earth  to  heaven,  returning  fraught  with  the  choicest 
lights  and  happiest  allusions,  with  all  that  was  rare,  and 
new,  and  beautiful,  as  means  in  illustration  of  some  to- 
pic of  debate.  Capable  of  sporting  with  the  lightest  ob- 
jects and  of  wielding  the  mightiest,  it  passed,  with  equal 
familiarity,  from  the  dew-drop  to  the  ocean,  and  from 
the  whispering  of  the  breeze  to  the  roar  of  the  ele- 
ments. As  circumstances  demanded,  its  subject  ap- 
peared either  in  a  dress  "  simplex  munditiis"  elegantly 
simple,  or  clothed  in  a  style  of  oriental  niagniBcence. 

In  the  different  views  entertained  on  the  subject  by 
difiFerent  individuals,  the  oratory  of  Mr.  Ames  has  been 
compared  successively  to  that  of  most  of  the  distin- 
guished speakers  that  have  flourished, — to  the  oratory, 
in  particular,  of  Burke  and  Chatham,  Cicero  and  Demos- 
thenes. He  has  been  even  said  to  have  formed  himself 
on  the  model  of  each  of  these  illustrious  standards  in  elo- 
quence. The  criticism  is,  in  both  its  branches,  erroneous. 
Theoratory  of  Mr.  Ames,  although  equally  lofty,  was  less 
gorgeous  than  that  of  Burke,  less  full  and  swelling  than 
that  of  Cicero,  and,  though  somewhat  similar  in  its  sen- 
ten  tiousnes8,energy,and  point,  less  vehement  and  abrupt 
than  that  of  Chatham  or  Demosthenes.  In  unstudied 
ornament,  striking  antithesis,  fertility  of  allusion,  and 
novelty  of  combination,  it  was  certainly  far  superior  to 
either.  Nor  is  it  just  to  the  reputation  of  Mr.  Ames,  to 
represent  him  as  an  imitator  of  either  British,  Roman, 
or  Grecian  eloquence.  That  he  was  familiar  with  the 
best  models  of  the  art,  both  ancient  and  modern,  will 
not  be  denied.  He  studied  them,  however,  not  with  a 
view  to  servile  imitation,  but  merely  for  the  purposes  of 
instruction  and  improvement ; — with  the  intention,  per- 
haps, of  correcting  faults,  but  certainly  not  of  acquiring 
excellencies.  Something  negative  might  have  been  de- 
rived from  them ;  but  every  thing  positive  originated 
in  himself.  After  collecting  the  best  lights  that  exten- 
sive reading  and  inquiry  could  bestow,  he  retired  with- 
in himself,  and  followed  the  bent  of  his  own  genius. 

In  the  various  exterior  qualifications  of  the  orator,  Mr. 
Ames,  though  not  perfect,  was  certainly  accomplished. 
His  figure,  somewhat  above  the  common  size,  was  well 
proportioned,  erect,  and  manly.  His  countenance,  al- 
though not  marked  by  the  strongest  lines,  or  the  boldest 
features,  was  lively  and  intelligent,  susceptible  of  great 
animation  and  variety  of  expression,  when  thoroughly 
warmed  and  illumined  by  debate.  His  voice  was  clear, 
distinct,  and  melodious,  of  sufficient  compass  to  fill  the 
largest  of  our  public  buildings,  and  capable  of  great  va- 
riety in  its  intonations.  His  action,  although  not,  pei> 
haps,  varied  to  the  extent  that  was  allowable  and  even 
desirable,  was  easy,  graceful,  and  appropriate ;  and,  in 


his  more  lofty  and  impassioned  flights,  became  some 
times  dignified,  bold,  and  commamling.  Without  ever 
descending  to  what  might  be  denominated  the  strata- 
gems of  oratory,  he,  notwithstanding,  practised  that 
command  of  temper,  and  never  failed  in  the  observance 
of  that  regard  to  the  feelings  and  disposition  of  the 
house,  which  are  such  powerful  auxiliaries  to  argument 
and  persuasion. 

In  endeavouring  to  give  a  view  of  the  genius  of  Mr. 
Ames,  it  is  proper  to  observe,  that  his  imagination  was 
the  master  faculty  of  his  mind.  Original,  lolty,  prolific, 
and  inventive,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  inimitably  sportive 
and  gay,  it  was  capable  of  every  variety  of  exertion.  It 
could  mount,  with  the  eagle,  through  tempests  and 
storms;  skim,  with  the  swallow,  along  the  surface  of  the 
pool ;  or,  like  our  own  sylph-winged  Trochilus*,  play- 
fully dart  from  flower  to  flower,  robbing  each  of  its 
sweets,  or  plucking  the  fairest  and  weaving  them  into 
festoons  of  the  choicest  imagery.  It  was  in  his  hours 
of  relaxation  and  social  intercourse,  that  these  latter 
qualities  of  his  imagination  were  displayed  with  a  feli- 
city that  never  was  surpassed.  It  has  been  remarked, 
that  those  individuals  most  celebrated  for  their  oratorical, 
are  not  generally  distinguished,  in  an  equal  degree,  for 
their  colloquial  talents.  With  him,  however,  the  case 
was  different.  His  powers  in  conversation  were  even 
paramount,  in  their  kind,  to  his  eminence  in  debate.  It 
was  within  the  circle  of  private  friendship  that  he  might 
be  said  to  feel  the  influence  of  a  peculiar  inspiration. 
On  these  occasions,  his  mind  never  laboured,  nor  ap- 
peared to  be  sensible  of  its  own  exertions.  Every 
thing  came  to  it  spontaneously  and  unsought  for.  Yet 
did  it  furnish  forth  such  a  rich  and  gorgeous  intellec- 
tual banquet, — the  fruits  of  judgment,  the  stores  of  me- 
mory, and  the  decorations  of  fancy,  delightfully  arranged 
by  the  hand  of  taste,  while  the  champaign  of  wit  was 
brilliantly  foaming  around  the  board, — that  the  scene 
was  heighteneil  almost  to  enchantment. 

Criticism  has  not  yet  settled  the  rank  and  character 
of  Mr.  Ames  as  a  writer.  Nor,  were  we  otherwise  quali- 
fied for  it,  would  either  our  functions  or  the  limits  of 
this  article  permit  us,  at  present,  to  engage  in  the  task. 
That  he  possessed,  in  an  ample  degree,  the  power  to 
instruct  by  the  variety  and  excellence  of  his  matter,  to 
surprise  by  the  novelty  of  his  combinations,  and  to  de- 
light by  the  beauties  of  his  style,  no  one  who  has  read 
his  productions  will  deny.  Notwithstanding  this,  w« 
do  not  feel  authorized  to  place  his  works  in  the  highest 
order  of  prose  composition.  This,  however,  was  the 
result  of  inauspicious  circumstances,  rather  than  of  any 
deficiency  in  the  powers  of  the  writer.  Excellency  in 
composition  is  not  attainable  by  a  hasty  effort.  It  is  as 
much  the  work  of  time  and  the  oflspring  of  labour,  as  a 
highly  finished  painting,  or  an  exquisite  piece  of  sculp- 
ture. The  first  draught  of  an  essay,  however  masterly 
the  hand  that  executes  it,  is  always  in  some  of  its  quali- 
ties, imperiect.  That  writer  who  does  not  carefully  re- 
view the  labours  of  his  pen,  will  never  rise  to  eminence 
in  his  profession.  Even  the  productions  of  the  great 
Johnson  that  were  written  in  haste,  and  hurried  to  the 
press  without  correction,  can  be  easily  distinguished 
from  those  that  received  a  careful  revisal. 

Hence  arose  the  principal  imperfections,  in  point  of 
composition,  that  appear  in  the  works  of  Mr.  Ames. 
They  were  hastily  written,  and  seldom  revised.    Btill, 


*  Tke  Lammiog  bird. 


AMH 


AMH 


677 


howeyer,  they  constitute  a  splendid  and  durable  monu- 
ment of  ills  talents  and  research.  They  are  an  impor- 
tant addition,  not  only  to  the  science  of  politics,  but  to 
English  literature.  We  firmly  believe,  that  few,  if  any 
men  living,  could  have  written  so  rapidly,  with  so  little 
preparation,  and,  at  the  same  time,  so  well.  They  are 
animated,  sententious,  full  of  ornament,  and  clothed  in  a 
style  more  chaste  and  classical,  than  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  were  composed  would  warrant  us  to 
expect.  If  they  are  not  equal  to  the  writings  of  Burke, 
whose  compositions,  perhaps,  they  most  resemble  (and 
we  cannot  admit  that  the  inferiority  is  striking)  it  is 
only  because  they  were  hastier  productions.  More 
devoted  to  his  country's  welfare  than  to  his  own  glory, 
their  author  hurried  them  rapidly  from  his  pen,  and  as 
rapidly  through  the  press,  anxious  only  that  they  should 
be  clearly  understood,  and  the  truths  they  contain  be 
duly  appreciated. 

That  in  the  attributes  appertaining  to  mere  elocution, 
Mr.  Ames  was  the  most  distinguished  speaker  of  his 
time,  all  men  of  all  parties  readily  acknowledged.  His 
political  opponents,  however,  that  they  might  not  resign 
to  him  the  palm  in  every  thing,  but,  by  endeavouring  to 
make  his  defects  a  counterpoise  to  his  excellencies,  lop 
his  reputation  to  their  own  standard,  .asserted  that  both 
his  speeches  and  writings  were  wanting  in  depth  and 
soundnessof  thought — That  they  were  more  brilliant  and 
touching,  than  solid  and  instructive.and,  therefore,  much 
better  calculated  to  dazzle  the  imagination  and  subdue 
the  heart,  than  to  inform  the  judgment  orconrince  the  un- 
derstanding. They  charged  him  with  substituting  decla- 
mation for  argument,  the  pomp  of  imagery  for  the  severi- 
ty of  logic,  and  pronounced  him  deficient  in  political  sa- 
gacity and  wisdom.  Of  this  calumny,  as  illiberal  as  it  was 
unfounded,  his  works  are  themselves  an  ample  refutation. 
They  demonstrate,  in  a  manner  the  most  clear  and  for- 
cible, that  his  discernment  and  sagacity  were  equally 
pre-eminent  with  his  powers  of  elocution — that  on  many 
points,  his  political  wisdom  amounted  almost  to  the 
light  of  prophecy.  We  venture  to  assert  that  no  man  of 
the  age  has  surpassed — in  our  opinion  none  has  equalled 
him,  in  the  almost  divine  attribute  of  predicting  the  oc- 
currence of  future  events.  Not  to  mention  his  foresight 
in  relation  to  the  aflfairs  of  our  own  country,  his  writings 
are  a  chart  of  the  progress  of  those  changes  that  subse- 
quently occurred  on  the  contiaeHt  of  Europe.     Deeply 


read  in  history,  which  furnishes  the  best  clue  to  the  in- 
tricate mazes  of  the  human  heart,  and  is  itself  philosophy 
teaching  by  example  the  consequences  attendant  on  the 
operation  of  certain  principles  and  measures,  he  had 
learned  to  foretel  the  future  from  the  past. 

The  principal  fault  in  the  writings  of  Mr.  Ames  is 
itself  an  evidence  of  the  richness  and  extent  of  his  in- 
tellectual resources.  It  is  a  superabundance  of  meta- 
phor, an  excess  of  imagery,  which  sometimes  diverts 
the  attention  from  substance  to  ornament,  and  thereby 
weakens  the  effect  of  the  sentiment  which  it  adorns.  In 
this  respect,  although  he  excites  our  admiration,  and 
even  moves  our  wonder,  he  holds  out  an  exanple  which 
sound  criticism  forbids  us  to  imitate.  Had  he  lived  to 
revise  his  writings  during  hours  of  leisure,  when  the 
glow  of  original  composition  had  subsided,  he  would 
have  pruned  them  of  this  cumbersome  load  of  ornament. 
In  such  an  event,  but  little  would  have  been  wanting  to 
render  them  perfect.  They  would  have  borne  a  proud 
comparison  with  the  best  writings  that  Europe  has  pro- 
duced. 

In  private  and  domestic  life,  Mr.  Ames  was  peculiarly 
amiable.  His  temper  was  mild,  his  heart  benevolent,  his 
disposition  open  and  generous,  and  his  affections  warm. 
Participating  of  the  frailties  incident  to  our  nature,  he 
was  not  perfect.  His  faults,  however,  were  so  few,  and 
inconsiderable,  so  lost  in  the  lustre  of  his  excellencies 
and  virtues,  that,  without  being  chargeable  with  a  spi- 
rit of  partiality,  we  may  be  suffered  to  commit  tJiem 
unrevealed  to  the  same  shrine  that  encloses  his  ashes. 
He  preserved  throughout  every  station  which  it  was  his 
fortune  to  fill,  and  every  scene  in  which  he  bore  a  part, 
a  reputation  of  the  highest  moral  standard — unsullied 
and  unsuspected. 

His  death,  which  occurred  inthe  51  st  year  of  his  age, 
bespoke  the  conscious  purity  and  rectitude  of  his  life. — 
It  celebrated  his  praises  in  a  style  of  panygeric  which 
the  language  of  the  eulogist  would  emulate  in  vain.  He 
was  sustained  and  comforted,  in  his  last  moments,  by 
those  cheering  hopes  and  beatific  expectations  which 
constitute  the  rich  inheritance  of  the  Christian. 

It  would  be  unjust  in  us  to  close  this  article  without 
acknowledging  the  obligations  we  have  been  repeatedly 
under,  in  the  course  of  it,  to  the  author,  whoever  he 
may  be,  of  the  excellent  biographical  notice  of  Mr. 
Ames,  which  is  prefixed  to  his  works.    Caluwell. 


AMETHYST,  a  subspecies  of  the  quartz  species. 
See  Oryctognost.     (»•) 

AMETH  YSTEA,  agenus  of  plants  of  the  class  Dian- 
dria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (tv) 

AMH  ARA,  a  district  of  Abyssinia;  which  is  bounded 
by  Begemder  on  the  north,  Walaka  and  Marrabet  on 
the  south,  Angot  on  the  east,  and  on  the  west  by  the 
Abay,  or  Abyssinian  Nile.  This  district,  which  is  situ- 
ated almost  in  the  centre  of  Abyssinia,  extends  about 
120  miles  from  east  to  west,  while  its  breadth  does  not 
much  exceed  40.  It  is  a  very  mountainous  country,  and 
derives  particular  celebrity  from  the  high  mountain  of 
Geshen,  or  the  grassy  mountain,  where  the  royal  family 
used  to  be  imprisoned,  till  they  were  surprised  and  mur- 
dered there  in  the  Adelan  war. 

Amhara  is  the  residence  of  many  of  the  nobiiity,  and 


gives  language,  manners,  and  customs,  to  the  modem 
Abyssinians.  But  though  the  Amharic  has  become 
the  court  language,  and  though  seven  new  characters 
were  adopted  to  facilitate  its  pronunciation,  the  Geez, 
or  Ethiopic,  still  retains  its  original  dignity.  In  the 
Geez  alone  all  the  books  of  the  Abyssinians  are  written  ; 
and  so  sacred  is  it  held,  that  there  is  a  law  in  the 
country,  which,  though  transmitted  only  by  tradition, 
has  been  inviolably  preserved,  that  if  any  one  should 
attempt  to  translate  the  Scriptures  into  Amharic,  or  any 
other  language,  his  throat  should  be  cut  after  the  man- 
ner of  sheep,  his  family  made  slaves,  and  his  house 
razed  to  the  ground.  In  this  province  were  situated, 
Mecanar  Selasse,  Jedbaba  Mariam,  Ganeta  Georgis, 
and  Atronso  Mariam,  four  of  the  most  wealthy  and 
celebrated  churches  ia  Ethiopiai    These  churches  were 


678 


AMH 


AMH 


the  principal  objects  of  royal  bounty  during  the  reign* 
of  Znra  Jacob  and  his  successors,  till  they  were  laid 
waste  in  the  calamitous  war  of  Gragne,  which  began 
when  the  Portuguese  embassy  left  the  country,  A.  D. 
1526.     (A) 


AMHERST,  Jefpery,  Lord,  an  associate  in  arms 
with  general  Wolfe,  was  born  at  Riverhead,  in  Kent, 
England,  on  the  29th  of  January,  1717.  As  the  estate 
of  his  father,  who  resided  at  Kent,  was  to  devolve  on  his 
elder  brother  Sackville,  Jeffery,  the  second  son,  who 
possessed  a  strong  predilection  for  a  military  life,  re- 
solved to  dedicate  himself  to  the  profession  of  arms. 
He  accordingly,  Avhen  only  about  1 4  years  old,  accepted 
a  commission  as  ensign  of  the  guards,  and  entered  into 
tlie  service  of  his  country.  In  1741,  he  became  aid-de- 
eamp  to  the  then  general,  afterwards  lord  Ligonier.  In 
this  capacity  he  accompanied  that  officer  into  Germany 
at  the  memorable  battles  of  Roucox,  Dettengen,  and 
Pontenoy.  His  meritorious  exertions  now  rendered 
him  so  conspicuous,  that  he  was  admitted  on  the  stall" 
of  his  royal  highness  the  duke  of  Cumberland,  and  wai 
present  at  the  engagements  of  Laffeld  and  Hastenbetk. 
At  the  commencement  sf  the  difficulties  with  Great 
Britain  and  France  in  1 757,  it  being  determined  to  make 
the  French  possessions  in  America  the  principal  seat  of 
warfare,  Amherst,  whohad  attained  to  the  rank  of  colonel, 
received  orders  to  return  to  England,  was  created  major 
general,  and,  with  the  illustrious  Wolfe,  was  appointed 
for  the  American  service.  He  departed  from  Plymouth 
March  1 6th,  1758.  As  the  reduction  of  Louisbourg,  the 
capital  of  the  Island  of  Breton,  was  now  meditated,  he 
embarked  the  troops,  which  he  brought  out  with  him, 
at  Halifax,  on  the  28th  of  May,  and  sailed  for  Louisbourg 
with  the  English  squadron,  consisting  of  twenty-one  line 
of  battle  ships  and  twenty  frigates,  under  the  command 
of  Admiral  Boscawen.  It  is  unnecessary  here  to  enume- 
rate the  various  plans  and  operations  of  the  several 
commanders  on  this  occasion,  or  particularly  to  notice 
the  military  exploits  and  prudence  of  Amherst,  and  the 
extraordinary  exertions  of  thedistinguished  Wolfe.  The 
town  of  Louisbourg,  though  so  strongly  fortified  as  to 
be  deemed  almost  impregnable,  was  at  length  taken  on 
the  26th  of  July,  and  with  but  little  further  difficulty  the 
whole  Island  of  Cape  Breton,  at  the  expense  of  about 
400  men  killed  and  wounded. 

General  Amherst  was  soon  honoured  with  the  reward 
due  to  his  success ;  and  in  the  ensuing  September  was 
appointed  commander  in  chief  of  all  the  forces  in  North 
America,  in  the  place  of  general  Abercrombie,  whose 
attack  and  retreat  at  Ticondcro^a,  became  the  topic 
of  severe  animadversion,  and  the  primary  cause  of  his 
removal.  In  the  following  year  was  formed  the  great 
design  of  attacking,  as  nearly  at  the  same  time  as 
practicable,  Crown  Point,  Niagara,  Quebec,  and  the 
forts  south  of  lake  George;  that  by  thus  distracting  and 
wearying  the  enemy,  all  Canada  might  be  taken  at  one 
campaign.  The  several  armies  were  commanded  by 
Amherst,  Wolfe,  and  Prideaux.  Amherst,  at  the  head  of 
12,000  troops  and  provincials,  was  to  penetrate  into  the 
interior,  by  the  lakes,  make  himself  master  of  Ticonde- 
roga  and  Crown  Point ;  establish  a  naval  force  in  lake 
Champlain,  descend  by  means  of  the  Sorrel  into  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  in  conjunction  with  Wolfe  and  Prideaux, 
lay  siege  to  Quebec.  The  army  under  the  command  of 
general  Amherst  was  the  first  in  motion,  and  arrived  on 


AMIA.    See  Ichthyologt. 

AMIANTH,  or  Amianthus,  a  subspecies  of  the  as- 
best  family.     See  Oryctognost.     (r) 

ABIICABLE  Numbers.  Two  numbers  are  said  to 
be  amicable,  when  the  sum  of  the  aliquot  parts  of  each 
number  is  equal  to  the  other.  The  subject  of  amicable 
numbers  was  first  treated  of  by  Christopher  Rudolphas 
and  Descartes,  but  more  fully  by  Francis  Schoolen,  in 


the  24th  of  July  before  Ticonderoga,  the  fortifications 
of  which  place,  the  enemy,(after  having  nearly  destroyed, 
had  abandoned.  Amherst  immediately  set  about  re- 
pairing the  works  of  this  important  post,  while  scouting 
parties  were  sent  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Crown  Point 
in  order  to  watch  the  movements  of  the  enemy.  He. 
soon  learned  that  the  French,  considering  that  place  un- 
tenable, had  departed,  and  instantly  prepared  to  fortify 
it.  Niagara,  having  at  the  same  time  surrendered  to  the 
troops  and  provincials  of  Sir  William  Johnson,  every 
prospect  of  success  was  now  held  out.  But  it  was  still 
necessary  to  overcome  the  French  flotilla  on  lake  Cham- 
plain,  and  the  garrison  at  Isle  Aux  Noux  was  to  be  re- 
duoed.  The  preparations  for  these  purposes  were 
scarcely  made  ready,  when  the  sudden  and  unexpected 
approacli  of  cold  weather  frustrated  his  present  expec- 
tations, and  ultimately  obliged  him  to  desist  from  bis 
formidable  enterprise. 

It  was  therefore  determined  to  return  to  Crown  Point, 
and  early  in  the  spring  to  complete  the  original  plan.  In 
the  mean  time,  Wolfe  had  appeared  before  Quebec,  and 
although  unsupported  by  the  main  army  under  Amherst, 
and  in  defiance  of  numerous  and  unforeseen  difficulties, 
achieved  by  means  of  a  mere  detachment  what  had 
been  the  chief  object  of  the  expedition.  On  the  8th  of 
September,  M.  De  Vaudreuil  capitulated,  surrendering 
Montreal,  and  all  other  places  within  the  government  of 
Canada. 

General  Amherst  remained  in  America  until  the  lat- 
ter part  of  1703,  when  he  returned  home.  During  the 
administration  of  Mr.  Pitt,he  received  every  reward  that 
his  great  services  merited.  In  1771,  he  was  appointed 
governor  of  the  island  of  Guernsey;  in  1776,  he  was 
created  baron  Amherst  of  Holmsdale,  in  the  county  of 
Kent,  and  in  1778  appointed  commander  in  chief  of  the 
army  of  England.  Upon  a  change  of  the  ministry,  how- 
ever, the  command  of  the  army  and  the  lieutenant  gene- 
ralship of  the  ordnance  were  put  into  other  bauds ;  but 
in  consequence  of  the  re-estaljlishment  of  the  stafT,  he 
was  once  more  a|)pointed  commander  in  chief,  in  Janua- 
ry, 1793.  It  being  at  length  determined  to  confide 
the  command  to  the  duke  of  York,  a  resignation  on  the 
part  of  his  lordship  was  expected  :  he  had  the  offer  of 
an  earl's  coronet  on  this  occasion,  which  he  declined, 
but  in  July,  1706,  accepted  the  rank  of  field  marshal. 
He  now  returned  to  his  seat  in  Kent,  where  he  died,  on 
the  3d  of  August,  1797,  in  the  Slst  year,  of  bis  age. 
From  the  preceding  sketch  of  lord  Amherst,  the  princi- 
pal traits  in  his  character  may  be  easily  distinguished. 
To  employ  the  words  of  an  officer,  who  long  served  un- 
der him,  Alexander  Hosack,  Esq. "  To  the  arts,  talents, 
and  military  skill  of  an  able  soldier,  he  united  all  tho 
prudence,  sagacity,  and  management  which  his  impor- 
tant station  as  commander  of  a  numerous  army,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  trying  occasions,  seemed  to  require." 
IVi/nne's  British  America,  vol.  ii.  Minofs  llisl.  Hosack 
aud  Fra.ncis. 


AMI 


AMM 


67ft 


the  9th  section  of  his  Scctiones  Miscellanee,  published  in 
his  Exercitationcs  Mathctnalicce. 

In  order  to  investigate  the  amicable  numbers,  let  4x 
be  one  of  the  numbers,  and  Ays  the  other ;  then,  since 
the  aliquot  parts  of  4x  are  1,  2,  4,  x,  2x,  we  have,  by 
the  definition  of  amicable  numbers, 


or 


Hence 


l+2+4+x+2x=:4i/s 
7+3x=43/« 

4v^ — ^ 

ICy^— 28 


and  multiplying  by  4.4jr= 

Since  the  aliquot  parts  of  4t/s  are  1,2,  4,  _y,  2y,  4jf,  z, 

2s,  4s,  2ys,  we  have  by  the  definition 

4j;=1  4-2+44-«/+2J/+4^+^+2j+4r+j/j+2y* 

and  by  substitution  and  addition 

16J/S— 28 

-^ =7  +  7j/+7j+3^^ 

which,  after  deduction,  gives 

32+7    „        16 


4X5X11- 


-=71,  a  third  prime 


By  assuming  j/=5,  a  prime  number,  we  shall  have 
S'=3+- — ^=1^  another  prime,  and  from  a  preceding 

equation,  we  have  x- 

nuniber.  Hence  4^=284,  and  4y?=220,  are  the  ami- 
cable numbers  required;  for  the  aliquot  parts  1+2+4 
+5+10+11 +  20+22+44+55+1  I0=284,andl +2= 
+  4+71  +  142=220. 

By  putting  Zys,  and  1 6a;  1 67/3,  and  1 28x  1  28j/5„  neces- 
sarily for  the  amicable  numbers,  we  shall  find,  by  a 
similar  mode  of  investigation,  that  18,416,  and  17,296, 
are  amicable  numbers,  and  also  9,437,056,9,363,584. 

From  these  investigations,  we  obtain  the  following 
rule,  which  Schoolen  received  from  Descartes.  Assume 
the  number  2,  or  any  pmvcr  of  2,  such,  that  if  1  be  sub- 
tracted frmn  thrice  the  assitmed  number,  from  six  times 
that  number,  or  from  1 8  limes  its  square,  the  three  remain- 
ikrs  shall  be  prime  numbers.  Multiply  this  last  prime 
number  by  double  the  number  assumed,  and  the  product 
rvill  be  one  of  the  amicable  numbers,  the  sum  of  whose 
aliquot  partt  will  give  the  other.  Thus,  for  example, 
assume  the  number  2,  and  5  will  be  the  first  prime 
number,  11  the  second,  and  71  the  third:  The  first  of 
these  being  multiplied  by  4,  the  double  of  the  assumed 
number  gives  284  for  one  of  the  amicable  numbers. 
The  other  amicable  number,  220,  is  found  by  adding 
the  aliquot  part  of  284.  The  properties  of  amicable 
numbers  have  been  recently  investigated  by  Mr.  John 
Gough.  See  Leybourn'a  Mathematical  Repositoni,  No. 
7.  N.  S.     (o)  "^ 

>  AMID-AMID,  a  ridge  of  mountains  in  Abyssinia, 
supposed  by  some  to  be  the  Monies  Luna:  of  the  an- 
cients. Th^  discoveries  of  Browne,  however,  have 
proved  this  opinion  erroneous.  A  particular  account 
of  them  will  be  found  in  Bruce's  Travels,  vol.  iii.  p. 
533.     (w) 

AMIDA.     See  Diarbekir. 

AMIENS,  the  Samara  Briva  of  the  ancients,  is  the 


ca|)ital  of  the  department  of  the  Somme*,  and  is  situated 
in  the  river  Somme,  which  traverses  the  city  in  three 
superb  branches.  In  the  year  1597,  Amiens  surrendered 
to  the  Spaniards,  in  consequence  of  a  remarkable 
stratagem.  A  number  of  soldiers,  in  the  garb  of  pea- 
sants were  sent  to  the  town  by  the  governor  of  Dourlens, 
with  a  cart-load  of  nuts.  As  soon  as  the  gates  were 
opened,  the  nuts  were  allowed  to  fall  from  the  cart,  and 
while  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison  were  eagerly  gather- 
ing up  the  nuts,  the  disguised  Spaniards  entered  the 
city,  and  being  followed  by  other  troops,  they  soon 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  place.  With  the  assis- 
tance of  the  English,  however,  under  general  Biron,  the 
city  was  soon  after  besieged  and  retaken  by  the  French. 
Amiens  has  likewise  been  dislinguished  by  the  treaty  of 
peace  which  was  negociated  tliere  in  1802  between 
England  and  France. 

The  town  of  Amiens  is  defended  by  a  citadel  and 
ramparts,  and  is  decorated  by  an  elegant  Gothic  cathe- 
dral, which  excites  universal  admiration.  The  houses 
are  well  built,  though  in  the  old  fashion.  The  streets 
are  spacious,  and  the  squares  and  public  buildings  are 
numerous  and  elegant.  The  river  Somme  is  navigable 
to  the  town.  Population  40,289.  E.  Long.  2»  17' 56". 
N.  Lat.  490  53'  38".  (w) 

AMILCAR  See  Hamilcar. 
AMIRANTE  Islands.  See  Almirante. 
AMLWCH,  a  considerable  sea-port  town  in  the  hun- 
dred of  Twrcelyn,  and  island  of  Anglesey.  About  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  Amlwch  was  only  a  small 
fishing  village  of  about  six  houses;  but  since  the  year 
1768,  when  the  Paris  copper  mines  were  opened  in  its 
neighbourhood,  both  the  trade  and  population  of  the 
town  have  increased  with  astonishing  rapidity.  The 
harbour,  which  is  dry  at  low  water,  was  excavated  out 
of  the  solid  rock  at  the  expense  of  the  Anglesey  Copper 
Companies,  and  is  capable  of  containing  30  vessels  of 
200  tons  burden.  Population  in  1801,  4977  ;  of  which 
2592  are  females,  and  1581  are  employed  in  trade  and 
manufacture.  Houses  1025.  W.  Long.  4»  25'  30".  N.Lat. 
53"  25'.     (0) 

AMMANIA,a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Tetrandria, 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botanv.     (w) 

AMMI,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Pentandria,  and 
order  Digynia.     (m) 

AMMI  ANUS  Marcellinus,  a  valuable  Roman  his- 
torian. He  entered  early  into  the  military  profession ; 
he  attached  himself  to  Ursicinus,  master  of  the  horse  to 
Constantius,  and  accompanied  him,  about  370,  in  several 
expeditions  to  the  East.  On  these  occasions,  he  ren- 
dered some  essential  services  to  his  patron,  having  dis- 
tinguished himself  both  as  a  gallant  soldier  and  a  skil- 
ful negociator;  thus  bringing  into  union  qualities  which 
are  not  always  found  combined.  He  afterwards  accom- 
panied Julian,  who  is  his  favourite  hero,  in  his  expedi- 
tion against  the  Persians.  He  remained  at  Antioch,  his 
native  city,  during  the  reign  of  Valens ;  and  afterwards 
removed  to  Rome,  where  he  composed  his  history. 
This  ivork  consisted  originally  of  thirty-one  books,  and 
embraced  a  period  extending  from  the  reign  of  Nerva 
to  the  death  of  Valens.  The  first  thirteen  books  are 
lost ;  the  eighteen  which  remain,  are  more  distinguished 
for  candour  and  impartiality,  than  for  elegance  of  com- 


*  Before  the  French  revolution  it  was  the  capital  of 
the  province  of  Picardy.    Duponceau. 


680 


AMM 


AMM 


position.  His  latinity  is  rough  and  unpoUalicd,  though, 
in  this  respect,  he  is,  perhaps,  little  behind  the  other 
writers  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived  ;  and  it  must  be  re- 
membered, that  though  he  writes  in  Latin,  he  was 
originally  a  Greek,  and  on  that  account,  perhaps,  ivas 
unable  to  reach  the  elegancies  of  that  language  which 
he  adopted.  He  is  fond  of  showing  that  he  was  a  Greek: 
thus  in  the  22d  book  of  his  history,  he  says,  iv>i6r,i,  Gricci 
diciimts  slultum:  and  in  the  23d,  tfansire,  i'i*S»i'iii,  di- 
cimus  Graci.  It  is  evident  from  his  writings  that  he 
was  a  pagan ;  yet  he  praises  the  Christians  with  such 
impartiality,  whenever  they  appear  to  deserve  it,  and 
bears  such  honourable  testimony  to  the  purity  of  Chris- 
tian morality,  that  some  have  even  imagined  that  he 
was  a  Christian:  thus,  lib.  xxij.  c.  11.  speaking  of  the 
Christian  martyrs,  he  says.  Qui  deviare  a  rdigimie  com- 
pidsi  pcrtuUre  cruciabiles  panas,  adusque  gloriosam  mor- 
tem entemarata  fide  progressi  ;  and  a  little  before,  talk- 
ing of  one  of  the  degenerate  Christian  bishops,  he  thus 
characterizes  him,  Prqfessimis  sua  oblitus,  qua  nil  nisi 
justum  suadet  et  lene,  ad  delatorum  ausa  feralia  descisce- 
bat.    (g) 

AMMIRATO,  SciPio,  sumamed  the  Elder,  a  cele- 
brated historian,  was  bom  at  Lecca,  in  the  kingdom  of 
Naples,  on  the  27th  September,  1531,  of  a  noble  family. 
At  the  age  of  1 6,  he  was  sent  to  Naples  to  study  law, 
for  the  profession  of  which  his  father  had  destined  him ; 
bnt  Ammirato,  instead  of  fulfilling  these  intentions,  de- 
voted all  his  time  to  poetry  and  the  belles  lettres,  and 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  money  in  regaling  those 
juvenile  friends  who  discovered  a  taste  congenial  to  his 
own.  Being  compelled  by  bad  health  to  return  home, 
he  soon  betrayed  to  his  father  how  much  his  legal 
studies  had  been  disregarded,  and  was  sent  back  to 
Naples,  with  the  severest  threats,  unless  his  future  ap- 
plication should  atone  for  his  past  negligence.  He  be- 
came, however,  more  and  more  enamoured  of  his  fa- 
vourite pursuits,  in  which  he  attained  such  distinguished 
eminence,  as  to  gain  many  admirers,  and  not  a  few  ene- 
mies. The  latter  having  industriously  circulated,  though 
it  would  appear  falsely,  a  report  of  his  being  the  au- 
thor of  a  poem,  in  which  some  considerable  noblemen 
were  severely  satirized,  Ammirato  judged  it  prudent  to 
conceal  himself  from  their  revenge,  which,  in  these  rude 
times,  would  probably  have  been  fatal.  His  father  re- 
fused him  all  supplies,  and  he  was  finally  compelled  to 
take  orders  as  an  ecclesiastic,  chiefly  through  the  advice 
of  Martelli,  bishop  of  Lecca,  who  also  procured  for  him 
a  canonry  in  that  diocese.  After  being  engaged  in 
various  employments,  he  contracted  an  intimacy  with 
Alexander  Coutarioi,  who  received  him  into  his  bouse 
at  Venice,  where  nothing  seemed  wanting  to  his  hap- 
piness ;  but  the  jealousy  of  the  husband,  and  the  impru- 
dent civility  of  his  wife  to  Ammirato,  for  it  does  not 
appear  thai  she  had  been  really  criminal,  forced  him 
from  this  asylum. 

He  entered  soon  after  into  the  service  of  Pope  Pius 
IV.  who  appeared  strongly  disposed  to  befriend  him : 
but,in  a  short  time,  Ammiratoquarrelled  with  Catharine,- 
the  younger  sister  of  that  pontiff,  and  was  under  the 
necessity  of  returning  to  his  father,  who  received  him 
with  the  bitterest  reproaches.  He  now  attempted  to 
reconcile  himself  to  an  ecclesiastical  life,  and  entered 
upon  the  zealous  discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  canonry. 
His  tranquillity  lasted  four  years;  during  which  he 
founded  the  academy  of  Transformati,  among  whom  he 
was  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Proteus;  a  name, 


perhaps,  which  was  accurately  descriptive  of  hb  real 
character.  He  appears,  at  last,  to  have  been  tired  of  this 
way  of  life  ;  as  we  find  him  afterwards  studying  the  law 
at  Naples  with  great  assiduity  ;  but  it  would  be  tedious 
to  follow  him  through  all  the  changes  of  his  fortune.  His 
irritable  and  discontented  mind  never  permitted  him  to 
remain  long  in  any  situation,  however  advantageous. 
In  1570,  he  was  invited  to  Florence,  the  grand  asylum 
of  learned  men  in  that  period.  He  was  employed  by 
Cosmo  1.  to  write  the  Florentine  history;  had  apart- 
ments assigned  him  in  the  palace ;  in  1595,  he  was  made 
a  canon  in  the  cathedral  of  Florence,  and  experienced 
many  other  proofs  of  the  liberality  of  that  illustrious 
prince.  We  find  him,  however,  in  his  letters,  indulg- 
ing in  the  bitterest  complaints  of  poverty  and  neglect. 
That  these  complaints  were  in  a  great  measure  without 
foundation,  may  be  reasonably  presumed,  from  his  con- 
tinuing at  Florence  for  the  remaining  30  years  of  his 
life,  in  spite  of  many  pressing  solicitations  to/etum  to 
his  native  country.  He  died  in  1601,  after  making  a 
will,  in  which  he  appointed  Christopher  del  Bianco,  the 
assistant  of  his  studies,  his  heir,  on  condition  of  his 
assuming  the  name  of  Scipio  Ammirato  the  Younger ; 
and  under  this  name  he  is  known  as  the  author  of  some 
considerable  works. 

The  principal   works  of  Ammirato  the  elder,  are, 

1 .  Arguments  in  Verse  to  the  Cantos  of  Orlando  Fttrioso  ; 

2.  Discourses  on  Tacitus ;  3.  Orations  to  several  Princes 
respecting  their  preparations  against  Turkey  ;  4.  Genea- 
logical ami  Historical  Accounts  of  many  of  the  principal 
Families  of  Naples  and  Florence  ;  5.  Florentine  History  ; 
the  first  part  of  which,  consisting  of  twenty  books,  was 
published  in  1 600  ;  the  second  part,  consisting  of  fifteen 
books,  was  published  by  the  younger  Ammirato,  in 
1641.  It  contains  the  historj-  of  Florence,  from  its  foun- 
dation to  the  year,  1574,  and  is  valuable  for  its  accuracy 
and  learning,  as  well  as  admired  for  its  elegance ;  6. 
Several  poetical  works,  which  are  now  neglected.  («) 

AMMON,  or  Hammon,  in  Mythology,  the  name  of 
the  Egyptian  Jupiter.  The  Greeks  give  the  following 
account  of  the  origin  of  the  name.  Bacchus,  they  tell 
us,  leading  his  army  through  the  deserts  of  Assyria, 
was  on  the  point  of  perishing  with  thirst,  when  his 
father,  Jupiter,  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a  ram,  and 
conducted  him  and  his  army  to  a  spot,  where  they  were 
abundantly  supplied  with  water.  Out  of  gratitude  for 
this  kindness,  Bacchus  built  a  temple  on  the  spot,  and 
dedicated  it  to  Jupiter  Ammon,  so  called  from  afti*»t, 
sand,  because  he  had  relieved  his  son  in  the  sandy 
desert. 

This  etymology,  like  most  others  of  Grecian  manu- 
facture, we  may  safely  pronounce  to  be  nonsense,  and 
the  story  on  which  it  is  built,  to  be  an  absurd  fable.  He- 
rodotus says  expressly,  A^tf^tuf  \iyvxrtoi  K>i>.tniri  ««i>  Aim, 
the  Egyptians  call  Jupiter  Ammon ;  it  was  therefore 
absurd  to  seek  for  a  Grecian  etymology  of  an  Egyptian 
word.  Jupiter  Ammon  was  generally  worshipped  under 
the  figure  of  a  ram ;  although,  if  we  may  believe  Cur- 
tius,  1.  iv.  c.  7.  the  image  in  the  famous  temple,  which 
Alexander  visited,  was  of  a  very  different  shape.  Jd 
quod  pro  deo  celitur,  non  eandem  hahet  efjisriem,  quam 
vulgo  Diis  artifices  accommoda^crunt :  umbilico  maximt 
similis  est. 

That  Jupiter  Ammon  wa?  the  same  with  Ham  the 
son  of  Noah  is  almost  demonstrable.  It  is  known  to 
every  Hebrew  scholar,  that  en  Ham  signifies  to  be  hot 
or  warm;  Zivf,  the  Greek  name  of  Jupiter,  has  the 


AMM 


AMM 


dSt 


SRme  signification,  being  derived  from  ^itijfcrvco.  Hani 
was  the  youngebt  son  of  Noah,  Jupiter  was  the  youngest 
son  of  Saturn.  Ham  is  said  to  have  seen  the  nakedness 
of  his  fatlier,  and  to  have  toUbh  brethren.  This,  with- 
out all  doubt,  gave  rise  to  the  story  of  Jupiter  emascu- 
lating Saturn.  This  story,  indeed,  appears  to  have 
been  not  so  much  a  fiction,  as  te  have  arisen  from  a 
mistranslation  :  for  it  is  very  remarkable,  tJiat  the  He- 
brew word,  which  h  translated  told,  as  above,  signifies, 
when  derived  from  a  different  root,  abscidit,  cut  off. 
Egypt  is  called,  in  Hebrew,  Misraim,  from  Mizraim, 
the  son  of  Ham;  and  Plutarch,  in  Iside,  informs  us,  that 
it  was  called  Chemia,  evidently  from  Ham,  or  Cham  : 
From  this  it  is  evident,  that  Ham,  or  his  son  Mizraim, 
peopled  Egypt ;  and  we  need  not  be  surprised,  that  a 
people  so  prone  to  idolatry  as  the  Egyptians  always  were, 
should  have  deified  tiie  founder  of  their  race.  From 
Egypt,  the  worship  of  Ammon  or  Ham,  passed  into 
Greece,  where  he  was  known  by  the  name  of  Z«f{,  or 
Jupiter.     Hence 

Ztv  AiSaif  Aft.l*u}i,  Ki^ciTt^tft,  KtKXvfi  AC'tevri. 
Pindar.  PyM.  Ode  iv.v.  28.  Schol.     (jr) 

AMMONIA,  is  the  name  given  in  the  modern  che- 
mical nomenclature  to  the  substance  known  to  the  older 
chemists  by  that  of  volatile  alkali ;  a  substance  distin- 
guished from  the  fixed  alkalis,  as  they  are  termed,  by 
its  comparative  volatility,  which  is  such,  that  at  com- 
mon temperatures,  it  can  be  retained  in  the  liquid  state 
only  by  combination  with  water*.  This  substance,  from 
the  analytic  experiments  of  Berthollet,and  the  synthetic 
■experiments  of  Austin,  was  regarded  as  a  binary  com- 
pound of  hydrogen  and  nitrogen.  Mr.  Davy,  however, 
having,  from  his  late  splendid  discoveries,  effected  by 
the  agency  of  galvanism,  found  that  oxygen  enters  into 
the  composition  of  the  fixed  alkalis;  supposed  that  it 
perhaps  exists  also  as  an  element  of  ammonia,  and  had 
escaped  observation  from  the  difliculties  of  the  analysis. 
This  conjecture  he  has  confirmed  by  experiment ;  and 
has  found,  that  the  proportion  of  it  in  ammonia  cannot 
be  estimated  at  less  than  7  or  8  parts  in  the  hundred;  a 
discovery  interesting  not  only  with  regard  to  the  compo- 
sition of  ammonia,  but  as  establishing  the  general  con- 
clusion, that  oxygen  is  the  principle  of  alkalinity,  as  well 
as  of  acidity. 

The  further  chemical  history  of  this  substance  must 
be  referred  to  the  articleCHEMisTRy.  See  Alkali,  (b) 

AMMONIAC.  This  substance  is  a  gum  resin,  ob- 
tained from  a  plant  of  the  genus  ferula.  Dioscorides 
says,  it  is  the  juice  of  a  kind  of  ferula,  growing  in  Bar- 
lary,  and  that  the  plant  which  produces  it  was  called 
agasyllis.  Pliny  calls  the  plant,  whence  it  flows,  tneto- 
peon  ;  and  says,  the  gum  took  its  name  from  the  temple 
of  Jupiter  Ammon,  in  the  western  part  of  Egypt,  now 
the  kingdom  of  Barca,  near  which  it  was  said  to  grow. 
Olivier,  after  a  careful  examination  of  the  seeds  of  this 
ferula,  which  he  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  in  Persia, 
is  of  opinion  that  it  is  a  new  species.  It  grows  to  the 
eastward  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  among  the  mountains  in 
the  vicinity  of  Samarcand  and  Bokara ;  but  it  appears 

*■  The  older  chemists  were  unacquainted  with  the 
substance  now  called  ammonia.  That  which  they  knew, 
was  the  carbonate  of  ammonia,  or  the  com.  of  ammonia 
and  carbonic  acid.     Cose. 

VsL.  I.     Part  II. 


also  to  grow  in  Africa  :  for  the  gum  which  it  produces  ig 
exported  in  considerable  quantities  from  Alexandria  in 
Egypt.  It  is  also  brought  from  the  East  Indies.  It 
occurs  in  small  pieces,  which  are  agglutinated  together; 
internally  it  has  a  white,  and  externally  a  yellowish  co- 
lour. Its  specific  gravity  is  1,207.  Its  smell  is  some- 
what like  that  of  Galbanum,  but  more  agreeable.  Its 
taste  is  a  nauseous  sweet,  mixed  with  bitter.  It  does 
not  melt.  Water  dissolves  a  portion  of  it :  the  solution 
is  milky,  but  gradually  lets  fall  a  resinous  portion.  One 
half  is  soluble  in  spirit  of  wine.  It  is  soluble  in  alkalis. 
It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that  we  have  no  accurate 
descriptions  of  the  different  gums,  gum-resins,  &c.  We 
would  recommend  to  chemists,  and  writers  on  the  mate- 
ria medica,  the  adoption  of  a  language  similar  to  that  in- 
vented by  Werner  for  minerals,  in  their  descriptions  of 
the  different  natural  and  artificial  productions,  which  are 
the  objects  of  their  inquiries. 

Some  assert,  that  this  gum  was  used  by  the  ancient* 
for  incense  in  their  sacrifices.  It  enters  as  a  com|)o- 
nent  part  into  several  medicinal  composilions ;  of  which 
an  account  will  be  given  in  the  article  Matlria  Mudi- 
CA.     (r) 

AMMONITES,  or  Cornu  Ammonis,  a  genus  of  uni- 
valve shell,  hitherto  found  either  in  a  state  of  petrifac- 
tion, or,  when  unchanged,  enclosed  in  strata  of  particu- 
lar kinds.  It  appears  to  he  one  of  the  numerous  genera 
of  animals  that  no  longer  exist  on  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
The  proofs  of  this  opinion,  and  au  account  of  the  zoolo- 
gical and  geognostical  relations  of  this  very  interest- 
ing genus,  will  be  giveji  under  the  article  Petrifac- 
tion,    (r) 

AMMONITES,  a  people  of  Cojlo-Sy ria,  who  were 
descended  from  Ammon,  or  Ben-Ammi,  the  son  of  Lo(, 
(Gen.  xix.  38  ;  Jos.  Antiq.  1.  i.  c.  1 1 .)  They  attacked  a 
gigantic  tribe,  called  Zanzummim,  Zuzim,  who  dwelt 
in  the  mountainous  part  of  Gilead,  and  took  possession 
of  their  conutry  in  the  year  before  Christ  1451.  The 
Israelites  were  expressly  forbidden  to  distress  the  chil- 
dren of  Amnion,  or  to  encroach  upon  their  territory, 
(Dent.  xii.  19.)  The  Ammonites,  however,  frequently 
united  with  their  neighbours,  the  Moabites,  in  harassing 
the  children  of  Israel ;  and  particularly,  after  the  deatJi 
of  Jair,  one  of  the  Judges,  they  collected  in  great  force 
in  Gilead,  A.  C.  11  til.  Jephiha  was  chosen  to  oppose 
them ;  and  he  sent  ambassadors  to  demand  the  reason 
of  their  hostility.  It  appears,  that  before  the  Israelites 
entered  Canaan,  the  Amorites  had  deprived  the  Am- 
monites of  a  part  of  their  territory;  and  Moses,  having 
afterwards  driven  the  Amorites  from  this  conquered 
district,  had  divided  it  between  the  tribes  of  Gad  and 
Reuben.  The  Ammonites  now  declared  to  the  mes- 
sengers of  Jephtha,  that  they  came  in  arms  to  claim  the 
restitution  of  this  tract  of  country.  In  reply  to  this  de- 
mand, Jephtha  naturally  alleged,  that  the  Israelites  had 
gained  the  land  from  the  Ammonites  by  fair  conquest ; 
that  they  had  possessed  it  unchallenged  for  three  hun- 
dred years;  that  the  attempt  of  the  Ammonites  to  regain 
it,  after  the  lapse  of  so  long  a  period,  was  altogether  un- 
justifiable; that  he  would  not  consent  to  restore  it,  but 
would  confide  in  God  to  support  the  justice  of  his  cause. 
The  Ammonites  persisted  in  their  aggressions;  were 
engaged  by  the  Israelites,  and  defeated  with  great 
slaughter.  (Jud.  x.  and  xi;  Jos.  Antiq.  I.  v.  c.  9.)  Na- 
hash,  thechief  of  the  Ammonites,  A.  C.  1095,  commit- 
ted various  acts  of  hostility  upon  the  Israelite*  who  dwelt 
4  R 


682 


AMM 


AMM 


on  the  east  of  Jordan,  about  the  time  of  Saul's  acces- 
sion to  the  throne  of  Israel.     He  put  out  the  right  eye 
of  every  man  who  fell  into  his  hands  ;  that,  as  the  sight 
of  the  left  eye  was  generally  obstructed  by  the  shield 
in  time  of  battle,  all  these  persons,  being  blind  of  the 
right  eye,   might   never  again  be  of  service  to  their 
country  in  arms.     Passing  over  Jordan,  he  laid  siege  to 
Jabesh  Gilead,  and  reduced  the  city  to  offer  a  capitula- 
tion.    Nahash  agreed  to  accept  their  submission,  and 
to  spare  their  lives,  upon  the  hard  condition,  that  every 
man  should  lose  his  right  eye.     The  inhabitants  of  Ja- 
))esh  requested  seven  days'  respite;  and  agreed  to  sub- 
mit to  these  degrading  terms,  if  they  were  not  relieved 
in  that  time.     Saul,  however,  having  heard  of  their  dan- 
ger, hastened  to  their  aid;  defeated  the  Amraouites,  and 
saved  the  city  from  the  threatening  barbarity  of  Nahash. 
(1  Sam.  xi.  Jos.  Antiq.  1.  6.  c.  5,  6.)     It  would  appear, 
that  Nahash,  from  enmity  to  Saul,  had  shown  friendship 
to  David,  when  he  was  persecuted  by  that  prince.  After 
the  death  of  Nahash,   David,  who  was  then  king  of 
Israel,  sent  a  friendly  message  of  condolence  to  his  son 
nnd  successor  Hanun.     That  prince  was  persuaded  by 
his  chiefs  to  treat  the  messengers  of  David  as  spies,  and 
lo  abuse  them  in  a  shameful  manner.  Sensible  that  they 
bad  thus  exposed  themselves  to  the  vengeance  of  David, 
the  Ammonites  prepared  themselves  for  war,  and  called 
the  Syrians  to  their  assistance.     Joab  was  sent  against 
them  with  a  body  of  chosen  troops,  completely  routed 
Hanun  and  his  allies,  and  laid  siege  to  his  capital  Kab- 
bah.   David,  shortly  after,  joined  his  army  there;  took 
and  demolished,  not  only  that,  but  all  the  cities  of  the 
Ammonites ;  destroyed  the  greater  part  of  the  inhabit- 
ants, and  reduced  them  under  subjection  to  the  king- 
dom of  Israel.     (2  Sam.  x.     Jos.  Antiq.  1.  vii.  c.  6,  7.) 
They  continued  in  this  condition  till  the  death  of  Ahah, 
when  they  united  with  the  Moabites,  and  made  irrii|(- 
tions  both  into  the  kingdom  of  Israel  and  Judah.     They 
nvere  repulsed  in  both  cases;  and  particularly  in  the  lat- 
ter expedition,  they  were  struck  with  such  infatuation 
by  the  hand  of  God,  that  they  destroyed  one  another 
with  dreadful  carnage.     (2  Chrou.  xx.  Jos.  Antiq.  1.  ix. 
c.  1.)     They  were  again  discomfited,  and  subjected  to  a 
tribute,  A.  C.  758,  by  Jotham,  the  son  of  Uzziah.     (2 
Chron.  xxvii.     Jos.  Antiq.  1.  ix.  c.  11.)     They  seem  to 
have  ungenerously  triumphed  over  the  Israelites,  when 
oppressed  by  the  Babylonians ;  hut  they  were  soon  in- 
volved ill  the  same  calamity  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  when 
lie  passed  through  Lower  Syria,  on  his  way  to  attack  the 
kingdom  of  Egypt.     (Jos.  Antiq.  I.  x.  c.   11.)     These 
various  tribes,   which  Nebuchadnezzar  had  dispersed, 
•were  restored  to  their  several  territories,  about  70  years 
afterwards,  by  Cyrus,  king  of  Persia;  and  continued 
subject  to  that  monarchy  till  it  was  overthrown  by  the 
Macedonians.     After  the  death  of  Alexaud«r  the  Great, 
the  Ammonites,  and  all  the  other  nations  in  Palestine, 
■were  sometimes  under  the  dominion  of  the  Syrian,  and 
at  other  times  of  the  Egyptian  princes.   They  took  part 
with   Antiochus  in  his  persecutions  of  the  Jews ;  and 
sustained,  on  that  account,  several  defeats  from  the 
Maccabees,     {ioi.  Antiq.  I.  xii.  c.    12.)     After  the  de- 
itruction  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Romans,  all  those  tribes 
around  Judea  were  denominated,  in  general,  Arabians ; 
and,  before  the  end  of  the  3d  century,  the  Ammonite* 
were  not  known  as  a  distinct  people;  which  fulfils  the 
prediction  of  Ezekiel,  (c.  xxv.   10.)  that  they  should 
"  not  be  remembered  among  the  nations."  Calmet.  Jos. 
Jniiq.    (j) 


AMMONIURET,  is  the  solution  of  any  substance 
in  ammonia,     (w)* 

AMMONIUS,  surnamed  Saccas,  from  h'u  former 
profession  r«xx»?>of of,  a  porter,  was  the  founder  of  the 
Eclectic  philosophy  at  Alexandria.  He  was  born  of 
Christian  parents,  and,  according  to  some,  continued 
through  life  to  profess  Christianity;  but  Porphyry  and 
others  claim  him  as  a  convert  to  paganism.  Eusebius 
defends  him  from  this  charge,  and  Bayle  takes  up  the 
same  side  of  the  argument,  referring  to  the  writings  of 
Ammonius  for  evidence  of  his  Christianity.  But  the 
Animonius  of  whom  we  are  speaking,  left  no  writings 
behind  him,  as  his  pupil  Longinus  attests. 

The  great  object  which  Ammonius  had  in  view,  was 
to  reconcile  the  jarring  systems  of  philosophy,  and,  in 
particular,  to  form  a  coalition  between  the  Platonists 
and  the  Aristotelians,  whose  disputes  at  that  time  divi- 
ded the  world.  For  this  purpose,  he  endeavoured  to  se- 
lect from  various  systems  those  tenets  which  were  uni- 
versally admitted,  whilst  he  discarded  all  such  doctrines 
as  were  doubtful,  and  capable  of  being  controverted. 
However  plausible  this  scheme  may  appear,  it  is  entire- 
ly delusive  :  the  province  of  philosophy  would  be  mar- 
vellously circumscribed,  were  it  to  admit  nothing  but 
universally  acknowledged  truths;  and  it  would  be  the 
rarest  phenomenon  that  ever  was  exhibited  to  the  world, 
to  meet  with  a  system  of  philosophical  doctrines  which 
have  never  been  controverted.  The  scheme,  however, 
was  amazingly  popular  at  first,  and  continued  in  vogue 
till  it  had  nearly  ruined  both  religion  and  jihilosophy. 
Its  author  was  dignified  with  the  epithet  of  tiahSttKrai, 
or  heaven-taught ;  and  all  denominations  of  pliilosophers 
and  religionists,  whether  Platonists  or  Aristotelians, 
Christians  or  Pagans,  vied  with  each  other  in  celebrating 
his  praises.  His  plan,  indeed,  was  wonderfully  calcula- 
ted to  soothe  and  deceive  the  partisans  of  the  difl'erent 
systems.  He  did  not  condemn  any  as  erroneous;  their 
errors  and  absurdities  were  lelt  in  the  back  grounds, 
whilst  be.  endeavoured  to  bring  into  view  their  most 
useful  tenets  and  most  prominent  excellencies.  By 
these  means,  all  parties  were  Qattered,  and  eager  te 
claim  Ammonius  as  their  champion.  Unfortunately,  the 
Christian  fathers  of  those  days,  many  of  whom  bad  pro- 
fessed the  heathen  philosophy  before  their  conversion 
to  Christianity,  fell  in  with  the  general  delusion,  and 
gladly  embraced  a  system  which  seemed  to  reconcile 
their  present  profession  with  their  early  prejudices.  As 
Ammonius  had  been  liberal  in  introducing  the  Cliris- 
tian  maxims  into  his  motley  system,  and  had  laboured 
to  show  their  conformity  with  the  Gentile  philosophy, 
the  fathers,  on  their  part,  attempted  to  engraft  heathen- 
ism on  Christianity,  and  to  reconcile  its  dogmas  with  the 
purity  of  the  gospel.  This  unnatural  coalition,  as  might 
l>e  expected,  was  productive  of  the  most  lamentable 
effects,  and  was  the  principal  means  of  corrupting  tliie 
purity  of  the  gospel. 

Ammonius  died  at  .Alexandria  about  A.  D.  230.  The 
most  celebrated  of  his  followers  were,  the  famous  Lon- 


*  This,  strictly  speaking,  is  not  correct;  for  some  of 
the  ammoniurcts  are  in  a  solid  form;  as  ammoniuret  of 
copper  in  its  common  officinal  preparation.  It  must, 
however,  be  remarked,  that,  although  denominated  am- 
moniuret of  copper,  Ibis  substance  is  in  fact  a  triple 
salt,  of  sulphuric  acid,  ammonia,  and  oxyd  of  copper. 

COXE. 


AT^tN 


AMO 


688 


ginus,  Plottnus,  Herrennius,  Origen,  (not  the  famous 
Origen,)  Porphyry,  Jamblicus,  Julian  the  Apostate, 
Ammianus  Marcellinus ;  besides  many  others  of  less 
note,  both  Christians  anil  pagans.  For  a  more  detailed 
view  of  the  opinions  of  the  Eclectics,  see  Eclectic 
Philosopiiy.     (g) 

AMMUNITION,  properly  signifies  guns,  powder, 
and  ball,  though  it  is  sometimes  employed  to  denote  all 
kinds  of  military  stores;  according  to  some,  it  is  deriv- 
ed from  mnmonitio,  a  barbarous  Latin  word,which  signi- 
fies subsistence  ;  while  others  suppose  it  to  come  from 
tnimitio,  a  fortification;  as  choses  d.  munitions,  tliings'for 
the  fortresses*,     {w) 

AMNESTY,  an  act  of  oblivion  ;  in  which  all  crimes 
against  the  government  are  declared  to  be  forgotten  and 
annulled.  The  cin,<i!trTi*  or  anvtio-i  k»ici»,  from  which 
the  English  word  is  derived,  was  an  act  of  a  similar 
kind  among  the  Athenians.  It  was  passed  by  Thrasy- 
bulus,  after  the  expulsion  of  the  thirty  tyrants.  See 
Cornel.  Nep.  in  vit.  Thrasybul.  Andocides,  Oratio  de 
Mysteriis.  See  also  Hoffmausi,  Lexicon  Vnivers.  Art. 
Amnkstia.     (to) 

AMNIOS,  or  Amnion,  the  internal  membrane  of  the 
impregnated  uterus,  which  is  thin  and  pellucid,  though 
firmer  and  stronger  than  the  chorion.  The  waters  con- 
tained within  this  membrane,  called  liquores  amnii,  vary 
in  colour,  quantity,  and  consistency,  according  to  the 
different  periods  of  pregnancy,  or  the  constitution  of  the 
female.  They  are  of  a  saline  sweetish  taste,  slightly 
coagulable  by  heat,  and  by  the  ordinary  tests  of  al'amien. 
When  evaporated  (o  dryness,  they  afford  0.012  part  of 
solid  matter,  consisting  of  Jilbuinen  muriate  and  carbo- 
nate of  soda  and  |)hosphate  of  lime.  They  were  for- 
merly believed  to  sujiply  nourishment  to  the  fcetus,  an 
opinion  which  is  now  exploded.  Their  use  unquestion- 
ably is  lo  secure  to  the  fcetus  a  soft  bed  and  free  motion, 
and  to  guard  it  from  external  injury.  Inclosed  during 
labour  in  the  membranes,  they  procure  the  most  gentle 
and  efljcacious  dilatation  of  the  os  uteri  and  tlie  soft 
parts.  See  Denman'sm/rfwi/tn/.  Hamilton's  miWwj/cry. 
See  also  Anatomy  and  Chumistry.     («)  ' 

AMNIOTIC  Acid,  a  name  given  by  Messrs.  Buuiva 
and  Vauquelin  to  a  concrete  acid,  which  was  produced 
by  evaporation  from  the  liquor  of  the  amnios.  ^t%An- 
nales  de  Chimie,  torn,  xxxiii.  p.  269,  and  Chemistry',  (o) 


*  This  word  appears  clearly  derived  from  the  Latin 
niuniri,  to  fortify,  and  munitio,  a  fortification  ;  the  signifi- 
cation of  which  was  enlarged  during  the  barbarous  ages 
so  as  to  include  not  only  walls,  mounds  and  bulwarks, 
but  also  provisions  and  all  kinds  of  warlike  stores  that 
are  necessary  for  the  defence  of  a  fortified  town.  Hence 
in  modern  Italian,  the  word  munizione  means  at  the 
same  time  provisions,  warlike  stores,  and  fortifications 
of  every  description.  Nothing  is  more  common  in  the 
history  of  languages  than  similar  extensions  of  the 
meaning  of  words,  which  were  originally]appropriafed  to 
a  single  object.  As  a  further  example,  we  will  instance 
the  French  word  ntitnir,  which  is  also  derivsil  from  the 
"Latin  muniri  ;  it  not  only  means  at  present  io  fortify  and 
provide  a  town  with  the  requisite  articles  for  defence, 
but  it  is  employed  in  a  variety  of  senses  that  have  no  con- 
nexion with  fortification  or  war.  Se  mtinir  d'un  Ion  man- 
teau  pour  le  froid.  Se  munir  d'argent,  de  cJuvaux  pour 
un  voyage,  &c.    Diet,  de  TAcademie  Fran9oise. 

DuroscEAU. 


AMOMUM,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Monan- 
dVia,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (tv) 

AMONTONS,  William,  a  celebrated  experimental 
philosopher,  was  born  on  the  31st  of  August,  1663.  His 
father  was  a  lawyer  in  Normandy,  who,  from  motives 
that  have  not  been  recorded,  removed  with  his  family  to 
Paris.  In  early  life  while  Amontons  was  yet  at  school, 
he  was  deprived  of  his  hearing ;  a  loss  which,  though 
it  excluded  him  from  the  society  and  converse  of  his 
friends,  engaged  him  to  give  his  undivi<led  attention  to 
the  study  of  geometry  and  mechanics.  Like  the  ancient 
philosopher  who  pulled  out  his  eyes,  that  he  might  not 
be  distracted  by  the  sight  of  external  objects,  Amon- 
tons is  said  to  have  refused  every  remedy  for  a  disease 
which  compelled  him  to  devote  to  philosophy  those  por 
tions  of  his  time,  which  might  otherwise  have  been 
wasted  in  a  vain  and  fruitless  intercourse  with  the  world. 
But  whatever  praise  may  be  due  to  such  stoical  fortitude, 
Ave  cannot  think  highly  of  the  man  who  willingly  sur- 
renders the  privilege  of  contemplating  the  ever-vary- 
ing riches  of  creation,  or  who  would  prefer  solitary  spe- 
culation to  that  noble  communion  of  souls,  which  is  the 
characteristic  of  ratioii&l  beings.  It  is  true  philosophy 
to  bear  with  equanimity  the  evils  of  life  ;  but  it  is  em- 
piricism to  create  or  to  cherish  sulTeriogs. 

The  attention  of  Amontons  was  first  directed  to  the 
perpetual  motion ;  a  subject  which,  like  the  philoso- 
pher's stone,  has  long  continued  to  excite  the  ambition 
and  perplex  the  understanding,  of  the  credulous  and  the 
ignorant.  He  was,  liowever,  soon  convinced  of  the  dif- 
ficulty of  his  project,  though  he  still  expected,  that,  by 
the  aid  of  mathematical  principles,  he  might  carry  it 
info  execution.  Geometry,  therefore,  became  his  fa- 
vourite study;  and  he  pursued  it  with  unabating  ardour, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition  and  remonstrances  of  his 
friends.  Along  with  this  branch  of  abstract  science, 
he  studied  drawing,  architecture,  and  land-surveying ; 
and  from  the  skill  which  he  acquired  in  these  practi- 
cal departments,  he  was  employed  in  several  public 
works. 

Amontons  likewise  employed  his  ingenuity  in  the 
construction  of  instruments  for  measuring  the  variations 
in  the  state  of  our  atmosphere.  He  proposed  an  air 
thermometer,  grounded  on  more  accurate  and  philoso- 
phical principles  than  any  hitherto  contrived.  In  the 
course  of  his  researches,  he  found  that  the  boiling  point 
of  water  is  variable,  and  depends  on  the  atmospheric 
pressure;  an  important  discovery  which  was  also  made 
about  the  same  time  by  Dr.  Halley  in  England.  Amon- 
tons suggested  several  improvements  on  the  barometer ; 
and,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four,  he  presented  to  the  Royal 
Academy  of  sciences  a  new  hygrometer,  which  re- 
ceived the  approbation  of  that  learned  body.  These 
improvements,  however,  are  now  eclipsed  by  the  deli- 
cate instruments  which  have  been  more  recently  brought 
to  forward  the  progress  of  physical  science. 

In  1696,  when  the  academy  of  sciences  was  new-mo- 
delled, Amontons  was  elected  a  member.  He  invented 
a  telegraph  very  like  that  now  in  use.  His  new  theory 
of  friction,  which  he  read  at  one  of  their  meetings,  wa6 
a  valuable  communication,  upon  a  subject  which  had 
scarcely  excited  the  attention  of  philosophers  ;  and  his 
researches  on  that  subject  were  regarded  as  the  most 
ingenious  and  correct,  till  they  were  superseded  by  the 
more  accurate  and  extensive  experiments  of  Coulomb. 
Though  Amontons  had  always  enjoyed  the  most  per- 
fect health,  he  was  suddenly  attacked  with  an  inllamma- 
4  R2 


684 


AMO 


AMP 


tion  of  his  bowels,  which  terminated  his  existence  on 
the  lllh  of  October,  1705,  and  in  the  42d  year  of  his 
age.  In  private  life  he  was  distinguished  by  an  inte- 
grity of  mind,  and  a  franlsness,  candour,  and  simplicity 
of  manner,  which  naturally  sprung  from  his  seclusion 
from  the  world.  His  genius  for  invention  and  for  ex- 
perimental philosophy,  appears  in  the  numerous  papers 
wiUi  which  he  enriched  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy 
from  leOt)  to  1705.     See  UTcaoMETEa  and  Thermo- 

JJLTER.       (/5) 

AMORGO,  anciently  Amm-gus,  or  Amorgos,  is  an 
island  in  the  Archipelago,  or  JEgean  sea,  about  three 
miles  broad,  and  ten  miles  long.  Amorgo  was,  in  an- 
cient times,  a  place  to  which  criminals  were  banished, 
and  could  then  boast  of  three  principal  towns,  Arcesi- 
flos,  Minoe,  and  Ejeale;  but  lime  has  not  spared  even 
their  ruias  to  enable  us  to  discover  the  places  which 
they  occupied.  The  surface  of  this  island  is  diversified 
with  lofty  mountains,  steep  rugged  rocks,  and  fertile 
plain?.  It  abounds  in  corn,  wine,  oil,  and  fruits.  The 
inhabitants  are  remarkable  for  their  atfability,  and  mild- 
ness, and  the  women  are  uncommonly  beautiful ;  but 
Ihey  are  the  victims  of  ignorance,  credulity  and  super- 
stition. E.  Long.  250  50'.  N.  Lat.  36»  53'.  See  Sonnini's 
Travels,  chap.  xiv.  p.  174.     (ir) 

AMORITES,  a  people  of  Syria,  descended  from 
Ertior,  or  Amorrhseus,  the  fourth  son  of  Canaan,  (Gen. 
X.  10.)  The  Arabian  writers  derive  the  name  of  the 
Amorites  from  Gomorrah,  one  of  the  cities  which  was 
destroyed  by  fire  from  heaven;  but  vvliatever  resem- 
blance the  words  may  bear  to  each  other  in  modern 
languages,  they  have  little  in  the  original  Hebrew ;  and 
there  is  no  historical  proof  whatever,  that  the  peojile  in 
tjueEfion  had  any  connexion  with  that  city.  They  were 
a  race  of  men  of  gigantic  stature,  and  great  courage, 
(Amos  ii.  9.)  and  were  among  the  most  formidable  of 
the  tribes  with  whom  the  Israelites  had  to  contend. 
Hence  the  name  Amorite  is  frequently  used  in  scrip- 
ture to  denote  the  Canaanites  in  general,  (Josh.  v.  1 .) 
The  district  which  they  inhabited,  and  from  which  they 
liad  expelled  the  Ammonites,  was  remarkably  fertile, 
and  was  encompassed,  like  an  island,  by  three  rivers  ; 
by  Arnon  on  the  south,  by  Jabbok  on  the  north,  and  by 
Jordan  on  the  west.  {Josh.  Jntiq.  1.  iv.  c.  5.)  Moses  re- 
quested (lermissiou  from  Sihon  prince  of  the  Amorites, 
10  lead  the  Israelites  through  his  territories  into  Canaan; 
and  [ironiised  to  injure  nothing  oa  the  way,  not  even  to 
draw  water  from  the  wells.  Sihon  refused  to  grant  this 
request,  and  collected  his  forces  to  oppose  the  passage 
of  the  Hebrews,  A.  C.  1452.  He  was  defeated  and  slain 
in  the  encounter;  and  his  country  was  occupied  by  the 
tribes  of  Gad  and  Reuben.  Numb.  c.  xxi.  and  xxxii.— 
Jos.  Antiq.  1.  iv.  c.  5,  7.     {q) 

AMOKlUM.a  city  in  Asia  Minor,  celebrated  in  the 
war  waged  between  the  emperor  Theophilus,  and  the 
^'  caliph  Motassem  in  838.  After  Theophilus  had  razed 
the  town  of  Sozopetra,  the  birth-placeof  Motassem,  and 
inflicted  upon  its  inhabitants  the  most  atrocious  cniel- 
lie?,  the  enraged  caliph  vowed  revenge  against  the  city 
<*f  Amorium.  The  bravery  of  the  garrison,  and  the 
desperate  fortitude  of  the  inhabitants,  resisted,  for  the 
space  of  fifty-five  days,  the  previous  assaults  of  the  Sa- 
racens, and  3Iotassem  would  have  been  compelled  to 
abandon  the  siege,  had  not  a  traitorous  citizen,  who  had 
abjured  the  Christian  faith,  pointed  out  the  weakest 
part  of  the  walls,  and  thus  enabled  the  enemy  to  tri- 
Knph  over  the  unparalleled  bravery  of  its  defcndere. 


In  this  siege  no  less  than  70,000  Moslems  were  slaia, 
and  their  death  was  revenged  by  the  murder  of  30,000 
Christians,  and  an  equal  number  of  the  brave  inhabit- 
ants. See  Gibbon's  Hist,  of  the  Decl.  &c.  vol.  x.  p. 
67.     (v) 

AMORPHA,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Diadel- 
phia,  and  order  Decandria.     See  Botany,     (w) 

AMORTIZATION,  or  Amortizesient,  fromamor- 
tir,  to  extinguish,  is  the  act  of  transferring  lands  to  some 
corporation,  or  of  turning  them  into  mortmain,     (j  ) 

AMOS,  one  of  the  minor  prophets,  was  contempora- 
ry with  Hosea,  and  prophesied  about  780  years  before 
Christ.  He  was  by  profession  a  herdsman,  and  appears 
to  have  been  born  in  the  territohes  of  Israel ;  but,  after 
being  driven  from  Bethel,  (Amos  vii.  10,  &c.)  he  re- 
tired to  Tekoah,  in  the  kingdom  of  Judah,  about  four 
leagues  south  from  Jerusalem.  His  prophecies  are  di- 
rected chiefly  against  the  kingdom  of  Israel;  but  he 
often  denounces  judgments  also  against  Judah,  and  the 
different  nations  bordering  upon  Palestine.  He  clearly 
foretels  the  captivity  and  sufJerings  of  the  ten  tribes,  and 
declares  as  expressly  their  future  restoration  under  the 
Messiah.  There  are  several  traditions,  but  no  certain 
accounts,  of  the  time  and  manner  of  his  death.  It  ha» 
been  remarked,  that  his  coni))arisons  are  drawn  from 
the  rural  scenes,  and  pastoral  life,  to  which  he  was  fa- 
miliarized by  bis  employment ;  but  this  is  by  no  means 
peculiar  to  Amos :  and  the  principal  images  in  the  poe- 
tical and  prophetical  parts  of  scripture  are  taken  from 
the  same  natural  objects.  Jerome  considers  tliis  pro- 
phet as  low  and  coarse  in  his  style,  applying  to  him  the 
words  of  Paul,  "  rude  in  speech,  yet  not  in  knowledge;" 
(2  Cor.  xi.  6.)  and,  upon  the  authority  of  that  father,  he 
is  frequently  represented  as  deficient  in  lofty  ideas,  and 
elegant  expressions.  In  the  opinion,  however,  of  bishop 
Lowth,  Amos  is  equal  to  any  of  the  prophets  in  sublimity 
of  sentiment,  splendour  of  diction,  and  beauty  of  compo- 
sition. His  discriptious  of  the  Almighty  are  peculiarly 
magnificent,  and  his  whole  writings  are  distinguished 
by  a  masculine  eloquence. — Calmet.  Bettymau's  The- 
ology.   Gray,    (q) 

AMPELITES,  or  Candle  Coal.  ,  See  Coal. 

AMPHIBIA,  in  zoology,  the  third  class  of  animals  in 
the  Linnfsan  system.  These  animals  are  characterized 
by  having  vertebra,  and  cold  blood,  respiring  by  means 
of  lungs;  and  being  destitute  of  hair,  feathers,  and 
mammae. 

The  amphibia,  froci  the  peculiar  structure  of  their 
organs,  and  the  power  which  they  possess  of  suspending 
respiration  at  pleasure,  can  not  only  sup|)ort  a  change 
of  elciiient  uninjured,  but  can  also  occasionally  endure 
an  abstinence,  which  would  prove  fatal  to  the  higher  or- 
ders of  animals.  Their  lungs  difTer  from  those  of  ani- 
mals in  the  classes  mammalia  and  aves,  consisting,  in 
general,  of  a  pair  of  large  bladders,  or  membranaceous 
receptacles,  variously  sulidivided  into  different  species  ; 
and  the  heart  is  furnished  with  one  ventrical  only. 
Some  physiologists,  however,  think  it  more  correct  to 
say,  that  the  hearts  of  the  amphibia  are,  in  reality,  dou- 
ble, or  furnished  with  two  ventricles,  with  a  free  or  im- 
mediate communication  between  them. 

Being  provided  with  lungs,  many  of  the  species  emit 
particular  sounds,  which  are  harsh  and  unmusical  y 
others,  however,  as  the  true  salamander,  (laccrta  sola- 
mandra,)  common  lizard,  (lacerta  agilis,)  are  entirely 
dumb.  The  genera  differ  from  each  other  considerably 
ia  their  geneiol  conformation ;  some  genera,  as  the  tot- 


♦*if  * 


AMPHIBIA. 


es^ 


toise,  frog,  and  liznrd,  have  four  feet;  while  others,  as 
the  coluber,  boa,  &c.  have  a  lengthened  cylindrical  body 
destitute  of  external  organs  of  motion. 

The  external  teguments  of  the  bodies  of  the  amphi- 
bia are  much  more  varied  than  in  virarm-blooded  animals; 
thus  their  bodies  are  sometimes  defended  by  a  hard, 
horny  shield,  or  covering ;  sometimes  by  a  coriaceous 
integument,  sometimes  by  scales  ;  and  Sometimes  have 
no  particular  defence  or  covering;  the  skin  being  mere- 
ly marked  by  soft,  pustular  warts  or  protuberances, 
more  or  less  visible  in  the  diflferent  species. 

Many  are  highly  beautiful  in  their  colours,  as  well  as 
elegant  iit  their  forms ;  whilst  others  are  deformed,  and 
of  un|)leasii)g  colours.  Certain  animals  of  this  class,  as 
the  diflerent  species  of  tortoise,  and  certain  genera  of 
serpents,  live  on  a  great  variety  i&f  food ;  whilst  others, 
as  the  camelion,  and  tree-frog,  are  very  delicate  in 
their  choice  of  food,  living  only  on  particular  species  of 
live  insects. 

Many  species,  when  confined,  eat  extremely  little  for 
a  surprisingly  long  period  ;  thus  the  tortoise  will  live 
nearly  a  year  and  half  without  nourishment. 

Most  of  the  amphibia  are  possessed  of  an  astonishing 
reproductive  power;  when  feet,  tail,  &c.  are  by  any  ac- 
cident destroyed,  others  will  grow  in  their  place. 

Some  of  the  amphibia,  for  example,  certain  species  of 
serpents,  are  provided  with  poison,  as  a  mean  of  defence; 
the  salamander,  and  other  genera,  exude  a  frothy  fluid 
when  they  are  in  danger ;  many  species,  particularly 
among  the  serpent  tribe,  when  in  danger,  exhale  a  spe- 
cific and  most  loathsome  odour. 

In  cold  and  temper.'ite  climates,  nearly  all  the  amphi- 
bia pass  tiie  winter  in  a  torpid  state.  During  this  sea- 
son, they  are  often  found  perfectly  stiff  in  holes  in  the 
ice,  or  in  the  water.  Thus  the  common  water-newt,  in 
particular,  is  said  lo  have  been  occasionally  found  com- 
pletely imbedded  in  large  masses  of  ice,  in  whicb  it 
must  have  remained  enclosed  for  a  very  considerable 
period ;  and  yet,  on  the  melting  of  the  ice,  has  been  re- 
stored to  life.  They  continue  in  this  state  until  revived 
by  the  returning  heat  of  spring.  They  hybernate  cither 
singly,  or  collect  together  in  numbers,  as  is  the  case 
with  frogs  and  salamanders.  But  if  they  are  kept  in  a 
warm  chamber,  they  continue  lively  during  the  whole 
winter*. 

Most  of  the  amphibia  are  oviparous,  or  deposit  their 
eggs,  and  afterwards  hatch  them.  The  eggs,  or  ova,  of 
some  species  are  covered  with  a  hard  calcareous  shell ; 
whilst  those  of  others  have  a  soft  tough  skin  or  cover- 
ing, somewhat  resembling  parchment;  the  eggs  of  se- 
veral are  gelatinous.  Some  few  are  viviparous,  the  egcs 
first  hatching  internally,  and  the  young  being  afterwards 
excluded  in  their  perfect  form. 

The  amphibia  grow  very  slowly  ;  the  common  frog, 
for  example,  in  general,  cannot  procreate  until  it  has 
attained  its  fourth  year,  and  yet  it  probably  does  not  live 
beyond  12  or  16  years.  The  tortoise  lives,  even  in  a 
state  of  captivity,  above  an  hundred  years ;  and  we  may 
infer  from  analogy,  that  large  serpents  and  crocodiles 
may  reach  a  still  greater  age. 

Some  of  the  animals  of  this  class  are  eminently  useful 
to  the  inhabitants  of  certain  countries:  the  eggs  and 
flesh  of  the  turtle  afford  a  very  delicious  and  nourishing 
food ;  and  certain  species  of  frogs  and  lizards  are  con- 


sidered as  delicacies,  and  in  some  countries  are  con- 
sumed in  very  considerable  quantities.  The  shell  of 
the  tortoise  is  emploj'ed  for  a  variety  of  purposes. 

Many  of  the  amphibia,  as  the  crocodile,  are  danger- 
ous on  account  of  their  vast  size  and  great  strength ; 
others,  particularly  among  the  serpent  tribe,  are  dan- 
gerous on  account  of  their  poison ;  but  the  number  of 
poisonous  serpents  is  not  so  great  as  was  formerly  ima- 
gined;  perhaps,  as  Dr.  Shaw  remarks,  not  more  than  a 
sixth  of  the  whole  number  of  known  species  being  of 
that  character. 

The  jaws  of  serpents  are  extremely  dilatable,  and  the 
oesophagus  so  lax,  that  they  can  swallow,  without  mas- 
tication, an  animal  twice  or  thrice  as  large  as  the  neck. 

in  the  Linneean  arrangement,  the  amphibia  are  divi- 
ded into  four  orders,  viz.  1.  Reptiles  pcdati.  2.  Serpeti- 
tes  apodcs.  3.  Meanles.  A.  Nantes.  The  reptiles  jie- 
dati  have  four  feet,  and  they  walk  as  if  creeping;  the 
serpents  have  no  feet,  and  they  crawl  upon  their  belly; 
the  nantes  have  fins,  and  swim ;  and  the  meantes,  op 
gliders,  according  to  Linnseus,  have  both  gills  and  lungs, 
and  are  furnished  with  arms  and  claws.  This  arrange- 
ment has  been  considerably  improved  by  naturalists 
since  Linnaeus's  time.  The  amphibia  7ia)ites  have  been 
placed  amongst  the  true  fishes,  because  they  have  a 
similar  internal  structure  and  external  aspect.  They 
form  a  particular  divieiou  under  the  title  cartilaginous 
fishes,  which  is  subdivided  into  two  orders,  the  chon- 
dropterygii,  and  branchiostegi ;  the  order  chondropte- 
rygii  contains  the  following  genera,  petrorayzon,  gastro- 
brancluis,  raja,  squalus,  lophius,  balistes,  and  chimaera  ; 
the  order  branchiostegi,  the  genera  accipenser,  ostra- 
cion,  tetrodou,  diodon,  cyclopterus,  centriscus,  syngna- 
thus,  and  pegasus.  The  order  meantes  is  abolished, 
and  the  animal  on  whose  account  it  was  established,  the 
siren,  is  jilaced  near  the  salamander,  and  other  specie* 
of  rej)tiles  pedati.  The  whole  class  is  now  divided  into 
two  orders,  viz.  reptiles  and  soyentes.  The  order  of 
reptiles  is  subdivided  into  four  genera,  viz.  testudo, 
draco,  lecerta,  and  rana ;  and  that  of  serpents  into  nine 
genera,  viz.  crotalus,  boa,  coluber,  anguis,  amphisboena, 
caecilia,  acrochordus,  hydrus,  and  langaya.  This  im- 
proved arrangement,  first  proposed  by  JBlumenbach,  has 
since  been  followed  by  Gmelin,  Shaw,  and  other  zoolo- 
gists, and  is  the  best  hitherto  proposed. 

The  naturalists  of  the  French  school  have  proposed 
arrangements  different  from  that  of  Blumenbach :  to 
give  an  account  of  all  these  would  exceed  our  limits, 
and  merely  to  enumerate  them  would  be  useless;  we 
shall  therefore  confine  ourselves  to  a  very  short  account 
of  the  latest  arrangement,  viz.  that  of  Dumeril,  the  pu- 
pil of  the  illustrious  Cuvier,  as  stated  in  his  Zoologie 
Anabjtique.  According  to  this  arrangement,  the  amphi- 
bia are  divided  into  four  orders,  named  chelouiens,  sau- 
riens,  ophidiens,  and  batriciens. 

The  order  cheloniens,  (from  ^nXutti,  tortoise,)  is  thus 
characterized  ;  body  short,  oval,  arched,  covered  with  a 
shell,  having  four  feet,  and  without  teeth.  It  contains 
the  following  genera,  chelonia,  chelus,  emys,  and  tes- 
tudo ;  the  genus  chelonia,  includes  all  the  species  of  sea- 
turtle,  and  also  those  that  inhabit  salt  lakes;  the  genus 
chelus  contains  but  a  single  species,  the  testudo  fimbri- 
ata  of  Schoeff;  the  genus  emys,  those  species  that  inha- 
bit rivers,  rivulets,  and  fres\j-water  lakes ;  and  the  genus 


•  It  is  wortliy  of  remark,  that  those  animals  to   wliicU  the  ancients  attributed  Uie  fabulous  property  of  resisting  tlie  flames,  should, 
in  reality,  be  able  to  resist  tUe  efiects  of  freezing. 


686 


A1HP 


AMP 


iesitido,  those  species  that  live  upon  the  land,  and  even 
in  the  sea  or  rivers. 

The  secon<l  order  sauriens,  (from  Sxvgi><,  lizard,)  is 
thus  characterized;  body  without  a  shelly  covering,  four 
feet  provided  with  crooked  nails,  jaws  armed  with  teeth. 
It  is  subdivided  into  two  families,  viz.  planicaudes  and 
terelecaudes ;  which  distinctions  are  founded  on  the 
shape  of  the  tail,  it  being  flattened  horizontally  or  per- 
pendicularly iu  Ihe  planicaudes,  which  generally  live  in 
the  water,  and  conical  or  cylindrical  in  the  teretecaudes, 
that  live  on  the  land.  The  planicaudes  contains  six 
genera,  viz.  crocodilus,  dracsena,  tupinambis,  uroplatus, 
k)phyrus,  and  basiliscus;  the  teretecaudes  contains  ten 
genera,  viz.  iguana,  draco,  agama,  stellio,  auolis,  lacerta, 
scincus,  chalcides,  gecko,  and  camaelio. 
■  The  thinl  order,  ophidiens,  (serpentes,)  is  thus  cha- 
racterized ;  body  elongated,  narrow,  without  feet  or  fins, 
jaws  provided  with  teeth.  It  is  subdivided  into  two  fa- 
milies, viz.  homodermes  and  heterodermes ;  the  homo- 
dermes  is  either  destitute  of  scales,  or  the  scales  over 
the  whole  botly  are  alike;  the  mouth  is  small,  the  jaws 
not  dilatable,  and  it  is  destitute  of  venomous  fangs  or 
tusks ;  the  heterodermes  family  has  the  skin  covered 
with  small  scales  above,  with  scuta  beneath,  with' dilata- 
ble jaws.  The  homodermes  contains  six  genera?  viz. 
ccecilia,  amphisboena,  achrocordus,.  ophisaurus,  anguis, 
and  hydrophis ;  the  heterodermes  cootains  eight  genera, 
viz.  erix,  erepton,  boa,  coluber,  vipera,  scytales,  crota- 
lus,  and  platurus. 

The  fourth  order,  batriciens,  (from  B»r^ci}i<)(,frog,)  is 
thus  characterized ;  body  naked,  without  scales  or  shelly 
covering,  feet  without  claws.  It  is  subdivided  into  two 
families,  viz.  anoures,(ecaudati,)  and  urodeles,  (caudati ;) 
in  the  first  family  the  body  is  large,  without  a  tail,  and 
the  fore  feet  are  much  shorter  than  the  hinder  feet;  in 
the  second  family  (he  body  is  elongated,  provided  with 
a  tail,  the  fore  feet  of  equal  length,  and  the  tongue  ad- 
hering. Th«  family  of  anoures  contains  four  genera, 
viz.  pipa,  bufo,  rana,  and  hyla ;  the  family  of  urodeles 
also  contains  Ibur  genera,  viz.  triton,  salamandra,  pro- 
la;us,  and  siren.  It  is  evi<ient,  that  in  this  arrangement, 
not  only  the  genera,  hut  also  the  orders  and  families, 
are  unnecessarily  multiplied,  and  therefore,  that  the 
more  simple,  and  equally  accurate  system  of  Blumen- 
bach  is  to  be  preferred,     (r) 

AMPHIBIOUS,  in  Natural  History,  a  term  applied 
to  those  animals  which  possess,  in  a  considerable  de- 
gree, the  power  of  living  with  equal  facility  both  on  the 
land  and  in  the  water;  but  in  technical  language,  it  is 
confined  to  those  animals  which  constitute  the  amphibia 
of  naturalists.  Strietly  speaking,  however,  amphibious 
animals  ought  to  respire  equally  well  in  water  as  in  air, 
which  we  shall  find  to  be  the  case  with  only  one,  or  at 
most  two  species  of  perfect  animals. 

We  shall  first  mention  those  animals  which  possess, 
in  a  greater  or  lesser  degree,  the  power  of  living  both 
in  water  and  on  land;  and  next  inquire,  what  are  the 
truly  amphibious  species  of  animals. 

The  term  amphibious  has  been  applied  to  men  who 
have  the  faculty  of  remaining  a  long  time  under  the 
water.  Divers  employed  in  the  pearl  fishery  possess 
this  faculty  in  a  remarkable  degree.  We  are  told  by 
Father  Kircher,  that  a  Sicilian,  named  Fish-Colas,  by  a 
long  habitude  from  his  youth,  had  so  accustomed  him- 
self to  live  in  water,  that  his  nature  seemed  to  be  quite 
altered,  so  that  he  lived  rather  after  the  manner  of  a 
fish,  than  a  man.  Other  animals  of  the  class  mammalia 
are  amphibious ;  these  are  generally  web-footed,  as  the 


beaver,  seal,  otter ;  some,  however,  are  not  so,  as  the 
hippopotamus,  tapir,  &c.  Birds  are,  in  some  degree, 
amphibious.  Water  birds,  as  the  colymbii  and  pelicanii, 
live  much  in  the  water,  can  remain  a  considerable  time 
under  its  surface,  and  also  live  on  the  land. 

The  greater  number  of  the  animals  of  the  class  am- 
phibia, as  already  mentioned,  are  amphibious;  but  of 
these  the  most  amphibious  are  the  crocodile  and  turtle. 
In  the  class  of  fishes,  the  species  of  the  order  apodes, 
as  the  eel,  are  amphibious. 

Some  kinds  of  insects,  in  different  stages  of  their  life, 
may  be  said  to  be  amphibious.  The  dytiacus,  notonecta, 
and  nepa,  undergo  all  their  transformations,  from  the 
egg,  larva,  and  pupa  state  in  the  water,  and  though  fur- 
nished in  the  perfect  state  with  wings,  and  consequently 
destined  to  live  on  land,  seldom  quit  the  water,  except 
in  the  evenings,  and  constantly  return  to  it  when  their 
flight  is  over;  these  are  called  water-beetles.  Others 
remain  in  the  water  only  in  the  first  stages  of  their 
transformations,  and  would  perish  in  their  native  ele- 
ment from  the  moment  they  become  winged  insects ; 
as  is  frequently  observed  of  the  libellula,  ephemera,  and 
j)hryangea,  and  some  of  the  muscse  and  culices  ;  amongst 
the  latter,  the  transformation  of  the  species  pipiens, 
common  gnat,  is  a  striking  instance  of  this  remark.  In 
fact,  many  of  those  creatures,  which  are  mistaken  for 
aquatic  worms,  are  no  other  than  the  larva,  or  pupas,  of 
amphibious  insects  ;  which  their  parents  deposit  in  the 
egg  state,  on  the  leaves  and  stalks  of  plants,  &c.  that 
grow  in  the  water ;  and  those,  hatching  instinctively, 
remain  in  the  water  till  they  become  winged  insects. 
It  is  said,  thiit  certain  species»of  limax  can  respire 
equally  well  in  air  as  in  water,  and  hence  are,  in  the 
strictest  sense,  amphibious ;  this  observation,  however, 
does  not  appear  to  be  correct.  Crustaceous  animals  are 
aquatic,  and  are  provided  with  branchias,  yet  certain 
species  leave  the  water  and  live  on  the  land. 

3Iany  of  the  amphibious  animals  which  have  been 
mentioned,  have  peculiar  provisions  in  their  structure 
to  fit  them  for  such  a  variety  of  living;  particularly  in 
the  heart,  lungs,  foramen  ovale,  Arc.  In  some  of  these 
animals,  as  the  frog,  tortoise,  &'c.  the  heart  has  but  one 
cavity,  with  an  artery  to  receive  the  blood  coming  out  of 
it,  and  a  vein  to  convey  it  thither.  In  others,  the  fora- 
men ovale  appears  to  be  still  open  for  the  passage  of  the 
blood  from  the  vena  cava  to  the  arteria  venosa,  without 
the  hel])  of  breathing. 

All  animals,  to  which  Linnseus  applied  the  name  am- 
phibia, respire  only  in  the  air,  wnether  they  live  in  that 
fluid  perpetually,  as  certain  sjjecies  of  lizards,  or  dive 
under  the  water  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time,  as  frogs 
and  salamanders.  On  the  contrary,  the  carlilagiuous 
fishes,  which  the  same  naturalist  united  with  the  am- 
phibia, do  not  respire  but  through  the  medium  of  wafer, 
as  ia  the  case  with  all  other  fishes;  they  have  only 
branchias,  no  lungs.  The  forked  swimming  bladder, 
observed  in  certain  species  was,  by  Dr.  Garden,  consi- 
dered as  lungs;  an  error  which  misled  Linnscus,  and 
induced  him  to  form  his  order  of  amphibia  nantes.  The 
larva;  of  the  common  frog,  toad,  &c.  contain  both  bran- 
chiae and  lungs,  and  respire,  during  part  of  their  lives, 
both  in  the  elastic  air  of  the  atmosphere,  and  in  that 
contained  in  wafer;  thus  participating  in  an  equal  de- 
gree of  the  nature  of  land  and  aquatic  animals,  and 
being  thus,  in  the  strictest  sense,  amphibious.  But  this 
is  only  a  temporary  state  in  some  species,  and  a  mo- 
mentary one  in  others.  In  proportion  as  the  lungs  be- 
come more  perfect,  the  branchio:  are  gradually  oblitc- 


AMP 


AMP 


687 


rated  and  at  length  entirely  disappear,  even  before  the 
species  has  arrived  at  its  full  growth,  or  at  least  before 
it  can  procreate  its  kind. 

Naturalists  have  discovered  and  described  three  ani- 
mals, uniting,  as  is  the  case  with  the  tadpole,  the  two 
kinds  of  respiratory  organs,  and  not  appearing  to  lose 
them  at  any  period  of  their  life,  and  of  such  a  size  that 
they  cannot  be  considered  as  the  larvaj  of  any  animal  in 
the  country  where  they  are  found.  These  animals  are 
the  siren  lacertina,  Lin.  the  axoloti,  or  siren  pisciforrais 
of  Shaw,  and  the  proteus.  Are  these  three  genera  then, 
as  asserted  by  naturalists,  perfect  animals,  true  perma- 
nent amphibia  ?  Ought  they  to  be  considered  as  forming 
a  class  intermediate  between  the  amphibia  and  pisces  ? 
The  detail  of  the  answers  to  these  questions  will  be 
found  under  the  proper  articles;  we  shall  here  only 
state  the  general  result  obtained  by  Cuvier,  in  his  ex- 
aminations of  the  external  as|iect  and  internal  structure 
of  those  interesting  animals.  He  found,  after  a  careful 
examination  of  the  external  aspect,  osteology,  and  or- 
gans of  circulation,  respiration,  digestion,  generation, 
and  sensation  of  the  siren  lacertina,  Lin.  1.  That  this 
animal,  whatever  state  it  may  afterwards  attain,  is  dif- 
ferent from  the  salumander  either  in  its  perfect  or  larva 
state.  2.  That  it  does  not  appear  to  acquire  hinder  feet, 
but  remains  a  biped  reptile.  3.  That  it  does  not  appear 
to  lose  its  branchiae ;  and  that  no  one,  even  in  the  coun- 
try where  it  lives  and  abounds,  has  hitJierto  found  a 
specimen  without  branchia;.  4.  That  it  is  essentially 
different  from  fishes  in  its  osteological  structure,  and 
the  organization  of  its  branchia;.  5.  That  it  appears  to 
form  a  particular  genus  in  the  order  of  reptiles,  in  which 
both  branchias  and  lungs  are  permanent;  and  that  we 
may  consider  it  as  a  permanent  larva  of  that  order. 

In  regard  to  the  axoloti,  or  siren  pisciformis  of  Shaw, 
he  concludes,  that  it  is  probably  the  larva  of  some  large 
species  of  salamander.  In  regard  to  the  proteus,  he 
remarks,  that  every  observation  proves  it  to  be  a  parti- 
cular species,  different  from  all  hitherto  known,  and 
that  very  probably  it  is  an  adult  animal,  which  does  not 
change  its  state.  It  therefore  follows,  that  the  axoloti 
ought  to  be  erased  from  the  list  of  perfect  animals,  and 
be  considered  as  a  larva,  and  that  the  two  others,  viz. 
the  siren  lacertina  and  proteus,  are  to  be  considered 
distinct  animals,  which,  to  all  appearance,  do  not  change 
their  state,  and  consequently  form  genera,  which  are  in 
some  respects  intermediate  between  the  order  reptiles, 
of  the  class  amphibia,  and  the  order  chondropterygii,  of 
the  class  pisces;  so  that  we  have  thus  two  genera  of 
perfect  animals,  which  appear,  in  the  strictest  sense  of 
the  word,  to  be  amphibious.  The  proteus  and  siren,  are, 
by  Dumeril,  placed  in  the  family  urodeles  (caudati,)  of 
his  order  Batraciens,  along  with  the  salamander  and  tri- 
ton. — See  Observations  on  the  class  of  Animals  called  by 
Linnmus  amphibia ;  particularly  on  the  means  of  dis- 
tinguishing those  Serpents  which  are  venomous  from  those 
which  are  mt  so,  by  G.  W.  Gray,  M.  U.  Phil.  Trans. 
vol.  79,  p.  21—36. 

Peter  Boddart's  Abhandhtngcn  von  amphibien.  Schr. 
dcr.  Berlin.  Ges.  Ncdurf.  Fr.  2  Band.  p.  369—337.  Bla- 
sius  Meerem's  Ecitrdge  sur  gcschickte  der  Amphibien. 
Leipzig,  1790.  L.-G.  ^cYmeiAet' s  Amphibiorum  Physio- 
logia  specimen  prhimm,  p.  S2. 1 790-4.  Specimen  alten/m, 
historiam  et  species  generis,  Stellionum  sen  Geckonum 
sistens,  p.  54,  1792.  James  Parson's  Observations  upon 
Animals,  commonly  called  Amphibious  by  authors.  Phil. 
Trans,  vol.  56,  pp.  193, 203.  Geigskr's  Disputatio  <k  Am- 


phibiis,  Leipsiffi,  1 676.  R.  Tonnson's  Observationes  Fhy- 
siologicte dc  Amphibiis,  Goettingas,  1 794, 1 795.  Rccherchcs 
Analomiqucs  sur  les  Reptiles  regardes  encore  comme  dou- 
tcux  par  les  naturalistes,  faites  a  Poccasion  de  UAxoltl, 
rapporte  par  M.  de  Humboldt  du  Mexique,  par  3L  Cu- 
vier :  in  Humboldt's  Rccueil  (Tobservations  de  Zoologie 
el  d'Analomie  comparee,  Paris,  1 805.    (r) 

AMPHICT  YONS,the  deputies  of  the  principal  states 
of  Greece,  who  formed  a  general  council,  similar  to  the 
states-general  of  Holland,  or  the  diet  of  the  German 
empire.     It  is  remarkable,  that  though  this  institution 
indicates  a  high  degree  of  political  wisdom,  and  a  cor- 
rect and  extensive  vie  w of  the  general  interes-t  of  Greece, 
its  origin  is  so  remote  as  to  be  involved  in  the  obscurity 
of  the  fabulous  ages.     Some  suppose,  that  Amphictyon, 
the  sou  of  Deucalion,  was  the  first  founder  of  this  as- 
sembly, which  was  therefore  called  by  his  name ;  others 
ascribe  that  lionoiir  to  Acrisius,  king  of  the  Argives ; 
while  others,  tracing  its  origin  to  a  still  more  distant 
period,  maintain,  (hat,  from  the  earliest  ages,  deputies 
from  the  neigbouring  states  were  wont  to  assemble  at 
Delphi,  and  were  called  Amphicfyons,  from  afufi,  about, 
*?<»»,  or x7?«'»,  to  dwell;  because  they  dwelt  in  the  sur- 
rounding countries.    An  ingenious  and  plausible  account 
of  the  institution  of  this  assembly  lias  been  suggested 
by  Ur.  Doig,  who  supposes,  that  the  Hellenes,  the  un- 
doubted founders  of  the  oracle  of  Dodona,  may  likewise 
have  established  that  of  Delphi.      The  sanctity  of  the 
place,  and  the  high  reputation  of  the  oracle,  attracted 
crowds  of  votaries ;  and,  as  the  Hellenic  tribes  beheld 
with  jealousy  the  growing  power  of  (he  oriental  colo- 
nies, they  determined,  for  their  mutual  security,  to  hold 
stated  conventions  at  Delphi,  whose  central  situation 
poiuted  it  out  as  peculiarly  convenient  for  that  purpose. 
Common  sacrifices,  the  most  inviolable  bend  of  union, 
would  naturally  be  accompanied  by  liberal  donations, 
which  would  soon  form  an  ample  treasury.    The  charge 
of  this  treasure  would,  of  course,  be  intrusted  to  ofB- 
cers  appointed  for  the  purpose ;  and  such,  we  are  ex- 
liressly  informed  by  Straho,  was  one  part  of  the  duty 
of  the   Ainphictyons.      The  members  of  this  council 
seem,  therefore,  to  have  been  originally  wardens  of  the 
temple  at  Delphi,  elected  by  the  suffrage  of  their  re- 
spective tribes.      But  their  mutual  honour  and  safety 
were  objects  of  as  obvious  and  necessary  concern ;  ano- 
ther class  of  deputies  would  therefore  be  appointed  to 
watch  over  the  civil  interests  of  the  confederated  states. 
Thus  the  Amphictyonic  assembly  was  com(K)sed  of  two 
distinct   classes   of   members,  who   gradually   united, 
however,  in  discharging  the  sacred  and  civil  functions 
which  had  at  first  been  appropriated  to  them  separately. 
Even  with  regard  to  the  number  and  the  names  of 
the  states  represented  in  this  council,  writers  have  not 
been  able  to  agree.      Some  include  in  the  confederacy 
the  twelve  following  nations :  lonians,  Dorians,  Per- 
rha;bians,  Boeotians,  Magnesians,  Acha?ans,  Phthians, 
Melians,  Dolopians,  -lEnianians,  Del[)hians,  and  Pho- 
coeans :  such  is  the  enumeration  given  by  Strabo,  Har- 
pocration  and  Suidas.     JEschines  reckons  only  eleven; 
and,  instead  of  the  Acha;ans,  JEnianians,  Delphians,  and 
Dolopians,  substitutes  the  Thessalians,  tEtans,  and  Lo- 
crians.     Ten  only  are  included  in  the  list  of  Pausanias; 
the  lonians,  Dolopians,  Thessalians,  iEnianians,  Mag- 
nesians,  Melians,  Phthians,  Dorians,    Phocosans,  and 
Locrians. 

The  number  of  members  in  this  assembly  is  not  bet- 
ter ascertaiaed  than  that  of  the  states  which  they  repre- 


AMP 


AMP 


scnted.  If,  as  we  are  informeJ,  each  cily  scut  two  de- 
puties, (heir  number  could  never  have  exceeded  twenty- 
four  ;  yet  Pausanias,  who  lived  under  the  reign  of 
Antoninus  Pius,  assures  us,  that  in  his  time,  the  Am- 
phictyonic  council  contained  not  fewer  than  thirty  mem- 
bers. Of  the  two  representatives  delegated  by  each 
state,  one  called  ('«f  »^»u,M.«r,  was  appointed  to  inspect  the 
sacrifices  and  religious  rites;  the  other,  called  srt<A«y«f«!5, 
to  hear  and  determine  private  causes  and  diiterences. 
The  former  was  chosen  by  lot,  the  latter  by  suffrage  : 
both  were  equally  entitled  to  advise  and  to  vote  in  what- 
ever concerned  the  general  interests  of  Greece. 

The  great  political  object  for  which  this  assembly 
convened,  was  to  unite  in  strict  amity  the  states  which 
it  represented,  and  to  rouse  them  to  mutual  vigilance 
and  activity  in  preserving  the  general  tranquillity,  or 
promoting  the  general  welfare.  In  subservience  to  this 
great  end,  the  Amphictyons  were  also  constituted  the 
protectors  of  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  the  superintendents 
of  the  wealth  of  its  temple,  and  the  arbiters  of  all  dis- 
putes that  might  arise  between  the  Delphians  and  the 
votaries  who  repaired  thither  for  the  advice  of  the  god. 
Before  beginning  their  deliberations,  they  sacrificed  an 
ox,  which  they  cut  into  small  pieces,  as  a  symbol  of 
their  union.  Their  influence  was  unlimited;  and  from 
their  decisions,  which  were  held  sacred  and  inviolable, 
there  was  no  appeal.  "If  any  thing,"  says  ?fl.  de  Valois, 
in  his  Histoire  de  la  Premiere  Guerre  Sacree,  "  If  any 
thing  can  give  us  a  just  idea  of  the  high  elevation  of 
the  Amphictyons,  it  is  certainly  the  absolute  power  of 
declaring  and  waging  war  when  they  thought  proper;  a 
right  which  has  at  all  times  been  regarded  as  the  inse- 
parable prerogative  of  sovereignty  :  as  it  is  that  which 
more  especially  characterizes  the  unbounded  power  with 
which  that  illustrious  association  was  invested." 

A  solemn  oath  was  admiaistered  to  the  Amphictyons 
on  their  admittance ;  to  divest  no  city  of  its  right  of  de- 
putation, nor  avert  its  running  waters;  to  wage  mortal 
■war  against  all  who  should  make  such  an  attempt ;  and 
more  especially,  in  case  of  any  attempt  to  spoil  (he  tem- 
ple, to  employ  haads,  feet,  tongue,  and,  in  short,  their 
whole  power  to  revenge  it.  Against  the  violators  of  this 
oath,  dreadful  imprecations  were  denounced :  '•  May 
they  incur  the  full  vengeance  of  Apollo,  Diana,  Latona, 
and  Minerva;  may  their  soil  be  barren,  and  their  wives 
produce  only  monsters ;  in  every  law-suit  may  their  ad- 
versary prevail ;  may  they  be  conquered  in  war,  their 
houses  be  demolished,  and  themselves  and  their  children 
put  to  the  sword." 

After  the  capture  of  Cirrha,  and  the  defeat  of  the 
Crisseeans,  the  Amphictyons  revived,  with  great  magni- 
ficence, the  Pythian  games,  which  had  been  so  long 
discontinued  as  to  be  almost  forgotten.  Of  these  games, 
which,  after  that  event,  were  celebrated  annually,  the 
Amphyctions,  in  right  of  their  office,  were  ogonethje, 
or  judges,  till  Philip  of  Macedon  usurped  the  right  of 
presiding,  even  by  proxy,  both  in  their  council  and  at 
the  Pythian  games.  From  that  period  their  respectabili- 
ty was  destroyed,  and  their  authority  rapidly  declined; 
and,  in  the  time  of  Augustus,  they  had  sunk  into  such 
insignificance,  that  Strabo  regarded  the  institution  as 
completely  annihilated.  Strabo,  lib.  ix.  pp.  C07,  611, 
622.  Mem.  Acatl.  Inscr.  torn.  vii.  Potter's  Arch.  Grace. 
Edinh.  Trails,  vol.  iii.  p.  150,  &c.     {k) 

AMPHIMONE,  in  Zoology,  a  genus  constituted  by 
Bruguiere,  for  the  admission  of  four  species  of  sea- 
worms,  that  have  been  arranged  by  Pallas  under  tb« 


genus  Aphrodita,  andbyGmelin  uuder  that  of  Terebella. 
Of  this  last  genus  they  are  the  species  namtd  by  Gme- 
\ia  fiaxa  carunculata  rostrata  and  camplanata.  A  pretty 
full  account  of  these  animals  is  given  by  Ciivier  in  the 
Dicticnnaire  des  Sciences  Nahirelles,  torn.  ii.  p.  71.  (/") 

AMPHION,  the  name  of  two  different  princes,  »sho 
lived  during  the  fabulous  era  of  Grecian  history ;  one, 
the  son  of  an  unknown  father,  by  Antiope,  daugliter  of 
Nycteus,  king  of  Boeotia  ;  the  other,  son  of  Jasus,  king 
of  Orchomenos,  by  Persephone,  daughter  of  Mius. 

Amphion,  the  son  of  Antiope,  was  renowned  for  his 
eloquence  and  skill  in  music.  He  and  his  twin-brother 
Zethus,  were  born  on  Mount  Citheron,  to  which  Antiope 
had  retired  to  conceal  her  pregnancy  ;  and  being  imme- 
diately after  their  birth  exposed  in  the  woods,  owed 
their  preservation  to  the  humanity  of  a  shepherd. 
Nycteus  was  succeeded  in  his  kingdom  by  his  brother 
Lycus,  who  imprisoned  his  niece  Antiope,  and  treated 
her  with  great  cruelty.  Her  wrongs  were  avenged  by 
Amphion,  who,  with  the  assistance  of  his  brother,  be- 
sieged and  took  Thebes,  put  Lycus  to  dealh,  and  esta- 
blished himself  in  the  government.  It  is  related  by 
Homer,  that,  to  confirm  his  power,  and  protect  his  sub- 
jects, he  enclosed  the  city  with  a  wall  of  great  length, 
furnished  with  seven  gates,  and  defended  by  towers, 
placed  at  proper  distances  from  one  another.  He  ensured 
the  welfare  of  the  Thebans  still  more  essentially,  by 
establishing  wise  political  institutions,  and  enacting 
equitable  laws,  fitted  to  render  their  persons  and  pro- 
perties secure.  From  the  remoteness  of  the  period  in 
which  this  prince  lived,  there  are  few  materials  for  an 
authentic  history  of  his  transactions.  This  circumstance, 
however,  rendcre  them  fitter  subjects  for  the  exaggera- 
tions of  fiction.  Accordingly,  the  poets  inform  us,  that 
Ampluon  was  the  son  of  Jupiter,  who  deceived  Antiope 
under  the  form  of  a  satyr.  The  god  Mercury  became 
his  instructor  in  eloquence  and  music ;  in  both  which 
arts  his  progress  was  so  great,  that  by  his  persuasive 
eloquence  he  civilized  the  Thebans,  who  formerly  wan- 
dered in  a  savage  state ;  and  the  magic  of  his  lyre  so 
charmed  the  stones,  that  they  arranged  themselves  in 
architectural  order,  and  formed  the  walls  of  Thebes. 
This  fable  is  alluded  to  in  many  beautiful  passages  in 
the  later  poets.  Vide  Propertius,  3  El.  1 5.  0\'id.  De 
Art.  Am.  iii.  v.  323.  Horace,  3  Orf.  11.  ArsPoet.  v.  39  J. 
Stat.  Theb.  i.  v.  10. 

AMPHION,  the  son  of  Jasus,  married  Niobe,  daugh- 
ter of  Tantalus,  by  whom,  according  to  Ovid,  he  had 
seven  sons  and  seven  daughters.  Niobe,  vain  of  her 
numerous  family,  despised  Latona,  who  had  only  pro- 
duced Apollo  and  Diana.  These  deities  punished  her 
insolence,  by  slaying  her  children  with  their  arrows : 
Niobe  was  changed  into  a  stone,  and  Amphion  slew 
himself  in  despair.     (^/-) 

AMPHISBiENA,  in  Zoology,  a  genus  of  serj'ents, 
so  called,  because  they  can  proceed  almost  equally  well 
with  either  the  head  or  tail  forward,  froma^^(/3(e(v«>,  to 
go  both  mays.     See  Opiiioi-ogv.    {f) 

AMPHITHEATRE,  called  sometimes  Fisoriiim,  an 
edifice  of  an  elliptical  form,  resembling  two  theatres 
turned  towards  each  other,  with  a  spacious  area  in  the 
middle,  on  which  were  exhibited  various  kinds  of  games 
and  spectacles,  particularly  combats  of  gladiators  and 
wild  beasts.  To  conceal  the  blood  shed  in  these  com- 
bats, the  area  was  strewed  with  saud,  and  was  from  that 
circumstance,  called  the  aiena.  The  oval  form  of  tlui 
amphitheatre  is  said  to  have  been  occasioned  by  the  na- 


AMPHITHEATRE, 


ture  of  the  games,  which  obliging  the  combatants  to 
pursue  and  retreat  alternately,,  rendered  it  necessary 
that  the  ground  should  lengthen  out  a  little  from  the 
centre.     To  accommodate  immense  crowds  of  specta- 
tors, was  another  grand  object  in  the  construction  of 
those  edifices,  for  -which  the  elliptical  form  was  pecu- 
liarly favourable.     The  arena  was  surrounded  by  lodges 
or  cells,  containing  the  wild  beasts  which  were  to  be 
produced  in  the  combat.      Immediately    above  these 
lodges  was  a  gallery  called  the  podium,  which  com- 
pletely surrounded  the  arena,  and  which  was  occupied 
by  the  senators,  ambassadors  of  foreign  nations,  and 
other  personages  of  the  first  distinction.     In  the  centre 
of  one  side  of  this  gallery,  there  was  erected  for  the 
emperor  a  kind  of  throne,  called  suggestum,  covered 
with  a  canopy  like  a  pavilion.    This  suggestum  was  lin- 
ed with  silk,  and  decorated  with  the  richest  ornaments. 
The  podium  projected  over  the  wall  which  surrounded 
the  arena,  and  was  elevated  above  it  about  12  or  15  feet. 
It  was  secured  in  front  by  strong  net-work,  iron-rails 
armed  with  spikes,  and  with  strong  rollers  of  timber, 
which  turned  vertically,  to  prevent  any  irruption  of  the 
hunted  animals.     Behind   this  gallery   there  rose    14 
ranges  of  seats,  which  were  allotted  to  the  equestrian  or- 
der, and  to  the  tribunes,  both  civil  and  military,  whose 
number  was  very  great,  and  constantly  increasing,  as 
all  who  had  once  filled  the  office  were  ever  after  en- 
titled to  the  rank.     Above  these  seats,  other  rows,  ap- 
propriated to  the  lower  orders,  ascended  to  the  summit, 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  arena  might  be  seen  from 
every  part,  and  that  the  whole  interior  of  the  building 
resembled  a  cratera,  or  bowl,  the  cavity  of  which  di- 
minished gradually  from  the  summit  to  the  arena.  The 
seats  of  the  higher  orders  were  covered  with  cushions, 
and  the  marble  benches,  in  general,  with  boards.     As 
the  amphitheatres,  like  the  theatres,  were  oi)€n  in  the 
top,  they  were  provided  with  an  awning,  or  curtain  of 
different  colours,  which,  by  means  of  pullies  and  cords, 
could  be  let  down  or  drawn  up  at  pleasure,  and  which 
were  occasionally  stretched  to  screen  the  spectators 
from  the  excessive  heat  or^  the  rain.     By  means  of  se- 
cret tubes,  the  spectators  were  besprinkled  with  per- 
I'umes,  which  counteracted  the  offensive  smell  arising 
Irom  the  blood  and  ordure  of  the  wild  beasts. 

Besides  the  circular  steps,  which  served  as  seats, 
there  were  others  ^vhich  formed  stairs,  or  passages,  and 
were  called  the  precinctions,  or  belts.  The  passages, 
radiating  towards  the  arena,  intersected  the  seats  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  separate  them  into  divisions,  which, 
widening  as  they  approached  the  top,  exactly  resembled 
a  wedge,  and  were  for  that  reason  called  cunci.  Near 
the  amphitheatre  there  was  a  place  called  the  spoUarium, 
to  which  those  who  were  killed,  or  mortally  wounded, 
were  dragged  by  a  hook.  For  a  more  particular  de- 
scription of  amphitheatres,  we  refer  our  readers  to 
Civiii  Architecture. 

Amphitheatres  were  not  invented  till  a  late  period  in 
the  history  of  the  Romans,  and  owed  their  origin  to  the 
liarbarous  disposition  of  that  people,  who  were  fond  to 
excess  of  sanguinary  and  horrid  entertainments.  To  the 
refined  and  civilized  Greeks,  combats  of  gladiators  and 
wild  beasts  weVe  wholly  unknown.  But  the  Romans, 
who  were  entirely  a  martial  people,  and  engaged  in  per- 
petual war,  contracted  such  a  ferocity  of  temper,  that 


spectacles  of  carnage  and  bloodshed  became  their  mof  t 
favourite  pastime.     Combats  of  gladiators,  which  seem 
to  have  taken  their  rise  from  the  custom  of  sacrificing 
captives  at  the  tombs  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  battle, 
were  first  exhibited  in  Rome,  by  the  twe  Bniti,  at  the 
funeral  of  their  father,  in  the  year  of  the  city  490.  Wild 
beasts  were  first  introduced  into  the  public  spectacles 
by  Lucius  Metellus,  who,  in  the  year  502,  exhibited 
in  the  circus,  the  elephants  which  he  had  taken  from  the 
Carthagenians  in  Sicily.  So  devotedly  were  the  Romans 
attached  to  these  spectacles,  that  candidates  for  popular 
favour  could  only  hope  to  succeed  as  they  outvied  their 
competitors,  in  exhibiting  them  with  splendour  and  mag- 
nificence.    Incredible  sums  were  expended  in  these  en- 
tertainments by  Ca;sar  and  Pompey,  and  to  them,  par- 
ticularly to  CsBsar,  we  owe,  if  not  the  invention,  at  least 
the  first  hint  of  amphitheatres.     The  circus  was  found 
inconvenient  for  the  combats  of  wild  beasts ;  for  in  the 
games  given  by  Pompey,  the  elephants  had  attempted 
to  break  down  the  barriers  which  confined  them ;  nor 
could  they  be  seen  equally  well  from  every  part  of  such 
an  extensive  building,  where  the  prospect  was  interrupt- 
ed by  the  columns  at  each  extremity  of  the  spina*.  To 
obviate  these  inconveniences,  Ctesar  caused  the  7netai 
or  columns  to  be  removed,  and  the  arena  of  the  circus 
to  be  surrounded  with  a  ditch,  and  suggested  the  expe- 
diency of  constructing  edifices,  where  the  games  might 
be  seen  in  security,  and  without  interruption. 

CaiuB  Scribonius  Curio,  one  of  Cajsar's  friends,  wish- 
ing to  excel  his  contemporaries  in  novelty,  if  not  in 
magnificence,  is  said  to  have  constructed  the  first  build- 
ing entitled  to  the  name  of  an  amphitheatre.  In  the 
games  which  he  presented  on  occasion  of  his  father's 
funeral,  he  caused  two  large  theatres  of  timber  to  be 
erected,  with  the  backs  to  each  other,  in  which  thea- 
trical representations  were  exhibited  till  noon :  the 
scenery  was  then  removed,  and  the  two  theatres,  with 
their  crowds  of  spectators,  were  wheeled  round  towards 
each  other  till  they  met,  and  thus  formed  an  am^ihithea- 
tre,  where  combats  of  gladiators  were  continued  till  the 
evening.  This  invention  of  Curio  soon  gave  place  to 
the  construction  of  regular  amphitheatres,  which  were 
at  first  only  temporary  fabrics,  erected  in  the  Campus 
Martins,  and  taken  down  as  soon  as  the  games  ^vere 
ended.  When  Julius  Caesar  dedicated  his  new  forum, 
and  the  temple  of  Venus,  he  gave,  among  other  enter- 
tainments, combats  of  gladiators  and  of  wild  beasts,  for 
which  he  erected  a  hunting  theatre,  without  scenes,  and 
furnished  with  seats  all  round.  This  was  the  first  edi- 
fice which  received  the  name  of  amphitheatre,  and 
which  determined  the  form  of  arrangement  of  these 
immense  structures.  The  trouble  and  inconvenience  of 
erecting  new  amphitheatres  whenever  the  spectacles  lo 
which  they  were  appropriated  were  to  be  presented, 
must  have  immediately  suggested  the  expediency  of 
giving  them  a  stronger  and  more  permanent  form.  Yet, 
from  the  time  of  Julius  Caisar  till  the  reign  of  Vespa'- 
sian,  these  temporary  fabrics  were  almost  the  only  am- 
phitheatres known.  Augustus,  indeed,  is  said  to  have 
intended  to  build  one  of  stone,  but  never  accomplished 
that  design.  Statilius  Taurus,  one  of  his  courtiers,  did 
erect  a  stone  amphitheatre  in  the  Campus  Martius ;  but 
it  seems  to  have  been  so  small,  as  to  be  almost  wholly 
disregarded ;  and  all  the  solemn  games  continued  to  be 


•  Tlie  spina  was  a  brick  wall,  about  12  or  11  feet  high,   in  the  middle  of  the  circus,  which  ran  almost  its  whole  length,  hating  at  each 
'.xtrcmity  three  columns,  or  iiyramide,  called  mctx,  on  ci»e  base,  round  which  the  horses  and  chariots  turned.    See  Circus. 
Vol.  I.    Part  II.  4  S  . 


690 


AMPHITHEATRE. 


^ 


exhibited  in  the  circus  as  before.  It  would  seem,  too, 
that  only  the  outer  walls  were  of  stone;  for,  in  the 
reign  of  Nero,  all  the  internal  work  became  a  prey  to 
the  flames.  Many  amphitheatres  of  timber,  however, 
were  erected  both  at  Rome  and  in  the  provinces;  and 
though,  in  general,  they  were  merely  temporary,  some 
of  them  were  fixed  and  permanent  structures.  In  the 
reign  of  Augustus,  wlio  wished,  by  amusing  the  people 
with  these  spectacles,  to  call  off  their  attention  from 
his  projects  of  ambition,  several  of  these  fabrics  were 
reared,  both  by  himself  and  his  governors.  Even  at 
Jerusalem,  an  amphitheatre  was  constructed  by  order 
of  Herod,  tetrarch  of  Judsea.  But  the  most  remarka- 
ble wooden  amphitheatre  was  one  built  by  Nero,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Campus  Martius,  and  described 
by  Tacitus  as  a  very  superb  and  capacious  fabric.  Near- 
ly a  year  was  spent  in  completing  it,  and  it  was  con- 
structed of  the  strongest  and  largest  timber  that  could 
be  procured.  One  beam  of  larch  was  particularly  re- 
markable; it  was  120  feet  in  length,  and  two  feet  in 
diameter,  from  one  extremity  to  the  other.  Atilius,  a 
freedman,  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  erected  a  large 
amphitheatre  at  Fidenae,  which  suddenly  fell,  during 
the  exhibition  of  the  games,  and  by  that  dreadful  acci- 
dent, 60,000  persons  were  killed,  or  dangerously  hurt. 
Near  Placentia  there  was  another  fabric  of  this  kind, 
celebrated  as  the  largest  in  Italy,  which  was  burnt  to 
the  ground,  when  that  town  Avas  besieged  in  the  war 
between  Vitellius  and  Otho. 

These  repeated  accidents  induced  Vespasian  to  think 
seriously  of  building  an  amphitheatre  of  stone ;  a  project, 
from  the  completion  of  which  preceding  emperors  had 
probably  been  detem^  by  its  enormous  expense.  For 
the  situation  of  this  edifice,  which  he  wished  to  render 
worthy  of  the  capital  of  the  world,  he  chose  the  centre 
of  Rome ;  the  same  spot  which  Augustus  had  marked 
out  for  a  structure  of  a  similar  kind,  but  which  he  never 
attempted  toexecute.  TheFlavianamphitheatre,  which 
was  begun  by  Vespasiau  in  his  eighth  consulate,  and 
afterwards  completed  by  Titusj^  is  celebrated  by  ancient 
authors  as  a  prodigy  pf  architectural  magnificence  and 
skill ;  and  it  has  been  said,  perhaps  without  exaggera- 
tion, that  its  expense  would  have  sufficed  for  building  a 
large  city.  Five  thousand  animals,  or,  according  to 
some  historians,  nine  thousand,  were  destroyed  at  its 
inauguration :  and,  Avhen  the  combats  were  concluded, 
the  arena  was  suddenly  filled  with  water,  on  which  aqua- 
tic animals  were  seen  to  contend  ;  and  these  again  gave 
place  to  a  number  of  vessels,  that  represented  a  naval 
battle.  This  stu|>endous  fabric  was  called  the  Coli- 
£8eum :  according  to  some  authors,  from  a  colossal  sta- 
tue of  Nero,  which  stood  near  it,  but  more  probably  on 
account  of  its  colossal  and  gigantic  size.  Placed  in  the 
centre  of  the  hills  of  Rome,  it  towered  as  high  as  their 
loftiest  summits.  Its  seats,  or  steps,  contained  eighty- 
seven  thousand  spectators ;  and  if  we  add,  at  a  very 
nioder.ite  calculation,  1 1 ,000,  placed  on  the  porticoes 
above  these  seats,  and  12,000  in  the  surrounding  passa- 
ges, where  moveable  scats  might  be  placed,  it  must 
have  contained  not  fewer  than  110,000  persons,  who 
could  behold  distinctly  the  games  and  coml)ats  oji  the 
arena.  Its  form  was  that  of  an  ellipsis,  or  oval,  whose 
longer  diameter  was  about  CI5  feet  6  inches,  and  its 
shorter  610  feet.  Of  the  arena  the  longer  diameter  was 
281  feet,  and  the  shorter  170,  thus  leaving  for  the  »»ats 
and  galleries  a  circuit  of  about  157  feet  in  l>rendth.  The 
whole  external  circumfcreuse  was  about  1770  feet,  co« 


vcring  a  superficies  of  more  than  five  acres  and  a  half. 
The  external  elevatioi^of  the  Flavian  amphitheatre  con- 
sisted of  three  stories  of  arcades,  embellished  with  co- 
lumes  of  the  Doric,  Ionic,  and  Corinthian  orders.  Com- 
pared with  this  amazing  fabric,  the  most  stupendous 
works  of  antiquity  sink  into  insignificance.  Not  evea 
those  prodigious  piles  which  were  the  boast  of  Egypt, 
and  the  wonder  of  succeeding  ages,  can  once  come  in- 
to competition  with  the  Flavian  amphitheatre.  They 
were,  indeed,  astonishing  monuments  of  the  power  of 
human  labour,  and  of  the  energies  of  a  populous  nation, 
controlled  and  urged  by  despotic  authority.  But  they 
were  the  works  of  rude  force,  the  monuments  of  bar- 
barism, which  delights  in  what-is  massy  and  vast,  with- 
out regard  to  order,  or  elegance  of  design.  To  construct 
the  Colisaeum,  on  the  other  hand,  required  the  utmost 
perfection  of  architectural  skill,  as  well  as  the  resources 
of  an  opulent  and  mighty  empire.  With  a  sublime  mag- 
nificence, which,  after  the  lapse  of  twelye  centuries,  is 
still  contemplated  with  astonishment  in  its  ruins,  it  unit- 
ed that  elegant  simplicity  which  marks  the  refinement 
of  cultivated  taste.  Nothing  can  impart  a  more  elevated 
idea  of  human  power  and  ingenuity,  than  an  edifice 
which  rose  to  the  height  of  120  feet,  and  occupied  up- 
wards of  five  acres  of  grouixl ;  and  which  admitted, 
without  confusion,  and  accommodated  easily,  more  than 
100,000  persons.  If  it  was  completed  in  the  reign  of 
Titus,  not  more  than  two  years  and  nine  mouths  were 
occupied  in  constructing  this  mighty  fabric,  the  most 
stupendous  that  the  world  ever  contained — thus  afford- 
ing a  specimen,  altogether  astonishing,  of  the  skil!,  the 
energy,  and  the  resources  of  the  Romans.  Amoiig  the 
Goths,  wlio  have  contributed  at  various  times  to  destroy 
this  wonderful  edifice,  our  readers  will  prohably  hear, 
with  some  surprise,  the  name  of  Michael  Angelo,  fi-onj 
whom  we  miglit  certainly  have  expected  a  sacred  re- 
spect for  whatever  was  connected  with  the  fine  arts — he 
carried  away  almost  one  half  of  the  outer  wall,  for  the 
purpose  of  building  the  Palazzo  Farnese.  To  prevent 
such  depredations,  pope  Benedict  XI V.  consecrated  the 
ruins,  and  erected  several  altiirs,  which,  previous  to  the 
French  revolution,  were  much  frequented  on  Sundays 
and  Fridays.  Near  the  centre,  there  was  a  Small  build- 
ing occupied  by  a  hermit,  whose  office  was  to  protect 
the  sacred  pile  from  the  injurious  touch  of  any  rude  and 
unhallowed  hand. 

The  Colisasum  became  the  model  to  many  other  am- 
phitheatres, which  were  erected  by  succeeding  empe- 
rors, or  by  the  inhabitants  of  different  countries,  who 
were  desirous  either  to  imitate  the  magnificence,  or  to 
enjoy  the  amufements  of  the  capitiil.  The  most  remark- 
able were  at  Capua  and  Verona  in  Italy,  at  Nismes 
in  Languedoc,  at  Pola  in  Istria,  and  at  Italica  in  Spain. 
Vestiges  of  others  have  been  traced  at  Alba,  a  small 
city  in  Latium,  at  Otricoli,  a  town  of  Umbria,  and  near 
the  Garigliano,  formerly  the  river  Lyris.  Some  of  the 
cells  and  arches  of  an  amphitheatre  are  still  to  be  seen 
at  Puzzuoli ;  while  the  ruins  of  others  may  be  recognized 
at  the  foot  of  Mount  Cassino,  near  the  house  of  Varro; ' 
at  Poestum,  in  Lucania ;  at  Syracuse,  Agrigentuin,  and  . 
Catania,  in  Sicily  ;  at  Cortina  and  (ierapitna,  in  Candia; 
at  Argos  and  Coriulh,  in  Greece ;  and  at  Aries  and  Ati- 
tun,  in  France.  In  Britain,  too,  trices  of  amiiliithcatres 
are  discernible  near  Sandwich,  in  Kent,  at  Caerleou,  in 
Monmouthshire,  (the  Isca  Silutumof  the  ancients,)  and 
in  various  other  parts  of  the  kingdom. 

But  though  ampliitheatres  were   thus  numerous,  it 


AMP 


AMP 


691 


cannot  be  supposed  that  many  of  them  bore  any  re«em- 
bliince  to  the  magnificence  of  the  Colisfeum,  or,  indeed, 
that  they  were  regular  edifices  at  all.  The  enormous 
expense  of  erecting  stone  buildings  of  such  magnitude, 
would  oblige  the  inhabitants  of  the  provinces  to  have 
recourse  to  every  expedient  which  might  enable  them 
to  »%njoy  their  favourite  diversions  at  an  easier  rate. 
For  this  purpose,  they  sometimes  chose  natural  rallies, 
surrounded  with  hills,  in  the  declivities  of  which  they 
cut  benches,  defended  probably  with  mounds,  or  ter- 
races, above  the  arena — such  was  the  amphitheatre  at 
Corinth.  In  these  natural  amphitheatres,  benches  of 
stone  were  sometimes  placed  on  the  declivities  of  the 
hills,  and  the  ellipsis  was  completed  by  works  of  ma- 
sonry at  the  extremities,  as  in  the  amphitheatre  of  Cor- 
tina,in  Candia.  Many  of  them,  and  particularly  the  Cas- 
trensian  amphitheatres,  were  mere  excavations,  with 
benches  of  turf :  such  was  that  near  Sandwich.  In  short, 
of  those  which  we  have  enumerated,  only  four,  viz.  the 
amphitheatres  of  Capua,  Verona,  Nismes,  and  Antun, 
appear  to  have  been  constructed  on  the  same  plan,  and 
embellished  in  the  siime  manner  as  the  Colisjeum.  An 
account  of  these  different  amphitheatres  will  be  found 
under  the  names  of  the  towns  in  which  they  stood. 

It  is  impossible  to  contemplate  without  horror  the 
dreadful  scenes  of  carnage  which,  for  250  years,  dis- 
graced the  amphitheatre,  or  to  regard,  without  utter 
detestation,  the  character  of  the  people,  who  took  plea- 
sure in  spectacles  of  such  monstrous  barbarity.  We 
may  form  some  idea  of  the  myriads  of  men  and  animals 
destroyed  in  these  houses  of  slaughter,  from  one  in- 
stance which  is  recorded  by  Dio.  He  informs  us,  that, 
after  the  triumph  of  Trajan  over  the  Dacians,  specta- 
cles were  exhibited  for  123  days;  in  which  11,000  ani- 
mals were  killed,  and  1000  gladiators  were  matched 
against  one  another.  Nor  was  it  only  malefactors,  cap- 
tives, and  slaves,  who  were  doomed  to  contend  in  these 
dreadful  games.  Free-born  citizens  hired  themselves 
as  gladiators;  men  of  noble  birth  sometimes  degraded 
themselves  so  far  as  to  fight  on  the  stage  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  their  countrymen  ;  even  women,  ladies  too  of 
high  rank,  forgetting  the  native  delicacy  and  the  feeble- 
ness of  their  sex,  strove  on  the  arena  for  the  prize  of 
valour — for  the  honour  of  adroitness  in  murder.  A  peo- 
ple thus  inured  to  blood,  were  prepared  for  every  vil- 
lany ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  read  of  the  enormities  which 
disgraced  the  transactions  of  the  later  Romans,  wthout 
ascribing  them,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  ferocity  of 
temper,  fostered  by  the  shocking  amusements  of  the 
amphitheatre.  Perhaps  it  is  not  too  refined  to  trace 
back  to  the  same  cause  the  dark  and  vile  dispositions  of 
their  descendants,  who  have  been  branded,  too  justly, 
as  little  better  than  a  race  of  assassins. 

Even  the  progress  and  the  establishment  of  Christi- 
anity could  not,  for  some  time,  overcome  the  inclination 
for  these  sanguinary  entertainments.  Constantine  the 
Great  had,  indeed,  prohibited  them  by  law  in  the  eastern 
empire;  and  Honorius,  in  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century,  banished  all  professional  gladiators  from  the 
Roman  territory.  Still,  however,  combats  of'wild  beasts 
were  continued  both  in  the  eastern  and  western  em- 
pires, as  far  down  as  the  sixth  century.  About  that 
lime  they  seem  to  have  been  every  where  abolished  ; 
and  the  edifices,  in  which  they  were  exhibited,  to  have 
been  completely  neglected.  During  the  age  of  chivalry, 
they  were  occasionally  used  as  the  scenes  of  judicial 
<:embat,  or  of  tilts  and  tournaments;  but  as  these  cus- 


toms Avere  abolished,  amphitheatres  were  abandoned  to 
neglect  and  ruin,     (fc) 

AMPHITHEATRE,  a  nan  e  given  by  the  French  (o 
that  part  of  the  bottom  of  a  theatre,  which  i»  opposite 
to  the  stage,  and  is  elevated  to  its  height,  and  which 
contains  parallel  seats  placed  behind  each  other,  and  in- 
creasing in  elevation  as  they  recede.  This  name  is  like- 
wise given  to  halls,  appropriated  to  public  scientific  lec- 
tures and  discourses,  whose  seats  rise  above  one  another^ 
either  in  a  semicircular  form,  or  surrounding  the  room 
like  the  seats  of  an  amphitheatre,     (/it) 

AMPHITHEATRE,  in  Gardening,  a  high  terrace, 
ascended  by  steps  either  straight  or  circular,  and  sup- 
ported by  banks  and  slopes  of  various  forms.  Thb 
decoration  is  employed  to  give  regularity  to  a  hill  or 
mountain,  which  it  is  not  wished  to  cut,  and  to  support 
by  terraces.  It  is  also  used  to  terminate  the  view  from 
an  alley,  or  an  opening  in  a  thicket,     (fc) 

AMPHITRITE,  in  Zoology,  a  genus  of  worms  be< 
longing  to  the  order  Mollusca.  Cuvier  ranks  under 
this  genus  the  remaining  species  of  Gmelin's  genus  te- 
rebclla,  that  had  not  been  taken  into  the  genus  amphi- 
mone,  thus  throwing  out  the  terebella  tribe  altogether. 
See  Helmintholooy. 

AMPHORA,  called  Quadrantal  by  the  ancients,  aa 
carthern  vessel,  which  was  used  as  a  liquid  measure  by 
the  Greeks  and  Romans,  containing  two  urns  and  43 
staries,  equal  to  nearly  7  gallons  1  pint  English  mea- 
sure.    See  Jac.  Viselius  in  Jul.  Gell.  lib.  xviii.  c.  1. 

AMPLIFICATION.     See  Rhetoric. 

AMPLITUDE.  See  Astronomy  and  Projectiles. 

AMPULLA,  among  the  Romans,  was  a  large  vessel 
used  at  the  baths  for  the  purpose  of  unction.  It  is  also 
the  name  of  one  of  the  sacred  vessels  used  by  the  an- 
cient catholics,  and  hence  the  order  of  the  knights  of 
St.  Ampulla*,  instituted  by  Clovis  I.  Their  office  is  to 
support  the  canopy,  beneath  which  is  carried  the  am- 
pulla, out  of  which  the  kings  of  France  were  anointed 
at  their  coronation.  See  Gaguin.  Ahnoin,  lib.  i.  cap.  16. 
Hincmar,  in  Vita  S.  Remigii.     (w) 

AMPUTATION,  is  a  surgical  operation,  in  which 


*  Every  one  knows  that  la  sainle  ampouie,  or  the 
holy  ampulla,  was  a  vial  filled  with  a  kind  of  balsam  or 
oil,  with  which  the  kings  of  France,  before  the  late  re- 
volution, were  anointed  at  their  coronation.  It  is  related 
by  some  of  the  ancient  chroniclers,  that  it  was  brought 
down  from  heaven  by  a  dove  at  the  coronation  of  Clovis 
I. ;  but  Gregory  of  Tours  and  Fortunatus,  who  are  the 
most  reputable  among  them  in  point  of  authority,  are 
silent  about  it.  This  traditional  belief  had  grown  into 
a  kind  of  national  superstition;  and  the  holy  vial  was 
j)reserved  with  religious  care  in  the  church  of  St.  Re- 
jirigius  at  Rheims,  until  the  j'ear  1794,  when  it  was  de- 
stroyed with  a  great  number  of  other  more  valuable 
relics,  in  a  paroxysm  of  revolutionary  rage.  It  is  said 
that  Clovis  instituted  an  order  of  knights  in  honour  of 
it ;  blit  the  fact  is  far  from  being  well  authenticated. 
However  it  may  be,  it  is  very  certain  that  la  saintc  am- 
poule never  was  personified  under  the  name  of  St.  Am- 
pulla, or  any 'other.  We  cannot  conceive  on  what  autho- 
rity the  writer  of  the  article  in  the  text  has  transformed 
a  vial  of  oil  into  a  female  saint.  If  he  will  take  the  trou- 
We  again  to  consult  Hincmar  and  Almoin,  on  whose  au- 
thority he  appears  to  rely,  he  will  soon  b^  convinced  of 
his  mistake.    Duponceau. 

4  S  2 


692 


A3IR 


AMR 


any  member  h  separated  from  the  body.     See  St'R- 

GERY. 

AMR  AS,  Ambras,  or  Omeras,  the  name  of  a  town 
in  the  county  of  Tyrol,  about  four  miles  east  from  In- 
spruck  ;  and  also  of  a  strong  castle  in  the  same  vicinity, 
which  was  formerly  a  summer  residence  of  the  arch- 
dukes of  Austria.  It  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  beauty 
^  of  its  situation,  and  the  valuable  collection  of  paintings 
and  antiquities  which  it  contains.  E.  Long.  !!•  40'-. 
N.  I.at.  470  0'.     (^) 

AMRU,  or  Amrou,  a  distinguished  leader  of  the  Sa- 
racens, and  conqueror  of  Egypt.  He  was  nearly  con- 
temporary with  Mahomet.  His  mother  was  a  woman 
of  a  character  so  infamous,  that  when  requested  to 
name  his  father,  she  was  unable  to  decide  among  five  of 
her  lovers ;  but,  from  the  resemblance  of  the  child  to 
Aasi,  an  illustrious  person  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish,  he 
appears  to  have  been  acknowledged  and  educated  as  his 
son.  lu  early  life,  Amru  was  tainted  with  the  preju- 
dices of  his  kindred,  who  were  idolaters ;  and  having 
an  inclination  to  poetry,  he  indulged  himself  in  writing 
satirical  verses  against  the  doctrine  and  person  of  Ma- 
homet. It  was  not  long,  however,  before  he  declared 
his  belief  in  the  mission  of  that  warlike  prophet ;  and, 
whether  convinced  by  reason  or  gained  over  by  inte- 
rest, he  persevered  in  his  attachment  to  the  new  reli- 
gion with  such  undeviating  uniformity,  that  it  was  said 
of  him,  "  there  never  was  a  Moslem  more  sincere  and 
steadfast  in  the  faith."  The  proselyte  to  3Iahometanism 
must  draw  his  sword  in  its  defence.  It  is  required  of 
him,  that  his  belief  shall  be  fixed  and  implicit ;  and  also, 
that  he  shall  zealously  endeavour  to  increase  the  num- 
ber of  the  faithful,  by  offering  to  all  whom  his  arm  can 
subdue,  the  simple  conditions  of  death,  tribute,  or  sub- 
mission to  the  prophet.  With  this  direct  and  efliectual 
logic,  Amru  was  not  unacquainted.  Having  gained 
considerable  reputation  in  Irak,  he  was  appointed  by 
the  caliph  Omar  to  serve  against  the  Christians  in  Pa- 
lestine, under  Obeidah,  the  leader  of  the  Arabs  in  that 
province ;  and  while  he  distinguished  himself  by  his 
address  and  courage  in  the  field,  he  never  lost  sight  of 
the  great  object  which  all  true  Moslems  are  bound  to 
pursue.  Safety  and  freedom  were  the  immediate  re- 
wards of  those  who  acknowledged  the  authority  of  Ma- 
homet. Of  the  zeal  of  Amru  to  increase  the  pumber  of 
proselytes,  an  instance,  worthy  of  notiee,  is  given  by  the 
historians  of  the  period  in  which  he  lived.  As  he  was 
advancing  to  the  siege  of  Caesarea,  near  which  place 
Constantine,  the  son  of  the  emperor  Heraclius,  was 
posted  with  a  body  of  troops,  this  young  prince  sent 
some  Christian  Arabs  to  examine  the  camp  of  the  Moa- 
lems.  One  of  the  spies  was  taken,  and  instantly  cut  to 
pieces  by  the  followers  of  Amru.  But  when  the  account 
of  the  fact  was  brought  to  the  general,  he  testified  the 
highest  disapprobation,  and  forbade  so  precipitate  an 
execution  of  vengeance  in  all  time  to  come  ;  alleging  as 
a  reason  to  liig  soldiers,  that  the  persona  whom  they 
were  about  to  kill,  might  choose  rather  to  embrace  the 
Islam,  than  to  sulTer  death.  After  this  expression  of 
leal,  u  conference  took  place  between  the  opposite  lead- 
ers. The  general  of  the  Greeks  made  overtures  towards 
a  pacification ;  but  his  proposals  were  rejected  by  Amru, 
*vbo  declared,  that  he  would  listen  to  no  terms  of  ac- 
commodation, unless  the  emperor  agreed  to  adopt  the 
religion  of  Mahomet,  or  acknowledge  himsejf  the  tribu- 
tary of  Omar.  Both  side*,  therefore,  prepared  for  ar.tioa. 
Citaarea  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Arabians,  A.  D.  638  i 


and  all  the  maritime  towns  of  Syria,  were  subjected  to 
the  dominion  of  the  caliph. 

Upon  the  death  of  Obeidah,  the  chief  command  in 
Palestine  devolved  upon  Amru ;  aud  he  had  shown  him- 
self to  be  every  way  qualified  lor  the  high  station  which 
he  was  about  to  occupy.  Not  contented,  however,  with 
opposing  the  Christians  in  Syria,  he  resolved  to  advance 
into  Egj'pt.  Accordingly,  he  left  his  position  at  Gana, 
and  was  proceeding  to  Farmah,  or  Pelusium,  (justly  re- 
garded as  the  key  to  that  country,)  when  he  was  over- 
taken by  a  messenger,  with  a  letter  from  Omar,  the 
contents  of  which  he  would  not  examine  till  his  forces 
had  entered  the  Egyptian  territory.  But  he  had  no 
sooner  reached  the  vicinity  of  Farmah,  than  he  assem- 
bled his  otficers,  and  read  to  them  the  following  man- 
date, addressed  to  himself:  "  If  you  are  still  in  Syria,'' 
said  the  caliph,  "  retreat  m  ithout  delay ;  but  if,  at  the 
receipt  of  this  letter,  you  are  witliiu  the  frontiers  of 
Egypt,  advance  with  confidence,  and  depend  on  the  suc- 
cour of  God  and  your  brethren."  Amru  declared  aloud 
his  resolution  to  obey.  Advancing  with  confidence,  and 
trusting  to  tlie  aid  which  the  caliph  had  pointed  out,  he 
quickly  reduced  Pelusium  ;  and  ojjened  to  his  followers 
the  whole  country,  as  far  as  Ueliopolis  and  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Cairo.  From  Pelusium,  or  Farmah,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  Memphis,  which  resisted  his  arms  for  nearly 
seven  months;  till,  threatened  by  the  inundation  of  tiie 
Nile,  he  roused  the  courage  of  his  soldiers,  aud  enter- 
ing the  fortress,  with  the  shout  of"  God  is  victorious!" 
made  himself  master  of  the  place.  Hera,  too,  ou  the 
eastern  bank  of  the  river,  he  built  the  city  of  Fostat  f 
the  ruins  of  which  are  at  present  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  Old  Cairo.  After  the  taking  of  Memphis,  and 
the  subjecti«>n  of  the  Coptic  Christians  to  the  authority 
of  Omar,  Amru  drove  the  fugitive  Greeks  belbre  him 
towards  Alexandria ;  and  invested  that  large  and  popu- 
lous city,  furnished  with  all  the  means  of  subsistence 
and  defence.  The  natives  of  Egypt,  anxious  for  the 
expulsion  of  their  tyrants,  devoted  their  labours  to  the 
service  of  the  Arabians ;  and  the  caliph,  from  the  throne 
of  Medina,  despatched  his  messengers,  and  encouraged 
his  troops  to  their  noblest  etforts  of  valour  and  skill. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  defendants  of  Alexandria  made 
a  vigorous  resistance,  and  by  their  unwearied  exertionr, 
protracted  the  siege  to  the  period  of  fourteen  months. 
At  length,  however,  the  Sar.icens  prevailed  ;  the  Greeks 
were  forced  to  embark  their  dispirited  numl)cr3,  and  the 
assailants  rushing  forward,  planted  the  standard  of  Ma- 
homet on  the  walls  of  the  Egyptian  capital.  During 
this  memorable  siege,  the  adventurous  courage  of  Amru 
brought  him  on  one  occasion  into  a  situation  of  great 
danger.  As  he  was  entering  the  citadel,  his  troops  were 
drivcn.back,  and  he  remained  a  prisoner,  together  with 
a  slave,  in  the  hands  of  the  Chri;rtiaDS.  He  was  instant'- 
ly  led  into  the  presence  of  the  governor,  who  was  un- 
acquainted  with  his  rank;  but  tiie  haughty  mien,  and 
resolute  language  of  the  ca|)tive,  betrayed  his  superior 
qualily,  and  an  attendant  lifted  his  battle-axe  in  order  to 
punish  him  for  his  insolence.  At  this  moment,  the  slave, 
with  astonishing  presence  of  mind,  struck  his  master  a 
violent  blow  upon  the  face,  and  commanded  him,  in  an 
angry  tone,  to  be  silent  in  the  company  of  those  whom 
he  ought  to  respect.  The  governor  was  deceived;  he 
listened  to  the  oflcr  of  a  treaty,  and  dismissed  the  pris' 
oners,  in  the  hope  of  concluding  the  war  by  an  honour- 
able accommodation.  The  fate  of  the  Alexandri.in  li-^ 
brary  is  kno^~a  to  every  one  who  U  conversant  witU  an- 


AMS 


AMS 


693 


tiquhy,  and  has  been  well  described  by  the  learned  Abul- 
fihuTagius,  (Di/iiast.  p.  114,  vers.  Pocock.)  It  was  the 
desire  of  Amrii  to  preserve  that  noble  collection  of 
manuscript?,  at  the  request  of  Ammonius  Pliiloponus 
the  grammarian.  But  such  was  the  integrity  of  the 
Arabian  chief,  that  he  would  not  alienate  the  smallest 
portion  of  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  property  of  the 
caliph ;  and  accordingly  he  wrote  to  Medina,  that  the 
pleasure  of  Omar  might  be  known.  "  If  these  wri- 
tings," said  the  caliph,  "  agree  with  the  book  of  God 
they  are  uselessf  and  if  not,  they  ought  to  be  destroy- 
ed." This  fanatical  sentence  was  executed  with  blind 
and  zealous  obedience ;  and  the  volumes  were  employed 
to  heat  the  baths  of  the  city.     See  Alexandria. 

After  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  the  fortune  of  Amru 
partook  of  the  vicissitudes  to  which  a  despotic  govern- 
ment is  generally  subject.  He  was  removed  from  the 
government  of  Egypt,  by  the  jealousy  of  Othman,  who 
restored  him  twice  on  occasions  of  emergency,  but 
again  displaced  him  when  the  danger  was  over.  On 
the  accession  of  Ali,  he  joined  the  malcontents,  and 
swore  allegiance  to  3Ioawiyah,  the  competitor  of  that 
distinguished  person ;  and  the  sect  of  the  Kharijites 
having  conspired  against  him,  he  very  narrowly  escaped 
with  life.  At  length,  during  the  caliphate  of  Moawiyah, 
he  died  in  his  palace  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  A.  D. 
603,  and  in  the  year  of  the  Hegira  43.  He  w.is  one  of 
the  greatest  among  the  Arabs  of  his  time.  Quick  in 
apprehension,  wise  in  council,  and  of  matchless  bravery, 
he  united  in  his  character  every  quality  which  forms  a 
successful  leader  in  war,  and  an  useful  governor  in  peace. 
The  following  anecdote,  which  has  been  recorded  as  a 
proof  of  his  modesty,  shows  a  dignified  consciousness  of 
his  own  merit.  When  he  was  on  a  visit  lo  Medina,  the 
ealiph  wished  to  examine  the  sword  which  had  destroyed 
so  many  of  the  Christian  warriors :  but  Amru,  pulling 
from  its  scabbard  on  ordinary  einiiter,  and,  marking  the 
surprise  of  the  caliph,  addressed  him  in  the  following 
words  :  "  Alas,"  said  he,  "  the  sword  itself,  without  the 
arm  of  its  master,  is  neither  sharper  nor  more  weighty 
(han  (he  sword  of  Pharisdak  the  poet."  Gibbon's  Hist,  of 
the  Rmt.  Emp.\ol.y.  p.  331,  ct  seg.  Abulpharagius, 
Dynast,  p.  114,  versione  Pocock.  Ockley's  Hist.  ^  the 
Saracens,  vol.  i.  and  ii.  Mod.  Vnivcrs.  Hist.  vol.  i.  p.  315, 
ft  seq.  Rendudot,  Hist.  Alex.  Patriarch,  p.  1 70.  Rc' 
land  dc  Jure  Militar,  Mahotninedanorum,  vol.  iii.  Dissert. 
p.  37.     {h) 

A3ISTERD  AM,  the  principal  city  in  Holland,  though 
not  the  seat  of  government,  is  situated  at  the  conflux  of 
the  river  Amstel  with  a  branch  of  the  Zuyder-Zee, 
which,  from  its  form,  is  called  the  Y,  or  Wye.  Its  name 
was  originally  Amstelredam,  the  dam  or  dyke  of  the  Am- 
stel. With  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Petersburgb,  therd 
is  not  a  city  in  Europe,  which,  from  a  very  slender  ori- 
gin, has  risen  so  lately  and  so  rapidly  to  the  height  of 
opulence  and  grandeur,  as  Amsterdam.  Not  more  than 
six  centuries  ago,  it  consisted  of  a  few  miserable  huts, 
inhabited  by  fishermen.  Its  situation,  however,  was  so 
favourable  to  commercial  enterprise  and  activity,  that  it 
soon  became  of  suITicient  importance  to  be  distinguished 
by  the  earls  of  Holland  with  the  title  and  the  privileges 
of  a  city.  To  defend  it  from  the  assaults  of  the  people 
of  Utrecht,  who  were  perpetually  at  variance  with  the 
Hollanders,  and  jealous  of  the  rising  prosperity  of  their 
city,  Mary  of  Burgundy  surrounded  it,  in  the  year  1490, 
with  a  wall  of  brick,  which  was  soon  afterwards  burnt 
to  the  ground.    Not  many  years  after,  it  was  besieged 


by  an  army  from  Guelderland,  which  set  fire  to  the 
shipping  in  the  harbour,  though  the  town  itself  with- 
stood their  attacks.  An  insurrection  was  excited  in  this 
city  about  the  year  1525,  by  a  party  of  fanatics,  led  on 
by  John  of  Leyden,  the  pretended  king  of  Munster.  At- 
tacking the  town-house  in  the  night-time,  they  easily 
overpowered  its  defenders;  but  were,  in  their  turn,  de- 
feated by  the  citizens,  and  put  to  the  sword.  Aboat  ten 
years  after,  a  more  alarming  commotion  was  raised  by 
the  anabaptists,  who  had  entered  into  a  deep-laid  scheme 
for  wresting  the  government  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
mJigistrates.  On  a  day  appointed,  these  enthusiasts, 
with  Van  Geelan  at  their  head,  marched  to  the  town- 
house,  where  they  fixed  their  head-quarters.  They 
were  immediately  attacked  by  the  inhabitants,  aided  by 
regular  troops,  and,  being  completely  surrounded,  were 
massacred  in  the  cruellest  manner. 

Amsterdam  was  one  of  the  last  cities  that  embraced 
the  reformed  religion ;  and  when,  alter  a  siege  of  ten 
months,  it  was  reduced  by  (he  Hollanders,  an  express 
article  of  capitulation  was,  that  the  Roman  Catholics 
should  )ye  allowed  the  unmolested  exercise  of  their  re-- 
ligion.  This  condition  was  immediately  violated,  how- 
ever, by  the  protestants,  who,  in  the  fury  of  their  zeal, 
broke  down  the  images,  subverted  the  altars,  and  ex- 
pelled from  (he  city  the  |)riests,  the  monks,  and  the  nuns. 
The  advantageous  situation  of  Amsterdam  now  attract- 
ed crowds  of  strangers,  not  only  from  the  other  United 
Provinces,  but  from  all  the  countries  of  Europe.  This 
influx  of  new  inhabitants  rendered  it  necessary,  at  dif- 
ferent times,  to  enlarge  the  city,  and  about  the  year 
1C75  it  was  increased  by  one  half  more  than  its  former 
size.  At  present,  it  covers  a  surface  of  about  18,790  geo- 
metrical feet,  and  is  said  to  be  larger  than  Haerleni, 
Leyden,  Delft,  Rotterdam,  and  Dordrecht,  inclusively, 
though  these  are  all  considerable  towns.  It  is  of  a  se- 
micircular form,  about  nine  miles  and  a  half  in  compass, 
surrounded  with  a  ditch  80  feet  wide,  full  of  running 
water,  and  with  a  rampart  faced  uith  brick,  having  26 
bastions ;  on  each  of  which  there  has  been  placed  a 
wind-mill.  Towards  the  land,  it  has  eight  magnificent 
gates  of  stone,  and  one  towards  the  shore. 

No  where  is  (he  potver  of  human  industry  more  stri- 
kingly displayed  than  in  Amsterdam.  The  adjacent 
country,  along  the  banks  of  the  Y,  is  four  or  five  feet 
below  the  lerel  of  the  river,  from  which  it  is  preserved 
by  massy  and  prodigious  dikes ;  and  the  town  itself  is 
secured  from  inundation  by  an  immense  dam  of  the 
same  kind.  So  marshy,  too,  is  its  sitnation,  that  almost 
(he  whole  of  it  is  built  upon  piles  of  wood ;  and  the  ca- 
nals which  intersect  it,  form  eighty-two  islands,  joined 
to  one  another  by  nearly  three  hundred  bridges.  These 
canals,  though  extremely  convenient  in  the  capital  of 
such  a  commercial  country  as  Holland,  are  in  summer 
so  feculent  as  to  be  intolerable  nuisances.  The  green- 
ness, common  to  stagnant  waters,  covers  their  whole 
surface,  chequered  only  by  the  carcasses  of  animals,  and 
putrifying  vegetables  of  every  description.  A  boat-hook 
drawn  from  the  bottom,  leaves  at  the  top  a  circle  of 
slime,  which  remains  visible  for  many  minutes.  Some 
of  them,  however,  are  less  offensive  than  the  rest,  and, 
shaded  on  both  sides  with  lofty  trees,  give  the  town  a 
picturesque  and  pleasing  appearance.  Most  of  these 
canals  are  filled  by  the  Amstel,  which  is  itself  naviga- 
ble for  ships  of  considerable  burden.  Upon  this  river 
there  is  a  magnificent  bridge,  which  commands  a  fine 
prospect  of  the  city,  the  harbour,  and  the  sea.    TJiis 


694 


AMSTERDAM. 


bridge,  called  the  Pont  Neuf,  is  600  feet  long,  and  70 
broad,  having  iron  balustrades  on  both  sides.  Of  its 
thirty  arches,  eleven  are  very  lofty,  and  eight  are  entire- 
ly shut  up.  Beyond  the  Pout  Neuf  is  a  terrace,  or  quay, 
which  is  one  of  the  few  pleasant  walks  enjoyed  by  the 
inhabitants  of  Amsterdam.  On  this  terrace  stands  the 
Admiralty;  an  immense  building,  in  the  interior  of 
which  is  the  dock-yard  :  here,  likewise,  is  the  magazine 
of  the  East  India  Company ;  whose  perfume  affords  a 
grateful  contrast  to  the  fetid  odour  of  the  canals. 

The  streets  of  Amsterdam  are  not  remarkable  either 
for  elegance  or  cleanliness.  In  general  they  are  very 
narrow ;  many  of  them,  indeed,  which  contain  the  hous- 
es of  the  most  opulent  nif  rchants,  are  not  more  than  six- 
teen or  seventeen  feet  wide.  Yet  along  the  banks  of  the 
canals  there  are  some  streets  of  uncommon  magnificence, 
calculated  to  give  a  stranger  a  very  high  opinion  of  the 
opulence  of  their  inhabitants.  Kiezer's  gragt,  or  em- 
peror's street,  Heeren  gragt,  or  lords'  street,  and  Pris- 
sen's  gragt,  or  princes'  street,  are  upwards  of  140  feet 
wide,  and  are  lined  with  houses,  whose  princely  splen- 
dour would  do  honour  to  any  town  in  Europe.  All  the 
streets  are  paved  with  brick,  and  have  no  raised  side- 
path  for  foot  passengers;  t>ut  as  wheel-carriages  are 
neither  numerous  in  this  city,  nor  allowed  to  be  driven 
with  speed,  a  person  may  walk  here  with  as  much  se- 
curity as  on  the  flag-stone  pavements  of  London.  Here 
are  seen  none  of  those  noble  squares  which  give  so 
much  splendour  to  some  of  our  own  cities ;  and  indeed 
the  whole  town,  with  the  exception  of  the  three  streets 
which  we  have  mentioned,  has  rather  the  mean  and 
crowded  appearance  of  a  bustling  sea-port,  than  the 
grand  and  elegant  air  of  an  opulent  metropolis.  The 
interior  of  the  houses,  however,  is  sulTiciently  splendid, 
decorated  very  much  in  the  French  style,  and  the  sides 
of  the  rooms  are  painted,  in  general,  Avith  a  series  of 
landscapes  in  oil-colours.  The  environs  of  this  city  pre- 
sent no  objects  that  indicate  the  vicinity  of  a  great  ca- 
pital ;  on  every  side,  the  approach  to  it  is  by  water,  ex- 
cept towards  Ouderkirk,  to  which  there  is  a  delightful 
road  through  gardens  and  groves. 

Of  the  public  buildings  with  which  Amsterdam  is  em- 
bellished, the  first  that  attracts  ibe  notice  of  a  stranger 
is  the  Stadthouse,  unquestionably  oiu;  of  the  most  won- 
derful edifices  in  the  world.  The  labour,  the  time,  and 
the  expense,  which  are  said  to  have  been  necessary  to 
complete  it,  would  appear  altogether  incredible,  were 
not  the  highest  calculation  which  has  been  made  of  them 
rendered  probable  by  the  magnitude  of  the  building,  and 
the  nature  of  the  ground  on  which  it  stands.  In  a  coun- 
try which  furnishes  no  stone,  a  building  two  hundred 
and  eighty-two  feet  in  front,  two  hundred  and  fifty-five 
feet  in  depth,  and  one  hundred  and  sixteen  high,  may 
well  be  believed  to  have  cost  an  expense  of  two  mil- 
lions sterling,  especially  when  we  consider  that  its  foun- 
dation is  Iwggy,  and  that  it  rests  upon  13,695  massy 
trees  or  piles.  The  first  pile  was  driven  on  the  20th  of 
January,  l(i48,  and  about  eight  years  after  the  different 
colleges  of  magistrates  took  possession  of  their  respec- 
tive apartments,  though  the  roof  and  dome  were  not 
yet  completed.  John  Van  Kempen  was  the  principal 
architect,  but  acted  under  the  advice  and  control  of 
four  burgomasters. 

The  Stadthouse,  though  a  structure  of  pro<ligions  size, 
hex  nothing  very  magnificent  in  its  external  appearance. 
It  is  ornamented,  indeed,  with  a  few  statues  of  excel- 
leut  sculpture;  but  if  we  except  three  bronze  figures 


representing  Justice,  Wealth,  and  Strength,  and  a  co- 
lossal statue  of  Atlas  holding  the  world,  the  rest  are 
almost  lost  to  the  view  in  the  wide  extent  of  wall  on 
which  they  are  placed ;  while  the  eye  is  constantly  of- 
fended liy  gilded  Neptunes,  tridents  and  trumpets,  and 
other  ludicrous  ornaments,  in  the  true  Dutch  style.  On 
the  top  of  the  edifice  there  is  a  tower,  which  rises  fifty 
feet  above  the  roof,  and  which  contains  a  great  number 
of  bells,  the  largest  of  them  weighing  between  six  and 
seven  thousand  pounds.  The  chime  of  these  bells,  is 
remarkably  harmonious  ;  they  play  ev^ry  quarter  of  an 
hour  an  agreeable  air ;  and  an  excellent  carrilioneur  is 
engaged  to  entertain  the  citizens  three  times  a-week, 
whose  style  of  execution  is  heard  by  a  stranger  with 
equal  delight  and  astonishment.  He  plays  by  a  brass 
barrel,  which  is  seven  feet  and  a  half  in  diameter,  and 
weighs  4474  pounds.  The  Stadthouse  has  seven  small 
porticoes,  representative  of  the  seven  provinces,  but  has 
no  grand  entrance ;  a  defect  which  is  attributed  to  the 
cautious  foresight  of  the  burgomasters,  who  superintend- 
ed the  building,  that  in  case  of  tumult,  the  mob  might 
thus  he  prevented  from  rushing  in. 

The  interior  of  the  edifice  is  highly  superb.  Its  prin- 
cipal apartment  is  the  tribunal,  on  the  basement  floor,  to 
which  convicts  are  conducted  through  a  raassy  folding 
door,  to  receive  the  awful  sentence  of  the  law.  The 
walls  of  this  chamber  are  of  white  marble,  adorned 
with  bas-reliefs  and  figures,  emblemetical  of  the  pur- 
pose to  which  it  is  appropriated.  A  grand  double  stair- 
case leads  from  the  tribunal  to  the  burgher's,  or  marble 
hall,  a  most  magnificent  apartment,  120  feet  long,  57 
broad,  and  SO  high ;  with  galleries  21  feet  in  width  on 
each  side,  the  whole  composed  of  white  marble.  Bronze 
gates  and  railing,  which,  though  massy,  are  finely  exe- 
cuted, form  the  grand  entrance  into  this  hall ;  and  over 
the  entrance  is  a  colonade  of  Corinthian  pillars  of  red 
and  white  marble.  One  end  of  the  room  is  adorned  with 
a  colossal  statue  of  Atlas,  supporting  on  his  shoulders 
the  globe,  and  attended  by  Vigilance  and  Wisdom. 
The  celestial  and  terrestrial  globes  are  delineated  upon 
the  floor  in  three  large  circles,  22  feet  in  diameter,  and 
69  in  circumference,  composed  of  brass,  and  various  co- 
loured marbles;  the  two  external  circles  representing 
the  two  hemispheres  of  the  earth  ;  the  central,  the  plani- 
sphere of  the  heavens.  The  other  apartments  worthy 
of  notice,  are  the  burgomasters'  cabinet,  the  burgomas- 
ters' apartments,  the  chamber  of  the  treasury  ordinary, 
and  the  great  council  of  war  chamber,  and  the  painter's 
chamber,  in  which  there  is  a  very  long  picture  by  Van- 
dyke, containing,  among  other  figures,  the  gray  head 
of  an  old  man  of  such  matchless  excellence,  that  for  that 
head  alone,  the  burgomasters  were  offered  seven  thou- 
sand florins.  There  is  in  this  chamber  another  large 
picture  by  Vanderheld,  representing  a  feast  given  by 
the  magistrates  of  Amsterdam  to  the  ambassadors  of 
Spain,  on  account  of  the  peace  of  Muuster,  and  many 
other  fine  paintings  by  Reubens,  Jordaans,  and  Olho 
Venius.  In  the  second  floor,  there  is  a  large  magazine 
of  arms,  which  extends  the  whole  length  of  the  l)uild- 
ing,  and  contains  a  curious  and  valuable  collection  of 
ancient  and  modern  Dutch  arms.  On  the  top  of  the 
building  there  are  six  large  cisterns  of  water,  intended 
as  a  supply  in  case  of  fire,  to  prevent  which,  the  chim- 
nies  are  lined  with  copper. 

One  of  the  courts  of  the  Stadthouse  is  occupied  by 
the  prison,  on  two  sides  of  which,  below  ground,  are 
the  dungeons,  than  which  nothing  can  be  conceived 


AMSTERDAM. 


695 


more  horrible.  It  seems  very  inconsistent  with  the 
general  mildness  of  the  laws  of  Holland,  that  persons 
accused  of  trivial  crimes,  and  even  sometimes  before 
their  guilt  is  ascertained,  should  be  entombed  in  these 
subterraneous  cells,  "  fit  only  to  be  the  receptacle  of  the 
dead."  It  is  only  ten  years  since  the  inhuman  practice 
of  torturing  was  abolished  in  Amsterdam.  The  unhappy 
victim,  who  refused  to  acknowledge  guilt,  of  which, 
perhaps,  he  was  unconscious,  had  his  hands  bound  be- 
hind his  neck  with  a  cord,  which  passed  through  pullies 
fastened  to  a  vaulted  ceiling,  by  means  of  which  he  was 
jerked  up  and  down,  with  leaden  weights  of  fifty  pounds 
each,  attached  to  his  feet,  till  anguish  overcame  his  for- 
titude, and  a  reluctant  confession  was  extorted  from  his 
lips.  Sir  John  Carr,  who  visited  this  city  in  1806,  saw 
the  iron  work  by  which  this  infamous  process  was  etfect- 
ed,  still  adhering  to  the  walls  of  the  torture  chamber. 
Yet  the  Dutch  are  shocked  by  the  sanguinary  nature 
of  the  criminal  laws  of  England ;  and  with  them,  capi- 
tal punishments  are  so  rare,  that  from  1 799  to  1 806, 
only  niue  malefactors  were  executed  in  their  metro- 
polis. 

On  the  ground-floor  of  the  Stadthouse  are  the  strong 
apartments  which  formerly  contained  the  vast  treasures 
of  the  bank,  and  its  various  offices.  Before  the  war  with 
France,  it  was  a  bank  of  deposit,  and  was  supposed  to 
contain  the  greatest  quantity  of  bullion  in  the  world. 
Its  pile  of  precious  metal  was  estimated  at  the  enormous 
sum  of  40,000,000/.  sterling. 

The  beurs,  or  exchange,  is  a  large,  though  plain 
building,  in  the  form  of  an  oblong  square,  constructed 
of  free  stone,  and  founded  on  2000  piles  of  wood.  It  is 
about  250  feet  ia  length,  and  140  in  breadth.  Twenty- 
six  marble  columns  support  its  galleries,  which  are  en- 
tered by  a  superb  staircase,  leading  from  the  gate. 
The  arsenal  for  their  men  of  war  is  200  feet  long,  and 
22  feet  broad.  On  the  top  of  the  building  there  is  a 
€-onservatory  of  water,  which  holds  1600  tons,  and  from 
which  the  water  may  be  conveyed  by  leaden  pipes  into 
1 6  different  places. 

Of  the  public  institutions  of  Amsterdam,  the  most  re- 
markable are  the  rasphouse,  and  the  work-house.  In 
the  former,  offenders,  w  hose  crimes  are  not  capital,  are 
condemned  to  saw  logs  of  wood ;  and  when  they  are  in- 
dolent or  refractory,  they  are  shut  up  in  a  cellar,  into 
which  water  is  allowed  to  run,  so  that  if  they  do  not 
work  at  the  piimp,  they  must  be  drowned.  It  is  seldom 
necessary,  however,  to  have  recourse  to  this  mode  of 
punishment.  An  annual  report  of  the  conduct  of  these 
prisoners  is  given  in  (o  the  magistrates,  and  by  that  re- 
port the  term  of  Ihf  jr  confinement  is  regulated.  The 
work-house,  or  spin-house  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  is 
an  establishment,  uni)aralleled,  perhaps,  in  the  world. 
It  is  a  very  large  building,  appropriated  to  purposes 
lioth  of  correction  and  of  charity.  In  a  large  room, 
clean  and  well  ventilated,  women  whose  offences  have 
not  been  of  a  very  aggravated  nature,  are  employed  in 
sewing,  spinning,  or  other  branches  of  female  industry. 
Convicts  of  the  same  sex  are  confined  in  another  apart- 
ment, which  is  secured  by  massy  iron  railing  and  gra- 
ted windows,  and  furnished  with  scourges,  irons  for  the 
legs,  and  other  instruments  of  punishment,  which  are 
very  readily  employed  on  the  slightest  appearance  of 
insubordiuation.  These  women  are  always  kept  a;)art 
from  the  rest,  and  under  the  superiutendency  of  a  gov- 
erness, are  engaged  in  various  useful  employments. 
Young  ladies  of  respectable,  and  even  high  families,  are 


sometimes  sent  lo  (he  work-house,  by  their  parents  Or 
friends,  for  undutiful  behaviour,  or  any  domestic  offence. 
They  are  compelled  lo  wear  a  particular  dress,  to  work 
a  slated  number  of  hours  a-day,  and  even  occasionally 
to  submit  to  the  discipline  of  the  scourge.  Husbands, 
who  have  to  complain  of  the  extravagance  or  dissipa- 
tion of  their  wives,  may  send  them  to  acquire  more  so- 
ber habits  in  the  work-house ;  while  the  ladies,  on  their 
part,  on  well  authenticated  complaints  of  the  misconduct 
of  their  husbands,  may  have  them  accommodated  with 
lodgings  in  the  same  place,  for  several  years  together. 
Their  allowance  of  food  is  abundant,  and  its  qualify 
good;  and  there  are  spacious  courts  within  the  t)uilding, 
in  which  they  are  permitted  to  walk  for  a  certain  time 
each  day.  The  wards  are  kept  locked,  and  no  person 
can  obtain  admittance  without  the  special  permission  of 
the  proper  officer.  Besides  these  apartments  appropria- 
ted to  offenders,  there  are  wards  for  men,  and  school- 
rooms for  a  great  number  of  children,  who  are  maintain- 
ed and  educated  under  the  same  roof.  The  annual  ex- 
pense of  the  institution  is  estimated  at  100,000  florins. 

There  is  an  association  peculiar  to  Amsterdam,  and 
well  deserving  of  notice,  which  is  somewhat  like  a  nun- 
nery, and  is  called  the  Society  of  the  Bcguins*.  The  la- 
dies of  this  sisterhootl  reside  in  a  large  building  appro- 
priated to  their  order,  which  is  surrounded  with  a  wall 
and  a  ditch,  has  a  church  within,  and,  in  short,  resem- 
bles a  little  town.  They  are  under  very  few  restrictions, 
are  distinguished  by  no  peculiar  dress,  mingle  with  the 
inhabitants  of  the  city,  and  may  leave  the  sisterhood 
and  marry  when  they  please.  While  they  belong  to  the 
order,  however,  they  are  obliged  to  attend  prayers  at 
stated  times,  and  to  be  within  the  convent  every  even- 
ing at  a  certain  hour.  They  must  be  either  unmarried,' 
or  widows  without  children ;  and  the  only  certificate  re- 
quired, before  they  are  admitted,  is,  that  their  behaviour 
has  been  irreproachable,  and  that  they  have  an  income 
adequate  to  their  support.  Each  of  them  has  a  sepa- 
rate apartment,  with  a  small  flower-garden ;  and,  upon 
the  whole,  the  establishment  may  be  considered  as  "  a 
social  retirement  of  amiable  women,  for  the  purpose  of 
enjoying  life  in  an  agreeable  and  blameless  manner." 

The  hospitals,  and  other  charitable  institutions  of  this 
city,  which  are  numerous,  are  maintained  partly  by  vo- 
luntary contributions,  and  partly  by  taxes  imposed  on 
the  |)ublic  diversions.  The  management  of  these  cha- 
rities is  intrusted  to  officers  called  deacons,  and  to  gov- 
ernors selected  from  the  most  respectable  inhabitants, 
and  nominated  by  the  magistrates. 

Amsterdam  has  the  honour  of  being  the  first  city  in 
whith  a  society  was  formed  for  the  recovery  of  drowned 
persons.  In  the  year  1767,  a  number  of  the  wealthy 
inhabitants,  struck  with  the  numerous  instances,  in 
which  persons,  who  had  fallen  into  the  water,  were  lost 
through  want  of  proper  treatment  when  brought  on  shore, 
entered  into  an  association  for  the  benevolent  purpose 
of  rescuing  such  sufferers  from  a  premature  death. 
Their  scheme  was  prosecuted  with  the  utmost  zeal,  and 
was  eagerly  encouraged  by  the  magistrates.  Their  first 
object  was  to  instruct  the  lower  classes  of  the  commu- 


*  The  word  Beguincs  was  formerly  in  France  gene- 
rally applied  to  nuns  of  every  description,  by  way  of 
nickname.  This  denomination  arose  probably  from  a 
cap  called  bcgttin,  which  they  formerly  wore. 

DUPONCEAU. 


G96 


AMSTERDAM. 


nity  by  what  trcatmeftt  to  restore  tlie  suspended  anima- 
tion; their  next,  to  encourage  them,  by  proper  rewards,  to 
pursue  the  methods  recommended  ;  aud  such  was  thoir 
success,  that,  in  the  space  of  four  years,  not  fewer  than 
150  persons  were  restored  throughout  the  United  Pro- 
vinces, by  the  means  which  they  had  pointed  out. 

But  while  we  pay  this  tribute  to  the  humanity  of  the 
Dutch,  displayed  in  their  public  charities,  we  cannot 
too  strongly  reprobate  that  mercantile  spirit  which  tole- 
rates and  even  encourages  vice,  for  the  sake  of  (he 
revenue  which  it  yields.  There  cannot  be  imagined 
scenes  of  greater  profligacy  and  wretchedness  than  the 
spid-hou.ies,  or  licensed  brothels,  which  are  common  in 
Amsterdam  and  all  the  cities  of  Holland.  The  keepers 
of  these  houses,  like  fiends  of  darkness,  lie  constantly 
in  wait  for  some  female  victim,  whom  they  may  either 
decoy  or  drag  into  their  toils.  Their  usual  mode  of  se- 
<1uction  is,  to  approach  some  girl  whose  extravagance 
has  involved  her  in  difficulties;  they  affect  to  commise- 
rate her  situation,  ofl'er  her  money  for  her  present  re- 
lief, or  her  future  exigencies;  she  becomes  their  debtor; 
in  a  short  time  they  seize  upon  her  person,  and  bear 
her  in  triumph  to  their  bagnio,  where  she  is  confined  as 
a  prisoner  and  a  slave,  and  never  suffered  to  pass  the 
threshold,  until  she  is  enabled  to  redeem  herself  out  of 
the  wages  of  prostitution.  So  familiar  are  these  scenes 
of  complicated  villany,  that  they  are  beheld  with  com- 
plete indifference ;  and  the  severity  of  the  law  is  evaded 
by  an  annual  premium  paid  to  government. 

In  a  city  so  grossly  mercantile  as  Amsterdam,  one 
would  hardly  expect  that  science  or  literature  would 
meet  with  much  encouragement ;  yet  it  can  boast  of 
several  literary  societies,  which  are  maintained  with 
liberality  and  spirit.  Its  principal  public  institute, 
called  Felix  Meritis,  is  supported  by  private  subscrip- 
tions, and  is  held  in  a  large  building,  containing  some 
fine  apartments  devoted  to  philosophy,  music,  and  the 
arts. 

Before  the  French  obtained  possession  of  Holland, 
every  religion  was  tolerated  in  Amsterdam;  but  none 
but  members  of  the  established  church,  which  was  Cal- 
vinistic,  were  allowed  to  hold  any  office  under  govern- 
ment. Two  pastors  were  assigned  to  each  church  in  the 
establishment,  all  of  whom  enjoyed  equal  and  respecta- 
ble salaries.  Here  the  English  Jiad  three  places  of 
worship ;  one  for  the  Presbyterians,  whose  clergymen 
were  paid  by  the  magistracy ;  another  for  the  church  of 
England,  the  expense  of  which  was  defrayed  by  his 
Britannic  majesty ;  and  a  tliird  for  the  Brownists,  whose 
ministers  were  maintained  by  their  congregations.  These 
churches  were  said  to  comprehend  about  a  third  part 
of  the  population  ;  the  Roman  Catholics,  who  had  twen- 
ty-seven places  of  worship,  were  supposed  to  amount  to 
another  third;  and  the  remainder  of  the  inhabitants 
were  included  under  the  denomination  of  Jews,  Luthe- 
rans, Anabaptists,  Arminians,  <S;c.  None  of  the  church- 
es arc  conspicuous  for  their  structure,  except  the  New 
Church,  which  was  begun  towards  the  commencement 
of  the  fifleenth  century,  and  is  said  not  to  have  been 
finished  for  100  years.  Its  pulpit  is  adorned  with  vari- 
ous specimens  of  sculpture;  on  its  windows  are  seen 
tome  fine  paintings;  but  what  particularly  attracts  at- 
tention in  this  church,  is  its  organ,  whose  size  and 
powers  of  execution  have  been  greatly  admired.  It  has 
52  .whole  slops,  besides  half  stops,  with  two  rows  of 
keys  for  the  feet,  and  three  rows  for  the  hand,  aud  a  set 
of  pipes  that  counterfeit  a  chorus  of  hnman  voices. 


Since  the  revolution,  all  the  clergy,  witliout  exception, 
receive  fixed  salaries,  which  are  raised  amongst  the  in- 
habitants of  the  parish  in  which  they  officiate,  each  sect 
being  assessed  for  the  mainteniince  of  its  own  minister. 
Parish  registers  of  births,  deaths,  and  marriage?,  are 
regularly  kept,  and  each  parish  maintains  its  own  poor, 
under  the  control  of  a  council. 

The  senate  or  council  intrusted  with  the  government 
of  Amsterdam,  consists  of  thirty-sis  members,  who  re- 
tain their  seats  during  life.  These  senators  were  origi- 
nally chosen  by  the  whole  body  of  burghers;  but,  rather 
more  than  two  centuries  ago,  this  privilege  was  confer- 
red on  the  senators  themselves,  who  now  fill  up  the 
vacancies  in  their  number  by  a  plurality  of  their  own 
voices.  Previous  to  the  election  of  the  twelve  fchevinx, 
or  burgomasters,  the  senate  nominates  a  double  number 
of  candidates,  out  of  whom  the  burghers  must  make 
their  choice.  These  burgomasters  are  the  chief  ma- 
gistrates of  Amsterdam  ;  four  are  appointed  annually  to 
execute  the  duties  of  the  office,  and  are  called  burgo- 
masters regetit.  The  jurisdiction  of  each  continues  for 
three  months,  and  may  be  compared  to  that  of  the  lord 
mayor  of  London.  They  have  the  sole  disposal  of  offi- 
ces which  fall  vacant  during  the  term  of  their  authority  ; 
they  superintend  all  public  works,  and  the  keys  of  the 
bank  of  the  city  are  committed  to  their  custody.  Three 
of  these  burgomasters  are  discharged  every  year,  and 
three  new  ones  are  elected  to  supply  their  places.  The 
new  burgomasters  constitute  a  college  of  justice,  from 
whose  decisions,  in  criminal  cases,  there  is  no  appeal ; 
but  civil  causes  may  be  referred  from  this  tribunal  to  the 
council  of  the  province. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  though  Amsterdam  yields  a 
revenue  of  1,(500,000/.  a  year,  which  is  considerably 
■Diore  than  that  of  all  the  other  provinces  together,  it 
holds  only  the  fifth  place  in  the  assembly  of  the  states  of 
Holland,  and  possesses  no  other  privilege  than  that  of 
sending  four  members  to  the  assembly,  while  the  other 
cities  send  only  two.  From  the  great  amount  of  its  re- 
venue, we  may  form  some  idea  of  the  opulence  of  this 
city,  which  before  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  French, 
was  without  doubt,  one  of  the  richest  in  the  world. 
Every  wind  wafted  into  its  liarbour  vessels  fraught  with 
the  varied  produce  of  all  the  regions  of  the  globe  ;  aiul 
while  its  own  colonies  supplied  it  with  abundance  of  the 
most  valuable  commodities,  its  ships  were  employed  in 
the  carrying  trade  of  other  nations,  so  that  it  became  as 
it  were  the  storehouse  of  the  world.  This  pre-eminence 
it  owed  not  more  to  the  industry  of  its  inhal)itants  than  to 
its  advantageous  situation ;  for  it  has  an  easy  connexion 
with  the  other  towns  of  the  province,  and  with  all  the 
ports  of  North  Holland,  Friesland,  Overyssel,  and 
Guelderland.  Its  port  is  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length, 
and  so  wide  that  thougli  both  sides  are  thronged  with 
vessels,  the  channel  in  the  middle  is  at  least  as  l)road  as 
the  Thames  at  London  bridge.  The  form  of  the  port, 
too,  is  particularly  advantageous  for  a  «lisplay  of  the 
shipping,  which,  from  a  fine  bay  in  the  Zuydcr-Zee, 
may  be  seen  nearly  atone  glance,  forming  an  extensive 
floating  city,  while  their  masts  resemble  a  thick  forest. 
On  this  side  the  city  is  enclosed  by  double  rows  of  |)iles, 
connected  by  large  horizontal  beams.  Between  these 
piles  are  openings  through  which  the  ships  pass,  and 
which  are  shut  every  evening  at  the  ringing  of  a  bell. 

For  the  encouragement  of  the  navy,  there  is  a  marine 
school,  into  which  the  children  of  citizens  of  all  classes 
are  admitted  from  seven  to  twelve  years,  upon  the  pay- 


AMS 


AMU 


697 


in€!nt  of  a  very  small  sum  annually.  This  seminary  was 
originally  initituted,  and  is  still  supported  by  the  pa- 
triotigm  of  a  few  wealthy  individuals. 

The  population  of  Amsterdam  in  1 806,  was  estimated 
at  about  300,000  persons ;  it  has  a  militia  consisting  of 
from  15,000  to  18,000  men;  a  city  guard  composed  of 
1400  soldiers,  and  a  night  watch  who  patrole  the  streets, 
and  proclaim  the  hour.  Besides  these,  there  are  watch- 
men stationed  at  all  the  church  steeples,  who  sound  a 
trumpet  every  half  hour,  and  in  case  of  fire  give  the 
«larm  by  ringing  a  bell.  Amsterdam  is  distant  44  leagues 
from  Brussels,  49  from  Liege,  and  112  from  Paris*. 
N.  Lat.  52<>  22'  45".     E.  Long.  4"  45'  30".     (^) 

AMSTERD  AM.an  island  in  (he  South  Pacific  Ocean, 
now  called  Tongataboo.     See  Tongataboo. 

AMSTERDAM,  an  uninhabited  island  in  the  Frozen 
S«a,  near  the  west  coast  of  Spitzbergen ;  this  is  also  the 
name  of  another  island  in  the  Gulf  of  Manar,  near  the 
•west  coast  of  Ceylon,  E.  Long.  8"  1'.  N.  Lat.  9»50';  and 
of  another  in  the  Chinese  Sea,  between  Japan  and  the 
island  Formosa. 

AMSTERD AM,an  island  in  the  Indian  sea,  E.Long. 
760  54'.  s.  Lat.  38"  42'.  Part  of  the  crew  of  an  Ameri- 
can vessel,  who  had  been  left  on  this  island  for  the  pur- 
pose of  collecting  the  skins  of  seals  and  sea-lions,  with 
Which  its  shores  abound,  were  found  by  the  vessel  which 
went  out  with  lord  Macartney  and  his  suite  to  China  in 
1793.  From  the  marks  of  volcanic  eru|)tion  which  ap- 
peared in  every  part  of  it.  Dr.  Gillan  was  led  to  con- 
clude, that  this  island  was  produced  by  subterraneous 
fire.  There  are  on  its  western  and  south-western  sides, 
four  small  cones  regularly  formed,  in  the  craters  of 
which  the  lava  and  other  volcanic  sul)stances  are  evi- 
dently of  recent  formation ;  and  on  the  eastern  side  there 
is  a  crater,  now  full  of  water,  of  such  an  astonishing 
•ize  as  considerably  to  exceed  in  diameter  those  of  ^.tna 
and  Vesuvius.  Their  intense  heat,  and  the  quantity  of 
elastic  vapour,  which  continued  still  to  issue  through 
numberless  crevices,  left  no  doubt,  that  the  four  small 
cones  had  been  in  a  state  of  eruption  a  very  short  time 
before  they  were  visited  by  Dr.  Gillan.  The  soil  through- 
out the  island  is  so  light  and  spongy,  that  the  foot  sinks 
<leep  at  every  step :  and  one  spot  near  the  centre,  ex- 
tending about  200  yards  in  length,  and  somewhat  less  in 
lireadth,  is  so  very  soft,  that  the  utmost  caution  is  neces- 
«ary  in  walking  over  it.  Here  the  heat  is  so  great  as  t» 
prevent  vegetation.  From  this  spot  a  hot  fresh  spring 
is  supposed  to  derive  its  source,  working  its  %vay  through 
the  interstices  of  the  lava  to  the  great  crater,  and  burst- 
ing out  a  little  above  the  water  which  covers  its  bottom. 
The  soil  here  is  a  kind  of  mud  or  paste,  composed  of 
the  ashes  moistened  by  the  stream  which  constantly 
rises  from  below;  v.hen  this  mud,  which  is  scalding 
hot,  is  removed,  vapour  issues  forth  copiously,  and  with 
violence.  All  the  hot  springs,  except  one,  are  brackish. 
One  spring,  which  issues  from  the  high  ground  and 
ridges  of  the  crater,  instead  of  boiling  upwards,  like 
the  other,  through  the  stones  and  mud,  flows  down- 
wards in  a  small  stream,  with  considerable  velocity ; 
its  temperature  did  not  exceed  112  drgrecs ;  it  was  a 
pretty  strong  chalybeate ;  the  ochre  which  it  deposited 

*  Bonaparte,  by  his  late  decree  annexing  Holland  to 
France,  has  declared  Amsterdam  to  be  the  third  city  of 
the  French  empire.     Rome  is  the  second. 

DUFONCCAV. 

Vol.  I.    Part  IL 


had  encrusted  the  sides  of  the  rock  from  which  it  issued, 
and  of  the  cavity  into  which  it  fell ;  yet  the  seamen 
made  use  of  it  without  the  slightest  inconvenience.  This 
island  is  upwards  of  four  miles  in  length,  about  two 
miles  and  a  half  in  its  greatest  breadth,  and  eleven  miles 
in  circumference;  comprehending  a  surface  of  5120 
acres,  nearly  the  whole  of  which  is  covered  with  a  very 
fertile  soil.  On  the  east  side,  the  great  crater  forms  a 
harbour,  the  entrance  to  which  is  deepening  annually, 
and  might,  without  much  labour,  be  made  fit  for  the  re- 
ception of  large  ships.  The  tides  flow  in  and  out,  in 
the  direction  of  south-east  by  south,  and  north-east  by 
north,  at  the  rate  of  three  miles  an  hour ;  and  the  water 
is  eight  or  ten  fathoms  deep,  almost  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  crater.  On  every  other  side  the  island  is  inac- 
cessible,    (i*) 

AMULET,  a  preservative  against  misfortune  or  dis- 
ease, worn  about  the  neck,  or  attached  to  any  other  part 
of  the  body. 

Some  amulets  are  mere  chjirms,  others  may  justly  be 
considered  as  medicines.  The  use  of  the  former  has 
prevailed  in  all  ages,  and  among  all  nations.  The  great 
variety  in  their  form  and  substance  may,  in  general,  be 
traced  to  the  religious  opinions  of  the  different  nations 
among  whom  the  several  kinds  of  amulets  had  their 
origin.  In  the  earlier  ages,  when  the  belief  in  a  plu 
rality  of  deities  formed  a  part  of  the  popular  creed, 
those  who  were  anxious  to  be  under  the  protection  of 
any  tutelary  god,  would  endeavour  to  secure  his  favour 
by  acts  significant  of  their  peculiar  attachment  to  him. 
Of  these  acts  none  could  perhaps  be  more  expressive 
than  the  assumption  of  some  badge  or  symbol,  which 
ostensibly  declared  them  the  devoted  servants  of  the 
power  whom  they  revered.  They  inscribed  upon  vari- 
ous substances  the  insignia  of  their  invisible  protector, 
and  the  particular  expressions  by  which  he  was  sup- 
posed to  be  rendered  most  propitious.  Such  amulets 
were  much  esteemed  by  several  ancient  nations,  espe- 
cially the  Persians  and  Egyptians. 

The  dreams  of  the  astrologers  gave  rise  to  another 
species  of  amulets.  Certain  aspects  of  the  heavens  were 
supposed  to  have  a  benign  influence  on  human  affairs ; 
persons  born  during  these  aspects  were  fortunate,  medi- 
cines then  administered  were  peculiarly  efficacious,  and 
amulets,  then  formed,  received  from  the  influence  of 
the  planets,  a  virtue  by  which  they  ensured  the  health 
and  prosperity  of  their  wearers.  In  the  formation  of 
astrological  amulets,  particular  attention  was  paid  to  the 
age  of  the  moon.  Various  gems  were  employed  as 
amulets  by  the  ancients ;  some  were  conceived  to  change 
their  colour  upon  the  approach  of  any  poison ;  other* 
were  considered  as  specifics  against  the  bite  of  venom- 
ous animals;  and  others,  by  means  of  hidden  sympa- 
thies with  different  parts  of  the  body,  cured  the  several 
maladies  to  which  they  were  subject.  This  last  class 
of  amulets  properly  belongs  to  natural  magic.  When  the 
Christian  religion  overthrew  Polytheism,  the  ancient 
religious  amulets  were  supposed  to  derive  their  efiicacy 
either  from  some  mystic  power  in  the  character  inscribed 
on  them,  or  from  the  agency  of  malevolent  spirits.  Their 
use  was  accordingly  condemned  by  pious  Christians. 
But  the  habit  of  confiding  iu  amulets  was  inveterate  in 
many  of  the  converts.  This,  combined  with  the  strong 
propensity,  however,  which  men  have  in  all  ages  shown 
to  conciliate  the  favour  of  heaven,  rather  by  apparent 
zeal  and  extei  .lal  ceremonies,  than  by  the  exercise  of 
virtue  and  genuine  piety,  comiwUed  the  earlier  ecclgsj- 
4  T 


698 


AMU 


AMU 


astics  (o  tolerate  the  use  of  amulets.  Their  exertions 
were  therefore  limited  to  the  preveiitiou  of  idolatry  or 
witchcraft.  The  place  of  heathen  charms  was  soon 
supplied  by  a  profu.<ion  of  Christian  amulets.  The  figure 
of  the  cross,  particular  passages  of  scripture,  the  relics 
of  martyrs,  images  of  saints,  &c.  were  considered  as 
preservatives  from  disease,  witchcraft,  and  misfortune  ; 
even  the  ancient  amulets  were  sanctified  by  the  addition 
of  some  figures  or  expressions  borrowed  from  Christiani- 
ty, and  rendered  more  powerful  by  combining  the  se- 
veral kinds  together.  In  latter  times  the  church  con- 
verted these  follies  to  its  own  advantage ;  the  pope 
especially  claims  the  power  of  making  amulets,  and  for- 
merly considered  the  sponge  which  wiped  his  table  as 
a  gift  worthy  of  being  sent  to  crowned  heads. 

The  protestant  reformers  brought  religious  amulets 
into  disrepute  with  their  followers ;  and  the  light  of  sci- 
ence has  gradually  shown  the  efficacy  of  the  other  kinds 
of  amulets  to  depend  entirely  on  the  power  of  the  ima- 
gination. Enlightened  persons  are  in  general  convinced, 
that  a  prudent  and  vigorous  use  of  natural  means,  forms 
the  only  amulet  which  can  ward  off  misfortune  or  dis- 
ease. 

Medical  amulets,  though  by  no  means  potent  reme- 
dies, hardly  merit  the  total  contempt  with  which  they 
are  now  treated.  The  elBuvia  of  various  substances 
may,  it  is  well  known,  by  their  action  on  the  skin,  or  by 
being  inhaled  into  the  lungs,  and  thus  received  into  the 
system,  frequently  produce  salutary  effects  on  the  hu- 
man constitution.  They  are  aliso  capable  of  acting  as 
preservatives  against  infection,  either  by  destroying  the 
virus,  or  by  i)reventing  a  predisposition  in  the  body,  to 
be  affected  by  its  presence.  An  amulet  is  the  least 
troublesome  form  in  which  these  medicines  can  be  ad- 
hibited ;  but  unction,  fumigation,  or  inhaling  air  satu- 
rated with  these  effluvia,  are  infinitely  more  efficacious. 

w 

AMURATH,  or  Morad  I.  the  fourth  emperor  of  the 
Turks,  succeeded  his  father  Orchan  in  the  7(51  st  year  of 
the  Hegira,  the  1360th  of  the  Christian  ara.  Inheriting 
all  the  martial  ardour  of  his  ancestors,  he  [lursued  with 
nnrelenling  eagerness  their  schemes  of  hostility  against 
the  Grecian  empire  5  and  uniting  counsel  with  bravery, 
he  formed  some  excellent  institutions,  which  tended  to 
strengthen  his  own  dominions,  and  to  augment  and  im- 
prove his  army.  To  him  is  ascribed  the  first  appoint- 
ment of  the  SpaJiis  or  Turkish  horsemen,  and  the  divi- 
sion of  the  provinces  into  Titnars.  A  Timaris  assigned 
to  every  Spahi  for  his  support,  with  this  condition,  that 
he  shall  be  prepared  to  mount  his  charger  at  the  sul- 
tan's call,  and  to  range  himself  under  his  proper  stand- 
ard. Every  conquered  province  is  distributed  in  this 
manner  among  the  soldiers ;  and  thus,  as  the  sultans 
advance  their  conquests,  they  at  once  deprive  the  van- 
quished of  the  means  of  future  resistance,  increase  in- 
definitely their  military  force  without  any  additional  ex- 
pense to  the  state,  and  by  giving  the  soldiers  an  imme- 
diate interest  in  the  defence  of  their  new  dominions, 
secure  them  in  the  most  effectual  manner  against  every 
■  invader.  The  first  body  of  Janizaries  was  likewise 
formed  by  Amurath.  When  he  had  subdued  the  Scla- 
Tonian  nations  between  the  Danube  and  the  Adriatic, 
the  Bulgarians,  Servians,  Bosnians,  and  Albanians ;  he, 
by  a  dexterous  policy,  converted  these  warlike  tribes", 
whose  incursions  had  long  annoyed  the  Ottoman  empire. 


into  its  firmest  and  most  faithful  protectors.  According 
to  the  Mahometan  law,  the  sultan  is  entitled  to  a  fifth 
part  of  the  spoils  and  captives.  In  this  right  Amurath 
selected  tlie  stoutest  and  most  handsome  of  the  Chris- 
tian youth,  and  causing  them  to  be  instructed  in  the 
Mahometan  religion,  disciplined  to  obedience,  and 
trained  to  arms,  he  formed  them  into  a  body  of  militia, 
which  was  named  and  consecrated  by  a  dervise,  rever- 
ed for  his  sanctity  and  supernatural  powers.  The  saint, 
when  they  were  marshalled  before  him,  stretched  his 
sleeve  over  the  head  of  the  foremost  soldier,  and  thus 
invoked  in  their  behalf  the  blessing  of  heaven :  "  Let 
them  be  called  yengi  chert  (or  new  soldiers ;)  may  their 
countenance  be  ever  bright,  their  hands  victorious,  their 
sword  keen  ;  may  their  spear  always  hang  over  the  head 
of  their  enemies,  and  wherever  they  go,  may  they  re- 
turn with  a  white  face*."  Every  sentiment  of  enthu- 
siasm, and  every  mark  of  royal  favour,  was  employed  to 
inspire  the  Janizaries  with  martial  ardour ;  and  though 
their  number  was  at  first  inconsiderable,  they  soon  be- 
came the  strength  and  the  pride  of  the  Ottoman  armies, 
and  often  the  terror  of  the  sultans  themselves.  By  their 
assistance,  Amurath  was  enabled  to  extend  his  con- 
quests both  in  Europe  and  Asia ;  but  after  an  uninter- 
rupted course  of  success,  a  powerful  league  was  formed 
against  him  by  the  Wallachians,  Hungarians,  Dalma- 
tians, Triballians,  and  Arnauts,  under  the  command  oi 
Lazarus,  prince  of  Servia.  In  the  battle  of  Cossova,  the 
fortune  of  Amurath  again  prevailed ;  Lazarus  was  de- 
feated and  taken  prisoner  ;  the  league  of  the  Sclavoniau 
tribes  was  broken,  and  their  independence  finally  crush- 
ed. The  sultan,  however,  did  not  live  to  enjoy  his  suc- 
cess; as  he  walked  over  the  field,  surveying  the  slain,  a 
Servian  soldier  started  from  the  crowd  of  dead  bodies, 
and  pierced  him  in  the  belly  with  a  mortal  wound.  Ac- 
cording to  other  accounts,  however,  he  was  stabbed  in 
his  tent  by  a  Croat;  and  to  this  accident  is  ascribed  the 
precaution  of  pinioning,  as  it  were,  between  two  at- 
tendants, the  arms  of  an  ambassador  when  introduced 
into  the  sultan's  presence. 

Amurath  possessed  all  the  qualities  of  a  great  mo- 
narch. Fond  as  he  was  of  conquest,  he  was  yet  mild  in 
his  disposition,  and  conciliating  in  his  manners;  nor  did 
his  love  of  war  ever  betray  him  into  neglect  of  the  true 
interests  of  his  wide  empire.  He  was  a  model  of  tem- 
perance, a  patron  of  learning,  a  friend  to  virtue ;  but  his 
frequent  absence  from  the  mosque  at  the  hours  of  wor- 
8hi|>  gave  offence  to  the  zealous  Moslems,  and  the  mufti 
had  the  firmness  to  correct  his  negligence,  by  refusing 
to  admit  his  testimony  in  a  civil  cause.  This  freedom, 
instead  of  being  resented,  wrought  a  due  reformation  in 
the  sentiments  of  Amurath,  who,  to  atone  for  his  trans- 
gression, erected  a  magnificent  mosque  at  Adrianople, 
which  he  had  fixed  upon  as  the  place  of  his  residence. 
His  death  took  place  in  the  71st  year  of  his  age,  and 
the  30th  of  his  reign,  A.  D.  1389.     (k) 

AMURATH,  or  Morad  II.  the  tenth  of  the  Turkish 
emperors,  was  the  eldest  son  of  Mahomet  I.  whom  he 
succeeded  in  the  824th  year  of  the  Hegira,  A.  D.  1421. 
His  reign  was  disturbed  in  its  commencement  by  tu- 
mults and  war.  His  uncle  Mustapha,  the  youngest  of 
the  sons  of  Bajazet,  became  his  rival  for  the  throne ; 
and  having  made  himself  master  of  Gallipoli,  entered 
Adrianople  in  triumph,  where  he  was  solemnly  crowned. 
Amurath  hastened  to  oppose  him,  and,  besieging  Adri- 


•  Among  the  Turks  white  and  Hack  jre  proT«rlii»l  istm*  of  praise  ant!  reproach. 


AMURATH 


699 


anople  with  vigour,  conip'ellctl  his  uncle  lo  fly  to  the 
mountains,  where  he  was  overtaken  and  slain.  To  re- 
venge himself  upon  John  PalBeologus,  the  Greek  em- 
peror, who  had  supported  Mnstapha  in  his  rebellion, 
the  sultan  immediately  invested  Constantinople;  but  the 
vigOiOus  resistance  of  the  inhabitants  obliged  him  to 
raise  tlie  siege,  and  to  hearken  to  proposals  for  peace. 
Scarcely  had  he  returned  from  this  enterprise,  when  a 
new  rebellion  Avas  excited  by  Mustapha,  his  younger 
brother,  who  had  been  instigated  to  revolt  by  the  empe- 
ror, and  the  prince  of  Caramania.  The  sultan  found 
means  to  bribe  ftlustapha's  governor,  who  informed  him 
exactly  of  all  his  movements  and  schemes ;  and  the  un- 
fortunate prince  being  thus  surprised,  was  strangled  in 
the  presence  of  his  brother.  The  Greek  and  the  Cara- 
manian,  to  obviate  the  resentment  of  the  injured  sultan, 
Eued  submissively  for  peace,  which  they  obtained  on  the 
most  severe  and  humiliating  terms.  Among  these  it 
was  stipulated,  that  the  Greeks  should  demolish  the 
great  wall,  six  miles  in  length,  which  secured  the  isth- 
mus of  Corinth,  and  which  had  been  built  with  the  ex- 
press consent  of  sultan  3Iahomet. 

These  internal  commotions  and  foreign  wars  induced 
Amurath  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  state  and  disci- 
pline of  his  army.  Every  Spahi  that  ventured,  when 
summoned  to  muster,  to  send  his  servant,  instead  of 
coming  in  person,  or  that  did  not  appear  with  proper 
equipage,  and  range  himself  under  his  proper  standard, 
was  immediately  deprived  of  his  tiinar,  and  of  every 
military  privilege ;  and  that  the  Janizaries  might  be 
completely  devoted  to  the  sultan,  he  ordered  that  they 
should  all  be  the  children  of  Christians,  and  should  be 
taken  from  their  parents  while  yet  too  young  to  have 
imbibed  any  religious  partiality  ;  and  being  maintained 
and  educated  in  the  seraglio,  under  the  immediate  care 
of  the  sultan  himself,  should  be  accustomed  to  regard 
liim  as  their  only  parent.  By  these  regulations,  the 
Turkish  army  was  rendered  the  tinest  in  the  world; 
and  in  the  hands  of  such  an  enterprising  and  warlike 
monarch  as  Amurath,  became  the  dread  and  the  scourge 
of  every  neighbouring  country.  The  Greek  emperor 
and  the  Venetian  republic  were  in  their  turns  assailed 
and  conquered ;  the  sovereign  of  Albania  was  compel- 
led to  surrender  his  capital,  and  to  give  as  hostages  his 
three  sons,  one  of  whom  was  the  celebrated  Scander- 
beg  ;  and  the  rebellion  of  Karaman  Ogli  was  speedily 
quelled.  In  his  expedition  against  Hungary  he  was 
less  successful ;  his  army  was  repeatedly  routed  by 
John  Hunniades,  governor  of  Transylvania,  who  forced 
Jiim  to  raise  the  siege  of  Belgrade  ;  and  when  he  made 
a  second  irruption  into  the  Hungarian  dominions,  he  was 
again  defeated  by  the  same  able  general.  Servia  was 
more  easily  subdued  ;  but  was  restored  by  Amurath 
when  he  formed  a  treaty  of  peace  with  Hungary  and 
Poland  ;  on  which  occasion  it  was  stipulated,  that  nei- 
ther party  should  cross  the  Danube,  to  carry  war  into 
the  dominions  of  the  other. 

Having  thus  secured  the  tranquillity  of  his  empire, 
Amurath  resolved  to  withdraw  from  the  tumult  and  the 
glare  of  public  life,  into  the  still  shade  of  retirement. 
"  Were  not  his  motives,"  says  Mr.  Gibbon,  "  debased 
by  an  alloy  of  superstition,  we  must  jiraise  the  royal 
philosopher,  who,  at  the  age  of  forty,  could  discern  the 
vanity  of  human  greatness.  Resigning  the  sceptre  to 
his  son,  he  retired  to  the  pleasant  residence  of  Magne- 
sia ;  but  he  retired  to  the  society  of  saints  and  hermits  " 
For  ourselves,  we  must  own,  that  our  admiratiou  of  the 


royal  philosopher's  magiianinilty  is  rather  heightened 
by  the  religious  sentiments  wliicb  mingled  with  his 
contempt  of  human  greatness.  It  were  too  much  to 
expect,  that  the  descendant  of  Mahomet,  the  sworn 
protector  and  champion  of  his  religion,  should  be  supe- 
rior to  the  superstitions  by  which  that  religion  is  debas- 
ed ;  but  surely  a  sovereign,  disgusted  with  the  vani- 
ty of  even  imperial  grandeur,  could  not  employ  his 
moments  of  retirement  in  a  more  nitional  or  a  more 
dignihed  manner,  than  in  acknowledging,  by  habitual 
homage,  the  infinite  majesty  of  Him,  who  is  Lord  of 
lords,  and  King  of  kings. 

From  this  hallowed  retreat,  Amurath  was  called,  by 
the  dangers  and  solicitations  of  his  people,  to  place 
himself  again  at  the  head  of  his  army.  Ladislaus,  king 
of  Hungary,  had  been  prevailed  upon  by  the  casuistry  of 
pope  Eugenius,  and  of  his  legate  cardinal  Julian  Ca;sa- 
rini,  to  violate  the  treaty  of  peace  with  Amurath,  which 
he  had  sanctioned  by  a  solemn  oath,  and  had  penetrated 
into  the  Turkish  dominions,  carrying  terror  and  desola- 
tion wherever  he  appeared.  Amurath  hastened  from 
Adrianople  to  check  his  destructive  career,  and  having 
come  up  with  him  at  Varna,  immediately  gave  him  bat- 
tle. Victory  seemed  at  first  to  declare  in  favour  of  the 
Christians ;  the  Turkish  wings  were  broken,  and  Amu- 
rath himself  regarded  his  ruin  as  inevitable.  In  this 
emergency,  the  sultan  is  said  to  have  pulled  from  his 
bosom  the  treaty  of  peace  which  he  had  made  with  the 
Hungarian  monarch,  and  displaying  it  in  the  front  of  the 
ranks,  raised  his  eyes  and  his  hands  towards  heaven, 
and  called  upon  Jesus  Christ,  if  he  were  really  a  Goil, 
to  avenge  the  dishonour  which  the  Christians  had  done 
him,  by  violating  the  league  to  which  they  had  sworn 
by  his  sacred  name.  Scarcely  had  he  uttered  this 
prayer,  when  the  vigour  of  the  Christians  began  to  re- 
lax ;  and  they  gave  way  to  the  overwhelming  numbers 
of  their  enemies,  still  fighting  valiantly,  however,  as 
they  retreated.  The  battle  was  yet  in  suspense,  when 
the  young  king  of  Hungary,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrance 
and  opposition  of  his  general,  Hunniades,  rushed  among 
the  thickest  ranks  of  the  enemy,  and  cut  his  way  through 
till  he  came  to  the  spot  where  Amurath  was  surrounded 
by  his  Janizaries.  A  spear  from  the  hand  of  the  sultan 
pierced  the  horse  of  the  youthful  warrior,  who,  falling 
among  the  feet  of  the  infantry,  was  instantly  trodden  to 
death.  The  fall  of  Ladislaus  completed  the  consterna- 
tion of  his  army,  which  gave  way  in  all  directions,  and 
ten  thousand  Christians  were  left  on  the  field.  Nor  had 
the  Turks  much  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  victory ;  their 
loss  was  even  greater  than  that  of  their  enemies;  and 
Amurath  himself  confessed,  that  such  another  battle 
would  be  his  ruin. 

From  the  battle  of  Verna,  the  sultan  again  retired  to 
the  stillness  and  solitude  of  Magnesia;  but  his  tran- 
quillity and  devotion  were  once  more  interrupted  by 
internal  commotions.  The  Janizaries,  in  the  insolence 
of  victory,  disdained  to  obey  a  young  and  inexperieiiced 
ruler;  Adrianople  became  a  prey  to  their  violence  and 
licentiousness ;  and  Amurath  was  implored,  by  the  una- 
nimous voice  of  the  divan,  to  appear  in  his  capital,  and 
quell  the  insurrection.  The  presence  of  their  victo- 
rious sultan  instantly  overawed  the  tumultuous  Janiza- 
ries ;  but  Amurath,  afraid  again  to  resign  the  reins  of 
government  to  the  feeble  hand  of  his  son,  was  obliged 
reluctantly  to  support  the  burden  of  royalty  ;  and  hav- 
ing married  Mahomet  to  the  princess  of  Elbistan,  he 
appointed  him  to  the  vice-royalty  of  Asia  Blinor.  The 
4  T  2 


700 


AMY 


ANA 


revolt  of  Scanderbeg,  governor  of  Epiras,  forced  him  to 
take  the  field  witli  an  army  of  60,000  horse,  and  40,000 
Jeinizaries ;  but  he  was  defeated  before  the  walls  of 
Croya,  from  which  he  retired  with  loss  and  dishonour. 
Encouraged  by  the  disaster  of  the  sultan,  the  Hunga- 
lians  renewed  their  invasion  of  his  territories.  Amu- 
rath  fell  in  with  them  at  Cossova,  where  his  predecessor 
of  the  same  name  had  conquered  and  died  ;  and  after 
many  partial  but  fierce  encounters,  Hunniades,  the  gene- 
ral and  governor  of  Hungary,  was  forced  to  retreat,  and 
was  overtaken  and  imprisoned.  The  fatigues  of  war, 
and  his  disgrace  at  Croya,  exhausted  the  strength,  and 
preyed  upon  the  mind  of  the  sultan ;  and  on  his  return 
to  Adrianople,  he  was  seized  with  a  disorder,  which 
terminated  his  life  in  the  47th  year  of  his  age,  and  the 
lZ9th  of  his  reign.  Amurath  seems  to  have  been  well 
entitled  to  the  encomiums  passed  upon  him  by  his  his- 
torians. Warlike  in  his  disposition,  he  was  yet  so  far 
swayed  by  justice  and  moderation,  that  he  never  tlrew 
his  sword  but  to  revenge  injury,  and  repel  aggression ; 
in  the  elation  of  victory,  he  was  never  deaf  to  the  voice 
of  submissive  entreaty;  and  in  the  observance  of  his 
treaties,  his  word  was  observed  with  the  sacred  strict- 
ness of  an  oath,    {k) 

AMYCLiE,  a  city  of  Peloponnesus,  founded  by  Amy- 
clos,  the  son  of  Lacedaemon,  and  called  after  his  name. 
It  was  situated  about  eighteen  miles  from  the  metropo- 
lis of  Laconia. 

In  the  iiistory  of  Amyclie,  there  are  few  events  of 
much  importance.  In  this  city  Castor  and  Pollux  were 
supposed  to  have  been  born  ;  and  from  it  a  colony  issu- 
ed, which  built  another  city  in  Italy,  which  was  also 
named  Amyclae. 

AMYCLiE,  in  Italy,  was  situated  somewhere  between 
Caieta  and  Tanacina,  in  Upper  Calabria.  Its  inhabit- 
ants had  been  repeatedly  much  alarmed  by  false  reports, 
that  the  enemy  were  approaching  to  the  city ;  and  in 
order  to  secure  their  tranquillity,  enacted  a  law,  prohi- 
biting, under  severe  penalties,  either  the  receiving  or 
circulating  such  unpleasant  intelligence.  This  law, 
which  seems  to  have  been  the  result  of  the  blindest  in- 
fatuation, procured  them  the  epithet  of  Taciti,  and 
proved,  as  might  have  been  expected,  the  ruin  of  their 
city.  For  when  the  Dorians  came  suddenly  against  it, 
no  one  presumed  to  violate  the  statute,  and  the  place 
was,  of  course,  easily  taken.  The  Dorians  reduced 
Amyclae  toan  insignificant  hanilet,in  the  midst  of  which, 
however,  the  temple  and  statue  of  Alexander  long  re- 
mained as  the  evidences  of  its  former  grandeur.     (+) 

AMYGDALUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Ico- 
sandria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (iv) 

AMYRUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Octandria, 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany,     (n) 

AMYOT,  James,  bishop  of  Auxerre,  and  great  almo- 
ner of  France,  was  horn  at  Melun  on  the  30th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1514.  It  is  said,  that  at  the  age  of  ten  years,  he 
fled  from  the  severity  of  his  father,  whose  condition 
was  very  obscure;  but  being  seized  with  sudden  illness 
en  the  road,  he  was  carried  to  the  hospital  at  Orleans, 
where  he  remained  till  his  health  was  restored,  and  was 
then  famished  with  \Qd.  to  defray  the  expense  of  his 
journey  home.  This  kindness  he  afterwards  very  am- 
ply requited,  by  bequeathing  to  the  hostiital  a  legacy  of 
1200  crowns.  At  Paris,  he  was  a  very  diligent  student; 
«nd  he  became,  through  laborious  application,  one  of 
the  first  literary  characters  of  the  ICth  century.  On 
leuviDg  Pmw,  he  accompanied  the  sieur  Colin,  abbot  of 


St.  Ambrose,  to  Bourges,  where  he  bccaiae  tutor  to  the 
children  of  William  Bouchetel,  secretary  of  state.  Bou- 
chetel  was  so  highly  satisfied  with  his  attention  to  his 
pupils,  and  their  rapid  proficiency,  that  he  warmly  re- 
commended him  to  Margaret,  dutchess  of  Berry,  the 
only  sister  of  Francis  I.  Through  the  patronage  of  thia 
princess,  Amyot  was  chosen  public  professor  of  Greek 
and  Latin  in  the  aniversity  of  Bourges.  While  in  this 
situation,  he  translated  from  the  Greek  the  ancient  ro- 
mance of  Heliodorus,  entitled  "  The  Amours  of  Thea- 
genes  and  Chariclea;"  and  Francis  was  so  much  pleased 
with  the  translation,  that  he  soon  rewarded  Amyot  by 
promoting  him  to  the  abbey  of  Bellosane.  After  the 
death  of  his  royal  patron,  Amyot  went  to  Venice  with 
Morvillier,  the  ambassador  of  Henry  II.  and  was  em- 
ployed to  carry  the  letters  of  the  French  monarch  to  the 
council  of  Trent.  In  this  commission  he  acquitted  him- 
self so  well,  as  to  acquire  the  favour  of  some  of  the  most 
eminent  ecclesiastics  at  Rome.  Instead  of  returning 
with  Morvillier,  therefore,  he  spent  two  years  in  tlie 
house  of  the  bishop  of  Mirepoix,  prosecuting  his  stu- 
dies with  ardour,  and  ransacking  the  treasures  of  the 
Vatican.  The  cardinal  de  Tournon,  who  happened  at 
the  same  time  to  be  at  Rome,  became  so  attached  to 
Amyot,  that  on  his  return  to  France,  he  recommended 
him  to  king  Henry  as  the  most  proper  person  to  be  in- 
trusted with  the  education  of  the  two  princes.  His 
fidelity  and  attention  were  gratefully  acknosvledged  and 
amply  rewarded,  by  his  eldest  pupil,  Charles  IX.  who, 
on  his  accession  to  the  throne,  conferred  on  his  precep- 
tor the  office  of  great  almoner,  appointed  him  curator 
of  the  university  of  Paris,  and  invested  him  in  the  abbey 
of  St.  Corneille,  and  the  bishopric  of  Auxerre.  When 
his  younger  pupil  Henry  III.  received  the  sceptre,  he 
showed  himself  equally  inclined  to  patronize  the  fortu- 
nate prelate.  He  not  only  continued  him  in  the  office 
of  great  almoner,  but,  to  add  greater  lustre  to  that  dig- 
nity, made  him  commander  of  the  onler  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  decreed  that,  in  future,  all  the  great  almo- 
ners of  France  should,  ex  officio,  be  commanders  of  that 
sacred  order.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  commotions  and 
civil  wars  which  ensued,  Amyot  was  still  allowed  to  re- 
tain his  diocese  till  he  died,  in  the  year  1593,  the  79th 
of  his  age.  Amyot  has  been  accused  of  extreme  ava- 
rice, and  had  amassed  a  sum  of  200,000  crowns.  The 
learning  of  Amyot  is  sufficiently  evinced  by  his  works. 
Of  these,  the  principal  are  his  translations  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  Heliodorus,  of  Plutarch's  Lives,  of  seven 
books  of  Diodorus  Sieulus,  of  some  Greek  tragedies, 
and  of  the  pastoral  of  Daphnis.  Racine  says,  of  his 
translation  of  Plutarch,  that  it  possesses  a  grace  which 
modern  language  could  not  equal.  The  best  edition  of 
it  is  that  of  Vacossan,  printed  in  15C7  and  1574,  in  13 
volumes,  8vo.  His  miscellaneous  works  )vere  printed 
at  Lyons  in  1611.     (k) 

ANA,  a  termination  of  uncertain  origin,  now  employ- 
ed to  denominate  a  peculiar  species  of  writing,  which 
consists  in  collections  of  the  trivial  dicta,  or  loose  re- 
marks of  eminent  men.  Contrary  to  general  belief,  this 
kind  of  collection  is  far  from  being  of  recent  date;  for 
although  not  known  under  the  same  precii^e  a|»pella- 
tiou,  it  ascends  to  a  period  as  remote  aa  the  time  of 
Xenophon  and  Plato.  .lulius  Cief  ar  is  saiil  to  have  col- 
lected the  sayings  of  Cicero  ;  and  Suetonius,  in  bis 
work,  Dc  Illuslribus  Granuimlicis,  informs  us,  that  Me- 
lissus,  a  gentleman  of  Sjwlato,  who  was  exposed  duriug 
infancy  by  his  pareut9,and  from  that  lime  becaue  a  slave. 


ANA 


ANA 


701 


having  obtained  his  freedom,  and  being  appointed  libra- 
rian to  Augustus,  the  Roman  emperor,  composed  works 
of  a  similar  nature  in  his  old  age.  The  like  collections 
are  found  in  ail  countries,  even  among  the  Turks  and 
Jews. 

Of  late,  the  publication  of  the  Ana  has  been  greatly 
extended,  though,  at  Peignot  justly  observes,  but  a  very 
small  portion  merits  removal  from  the  dust,  which  in 
most  libraries  conceals  them  from  notice  ;  and  we  must 
remark,  that,  except  in  rare  instances  indeed,  the  fame 
of  the  author  is  depreciated  instead  of  being  enhanced, 
by  the  exposure  of  his  unguarded  observations ;  neither 
can  we  forbear  classing  them  with  the  work  of  Otho 
Melander,  JocorumetScrionim  ccnturire  aliquot,  juoindm 
suavcs  et  anucnx,  necnon  utiles  ctfestivia:  Icctuque  maxime 
eperc  dignae,  102(5.  A  modern  publication  at  Amster- 
dam, in  a  number  of  volumes,  unites  many  of  the  Ana 
together,  under  a  title  somewhat  analogous,  which  may 
serve  as  a  good  illustration  of  the  subject.  Ana,  ou 
choix  des  bans  mots,  contes  et  anecdotes  des  liommcs  ceU- 
bres,  suivis  de  propos  joi/eux,  tnots  filaisans  et  contes  d 
rire.  These  include  several  centuries.  Thus  the  Pog- 
giana  are  the  sayings  of  Giovanni  Francesco  Bracciolini, 
who  was  born  in  Terra  Nuova,  in  the  Florentine  terri- 
tory, in  the  year  1 380 ;  and  was  secretary  to  several  of 
the  popes ;  and  under  the  same  title  are  contained  those 
of  the  famous  Enea  Sylvio  Piccolomini,  afterwards  pope 
Piusll.  who  travelled  into  Scotland  early  in  the  fifteenth 
century. 

The  peculiarities  of  the  various  Ana  are  characterized 
in  a  French  poem,  by  Lamonnoye,  who  died  in  1727  ; 
and  we  ought  not  to  overlook  the  labours  of  the  French 
Encyclopedists  on  this  subject,  who  have  reduced  it  to 
a  systematic  form,  under  the  title  Encyclopediana,  in  a 
quarto  volume,  consisting  of  no  less  than  964  pages, 
which  they  affirm,  "is  calculated  solely  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  their  readers."  It  begins  with  numerous  anec- 
dotes of  the  letter  A,  and  terminates  with  those  of  the 
Greek  painter  Leusis,  who  lived  400  years  before  Christ. 

ANABAPTISTS,  in  church  history,  a  sect  whose 
origin  it  is  ditficult  to  trace,  but  which  produced  terri- 
ble commotions  in  Switzerland,  Holland,  and  Germany, 
about  the  time  of  the  Reformation.  The  distinguishing 
doctrine  of  this  sect,  and  from  which  it  derived  its  name, 
is  the  invalidity  of  infant  baptism,  and  the  re-baptization 
of  all  who  wish  to  be  admitted  into  their  community. 
There  can  be  no  doubt,  that  there  were  many  who  held 
these  oi>inions  before  the  time  of  the  Reformation;  and 
perhaps  the  modern  Baptists  are  justifiable  in  deducing 
their  origin  rather  from  the  persecuted  Waldenses,  and 
other  opponents  of  the  church  of  Rome,  than  from  the 
factious  tiigols  who  afterwards  distinguished  themselves 
so  much  liy  their  atrocities  and  absurdities. 

Munzer,  the  apostle  of  the  Anabaptists,  with  his  asso- 
ciates, Stuhner  and  Storck,  began  to  preach'  the  fanati- 
cal doctrines  of  this  sect,  in  Saxony,  in  the  year  1521. 
Not  meeting,  however,  with  the  desired  success,  and 
judging  argui!ient  to  be  a  method  not  sufficiently  expe- 
ditious in  effecting  conversion,  they  at  last  had  recourse 
to  arms;  they  assembled,  in  the  year  1525,  a  numerous 
army,  composed  chiefly  of  the  peasants  of  Suabia,  Thu- 
ringia,  F-anconia,  and  Saxony;  and  at  the  head  of  this 
deluded  rabble,  declared  war  against  all  laws  and  go- 
vernments, alleging  that  Christ  was  now  come  to  take 
the  reins  of  government  into  his  own  hands,  and  to  com- 
mence his  long  expected  reign  over  the  nations.    This 


rabble  was  soon  dispersed ;  and  Munzer,  their  leader, 
was  ignominiously  put  to  death. 

The  sect,  however,  was  not  destroyed  by  this  discom- 
fiture; the  mania  spread  throughout  all  Germany,  and 
the  neighbouring  countries,  threatening  the  subversion 
of  all  moral  principle,  as  well  as  of  all  constituted  au- 
thorities. The  human  mind  appears  to  have  been,  at 
that  particular  period,  peculiarly  liable  to  run  into  every 
species  of  absurdity.  The  veneration  for  ancient  preju- 
dices had  been  dispelled ;  the  doctrines  and  maxima 
which  had  so  long  regulated  the  Christian  world,  had 
been  demonstrated  to  be,  for  the  most  part,  absurd  and 
pernicious;  and  men  had  been  taught  to  seek  for  truth 
and  happiness  by  an  intrepid  exertion  of  their  own  fa- 
culties, instead  of  trusting  to  the  false  and  interested 
interpretations  of  others.  We  may  easily  conceive  that 
this  new  light  would,  for  a  time,  prove  highly  injurious 
to  unstable  minds,  and  prepare  them  for  receiving  any 
doctrine,  however  absurd,  that  came  to  them  recom- 
mended by  novelty.  After  all,  however,  it  is  perhaps 
not  necessary  to  seek  so  deep  for  the  cause  of  that  suc- 
cess which  attended  the  preaching,  or  rather  the  ravings, 
of  the  Anabaptists,  as  we  have  seen  the  same  kind  of 
epidemical  madness  burst  forth  in  every  state  of  socie- 
ty, wlulst  we  are  as  unacquainted  with  its  cause,  as  we 
are  in  general  with  the  origin  of  a  dysentery  or  a  fever. 
Besides,  the  opinions  publicly  avowed  by  the  Anabap- 
tists, were  of  such  a  nature,  as  must  at  all  times  attract 
the  attention  of  an  ignorant  and  licentious  mob.  1 . 
Their  leading  doctrine  was,  that  infant  baptism  was  an 
invention  of  the  devil.  This  was  a  harmless  doctrine, 
in  so  far  as  the  peace  of  society  was  concerned.  2.  They 
maintained  that  the  true  Church  of  Christ,  of  which  they 
considered  themselves  as  the  constituent  members, 
ought  to  be  exempt  from  all  sin.  From  this  doctrine, 
we  might  expect  to  find  the  new  sect  distinguished  for 
purity  and  austerity  of  manners.  The  event,  however, 
showed,  that  it  led  to  the  most  abandoned  licentious- 
ness ;  and  that  it  did  not  tend  to  reform  the  conduct, 
but  to  subvert  the  great  leading  principles  of  morality; 
for,  holding  the  doctrine  of  a  spotless  church,  and  find- 
ing at  the  same  time,  that  the  principles  of  their  nature 
still  led  them  to  those  actions  which  are  generally  ac- 
counted sinful,  to  reconcile  this  doctrine  and  practice 
with  each  other,  the  Anabaptists  were  forced  to  main- 
tain, that  whatever  their  hearts  desired,  might  be  law- 
fully indulged,  and  that  all  the  restraints  imposed  by  the 
laws  on  human  conduct,  were  encroachments  on  Chris- 
tian liberty.  3.  They  maintained,  that  all  things  ought 
to  be  in  common  among  the  faithful,  and  that  all  usury 
and  taxes  ought  to  be  abolished;  most  agreeable  doc- 
triuea  to  the  indolent  and  the  seditious.  4.  Every 
Christian  had  a  right  to  preach  the  gospel,  and  God 
still  revealed  his  will  to  chosen  persons  by  dreams  and 
visions ;  doctrines  which  could  not  fail  to  please  the 
fanatical  and  the  ignorant.  5.  There  was  no  use  what- 
ever for  civil  magistrates  in  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 

An  opportunity  was  soon  afforded  of  reducing  these 
ho!)eful  principles  to  practice.  John  Matthias,  a  baker 
of  Ki'.erlem,  and  John  Boccold,  a  journeyman  tailor  of 
Ley  den,  began  to  preach  the  doctrines  of  the  Anabaptists 
in  Mun6ter,animperial  city  of  Westphalia.  Emboldened 
by  the  success  which  attended  their  labours,  they  se- 
cretly called  in  their  associates  from  the  couatry,  and 
seized  on  the  arsenal  and  senate-house  in  the  night- 
time ;  and  running  through  the  streets  with  drawn 
eworils  and  frantic  bowlings,  cried  out  alternately,  "  re- 


702 


ANA 


ANA 


pent  and  be  baptized,"  and  •'  depart,  ye  ungodly."  Tlie 
senators,  nobility,  and  ail  the  more  respectable  part 
of  the  citizens,  fled  in  confusion,  and  left  the  two  pro- 
phets in  possession  of  tlie  city.  Matthias,  who  was  the 
most  enterprising  of  the  two,  instantly  set  about  esta- 
blishing a  new  constitution.  He  ordered  every  man  to 
bring  lorth  his  goU'i  silver,  and  precious  effects,  and  to 
lay  theui  at  his  feet ;  !he  wealth  amassed  by  these  menus 
he  deposited  in  a  public  treasury,  and  appointed  deacons 
to  dispense  it  for  the  common  use  of  all.  He  command- 
ed all  the  members  of  his  commonwealth  to  eat  at  tables 
prepared  in  public,  and  prescribed  the  dishes  which 
were  to  be  served  up  each  day.  Having  finished  his 
))lan  of  reformation,  his  next  care  was  to  provide  for  the 
defence  of  the  city,  which  he  did  with  a  prudence  that 
savoured  nothing  of  fanaticism.  He  dignified  Munster 
with  the  name  of  Mount  Zion,  and  invited  the  faithful  to 
repair  to  it  from  all  quarters,  that  they  might  issue  from 
thence  to  subdue  the  sinful  nations.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  bishop  of  Blunster,  having  collected  a  considerable 
army,  advanced  to  besiege  the  town.  IMatthias  sallied 
out  to  meet  him,  and  having  attacked  one  quarter  of  the 
camp,  he  forced  it  with  great  slaughter,  and  returned  to 
the  city  loaded  with  glory  and  spoil.  Intoxicated  with 
this  success,  he  appeared  next  day  brandishing  a  spear, 
and  declaring,  that,  like  Gideon,  he  would,  with  a  hand- 
ful of  men,  smite  the  ungodly.  He  chose  thirty  persons 
to  accompany  him  in  this  wild  enterprise,  who,  rushing 
on  the  enemy,  were  cut  ofTto  a  man.  Matthias  was  suc- 
ceeded by  John  Boccold,  who  was,  if  possible,  a  wilder 
enthusiast  than  his  predecessor.  He  marched  through 
the  streets  of  Munster,  stark  naked,  proclaiming  with  a 
loud  voice,  "  that  whatever  was  highest  on  earth  should 
be  brought  low,  and  whatever  was  lowest  should  be  ex- 
alted." Accordingly,  in  order  to  accomplish  his  own 
prediction,  he  commanded  the  churches  to  be  levelled 
with  the  ground,  and  degraded  Cnipperdoling,  who  had 
been  made  consul  by  Matthias,  to  the  office  of  common 
hangman ;  and  that  the  other  part  of  the  prediction,  re- 
specting the  exaltation  of  the  low  might  be  equally 
fulfilled,  he  caused  himself  to  be  declared  king  of  Zion. 

Boccold  was  not  more  remarkable  for  his  enthusiasm 
than  for  bis  licentiousness ;  qualities,  in  appearance, 
widely  different,  but  in  the  nature  of  things  nearly  allied; 
for  the  same  fervid  temperament  that  gives  rise  to  the 
extravagance  of  enthusiasm,  inclines  no  less  to  sensual 
gratifications.  Boccold,  having  a  strong  tendency  that 
way,  instructed  the  preachers  to  inculcate  on  their  hear- 
ers the  necessity  of  taking  more  wives  than  one.  To 
set  them  a  laudable  example  in  this  new  species  of  re- 
formation, he  himself  married  fourteen  wives.  The  mul- 
titude after  the  example  of  their  prophet,  gave  them- 
selves up  to  the  most  uncontrolled  indulgence,  and 
committed  the  most  horrible  indecencies,  under  the 
pretext  of  using  their  Christian  libcrly.  Thus,  to  use 
the  words  of  an  elegant  historian,  (Robertson,)  "  by  a 
monstrous,  and  almost  incredible  conjunction,  voluptu- 
ousness was  engrafted  on  religion,  and  dissolute  riot 
accompanied  the  austerities  of  fanatical  devotion." 

The  German  princes  beheld  these  outrages  with  in- 
<\i(;iiation,  and  voted  a  supply  of  men  and  money  to  the 
bishop  of  Munster,  to  enable  him  to  reduce  the  fanatics. 
Munster,  accordingly,  was  invested  more  closely  than 
before,  and  the  besieged  were  reduced  to  the  greatest 
extremities  for  want  of  provisions.  At  last,  a  deserter 
from  Boccold  informed  the  enemy  of  a  weak  part  in  the 
fortifications,  aud  offered  to  conduct  them  iu  an  attack 


during  the  night.  The  proposal  was  accepted,  and  a 
party  having  scaled  the  walls  unperceived,  opened  one 
of  the  gates  to  their  coDipanions.  The  Anabaptists,  thu& 
surprised,  were,  after  an  obstinate  resistance,  all  either 
slain  or  taken  prisoners,  after  having  been  in  possession 
of  the  town  for  upwards  of  fifteen  months.  Boccold, 
having  been  carried  about  as  a  spectacle  from  city  to  city, 
was  afterwards  put  to  death  at  3Iunster,  with  exquisite 
tortures,  which  he  bore  with  the  most  amazing  firm- 
ness, professing  to  the  last  his  belief  in  the  doctrines  of 
bis  sect. 

Before  closing  this  article  it  may  be  proper  to  observe, 
that  thedescendants  of  the  Anabaptists  notonly  renounce 
all  their  most  obnoxious  tenets,  but  consider  the  very 
name  of  Anabaptists  as  disgraceful.  In  England  they 
are  called  Baptists ;  in  Holland  they  are  called  3Ienno- 
nites,  from  Blenno  their  great  reformer,  and  Water- 
landians,  from  Waterlandj  a  district  in  North  Holland. 
Herman  Schyn,  in  his  history  of  the  Mennonites,  is  at 
great  pains  to  show,  odiosum  nomen  Jnabaptistaruin  illis 
non  convetiire,  that  the  odious  name  of  Anabaptists  does 
not  apply  to  them.  See  Slosheim's  Church  Hist.  vol. 
i V.Robertson's  Charles V.  vol.  ii.  See  also  Baptists,  (g.) 

ANABASIS,  a  genus  of  plantsof  the  class  Pentandria 
and  order  Digynia.     See  Botany.     (iv) 

ANABOA.     See  Annoben. 

AN  AC  ARDIUM,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Ea- 
neandria,  and  order  Monogynia.  See  Botany.     (?«) 

ANACEIA,  the  name  of  a  festival  celebrated  by 
the  Spartans  and  Athenians  in  honour  of  the  A'»«u5{  or 
A'f*KTti,  or  the  AioTnttfoi,  appellations  given  to  Castor 
and  Pollux,  to  Tritopatreous,  Eubuleus,  and  Dionysius, 
and  also  to  AIco  and  Melampus  Emolus,  three  families 
which  were  descended  from  the  gods.  The  Anaces  are 
supposed  by  some  to  be  the  ancient  Carthaginian  Cabisi, 
while  othei-s  think  that  they  are  descended  from  the 
Anakims  of  Moses.  Those  who  wish  to  receive  further 
information  on  a  subject  barren  of  interest,  may  consult 
Cicero  De  Nat.  Dcorum,  lib.  iii.  cap.  21.  Josephus  An- 
tiq.  Jud.  lib.  xii.  cap.  5.  Vossius  De  Idolat.  lib.  i.  cap. 
13,  and  Plutarch  in  Thes.     (o) 

AN  ACH  ARSI  S,a  Scythian  philosopher,  who  flourisli- 
ed  about  tiOO  years  before  the  Christian  lera.  His  father, 
who  was  a  man  of  note  in  bis  nation,  had  married  a  Gre- 
cian lady,  by  whom  her  son  was  instructed  in  the  Greek 
language,  and  inspired  with  a  taste  for  the  literature  of 
her  country.  Arrived  at  the  years  of  maturity,  he  was 
intrusted  by  bis  fellow  citizens  with  the  conduct  of  an 
embassy  to  Athens ;  upon  which  occasion,  he  acquired 
the  friendship  of  the  celebrated  Solon,  and  made  such 
progress  in  philosophy,  tliat  he  has  himself  been  reckon- 
ed by  some,  among  the  seven  Grecian  sages.  It  is  re- 
ported, that  when  he  first  came  to  the  door  of  Solon,  he 
requested  a  servant  to  inform  his  master,  that  Anachar- 
sis,  a  Scythian,  was  at  the  door,  and  was  desirous  of  be- 
ing received  as  his  guest  and  friend.  Solon  is  said  to 
have  returned  for  answer,  that  "  friendships  are  best 
formed  at  home."  To  this  the  Scythian  philosopher 
replied,  "  Then  let  Solon,  who  is  at  home,  make  me  his 
friend,  and  receive  me  into  his  house."  Solon,  struck 
with  the  propriety  of  the  reply,  immediately  gave  ad- 
mittance to  his  visitor,  and,  finding  him  worthy  of  his 
confidence,  honoured  him  with  his  friendship.  Through 
the  influence  of  this  celebrated  character,  Anacharsis 
was  introduced  to  persons  of  the  first  note  in  Athene ; 
and  was  the  first  stranger  who  was  honoured  with  th« 
rights  of  citizenship  by  the  Atlieuiaus. 


ANA 


ANA 


703 


Having  resided  several  years  in  Athens,  and  travel- 
led into  foreign  countries  in  f;uest  of  knowledge,  he  at 
length  returned  to  his  native  land,  full  of  the  desire  of 
imparting  his  acquisition  to  his  unlettered  countrymen. 
But  the  attempt  to  introduce  the  laws  and  religion  of 
Greece,  cost  him  his  life,  by  the  hand,  it  is  said,  of  his 
own  brother,  then  raised  to  the  throne  of  Scythia;  and 
who  slew  Anacharsis  with  an  arrow,  as  he  was  perform- 
ing a  sacrifice  to  Cybele. 

To  Anacharsis  is  ascribed  the  comparison  of  laws  to 
cobwebs,  which  can  entangle  only  small  flies,  while  the 
larger  ones  break  through  them.  It  was  also  a  saying  of 
Ills,  that  the  vine  bears  three  sorts  of  fruit ;  the  first, 
pleasure  ;  the  second,  intoxication  ;  the  third,  remorse. 
An  ape,  said  he,  is  ridiculous  by  nature,  a  man  by  art 
and  study.  An  Athenian  of  bad  morals  having  reproach- 
ed him  with  being  a  Scythian,  he  replied,"  My  country 
may  be  a  disgrace  to  me,  but  you  are  a  disgrace  to  your 
country."  He  is  absurdly  said  by  some,  to  have  lived 
in  a  cart  instead  of  a  house ;  and  to  have  invented  the 
potter's  wheel,  which  was  undoubtedly  known  in  the 
days  of  Homer.  The  epistles  which  bear  his  name,  are 
generally  supposed  to  be  spurious. — See  Herod.  1.  ir. 
Plut.  in  Conviv.  Cic.  Ttisc.  I.  v.  c.  32.     (in) 

ANACHORET.  See  Anchoret. 

ANACHRONISM,  from  «v«  above,  and  xi""ii  time. 
A  person  is  said  to  be  guilty  of  an  anachronism,  when 
he  places  any  event  in  history  earlier  than  the  time 
when  it  really  hapjiened.  The  word,  however,  is  gene- 
rally employed  to  signify  an  error  in  point  of  time,  whe- 
ther the  event  is  placed  earlier  or  later  than  when  it 
happened,     (o) 

ANACLASTIC  Glasses,  a  kind  of  low  flat  bottles, 
which  emit  a  loud  noise  from  the  action  of  the  breath. 
Their  bottom  is  slightly  arched,  and,  being  extremely 
thin,  is  therefore  very  flexible  ;  hence,  if  we  gently  suck 
out  the  air,  when  the  bottom  is  convex,  it  bounds  in- 
wards with  a  loud  crack,  and  becomes  concave  ;  if  we 
now  breathe  gently  into  it,  the  bottom  springs  back 
with  the  same  explosive  noise  to  its  former  position. 
The  loudness  of  the  sound  emitted  by  anaclastic  glasses 
arises  from  the  great  breadth  of  their  bottom,  the  simul- 
taneous and  accelerated  motion  of  all  its  parts,  the  sud- 
denness with  which  this  motion  is  stopt,  and  the  violent 
shock  which  is  thus  given  to  the  bottom  and  sides  of 
the  vessel. 

Anaclastic  glasses  are  chiefly  manufactured  in  Ger- 
many of  a  fine  white  glass  ;  but  any  other  glass,  which 
33  uniform  in  its  substance  and  not  very  hard,  will  do 
equally  well.  Their  sides  generally  resemble  a  low 
inverted  funnel.  This  form,  by  increasing  the  bottom, 
makes  the  sound  more  powerful,  and,  by  rendering  the 
vessel  Ies3  capacious,  considerably  diminishes  the  risk 
of  its  being  ruptured.  Uosini  Lentilii  Oribassi  Schcd. 
de  Fitris  Anaclasticis  Ephem.  Acad.  Natural  Curiosorum, 
dec.  ii.  ann.  3.  p.  489.  (■{') 

ANACLASTICS,  or  Anclatics,  compounded  of 
«>«  and  xAasi,  I  break,  a  term  now  fallen  into  desuetude, 
and  synonymous  with  Dioptrics.     (+) 

ANACREON,  a  famous  Grecian  lyric  poet,  and  the 
father  of  that  lighter  species  of  versification  which  is 
employed  in  celebrating  the  influence  of  love,  and  in 
recommending  the  careless  enjoyment  of  convivial 
pleasures. 

The  authentic  particulars  of  the  life  of  this  celebrated 
bard  are  few.  But  the  industry  and  ingenuity  of  his 
learned  commentator?,  exerted  with  a  degree  of  zeal 


that  deserved  a  more  worthy  object,  and  a  more  success- 
ful issue,  have  enabled  them  to  spin  out  his  biography 
to  a  considerable  length  ;  by  collecting  all  the  hints 
which  are  to  be  found  scattered  throughout  the  works  of 
ancient  writers,  by  interweaving  truth  with  fiction,  and 
when  information  was  deficient,  by  substituting  conjec- 
ture for  historical  certainty.  Those  who  are  anxious  to 
learn  all  that  is  stated,  and  more  than  can  be  vouched 
for,  on  the  subject,  will  be  ami)ly  gratified  by  the  peru- 
sal of  Barne's  Anacrcont.  Fit. 

Anacreon  was  born  at  Teos,  a  city  of  Ionia,  in  the 
6(h  century  before  the  Christian  era.  The  precise  dale 
of  his  birth  cannot  be  accurately  ascertained  ;  nor  are 
authors  agreed  concerning  the  names  or  circumstances 
of  his  parents ;  but  it  is  generally  supposed,  that  his  fami- 
ly was  illustrious.  His  eminent  poetical  abilities,  and 
talents  for  social  intercourse,  seem  to  have  early  recom- 
mended him  to  the  notice  of  the  most  distinguished  per- 
sonages of  the  age  in  which  he  flourished  ;  and  he  ap- 
pears to  have  spent  some  part  of  his  life  at  the  court  of 
Polycrates,  the  accomplished  tyrant  of  Samos,  by  whom 
he  was  highly  esteemed  and  caressed.  Indeed,  the  cul- 
tivated genius,  and  the  amiable  and  lively  disposition  of 
Anacreon,  must  have  been  considered  as  a  valuable  ac- 
cession to  his  social  circles,  by  a  prince,  who,  like  Hip- 
parchus  of  Athens,  whom  he  rivalled  in  the  encourage- 
ment of  polite  literature,  is  celebrated  as  a  liberal  patron 
of  learning  and  the  arts ;  and  who  spared  no  requisite  ex- 
pense, in  order  to  render  his  throne  the  centre  of  all  that 
could  contribute  to  the  sum  of  elegant  pleasures,  or  con- 
duce to  the  refinements  of  luxury.  How  long  our  poet 
continued  to  reside  at  Samos  is  uncertain  ;  but  we  are 
informed,  that  he  afterwards  removed  to  Athens,  in 
compliance  with  the  solicitations  of  Hipparchus,  son  of 
Pisistratus,  who  sent  a  vessel  of  fifty  oars  to  conduct 
the  bard,  with  letters  expressive  of  his  esteem  and  ad- 
miration.— Plato  in  Hipparcho. 

Anacreon  lived  to  a  good  old  age ;  and  the  manner  of 
his  death  appears  so  singularly  characteristic,  that  we 
are  inclined  to  place  the  account  among  the  number  of 
those  fictions,  in  which  the  Greeks  were  accustomed  to 
envelope  every  circumstance  relative  to  their  distin- 
guished countrymen.  We  are  told,  that  he  was  choked 
by  the  stone  of  a  dried  grape,  while  regaling  upon  some 
new  wine,  in  the  35th  year  of  his  age. — Plin.  1.  vii.  c. 
7.  Fal.  Max.  1.  ix.  c.  12.  extern.  8. 

The  character  of  Anacreon  has  been  variously  portray- 
ed. Like  most  men  of  eminence  whose  history  is  ob- 
scured by  the  mist  of  antiquity,  and  whose  character  is 
but  ambiguously  represented  in  their  works,  he  has  been 
either  loaded  with  extravagant  praise,  or  overwhelmed 
by  boundless  and  indiscriminating  censure,  according  to 
the  fancy  or  caprice  of  his  biographers.  Some  have  de- 
scribed him  as  an  habitual  drunkard  and  debauchee,  for 
ever  wallowing  in  the  mire  of  sensuality  and  licentious 
dissipation  ;  while  others  have  held  him  up  to  our  view, 
and  recommended  him  to  our  imitation,  as  a  model  of 
virtue  and  moral  purity. — Fide  Barne's  Le  Fevre  ;  M. 
Baillet  Jugemcns  des  S^avans  ;  J.  Vulpius,  de  iitilit.  poet. 
Moore,  &c.  These  two  sufficiently  contrasted  repre- 
sentations are  probably  both  overcharged.  The  ancient 
writers  have  not  left  us  any  very  decisive  information  on 
the  subject :  and  the  literary  productions  of  an  author 
do  not  alwa3's  contain  the  most  certain  evidence  of  his 
moral  dispositions.  In  forming  our  estimate  of  the 
moralcharacterof  Anacreon,  we  would  neitherexalt  him 
into  a  sage,  nor  sink  him  into  a  profligate.    He  appears 


704 


ANA 


ANA 


to  have  been  a  careless,  good-natured  being,  more  alive 
to  the  pleasures  than  to  tlie  anxieties  of  the  world ; 
whose  life  was  not  sullied  by  any  of  the  more  disgraceful 
and  degrading  vices;  and  who  sung  of  love  and  of 
wine,  partly  to  indulge  his  own  lively  disposition ;  and 
partly  to  gratify  the  taste  of  those  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded. The  testimonies  of  the  ancients  concerning 
him  are,  in  general,  favourable  ;  and  will  justify  our  at- 
tributing to  him  the  vita  verecunda  with  the  musajocosa 
of  Ovid. 

The  productions  of  Anacreon  are  said  to  have  been 
numerous ;  but  many  of  his  poems  appear  to  have  sha- 
red the  same  fate  which  the  works  of  Alcaeus,  Sappho, 
and  others  experienced  in  the  early  ages ;  and  for  the 
collection  which  we  now  possess  of  his  scattered  re- 
mains, we  are  principally  indebted  to  the  «eal  and  indus- 
try of  Henry  Stephen.  Besides  the  odes  and  the  few 
epigrams,  which  are  still  extant,  we  are  informed  that 
he  composed  several  elegies  and  hymns,  and  a  number 
of  larger  and  smaller  pieces  ;  but  these  have  all  perish- 
ed in  the  general  wreck  of  ancient  literature.  The 
odes  which  have  been  preserved,  even  in  their  imper- 
fect and  mutilated  state,  are  calculated  to  convey  a  very 
high  idea  of  Anacreon's  genius  and  talent  for  lyric  poe- 
try. Their  principal  characteristic  beauties  appear  to 
us  to  consist  of  a  singular  simplicity  of  diction,  a  care- 
less felicity  and  uncommon  delicacy  of  expression ;  and 
although  almost  exclusively  devoted  to  amatory  and 
bacchanalian  subjects,  they  exhibit  a  wonderful  fertili- 
ty of  invention,  and  variety  of  illustration.  This  invent- 
ive power  is  eminently  displayed  in  the  numerous  little 
allegories  in  which  our  author  has  introduced  and  per- 
■sonified  the  passion  of  love  ;  and  in  the  different  modes 
in  which  he  has  pursued  and  illustrated  subjects,  which, 
under  the  management  of  more  ordinary  poets,  would 
probably  have  been  productive  of  the  most  insipid  mo- 
notony. He  is  ever  sportive  and  naif ;  and  always  con« 
veys  his  meaning  in  few  words,  yet  with  the  utmost 
perspicuity.  He  seldom  dwells  long,  at  one  time,  on  the 
same  idea,  and  never  attempts  extensive  flights  ;  but, 
as  if  conscious  that  a  great  deal  of  the  merit  of  such 
trifles  depends  upon  their  brevity,  he  hastens  to  the  con- 
clusion, which  is  generally  wound  up  in  an  epigrammatic 
form. 

The  works  of  Anacreon  have  been  censured,  on  ac- 
count of  their  supposed  immoral  tendency;  and  if  to 
sing  in  praise  of  love  and  wine  involves  immorality, 
Anacreon  certainly  stands  convicted.  But  it  is  surely 
too  much  to  exact  from  a  song  writer,  the  severity  of 
a  didactic  poet,  or  of  a  teacher  of  morality.  With  re- 
gard to  his  manner  of  writing,  it  is  admitted  on  all  hands, 
that  Anacreon  has  very  seldom  indulged  in  voluptuous 
images :  that  his  language  is  generally  free  from  indeli- 
cacy, and  that,  consequently,  his  songs  have  little  ten- 
dency to  inflame  the  passions.  Indeed  it  may  be  asaert- 
e<l,  without  great  fear  of  contradiction,  that  his  produc* 
tions  are,  in  these  respects,  much  more  chaste  and  unex- 
ceptionable, than  many  of  those  we  are  accustomed  to 
look  upon  as  the  purest  models  of  classical  composition. 
In  the  effusions  of  Anacreon,  light  and  playful  as  they 
are,  it  is  absurd  to  search  for  moral  prece|)ts.  His  odes 
are  well  adapted  for  our  amusement  and  relaxation  in 
leisure  moments ;  but  not  for  study  or  instnicf ion  in 
more  serious  hours.  In  them  we  do  not  expect  to  find 
substantial  food ;  hut  rather  look  f6r  those  delicacies, 
which,  although  they  may  not  give  nourishment  or 
strength  to  the  body,  yet  afford  a  harmless,  perhaps  a 


beneficial  gratification.  We  unfold  the  page  of  the  Teiaa 
in  the  same  spirit  of  expectation  with  which  we  enter  a 
flower-garden,  not  with  a  view  of  regaling  upon  solid 
fruits,  but  to  inhale  the  balmy  fragrance  of  a  thousand 
odoriferous  flowers. 

Let  us  not,  therefore,  rashly,  or  too  severely,  censure 
the  sportive  sallies  of  that  poet,  who  stands  alone  and 
unrivalled  in  his  peculiar  department  of  composition ; 
whose  protluctions  were  the  delight  of  his  contempora- 
ries, and  the  admiration  of  former,  perphaps  in  matters 
of  taste,  more  discerning  ages ;  and  whom  one  of  the 
most  sublime  philosophers  of  heathen  antiquity  did  not 
scruple  to  distinguish  by  the  epithet  of  the  "  wise." — . 
Plato  in  Phxdro. 

The  reader  will  find  a  list  of  the  principal  editions  of 
Anacreon  prefixed  to  Mr.  Moore's  Translation.  We  add 
the  following : 

The  edition  by  Fischer;  Liepsic,  1778. 

The  elegant  edition  by  Bodonius,  in  Greek  capital?. 
Folio.     Parma,  1785. 

The  same  in  12mo.     Parma,  1791.     (s) 

ANACREONTIC,  from  Anacreon,  a  name  given  to 
amatory  and  bacchanalian  songs.  No  ancient  poet,  per- 
haps, has  been  more  frequently  translated,  or  more 
abundantly  imitated,  than  Anacreon.  Some  pious  fa- 
thers of  the  church,  in  early  times,  endeavoured  to  suit 
him  with  an  ecclesiastical  habit.  There  exists  some  spe- 
cimens of  Latin  anacreontics,  not  inelegant,  by  writers 
of  a  later  period.  Modern  literature  abounds  with  imi- 
tations ;  yet  in  few  of  these  are  the  peculiar  features  of 
the  Teian  muse  perceptible  to  the  classical  scholar.  In- 
deed we  entertain  great  doubts,  whether  any  of  the  de- 
rivative languages  of  modem  Europe  be  capable  of  that 
extreme  simplicity,  which  constitutes  so  striking  a  cha- 
racteristic of  Anacreon's  style.  The  Germans,  however, 
who  possess  an  original  language,  have,  in  many  instan- 
ces, caught  the  true  manner  of  anacreontic  poetry.  For 
these,  we  refer  our  readers  to  the  works  of  Hagedorn, 
Uz,  Lessing,  Kleist,  Weisse,  GoETZ,and  particulirly 
Gleim,  whose  merits,  in  this  species  of  poetry,  have 
procured  for  him,  among  his  countrymen,  the  name  of 
the  German  Anacreon — See  Gleim,  Schershqfle  Lci- 
dcr.     {s) 

AN ACYCLUS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Syn- 
genesia,  and  order  Polygamia  Superflua.  See  Bota- 
ny,   (w) 

ANADYR,  a  river  in  Siberia,  which  rises  out  of  a 
lake  in  N.  Lat.  68"  2',  and  E.  Long.  169°,  and,  pursuing 
a  south-eastern  course,  falls  into  that  part  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean  which  is  called  the  sea  of  Anadyr,  or  the  Anadir 
Skaia  Gulf,  in  E.  Long.  177o  34',  N.  Lat.  65».  The 
Anadyr  is  a  broad  bat  shallow  river,  and  is  the  boundary 
of  two  dilTerent  climates  and  soils.  Ail  the  country  north 
of  this  river  is  so  completely  barren,  as  scarcely  to  pre- 
sent any  symptoms  of  vegetation  ;  while  the  country  on 
the  south  is  clothed  in  verdant  pasture,  or  crowned  with 
lofty  forest  trees,     [k) 

ANAGALLIS,  a  genus  of  plants  of  the  class  Pen- 
tandria,  and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botany.     (»») 

ANAGNOSTES,  among  the  Romans,  was  a  servant 
employed  by  families  of  distinction  to  read  to  them, 
chiefly  during  meals.  See  Cicero  Famil,  lib.  v.  ep.  9. 
Cornel,  in  Fit.  Attic,  and  Hofi"man  Leric.  Univcrs.  (o) 

ANAGRAM,  from  «»•  and  y^uuft-*,  is  a  word  or  sen- 
tence, which,  by  a  transposition  of  the  letters,  becomes  a 
word  or  sentence  of  a  dilTerent  signification.  We  should 
disgrace  our  work  by  taking  notice  of  the  different  ana- 


ANA 


ANA 


705 


grtms  witTi  wblcli  tlie  ancient  lexicographers  have  tried 
to  amuse  their  readers,     (o) 

ANAGYRIS,h  gcnusof  plants  of  the  class  Decamlria, 
and  order  Monogynia.     See  Botakt.     (w) 

ANALEMiNiA,  a  planisphere,  or  projection  of  the 
sphere,  orihographically  made  on  the  plane  of  the  sol- 
stitial colure  by  peri-'eudicidars  from  every  point  of  (hat 
pl.ine,  the  eye  being  supposed  to  be  placed  vertical  to 
eith<ir  of  the  equinoctial  poiuls,  and  at  an  infinite  dis- 
tance. The  solstitial  colore  is  consequently  projected 
into  a  circle  bounding  the  planisphere,  and  its  parallels 
into  '  oncentric  circles  equal  to  the  real  circles  of  the 
sphere.  All  circles  whose  hlanes  ure  at  right  angles 
to  th  plane  of  the  solstitial  colure,  such  asth;  equinoc- 
tial, the  equinoctial  colure,  the  ecliptic,  the  horizon,  and 
their  parallels,  are  projected  into  straight  lines  equal  to 
their  diameters,  the  lines  which  represent  great  circles 
being  diameters  of  the  planisphere  having  the  same  in- 
clination with  the  circles  which  they  represent,  and  (hose 
which  represent  smaller  circles  being  cords.  Any  ob- 
lique circle  is  projected  into  an  ellipse,  whose  transverse 
axis  is  equal  to  the  diameter  of  the  circle,  and  its  con- 
jugate axis  the  cosine  of  the  inclination  of  the  plane  of 
the  circle  to  the  plane  oi  the  equinoctial  colure,  taking 
(he  diameter  of  the  circle  as  Rad. 

Analennna  also  denotes  an  instrument,  having  the 
above  projection  described  ufion  i(,  and  fitted  with  a 
moveable  horizon,  &c.  This  instrument  is  used  to 
solve  various  aslronomical  problems.  For  ils  con- 
struction  and  use,  see  Projection  of  the  Spheke. 

(*) 

ANALOGY, inPhilosophy,a  certain  relation,  corres- 
pondence, or  agreement,  between  several  (hings  in  some 
res| :ec(s  which  yet  differ  in  olhers.  It  includes,  there- 
fore, a  resemblance  joined  wi(h  some  diversity ;  and, 
according  te  (he  schoolmen,  its  foundalionis  laid  in  the 
■jjroportion  of  several  (hings,  contemplated  as  proceed- 
ing from  different  considerations.  They  treat  of  three 
kinds  of  it,  (hat  of  inequality,  of  attribulion,  and  of  pro- 
porilmiaiily  :  but  it  is  of  more  benefit  to  consider  ana- 
logy in  reference  to  its  decrees  than  its  genera. 

The  second  law  of  philosophizing,  laid  down  by  sir 
Isaac  Newton,  recommends  drawing  conclusions  from 
analogy  where  the  resemblance  between  the  thingscom- 
pared  is  strong.  "  Of  natural  etTects  of  the  same  kind," 
says  that  law, "  the  same  causes  are  to  be  assigned,  as 
far  as  it  can  be  done.  As  of  respiration  in  a  man  and 
■jn  a  beast ;  of  the  descent  of  stones  in  Europe,  and  in 
America  J  of  light  in  a  culinary  fire,  and  in  the  sun  ; 
and  of  the  reflection  of  light  in  (he  various  planets." 
Where  the  analogy  is  so  very  manifest,  as  in  the  cases 
here  adduced,  (he  couclUT^ion  drawn  from  it  approaches 
to  ahsolute  cerlainly  ;  and  iu  many  cases  wehave  no  bet- 
ter way  of  reasoning  from  what  is  known  to  what  is  un- 
known. The  argununts  by  which  sir  Isaac  Newton  es- 
tablishes the(ruih  of  liie  system  of  universal  gravita- 
(ion  are  precisely  of  this  sort.  He  proves,  that  the  pla- 
nets in  their  deflections  towards  (he  sun  are  all  governed 
by  the  same  analogy  that  is  observable  in  the  deflec- 
tions of  (he  eHr(h  (owards  (he  sun,  and  of  the  moon  to- 
wards the  earth,  as  well  as  of  a  body  projected  obliquely 
at  the  earth's  surface  towards  its  centre ;  whence  he 
infers,  with  the  force  of  demonttralion,  that  .ill  these  de- 
flections spring  from  the  same  cause,  or  are  governed 
by  one  and  the  same  law,  to  wit,  the  power  of  gravKa- 
(ioTi,  by  which  a  he^.vy  body,  when  unsupported,  natu- 
rally falls  to  the  ground. 

Vol,.  I.    Part  II. 


But  there  is  a  natural  proneness  in  men  to  carry  argu- 
ments drawn  from  analogy  too  far  ;  so  that  (his  law  of 
philosophizing  requires  to  be  interpreted   with    more 
strictness,  and  its  abuses  more  carefully  guarded  against 
than  any  other.     That  principle  of  human  thought  by 
which  we  form  numerous   combinations  among  the  ob- 
jects of  our  knowledge,  according  to  risal  or  supposed 
resemblances,  is  continually  prompting  us  to  carry  com- 
parison further  than  the  nature  of  things  will  warrant. 
We  are  always  apt  to  judge  of  things  little  known  by 
(hose  with  which  we  are  familiar  ;  and  to  trace  simili- 
tudes, which,  though  often  the  mere  suggestions  of  our 
imagination,  we  are  apt  to  mistake   for  discoveries  of 
reason.  Natural  historiansarc  fond  oftracing  an  analogy 
between  the  three  kingdoms  of  nature,  the  animal,  the 
vegetable,  and  the  mineral.     The  analogy  between  ani- 
mals  and  vegetables  is  doubtless,  in  many  cases,  very 
striking.  They  are  both  of  an  organized  or  vascular  struc- 
ture ;  both  grow  and  expand  from  minute  germs  by  as- 
similating   nourishment  from  the  dilferent   elements  ; 
both   are  capable   of  reproducing  their   kinds,  by  the 
generation  of  ova  or  seeds.     These,  and  various  other 
points  of  analogy  between  plants  and  animals,  are  suffi- 
ciently striking,  and  have  been  admitted  by  all ;  but  na- 
turalists have  not  slopped  here.     Actuated  by  the  fond- 
ness for  carrying  analogy  to  its  utmost  limi(,  they  have 
extended  to  vegetables  properties  which  can  only  be- 
long to  sentient  beings.     It  is  thus  that  they  have  as- 
cribed (o  plants,  a  slate  of  sleep  and  of  wakefulness,  a 
power  of  voluntary  motion,  and  a  capacity  of  avoiding 
danger,  till  at  length  they  have  not  stopped  short  of  ascri- 
bing to   them  actual  sensibility   and   perception,  and 
have  elevated  them  to  the  very  rank  of  living  creatures. 
"  Trees,"  says  Mr.  White,  '•  are  animated,  they  have 
their  food,  their  enjoyments,  their  grief,   their   health, 
their  illness,  (heir  watching,  (heir  sleep,  (heir  emana- 
tions, (heir  absorp(ions,  their  infancy,  their  growth,  their 
puberty,  (heir  manhood,  and  their  love.     The  man  who 
does  not  find  in  animals,  younger  brotJurs,  and  in  plants 
cousins,  more  or  less  removed,  is  unacquainted  with  his 
own  nature,  and  is  devoid  of  the  elements  of  morality.'''' — 
On  the  gradations  in  Man,  p.  C. 

This  is  a  considerable  stretch  of  analogy ;  but  it  is 
greatly  exceeded  by  that  spirit  of  generalizalion,  which 
ascribes  life  and  sensibility  to  stones.  "  The  vegeta- 
(ion  of  s(one?,"  says(he  Bishop  ofLlandaff,  "  halh  been 
admitted  by  many;  and  some  have  contended, (hat  mine- 
rals, as  well  as  animals  and  vegetables,  spring  from  seed  ; 
the  greatest  being  nothing  but  (he  expansion  of  the  parts 
of  a  minute  grain  of  sand."  '•  I  do  not  know,"  adds  he, 
"  whether  it  would  be  a  very  exlravagant  conjecture, 
which  should  suppose,  that  all  ma((er  is,  or  has  been, 
organized,  enlivened,  and  animated,"  Watson's  CJumi- 
cal  Essays,  vol.  v. 

We  infer  from  analogy,  with  a  high  degree  of  proba- 
bility, that  the  planets  are  peopled  with  inhabi(an(s,  on 
account  of  their  numerous  points  of  resemblance  with 
our  earth.  They  all  revolve  round  the  sun  as  (he  earth 
does,  and  are  governed  in  their  revolution  bj'  (he  same 
law  of  gravitation.  They  all,  like  (he  earth,  horrow  their 
light  from  (he  sun,  and  nios(  of  (hem  are  known  (o  have 
a  rotation  on  their  axes  ;  and  therefore,  like  the  earth, 
to  have  a  vicissitude  of  day  and  night.  Several  of  them 
likewise  are  attended  by  moons,  as  the  earth  is.  From 
these  manifold  points  of  resemblance,  it  is  highly  rea- 
sonable to  conclude,  that  these  bodies  are,  like  our  e?.r(h, 
destined  to  be  the  habitation  of  various  orders  of  livine 
4  U  * 


706 


ANA 


ANA 


crealures.  Such  an  argument,  drawn  from  analogy,  is 
perfectly  legitimate,  and  carries  with  it  tlie  greatest 
probability.  But  who  can  help  smiling  at  the  extent  to 
which  the  learned  Wolfius  carries  this  kind  of  analogi- 
cal reasoning,  when  he  proceeds  upon  it  to  calculate  the 
precise  dimensions  of  the  supposed  inhabitants  of  the 
diiferent  planets!  (See  Ekm.  Astron.  Genev.  1735,  part 
2d.)  The  inhabitants  of  Jupiter,  he  thinks,  must  be 
giants  ;  and  he  grounds  his  opinion  chiefly  on  the  small 
degree  of  solar  light  which  they  enjoy ;  so  that  the  pu- 
pils of  their  eyes,  and  consequently  their  whole  bodies, 
must  be  considerably  larger  than  ours.  He  fixes  the 
medium  height  of  an  inhabitant  of  Jupiter  at  13Jj'j%  Pa- 
ris feet ;  and  this  he  finds  to  agree  almost  exactly  with 
that  of  the  famous  Og,  king  of  Bashan,  whose  bed,  ac- 
cording to  JMoses,  was  nine  cubits  and  a  quarter  in 
length.  This  datum  enables  him,  by  means  of  a  calcu- 
lation concerning  the  Hebrew  cubit,  to  fix  the  height  of 
king  Og,  at  13i||f  of  the  same  feet. 

In  no  branch  of  science  has  reasoning  from  analogy 
been  carried  to  a  greater  excess,  than  in  the  various 
departments  of  the  philosophy  of  mind  ;  and  no  where 
has  it  been  productive  of  greater  errors.  The  early  at- 
tention of  mankind  is  so  completely  engrossed  by  ma- 
terial objects  and  their  properties,  that  all  tlieir  specu- 
lations concerning  intellect,  receive  a  certain  colouring 
and  bias  from  this  cause.  The  very  names  by  which  we  dis- 
tinguish the  faculties  of  the  mind,  are  almost  all  borrow- 
ed from  the  qualities  of  matter,  of  which  we  have  examples 
in  the  vfotdiundcrstanding,  comprelumling,  imagining, de- 
liberaiing,  and  the  like;  and  the  very  soul,  or  sentient 
principle  itself,  is  often  distinguished  by  no  other  appel- 
lation than  that  which  is  applied  to  the  air  or  breath  ; 
it  is  considered  only  as  a  spiritus,  xxuft*,  or  ■^ux.v- 

As  there  are  no  two  kinds  of  existence  of  more  oppo- 
site quaHties  than  bo<ly  and  mind,  conclusions  drawn 
from  any  supposed  analogy  between  their  properties, 
are  peculiarly  calculated  to  engender  error.     Yet  such 
conclusions  have  been  drawn  with  all  the  formality  of 
reasoning,  and  considered  as  resting  on  a  solid  basis, 
notwithstanding  the  very  absurd  consequences  in  which 
(hey  terminated.     Of  this  the  following  remarkable  ex- 
ample is  given  by  Dr.  Rcid  :  "  When  a  man  is  urged  by 
contrary  motives,  those  on  one  hand  inviting  him  to  do 
some  action,  those  on  the  other  to  forbear  it,  he  delibe- 
rates about  it,  and  at  last  resolves  to  do  it,  or  not  to  do 
•it.     The  contrary  motives  are  here  compared  lo   the 
weights  in  the  opposite  scales  of  a  balance;  and  there 
is  not,  perhaps,  any  instance  thatcan  be  named  of  a  more 
striking  analogy  between  body  and  mind.     Hence  the 
phrases  of  weighing  motives,  of  deliberating  upon  ac- 
tions, are  common  to  all  languages.     From  this  analogy 
«ome  philosophers  draw  very    important   conclusions. 
They  say,  that  as  the  balance  cannot  incline  to  one  side 
more  than  the  other  when  the  opposite  weights  are  equal, 
so  a  man  cannot  y'ossibly  determine  himself  if  the  mo- 
tives on  both  hands  are  equal  :  and  as  the  balance  must 
necessarily  turn  to  that  side  which  has  most  weight,  so 
the  man  must  necessarily  be   determined  to  that  hand 
where  the  motive  is  strongest.  On  this  foundation  some 
of  the  schoolmen  maintained,  that  if  a  hungry  ass  were 
placed  between  two  bundles  of  hay,  equally  inviting, 
the  beast  must  stand  still,  and  starve  to  death,  being 
unable  to  turn  to  cither,  because  there  are  equal  mo- 
tives to  both.  This  is  an  instance  of  that  analogical  rea- 
•oning  which  ought  never  to  be  trusted  ;  for  the  analogy 
between  abalance  and  a  man  deliberating,  though  one 
of  the  strongest  that  can  be  fouud  betvrccu  matter  and 


mind,  is  too  weak  to  support  any  argument.  A  piece 
of  dead,  inactive  matter,  and  an  active  intelligent  being, 
are  things  very  unlike  ;  and  because  the  ont  would  re- 
main at  rest  in  a  certain  case,  it  does  not  follow  thai  the 
other  would  be  inactive  in  a  case  somewhat  similar.  The 
argument  is  no  better  than  this,  that  because  a  dead 
animal  moves  only  as  it  is  pushed,  and  if  pushed  with 
equal  force  in  contrary  directions,  must  remain  at  rest ; 
therefore  the  same  thing  must  happen  lo  a  living  ani- 
mal ;  for  surely  the  similitude  between  a  dead  animal 
and  a  living  one,  is  as  great  as  that  between  a  balance 
and  a  man." 

The  conclusion  drawn  by  Dr.  Reid,  from  his  obser- 
vations concerning  analogy,  is,  that  in  our  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  mind  and  its  operations,  we  ought  never  to 
trust  to  reasonings  drawn  from  some  supposed  simili- 
tude of  body  to  mind, and  thatweought  tobevery  much 
upon  our  guard,  that  we  be  not  imposed  upon  by  those 
analogical  terms  and  phrases,  by  which  the  operations  of 
the  mind  are  exjiressed  in  all  languages.  Essat/s  on  the 
Intellectual  powers.  Ess.  1.  c.  iv. 

No  author  has  made  a  better  or  more  appropriate  use 
of  the  analogical  mode  of  reasoning  than  Bishop  Butler, 
in  his  celebrated  treatise  entitled  "  The  Analogy  of  llt- 
ligion,  natural  and  revealed,  to  the  constitution  and  course 
of  nature."  It  is  not  the  immediate  design  of  this  work 
to  prove  the  truth  of  religion  either  natural  or  revealed, 
but  to  add  to  that  proof,  supposed  to  be  already  known, 
and  to  answer  objections  against  it,  by  considerations 
drawn  from  analogy.  When  objections  are  made  against 
the  truths  of  religion,  which  may  with  equal  force  be 
urged  against  what  we  know  to  be  true  in  the  course  of 
nature,  such  objections  may  justly  be  set  aside  as  of  no 
real  weight.  But  it  is  shown  by  the  author  of  the  Analogy, 
that  the  dispensations  of  Providence  in  the  temj/oral 
affairs  of  this  world,  are  entirely  similar  to  that  further 
dispensation  to  which  we  look  forward  in  our  hoj)es  of 
a  future  and  higher  state  of  existence,  that  both  may  be 
traced  up  to  the  same  general  laws,  and  appear  to  be 
carried  on  according  to  the  same  plan  of  administra- 
tion :  there  is,  therefore,  the  highest  presumption  that 
both  proceed  from  the  same  author,  and  are  equally 
consistent  with  the  immutable  decrees  of  his  perfect 
wisdom.  In  this  mannerhas  the  author  of  the  Analogy 
established  a  truth,  which  it  is  of  the  highest  importance 
to  learn,  that  the  natural  and  moral  worlds  are  inti- 
mately connected,  and  parts  of  one  stupendous  system ; 
and  that  the  chief  objections  which  are  brought  against 
religion  may  be  urged  with  equal  foree  against  the  con- 
stitution and  course  of  nature,  where  we  know  them  to 
be  false  in  fact.  Thus  has  he,  as  it  is  well  expressed 
by  Mr.  Mainwaring  (in  the  Dissertation  prefixed  to  his 
volume  of  Sermons,  p.  12.^  "  formed  and  concluded  a 
happy  alliance  between  faith  and  philosophy."  {m) 

ANALYSIS,  from  maxiu,  resolve,  is  that  procedure 
in  Malhtmaiics,  by  which  a  proposition  is  traced  up, 
through  achaiu  of  necessary  dependence,  to  some  known 
operation,  or  some  admitted  principle.  It  is  alike  appli- 
caple  to  the  investigation  of  truth  in  a  theorem,  or  the 
discovery  of  the  construction  of  a  problem.  Analysis, 
as  its  name  imports,  is  thus  a  sort  of  inverted  form  of 
solution.  Assuming  (he  hypothesis  advanced,  it  re- 
mounts, stej)  by  step,  till  it  has  reached  a  source  already 
explored.  The  reverse  of  this  process,  constitutes  Sy/t- 
thtsis,  or  Composition  ;  which  is  the  motle  usually  em- 
ployed for  explaining  the  elements  of  science.  Analysis, 
therefore,  presents  the  medium  of  invention;  while  syn^ 
tbetis  naturally  directs  the  course  of  iosUuction. 


ANALYSIS. 


707 


"Hht  successive  jvckances  in  iieometry  were  assuredly 
not  the  resultol'  chance;  they  lUarly  evince  the  appli- 
eetion  at  all  times  of  some  kind,  however  imperfect,  of 
analytical  research.  But  the  science  had  made  very 
considerable  progress,  before  the  mode  of  proceeding 
was  examined,  and  reduced  to  a  form  of  simplicity  and 
elegance.  This  capital  improvement  is  ascribed  to 
Plato,  wlio  thereby  rendered  analysis  a  most  refined 
instrument  of  discovery.  Socrates,  by  introducing  the 
study  of  loijic,  had  indeed  led  the  way.  The  celebrated 
species  of  argument,  which  that  sage  so  happily  turned 
against  the  sojihists,  was  only  a  sort  of  indirect  dcm(m- 
stration,  or  rediiclio  ad  abstirdum,  and  quite  analytical  in 
its  structure;  but,  setting  out  from  false  premises,  it 
inevitably  terminated  in  absurd  or  contradictory  i)rinci- 
ples;  and  thus  most  effectually  exposed  the  dogmatism 
and  captious  subtleties  of  his  antagonists. 

Plato  first  employed  the  method  of  analysis,  in  searcli- 
ing  for  a  solution  of  the  celebrated  problem  of  the  du- 
j/lication  of  the  cube.  Another  problem  of  the  same 
order  of  difficulty — the  irisection  of  an  angle — soon  fol- 
lowed ;  and  these  questions,  being  found  to  surpass  the 
powers  of  ordinary  geometry,  gave  occasion  to  the 
extension  of  the  science,  to  the  discovery  of  the  conic 
sections,  and  of  the  rudiments  of  the  theory  of  curve 
lines.  Mathematics  were  always  respected,  and  eagerly 
cultivated,  in  the  groves  of  the  academy ;  the  disciples 
of  the  Platonic  school,  who  migrated  to  Sicily  and  Alex- 
andria, continued  to  prosecute  these  studies  with  still 
gneater  ardour ;  and  the  age  of  Archimedes  and  Apol- 
tonius  forms  the  most  brilliant  aera  in  the  history  of 
science.  The  various  analytical  researches  of  the  Greek 
geometers,  are  justly  esteemed  models  of  simplicity, 
clearness,  and  unrivalled  elegance ;  and,  thougli  mise- 
rably defaced  and  mutilated  by  the  riot  of  time  and 
barbarism,  they  will  yet  be  regarded  by  every  person 
«apable  of  ajipreciating  their  merits,  as  some  of  the 
finest  and  happiest  monuments  of  human  ingenuity.  It 
is  a  matter  of  deep  regret,  that  algebra,  or  the  modern 
analysis,  from  the  facility  of  its  0|ierations  and  the  cer- 
"*  tainty  of  its  results,  has  contributed,  especially  on  the 
continent,  to  vitiate  the  taste,  and  destroy  the  proper 
relish  lor  the  strictness  and  (lurity  so  conspicuous  in 
the  ancient  mode  of  demonstration.  The  study  of  geo- 
metrical analysis  appears  admirably  fitted  to  improve 
the  intellect,  by  training  it  to  habits  of  precision,  ar- 
ran!;ement,  and  close  application.  If  the  taste  so  acquired 
be  not  allowed  to  gain  undue  possession  of  the  mind,  it 
may  he  transferred  with  eminent  advantage  to  algebra, 
which  needs  reform  in  almost  every  part,  and  which  has 
shot  up  hastily  to  maturitj',  without  acquiring  compact- 
ness or  symmetrj'  of  form. 

To  give  some  idea  of  the  nature  of  geometrical  ana- 
lysis, we  shall  now  select  a  few  specimens  of  the  most 
tjlementary  kind.  We  mean  afterwards,  in  a  separate 
article,  to  treat  the  subject  at  considerable  extent. 

PROPOSITION  I.     PROBLEM. 

From  two  given  points,  to  draw  straight  lines,  making 
equal  angles  at  the  same  point  in  a  straight  line  given 
in  position. 

Let  AB  be  two  given  points,  and  CD  a  straigVit  line 
given  in  position;  it  \*  required  to  draw  AG,  GB,  80 
that  the  angles  AGO  and  BGD  sliail  be  equal. 


ANALYSIS. 

From  B,  one  of  the 
points,  let  fall  the  per' 
pendicular  BE,  and  pro- 
duce it  to  meet  AG  in 
F.  The  angle  BGE, 
being  equal  to  AGO, 
is  equal  to  the  angle 
FGE;  the  right  angle 
BEG  is  equal  to  FEG, 
and  the  side  GE  is  com- 
mon to  the  triangles 
GBE  and  GFE,  which 
are  therefore  equal,  and 
hence  the  side  BE  is 
equal  to  FE.  But  the 
perpendicular  BE  is  gi- 
ven, and  consequently 
FE  is  given  both  in  po- 
sition and  magnitude ; 
whence  the  point  P  is 
given,  and  therefore  G, 
the  intersection  of  the 
straiglit  line  AF  with 
CD. 

COMPOSITION. 

Let  fall  the  perpendicidar  BE,  and  produce  it  equally 
on  the  opposite  side,  join  AF,  meeting  CD  in  G  ;  AG 
and  BG  are  the  straight  lines  required. 

For  the  triangles  GBE  and  GFE,  having  the  side  BE 
equal  to  FE,  GE  common,  and  the  contained  angle  BEG 
equal  to  FEG,  are  equal ;  consequently  the  angle  BGE 
is  equal  to  FGE  or  AGC. 

PROPOSITION  II.  PROBLEM. 

To  inscribe  a  square  in  a  given  triangle. 
Let  ABC  be  the  triangle,  in  which  it  ig  required  t* 
inscribe  a  square  IGFH. 

ANALYSIS. 

Join  AF  and  produce  it  to  meet  a  parallel  to  AC  in 
E,  and  let  fall  the  perpendicular  BD  and  EK. 

Because  EB  is  parallel  to  FG  or  AC,  AF  :  AE : :  FG 
:  EB  ;  and  since  the  [Perpendicular  EK  is  parallel  to  PH, 
AF  :  AE  : :  FH  :  EK.  Wherefore  FG  :  EB  : :  FH  :  EK; 
but  FG=FH,  and  consequently  EB— EK.  Again,  EK 
being  equal  to  BD,  or  the 
altitude  of  the  triangle 
ABC,  is  given,  and  there- 
fore EB  is  given  both  in 
position  and  magnitude ; 
hence  the  point  E  is  given, 
and  the  intersection  of  AE 
with  BC  is  given,  and  con- 
sequently the  parallel  FG 
and  the  perpendicular  FH 
are  given,  and  thence  the  square  IGFH, 

COMPOSITION. 

FroniB,  drawBD  perpendicular,  and  BE  parallel,  to 
A*^     rawke  BE  equal  to  BD,  join  AE  intersecting  BC 
in  F,  and  complete  the  rectangle  IGFH. 
4U2 


708 


ANALYSIS. 


Because  BE  and  EK  are  parallel  to  GP  and  FH,  AE 
:  AF  : :  BE  :  GP,  and  AE  :  AF  : :  EK  .  PH  ;  wherefore 
BE:GP::EK:  FH;  but  BE=EK,  and  consequently 
GF=FH.     It  is  hence  evident  that  IGFH  is  a  square. 

PROPOSITION  III.  PROBLEM. 

In  the  same  straight  line,  three  points  being  giren, 
to  find  an  intermediate  fourth  point,  such,  that  the 
square  of  its  distance  from  the  first  shall  be  equal  to 
the  rectangle  under  its  distances  from  the  second  and 
third  points. 

Let  it  be  required,  in  the  straight  line  AC,  to  find  a 
point  D,  so  that  AD»=CDXDB. 

Case  1 .    When  D  lies  between  the  points  A  and  B. 

ANALYSIS. 

On  BC  describe  a  circle,  to  which  apply  the  tangent 
DE.     Because  the  square  of  DE  is  equal  to  the  rect- 


angle under  CD  and  DB,  it  is  equal  to  the  square  of 
AD,  and  consequently  AD=DE.  Produce  ED  to  meet 
R  perpendicular  in  F,  and  draw  the  radius  EO.  The 
triangles  DP  A  and  DOE  having  the  side  AD  equal  to 
DE,  the  angles  at  D  vertical,  and  those  at  A  and  E 
right  angles,  are  equal,  and  thence  AF=OE  or  DB. 
Wherefore  the  perpendicular  AF,  which  is  given  in 
position,  is  likewise  given  in  magnitude;  and  conse- 
quently the  point  P,  the  tangent  FE,  and  its  intersection 
D  with  AC,  are  all  given. 

COMPOSITION. 

Draw  the  perpendicular  AF=OB,  and  from  F  apply 
the  tangent  FE,  cutting  AB  in  the  point  D  ;  then  AD» 
aaCD  XDB.  For  the  triangles  DF  A  and  DOE,  having 
thus  the  side  AF  equal  to  OB,  the  angles  at  D  verti- 
cal, and  those  at  A  and  E  right  angles,  are  equal,  and 
consequently  AD=DE.    Whence  AD»=DE»=CD  X 

DB. 

The  tangent  FE,  and  therefore  its  intersection  D,  are 
ascertained  by  the  semicircle  F  AEO.  But  the  point  D 
might  be  determined  somewhat  dilTerently :  For  the 
triangle  ADF  being  shown  by  the  analysis  to  be  equal 
to  DEO,  the  side  DF  is  equal  to  DO,  and  con»eqnently 
FO  being  joined,  the  angle  OFD  is  equal  to  FOD. 
Whence  if  FD  be  drawn  making  the  angle  OFD  equal 
to  FOD,  it  will  cut  AC  in  the  point  D. 

Case  2.  When  the  section  required  lies  between  B 
andC. 


ANALYSIS. 

On  BC  describe  a  cir- 
cle, draw  the  perpendi- 
cular DE  to  the  circum- 
ference, join  AE,  aud 
produce  it  to  meet  ano- 
ther perpendicular  OF 
from  the  centre. 

Because  the  square  of 
DE  is  equal  to  the  rectan- 
gle under  CD  and  DB,  it 
is  equal  to  the  square  of 
AD,andthusAD=DE. 
Wherefore  the  right  angled  triangle  ADE  is  also  isos- 
celes, and  thence  the  angle  at  A  is  half  a  right  angle ; 
consequently,  the  remaining  angle  at  F,  in  the  right 
angled  triangle  AOF,  is  likewise  half  a  right  angle,  and 
therefore  the  side  OF  is  equal  to  OA,  whence  OF  is 
given  both  in  position  and  magnitude  ;  and  thence  AF, 
its  intersection  E  or  E',  the  perpendicular  ED  or  E'D', 
and  the  points  D  or  D',  are  all  given. 

COMPOSITION. 

On  BC  describe  a  circle,  draw  OF  at  right  angles  to 
AC,  and  equal  to  OA,  join  A  and  L  from  its  intersec- 
tion E  or  E',  let  fall  the  perpendicular  ED  or  E'D'; 
then  AD»=CDXDB,  or  AD'>==CD'XD'B. 

For  the  triangle  AOF  being  right  angled  and  isos- 
celes, the  angle  at  A  is  half  a  right  angle,  an*!  conse- 
quently the  right  angled  triangle  ADE,  or  AD'F/  is 
likewise  isosceles,  and  AD=DE,  or  AD'^D'E'; 
whence  AD»=DE==CD  X  DB,  or  AD"'=D'E'='=CD' 
XD'B. 

If  AF  only  touch  the  circle,  the  points  D  and  D'  will 
evidently  coalesce.  In 
thi6ca:^e,0E=EA=EP, 
and  consequently  0A'= 
20E^  and  AD=DO. 
Wherefore,  OA=CG, 
and  AD=iCG.  If  the 
distance  of  the  point  A 
from  the  centre  O  should 
exceed  CG,  the  straight 
line  AF  must  lie  wholly 
without  the  circle,  and 
the  problem  will  then 
become  incapable  of  so- 
lution. 

PROPOSITION  IV.    THEOREM. 

A  straight  line  drawn  from  the  vertex  of  an  equilate- 
ral triangle  inscril)ed  in  a  circle  to  any  point  in  the  op- 
posite circumference,  is  equal  to  the  Iavo  chords  in- 
flected from  the  same  point  to  the  extremities  of  the 
base. 

Let  ABC  be  an  equilateral  triangle  inscribed  in  a  cir- 
cle, and  BD,  AD,  and  CD,  chords  drawn  from  it  to  a 
point  D  in  the  circumference ;  then  BD=AD-f  CD. 

ANALYSIS. 
For  make  BE=CD,  and  join  AE.     The  sides  AB 
and  Bfi  are  thus  equal  to  AC  and  CD,  and  the  conUin- 


AB 


ANALYSIS. 


7W 


ed  angle   ABE  is   equal  (o   ACD,  since  they  stand 
on   the  same   segment   AD ;  wherelbre  the  triangles 
BAE  and  ACD  are  equal,  and 
thence  the  side  AE  is  etiual  to 
AD.     But  BD  being  equal,  by 
hypothesis,  to  AD  and  CD,  and 
BE  having  been  made  equal  to 
CD — there  remains  ED  equal 
to    AU.       Hence    the    triangle 
AED  is  equilateral,  and  there- 
lore  equiangular ;  consequently,  ^ 
the  angle  ADB  is  equal  to  the 
angle  ACB  of  the  original  tri- 
angle, and   these  angles   stand 
on    the     same    segment    AB. 
Wherefore  the  investigation  has  thus  terminated  in  a 
known  property. 

SYNTHESIS. 

Make  BE=CD,  and  join  AE.  The  triangle  ABE  is 
proved  equal  to  ACD,  and  consequently  the  angle  BAE 
is  equal  to  CAD  ;  add  to  each  the  angle  EAC,  and  the 
whole  angle  BAC  is  equal  to  EAD.  But  the  triangle 
ABC  being  equilateral,  the  angle  BAC  is  equal  toBC  A, 
which  stands  on  the  same  segment  with  ADE ;  where- 
fore, the  angle  EAD  is  equal  to  ADE,  and  consequently 
the  side  EO  is  equal  to  AD;  to  these  add  the  equal 
parts  BE  and  CD,  and  the  whole  chord  BD  is  equal  to 
the  two  chords  AD  and  CD. 

PROPOSITION  V.     PROBLEM. 

To  investigate  the  construction  of  a  regular  pentagou 
or  decagon. 

1 .  Every  regular  polygon  is  capable  of  being  inscribed 
in  a  circle ;  and,  therefore,  the  angles,  formed  at  the 
centre  by  drawing  radii  to  the  several  corners  of  the 
figure,  are  each  of  them  equal  to  that  part  of  four  right 
angles  corresponding  to  the  number  of  sides.  Conse- 
quently the  central  angles 
of  a  pentagon  are  each  equal 
to  the  filth,  and  those  of  a 
decagon  are  each  equal  to 
the  tenth  part  of  four  right 
angles;  but  an  angle  at  the 
circumference  being  half  of 
that  at  the  centre,  the  verti- 
cal angle  of  the  isosceles 
triangle,  formed  in  the  pen- 
tagon by  drawing  straight 
lines  from  any  corner  to  the 
extremities  of  the  opposite 
side,  must  also  be  the  tenth 
part  of  four  right  angles. 
Whence  the  construction  of 
a  regular  pentagon  or  deca- 
gon involves  in  it  the  de- 
scription of  an  isosceles  tri- 
angle, whose  vertical  angle 
is  equal  to  the  tenth  part  of 
four  right  angles,  or  the 
fifth  part  of  two  right  an- 
gles. 

2.  Since  the  vertical  angle  of  that  isosceles  triangle 
is  the  fifth  part  of  two  right  angles,  the  angles  at  its 
base  must  be  together  equal  to  the  remaining  four-filths, 
and  each  of  them  is  consequently  two-fifths  of  two  right 


angles;  wherefore  each  of  the  angles  at  the  base  of 
that  component  triangle,  is  double  of  its  vertical  angle. 

3.  Let  ABC  be  such  an  isosceles  triangle,  having  each 
of  the  angles  at  A  and  C  double  of  the  angle  at  B.  Draw 
CD  bisecling  the  angle  ACB.  The  angle 

BCD  mubt  then  be  equal  to  (^BD,  and  2J 

consequently  the  side  CD  is  equal  to  BD. 
But  in  Hie  triangles  BAC  and  CAD,  the 
angle  ABC  is  equal  to  ACD,  the  angle 
CAB  common  to  both,  and  consequently  Di 
the  remaining  angle  BCA  is  equal  to 
CDA;  whence  CD  A  is  equal  to  CAD, 
and  therefore  the  side  AC  is  equal  to  CD.     ^  C 

Thus  the  three  straight  lines  AC,  CD, 
and  BD,  are  all  equal.  Again,  because  CD  bisects  the 
angle  ACB,  BC  :  AC  ::  AC,  AD,  that  is,  AB  :  BD  ::  B 
D  :  AD.  Hence  AB  is  divided  in  extreme  and  mean 
ratio  at  the  point  D,  or  the  square  of  BD,  or  of  AC,  the 
base  of  the  isosceles  triangle,  is  equal  to  the  rectangle 
under  the  side  AB  and  the  remaining  segment  AD. 
■W^hence  the  construction  of  a  regular  pentagon  or  de- 
cagon, depends  on  the  section  of  a  straight  line  in  ex- 
treme and  mean  ratio. 

4.  Now  let  the  straight  line  AB  be  divided  in  estremn 
and  mean  ratio,  or  BC2=BAX  AC.     Add 


A      C 


to  each  the  rectangle  BA,  BC,  and  BC  =  +BAXBC== 
BAXAC-{-BAXBC,orBC(BA4-BC)=BA='.  To  AB 
annex  BD  equal  to  it,  and  CD  XCB=BD=.  Bisect  BD 
in  E,  and  the  straight  lines  CD  and  CB  are  the  sum  and 
difference  of  CE  and  BE;  whence  the  rectangle  under 
CD  and  CB,  or  the  square  ofBA,  is  equal  to  the  excess 
of  the  square  of  CE  above  the  square  of  BE,  and  there- 
fore CE^^rrBA^+BE^  Erect  the  perpendicular  BF=: 
B  A,  and  join  EP.  It  is  evident  that  EF»=BA»  -|-BE», 
and  consequently  EP'^CE',  and  EF=CE;  but  EP 
being  given,  CE  and  BC,  are,  therefore,  given. 

The  composition  of  this  problem  forms  a  series  of  the 
most  beautiful  propositions  which  occur  in  the  Elements 
of  Geometry.  Article  4  corresponds  to  prop.  11.  Book 
ii.  of  Euclid  ;  article  3  to  prop.  10.  Book  iv. ;  and  the 
first  and  second  articles  are  the  foundations  of  the  1 1  th 
and  12th  propositions  of  the  same  Book. 

Pappus  of  Alexandria,  in  the  preface  to  the  seventh 
book  of  his  valuable  Mathematical  Collections,  has  enu- 
merated those  works  which  treated  of  Analysis,  and 
which  were  usually  studied  after  the  Elements.  They 
consisted  of  the  Data  and  Porisms  of  Euclid  ;  of  the 
Section  of  Ratio  and  of  Space,  of  Determinate  Section,  of 
Tangencies,  of  Inclinations,  of  Plane  Loci,  and  of  the 
Conic  Sections. — All  productions  of  the  elegant  and  pro- 
lific genius  of  Apollonius. 

Euclid's  treatise  Ttf;  t»v  hiti/,iiui,  or  of  the  Data, 
forms  only  one  book,  extended  indeed  to  some  length. 
Though  it  contains  few  propositions  but  of  the  simplest 
kind,  it  was  esteemed  by  the  ancients  as  a  proper  in- 
troduction to  the  method  of  analysis.  It  has  been  pre- 
seryed  tolerably  entire,  and  the  celebrated  Dr.  Simson 


710 


ANALYSIS. 


of  Glasgow  has  favoured  the  worW  with  a  correct  edi- 
tion of  it. 

Apollonius  wrote  two  books  jri^i  Aoytr  azeltfcta,  or 
on  (he  Section  of  Balio  ;  other  two  books,  xffi  x^e'") 
airoltiini,  or  oil  the  Section  of  Space  ;  and  two  books  be- 
sides, ?r£f(  hu^irft-etttt  r^tn,  or  (m  Dtcrminale  Section. 
All  tliese  have  periuhed ;  but  Willehrordus  Snellius, 
son  of  a  professor  of  Mathematics  at  Leydeo,  attempted 
in  1607,  at  the  early  age  of  sevenieen,  to  restore  them. 
This  small  work  reflects  on  its  juvenile  author  (he  high- 
est credit,  though  it  wants  that  purity,  fulness,  and  ele- 
gance which  distinguish  the  geometrical  compositions  of 
the  ancients. 

About  a  century  afterwards,  the  famous  Dr.  Halley, 
vith  much  sagacity  and  incredible  labour,  recovered  the 
books  on  the  Section  of  Ratio,  from  an  Ai-abic  manu- 
script in  the  Bodleian  Library.  The  object  of  that  tract 
Avas  the  solution  of  a  single  problem,  subdivided  into  a 
miiUitude  of  cases,  and  marked  with  various  limita- 
tions : — "  Through  a  given  point,  to  draw  a  straight  line 
intercepting  segments  on  two  straight  lines  which  aro 
givenin  position,  from  given  points  and  in  a  given  ratio." 
■  Of  the  books  on  the  Section  of  Space  no  vestige  remain- 
cil ;  but  the  same  able  geometer,  guided  by  the  feir 
liinls  furnished  by  Pappus,  very  successfully  exerted  his 
ingenuity  in  divining  the  original  structure.  It  was  pro- 
posed (o  solve  this  problem  : — "  Through  a  given  point, 
to  draw  a  straight  line  cutting  off  segments  from  given 
points  on  two  straight  lines  given  in  position,  and  which 
shall  contain  a  rccfangle  equal  to  a  given  space." 

The  two  books  on  Dettrminate  Section  have  been  re- 
stored by  Dr.  Simson — who  passionately  admired  and  so 
thoroughly  understood  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  geome- 
tiy — in  a  style  the  most  luminous  and  complete.  The 
professor  has  even  gone  further,  and  has  added  a  third 
and  fourth  book  entirely  new. 

The  treatise  of  Apollonius,  vt^'i  txx^Sr,  or  on  Tan- 
qeiicies,  likewise  in  two  books,  but  of  ^vhich  only  some  of 
the  lemmas  are  preserved,  was,  near  the  close  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  restored,  under  the  iii\e  o(  Apollonius 
Gallus,  with  great  neatness  and  simplicity,  though  not 
precisely  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients — by  the  famous 
A'ieta,  Master  of  Requests  at  Paris,  the  most  learned 
and  inventive  mathematician  of  the  age  in  which  he  liv- 
ed. It  embraced  a  very  general  problem,  branched  out 
into  a  variety  of  cases  :— "  Points,  straight  lines,  or  cir- 
cles, together  amounting  to  three,  being  given,  to  de- 
scribe a  circle  that  shall  pass  through  the  points,  and 
touch  the  straight  lines  or  circles."  Nearly  at  the  same 
period,  Marinus  Ghetaldus,  a  patrician  of  Kagusa,  who 
died  on  his  embassy  from  that  small  republic  to  Constan- 
tinople, solved  some  of  the  problems  which  had  escaped 
Vieta,  and  left  a  work  of  considerable  merit  on  Oeome- 
Irical  Analysis.  Alexander  Anderson  of  Aberdeen,  an 
ancestor  of  the  distinguished  family  of  the  Gregory's, 
published  at  Paris,  in  1612,  a  supplement  to  these 
works,  containing  some  ingenious  improvements.  The 
various  tracts  relating  to  the  problem  of  Tangencics, 
were,  about  forty  years  since,  collected,  condensed,  and 
translated  into  English  by  John  Lawson,  B.  D.  Rector 
of  Swanscombe,  in  Kent.  The  same  author  has  also 
republished  the  two  books  on  Determinate  Section,  as 
restored  by  Snellius;  to  which  is  subjoined  a  similar  at- 
tempt by  Mr.  William  Wales,  afterwards  mathematical 
master  of  Christ  Church  Hospital.  In  the  year  1795, 
the  lemmas  used  by  Apollonius  in  bis  books  on  Tangcn- 
tks  were  printed  at  Gotba  in  the  original  Greek  from 


Pappus,  with  the  restoration  by  Vieta,  the  history  of 
the  problem,  and  algebraical  calcuiaiions  di  rived  from 
the  theory  of  angles,  by  J.  W.  Camerer. 

The  work  of  Apollonius  Tt^i  ttue-im,  or  on  Inclina- 
tions, consisted  likewise  of  two  iiooks.  It  had  for  its 
object  to  solve  this  problem  : — "  To  insert  a  straight 
line,  of  a  given  niagnitude,  and  tending  to  a  given  point, 
between  two  lines  which  are  given  in  position."  Tuis 
general  problem  belongs  to  the  higher  geometry ;  -ut 
certain  cases  of  it  admit  of  elegant  solutions  drawn  fr.  .m 
the  Elements  only.  Thus,  if  a  semicircle  and  a  per- 
pendicular to  its  diameter,  or  two  semicircles  on  the 
same  straight  line,  be  given — a  straight  line  of  a  givea 
magnitude  may  be  inserted,  tending  to  the  extremity  of 
the  diameter;  or  a  straight  line  may  be  placed  at  a  given 
point  in  the  line  bisecting  a  given  angle,  such  that  the 
part  intercepted  by  the  sides,  or  those  prouuced,  shall 
be  equal  to  a  given  straight  line ;  and,  lastly,  a  straight 
line  of  a  given  magnitude,  may  be  drawn  from  the  cor- 
ner of  rhombus,  so  that  the  exterior  |)ortion  of  it,  in- 
tercepted between  the  opposite  side  and  its  adjacent 
side  produced,  shall  be  equal  to  a  given  straight  line. 
The  tract  of  Apollonius  concerning  Inclinettions  was  re- 
stored by  Marinus  Ghetaldus;  other  solutions  were 
given  by  Hugo  de  Omerique,  a  gentleman  of  St.  Lucar, 
who  published,  in  1698,  at  Cadiz,  a  treatise  on  Geome- 
trical analysis,  full  of  simple  and  ingenious  construc- 
tions, but  unfortunately  in  a  very  contracted  form,  and 
obscured  by  an  awkward  sort  of  notation.  Two  solutions 
of  the  problem  of  the  rhombus,  remarkable  for  their 
elegance,  appeared  in  the  posthumous  works  of  Huy- 
gens,  who  was  imbued  with  the  finest  taste  for  the  an- 
cient geometry.  In  the  year  1770,  Dr.  Horsley,  the  late 
bishop  of  Rochester,  printed,  in  Latin,  a  restoration  of 
the  books  on  Inclinations,  with  some  pomp,  at  the  Claren- 
don press,  and  with  much  parade  of  learning,  but  with  a 
small  sprinkling  of  novelty,  and,  after  a  clumsy  taseless 
manner,  yet  in  a  tone  of  arrogance  the  most  congenial 
to  that  intolerant  churchman.  Nine  years  afterwards, 
the  same  task  was  performed  with  greater  ability,  and 
with  far  more  simplicity  and  conciseness,  by  Mr.  Reuben 
Burrow,  one  of  those  untamed  mathematicians,  whtt 
are  frequently  met  with  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
island. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  all  the  works  of  Apol- 
lonius was  that,  rtgi  7<i)r*»  iiriwi^at,  or  on  Plane  Loci, 
comprised  in  two  books.  It  investigated  the  conditions 
under  which  a  point,  varying  in  its  position,  is  yet  con- 
fined to  the  trace  of  a  straight  line,  or  a  circle  given  iu 
position.  Those  books  were  in  1650  restored,  after  a 
sort  of  algebraical  form,  by  Francis  Schoolten,  professor 
of  mathematics  at  Leyden;  and  more  elegantly,  though 
only  partially  reviewed,  by  the  ingenious  Fermat,  couo- 
ecllor  of  the  parliament  of  Toulouse.  But  all  these  at- 
tempts, however  skilful,  are  entirely  eclipsed  by  the 
finished  production,  Dc  Locis  Plants,  which  Dr.  Simson, 
the  great  restorer  of  the  ancient  geometry,  published  at 
Glasgow,  in  the  year  1749. 

The  three  books  that  Euclid  wrote,  «ff)  rSy  jroftr/utlai, 
or  on  Ports7ns,  had  long  proved  an  enigma  which  iiaiiled 
the  utmost  efforts  of  the  ablest  and  most  learned  maihe- 
maticians  to  unravel.  The  few  h'mU  given  concerning 
Porisms  by  Papfius,  are  indeed  wonderfully  obscure, 
and  are  further  perplexed  by  (he  corrupt  and  mutilated 
state  of  that  author's  text.  Albert  Girard,  a  Flemiug, 
who  flourished  about  the  year  1030,  mentions  in  a  note 
to  his  edition  of  the  Statics  of  Stevinus,  that  he  had  re- 


ANA 


ANA 


71} 


stored  all  the  llirce  books  of  Porisms.  This  assertion, 
however,  seems  rather  questionable,  and  the  manuscript 
of  Girard  at  least  has  never  been  found.  Fermat  ad- 
vanced some  steps  in  the  research  ;  but  the  honour  of 
completing  the  discovery  was  reserved  for  the  ingenuity 
of  our  countryman.  Dr.  Simson,  whose  restoration  of  the 
Porisms  appears  in  the  collection  of  his  posthumous 
works,  printed,  in  1770,  at  the  expense  of  the  earl  of 
Stanhope.  Another  eminent  Scotch  professor,  Mr  Play- 
fair,  whose  learning  embraces  a  wider  range,  and  whose 
accuracy  of  judgment  is  equalled  only  by  his  skill  in 
composition,  has,  in  the  third  volume  of  the  Transac- 
tions of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh,  given  a  com- 
prehensive and  luminous  view  of  that  difficult  subject, 
as  connected  with  the  history  of  scientific  discovery. 
See  Geometrical  Analysis,  Inclinations,  Porism, 
Ta.vgescy,  and  Section,     (x) 

ANALYSIS.     See  CHEMiarkY  and  Logic. 

ANAMABOA,  or  Jamisia,  a  town  in  the  kingdom 
of  Fantin,  on  what  is  called  the  Gold  Coast  of  Africa. 
The  contiguous  regions  abound  in  timber,  and  are  fer- 
tile in  corn  and  all  the  necessaries  of  life.  The  Gsheries 
on  the  coast  are  excellent.  The  soil  in  the  neighbour- 
hood is  well  adapted  for  making  bricks,  and  the  shells 
on  the  beach  furnish  an  abundant  supply  of  lime.  Pkiced 
in  such  favourable  circumstances,  Anamaboa  is  the  most 
opulent,  populous,  and  powerful  town  on  the  whole  Gold 
Coast.  Its  inhabitants,  inflated  by  this  comp.Trative  su- 
periorif3',  are  peculiarly  arrogant.  Formerly  they  were 
extremely  insolent  towards  the  British,  who  have  a  fort 
in  this  place;  insomuch,  thatif  they  disliked  the  govern- 
or, they  frequently  sent  him  in  a  canoe  to  Cape  Coast 
with  many  marks  of  contempt.  In  1701  the  negroes  of 
Fantin  declared  war  against  the  British  trader?,  as- 
sembling in  a  disorderly  manner,  and  setting  fire  to  the 
exterior  [larts  of  the  foitiCcation  ;  but  the  governor,  pro- 
voked by  their  outrages,  opened  ujton  them  the  artil- 
lery of  the  place,  and  dispersed  them  without  difficulty. 
The  English,  in  revenge,  laid  Anamaboa  in  ashes,  and 
the  natives  at  last,  sensible  of  their  own  inferioritj',  were 
glad  to  sue  for  peace.  The  English  fort  is  a  large  edi- 
fice, mounting  twelve  pieces  of  cannon,  besides  an  equal 
number  of  patereroes.  It  is  flanked  towards  the  Lind 
by  towers,  and  towards  the  sea  by  two  bastions.  It 
stands  upon  a  rock  onlj'  thirty  paces  from  the  sea  ;  but 
the  shore  is  so  inaccessible,  that  the  traders  are  landed 
at  some  distance.  The  garrison  usually  consists  of 
twelve  whites  and  eighteen  blacks,  under  the  command 
of  the  principal  factor,    (h) 

ANAMOOKA,  or  Rotterdam  Island,  one  of  the 
Friendly  Islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean,  or  Great  South 
Sea.  It  was  dicovered  by  Tasman,  A.  1).  10J3,  and  is 
situated  inLat.  20O1O'  South,  and  Long.  175"  31'  West. 
Anamooka  is  18  leagues  distant  from  Tongataboo,  or 
Amsterdam,  and  it  resembles  the  latter  island  in  its  ap- 
pearance, as  well  as  in  the  qualities  of  its  soil  and  pio- 
ductious.  Its  shape  is  triangular,  none  of  its  sides  be- 
ing more  than  five  miles  in  length  ;  and  the  coast  rises 
abruptly  from  the  sea  to  the  elevation  of  fifteen  or 
tweniy  feet.  The  interior  part  of  the  island,  however, 
is  level,  excepting  a  few  small  hillocks,  and  a  more 
considerable  one  towards  the  centre.  The  principal 
harbour  is  on  the  south  west  side,  and  here  the  an- 
chorage is  good,  the  depth  of  water  being  fiom  ten  to 
twelve  fathoms  ;  hut  it  is  dangerous  to  sail  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  this  island,  for  it  is  almost  surrounded  with 
leefs  and  sand  banks,  aud  smaller  islands,  many  of  which 


are  nearly  hidden  by  the  ocean.  Anani06k.i  has  often 
been  visited  by  the  European  navigators  ;  by  Tasman, 
who  discovered  it  A.  D.  1643;  by  captain  Cooke  in 
1774,  and  again  in  1777;  by  lieutenant  Bligli  in  the 
Bounty,  A.  D.  1789;  and  by  captain  Edwards  twice  in 
1791.  The  ships  in  general  touch  at  this  island  in  or- 
der to  be  supplied  with  woo<l.  The  manners  of  the  na- 
tives do  not  ditferin  any  great  degree  from  those  of  the 
inhabitants  in  the  adjacent  islands.  Their  ideas  of  pro- 
perty seem  to  be  lessexact,and  thefts  are  more  common; 
the  character  of  their  women  also  is  more  licentious, 
and  that  of  the  men  more  daring  and  warlike.  A  dis- 
ease resembling  lepra,  and  which  is  said  to  infest  all 
the  islands  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  prevails  more  at  Ana- 
mooka than  in  any  other  part  of  tliis  group.  Syphilis 
too,  introduced  by  the  English,  has  made  an  alarming 
progress  among  the  inhabitants ;  a  progress  resembling 
that  which  the  same  awful  disease  made  among  the  na- 
tives of  Europe  when  it  first  appeared  in  the  eastern 
hemisphere.  It  may  be  useful  likewise  to  add,  that  as 
wood  is  procured  here  by  all  the  ships  which  pass 
through  the  Southern  Ocean,  the  juice  of  a  tree  called 
by  the  natives  faitanoo  (a  species  of  (lepper)  produces 
violent  inflammation  when  applied  to  the  eyes  and  the 
surface  of  the  bwly :  an  accident  which  frequently  hap- 
pens to  the  workmen  employed  in  cutting  it.  Cooke's 
Voijages.  Missionary  Voyage  ;  Preliminaiy  Discourse, 
p.  56,  ct  esq.     (h) 

ANAMORPHOSIS,  a  monstrous  projection,  or  dis- 
torted representation  of  some  object,  made  either  on  a 
plane  or  curved  surface,  but  which,  viewed  from'a  cer- 
tain point,  or  after  reflection  from  a  polished  surface, 
will  appear  in  just  proportions. 

To  construct  upon  a  given  plane  an  anamorphosis, 
which,  viewed  from  a  given  point  above  the  plane,  shall 
appear  similar  to  the  original  drawing.  Around  the 
picture  to  be  distorted  describe  a  square  a  g  p  i,  (see 
Plate  XXVI.  Fig.  1.)  which  subdivide  into  a  numberof 
areola;  or  smaller  squares  ;  this  reticulated  figure  is 
called  the  craticular  prototype.  Let  i  p  It  (Fig.  2.)  be 
the  plane  on  which  the  anamorphosis  is  to  be  construct- 
ed, R  the  [joint  which  lies  directly  under  the  eye,  and  a 
g  a  straight  line  in  that  plane,  equal  to  the  base  of  the 
craticular  prototype,  and  divided  into  the  same  number 
of  equal  parts.  From  the  ])oint  R  through  the  points  a, 
h,  c,  d,  e,f,  g,  draw  the  diverging  straight  lines  R  ?',  R  k, 
R  I,  &c. ;  and  through  R  draw  R  O  parallel  to  a  g,  and 
equal  to  the  height  of  the  eye  above  the  plane.  Then 
through  the  points  O,  a,  draw  straight  line  O  a  p,  cut- 
ting the  diverging  lines  in  the  points  a,  q,  r,  s,  t,  u,  p. 
Through  these  points  of  intersection  draw  straight  lines 
parallel  ioag,  and  terminated  both  ways  by  the  lines  a  i 
and  ^  p,  the  trapezium  ag  p  i,  and  the  several  lesser  tra- 
peziums into  which  it  is  thus  subdivided,  represent  the 
craticular  profotype  and  its  several  areola".  This  tra- 
pezium is  called  the  craticular  ectype.  In  each  areola 
of  the  craticular  ectype  draw  those  parts  of  the  original 
picture  which  are  contained  in  the  corres|)onding  square 
of  the  prototype,  and  thus  an  anamorphosis  shall  be  form- 
ed, which  to  an  eye  situated  immediately  above  the 
point  R  at  the  height  O  R  will  appear  in  exactly  the 
same  proportions,  and  of  the  same  magnitude  with  the 
original  picture.  As  we  increase  the  distance  of  R 
from  ag,  and  diminish  O  R  the  height  of  the  eye  above 
the  plane,  the  anamorphosis  produced  will  be  more  com- 
pletely defoi-med  ;  so  that  when  O  R  is  exceedingly 
small,  an  eye  looking  direct  at  the  anamorphosis  will 


712 


ANA 


ANA 


not  perceive  in  it  any  resemblance  to  the  original  pic- 
ture. 

To  draw  an  anamorphosis  which  will  be  rcBtored  to 
its  proper  form  by  reflection  from  the  surface  of  a  cylin- 
der. Let  H  be  the  point  situated  immediately  under 
the  eye.  O  R  the  height  of  the  eye,  «  tf  A  f  the  base  of 
the  cylinder.  Describe  a  reticular  squnre  round  Ihe 
picture  to  be  distorted,  and  form  a  craticular  ectype  a 
gp  i,  as  in  llic  former  case  ;  then  (he  diverging  lines 
R  i,  R  A:,  R  /,  <fcc.  will  each  cut  the  circle  in  two  points. 
From  the  point »  in  vvhicn  R  i  cuts  the  circle,  draw  the 
straight  line  «  k  equal  to  »(,  and  produce  it  to  I,  making 
«  I  equal  to  »  i,  and  from  the  point  C  in  which  R  k  cuts 
the  circle,  set  off  b  a  equal  to  f  o-,  s.:\A  produce  it  to  K, 
making;  f  K  equal  to  C  *■.  In  a  similar  manner  draw  the 
several  lines  y  L,  J  M,  &c.  diverging  from  the  cylinder, 
and  to  these  lines  transfer  the  points  oi  division  on  the 
respective  lines  a  i.  C  k,  <tc.  I'raw  regular  curves  by 
estimation  through  tlie  ptr'nts  1,  K,  L,  M,  N,  O,  P,  and 
through  A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F,  G,  and  tiirouch  each  inter- 
mediate order  of  points;  (he  figure  ADGPAil  thus  di- 
vided will  he  a  deformei.  copy  of  the  reticulated  square, 
ilescrihed  round  the  original  picture,  the  base  of  the 
jirotofvpe  being  represented  by  the  curved  line  ABODE 
V(i.  ' 

By  transferring  into  each  areola  of  the  curved  ectype 
■vvlmlever  is  contained  in  the  corresi)ondent  areola  of  the 
prototype,  an  anamorphosis  will  be  formed,  which  shall 
be  reduced  to  its  just  proportions,  by  reflection  from  the 
cylinder  a  6  X. 

To  draw  an  anamorphosis  upon  the  convex  surface 
of  a  given  cone,  and  which  shall  appear  in  just  propor- 
tion to  an  eye,  elevated  at  a  given  height  above  the  ver- 
tex of  the  cone.  Let  ACBD,  (Fig.  3.)  the  base  of  the 
cone,  be  divided  by  radii  into  any  number  of  equal  parts; 
then  let  one  of  the  radii  be  also  divided  into  several 
equal  parts,  and  through  the  points  of  division  describe 
roncentric  circles,  so  shall  the  craticular  prototype  be 
formed. 

With  EP  (Fig.  AA  the  side  of  the  cone  as  radius,  de- 
scribe the  circle  KFL,  and  from  it  cut  ofT  a  sector 
EFP,  such  as  that  the  arch  EF  shall  be  the  same  part 
of  the  whole  circumference,  vthich  AB  is  of  twice  EP; 
this  sector  being  plied  round  the  cone,  will  cover  its 
surface. 

Divide  the  arc  EF  into  the  same  number  of  equal 
parts,  which  the  craticular  jirototype  is  divided  into,  and 
draw  radii  to  all  the  points  of  division.  Then  in  the 
circle  EFL,  i)Iace  the  straight  line  FL  equal  to  AB  the 
diameter  of  the  prototype,  bisect  it  in  K,  aud  from  K  to 
P  draw  the  straight  line  K  P,  and  produce  it  to  Q,  so 
that  PQ  may  be  equal  to  the  height  at  which  the  eye  is 
to  be  elevated  above  (he  vertex  of  the  cone,  join  LP  and 
divide  LK  into  the  same  number  of  equal  parts  with  the 
radius  of  the  prototype,  and  from  P  (o  the  points  of  divi- 
sion draw  lines  cutting  PL  in  the  points  o,  ti,  m.  Lastly, 
from  P  as  centre  with  the  radii  P  o,  P  n,  P  m,  &c.  de- 
scribe concentric  arcs  r.v,  lu,  tw,  thus  shall  the  craticu- 
lar ectype  be  formed.  What  is  delineated  in  the  seve- 
ral areolse  of  the  prototype,  being  now  transferred  to  the 
corresponding  areola;  of  the  ectype ;  an  anainorpliosis 
■will  be  formed,  which  when  wrapped  round  the  surface 
of  the  given  cone,  will  seem  reduced  to  its  just  propor- 
tions, when  viewed  from  a  point  elevated  above  the  ver- 
tex of  the  cone  at  a  height  equal  toEP. 

The  various  kinds  of  anamorphosis  may  be  formed 
mechanically  in  the  following  manner.     Perforate  with 


a  fine  needle  tlie  principal  points  of  the  picture  which 
is  to  be  distorted,  and  place  it  before  a  candle,  and  then 
mark  on  what  points  of  the  surface  which  is  to  contain 
the  anamorphosis,  the  rays  passing  through  the  small 
holes  fall.  These  will  be  the  correspondent  points  in  the 
distorted  painting.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention, 
that  when  it  is  intended  by  this  method  to  draw  an  ana- 
morphosis, which  shall  be  reformed  by  reflection,  we 
must  place  the  perforated  picture  between  the  candle 
and  the  reflecting  surface.  "^ 

These  pictures  are  sometimes  contrived  so  ingenious- 
ly, as  when  viewed  directly  to  appear  like  some  regu- 
lar drawing,  such  as  an  encampment, &c.  but  when  view- 
ed obru|uely,  like  some  ditferent  object.  See  Niceron'g 
Thauniaturgus  Optica's.  Lutman  Mem.  Imper.  Acad. 
Peter,  vol.  iv.  M'olOi  Elementa  Mathescos,  vo).  iii.  c.  5. 
p.  90.  Priestley's  Hist,  of  Vision,  p.  93—96.  Schottus's 
Magia,  vol.  i.  p.  1 02.  .Smith's  Optics,  vol.  i.  b.  2d.  p. 
248 — 251.     Hutton's  Dictionary,  art.  Anamorphosis. 

(+) 

ANARCHIEDS,  in  Zoology,  a  genus  of  fishes 
belonging  to  the  order  Apodes.     See  Ichthyology. 

(/) 

ANAS,  in  Zoology,  a  genus  of  water  birds  belonging 
to  the  order  Amcsis.     See  Ornithology.     (_/") 

ANASPIS,  in  Zoology,  a  genus  of  coleopterous  in- 
sects formed  by  GeofTroy,  remarkable  for  having  that 
part  of  the  body  called  the  scatellum,  or  escutcheon,  so 
small  as  scarcely  to  be  visible,  whence  the  name,  from 
a  privative  aud  uc-xn,  a  shield.     (/) 

ANASTASIUS  I.  surnamed  Dicorus,  Emperor  of 
Constantinople,  succeeded  Zeno  I.  in  491.  Zeno  had  left 
no  issue ;  and  the  principal  personages  of  his  court  con- 
tended about  the  succession.  Anaslasius,  though  at 
that  lime  high  in  ofiice,  was  of  low  extraction;  but  by 
the  influence  of  Ariadne,  Zeno's  widow,  (whose  favour- 
ite he  had  been  during  the  life  even  of  the  late  emperor, 
and  whose  husband  he  became  a  few  days  after  his  death,) 
lie  was  the  successful  competitor.  He  tbund  the  em- 
pire in  a  state  of  peace,  and  seemed  desirous  to  pre» 
serve  it  from  the  evils  of  war.  He  began  his  reign  very 
auspiciously,  and  adopted  many  beneficial  measures. 
He  relieved  his  subjects  from  some  heavy  public  burdens; 
prohibited  several  barbarous  amusements  ;  abolished  the 
practice  of  selling  public  offices ;  and  filled  them  with 
l)ersons  of  worth  and  talents.  He  was  soon  involved, 
however,  in  various  troubles,  excited  partly  by  Lon- 
ginus,  the  late  emiteror's  brother,  and  partly  by  the  vio- 
lence of  theological  disputes.  In  ortler  to  preserve 
peace,  he  prohibited  the  keen  agitation  of  these  sub- 
jects, especially  of  the  Eutychian  heresy,  to  which  he 
himself  was  supposed  to  be  inclined.  He  deposed 
Euphemius,  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  who  had  die- 
regarded  this  prohibition,  and  appointed  Macedonius  in 
his  place.  He  soon  began,  however,  to  take  a  principal 
share  in  these  disputes  himself,  and  openly  favoured 
heretical  sentiments.  He  seemed  to  have  completely 
changed  bis  nature;  and  became  both  a  tyrannical  and 
persecuting  prince.  He  was  excommunicated  hy  Pope 
Symmachus  on  these  accounts;  but  this  only  increased 
his  rage  against  the  orthodox  clergy.  He  banished 
Macedonius,  who  had  always  been  a  steady,  but  tem- 
perate opponent  to  his  ecclesiastical  proceedings;  and 
put  to  death  several  iiersons  of  distinction,  who  adhered 
to  the  sentiments  of  that  patriarch.  Pope  Normisda  sent 
legates  to  remonstrate  with  him  on  these  proceedings, 
but  he  treated  them  with  Tery  little  reppccf,  and  re- 


ANA 


ANA 


•13 


turned  to  liis  holiness  the  following  reply,  nos  impcrare 
rolumus,  nobis  inipcrari  tiolumus.  His  dominions  were 
frequently  attacked  Ly  his  enemies,  and  by  his  rebellious 
governors  ;  but  he  always  endeavoured  rather  to  pur- 
chase peace  bj'  money,  than  to  secure  it  by  active 
measures.  He  was  jmrticularly  distressed  by  Vita- 
lianus,  the  Scythian,  who  even  laid  siege  to  Constan- 
tinople ;  but  he  at  length  procured  his  departure  by  a 
sum  of  money.  It  is  said,  tbat  in  this  war  he  was  as- 
sisted in  a  remarkable  manner  by  Proclus,  an  eminent 
mathematician,  to  whom  he  had  shown  great  favour; 
who,  like  another  Archimedes,  destroyed  the  navy  of 
Vitalianus,  by  immense  burning  glasses.  In  the  midst 
of  all  these  external  attacks,  the  city  of  Constantinople 
was  continually  disturbed  by  internal  commotions,  ex- 
cited by  the  contending  theological  parties  ;  and  these 
were  greatly  increased  by  the  interference  of  Anas- 
tasius.  He  insisted  upon  the  addition  of  a  very  ob- 
jectionable clause  to  the  doxology,  which  was  generally 
used  in  divine  service*.  This  was  considered  as  favour- 
ing the  heretical  opinions,  which  then  prevailed  upon 
the  subject  of  the  trinity ;  and  a  keen  resistance  was 
made  to  its  adoption.  The  commotions,  on  this  ac- 
count, rose  to  so  great  a  height,  that  the  emperor  found 
it  necessary  to  repair  to  the  circus  without  his  crown, 
and  in  the  habit  of  a  suppliant,  where  he  succeeded  in 
appeasing  the  multitude  by  his  humble  appearance  and 
conciliating  address.  15ut,  notwithstanding  these  tumults 
in  his  capital,  and  other  calamities  throughout  his  domi* 
nions,  he  is  said  to  have  proceeded  to  still  greater  op- 
pressions. He  discovered,  that  a  conspiracy  had  been 
formed  against  him,  and  put  to  death  several  of  his 
household,  on  suspicion  of  their  having  been  concerned 
in  the  plot.  It  is  related  by  the  Catholic  writers,  that 
he  was  warned  by  a  vision  of  his  wickedness  5  and  that 
various  oracles  predicte<l,  that  he  should  perish  by  fire. 
To  avoid  this  threatened  evil,  he  lived  in  a  round  tower, 
built  entirely  of  stone,  under  the  direction  of  Proclus, 
the  mathematician ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  this  building, 
he  was  struck  with  lightning  during  a  thunderstorm;  and 
thus  died  in  the  88th  year  of  his  age,  alter  a  reign  of  27 
years  and  some  months,  and  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  518. 
Esprinchard.  Hist.  vol.  i.  p.  COO.  Uodeau.  Hist.  Egln.>ic. 
c.  iii.  I.  3.  Tu'sillin.  Epit.  I.  6.  c.  ii.  Baronius.  Jnc.  I7«. 
Hist.  vol.  xvi.  p.  603,  &c.    (g) 

ANASTASIUS  II.  whose  original  name  was  Ar- 
temius,  succeeded  Philippicus  in  the  throne  of  Constan- 
tinople in  713.  He  had  been  chief  secretary  to  the  for- 
mer emperor,  and  was  chosen  as  his  successor  by  the 
voice  of  the  people.  He  was  a  man  of  great  learning, 
and  by  long  exiierience  was  well  calculated  for  the  man- 
agement of  public  affairs.  HewasazealousCatholic;  and, 
without  neglecting  the  business  of  the  state,  he  made  it 
his  great  study  to  heal  the  divisions  in  the  church.  In 
order  to  protect  his  dominions  against  the  Saracens,  he 
sent  a  poweri'ul  army  into  Syria,  under  Leo  the  Isauri- 
can,  an  experienced  commander.  He  also  put  the  city 
of  Constantinople  in  a  proper  state  of  defence,  and  provi- 
ded it  abundantly  with  provisions,  when  it  was  threat- 
ened with  a  siege.  He  fitted  out  a  fleet,  put  on  board 
a  considerable  number  of  troops,  and  sent  them  to  be- 
siege Alexandria,  in  Egypt.     But,  after  causing  a  short 


alarm  (o  the  Inhabitants  of  that  city,  they  returned  oh 
some  trifling  pretence  to  Phoenicia.  The  emperor,  who 
was  highly  displeased  with  their  inactivity,  sent  orders 
to  the  officers  to  resume,  without  delay,  the  object  of 
their  expedition.  But  the  soldiery,  who,  with  the  sub- 
jects of  the  empire  in  general,  had  been  gradually  in- 
creasing, in  a  contempt  of  all  authority,  broke  out  into 
mutiny ;  declared  Athanasius  unworthy  of  the  empire ; 
compelled  Thcodosius,  a  person  of  mean  birth,  to  ac- 
cept the  crown  ;  and  marched  by  land  towards  Constan- 
tinople. Anastasius,  despising  the  inexperienced  cha- 
racter of  his  competitor,  levied  an  army,  met  Thcodosius 
at  Nice,  in  Bythinia,  gave  him  battle,  was  beaten,  taken 
prisoner,  and  deprived  of  his  crown,  after  a  reign  of 
little  more  than  fifteen  months.  His  life  was  spared, 
upon  condition  of  his  renouncing  all  claims  to  the  em- 
pire ;  and  he  was  banished  to  Thessalonica,  where  he 
assumed  the  habit  of  a  monk.  But  weary  of  a  private 
life,  he  collected  an  army  of  Bulgarians,  in  the  reign  of 
Leo,  (who  had  succeeded  Theodosius  under  the  pretence 
of  restoring  Anastasius,)  and  marched  to  Constantinople. 
His  disorderly  troops,  meeting  with  greater  op;)osition 
than  they  had  expected,  delivered  him  Jip  to  the  emj)e- 
ror,  who  put  him  to  death,  with  several  persons  of  dis- 
tinction, who  favoured  his  cause.  See  Jndent  Uii.  Hist* 
vol.  xvii.  p.  37,  40.  Hist.  Aug.  Anastasivs.   (q) 

ANASTALICA,  a  genus   of  plants  of  the  class 
Tetradynamia,  and  order  Siliculosa}.      See  Botant. 

ANATHEMA,  from  «»«.H^«,  an  offering  made  to  a 
god,  and  so  called  because  deposited  in  the  temple', 
where  it  was  either  laid  on  the  floor,  or  hung  up  on  the 
wall,  or  some  conspicuous  place.  These  o.Terings  were 
presented  either  in  acknowledgment  of  the  favour  of 
their  deifies^  or  in  order  to  deprecate  their  vengeance. 
On  these  occasions  they  consisted  generally  of  crowns 
and  garlands,  garments,  or  vessels  of  gold  and  silver.  It 
was  customary, likewise,onrelinquishingany occupation, 
to  dedicate  to  the  particular  deities,  who  were  supposed 
to  preside  over  it,  the  instruments  which,  in  exercising 
it,  were  chiefly  employed.  Thus  shepherds  presented  to 
Feunus  or  Pan,  their  crook  or  their  pipe,  and  poets  hung 
up  their  lyre  to  Apollo. 

A NATHEM  A,  from  <«ii«S(^o«, denotes  an  excommuni- 
cation attended  with  curses,  and  is  of  two  kinds,  judiciary 
and  ahjurafory.  By  the  judiciary  anathema,  the  offender 
is  not  merely  excommunicated,  but  is  totally  separated 
from  all  intercourse  with  the  faithful,  and  is  delivered 
over,  soul  and  body,  to  Satan.  The  abjuratory  anathema 
is  prescribed  to  converts,  who  are  obliged  to  anathema- 
tize their  former  heresy.  In  the  New  Testament,  and 
in  the  censures  of  the  primitive  church,  we  meet  with 
an  extraordinary  form  of  censure,  anathema  maranatha. 
Maranatha  signifies,  "  The  Lord  is  come :"  and  the 
denunciation,  "  Let  him  be  anathema  maranatha,"  may 
be  interpreted,  "  Let  him  be  accursed  at  the  coming  of 
our  Lord."  This  was  the  most  dreadful  imprecation 
among  the  .Tews;  and  has  been  paraphrased  thus,  "  May 
he  be  devoted  to  the  greatest  of  evils,  and  to  the  utmost 
severity  of  the  Divine  judgment ;  may  the  Lord  come 
quickly  to  take  vengeance  upon  him." 

ANATOLIA.     See  Natolia. 


•  This  short  hymn  was  KS  follows :  a}<o{  0  &«t,  jtV"  "'>:■-'?=■".  »'>"5  *9"""<'« ;  "Holy  God,  Holy  the  Powerful,  Holy  the  Immortal."  It 
was  called  tlic  T^i^tya.;  or  "  Tlirlce  Holy  j"  and  the  usual  addition  made  to  it  was  a)i«T|/«c  t'.fiiTOT  »;««,  "  Holy  Trinity,  hare  mercy  on  as." 
tiisleud  of  this,  Anastasius  required  the  follow  iiig  clause  to  be  adopted,  o  r^i/jaSfit  if;  «yM«f,  "  Wlio  wast  crucified  for  U8 ,"  but,  as  this  seeme<l 
*o  express,  that  the  wbo/e  'I'linitj  had  sufiVreJ,  it  ras  opposed  by  the  orthoilox  clergy. 

Vol.  L    Part  II.  4X 


714 


i-ak^-^,^^ 


ANATOMY, 


I.v  lis  primary  acceptation,  signified  merely  tlie  art  of 
dissecting,  and  is  derived  from  the  Greek  word  <»y«T(/«.»«, 
<o  cut  asunder.  It  is  now  used,  however,  in  a  more 
general  and  elnarged  sense,  to  denote  the  science,  whose 
object  is  to  investigate  the  structure  of  organized  bo- 
dies, or  any  kind  of  demonstration,  whether  by  the  knife, 
or  by  any  other  means,  which  that  science  requires. 
Anatomy  has  been  divided  into  three  great  branches, 
Human,  Comparative,  and  Morbid  Anatomy.  The 
first  refers  exclusively  to  the  structure  of  the  human 
body  ;  the  second,  to  the  structure  of  the  lower  animals 
compared  with  that  of  man  ;  the  third,  investigates  the 
causes  and  the  effects  of  disease. 

Those  only  who  have  acquired  some  knowledge  of 
this  science,  can  lully  appreciate  its  value ;  but  of  its 
extensive  and  various  applications,  ther«  are  some  whose 
importance  is  so  obvious  as  to  be  universally  understood. 
To  the  surgeon  and  the  physician  it  is  peculiarly  neces- 
sary; for,  without  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  anatomy, 
how  shall  they  be  enabled  to  repair  the  injuries  to  which 
the  body  is  liable,  to  explain  the  various  symptoms  of 
disease,  or  to  employ  the  proper  means  for  its  removal  ? 
To  the  naturalist  it  affords  essential  aid;  enabling  him 
lo  discern,  in  the  animal  form  and  structure,  many  of 
the  causes  of  the  variety  of  temper,  genius,  propensi- 
ties, and  habits.  The  statuary  and  the  painter,  who  wish 
lo  excel  in  the  representation  of  animated  nature,  must 
devote  to  this  science  a  great  portion  of  their  study. 
Without  the  aid  of  anatomy,  it  is  impossible  either  to 
observe  with  accuracy,  or  to  delineate  justly,  the  minute, 
but  important  varieties  of  feature,  limb,  or  muscles, 
which  characterize  particular  passions,  feelings,  or  at- 
titudes. In  medical  jurisprudence,  a  knowledge  of 
the  animal  structure  is  found  to  be  still  more  indispensa- 
ble. The  judge,  who  has  not  made  this  his  particular 
study,  is  ill  qualified  for  the  discharge  of  his  sacred  and 
awfully  responsible  duties.  In  many  cases,  he  must  be 
incompetent  to  decide  on  the  nature  of  facts,  and  of 
course  may  often  condemn  where  there  is  no  sufficient 
•evidence  of  guilt.  Nay,  it  has  sometimes  happened, 
that  the  counsel  for  a  prisoner,  from  mistaking  the  nature 
of  the  questions  which  he  proposed,  has  inadvertently  be- 
come evidence  against  his  client.  At  any  rate,  when  the 
case  is  such,  that  the  sentence  is  to  depend,  not  upon  the 
simple  evidence  of  facts,  but  upon  the  opinion  which  is 
formed  of  their  consequences,  it  must  be  regulated  by  a 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  animal  economy;  and, 
for  this  reason,  not  only  the  decisions  of  a  court,  bi't  the 
laws  of  a  nation,  have  sometimes  been  founded  on  medi- 
cal opinion. 

To  every  reflecting  mind,  indeed,  the  wonderful  me- 
chanism of  the  human  body  is  a  subject  of  the  most  in- 
teresting contemplation.  What  curiosity  can  be  more 
natural,  what  can  more  nearly  concern  us,  than  to  be 
acquainted  with  every  part  of  that  corporeal  frame, 
which  is,  as  it  were,  the  vehicle  of  the  soul,  the  organ 
through  which  it  acquires  all  its  ideas,  the  instrument 
which  it  employs  in  all  its  operations,  and  on  the  order 
or  derangement  of  which  so  much  of  our  happiness  de- 
pends ?  To  those  who  take  pleasure  in  recognizing  the 
Deity  in  his  works,  what  study  can  be  more  gratifying 
than  that  of  the  animal  structure,  which  exhibits  so 
many  striking  proofs  of  divine  wisdoQi  and  benevoUoce  ? 


So  fully  were  the  ancient  theists  aware  of  the  aid  which 
anatomy  affords  to  religion,  "  that  they  have  derived 
from  this  source  more  arguments  in  favour  of  the  exist- 
ence, wisdom,  and  providence  of  a  Deity,  than  from  all 
the  productions  of  nature  besides;"  and  indeed  these 
arguments  will  be  found,  not  only  the  most  numerous, 
but  the  most  clear  and  decisive,  and  the  best  calculated 
to  confirm  the  sentiments  of  rational  piety,  and  to  induce 
habits  of  active  religion  and  virtue. 

Before  entering  upon  the  detail  of  this  science,  it  will 
be  at  once  useful  and  amusing,  to  trace  it  through  the 
various  stages  of  its  history ;  to  mark  its  alternate  ad- 
vances and  retrogressions,  and  the  discoveries  by  which 
it  has  at  length  been  brought  to  its  present  state  of  per- 
fection. To  enable  our  readers  to  accompany  us  in  this 
retrospect,  it  will  be  necessary  to  give  a  general  de- 
scription of  the  different  parts  of  the  human  body ;  for 
witliout  this,  they  would  often  be  impeded  by  unintelli- 
gible terms,  and  could  neither  observe  the  progress  of 
the  science,  nor  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  respective 
merits  of  those  who  have  contributed  to  its  improve- 
ment. 

In  entering  upon  a  description  of  the  human  body, 
our  attention  is  naturally  directed  first  to  the  Bones. 
Osteology,  or  that  branch  of  anatomy  which  treats  of 
the  bones,  is  of  more  importance  to  the  surgeon,  the 
physician,  and  natural  historian,  than  is  generally  ima- 
gined; and  has  been  regarded  by  the  most  eminent  ana- 
tomists, as  the  foundation  on  which  the  whole  structure 
of  the  science  must  be  raised.  The  bones  vary  in  num- 
ber, appearance,  and  texture,  according  to  their  age. 
At  birth,  many  of  them  are  soft,  flexible,  transparent ; 
containing  no  osseous  matter;  but  divided  into  several 
portions,  which  are  afterwards  to  be  united  in  their  pro- 
gress to  maturity.  In  the  full-grown  subject,  they  are 
the  firmest,  hardest,  and  most  solid  parts  of  the  whole 
body ;  all  of  them  are  permanent  except  the  first  crop 
of  teeth,  which  are  shed  at  an  early  perio<l ;  and  when 
the  whole  are  ossified,  they  amount,  in  the  human  sub- 
ject, to  about  two  hundred  and  forty. 

As  they  give  form  and  stability  to  the  body,  they  must, 
of  course,  be  in  some  manner  connected  with  each 
other.  Accordingly,  they  are  generally  found  connected 
by  unequal  surfaces,  whose  cavities  and  eminences  mu- 
tually correspond.  Of  these  joinings,  which  are  called 
articulations,  there  are  so  many,  that  they  have  never 
been  enumerated.  They  are  divided  into  classes  of 
three  different  kinds.  The  first  kind  admits  of  a  free, 
easy,  and  conspicuous  motion ;  the  motion  of  the  second 
is  rather  obscure  ;  the  third  has  no  motion,  or  at  least 
it  is  imperceptible.  These  classes,  with  their  varieties, 
or  particular  species,  are  in  all  about  nine. 

As  the  roughness  of  the  bones,  however,  would  pre- 
vent them  from  moving  freely  without  much  friction,  in 
all  cases  where  motion  occurs  there  must  be  some  in- 
tervening substance  to  obviate  this  inconvenience.  In 
the  recent  subject,  accordingly,  we  invariably  find,  that 
all  those  articulating  surfaces,  which  are  liable  to  mo- 
tion, are  covered  with  a  smooth  elastic  substance,  of  a 
pearl  colour,  known,  in  common  language,  by  the  name 
of  gristle,  and  in  anatomy  by  that  of  cartilage.  To  ren- 
der the  motion  still  easier,  the  cartilage  is  lubricated  by 
a  fluid,  called  synovia;  which  is  of  the  same  service  to 


ANATOMY. 


715 


Wie  different  joints  that  oil  is  to  a  piece  of  machinery- 
These  articulations,  alone,  however,  would  be  insuffi- 
cient either  to  regulate  the  motion  of  the  bones,  or  to 
preserve  them  in  their  situation.  The  bones  must 
therefore  be  connected  by  some  intermediate  substance. 
Cartilage  forms  sometimes  the  link  of  connexion,  but, 
besides  cartilage,  there  are  three  other  connecting  sub- 
stances— ligaments,  membranes,  and  flesh.  Ligaments 
are  strong  flexible  substances,  of  a  fibrous  texture,  whi- 
tish, glistening,  and  of  little  elasticity.  Their  forms, 
situations,  and  uses,  are  extremely  various.  With  re- 
spect to  the  bones,  they  are  generally  placed  on  the 
outside  of  the  articulation,  and  secure  the  parts  by  their 
great  strength  and  vigorous  adhesion.  So  important  is 
the  knowledge  of  these  ligaments  in  the  practice  of 
surgery,  and  in  exi)laining  many  symptoms  which  occur 
in  the  joints  from  disease  or  accident,  that  a  separate 
branch  of  anatomy  has  been  appropriated  to  them,  un- 
der the  name  of  Sydesmology.  The  particular  ligaments 
have  not  been  enumerated ;  but  reckoning  classes  some- 
times as  pairs,  those  which  have  been  described  and 
named  are  about  an  hundred. 

The  membranes,  the  next  connecting  substance,  when 
they  surround  the  extremities  of  the  bones,  and  contri- 
bute to  the  security  of  the  joints,  are  called  capsular 
ligaments.  Membranes,  in  general,  are  thin  webs  of  a 
whitish  colour,  more  flexible  and  elastic  than  ligaments. 
Besides  contributing  to  the  security  of  the  joints,  and 
facilitating  their  movement,  they  answer  many  other 
very  important  purposes.  They  line  all  the  external 
cavities ;  they  surround  every  organ  in  the  body ;  and 
while  they  unite  the  whole  together,  they  at  the  same 
time  secure  the  separate  and  peculiar  motion  of  each 
part ;  making  it  sometimes  to  conspire  with  the  whole, 
and  sometimes  to  act  as  distinct  and  independent.  They 
frequently  vary  in  strength,  texture,  and  appearance, 
and  have  diflerent  names,  according  to  their  different 
positions.  Two  within  the  cranium  are  called  matres  ; 
some  which  enclose  bundles  of  flesh  are  called  aponeu- 
roses ;  the  membrane  which  lines  the  cavity  of  the 
breast,  and  surrounds  its  viscera,  is  termed  pleura  ;  that 
which  surrounds  the  cavity  of  the  abdomen  and  its  vis- 
cera is  denominated  peritoneum ;  those  which  surround 
bones  are  styled  periostea,  and  those  which  surround 
cartilages,  [)erichondria  ;  when  they  surround  any  other 
organ,  they  are  generally  called  tunica;,  or  coats. 

The  other  substance  which  connects  the  bones,  is  flesh. 
The  fore-legs,  or,  in  the  language  of  anatomy,  the  su- 
perior extremities  of  many  quadrupeds,  adhere  chiefly 
i)y  this  connexion  to  the  rest  of  the  system.  This  sub- 
stance, indeed,  contributes  to  the  security  of  all  the 
joints,  although  its  principal  use  is  widely  diflerent, 
and  much  more  important. 

Having  discovered  how  the  bones  are  joined  by  arti- 
culating suriaces,  and  preserved  in  their  situation  by 
connecting  sul>stances,  we  must  now  inquire  by  what 
means  they  are  put  in  motion.  On  the  slightest  exa- 
mination, we  perceive,  that  all  the  motions  in  the  body 
are  produced  by  means  of  bundles  of  flesh,  which  have 
received  the  name  of  muscles.  These  bundles,  or  fas- 
ciculi, frequently  consist  of  two  parts ;  the  one  flesh,  the 
other  a  white  glistening  substance,  not  unlike  ligament, 
which  in  common  language  is  called  sinew,  but  is  bet- 
ter known  in  anatomy  by  the  name  of  tendon.  Both  the 
fleshy  and  tendinous  parts  are  composed  of  fibres,  which 
agaiu  are  composed  of  others  still  smaller.  The  consti- 
tuent fibres  have  never  been  enumerated,  nor  indeed 


all  the  fasciculi  which  they  compose.  The  number  of 
those  fasciculi  which  have  been  described  and  named, 
reckoning  classes  sometimes  as  pairs,  amounts  to  nearly 
four  hundred.  The  branch  of  anatomy  which  treats  of 
these  organs,  is  syled  myology  ;  a  knowledge  of  which 
is  extremely  useful  in  the  treatment  of  dislocations  and 
fractures  ;  and  to  those  who  study  gesture  and  attitude, 
and  the  various  movements  of  different  animals,  in 
swimming,  walking,  leaping,  or  flying — perhaps  the 
most  curious  and  interesting  part  of  the  whole  science. 
The  motions  of  these  organs  are  performed  bj'  alternate 
contractions  and  relaxations  of  the  fleshy  part ;  but  these 
motions  seem  to  depend  on  some  other  cause,  which  it 
therefore  becomes  necessary  to  investigate. 

On  minute  examination,  white  filaments  or  ropes,  are 
observed  entering,  not  only  the  several  muscles,  but  all 
the  different  organs  of  the  body  ;  and,  when  traced  to 
their  origin,  they  are  found  to  terminate  in  the  brain,  or 
in  its  production,  the  spinal  marrow.  These  filaments, 
which  are  called  nerves,  besides  being  necessary  in  all 
the  different  functions  of  the  system,  have  been  found, 
by  observation  and  experiment,  to  be  organs  of  sense, 
motion,  and  feeling.  Many  of  them  are  subject  to  the 
will ;  so  that  the  animal  can  regulate  a  variety  of  its 
motions  at  pleasure.  They  derive  their  energy  from 
the  vital  power ;  but  whether  immediately,  or  through 
the  medium  of  some  other  substance,  anatomists  have 
not  been  able  to  discover.  They  separate  into  numerous 
filaments,  which,  in  many  instances,  cannot  be  traced. 
Some  of  them  swell  into  small  knots,  called  ganglia; 
and  some  of  them  form,  by  means  of  other  filaments,  a 
sort  of  network,  which  is  known  by  the  name  of  plexus. 
Forty  trunks  issue  from  the  head  and  spine ;  hut  these 
trunks,  with  their  ganglia  and  plexus,  their  branches 
and  parts  which  have  been  distinguished  by  names, 
amount  to  more  than  a  hundred. 

Having  thus  seen  how  the  bones  are  joined,  by  what 
substances  they  are  connected,  by  what  organs  they  are 
put  in  motion,  and  what  is  the  cause  of  that  motion,  we 
must  next  investigate  the  means  of  their  growth. 
Growth  necessarily  supposes  a  regular  and  constant 
supply  of  nourishment.  Whence,  then,  is  the  nourish- 
ment derived  ?  and  by  what  means  is  it  conveyed  to  the 
several  organs  1  On  examining  the  animal  structure,  we 
find,  that  the  only  vehicle  of  nourishment  must  be  the 
blootl,  which  flows  through  a  thousand  channels  into  all 
the  different  parts  of  the  system.  The  blood,  when  al- 
lowed to  rest,  spontaneously  separates  into  two  parts, 
the  one  fluid  and  the  other  solid ;  by  a  slight  pressure, 
the  solid  is  again  divided  into  other  two  ;  but  chemical 
analysis  proves,  that  it  consists  of  many  different  ingre- 
dients. Every  person  is  acquainted  with  the  singular 
colour  of  this  fluid.  Lower  observed,  that  it  received 
this  colour  in  the  lungs,  or  the  organs  of  breathing. 
Mayow  demonstrated,  that  the  colour  was  occasioned 
by  the  air,  which  we  regularly  inspire  ;  and  experience 
has  taught,  that  without  this  regular  supply  of  air,  the 
blood  could  neither  support  life,  nor  convey  nourishment 
to  the  different  parts  of  the  system.  It  is  natural  to 
suppose,  that  the  heart,  which  is  the  great  fountain  of 
the  blootl,  will  send  some  to  the  lungs,  in  order  to  re- 
ceive this  aerial  pabulum,  which  Mayow  likewise  proved 
to  be  the  cause  of  animal  heat.  Man,  accordingly,  and 
many  other  animals,  are  furnished  with  a  double  heart, 
or  at  least  two  cavities,  which  are  named  ventricles ; 
one  for  sending  the  blood  to  the  lungs  to  receive  air, 
and  the  other  for  distributing  it  afterwards  for  the  sak* 
4X2 


716 


ANATOMY. 


of  nourishment  through  the  system,  and  even  to  the 
heart,  and  the  lungs  themselves. 

To  explain  the  cause  of  the  constant  and  impetuous 
flow  of  the  blood,  it  is  necessary  to  inform  our  readers, 
that  the  heart  is  a  muscle,  which,  through  the  influence 
of  its  nervous  energy,  is  made  to  contract  and  relax  al- 
ternately more  than  sixty  times  in  a  minute.  When  it 
relaxes,  its  two  cavities,  or  ventricles  are  enlarged,  and 
the  blood  flows  in;  when  it  contracts,  the  ventricles  are 
diminished,  and  the  blood  is  propelled  into  two  large 
(jipes  ;  the  one  leading  directly  to  the  lungs,  the  other 
communicating  with  the  rest  of  the  system.  These  pipes, 
or  vessels,  are  named  arteries;  and  as  they  likewise 
have  a  muscular  power,  and  are  somewhat  elastic,  by 
similar  contractions,  which  are  the  cause  of  pulsation, 
they  impel  the  blood  towards  their  extremities,  while 
certain  valves,  placed  at  their  origin,  prevent  it  from 
returning  in  the  same  direction. 

For  the  more  minute  and  equal  distribution  of  this 
fluid,  the  two  arteries  which  proceed  from  the  heart, 
spread  into  a  great  variety  of  branches.  These  branches 
frequently  communicate,  apparently  with  this  intention 
of  nature,  that  when  any  of  them  are  obstructed,  the 
parts  may  be  duly  supplied  by  otiiers  with  which  they 
inosculate.  These  various  branches  are  numerous  be- 
jond  computation :  many  of  them,  however,  are  de- 
scribed by  anatomists;  and  those  bnanches,  or  parts  of 
branches,  which  have  received  names,  reckoning  classes 
sometimes  as  pairs,  amount  to  rather  more  than  a  hun- 
dred. 

As  the  valves,  however,  prevent  the  blood  from  re- 
turning in  the  course  of  the  arteries,  it  must  be  convey- 
ed through  other  channels  hack  to  the  lungs  to  receive 
the  necessary  supply  of  air.  By  many  ex|)eriments 
and  observations,  Harvey  discovered,  that  the  last  ca- 
pillary branches  of  arteries  are  continued  into  other  ca- 
pillary branches  wiiich  convey  the  blood  in  a  different 
direction ;  that  these  last  afterwards  uniting,  formed 
branches  of  a  larger  si7,e,  and  that  these  again,  also 
uniting,  form  others  still  larger,  till  the  whole,  by  reite- 
rated unions,  form  two  trunks,  which,  conveying  the 
blood  from  all  the  upper  and  lower  extremities,  meet  at 
the  right  side  of  the  heart,  and  discharge  their  contents 
into  a  thin  muscular  sac,  called  auricle,  which  by  con- 
tracting, propels  it  onward  to  the  right  ventricle,  from 
■which  it  is  again  thrown  into  the  lungs  by  the  pulmonary 
artery.  This  artery,  as  already  mentioned,  separates 
into  numberless  capillary  branches,  which  being  conti- 
nued into  others  similar  to  those  which  we  have  been 
describing,  convey  the  blood  into  another  auricle  placed 
on  the  left  side  of  the  heart.  From  this  auricle  it  is 
transmitted  to  the  left  ventricle,  and  from  thence  driven 
again  into  the  artery  which  nourishes  the  system.  Such 
is  the  regular  course  of  the  blood,  which  is  called  its 
ciRCiJiiATiow;  and  the  discovery  of  which  has  confer- 
red so  much  honour  upon  Harvey, — a  man  not  less  dis- 
tinguished by  his  unassuming  modesty,  than  by  the  tran- 
scendent excellence  of  his  genius. 

The  vessels  which  convey  the  blood  in  a  retrograde 
course  have  been  called  veins.  They  are  still  more  nu- 
merous than  the  arteries ;  are  nsually  found  lying  by 
their  sides,  and  are  descrited  by  nearly  similar  names. 
Tbey  have  a  much  less  muscular  power,  and  most  of 
them  are  assisted  by  a  number  of  valves,  situated  at 
small  distances  in  their  course. 

But  this,  it  may  be  said,  is  no  explanation  whatever 
of  tbe  maimer  in  which  the  system  i«  nourished,'  for  if 


the  arteries  be  continued  into  veins,  and  none  of  the 
blood  escape  from  the  course  of  circulation,  how  is 
nourishment  imparted  to  the  various  organs  ?  To  ac- 
count for  this,  we  must  suppose  that  some  vessels  break 
off  from  the  course  of  circulation,  and  terminate  other- 
wise than  in  venous  branches.  In  effect,  we  find  that 
various  series  of  branches  belong  to  the  arteries;  that 
the  ultimate  series  are  so  minute  as  not  to  admit  the  red 
or  thicker  part  of  the  blood;  that  many  of  them,  there- 
fore, are  destined  to  convey  only  the  thin  and  pellucid 
part  of  the  circulating  fluid,  and  that  of  these  many 
wander  from  the  circle,  and  empty  themselves  into 
bones,  muscles,  ligaments,  nerves,  and  the  other  parts 
of  which  the  animal  fabric  is  composed ;  and  that  then, 
each  part,  by  a  vital  process  termed  assimilation,  con- 
verts this  fluid  into  a  substance  of  its  own  specific  cha- 
racter and  properties.  We  observe,  besides,  that  these 
vessels  pour  out  their  fluids  into  all  the  cavities,  and 
many  of  them  into  bodies  of  various  shapes,  sizes,  and 
structures,  which  afterwards  convert  them  into  other 
fluids  of  a  different  quality.  To  these  bodies  anatomists 
have  given  the  nameof^toiffc.  Some  of  them  prepare 
a  particular  fluid  to  lubricate  the  joints,  and  the  parts 
in  motion ;  some  furnish  fluids  to  promote  digestion,  and 
assist  in  the  preparation  of  aliment ;  some  yield  fluids  to 
protect  the  skin,  and  to  preserve  it  in  a  pro]jer  state 
for  performing  its  several  offices ;  some  a  fluid  which  is 
employed  as  one  of  the  means  of  generating  the  species ; 
and  some  a  fluid  which  serves  to  nourish  the  offspring 
for  some  time  after  its  birth. 

But  though  we  iiave  thus  provided  for  the  nourish^ 
ment  of  the  system,  by  allowing  the  fluids  to  escape 
from  the  course  of  circulation,  still  it  may  be  asked, 
what  have  we  gained  by  this  explanation  ?  Is  not  the 
difficulty  now  rather  increased  ?  lor  having  allowed  the 
fluids  to  escape  from  the  course  of  circulation,  to  be 
lodged  in  bones,  ligaments,  muscles,  and  close  cavities, 
how  are  they  returned  ?  How  shall  we  dispose  of  them  ? 
And  by  what  means,  when  the  body  is  wasting,  shall  the 
decayed  parts  be  carried  off?  As  these  fluids  do  not  ac- 
cumulate in  the  healthy  state  of  a  living  bo<ly,  there 
must,  of  course,  be  some  way  by  which  they  get  out,  or 
some  other  system  of  vessels  besides  veins,  by  which 
they  return  to  the  mass  of  blood.  For  the  solution  of 
this  difficulty  we  are  chiefly  indebted  to  Rudbeck  and 
Bartholine,  who  discovered  about  the  same  time,  a  sys- 
tem of  vessels  that  convey  back  to  the  blood  all  the  de- 
cayed parts,  and  all  those  thin  and  pellucid  fluids  which 
wander  from  the  course  of  circulation.  From  the  clear 
and  watery  appearance  of  the  fluid  which  they  contain, 
they  were  named  h/mphatics  ;  they  arise  from  all  the  in- 
ternal cavities,  and  from  every  organ  in  the  whole  body. 
Still  more  numerous  than  the  veins,  they  branch  out  in 
a  similar  manner,  and  terminate  in  two  trunks,  whose 
contents  are  emptied  into  the  veins,  a  little  before  they 
enter  the  heart. 

Having  thus  conducted  the  lymphatic  fluid,  and  all 
the  decayed  parts  of  the  system,  back  to  the  blood,  our 
next  concern  must  be  how  to  dispose  of  them.  It  is 
very  evident  that  these  fluids  are  conveyed  back,  either 
that  tbey  may  undergo  new  preparations  to  fit  them 
again  for  the  situations  which  they  formerly  occupied, 
or  to  be  thrown  by  some  evacuants  out  of  the  system. 
If,  after  undergoing  new  preparations,  they  are  to  return 
to  the  situations  which  they  formerly  occupied,  what  or^ 
casion  is  there  for  constant  and  regular  supplies  of  ali- 
ment '!    For  if  Uie  supplies  of  aliuieut  be  ntccssary,  it 


ANATOMY. 


717 


will  be  difficult  to  assign  a  reason  why  the  decayed  parts 
of  the  system  should  be  retained.  Supplies  of  aliment, 
however,  are  necessary,  and  therefore  it  follows,  that  the 
decayed  parts  of  the  system  must  be  thrown  out.  This 
conclusion  involves  us  in  new  embarrassment ;  for  by 
what  channels  are  we  to  discharge  them  ?  For  this  pur- 
pose we  must  resort  again  to  the  vessels  which  wander 
from  the  course  of  circulation;  for  we  observe,  that 
many  of  these  open  externally  upon  (he  skin,  and,  on  the 
internal  surface  of  the  lungs,  into  two  large  glands  cal- 
led kidnies,  and  into  that  winding  canal  which  begins  at 
the  mouth  and  ends  at  the  orifice,  which  is  named  anus. 
By  these  outlets,  then,  we  can  explain  how,  along  with 
the  va|K)ur,  from  the  lungs,  the  perspirable  matter  of  the 
skin,  the  fecal  discharge,  and  the  urine,  all  the  decayed 
parts  are  evacuated. 

But  how  is  the  blood  enabled  to  sustain  this  loss  ?  Or 
by  what  channels  are  its  supplies  conveyed  into  the 
course  of  circulation  ?  We  see  the  food  taken  into  the 
mouth,  masticated  by  the  teeth,  and  jdentifully  mixed 
with  the  juice  called  saliva,  which  flows  into  the  mouth 
from  a  great  number  of  neighbouring  glands.  As  it 
moves  along,  it  receives  more  juice  from  vessels  and 
other  glands  on  the  passage ;  it  arrives  soon  at  a  large 
dilatation  of  this  canal,  called  the  stomach,  where  it 
meets  with  another  juice,  named  the  gastric  juice.  The 
canal,  as  it  proceeds  from  the  stomach,  becomes  narrow, 
and  is  named  intestine :  here  it  has  many  convolutions, 
and  is  nearly  six  times  the  length  of  the  body.  Into  this 
portion  of  the  canal,  likewise,  glands  and  vessels  con- 
tinue to  pour  their  fluids,  to  lubricate  the  tube,  or  to  as- 
sist ill  the  preparation  of  aliment.  Two  of  these  fluids 
are  remarkable  :  one  of  a  greenish  colour  and  a  bitter 
taste,  which  is  named  bile,  and  is  secreted  in  the  liver; 
the  other,  called  pmicreaiic  juice,  from  the  large  gland 
in  which  it  is  prepared.  By  the  assistance  of  all  these 
juices,  by  the  heat  of  the  body,  and  by  the  action  of  the 
canal,  which  possesses  a  degree  of  muscular  power,  all 
the  nutritious  part  of  food  is  converted  into  a  white  and 
thin  fluid,  resembling  milk,  which  is  called  chyle.  Sup- 
pose now,  that  the  whole  nutritious  part  of  the  food  is 
converted  into  this  fluid,  it  is  very  evident,  that  it  must 
by  some  means  or  other  find  its  way  into  the  blood ;  but 
by  what  vessels,  or  by  what  mode  of  communication,  con- 
tinued for  many  ages,  a  mystery  in  anatomy.  An  Italian 
anatomist  happening  to  open  a  live  dog,  accidentally  dis- 


covered a  number  of  vessels  opening  into  the  intestinal 
canal,  and  absorbing  from  it  this  chyle.  These  vessels 
were  afterwards  observed  to  unite  together,  (o  enter  the 
trunk  of  the  lymphatics,  and  transmit  their  fluid  along 
with  the  lymph  into  that  vessel  which  discharges  both  in- 
to the  right  ventricle  of  the  heart. 

Having  thus  taken  a  general  view  of  all  the  diflerent 
organs  of  the  system,  and  their  several  functions ;  having 
seen  how  the  bones  are  united  by  articulations,  how  con- 
nected by  ligaments,  membranes,  and  flesh ;  how  put  in 
motion  by  means  of  the  muscles,  and  how  they  derive 
their  energy  from  the  nerves ;  having  likewise  seen  how 
every  organ  is  nourished  by  the  blood,  how  this  fluid  is 
sent  from  the  heart,  and  conveyed  back  to  the  veins  and 
lymphatics ;  having  seen  how  the  useless  or  decayed 
parts  are  ejected  from  the  system,  and  how  the  nutri- 
tious part  of  the  food  gets  into  the  course  of  the  circula- 
tion ;  we  have  now  to  inquire  by  what  means  can  this 
complex  and  delicate  machine  be  preserved  for  such  a 
number  of  years  ?  It  is,  in  some  measure,  secured  from 
external  injuries,  by  means  of  its  integuments.  The 
first  of  these  is  a  thin  covering,  without  feeling,  called  the 
epidermis,  or  scarf  skin  ;  the  next  is  a  glary  mucous  sub- 
stance, known  by  the  name  o(  rete  mucosum  ;  beneath 
this  are  two  thin  cuticles,  and  beneath  these  again  is  that 
integument  which  is  called  the  cutis  vera,  or  the  true 
skin,  of  a  fibrous  texture,  strong,  thick,  and  wonderfully 
dilatable;  beneath  all  (his  is  the  tela  cdlulosa,  which, 
proceeding  inwards,  penetrates  every  organ  of  the  body, 
and  seems  to  contain  the  whole  in  its  cells.  But  though 
the  animal  is  indebted  for  much  of  its  general  security 
to  these  coverings,  it  owes  more  to  the  instincts  and  ap- 
petites which  the  wise  Author  of  nature  has  inspired- 
By  these,  it  is  taught  to  pursue  what  is  useful,  and  to 
avoid  what  is  dangerous,  inconvenient,  or  hurtful.  Nor 
is  this  all.  The  beneficent  Creator  has  conferred  to  a 
certain  extent,  on  all  living  bodies,  the  power  of  repro- 
duction, by  which  they  are  frequently  enabled  to  repair 
the  slighter  injuries  to  wliich  the  diflerent  organs  are  ex- 
posed. And  if,  in  the  later  period  of  life,  this  power  be- 
comes extremely  languid,  it  is  because  it  was  not  intend- 
ed that  the  animal  structure  should  be  immortal ;  its 
bounds  are  fixed  that  it  cannot  pass;  when  the  firmest 
and  most  beautiful  fabric  must  crumble  into  dust,  and  its 
animating  spirit  return  to  the  great  incomprehensible 
Being  who  gave  it. 


HISTORY. 


Having  thus  given  a  very  general  description  of  the  hu- 
man structure,  we  shall  now  retrace  the  various  steps 
by  which  the  science  of  anatomy  has  advanced  from  its 
rude  origin  to  its  present  perfection.  Besides  the  ob- 
vious methods  of  dissection  and  observation,  this  science 
is  indebted  for  much  of  its  progress  to  the  application  of 
mechanical  and  chemical  philosophy,  and  to  an  attentive 
observation  of  the  causes  of  those  phenomena  that 
characterize  living  organized  systems  of  matter.  In  the 
brief  sketch  which  we  propose  to  give  of  the  history  of 
anatomy,  we  shall  attend  to  each  of  these  sources  of  in- 
formation,— mark  the  principal  discoveries  to  which  they 
have  led, — and  point  out  those  particular  departments  of 
the  science,  to  the  improvement  of  which  they  may  still 
be  subservient. 

The  discoveries  which  have  been  made  by  means  of 


dissection  and  observation,  naturally  claim  our  first  at- 
tention. Though  dissection,  as  an  art,  was  unknown  in 
the  early  periods  of  society,  many  opportunities  would 
occur  of  acquiring  some  knowledge,  however  general 
and  imperfect,  of  the  animal  structure.  Even  the  sa- 
vage could  not  fail  to  observe,  partially,  (he  organization 
of  the  animal  which  he  slew  in  the  chase,  and  devoured 
in  the  feast.  Human  bones  would  be  seen  strewed  on 
the  field  of  battle ;  whole  skeletons  would  sometimes 
be  found  of  those  who  had  perished  accidentally,  or  by 
violence;  and  similar  casualties  would  present  an  op- 
portunity of  contemplating,  in  the  mangled  carcass,  the 
soft  and  internal  parts  of  the  human  frame.  Accordingly 
the  rudest  and  most  ancient  languages  indicate  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  principal  bones,  and  the  most  im- 
portant and  conspicuous  viscera  in  the  human  body. 


718 


ANATOMY. 


though  their  intimate  structure  and  functions  were  as 
yet  unknown ;  while,  by  attending  to  wounds  and  frac- 
tures, to  the  progress  of  disease,  and  the  methods  of 
cure,  men  would  even  acquire  some  knowledge  of  the 
animal  economy. 

Their  knowledge,  however,  was  long  very  imperfect ; 
and,  as  they  did  not  practise  anatomy  as  an  art,  and  sel- 
dom reasoned  on  what  they  had  seen,  their  observations 
■were  almost  totally  useless,  and  neither  reflected  light 
upon  medicine,  nor  regulated  the  operations  of  surgery. 
Some,  indeed,  are  extravagant  enough  to  maintain,  that 
the  early  Egyptians  possessed  as  accurate  and  exten- 
sive a  knowledge  of  the  human  body  as  the  most  skilful 
modern  anatomists ;  that  Athotis,  one  of  their  first  so- 
vereigns, published  several  books  on  anatomy,  in  which 
be  laid  down  rules  for  dissection ;  that  one  of  the  medi- 
cal treaises  of  Hermes  related  to  the  structure  of  the 
human  body ;  and  that  a  considerable  knowledge  of  ana- 
tomy was  implied  in  the  art  of  embalming.  It  is  almost 
unnecessary  to  advert  to  these  absurd  pretensions.  The 
claim  of  Athotis  is  indeed  supported  by  Eusebius  and 
Africanus;  but  their  authority  was  the  tradition  of 
Egyptian  priests,  who,  to  exalt  their  country  in  the  es- 
timation of  the  credulous  Greeks,  pretended  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  every  thing  connected  with  literature 
and  science.  Hermes  was  the  tutelary  spirit  of  the 
pillars  on  which  the  writings  of  Egypt  were  inscribed, 
and  was  therefore  worshipped,  not  only  as  the  patron, 
but  the  inventor  of  their  arts  and  sciences;  but,  as 
Hermes  in  Greece,  Mercury  at  Rome,  and  Thoth  in 
Egypt,  signified  a  pillar  as  well  as  a  god,  by  the  wri- 
tings of  Hermes  might  either  be  meant  the  writings 
inscribed  on  the  pillars,  or  the  writings  of  the  god  to 
whom  these  pillars  were  consecrated.  In  the  last  of 
these  meanings,  the  priests  were  anxious  that  the  phrase 
should  be  understood.  We  are  told,  indeed,  by  Jam- 
blichus  and  Galen,  that  every  new  discovery  was  first 
approved  by  the  common  voice  of  the  priesthood,  and 
afterwards  engraved,  without  the  author's  name,  upon 
these  pillars,  or  on  stones  of  the  temple.  Thus  these 
writings  were  regarded  as  the  productions  of  a  divinity, 
and  were  held  in  such  veneration,  that  to  attempt  to 
alter  them  in  the  least  degree  was  considered  as  an  act 
of  unpardonable  sacrilege.  When  a  patient  died,  the 
surgeon,  or  physician,  who  attended  him,  underwent  a 
strict  examination :  and  if  convicted  of  the  slightest 
deviation  from  the  practice  recommended  by  Hermes, 
they  were  condemned  to  death.  From  these  facts  we 
should  be  led  to  entertain  no  very  high  opinion  of  the 
anatomical  knowledge  of  the  Egyptians. 

Many,  however,  have  imagined,  that  great  improve- 
ments must  have  arisen  from  a  custom,  peculiar  to  the 
Egyptians,  which  confined  the  attention  of  medical 
practitioners  to  some  particular  organ  or  function,  with- 
out permitting  them  to  undertake  the  cure  of  the  whole  ■ 
system.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  such  a  custom  would 
have  been  extremely  beneficial,  had  it  been  aided  by  a 
general  knowledge  of  the  system ;  or  had  it  originated 
in  the  same  views  which  suggested  the  modern  division 
of  labour.  But  what  improvement  could  be  expected 
from  a  practice  founded  on  the  gross  superstitions  of 
Judicial  astrology?  Or  what  shall  we  think  of  the  science 
of  that  people,  who  divided  the  human  body  into  thirty- 
six  parts,  over  each  of  which  a  tutelary  genius  presided, 
whose  displeasure,  or  neglect,  was  the  cause  of  all  dis- 
eases ; — diseases  which  were  to  be  removed,  not  by  the 


aid  of  art  Or  medicines,  but  by  symbolical  forms,  and 
magical  invocations  ? 

It  has  been  said,  that  the  practice  of  embalming  would 
familiarize  the  Egyptians  to  anatomical  inquiries.  But, 
in  reality,  that  practice  neither  required,  nor  was  calcu- 
lated to  impart,  any  skill  in  anatomy.  It  was  merely  a 
religious  ceremony,  performed  in  the  rudest  manner; 
and  could  it  even  have  imparted  any  insight  into  the 
animal  structure,  the  detestation  and  abhorrence  in 
which  those  who  performed  the  operation  were  held  by 
their  countrymen,  would  eflfectually  prevent  them  from 
communicating  the  knowledge  which  they  had  thus 
acquired.  Their  mummies  exhibit  few  marks  of  dex- 
terity or  skill.  Our  modern  collections  of  birds,  quad- 
rupeds, fishes,  and  insects,  display  incomparably  more 
ingenuity ;  and  yet  these  may  be  easily  prepared  without 
any  anatomical  acquirements. 

Anatomy,  as  a  science,  was  first  cultivated  by  the 
Greeks, — a  people,  whose  enthusiastic  ardour  in  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge  prompted  them  to  travel  into  dis- 
tant countries,  to  collect  and  appropriate  the  wisdom  of 
their  inhabitants  ;  and  whose  ingenuity  enabled  them  to 
carry  to  a  wonderful  degree  of  perfection  every  art  and 
science  with  which  they  were  thus  made  acquainted. 
Homer,  one  of  their  earliest  writers,  and  their  most 
celebrated  poet,  displays  an  extent  and  accuracy  of  ana- 
tomical information,  which,  considering  the  period  in 
which  he  lived,  is  altogether  extraordinary.  He  is  even 
supposed  to  have  wounded  his  heroes,  chiefly  in  order 
to  show  his  acquaintance  with  the  animal  structure,  and 
with  the  situation  of  its  different  organs.  The  stone 
which  Diomede  threw  at  iEneas,  not  only  broke  the  bone 
of  his  thigh,  but  tore  the  ligaments  of  the  acetabulum  ; 
Merion  was  wounded  in  one  of  the  large  veins  which 
return  the  blood  to  the  heart ;  and  Ulysses  meditated 
to  strike  the  Cyclops  just  where  the  liver  adheres  to 
the  diaphragm. 

In  the  school  of  Pythagoras,  the  study  of  anatomy 
seems  to  have  been  prosecuted  with  considerable  ar- 
dour. Alcmeon,  one  of  his  pupils,  is  said  to  have  dis- 
sected with  his  own  hands,  and  to  have  discovered  cer- 
tain passages  which  we  find  between  the  mouth  and  the 
ear;  Empedocles,  another  of  that  school,  was  the  first 
who  asserted,  that  all  living  bodies  spning  originally 
from  eggs ;  and  a  third,  Democritus  of  Abdera,  em- 
ployed much  of  his  time  in  dissection,  and  is  the  first 
person  on  record  who  applied  his  observations  to  the 
explanation  of  the  animal  economy.  His  peculiar  man- 
ners, his  fondness  for  solitude,  and  the  singular  nature 
of  his  studies,  made  his  countrj'men  suspect  Democri- 
tus of  mental  derangement.  They  sent  Hippocrates, 
therefore,  to  visit  him  in  his  retirement.  He  found  the 
philosopher  seated  on  a  stone,  under  the  ample  shade  of 
a  plane  tree,  with  a  number  of  books  arranged  on  each 
side,  one  on  his  knee,  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  and  several 
animals  which  he  had  been  dissecting  lying  before  him. 
His  complexion  was  pale,  and  his  countenance  thought- 
ful ;  at  times  he  laughed,  at  times  shook  his  head,  mused 
for  a  while,  and  then  wrote ;  then  rose  up  and  walked, 
inspected  the  animals,  sat  down,  and  wrote  again.  The 
subject  which  thus  deeply  occupied  his  attention  was 
madness :  and  the  object  of  his  dissections  was  to  dis- 
cover the  seat  and  the  nature  of  the  bile,  which  he  sup- 
posed to  be  the  cause  of  that  distemper.  Hip|)ocrate» 
observed  him  for  some  time  in  silent  admiration ;  ac- 
knowledged the  great  importance  of  his  inquiries ;  anH  • 


ANATOMY. 


719 


regretted  that  his  own  professional  employments,  and 
domestic  cares,  left  him  no  leisure  for  indulging  in 
similar  pursuits. 

From  this  confession,  it  may  be  supposed  that  Hip- 
pocrates, prior  to  this  time,  had  not  devoted  much  of 
his  attention  to  practical  anatomy ;  yet  his  writings 
evince,  that  the  knowledge  which  he  afteKwards  acquired 
was  by  no  means  inconsiderable.  He  has  given  a  sum- 
mary view  of  the  bones* ;  and,  though  inaccurate  with 
regard  to  their  number,  he  has  well  described  many 
of  their  forms,  articulations,  and  processes ;  and  speaks 
of  a  fluid  secreted  in  the  joints  to  facilitate  their  mo- 
tiont;  and  he  mentions  very  frequently  the  ligaments 
by  which  they  are  connected.  He  attended  likewise  to 
the  nature  of  the  flesh,  and  was  not  ignorant  of  its  divi- 
sion into  those  fasciculi  called  muscles.  He  has  men- 
tioned the  spinal  and  the  lumbar  musclesj,  and  has  given 
names  to  two  that  are  inserted  in  the  lower  jaw§.  He 
has  also  mentioned  the  beatings  of  the  heart,  which  he 
expressly  calls  a  strong  muscle||.  From  this  language, 
had  he  said  no  more,  we  would  naturally  be  led  to  con- 
clude, that  he  knew  the  functions  of  these  organs  ;  but, 
in  other  parts  of  his  works  he  assigns  a  similar  office  to 
the  ligaments,  the  tendons,  and  the  nerves,  which  he  in- 
cludes under  one  name. 

Although  he  has  mentioned  two  nerves  arising  from 
the  brain,  and  points  at  many  which  seem  to  come  from 
the  spinal  marrow,  with  which  he  was  acquainted,  a  sin- 
gle expression  cannot  be  found  in  his  works,  which  in- 
dicates any  acquaintance  with  their  use.  This  circum- 
stance is  the  more  extraordinary,  as  he  makes  the  brain 
the  seat  of  intelligence,  and  calls  it  the  organ  by  which 
we  see,  hear,  feel,  and  reason. 

if  the  treatise  ascribed  to  him,  ir$pi  Ka^hctt,  be  genu- 
ine, he  seems  to  have  examined  the  heart,  and  its  ap- 
pendages, with  more  attention.  He  takes  notice  of 
parts,  the  discovery  of  which  has  been  assigned  by  many 
to  more  recent  times ;  and  has  often  mentioned  the 
course  of  its  vessels  in  such  a  manner,  that  some  have 
given  him  the  honour  of  the  most  illustrious  discovery 
in  anatomy,  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  He  does,  in- 
deed, speak  of  a  circle  of  the  blood,  a  zrt(itx,n,  and  we- 
^it^ti  »ti*»1ti ;  and  mentions  a  difficulty  in  fixing  the 
place  where  one  should  begin  in  describing  its  vessels, 
as  they  form  a  circle  without  beginning  and  without 
end.  But  so  far  from  having  any  idea  of  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  as  known  to  Harvey,  he  imagined  that  the 
arteries  contain  air,  and  doubted  whether  the  veins  be- 
gin in  the  liver,  the  heart,  or  the  brain. 

Of  the  functions  of  the  lungs  he  was  equally  igno- 
rant. He  ascribed  animal  temperature  to  an  «><.(f  b7">»  w^f, 
a  native  fire,  residing  in  the  left  ventricle  of  the  heart ; 
and  supposed  that  air  was  inspired  to  moderate  its  heat, 
and  refrigerate  the  system  :  and  that  this  air  and  mois- 
ture were  applied  by  the  two  appendages  belonging  to 
the  heart,  which,  in  compliance  with  his  language,  are 
still  called  auricles,  and  to  which  he  assigned  the  oftice 
of  bellows. 

His  ideas  of  digestion  were  not  more  correct.  He 
believed  that  the  stomach  is  a  mere  reservoir  ;  that  the 
food  was  prepared  by  putrescence  or  concoction ;  and 
was  altogether  ignorant  of  the  channels  by  which  it  is 
afterwards  conveyed  through  the  system.  He  knew, 
however,  the  seat  of  the  bile  ;  the  secretion  of  urine  in 


the  kidnies ;  and  two  vessels  by  which  he  imagined  that 
at  least  a  part  was  conveyed  to  the  bladder. 

His  anima,  or  vital  principle,  appears  to  be  the  same 
with  the  tft^vlof  Tvf,  and  is  placed  in  the  left  cavity  of 
the  heart.  In  all  cases,  even  in  thinking,  it  acts  from 
necessity,  and  conducts  the  whole  business  of  the  sys- 
tem by  means  of  subordinate  agents,  which  are  called 
S^vvxfiiK,  faculties,  or  powers.  These  i'vutum  are  parts 
of  the  anima  itself,  and  reside  in  the'  different  organs  of 
the  body,  performing  the  functions  of  seeing,  hearing, 
tasting,  touching,  and  all  the  functions  of  the  various 
organs.  As  these  S'vitcnen,  however,  are  parts  of  the 
anima,  and  subject  to  its  control,  so  the  anima  itself  is 
only  a  portion  of  (fivrit,  or  nature,  to  which  also  it  is 
subordinate.  This  ipvrif  is  etherial  fire,  immortal,  intel- 
ligent, and  just ;  it  hears  and  sees  ;  is  acquainted  with 
what  is  present  and  future  ;  is  sufficient  for  all  things  ; 
and  perceives,  untaught,  whatever  is  necessary,  and 
when  it  should  be  performed. 

From  this  sketch  of  the  anatomy  and  physiol6gy  of 
Hippocrates,  our  readers  may  perhaps  be  disposed  to 
form  a  low  estimate  of  his  industry  and  talents.  From 
his  acknowledgment  to  Democritus,  however,  it  appears 
that  his  opportunities  of  actual  dissection  were  few ;  and 
it  is  but  justice  to  say,  that  wherever  he  has  directed 
the  whole  force  of  his  mind,  he  has  far  surpassed  all 
his  contemporaries;  and  that,  in  many  parts  of  his  works, 
he  displays  an  enthusiasm  for  knowledge,  an  unwearied 
spirit  of  investigation,  a  clearness  of  discernment,  a 
depth  of  reflection,  an  extent  and  quickness  of  compre- 
hension, and  a  talent  for  accurate  observation,  which 
would  have  exalted  him  to  eminence  in  any  age;  and 
which  entitled  him  justly  to  the  fame  which  he  has  ac- 
quired as  the  Father  of  Physic,  and  as  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  characters  who  have  done  honour  to  science 
and  mankind. 

Till  the  time  of  Hippocrates,  physic  was  considered 
as  a  subordinate  branch  of  philoso|)hy.  He  was  the  first 
who  exalted  it  to  the  rank  of  a  distinct  science,  and  made 
it  the  object  of  a  separate  profession.  We  may  infer, 
therefore,  that  all  prior  philosophers  must  have  been 
more  or  less  acquainted  with  the  animal  economy.  In 
the  writings  of  many  of  them  we  find  traces  of  their 
anatomical  knowledge;  but  our  limits  oblige  us  to  con- 
fine our  attention  to  those  who  have,  either  by  direct 
discovery,  or  by  valuable  hints,  enlarged  the  boundaries 
of  this  science,  or  given  extended  views  of  its  utility. 

Among  these,  Socrates,  the  celebrated  Athenian  mo- 
ralist, holds  a  distinguished  rank.  This  illustrious  sage 
was  the  first  who  perceived  the  use  of  anatomy  in  es- 
tablishing the  principles  of  natural  theology ;  and  who 
demonstrated,  from  the  form  and  situation  of  the  dif- 
ferent organs,  the  benevolence  and  foresight  of  the 
great  Author  of  nature. 

Plato,  the  friend  and  pupil  of  Socrates,  likewise  de- 
voted a  portion  of  his  time  to  the  study  of  the  animal 
structure.  The  luxuriance  of  his  imagination,  however, 
and  his  fondness  for  theory,  rendered  him  incapable  of 
the  cool  and  persevering  investigation  which  physical 
subjects  require.  We  shall  search  in  vain,  in  the  wri- 
tings of  Plato,  for  any  minute  or  accurate  description  of 
particular  organs;  and  if,  in  attempting  to  explain  their 
functions,  he  sometimes  approach  the  truth,  we  must 
ascribe  this  rather  to  fortunate  conjecture  than  to  pa- 


II  Ttft  KHi^iXf,  cap.  2  . 


I  rifi  *Tif»,  cap.  2.  aphorism  36. 


720 


ANATOIMY. 


ticnt  and  well  directec!  inquiry.  According  to  him,  the 
brain  13  a  production  of  the  spinal  marrow,  which  he 
Jielieved  to  be  the  first  organized  part  of  the  embryo, 
and  the  bond  of  union  between  soul  and  body  : — an  idea 
which  certainly  bears  gome  resemblance  to  the  truth. 
He  entertained  some  remarkable  ideas  concerning  the 
heart,  which  he  supposed  the  source  of  the  veins,  and 
the  fountain  from  which  the  blood  is  briskly  circulated 
through  all  the  members.  In  a  passage  which  Longinus 
quotes,  as  an  instance  of  the  sublime,  he  calls  the  blood 
the  pasture  of  the  fiesh ;  and  adds,  that  the  body  is 
opened  info  a  number  of  rivulets,  like  a  garden  inter- 
sected with  canals ;  that  from  these  rivulets  the  veins 
receive  their  supply  of  vital  moisture,  and  convey  it, 
through  various  sluices,  to  the  remotest  parts  of  the 
system.  This  remarkable  passage  has  induced  many 
1o  believe,  that  Plato  was  acquainted  with  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood.  He  never  once  dreamt,  however,  that 
the  rivulets  returned  to  their  source,  but  merely  ima- 
gined, that  they  conveyed  the  blood  through  the  body 
as  streiims  are  difTused  through  a  garden  or  meadow. 
Ho  far  from  thinking  of  any  canals  to  bring  back  this 
fluid  to  (lie  heart,  he  fancied  that  the  arteries  were  mere 
air-vessels:  an  opinion  which  led  him,  with  Empedocles, 
to  confound  the  function  of  respiration  with  perspira- 
tion ;  and  to  suppose,  that  the  pores  of  the  skin,  as  well 
as  the  lungs,  were  organs  of  breathing.  As  his  philo- 
sophy excluded  a  vacuum,  he  believed  that  the  air 
which  issues  from  the  lungs,  and  through  the  pores  of 
the  skin,  gave  an  impulse  to  the  air  which  surrounds  the 
body ;  and  that  this  ambient  air,  entering  the  lungs,  re- 
turned by  the  pores,  or,  entering  the  pores,  returned  by 
the  lungs,  in  the  course  of  a  semicircle.  His  reasoning, 
and  mode  of  expression,  betray  a  total  ignorance  of  the 
functions  of  the  heart,  the  lungs,  and  the  skin.  He  ap- 
jiears  to  have  been  the  first  who  attempted  to  account 
for  the  colour  of  the  blood,  which  he  imputes  to  the  ac- 
tion of  fire  residing  in  the  heart. 

The  theory  by  which  he  attempted  to  explain  the  gra- 
dual decay  of  the  system  was  ingenious,  but  extremely 
fanciful.  He  imagiued  that  prime  matter  was  first  con- 
verted into  bodies  of  triangular  shapes ;  that  of  these 
bodies  the  elements  were  constituted,  and  assumed  re- 
gular geometrical  figures, — fire  being  a  pyramid,  the 
earth  a  cube,  the  air  an  octahedron,  and  water  an  icoso- 
hedron  ;  that,  as  the  botly  was  composed  of  these  ele- 
ments, their  angles  would  in  course  of  time  be  blunted, 
•  and  thus  grndually  be  rendered  unable  to  retain  their 
hold,  till  (he  fabric  would  dissolve,  and  the  soul,  like  a 
ship  loosed  from  her  anchor,  be  left  to  drive  at  pleasure. 
Another  phenomenon,  no  less  curious,  engaged  the 
attention  of  this  speculative  philosopher.  It  had  been 
observed,  that  the  forms  of  bodies,  though  almost  infi- 
nitely various,  were  yet  strictly  limited  in  their  number, 
and  that  every  species  was  uniformly  distinguished  by 
the  same  permanent  characters.  To  account  for  this 
(.ingular  fact,  Plato  supposed,  that,  besides  matter  and 
mind,  there  were  certain  forms  which  he  calls  i^ia-i ;  a 
kind  of  moulds  in  which  matter  is  cast,  and  which  regu- 
larly produce  the  same  number  and  variety  of  species  in 
the  animal,  mineral,  and  vegetable  kingdoms. 

The  difference  of  reason,  instinct,  and  passion,  indu- 
ced Plato  to  believe,  that,  instead  of  one  vital  principle, 
there  must  be  three,  one  for  each  of  the  great  cavities 
of  the  human  body ;  the  head  being  the  seat  of  the  ra- 
tional principle ;  the  heart  of  the  courageous ;  and  the 
/f  Dsuai  grovelling  principle  residing  in  the  lower  belly, 


to  which  the  lirer  is  a  kind  of  mirror,  reflecting  certain 
spectres  and  phantoms.  In  these  principles  may  be 
easily  discerned  a  modification  of  the  ,?t»«.«.!»,-  of  Hippo- 
crates; and  his  ^vv«Kci{  seem  to  have  sprung  from  the 
old  superstition,  which  assigned  to  a  tutelary  genius  the 
charge  of  each  of  the  bodily  organs.  The  i^mttum  were 
converted  by  the  Latins  into  facultatcs  and  vires  ;  and 
hence  ihe  faculties  of  our  metaphysicians ;  the  vis  gene- 
trix,  vis  coiicoclrix,  and  vis  mcdicatrix,  and  other  vires 
of  our  physiologists,  known  In  English  by  the  name  of 
functions. 

The  next  philosopher  who  claims  our  attention  is 
Aristotle,  the  pupil  of  Plato;  but  in  every  respect  an 
exact  counterpart  to  his  master.  He  possessed  not  (hat 
glowing  eloquence,  nor  that  sublimity  of  conception, 
which  distinguished  the  illustrious  founder  of  the  Aca- 
demy; but  he  surpassed  him  far  in  perspicuity,  pre- 
cision, and  arrangement ;  in  that  cool  and  determined 
industry,  which  alone  could  guide  him  steadily  in  the 
path  of  discovery ;  in  a  vast  comprehension  of  mind, 
which  enabled  him  to  grasp  the  whole  science  of  his 
time;  and  in  an  Jicuteuess  of  discrimination,  which  led 
him  to  generalize  his  ideas,  and  to  refer  every  object  of 
knowledge  to  its  proper  class.  With  such  qualifications, 
it  is  not  to  be  wondere<l  that  he  should  gain  an  absolute 
control  over  the  literary  world.  He  wrote  on  almost 
every  branch  of  science ;  and  his  writings  displayed 
such  skill  and  force  of  reasoning,  that  they  acquired  tlie 
authority  of  an  oracle.  He  has  fallen,  indeed,  into  many 
errors,  but  these  must  in  general  be  ascribed  to  the  dis- 
advantages of  his  situation ;  nor  is  it  to  be  doubted,  that, 
had  he  lived  in  modern  times,  he  would  have  risen  to 
unrivalled  eminence,  and  perhaps  have  acquired  as  un- 
limited authority  as  he  exercised  over  his  own  and  many 
succeeding  ages. 

At  the  request  of  his  pupil,  Alexander  the  Great,  he 
undertook  to  write  the  natural  history  of  animals.  For 
this  purpose  Alexander  supplied  him  with  800  talents, 
and  employed  men  in  every  part  of  his  extensive  em- 
pire, to  collect  animals  of  all  descriptions  for  his  use. 
The  philosopher,  thus  assisted,  was  enabled  to  arrange 
them  into  classes ;  to  mark  their  various  forms,  dispo- 
sitions, and  habits,  and  the  peculiar  motions,  and  mode 
of  generating,  by  which  each  class  is  distinguished. 
His  observations  are  exceedingly  valuable;  and  although 
his  distinctions  be  not  always  adopted,  many  of  them,  at 
least,  are  retained ;  both  the  paths  and  objects  of  inquiry 
are  clearly  marked  out;  and  his  history  of  animals  has 
not  only  tended  to  inspire  an  enthusiasm  for  such  inves- 
tigations, but  to  abridge  their  toil,  and  has  furnished 
many  important  hints  to  succeeding  naturalists. 

He  likewise  inquired  into  the  internal  structure  of 
animals ;  wrote  a  treatise  on  anatomy,  and  gave  an  ana- 
tomical nomenclature,  both  of  which  have  unfortunately 
been  lost.  He  examined  the  diflerent  organs  with  con- 
siderable minuteness;  observed  their  form,  situation, 
ami  structure ;  and  has  given  a  number  of  names  ami 
distinctions,  which  are  still  found  of  considerable  use. 
It  was  owing  to  the  slate  of  science  in  his  time,  that, 
notwithstanding  his  acquaintance  with  the  animal  struc- 
ture, his  [diysiology  is  as  imperfect  as  that  of  Hippo- 
crates. He  supposed  the  arteries  to  be  organs  of  mo- 
tion }  and  the  flesh  which  moves  an  organ  of  sensation. 
A  ligament  he  terms  a  nerve ;  and  if  he  was  really  ac- 
quainted with  the  organs  which  we  distinguish  by  that 
name,  he  had  not  the  most  distant  idea  of  their  func- 
tions.    The  brain  he  fancied  a  mere  mass  of  water  and 


ANATOIttY, 


721 


earth,  designed  to  exhale  vapours,  and  to  assist  the 
lungs  and  the  arteries  (which  he  supposed  to  be  air- 
yessels,)  in  regulating  the  degrees  of  animal  tempera- 
ture. He  believed  that  the  heart  is  not  only  the  foun- 
tain of  the  blood,  and  the  origin  of  the  veins,  but  the 
origin  likewise  of  the  ligaments  and  tendons ;  the  organ 
of  motion,  sensation,  and  nutrition;  the  seat  of  the  soul, 
of  the  passions,  and  of  the  vital  flame.  To  account  for 
respiration,  he  supposed  that  the  heat  expanded  the  air 
contained  in  the  lungs,  and  that  the  external  air  rushed 
to  prevent  a  vacuum.  In  his  notion  of  digestion  he  ex- 
actly coincided  with  Hippocrates ;  imagining  that  the 
stomach  is  a  passive  organ,  in  which  the  aliments  were 
boiled,  stewed,  or  concocted  ;  but  that,  in  this  operation 
it  is  assisted  by  the  heat  of  the  liver,  the  spleen,  and  the 
viscera  in  the  neighbourhood ;  that  the  liver,  the  spleen, 
and  the  kidneys,  however,  are  also  intended  to  serve  as 
cushions  to  the  arteries  and  the  veins. 

Although  he  has  ivritten  at  some  length  on  generation, 
he  expresses  much  uncertainty  about  the  use  and  im- 
portance of  the  testes.  At  one  time,  he  asserts,  that 
they  prepare  the  seminal  fluid  by  a  vis  insita  ;  at  ano- 
ther, he  seems  to  think  that  they  are  organs  rather  of 
convenience  than  of  essential  utility ;  that  nature  de- 
signed them  chiefly  as  a  counterpoise,  to  prevent  the 
letraction  of  the  spermatic  chord ;  that  some  animals 
have  been  able  to  procreate  after  castration,  when  the 
spermatic  chord  was  not  retracted ;  and  that  serpents 
and  fishes,  which,  in  his  opinion,  have  no  testes,  are 
abundantly  prolific.  His  vital  principle,  like  that  of 
Hippocrates,  was  fire,  of  the  same  nature  with  the  pure 
element  of  the  stars.  This  tire  resided,  prior  to  eon- 
ception,  in  the  seminal  fluid  of  the  male  ;  and,  though  he 
speaks  with  great  hesitation  on  the  subject,  he  seems  to 
think,  that,  with  the  assistance  of  what  he  calls  the  for- 
mal cause,  not  unlike  the  «<?««{  of  Plato,  it  constructed 
the  body,  and  thus  formed  for  itself  a  habitation.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  his  errors,  Aristotle  did  much  both  for 
anatomy  and  natural  history  ;  and  science  is  particular- 
ly indebted  to  him,  not  only  for  the  important  facts 
which  he  brought  to  light,  but  for  the  ardour  which  he 
inspired  for  similar  inquiries. 

The  path  which  Aristotle  had  thus  marked  out,  was 
pursued  with  equal  enthusiasm  by  Diodes  of  Carystus, 
who  wrote  a  treatise  on  the  method  of  dissecting  bo- 
dies; and  by  Praxagorus  of  Cos,  who  restricted  the 
meaning  of  vein  and  artery  to  the  organs  known  at  pre- 
sent by  these  names.  This  restriction  was  of  consider- 
able importance,  as  these  words  had,  before  that  time, 
been  very  vaguely  applied.  Hippocrates  had  given  the 
name  of  vein  to  the  optic  nerve,  and  the  ureters  and  the 
arteries  were  included  with  the  ligaments  and  tendons 
under  the  general  appellation  of  nerves, — a  term  which, 
in  Hippocrates,  Ploto,  and  Aristotle,  had  litte  connex- 
ion with  its  present  meaning. 

Among  the  promoters  of  the  science  of  Anatomy,  it 
would  be  unfair  to  omit  Alexander  the  Great,  at  whose 
particular  request  Aristotle  undertook  the  History  of 
Animals,  and  at  whose  expense  he  was  furnished  with 
the  means  of  prosecuting  his  inquiries.  The  views  of 
Alexander  were  eagerly  adopted  by  the  Ptolemies,  his 
successorsi  in  Egypt ;  through  whose  royal  patronage 
anatomists  first  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  examining 
the  structure  of  the  human  body.  Without  such  protec- 
tion, no  private  individual  would  have  attempted  the 
dissection  of  a  human  subject :  against  v.'hich,  the  pre- 
VoL.  I.  Part  11. 


judices  of  the  Greeks  Were  not  leas  violent  than  those 
of  the  Jews  and  Egyptians. 

The  first  and  principal  anatomist  employed  by  the 
Ptolemies  was  Herophilus  of  Chalcedon,  the  disciple  of 
Prasagoras.  His  attention  was  chiefly  directed  to  the 
nervous  system;  and,  in  the  course  of  his  researches, 
he  made  a  discovery  which  constituted  a  new  Kra  in 
the  history  of  anatomy.  Before  his  time,  the  brain  and 
its  functions  were  very  imperfectly  understood.  Hippo- 
crates had  mentioned  its  two  membranes ;  Aristotle  its 
division  into  halves,  a  cavity  in  its  middle,  and  a  small- 
er bralu  in  the  back  of  the  head.  Herophilus,  examining  ■ 
it  with  more  attention,  discovered  no  less  than  four  ca- 
vities, traced  several  of  it»  nerves,  and  describes  a  varie- 
ty of  other  parts,  some  of  which  are  distinguished  by 
his  name.  He  was  the  first,  in  short,  who  ascertained 
the  functions  of  the  brain,  the  spinal  marrow,  and  the 
nerves.  So  minnte  was  the  attention  which  he  paid  to 
the  blood  vessels,  that  he  characterized  the  veins  and 
the  arteries  by  the  thickness  of  their  coats ;  and  was  the 
first  Greek  physician  who  wrote  an  accurate  treatise  on 
the  pulse ;  though,  to  form  any  prognosis  from  its  beat- 
ings, he  tells  us,  that  it  is  necessary  to  be  first  acquaint- 
ed with  geometry  and  music.  Herojihilus  is  considered 
as  the  founder  of  the  medical  school  at  Alexandria,  and 
the  first  anatomist  who  taught  osteology  from  the  hu- 
man skeleton. 

Contemporary  with  Herophilus  was  Erasistratus,  the 
grandson  of  Aristotle,  and  the  pupil  of  Chrysippus. 
Erasistratus  was  one  of  the  principal  physicians  at  the 
court  of  Antiochus  in  Syria :  and  he  likewise  enjoyed 
frequent  permission  to  examine  ihe  bodies  of  criminals. 
He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  functions  of  the  brain ; 
tells  us,  that  its  different  cavities  communicate ;  and 
mentions  the  distribution  of  the  nerves,  which  he  consi- 
ders as  the  primary  organs  of  sense  and  motion.  It  is 
allowed  by  Galen,  that  the  valves  of  the  heart,  and  those 
which  are  placed  at  the  commencement  of  the  great  ar- 
teries, were  first  discovered  by  Erasistratus.  If  Galen, 
however,  be  corrrect,  the  treatise  a-tj » ic»fita(,  found  in 
the  works  of  Hippocrates,  in  which  these  organs  are 
mentioned,  cannot  be  genuine.  Erasistratus  was  the 
first  who  asserted,  that  digestion  is  performed  by  (he 
action  of  the  stomach ;  and  the  next  after  Herophilus 
who  traced  the  vessels  which  convey  the  chyle  from  the 
intestines  :  he  maintained,  that  the  l)lood  is  distributed 
through  the  liver  for  the  secretion  of  the  bile  ;  and  con- 
futed an  opinion  which  Plato  had  adopted  from  mistaking 
a  passage  in  Hippocrates, — that  our  drink  passes  through 
the  windpipe  into  the  lungs.  In  a  fragment  of  his 
works  preserved  by  Galen,  from  whom  we  derive  nearly 
all  the  information  which  we  possess  concerning  him  and 
Herophilus,  he  speaks  of  a  hap|)y  disposition  of  the 
muscles  for  the  movement  of  the  limbs.  From  this  it 
may  be  inferred,  that  the  function  of  the  muscles  was 
then  known;  and,  as  neither  he  nor  Herophilus  have 
claimed  the  discovery,  it  was  probably  known  before 
their  time. 

The  obscurity  and  want  of  precision,  with  which 
Hippocrates  speaks  on  this  subject,  proves  how  little 
he  was  acquainted  with  it.  If  we  may  judge,  however, 
from  his  attempt  to  explain  the  phenomena  which  the 
muscles  produce ;  he  must  have  supposed  the  cause  of 
these  phenomena  worthy  of  serious  investigation ;  and 
it  appears  not  a  little  surprising,  that  he,  but  particularly 
Aristotle,  who  attached  such  importance  to  the  exulans^ 
4  Y,  •• 


722 


ANATOMY. 


lion  of  animal  motion,  as  to  write  two  books  on  the  sub- 
ject, slioutd  yet  have  beeu  ignorant  of  the  immediate  or- 
gans which  nature  employs  in  effecting  it.  Hippocrates 
had  described  animal  action  to  the  ligaments  and  ten- 
ilons,  which,  as  we  have  already  seen,  he  termed  vetfa. 
Aristotle  likewise  ascribes  it  to  the  >epf«;  but  dift'ered 
from  Hippocrates  in  selecting  those  particular  vcvga, 
which  we  call  arteries,  in  order  to  explain  its  pheno- 
mena. At  that  time  arteries,  as  their  name  indeed 
implies,  were  supposed  to  contain  nothing  but  air. 
'The  great  arterj'  of  the  sj^stem  was  knoivn  to  rise  from 
the  left  ventricle  of  the  heart;  in  which  Hippocrates,  in 
conformity  with  the  Pythagorean  philosophy  respecting 
heat,  had  placed  the  anima,  or  native  fire.  Under  the 
inllueiice  of  such  high  authority,  it  was  natural  for  Aris- 
totle to  trace  all  motions  to  this  principle :  and,  as  it 
had  no  visilile  communication  ivith  the  other  parts  of 
the  system  but  by  the  ramifications  of  the  great  artery, 
to  which  he  restricted  the  meaning  of  the  word  atgrx, 
indefinitely  applied  by  Hippocrates  to  air  vessels  in  ge- 
neral, he  was  necessarily  led  lo  conclude,  that  this  «•; t« 
must  be  the  instrument  which  the  soul  employs  in  send- 
ing its  spirits  to  the  different  joints,  and  performing  its 
motions  by  some  kinds  of  repulsion  and  attraction.  This 
function  of  the  arteries,  of  course,  superseded  the  use 
of  (he  brain,  the  spinal  marrow,  and  the  nerves;  and 
feuHiciently  accounts  for  those  singular  opinions  which 
Arititotle  entertained  concerning  the  cerebrum  and  the 
Jieart.  His  theory,  fortunately  for  anatomy,  was  soon 
relinquished  for  one  more  rational  and  conformable  to 
truth. 

Lycus  of  Macedon,  %  very  early  writer,  turned  his  at- 
tention to  this  subject,  and  wrote  a  voluminous  treatise 
on  myology,  in  which  he. assigns  four  muscles  to  the 
eye.  Although  this  author  was  little  known  during  his- 
lifetime,  his  works,  if  we  may  believe  Galen,  had  an  ex- 
tensive circulation  after  his  death. 

For  nearly  three  centuries  after  the  time  of  Lycus,  no 
great  improvements  were  made  in  anatomj'  or  physiology. 
Marinas,  who  flourished  under  the  reign  ef  Nero,  in  or- 
der to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  Lycus,  resumed  the 
subject  of  myology,  carried  it  to  a  higher  degree  of  per- 
fection, and  was  the  first  Anatomist  who  suggested  the 
real  use  of  those  bodies  which  are  known  by  the  name 
of  glands. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  2d  century,  Rufus  Ephe- 
eins,  from  observation,  or  experiment,  was  led  to  con- 
clude, that,  besides  air,  the  arteries,  in  their  natural  state, 
contain  also  a  quantity  of  blood.  Erasistratus,  too,  had 
found  blood  in  these  vessels  ;  but,  rather  than  renounce 
the  established  hypothesis,  he  endeavoured  to  account 
for  the  appearance,  by  supposing,  without  being  aware 
of  the  truth  of  the  supposition,  that  the  veins  and  arte- 
•  rics  communicate  at  their  extremities :  and  that,  when 
the  arteries  are  emptied  of  their  air,  the  blood  rushes 
in  from  the  veins  to  prevent  a  vacuum ;  but  that  this 
influx  of  blood  was  always  followed  by  morbid  efifects 
upon  the  system.  In  a  work  of  Rufus  Ephesius,  called 
Otiomasia,  he  ex|)lain8  the  diflerent  terms  employed  by 
preceding  anatomists;  in  some  cases  he  mentions  the 
particular  circumstance  that  gave  rise  to  the  name ;  and 
he  informs  us,  that,  although  Hcrophilus  and  Erasistra- 
tus had  ascertained  the  function  of  the  nerves,  they  still 
allowed  the  word  tivfx,  by  which  they  were  expressed, 
to  retain  its  former  various  meanings,  contenting  them- 
nelvjs  with  characterizing  the  species  which  they  meant 
by  particular  epithets.     The  onomasia  ef  Rufus  may  be 


considered  as  the  best  view  of  the  state  of  anatomy  be- 
fore the  time  of  Galen. 

The  celebrated  Galen  was  born  at  Pergamus,  in  Les- 
ser Asia,  in  the  time  of  the  emperor  Adrian,  and  fiourish- 
ed  under  Trajan,  Marcus  Antoninus,  and  some  ol  their 
successors.  His  genius  was  not  more  uncommon  than 
his  industry.  Early  initiated  in  general  literature,  and 
having  studied  with  singular  diligence  in  all  the  philo- 
sophical schools  of  his  time,  he  at  length  conceived  a 
passion  for  physic.  To  prosecute  the  study  of  that  sci- 
ence with  every  advantage,  he  went  to  Alexandria,  then 
the  most  celebrated  medical  seminary  in  the  world. 
There  he  had  frequent  opportunities  of  examining  the 
human  skeleton;  but,  as  the  practice  of  dissecting  the 
human  body  was  now  laid  aside,  he  employed  himself 
in  dissecting  animals  which  had  the  nearest  resem- 
blance to  man,  and  in  comparing  their  structure  with 
that  of  birds,  quadrupeds,  and  fishes.  To  understand 
the  various  functions  the  more  perfectly,  he  used  some- 
times to  open  animals  alive.  W^ith  all  the  advantages 
of  opulence  and  rank,  of  a  liberal  education,  extensive 
reading,  and  much  travelling,  he  was  enabled  to  collect 
all  the  information  of  his  jiredecessors ;  and  from  great 
industry,  and  much  observation,  has  given  a  fuller  de- 
scription of  the  bones,  the  ligaments,  the  muscles,  the 
nerves,  the  blood-vessels,  and  the  viscera,  than  had 
ever  been  given  before.  So  partial  is  Portal  to  his  ana- 
tomy, that  he  hesitates  not  to  prefer  it  to  many  recent 
elementary  books ;  and  bids  his  readers  only  draw  the 
comparison,  to  be  convinced  of  the  justness  of  a  criti- 
cism so  disgraceful  to  these  crude,  illiterate  compilers, 
and  affording  so  humbling  a  specimen  of  the  progress  of 
the  human  mind. 

Passing  over  his  more  trivial  discoveries,  let  us  take 
a  survey  of  those  which  are  of  some  importance.  He  is 
known  to  have  the  honour  of  first  proving  that  the  arte- 
ries, in  their  natural  state,  contain  blood ;  of  having  first 
mentioned  a  communication  between  the  arteries  and 
the  veins  in  the  substance  of  the  lungs  ;  and  a  passage 
of  the  blood,  by  that  communication,  from  the  right  to  the 
left  ventricle  of  the  heart.  He  was  the  first  anatomist 
who  attended  to  the  peculiar  construction  of  the  fetal 
heart,  and  who  clearly  demonstrated  the  larynx,  and 
showed  it  to  be  the  organ  of  voice.  His  physiolocy,  more 
generally  known  by  the  title  De  usu  partium,  does  the 
highest  honour  to  his  heart  and  understanding.  It  was 
intended  as  a  hj'mn  to  the  Creator;  and,  from  the  nume- 
rous displays  there  made  of  divine  power,  wisdom,  and 
beneficence,  he  exults  in  having  presented  to  the  Deify 
an  offering  more  valuable  than  hecatombs  of  oxen. 

He  adopted  Plato's  notion  of  the  anima,  or  vital  prin- 
ciple, which  regulates  the  whole  economy  of  the  s^'stem. 
Instead  of  Plato's  three  souls,  however,  he  supposes 
three  spirits,  which  are  the  instruments  of  three  faculties, 
the  natur<il,  animal,  and  vital.  The  liver  is  the  seat  of 
the  natural  faculty,  which  presides  over  growth,  nutri- 
tion, and  generation  ;  the  vital  faculty  is  placed  in  the 
heart,  and  distributes  life  and  heat  through  the  channels 
of  the  arteries;  the  animal  faculty,  which  resides  in  the 
brain,  regulates  the  whole,  and,  through  the  medium  of 
the  nerves,  is  made  to  convey  sensation  and  motion. 
Besides  these,  he  supposes  other  inferior  faculties  whose 
office  is  limited  to  particular  organs ;  and  these  faculties 
are  exactly  the  same  with  the  vita:  propria,  which, 
though  never  distinguished  till  very  lately  by  tliat  name, 
were,  in  other  respects,  as  well  known  to  the  ancieutB 
as  the  fvur  temperaments. 


ANATOMY. 


72a 


Of  Ibese  (erapevawents,  wlilch,  as  well  as  the  natu- 
ral animal,  and  vital  fiinctions,  still  make  Bome  figure 
in  modern  pathology,  it  will  now  be  proper  to  give  some 
explanation.     To  account  for  the  original  formation  of 
the  world  out  of  chaos,  the  ancient  mythologiats  made 
use  of  four  elements,  fire,  air,  water,  and  earth ;   and 
four  qualities,  hot,  cold,  dry,  and  moist.     These  great 
agents  in  nature  were  found  necessaryfor  the  explanation 
of  every  phenomenon.  It  was  to  be  expected,  therefore, 
that  they  should,  likewise,  be  cnlled  in,  to  explain  the 
l\inctions  of  the  human  body.     The  four  qualities  were 
accordingly  given  to  four  humours, — a  kind  of  secondary 
elements   that  were  supposed   to  exist  in  the   body. 
These,    according  to  Hippocrates,    were  bile,    blood, 
phlegm,  and  water;  or,  as  he  seems  occasionally  in- 
clined to  think,  blood,  phlegm,  a  yellow  bile,  and  a  black. 
To  each  of  these  were  given  two  of  the  elementary 
qualities;    so  that  the  blood  was  hot  and  moist,  the 
phlegm  cold  and  moist,  the  yellow  bile  hot  and  dry,  the 
black  bile  cold  and  dry.     Besides  these,  however,  Hip- 
pocrates supposed  a  great  many  others,  particularly  the 
sweet,  the  salt,  the  bitter,  and  the  austere.     He  made, 
likewise,  his  humours  and  qualities  to  vary  greatly  in 
their  proportions,  and  his  qualities  in  their  degrees  of 
intensify,  and  supposed  these  variations  to  proceed  from 
an  infinite  number  of  circumstances :  from  difference  in 
age  or  sex ;    from  the  influence  of  the  sun,  moon,  or 
planets,  in  every  possible  position  and  aspect ;  from  the 
changes  of  season,  and  every  slight  alteration  of  wea- 
ther.    The  changes  thus  arising  from  (he  various  com- 
binations, proportions,   and  degrees,  of  four  humours, 
and  eight  qualities,  to  rflake  no  more  of  them,  can  easi- 
ly be  shown  to  amount  to,  at  least,  479,001,600;  yet,  to 
practise  with  sure  success,  it  was  necessary  to  know 
and  distinguish  each  of  these  changes.     As  that,  how- 
ever, was  impossible,  Hippocrates  directed  his  attention 
chiefly  to  four  changes  produced  by  the  varying  propoiv 
tionsof  the  humours.     These  changes  were  called  tem- 
peraments ;  and,  according   to  the  liumour  which  pre- 
<lomin;itfd  at  the  time,  they  were  sanguineous,  phlegma- 
tic, bilious,  or  melancholic.  They  were  limited  to  four, 
in  order  to  correspond  with  the  four  elements,  the  four 
great  ages  of  the  world,  the  four  periods  in  man's  life, 
the  four  seasons  of  the  year,  and,  above  all,  with  the 
meaning  of  rilfxKlvi,  a  mystical  word  in  the  language  of 
Pythagoras,  signifying  a  quaternion.     It  is  not  surpris- 
ing that  Hippocrates  should  have  adopted  these  fancies, 
when  we  consider  the  school  in  which  he  was  educat- 
ed ;  nor  that  Giilen  should,  in  this  respect,  have  follow- 
etl  a  master,  for  whom  he  entertained  the  highest  ve- 
neration.    But  what  apology  shall  be  made  for  modern 
pathologists,  who,  after  entirely  rejecting  the  sense  of 
these  ancient  writers,  would  sooner  renounce  their  re- 
ligious creed,  than  part  with  the  terms  in  which  these 
antiquated  notions  are  expressed. 

From  this  fantastic  pathology  let  us  turn  our  attention 
to  objects  more  interesting.  The  vast  collection  of  his- 
torical, medical,  and  anatomical  knowledge,  contained 
in  the  works  of  Galen,  arranged  with  all  the  nicety  of  a 
critic,  and  adorned  by  the  abilities  of  the  first  and  most 
accomplished  scholar  of  his  time,  impressed  the  minds 
of  his  followers  with  a  kind  of  reverential  awe,  which 
ratlier  checked  than  excited  emulation.  For  many  ages, 
no  person  appeared  bold  enough  to  dissent  from  his  opi- 
nions, or  aspire  to  equal,  far  less  to  excel  him.  Physi- 
cians and  anatomists  sought  only  to  distinguish  them- 
felyes  by  their  care  and  industry  in  studying,  abridging, 


copying,  or  commenting  on  his  Works.  The  Arabians; 
who  got  them  into  their  possession  at  the  taking  of  Alex- 
andria, followed  him  with  the  same  implicit  deference ; 
while  the  translation  of  the  seat  of  the  empire  from 
Rome  to  Byzantium,  and  the  future  inroads  of  barba- 
rians, almost  extinguished  his  name  in  the  west.  More 
than  a  thousand  years  elapsed  from  the  time  of  Galen, 
before  any  new  discoveries  were  made  in  anatomy, 
sufficiently  important  to  deseri-e  notice. 

At  length  the  genius  of  Greece  began  to  burst  forth, 
from  the  cloud  in  which  it  had  been  so  long  shrouded, 
and  to  illimiine  the  west  of  Europe  with  its  benign  in- 
fluence. Many  of  the  crusaders,  in  their  expeditions 
against  (he  infidels,  had  become  acquainted  with  Ara- 
bian literature,  which  also  was  derived  from  Greece; 
and,  on  returning  to  Europe,  not  only  pursued  the  study 
of  it  with  ardour,  but  inspired  their  countrymen  with  a 
similar  enthusiasm.  Anatomy  was  first  revived  by  Mun- 
dinus,  a  Milanese,  who  had  become  acquaiuted  with  the 
writings  of  Galen,  through  the  impure  medium  of  au 
Arabian  translation.  AVishing  to  illustrate  the  descrip- 
tions of  Galen  by  actual  dissection,  he  made  several 
observations  of  his  own  ;  and,  about  the  year  1315,  pub- 
lished the  result  of  his  inquiries,  under  the  form  of  a 
regular  system.  Though  the  attempt  was  rude,  and 
many  of  the  terms  which  he  employed  were  Arabic,  its 
novelty  attracted  general  notice;  and,  as  there  was  no- 
thing of  the  same  kind  with  which  it  could  be  brought 
into  comparison,  it  was  held  in  such  estimation,  that, 
for  some  time  the  statutes  of  Padua  allowed  no  other 
system  to  be  taught.  It  thus  contributed  to  revive  a 
spirit  for  anatomical  inquiries  ;  and  for  some  time  after, 
the  surest  road  to  fame,  was  to  publish  the  system  of 
Mundinus  with  commentaries. 

Still,  however,  the  reviving  literature  of  Greece  was 
insuflicient  to  dispel  the  gloom  of  ignorance  and  preju- 
dice.    It  acquired  new  vigour  about  the  middle  of  the 
15th  century,  when  Constantinople  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Turks.     That  catastrophe  forced  Theotlore,  Gaza, 
Argyrophilus,  and  other  learned  men,  to  seek  an  asylum 
in  Italy,  where  Emanuel  Chrysoloras  had  already  been 
employed  in  disseminating  knowledge.     Theodore,  and 
his  companions  in  misfortune,  carried  along  with  them 
many  valuable  Greek  manuscripts,  and  rescued  from 
oblivion  many  others  that  had  lain  buried  in  the  libraries 
of  (he  West.     About  the  close  of  the  same  century,  this 
reviving  spirit  received  a  strong  impulse  from  the  disco- 
very of  the  art  of  printing.     The  opening  of  the  six- 
teenth century  was  particularly  auspicious  to  anatomy. 
Not  only  in  Italy,  but  in  Germany  and  France,  many  emi- 
nent men  arose,  whose  ardent  enthusiasm,  and  unwea- 
ried perseverance,  in  the  study  of  that  science,  were 
rewarded  by  many  valuable  improvements  and  discove- 
ries.    Among   these,    the  first  place  is  due   to  James 
Berengarius  of  Carjii,  professor  of  Bononia,  who  had 
spent  much  time  in  dissecting,  and  publishing  a  system 
of  such  reputation,  that  he  w-as  called  the  restorer  of 
anatomy.     At  the  same  time,  Charles  Stephans,  brother 
lo  the  printer  Henry  Stephans,  and  the  intimate  friend 
of  our  countryman  Buchanan,  was  imi»roving  the  ana- 
tomy of  ligaments  and   bones ;  Fernelius  that  of  the 
blood-vessels;    and  Goithier  Andernach  that  of   the 
muscles. 

The  veneration  in  which  Galen  was  held  was  still  a 
great  obstacle  in  the  way  of  improvement ;  for  he  con- 
tinued the  sole  dictator  in  the  schools  of  anatomy  and 
physic,  till  Andrew  Vesalius  boldly  ventured  to  question 
4  Y  2 


724 


ANATOMY. 


his  authority.     This  extraordinary  man  wag  a  native  of 
Brussels,     baring,  ardent,  and  enterprising,  and  inde- 
fatigable in  the  pursuit  of  whatever  he  undertook,  he 
showed,  while  yet  a  boy,  a  decided  partiality  for  the 
study  of  anatomy.     Possessed  of  an  easy  fortune,  he 
neglected  none  of  the  advantages  which  it  afforded  for 
cultivating  his  mind,  and  qualifying  himself  for  the  fur- 
ther prosecution  of  those  studies,  to  which  nature  had 
iaclined  him,  with  resistless  and  unexampled  bias.     In 
a  short  time  he  made  himself  master  of  the  Hebrew 
language,  and  acquired  so  complete  a  knowledge  of  the 
Greek  and  Arabic,  that,  liefore  he  had  reached  his  20th 
year,  he  had  read  the  works  of  Avicenna  and  Galen  in 
the  original.     He  even  spoke  the  Greek  language  with 
fluency,  and  wrote  Latin  with  more  ease  and  elegance 
than  any  of  his  contemporaries.     Such  was  his  zeal  for 
dissection,  than  he  used  to  rob  the  gibbets,  and  dissect 
the  bodies  in  his  bedchamber.     Thus  versant  with  prac- 
tical anatomy,  he  soon  perceived  that  many  of  Galen's 
descriptions  had  been  taken  from  quadrupeds ;  and,  not 
being  of  a  disposition  to  conceal  his  sentiments,  he  be- 
gan o|)enly  to  dispute  the  authority,  and  to  correct  the 
mistakes  of  the  Grecian  master,  and  at  last  resolved  to 
publish  an  anatomical  system  of  his  own.     Accordingly, 
in  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  having  already  given 
public  lectures  in  several  universities,  he  began  this 
great  work,  and,   after  overcoming  many  ditficulties, 
which  scarcely  any  other  person  could  have  surmount- 
ed, he  completed  it  in  the  space  of  three  years.     No 
treatise  on  anatomy  had  ever  appeared  which  could  be 
at  all  compared  with  the  work  of  Vesalius,  in  arrange- 
ment, copiousness,  and  accuracy ;  but  the  severe  cen- 
sures on  Galen  which  it  contained  provoked  the  numer- 
ous admirers  of  that  great  master,  who,  sifting  the  trea- 
tise of  Vesalius  with  all  the  keenness  of  criticism,  de- 
tected somemistakes  similar  to  those  which  he  condemn- 
ed.    This  spirit  of  controversy  led  to  more  accurate 
inquiry ;  the  system  of  Vesalius  remained  unrivalled, 
and  was  at  length  successful  in  breaking  that  enchant- 
ment in  which  Galen  had  held  anatomists  for  so  many 
centuries. 

The  passage  of  the  blood  from  the  right  to  the  left 
ventricle  of  the  heart  was  at  this  time  unknown.     Vesa- 
lius demonstrated,  that  it  could  not  possibly  pass  through 
the  septum  by  which  these  ventricles  are  divided.    Ana- 
tomists were  under  the  necessity,  therefore,  of  looking 
•out  for  some  other  course.      Columbus,   the  pupil  of 
Vesalius,   traced  it  through  the  lungs ;    when  it  was 
found,  that  the  same  passage  had  been  known  to  Galeu, 
to  Nemysius  bishop  of  Emessa,  to  Servetus  a  Spaniard, 
and  to  Vasseus.     Andrew  Cesalpinus,  an  Italian  physi- 
cian, went  still  further;  he  mentions  a  communication 
between  the  veins  and  arteries  at  their  extremities,  and 
opeaks  of  the  valves  of  the  arteries  and  auricles  as  capa- 
ble of  preventing  the  reflux  of  the  blood.     From  this 
language  Jie  may  seem  to  have  been  acquainted  with  the 
circulation  discovered  by  Harvey;  but  a  notion  which 
he  had,  that  the  blood  flowed  backwards  and  forwards, 
like  the  tide  of  Euripus;  that  the  valves  did  not  act 
constanti}'  in  the  same  way ;  and  that  the  blood  flowed 
in  the  vena  portre,  in  a  manner  different  from  that  in 
which  it  flowed  in  any  other  vessels, — is  a  proof  that 
the  whole  of  his  ideas  on  the  subject  are  very  inaccu- 
rate.   Indeed,  the  man  who,  with  the  childish  ingenuity 
of  a  lover,  could  make  every  fact  to  suit  with  his  theo- 
ries, liowever  absurd,  was  so  far  from  being  fitted  for 
making  the  discovery  oa  rational  ptiacipies,  that  be  made 


the  very  facts,  which,  without  his  explanation,  might 
have  been  useful,  additional  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
others ;  and,  by  holding  out  false  and  deceitful  lights, 
calculated  only  to  mislead  and  bewilder,  he  rendered  the 
accomplishment  of  the  discovery  more  arduous  and  dif- 
ficult than  it  was  before. 

Nearly  about  the  same  time,  Fabricius  ab  Aquapen- 
dente,  a  professor  at  Padua,  struck  with  some  appear- 
ances which  the  arm  presented  after  being  bound  with 
the  ligature  in  venesection,  laid  open  the  whole  course 
of  a  vein,  and,  in  1574,  observed  certain  membranes 
within  it,  which  he  calle<l  osliola,  or  little  doors.  Ena- 
bled, as  he  thought,  to  account,  by  these  membranes,  for 
the  appearances  which  he  observed  in  the  arm,  he  next 
proceeded  to  lay  open  the  other  veins  of  the  body,  when 
he  perceived  similar  membranes  in  all  the  veins  of  the 
extremities,  but  none  in  the  veins  which  run  through 
the  trunk.  At  last,  after  much  examination  and  n)ature 
reflection,  he  published  his  discovery,  describing  the- 
form,  situation,  and  structure  of  these  membranes,  and 
the  distance  at  which  they  are  generally  placed  from 
each  other  in  the  course  of  the  veins.  In  this  publica- 
tion, he  expresses  his  wonder,  that  these  membranes 
should  have  escaped  the  observation  of  all  preceding 
anatomists  ;  yet  it  was  found  that,  nearly  a  century  be- 
fore, they  had  been  traced  through  all  the  veins  of  the 
extremities  by  Jacobus  Sylvius,  mentioned  by  Charles 
Stephans  as  apophyses  vetiarum,  to|)revent  the  reflux  of 
the  venous  blood  ;  and  in  the  same  year  in  which  Fa- 
bricius made  the  discovery,  had  been  seen  by  Cannanus, 
who  afterwards  pointed  them  out  to  Vesalius. 

Fabricius,  probably  ignorant  of  these  circumstances, 
was  continuing  to  demonstrate  these  membranes  to  bis 
students  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  discoverer,  when 
a  young  Englishman,  named  Harvey,  came  to  prosecute 
his  medical  studies  at  Padua.  The  singular  novelty  of 
these  membranes  strongly  attracted  his  attention,  and 
excited  in  his  mind  the  highest  respect  for  the  discoverer. 
Dissatisfied,  however,  with  the  uses  which  Fabricius 
had  assigned  to  them,  he  coukl  not  help  suspecting  that 
they  performed  a  difl'erent,  and  probably  a  more  impor- 
tant, office  in  the  system.  On  his  return  to  England, 
therefore,  he  became  anxious  to  resume  the  subject. 
He  procured  a  number  of  animals,  and  opening  them 
alive,  completely  ascertained  the  function  of  venous 
membranes,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  valves ;  and 
thence  was  led,  as  he  informed  Mr.  Boyle,  to  the  noblest 
discovery  which  has  ever  been  made  in  anatomy,  the 
circulation  of  the  blood.  It  was  made  public  in  the  year 
1 628 ;  and  the  changes  which  it  necessarily  introduced 
into  all  our  reasonings  on  the  animal  economy  are  uni- 
versally known. 

Never  was  prejudice  more  strongly  exemplified  than 
in  the  opposition  which  was  made  to  this  illustrious  dis- 
covery. Physicians  and  anatomists  were  equally  alarmed 
by  a  circumstance  which  seemed  to  sweep  from  the  very 
foundation  many  of  the  systems  which  they  had  reared. 
So  inveterate,  indeed,  was  the  prejudice  against  the  new 
doctrine,  that  it  considerably  diminished  the  practice  of 
its  immortal  discoverer.  Not  one  physician  above  forty 
years  of  age  became  a  convert  to  it ;  and  so  rancorous 
was  the  envy  of  its  opponents,  that  they  first  attempted 
to  prove  it  erroneous;  when  they  found  that  impossible, 
they  next  searched  the  writings  of  Hippocrates  for 
something  which  might  seem  to  resemble  it ;  but  in  this 
attempt  they  were  equally  unsuccessful :  from  Hippo- 
Crates  they  went  to  Plato  J  from  Plato  to  Nemesius,  bj- 


ANATOMY. 


723 


shop  of  Emessa;  from  Ncmesius  to  one  Rueff,  a  Swiss; 
and  from  Rueffto  Andrew  Cesalpiiius ; — but  all  in  vain. 
Cliagrined  with  disappointment,  they  next  began  to  de- 
tract from  its  merit;  alleging,  that  the  foundation  of  it 
was  laid  by  Fabricius  ab  Aquapendente,  and  that  Har- 
vey had  little  more  to  do  than  to  dress  it  up  into  a  sys- 
tem. They  have  brought  him  into  comparison  witli 
Columbus  and  Copernicus,  to  show  that  his  rank  as  a 
discoverer  is  comparatively  low.  None  of  his  writings, 
they  have  said,  show  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  uncom- 
mon abilities ;  they  have  even  charged  him  with  obsti- 
nacy and  envy ;  since,  though  he  lived  almost  thirty 
years  alter  the  lacteals  were  made  known  by  Asellius, 
he  seemed  to  persist,  to  the  last,  in  doubling  their  exist- 
ence. Of  these  invidious  and  unmanly  charges,  his 
own  works,  Dc  motu  cordis,  et  Generatione  animalium, 
afford  the  most  complete  confutation ;  works  which 
will  perpetuate  his  memory  in  the  annals  of  fame ; 
vindicate  his  claim  to  the  distinguished  character  of 
genius ;  and  elevate  him  to  a  height  far  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  envenomed,  but  impotent,  darts  of  envy  and  de- 
traction. 

Harvey's  discovery  was  soon  followed  by  another,  in 
many  respects  even  more  extraordinary;  the  discovery 
of  a  great  and  important  system  of  vessels,  which  had 
seldom  been  even  partially  seen,  and  which  the  greater 
number  of  anatomists  did  not  suppose  even  to  exist. 
The  food  had  been  traced  from  the  mouth  to  the  sto- 
mach, and  from  the  stomach  through  the  different  wind- 
ings of  the  intestines;  but  no  person  had  ever  observed 
a  single  passage  by  which  the  nutritious  part  of  the  ali- 
ment might  be  conveyed  into  the  system.  There  had 
been  seen,  indeed,  a  number  of  veins  on  the  tube,  par- 
cularly  on  the  part  which  is  called  intestine ;  but  as 
none  else  were  observed  except  the  concomitant  branches 
of  arteries,  it  was  naturally  concluded,  that  the  veins 
were  the  vessels  which  convey  the  chyle ;  and  as  those 
arising  from  the  stomach  and  intestines  end  in  the  liver, 
anatomists  assigned  to  that  viscus  the  office  of  changing 
the  chyle  into  bloo<l,  and  called  it  the  organ  of  sanguifi- 
cation. This  explanation  was  considered  as  completely 
satisfactory,  till,  in  the  year  1 622,  Asellius,  a  doctor  of 
Pavia,  happening  to  open  a  live  dog,  observed  vessels  of 
a  dilTerent  nature,  all  commencing  from  the  intestines, 
and  containing  a  fluid  of  a  white  colour.  The  white 
appearance  led  him  at  first  to  suppose  that  they  were 
nerves ;  but  upon  further  and  stricter  inquiry,  he  con- 
cluded, that  they  were  the  vessels  destined  by  nature  to 
convey  the  chyle ;  traced  them  as  far  as  a  large  gland,  or 
cluster  of  glands,  which  he  calls  pancreas ;  and,  from 
the  white  colour  of  their  fluid,  gave  to  the  vessels  them- 
selves the  name  of  lacteals.  He  perceived  likewise  a 
few  on  the  liver ;  and,  as  he  entertained  the  general 
notion  of  its  function,  he  naturally  supposed  that  they 
all  went  to  that  gland,  and  calls  them  its  arms,  by  which, 
as  by  leeches,  it  sucks  up  the  chyle.  This  comparison 
has  given  rise  to  a  hypothesis,  which,  without  any  just 
title,  lays  claim  to  originality,  and  which,  like  too  many 
of  our  modem  theories,  is  altogether  nugatory.  Asel- 
lius modestly  disclaims  all  merit  from  his  discovery  ; 
ascribes  it  wholly  to  chance ;  confesses  that  Erasistratus 
had  observed  similar  vessels  in  a  kid,  but  had  mistaken 
them  for  arteries,  and  supposed  that  at  times  they  con- 
tained air. 

It  will  be  at  once  perceived  that  the  discovery  of 
Asellius  was  imperfect :  He  only  supposed  that  these 
Tessels  went  to  the  liver ;  to  trace  thein  to  the  fountain 


of  the  blood  was  au  honour  reserved  (or  Pecquet,  a 
French  anatomist,  who,  about  thirty  years  after,  on  open- 
ing the  heart  of  another  live  dog,  saw  a  whitish  fluid 
mingling  with  the  blood,  and  flowing  in  with  a  constant 
stream.  Examining  the  source  of  this  fluid,  he  was  led 
to  discover  the  large  trunk  in  which  all  the  vessels  seen 
by  Asellius  terminate.  With  a  modesty  equal  to  that  of 
Asellius,  he  cautions  his  readers  to  ascribe  this  discove- 
ry to  no  superior  acuteness  or  diligence  on  his  part, 
nor  to  accuse  preceding  anatomists  of  neglect  or  inac- 
curacy ;  candidly  acknowledging  that  his  merit  was  com- 
paratively small,  and  that  his  discovery  was  to  be  at- 
tributed entirely  to  chance,  or  the  kindness  of  Provi- 
dence. It  cannot  be  supposed,  that  a  man  so  modest 
and  unassuming,  would,  had  he  knownit,  have  studiously 
concealed  the  discovery  of  Eustachius,  who  had  long  be- 
fore described  the  same  vessels  in  a  horse,  though  he 
knew  neither  its  origin  nor  its  use :  the  discovery  of 
which  constitutes  the  high  merit  of  Pecquet. 

With  these  discoveries  of  Asellius  and  Pecquet,  ana- 
tomists would  probably  have  remained  satistied,  and 
would  never  have  thought  of  looking  for  any  more  ves- 
sels to  explain  the  functions  of  the  animal  system,  had 
not  Olans  Rudbeck,  a  Swede,  and  afterwards  Thomas 
Barlholiue,  a  Dane,  on  opening  the  bodies  of  live  dogs, 
accidentally  discovered  a  number  of  similar  vessels, 
arising  from  various  parts  of  the  body,  and  ending,  along 
with  the  lacteals  of  Asellius,  in  the  trunk  discovered 
by  Pecquet.  These  vessels  were  afterwards  found  in 
sheep,  in  goats,  and  in  man ;  liartholine  saw  them  ea 
the  liver  of  a  fish,  and  Dr.  Monro  and  Mr.  Hewson  have 
since  demonstrated  them  in  a  variety  of  fishes  and  birds. 
In  short,  they  form  a  part  of  the  animal  system,  and 
have  been  found  in  every  part  of  the  human  body  by  va- 
rious anatomists,  and  in  the  brain  by  the  celebrated  Mas- 
cagni.  Prom  an  opinion  that  they  were  branches  of  the 
same  system  with  the  lacteals  of  Asellius,  they  were 
named  by  Bartholine  vasa  laclea  ;  and,  from  the  nature 
of  the  fluid  which  they  coulain,  vasa  serosa,  vasa  lym- 
phatica,  and  ductus  ajuosi. 

The  ditiiculty  of  making  these  discoveries,  the  great 
importance  of  which  is  universally  acknowledged,  can 
only  be  conceived  by  those  who  are  somewhat  ac- 
quainted with  the  subject.  The  lymphatics  and  lacteals 
can  scarcely  be  seen,  even  when  the  eye  is  assisted  by 
the  microscope,  unless  they  are  full;  and  they  seldom 
contain  any  fluid  at  all,  except  during  the  life  of  the 
animal,  and  a  short  time  after  death.  We  cannot  much 
wonder,  therefore,  that  for  so  many  ages  they  escaped 
observation,  or  that,  when  the  lymphatics  were  discover- 
ed, physiologists  found  it  difficult  to  explain  their  use. 
The  use  of  the  lacteals  of  Asellius  was  indeed  abundant- 
ly obvious ;  but  what  nourishment  could  be  conveyed 
by  vessels  arising  from  the  very  points  of  the  extremi- 
ties ? 

Among  many  various  opinions,  it  was  thought  by 
Rudbeck  and  Bartholine  themselves,  that  the  lymphatics 
were  designed  to  convey  back  to  the  heart,  by  suction, 
or  absorption,  all  the  fluids  that  had  wandered  from  the 
course  of  circulation,  and  remained  after  nourishing  the 
parts.  In  this  persuasion  Rudbeck  asserts,  that  they 
prevent  accumulation  of  water  in  the  cavities„and  that 
dropsies  are  occasioned  by  their  rupture  or  obstruction. 
Nor  was  the  opinion,  that  such  an  absorption  is  regularly 
taking  place  in  all  parts  of  the  animal  body,  any  new 
idea  in  anatomy.  It  was  the  general  and  well-known 
doctrine  of  the  ancients,  as  Kan  Boerhaave  plainly  proves 


726 


ANATOMY. 


In  his  work,  entitled,  Verspiralio  dida  Hippocrati.  Tlie 
office  of  absorption,  however,  was  ascribed  to  veins ;  but 
as  it  was  obvious  that  the  vessels  discovered  by  Asellius 
performed  the  functions  formerly  ascribed  to  the  veins 
of  the  intestines,  Rudbeck  iind  Bartholine  claimed  the 
same  privilege  for  the  lymphatics  in  all  the  other 
parts  of  the  body  ;  Vienssenius,  a  professor  at  Montpe- 
lier,  endeavoured  to  prove,  from  mercurial  frictions,  and 
the  effects  of  bathing  in  water,  that  the  same  vessels 
opened  on  the  surface.  Similar  ideas  of  their  nature 
and  functions  had  occurred  to  Glisson,  to  Willis,  to 
Hoffman,  and  Mr.  Noguez,  a  French  anatomist,  who,  as 
early  as  the  year  1727,  calls  them  conduits  absorbanti, 
or  absorbing  vessels.  The  same  doctrine  has  been  con- 
firmed by  two  very  distinguished  anatomists,  the  late 
Dr.  Hunter,  and  the  present  Dr.  Monro  of  Edinburgh  ; 
■who  have  warmly  disputed  about  the  honour  of  suggest- 
ing a  thought  which  was  familiar  to  anatomists  before 
they  were  in  existence. 

As  the  system  of  absorbents  is  the  last  great  and 
leading  discovery  made  in  anatomy  by  means  of  dis- 
section, we  shall  now,  according  to  our  proposed  plan, 
take  a  view  of  the  principal  improvements  that  have 
lieen  introduced  in  the  way  of  demonstration.  The  in- 
sufficiency of  verbal  descriptions  had  suggested  to  sur- 
geons and  anatomists,  at  a  very  early  period,  the  idea  of 
supplying  this  defect  by  pictures  and  figures.  The  ho- 
nour of  first  introducing  this  mode  of  demonstration  has 
been  assigned  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  an  Italian,  eminent 
for  his  knowledge  ef  philosophy,  painting,  and  anatomy, 
who  died  in  the  beginning  of  the  16th  century;  but  to 
this  honour,  whatever  may  be  his  merit  in  other  respects, 
he  is  by  no  means  entitled.  Surgical  figures  had  been 
«^xhibited  by  Moschion  in  the  third  century;  and  Guy 
de  Chauliac,  who  flourished  in  the  14th  century,  informs 
us,  that  Herniondaville,  who  lived  before  him,  had 
taught  anatomy  from  figures  at  Montpelier.  At  all 
events,  it  is  plain,  from  the  expression  of  Guy  de  Chauli- 
ac, that  anatomical  figures  were  used  in  his  time ; 
and  Montaguana,  who  flourished  about  the  middle  of 
the  15th  century,  is  the  author  of  some  excellent  figures. 
So  general  was  the  practice  about  the  beginning  of  the 
Itith  century,  that  almost  every  book  on  anatomy  was  ac- 
companied with  engravings  :  of  these  we  may  mention 
the  works  of  Peiligh,  Hund,  Carpi,  Dryander,  Vesalius 
Vasseus,  and  Stephans. 

Such  figures  are  exceedingly  useful,  when  access 
cannot  be  had  to  the  parts  of  the  body  which  they  repre- 
sent ;  but  to  be  contented  with  studying  figures  when 
the  originals  may  be  procured,  not  only  bespeaks  a  total 
want  of  taste  for  anatomy,  but  seems  scarcely  consistent 
with  common  understanding. 

The  use  of  the  microscope,  which  was  introduced 
about  the  middle  of  the  1 0th  century,  was  another  great 
acquisition  to  anatomy.  It  was  first  tried  by  the  accurate 
Eustachius,  and  afterwards  employed  by  Grew  and  Mal- 
pighi,  in  illustrating  the  structure  and  economy  ofplants. 
Mali>ighi  also  made  use  of  it  in  demonstrating  parts  of 
the  animal  system.  To  this  instrument  we  are  indebt- 
ed for  many  discoveries  of  Swammerdam,  I.eewenhoek, 
Baker,  Trembley,  Lyonet,  and  Bonnet.  It  has  given 
rise,  likewise,  to  some  foolish  and  absurd  theories,  which 
are  eviilently  founded  on  optical  deceptions :  we  allude, 


particularly,  to  a  theory  of  anlmalcula  in  the  serainal 
fluid ;  another  of  muscular  motion,  founded  on  the  struc- 
ture of  tiie  ultimate  fibre;  and  a  third,  about  the  struc- 
ture and  appearance  of  the  nerves. 

The  last  improvement  of  this  kind  which  deserves  to 
be  mentioned,  is  the  art  of  injection.  To  dissect  pro- 
perly the  smaller  branches  of  collapsed  blood-vessels, 
had  always  been  found  a  difficult  and  tedious  operation. 
As  a  remedy  for  this  inconvenience.  Jacobus  Sylvius, 
the  master  of  Vesalius,  was  wont  to  fill  them  with  a  co- 
loured liquor ;  Eustachius  adopted  a  similar  plan  while 
examining  the  kidnies ;  and  the  same  method  was  occa- 
sionally practisedby  Glisson,  Bellini,  Willis,  and  others; 
while  Riolan  was  accustomed  to  inflate  them  with  air. 
Among  those  who  have  improved  this  mode  of  demon- 
stration, the  honourable  Mr.  Boyle  deserves  particularly 
to  be  mentioned.  He  had  seen  some  dried  preparations'', 
and  proposes  different  kinds  of  injections,  that  would  af- 
terwards harden  and  preserve  the  veins  and  arteries 
plump.  Portal  informs  us,  that  something  of  this  kind 
was  employed  by  Bellini;  at  last  De  Graaf,  about  the 
year  1604,  contrived  convenient  instruments  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  claimed  the  merit  of  the  whole  discoveryf. 
What  now  remained  to  be  sought  was  a  proper  injec- 
tion. Blarcellus  Malpighi  had  employed  quicksilver; 
and  De  Graaf  only  mentions  a  number  of  tinctures, 
which  all  flowed  out  on  the  least  rupture  of  the  vessels. 
His  countryman  Swammerdam,  seeing  the  defect,  em- 
ployed wax,  which  hardens  upon  cooling ;  and,  to  secure 
the  praise  of  the  invention,  sent  one  of  his  preparations 
to  the  Royal  Society  of  London  in  1672.  Ruysch,  the 
friend  of  Swammerdam,  carried  this  art  to  the  highest 
perfection  which  it  has  yet  attained ;  made  a  number  of 
valuable  discoveries;  and,  by  means  of  maceration  and 
erosion,  exhibited  large  clusters  of  vessels  as  small  as 
hairs,  and  freed  from  every  surrounding  substance. 

Having  thus  given  a  general  view  of  the  discoveries 
made  in  anatomy  by  means  of  dissection  and  observation, 
we  shall  proceed  to  examine  the  advantages  which  it  has 
derived  from  the  application  of  mechanical  and  chemical 
philosophy,  and  to  inquire  how  far  those  sciences  may 
enable  us  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  organized  bo- 
dies. 

The  ancients  could  conceive  no  other  metliml  of  ex- 
plaining the  appearances  of  material  objects,  than  by  me- 
chanical philoso|)hy.  So  partial  was  Pythagoras  to  this 
science,  that,  even  in  morals  and  theology,  he  employs 
the  language  of  geometry.  Hippocrates  himself,  if  the 
letter  to  Thessalus  be  genuine,  has  strongly  recommend- 
ed geometry  and  numl>ers  to  the  surgeon  and  physician, 
and  mentioned  the  cases  in  which  they  may  he  useful. 
Plato  imagined  that  the  Deity  biniseU'  was  always  geo- 
metrizing;  and  has  asserted,  that  the  four  elements 
are  four  regular  geometrical  figures.  Oalcn  endea- 
voured to  account  for  a  number  of  diseases  from  certain 
changes  in  the  number,  magnitude,  figure,  siluation,  ve- 
locity, momentum,  and  adhesion  of  the  parts;  while 
Descartes,  an  eminent  philosopher  and  malliematician, 
biassed  by  a  favourite  hypothesis,  was  led  to  infer,  that 
inferior  animals  are  mere  machine^.  Such  opinions 
seemed  not  only  to  warrant,  but  even  to  invite  the  appli- 
cation of  geometry  in  explaining  the  functions  of  the 
animal  structure.     Accortlingly,  Fabriciusab  Aqnapen- 


*  KiiiUchiua  injected,  dried,  and  roacerotcd  his  preparntions. 

t  Ue  Graaf  de  Sifihone.    la  the  same  year  Mayov  publithed  his  b«ok  JDe  Itenpiratkne,  la  ■whiA  he  sp«\kt  of  iiijeclinf  the  lauRs 


ANATOMY. 


727 


denle  partially  applied  mathematical  reasoning  to  illus- 
trate the  uction  of  some  of  the  muscles. 

The  same  plan  was  adopted  by  Herrigonius,  Steno, 
and  others;  and,  at  last,  with  peculiar  success  by  Bo- 
relli,  in  his  valuable  work,  Dc  motu  Animalium.  Till  his 
time,  it  had  been  generally  believed,  that,  in  muscular 
action,  nature  produced  a  great  force  by  a  small  eHbrI ; 
and  that  she  thus  effected  her  purpose  by  certain  levers, 
or  mechanical  powers,  supposed  to  exist  in  the  muscles 
or  tendons.  Borelli  showed  clearly  that  no  such  powers 
exist  in  either,  and  that  bones  are  the  only  levers  in  the 
body.  He  proved,  likewise,  that  these  levers  were  of  a 
kind  very  different  from  what  had  been  imagined;  and, 
from  the  direction  of  the  muscles,  from  the  obliquity  of 
their  insertion,  from  the  place  of  their  insertion  near  the 
joint,  from  its  situation  between  the  fulcrum,  and  the  re- 
sistance, he  demonstrated,  that  nature,  instead  of  produ- 
cing great  force  by  a  small  effort,  was  on  many  occa- 
sions obliged  to  exert  a  power  by  many  hundred  times 
greater  than  the  weight  which  it  had  to  overcome. 

Having  thus  ascertained  the  nature  of  those  levers, 
he  proceeded  next  to  calculate  the  strength  of  the  dif- 
ferent muscles,  and  found,  that  many  which,  in  the  dead 
body,  scarcely  support  the  weight  of  the  bones  to  which 
they  are  attached,  do  in  the  living  exert  a  force  equal 
to  some  thousands  of  pounils.  All  these  conclusions 
he  drew  from  data  universally  admitted ;  but  he  had 
an  opinion  with  regard  to  the  structure  of  the  muscular 
fibre,  which  would  make  their  force  almost  incredi- 
ble. On  this  hypothesis,  the  force  of  only  three  mus- 
cles of  the  hip-joint  is  equal  to  375,420  |iounds.  His 
observations  on  the  forms  and  movements  of  different 
animals,  of  men,  quadrupeds,  birds,  tishes,  and  insects, 
are  not  only  highly  interesting  to  the  naturalist,  but 
might  he  studied  with  advantage  by  the  surgeon  who 
wishes  to  improve  the  mode  of  cure  in  luxation  and 
fracture,  and  in  all  those  cases  where  muscular  action  is 
materially  concerned.  Borelli  was  probably  the  first 
who  clearly  demonstrated  the  immense  force  of  a  mus- 
cular stomach,  and  has  given  a  detail  of  many  experi- 
ments, which,  when  afterwards  repeated  by  the  Abbe 
Spalanzani,  were  greatly  admired,  because  they  were 
ignorantly  supposed  to  be  new. 

His  success  in  explaining  muscular  motion,  induced 
him  to  apply  mathematical  reasoning  to  the  other  func- 
tions both  in  a  state  of  health  and  disease ;  and  his  friend 
Bellini,  carrying  it  still  further,  was  reckoned  the  in- 
ventor of  what  has  been  called  mathematical  medicine: 
a  discovery  deemed  so  important,  that  it  has  been  styled 
"  twhilissimum  atr/ut  ittilissitmim  inventtmi ;"  and  was 
thought  by  some  little  inferior  to  the  discovery  of  the 
circulation  by  Harvey.  This  discovery,  if  such  it  may 
be  called,  found  a  warm  and  strenuous  advocate  in  his 
friend  Pitcairn,  who  afterwards  published  the  Physico- 
mechanical  Elements  of  Medicine.  The  celebrated 
Boerhaave,  Pitcairn's  pupil,  and  the  most  illustrious 
character  of  his  time,  by  giving  his  sanction  likewise  to 
many  of  its  principles,  seemed  to  establish  it  in  the 
schools  of  physic. 

The  animal  system  was  now  considered  merely  as  a 
Biechanicobydraulical  machine,  and  many  strange  the- 
ories were  formed  concerning  the  lentor,  and  fluidity  of 
the  humours;  the  shape,  magnitude,  and  gravity,  of  the 
particles ;  and  the  cavities  of  the  vessels,  supposed 
capable  of  receiving  only  those  of  a  certain  kind,  which, 
if  they  chanced  to  wander  from  their  place,  occasioned 
tliBease  by  an  error  tocj.     Carried  away  by  enthusiasm, 


the  mechanical  physicians  coulJ  not  perceive  that  most 
of  their  conclusions  were  drawn  from  hypothesis,  sup- 
ported neither  by  observation  nor  experiment ;  and  so 
eager  were  they  in  their  favourite  pursuit,  that  they 
seemed  to  be  offended  when  any  other  mode  of  reason- 
ing was  suggested.  "  Since  the  human  body,"  said  Dr. 
Friend,  "  is  nothing  but  a  fine  contexture  of  solids  and 
fluids,  which  observe  the  rules  of  mechanism,  it  is  amaz- 
ing to  find  that  men  should  think  of  any  other  principle 
than  the  mechanical,  to  explain  it  by.  Would  any  one," 
he  adds,  "  go  so  much  out  of  the  way,  as  to  account  for 
the  motions  of  a  watch  from  the  precarious  doctrine  of 
acids  and  alkali?  or  would  he  make  use  of  the  etherial 
matter  of  Des  Cartes  to  solve  all  the  appearances  of  hy- 
drostatics ?" 

Such  opinions  of  the  importance  of  a  favourite  science 
might,  indeed,  be  natural ;  but  they  were  carried  to 
such  extravagance,  and  led  to  consequences  so  very 
nlisind.  that  mathematical  reasoning  has,  for  some  time 
|)ast,  been  almost  entirely  excluded  from  physiology.  It 
is  but  fair,  however,  to  confess,  that  its  enemies  have 
been  as  imprudent  in  rejecting  it  altogether,  as  Bellini 
and  Pitcairn  in  extending  it  too  far.  No  other  species 
of  reasoning  could  ever  have  explained  Ihe  motions  of 
animals  ;  shown  the  force  which  the  heart  and  stomach 
exert  in  their  contractions;  the  velocity  of  the  blood; 
its  momentum  and  quantify  in  different  vessels;  and  the 
effect  of  the  several  angles  at  which  the  branches  rise 
from  their  trunks.  It  may  be  added,  that  no  other  mode 
of  reasoning  has  been  so  successful  in  giving  a  rational 
theory  of  vision;  in  explaining  the  organs  and  pheno- 
mena of  sound;  and  in  explaining  the  relative  projjor- 
tions  of  the  different  excretions,  and  the  causes  which 
affect  them. 

But  of  all  the  sciences,  none  has  made  bolder  pre- 
tensions than  chemistry  to  explain  the  functions  of  the 
animal  system.  The  first  who  suggested  the  use  of 
chemistry  in  physiology  was  Paracelsus  :  a  man  of  sin- 
gularly eccentric  manners,  keen,  rash,  ignorant,  conceit- 
ed, and  notorious  for  that  insufferable  arrogance  by 
which  the  weak-minded  in  prosperity  are  generally 
characterized.  Ambitious  to  an  excess  of  popular  ap- 
plause, he  would  allow  no  merit  to  any  other  person ; 
and  for  that  reason,  was  particularly  violent  against  all 
those  of  his  own  profession  who  had  acquired  any  repu- 
tation. Having  excited  the  admiration  of  the  vulgar 
and  credulous,  by  some  remarkable  cures  which  he  per- 
formed by  means  of  mercury  and  opium,  he  fancied 
that  he  was  something  more  than  human ;  and  uniting 
cunning  with  ambition,  endeavoured  to  impose  himself 
on  the  world,  not  only  as  the  first  physician,  but  the 
first  philosopher  and  divine  then  existing.  Thus  idly 
flattering  his  own  vanity,  he,  in  contemptuous  derision, 
styled  Hippocrates,  Galen,  and  Avicennci,  humoitralists, 
and  burnt  the  works  of  the  two  latter  publicly  at  Basil: 
He  threatened  next  to  overturn  the  system  of  Aristotle, 
and  to  send  back  to  school,  the  Pope,  Luther,  and  Zuin- 
glius,  as  he  had  already  sent  Hippocrates,  Galen,  and 
Avicenna. 

The  art  of  anatomy,  of  which  he  was  totally  ignorant, 
he  affected  to  despise  aS  local,  material,  and  gross,  and 
worthy  of  no  attention.  He  proposes  a  new  kind  of 
anatomy,  however,  which  was  to  consist  in  the  chemical 
analysis  of  the  different  organs ; — "  this,"  he  exclaims, 
"  is  alone  the  true,  this  the  genuine,  this  the  noblest 
kind  of  anatomy  !"  By  this  anatomy  he  ex|)ected  to  find 
the  kinds  and  proportions  of  the  three  great  chemical 


726 


ANAT03IY. 


principles  of  that  time,  sulphur,  mercury,  and  salt :  the 
uulphur,  what  ascended  in  flame ;  the  mercury,  what  as- 
cended in  smoke ;  and  the  salt,  what  remained  after 
combustion. 

As  he  believed  that  the  animal  fabric  is  a  microcosm, 
or  little  world,  governed  by  a  spirit  which  he  called 
ArchiEus,  so  he  also  imagined,  that,  like  the  great  world, 
it  contains  the  principles  of  all  animals,  minerals,  and 
vegetables ;  and,  by  the  power  of  fancy,  or  rather,  by 
the  aid  of  the  poet  Manilius,  who  wrote  on  astronomy 
in  the  time  of  Augustus,  he  discovered  its  sun,  its 
tnoou,  and  its  i)lanets ;  and  asserts,  that  it  is  necessary 
for  a  physician  to  know,  likewise,  its  east  and  its  west, 
its  meridian  line,  its  polar  axis,  the  tail  of  the  Dragon, 
and  its  sign  Aries. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  chemistry,  recom- 
nfended  by  such  a  person,  could  receive  much  attention 
from  physiologists.  His  writings,  however,  contributed 
to  free  them  from  the  shackles  of  Galen,  and  rendered 
chemical  studies  so  fashionable,  that  Borelli,  in  his 
Biblioiheca  Chi/mica,  published  in  1 653,  enumerates  no 
fewer  than  4000  persons  who  had  been  engaged  in  that 
branch  of  science,  though  he  mentions  none  but  those  of 
his  own  knowledge. 

One  would  naturally  imagine,  that,  from  their  joint 
labours,  much  light  would  be  thrown  on  the  animal 
economy.  But  Boerhaave,  in  his  history  of  Chemistry, 
complains,  that  many  of  those  engaged  in  this  study,  by 
their  low  character,  their  dissipated  lives,  their  preten- 
sions to  magic,  and  their  mercenary  views,  not  only  re- 
tarded the  progress  of  the  science,  but  prevented  man- 
kind from  reaping  the  advantage  of  their  discoveries. 
A  circumstance  so  unfavourable  to  the  chemists  was  not 
likely  to  be  overlooked  by  their  opponents  the  mathe- 
maticians :  part  of  that  odium  so  justly  attached  to  the 
character  of  the  men  was  transferred  to  Ihe  science,  and 
thus  chemistry  was  rejected  from  physiology. 

Among  those  who  contributed  to  restore  it,  we  are 
cViiefly  indebted  to  the  honourable  Mr.  Boyle,  Homberg, 
Mayow,  Geoffrey,  the  younger  Lemery,  Stahl,  and  Hoff- 
man. Boyle,  the  earliest  of  these  writers,  not  only 
analyzed  a  considerable  number  of  animal  substances, 
but  pointed  out  several  advantages  which  anatomists 
might  derive  from  the  study  of  this  science.  He  was 
the  inventor,  likewise,  of  what  has  been  called  the 
pneumatic  philosophy,  which  was  afterwards  so  much 
studied  by  Mayow  and  Hales,  and  has  been  so  much  im- 
proved by  our  countryman  Dr.  Black,  whose  merit  as  a 
chemist  will  perpetuate  his  memory  to  the  latest  ages. 
By  this  discovery,  chemical  analysis  is  brought  to  a 
high  stale  of  perfection  ;  and  the  modern  chemistry  has 
already  ascertained,  in  a  much  more  satisfactory  man- 
ner than  had  ever  been  done  before,  the  eoniponent 
parts  of  many  of  the  animal  solids  and  fluids :  having 
shown  furtlier,  that,  in  many  cases,  the  proportions  vary 
according  to  age,  health,  and  disease,  it  gives  us  hopes 
that  it  will  be  able  to  jtrovide  better  remedies  than  are 
yet  known,  for  many  of  the  morbid  changes  which  take 
place. 

Besides  ascertaining  the  particular  nature  of  those 
clianges,  chemistry  has  furnished  the  best  explanation 
of  two  very  important  functions — digestion  and  respira- 
tion. The  ancients,  as  has  been  alrea<ly  observed, 
generally  imagined,  that  the  food  was  prepared  by  putresi- 


cence  or  concoction,  to  which  Erasistralus  afterwards 
added  a  muscular  force.  But  neither  putrescence,  con- 
coction, nor  grinding,  nor  even  the  hypothesis  of  fer- 
mentation, could  ever  explain  how,  in  certain  stomachs, 
the  hardest  bones  are  converted  into  chyle,  until  the 
chemists,  from  frequently  observing  the  processes  of 
their  laboratories,  began  to  suspect,  that  a  certain  liquor 
was  secreted  in  the  stomach,  possessing  the  properties 
of  a  chemical  solvent.  Boyle  and  Ray  ascertained  its 
existence:  Grew  proved,  that  it  could  not  act  upon 
living  bodies  ;  and  others  observed,  that  it  varied  ac- 
cording to  the  nature  of  the  food  and  the  state  of  the 
stomach,  that  it  was  differeut  in  different  animals,  and 
even  in  the  same  animal  at  different  periods.  These 
facts  have  certainly  helped  to  explain  a  great  number  of 
curious  phenomena,  with  regard  to  digestion. 

The  function  of  respiration  was  still  more  obscure, 
and  much  further  beyond  the  reach  of  common  ob- 
servers. The  ancients  seem  to  have  thought  that  it 
was  intended  to  moderate  the  heat  of  the  tfi.ipvlat  x»f , 
or,  as  Virgil  calls  it,  the  "  igncus  vigor."  Yet  Cicero 
appears  to  have  entertained  a  different  opinion.  He 
imagined  that  aether,  or  the  principle  of  fire,  was,  either 
in  a  sensible  or  latent  state,  intimately  blended  with  all 
bodies ;  he  says  expressly,  that  the  coldest  water  owes 
its  fluidity  to  the  heat  which  it  contains ;  that  even  air, 
which,  according  to  the  Stoics,  is  the  coldest  of  bodies, 
possesses  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  this  igneous 
principle  ;  and  that  its  combination  with  this  principle, 
is  what  makes  it  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  animal 
life"*^.  He  adds,  that  the  air,  on  entering  the  body,  is 
warmed  by  the  breath,  and  still  more  by  the  agitation 
of  the  lungs,  whence  it  is  sent  through  the  heart  to  the 
arteriesf.  This  language  would  almost  induce  us  to 
believe,  that  Cicero  supposed  respiration  to  be  the 
principal  cause  of  animal  heat.  But  his  random  expres- 
sions are,  in  general,  so  vague,  that  we  must,  in  justice, 
ascribe  this  discovery  to  a  later  period.  Our  country- 
man, Mayow,  was  the  first  who  entertained  accurate 
ideas  on  the  subject  of  respiration.  From  a  number  of 
well-conducted  chemical  esperimentg,he  proved, thatair 
is  a  compound,  only  one  of  the  ingredients  of  which  sup- 
ports life  ;  he  proved,  likewise,  that  the  same  ingredient 
alone  maintains  combustion,  and  therefore  naturally  con- 
cluded, that  respiration  is  the  principal  cause  of  animal 
temperature.  Observing  that  the  satne  aerial  ingredient 
is  contained  in  nitre,  and  that  nitre  changes  the  colour 
of  the  blood  from  black  to  red ;  he  very  easily  explained 
the  cause  of  that  remarkable  difference  of  colour,  which 
Lower  had  seen  between  the  pulmonic  and  systemic 
fluid,  while  passing  through  the  lungs.  From  this 
change  of  colour,  he  was  led  to  conclude,  that  the  blood, 
iu  pn?aing  through  the  lungs,  was  mixed,  or  somehow 
combined,  with  these  nitro-aerial  particles ;  and  that 
the  principal  ol>ject  of  respiration  is,  to  furnish  a  con- 
stant and  regular  supply  of  this  ingredient,  which  is 
necessary  to  life,  and  to  the  due  performance  of  the 
other  functions.  This  theory,  however,  was  opposed  by 
an  opinion,  then  prevalent,  that  the  alternate  movement 
of  the  lungs  was  chiefly  designed  to  promote  the  cir- 
culation of  the  blood.  To  obviate  this  objection,  he 
observed,  that  the  circulation  of  the  ftfitua  is  carriitl 
on  without  such  assistance,  and  that  though  our 
breathing  be  suppressed  for  a  while,  the  pulse  is  felt 


2>e  JValura  Deer.  Lib.  ii.  cup,  10.  and  43. 


[\.  Ibid.  Lib.  ii.  cap. 


ANATOMY. 


"JaB- 


at  the  wrist  as  befopc— See  MaYow  de  Respiratione, 
p.  260-1. 

This  aerial  fluid,  discovered  by  Mayow,  was  after- 
wards  obtained  in  a  separate  state  by  the  celebrated 
Dr.  Priestly,  who  gave  it  the  name  of  oxygen  gas ;  and 
Dr.  Black,  by  the  discovery  of  latent  heat,  has  been 
enabled  to  explain  in  what  manner  it  occasions  animal 
temperature. 

These  facts  sufficiently  show  how  much  physiology 
is  indebted  to  the  chemists ;  and  encourage  us  to  hope, 
that  much  valuable  information  may  yet  be  derived  from 
their  labours.  Let  them  be  careful,  however,  to  con- 
fine themselves  within  those  bounds  which  nature  has 
prescribed  to  their  researches :  let  them  remember, 
that  every  science  has  its  limits,  beyond  which,  it  serves 
only  to  mislead ;  that  chemical  knowledge  can  no  more 
explain  the  i)ropertie8  of  a  circle,  than  mathematical 
reasoning  the  effervescence  of  acid  and  alkali :  let  them 
beware,  in  short,  of  proceeding,  as  the  mathematicians 
and  older  chemists  did  once  before,  on  tho  vain  suppo- 
*ition,  that  their  science  can  explain  every  thing — as  if 
a  person  acquainted  with  only  a  few  districts,  or  coun- 
tries, should  thiak  himself  qualified  to  give  a  map  of 
the  world. 

A  caution  of  this  kind  is  the  more  necessary,  as  some 
chemists  have  begun  to  deny  the  existence  of  a  vital 
principle,  and  to  maintain,  that  all  the  phenomena  of 
living  bodies  are  the  effect  of  chemical  combinations,  and 
that  a  more  perfect  combination  might  produce  those 
phenomena  in  nature  which  weascribe  to  the  providence, 
wisdom,  and  unbounded  power  of  the  Great  Author  of 
all  things.  Such  speculations,  founded  merely  on  gra- 
tuitous hypotheses,  and  tending  ultimately  to  subvert  not 
only  the  religion  but  the  morals  of  mankind,  cannot  be 
too  strongly  reprobated,  and  are  indeed  more  like  the 
ravings  of  fanatical  enthusiasts,  than  the  sober  contem- 
plations of  philosophers. 

It  will  not  be  difficult  to  show,  that  something  more 
than  chemical  affinities  is  necessary  to  account  for  the 
phenomena  of  the  animal  structure.  When  v,'e  consider 
the  number  of  bones,  joints,  cartilages,  veins,  arteries, 
lymphatics,  glands,  nerves,  ligaments,  and  membranes, 
all  differing  from  one  another,  yet  all  of  determined 
shapes,  and  all  growing  at  the  same  time — when  we 
see  the  number  of  chemical  processes  by  which  they 
are  formed,  differing  in  kind,  but  not  interfering,  or 
similar  in  kind,  but  producing  works  of  a  different  lorm, 
and  although  contiguous,  always  distinct  in  their  opera- 
tions— when  we  see  the  same  chemical  processes  in  the 
other  half  of  the  body  performing  the  like  variegated 
work  in  the  same  way  and  in  the  same  time — when  we 
see  them  change  and  succeed  one  another  according  to 
the  stated  periods  of  life,  and  yet  all  their  actions  regu- 
larly co-operating,  all  depending  on  one  another,  all 
contributing  to  one  end,  and  constnicting  one  whole, 
subservient  to  one  will,  and  obedient  to  one  mind — can 
we  suppose  that  this  whole  is  produced  without  a  plan, 
or  that  this  plan  could  have  been  formed  Avithout  great 
wisdom  and  foresight ;  qualities  which  we  must  now 
ascribe  to  chemical  affinities,  if  they  be  the  sole  agents 
in  nature  ?  In  this  case  we  must  suppose,  that  these 
chemical  affinities  vary  their  work  at  pleasure;  that 
they  construct  on  different  jilans  the  numerous  species 
of  animals  and  vegetables,  |)rcserve  the  regular  differ- 
ence of  sex,  and  the  stated  proportions  of  males  and 
females,  with  all  the  desires,  appetites,  and  passions 
which  accompany  that  distinction.     It  will  likewise  be 

Vol.  I.    Pakt  II. 


necessary  to  believe,  that  tlicy  are  aclquaniled  with  dif- 
ferent countries,  luiow  the  various  seasons  of  each,  and 
that  this  power  occasionally  extends  through  a  space  of 
some  thousand  miles,  drawing  animals  from  distant  cli- 
mates repelling  others  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  at 
last  sending  all  back  at  a  stated  period  to  their  liuraes, 
as  we  see  to  be  the  case  with  birds  and  fishes,  and,  in 
smaller  degrees,  with  quadrupeds  of  passage. 

Since  they  occasionally  form  such  combinations  as  a 
Homer,  a  Virgil,  a  Milton,  or  a  Newton,  we  must  also 
conclude  that  they  possess  the  faculties  of  memory, 
imagination,  and  reason,  in  a  much  higher  degree  than 
could  possibly  belong  to  those  fabrics  of  their  own  con- 
struction. When  we  have  brought  ourselves  to  believe 
all  this,  it  cannot  surely  be  difficult  to  imagine,  that  all 
our  association  of  ideas,  and  their  connexions  with  arbi- 
trary signs,  are  only  a  kind  of  chemical  affinities ;  nor 
need  we  be  surprised  to  see  hereafter,  the  processes  of 
the  laboratory  exhibiting  all  the  symptoms  of  passion, 
desire,  and  appetite,  discussing  moral  and  religious  sub- 
jects, pretending  to  great  skill  in  philosophy,  and  form- 
iug  new  models  of  empires. 

Such  are  the  strange  and  absurd  consequences  to 
which  our  chemical  theories  inevitably  lead:  but  to  view 
the  matter  in  a  more  serious  light,  let  us  ask,  to  what 
do  these  reveries  tend  ?  and  what  do  they  prove  ?  Only 
this,  that  some  chemists  are  beginning  to  wander  from 
the  true  path  of  science,  and  flatter  themselves  that  they 
are  making  important  discoveries,  while  they  employ 
the  phrase  chemical  affinities  to  express  things  which 
were  just  as  well  understood  before  by  their  ordinary 
names.  It  cannot,  indeed,  be  denied,  that  both  chemi- 
cal and  mechanical  causes  are  employed  as  operative 
agents  in  the  animal  system :  but,  as  they  are  alwaj's 
observed  to  act  in  a  uniform  manner,  we  must  conclude, 
that,  in  the  execution  of  different  plans,  they  are  con- 
stantly directed  by  some  other  agent,  which  confines 
their  operations  to  certain  forms,  situations,  magnitudes, 
and  periods  of  life.  TMs  agent,  philosophers  have  dis* 
tinguished  by  the  name  of  vital  principle,  and  have  de- 
monstrated many  of  its  properties ;  while  anatomists, 
and  naturalists,  as  Harvey,  Malpighi,  Lyonet,  Bonnet, 
Trembley,  Baker,  the  late  Mr.  Hunter,  and  many  others, 
have  shown  its  vast  influence  in  the  system,  and  proved, 
from  a  number  of  sound  observations,  and  accurate  ex- 
periments, its  peculiar  powers  in  a  great  variety  of  dif- 
ferent animals.  When  we  consider  what  they  have 
done,  we  cannot  but  express  our  surprise,  that  impor- 
tant inquiries  of  this  nature,  begun  and  carried  on  by 
the  most  ingenious  anatomists  in  Europe,  should  have 
been  almost  totally  laid  aside,  and  have  given  place  to 
the  theories  of  men  little  acquainted  with  the  subject, 
who  had  studied  the  animal  structure  and  economy 
chiefly  in  the  closet,  and  who  bad  proceeded  on  this  sin- 
gular postulate,  that  there  is  no  difference  between  the 
living  and  the  dead  states,  that  the  principle  of  life 
does  not  affect  the  animal  processes,  and  consequently 
that  conclusions  drawn  from  experiments  made  on  the 
dead  body,  may  fairly  and  warrantably  be  applied  to  the 
living. 

"  This  species  of  philosophy,"  says  Dr.  Hunter,  "  has 
prevailed  in  many  parts  of  physiology,  and  makes  up  a 
great  part  of  what  has  been  taught  as  sound  and  useful 
physiological  learning.  The  consequence  has  been,  that 
one  thing  of  peculiar  properties  and  powers  has  beea 
explained  by  another  of  different  properties  and  powers, 
as  absurdly  as  if  colours  had  been  explained  by  sounds. 
4  Z 


730 


ANATOMY. 


But  animal  functions,  generally  speaking,  are  like  nothing 
to  be  found  in  the  works  of  art,  or  where  there  is  not 
animation  and  life;  and  had  physiologists  spent  that 
time  in  making  accurate  observations  upon  animals 
themselves  which  has  been  thrown  away  upon  mechan- 
ical and  chemical  visions,  by  this  time  we  might  have 
understood  animal  principles  and  processes  much  better 
than  we  do  now."  In  continuation  of  these  observations 
we  may  ask,  whether,  without  experiment  or  observa- 
tion, mechanical  or  chemical  reasoning  could  ever  have 
informed  us,  that  a  new  tail  will  grow  to  the  lizard,  and 
a  new  head  on  many  of  the  vermes,  after  the  old  ones 
are  struck  off?  Or  could  we  have  been  assured,  on  any 
'  principle  of  the  two  sciences,  that  when  the  first  pha- 
lanx in  the  large  claw  of  a  lobster  or  crayfish,  is  bro- 
ken or  destroyed,  the  remaining  phalanxes  shall  drop 
off  at  the  fourth  joint,  and  that  then  the  animal,  by  its 
Tilal  power,  shall  reproduce  an  entire  limb,  such  as  the 
former  ?  Could  they  ever  have  learned,  from  their  know- 
ledge of  angles  or  chemical  aiiinities,  that  eight  or  nine 
fcuccessive  generations  of  the  puceron  or  vine-fretter, 
can  propagate  their  species  without  the  intercourse  of 
sexes,  and  that  after  that  period,  the  intercourse  of 
two  sexes  become  necessary  ?  Or  could  they  have  fore- 
seen that  (he  large  bone  of  the  human  leg  may  die  of 
disease,  a  new  one  occupy  its  place,  and  that  yet,  the 
person  affected  should  all  this  time  be  able  to  walk  ? 

These  are  a  few  specimens  of  that  knowledge  which 
the  chemical  philosophers  would  have  us  to  despise,  or 
attempt  to  explain  by  their  doctrine  of  affinities.  It  is 
unnecessary,  we  trust,  to  warn  our  readers  of  the  con- 
sequences. As  the  living  principle  has  become  the  sub- 
ject of  experiment,  and  methods  have  been  pointed  out, 
by  which  its  properties,  powers,  functions,  and  modes  of 
action,  may  be  acsertained,  it  cannot  surely  be  prudent 
to  leave  a  field  of  such  useful  inquiry,  merely  because 
it  is  not  countenanced  by  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Such 
opposition  is  not  peculiar  to  the  vital  principle.  The 
circulation  of  the  blood,  discovered  by  Harvey,  was  for 
«  long  time  hooted  and  ridiculed,  because  the  fastidious 
pride  of  anatomists,  and  their  attachment  to  favourite 
theories,  would  not  allow  them  to  examine  the  facts  on 
■which  it  was  founded.  Chemistry  experienced  a  similar 
treatment  from  the  mathematicians,  who  talked  with 
contempt  of  its  acids  and  alkalis,  because  it  seemed 
to  threaten  destruction  to  their  diagrams,  postulates, 
and  calculations.  General  knowledge  alone  can  prevent 
such  ridiculous  prejudices,  which  usually  arise  from  al- 
lowing the  mind  to  be  wholly  engrossed  with  a  favourite 
science.  In  that  situation,  a  person  must  necessarily 
see  things  through  a  false  medium.  The  chemist  can 
only  see  his  aflinilies;  the  geometrician  his  mechanical 
laws ;  and  both  n)ust  resemble  the  blind  man,  who,  ex- 
amining visible  objects  by  the  ear,  concluded  that  colours 
were  a  species  of  sounds,  and  that  scarlet  was  something 
like  the  blast  of  a  trumpet.  Nor  was  this  misapplicatioo 
of  a  sense  attended  with  more  palpable  errors,  than  the 
application  of  one  science  in  explaining  and  illustrating 
the  principles  of  another. 

It  is  a  singular  and  most  curious  fact  in  the  history  of 
anatomy,  that  geometry,  chemistry,  and  the  vital  prin- 
ciple of  Helniont  and  Stahl,  have  all,  for  a  time,  been 
successively  rejected  from  physiology,  because  each  in 
its  turn  would  attempt  to  explain,  on  its  own  principles, 
the  whole  functions  of  the  animal  system.  Should  not 
these  failures  serve  as  a  hint  to  modern  physiologists, 
that  the  different  fuDctioue  of  the  iwioial  system  are  not 


to  be  explained  upon  one  hypothesis ;  that  nature  is  not 
to  be  dragged  into  our  systems,  nor  restricted  by  our 
rules,  and  that,  therefore,  if  we  mean  to  investigate 
the  truth,  we  must  not  dictate  to  her  in  a  tone  of  autho- 
rity, but  mark  her  laws,  observe  her  operations,  and  try 
to  distinguish  ia  what  cases  she  principally  employs  her 
chemical,  mechanical,  and  vital  agents  '/  Perhaps  she 
may  even  employ  more  than  we  have  yet  discovered  : 
much  is  reserved  for  time  and  accident,  and  of  much, 
too,  we  must  for  ever  remain  ignorant.  To  comprehend 
all  that  relates  to  the  animal  system,  is  to  comprehend 
its  great  Creator,  an  attainment  far  beyond  our  hopes; 
for  though  we  can  trace  the  chain  of  gradation  from  the 
meanest  reptile  up  to  man,  from  man  to  the  Sovereign  of 
the  universe,  the  distance  is  unmeasurable. 

In  these  preliminary  observations,  many  of  our  read- 
ers will  recognize  the  masterly  hand  of  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  anatomists  of  the  age.  We  acknowledge, 
with  equal  pride  and  gratitude,  that  th«y  were  drawn 
up,  almost  wrfeatijn,  from  Dr.  Barclay's  introductory  lec- 
tures, which,  with  the  frank  liberality  that  characterizes 
a  great  mind,  he  allowed  us  to  make  use  of  in  our  work. 
It  will  be  considered  as  no  mean  pledge  of  the  value  of 
the  subsequent  part  of  this  article,  that  it  has  received 
his  decided  approbation. 

We  shall  now  conclude  the  history  of  anatomy,  by  a 
brief  account  of  the  new  nomenclature  with  which  Dr. 
Barclay  has  enriched  tlie  science. 

It  had  been  long  regretted,  that  the  nomenclature  of 
anatomy  was  both  vague  and  indefinite ;  and  that,  iu 
particular,  those  terms  which  referred  to  the  position 
and  aspect  of  the  several  parts  of  the  body,  were  ambi- 
guous, and  having  been  contrived  merely  for  the  human 
boiiy,  could  not  properly  be  employed  in  describing  the 
structure  of  inferior  animals.  Thus,  what  is  superior  or 
inferior  in  man,  is  anterior  or  posterior  in  quadrupeds. 
What  is  external  or  itUertial,  in  one  situation  of  the  bo- 
dy, is  reversed  in  another,  &c.  To  take  a  familiar 
instance,  in  the  fore-arm,  the  side  of  the  hand  next  the 
thumb  has  sometimes  been  described  as  external,  some- 
times as  internal ;  and  sometimes,  (as  by  Albinus,)  as 
anterior  ;  just  as  it  has  been  viewed  in  a  state  of  supi- 
nation, of  pronation,  or  between  both. 

Some  attempts  had  been  made  in  the  latter  end  of 
the  last  century, by  Dumas  and  other  French  writers,  to 
reform  the  language  of  anatomy,  as  their  countrymen 
had  lately  reformed  that  of  chemistry ;  but  in  this  we  do 
not  think  they  have  been  very  successful.  Their  sub- 
stitution of  stis  and  sous  for  superior  and  inferior,  does 
not  remove  the  ambiguity  of  these  expressions,  and 
some  of  their  eomj)ound  terms  are  so  long,  that  they 
ap|>ear  more  like  definitions  than  names. 

Dr.  Barclay  pul>lished  his  thoughts  on  anatomical  no- 
menclature in  1303,  after  having  employed  many  of  the 
terms  which  he  there  introduces,  in  his  public  lectures. 

The  new  terms  recommended  by  Dr.  Barclay  refer 
chiefly  to  position  and  aspect. 

One  of  the  most  general  aspects  of  the  parts  of  as 
animal  body,  is  that  which  looks  towards  an  imaginary 
plane,  supposed  to  be  drawn  through  the  head,  neck, 
and  trunk,  dividing  the  whole  bo<Iy  into  two  equal  and 
similar  halves.  This  is  called  by  Dr.  Barclay,  the  mesial 
plane ;  those  parts  which  look  towards  this  plane  are 
said  to  have  a  mesial  aspect ;  while  those  which  look 
towards  the  opposite  direction  have  a  lateral  aspect,  this 
aspect  being  dextral  or  sinistral,  according  as  the  part 
lies  to  the  right  or  tefl  of  the  mesial  plane. 


ANATOMY. 


731 


tnslead  of  exUmal,  used  to  denote  those  parts  which 
are  next  the  surface.  Dr.  Barclay,  employs  the  term  der- 
mal, and  for  internal,  which  siguifieg  parts  at  a  distance 
from  the  surface,  he  uses  central ;  and  sometimes,  in 
Bpeaking  of  the  circumference  of  an  organ,  he  calls 
those  parts  which  are  next  the  circumference  peri- 
j^ural*. 

The  particular  aspects  and  positions  have  different 
names,  according  as  they  refer  to  the  head,  the  trunk, 
or  the  extremities. 

The  head,  besides  tlie  general  aspects  of  mesial, 
dextral,  sinistral,  peripheral,  and  caitrol,  has  four  or  five 
particular  aspects.  Thus,  the  parts  next  the  tcp  of  the 
head  are  coronal;  those  next  the  base,  basilar;  those  next 
the  occipital  protuberance  at  the  back  of  the  head, 
(called  by  the  Greeks  Inion,)  are  inial ;  those  opposite  to 
this,  at  the  root  of  the  nose,  glabellar  ;  while  those  parts 
tvhich  are  at  the  greatest  rectilineal  distance  from  the 
inion,  (as  the  chin  in  man,)  are  antinial.  If  lines  be  drawn 
between  every  two  of  these  opposite  aspects,  and  be- 
tween those  of  dextral  and  sinistral ;  we  shall  have  four 
diameters  for  the  head,  denominated  from  the  aspects  at 
the  extremities  of  the  line  corono-basilar,  inio-glabcUar, 
inantinial,  and  dextro-sinistral. 

In  the  trunk,  that  aspect  of  organs  which  is  next  the 
ittlas,  or  first  joint  of  the  neck,  is  atlantal ;  that  of  those 
Hext  the  sacrum  is  sacral ;  those  which  look  to  the 
sternum  or  breast-bone,  have  a  sternal,  and  those  which 
look  towards  the  opposite  part  or  back  have  a  dorsal 
aspect. 

In  the  extremities,  beside  the  usnal  general  aspects, 
there  are  two  terms  that  refer  to  both  kinds  of  extre- 
mities. That  part  of  any  of  their  component  bones, 
Which  is  next  the  trunk,  is  called  proxitnal,  while  that 
which  is  in  the  opposite  direction  is  said  to  be  distal. 
The  extremities  themselves  are  of  course  atlantal  and 
sacral,  according  as  they  are  next  the  atlas  or  the  sa- 
crum. 

In  the  atlantal  extremities,  the  terms  arc  taken  from 
Ae  names  of  the  two  bones  that  compose  the  fore  arm, 
and  from  the  positions  of  the  elbow  and  the  palm  of  the 
band.  Thus  the  aspect  of  those  parts  that  are  next  the 
radius  is  radial,  that  of  those  next  the  ulna  is  ulnar, 
while  those  which  look  towards  the  elbow,  are  said  to 
kave  an  anconal,  and  those  which  look  towards  the  palm 
of  the  hand  (with  the  exception  of  the  palm  itself,  to 
which  the  term  volar  is  applied,)  are  said  to  have  a  thenal 
aspect.  In  the  sacral  extremities  the  terms  are  taken 
in  a  similar  manner  from  the  tibia  anA  fibular,  and  from 
the  positions  of  the  ham  (poples,)  and  the  knee  pan, 
(rotula ;)  those  parts  that  look  towards  the  tibia  being 
tibial,  those  towards  the  fibula,  fibular,  while  those  that 
look  to  the  ham,  have  a  ;«)p.'?7ea/ aspect,  and  those  which 
look  towards  the  rotuta,  a  rotular  aspect.  The  term 
plantar,  is  here  confined  to  the  sole  of  the  foot,  as  was 
volar  to  the  palm  of  the  hand. 

In  general,  every  part  of  the  body  is  supposed  to  have 
six  aspects.  Thus  every  part  of  the  head  has  an  inial, 
•a  glabellar,  a  coronal,  a  basilar,  a  dixtral,  and  a  sinistral 
aspect ;  every  part  of  the  trunk  has  an  atlantal,  a  sacral, 
a  sternal,  a  dorsal,  a  dextral,  and  a  sinistial  aspect; 


every  part  of  the  atlantal  extremities  has  a  proximal, 
distal,  radial,  rdnar,  anconal,  and  tlunal  aspect ;  and  eve- 
ry part  of  the  sacral  extremities  a  proximal,  distil, 
tibial,  fibular,  rotular,  and  popliteal  aspect. 

These  terms,  as  they  here  stand,  are  adjectives,  re- 
ferring only  to  position  and  aspect ;  but  they  may  be 
converted  into  general  adjectives,  by  changing  the  ter- 
mination from  al  or  ar  into  in.  Thus  radicn,  nlmn, 
tibien,fibulcn,  refer  to  something  belonging  to  the  radius, 
ulna,  tibiii,  orfilmla. 

By  another  change  on  the  termination,  viz.  substitut- 
ing d  for  I  or  r,  the  adjectives  may  be  converted  into  ad- 
verbs, expressing  direction,  like  upward,  downwqrd, 
backward,  forward,  oidtward  inward,  side7vai/s,  Are.  Lut 
in  a  more  definite  manner.  Thus,  by  one  or  other  of 
the  four  straight  muscles  of  the  eye,  the  ball  may  be 
moved  cor  omul,  basilad,  mcsiad,  or  latcrad ;  the  head 
may  be  drawn  stemad,  or  dorsad,  &c.  Some  other 
terms  are  introduced  by  Dr.  Barclay,  and  some  other 
modes  of  employing  them  are  mentioned  ;  but  for  these 
we  must  refer  to  the  work  itself,  where  plates  illustrat- 
ing the  terms  are  given. 

With  respect  to  this  nomenclature,  we  may  remark  ia 
general,  that  it  is  simple,  clear,  and  founded  on  fixed 
principles ;  and  though  some  of  the  terms  may  appear 
harsh  and  singular,  few  of  them  are  new,  except  in  theii- 
terminations.  The  new  term  of  mesial,  is  particularly 
useful,  and  those  of  atlantal,  and  sacral,  sler-nal  and  dor- 
sal, periplural  and  central,  being  equally  applicable  to 
all  the  vertebral  animals  as  to  man,  render  the  compa- 
rative anatomy  of  those  animals,  more  explicit  in  its 
phraseology,  and  therefore  more  easily  understood. 

In  fact,  when  these  terms  become  familiar,  and,  like 
many  terms  in  common  language,  exchange  their  origi- 
nal signification  for  one  more  arbitrary,  they  may  be  ex- 
tended to  all  animals.  Just  as  the  word  candlestick 
signifies  any  thing  that  holds  a  candle,  and  the  word  ink- 
horn  any  thing  that  holds  ink ;  so  these  terms,  by  a  na- 
tural transition,  are  applicable  to  invertebral  animals. 
Thus  the  atlantal  aspect,  will  denote  that  aspect  which 
points  towards  the  hf^ad  ;  the  sacral  aspect,  that  which 
points  towards  the  opposite  extremity;  though  in  these 
animals  there  be  neither  eUlas  nor  sacrum.  In  insects 
and  worms,  for  instance,  these  terms  will  denote  parts 
corresponding  in  relative  positions  to  those  parts  in  ver- 
tebral animals,  from  which  the  terms  are  originally  de- 
rived. In  short,  the  principle  on  which  this  nomencla- 
ture is  constructed,  is  so  obvious,  and  the  application  of 
it  so  natural  and  easy,  that  even  the  youngest  student 
attending  a  course  of  anatomical  lectures  may  become 
master  of  it  in  less  than  an  hour. 

Dr.  Barclay  has  himself  pointed  out  the  applicatioa 
of  these  terms,  in  his  valuable  work  on  the  Muscular 
Motions  of  the  Human  Body  ;  and  we  shall  occasionally 
follow  his  example  in  the  present  article. 

For  a  fuller  account  of  the  history  of  anatomy,  we 
refer  our  readers  to  Le  Clerc's  "  Histoire  de  la  Medi- 
cine ;''  Hunter's  Introductory  Lectures;  Haller's  Bi- 
bliothicn  Anatomica ;  Portal's  "  Histoire  dAnatomie  et 
de  Chirurgie,"  aud  a  German  work  on  the  history  of 
medicine,  by  Sprengel. 


Dr.  Barclii:r  '»0'w  employs  the  Uria  peripheral  iu  a  mwe  general  sense,  as  iiicladiiig  dermal,  which  latter  he  seldom  uses 

4  Z  2 


732 


ANATOMY. 


Part  I.    HUMAN  ANATOMY. 


IxTRODtJCTioN.     Of  the  Cellular  Membrane. 

The  cellular  memhrane,  is  generaly  distributed  through 
the  body,  and  invests  almost  every  organ.  As  this  part 
of  the  botly  can  scarcely  be  ranked  with  any  of  the  heads, 
under  which  we  have  distributed  tlie  other  organs,  wc 
treat  of  it  hftre  by  way  of  introduction. 

This  membrane  is  composed  of  filaments  and  lamina; 
that  are  interwoven  and  cross  each  other  in  various  di- 
rections, leaving  between  them  spaces  and  cavities  of 
various  sizes,  that  communicate  to  each  other  ;  and  con- 
tain Avithin  them  a  fatty  matter  or  serous  fiuid.  These 
fibres  are  whitish  and  tolerably  elastic.  The  membrane 
which  they  compose  is  so  generally  distributed,  that 
every  muscle,  nay,  every  muscular  fibre,  is  enveloped 
by  it.  It  surrounds  every  artery,  vein,  nerve,  and  ab- 
sorbent, between  which  it  furnishes  both  a  connexion 
and  separation.  It  also  performs  the  office  of  a  gland, 
and  the  fatty  and  serous  matters  that  exude  from  it 
serve  to  lubricate  the  parts  between  which  it  is  inter- 
posed, and  thus  facilitate  the  motion  of  every  organ. 
From  the  great  quantity  of  fat  which  most  parts  of  this 
membrane  contain,  it  must  have  considerable  effect  in 
preserving  the  equal  temperature  of  the  body ;  and  it 
is  probably  for  this  purpose  that  it  is  so  thickly  spread 
between  the  muscles,  and  round  those  organs  which 
might  be  most  injured  by  the  approach  of  cold.  This 
we  find  to  be  the  case  in  those  parts  of  the  body  where 
the  circulation  is  most  languid,  as  in  the  fore  part  of 
the  belly.  It  also  appears  in  manj'  cases  to  serve  as 
nourishment  to  the  system,  when  the  usual  supplies  of 
food  are  cut  off,  or  when  the  body  is  prevented  by  dis- 
ease, or  other  circumstances,  from  receiving  nourish- 
ment in  the  usual  manner.  Thus  we  find  that  (hose  ani- 
mals which  remain  in  a  torpid  state  during  the  greater 
part  of  winter,  are  very  fat  when  they  retire  to  their 
caverns,  but  arc  extremely  lean  when  (hey  emerge 
from  them  on  the  approach  of  warm  weather;  and  we 
observe  that  in  (hose  persons  who  have  laboured  under 
fever,  or  any  other  complaint  that  has  prevented  them 
from  taking  their  ordinary  nourishment,  the  fat  of  the 
bo<ly  is  gradually  absorbed. 

The  cellular  membrane  differs  in  some  respects,  ac- 
cording to  ils  situation  and  uses.  When  it  is  siluated 
on  the  external  part  of  organs,  as  in  that  which  is  placed 
between  the  skin  and  muscles,  it  is  cellular,  abounds 
with  fat,  and  is  generally  very  dense;  while  in  (hat 
which  surrounds  the  arteries,  veins,  &c.  there  are  nei- 
ther lamina;  nor  cells,  but  only  a  tissue  of  fibres,  much 
less  dense,  and  commonly  less  elastic  than  the  former. 

No  anatomist  has  treated  so  fully  and  accurately  of 
(his  membrane, as  Bichat, (See  bis "  Anatmnie  Generalc,' 
torn.  1.)  and  to  him  we  must  refer  our  readers  for  a  more 
particular  account  of  its  structure. 

As  the  cellular  membrane  is  so  universally  distributed 
throughout  the  body,  accompanying  every  vessel  and 
•  every  nerve,  and  mixing  wilh  every  organ  on  which 
these  are  ramified,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  that  it 
performs  some  general  and  important  function,  essential 
to  the  health  and  action  of  every  organ,  though  varied 
and  modified  according  to  circumstances.  From  the 
effect  which  a  dropsical,  or  other  diseased  state  of  (his 
membrane  has  on  the  vceseU  and  nerves  of  the  adjoinipg 


organs,  it  is  likely  that  the  action  of  these  is  influenced 
by  the  cellular  membrane;  and  indeed  the  anatomy, 
physiology,  and  pathology  of  this  membrane,  will  de- 
serve a  minute  and  careful  investigation. 

CHAP.  I. 

0/the  Organs  o/"  Motion. 

Tlie  organs  of  motion  consist  of  the  bones  and  mus- 
cles, with  their  appendages  the  cartilages,  tendons,  liga- 
nunts,  and  mucous  bags.  The  bones  form  the  levers 
and  fulcra  or  props,  and  are  rather  passive  in  the  func- 
tion of  animal  motion ;  while  the  muscles  are  the  real 
moving  organs,  which,  when  actuated  by  the  principle 
of  life,  produce  all  the  perceptible  changes  in  the  solids, 
and  propel  the  fluids  in  their  various  directions. 

Sect.  I.  Of  Uu  Boius  and  their  Appendages. 

The  bones  are  the  most  solid  parts  of  the  animal  ma- 
chine; they  constitute  the  supports  of  all  the  other 
parts ;  they  are  the  foundation  of  the  whole  body ;  and, 
by  their  union,  (hey  form  cavities  for  lodging  in  security 
those  important  organs  on  which  the  principal  functions 
of  life  dei)eml. 

The  bones  are  variously  shaped  according  to  the  parts 
which  they  surround  ©.•  support,  or  to  the  purposes 
which  they  are  designed  to  answer.  Some  are  long  and 
nearly  cylindrical,  as  (hose  of  the  extremities;  others 
long  and  crooked,  as  the  ribs  and  collar-hams ;  some 
are  flat,  as  the  blade-bone  and  breast-bone;  some  con- 
vexo-concave, as  the  bones  of  the  *^///;  others  very  ir- 
regular, as  the  haunch-banes,  and  the  bones  of  the  face. 
The  long  bones  are  usually  hollow,  and  have  their  ex- 
tremities considerably  larger  than  the  rest  of  the  bone ; 
while  the  flat  and  irregular  bones  are  furnished  witli 
many  proluberances,  which  when  they  form  one  piece 
with  the  body  of  the  bone,  are  called  apophyses  or  pro- 
cesses, but  when  less  firmly  united,  are  denominated 
epiphyses, 

Tliese  processes  and  epipliyses  have  received  differ- 
ent names  according  to  (heir  form  or  supposed  uses. 
Thus  we  have  mastoid,  coracoid,  styloid,  spinous,  ptery- 
goid, and  zygomatic  processes,  supposed  to  resemble  a 
nipple,  a  crow's  bealc,  a  stylus,  a  spine,  a  tving,  or  a  yoke. 
When  they  are  smooth  and  spherical,  (hey  are  called 
heads ;  when  smooth  and  formed  bo  as  to  move  like 
hinges  on  other  bones,  they  are  termed  condyles  j  when 
roundish  and  rough,  they  are  called  tuberosities. 

Most  of  the  bones  are  perforated  ivith  holes,  or  pro- 
vided with  tubular  canals  for  the  passage  of  nerves 
or  vessels;  or  they  are  hollowed  into  furrows,  grooves, 
channels,  or  other  cavities  for  rceiving  the  protuberances 
of  other  bones,  or  for  securely  lodging  soft  parts. 

When  we  examine  the  structure  of  the  bone*,  we 
find  that  their  outer  surface  is  very  hard,  consisting  of 
a  solid  plate  or  layer  more  or  less  thick.  In  (he  flat  and 
convexo-concave  bones,  there  is  a  similar  plate  on  the 
opposile  surface,  and  these  are  called  by  anatomists  (he 
two  tables.  Between  these  tables,  or  within  (he  outer 
laj'er  in  those  bones  that  have  not  two,  the  bone  is  cellu- 
lar or  spongy;  in  (he  former  Case,  (his  part  is  called  </i)>/of; 
in  the  latter  the  cancelli.    These  cancd'i  arc  largest  and 


ANATOMt". 


7§3 


most  conspicuous  in  the  extremities  of  the  long  bones, 
and  in  the  processes  of  others.  A  ])retty  correct  idea  of 
them  may  be  formed  by  inspecting  Fig.  1  of  Plate  XIII. 

The  bones  are  composed  of  two  very  different  sub- 
stances ;  one,  an  organized  texture,  consisting  of  gelati- 
nous fibres  and  vessels  interwoven  together  into  a  very 
com[)lex  net-work ;  the  other,  an  inorganic  mass,  con- 
sisting of  particles  of  earthy  ealts,  chiefly  phosphate, 
carbonate,  and  sulphate  of  lime,  intersjiersed  among  the 
organic  fibres  so  as  to  give  to  the  whole  compound  mass 
compactness,  form,  and  solidity.  These  two  parts  are 
in  very  different  proportions  in  bones  of  different  ages ; 
the  gelatinous  matter  being  more  abundant  in  bones  of 
young  animals,  and  gradually  diminishing  in  proportion 
as  the  animal  grows  older.  Hence  the  bones  of  young 
animals  are  more  soft  and  flexible,  those  of  old  more 
solid  and  brittle. 

In  the  foetus  the  bones  are  entirely  cartilaginous  or 
gristly,  and,  as  the  child  advances  in  growth,  earthy 
matter  is  gradually  deposited  till  the  bone  is  completely 
ossified.  This  ossification  seems  to  take  place  first  in 
the  centre  of  the  round  and  fiat  bones,  (see  Plate  XIII. 
Fig.  2.)  and  in  the  middle  part  of  the  long  bones,  and 
thence  proceeds  towards  the  circumference,  or  the  ex- 
tremities. 

When  a  fresh  bone  is  cut  across  with  a  saw,  there 
appears  in  the  cut  surface  little  red  points,  from  which 
blood  oozes ;  showing  tliat  the  bones  are  penetrated  by 
numerous  blood  vessels ;  and  as  the  earthy  matter  is  in 
some  cases  of  disease  removed,  it  is  clear  that  they  have 
absorbents. 

Cartilage,  or  gristle,  by  which  the  ends  of  the  bones 
are  tipped,  is  of  a  bluish  white  colour,  and  of  a  softer 
consistence  than  bone  ;  it  is  very  clastic,  and  appears 
to  be  rather  of  an  albuminous  than  a  gelatinous  natilre. 
Between  some  of  the  bones  there  is  interposed  a  sub- 
stance partly  cartilaginous  and  partly  ligamentous ;  this 
is  the  case  with  the  vcrlchroe,  or  joints  of  the  spine. 
Beside  the  cartilages  that  are  intimately  attached  to  the 
licnes,  there  are  in  the  body  a  few  that  are  loose  or  in- 
dependent, but  they  resemble  the  former  in  substance 
and  consistence.  Cartilages  are  probably  supplied  with 
blood  vessels,  though  we  cannot  trace  them  beyond  the 
surface. 

The  bones  arc  covered  externally  with  a  pretty  firm, 
vascular,  fibrous  membrane,  called  periosteum,  which 
envelopes  them  every  where,  except  where  they  are 
tipped  with  cartilage,  and  connects  them  with  the  mus- 
cles and  vessels.  The  membrane  that  covers  the  bones 
of  the  skull,  though  of  the  same  nature  as  the  perios- 
teum of  other  bones,  is  however  called  pericranium. 
In  the  foetus,  and  in  young  children,  this  membrane  is 
but  loosely  connected  with  the  bones,  but  in  more  ad- 
vanced age,  the  union  becomes  much  closer,  and  in  old 
age,  when  it  grows  very  thin  and  dense,  adheres  to  the 
bones  with  great  force.  Besides  assisting  as  a  conve- 
nient medium  for  the  intersection  of  muscles,  and  the 
passage  of  vessels  to  and  from  the  bones,  Xhe  periosteum, 
by  its  lubricity,  facilitates  the  motions  of  the  soft  parts, 
while  by  the  firmness  of  its  texture,  it  defends  the  Iwnes 
from  external  injury ;  for  it  is  found,  that  when  this 
membrane  has  been  abraded,  the  outer  surface  of  the 
bone  thus  laid  bare,  exfoliates,  or  peels  off. 

Those  cartilages  wliich  do  not  form  the  articulating 
surfaces  of  the  bones,  as  those  of  the  wind-pipe  and  the 
ribs,  are  also  covered  with  a  membrane  Hearty  resem- 


bling the  periosteum,  except  that  it  appears  to  be  less 
vascular.     It  is  culled  perichondrium. 

The  internal  cavities  of  the  hollow  and  cancellated 
bones  are  lined  with  a  fine,  soft,  fatty  membrane,  which 
is  generally  divided  into  cells,  containing  that  peculiar 
fatty  substance  which  we  call  marrow.  For  an  account 
of  the  nature  and  properties  of  this  fat,  considered  as 
an  animal  production,  We  must  refer  to  CifEMiSTRT. 
We  shall  only  remark  here,  that  in  the  fa2tal  and  infant 
state  the  marrow  is  rather  a  bloody  serum,  than  an  oil, 
and  tliat  it  becomes  more  fatty,  and  more  consistent,  as 
the  body  advances  towards  maturitj'.  Tiie  principal 
use  of  this  oily  matter  seems  to  be  to  prevent  the  too 
great  dryness  and  consequent  briltleness  of  the  bones. 

The  whole  asseniblage  of  bones,  with  their  cartilages, 
investing  membranes,  ligaments,  and  mucous  bags,  (to 
be  mentioned  presently,)  constitute  what  is  called  the 
natural  skeleton,  so  called  to  distinguish  it  from  that  as- 
semblage which  is  formed  of  the  separated  bones,  con- 
nected by  wires,  and  denominated  an  arlijicial  skeleton. 
This  is  rejiresented  in  Plate  XIII.  Fig.  3,  4  ;  and  it  is 
proper  that  we  should  make  a  few  general  remarks  on 
it  before  we  proceed  to  the  individual  bones  of  which  it 
is  composed. 

The  skeleton  is  generally  divided  into  Head,  Trunk, 
and  Extremities. 

The  Head  is  sub-divided  into  the  cranium  anHface. 

The  cranium  is  composed  of  eight  bones  ;  vh.  frontal, 
two  parietal,  occipital,  two  temporal,  sphenoid,  and  eth- 
moid bones. 

The  face  is  composed  of  fourteen  bones,  besides 
thirty-two  teeth,  namelj',  two  tmsal,  two  ungual,  two 
malar  or  check  hones,  two  superior  ■inaxillarx)  or  upper 
jam  hones,  two  palate  bones,  two  inferior  spongy  bones, 
(he  vomer,  and  inferior  maxillary  or  lower jarv  bones.  If 
to  these  be  added  the  hyoidal  bone  belonging  to  the 
tongue,  and  four  minute  bones  in  each  ear,  the  head  may 
be  said  to  contain  sixty-three  bones. 

The  Trunk  is  made  up  of  the  vertebral  column  ;  the 
.Hernimi,  the  ribs,  and  the  ossa  iunominala,  or  tiaincless 
bones. 

The  vertebral,  column  is  composed  of  twenty-six  pieces, 
viz.  seven  cervical  vertebrce,  or  neck  johAs,  twelve  <for- 
sal  vcrlcbrm  or  back  joints,  five  lumbar  vertebra  or  loin 
joints,  the  sacrum,  aud  the  coccyx. 

The  sternum  or  breast-bone,  generally  consists  of  three 
pieces,  though  described  as  one. 

There  are  twenty-four  ribs,  viz.  twelve  on  each  side, 
and  of  these  the  seven  on  each  side  that  arc  next  the 
head  are  called  true  ribs,  and  the  other  live  false  ribs. 

The  ossa  innominata  are  placed  on  the  sides  and  front 
of  the  pelvis.  They  are  properly  but  two  bones,  though 
each  is  subdivided  into  three  parts,  called  ossa  ilii  or 
haunch  bones,  ossa  ischii  or  hip  bones,  and  ossa  pubis 
or  share  bones.  Hence  the  trunk  may  be  said  to  consist 
of  fifty-three  or  fifty-nine  bones. 

The  Extremities  are  eitherni/flntaZ,  (viz.  those  next 
the  alias  or  first  cervical  vertebra,)  or  sacral,  (t.  e.  those 
next  the  sacrum.) 

The  ai/an<oZ  extremities  are  composed  each  of  thirty- 
two  bones;  viz.  the  collar  botus,  blade  bones,  os  humeri 
or  shoulder  bone,  radius,  ulna,  eight  bones  of  the  car- 
pus or  wrist,  calletl  navicular,  lunar,  cuneiform,  pisi- 
form, trapezium,  trapezoid,  os  magnum,  and  unciform; 
five  bones  of  the  metacarpus  or  palm  of  the  baud,  twelve 
bones  of  the  fingers  and  two  of  the  thumb. 


784 


AJ^ATOMY. 


The  sacral  extremities  consisteachof  thirty  bones,  viz. 
the  OS  ftnwris  or  thigh  bone ;  tibia  ;  fibula  ;  rotula,  par 
ttlla  or  knee  pan ;  seven  bones  of  the  tarsus,  called  as- 
tragalus, OS  calcis  or  heel  bone,  navicular,  cuboid,  and 
three  cuneiform;  five  bones  of  the  inetatarsus  or  body 
of  the  foot,  and  fourteen  of  the  toes. 

Hence  the  atlantal  extremities  contain  sixty-four,  and 
the  sacral  sixty  bones ;  and  the  whole  skeleton  is  made 
up  of  about  243  bones. 

Of  these  bones,  those  of  the  pelvis,  as  the  ossa  inno- 
minata  and  sacrum,  form  as  it  were  the  basis  of  all  the 
rest ;  and,  though  not  exactly  the  centre  of  gravity  of 
the  skeleton,  may  be  considered  as  its  centre  of  motion, 
as  on  these  the  nhole  body  moves.  On  the  pelvis  the 
spine  rises  like  an  irregular  column  surmounted  by  the 
head.  This  column  is  by  some  described  as  formed  of 
two  cones  united  by  their  basis ;  one  being  formed  of 
the  cervical  and  dorsal  vertcbrce,  the  other  by  the  coccyx 
sacrum,  and  lumbar  vertebras.  The  whole  column  hag 
several  flexures  ;  bending  forward  a  little  at  the  neck, 
considerably  backward  from  thence  to  the  last  dorsal 
vertebra,  where  it  again  takes  a  turn  fonvard,  is  once 
more  bent  back  in  the  sacrum,  and  lastly  ends  in  the 
coccyx,  which  forms  a  point  projecting  forwards.  The 
flexures  backwards  contribute  to  support  the  contents 
to  the  thorax,  abdomen,  and  pelvis,  while  the  projec- 
tions forwards  serve  to  keep  up  the  balance  of  the  whole, 
and  regulate  the  centre  of  gravity. 


We  may  observe,  that  though  the  pelvis  is  usually 
ranked  as  a  part  of  the  trunk,  it  may  also  be  considered 
as  belonging  to  the  sacral  extremities;  beiiring  (he  same 
relation  to  them  that  the  scapula  bears  to  the  atlantal 
extremities. 

The  figures  represented  in  Plate  XIII.  Fig.  3,  4.  are 
those  of  an  adult  or  full  grown  skeleton.  That  of  a  fcctus. 
or  a  youug  child,  differs  in  many  particulars  ;  as,  1st,  all 
the  bones  consist  of  a  greater  number  of  pieces,  the 
principal  future  processes  not  being  yet  united ;  2dly, 
the  skull  is  much  larger  in  proportion,  and  the  lace 
smaller;  3dly,  the  vertebral  column  is  straighter,  and 
its  prominences  much  fewer  and  less  evident.  See  Alii- 
nus  de  Ossibus  F(etus,  and  Chesscldais  Anatomy  ;  tab.  1 . 
In  the  skeleton  of  a  very  old  person,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  prominences  are  more  conspicuous,  and  the  verte- 
bral column  is  generally  bent  much  more  forward. 

There  are  also  some  differences  deserving  notice,  be- 
tween the  skeleton  of  a  man  and  of  a  woman.  The  whole 
female  skeleton  is  generally  smaller  than  a  male  of  the 
same  age ;  the  head,  hands,  and  feet  are  proportionally 
smaller;  the  neck  longer;  the  sacral  extremities  short- 
er ;  the  pelvis  wider  and  deeper  ;  and  the  prominences 
of  the  bones  are  usually  less  remarkable.  See  Moreau's 
Histoire  Naturelle  de  la  Femme. 

We  shall  now  give  a  tabular  view  of  the  bones  that 
compose  the  skeleton,  and  shall  then  enter  on  a  more 
particular  examination  of  its  principal  divisions. 


TABLE  OF  THE  BONES. 


Names.  Sitimtion  and  connec- 
tion. 

1.  Frontal  or  coronal  In    the   glabellar  or 

bone.  fore   part    of    the 

O*  frontis  vel  frott-  skull,      connected 

taU.     Plate  XIII.  with  2,  3,  5,  «,  7, 

Fig.  3.  No.  1.  8,  9. 


2.  Parietal  bones. 
Ossa  parietalia,    vel 

Bregmatis.  Fig.  3, 
and  4.  No.  2. 

3.  Temporal   bones. 
Ossa  temporum.  Fig. 

3,  and  4.  No.  3, 


Upper  part  and  sides 
ofthe  skull,  1,2,3, 
4. 

Lower  and  lateral 
parts  of  the  skull, 
1,  2,  4. 


4.  Oflcipital  bone.         Back  and  lower  parts 
Os  occipitis.     Fig.  4.        ofthe  skull,  2, 3, 5. 
No.  10. 


5.  Sphenoid  bone.        Base  of  the  skull,  be- 
Os  sphenoides,\elCU-         tween  1  and  4.  1, 
neiforme.  2,  3,  4,  6,  7. 


6.  Ethmoid  bone.         At  the  l^ack  of  the 
Os  etkmoides  vel  cri'        nose,  1,  7. 
brifmme. 


Processes. 

Externally,  nasal, 
four  orbitar,  two 
superciliary  rid- 
ges ;  internally, 
spinous,  two  orbi- 
tar plates. 

Four  angular  proces- 
ses. 


Squamous  and  pe- 
trous. Zygomatic, 
mastoid,  styloid, 
and  between  these 
the  circular  ridge 
round  the  opening 
of  the  ear. 

Transverse  ridge ; 
crucial  ridges,  cu- 
neiform process ; 
two  condyles. 

Body  and  wings.  Na- 
sal spine ;  orbital, 
temporal,  spinous; 
four  pterygoid  pro- 
cesBes. 

Nasal  plate ;  crista 
galli;  spongy  parts : 
plane  orbital  but' 
faces. 


Boks   and   Cavities. 

Superciliary  hole  or 
notch.  Frontal  si- 
nuses. 


A  hole  near  the/»wj- 
to4emporal  angle. 


Stylo-mastoid,  caro- 
tid and  Eustachian 
holes.  External 
passage  to  the  ear, 
jugular  fossa  and 
articulatingcavity. 

Great  medullary 
holes ;  two  holes 
near  each  condyle. 
Four  internal  fos- 
sae. 

Two  optic  holes,  two 
fissures,  six  ner- 
vous, and  two  arte- 
rial holes.  Twola- 
teral  fossaB  and  the 
pituitary  fossa. 

Innumerable  cells. 


General  Uses. 

Protects  the  glabellar 
part  of  the  brain, 
and  forms  the  up- 
per part  of  the  or- 
bits or  eye-sockets. 

Protects  the  upper 
and  lateral  parts  of 
the  brain. 

Chiefly  to  contain  the 
organ   of  hearing. 


Protects  the  cerebel- 
lum and  base  of  the 
brain,  and  forms  (he 
centre  of  motion  for 
the  head. 

Lodges  the  pitutinry 
gland,  and  gives 
passage  to  the 
nerves  of  the  eye. 


Forms  a  great  part  of 
the  organ  of  smell- 
ing. 


ANATOMY. 


735 


Names. 

7.  Nasal  bones. 
Ossa  nasi. 

8.  Ungual  bones. 
Ossa  unguis. 

9.  Cheek  bones. 
Ossa  maiarum.  Plate 

XIII.  Fig.  3,  No. 
11,  12. 

10.  Upper  jaw  bones. 
Ossa  maxillaria  supe- 

riora.  Fig.  3,  No. 
10. 


1 1 .  Palate  bones. 
Ossa  palati. 

12.  Inferior  spongy 
bones. 

Ossa  spongiosa  infc- 
riora. 

13.  Vomer. 


14.  Lower  jaw  bone. 
Os  mazillarc  inferius. 

Fig.  3.  No.  7,  8,  9. 

and  Fig.  4.  No.  9, 

11. 


1 


SittuUion  and  cennee- 

tion. 
At  the    top   of    the 

nose,  1,  5,  6,  7, 10. 
Within     the     orbits 

nest  the  nose,  1 ,  6, 

7,  10. 
Below  the  eyes,  1,3, 

5,  10. 


On  each  side  of,  and 
below  the  nose,  7, 
8,9,  10,  11. 


Back  part  of  the  pa- 
late and  nose,  3,  6, 
10,11,  13. 

Upper  part  of  the 
nostrils,  6,  8,  10. 


Back  of  the  nostrils, 
5,6,10,  11. 


Lower   part   of  the 
face  or  chin,  3. 


Processes. 


8    inci- 
sive,   4 
canine 
or   cus- 
pida- 

15.  Teeth,  j>ted, 
8   bicu- 
pida- 
ted, 

1 2  grin- 
ders. 

16.  First  vertebra  of 
the  neck. 

Alias.  Fig.  4.  No.  9. 


17.  Second  cerTical 
vertebra. 

Vertebra  dentata. 

18.  The  other   five 
cervical  vertebrse. 

19.  Twelve  dorsal 
vertebrK. 


20.  Five  lumbar  ver- 
tebra. Fig.  3.  No. 
10. 


Between  4  and  1 7. 


Below  16. 


Between  the  last  of 
18,  and  first  of  20, 
24,  and  25. 


Between  the  last  of 
19  and  21. 


Orbital,  sphenoidal, 
zygomatic  proces- 
ses. 

Nasal,  orbital,  malar, 
alveolar,  proces- 
ses ;  palatal  plates. 


Palatal,  nasal,  and  or- 
bital processes. 


Nasal  plate. 


Two  branches,  cora- 
coid  and  coronoid 
processes,  alveolar 
edge. 


One  edge  or   point, 
and  one  fang. 


Two  points  and  two 
fangs. 

Four  or  five  points 
and  2  or  3  fangs. 

Two  transverse,  two 
articulating,  two 
inferior  oblique. 


Two  transverse,  four 
oblique,  a  cleft  spi- 
nous and  a  tooth- 
like process. 

Ditto,  except  the 
tooth-tike  process. 

Two  transverse  and 
four  oblique  pro- 
cesses, and  a  large 
pointed  spinous 
process. 

Transverse  and  ob- 
lique processes  as 
in  19.  Spinous  pro- 
cess blunt. 


Holes  and  Cavities. 

Lachrymal  duct. 
Infra-orbital  hole. 


Incisive  hole,  lachry- 
mal channels,  an- 
trum of  Highmore. 


Palatal  groove. 


A  long  canal  open- 
iugnear  each  joint, 
and  on  each  side  of 
the  chin. 


General  hole  for  the 
spinal  marrow  and 
two  lateral  holes. 
Two  articulating 
cavities. 

Holes  as  in  1 6. 


Ditto. 

General  central  hole, 
but  no  lateral  holes. 


General  Uses. 

Form  the  solid  part 

of  the  nose. 
Affords  a  passage  for 

the  tears  into  the 

nose. 
Support  the  cheeks. 


Contain  the  sockets 
ol  the  upper  teeth, 
form  the  principal 
part  of  the  palate, 
and  extend  the  or- 
gans of  smelling. 


Serve  to  extend  the 
organ  of  smelling. 


Forms 
part 
tion 
trils. 


the  greater 
of  the  parti- 
of   the    nos- 


The  principal  organs 
for  chewing  food. 


Ditto. 


Articulating  wilhNo. 
4,  performs  nod>- 
ding  motion  of  the 
bead. 

Serves  as  the  chief 
centre  of  the  rota- 
tory motion  of  the 
bead. 


Gives  a  power  of  mo- 
tion to  the  trunk 
and  support  to  the 
ribs. 

Gives  a  power  of  mo. 
tion  to  the  loins- 


Tse 


ANATOMY. 


Navus; 

21.  Sacnan.  Fig.  3. 
No.  17.  Fig.  4.  No. 
15. 


22.  Coccyx. 
Os  coccygis. 

23.  Ossa    innomina- ' 
ta,   including    the 
haunch  bone, 

Ossa  Hit.  Fig.  3.  No. 

18.  Fig.  4.  No.  17. 
The  hip  bone. 

Os  Iscbii.  Fig.  3.  No. 
20.    Fig.    4.     No. 

19.  and  the  Share 
bone. 

Os  pubis.  Fig.  3. 
No.  19. 

24.  Seven  trae  ribs. 
Fig.  3.  No.  14,  to 
15.  Fig.  4.  No.  21. 
to  22. 

25.  Five  false  ribs. 
Fig.  3.  No.  15. 
Fig.  4.  No.  22. 


2C.  Breast  bone. 
'Sternwn. 


Siluatim  and  Connec- 
tion, 
Between  20  and  22, 

23. 


Attached  to  Ihepoint 
of  21. 


Connected  with  No. 
21  by  the  ilia,  with 
23  by  tiie  pubes, 
and  with  45  by  the 
acetabulum. 


Processes. 


Holes  and  Cavilui.  Qencral  Uses. 


Dorsad,    3 
processes. 


spinous 


Triangular  cavity  for 
the  sacral  extremi- 
ty of  the  spinal  mar- 
row, and  five  pairs 
of  holes. 


lUea  spine  with  two 
tuberosities;  ischi- 
en  tuberosity ;  pu- 
btn  arch. 


Sciatic  notch  and 
thyroid  hole.  Arti- 
culating cavity,  or 
acetabulum. 


Supports  the  Terte- 
bral  column,  and 
No.  23,  and  with 
the  vertebrse, 

forms  the  cavity  for 
the  spinal  marrow. 

Supports  the  rccttmi. 


With  No.  21.  form 
the  pelvis,  for  lodg- 
ing the  urinary  and 
reproductive  or 
gans. 


Between  19  and  26.    Head  and  tuberosity.     Groove  for  artery,     -j  Protect    tlio    lungs, 

&c.  and  by  rising, 
or  falling,  admit 
the  expansion  or 
contraction  of  the 
chest. 


Connected  vnth  19  by 
their  vertebral  ex- 
tremities and  ivith 
the  7  th  of  24  by 
cartilage. 

Front  of  the  chest,24 
and  27. 


27.  Clavicle  or  collar  Between  26  and  28. 
bone.  Fig.  3.  No. 

21. 

28.  Blade  bone.  Next  the  ribs  at  each 
Scapila.  Fig.  4.  No.  shoulder,  27    and 

25.  29. 


29.  Shoulder  bone. 
Os    humeri.   Fig.  3. 

No.    25.    Fig.    4. 
Na  28. 

30.  Vina.  Fig.  3. 
No.  33.  Fig.  4. 
No.  31. 


31.  Radius.  Fig.  3. 
No.  31.  Pig.  4. 
No.  32. 

32.  Navicular  bone 
of  the  wrist. 

Os  naviculare.  Fig.  3. 
No.  5. 

33.  Lunar  bone. 

O*  lunare.  Fig.  3. 
No.  6. 

34.  Cuneiform  bone. 
Os  cuneiforme.   Fig. 

3.  No.  7. 


Between  the  shoul- 
der and  fore  arm, 
23,  30,  31. 


Ensiform  cartilage. 


Three  cosUe  ;  dorsal 
spine ;  acromion, 
coracoid,  and  humc- 
ren  processes. 


Proximal  head  with 
two  tubercles  be- 
low. Distal  con- 
dyles. 


Between  28  and  29,    Anconen  process  (or 

31,  olecranon,)  coro- 
noid  process,  and 
distal  head  -duAsty- 
loid  pi-ocess.  Ra- 
dial ridge. 

Between  28  and  29,    Proximal  head.     Vl- 
30.  nar  ridge. 

Radiad,  between  the 

distal   end  of   31, 

and  39,31,  33,37, 

33,  39. 
Between  32  and  34'. 

32,  34,  36,  37. 

Between  33  and  35. 

33,  35,  36. 


Sixteen  articulating 
cavities  for  24  and 
27. 


Two  foss«,  and  gle- 
noid cavity. 


Proximal  groove,  dis- 
tal articulating  ca- 
vities. Artery  hole. 


Proximad,  two  sig- 
moid fosssE ;  distad, 
articulating  cavi- 
ty- 


Articulatingcavitieg, 
both  proximad  and 
distad. 

Scaphoid  cavity. 


Protects  the  contents 
of  the  chest,  and 
connects  the  ribs. 

Regulates  the  mo- 
tions of  28. 

Forms  the  centre  of 
motion  to  the 
shoulder  joint,  and 
gives  attachment 
to  many  powerful 
muscles. 

Forms  the  strongest 
part  of  the  arm, 
anil  serves  for 
the  attachment  of 
strong  muscles. 

Forms  with  the  fcwmf- 
n«  the  elbow  joint. 


Favours  the  rotatory 
motions  of  the 
hand. 


^  Give  flexibility  to  the 

wriat. 


ANATOMY. 


737 


Names. 

35.  Pisiform  bone. 
Os  Pisiforme.  Fig.  3. 

No.  8. 

36.  Unciform  bone. 
Fig.  3.  No.  4. 

37.  Large  bone  of 
the  wrist. 

Os  tnagmim. 
Fig.  3.  No.  4. 

38.  Trapezoid. 
Fig.  3.  No.  3. 

39.  Trapezium. 
Fig.  3.  No.  1. 

40.  Metacarpal  bones 
of  the  thumb  and 
fingers. 

Fig.  4.  a,  a. 

41.  Proximal  phalan- 
ges of  the  thumb 
and  fingers. 

Fig.  4.  h,  h. 

42.  Middle  phalanges 
of  the  fingers. 

Fig.  4.  c. 

43.  Distal  phalanges 
of  the  thumb  and 
fingers. 

Fig.  4.  rf,  c. 

44.  Thigh-bone. 

Os  fcmoris. 
Fig.  3.  No.  03.  Fig. 
4.  No.  64. 

45.  Tibia. 

Fig.  3.  No.  69.  Fig. 

4.  No.  70. 
40.  Fi7>M/a. 
Fig.  3,  and  4.    No. 

74. 

47.  Knee-pan. 
Rotula,  or  Patella. 

Fig.  3.  No.  68. 

48.  Astragalus. 
Fig.  6.  No.  77. 

49.  Heel  bone. 

Os  calsis. 
Fig.  6.  No.  78. 


Siluatioti  and  ccnnex- 

ion, 
Vlnad,    between   30 
and  36. 

Ulnad,  next  35. 

Between  36  and  33. 


Between  37  and  39. 

Radiad,  between  32 
and  the  root  of  the 
thumb. 

Between  36,  37,  38, 
39,  and  41. 


Procctses, 


Hoks  and  Cavities. 


General  Uses, 


Join  42. 


Connected  ivith  23, 
45,  46,  and  47. 


TUiiaJ,  connected 
with  44,  46,  47, 
and  48. 

Fihulad;  connected 
with  45,  and  48. 

Connected  with  44, 
and  48, by  tendons. 


Give    flexibility    to 
the  wrist. 


Articulating  heads, 
proximal  and  dig- 
tad. 


Form  the  palm  of  the 
hand. 


Between  40  and  42.     Ditto. 


Between  41  and  43.     Ditto. 


A  proximal  articulat- 
ing head. 


Proximad,  a  head,  a 
lareer  and  smaller 
trochanter ;  ilislad 
2  condiles. 

Ankle  prominence 
tihiad;  ridge  fitju- 
lar. 

Proximal  head  ;  dis- 
tad  9.ni\  fihulad,  an- 
kle protuberance. 


Support  the  nails. 


Condyloid  cavity,  ar- 
tery hole. 


Articulatingcaritips, 
proximatl  and  dis' 
tad;  artery  hole. 


At   the  instep ;    45, 

46,  49,  50. 
At  the  heel;  48,  51.     Heel  process. 


50.  Navicular  bone 
of  the  foot. 
Fig.  6.  No.  79. 

51.  Os  cuboidcs. 
Fig.  6.  No.  83. 

52.  53,  54.      Three 
cuneiform  bones. 

Ossa  cutieifonnia. 
Fig.6.  No.  80,81,82. 
.'>5.  Metatarsal  bones. 
Fig.  6.  No.  84.  (o  88. 
.^6.  Proximal  phalan- 
ges of  the  toes. 
Fig.    6.   No.   89.  to 
63. 
Vol.  I.    Part  II. 


Connected  with  48, 
51,  52,  53,  54, 

Fihulad ;    connected 

with  49,  50,  52. 
Between  50  and  55. 


Between  51,  52,  53, 

51,  and  50. 
Between  bH  and  67. 


Proximal   and  distal 
articulating  heads. 
Ditto. 


Strengthens  45. 


Serves  as  a  pulley  to 
facilitate  the  action 
of  the  knee-joint 
muscles. 


Forms  the  principal 
lever  for  the  action 
of  the  muscles  of 
the  leg. 


Facilitate    the    mo- 
tions of  the  foot. 


5A 


738 


ANATOMY, 

Processes. 


Names.  Situatioti  and  connex- 

ion. 
57.    Middle   phalan-     Between  36  and  58.     Ditto. 

ges  of  the  toes. 
68.  Distal  |)l>alanges    Join  57.  Proximal  articulating 

of  the  toes.  head. 

J)9.   Sesamoid  hones.     Frequently  found  in 
Ossa  sesainoidea.  adult    subjects   at 

the  joints. 


Hoks  anS  catilks. 


General  TJscs, 
Support  the  nails-. 


Seem    to     facilitatie 
motion. 


60.  Os  hyoidcs. 

Appendix. 
Ossa    triquHra 
normiana. 


At  the  root  of  the 
tongue. 

scu  Most  frequently  be- 
tween the  occipi- 
tal and  parietal 
bones. 


To  supply  deficien- 
cies in  the  ossifica- 
tion. 


These  bones  are  joined  together  in  many  different  ways,  constituting  so  many  articulations. 
Table  will  give  a  general  idea  of  the  articulations  of  the  human  body  : 

Table  of  Articulations  in  the  Skeleton. 


The  following 


1.  Synarthrosis. 
Immoveable  Articu- 
lation; divisible  into 


1.  Serrated  suture,  in  which  the  edges  of  each 
bone  are  indented  into  each  other ; 

2.  Harnwtiic  suture,   when  the  edges   merely  ) 
touch  each  other ;  \ 

3.  Squamous  suture,  when  the  edge  of  one  bone 
lies  over  that  of  another ; 

4.  Gomphosis,  in  which  one  bone  is  inserted  into 
another,  like  a  nail  in  wood ; 


as  in 


upper   jaw 


the  frontal,   parietal,  occipital 

and  cheek  bones, 
the    nasal    bones 

bones,  &c. 
the     squamous     part     of     the 

temporal  bone  over  the  pari* 

etal. 


as  in  <  the  teeth. 


II.     Amphiarthro- 

818. 

Partly  moveable ;  di- 
Tisible  into 


r  1 .  Synchondrosis,  where  the  bones  are  united  by 
cartilage  ; 

2.  Where  the  bones  are  united  by  a  ligamento- 
cartilaginous  elastic  substance ; 

3.  Syndesmosis,  where  the  bones  are  not  strictly  ji 
united,  but  are  bound  together  by  ligaments,  >  as  in 
and  are  attached  by  flat  surfaces ;  J 

4.  Syssarcosis,    where    the    bones    are    joined  ) 
through  the  medium  of  muscles  ;  ^ 


.^  the  bones  of  the  pelvis,  especial- 
>      ly  the  pubes. 


as  in  <  the  vertebras. 


•  The  bones  of  the  wrist  (carpus,) 
I     and  instep,  (tarsus.) 

The  scapida  with  the  ribs. 


III.        DlARTIIROSIS. 

Completely    movea- 
ble; divisible  into 


as  in ' 


"1.  Ginglymus,  or  hinge-joint,  admitting  only  of 
motion  backwards  and  forwards ; 

2.  Rotatory,  where  one  bone  so  moves  within  i  i 
another,  as  only  to  turn  round  as  on  a  pi-  >  as  in  < 
vot;                                                                        S  ( 

3.  Composed  of  these  two,  as  in  the  fore-arm,  the  lower  Jaw-bone,  &c. 

4.  Arthrodia,  and  Eiiarthrosis,  admitting  of  mo-  )  ■    j  the  shoulder,  hip,    and  thumb- 
(.     tion  in  all  directions ;                                         ^  ^  "  f     joints. 


the  elbow,   knee,   fingers,  toes, 
occiput  and  atla^,  &c. 

the  union  of  the  atlas  and  se- 
cond cervical  velebra. 


The  articulations  are  chiefly  secured  by  means  of 
strong  fibrous  membranes,  called  Ligaments,  which  ex- 
tend from  bone  to  l)Oiie,  and  preserve  each  in  its  proper 
■  situation,  while  they  admit  of  that  due  degree  of  motion 
which  the  Joint  is  intended  to  perform. 

Bichat  divides  the  ligaments  into  two  orders,  viz. 
those  that  have  the  fibres  arranged  in  regular  bundles, 
and  those  iu  which  the  fibres  assume  no  regular  or  deter- 
minate figure.  The  former  are  the  more  general,  and 
are  those  which  are  attached  to  almost  all  the  moveable 
articulations.  To  these,  therefore,  we  shall  here  chiefly 
confine  ourselves.  These  ligaments  are  either  flat, 
which  is  their  most  usual  form,  or  they  are  collected  into 


cylindrical  bodies  like  cords.  The  former  are  attached 
to  the  sides  of  the  articulations,  and  are  called  lateral 
ligaments.  The  latter  sometimes  proceed  from  the 
head  of  a  bone,  and  are  fixed  within  the  cavity  into 
which  that  is  received ;  and  thcsp  are  called  round,  or 
sometimes  central  ligaments.  There  is  a  remarkable 
ligament  of  this  kind  in  the  hip-Joint,  to  he  presently 
described.  A  third  kind  performs  a  very  important  of- 
fice. This  entirely  surrounds  the  Joint,  like  a  bag,  being 
firmly  attached  at  both  extremities,  to  the  bones  that 
compose  the  Joint,  often  enclosing  the  other  ligaments, 
and  preventing  tJie  escape  of  that  lubricating  fluid 
which  is  poured  into  the  cavity,  to  promote  the  motion 


ANATOMY. 


739 


of  the  bones.  These  are  called  ca/>*MZar  ligaments,  and 
are  remarkable  in  the  articulations  of  the  hip  and  shoul- 
der. 

Sometimes  two  ligaments  cross  each  other,  at  the  side 
of  a  joint ;  they  are  then  called  crucial  ligaments. 

The  extremities  of  all  those  ligaments  which  do  not 
pass  from  the  centre  of  the  head  of  a  bone  to  the  arti- 
culating cavity,  are  so  closely  attached  to  the  perios- 
teum of  the  bones,  as  scarcely  to  admit  of  a  separation. 
In  children,  both  ligaments  and  periosteum  are  easily 
separated  from  the  hones  by  maceration  ;  but,  in  advan- 
ced age,  the  central  fibres  of  both  partake  so  much  of 
the  nature  of  the  bones  to  which  they  are  attached,  that 
they  can  seldom  be  entirely  separated. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  ligaments  are  furnished  with 
blood-vessels,  but  no  nerves  are  to  be  discovered*. 

Beside  strengthening  the  articulations,  ligaments  are 
of  great  utility  in  affording  attachment  to  muscles.  A 
very  broad  ligament,  for  this  purpose  runs  between  the 
radius  and  ulna  ;  and  a  similar  one  between  the  tihia  and 
fihiIa;»nA  many  others  are  seen  about  the  pelvis. 

Within  the  articulations  there  are  situated  certain 
hollow  bags,  containing  the  synovia,  or  that  lubricating 
fluid  we  have  meulioned  as  facilitating  the  motions  of 
bones  on  each  other.  These  have  been  called  mucous 
bags  (bursce  mucosa.)  The  structure  of  these  bags  very 
nearly  resembles  that  of  the  membranes  that  line  the  in- 
ternal cavities  of  the  body,  and  which  Bichat  calls  serous 
membranesf.  They  are  perfectly  close,  and  are  per- 
petually exhaling  and  re-absorbing  the  synovia.  They 
line  the  cavities  of  the  capsular  ligaments,  and  invest 
the  inner  surface  of  the  lateral  and  crucial  ligaments. 
Where  the  proper  fibrous  capsular  ligament  is  wanting, 
as  in  the  knee,  the  elbow,  and  the  joints  of  the  fingers  and 
toes,  the  synovial  membranes  supply  its  place.  These 
membranes  are  cellular,  elastic,  and  dilatable,  and  are 
supplied  with  vessels,  lymphatics,  and  probably  with 
nerves.  They  appear  to  contribute  nothing  towards 
strengthening  the  joints,  but  seem  to  be  intended  solely 
for  the  exhalation  of  synoviaf. 

The  fluid,  thus  exhaled,  is  whitish,  nearly  transparent, 
glairy  like  the  wliite  of  an  egg,  and  of  a  saline  taste.  Its 
chemical  properties  will  be  detailed  in  a  future  part  of 
this  work. 

We  have  now  taken  a  general  view  of  the  several 
bones  composing  the  human  skeleton,  with  their  mutual 
connexions  and  articulations  ;  we  shall  return  to  the 
skeleton,  and  consider  a  little  more  at  length,  the  struc- 
ture of  the  skull,  and  that  of  two  of  the  most  important 
articulations. 

The  skull  in  the/a;h<s  is  composed  of  a  greater  num- 
ber of  pieces  than  in  the  adult ;  but  these  pieces  are  not 
fully  formed,  and  are  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
each  other  at  their  edges.  This  imperfect  conformation 
is  of  great  advantage  during  parturition,  as  it  allows 
the  pieces  to  lap  over  each  other,  and  thus  dimin- 
ishes the  bulk  of  the  head.  As  the  head  increases  in 
size,  the  bones  acquire  their  full  form  and  consistence, 
and  are  united  together  by  that  particular  junction  cal- 
led suture,  (See  the  TabU  of  Articulations.)  There  are 
three  principal  structures  in  the  skull :  the  coronal,  be- 


tween the  frontal  and  the  parietal  bones ;  the  sagittal, 
between  the  two  parietal  bones  ;  and  tho  lanibdoidal,  be- 
tween these  last  and  the  occipital  bone.  The  upper 
part  of  the  skull  is  pretty  smooth  and  uniform,  compo- 
sing a  solid  bony  arch,  very  strong,  and  of  considerable 
thickness.  The  under,  or  what  Dr.  Barclay  calls  the 
basilar  side  of  the  skull,  has  a  great  many  prominences, 
holes,  and  cavities,  for  the  attachments  of  muscles,  and 
the  transmission  of  vessels  and  nerves  to  and  from  the 
brain.  The  principal  of  these  have  been  enumerated 
in  the  Table  of  Bones. 

The  natural  form  of  the  skull  is  nearly  the  same  in 
most  individuals  of  the  same  species  or  variety  ;  but  it 
differs  considerably  in  the  several  varieties  of  man. 
These  dilTerences  chiefly  res|)ect  the  greater  or  less 
prominence,  or  convexity,  of  the  frontal  bone,  and  the 
greater  or  less  projection  of  the  jaws.  It  is  well  known, 
that  the  forehead  of  a  negro  is  flatter,  and  falls  back  more 
suddenly,  and  that  his  mouth  is  more  prominent,  than 
in  a  European;  and  similar  varieties  occur  in  other  races. 

If  we  suppose  a  line  drawn  horizontally,  from  the  mid- 
dle of  the  external  entrance  of  the  ear  to  the  edge  of  the 
nostrils,  and  another  line  from  this  latter  point  to  the 
superciliary  ridge  of  the/»"o«<aZ  bone;  these  two  lines 
will  form  an  angle,  which  vrill  afford  a  tolerably  accurate 
mark  of  distinction  between  the  skulls  of  different  va- 
rieties of  man,  and  between  those  of  the  inferior  animals 
compared  with  man.  The  inclining  line  has  been  cal- 
led the  facial  line,  and  the  angle  formed  by  it  with  the 
horizontal  line,  the  facial  angle.  These  have  been  em- 
ployed by  Camper,  Blunienbach,  Cuvier,  &c.  to  mark 
the  above-mentioned  distinctions  among  diflerent  men, 
and  diflerent  animals ;  and  though  they  are  liable  to 
vary  under  certain  circumstances,  they  merit  the  atten- 
tion of  the  painter  and  the  statuary.  Indeed,  if  the 
suggestions  of  modern  physiologists  be  correct,  viz.  that 
the  superior  intellect  corresponds  with  the  magnitude 
of  the  facial  angle,  the  subject  is  deserving  the  attention 
of  the  philosopher  and  the  pliy8iognomist.(*)  We  shall 
here  subjoin  a  Table,  showing  the  gradual  decrease  of 
the  facial  angle,  from  the  head  of  the  ancient  Greek  sta- 
tues, in  which  it  is  represented  of  the  greatest  magni- 
tude to  the  head  of  a  horse,  in  which  it  is  very  small : 


Antique  Grecian  statue 
Roman  ditto 
European  infant    - 
European  adult    - 
European  aged 
Asiatic         .        .        . 
American  savage 
Adult  negro 
Golok 


100" 

95 

90 

85 

75 

75 

73^ 

70 

65 


(*)  The  measures  of  the  facial  angle  in  the  subjoined 
table  by  Cuvier,  were  derived  from  a  horizontal  line, 
drawn  parallel  to  the  floor  of  the  nostrils,  and  met  by  a 
facial  line  drawn  between  the  anterior  margin  of  the 
alveoli  of  the  corronal  or  upper  jaw,  and  the  projecting 
convexity  of  the  skull. 


*  Bichat,  Anatomie  Generate,  Tom.  Ill  p.  208. 

\  For  an  account  of  Uichat'u  physiological  arrangement  of  the  Several  organs,  and  of  his  general  classification  of  the  systems  that 
compose  tlie  human  body.  See  Bichat. 
i  Bichat,  Anatomie  Generalei  Tom.  lY-  p.  537. 


740 


ANATOIY. 


Oran  otan  - 

Talapoin  monkey 

MastifT-dog  - 

Hysena 

Pug-dog 

Pole  cat 

Hare    .  -         - 

Sheep  -  -         - 

BaUiroussa  - 

Horse  -  -         - 


from  58  to  65 

57 

about  41 

aboub33 

35 

34 

30 

about  30 

29 

23 


On  this  subject  we  refer  our  readers  to  an  essay  by 
Camper,  On  the  d'fftrence  of  the  Features ;  published 
in  the  late  Paris  edition  of  his  works  ;  to  Bluinenbach, 
De  Giticris  Hmnani  varietate  naiiva ;  Cuvier,  Lffons 
d'Aiiutomit  Comparle,  toin  ii.  White,  On  the  Gradation 
cfMan,&c.  BurcUiy^a  Anatomical  NomaicLiture  ;  and 
Lawrence's  translation  of  Blumenbach's  Comparative 
Anatomy. 

The  shonlder  joint  being  one  of  those  which  admits 
of  very  extensive  motion,  is  less  complex  in  its  structure 
than  either  the  hip  or  the  knee-joint.  The  head  of  the 
humerus  forms  with  the  s^letioid  cavity  of  the  scapula,  a 
true  ball  and  socket.  The  glenoid  cavity  in  the  dried 
bone  is  extremely  superficial,  but  in  the  recent  subject 
it  is  enlarged  at  the  brim  by  a  cartilaginous  margin ; 
and  both  the  inside  of  tlie  cavity,  and  the  head  of  the 
humerus,Me  covered  with  cartilage,  as  in  all  other  move- 
able articulations.  The  cartilage  that  covers  the  head 
of  the  humci-us  is  thickest  at  its  centre,  while  the  con- 
trary takes  place  within  the  glenoid  cavity.  From  the 
extensive  mobility  in  this  joint,  the  ligaments  are  few, 
but  it  is  abundantly  strengthened  by  the  surrounding 
muscles,  and  by  the  projecting  acromion  and  coracoid 
processes  of  the  scapula.  See  Plate  XIV.  Fig.  1.  D 
andE. 

The  ligaments  that  surround  the  shoulder  joint  are 
three  in  number,  viz.  the.  glenoid  ligament,  the  cai)sular 
ligament,  and  the  synovial  ligament. 

The  glenoid  ligament  forms  a  kind  of  oval  cushion, 
and  is  made  up  partly  of  tendinous  fibres,  proceeding 
from  the  biceps  muscle,  and  partly  of  peculiar  ligament- 
ous fibres  going  olf  from  one  point  of  the  cii'cumference 
of  the  cavity,  and  proceeding  round  it  to  a  certain  dis- 
tance. Fig.  1.  K,  L. 

The  capsular  ligament  represents  a  bag  with  two 
openings  of  a  conical  form,  the  truncated  summit  of 
which  corres|>onds  to  the  glenoid  cavity,  and  its  base 
10  the  neck  of  the  Intmerus  ;  Fig.  1.  H.  This  ligament 
is  remarkable  for  its  length,  which  is  much  more  consi- 
derable than  would  seem  necessary  to  secure  the  conti- 
guity of  its  surfaces ;  for,  in  drawing  these  in  opposite 
directions,  we  may  separate  them  more  than  an  inch, — 
a  circumstance  which  is  peculiar  to  this  ligament.  The 
capsular  ligament  is  fixed  proximad  to  the  glenoid,  sur- 
rounding the  cavity,  except  in  one  part  of  its  internal 
•urface,  where  its  fibres  are  sometimes  separated  from 
each  other,  and  admit  between  them  the  tendon  of  the 
aubscapularis  muscle.  This  ligament  is  formed  of  fibres 
that  interlace  each  other,  and  is  thicker  a'.)ove  than  in 
any  other  part,  forming  there  a  very  dense  production, 
which  passes  to  the  atlantal  part  of  the  coracoid  process 
of  the  scapula,  as  is  evident  from  the  figure.  Its  central 
surface  is  entirely  lined  by  the  synovial  Jigament,or  what 
is  commonly  called  the  bursa  mucosa  of  the  shoulder 
joint.  This  last  is  disposed  in  the  following  manner: 
After  having  lined  tht  glenoid  cavity,  it  proceeds  to  in- 
vest the  central  surface  of  the  capsular  ligament ;  and 


at  the  place  where  the  fibres  of  this  Iat(er  iieparate  to  re-' 
ceive  the  tendon  of  the  subscapularis,  just  at  the  neck  of 
the  humerus,  it  is  reflected,  so  as  to  cover  the  cartilage 
of  this  bone,  with  which  it  is  firmly  united.  At  this 
point  of  reflection  it  gives  off  to  the  groove  in  which 
runs  the  tendon  of  the  biceps, — a  production  that  lines 
this  groove  for  about  an  inch,  and  is  then  again  reflect- 
ed upon  the  tendon  of  the  biceps,  so  as  to  form  below  a 
close  sac,  that  prevents  the  eflusion  of  the  synovia. 

The  knee-joint  is  one  of  the  most  complex  in  the  hu- 
man bocly.  It  is  formed  l)y  the  contact  of  three  bones, 
with  intermediate,  moveable  cartilages,  and  is  strength- 
ened by  a  considerable  number  of  ligaments  and  tendons. 
A  view  of  this  joint,  as  seen  from  the  fore  part,  where 
the  patella  and  several  of  the  ligaments  are  cut  away,  is 
given  in  Plate  XIV.  Fig.  2. 

In  this  joint,  the  two  condyles  of  the  thigh  bone  rsst 
on  the  corresi)onding  hollows  in  the  proximal  extremity 
of  the  tibia,  while  the  patella,  or  knee-pan,  enters  rotu- 
lad  into  the  groove  that  is  formed  between  the  condyles. 
All  these  three  articulating  surfaces  are  invested  with 
cartilage,  of  a  thickness  proportioned  to  its  extent,  but 
which  is  liable  to  change,  according  to  the  various  de- 
grees of  flexion  or  extension.  The  dumerous  ligaments 
that  form  the  principal  connexion  between  the  articu- 
lating bones,  may  be  considered  under  two  points  of 
view;  1st,  those  that  connect  the  patella  with  the  other 
bones ;  2d,  those  which  more  particularly  connect  the 
tibia  with  the  thigh-bone. 

The  principal  ligament  that  connects  thepateUa  with 
the  other  bones,  may  be  considere<l  as  the  termination 
of  the  tendons  of  the  extensor  muscles  of  the  thigh,  and 
is  represented  in  Fig.  2.  at  F  and  G.  It  is  formed  by 
a  bundle  of  fibres  that  are  very  thick,  and  extend  per- 
pendicularly from  the  distal  angle  of  the  patella  F,  and 
from  the  unequal  depression  of  that  bone  E,  to  the  pro- 
jecting eminence  in  which  commences  the  rotular  ridge 
of  the  tibia,  or  the  shin  ;  and  it  extends  at  both  these 
points  of  connexion,  above  two  inches  in  breadth,  form- 
ing at  its  central  surface  a  fatty  tissue,  that  is  interposed 
between  it  and  the  synovial  capsule  of  the  joint ;  and  be- 
low a  small,  insulated,  synovial  bag,  that  facilitates  the 
motion  of  the  ligament  upon  the  tibia.  It  is  formed  of 
parallel,  serrated  fibres,  which,  though  they  perform  the 
office  of  ligament,  difler  from  it  in  their  appearance  and 
chemical  properties. 

The  connexion  between  the  tibia  and  thigh  bone  is 
principally  secured  by  two  lateral  ligaments,  twooblique, 
and  one  posterior,  or,  as  we  may  call  it,  popliteal.  One 
of  the  lateral  ligaments,  commonly  called  the  external, 
though  it  may  more  properly  be  Q,a\\e  A  fibular,  in  contra- 
distinction to  tibiid,  arises  from  the  fibular  or  external 
projection  of  the  thigh-bone,  and,  after  running  along 
the  articulating  side  of  the  condyle,  is  attached  to  the 
proximal  extremity  of  the  fibula.  This  ligament  iB 
roundish,  and  though  strictly  ligamentous,  has  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  tendon.  It  is  covered  by  the  aponeurosis 
of  the  crurais,  and  more  immediately  by  that  of  the 
biceps  muscle  periphcrad  and  centrad  ;  it  is  contiguous 
to  the  tendon  of  Wie poplitms,  and  is  there  invested  with 
a  synovial  ligament.  The  internal  lateral,  or  what  may 
be  called  the  tibial  ligament,  dilTers  from  the  preceding 
principally  by  its  flattened  form.  It  proceeds  from  the 
internal  or  mesial  condyle  of  the  thigh-bone,  extendi 
downwards,  increasing  considerably  in  breadth,  and 
giving  off"  fibres  to  the  tibial  condyle  of  the  tibia.  It  ii 
then  continued  forwards  by  a  long  production,  to  the 


ANATOMY. 


741 


commencement  of  the  tibial  ridge  of  the  tibia,  ia  which 
it  terminates.  The  posterior,  or  popliteal  ligament,  ia 
formed  of  a  bundle  of  fibres,  running  obliquely  and  su- 
perficially behveen  the  upper  and  back  part  of  tiie  tibial 
tuberosity  of  the  tibia,  and  the  fibular  condyle  of  the 
thigh-bone.  It  is  formed  by  a  division  of  the  tendon  of 
the  seini-vumhranosus  mvic\e,  which  leaves  between  its 
fibres  spaces  for  the  passage  of  the  blood-vessels  that 
supply  the  joint.  Above  this  tendinous  expansion  there 
are,  however,  some  transverse  fibres  that  are  indepen- 
dent of  the  tendon. 

The  oblique  ligaments,  so  called  from  their  directions, 
consist  of  two  very  strong  fibrous  cords,  L  and  M,  Plate 
XIV.  Fig.  2.,  placed  at  the  popliteal  part  of  the  articu- 
lation, and  on  the  outer  side,  though  at  first  sight  (hey 
appear  to  be  contained  within  the  joint,  because  they  are 
surrounded  by  a  synovial  capsule.  When  seen  in  a 
particular  direction,  as  in  Pig.  2.,  they  cross  each  other 
like  the  strokes  of  an  X,  and  hence  are  frequently  called 
crucian  ligaments.  One  of  them  passes  forward,  and  is 
fixed  to  the  fibular  condyle  of  the  thigh-bone,  from 
which  it  passes  obliquely  to  the  spine  of  the  tibia,  and 
is  lost  at  the  insertion  of  the  siniilunar  cartilage?,  to  be 
presently  dewjribed.  The  other  passes  backward,  being 
fixed  to  the  fibular  part  ofthetiWci  condyle  of  the  thigh- 
bone, as  at  L,  whence  it  diverges  on  one  part  to  the  ex- 
cavation which  is  behind  the  spine  of  the  tibia,  and  on 
the  other  to  the  popliteal  part  of  the  fibular  eimitunar 
cartilage.  These  two  ligaments,  which,  next  the  cavity 
of  the  joint,  are  invested  by  the  synovial  ligament,  are 
separated  behind  and  above  by  the  popliteal  ligament, 
and  by  a  great  quantity  of  cellular  membrane. 

Between  the  condyles  of  the  thigh-bone  and  the  cor- 
responding oavities  of  the  tibia,  there  lie  two  fibro-carti- 
laginous  bodies,  loosely  attached  to  the  bones,  and  tak- 
ing a  eurvilineiil  direction,  whence  they  are  called  the 
semilunar  cartilages.  They  arc  confined  to  the  circum- 
ference of  the  cavitie?  of  the  tibia,  one  on  each  side  of 
the  spinal  ridge ;  see  Fig.  2.  H,  K.  Of  these  cartilages, 
the  inner,  or  tibial,  is  lonsier  Irom  before  backward, 
than  in  the  opposite  direction ;  while  the  outer,  or  fibular 
cartilage,  forms  almost  an  entire  circle ;  and  thus  they 
are  accommodated  to  the  diflereut  articulating  surfaces 
of  the  tibia.  At  their  circumference  they  are  very  thick, 
and  are  attached  to  the  fibres  of  the  ligaments  that  sur- 
round the  joint,  especially  to  those  of  the  lateral  liga- 
ments. Their  inner,  or  central  circumference,  is  very 
thin,  and  here  they  are  surrounded  by  the  synovial  liga- 
ment. The  popliteal  extremity  of  each  is  fixed  behind 
the  spine  of  the  tibia,  just  within  the  popliteal  oblique 
ligament.  The  anterior,  or  rotular  extremity,  is  insert- 
ed before  the  rotnlar  oblique  ligament,  and  consequently 
to  the  spine  of  the  tibia. 

The  synovial,  or,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  the  capsu- 
lar ligament  of  the  knee-joint,  is  extremely  complicated, 
and  not  easily  understood  without  dissection.  Let  us 
8U|)pose  it  to  arise  above  the  joint,  betiveen  the  tendon 
of  the  extensors,  and  in  the  rotular  part  of  the  con- 
dyles, at  the  thigh-bone.  Being  very  lax  at  this  part, 
and  being  covered  with  a  thick  layer  of  fatty  cellular 
membrane,  it  readily  permits  the  patella  to  be  separated 
Crom  the  former,  where  the  extensor  tendon  is  divided, 
as  in  Fig.  2.,  where  P  Q  represent  parts  of  this  mem- 
brane, most  of  it  being  cut  away,  to  show  the  interior 
of  the  joint.    From  the  part  which  we  have  supposed 


its  origin,  it  is  reflected  below  the  condyles,  which  it 
invests  throughout  their  whole  extent,  adtieriug  to  them 
least  in  those  parts  where  the  bone  is  not  cartilaginous. 
Proceeding  thus  to  the  popliteal  part  of  the  joint,  this* 
membrane  is  again  reflected  upon  the  fore  part  of  the 
tendons  of  the  getnelli  muscle,  surrounds  the  tendon  of 
the  pnplitcu.<i,  then  descends  along  the  oblique  ligaments, 
and  over  the  fatty  membrane  which  lies  beliind  them  ; 
then  arriving  at  the  articular  surface  of  the  tibia,  it  in- 
vests that  surface,  and  envelopes  the  semilunar  cartila- 
ges in  every  part,  except  at  their  very  circumference. 
It  then  passes  upwards,  behind  the  inferior  ligament  of 
the  patella,  separated  from  this  by  a  vast  quantity  of 
cellular  membrane,  and  here  sends  o8"a  small  prolonga- 
tion, which  traverses  the  joint,  passing  between  the 
two  condyles ;  and  from  the  fatty  matter  which  it  often 
contains,  is  sometimes,  though  improperly,  called  the 
adipose  ligament.  Lastly,  it  passes  behind  the  patella, 
invests,  on  both  sides,  the  aponeurosis  of  the  cruralis 
muscle,  which  is  inserted  into  that  bone,  and  terminates 
behind  the  extensor  tendon,  at  the  place  from  which  w» 
have  sujjposed  it  to  originate*. 

Sect.  II.  On  the  Muscles  and  their  Appendages. 

We  have  said  that  the  muscles  are  the  active  and  es- 
sential organs  of  motion ;  and  this  holds  true  in  every 
part  of  the  body.  The  muscular  organs,  however,  differ 
much  in  their  situation  and  oflice.  By  far  the  greater 
number  are  situated  next  the  surface  of  the  body,  cover- 
ing the  bony  case,  and  forming  the  flesh.  Some  of  them, 
however,  are  situated  within  the  cavities  of  the  body, 
are  noi  designed  for  performing  the  locomotive  actions 
of  the  machine,  but  constitute  the  principal  part  of 
those  organs  whose  office  it  is  to  carry  on  the  most  im- 
portant functions  of  the  system.  Thus  the  heart  is  no- 
thing but  a  hollow  muscle,  and  the  gullet,  the  stomach, 
the  bowels,  the  arteries,  are  in  a  great  measure  com- 
posed of  muscular  fibres.  From  the  diSerent  offices 
performed  by  these  two  classes  of  muscles,  Bichat  has 
thought  proper  to  consider  them  as  two  distinct  systems ; 
calling  the  locomotive  muscles  the  vmscular  system  of 
animal  life,  and  the  muscular  structure  of  the  internal 
organs  the  muscular  system  of  organic  life.  Probably  in 
this,  as  in  many  other  parts  of  his  system,  he  refines 
too  much.  Whatever  may  be  the  difference  of  situa- 
tion or  of  function  in  the  several  muscular  parts,  their 
structure  and  appearance  are  nearly  the  same.  The 
following  observations,  however,  refer  chiefly  to  the 
locomotive  muscles,  with  which  we  are  now  principally 
concerned. 

These  muscles  are  almost  entirely  composed  of  fleshy 
fibres,  arranged  for  the  most  part  parallel  to  each  other, 
and  forming  a  series  of  faciaiti,  or  bundles,  that  by 
their  union  form  what  is  called  the  belly  of  the  muscle. 
These  fasciculi,  as  well  as  the  fibres  of  which  they  are 
made  up,  are  separated  from  each  other  by  a  cellular 
membrane,  which  serves  to  connect  them  together, 
and  to  favour  the  passnge  and  distribution  of  the  numer- 
ous blood  vessels,  lymphatics,  and  nerves,  with  which 
the  muscles  are  supplied.  The  direction  of  these 
fasciculi  is  very  various.  Sometimes  they  run  along  the 
whole  length  of  the  muscle,  in  one  rectilineal  parallel 
range ;  as  in  the  muscles  tliat  appear  in  the  fore  parts 
of  the  belly,  and  the  muscle  ia  then  called  a  straight 


•  Bicliat,  Anataime  Deserip,  Tom.  I.  p.  390. 


742 


ANATOMY. 


muscle.  Sometimes  they  run  parallel  to  eaeh  other,  and 
in  an  oblique  direction,  forming  what  is  called  an  ob- 
lique muscle.  In  some  instances  they  are  disposed  on 
each  side  of  a  middle  line,  so  as  to  form  angles  with  each 
other  like  the  feathery  parts  of  a  quill,  and  the  muscle 
is  then  called  a  penniform  muscle ;  as  an  instance  of 
ivhich,  we  may  (juote  the  straight  muscle  of  the  thigh, 
(See  Plate  XV.  Fig.  1,  No.  16C.)  In  a  few  instances 
they  take  a  circular  direction,  forming  an  orbicular 
muscle,  as  that  which  surrounds  the  eye.  Of  these,  the 
ublique  muscles  are  the  most  frequent. 

The  fleshy  fibres  are  inserted  either  immediately  into 
the  place  of  their  attachment,  or,  what  is  more  common, 
this  insertion  is  made  through  the  medium  of  tendon  or 
sinew.  The  attachments  of  muscles  have  been  variously 
denominated,  according  as  the  one  extremity  or  the 
other  is  attached  to  a  fixed  or  a  moveable  point.  In  the 
former  case,  the  attachment  is  called  the  origin,  and  in 
the  latter  the  insertion,  of  the  muscle.  These  terms  are 
arbitrary,  and  are  sometimes  vague  and  indefinite;  for, 
the  attachments  of  a  muscle  are  in  many  cases  both 
moveable  points,  and  the  one  or  the  other  may  become 
the  fixed  point,  according  to  circumstances. 

The  tendons,  which  in  general  form  the  medium  of 
attachment  between  the  niusculous  fibres  and  the  bonea, 
are  also  of  a  fibrous  structure ;  but  the  fibres  of  which 
they  are  composed  are  whiter,  more  dense,  and  more 
elastic,  resembling  those  of  ligament.  They  do  not, 
like  the  muscular  fibres,  contract  in  obedience  to  the 
will,  or  on  the  application  of  external  stimuli  ;  but  ap- 
pear lo  be  insensi'ile,  and  in  the  dead  body  are  much 
stronger  than  the  fleshy  fibres,  though  during  the  life 
of  the  animal,  they  are  not  unfrequently  ruptured  by  the 
violent  contraction  of  the  belly  of  the  muscle.  The  ten- 
dons bear  a  greater  proportion  to  the  fleshy  fibres  in 
some  muscles  than  in  others ;  but  this  proportion  is  very 
regular  in  the  corresponding  muscles  of  the  same  spe- 
cies. They  also  vary  considerably  in  their  position  with 
respect  to  the  fleshy  fibres ;  forming  by  these  differ- 
ences six  or  seven  varieties.  In  the  firet  variety,  the 
tendinous  fibres  are  continued  in  a  line  with  the  fleshy 
fibres;  and  here  the  tendon  is  sometimes  at  one  ex- 
tremity, sometimes  at  another,  and  not  unfrequently  at 
both  ;  in  a  second,  the  tendinous  are  closely  interwoven 
with  the  fleshy  fibres,  appearing  sometimes  more  on  one 
side,  sometimes  more  on  the  other ;  in  a  third  variety, 
the  tendon  divides  the  muscular  fibres  longitudinally ; 
in  a  fourth,  it  divides  them  in  a  cross  direction;  in  a 
fifth,  the  tendon  is  on  one  side  of  the  oblique  fleshy 
fibres;  in  a  sixth,  there  are  more  than  one  or  two  ten- 
dons, either  at  one  or  both  of  the  attachments ;  and  in  a 
seventh,  several  of  these  varieties  are  combined  in  the 
same  muscle.  The  tendons  of  some  muscles,  especially 
of  those  that  are  inserted  into  the  fingers  and  toes,  are 
extremely  long,  in  proportion  to  the  belly  of  the  muscle ; 


and  in  these  cases  they  usually  pass  below  strong  ligar 
ments,  which  confine  them  in  their  situation. 

Muscles  have  received  diiferent  names,  according  to 
the  functions  which  they  are  supposed  to  perform,  and 
according  to  their  relative  position.  Thus,  muscles 
that  are  situated  in  such  a  manner,  as  that,  by  their  con- 
traction, a  joint  is  bended,  are  called  fiexar  muscles  : 
those  which  are  so  situated,  that  their  contraction  pro- 
duces the  contrary  eflect,  are  called  extensor  muscles  ; 
and  as  these  counteract  each  other,  they  are  said  to  be 
antagonists,  or  to  antagonise  each  other.  When  a  muscle 
arises  by  two  or  three  fleshy  parts,  all  terminating  in  a 
single  tendon,  it  is  called  a  biceps  or  a  triceps  muscle  j 
and  so  of  many  others. 

Muscles  are  sometimes,  especially  where  they  are 
required  to  exert  great  powers  of  action,  as  in  the  arm, 
thigh,  and  leg,  bound  down  by  a  strong  ligamentous 
membrane  called  aponeurosis,  or  fascia  ;  and  in  one  in- 
stance, {Wie  fascia  lata  of  the  thigh,)  this  aponeurosis  is 
provided  with  a  muscle,  by  whose  contraction  it  may  be 
rendered  more  tense. 

The  muscles,  when  in  action,  have  their  fleshy  bel- 
lies swelled,  and  rendered  harder;  as  may  easily  be  ob- 
served in  those  fleshy  protuberances  that  are  formed  io 
the  living  body  when  any  of  the  limbs  are  thrown  into 
violent  action.  This  efiect  on  the  muscles,  is  well  ex- 
pressed in  the  figures  on  Plates  XVI.  XVII.  the  figures 
of  which  are  intended  to  represent  the  manner  in  which 
the  body  of  a  muscular  man  would  be  affected  durino- 
violent  exertions,  or  severe  bodily  pain. 

The  principal  circumstances  worthy  of  notice  in  a 
general  view  of  the  muscles,  are  their  relative  situation, 
with  respect  to  the  parts  of  the  body ;  their  attach- 
ments or  connexions  with  the  bones,  membranes,  or 
each  other;  the  direction  in  which  the  fleshy  fibres  draw 
■when  thrown  into  contraction ;  and  the  effect  produced 
by  the  muscle,  acting  singly  or  in  conjunction  with 
other  muscles,  on  the  moveable  points  to  which  they  are 
attached.  We  have  endeavoured  to  express  these  cir- 
cumstances as  distinctly  as  possible  in  the  subjoined 
Tables.  The  first  Table  comprises  four  columns;  in 
the  first  of  which  the  principal  muscles  are  numbered 
and  arranged  according  to  the  regions  or  parts  of  the 
body  in  which  they  are  found.  The  names  by  which 
we  have  distinguished  the  muscles  are  generally  those 
of  Albinus;  but  we  have  added,  by  way  of  synonyme, 
those  of  Innes,  where  they  differ  from  the  former,  and 
those  of  Dumas,  as  being  useful  in  remembering  the  at- 
tachments. As  most  of  the  muscles  appear  in  pairs  on 
each  side  of  the  mesial  line,  we  have  generally  given  the 
names  in  the  plural  number  ;  and  where  this  is  not  done, 
it  is  to  be  understood  that  the  muscle  named  in  the  singu- 
lar, is  e'liUer asygous,  (i.  e.  without  a  fellow,)  or  that  it  has 
no  fellow  in  that  particular  organ,  as  the  eye,  the  arm,  the 
thigh,  &c*. 


•  The  regions  under  -which  anatomists  have  arranged  the  muscles,  differ  very  much,  iMth  in  numher  and  description.  We  shall 
here  enumerate  those  of  Albinus  and  Dumas,  whose  synonymes  we  have  adopted  iu  the  following  Table. 

The  muscular  regions  of  Albinus  are  thirty  in  number,  viz  I.  the  skull ;  II.  the  parts  about  the  ear ;  III.  the  face ;  IV.  the  cheeks  and 
Hie  side  of  the  skull ;  V.  the  orbits  of  the  eyed ;  VI.  Uie  auricle ;  VII.  the  internal  ear ;  VIII.  the  neck ;  IX.  the  parts  below  the  cheeks  j 
X.  the  hreast ;  XI.  the  sides  of  the  thorax  ;  XII.  the  helly  ;  XIII.  the  testes  and  parts  adjacent ;  XIV.  the  parU  between  the  belly  and 
the  tlira-ax  ;  XV.  below  the  breast ;  XVI.  part  of  the  loins  ;  X  VII.  the  peritieiim  in  men,  and  the  genitaiia  in  women  ;  XVIII.  the  parts 
about  the  aims ;  XIX.  the  back,  and  back  part  of  the  neck  and  loins ;  XX.  the  intercostal  spaces ;  XXI.  the  sides  and  interior  part  of  the 
neck  of  Uie  skeleton  ;  XXII.  the  scapula  and  upper  part  of  the  humerus  ;  XXIII.  the  rest  of  the  humerus ;  XXIV.  the  fore  arm  i  XX  V.  the 
liand  ;  XXVI.  the  natea,  or  buttocks ;  XXVU.  the  thigh ;  XXVUL  the  leg ;  XXIX.  the  back  of  the  foot  and  toe* ;  XXX.  the  sole  of  the 
loot  and  inferior  surface  of  the  toes. 

Dumas  arranges  the  muscles  under  47  regions,  Tiz.  I.  epicranian  ;  11.  frontal ;  III.  palpebral ;  IV.  orbital ;  V.  external  auricular ;  VI. 
internal  auricular  i  V 11.  malar;  VIII.  nasal ;  IX.  labial ;  X.  pterigo-maxillar;' ;  XI.  inferior  maxillary;  XII.  trochelo-thoracic,  or  anterior 
part  of  the  otck  ;  XUl-  trochtlo-hyoitlctui,  w  t«Btr»l  wt«r>9r  part  9f  (he  BCtlk  i  <UY>  l^ryngcw  i  W.  palaUac ;  XVI.  glotsciui  or  lingual  j 


ANATOMY. 


748 


In  the  second  colnmn  are  mark«d  the  attachments  of 
the  muscles  and  their  connexion  with  other  muscles  ; 
the  latter  being  referred  to  by  the  numbers  affixed  to 
them  in  the  preceding  column. 

In  the  third  column  is  pointed  out  the  direction  in 
which  the  fibres  of  the  muscle  draw,  and  in  the  fourth 
are  noted  the  functions  of  the  single  muscle,  or  of  the 
pair  when  acting  together.     The  former  is  not  always 


mentioned,  because,  in  general,  the  action  of  a  single 
muscle  may  be  i  eadily  found  by  knowing  the  direction  of 
action  of  its  fibres. 

The  terms  employed  in  this  table  to  mark  position 
and  direction,  are  those  of  Dr.  Barclay ;  and  may  be 
easily  understood,  by  referring  to  the  account  of  his  no- 
menclature given  in  p.  745. 


.-    TABULAR  VIEW  OF  THE  HUMAN  MUSCLES. 


,2Vo. 
1. 


8. 


10. 


Names  and  Synonymcs. 
I.  Epicranial. 
Occipito-frontales. 
Epicranii.     A. 
Fronto-sourciliers.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Pig.  1,  and  2.  No.  17. 
Corrugatores  supcrcilii. 
Cutanco-smrciliers.     D. 


11.  Op  THE  Eyes  AKD  Eye-lids. 
Orbicularis  palpebrarum. 
Maxillo-palpebral.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  27 ;  PI.  xxi. 

Fig.  1.  No.  44. 
Levator  palpebne  superioris. 
Orbito-sus  Palpebral.     D. 
Rectus  atollens  oculi. 
Sus-opiico-sphetii-sckroticim.    D. 
Levator  oculi.     I. 

Rectus  deprimens  oculi. 
Depressor  oculi.     I. 
Sous-opti-spheno-scletoricim.      D. 
Rectus  adducens  oculi. 
Adductor-oadi.     I. 
Orbito-intvs-scleroticien.     D. 
Rectus  abducens  oculi. 
Ahihictor-oculi.     I. 
Orbito-eitus-scleroticicn.     D. 
Obliquus  superior  oculi. 
Trachlearis.     I.  &c. 
Optico-trochlei-sclcroticien.  D. 
Obliquus  inferior  oculi. 
Mcuillo-scleroiicien.     D. 


Attachments. 

Frontal,  occipital  and 
temporal  bones,  skin, 
and  Nos.  2,  3. 

Noa.  1.  and  3. 


Directum  of  Action. 

Coronad  and  iniad,  or 
cor.  andantiniad- 


Oormad. 


Frontal    and    temporal    Mesiad. 
bones,      skin,       and 
Nos.  1,  2,  and  13. 

Sphenoidal    bone    and    Coronarf and  laterad. 
upper  eye-lid. 

Sphenoidal    bone    and    Iniad. 
eye-ball. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Glahellad  and  mesiad. 


Coronal  maxilla  a.nd  eye-    Ditto, 
ball. 


Functions. 

Slightly  move  the  hairy 
scalp,  and  regulate 
the  action  of  2.;  as- 
sist No.  50. 

Wrinkle  the  eyebrows 
ia  frowning,  &c.  and 
regulate  the  action 
of  3. 

Closes  the  eye-lids,  and 
assists  2. 


Raises  the  upper  eye- 
lid, and  moderates  the 
action  of  3. 

Moves  the  eye  cormiad 
and  iniad,  and  regu- 
lates 6. 

Moves  the  eye-ball  ba- 
silad  and  inicul,  and 
regulates  5. 

Moves  the  eye-ball  me- 
siad aud  iniad,  and  re- 
gulates 8. 

Moves  the  eye-ball  late- 
rad and  iniad,  and  re- 
gulates 7. 

Moves  the  eye-ball  gla- 
bellad  and  tnesiad,  and 
regulates  10. 

Ditto,  and  regulates  9. 


III.  Of  the  Nose. 


•n.    Compressores  naris. 
Maxillo-narinaux.     D. 

IV.  Of  the  Lips. 

*I2.    Orbicularius  oris. 
Labial.     D. 
PI.  xxi.  Fig.  1.  No.  3S,  39. 


Coronal    maxilla     and 
skin  of  the  nose. 


Skin  of  the  lips  aud  nose.    Mesiad, 


Compress  the  nostrir?, 
aud  assist  14. 


Closes  the  lips. 


XVn.  pharyngean  ;  XVIII.  eosto-stemal ;  XIX.  spino-costal;  XX.  thoraco-pleural,  or  internal  thoracic  ;  XXT.  aMominal ;  XXII.  thoraco- 
abdoininal,  or  diaphragmatic  ;  XXIII.  doi'socerrical ;  XXIV.  dorso-lumbar ;  XXV.  cervico-occipital ;  XXVI.  spinal,  or  posterior  part  of  tho 
Tertcbral  column  ;  XXVII.  pre-spinal,  or  anterior  part  of  the  the  vertebral  column  ;  XXVIII.  transvcrso-spinal,  or  lateral  part  ;  XXIX.  ex- 
ternal  iliac ;  XXX.  internal  iliac  ;  XXXI.  annular,  (about  the  anua  ;)  XXXII.  perineo-sexual ;  XXXIII.  scapular :  XXXIV.  humero- 
clavicular;  XXXV.  humeroolecranian  ;  XXXVI.  cubito-palmar  (anterior  fore-arm:)  XXXVU.  cubito-olecranian,  (posterior  fore  arm ;) 
XXXVIII.  palmar  ;  XXXIX.  sus-palmar,  or  body  of  the  hand  :  XL.  femoro-peronean,  (the  fibular  side  of  the  thigh  ;)  XLI.  femoro- 
rotulian  (rotular  side  of  the  thigh  .)  XLII.  femorn.pubian  (tibeal  aide  of  the  thigh  ;)  XLIU.  ferooro-popUteal  (popltieal  side  of  the  thigh  ;) 
XLIV.  crctiacrural  (rotular  side  of  the  leg  ;)  XLV.  poplite-crural  (popliteal  side  of  the  leg ;)  XLVI.  jsus-plantar,  (back  of  th«  foot,)  anj 
XLVII.  plantar  or  sole  of  the  foot. 

We  do  not  give  the  regions  of  Innes,  be«»use  these  are  familiar  lo  most  students  of  Anatomy.    Jo  tlie  Ibllowing  Tabic  we  have  rediice*^** 
{hese  regions  to  twelve. 


744 


ANATOMY. 


No.        Names  and  Si/nont/nu^. 

13.  Levatores  anguli  oris. 
Sus-maxillo-labiaux.    D. 

1 4.  Levatores  labii  snperioris  aleeque 

nasi. 
Orbito-maxiUi-lahumx.    D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig- 1.  No.  21 ;  PI.  xxi. 

Fig.  1.  No.  44. 

15.  Depressores  labii  superioris  ala- 

rutnq.  nasi. 
Depressores  alee  nasi.     A. 
Marillo-alvcoli-nasaux.     D. 

16.  Depressores  labii  inferioria. 
Mentonier-labiaux.     D. 

PI.  xxi.  Fig.  1.  No.  37. 
17     Depressores  angulorum  oris. 
Sous-maxillo-labiaux.    D. 


Atlachnwnts.  Direction  {^Action. 

C  oronal  maxilla  and  No.     Laterad  and  coronad, 
12. 

Coronal  maxilla,  aUe  no-    Coronad. 
St,  and  No.  13. 


Ditto,  and  npper-Iip.         Basilad  and  laterad. 


Basilar  maxilla  and  12.     Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


18.  Zygomatic!. 
Zygomato-labiaux.     D. 
P'l.  xxi.  Fig.  1.  No.  42. 

19.  Buccinators 
Alveolo-maxillaifcs.    D. 

PI.  XV.  Fi«;.  1.  No.  19;  PI.  xxi. 
Fig.  1.  No.  41. 

V.  Of  the  Lower,  or  Basilar 
Jaw. 

20.  Temporals. 
Arcadi-tempore-maxillaires.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  11.  No.  66 ;  PI.  xxi. 

Fig.  1.  No.  47. 

21.  Masseters. 
Zigomato-maxillaires.     D. 

PI.  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  67 ;  PI.  xxi. 
Fig.  1.  No.  35. 

22.  Pterygoidei  externi. 
Pterigo-coUi-maxiUaircs.    D. 

23.  Pterygoidei  interni. 
Ptcrigo-angidi-maxillaires.    D. 

24.  Biventres  maxillee. 
Digastrici.     I. 
Maxillo-hygeniens.     D.    PI.  xiv. 

Fig.  1.  No.  68. 

25.  Mylo-Tiyoidei. 
My'o-hyoidiens.     D. 

26.  Genio-hyoidei. 
Genio-hyoiJiens.     D. 

27.  Genio-hyoiglossi. 
Genio-glosses.     D. 

VI.    Or  THE  Tongue  and 

Fauces. 


Malar-bones,  and  12.         Coronad,    latenad,    and 

iniad. 

Coronal,     and     basilar    Latorarfand  iniad. 
maxillx,  and  12. 


Frontal,  parietal,   tem-  Coronad,  vicsiad,  iniad, 

poral,  phenoidal,  and  and  antiniad. 

malar    bones,  basilar 

maxilla. 

Temporal,  check  bones.  The  same,  except   me- 

and  basilar  maxilla.  siad. 


Sphenoidal  bone,  coro- 
nal  and  basilar  maxilr 

ItB. 

Sphenoidal,  palate 

bones  and  basilar 
maxilla. 

Temporal  bones,  basi- 
lar maxilla. 


Basilar  maxilla  and  os- 

hyoides. 
Ditto. 

Basilar  maxilla,  os  hy- 
eides  and  tongue. 


Basilad,  mesiad,  and  an- ' 
tiniad. 

Coroniad,  mesiad,  and  an- 
tiniad. 

Sacrad,  dorsad,  and  la- 
terad; atlant.  dors. 
and  l-uter. ;  or  baai- 
lad,  laterad,  and  ini- 
ad. 

Baiilad,  mesiad,  and  an- 
tiniad. 

Basilad  and  inieul. 

Ditto. 


Functions. 

Together  draw  the  cor- 
ners of  the  mouth  co- 
ronad. 

Assist  12  and  13. 


Draw  the  upper  lip  6a- 
silad,  when  acting  to- 
gether. 

Together  draw  the  low- 
er lip  basilad. 

Together  draw  basilad 
the  corner  of  the 
mouth. 

Tc^ether  draw  the  cor- 
ners of  the  mouth  co- 
ronad. 

When  the  lips  are  clo- 
sed by  1 2,  inflate  the 
cheeks. 


Together  draw  the  ba- 
silar Jaw  coronad. 


Ditto. 


Assist  in  the  same  mo- 
tion ;  also  draw  the 
jaw  antiniad. 


Draw  the  jaw  basilad. 

Ditto. 
Ditto. 
Ditto. 


28.   Lingualis 


29.   Hyoglossi. 

Basio,  cerato,chondro-glossi,IIy«- 
^UHdr»-glosscs.    D. 


Forms  the  principal 
part  of  the  substance 
of  the  tongue.  Con- 
nected with  27  and 
29. 

Os  hyoides  and  tongue.    Basilai,  iniad,  and  me- 
siad. 


Performs  most    of  the 
motions  of  (he  tongue. 


Draw  the  tongue  iniad 
and  basilad. 


ANATOI^fY. 


^45 


No. 
30. 

31. 

32. 

33. 


34. 


35, 


36. 


37. 


38. 


Nanus  and  Synmymes, 
Stylo-glossi. 
Slylo-glosscs.     D . 
Stylo-hyoidei. 
Stylo-Hyoidiens.     D. 
Stylo-pharyngei. 
Stylo-thyro-pharyngiens.     ] 
Circumflexi  palati  dioIUb. 
Spheno-salpingo-staphylins. 


D. 


Levatores  palati  mollis. 
Pctro-salpingo-staphylins,     D . 

Palato-pliaryngei, 

Palato-pharyngicns.     D. 

Azygos  uvulae. 

PoUato-staphylitis.     D. 

Constrictores  pharyngis. 

Constrictor  inferior,  medius,  et  su- 
perior pharytigis.  A.  Cricothy- 
ro-pharyngiens,  &c.     D. 

Constrictores  istbmi  faucium. 

Glosso-staphylins.     D. 

VII.  Of  the  Larynx. 


jitlachments.  Dircelion  of  Action.  Functions. 

Temporal     buue»    and    Coronad,  iniad,  and  late-     Draw  the  tongue  iniad, 


tongue.  rod. 

Temporal    bones    and     Atlantad,  Dorsad,  and 
OS  hyoides.  laterad. 

Temporal    bones    and " 
pharynx. 

Sphenoidal  bone  and 
velum  pendulum  pa- 
lati. 

Temporal  bones  and 
vehtm  pendtUmn  pa- 
lati. 


Palate  bones  and  iivtila. 


and,  acting  singly,  la^ 
tcrad. 
Assist  in  swalloATing. 


Occipital  bone,  os  hy- 
oides, and  pharynx. 


Ditto. 


39. 

Crico-thyroidei. 

40. 

Crico-pharyngei. 

41. 

C  rico-ary  tenoidei. 

42. 

Stylo-thyroidei. 

43. 

Thyro-hyoidei. 

44. 

Thy  ro-epiglottidei. 

45. 

Thyro-ary  tenoidei. 

46. 

Thyro-pharyngei. 

47. 

Thyro-staphilini. 

48. 

Aryta-noidei;  Plate  XIV.  Fig.  5 

No.  1. 

49.    Arytano-epiglottidei. 
PI.  XIV.  Fig.  6.  No.  4. 


50 


51 


52 


53 


54, 


56. 

57. 

58. 
59. 
60. 


Attached  to  the  os  hy- 
oides, and  the  various 
cartilages  of  the  la- 
rynx, as  their  names 
import. 


Muscles  of  voice  and 
deglutition. 


VIII.  Of  the  Ear. 

Attollentes  aurem. 
Tempora-conchiniens.     D. 

Fig.  2. 
Anteriores  Auriculee. 
Zygomatc-ccnchiniens.     D. 
Retrahentes  auriculam. 
Mastoido-conchiniens.     D. 
Tragici. 

Concho-tragigiies. 
Antitragici. 
Antluti-lragiqucs. 
55.  Majores  helicis. 
Helix.     D. 
Minores  helicis.  • 
Concho-helix.     D. 
Transversi  auriculae. 
Concho-anthelix.     D 
Externi  mallei. 
Tensores  tympani. 
Stapedii. 


Temporal    bones    and     Coronad. 
auricle. 


Ditto. 
Ditto. 


Iniad. 


D. 


D. 


Attached  to  the  parish 
of  the  auricle,  which  \ 
their  names  express.  \ 


Attached  to  the  bones  "J 
and  membrane  of  the  v 
tympanum.  J 


Stretch  the    conch  of 

the  ear. 
Obscurely  draw    back 

the  auricle. 


Obscurely   act  on  tbo 
conch. 


IX.  Chiefly  attached  to 
THE  Head  and  Neck. 
61.   Slerno-lhyroidei. 

Stcmo-thyroidiens.     D. 

Vol.  I.  Part  II. 


Sternum    and 
cartilage, 


thyroid    Sacrad  and  laterad. 


5  B 


Assist  in  the  mechan- 
ism of  hearing. 


Draw  the  head  and 
neck  sacrad,  and  act 
on  the  gk  ttis. 


74( 

No, 
t}2. 


03. 


04. 


G5. 


* 


ANATOMY. 


Names  and  Synoni/mes: 
Stefno-hyoidei. 
Slcmo-hyoidicns.     D.  Plate  XV. 

Fig.  1.  No.  44. 
Coraco-liyoidei. 
Scapulo  hyoidiens.     D . 
Sterno-mastoidei. 
Stemo-eleido-mastoidiens.     D. 

Plate  XV.  Fis.  2.  No.  94. 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  No.  48, 
Latissitni  colli. 
FlatijsKU  my  aides.  I. 
Tlicraco-maxilli-faciaux:     D. 


66.  Longi  Colli. 
Pre-dorso-ccrvicaux.     D. 

67.  Trachelo-inastoidei. 
Trachelo-mastoidiciis.     D. 


68.  SpTenii  capitis. 
DBrso-trachclkns.  D.  Plate  XV. 

Fig.  2.  No.  88. 

69.  Recti  capitis  interni. 
Trachelc-basilmres.     D. 

70.  Recti  capitis  laterales. 
Tradulo-atloido-hasillaires.     D. 

71.  Recti  capitis  postici  majores. 

Spini-axoido-occiptiaux.     D. 

72.  Recti  capitis  postici  minorcs. 
Tuber-atloido-occipitavx.     D. 

73.  Complexi. 
Dorsi-tracheli'occipitaux.    D, 


74;    Obliqui  capitis  superiores. 
Trachelo-atloido-ocdpitaux, 


D. 


Attachments. 
Sternum  and  <;;s  hyoides. 

Sternum  and  scapula. 


75;    Obliqui  capKis  inferiore*: 

Spini-axoidu-trachetoalleidks.  D. 

76.  Trapezii.- 
Occipiti-dorso-clavi-sus-acromiens. 

D.  Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  81. 

X.  Belonging  to  the  Neck 
AND  Trunk,  but  not  at- 
tached TO  THE  Head  oe  Ex- 

TJIEMITIES. 

77.  Intersjiinaleg  colli. 
Intcrcpiiieux.     D. 

78.  Mutifidi  spina?. 
Transverso-spinoMX.    D. 


70.    Spinales  cervicis. 
SO.    Semispinaleg  dorsi. 

Transierso-spinaux.     D. 

81,    Serrati  postici  superiores. 
Cervisi-dorso-costaux.    D. 


Direction  of  jlction. 
Laterad  or  stemad. 


Sternum,  clavicle,  and  Laterad  am]  stemad ;  or 

temporal  bones.  sacrad  and  tnesiad. 

Basilar  maxillar  and  se-  Sacrad  or  sternad. 
Teral  muscle. 


Cervical  and  dorsal  ver-    Sacrad  or  laterad. 
tebrae. 


Ditto,  and  assist  in  de- 
glutition. 

Perform  mnch  the  same 
motions. 

Singly  turn  the  head  on 
the  neck ;  together 
draw  it  saerad  and 
sternad. 

Ditto,  when  the  jaw  is 
fixed ;  also  draw  the 
jaw  sacrad,  and  com- 
press the  neighbour- 
ing parts. 

Bend  the  neck  sternad. 


Cervical  yertehrsB  and 

bacrad,  dorsad,  mesiad 

Rotators   of    the   head 

temporal  bones. 

or  laterad. 

dextrad,  and  flexors 
of  the  neck  sternad 
or  laterad. 

pitto     and      occipital 

Ditto. 

Ditto. 

bone. 

Occipital  bone  and  cer- 

Sacrad, dorsad,  and  late- 

Ditto. 

vical  vertebrae. 

rad. 

Occipital  bone  and  at- 

Sacrad, sternad,  and  me- 

Ditto. 

las. 

siauL 

Occipital  bone  and   se- 

Ditto. 

cond    cervical   verle- 

bra. 

Occipital  bone  and  at- 
las. 
Occipital  bone  and  cer- 

Ditto. 

Sacrad,  sternad,  and'toe- 

Ditto. 

vical  and  dorsal  ver- 

rad. 

tebrie. 

Occipital     bone      and 

Sacrad  and  dorsad. 

Draw  the  head  laterad. 

spin.  proc.  of  atlas. 

acting  apart;  toge- 
ther, draw  it  sacrad 
and  dorsad. 

Occipital    bone,    atlas. 

Sacrad,  dorsad,  and  me- 

Ditto, and  rotators  dex- 

and   spin.    proc.    of 

siad. 

trad 

cervical  vertebraj. 

Sacrad,  sternad,  naAlate- 

Apart,  rotate  the  head 

Occipital  bone,  scapula, 

rad,  or   sacrad,   dor- 

dextrad  ;      togetlier, 

clavicle,    and     spin. 

»ail,  and  mesiad*. 

draw  it  sacrad,  and 

proc.  of  cervical  and 

bend  the  trunk  dor- 

dorsal vertebree. 

sad. 

Spinous    processes    of   Sacrad. 
the  cervical  vertebrae. 

Transverse  and  spinous 
processes  of  the  cer- 
vical and  dorsal  ver- 
tebrae. 

Ditto. 

Transverse  and  spinous 
processes  of  the  dor- 
sal vertebriE. 

Spinous     processes    of   Sacrad  aoA  laterad. 
the   dorsal  vertebra! 
and  ribs. 


Sacrad,  stemad,  and  la- 
terad. 


Ditto. 


Bend  the  neck  back. 


All  assist  inbendinglhe 
spine  according  to 
their  direction  of  ac- 
tion or  -degree  of 
force. 


*  In  all  eiiMs  vhere    diflerent  directiosi  of  action  are  aieribed  to  tbe  same  mude,  it  it  luppottd   that  Ox  fibres  of  tl^e  masele  bare 
differeat  dirccUooi,  w  (Uat  Ui«  tUcd  poiut  of  Iha  fibres  ii  changci. 


ANATOMY. 


Uf 


Ko,      Nanus  and  Si/nmytncst 

82.  Interlransversarii  colli. 
Intertransversaires.  D. 

83.  Transversales  cervicis. 
Traiisversaks  colli.  I. 

84.  Cerricales    descendentes.  Vide 

No.  91. 

85.  Scaleni. 
Trachelo-costaux.  D. 

86.  Levatores  2  costarum. 

87.  Quadrati  lumborutn. 
Ilio-lvmbi-costaux.  D. 


88,  Serrati  postici  inferiores. 
Dorsi-lumbo-costaux.  D. 

89.  Longissimi  dorsi. 
Liumbo-dorso-tracheliens.  D 


90.  PsoBB  parvi. 
Prelumbi-pubicns.  D. 

91.  Sacroluinbales. 
Lmnbo-costo-tracheliens.  D. 


§2.    Obliqui  interni  abdominis. 
Ilio-piibi-co.sto-abdominaux.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  1: 


93.     Obliqui  interni  abdominis. 
Ilio-kimbo-costo-abdmninaux. 


.04.     Transversi  abdominis. 
iMmbo-ili-ahdonUnaux.  D. 


95.     Recti  abdominis. 

Pubio-stemaux.  D.     Plate  XV. 
Fig.  1.  No.  4. 


Attachments. 

Transverse  processes 
of  the  cervical  verte- 
brae. 

Transverse  processes 
of  the  cervical  and 
dorsal  vertebras. 

Transverse  processes 
of  the  cervical  verte- 
brffi  and  ribs. 

Ditto. 


Direction  (ifJcil6n\  Functions, 

Sacrad  "> 


96.    Coccygei. 


97.    Curvatores  coccygis. 
88.    Levatores  ani. 

Pubio-ccccigi-annulaires.  D. 


09.    Sphincter  ani. 

Voccigio-cittane-sphincter,  1}. 


Ditto,  (two  atlantal 
ribs.) 

Transverse  processes 
of  the  lumbar  and  last 
dorsal  vertebras,  last 
ribs,  and  ilia. 

Spinous  processes  of 
the  dorsal  and  lumbar 
vertebrae  and  ribs. 

Crest  of  the  ilia,  spinous 
and  transverse  pro- 
cesses of  the  sacrum, 
dorsal,  and  lumbar 
vertebrae  and  ribs. 

Lumbar  vertebra:  and 
pid)es. 

Ilia,  ribs,  spinous  and 
transverse  processes 
of  the  lumbar  verte- 
bne. 

Spinous  processes  of 
the  sacrum,  trans- 
verse processes  of 
the  lumbar  vertebra;, 
ilia,  Poupart's  liga- 
ment, ribs,  and  Htica 
alba. 

Ilia,  sacrum  spinous 
process  of  the  lum- 
bar vertebrte,  Pou- 
part's ligament,  ribs, 
and  linea  alba. 

Spinous  processes  of 
the  lumbar  vertebree, 
ilia,  Poupart's  liga- 
ment, ribs,  and  linea 
alba. 

Os  pubis,  ribs,  and  ster- 
num. 


Transverse  processes 
of  sacrum  and  coc- 
cyx. 

Ditto. 

Pubes,  ischia,  and 
sphincter  ani.  Con- 
nected also  with  No. 
99. 

Round  the  extremity  of 
the  rectum,  and  at- 
tached to  the  coceyxi 


Sacrad  and  dorsad. 


Sacrad,  dorsad,  and  la- 
terad. 

Sacrad,  sternad,&nAla- 
terad,  Or  sacrad,  dor- 
sad, and  laterad. 


Saci'ad  and  laterad. 


Sacrad  ;  or  sacrad  and 
metiad. 

Sacrad  and  mesiad. 


All  assist  in  bending  the 
spine  according  to 
their  direction  of  ac- 
tion or  degree  of 
force. 


Assist  in  dilating  the 
chest. 

Bend  the  trunk  dorsad, 
and  assist  in  con- 
tracting the  cliest. 

Assist  the    preceding. 


Sacrad  or  laterad. 
Sacrad  &ud  mesiad. 


Mesiad,  sacrad,  stemad, 
and  mesiad.  Atlan- 
tad,  dorsad,  and  late- 
rad. 


Bend  the  trunk  dorsai\ 

Bend  the  trunli  stemadi 
As  90. 


Draw  the  ribs  sacrad, 
compress  the  bowels, 
and  bend  the  body 
sternad. 


Sacrad,  dorsad,  and  me- 
siad. Laterad  allan- 
tad,  and  laterad. 


Laterad,    dorsad,    and 
mesiad. 


Sacrad, 


Ditto. 


Assist  the  two  prece* 
ding. 


Bend  the  trunk  sternadf 
regulate  the  three 
jireceding,  contract 
the  chest,  and  com- 
press the  bowels. 


Assist  in  expelling  the 
Jteccs,   and  moderate 
the  fiexor  muscles  of 
the  belly. 


.•iBK 


748 


ANATOMY. 


No.        Nanus  and  Synonymts 

100.  Acceleratores  urinae. 
Btilbc-syiidcsmo-caverneux.  D. 

101.  Tranvereales  peringei. 
Iscliio-pub  i-prostatiqucs. 

102.  Diaphragma,  vel  septum  trans- 

vcrsum. 
Thoraco-abdotninal.  D. 
Plate  XiV.  Fig.  3. 

103.  Triangularis  sterni. 
Stenio-costal.  D. 

104.  Intercostales    periphcrales    vel 

externi. 
Intcr-latcri-costatix.  D. 

105.  Intercostalei  centrales,  vel  in- 

tern!. 
Inter-pleuri-costanx.  D. 

XI.  Muscles   of  the  Atlax- 
XAL  Extremities. 


Attachments. 

From  the  skin  over  the 
urethra  to  (lie  coi-po- 
ra  cavernosa  penis. 

Ischium,  pubis,  and  root 
of  the  penis. 

Sternum,  lumbar  vertc- 
brce,  two  sacral  true 
ribs,  and  all  the  false 
ribs. 

Ribs  and  sternum,  es- 
pecially the  ensiform 
cartilage. 

Ribs. 


Ditto. 


Direction  of  Action. 


Very  various. 


Sacrad  and  sternad. 


Sacrad  and  dorsad 


Functions. 
Compress   the    urethra. 


Assist  in  expelling  the 

fseces. 
Contract  the  chest. 


Assists    in  contracting 
the  chest. 


Dilate  the  chest. 


106.  Subclarius. 

Costo-claviculaire.  D. 


107.  Pectorales. 
Pectoralts  majores.  I. 
Stemo-costo-clavio-hnmeraux.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  107. 

108.  Deltoideus. 
Sous-acromi-clavi-hmneral.  D. 
Plate  XV.   Fig.  1.  and  2.  No. 

108. 


109.  Rhomboidei. 

Cennci-dorso-scapulaires.  D. 


110.  Levator  scapulae. 
Trachelo-anguli-scapulaire.  D. 

111.  Serratus  anticus. 
Pectoralis  minor.  I. 
Costo-coracoidien.  D. 

112.  Serratus  major. 
Costo-basi-scapulaire.  D. 

113.  Supraspinatus. 
Sus-spini-scapuli'trochiterien.  D. 

114.  Infraspinatus. 
Sousspini-scapuli-lrochilerien. 

D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  N.  110. 

115.  Teres  major. 
Anguli-scapulo-hutncral.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  112. 

116.  Teres  minor. 

Uargini-sus-scapuli-trochiterien. 
D. 


Clavicle  and  ribs. 


Sternum,  clavicle,  ribs, 
ami  humerus. 


Spine  of    the   scapula, 
clavicle,  a.adhumerus. 


Sacrad,  sternad,  and  me- 
siatL 


Atlantad,  sternad,  and 
mesiad ;  or  Sacrad, 
sternad,  and  mesiad; 
or  humerad. 


Acromiad  and    clavicu- 
>     lad. 
Spmo-scapulad. 


Scapula  and  spinous 
processes  of  the  cer- 
vical and  dorsal  ver- 
tebra. 


Scapula  and  transverse 
processes  of  the  cer- 
vical vertebrae. 

Scapula  and  ribs. 


Atlantad,   dorsad,    and 
mesiad. 


Atlantad,  sternad,   and 
UUerad. 

Sacrad,     sternad,     and 
mesiad. 


Ditto. 

Supraspinous  cavity  of 
the  scapula  and  the 
humerus. 

Infraspinous  cavity  and 
hutnerus. 


Sacrad,    sternad,     and 

lattrad. 
Dorsad  and  mesiad. 


Sacrad,  dorsad,  and  me- 
siad. 


Scapula  and  humerus.     As  114. 


Ditto,  and  capsular  li- 
gament of  the  shoul- 
<ler  joint. 


Draws  the  clavicles 
obliquely  downward, 
or  the  ribs  upward; 
and  draws  the  sca- 
pula sacrad  and  ster- 
nad. 

Draws  the  humerus. 
mesiad. 


Extends  the  hummus 
sternad;  rolls  it  ul- 
nad.  Bends  it  dorsad; 
rolls  it  radiad:  Also 
draws  the  humerus 
mesiad,  or  adducfs 
it. 

Draw  the  base  of  the 
scapula  in  the  direo 
tions  of  its  action; 
also  bend  the  trunk 
dorsad,  (the  scapula 
being  fixed.) 

Draws  the  base  of  the 
scapula  in  the  direc- 
tion of  its  action. 

Draws  the  acromion  in 
the  directions  of  ac- 
tion, &  slightly  bends 
the  trunk  rf«-na</. 

Ditto. 


Extend  and  abduct  the 
humerus,  and  roll  it 
radiad. 


J 

Draws  the  humerus 
dorsad,  and  rolls  it 
ulnad. 

Draws  the  humerus  dor- 
sad, and  rolls  it  ra. 
diad. 


ANATOMY. 


749 


No.        Names  and  Synonymes. 
Plate  XV.  rig.  2.  No.  111. 

117.  Subscapularis. 
Soiis-xcajmla-trachinien.  D. 

118.  Coraco-brachialis. 
Coraco-humcral.  D. 

119.  Tricepg. 
Triceps-extensor-cubiti.  I. 
Tri-scapulo-kumcro-oUcranien. 

D. 

120.  Biceps  bracliii. 
Biceps  flexor  cuhiti.  I. 
Scapulo-coraco-radial. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  116. 

121.  Lalissimus  ilorsi. 
Dorsi-lumbo-sacro-htimeral. 

D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig  2.  No.  113. 

122.  Brachialis  iuternus. 
Hwnero-cubital.  D. 

Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  117. 

123.  Supiuator  longus. 
Hunuro-sus-radial.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  144. 


124.  Radiates  externi. 
Extenferen  carpi  radiates.  I. 
Epicondylo,   i  siis-mctcKorpiais. 
Htimcro,        \      D. 

Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  144. 

125.  Extensor  communis  digitorura. 
Epicondylo-sus-phalangcUien 

commun.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  126. 

126.  Extensor  digiti  minimi. 
Epicondylo-sus-plMlangetlien    du 

petit  (loigt.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  130. 

127.  Ulnaris  externus. 
Extensor  carpi  ulnaris.  I. 
Epicondy-cubito-sus-mctacai'pien. 

D. 

128.  Anconeus. 
Epicondylo-cubital.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  120. 

129.  Extensor  major  pollicis. 
Extensor  sccundi  internodii.  I. 
Cubito-sus-phalang(ttien   du 

ponce.  D. 

130.  Extensor  minor  pollicis. 
Extensor  primi  internodii.  I. 
Cubito-sus-phalangien   du  pouce. 

D. 

131.  Indicator. 
Cubito-sus-phalangettien  de  F in- 
dex. D. 

132.  Abductor  longus  pollicis. 
Extensor  ossis  metacarpi  pollicis. 

I. 
Cubito-radi-sus-metacarpic7i      du 

pouce.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  136. 


Attachments. 


Ditto. 


Coracoid  process  of  the 
scapula  and  the  hu- 
merus. 

Scapula,  humerus  in  two 
jjarts,  and  olecranen 
ulnae. 

Neck  and  coracoid  pro- 
cess of  scapda,  and 
tubercle  of  radius. 


Dorsal  and  lumbar  vcr- 
tchree  and  humerus. 


Humerus  and  ulna. 


Near  the  radial  condyle 
of  the  humerus,  and 
near  the  styloid  pro- 
cess of  the  radius. 


Radial  condyles  of  the 
humerus  ulna,  radius, 
and  metacarpal  hones 
of  the  fore  and  mid- 
dle fingers. 

Radial  condyleofftuwif- 
rus,  ulna,  radius,  and 
phalanges  of  the  fin- 
gers. 

Radial  condyle  of  the 
humerus,  ulna,  and 
I)halanges  of  the  lit- 
tle finger. 

Radial  condyle  of  the 
kumerus,  ulna,  and 
metacarpal  bone  of 
the  little  finger. 

Near  the  radialcondyle 
of  the  humerus,  and 
near  the  olecranon. 

IJlna,  interoseous  liga- 
ment, and  distal  phof 
lanx  of  the  thumb. 

TJlna,  interosseous  li- 
gament, radius,  and 
proximal  phalanx  of 
the  thumb. 

Ulna,  interosseous  liga- 
ment, and  phalanges 
of  the  fore  finger. 

Ulna,  interosseous  li- 
gament, radius,  and 
metacarpus  of  the 
thumb. 


Direction  of  Action. 

Atlantad,  and  laterad, 
or  sacrad,  and  me- 
siad. 

Atlanteul  and  mesiad. 


Long  head  atlantad  and 
mesiad,  rest  acromiad. 


Acromiad  and  mesiad. 


Sacrad,  dorsad,  and  me- 
siad. 


As  in  most  of  the  bi- 
ceps. 

*,*  It  will  be  unnecestary  to 
notice  the  directions  of  ac- 
tion of  the  succeeding 
muscles  of  the  atlantal 
extremities,  as  these  di- 
rections rtuzy  readily  be 
understood  by  attending 
to  tfte  points  of  attach- 
ment, and  as  they  are  the 
same  in  a  great  many  of 
the  muscles,  both  of  the 
atlantal  and  sacral  extre- 
mities. 


Functions. 

Abducts  the  humerus, 
and  rolls  it  ulnad. 

Abducts  the  humerus, 
and  rolls  it  radiad. 

Draws  the  humerus 
dorsad  and  mesiatL 
Extends  the  elbow 
joint. 

Draws  the  humerus 
sternad,  and  bends 
tlie  elbow  joint.  Al- 
so a  supinator  of  the 

'    radius. 

Abducts  the  humerus, 
and  draws  it  dorsad s 
rolls  it  ulnad. 

Bends  the  elbow. 


Bends  the  elbow,  and 
rolls  the  radius  ra- 
diad, or  to  the  supine 
position. 


Draw  the  carpus  atico- 
nad  and  radiad. 


Extends  the  fingers ; 
draws  the  carpus  an- 
conad. 

Extends  the  little  fin- 
ger, draws  the  carpus 
anconad. 

Draws  the  carpus  ra- 
diad, and  the  meta- 
carpus a  little  ihenad. 

Extends  the  elbow. 


Extends  the  thumb, 
rolls  the  radius  rtL- 
diad,  and  draws  the 
carpus  anconad. 

Extends  the  thumb,and 
draws  the  carpus  ra- 
diad. 

Extends  the  fore-finger, 
and  draws  the  carpus 
anconad. 

Draws  the  carpus  ra- 
diad, and  the  thumb 
radiad  and  thenad. 


750 


ANATOMY". 


A'(7.        Names  and  Synonymes. 

133.  Supinator  brevis. 

Epicon  dylo-radial.  D.  ' 

134.  Uliiaris  internus. 
Flexor  carpi  ulnaris.  I. 
Epitrochli-cubito-carpien.  D. 

135.  Palmaris  lon';UB. 
Eyilrorhli-carpo-palmairc.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  121. 

130.  RatUalis  internus. 

Flexor  carpi  radialis.  I. 
Epitrochlo-metacarpien.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  139, 
137  Pronator  teres. 

Epitrochlo-radial.  D. 

Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  143. 

138.  Suliiimis. 

Flexor  sublimis  perfwatus.  I. 
Epitrochlo-coroni-phalanginicn, 

D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  123. 

139.  Profundus. 

Flexor  profundus  perforans.  I. 
Cubito-ph(UangeUicn  commtm. 
U. 

140.  Flxor  longus  pollicis. 
Radio-phalangettiai    du  pouce. 

D. 

141.  Pronator  quadratus. 
Cubito-radial.  D. 

142.  Abductor  brevig  pollicis. 
Abductor  pollicis.  I. 
Scapho-sus-phalanginie7i     du 

pouce.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  133. 

143.  Op|>onens  pollicis. 
Carpo-phalangicn  du  pouce.  D. 

144.  Flexor  brevis  pollicis. 

^^      Carpo-phalanginicn  du  pouce. 
""  D. 

Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  134. 

145.  Adductor  pollicis. 
Metacarpo-phalanginieti  du 

pouce.  D. 

146.  Palmaris  brevis. 

Pahnaire  cutane.  D. 

J. 

147.  Abductor  disriti  minimi. 
Carpo-pkaldngien  du  petit  doigl. 

D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  131. 

148.  Flexor  parvus  digiti  minimi. 
Second  carjiO^halangicn  du  pe- 
tit doigt.  U. 

149.  Adductor  metacarpi  digiti  mi- 

nimi. 
Carpe-metacarpien  du  petit 
doigt.  D. 

150.  Abductor  indicia. 


151.  Lumbricales. 

Annuli-tcndino-phaUmgiens.  D. 


Attachment.  Inunctions. 

Radial   condyle   of  humerus,   ulna.  Assists  No.  123. 

interosseous  ligament,  and  radius. 

Ulnar  condyle  of  humerus,  ulna  pisi-  Betids  the  elbow,  and  draws  the  ear-- 

form  bone,  and  annular  ligament.  pus  thenad. 

Annular  ligament,  palmar  aponeuro-  Bends  the  elbow;    rolls    the  radius 

si«  and  metacarpal  bone  of  the  lit-  ulnad,   or   to  the  prone  position, 

tie  finger.  Draws  the  carpus  thenad. 

Ulnar  condyle  of  the  humerus,  tdna.  Bends  the  elbow,  rolls  the  radius  at. 

metacarpus  of  the  fore  finger,  and  imd.  Draws  the  carpus  thenad. 
trapezium  bone. 


Ulna  and  radius. 


Bends  the  elbow,    rolls  the  radius 
ulnad. 


Ulnar  condyle  of  the  humerus,  and     Bends  the  elbow;    rolls  the  radius 
middle  phalanges  of  the  fingers.  tdnad,  and  draws  the  carpus  tlienad 

and  radiad. 


Ulna  interosseous  ligament,  and  dis-  Draws  the  carpus  thenad,  and  ulnad 

tal  phalanges  of  the  fingers.  and  draws  the  proximal  phalanges 

of  the  fingers  thenad. 

Radius,  and  sometimes  the  ulna,  and  Bends  the  thumb,  and  draws  the  car- 
distal  phalanx  of  the  thumb.  pus  thenad. 

Ulnar  condyle  of  the  humerus,  ulna.  Rolls  the   radius  ulnad,   or    to  the 

and  radius.  prone  position. 

Trapcsium  bone,  ligament  of  the  car-  Draws  the  metacarpus  and  proximal 

pus,  and  proximal  phalanx  of  the  phalanx  of  the  thumb  thenad  and 

thumb.  ulimd. 


Os  magnum  and  unciform  bone,  tra- 
pezium and  metacarpal  bone  of  the 
thumb. 

Trapezoid  bone,  os  magnum,  unci- 
form bone,  and  proximal  phalanx 
of  the  thumb. 

Metacarpal  bone  of  the  middle  fin- 
ger, and  proximal  phalanx  of  the 
thumb. 

Annular  ligament,  palmar  oponeuro- 
eis,  and  metacarpal  bone  of  the 
little  finger. 

Pisiform  bone,  annular  ligament,  and 
proximal  phalanx  of  the  little  fin- 
ger. 

Unciform  bone,  ligaments  of  the 
carpus,  and  proximal  phalanx  of 
the  little  finger. 

Unciform  bone,  carpal  ligaments, 
and  metacarpus  of  the  little  fin- 
ger. 

Trapezium  metacarpus  of  the  thumb, 
and  proximal  phalanx  of  the  fore- 
finger. 

Proximal  phalanges  of  the  fingers, 
and  tendons  of  the  profundus,  and 
common  extensor  muscles. 


Draws  the  metacarpus  of  the  thumb 
thenad  and  ulnad. 

Draws  the  metacarpus  and  proximal 
phalanx  of  the  thumb  ulnad  and 
anconad. 

Ditto. 


Draws  the  little  finger  ulnad. 


Bends  the  little  finger  thenad. 


Draws  the  little  finger  tlunad. 


Draws  the  little  finger   radiad  and 
thenad. 


Draws  the  fore  finger  thenad. 


Draws  the  fingers  thenad. 


ANATOMY. 


751 


^0.        Names  and  Synmymes. 
153.  Interossei  externi.  ") 

Siis  -  mctacarpo  -  lateri  •  phalan- 
giens.     D. 
153,  Interossei  interni. 

Sous  -  metacarpo  -  lateri  -  phalan- 
giens.     D. 


Attachments. 


Ditto,   and  metacarpal 
bones. 


Direction  of  Aclim. 


XII.   Muscles  belokgino  to 
THE  Sacbal  Extremities. 


154. 


Psose  magni. 
Pre-luttAo4rochantins. 


D. 


155.  Diaci  interni. 
Iliaco-troehantins. 


156,  Gluteus  magnus. 

Gluteus  ma.mnus.     D. 
Ilii-sucro-femoral.     D. 


157.  Gluteus  mediuf. 

Ilio  trochanteric n.     D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  152. 

158.  Gluteus  minor. 
Gluteus  minimus.     I. 

Illio-ischii-trochanterien.     D. 

159.  Pyriformis. 
Sacro-ili-lrochanterien. 


160.  Gemini. 

Ischio-spini-trochanterien.     D. 


161.  Obturator  internus-. 

Intra-pclveo-trochantericn.    D. 


162.  Quadratus  femoris. 

Tuber-ischio  -trochanterien. 


D. 


163.  Biceps  cruris. 

Biceps  flexor  cruris.     I. 
Inchio-femoro-peronicr.     D. 
Fig.  2,  No.  102. 


Last  dorsal,  and  all  the 
lumbar  vertebrae  an<J 
little  trochanter  of 
the  thigh-bone. 


Ilium,  sometimes  the 
sacrum  within  the 
pelvis,  and  little  tro- 
chanter of  the  thigh- 
bone. 

Spine  of  the  ilium,  sa- 
crum, coccyx,  the  sa- 
cro-sciatic  ligament, 
great  trochanter,  and 
linea  aspera  of  the 
thigh-bone. 

Spine  of  the  ilium,  and 
great  trochanter  of 
the  thigh-bone. 

Peripheral  surface  of 
the  ilium,  and  great 
trochanter  of  the 
thigh-bone. 

Peripheral  surface  of 
the  sacrum,  and  root 
of  the  great  trochan- 
ter. 

Spine  and  tuberosity  of 
the  ischium,  and  root 
of  the  great  trochan- 
ter. 

Central  suiface  of  the 
obturator  ligament, 
ischium  pubis,  and 
root  of  the  great  tro- 
chanter. 

Between  the  acetabu- 
lum and  the  tubero- 
sity of  the  ischium, 
and  linea  aspera  of 
the  thigh-bone. 

Tuberosity  of  the  ischi- 
um, linea  aspera  of 
the  thigh-bone,  fibu- 
lar part  of  the  proxi- 
mal extremity  of  the 
tibia. 


Functions. 


Draws  the  fingers  <Ae. 
naJ. 


Sacrad  and  laterad,  or  When  united,  and  the 
atlantad,  and  mesiad.  thigh-bones  fixed, 
bend  the  trunk  ster- 
nad;  separately  draw 
the  thigh-bone  rotu- 
lad. 

Nearly  the  same.  Ditto. 


Atlantad  and  lateraa. 


Draws  the  thigh-bone 
poplitead,  and  rolls  it 
Jibulad. 


Ditto,  and  sometimes 
Ubiad. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone 
poplitead,  and  rolls  it 
tibiad. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone 
poplitead. 


Draws  the  thigh-bone 
poplitead,  and  rolls  it 
Jibulad. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone 
poplitead,  and  rolls  it 
fibulad. 


Ditto. 


Draws  the  thigh-bone 
poplitead  and  mesiad, 
and  rolls  it  fibulad 
when  the  leg  is  ex- 
tended, and  bemis 
the  leg. 


762 

JSTo.        Names  and  SynoHynus. 

164.  Semitendinostis. 
Ischio-creli-tibial.     I). 

PI.  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  163 

165.  Semimembranosus. 
Ischio-poplili-tiliial.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  164. 

166.  Tensor  vaginas  femoris. 
Ilio-apmeurose  femoral.     D. 
Pi.  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  IM. 


167.  Rectus  cruris. 
Rectus.     I. 
Uio-roluUcn.     D. 

Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  166. 

168.  Sartorius. 
Ilio-creti-tibial.     D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  160. 

169.  Vastus  externus. 

Vastus  externus  crtiralis.  I. 
Tri-ftmwro-tibi-rotulien.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  167. 

170.  Vastus  internus. 
Tri-femoro-tibi-rolulien.     D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  168. 

171.  CruraJis. 
Tri-femoro-tibi-rotulien.     D. 

172.  Pectineus. 
Pectinalis.     I. 
Ptibeo-feinoral.     D. 

1 73.  Adductor  longus  femoris. 
Spini-pubeo-femoral.  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  158. 

174.  Adductor  brevis  femoris. 
Sous-pubeo-femoral.     U. 

175.  Gracilis. 
Smui-puheo-crHc-fimoral.     D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  161. 

176.  Obturator  externus. 
Extra-pcliio-ptibi-trochanterien. 

U. 

177.  Adductor  macjnus  femoris. 
Ischio-pubio-fcmoral.     D. 


173.  Gemellus. 

Gastrocntmius-exicrnus.     I. 

Bi-fcnurro-calcamm.     D. 

Plate  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  171. 
179.  Plantaris. 

Petit-farwro-cakanun.     D. 


180.   Soleus. 

Ga.stroenermus  intcrnus.  I. 
Tibio-prronei-calcanien,  D. 
Plate  XV.  Fig.  2.  No.  173. 


ANATOMY. 

Attachments. 
Tuberosity  of  the  ischium,  and  tibial 
side  of  the  proximal   head  of  the' 
tibia. 

Much  the  same  attachments. 


Functions. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone  poplitcad  and 
mesiad,  and  rolls  it  tihiad  when 
the  leg  is  exteuded,  and  bends  the 
leg. 

Ditto. 


Atlantal  spinous  process  of  the  ilium, 
mesial  part  of  the  facia  lata,  Pou- 
part's  ligament,  linea  aspera  of  the 
thigh-bone,  .crest  of  the  tibia,  and 
the  patella. 
Sacral  spinous  process  of  the  ilium, 
capsular  ligament  of  the  hip-joint, 
patella  and   rotular    side    of    the 
proximal  extremity  of  the  tibia. 
Atlantal  spinous  process  of  the  ilium, 
and  tibial  side  of  the  proximal  ex- 
tremity   of   the    tibia,    obliquely 
across  the  thigh. 
Root  of    the  great  irocluuntcr,    linea 
aspera,  patell,  capsular  ligament  of 
the  knee-joint,  and  fibular  side  of 
the    proximal    extremity    of   the 
tibia. 
Root  of  the  little  trochanter,  all  the 
linea  aspera  to  the  tibial  condyle; 
patella  and  tibial  side  of  the  proxi- 
mal extremity  of  the  tibia. 
Little  trochanter,  and  proximal  part 
of  the  patella,  centrad  of  the  rec- 
tus. 
Sternal  part  of  the  pubis,  and  linea 
aspera  of  the  thigh-bone  near  the 
little  trochanter. 
Atlantal  and  sternal  part  of  the  pu- 
bis, and  middle  of  the  linea  aspera 
of  the  thigh-bone. 
Nearly  the  same. 

Sternal  part  of  the  pubis,  and  tibial 
side  of  the  proximal  head  of  the 
tibia. 

Peripheral  side  of  the  obturator  liga- 
ment, edge  of  the  thyroid  hole,  and 
fossa  between  the  two  trochanters 
of  the  thigh-bone. 

Symphysis  pubis,  ramtis  ischii,  whole 
of  the  linea  aspera,  and  popliteal 
side  of  the  tibial  condyle  of  the 
thigh-bone. 

Popliteal  side  of  the  condyles  of  the 
thigh-bone,  popliteal  ligament  of 
the  joint,  and  proximal  part  of  the 
heel-bone. 

Fibular  condyle  of  the  thigh-bone; 
|>oplileal  side  of  the  capsular  liga- 
ment, and  tibial  side  of  the  proxi- 
mal part  of  the  heel-bone. 

Popliteal  fide  of  the  proximal  ex- 
tremities of  the  tibia  and  fibula, 
and  proximal  part  of  the  heel-bone, 
forming,  with  No.  178,  the  tendo 
Achitlis. 


Draws  the  thigh-bone  rotulad 
and  lata-ad;  occasionally  assists, 
through  the  intervention  of  the 
vagina  femoris,  both  in  bending 
and  extending  the  leg. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone  rottdad,  and 
extends  the  leg. 


Draws  the  thigh-bone  Merad,  rolls  it 
tibiad,  and  bends  the  leg. 


Extends  the  leg. 


Ditto. 


Ditto. 


Draws   the    thigh-bone   rottdad  and 
tnesiad. 

Ditto. 


Ditto. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone  To/i/W  and 
mesiad,  rolls  it  tibiad,  and  bends 
the  leg. 

Draws  the  thigh-bone  rotidad  and 
mesiad,  and  rolls  it  fibtilad. 


As  in  the  preceding  adductors. 


Bends  the  leg,  and  extends  the  fool, 
or  draws  it  poplitead. 


Bends  the  leg  and  extends  (be  foot, 
or  draws  it  poplitead. 


Ditto. 


ANATOMY. 


?s3 


iVo,  Nmnts  and  Stfnonymes, 

181.    PopHteus. 

Fomor(hp<rpliUi4.ibial,    D. 


182. 


183. 


Flexor  longas  digiforum  pedli!. 

Flexor  Imgus  digitomm  pedis  profundus 

perforans.     I. 
Tibio-phalangcttien  cotnmtin.     D. 
Flexor  longus  pollicis  pedis. 
Peroneo^lwlanginien  du  gros  orteil.     D . 


1 84.     Tibialis  posticus. 
Tibio-tarsim.    D. 


185.     Peroneus  longui. 

Tibi-peroneo-tarsien.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  1.  No,  174. 


186.     Peroneus  brevis. 

Fetil  perotico-sus'metatarsien.    D . 


187.     Extensor  longus  digitomm  pedia. 

Pcronco-tibi-stis-pkalangctlien    comnmn. 
D. 


188.  Peroneus  tertius. 
Grand-peroneo-sus-metaiarsien.     D. 

189.  Tibialis  anticus. 
Tibio-sus-metatarsien.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  l.No.  170. 


190.  Extensor  proprius  pollicis  pedis. 
Peroneo-sus-fhalangettien  du  pouce.     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  l.No.  177,  178. 

191.  Extensor  brevis  digitorum  pedis. 
Calcaneo-sus-phalangittiencommun,    D. 


192.  Flexor  brevis  digitorum  pedis. 

Flexor  brevis  digitorum  pedis  suhlimis 

perforaius.     I. 
Calcamo-phalan^inien  comtmin,     D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  l.No.  180. 

193.  Abductor  pollicis  pedis. 
Cakaneo-plmlanginien  du  pouce.      D. 
PI.  XV.  Fig.  1.  No.  132. 

194.  Abductor  digit!  minimi  pedis. 
Ccdcaneo-phalangien  du  petit  doigt.      D. 


195.     Flexor  brevis  pollicis  pedis. 

Tarso-plutlangicn  dti  pouce.     D. 


Vol.  I.     Part.  II. 


AttachmeiUs,      ,  Ftinrtlons. 

Fibular  condyle  of  the  thigh-bone ;    Bends  the  leg. 
capsular  ligament ;    fibular    semi- 
lunar cartilage,  and  tibial  edge  of 
the  proximal  extremity  of  the  ti- 
bia. 

Popliteal  side  ofthe  tibia,  interosseous 
ligament,  fhula,  and  distal  pha- 
langes of  the  toes. 

Distal  half  of  the  popliteal  side  of  the 
fibula,  by  the  inner  ankle  to  the 
distal  phalanx  of  the  great  toe. 

Popliteal  side  of  the  proximal  extre- 
mity of  the  tibia  ;  tibial  side  of  the 
fibula:  interosseous  ligament;  near- 
ly all  the  tarsal  bones,  and  metatar- 
sus of  the  third  toe. 

Rotular  and  fibular  sides  of  the  fi- 
bula; adjacent  part  of  the  tibia, 
vagina  femoris ;  fii-st  cuneiform 
bone,  and  metatarsus  of  the  great 
toe. 

Rotular  and  fibular  sides  of  the  fhida, 
and  metatarsus  of  the  little  toe, 
through  a  groove  at  the  outer  an- 
kle, as  in  the  last. 

Fibular  side  of  the  proximal  extre- 
mity of  the  tibia  ;  interosseous  liga- 
ment ;  tibial  side,  and  rotular  spine 
of  the  fibula,  and  phalanges  of  the 
four  lesser  toes. 

Distal   half  of  the  fibular  side  of  the 
fibula,  and  metatarsal  bone  of  the 
little  toe. 

Rotular  and  fibular  sides  ofthe  proxi- 
mal extremity  of  the  tibia  ;  interos- 
seous ligament ;  tibial  cuneiform 
bone;  and  metatarsus  of  the  great 
toe. 

Distal  part  of  the  proximal  extremity 
of  the  fibula  ;  interosseous  and  an- 
nular ligaments,  and  phalanges  of 
the  great  toe. 

The  heel-bone,  connected  with  the 
extensor  longus,  and  proximal  pha- 
lanx of  the  great  toe  and  three  les- 
ser toes. 

Plantar  and  popliteal  sides  of  the 
heel-bone;  and  middle  phalanges 
of  the  four  lesser  toes,  by  four 
tendons  that  are  perforated  by 
the  tendons  of  the  flexor  lon- 
gus. 

Tibial  and  plantar  sides  of  the  heel- 
hone  ;  tibial  sesamoid  bone,  and 
root  ofthe  proximal  phalanx  of  the 
great  toe. 

Plantar  side  of  the  protuberance  ofthe 
heel-!)one  ;  plantar  aponeurosis  ; 
metatarsus  and  proximal  phalanx 
of  the  little  toe. 

Plantar  and  rotular  sides  of  the  heel- 
bone  ;  great  cuneiform  bone ;  fibu- 
lar sesamoid  bone,  and  root  of  the 
proximal  phalanx  of  the  great  toe. 

5  C 


Draws  the  tarsus  rctulad 
and  fibidaii,  and  ex- 
tends the  plialanges  of 
the  four  lesser  toes. 

Draws  the  tarsus  poplu 
lead  and  tibiad,  and 
bends  the  great  loe  pop- 
litead. 

Draws  the  tarsus  popli- 
tead  and  tibiad. 


Draws  the  tarsus  popli- 
lead  and  fibulad,  and 
su[)ports  the  arch  of 
the  foot. 

Draws  the  tarsus  and  me- 
tatarsus of  the  little 
toe  poplitead  B.tiA  fibu' 
lad. 

Draws  the  tarsus  rotulad 
and  fibulad,  and  ex- 
tends the  phalanges  of 
the  toes. 

Ditto. 


Draws  the  tuisusrotulad: 


Draws  the  tarsus  rotulad 
and  tibiad,  and  extends 
the  great  toe. 

Extends  all  the  lessee 
toes  except  the  fifth. 


Bends  the  four  lesser  toes. 


Draws  the  great  toe  pop- 
lilead  and  tibiad. 


Draws  the  little  toe  popli- 
tcad  And  fibulad. 


Draws  the  great  loe  pop- 
litead. 


Q54. 


ANATOMY. 


H^o. 


Names  and  Synmymea^ 


196.     Adductor  poUicis  pedis. 

Tarso-metcUarsi-phalangiendupmice.  D. 


197.     Transversus  pedis. 


198.  Flexor  brevis  digiti  minimi  pedis. 
Metatarso-phalangien  du  petit  doigt.     D. 

199.  Lumbricales  pedis. 
Planti-tendini-phalangiens.     D. 

200.  Interossei  externi  digitoram  pedis. 
Sus-metatarso-lateri-phalangiens.    D . 

201.  Interossei  interni  digitorum  pedis. 
Sous-nutatarso-lateri-phalangiens.     D. 


AttachmertH. 

Cuboid  and  third  cuneiform  bones ; 

fibular  sesamoid   bone,   and  root 

of    the  metatarsus    of  the  great 

toe. 
Tarsal  ligament,  and   tendon  of  the 

last  muscle,  metatarsi  of  the  great 

and  little  toes. 
Metatarsus  and  proximal  phalanx  of 

the  little  toe,  and  cuboid  bone. 

Tendons  of  the  flexor  Imigus,  and" 
proximal  phalanges  of  the  four  less- 
er toes. 

Between  the   metatarsal  bones  con- 
nected  to  the  tendons  of  the  ex-  } 
tensors. 

Ditto. 


Functions. 

Draws  the  great  toe  pap- 
litcad  asiAflbulad. 


Draws  the  great  toe  fihu- 
lad,  and  strengthens  the 
arches  of  the  foot. 

Assist  in  bending  the  toe*, 
and  regulating  the  ac 
tion  of  other  muscles. 


Assist  in  bending,  and 
sometimes  extending, 
the  toes,  and  in  drawing 
tibiad  or  fihulad,  accordr 
ing  to  their  situation. 


The  last  column  of  the  preceding  table  expresses  the  actions  only  of  the  individual  muscles,  exerted  either 
singly)  or  in  pairs  ;  but  in  the  natural  motions  of  the  animal  body,  it  scarcely  ever  happens  that  one  muscle  is 
thrown  into  action,  without  being  accompanied  by  several  others,  which  either  assist,  regulate,  or  oppose,  the  ac- 
tions of  the  former,  and  of  each  other.  In  considering  the  actions  of  the  animal  body,l)oth  with  a  view  to  physiologi- 
cal investigations  and  practical  utility,  it  is  of  great  consequence  to  be  acquainted  with  the  combined  actions  of 
several  muscles,  to  see  what  muscles  assist  or  antagonize  each  other,  and  what  unite  to  produce  any  given  motion. 
In  the  following  Table,  we  shall  bring  together  those  muscles,  by  the  combined  actions  of  which,  the  principal 
motionsof  the  head,  neck,  trunk,  and  extremities,  are  performed  in  the  human  body,  as  enumerated  by  Dr.  Bar- 
clay in  his  work  On  the  Muscular  Motions*. 

The  terms  placed  at  the  head  ef  each  column  in  this  Table,  denote  the  direction  in  which  the  muscles  in  the 
corresponding  columns  act. 


TABLE  II.— COMPOUND  ACTIONS  OF  MUSCLES. 


> 

O 

s 


Sternad  by 

Recti  capitis  interni  mi- 

nore?. 
Recti  capitis  laterales. 
Latissimi  colli. 
Biventres  maxillae. 
Sterno-mastoidei. 
Mylo-hyoidei. 
Genio-hyoidei. 
Genio-hyoglossi. 
Recti  capitis  interni  iiia- 

jores. 


Dorsad  by 

Recti  capitis  postici. 

Obliqui  capitis  superiorcs. 
Part  of  the  trapezii. 
Splenii  capitis. 
Complexi. 
Trachelo-masloidei. 


Latekad. 

The  head  is  drawn  late- 
rad  chiefly  by  the  anta- 
gonizing muscles  in  the 
two  preceding  columns 
acting  in  concert ;  and 
when  any  of  these  mus- 
cles act  singly,  the  late- 
ral motion  must  in  some 
measure  take  place. 


J 


Rotators  of  the  Heab 

are 
Latissimi  colli, 
Splenii  capitis, 
Sfilenii  colli. 
Recti   capitis  postici  ma- 

jores. 
Obliqui  capitis  inferiorcg. 
Trachelo-mastoidei, —  all 

drawing  in  the  dextral 

direction :  and 
Sterno-mastoidei. 
Part  of  the  trapezii. 
Complexi, — drawing  in  a 

sinistral  direction. 


^  *  We  consHler  the  arrangement  of  the  muscles,  according  to  the  motions  in  uUich  they  co-operate,  as  tlie  most  important  part 
of  l>r.  Barclay's  work,  as  well  from  its  exteiisire  utility  in  explaining  the  natural  motions  of  the  bo<ly,  as  from  its  originality. 
Winslow  saw  the  iinportanca  of  sucli  an  arrangement,  liut  the  execution  of  his  plan  fell  very  short  of  wliat  he  seems  to  have  jm-o. 
jected.  Almost  all  other  anatomists,  not  excepting  the  ingenious  Itichat,  have  contented  themselves  with  classing  the  muscles  ac- 
Monling  to  vcgions ;  a  clsssification,  whicli,  liOM-eym-  it  may  assist  the  ilissetttr,  can  he  but  of  lilllc  use  to  the  pht/siole^iat  or  sun- 
rreou. 


ANATOMY. 


■735 


w 

o 

a 


'A 


Stehnad  by 
Latissimi  colli. 
Biventres  maxillar. 
Mj-lo-liyoidei. 
Genio-hyoulei. 
Genio-hyoglossi. 
Coraco-hyoidei. 
Sterno-hyoldei. 
Thyro-hyoide!. 
Sterno-inaetoidei. 
Recti  capitis   interni   mi- 

nores. 
Recti  capitis  laterales. 
Longi  colli. 
Scaleni  antici. 


Sternad  by 
Pectorales. 
Serrati  antici. 
Serrati  magni. 
Obliqui  externi  abdomi- 
nis. 
Obliqui  interni    abdomi- 
nis. 
Transversi  abdominis. 
'  Recti  abdominis. 
Pyramidales. 
Psoae  magni. 
Psoa;  parvi. 


Dorsad  by 

Partes  trapeziorum. 

Rhomboidei  minores. 

Serrati    postici    superio- 
res. 

Splenii  capitis. 

Splenii  colli. 

Complexi. 

Trachelo-mastoidei. 

Cervicales  descendentcs. 

Transversales  cervicis. 

Spinalis  cervicis. 

Semispinales  cervicis. 

Multitidi  spinas. 

Recti   capitis   postici    mi- 
nores. 

Recti  capitis  postici   ma 
jores. 

Obliqui     capitis     superio- 
res. 

Obliqui     capitis     inferio* 
res. 

Scaleni  postici. 

Levatores  scapularum. 

Dorsad  by 
Trapezii. 

Rhomboidei  majores; 
Latissimi  dorsi. 
Serrati    postici    superio- 

res. 
Serrati  postici  inferiores. 
Sacrolumhales. 
Longissimi  dorsi. 
Spinales  dorsi. 
Semispinales  dorsi. 
Multifidi    spinte    dorsi   et 

lumborum. 
Jntertransversarii  dorsi  et 

lumborum. 
Quadrati  lumborum. 


Lattrad. 
The  dextral  motions  are 
performed  by  the  mus- 
cles on  the  sternal  and 
dorsal  aspects  dexlrad 
or  the  mesial  line,  and 
ihesinistral  motions  by 
those  smistrad  of  the 
mesial  line  acting  at 
the  same  tim«s 


LATr.RAD  by 
Obliqui  externi. 
Obliqui  interni. 
Recti  alxlominis. 
Psoee  magni. 
PsoiE  parvi. 
Latissimi  dorsi. 
Serrati  postici. 
Sacrolunibales. 
Longissimi  dorsi. 
Quadrati  lumborum, — 

when   not   acting  in 

pairs. 


I 


Sacrad  by 

Sternad  by 

Mesiad  by 

Atlantad  by 

Part  of  the  trapezius. 

Serratus  magnus. 

Serratus  anticus. 

-a 

Pari  of  the  Trapezius. 

Serratus  anticus. 

Serratus  anticus. 

Part  o/"tAe  pectoralis 

7i 

Levator  scapulee. 

Pectoralis. 

Pectoralis. 

Latissimus  dorsi. 

a. 

Rhomboidei. 

Latissimus  dorsi. 

Levator  scapulae. 

Rhomboidei, 

•s 

Subclavius. 

Subclavius. 

o  » 

Laterad  by 

^1 

> 

Dorsad  by 

Serratus  magnus. 

S-S 

Part  of  the  trapezius. 

Levator  scapulee. 

a 

Latissimus  dorsi. 

n 

Rhomboidei.  . 

DoRSo-MEsiAD  by 

.a 
H 

The  trapezius. 

Sternad  by 

Dorsad  by 

Mesiad  by 

Laterad  by 

-g      ^ 

Part  of  the  deltoid. 

J- 

" 

Part  of  the  deltoid. 

■3 

- 

Part  of  the  pecto- 

■a 

The  deltoid. 

1 

Supraspinatus. 

o 

-Ad 

Teres  Major. 

O 

ralis. 

"5 

Supraspinatus. 

5 

Infraspinatus. 

a 

Teres  minor. 

3 

■o 

Latissimus  dorsi. 

3 

Infraspinatus. 

"? 

Subscapularis. 

.a 

Lon^   head  of  the 

•s 

-: 

3 

■a 

Subscapularis. 

•S  ^ 

Biceps  brachii. 

•- 

S 

triceps  brachii. 

t» 

> 

V) 

> 

Biceps  brachii. 

3   5 

•  Coraco-brachialis. 

g 

> 

>  Latissimus  dorsi. 

S 

o 
S 

)■ 

o 
B 

>  Coraco-brachialis. 

"  fe 

Part  of  the  pecto- 

V 

s 

Si 

L. 

4) 

ralis. 

s 

.C 

B 
s 
.a 

O 

s 

a 

4> 

M 

5C  2 


7m 


ANATOaiY. 


a 
a 

— "  t! 

a  ** 
P  > 
«  9 

Mo 


^ 

B 


Radiad  by 
"g  T  Supraspinatus. 
Int'raspinatus. 
Teres  minor. 
Spino-scajmlen  por- 
tion of  the  deltoid. 
'  Coraco-brachialis 
(slightly,    and 
whentlu  humerus 
has  first  been  roll- 
ed ulnad.) 


S 

,3 


Thenad  by 
Brachialia  inter- 

nus. 
Biceps  brachii. 
Supinator  longus. 
>  Ulnaris  ioteruus. 
Palmaris  longus. 
Pronator  teres. 
Radialis  internus. 
Sublimis. 

Thenad  by 
■^  Radialis  internus, 
Ulnaris  internus. 
Palmaris  longus. 
,  Sublimis. 
'  Profundus. 
Flexor  longus  poUicis. 


■SI 


"3 


Anconad  by 
Triceps  brachii. 
Anconeus. 


Ulnad  by 

Subscapularis. 

Claviculen  portion  of  the 
deltoid. 

Pectoralis  (slightly.) 

Latissimus  dorsi. 

Teres  major. 

The  three  last  acting  only 
mlien  the  hmnenis  has 
been  rolled  radiad. 


el 

a 
I- 

w  > 
—  o 
m    C 

.5  r 
'■5  © 
ra  _, 


Ulnad  by 
Pronator  teres. 
Pronator     quadra- 

tus. 
Palmaris  longus. 
Radialis  internus. 
Sublimis. 


Anconab  by 
Radialis  externus  longior. 
Radialis  externus  brevior. 
Extensor  major  pollicis. 
Indicator. 
Extensor   communis  digi- 

torum. 
Extensor    proprius  digiti 

auricularis. 


Radiad  by 
Abductor  longus  pollicis. 
Extensor  minor  pollicis. 
Radialis  externus  longior. 
Radialis  externus  brevior, 
Radialis  internus. 


A 

a 

■S.T3 

a  4, 

Ml    >. 

«  2 

.2  ° 

► 

"3  t 

a  o 

"^ 

CJ     4> 

J3  •" 

H 

Radiad  by 
Biceps  brachii. 
Supinator  brevis: 
Extensor  major  pol- 
licis. 


Ulnad  by 
Ulnaris  externus. 
Extensor  proprius  minimi 

digiti. 
Extensor  communis  digi- 

torum. 
Ulnaris  internus. 
Sublimis. 
Profundus; 


.a  > 
o  E 

M 


Thenad  by 
Abductor  longus  polli- 
cis. 
Abductor  brevis. 
Opponens  pollicis: 
Flexor  longus  pollicie. 
Abductor  indicis. 


Anconad  by 
Adductor  pollicis. 
Flexor  brevis  pollicis. 
Extensor  minor  pollicis. 


Radiad  ly 
Abductor  longus. 
Abductor  brevis. 
Extensor  minor. 
Part  of  the  flexor  brevis; 


Ulnad  by 
Opponens  pollicis. 
Abductor  brevis. 
Adductor  pollicis* 
Flexor  brevis. 
Extensor  major. 


a 

*  _ 

>-  o 

ttC  s 

e 
« 


■^  Thenad  by 

Sublimis. 
Profundus. 
Lumbricales. 
Interossei. 
'  Abductor  indicis. 
Flexor    brevis   digiti 
minitfti. 


o 

■T3 

-o 

9 

»  a 

V  a 

0,-C 

a 
>. 

V 

JB 


Anconad  by 
Extensor    commu- 
nis digitorum. 
Indicator. 
Extensor   proprius 
digiti  minimi. 


a> 

s 

o 

9) 

n 


Radiad  by 
Abductor  indicis. 
Adductor  metacarpir 

digiti  miuimi. 
"  Interossei, 


V 

a 

B 

O 

a> 
E 
o 
X 


Ulnad  by 
Abductor    digiti 

nimi. 
Interossei.- 


DU- 


ANATOMY. 


757 


•3 

s 


0 


g 

X: 


Sternad  by 
SartoriuB. 
Gracilis. 
Tensor  vaginiB. 
PectineuB. 

Tlie  tliree  adductors, 
lliacus  interuus. 
>  Psoas  magnus. 
Obturator  extemu8< 
Gluteus  minor. 


a 

k 

o 


.2 


Dorsad  by 

Gluteus  magnus. 

Part  o/"gluteoua  medi- 
us. 

Pyriformis. 

Obturator  internus. 

Gemini. 

Quadratus  Temoris. 

Part  of  adductor  mag- 
nus. 

livng  head  of  the  bi- 
ceps cruris. 

Semitendinosus. 

Semimembranosus. 


e 
SS 

o 

•a 


MEsrAD  by 
The  three  adductom. 
Pectineus. 
Quadratus  femoris. 
Gracilis. 
Semitendinosus. 
Semimembranosus. 
'Long  head  of  biceps 

cruris. 
Obturator  extemus. 
Psoas  magnus. 
lliacus  internus. 


a 

g 

•a 


o 

s 
■a 


Laterab  by 
Tensor  vaginae. 
The  three  glutei. 
Pyriformis. 
Sartorius. 

Obturator  interniu., 
Gemini. 


"O  -, 


kC 


Tibiad  by 

Tensor  vaginae. 

Part  of  gluteus  me- 
dius. 

Gluteus  minor,  and 
tvhen  the  leg  is  ex- 
tended, by 

Sartorius. 

Gracilis. 

Semitendinosus. 


FiBuiiAD  by 
Gluteus  magnus. 
Part  of  gluteus  medius. 
Pyriformis. 
Gemini. 

Obturator  internus. 
Obturator  externus. 
Quadratus  femoris. 
lliacus  internus. 
Psoas  magnus. 
The  three  adductor?. 
Biceps  cruris  slighth/. 


4> 


a 


POPLTTEAD  by 

Gracilis. 

Sartorius. 

Semitendinosus. 

Semimembranosus. 

Biceps  cruris. 

Gemellus. 

Plantaris. 

Popliteus. 

Tensor  vaginae. 

Gluteus  magnusr 


i 


PoPLlTEAB  by 

Flexor  brevis  poUicis 
pedis. 

Flexor  longus  pollicis 
pedis. 

Abductor  pollicis  pe- 
dis. 

Adductor  pollicis  pe- 
dis. 

Sublirais. 

Profundus. 

Lumbricales. 

Interossei. 

Flexor  brevis  digiti 
minimi. 

Aivductor  digiti  mini- 
mi. 


o 


a 


-5  a 


ROTULAD  by 

Rectus  cruris. 
Vastus  internus. 
Vastus  externus. 
Cruralis. 
Tensor  vaginae. 
'Gluteus  magnus. 


a 

2 

•a 

b. 
o 

■a 

•a 
s 
"i 

"S 
o 


RoTtTLAD  by 
Extensor  longus  digi- 

torum  pedis. 
Extensor  brevis  digi- 

torum  pedis. 
Extensor  proprius  pol- 
licis pedis. 
>  Interossei  occasional- 
ly. 


it 

E-i 


a 

b. 
•a 

£ 
a 

B 
o 

J3 

O 
a 

5 
02  J 


RoTULAD  by 

Tibialis  anticus. 

Extensor  longus  digi- 
torum. 

Extensor  proprius  pol- 
licis. 

Peroneus  tertius. 


PoPLiTEAD  by 
Gemellus. 
Soleus. 
Plantaris. 
Flexor  longus  digito- 

rum  pedis. 
Flexor  longus  pollicis 

pedis. 
Tibialis  posticus. 
Peroneus  longus. 
Peroneus  brevis. 

Tibiad  by 
Abductor  pollicis  pe- 
dis. 
Interossei. 


Tibiad  by 
Tibialis  posticus. 
Extensor  proprius. 
Flexor  longus  digitO' 

rum  pedis. 
Flexor  longus  pollicis 

pedis. 


FiBULAD  by 
Peroneus  longus. 
Peroneus  brevis. 
Peroneus  tertius. 
Extensor  longus  digi- 
torum  pedis. 


E 
o 
to. 


FlBl'LAD  by 
Adductor  pollicis  pe- 
dis. 
Abductor  digiti  mini- 
mi pedis. 
Interossei. 


W8 


ANATOMY. 


The  morbid  appearaaces  that  are  observed  to  have 
t  ken  place  in  the  bony  system,  respect  either  their  ex- 
ternal I'orm,  or  their  intimate  structure. 

1.  Bones  are  ol'ten  found  bent  or  distorted  in  various 
decrees  and  directions;  generally  in  consequence  of 
ricktts.  They  are  found  enlarged  in  some  parts,  which 
usually  happens  in  cases  of  fracture,  where  the  broken 
parts  are  united  by  a  new  bony  secretion  called  callus. 
They  are  often  seen  with  excrescences  on  their  surlace  ; 
tiiese  are  called  tiodes,  exostoses,  &c.  and  are  a  common 
consequence  of  virulent  venereal  complaints,  though 
they  sometimes  arise  from  blows  ami  other  accidental 
injuries. 

2.  The  surface  of  hones  is  frequently  seen  roughened, 
or  as  it  were  corroded,  part  of  the  bony  matter  being 
lost ;  an  appearance  called  caries.  Sometimes  the  bonea 
arc  found  soft  and  spongy,  or  even  ligamentous  or  mem- 
branous, having  lost  their  osseous  matter  almost  en- 
tirely; the  consequence  of  osteosarcoma.  (See  Boyer 
on  the  Diseases  of  the  Bones.)  In  a  few  instances,  the 
body  of  the  bone,  though  solid,  has  lost  its  vitality, 
and  its  connexion  with  the  bones  to  which  it  was  for- 
merly attached,  and  remains  loose  within  a  bony  case, 
formed  by  au  ossification  of  the  periosteum,  as  in  7te- 
crosis. 

The  joints  are  sometimes  found  sfiflened  and  im- 
moveable, the  two  bones  having  grown  together  by 
the  intervention  of  callua ;  an  appearance  called  anchy- 
losis. 

The  tendons,  and  sometimes  other  parts  of  the  mus- 
cles are  occasionally  seen,  ossified,  ruptured,  corroded, 

On  the  anatomy  of  the  Bones,  See  Albinus  de  Oasibus 
Corpoi'is  Hurnani;  Monro's  Anatomy  of  the  Human  Bones  ; 
Chesselden's  Osteographia  ;  Bichaf  s  Anatomic  Generate, 
torn.  3.  and  his  Anatcmie  Descriptive,  lorn.  i.  with  the 
figures  of  Albinus  and  Chesselden,  or  those  of  Loder. 
On  the  ligamtnts,  see  Weichtbrecht's  Syndcsmologia, 
and  Bichat  Anatomic  Oencrale,  fom.  3.  and  Anatomie  De- 
scriptive, tom.  1.  On  tlie  synovial  hags,  see  Monro  on 
the  Bursa  Mucosa,  and  Bichat  Anatomic  Gcnerale,  tom. 
4  ;  and  ou  the  muscles,  see  Albinus  de  Musculis  ;  Wins- 
low's  Anatomy  by  Douglas,  vol.  1.;  Innes  and  Dou- 
glas on  the  muscles ;  Bichat  Anatomic  Generale,  tom. 
3. ;  and  Barcliiy  o»»  the  Muscular  Motions  of  the  Hu- 
man Body;  with  the  plates  of  Cowper,  Albinus,  and 
Loder. 

Explanation  or  Plate  XIII; 

Fig.  1.  Represents  a  longitudinal  section  of  the  thigh 
bone,  to  show  the  difference  between  the  hard  solid  ex- 
tremities and  sides  and  the  spongy  cancellated  structure 
of  the  internal  part  that  contains  the  marrow. 

Fig.  2.  One  of  the  parietal  bones  of  a  fuetus,  showing 
the  progress  of  ossification  from  the  centre,  which  is 
already  become  solid  bone,  to  the  circumference,  which 
.still  consists  of  loosely  connected  bony  fibres,  issuing 
like  rays  from  the  centre. 

Fig.  3.  Exhibits  a  front  view  of  the  human  skeleton. 

1.  The  frontal  bone;  2,  the  right  parietal  bone;  3, 
the  right  temporal  bone;  4,  its  mastoid  process;  5,  its 
aygomatic  process;  6,  7,  8,  9,  the  basilar  inaxtV/a ;  6, its 
coronoid  process  ;  7,  8,  its  ramus  ;  8,  9,  its  base ;  9,  the 
symphysis  uniting  the  two  parts;  10,  the  coronal  max- 
illa ;  1 1 , 1 2,  the  cheek-bones ;  1 3,  the  cervical  vertebrae ; 
14,  the  first  true  rib;  15,  the  first  false  rib;  16,  the  first 


lumbar  vertebrffi  ;  1",  05  sacrum  ;  18,  19,  20,  es  innorm- 
nntum  ;  18,  os  ilei ;  19,  os  ■pu..is  ;  20,  os  ischii ;  21,  clavi- 
cle or  collar  bone;  22,  23,  24,  scapula,  or  blade  bone  ; 
22,  its  neck ;  23,  acromiom  process ;  24,  coracoid  pro- 
cess;  25,  Humerus  ;  26,  its  head;  27,  its  neck;  28,  29, 
articulating  surfaces;  30,  internal  condyle  ;  31,  32,  ra- 
dius  ;  33,  34,  ulna.  {For  the  continuation  of  the  series, 
see  Fig.  5.)  C3,  The  thigh  bone ;  64,  its  grent  trochan- 
ter ;  65,  its  small  trochanter  ;  68,  its  tibial  condyle  ;  67, 
its  fibular  condyle;  68,  the  patella,  or  knee-pan;  69, 
the  tibia;  70,  71,  its  head,  •*,  interarticular  cartilage; 
72,  protuberance  for  insertion  of  the  tendon  of  the  rec- 
tus femoris  muscle  ;  74,  75,  fibula.  {For  the  remainder 
of  the  series,  see  Fig.  6.)  The  figures  of  the  left  hand 
refer  to  the  bones  of  the  wrist,  for  which  see  Fig.  5. 

Fig.  4.  Exhibits  a  back  view  of  the  skeleton. 

1,1,  Situation  of  the  coronal  suture;  2,  2,  parietal 
bones,  with  the  sagittal  suture  between  them ;  3,  5.  6,  8, 
the  right  temporal  bone ;  3,  its  squamous  part ;  5,  its 
zygomatic  process;  8,  its  m-istoid  process;  4,  the  right 
cheek  bone  ;  7,  part  o'  the  lambdoidal  suture  connect- 
ing the  parietal  bones  with  theocciintal  bone  ;  9,  9,  the 
atla.<!,  articulating  with  10.  the  occipital  bone;  11,  the 
basilar  wiart/te  ,•  12,  the  lowest  vertebra  of  the  neck; 
13,  the  last  vertebra  of  the  back  ;  14,  the  fourth  verte- 
bra of  the  loins  ;  15,  os  sacrum  ;  16,  o«  coccygis  ;  \7, 
spine  of  the  illimn  ;  18,  sacro-ischiatic  notch  ;  19,  o.isa 
ischii;  20,  thyroid  hole  ;  21,  the  first  true  rib;  22,  the 
first,  23,  the  last  false  rib ;  24,  the  collar  bones;  25, 
blade  bone;  26,  its  spine  ;  27,  its  acromion;  28,  shoul- 
der bone;  29,  its  head;  30,  31,  its  condyles;  32,33, 
radius  ;  34,  uhta  ;  35,  its  olecranon  process.  (See  Fig.  5,) 
a,  a,  the  metatarsal  bones  of  the  thumb  and  fingers  ;  b,  b, 
their  first  phalanges  ;  c,  c,  their  second  phalanges ;  d, 
third  phalanges  of  the  fingers. 

64,  Thigh  bone  ;  65,  its  neck  ;  66,  its  great,  and  67, 
its  little  trochanter ;  08,  its  fibular,  and  69,  its  tibial 
condyle  ;  70,  71,  72,  tibia  ;  74, 15,  fibula  ;  (See  Fig.  6.) 

Fig.  5.  An  enlarged  outline  sketch  of  the  bones  of  the 
hand,  forming  a  continuation  of  the  series  of  numbers  in 
Fig.  4. 

32,  The  lower  or  distal  extremity  of  the  radius  ;  34, 
the  styliform  process  of  the  ulna  ;  36,  navicular  bone  of 
the  wrist ;  37,  lunated  bone  ;  38,  cuneiform  bone  ;  39, 
pisiform  bone ;  40,  trapozial  bone  ;  41,  trapezoid  bone ; 
44,  the  metacarpal  bone  of  the  thumb ;  45,  46,  47,  48, 
metacarpal  bones  of  the  fingers  ;  50,  51,  bones  of  the 
thumb ;  52 — 63,  bones  of  the  fingers. 

Fig.  6.  An  enlarged  outline  sketch  of  the  bones  of  the 
ankle  and  foot,  in  which  the  series  of  numbers  is  continued 
from  Fig.  3. 

73,  Distal  extremity  of  the  tibia,  forming  the  inner 
ankle ;  76,  distal  extremity  of  the  fibula,  forming  the 
outer  ancle  ;  77,  Astragalus  ;  78,  heel  bone  ;  79,  navi- 
cular bone;  80,  cuboid  bone;  81,  82,  83,  cuneiform 
bones ;  84,  85,  86,  87,  88,  metacarpal  bones  of  the  toes ; 
89 — 102,  bones  of  the  toes. 

Explanation  of  Plate  XIV. 

Fig.  1 .  J  view  of  the  shoulder  joint  on  the  left  side, 
the  scapula  being  seat  from  its  sternal  or  interior  surface. 

A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  the  scapula,  or  blade-ljone ;  A,  B,  the 
side  called  its  base  ;  B,  C,  its  inferior  costa ;  P,  A,  its 
sufierior  costa;  D,  its  coracoid  process;  E,  the  acro- 
mion ;  a,  b,  two  depressions  for  lodging  the  subscapular 
muscles;  F,  a  part  of  the  left  collar  bene;  G,  the  left 


ANATOMY. 


759 


I 


shoulder  bone ;  H,  the  capsular  ligament  of  the  joint ; 
K,  L,  Uie  insertion  of  tiie  gleuoid  ligament  round  the 
glenoid  cavity. 

Fig.  2.  Exhibits  a  front  view  of  the  knee  joint  on  the 
left  .side,  with  the  capsular  ligament  cut  away,  and  the 
patella  turned  doivn,  to  show  the  interior  of  tlu  joint. 

A,  B,  the  condyles  of  the  thigh  bone ;  C,  the  proxi- 
mal extremity  of  the  tibia ;  D,  the  proximal  extremity 
of  the  fibula;  £,  the  articular  surface  of  the  patella  ;  F, 
G,  parts  of  the  tendon  of  the  rectus  cruris  muscle,  form- 
ing at  F  one  of  the  ligaments  of  the  joint ;  H,  K,  tlie  se- 
milunar cartilages;  L,  M,  the  oblique  or  crucial  liga- 
ments; N,  O,  P,  Q,  remains  of  the  capsular  or  synorial 
ligament. 

Fig.  3.  Represents  a  view  of  the  diaphragm  on  that 
side  which  is  next  the  boweL: 

A,  a  section  of  the  ensiform  cartilage  of  the  sternum  ; 
B,  one  of  the  dorsal  vertebrse ;  6,  7,  (he  two  lowest  true 
ribs  ;  8 — 12,  the  false  rilis ;  C,  C,  tendinous  parts  of  the 
diaphragm  ;  D,  D,  bundles  of  fleshy  fibres  ;  E,  E,  crura 
of  the  diaphragm ;  F,  the  hole  through  which  the  infe- 
rior vena  cava  passes;  G,  an  oblong  hole  through  which 
the  gullet  descends;  a,  the  trunk  of  the  descending 
aorta  giving  otT  at  this  place,  b  the  superior  mesenteric 
artery,  c,  d,  the  renal  arteries,  and  e,  the  cocliac  artery. 

Fig.  4.  Exhibits  a  view  of  the  muscles  of  the  human 
body,  as  they  appear  in  the  usual  reclining  posture  of  sleep, 
those  muscles  being  most  contracted  tlial  perform  the.  flex- 
iotis  of  the  limbs. 

The  names  of  the  several  muscles  represented  in  this 
figure  may  be  readily  seen  from  the  explanation  of  the 
next  plate. 

Figs.  5  and  6.  Exhibit  two  views  of  tlu  larynx,  and 
part  of  the  trachea  or  windpipe. 

A,  the  OS  hyoides  ;  a,  a,  its  cartilaginous  appendages ; 
B,  thyroid  cartilage;  b,  b,  its  principal  processes  joined 
to  the  cartilages  of  the  os  hyoides  ;  C,  the  cricoid  car- 
tilage ;  D,  the  cartilaginous  rings  of  the  trachea ;  d,  the 
membranous  part  of  that  tube  next  the  gullet;  E,  the 
epiglottis  in  its  ordinary  position ;  F,  the  tips  of  the  ary- 
tenoid cartilages ;  1 ,  eirylenoi'dxi  muscles ;  2,  2,  cryco-ary- 
tcnoidici  muscles ;  3,  thyro-arylcnoidwi  muscles ;  4,  aryte- 
no-epiglotlidai  muscles ;  one  of  the  arytenoidwi  njuscles 
drawn  out  of  its  place  ;  6,  one  of  the  crico-arytcnoideci 
muscles  in  Mmilar  circumstances. 

Explanation  of  Plate  XV. 

Pig.  ] .  Represents  a  front  view  of  the  external  tnusclcs 
of  the  human  body. 

In  the  head  and  neck: 

17,  The  frontal  portion  of  the  epicranius  mttscle  ;  19, 
19,  the  buccinalor  muscles  ;  21,  levator  labii  superioris  ; 
27,  orbicularis  palpihrarum ;  44,  the  stemehyoidci  mus- 
cles ;  45,  45,  coraco-hyoidei ;  G6,  the  left  temporal  mus- 
cle ;  07,  the  left  masseter  ;  63,  a  part  of  the  right  biven- 
tcr,  or  digastric  ;  72,  scrralus  anticus  ;  74,  scakHt4s  anii- 
cus. 

In  tlu  trunk. 

1 .  External  oblique  muscle  of  the  abdomen  ;  3,  4,  the 
two  bides  of  the  wrfj  muscles ;  107,  107,  the  pectoral 
muscles. 

hi  tlic  atlantal  exlremilics. 

108.  The  deltoid  m;>sc.lf'  of  the  left  arm;  116,  biceps 
txachii ;  117,  brachiatis  inimius  >•  121  (in  each  3iim)pal- 


tnaris  longus  ;  1 23,  (in  each  arm)  sublimis  or  ptrforatus  ; 
1 3 1 ,  (in  the  right  hand)  abihictor  digiti  minimi ;  1 33,  (in 
each  hand)  abductor  brevis  policis ;  \^ A,  flexor  brevis 
poUicis,  (most  distinct  in  the  right  hand ;)  1 39,  (in  the 
left  arm)  radialis  internus  ;  141,  (in  the  right  arm)  ra- 
dialis  extcmus  ;  1 43,  prmmtor  teres  ;  144,  (most  distinct 
in  the  left  arm)  supinator  loMgus. 

In  the  sacral  extremities. 

158,  (In  the  right  thigh)  adductor  femoris;  159,  (in 
the  left  thigh)  tensor  vagina:  femoris,  100,  sartorius ; 
161,  (in  the  left  thigh)  gracillis  ;  106,  rectus  femoris,  on 
the  left  side;  167,  veistus  exterims,  and  163,  vastus  in- 
ternus ;  1 70,  tibialis  anticus,  of  the  left  leg ;  171,  geme- 
lus  or  gastrociumius  of  the  right  leg ;  1 74,  peroneus  lon- 
gus; 177,  178,  extensores  pollicis  pedis,  all  on  the  left 
leg  ;  1 82,  abductor  pollicis  pedis  ;  186,  flexor  brevis  digi- 
torum  pedis,  or  petforatus. 

Fig.  2.  Represents  the  principal  external  muscles  of 
the  human  body,  on  a  back  vieiv. 

Head  and  neck. 

1 7.  The  occipital  belly  of  the  epicranius  ;  1 8,  atloUens 
auriculum  of  the  left  side;  81,  81,  trapezius  or  cucuUa- 
ris  ;  88,  splenius  capitis  of  the  left  side ;  94,  sterno-mas- 
toideus. 

Trunk. 

113,  123,  Latissimus  dorsi,  of  each  side. 

Atlantal  extremities. 

108.  Deltoid  of  the  right  shoulder;  110,  infraspinu- 
ttts ;  111,  teres  minor,  and  112,  teres  major  of  the  same 
side ;  1 1 8,  triceps  brachii ;  1 20,  anconeus  ;  1 26,  extensor 
communis  digitorum  ;  130,  extensor  digiti  minimi ;  136, 
abductor  longus  pollicis;  142,  radialis  internus ;  (141, 
as  in  Fig.  1.) 

Sacral  extremities. 

152,  Gluteus  mcdius;  162,  biceps  cruris;  163,  semi- 
tcndinosus;  \6A,  semimembranosus ;  173,  solcus ;  (158, 
161,  and  171,  as  in  Fig.  1.) 

The  two  (igures  of  Plate  XIV.  and  that  in  Plate  XVII.* 
are  intended  for  the  purpose^  of  assisting  painters,  sta- 
tuaries, and  similar  artists,"  in  executing  those  pieces 
that  represent  the  human  body  in  action,  as  the  muscles 
in  these  figures  are  represented  in  the  state  in  which 
they  would  appear  in  those  actions  of  the  body  which 
the  figures  are  supposed  to  be  exerting.  The  first 
figure  of  Plate  XVI.  is  leaning  with  force  upon  a  staff, 
with  which  he  seems  about  to  make  a  leap.  The  second 
figure  appears  to  be  writhing  l-.is  whole  body  through 
extreme  |>ain ;  and  the  figure  in  Plate  XVII. 'is  wring- 
ing a  cloth  with  all  his  strength,  and  thus  tbrowiug  a 
great  number  of  muscles  into  action,  particularly  the 
flexor  muscles  of  the  arms,  and  extensor  muscles  of  the 
legs. 

CHAP.  II. 

Of  the   Ohgans  of  Sensation. 

The  organs  subservient  to  the  functions  of  sensation, 
are  either  ^'cwra/,  or  particular.  The  general  organs 
constitute  what  is  called  the  nerrous  system,  compre- 
hending the  brai7i,  the  spinal  marrow,  and  the  nerves; 
the  particular  organs  are  those  of  the  external  senses, 
or  the  organs  of  feeling,  tasting,  smelling,  hearing,  and 
sceiiig. 


76» 


ANATOMY. 


SEcr.  1.— Q/"  the  Nervous  St/sUm. 

If  the  haiiy  scalp  that  covers  the  skull  be  dissected 
away,  so  as  to  allow  a  cut  to  be  made  with  a  saw  through 
thefrmttal,  parietal,  and  occipital  bones,  just  above  the 
orbits  and  the  ears, — and  if  we  then  attempt  to  separate 
the  bony  arch  from  the  parts  within,  we  shall  find  con- 
siderable resistance.  On  carefully  removing  the  bones, 
we  perceive  a  strong,  thick,  shining  membrane,  well 
supplied  with  arteries,  which  are  seen  running  across 
it  on  either  side.  This  is  one  of  the  membranes,  ormc- 
iiinges.,  that  invest  the  brain, and  it  is  called  by  anatomists 
the  (hira  mater.  It  lines  the  whole  arch,  and  a  great 
part  of  the  base  of  the  skull ;  and  contains  within  its 
doublings  several  cavities,  or  membranous  canals,  call- 
ed sinuses.  One  of  these,  called  the  superior  longitu- 
dinal sinus,  runs  lengthwise  from  opposite  the  root  of 
the  nose  along  the  sagittal  suture  iniad ;  and,  from  its 
attachment  to  that  suture,  formed  the  chief  part  of  the 
resistance  experienced  in  removing  the  bones.  If  a 
slit  be  now  made  with  a  pair  of  scissars  all  round,  in  the 
course  of  the  former  cut  with  the  saw,  through  the  du- 
ra muter,  so  that  this  membrane  may  be  turned  back  on 
each  side  towards  the  longitudinal  sinus,  it  will  be  found 
strongly  adhering  at  this  part,  and  prolonged  into  a 
dense  perpendicular  plate,  that,  descending  centrally, 
divides  the  brain,  which  has  now  been  lirought  into  view, 
into  two  lateral  pnTts,orhemi,ip}ures.  This  vertical  plate 
of  the  dura  mata-  is  called  the  falx,  from  its  supposed 
resemblance  to  a  reaping  hook;  and  it  extends  ^ZaM- 
lad  to  the  crista  galli  of  the  ethmoid  bone,  and  iniad  to 
the  inial  or  posterior  verge  of  the  great  occipital  hole, 
leaving  in  the  middle  an  oval  space  for  the  central  part 
of  the  brain.  Towards  the  base  of  the  skull  there  are 
other  sinuses ;  especially  one  on  each  side,  between  the 
occipital  bone,  called  the  inferior  longitudinal  sinus. 

These  sinuses  meet  in  what  is  called  torctdar  Ucro- 
phili. 

immediately  within  the  dura  mater,  and  adhering 
closely  to  the  brain,  there  is  a  very  fine  transparent  mem- 
brane, called  pia  mater,  through  which  are  easily  per- 
ceived the  convolutions  of  the  brane,  that  are  closely  in- 
vested by  it.  What  is  properly  called  the  pia  mater,  and 
which  enters  between  the  convolutions  of  the  brain,  is 
separated  from  the  dura  mater  by  a  still  more  delicate 
membrane,  called  meinbrana  arachnoidea.  The  pia  ma- 
ter is  every  where  traversed  by  numerous  blood-vessels, 
so  as  to  appear  as  if  composed  of  them. 

The  whole  brainy  mass  within  the  skidl  is  commonly 
called  encepkalon,  and  is  distinguished  into  several  por- 
tions, \\z.  cerebrum,  or  brain,  properly  so  called  ;  cerebel- 
/i/m,orlittle  brain;  anAmedulla  oblongata.  Theca-ehntm 
is  that  portion  whichoccupiesthe  whole  coronal  nndfron- 
tal  parts  of  the  skull,  and  a  great  part  of  the  occipital 
portion ;  the  cerebellum  rests  on  the  basilar  part  of  the 
occipital  bone,  and  is  se[)arated  from  t!ie  cerebrum  by  a 
fold  of  the  dura  mater,  called,  tentorium  ccnbelli ;  the 
medulla  oblongata  forms  a  projection  in  the  central  part 
of  the  base  of  the  enc(plialon,  filling  up  the  great  oc- 
cipital hole,  and  may  be  considered  as  the  commence- 
ment of  the  spinal  marrow.  All  these  are  composed  of 
a  soft  pulpy  matter,  disposed  into  various  convolutions 
and  protuberances,  and  interiipci'sed  with  other  parts  of 
rather  a  more  solid  consistence. 

Each  hemisphere  of  the  cerebrum  is  divided  into  three 
lobes, — an  anterior  lobe,  resting  on  the  orbital  plate  of 
the  frontal  bone;  a  posterior  lobe,  resting  on  the  tento- 


rium cereleUi ;  and  a  middle  lobe,  lying  between  these, 
and  resting  chiefly  on  the  petrous  portion  of  the  tem- 
poral bone.  The  surface  of  the  central  part,  between 
the  two  hemispheres,  is  called  corpus  callosum,  (see 
Plate  XVIII.  Fig.  1.  N.  N.) ;  from  its  being  harder  than 
most  other  parts  of  the  cerebral  mass.  The  whole  sub- 
stance of  the  cerebrum  is  distinguished  into  two  parts, 
differing  much  in  their  colour  and  general  appearance ; 
the  cincritious  substance  forming  the  peri|)heral  portion 
of  the  cerebrum,  which  is  of  a  reddish  gray  colour,  and 
the  medullary  substance  forming  the  central  portion,  of 
a  bluish  white  colour,  and  generally  of  a  softer  consist- 
ence. 

The  appearance  of  the  internal  structure  of  the  cere- 
hnim  is  dilferent,  according  as  we  examine  it  by  a  per- 
pendicular or  a  horizoutal  section.  We  shall  here  de- 
scribe it  chiefly  as  it  appears  in  the  latter  case ;  referring 
the  reader  for  views  of  the  former  section  to  the  plates 
of  Monro  on  the  nervous  si/slem,  and  on  the  brain,  the 
eye,  and  the  ear,  and  to  those  of  Vicq  D'Azyr,  in  hie 
splendid  work,  Traite  iTAnatotnie  ct  dc  Physiologic. 

On  cutting  away  all  that  part  of  the  hemispheres  of 
the  brain  that  lies  on  a  level  with  the  corpus  callosum, 
and  dissecting  this  carefully  downwards,  we  find  it  to  be 
of  considerable  thickness,  and  we  see  that  it  terminates 
in  a  portion  that  is  less  dense,  and  is  called  septum  luci- 
dum,  (Plate  XVIII.  Fig.  1.  O);  and  on  each  side  of 
this  we  find  two  places  where  the  substance  of  the  cere- 
brum admits  of  a  separation,  without  destroying  its  con- 
tinuity. There  is  an  evident  cavifj^  on  each  side  the  sep- 
tum lucidum;  and  these  cavities,  or  separations,  are  call- 
ed the  lateral  ventricles  of  the  brain,  (see  Fig.  2.  E,  E.) 
They  lie  in  a  curved  direction,  running  forwards  to  the 
anterior  part  of  the  corpus  callosum,  and  centrally  back- 
ward toward  the  cerebellum.  In  the  middle  of  m  hat  may 
be  termed  the  floor  of  these  ventricles,  the  septum  luci- 
dum terminates  in  a  part  nearly  as  dense  as  the  corpus 
callosum,  called /or>M>,  or  vault,  from  its  arched  form, 
(Fig.  1.  P.)  The/ornix  is  not  united  to  the  floor  of  the 
ventricles  in  its  middle  part,  so  that  here  there  is  a 
communication  between  them.  In  the  anterior  part  of 
each  lateral  ventricle,  is  an  eminence  of  a  cineritious 
colouf,  and  striated  appearance.  These  are  called  cor- 
pora striata,  (Fig.  2.  1,  1.)  Behind  these  lie  two  other 
eminences,  called  thalami  nervorum  opticorum,  (Fig.  2. 
K,  K.)  which,  are  white  on  their  external  surface,  and 
darker  centrally.  Upon  these  lie  two  long  vascular 
bodies,  (L,  L.)  running  in  a  winding  course  from  the 
posterior  part  of  each  ventricle,  to  a  hole  in  the  part 
where  they  meet  anteriorly,  through  which  they  pass 
downwards.  I'hese  are  called  plexus  choroides,  and  con- 
sist of  a  number  of  small  blood-vessels,  closely  woven 
tc^ether  into  a  sort  of  cord.  In  the  lower  and  interior 
parts  of  each  lateral  ventricle  there  is  a  curved  medul- 
lary prolongation,  arising  from  the  ini.il  extremity  of  the 
corims  callosum,  where  it  runs  laterad,  then  glaliellad, 
and  at  last  lermiuiites  at  the  inial  extremity  of  the  ven- 
tricles. This  has  been  called  conm  Amnwiiis,  or  pes 
hippocampi. 

At  the  anterior  and  posterior  parts  of  the  fornix,  there 
are  medullary  substances  that  appear  to  support  the 
fornix,  and  are  therefore  called  its  pillar;!.  Of  these 
the  two  jiosterior  pillars  (H,  H,  Pig.  2.)  are  separated 
further  from  each  other  than  the  anterior;  and  indeed 
these  latter  are  so  nearly  contiguous,  that  they  are  some- 
times described  as  one. 

Between  the  ihaUuni  -of  the  optic  nerres  there  is  a 


Al^iTATOMY. 


76i 


clepression,  where  the  thalami  admit  of  being  separated ; 
and  we  find  in  this  place  another  cavity  called  the  third 
ventricle  ofthe  brain.  Just  behind  the  anterior  pillars 
of  the/<^rnix,  on  the  fore  part  of  the  joining  of  tlie  plexus 
choroides,  there  is  generally  found  an  oval  hole,  vrhich 
forms  a  communication  both  between  the  two  lateral 
Tentricles,  and  between  these  and  the  third  ventricle*. 
There  is  also  a  passage  from  this  third  ventricle,  form- 
ed by  a  funnel-shaped  medullary  tube,  called  infundibu^ 
hnn,  leading  to  a  roundish,  dark-coloured  body  on  the 
base  of  the  brain,  that  lies  in  the  sella  turcica  of  the 
sphenoid  bone,  and  is  called  the  piiuilary  gland.  The 
two  hemispheres  of  the  brain  are,  as  it  were,  hound  to- 
gether by  two  transverse  medullary  chords,  called  cw/i- 
missures,  one  anterior,  and  the  other  posterior,  at  the  cor- 
responding extremities  of  the  corpus  callosum. 

The  cerebellum  is  divided  into  two  lobes,  one  of  which 
lies  in  each  of  the  upper  cavities  of  the  occipital  bone, 
that  are  separated  by  the  interior  crucial  ridge.  The 
cerebellum  is  generally  of  a  firmer  consistence  than  the 
cerebrum.  It  is,  however,  formed  of  the  same  cineri- 
tious  and  medullary  parts,  though  the  arrangement  of 
these  is  rather  different  from  what  is  seen-  in  the  cere- 
brum ;  for  when  we  make  a  perpendicular  section  in  one 
of  the  lobes  of  the  cerebellum,  we  perceive  the  medul- 
lary part  assuming  an  arborescent  form ;  and  this  ap- 
pearance has  been  called  arbor  vita:,  (see  Fig.  1./.) 
Within  the  substance  of  the  cerebellum  there  is  also  a 
cavity  called  the  fourth  ventricle,  which  communicates 
■with  the  third  ventricle,  by  a  passage  that  has  been  cal- 
led the  aqueduct  of  Sylvius,  or  sometimes  iter  a  tertio 
ad  quartum  ventriculwn.  At  the  bottom  of  the  fourth 
ventricle  there  is  an  angular  depression,  something  in 
the  shape  of  a  pen;  and  it  has  therefore  been  called 
calamus  scriptorius.  The  two  lobes  of  the  cerebellum 
are  united  by  a  medullary  part,  called  vermiform  process  ; 
and  between  them  runs  a  prolongation  of  the  falx  of  the 
dura  mater,  here  called/a/.r  ccrcbelli.  Over  the  passage 
between  the  third  and  fourth  ventricles,  there  is  a  sort  of 
medullary  bridge  ;  and  just  before  this  are  situated  four 
medullary  eminences,  that  are  now  generally  called 
corpora,  or  tubercula  quadrigemina.  A  vertical  section 
of  these  is  seen  at  c,  </,  Fig.  1.  Immediately  above 
these,  and  behind  the  thalami  of  the  optic  nerves,  lies  the 
pineal  gland,  Z,  so  long  celebrated  as  being  the  sup- 
j)03ed  seat  of  the  soul.  The  corpora  quadrigemina  and 
the  pineal  gland,  properly  belong  to  the  cerebrum  ;  but 
their  situation  is  belter  understood,  after  having  des- 
cribed the  rest  of  the  encephalon. 

On  examining  the  encephalon  on  the  surface  next  the 
base  of  the  skull,  we  find  it  much  more  unequal  than  on 
its  coronal  surface,  especially  in  its  middle  and  poste- 
rior lobes.  At  the  baek  part  we  observe  the  inferior 
surface  of  the  lobes  of  the  cerebellum,  D,  Fig.  3.,  which 
are  here  marked  with  concentric  streaks.  In  the  mid- 
dle we  see  several  protuberances,  forming  parts  of  the 
medtdla  oblongata,  E,  F,  G  ;  and  a  little  before  these 


eminences  we  o1)S«rve  the  Union  of  the  optic  nerves,  K. 

The  medulla  oblongata  is  situated  between  (he  lobes 
of  the  cerebellum,  and  the  middle  lolies  of  the  brain, 
from  which  latter  it  is  separated  by  a  medullary  part, 
streaked  transversely,  called  pons  varolii,  or  tuler  an- 
nutttre,  E,  Plate  XVIII.  Fig.  3.  It  is  broadest  at  th« 
base,  and  gradually,  contracts,  so  as  to  form  a  sort  of  bulb, 
marked  with  a  longitudinal  furrow  in  the  middle,  and 
another  on  each  side.  These  furrows  divide  it  into 
eminences,  called  corpora  pyramidalia,  H,  and  corpora 
olivaria,  I.  That  ftart  of  the  medulla  oblongata  which  ic 
below  these  bodies,  is  called  its  Cauda,  or  tail.  Between 
the  pons  varolii,  and  the  substance  of  the  cerebrum, 
there  are  two medullaryportions,streaked longitudinally, 
one  of  which  is  seen  at  F.  These  are  called  the  crura 
of  the  medulla  oblongata ;  and  between  them  are  two 
roundish  white  bodies,  L,  called  corpora  albicantia.  Im- 
mediately before  these  lies  the  pineal  gland.  That 
part  of  the  medulla  oblongata  which  is  called  tuber 
annulare,  is  formed  by  medullary  productions,  both 
from  the  hemispheres  of  the  cerebrum,  and  the  lobes 
of  the  cerebellum,  called  crura  of  the  cerebrum  and 
cerebellum ;  and  it  is  chiefly  through  this  medium  that 
they  are  united. 

The  spinal  marram  is  merely  a  continuation  of  the 
medulla  oblongata,  which  takes  this  name  as  soon  as  it 
enters  the  vetebral  canal.  Like  the  rest  of  the  brainy 
mass,  it  is  made  up  of  cineritious  and  medullary  sub' 
stance;  but  here  the  medullary  substance  forms  the 
peripheral, and  the  cineritious  the  central,  portion;  this 
latter  being  disposed  in  a  crucial  direction.  The  spinal 
marrow  is  divided  through  its  whole  length  by  a  middle 
channel,  into  two  equal  and  similar  halves ;  and,  like  the 
encephalon,  it  is  invested  by  membranes  that  appear  to 
be  prolongations  ofthe  dura  amdpia  mater.  It  is  largest 
at  its  exit  from  the  head,  and  its  termination  at  the  coc- 
cyx is  muoh  more  evidently  fibrous  than  any  part  of  the 
encephalon,  and  is  also  of  a  firmer  consistence. 

The  cerebrum,  cerebellum,  medulla,  oblongata,  and 
spinal  marrow,  form  only  parts  of  the  same  general  mass, 
which  has  been  called  sensorium  commune,  or  common 
sensorium,  as  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  centre  of  sensation 
and  of  motion.  The  general  bulk  of  this  medullary  mass 
differs  little  in  individuals  of  the  same  age,  though  it  is 
supposed  to  beproportionallylargerin  men  than  in  women. 
It  is  certainly  larger  in  infancy  and  young  children,  in 
proportion  to  the  rest  of  the  body,  than  in  persons  of  a 
more  advanced  age.  The  weight  of  an  adult  human 
brain  is  said  by  Soemmering  scarcely  ever  to  amount  to 
four  pounds.  In  infancy  and  childhood,  the  consistency 
of  these  parts  is  less,  and  their  colour  brighter,  than  in 
middle  age.  In  old  people  they  become  comparatively 
firm,  anil,  from  the  arterial  branches  being  less  per- 
vious, they  are  of  a  paler  colour. 

The  general  sensorium  is  more  abundantly  supplied 
with  blood  than  almost  any  organ  ofthe  body,  especially 
the  cnccplwlon,  through  which,  it  is  computed,  at  least 


•  \Vc  tave  said,  that  tlii»  communication  between  the  lateral  ventricles  is  commonly  foimd,  becanse  we  are  aware  that  it  is  still  a  dis- 
puted point,  whether  this  commnnication  really  exists  in  the  living  brain,  or  is  only  the  consequence  of  accidental  separation  by  the 
knife  of  the  dissector.  Winslow  long  ago  described  an  oval  hole,  which  formed  a  passage  between  the  lateral  ventricles,  {Exposition 
nnatomque,  I'imo.  Tome  III.  p.  S88.)  and  Lieutaud  noticed  a  similar  communication,  (Anatomie  Hatorique  et  pratique,  Tome  I.  p.  77.1 
The  second  Professor  Monro  afterwards  discovered  the  opening  above  noticed,  published  the  discovery  in  his  Observations  on  the  ner- 
vous system,  p.  li.,  and  vindicated  his  former  account  by  additional  figures  and  testimonies  in  his  Ti-eatiaes  on  the  brain,  the  nie,  u»d  the 
ear.  Still,  however,  the  matter  is  not  generally  agreed  on.  Haller  denied  the  communication,  {Ekmenta  phygiolo^x,  Tome  IV.) 
Portal  has  found  the  ventricles  containing  fluids  of  difierent  colours,  {JKemoires  del'acad.  ties  sciences,  tTTO)  ;  and  a  respectable  editor 
of  onr  best  medical  dictionary  asserts,  that  this  communication  is  not  always  found,  (J/ievi  London  medical  dictionary,  vol.  i.  p.  395.) 
Amid  such  diversity  of  opinion,  it  would  be  arrogance  in  us  to  cl«cide  :  v^e  shall  therefore  leave  the  point  as  we  luun<l  if,  in  disimte. 

Vol.  I.    Fart  II.  *  5  D 


762 


ANATOMY. 


a  tenth  part  of  tlie  whole  mass  of  blood  is  continually 
circulating.  The  principal  arteries  of  the  brain  will  be 
noticed  hereafter.  'I'he  sinuses,  several  of  which  we 
have  mentioned  above,  serve  the  office  of  large  veins, 
into  which  the  blood  is  poured,  and  thence  received  into 
the  jugular  veins,  to  be  reconveyed  into  the  system.  See 
Physiology. 

It  is  disputed  whether  the  brain  is  provided  with  lym- 
phatics, but  they  have  been  described  by  Mascagni ; 
and  though  it  may  not  be  easy  to  exhibit  them,  we 
think  there  can  be  little  doubt  of  their  existence. 

It  is  scarcely  |)08sible  to  assign  to  each  particular  part 
of  the  general  sensitive  mass  its  specific  use  or  office. 
Prom  the  numerous  convolutions,  eminences,  and  de- 
pressions, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  nature  has  some 
.great  end  in  view  in  thus  extending  the  cerebral  sur- 
face, especially  that  of  the  cineritious  part ;  which,  from 
its  being  more  abundant,  is  generally  considered  as  the 
more  important  of  the  two  portions.  As  the  ventricles 
contain  more  or  less  of  a  peculiar  subtile  fluid,  they 
are  supposed  by  Soemmering  to  be  the  most  essen- 
tial part  of  the  sensorium,  as  the  secreting  organs  and 
emporia  of  this  fluid,  which  he  conceives  to  be  the  seat 
of  the  soul ! 

From  several  parts  of  the  enceplialon,  and  from  each 
aide  of  the  spinal  marrow,  there  pass  otf  numerous  white, 
niednllary  chords,  which  are  the  nerves  that  are  dis- 
tributed to  the  various  motive  and  sensitive  organs  of 
the  body.  These  nerves,  when  examined  with  the 
microscope,  appear  to  be  made  up  of  numerous  parallel 
filaments,  running  in  a  waving  direction,  and  collected 
together  into  larger  bundles,  till  they  compose  the  trunk 
of  the  nerve.  At  their  origin  from  the  common  sen- 
sorium, the  nervous  trunks  are  invested  by  a  production 
from  the  dura  mater  ;  but  they  lose  this  covering  when 
they  have  issued  from  the  holes  in  the  skull  or  the  ver- 
tebral column,  through  which  they  pass  to  the  place  of 


their  destination.  They  ar«,  however,  all  enveloped  in 
peculiar  sheaths,  formed  of  a  delicate  cellular  mem- 
brane, called  by  Reil  neuriltma. 

The  nerves  differ  much  in  size;  and,  in  general, 
those  which  supply  the  organs  of  motion  are  larger 
than  those  which  are  distributed  to  the  organs  of  the 
senses.  ^    . 

The  nerves  seldom  run  far  independent  of  each 
olher.  Sometimes  several  nervous  filaments  unite  into 
a  knotty,  medullary  body,  called  a  ganglion,  from  which 
other  filaments,  commonly  more  numerous,  arise ;  and 
frequently  several  filaments  from  the  same,  or  from  con- 
tiguous nerves,  are  united  together  iuto  a  sort  of  net- 
work, called  plextis. 

The  nerves  arise  from  the  common  sensorium  in 
pairs,  from  the  corresponding  halves  of  the  sensoriura- 
one  of  each  pair  being  sent  off  from  some  particular 
part  of  the  medullary  mass.  Anatomists  have  distin- 
guished nine  |)airs  proceeding  from  the  enccphalon,  and 
about  thirty  from  the  spinal  marrow.  The  following 
Table  is  intended  to  give  a  general  view  of  the  origin 
and  distribution  of  the  principal  nerves  that  have  been 
distinguished  by  particular  names.  In  the  first  column 
are  noted  the  usual  names  and  principal  synonymes  of 
the  nerves;  in  the  second  is  printed  out  the  place  of  their 
origin,  whether  from  the  cerebrum,  the  methdla  oblon- 
gata, or  the  spinal  marrow ;  the  third  shows  their  general 
course  and  their  distribution ;  and  the  fourth  contains 
their  connexion  with  each  other, — a  circumstance  which 
merits  particular  attention,  as  tending  to  ex|)lain  the 
sympathies  that  take  place  in  the  animal  system,  be- 
tween parts  that  would  otherwise  seem  to  have  but  a 
very  remote  communication.  We  shall  divide  the  nerves, 
in  the  usual  manner,  into  those  that  come  from  the 
encephalon,  which  we  shall  call  cranial  nerves,  and 
those  which  proceed  from  the  spinal  marrow,  or  the 
vertebral  nerves*. 


TABLE  OF  NERVES. 


I.     Cranial  Nerves. 


Ko.  Nerves. 

1.  First  pair,  or    olfac- 

tory nerves. 
PI.    XVIII.  Fig.    4. 
No.  1. 

2.  Second  pair,  or  optic 

nerves. 
PI.    XVIII.    Fig.  4. 

No.  2. 
PI.  XXn.  No.  2.  Fig. 

7  and  8. 


Origin. 

Prom  the  anterior  lobes 

of  the   brain,    from    a 

furrow  near  where  these 

unite  towards  the  base. 

From  the  superior  part  of 
the  thalami  nervortim 
opticorum,  in  the  late- 
ral ventricles,  passing 
downwards  to  the  base 
of  the  brain,from  which 
•they  issue  just  before 
the  anterior  crura  of 
the  medulla  oblongata, 
and  then  unite  in  a  com- 
mon trunk,  which  se- 
parates again  almost 
immediately. 


Distribution. 

Through  the  holes  in  the  cri- 
briform plate  of  the  ethmoid 
bone,to  be  distrihutedonthe 
membrane  which  lines  the 
nostrils. 

Through  the  optic  holes  of  the 
sphenoid  bone  to  the  orbits, 
where,  on  entering  the  ball 
of  the  eye,  they  are  im- 
mediately divided  into  nu- 
merous filaments,  passing 
through  separate  orifices 
between  the  choroid  mem- 
brane and  vitreous  humour, 
forming  the  retina. 


Connexions. 


With  each  other,  just  be- 
fore the  infundibultim, 
and  above  the  pituitary 
gland. 

Perforated  in  the  mid- 
dle by  the  central  ar- 
tery. 


*  B'kImI,  iu  bis  .Snatomle  Jetcripiivt,  tome  il!.  tlivides  tbe  nerves  into  those  which  arise  from  the  cerebrum,  those  wlilch  arise  froru 
vhat  he  calls  the  oeicbral  protubcniiice,  Cmeditlla  oblmiguta,J  iind  those  whicli  originate  from  tlic  spinal  timrr<n:i.  We  do  not  attach 
to  this  arrangement  so  much  imporuoce,  eT«n  io  a  physiological  poinj  of  visff,  M  Bieliat  appears  to  thiuk  it  merits,  and  we  hare  thcrtr 
fore  rttaintd  the  wiimrj  cUti^o*. 


ANATOMY. 


7B3 


A'».  Neires. 

3.  Third   pair,    moiores 

oculi,  or  ocul(Hmus- 

cular  nerves. 
PI.    XVIII.  Fig.  4. 

No.  3. 
PI.    XXII.    Fig.  7. 

d. 

4.  Fourth   pair,   or   pa- 

thetic nerves. 
PI.  XVllI.   Fig.   4. 

No.  4. 
PI.  XXII.  Fig.  7.  b. 

5.  Fifth  i>ah,trigeminus, 

or  tri-facial  tierve. 

PI.   XVIII.  Fig.  4. 
No.  5. 


6.  Ophthalmie  nerre. 
PI.  XXII.  Fig.  7. 


7.  Superior     maxillary 
nerve. 


3.  Inferior       maxillary 
nerve. 


9.  Sixth  pair,  or  abduc- 
tor nerves. 

PI.  XVIII.  Fig.  4. 
No.  6. 

10.  Seventh  pair. 

Fig.   4.  PI.  XVIII. 

No.  7. 


11.    Auditory  nerve,   or 
portio  mollis. 


12.  Facial  nerve,  or  por- 
tio dtira. 
Sympaiheticiis  viinor. 
Winslow. 


13.  Eighth  pair. 

PI.    XVIII.  Fig.  4. 


Origin. 
From  the   crura   of  the 
cerebrum,   a  little  be- 
fore the  luher  annula- 
re. 


From  near  the  corpora 
quadrigemina,  passing 
between  the  middle 
lobes  of  the  brain,  and 
the  adjacent  part  of  the 
tuber  annulare. 

From  the  root  of  the  cru- 
ra ccrchcUi,  where  they 
contribute  to  form  the 
tuber  annulare ;  com- 
posing a  Oat  bundle  of 
filaments,  which  di- 
vides into  three  princi- 
pal branches. 

First  branch  of  the  fifth 
pair. 


Second  branch  of  the  fifth 
pair. 


Third  branch  of  the  fifth 
pair. 


From  a  furrow   between 
the  posterior    edge    of 
the  tubfr  annulare,  and  ' 
the    corpora  pyramida- 
lia. 

From  the  inferior  sur- 
face of  the  fourth  ven- 
tricle, coming  out  at 
the  base  of  the  me- 
dulla oblongata,  a  lit- 
tle behind  the  sixth 
pair. 

First   branch  of  the  se- 


Dislrihtlion. 

Through  the  fissure  between 
the  sphenoid  bone  and  oi-- 
bitar  plate  of  the  frontal 
bone,  on  the  outside  of  the 
carotid  artery,  to  the  or- 
bits, where  they  are  distri- 
buted to  the  muscles  of  the 
eye-ball. 

Through  the  same  fissure  with 
the  preceding,  to  the  obli- 
quus  superior  muscle  of  the 
eye-ball. 


To  the  orbits,  great  part  of 
the  face,  and  coronal  and 
basilar  maxillx. 


Tenth  pair. 


Second  branch  of  the  se- 
venth pair. 


Fjom  the  base  of  the  cor- 
lora    olivaria,    a  little 


Connexion. 
Assists  in  forming  the 
ophthalmic  ganglion, 
and  thus  communicates 
with  the  first  branch  of 
the  Jjflh  pair. 


Through  the  same  fissure  with 
the  last  two,  to  be  distri- 
buted within  the  orbits ;  to 
the  eye-lids,  forehead,  nose, 
and  face. 

Through  the  round  hole  of 
the  sphenoid  bone,  to  the 
palate,  nostrils,  the  ears, 
the  sockets  of  the  upper 
teeth,  the  antrum  of  High- 
more,  and  muscles  of  the 
face. 

Through  the  oval  holes  of 
the  sphenoid  bone,  to  ma- 
ny muscles  of  the  face  and 
neck,  the  external  ear,  the 
tongue,  the  sockets  of  the 
lower  teeth,  and  the  chin. 

Through  the  cavernous  sinus, 
and  the  sphenoido-orbitar 
fissure,  to  the  rectus  abduc- 
tor muscle  of  the  eye-ball. 

Through  the  external  audito- 
ry passage,  to  the  organ  of 
hearing,  and  several  parts 
of  the  neck  and  face. 


Through  a  number  of  small 
holes  within  the  auditory 
passage,  to  all  the  internal 
parts  of  the  ear. 

Separating  from  the  portio 
mollis  within  the  auditory 
passage,  passes  through  the 
aqueduct  of  Fallopiiis,  to 
the  external  ear,  neck,  and 
face. 

To  the  tongue,  the  pharynx, 
an<i  several  viscera  of  the 
5D3 


With  the  intercostal,  ox 
great  sympathetic. 


With  branches  of  the  se- 
venth pair. 


With  the  portio  dura  of 
the  seventh  pair  at  the 


With  a  reflected  branch 
of  the  fifth  pair,  form- 
ing the  origin  of  the 
intercostal,  or  great 
sympathetic  nerve. 


With  branches  of  the 
fifth  pair;  with  the  se- 
condvertebral  pair,and 
with  the  great  sympa- 
thetic. 


764 


ANATOMY. 


jYo.         N'enes. 
No.  8. 

14.  GlosBo  -  pharyngeal 

nerve. 

15.  Pneumogaslric  nerve, 

or  par  vagum. 


16.  Ninth  pair,  or  hypo- 
glossal nerves. 
Lingual  nerves. 
PI.  XV  lU.  Fig.  4. 
No.  9. 


Origin. 
behind     the     seventh 
pair. 
Principal  branch  of  the 
eighth  pair. 

From  the  fifth  pair  by 
numerous  filaments,  a 
little  behind  the  former 
branch. 


From  the  medulla  oblon- 
gata between  the  cor- 
pora olivaria  and  py- 
ramydalia. 


DistrihutioB, 
thorax  and  abdomen. 

To  the  styloid  muscles,  the 
tongue,  auA  pharynx. 

Through  a  fissure  between 
the  temporal  and  occipital 
bones  down  the  neck  to  the 
larynx,  pericardium,  lungs, 
gullet,  and  stomach. 


Through  the  anterior  condy- 
loid hole  of  the  occipital 
bone  to  the  sternomastoid 
muscle,  muscular  parts  of 
the  tongue,  and  other  organs 
of  taste. 


Connexion. 


With  the  facial  nerve,  par 
vagum,  and  hypo-glos- 
sal nerve. 

With  branches  from  some 
of  the  vertebral  nerves 
through  the  accesso- 
rius;  with  the  great 
sympathetic,  the  hypo- 
glossal, and  the  glosso- 
pharyngeal nerves. 

With  the  par  vagum,  great 
sympathetic,  and  first 
two  vertebral  pairs. 


II.  Vertebral  Nerves. 


17.  Accessory  or  spinal 
nerve. 
Nervus     accessorius 
IVillisii. 


18.  Intercostal,  or  great 
sympathetic  nerve. 
Trisplanchiic  nerve. 


From  the  beginning  of  the 


19.  Sub-occipital  nerve. 
Sometimes  called  the 
tenth  pear  of  the 
cranium. 


20.  Phrenic  or  diaphrag- 
matic n«rve. 


spinal  marrow. 


Seems  to  arise  from  the 
first  cervical  ganglion, 
opposite  the  second 
cervical  vertebra,  and 
passes  into  the  skull, 
where  it  joins  the  ocu- 
lar branch  of  the  sixth 
l)air,  and  downwards 
through  the  chest,  bel- 
ly, and  pelvis,  to  the 
sacrum. 

From  the  lateral  part  of 
the  beginning  of  the 
spinal  marrow  by  two 
principal  roots. 


ChieQy  from  the  fourth 
cervical,and  partly  from 
the  fifth  and  sixth. 


Through  the  anterior  condy- 
loid hole  of  occipital  bone, 
to  the  sternomastoid  mus- 
cle, muscular  parts  of  the 
tongue,  and  other  organs  of 
taste. 

Chiefly  to  the  lungs,  the  heart, 
the  stomach  and  intestines, 
the  urinary  and  genital  or- 
gans. 


Entering  the  dura  mater, 
comes  out  by  the  edge  of 
tbe  occipital  hole  behind 
the  condyles,  and  is  distri- 
buted chiefly  to  the  recte 
and  oblique  muscles  of  the 
head. 

Descending  by  the  sternal 
part  of  the  neck,  through 
the  thorax,  is  distributed 
principally  to  the  dia- 
phragm. 


With  the  par  vagum,  and 
several  other  nerves. 


By  small  twigs,  with  the 
fifth  and  sixth  pairs  ;  by 
numerous  ganglia  and 
plexuses,  with  all  the 
vertebral  nerves,  and 
near  the  coccyx,  with 
its  fellow  on  the  oppo- 
site side. 


With  the  great  sympa- 
thetic, the  par  vagum, 
hypo-glossal,  and  first 
cervical  nerves. 


With  the  hypo-glossal, 
with  a  small  branch  of 
the  third  cervical  that 
goes  to  the  shoulder, 
and  with  the  great  sym- 
pathetic. 


ANATOMY. 


765 


ISTo. 


Nerves. 


Origin. 


21.   Radial  nerre  of  Mon-     From  Ihe  middle  division 


ro.     - 

Median  nerve  of 
Winslarv,  and  of 
the  French  anato- 
mists. 

See  Plate  XXI.  Fig. 
2.  No.  6,  10. 


22.  Ulnar  nerve. 


23.  Spiral  —  muscular 
nerve  of  Monro. 
Radial  nerve  of 
Winsloni  and  the 
French    anatomists 


24.  Musculo-cutaneous 
nerve. 
Peiforans   Casscrii. 
See  Plate  XXI.  Fig, 
2.  No.  9. 


25.  Obturator,      or 

pubic  nerve. 
Posterior  crural 

nerve. 

26,  Crural  nerve. 
Anterior  femoral,  or 

anterior         crural 
nerve. 


of  the  axillary  plexus, 
formed  by  the  four  last 
cervical,  and  first  dorsal 
nerves. 


From  the  same  axillary 
plesus.  The  numb- 
ness that  is  often  pro- 
duced in  the  fingers 
by  striking  the  el- 
bow, or  leaning  on  the 
ulnar  condyle  of  the 
humerus,  arises  from 
the  pressure  of  this 
nerve. 


From  the  posterior  divi- 
sion of  the  axillary 
plexus. 


From  the  internal  division 
of  the  axillary  plexus. 


sub-     From  the  lumbar  plexus. 


From  the  lumbar  plexus. 


Distribution, 

Descending  beside  the  hume-' 
ral  artery  to  the  bend  of 
the  elbow,  is  distributed 
to  the  brachialis  intcmus, 
pronator  teres,  and  most 
other  flexor  muscles,  to  the 
palm  of  the  hand,  where  it 
gives  branches  to  the 
thumb,  the  fore,  middle  fin- 
gers, and  radial  side  of  the 
ring  finger. 

Descends  along  the  ulnar 
side  of  the  humerus  to  the 
elbow,  to  which  it  gives  a 
branch;  thence  along  the 
thenal  side  of  the  fore  arm 
to  the  wrist,  where  it  di- 
vides into  two  branches, 
one  going  to  the  back  of 
the  hand,  the  other  chief- 
ly to  the  little  finger,  and 
ulnar  side  of  the  ring  fin- 
ger. 

Passes  from  between  the  last  1 
nerve  and  the  axillary  ar- 
tery, round  the  humerus 
to  the  hraclualis  and  supi- 
nator and  several  other 
mnscles  to  the  back  of  the 
hand,  and  the  same  fingers 
as  No.  21. 

Perforating  the  coraco-bra- 
chialis  muscle,  descends 
between  the  biceps  and 
brachialis  internus,  to  the 
middle  of  the  humerus, 
where  it  gives  off  a  large 
superficial  branch  to  the 
muscles  and  skin  of  the 
arm,  and  a  smaller  deep 
branch  to  the  brachialis 
internus,  and  the  internal 
substance  of  the  hume- 
rus. 

Chiefly  to  the  obturator,  pecti- 
netis,  gracilis  and  cruralis 
muscles. 


Connexioit. 


The  principal  connexion 
of  these  nerves,  is  that 
with  each  other,  at  their 
general  origin  in  the 
axillary  plexus. 


The  principal  connexion 
of  these  nerves,  is  that 
with  each  other,  at  their 
general  origin  in  the 
axillary  plexus. 


Accompany  the  femoral  arte- 
ry to  the  inguinal  arch  ; 
gives  off  many  branches, 
chiefly  to  the  rectus  cruris 
triceps,  sartorius,  and  scini- 
tendinosus  muscles,  and  to 
the  foot,  accompanying  the 
saphena  vein. 


766 


A]S^ATOMY. 


No.        Nerves. 


27. 


28. 


Sciatic  or 
nerve. 


ischiatic 


Tibial  nerve. 
Internal    popliteal 
nerve. 


Origin. 

From  the  last  two  lumbar, 
and  first  three  sacral 
nerves,  constituting  the 
largest  nervous  trunk 
in  the  human  body. 


Principal  branch  of  the 
sciatic  nerve. 


29.    Peroneal    or  fibular 
nerve. 
External       popliteal 
nerve. 


Second  principal  branch 
of  the  sciatic  nerve. 


Dislribtdion. 

Through  the  ischiatic  notch,", 
by  the  great  trochanter  of 
the  thigh  bone,  poplitead, 
to  a  little  below  the  raid- 
die  of  the  thigh,  where  it 
divides  into  the  two  next 
nervous  branches,  having  in 
its  course  given  filaments  to 
most  of  the  muscles  of  the 
thigh. 

To  the  muscles  of  the  calf  of 
the  leg,  and  flexor  muscles 
of  the  toes,  and  to  the  great 
toe,  and  the  first  three  of 
the  smaller  toes,  as  in  the 
radial  nerve,  while  a  branch 
like  the  ulnar  nerve,  supplies 
the  other  toes. 

From  the  ham  along  the  fi- 
bula, and  at  about  a  third 
part  of  its  descent  divides 
into  three  branches,  two 
superficial  to  the  skin  and 
some  muscles  of  the  leg, 
and  to  the  rotular  side  of  the 
toes,  and  one  deep  branch 
to  the  muscles  on  the  rotular 
aspect  of  the  leg.  J 


Connexion. 


The  principal  connexion 
of  these  nerves  is  chief- 
ly that  at  their  com- 
mon origin  in  the  scia- 
tic nerve. 


We  have  thus  traced  the  origin  and  distribution  of 
the  principal  nerves  of  the  human  body,  and  we  shall 
add  a  few  general  remarks.  We  have  seen  that  the 
largest  nervous  trunks  are  those  which  supply  the  limbs 
and  the  principal  organs  of  motion.  Indeed  it  is  gene- 
rally observed,  that  the  nerves  that  are  distributed  to 
the  organs  of  sense,  and  to  the  most  important  vital  or- 
gans, as  the  heart,  the  lungs,  and  the  stomach,  are  pro- 
portionally the  smallest  in  the  body.  It  has  been  ad- 
vanced by  Dr.  Darwin,  that  the  nerves  which  supply  the 
sensitive  organs  all  come  from  the  encephalon,  while 
those  which  are  distributed  to  the  organs  of  motion  ori- 
ginate in  the  spinal  marrow.  We  have  seen  that  this 
statement  is  incorrect,  and  that  many  of  the  nerves 
which  have  their  origin  in  the  medulla  oblongata  give 
branches  to  the  muscles  of  the  face  and  neck,  while 
branches  from  some  of  the  vertebral  nerves  are  inti- 
mately connected  with  some  of  those  that  belong  to  the 
organs  of  the  senses. 

It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that  the  whole  nervous 
system  is  composed  of  two  halves  on  each  side  of  the 
mesial  line,  both  similarly  formed,  and,  in  their  principal 
ramifications  regularly  divided.  Thus  nature  has  pro- 
vided, in  the  most  ample  manner,  against  those  injuries 
which  might  affect  one  side  of  the  system,  by  furnishing 
assistance  from  the  nervous  branches,  ganelions,  and 
plexuses  of  the  other  side.  Again,  by  the  general  con- 
nexion that  is  afforded  through  the  mediimi  of  the  great 
sympathetic  nerve,  the  two  halves  of  the  body  are  most 
intimately  united,  and  thus  sympathize  with  each  other 
in  all  their  motions  and  sensations. 

The  nerves  arising  from  the  spinil  marrow  observe  a 
remarkable  regularity  in  their  mode  of  origin.  The 
nerves  of  each  vertebral  pair  are  formed  by  filaments 
from  both  the  sternal  and  dorsal  parts  of  the  lateral 


divisions  of  the  spinal  marrow;  and  just  after  they  pas8 
through  the  intervertebral  holes,  they  are  united  on 
each  side  into  a  ganglion,  and  from  this  ganglion  they 
emerge,  partly  to  join  with  the  great  sympathetic,  and 
partly  to  pass  to  peculiar  organs. 

The  nature  of  the  ganglions  is  not  fully  ascertained. 
They,  in  a  great  measure,  resemble  the  brain  in  their 
general  structure,  and,  like  it,  have  much  cineritious 
substance  in  their  composition.  Hence  they  are  by  some 
considered  as  succedanea  to  that  organ ;  and  their  pro- 
portionally greater  magnitude  in  those  animals  who  have 
no  proper  brain,  seems  to  favour  the  supposition.  Bichat 
considers  the  ganglions,  and  the  nerves  which  proceed 
from  them,  as  forming  a  separate    nervous  system,  dis- 
tinct from  that  of  the  nerves  arising  from  the  medullary 
mass  of  the  encephalon,  (under  which  he  includes  the 
spinal  marrow);  and  he  calls  the  latter  the  ntrvoiis sys- 
tetn  of  animal  life,  and  the  former  that  of  organic  life. 
See  Anaiomie  Generale,  Part  I.  and  Anatomic  Descrip- 
tive, Tome  III.    Thus,  he  contends  that  the  great  sym- 
pathetic nerve,  with  the  ganglions  from  which  its  vari- 
ous ramifications  arise,  forms  an  insulated  nervous  sys- 
tem, destined  entirely  to  the  functions  of  animal  life. 
This  is  not  the  place  for  entering  into  physiological  dis- 
cussions, or  we  think  it  might  be  shown,  that  this  inge- 
nious and  able  writer  refines  too  much  on  this  favourite 
part  of  his  system.  The  mutual  dependence  of  the  seve- 
ral parts  of  the  animal  frame  is  so  great,  and  the  sym- 
pathies between  them  so  obvious,  that  we  can  scarcely 
conceive  that  the  connexions  of  the  nerves,  on  which 
those  sympathies  depend,  are  not  equally  general.     In- 
deed, Bichat  himself  acknowledes,  in  speaking  of  the 
anastomoses,  or   intimate  connexion  of  the  nerves  of 
animal  life  witli  those  of  organic  life,  {ylnatomic  Generale, 
Tom.  I.  p.  134.)  that  the  two  anastomosing  nerves  are 


ANATOMY. 


767 


ao  confounded  at  the  point  of  union,  that  he  cannot  say 
where  the  one  terminates,  and  the  other  begins. 

In  their  course,  the  nervous  trunks  preserve  nearly  a 
straight  direction ;  and,  when  they  give  off  branches, 
these  malie  very  acute  angles  with  the  trunk.  The 
nerves  are  supplied  with  blood  by  small  arteries,  which 
in  the  larger  trunks  are  verj'  perceptible.  They  possess 
great  sensibility  ;  when  pressed  slightly,  a  numbness  is 
felt  in  (he  parts  to  which  they  are  sent;  and  when  the 
pressure  is  increased,  this  numbness  becomes  very  pain- 
ful. Laceration,  or  puncture  of  a  nerve,  is  commonly 
followed  by  convulsive  twitches  in  the  muscular  parts 
which  it  supplies. 

The  morbid  appearances  that  liave  been  usually  found 
on  dissecting  the  human  cncephalon,  are  chiefly  the  fol- 
lowing. The  dura  mater  has  been  found  inflamed ;  con- 
taining scrofulus  tumours,  or  incrustations  of  bony 
matter.  Sometimes  it  adheres  much  more  firmly,  than 
in  ordinary  cases,  to  the  interior  of  the  skull.  The  pia 
mater  has  been  found  inflamed,  its  vessels  distended 
with  blood,  or  filled  with  air;  part  of  this  membrane  has 
been  found  ossified,  and  hydatids  and  scrofulous  tumours 
are  sometimes  seen  connected  with  it.  The  substance 
of  the  brain  itself  is  sometimes  unusually  soft ;  at  others 
preternaturally  firm  and  elastic.  The  former  has  been 
Baid  to  occur  in  the  brains  of  idiots,  and  the  latter  in 
those  of  maniacal  patients ;  but  these  general  conclu- 
sions do  not  seem  warranted  by  sufficient  observation; 
and  Dr.  Baillie  affirms,  from  what  he  deems  the  best  au- 
thority, that  the  brain  of  maniacal  patients  is  generally 
not  more  firm  or  more  elastic  than  that  of  people  whose 
minds  have  always  been  sound*.  The  brain  is  often  seen 
inflamed,  and  its  vessels  distended  with  blood,  or  its  cavi- 
ties with  an  unusual  quantity  of  watery  fluid.  Encysted 
tumours  are  sometimes  seen  in  various  parts  of  the  en- 
cephalon;  little  bags  have  been  fouud  adhering  to  the 
plexus  choroides  ;  the  pineal  gland  is  not  nnfrequently 
found  with  a  gritty  matter  within  its  substance,  and 
sometimes  it  contains  a  watery  fluid. 

The  nerves  are  sometimes  seen  preternaturally  soft; 
and  the  same  nerves  vary  considerably  in  different  sub- 
jects, with  respect  to  size  and  colour. 

On  the  general  anatomy  of  the  nervous  system,  see 
'LuAw'xg^s  Scriptores  Ncurologici  Selecti,  in  4  vols.  4to; 
and  Munro  on  the  Nervous  System ;  on  the  anatomy  of 
the  brain,  see  Vicq  D'Azyr,  Traite  iTAnatomie,  et  de 
Physiologic,  with  elegant  coloured  plates,  folio,  publish- 
ed at  Paris  in  1 780 ;  Vincenzo  Malaearne,  Eiicephaloto- 
mia  Nxiova  Universale,  published  at  Turin,  in  1780, 
Soemmering's  Libri  de  Base  Encephali,  et  Orisinibrts 
Nervorum,  and  his  work  De  Corporis  Humaiii  Fabrica, 
vol.  4.;  Bichat's  Anatomie  Descriptive,  Tom.  HI.;  and 
for  figures,  where  the  elegant  work  of  Vicq  D'Azyr 
cannot  he  procured,  Mr.  Charles  Bell's  engravings  of 
the  brain,  or  the  plates  of  Loder,  Haller,  and  Monro. 

On  the  anatomy  of  the  spiual  marrow,  see  Huber  De 
Medulla  Spinali,  Haller's  Icoius  Anatotnicce,  and  Frats- 
cher  Descriptio  MedulUe  Spinalis  cum  icone,  published  at 
Erlang  in  1783. 

On  the  anatomy  of  the  nerves  in  general,  see,  besides 
several  of  the  authors  we  have  mentioned,  Proschasha 
De  Slructura  Nervorum  ;  Winslow's  Traile  d' Anatomie, 
or  Douglas's  translation ;  Scar[»a's  Annotaliows  Acade- 
mica ;  Haose  De  Gangliis  Nervorum ;  and  Bichat's 
Anaiomie  Generale,  Part  I. :  And  for  descriptions  and 


views  of  the  principal  nerves  of  the  body,  see  Waller's 
Tabula  lurvorum  thoracis  et  abdomi7iis  ;  Fischer's  De- 
scriptio anatomica  nervorum  lumbaiimn,  saeralium,  ct  ex- 
tremitalum  infer i orum  ;  Scarpa's  Tahtdee  neurologic^  ; 
and  Bell's  Engravings  of  the  nerves. 

The  fanciful  craniognomic  system  of  Gal],  founded  on 
the  supposed  connexion  between  the  prominences  on 
the  upper  surface  of  the  brain,  and  the  prevalence  of 
certain  passions,  virtues,  or  vices,  will  form  the  subject 
of  a  future  article.  In  the  mean  time,  we  may  refer  our 
readers  for  an  account  of  the  hypothesis,  to  Some  account 
of  Dr.  GaWs  Nov  Theory  of  Physiognomy,  with  the 
Strictures  of  Hufetand,  published  at  London  in  1807; 
to  a  view  of  the  same  system  by  M.  Bojames,  in  Millin's 
Encyclopedic  Methodiqut,  in  the  14th  vol.  of  the  Philo- 
sophical Magazine,  or  the  4th  vol.  of  the  8vo.  series  of 
Nicholson's  Journal.     See  Craniounomy. 

Sect.  II.  Of  the  Organs  of  the  Senses. 

The  sensitive  organs,  by  means  of  which  man  and 
other  animals  hold  communication  with  surrounding 
material  objects,  are  all  seated,  either  on  the  external 
part  of  the  body,  or  so  near  this,  as  to  communicate 
with  the  external  air  by  certain  passages.  These  organs, 
as  is  well  known,  consist  of  those  of  feeling,  tasting, 
snielling,  hearing,  and  seeing.  Of  these  the  first  is  most 
widely  diliused,  being  spread  over  the  whole  surface  of 
the  body,  and  extending  to  most  of  its  internal  cavities  ; 
it  has  therefore  been  placed  by  Buisson  in  a  distinct 
class.  Next  to  the  organ  of  feelins:,  that  of  tasting  is  • 
the  most  general ;  for,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter,  this 
sense  is  not  confined  to  the  tongue.  This  sense,  and 
that  of  smelling,  are  placed  by  Buisson  in  a  second  class, 
as  being  nearly  allied.  The  senses  of  hearing  and  of 
sight  are  the  most  confined,  and  their  organs  are  the 
most  complex  and  artificial.  It  may  be  remarked  of 
the  sensitive  organs  in  general,  that  their  disposition  is 
regular  and  symmetrical.  They  arc  either  situated 
in  pairs  on  each  side  of  the  mesial  line,  as  the  eyes,  the 
ears,  and  the  nostrils,  or  they  are  so  disposed,  that  the 
mesial  line  divides  them  into  two  equal  and  similar 
halves,  that  sympathize  with  each  other.  Of  all  these 
organs,  that  of  feeling  alone  may  be  considered  as  occa- 
sionally dependent  on  the  will.  All  the  rest  are  invo- 
luntary, and,  provided  they  are  in  a  healthy  state,  must 
transmit  the  impressions  which  they  receive  from  their 
peculiar  stimuli.  We  shall  consider  these  organs,  ac- 
cording to  the  order  in  which  they  have  been  enume- 
rated. 

\.  Of  the  Organ  of  Feeling. 

The  sense  of  feeling  is  exercised  by  that  part  of  the 
integuments,  which  is  called  the  true  skin,  and  which 
lies  between  the  rete  mucosum  and  the  cellular  mem- 
brane that  invests  the  muscular  parts  of  the  body.  At 
present  we  shall  describe  only  this  part  of  the  integu- 
ments, as  the  consideration  of  the  cuticle  rete  mucosum, 
hair  and  nails,  more  properly  belongs  to  what  we  have 
called  the  organs  of  intcgumation. 

Bichat,  who  describes  the  skin  at  considerable  length, 
in  his  account  of  the  dermoid  system,  (Anatomie  Gene- 
rale,  Par.  II. )t  distinguishes  its  substance  into  three 
layers,  corion,  corpus,  reticulare,  or  reticular  portion,  and 


*  Baillie's  Morbid  Jtnatomy,  '5d  edition,  p.  iST. 

t  Bicliat  spells  Uiis  woid  chorion  ,■  but  as  it  a  evidently  derired  from  torium,  leatheri  ve  omit  the  h. 


768 


ANATOMY. 


papillary  portion ;  of  which  the  first  is  the  most  distinct 
and  the  most  essential,  as  it  constitutes  the  substance  of 
the  skin.  The  reticular  portion  is  properly  that  surface 
which  lies  next  the  rcte  mucosmn. 

The  corion  varies  much  in  thickness  in  different  parts 
of  the  body.  It  is  thickest  on  the  skull,  the  back  part 
of  the  neck,  and  back  ;  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  and  the 
sole  of  the  feet :  while  on  the  face,  on  the,  fore  parts  of 
the  body,  on  the  back  of  the  hand  and  foot,  it  is  thinnest 
and  most  delicate  :  and,  in  some  particular  parts,  espe- 
cially the  lips,  it  is  extremely  fine.  It  is  composed  of 
fibres  that  cross  each  other  in  every  direction,  inter- 
spersed with  numerous  blood-vessels,  nerves,  and  lym- 
phatics. These  component  fibres  are  gelatinous,  and 
are  susceptible  of  great  extension  and  elongation.  They 
are  alwaysof  a  white  colour,  and  in  no  respect  influenced 
by  that  substance  which  forms  the  colouring  matter  of 
the  external  surface  of  the  body.  The  corion  is  every 
where  perforated  with  innumerable  holes,  which  are 
called  the  pores  of  the  skin.  These  pores  appear  to  be 
arranged  iu  the  corners  of  certain  angular  parts  of  the 
surface,  (see  Plate  XVIII.  fig.  6.)  and  they  open  exter- 
nally through  corresponding  holes  in  the  cuticle.  This 
part  of  the  skin  seems  not  to  be  connected  with  the  sense 
of  feeling,  but  chiefly  intended  to  give  to  the  skin  its 
gtrength  and  dilatabilily,  and  to  aflbrd  a  connecting  sur- 
face for  the  insertion  of  the  numerous  vessels  and  nerves 
that  are  necessary  to  enable  their  integument  to  carry 
on  its  important  functions. 

What  Bichat  calls  the  reticular  portion  of  the  skin, 
•  is  denominated  by  Mr.  Cruikshank  the  memhrane  of  the 
small  pox,  and  is  seen  at  </,  fig.  5.  Plate  XVIII.  Both 
these  writers  agree,  that  this  is  the  part  of  the  skin  in 
which  the  pustules  of  cutaneous  eruptions  are  seated. 
It  forms  the  peripheral  surface  of  the  corion,  to  which 
it  is  firmly  united  ;  and,  according  to  Bichat,  consists  of 
a  net-work  of  extremely  fine  vessels,  the  trunks  of  which, 
after  having  passed  through  the  pores  of  the  corion,  are 
distributed  over  its  external  surface. 

The  papilla  of  the  skin,  though  they  appear  without 
the  reticular  portion,  do  not  properly  belong  to  that 
tissue,  but  are  really  nervous  eminences  that  arise  from 
the  peripheral  surface  of  the  corion,  and  pass  through 
the  interstices  of  the  reticular  portion.  As  these papillx 
constitute  more  immediately  the  organ  of  feeling,  we 
^hall  consider  them  rather  more  minutely  than  the  pre- 
ceding parts  of  the  skin.  The  extremities  of  the  papillm 
■  lie  immediately  below  the  cuticle,  and  the  rete  rmiccswn, 
which  covers  the  peripheral  surface  of  the  reticular 
membrane,  fills  up  the  intervening  spaces  between  the 
papilla:.  When  minutely  examined  by  macerating  the 
corion  for  some  days  in  water,  we  find  that  these  papillm 
consist  of  a  number  of  small  white  fibres,  united  at  their 
base,  so  as  to  form  a  sort  of  pencil.  Sometimes  the 
papilla,  of  each  pencil  are  nearly  of  the  same  length,  but 
frequently  those  in  the  centre  are  the  longest,  thus  form- 
ing a  conical  eminence.  These  papilla:  have  been  ob- 
served wherever  the  outer  surface  of  the  corion  lias  been 
nxamined  with  the  microscope  ;  but  they  are  most  evi- 
dent below  the  skin  of  the  lips,  in  the  palms  of  the  hands, 
and  soles  of  the  feet.  They  are  situated  very  close  to 
each  other,  and  together  form  a  villous  surface,  well 
adapted  to  the  office  of  touch.  Fig.  7.  Plate  XVIII.  re- 
presents pretty  exactly  these  pa/w'ite  as  they  appear  be- 
low the  cuticle  on  the  point  of  the  fore  fonger. 

When  not  called  into  action,  the  papilla  of  the  skin 
lie  flat,  and  are  not  easily  discerned ;  but  when  stimulat- 


ed by  the  contact  of  an  external  body,  or  even  when  the 
mind  excites  the  desire  of  touching  such  an  object,  the 
papilla  are  erected,  and  assume  the  appearance  express- 
ed in  the  figure. 

Almost  all  anatomists  consider  the  papilla  as  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  nervous  filaments  that  traverse  the 
substance  of  the  corion,  and  which,  when  passing  out  at 
the  peripheral  surface,  lose  their  enveloping  membrane. 
Some  have  even  pretended  to  trace  the  nervous  filaments 
into  these  papilla  ;  but,  as  the  density  of  the  corion  is 
80  great,  and  these  nervous  filaments  are  so  extremely 
minute,  it  is  probable  that  their  success  in  this  dissec- 
tion has  been  rather  imaginary  than  real.  Still,  however> 
there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  their  opinion  is  just,  and 
that  the  immediate  organ  of  feeling,  like  that  of  all  the 
other  senses,  exists  in  the  extremities  of  the  nerves  by 
which  the  organ  is  supplied. 

The  skin  is  preserved  soft  and  moiit  by  an  oily  secre-. 
tion  that  ooses  through  its  pores,  and  is  by  most  anato- 
mists supposed  to  arise  from  certain  glands,  called  »m7«- 
ary  or  sebaceous  glands.  These  glands,  however,  cannot 
be  detected  in  most  parts  of  the  body  where  the  skin  is 
abundantly  moist  and  pliable ;  but  in  certain  places,  as 
behind  the  ears,  in  the  arm-pits,  &c.  glandular  bodies, 
from  which  an  unctuous  secretion  evidently  arises,  are 
distinctly  to  be  seen.  We  may  therefore  conclude  from 
analogy,  that  similar  glands  exist  in  other  situations, 
though  we  have  not  yet  been  able  to  discover  them. 

The  skin  is  generally  more  sensible  in  females  and 
young  children  than  in  males,  or  in  those  of  a  more  ad- 
vanced age.  In  certain  diseases  it  almost  entirely  loses 
its  sensibility,  while  in  others  this  is  increased  to  a  pain- 
ful degree.  The  developement  of  the  skin,  and  the 
principal  morbid  appearances  which  it  presents,  more 
properly  belong  to  that  part  of  our  subject  in  which  we 
ehall  continue  the  integuments. 

2.  Cf  the  Organs  of  Tasting. 

The  ]>rincipal  organs  of  tasting  are,  the  tongue  and 
the  palate  ;  though  the  lips,  and  several  of  the  neigh- 
bouring organs,  contribute  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  tliis 
sensation. 

The  tongue,  though  not  a  very  complex  organ,  is  des- 
tined to  perform  more  varied,  and  much  more  important 
functions,  than  that  of  imparting  to  the  mind  the  taste 
of  sapid  bodies.  Besides  being  the  priucipal  organ  for 
pro<lucing  the  articulations  of  voice,  it  is  an  organ  of  de- 
glutition, and  might  be  considered  iu  both  these  points 
of  view  in  the  subsequent  parts  of  this  article.  At  pre- 
sent we  shall  examine  only  the  structure  of  its  substance, 
and  the  nervous  apparatus  that  covers  its  superior  sur- 
face, as  in  these  is  situated  the  more  immediate  organ 
of  fasting. 

The  substance  of  the  tongue  is  partly  muscular,  and 
partly  composed  of  membranes  and  cellular  substance, 
numerous  large  branches  of  vessels  and  nerves.  The 
principal  muscular  substance  that  forms  the  body  of  the 
tongue,  consists  of  two  parallel  planes,  arranged  on  each 
side  of  the  basilar  surface,  and  called  by  anatomists 
the  lingual  muscles.  Above  these  lies  a  mass  of  fleshy 
fibres,  irregularly  disposed,  and  crossing  each  other  ia 
every  direction. 

The  muscular  substance  of  the  tongue  is  every  where 
invested  by  a  mucous  membrane,  which  is  a  continuation 
of  a  similar  membrane  that  lines  the  mouth,  and  covers 
the  gums.    This  membrane,  like  the  ordinary  integu- 


ANATOMY. 


7G9 


jiienfs,  is  composed  of  sereral  layers,  viz.  a  fine  and  de- 
licate cuticle;  a  mucous  or  reticular  portion,  formed  like 
the  corresponding  part  of  the  skin,  by  tlie  intertesture 
of  minute  vessels,  from  which  the  tongue  derives  its 
usual  red  colour ;  and  a  corion,  that  is  extremely  deli- 
cate on  the  basilar  surface  and  edges  of  the  tongue,  but 
very  thick  and  dense  on  the  coronal  part.  This  coriou 
is  most  firmly  attaclied  to  the  muscular  tissue  that  co- 
vers the  lingual  muscles,  and  can  scarcely  be  distin- 
guished from  it.  On  the  peripheral  surface  of  the 
corion  are  situated  numerous  papill(e,  which  are  more 
remarkable  in  this  organ  than  in  almost  any  other  part 
of  the  body. 

The  eminences  that  appear  on  the  coronal  surface  of 
the  tongue,  are  distinguished  by  anatomists  into  three 
kinds  according  to  their  size  and  situation.  Those 
which  occupy  the  root  of  the  tongue  are  arranged  nearly 
in  the  formof  the  letter  V,  extendingforward  at  the  sides, 
and  meeting  in  a  point  towards  the  root  of  the  tongue. 
They  are  of  a  very  irregular  form,  generally  either 
spherical  or  oval,  and  sometimes  furnished  with  appen- 
dages or  prolongations.  These  pajnUm  are  considered 
as  mucous  glands,  opening  towards  the  peripheral  sur- 
face of  the  tongue. 

The  other  eminences  that  cover  about  two-thirds  of 
the  tongue,  towards  its  ti|),  and  in  which  resides  more 
immediately  the  organ  of  taste,  are  more  properly  call- 
ed papilla:.  Some  of  these  have  the  appearance  of  tu- 
bercles, supported  by  a  neck  ;  they  are  of  a  wbitiiih  co- 
lour are  pretty  large,  but  not  so  thickly  arranged  as  the 
remaining  ^«;m7/<e.  These  tatter  ate  of  a  conical  form, 
pointed  at  their  summits,  are  very  sm;ill,  and  extremely 
numerous  They  form  a  plane,  bounded  lehind  by  the 
mucous  glands,  and  are  arranged  with  more  regularity 
towards' the  root  oi  the  tongue  than  towards  its  tip. 

The  tuberculated;)api7'<K  are  disseminated  at  irregular 
intervals  among  the  conical.  It  is  doubtful  whether  they 
ditfer  in  their  nature  from  the  former,  or  only  in  their 
external  appearance.  These  papi!l<e,  like  those  on  the 
peripheral  surface  of  the  skin,  are  probably  the  outer 
tarminations  of  the  branches  of  the  lingual  nerves,  which 
sunply  the  surface  of  the  tongue. 

*rhe  tongue  is  frequently  covered  with  a  whitish  clam- 
my fluid,  commonly  called  fur,  which  is  more  remark- 
able in  the  morning,  and  in  cases  of  disordered  stomach. 
As  this  fur  chit-fly  covers  the  paijllary  surface  of  the 
tongue,  it  has  been  supposed  to  be  formed  by  some  of 
these  papillw,  perhaps  by  those  of  the  tuberculated  ap- 
pearance. 

Though  the  substance  of  the  tongue  is  abundantly  sup- 
plied with  nerves  and  arteries,  and  is  generally  conceived 
to  be  an  organ  of  exquisite  sensibility  ;  wounds,  or  oth- 
er injuries  of  this  part,  are  not  so  dangerous  as  might 
be  imagined.  The  observations  of  Mr.  Home,  (see  Phi- 
losophical Transactions  for  \  803,  or  Nicholson's  Journal, 
8vo.  vols.  vi.  and  vii.)  have  proved  that  surgical  opera- 
tions may  be  very  safely  performed  on  this  organ. 

The  vaulted  roof  of  the  mouth,  commonly  called  the 
palate,  or  Inie  palate,  is  composed  partly  of  bone,  and 
partly  of  mucous  membrane.  The  bony  arch  is  formed 
by  tlie  palatine  processes  of  the  coronal  maxilla,  and 
by  those  of  the  palate  bones,  properly  so  called,  which 
arc  united  in  the  middle  by  a  double  raphe,  or  prominent 
line,  which  may  be  easily  felt  through  the  investing 
meinbrane.  It  is  bounded  before  by  the  sockets  of  the 
teeth,  and  behind  by  that  soft  curtain  called  velum  peu' 
fhitum  palati,  or  the  soft  palate. 

Vol.  I.  Part  II. 


The  mucous  membrane  that  lines  the  bony  arch,  dif- 
fers in  its  structure  from  that  which  forms  the  interior 
lining  of  the  alveolar  processes  of  the  jaw,  and  whicli 
constitutes  the  gums.  At  present  we  shall  consider  only 
the  former.  The  mucous  membrane  of  the  palatine  arch 
is  of  considerable  density,  especially  on  the  fore  part, 
and  near  the  gums.  Between  it  and  the  bony  arch,  are 
situatetl  mucous  glands,  which  are  more  numerous  in 
the  back  part  of  the  mouth,  and  which  secrete  that 
slimy  matter  which  always  covers  the  roof  of  the  mouth. 
The  mucous  membrane  firmly  adheres  to  the periosttum 
of  the  bony  arch,  and  between  them  run  the  vessels  and 
nerves  that  supply  this  part  of  the  mouth.  Nervous  />«- 
pilltc  probably  exist  within  the  substance  of  the  mucous 
membrane,  as  we  find  that  the  sensation  of  taste  is  in- 
creased when  the  sapid  body  is  pressed  between  the  pa- 
late and  the  tongue. 

The  tongue  is  often  found  covered  with  white  or 
grayish  crusts,  as  in  aphtlue,  and  in  many  cases  where 
pulmonary  consumption  has  proved  fatal ;  sometimes  it 
is  cancerous  ;  and  now  and  then  it  is  extremely  small,  or 
is  altogether  wanting.  The  palate  is  sometimes  found 
cleft,  or  imperfect  at  the  suture,  an  appearance  that  oc- 
casionally accompanies  hare-lip  ;  sometimes  as  in  advan- 
ced syphilis,  it  is  curious,  and  is  often  covered  with  aph- 
thous  crusts. 

For  the  best  anatomical  descriptions  of  the  tongue 
which  we  have  seen,  see  Bichat's  Jtuttomie  Descriptive, 
Tom.  II.  p.  594.  and  Cuvier's  Lemons  D'Anatotnie 
Comparie,  Tom.  II.  p.  634.  or  in  Mr.  Ross's  translation 
Vol.  II.  p.  697.  and  Tom.  HI.  p.  2  0.  Some  good  figures 
of  the  tongue  are  contained  in  Cowper's  tables  of  the 
muscles,  in  Lotler's  Tahule  Anatomica,  and  in  tlie  first 
volume  of  Haller's  Opera  Minora. 

3.  Of  the  Organs  of  Smelling. 

The  organ  of  feeling,  which  we  described  in  the  first 
section  of  this  chapter,  is  situated  on  the  external  sur- 
face of  the  bmly,  while  those  of  tasting  are  wholly  inclu- 
ded within  a  cavity.  The  senses  of  smelling,  hearing, 
and  sight,  are  provided  with  both  external  and  internal 
organs ;  by  the  former  of  which  they  collect  or  inhale 
the  medium  through  which  they  receive  their  sensations^ 
while  the  latter  furnish  an  extensive  surface  for  the  ex- 
pansion of  the  nervous  fibrils  that  are  the  immediate 
sensitive  organs. 

The  organs  of  smelling  in  man  consist,  principally  of 
the  nose,  and  its  cavities  or  nostrils ;  but  the  extent  of 
these  organs  is  probably  increased  by  the  communica- 
tion of  the  nostrils  with  the  neighbouring  cavities,  or 
sinuses,  viz.  the  frontal,  sphenoidal,  and  maxillary  sinu- 
ses. The  nose  consists  principally  of  an  upper  bony 
portion,  commonly  called  the  bridge  of  the  nose,  comjX)- 
sed  of  the  two  nasal  bones,  between  which  runs  a  ver- 
tical |>late  from  the  ethmoid  hone,  and  the  vomer;  of 
two  borders,  or  sides,  partly  cartilaginous,  partly  niuscu- 
Iar,andpartlymembranous, called  byanatomists  alcenasi, 
or  wings  of  the  nose,  and  of  a  cartilaginous  partition  be- 
tween the  nostrils,  which  is  continued  basilad  and  an- 
tiniad  from  the  liony  partition  of  the  ethmoid  bone.  Into 
the  upper  part  of  the  nostrils  project  two  spon£;y,  irre- 
gular, bony  I'ortions,  called  the  superior-lurbinatcd,  or 
spcngif  bones  which  belong  to  the  ethmoid  bone ;  ami 
to  these  are  united  two  other  irregular  spongy  bones, 
called  the  lower  turbinated  bones.  What  is  called  the 
tip  of  the  nose,  is  chiefly  formed  of  two  rounded  carti- 
lages, and  two  similar  cartilages  from  the  centra!  part 
5  E 


770 


ANATOMY. 


of  the  lower  portion  of  the  aim  liasi.  The  cavities  of  the 
nostrils,  in  which  is  situated  the  essential  organ  of 
smelling,  are  much  larger  in  their  coronal  and  inial 
parts,  than  the  smallness  of  their  external  openings 
would  lead  us  to  suppose.  Above,  they  extend  to  the 
cribriform  plate  of  the  ethmoid  bone,  between  the  eyes ; 
and  behind,  along  the  whole  extent  above  the  palatine 
arch,  as  far  as  the  velum  pemluhan  and  the  pharynx. 
These  cavities,  and  the  sinuses  with  which  they  com- 
municate, are  lined  with  a  delicate  and  very  sensible 
mucous  membrane,  called  the  pituitary  membrane,  or 
sometimes  the  schneiderian  mimbrane,  from  the  name  of 
the  anatomist  who  is  thought  first  to  have  accurately 
described  it.  Supposing  this  membrane  to  commence 
from  the  external  opening  of  the  nostrils,  it  ascends 
over  the  ala  nasi,  and  the  partition  of  the  nostrils,  as 
far  as  the  cribriform  plate  of  the  ethmoid  bone,  which 
it  every  where  invests,  entering  into  all  its  holes,  so  as 
to  give  an  extensive  attachment  to  the  branches  of  the 
olfactory  nerves.  Hence  it  is  reflected  over  the  inial 
'surface  of  the  nasal  bones,  and,  in  passing  over  the 
small  holes  that  are  found  in  these,  receives  several 
blood  vessels.  It  now  proceeds  backward  to  the  body 
of  the  sphenoid  bone,  which  it  covers,  and  enters  into 
the  sphenoidal  sinuses,  which  it  completely  lines.  Re- 
turning from  these  sinuses,  it  passes  over  the  superior 
spongy  bones,  where  it  is  more  loosely  connected  than 
in  any  other  part  of  its  course.  It  now  descends  to  the 
■spheno-palatine  hole,  from  which  it  receives  several 
nerves  and  vessels,  and  where  it  is  intimately  connect- 
ed with  the  periosteum  from  the  spheno-maxillary  fossa. 
It  thence  passes  successively  to  the  posterior  ethmoidal 
cells,  the  maxillary  sinuses,  the  inferior  spongy  bones, 
the  bottom  of  the  nasal  canal  from  the  corner  of  the 
eye,  and  the  basilar  part  of  the  nostrils  to  the  point  from 
which  we  supposed  it  lo  commence.  Behind,  it  covers 
the  cartilaginous  margin  of  the  eustachian  tube,  coming 
from  the  ear. 

These  extensive  connexionsof  the  pituitary  membrane 
merit  particular  notice,  as  they  show  the  extent  of  the 
organ  of  smelling,  and  explain  the  sympathies  that  lake 
place  between  it,  and  the  eye,  the  ear,  and  other  neigh-- 
bouring  organs. 

This  membrane  is  chiefly  what  Bichat  calls  mucous, 
and  affords  one  of  the  best  examples  of  a  mucous  mem- 
brane ;  but  it  is  partly  made  up  of  a  fibrous  layer,  de- 
rived from  the  periosletim  of  the  bones  over  which  it 
passes.  It  is  thin  at  the  opening  of  the  nostrils,  but 
dense,  spongy,  and  of  a  red  colour,  in  the  greatest  part 
of  their  internal  cavities.  Its  whole  surface  is  beset  with 
numerous  pores,  which  appear  to  be  the  orifices  of  small 
bags,  and  from  which  exudes  that  viscous  fluid  called 
the  mucus  of  the  nose.  The  chief  use  of  this  fluid  seems 
lo  be  that  of  lubricating  the  nostrils,  and  preventing  ir- 
ritation from  the  external  air,  and  those  effluvia  of  which 
it  is  the  medium. 

This  mucus  is  of  a  consistence  more  or  less  viscid 
according  to  circumstances,  of  a  specific  gravity  greater 
than  that  of  water,  and  soluble  in  this  fluid,  unless  when 
it  has  been  rendered  solid  by  long  exposure  to  the  air.  It 
consistschiefly  ofgelatine  and  albumen  dissolved  in  water. 

The  nostrils  are  supplied  with  nerves  chiefly  from  the 
olfactory  and  the  superior  maxillary  nerves,  communi- 
cating with  the  porlio  dura  of  the  seventh,  and  with  the 
great  sytnpathttic.  They  have  numerous  arteries  and 
absorbents,  the  former  of  which  will  be  noticed  in  a 
cubsequent  chapter. 


The  nose,  in  very  young  children,  is  usually  broad, 
flat,  and  obtuse ;  the  nostrils  proportionally  very  small, 
and  their  internal  membrane,  tor  a  few  weeks  after 
birth,  scarcely  secretes  the  usual  mucus.  In  young  ))eo- 
ple,  especially  lads  about  the  age  of  puberty,  this  mem- 
brane receives  a  large  supply  of  blood;  and  epistaris, 
or  bleeding  from  the  nose,  takes  place  from  slight 
causes.  The  nose,  in  old  people,  usually  becomes  Kmg, 
thin,  and  sharp;  the  nostrils  wide;  and  the  pituitary 
membrane  much  less  sensible  than  at  former  periods. 

The  varieties  that  appear  in  the  external  form  of  the 
nose,  though  of  no  great  moment  to  the  professional 
anatomist,  or  the  physiologist,  are  of  great  importance 
to  the  painter  and  the  naturalist,  as  they  afford  some  of 
the  most  striking  marks  of  discrimination  in  the  infi- 
nitely diversified  expression  of  the  human  countenance. 
Perhaps  no  feature  admits  of  a  greater  variety  of  figure 
than  the  nose.  Not  only  in  the  more  striking  shades  of 
distinction  that  mark  the  varieties  of  the  human  race, 
are  these  differences  apparent;  in  every  nation,  almost 
in  every  province,  the  nose  exhibits  a  diversity  of  ap- 
pearance more  or  less  striking,  though  less  general. 
The  long  nose,  gently  arched,  with  a  tip  more  or  less 
acute,  which  generally  distinguishes  the  southern  Eu- 
ropean, changes  in  the  northern  regions  of  Europe  and 
Asia  to  a  flatfish,  broad,  and  obtuse  nose ;  becomes  still 
more  broad  and  flat  among  the  Calmucs,  the  Chinese, 
(he  Hottentots,  and  the  negroes  of  the  Guinea  coast ; 
and  in  the  first  of  these  it  is  extremely  small.  The  dif- 
ferences that  take  place  among  peo|)le  of  the  same  na- 
tion, are  too  numerous  to  admit  of  being  particularized 
in  this  place,  though  they  well  deserve  the  attention  of 
the  artist. 

The  morbid  appearances  in  the  organs  of  smelling  are 
not  very  numerous.  The  bones  are  sometimes  broken 
flat  to  the  face,  or  rendered  carious  by  disease.  The 
nostrils  are  sometimes  found  imiiervious  at  their  external 
opening,  or  obstructed  internally.  Fungous,  or  can- 
cerous tumours  are  occasionally  seen  on  the  skin  of  the 
nose;  and  not  unfrequently  similar  tumours  are  observed 
hanging  from  the  investing  membrane  Ulcers  of  this 
membrane,  discharging  a  very  acrid  fluid,  are  some- 
times met  with  ;  and,  in  a  few  cases,  the  whole  nose  has 
been  consumed  in  consequence  of  a  cancerous  or  syphi- 
litic affection. 

On  the  anatomy  of  the  nose,  see  Hunter's  obscrva- 
tiotis  on  some  parts  of  the  Animal  Economy ;  Bichat 
Anatcmie  Descriptive,  tome  ii ;  and  Cuvier,  Anatotnie 
Comparie,  tome  ii.  with  Tables  of  Loder. 

4.  Of  the  Organs  of  Hearing. 

The  organs  destined  to  convey  the  sensation  of  sound 
consist,  in  man,  of  the  external  ear,  or  auricle,  and  an 
internal  bony  cavity,  with  numerous  circular  and  wind- 
ing passages,  formed  within  the  petrous  portion  of  the 
temporal  bone.  By  the  former,  the  vibrations  of  the  air 
are  collected  and  concentrated,  and,  by  a  peculiar  me- 
chanism, they  are  conveyed  to  the  internal  cavities  in 
which  the  nervous  fibrils  are  distributed. 

The  external  ear  is  chiefly  composed  of  an  elastic 
cartilage,  bent  into  various  folds  and  hollows,  covered 
with  very  thin  integuments,  which,  uniting  with  a  dense 
cellular  substance,  form  at  the  most  depending  part,  a 
round  moveable  bo<ly,  of  but  little  sensibility,  called  the 
lobe  of  (he  ear.  The  various  folds  and  eminences  of  the 
nuricular  cartilage  have  been  distinguished  by  particular 


ANATOMY. 


7?  J 


names.  Thus,  the  outer  prominent  edge  that  is  most 
remarkable  on  the  upper  part  of  the  cartilage,  and  turns 
inward  opposite  the  cheek-bone,  is  called  helix,  from 
its  spiral  direction.  The  prominent  rising  that  lies  jnst 
within  this,  extending  on  the  posterior  part  to  the  root 
of  the  lobe,  is  called  anthclix  or  antihelix,  as  being  op- 
posite to  the  helix.  The  small  protuberance  in  which 
the  helix  appears  to  terminate  below  at  its  inner  edge, 
and  which  projects  a  little  outward,  is  called  tragus, 
from  its  being  often  covered  with  hair,  and  thus  bearing 
a  fancied  resemblance  to  a  goat's  beard,  and  another 
eminence  nearly  opposite  to  this,  and  projecting  out- 
wards over  the  hollow  of  the  ear,  is  called  antitragus. 
That  superficial  depression  which  we  observe  a  little 
within  and  before  the  anthelix,  is  called  scapha ;  and 
the  large  cavity  formed  by  the  whole  cartilage,  and 
opening  internally,  is  called  concha,  from  its  resemblance 
to  the  liollow  of  a  shell.  This  concha  is  the  commence- 
ment of  what  is  called  the  external  auditory  passage 
(imatus  auditorius  externus.)  The  beginning  of  this 
passage  is,  like  the  external  ear,  composed  of  cartilage, 
and  this  cartilage  unites  to  that  orifice  in  the  temporal 
bone,  which  in  the  skull  is  situated  between  the  roots 
of  the  zygomatic  and  mastoid  processes,  and  is  also 
called  nuatus  externus.  The  remainder  of  the  tube, 
which  extends  but  to  a  small  distance,  is  hollow  within 
the  temporal  bone.  The  cartilaginous  tube  is  lined  by 
a  fine  soft  membrane.  Between  the  skin  of  the  external 
ear  and  the  cartilages,  there  are  several  glands  that 
secrete  a  particular  unctuous  substance,  called  cerumen 
or  wax  of  the  ear,  which  is  discharged  by  numerous 
small  ducts,  opening  within  the  cartilaginous  tube.  The 
glands  are  called,  from  their  office,  glanitulw  ceruminoste, 
and  are  most  numerous  round  the  cartilaginous  tube. 
Attached  to  the  external  ear  there  are  several  muscles, 
some  of  which  are,  in  most  subjects,  extremely  small, 
and  have  little  effect  in  changing  the  position  of  the 
auricle,  except  where  they  are  rendered  more  sensible 
by  long  acquired  habit.  (See  the  table  of  muscles.)  Hairs 
commonly  project  from  the  skin  of  the  concha  across 
the  auditory  passage.  By  these,  and  the  wax  secreted 
by  the  glands,  insects  are  prevented  from  intruding 
within  the  cavity. 

The  external  auditory  passage  does  not  run  in  a 
straight  direction  ;  it  first  rises  coronad  and  glahellad, 
or  upwards  and  forward,  and  then  takes  a  slight  turn 
and  pH&ses  hasilad  or  downward.  At  its  termination  there 
is  a  strong  transparent  membrane  stretched  across  the 
passage,  and  forming,  when  entire,  a  complete  parti- 
tion between  the  external  passage  and  the  internal  cavi- 
ties. This  is  called  by  anatomists,  membrana  tympani, 
and  in  common  language,  the  drum  of  the  ear,  from  its 
having  the  appeara»ice  of  parchment.  This  membrane 
is  inserted  within  a  small  groove,  and  has  a  slight  de- 
pression, rendering  it  a  little  concave  towards  the  ex- 
ternal passage,  and  convex  towards  the  internal  cavity. 
It  is  susceptible  of  being  stretched  or  relaxed,  by  the 
action  of  particular  muscles. 

Having  passed  the  membrane  of  the  tympanum,  we 
enter  an  irregular  hemispherical  shallow  cavity,  called 
the  cavity  of  the  tympanum,  of  a  very  irregular  form, 
and  furnished  with  several  openings,  by  which  it  com- 
municates with  a  fauces,  (or  opening  at  the  back  of 
the  mouth,)  with  the  cells  of  the  mastoid  process,  and 
with  another  cavity  of  the  internal  ear,  situated  beyond 
the  tympanum.  Within  tlie  cavity  of  the  tympanum 
there  are  also  several  small  boues,  which  will  be  pre- 


sently noticed.  The  Orifice  leading  to  the  fauces  is  the 
commencement  of  a  long  conical  tube,  partly  bony, 
partly  membranous,  and  partly  cartilaginous,  which  ex- 
pands as  it  approaches  the  fauces,  and  in  some  measure 
reseuibles  a  trumpet.  This  is  called  the  eustachian  tube  ; 
and  through  this  cavity  the  mucus  of  the  nose  sometimes 
insinuates  itself,  when  we  blow  the  nose  very  hard,  and 
produces  a  very  disagreeable  sensation  of  fullness  and 
tightness  within  the  ear.  After  removing  the  bony  con- 
tents of  the  tympanum,  we  observe,  opposite  to  the 
membrane,  two  holes,  one  above  the  other,  with  a  bony 
eminence  between  them.  The  higher  of  these  holes  is 
of  an  irregular  oval  form,  and  is  called  the  oval  hole  (or 
fenestra  ovalis ;)  the  lower  is  round,  and  is  called  the 
round  hole  (fenestra  rotunda.)  The  eminence  between 
them  is  called  the  promontory. 

The  bones  that  occupy  the  cavity  of  the  tympanum 
are  generally  descrilied  as  four  in  number.  One  of  these 
is  of  an  irregular  shape,  with  a  large  rounded  protube- 
rance at  one  extremity,  and  a  long  pointed  process  at 
the  other.  (See  Plate  XXII.  Fig.  I,  B.)  This  is  called 
the  malleus,  or  mallet,  and  is  fixed  to  the  membrane  of 
the  tympanum,  with  its  round  head  uppermost.  Con- 
nected with  this  bone,  towards  the  mastoid  process,  is 
a  second,  with  a  broad  irregularly  hollow  surface,  and 
two  processes  called  its  legs.  This  is  called  incus,  from 
its  supposed  resemblance,  either  in  form  or  connexion, 
to  an  anvil.  One  of  its  legs  is  longer  than  the  other; 
and  the  shorter  of  them  joins  the  cells  of  the  mastoid 
process ;  while  the  longer  of  them  is  articulated  with  a 
verj'  small  round  bone,  called  os  orbiculare,  or  the  orbi- 
cular bone,  forming  a  connecting  medium  between  the 
incus  ami  the  next  bone.  This  last  has  been  not  unaptly 
compared  to  a  stirrup,  which  it  very  much  resembles, 
and  has  therefore  been  called  stapes.  The  broad  end  of 
this  bone,  forming  the  base  of  the  stirrup,  is  united  to 
the  oval  hole  ;  while  the  small  end,  called  its  head,  joins, 
as  we  have  said,  the  incus,  through  the  medium  of  the 
orbicular  bone,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  form  nearly  a 
right  angle  with  the  long  leg  of  the  inats.  All  these 
bones  are  extremely  hard,  are  covered  with  periosteum, 
and  are  articulated  to  each  other  l>y  means  of  capsular 
ligaments.  Attached  to  them  are  a  few  muscular  fibres 
that  have  received  particular  names,  and  apjiear  to 
regulate  their  motions.  Between  the  malleus  and  incus 
runs  a  small  nervous  cord,  coming  from  the  portio  dura 
of  the  seventh  pair,  and  crossing  the  tympanum,  whence 
it  is  called  chorda  tympani.  The  round  hole  has  no  bone 
attached  to  it,  hut  is  closed  by  a  membrane. 

More  internally  is  situated  the  principal  cavity  of  the 
ear,  consisting  of  several  winding  passages,  filled  with 
a  watery  fluid,  and  lined  with  a  pulpy  membrane,  on 
which  are  distributed  the  extremities  of  the  nerves. 
The  whole  cavity,  including  these  winding  passages,  is 
not  unaptly  termed  the  labyrinth  oi  the  ear;  and  the 
central  opening  in  which  the  winding  passages  meet, 
and  which  communicates  with  the  tympanum  chiefly  by 
the  oval  hole,  is  called  the  vestibule.  On  that  side  of 
the  vestibule,  which  is  next  the  mastoid  process,  there 
are  five  orifices  leading  to  three  semicircular  cavities, 
formed  within  the  substance  of  the  bone,  and  called 
semicircular  canals.  The  extremities  of  two  of  these 
canals  on  one  side  unite,  and  form  a  common  opening ; 
hence  there  appear  in  the  vestibule  only  five  holes  in- 
stead of  six.  These  semicircular  canals  have  been  dis- 
tinguished by  separate  names,  according  to  their  rela- 
tive situation.  Thus,  that  which  is  the  natural  position 
5  E  2 


772 


ANATOMY. 


of  the  parts  is  highest,  or  looks  cormad,  is  called  the 
superior  canal ;  that  which  looks  with  its  convex  part 
next  the  cavity  of  the  skull,  is  called  posterior  or  ob- 
lique ;  and  that  which  looks  towards  the  tympanum, 
and  lies  more  horizontally  than  the  rest,  is  called  the 
exterior  canal.  The  interior  cavity  of  these  bony  canals 
is  lined  with  a  membrane,  forming  membranous  tubes 
corresponding  with  the  bony  cavities,  and  sometimes 
called  the  memliranous  canals.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  vestibule  there  is  an  opening  into  part  of  a  dou- 
ble spiral  cavity,  winding  round  like  the  shell  of  a  snail, 
or  periwinkle,  and  hence  called  cochlea.  Its  opening 
into  the  vestibule  is  called  scala  vestibuli.  There  is 
another  opening  to  the  cochlea  from  the  tympanum  by 
the  round  hole ;  but  this,  as  we  have  said,  is  closed  by 
membrane. 

There  is  no  part  of  the  anatomy  of  the  ear,  or  perhaps 
of  human  anatomy  in  general,  so  difficult  to  be  under- 
stood from  description,  as  the  structure  of  the  cochlea. 
A  correct  idea  of  this  intricate  passage  can  scarcely  be 
conveyed  by  words,  and  the  drawings  that  have  been 
given  of  this  part  oi'  the  ear  are  not  much  more  intelli- 
gible to  those  who  have  never  seen  the  parts  demon- 
strated. If  we  suppose  a  pretty  long  hollow  cone,  di- 
vided longitudinally  by  a  partition  that  reaches  nearly  to 
tlie  point,  to  be  wrapped  round  a  central  pillar,  (com- 
posed of  a  short  cone,  and  also  hollow,)  so  as  to  make 
two  turns  and  a  half,  and  to  preserve  its  conical  form, 
we  shall  have  a  tolerably  correct  idea  of  the  internal 
structure  of  the  cochlea.  The  spiral  turns  supposed  to 
be  made  by  the  moveable  cone,  are  commonly  called 
scalm,  from  their  supposed  resemblance  to  a  stair-case. 
One  of  these,  as  we  have  said,  opens  directly  into  the 
vestibule,  and  is  called  scala  vestibuli ;  the  other  looks 
towards  the  tympanum,  and  is  called  scala  ti/mpani. 
3?he  former  looks  towards  a  cavity  that  opens  from  the 
■jnternal  part  of  the  petrous  portion  of  the  temporal  bone 
next  the  dura  maler,  called  the  internal  auditory  pas- 
sage {nuutus  audilorius  interims.)  The  partition  that 
divides  the  two  spiral  cavities  from  each  other,  is  called 
the  spiral  plate  {lamina  spiralis  ;)  and  in  the  fresh  state 
of  the  parts,  is  composed  of  a  spongy  bony  plate,  next 
the  central  pillar,  with  a  membranous  expansion  stretch- 
ing from  its  peripheral  edge  to  the  side  of  the  spiral 
canal.  The  short  cone  which  we  suppose  to  form  the 
central  pillar,  is  called  tnodeolus  ;  and  above  this  there 
is  a  funnel-shaped  cavity  appearing  like  another  cone, 
placed  with  its  point  next  that  of  the  modeolus,  and 
communicating  with  it.  This  has  been  called  infundi- 
bulum,  or  funnel ;  and  here  the  spiral  plate  is  deficient, 
so  that  the  two  spiral  canals  of  the  cochlea  communicate 
with  each  other.  Through  the  opening  at  the  base  of 
the  modeolus,  a  branch  of  the  auditory  nerve  that  has 
entered  by  the  internal  auditory  passage,  passes  up- 
wards, or  rather  forwards,  into  the  funnel-sha|ied  cavity, 
and  is  thence  extended  through  the  spiral  canals;  while 
another  branch  passes  backwards  through  the  vestibule, 
and  entfcrs  by  several  divisions  the  orifices  of  the  semi- 
circular canals.  There  arc  several  other  holes,  and  a 
spongy,  cribriform  plate,  all  opening  from  the  cavity  of 
the  skull  into  the  labyrinth,  and  these  through  numerous 
nerves  and  blood  vessels  pass  to  and  from  the  internal 


ear.     All  these  internal  cavities  are  lined  with  fibrous* 
membranes,  callod  their  periosteum*. 

Tb.e  variations  that  are  found  to  takeplace  in  the  ear 
at  different  ages  are  not  very  great.  In  the  foetus,  the 
entrance  to  the  bony  part  of  the  external  auditory  pas- 
sage, is  merely  cartilaginous,  and  the  membrane  of  the 
tympanim]  is  fixed  in  an  imperfect  separate  bony  ring, 
and  is  covered  with  a  mucous  membrane.  The  internal 
cavities  of  the  ear  are,  however,  nearly  in  their  perfect 
state  at  birth,  and  the  labyrinth,  in  particular,  is  almost 
as  large  in  children  as  in  adults. 

The  morbid  appearances  of  the  organs  of  hearing, 
especially  those  of  the  internal  cavities,  are  of  consider- 
able importance,  as  they  tend  to  illustrate  the  causes  of 
deafness  and  the  means  that  are  likely  to  relieve  it.  The 
most  material  of  these  appearances  are  fungous  tumours 
within  the  external  passage;  inflammation,  thickening, 
rupture  or  entire  destruction  of  the  membrane  of  the 
tympanum;  loss  of  the  small  bones;  ulceration  of  the 
membrane  lining  the  cavity  of  the  tympanum ;  obstruc- 
tion of  the  eustachian  tube  ;  unusual  tenacity  or  coagu- 
lation of  the  water  of  the  labyrinth,  or  a  change  of  this 
to  a  bony  matter.  Of  these  the  most  injurious  to  the 
sense  of  hearing  seem  to  be  the  obstruction  of  the  eusta- 
chian tube,  and  the  solidity  of  the  matter  in  the  laby- 
rinth. The  rupture  of  the  membrane,  and  even  the  loss 
of  the  bones,  provided  the  stapes  be  left,  may  take  place 
without  being  succeeded  by  any  considerable  degree  of 
deafness.  On  this  subject,  see  a  paper  by  Mr.  Astley 
Cooper,  in  the  Philosophical  Tratisactions  for  1801,  p. 
436,  or  Nicholson's  Journal,  8vo.  vol.  i.  p.  102. 

The  writers  who  have  treated  on  the  anatomy  of  the 
ear  are  very  numerous,  but  we  shall  mention  only  the 
most  important.  These  are  Du  Verney,  De  Organo 
Atiditus ;  Valsalva,  De  Aure  Humana  Traclatus ;  Co- 
tunnius,  De  Aqueductibus  Juris;  Cassibohmius,  Dc 
Aure ;  Scarpa,  Anatomicte  Disquisitiones  de  Auditu  el 
Olfaclu ;  Soemmering,  Abbildungen  dcs  Menschlichen 
Hoerorganes ;  Bichat,  Anatomic  Descriptive,  torn.  II.; 
Cuvier,  Lrfons  d'Anatomif  ComparSe,  tom.  II. ;  Monro 
on  the  Brain,  the  Eye,  and  the  Ear,  and  Bell's  Anatomy, 
vol.  III.  part  II. 

Some  of  these  works,  especially  those  of  Scarpa  and 
Soiimmering,  contain  excellent  figures  of  the  several 
part's  of  the  ear;  but  beside  these,  we  may  warmly  re- 
commend two  plates,  in  the  first  volume  of  Albinus's 
Annotationcs  Academicce.  These  contain  a  regular  se- 
ries of  views  of  the  internal  cavities  of  the  ear,  as  they 
would  appear  on  a  gradual  dissection,  both  from  the 
outer  and  the  inner  sides  of  the  temporal  bone;  and  as 
the  parts  are  represented  of  the  natural  size,  and  in 
their  ordinary  position,  we  consider  these  figures  as 
among  the  most  instructive  that  have  been  published  on 
the  subject.     See  Ear. 

5.  Cff  the  Organs  of  Sight. 

The  organs  of  sight  are  not  less  complex  than  those 
of  hearing,  which  we  have  just  described,  and  consist, 
like  them,  of  external  and  internal  parts.  The  former 
are  the  eye-lids,  eye-brows,  eye-lashes,  and  the  adjoin- 
ing muscles  and  membranes.     The  latter  consist  of  the 


*  It  is  of  eonser|ii?nce  to  reraurk,  timt  the  cavitie*  of  the  labyrinth,  here  described,  »re  holloweil  out  of  tlic  «olid  substance  of  th« 
t'inporal  bone  j  and  thiit  when  seen  in  their  naluial  sitiiation,  they  do  not  appear  with  those  elegant  rouiiilcd  and  spiral  forms  on  their 
outside,  under  wliieli  they  are  represented  in  enprravinRS,  and  demonstrated  in  preparations.  These  external  forms  are  artificial,  and 
are  fashioned  by  ihe  chisel  and  the  file  of  the  artist,  thill  l)ie  parU  may  correspoud  iQ  tUeir  outward  appc»rauce»  with  thoje  elegant 
windings  that  distinguish  their  internal  cayiliw. 


ANATOMY. 


773 


eye-ball,  with  i(s  muscles,  the  optic  iierre,  and  the  la- 
chrymal gland,  all  contained  within  what  are  called  the 
orbits  or  sockets  of  the  eyes.  In  describing  these  or- 
gans, we  shall  begin  with  the  eye-ball  and  its  afipen- 
dages,  as  constituting  the  most  important,  though  most 
complex  part  of  the  structure. 

The  orbilx  or  bony  cavities  in  which  the  eye-balls  are 
lodged,  are  composed  of  processes  from  several  bones 
both  of  the  skull  and  face.  The  vaulted  arch  that  forms 
the  separation  between  the  eye-ball  and  the  brain,  is  a 
production  of  the  /ro/tioZ  hciu  ;  the  inferior  hollow,  on 
which  the  ball  rests,  is  made  up  of  productions  Irom  the 
Mr>\tc.T  jaw-bone,  the  chcek-hmic,  and  the  palate-bone  ;  the 
hmporal  or  lateral  part  of  the  orbit,  is  formed  by  a  pro- 
cess from  the  sphenoidal  bone,  and  partly  by  one  from 
the  cheek-bone ;  and  the  interior  or  mesial  part  is 
formed  principally  by  the  ungual  bone.  The  whole  or- 
bit has  the  shape  of  an  inverted  cone,  the  point  of  which 
is  next  the  brain,  and  at  this  place  there  are  numerous 
holes  and  chinks  lor  the  passage  of  blood-vessels  and 
nerves,  that  coaie  from  the  skull  to  supply  the  eye  and 
parts  adjacent. 

The  eye-ball  is  of  a  rounded  figure,  and,  when  freed 
from  the  cellular  membrane  that  surrounds  it,  appears 
to  be  composed  of  segments  of  two  unequal  spheres, 
one  of  which  forms  that  part  of  the  eye-ball  which  is 
within  the  orbit,  constituting  about  four-fifths  of  the 
whole ;  while  the  other,  constituting  the  remaining  one- 
fifth,  comiioses  that  part  of  the  ball  wliich  is  seen  in 
front.  The  sphere  of  which  this  latter  is  a  part,  is  less 
than  the  former,  or  this  latter  is  more  convex.  Thus, 
the  diameter  of  the  eye-ball  from  before  backward,  is 
longer  than  its  transverse  diameter,  in  the  proportion 
of  obout  25  to  23.  The  ball  of  the  eye  is  much  less  than 
the  cavity  in  which  it  is  lodged,  but  the  interval  is  filled 
up  with  cellular  membrane,  which  facilitates  the  motions 
of  the  ball.  It  is  so  situated  within  the  orbit,  that  the 
axis  of  the  two  eyes,  if  supposed  to  be  produced,  would 
meet  within  the  skull  behind  the  orbits. 

The  eye-ball  is  composed  chielly  of  membranes  and 
humours.  Anatomists  usually  distinguish  three  mem- 
branes of  the  eye-bail,  though  we  may,  perhaps,  adtl  a 
fourth.  The  outmost  has,  from  its  firmness,  been  called 
the  sclerotic  membrane,  or  coat.  This  is  a  fibrous  mem- 
brane, composed  of  a  single  layer,  of  a  dense,  and  thick 
texture,  especially  at  its  back  part,  and  is  formed  by 
numerous  fibres,  so  interlaced  with  each  other,  as 
scarcely  to  be  distinguished.  This  membrane  is  abun- 
dantly supplied  with  blood-vessels,  and  exhalants,  but 
seems  to  be  furnished  with  few  or  no  nerves,  as  it  pos- 
sesses little  sensibility.  The  external  membrane  that 
covers  the  fore  part  of  the  eye  is  called  the  cornea,  which 
we  would  distinguish  from  the  former,  as  it  is  less 
dense,  and  not  fibrous  like  it,  but  is  made  up  of  a  great 
number  of  concentric  layers ;  and  in  the  dead  body,  is 
easily  seiiarated  from  the  sclerotic  by  maceration.  Be- 
tween the  transparent  part  of  the  eye,  which  is  more 
strictly  called  cornea,  and  the  interior  part  of  the  scle- 
rotic, lies  the  white  of  the  eye,  covered  by  the  mcmhrana 
conjunctiva,  which  is  a  mucous  membrane  that  lines  the 


inside  of  the  eye-lids,  and  is  reflected  thence  over  the 
whole  peripheral  and  anterior  surface  of  the  eye-ball, 
being  transparent  where  it  passes  over  the  cornea,  and 
appearing  while  and  Oj)aque  where  it  covers  the  scle- 
rotic, lying  between  the  cornea  and  the  angles  of  the 
eye.  Between  the  conjunctiva,  and  the  sclerotic  coat 
and  eye-lids,  there  is  a  quantity  of  cellular  substance, 
and  within  this  lie  several  small  mucous  glands. 

The  concentric  layers  composing  the  cornea  appear 
to  be  of  a  cellular  texture,  and  the  cells  contain  a  serou» 
fluid,  which  is  sometimes  coagulated,  and  produces 
opacity  of  the  cornea.  The  substance  of  this  membrane 
resembles  coagulated  allniincn,  rendered  transparent  by 
exi)osure  to  the  air,  except  that  it  has  Bot  the  yellow 
colour  of  this  albumen. 

The  cornea  seems  to  have  few  or  no  blood-vessels, 
except  exhalants,  and  no  traces  of  nerves  can  be  detect- 
ed in  it.  Indeed,  like  the  sclerotic  coat,  it  is  nearly 
insensible. 

Within  the  sclerotic  membrane  lies  one  which  is  ex- 
tremely vascular,  and  is  called  the  choroid  coat  or  mem- 
brane. It  is  concentric  with  the  sclerotic,  but  may, 
without  difliculty,  be  separated  from  it.  There  is  in 
this  membrane  no  appearance  of  fibres,  except  a  few  ra- 
diated striae  at  its  anterior  margin.  It  appears  to  be 
entirely  made  of  minute  blood-vessels.  Its  central  sur- 
face is  lined  with  a  mucous  substance,  which  is  usually 
of  a  dark  brown  colour,  and  hns  been  called  pi^iutUum 
niginim;  but  when  this  is  dcai-etl  away,  and  the  choroid 
membrane  uiacer«t«il,  the  membrane  appears  transpa- 
rent. At  its  back  part  there  is  an  opening  in  the  cho- 
roid, called  tliB  crilirous  plate,  from  its  being  perforated 
with  many  holes,  for  the  passage  of  the  divisions  of  the 
optic  nerve,  where  it  begins  to  form  the  retina. 

This  is  merelyan  expansion  of  the  o|)tic  nerve,  though 
it  is  commonly  called  the  third  membrane  of  the  eye- 
ball. Its  general  form  and  disposition  are  the  same 
with  that  of  the  choroid,  which  it  every  were  invests. 
Of  the  origin  of  this  membrane  from  the  trunk  of  the 
optic  nerve,  there  is  no  doubt,  though  many  disputes 
have  taken  place  respecting  its  anterior  termination ; 
some  anatomists  supposing,  that  it  terminates  at  the 
anterior  margin  of  the  choroiil  coat,  while  others  assert 
that  it  proceeds  much  further*.  Though  certainly  de- 
rived from  the  medullary  substance  of  the  optic  nerve, 
the  retina  dilfers  from  that  substance  in  many  respects. 
It  is  of  a  darker  colour,  and  of  less  density,  but  it  is  en- 
tirely a  pulpous  matter,  and  according  to  Bichat,  with- 
out any  appearance  of  fibres.  We  have  said  that  the 
retina  every  where  invests  the  choroid  membrane,  but 
this  is  not  strictly  accurate,  as  Soemmering  has  disco- 
vered that  there  is  a  particular  ^pot  about  two  lines 
distance  from  the  entra«ce  of  the  optic  nerve,  in  the 
direction  of  the  axis  of  the  eye-ball,  where  the  retina  is 
deficient.  This  spot  is  about  a  line  in  diameter,  and  is 
of  a  yellowish  colour,  deepest  in  the  centre,  where 
there  is  a  circular  hole,  or  deficiency  of  the  nervous 
membrane.  This  yellow  spot  may  be  seen  in  some 
cases  through  the  crystalline  lens,  with  the  centre  of 
which  it  appears  to  corre.spoud.     See    Soemmering's 


•  It  ia  our  intention  in  tlie  pi-esent  article  to  dwell  as  little  as  possible  on  disputed  points  in  Anatomy.  We  have,  therefore,  in  the 
text,  mentioned  on!y  in  general  terms  the  divcrsit  of  opinion  resjiecting  the  termination  of  the  retina.  It  may  be  proper,  however,  to 
ohserve,  that  Ur.  Monro,  in  his  treatises  on  the  Brain,  the  Eue,  atul  the  Ear,  seemed  to  hi'.ve  proved,  that  the  retina  extends  to  the  bor- 
ders of  the  ciTstalline  lens,  till  Soemmering,  in  his  late  elegant  work,  Iconet  OcuU  Hum.ini,  considered  himself  as  lnving  demonstrated 
that  it  terminates  at  a  short  distance  from  the  cdiary  processes.  Biciiiit,  however,  in  Wi%  .^nutorAte  Ddscriprive,  lom.  ii.  page  i47,  asserts, 
that  this  termination  of  the  retina  is  only  apparent,  and  that  a  tliin  laicina  is  reflcclod  over  tiie  eiliiyy  piocesses,  which  it  iuvcsts,  ^juss- 
ing  between  the  intermediate  spaces,  aud  finally  advances  its  fw  the  crysuUliiie. 


774 


ANATOMY. 


plates,  Table  V.  fig.  4,  5,  6.  The  retina  is  extremely 
sensible,  but  there  seems  a  doubt  respecting  its  irrita- 
bility, or  at  least  its  contractibility.  It  is  well  known, 
that  Darwin  considered  it  as  a  fibrous  membrane,  sus- 
ceptible of  contraction.  Bichat,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
tends that  it  is  not  fibrous,  and  that  it  has  no  animal 
contractibility. 

The  cavity  within  the  membranes  of  the  eye-ball  is 
filled  with  fluids  of  very  different  densities ;  these  are 
called  the  humours  of  the  eye,  and  in  the  healthy  state 
are  transparent  and  colourless.  Each  of  them  is  con- 
tained within  its  own  membrane,  w  hich  is  delicate,  and 
equally  transparent  with  the  humour;  About  three- 
fourths  of  the  globe  of  the  eye  at  its  posterior  part,  are 
filled  by  the  vitreous  humour,  which  appears  to  be 
nearly  of  the  coniistence  of  the  white  of  egg.  The 
greatest  part  of  its  surface  is  spherical,  from  its  con- 
tiguity to  the  retina,  and  choroid  membrane,  by  which 
it  is  there  completely  invested;  but  on  the  anterior 
surface  there  is  a  circular  depression,  with  a  convex 
edge  rising  round  it.  The  membrane  in  which  the  vitre- 
ous humour  is  immediately  contained,  and  which  is  call- 
ed the  hyaloid  membrane,  is  made  up  of  numerous  lit- 
tle bags,  each  filletl  with  the  fluid,  and  probably  comrau-  , 
nicating  with  each  other.  In  the  anterior  depression  of 
the  vitreous  humour  is  lotlged  the  crystalline  lens  or  hu- 
mour, which  is  a  pretty  firm  body  growing  more  dense 
towards  the  centre,  of  a  flattened  form,  convex  on  each 
side,  but  more  so  next  the  vitreous  humour.  It  is  en- 
closed in  a  peculiar  capsule,  in  which  it  appears  to  float 
loosely,  there  being  inter|)osed  between  them  «  watery 
fluid,  commonly  called  liquor  mofrgagni.  The  crystal- 
line lens  is  composed  of  a  great  number  of  lamiuse, 
■which  become,  as  we  have  said,  more  and  more  dense 
towards  the  centre,  and  each  of  these  lamina;  is  made 
up  of  very  distinct  parallel  filires.  The  remaining  part 
of  the  eye-ball  is  filled  with  a  watery  fluid,  called  the 
a/jwous  humour,  contained  also  within  a  delicate  mem- 
brane, which  lines  the  inside  of  the  cornea,  and  passes 
over  the  crystalline  lens,  and  the  convex  margin  of  the 
▼itreous  humour.  In  the  middle  of  tlie  aqueous  humour 
floats  the  iris,  thus  dividing  it  into  what  are  called  two 
chambers. 

Though  the  aqueous  and  vitreous  humours  appear  of 
very  different  densities,  while  the  latter  is  within  its 
capsule,  their  physical  and  chemical  properties  are 
nearly  the  same.  Both  are  limpid  and  transparent, 
both  have  a  specific  gravity  very  little  exceeding  that  of 
'water,  viz.  about  1.0053;  and  both  consist  chiefly  of 
water,  with  a  little  albumen  and  gelatine.  Hence  their 
refractive  power  must  be  nearly  equal,  except  iu  so  far 
»s  this  is  modified  by  their  situation  and  relative  position. 
The  crystalline  lens,  however,  is  much  more  dense, 
has  a  specific  gravity  equal  to  1:0790;  and  contains  a 
much  greater  proportion  of  albumen  and  gelatine. 
When  dried,  the  crystalline  lens  nearly  resembles 
■coagulated  albumen  in  a  dry  and  transparent  state*. 

The  anterior  opening  of  the  choroid  coat  is  surround- 
ed on  the  outside  by  a  grayish  ring,  of  sensible  thick- 
ness, called  the  ciliary  circle,  orsometimesthe  ciliary  liga- 
ment. This  circle  is  situated  centrad  of  the  anterior 
border  of  the  sclerotic,  to  which  it  slightly  adheres. 


From  this  circle  pass  numerous  productions  over  the 
margin  of  the  vitreous  humour  towards  the  crystalline 
lens,  and  these  are  called  ciliary  processes.  Each  of  these 
processes  is  of  an  irregular  triangular  figure,  with  its 
base  at  the  ciliary  circle,  and  its  apex  towards  the  lens ; 
and  together  they  form  a  broad  striated  ring,  between 
the  vitreous  humour  and  the  vascular  membrane,  called 
the  iris. 

The  iris  is  that  broad  coloured  circle,  which  we  ob- 
serve in  the  middle  of  the  eye,  behind  the  cornea.  It 
stretches  from  the  margin  of  the  choroid  membrane 
before  the  crystalline  lens,  and  at  a  small  distance  from 
it,  dividing  the  aqueous  humour  into  what  are  called 
anterior  and  posterior  chambers.  The  iris  is  partly 
fibrous,  and  partly  spongy.  Two  orders  of  fibres  have 
been  described  in  the  iris,  longitudinal,  running  from  the 
choroid  circumference  towards  the  central  opening,  call- 
ed the  pupil ;  and  circular,  surrounding  the  pupil, 
though  the  fibrous  structure  and  muscularity  of  the  iris 
are  by  many  anatomists  denied.  The  inner  surface  of 
the  iris  is  covered  by  a  production  from  the  choroid 
membrane,  called  uvea.  The  iris  is  chiefly  comirosed 
of  blood-vessels,  and  well  supplied  with  nerves;  and  in 
the  healthy  state  of  the  eye,  is  extremely  irritable,  con- 
tracting and  dilating,  and  thus  diminishing  or  enlarging 
the  pupil,  according  as  the  rays  of  light  to  which  it  is 
exposed  are  more  or  less  abundant,  or  concentrated. 
The  contractibility  of  the  iris  has,  by  those  who  deny 
its  muscularity,  been  ascribed  to  its  sympathy  with  the 
retina. 

The  number,  attachments,  and  general  action  of  the  six 
muscles  belonging  to  the  eye-ball,  have  been  already 
noticed,  in  the  general  table  of  muscles,  page  743.  The 
origin  and  distribution  of  the  nerves  of  the  eye  have  been 
given  in  the  table  of  nerves,  page  762,  and  the  origin 
and  distribution  of  its  arteries  will  be  mentioned  in  our 
tabular  view  of  the  arteries. 

The  external  parts  of  the  eye  consist  chiefly  of  the 
eye-lids,  or  palpebrte,  with  the  eye-brows,  or  supercilia  ; 
the  eye-lashes  or  dlia,  and  the  conjunctiva. 

The  exterior  part  of  the  eye-lids  is  formed  by  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  skin  from  the  forehead  and  cheeks,  and 
from  this  a  delicate  fold  passes  over  the  edges  of  the 
eye-lids,  or  tarsi  lining  their  interior  surface,  and  being 
continued  over  the  fore  part  of  the  eye-ball,  forms  the 
external  layer  of  the  conjunctiva.  Between  these  folds 
lies  the  muscle  called  orbicularis  palpebrarum.  The  two 
eye-lids  are  joined  at  the  angles  of  the  eye  by  two  dense, 
membranous  parts,  called  commissures  ;  and  from  these 
a  cartilaginous  arch,  called  tarsus,  extends  along  the 
edge  of  each  lid.  Into  these  tarsi  the  eye-lashes  are  in- 
serted; and  on  the  inside  of  each  lid,  at  the  distance  of 
about  a  third  part  of  the  extent  of  the  tarsus,  from  the 
inner  corner  of  the  eye>  there  is  a  small  orifice,  called 
punctum  lachrynutk.  These  orifices  are  marked  in  the 
living  eye  by  small  protuberances,  and  are  the  openings 
of  two  cauals  that  meet  at  the  inner  corner  of  the  eye, 
in  the  lachrymal  duct,  which  passing  down  through  the 
OS  unguis,  o|>ens  into  (he  lachrr/mal  sac,  fonning  a  pas- 
sage for  the  tears  through  the  nose.  At  the  e<lges  of 
the  eye-lids  within  the  folds  of  the  skin,  are  situaled 
small  glands,  called  glandila  Meibomi,  or  sebaceous 


•  Tlie  general  similarity,  in  chemical  properties,  of  llie  orystalliue  lens  and  coagulated  albamen,  w»»,  we  beHeye,  first  proved  ex- 
perimentHlly  by  Ur.  J.  Kirby  ;  and  the  eii\>erimcnl3  by  uliich  this  similarity  was  establinhed,  are  related  in  bis  tnangiiral  Uiwertution, 
jOe  Lenlit  Caligine,  published  at  Edinburgli  ia  June,  tlJ02.  The  analysis  of  tWs  and  tJie  other  bumoiii-s  of  the  eye,  hat  since  been  con»- 
plctcd  by  Mr.  Chenevix  and  M.  Nicholas. 


ANATOMY. 


776 


glands,  which  secrete  a  fatty  matter,  that  prevents  the 
eye-lids  from  being  hurt  by  rubbing  against  each  other, 
and  also  keeps  the  tears  within  the  verge  of  the  tarsi. 

Between  the  ball  of  the  eye  and  tlie  upper  vault  of 
the  orbit,  on  the  temporal  side,  lies  the  lachrymal  gland, 
which  secretes  the  tears.  It  is  composed  of  a  number 
of  small  whitish,  granular  bodies,  which  are  collected 
togetiier  into  two  lobes.  From  this  gland  pass  several 
small  canals,  which,  descending  through  the  substance 
of  the  coronal  eye-lid,  gradually  exude  the  tears,  to 
be  dilfused  by  the  motion  of  the  eye-lids,  over  the 
cornea. 

The  liquor  we  call  tears  is  transparent  and  colour- 
less, has  no  odour,  but  is  proverbially  of  a  salt  taste.  It 
consists  chiefly  of  water,  holding  in  solution  a  little  soda, 
muriate  of  soda,  phosphates  of  soda  and  of  lime,  and 
mucus.  The  tears  are  evidently  intended  to  moisten 
and  clear  the  cornea,  and  what  is  not  employed  in  this 
way  is  carried  by  the  lachrymal  duct  into  the  nostrils. 

In  the  mesial  or  nasal  corner  of  the  eye,  is  a  small, 
round,  reddish  body,  called  caruncula  lachrytnalis,  which 
is  made  up  of  seven  distinct  follicles.  This  is  a  gland 
■secreting  a  whitish  fluid,  that  is  supposed  to  be  intended 
for  protecting  the  puncta  lachrymalia  against  the  intru- 
sion of  extraneous  bodies. 

The  organs  of  siglit,  like  those  of  hearing,  are  pretty 
fully  developed  at  a  very  early  stage  of  existence.  Long 
before  birth,  the  eye  of  the  child  is  completely  formed, 
but  till  about  the  seventh  month  after  concejdion,  the 
Jjupil  is  closed  with  a  grayish  membrane,  called  the 
pupillary  mtmhrane.  In  children  the  eye  appears  pro- 
portionally larger  than  in  adults,  from  the  greater  con- 
Texity  of  the  cornea,  and  the  greater  abundance  of  the 
aqueous  humour;  and  the  iris  is  in  them  of  a  darker 
colour.  As  old  age  advances,  the  cornea  becomes  flat- 
tened ;  the  whole  eye-ball,  partly  from  the  absorption  of 
the  fat  in  the  cellular  membrane  within  the  orbit,  and 
partly  from  the  diminution  of  the  humours,  appears 
sunk  in  the  socket ;  the  iris  becomes  grayish  ;  the  pupil 
dilated  and  insensible;  the  crystalline  humour  opaque 
or  discoloured  ;  and  the  vitreous  yellow.  The  eye- 
brows are  usually  thicker  and  darker  in  middle  age  than 
at  any  other  period ;  in  children  they  are  thin  and  light, 
in  old  people  straggling  and  gray. 

The  external  appearance  of  the  human  eye  is  not  the 
same  in  both  sexes.  The  ball  of  a  man's  eye  is  propor- 
tionally larger  than  that  of  a  woman's;  its  coats  and 
membranes  much  thicker;  the  skin  of  the  eye-lids  red- 
der, denser,  and  more  wrinkled ;  the  arch  into  which  its 
eye-brows  are  set  is  more  prominent,  and  the  eye-brows 
themselves  more  coarse  and  bushy.  The  eye-lashes  in 
a  man  resemble  the  eye-brows,  in  the  coarseness  of  their 
hair.  The  aperture  between  the  eye-lids,  when  the  up- 
per lid  is  in  the  natural  degree  of  elevation,  is  larger 
and  rounder  in  a  man,  and  the  corners  of  the  eye  are 
more  obtuse. 

The  most  striking  differences  in  the  human  eye,  how- 
ever, are  to  be  found  among  the  individuals  that  con- 
stitute the  varieties  of  the  human  race.  The  eye  of  a 
civilized  European  differs  in  many  respects,  as  to  its 
external  appearance,  from  that  of  the  natives  of  many 
other  regions  of  the  globe.  It  is  larger  and  more  pro- 
minent than  the  eye  of  the  Laplander  or  the  Chinese, 
while  it  has  not  the  obliquity  that  charncterizes  the  lat- 
ter, as  well  as  many  other  natives  of  (he  eastevn  climates. 
In  jiarticular,  it  differs  from  the  eye  o!  the  negro,  in 
baviug  a  fuller  and  more  prouiineDt  eye-brow,  but  much 


thinner  and  more  delicate  eye-lids ;  a  larger  space  be- 
tween the  eye-lids,  and  consequently  a  more  obtuse  an- 
gle at  the  corners.  The  basilar  eye-lid  in  a  negro  is  also 
broader,  thicker,  and  more  mobile  than  in  an  European ; 
the  eye-lashes  more  curved  and  thicker ;  the  conjunctiva 
more  dark  and  obs.cure  ;  the  cornea  smaller  and  less  con- 
vex ;  and  what  is  remarkable,  the  orbits  in  a  negro  are 
placed  like  those  of  the  ape  tribe,  nearly  in  the  same 
plane,  so  that  these  people  must  possess  a  much  smaller 
field  of  vision. 

The  appearances  of  the  eye  in  those  people  called 
Albinos,  may  perhaps  be  considered  as  morbid.  They 
consist  chiefly  in  soft,  yellowish,  white,  straight,  and 
scattered  eye-brows;  narrow,  thick,  and  inflated  eye- 
lids, of  a  chalky  colour,  and  a  scaly  appearance  ;  soft, 
bushy,  curled  eye-lashes,  of  a  very  light  colour  ;  a  thin, 
unusually  convex  cornea  ;  a  reticulated  iris,  of  a  whitish 
purple,  or  rose  colour;  and  either  a  deficiency  of  the 
pigmentum  that  lines  the  choroid  coat,  or  in  this  being 
of  a  very  light  and  reddish  colour.  The  varieties  which 
we  have  pointed  out  in  the  male  and  female  European 
eye,  in  that  of  the  negro  and  of  Albinos,  are  admirably 
portrayed  in  the  first  plate  of  Professor  SoiJmmering'g 
Icones  Oculi  Humani. 

AVhen  we  consider  the  great  variety  of  morbid  affec- 
tions to  which  the  eye  is  subject,  we  shall  naturally 
conclude  that  it  must  present  as  great  a  diversity  of 
morbid  appearances.  To  mention  all  these  would  ex- 
ceed the  limits  of  this  article,  but  we  shall  enumerate 
the  most  important  of  them.  The  coats  of  the  eye  are 
often  found  thickened,  inflamed,  and  ulcerated.  These 
appearances  are  most  common  in  the  cornea  and  the 
conjunctiva.  The  cornea  is  sometimes  ulcerated,  some- 
times rendered  opaque  by  purulent  matter,  coagulated 
albumen,  or  effused  blood,  collected  between  its  compo- 
nent layers  ;  obscured  by  specks  or  excrescences  on  its 
peripheral  surface,  or  so  much  swollen  on  its  central 
surface  as  to  come  in  contact  with  the  iris,  and  form 
what  is  called  a  staphyloma  of  the  cornea.  Besides  the 
ordinary  inflammation  with  which  the  cornea  is  affected, 
we  sometimes  observe  the  membrane  much  thickened, 
vascular,  and  opaque,  and  sometimes  having  a  fleshy  ex- 
crescence growing  over  it ;  appearances  to  which  sur- 
geons have  given  the  name  of  pterygium.  Of  the  mor- 
bid appearances  in  the  humours  of  the  eye,  the  most 
important  is  that  opacity  of  (he  crystalline  lens  which 
is  called  cataract.  In  this  disease  the  opacity  is  com- 
monly confined  to  the  lens  itself,  though  it  not  unfre- 
quently  extends  to  its  capsule,  and  in  a  few  instances  is 
confined  to  the  capsular  membrane.  An  opaque  lens 
is  generally  harder  than  natural,  but  sometimes  it  is 
unusually  soft.  Sometimes  the  capsule  of  the  lens  ad- 
heres to  the  iris,  so  as  to  produce  an  inequality  in  the 
circular  margin  of  the  pupil.  In  a  few  instances  the 
crystalline  lens  is  found  to  have  escaped  from  its  situa- 
tion, and  protruded  itself  through  the  pupil  into  the  an- 
terior chamber  of  the  eye. 

The  eye-lids  have  numerous  morbid  affections,  be- 
sides partaking  of  the  inflammations  which  affect  the 
conjunctiva  and  the  cornea.  Sometimes  they  are  af- 
fected with  cancerous  tumours  ;  sometimes  with  im- 
mense warty  excrescences  or  wens ;  in  some  case's  their 
edi^es  are  turned  inwanl  towards  the  cornea,  couslitutinw 
what  is  called  entropium  ;  in  others,  tliey  are  reflected 
outwards,  forming  cctrcpium.  It  not  unfrequently  hap- 
pens, that  the  lachrymal  d.xts  are  oL-structed,  so  that 
the  tears  cannot  descend  by  their  usual  passages  into 


776 


ANATOMY. 


the  nose,  but  Row  over  (be  larsi  and  down  the  cheeks. 
This  obslruction  of  tlie  lachrymal  passages  is  termed 
fistula  lachryinalis. 

Few  parts  of  the  human  structure  have  been  more 
frequently  or  more  fully  described  than  the  eye.  Ana- 
tomists and  opticians  have  vied  with  each  other  in  giv- 
ing a  minute  account  of  an  orcan  so  curious  and  so  im- 
portant. Still,  however,  few  of  their  descriptions  can 
be  implicitly  relied  ou.  The  most  accurate  accounts  of 
the  structure  of  the  eye,  with  which  we  are  acquainted, 
are  contained  in  Soemmering's  Abbildungen  des  mencshr 
lichen  auges,  or  the  Latin  translation  Icones  Oculi  Hw- 
mani  ;  Z  i n n's  Dcscriptio  Anatomica  Oculi  Hmnani,  2d .  ed . ; 
Monro's  Treatises  on  the  Brain,  the  Eye,  andtlu  Ear  ;  Bi- 
chut's  Anatomic  Descriptive,  torn,  ii.;  Cuvier's  Lefons 
d" Anatomic  Comparec,  torn,  ii ;  and  Bell's  Anatomy,  vol. 
iii.  part  2.  The  morbid  appearances  have  been  illus- 
trated chiefly  by  Scarpa  in  his  Practical  Treatise  on  the 
Diseases  of  the  Eyes,  written  originally  in  Italian,  and 
translated  into  French  by  Latreille ;  in  a  work  on  the 
same  sulyect  by  Beer,  of  Vienna ;  and  very  lately  by 
Mr.  James  Wardrop,  in  his  elegant  and  interesting  Es- 
says on  the  Morbid  Anatomy  of  the  Human  Eye,  with  co- 
loured plates,  that  do  equal  credit  to  the  author  and  the 
artist. 

Explanation  of  Plate  XVIII. 

In  this  plate  are  given  several  views  of  the  encepha- 
lon,  of  the  intimate  structure  of  the  skin,  and  of  (he  con- 
tents of  the  mouth ;  to  illustrate  the  structure  of  the 
common  sensorium,  and  of  the  organs  of  feeling  and  of 
mastication. 

Fig.  1  Exhibits  a  view  of  a  vertical  section  of  the  head, 
shorvin^  the  appearance  of  the  contents  of  the  skull,  part 
(f  the  cavity  of  the  nostrils,  the  roof  of  the  mouth,  and  the 
fauces. 

A,  A,  the  cut  edge  of  the  bones  of  the  skull,  showing 
the  distinction  between  plates  and  diploe  ;  a,  the  situa- 
tion of  the  coronal  suture;  B,  part  of  the  left  frontal  si- 
nus ;  C,  part  of  the  left  sphenoidal  sinus ;  D,  the  nasal 
plate  of  the  ethmoid  bone  ;  E,  the  vomer;  P,  the  cartilagi- 
nous appendage  to  the  partition  of  the  nostrils ;  G,  (he 
opening  from  the  right  nos(ril  (o  the  fauces  ;  H,  the  pa- 
late and  teeth  on  the  right  side  ;  I,  (he  spongy  interior 
of  the  occipital  bone,  and  of  the  body  of  the  s|ihenoid 
bone ;  K,  the  sella  turcica :  L,  Ii,  the  root  of  the  Calx,  the 
remainder  of  this  menilirane  being  cut  away,  to  show 
the  convolutions  on  the  mesial  sideof  the  left  hemisphere 
of  the  brain,  M,  M  ;  N,  a  section  of  the  corpus  callostim  ; 
O,  the  srptum  lucidum  ;  P,  X\\e.  fornix  ;  Q,  ^,  its  anterior 
crura  ;  R,  the  an'erior  commissure  of  the  brain  ;  S,  the 
opening  by  which  (he  la(eral  ven(ricle8  communica(e 
ivi(h  each  o(her,  and  with  the  third  ventricle ;  T,  the 
left  side  of  the  third  venlriole,  hasitad  of  the  left  thali- 
ttius  nrrvi  cptici  ;  IT,  the  infundihulum,  leading  from  (he 
third  ventricle  (o  V,  (he  pi(ui(nry  gland  ;  W,  a  section 
of  (lie  righ(  optic  nerve;  X,  the  r'.ght  corpus  albicans  ; 
Y,  part  of  the  choroid  plexus ;  Z,  the  pineal  gland,  unit- 
ed by  a  peduncle  to  a,  the  posterior  commissure  of  the 
brain;  i,  the  passage  from  the  third  (o  (he  fourth  ventri- 
cle ;  b,  rf,  a  section  of  (he  corpora  quadri^cmina  ;  e,  (he 
♦alve  of  Vieussens ;  /,  the  arbor  vita;  of  (he  cerebellum  ; 
p,  (he  cavi(y  of  the  fourth  ventricle ;  h,  ila  bottom  ;  i,  a 
section  of  (he  tuber  annulare ;  k,  the  basilar  artery;  I, 
the  mtduUa  oblongutu ;  »;j,  the  commencenicnt  of  the 
spinal  marrow. 


Fig.  2.  Exhibits  a  horizontal  section  of  tlie  brain,  show- 
ing its  internal  structure. 

A,  A,  the  corticle  or  cineritious  substance  every- 
where peripherad  to  B,  B,B,B,the  medullary  substance  ; 
C,  the  division  between  the  anterior  lobes ;  D,  D,  the 
anterior  arteries  of  the  brain ;  E,  E,  the  lateral  ventri- 
cles ;  F,  the  fornix  cut  from  its  posterior  crura,  H,  H, 
and  turned  forward;  G,  G,  its  anterior  crura  ;  I,  I,  the 
corpora  striata,  situated  in  the  glabellar  part  of  the  late- 
ral ventricles;  K,  K,  the  thalami  of  (he  optic  nerves; 
L,  L,  the  plexus  choroideei  approaching  each  other,  to 
pass  through  M,  the  passage  to  the  third  ventricle ;  N, 
N,  part  of  the  coronal  surface  of  the  cerebellum,  with 
its  vessels. 

Fig.  3.  and  4.  Shorn  the  appearance  of  the  base  of  the 
encephalon.  Fig.  4.  representmg  it  in  its  natural  state, 
with  the  blood-vessels  and  the  origins  of  the  cranial 
nerves  on  the  left  side,  nhik  Fig.  3.  shows  its  appear- 
ance after  these  have  been  removed.  The  letters  in  both 
these  figures  denote  analogous  parts,  tlie  numbers  refer 
to  the  nervous  trunks,  as  enumerated  in  the  table  of 
turves. 

A,  A,  the  anterior  lobes  of  the  brain  ;  B,  B,  its  mid- 
dle, and  C,  C,  its  posterior  lobes ;  D,  D,  the  lobes  of 
the  cerebellum,  showing  in  Fig.  3.  the  concentric  lines 
that  appear  on  its  basilar  surface  ;  E,  E,  the  tuber  annu- 
lare, or  pon.i  Varolii,  most  distinct  in  Fig.  3.;  F,  F,  the 
anterior  crura  of  the  medulla  oblmigata;  G,  its  cauda, 
forming  the  commencement  of  the  spinal  marrow;  H, 
the  corpus  pyramidale,  and  I,  the  corpus  olivare  of  the 
right  side;  IC,  K,  the  union  of  the  optic  nerves;  L,  the 
corpus  albicans  of  the  right  side ;  M,  a  part  of  the  infun- 
dibuhim. 

1,  The  first  pair,  or  olfactory  nerves ;  2,  (he  root  of 
the  left  optic  nerve,  coming  off  from  the  point  of  junc- 
tion with  its  fellow;  3,  the  third  pair,  or  motores  oculi ; 
4,  the  fourth  pair,  or  pathetic  nerves ;  5,  the  common 
root  of  the  fifth  pair,  or  trifacial  nerves;  (5,  the  sixth 
pair,  or  abductor  nerves ;  7,  (he  common  root  of  (he 
seventh  pair;  8,  the  eighth  pair;  9,  the  ninth  pair, 
or  hypoglossal  nerves;  10,  the  left  vertebral  artery, 
coming  up  to  form  with  its  fellow  on  the  opposi(e  side 
11,  the  liasilar  artery;  12,  (he  carotid  artery,  form- 
ing with  its  commmiicating  branch  13,  the  circle  of 
Willis. 

Fig.  5.  Exhibits  a  riem  of  the  different  letmina  of  the 
integuments,  as  delect'.d  by  Mr.  Cruickshaiik,  in  a  negro 
who  died  in  consequence  of  small-pox. 

a.  The  cuticle,  showing  the  scaly  appearance  of  its 
central  surface;  6,  the  peripheral  layer  of  the  rete  mu- 
cosum,  resembling  the  cuticle  in  its  appearance,  though 
of  a  lighter  colour;  c,  (he  (rue  rete  mucostim;  d,  (he 
membrane  of  (he  small-pox,  wi(h  (hree  variolous  pus- 
tules; c,  the  substance  of  the  true  skin,  with  iis  pores. 
Fig.  6.  Shows  the  arrangement  of  the  pores  of  the  skin 
in  the  corners  of  angular  figures,  as  they  are  described 
at  page  7GS. 

Fig.  7.  AfTords  a  view  of  the  villous  papillie  of  the 
skin,  as  they  appear  on  (he  point  of  the  fore  finger,  af- 
ter the  rete  vmcosum  and  membrane  of  the  small-pox 
have  been  removed. 

Fig.  8.  Shoivs  the  aypcarance  of  the  hack  of  the  inmdk, 
the  hanging  palate,  and  opening  into  the  fauces. 

A,  (he  (ongue  drawn  out  over  (he  lower  lip;  B, 
the  velum  pendulum;  C,  C,  its  anlerior  arches;  I), 
D,  its  posterior  arches ;  B,  E,  the  touslls ;  F,  the 
uvula. 


ANATOMY. 


777 


Explanation  op  Plate  XXIi*. 

This  plate  contains  views  of  the  internal  structure  of 
the  ear  and  the  eye. 

Fig.  1.  Gives  a  view  of  the  temporal  bone  of  the  left  side, 
showing  the  cavity  of  the  tympanum  laid  open,  by  removing 
the  bony  part  of  the  eztemal  auditory  passage,  and 
the  tnembranc  of  the  tympanum,  so  as  to  shorn  the  na- 
tural situation  and  connexion  of  the  small  bones. 

A,  the  bottom  of  the  cavity  of  ihe  (ynipanuin ;  B,  C, 
the  malleusjwith  its  handle  directed  downwards,  and  its 
small  process  forwards ;  U,  the  long  leg  of  the  incus, 
connected  with  E,  the  stapes,  tilling  up  the  fenestra 
ovalis  ;  F,  the  fenestra  rotunda,  or  round  hole  leading  to 
the  cochlea ;  /,  the  promontory  between  this  and  the 
oval  hole;  G,  a  superlicial  canal,  in  which  is  lodged  the 
muscle  called  tensor  tympani ;  H,  the  bony  part  of  the 
eustachian  tube  leading  to  the  mouth  ;  K,  the  posterior 
part  ol  the  petrous  portion  of  the  temporal  bone ;  L, 
the  squamous  portion;  M,  a  sinus  into  which  enters  the 
internal  jugular  vein;  N,  the  commencement  of  the  ca- 
rotic  canal,  through  which  the  interior  carotid  artery 
enters. 

Fig.  2.  Affords  a  view  oj  the  central  cavity  and  wind- 
ing pofsagcs  of  the  labyrinth,  the  whole  cf  the  tympor 
num  being  cut  away,  and  tlie  semicircular  canals,  and 
the  scula  tympani  of  the  cochlea  laid  open. 

A,  the  superior  semicircular  canal ;  B,  the  oblique, 
and  C,  the  horizontal  or  posterior  canal ;  D,  E,  F,  G,  H, 
the  five  orifices  by  which  the  semicircular  canals  open 
into  the  vestibule;  K,  L,  the  cavity  of  the  vestibule  laid 
open ;  M,  that  of  the  cochlea  which  is  left  entire,  end- 
ing in  N,  the  cupola  or  covering  of  (he  infundibulum; 
O,  the  opening  of  the  scala  tympani,  \-y  which  the  coch- 
lea communicates  with  the  tympanum;  P,  Q,  the  bony 
part  of  the  spinal-plate  that  forms  the  partition  between 
the  scala?  of  the  cochlea. 

Fig.  3.  Gives  an  enlarged  view  of  the  snmU  bones 
within  the  cavity  of  the  tympanum,  as  they  appear  in  con 
nexion  ivith  each  other,  and  is  sufficiently  clear  to  render 
an  cxplatmticn  unnecessary. 

Fig.  4.  Shows  the  distribution  of  the  acoustic  or  audi- 
tory nerves,  through  the  cavities  of  the  semicircular  canals. 

A,  that  part  of  the  superior  membranous  semicircular 
canal,  called  its  ampulla  or  belly.  B,  the  membranous 
superior  canal ;  C,  the  ampulla  of  the  external  or  oblique 
canal ;  D,  its  other  extremity  ;  E,  (he  ampulla  of  the 
posterior  membranous  canal ;  F,  the  course  of  the  pos- 
terior membranous  canal ;  G,  the  common  canal  formed 
by  the  meeting  of  the  suiierior  and  posterior  membra- 
nous canals;  H,  H,  the  central  part  where  all  the  mem- 
branous canals  unite,  called  the  alveumcommunis,  or  com- 
mon belly;  1,  the  trunk  of  the  auditory  nerve;  K,  its 
larger  branch,  giving  the  filaments,  O,  O,  to  the  am- 
pulla of  the  superior  and  exterior  canals;  M,  its  lesser 
branch  ;  N,  filaments  sent  to  the  cochlea  ;  P,  the  nerve 
expanded  on  the  common  belly;  Q,  portio  dura  of 
the  seventh  pair,  passing  behind  the  superior  semicircu- 
lar canal ;  R,  the  commencement  of  the  spiral  plate  of 
the  cochlea  ;  T,  the  body  of  the  cochlea. 

Fig.  3.  Shows  the  distribution  of  that  part  of  the  audi- 
tory nerve  that  supplies  the  passages  ef  the  cochlea. 

A,  Ihe  superior  bony  semicircular  canal ;  B,  the  pos- 
terior, and  C,  the  external  bony  semicircular  canals ; 


D,  the  bottom  of  the  great  internal  auditory  passage  ;  E^ 
the  trunk  of  the  auditory  nerve ;  F,  its  anterior  fascicu- 
lus leading  to  the  simicircular  canals;  G,  a  point  where 
this  fasciculus  is  twisted  into  a  plexus;  H,  a  swellinij 
of  the  nerve  forming  a  ganglion;  1,  the  greater,  and  K 
the  lesser  branch  of  the  anterior  fasciculus,  entering 
two  of  the  openings  of  the  semicircular  canals  ;  L,  a 
branch  passing  to  the  beginning  of  the  spiral  plate  of 
the  cochlea :  M,  the  posterior  fasciculus  of  the  auditory 
nerve;  N,  filaments  of  the  nerve  entering  the  cribri- 
form part  of  the  modiolus;  O,  the  expansion  of  these 
filaments  on  the  modiolus  ;  P,  P,  the  continuation  of  the 
filaments  between  the  two  planes  of  the  spiral  plate,  and 
terminating  on  Q,  Q,  the  membranous  part  of  tha  plate; 
R,  R,  R,  the  expansion  of  other  filaments  ou  the  second 
turn  of  the  cochlea;  and  distributed  on  the  more  inter- 
nal part  of  the  spiral  plate;  S,  the  infundibulum,  in 
which  is  seen  T,  U,  the  last  turn  of  the  spiral  plate. 

Fig.  6.  Exhibits  a  front  view  of  the  eye,  with  the  eye- 
lids considerably  opened,  and  tlu  tarsi  drawn  outwards,  to 
show  the  lachrymal  passages,  lachrymal  caruncle,  and 
sebaceous  glands. 

a,  a.  The  orifices  of  the  sebaceous  or  meibomian 
glands,  situated  at  the  edge  of  each  eye-lid  ;  b,  a  semi- 
lunar membrane,  situated  latrrad  of  c,  the  lachrymal 
caruncle ;  d,  the  puncta  lachrymalia,  or  orifices  of  the 
lachrymal  ducts,  uniting  at  the  mesial  angle  of  the  eye? 
e,f,  the  lachrymal  sac. 

Fig.  7.  Represents  the  left  eye-ball  in  its  natural  .nliia- 
tion  nilhin  the  orbit,  thx  temporal  side  of  which  is  cut 
away,  to  show  the  disposition  and  insertion  of  the  nerve» 
and  muscles. 

A,  the  ball  of  the  eye  ;  B,  the  lachrymal  gland ;  C, 
the  rectiis  abductor  muscle  ;  D,  the  rectus  attollens,  with 
its  broad  insertion ;  E,  the  levator  palpcbrce  superiwis  ; 
F,  the  rectus  depressor  ;  G,  the  rectus  adductor  ;  H,  the 
ohliquus  superior,  or  trochlearis  muscle,  |)assing  through 
I,  thecnrtilaginous  pully  in  the  mesial  side  of  the  or' at; 
K,  a  part  of  the  oblitjuus  inferior,  where  it  is  inserted 
into  the  basilar  part  of  the  eye-ball ;  L,  the  course  of 
the  carotid  artery  in  the  receptacle;  M,  the  carotid  just 
penetrating  the  cavity  of  the  skull;  N,  the  ophthalmic 
artery  rising  from  it  at  that  place. 

a,  The  trunk  of  the  left  optic  nerve,  entering  the  op- 
tical hole  of  the  s|)henoidal  Lone  ;  b,  the  broad  trunk  of 
the  fifth  pair  of  nerves,  still  within  the  cavity  of  the 
skull ;  c,  the  third  branch  of  Ihe  fifth  pair,  or  inferior 
mixillary  nerve;  d,  the  second  branch,  or  superior 
maxillary  ;  e,  the  first  branch  or  ophthalmic  nerve,  divid- 
ing into  branches;/,  the  first  branch  of  the  ophthalmic 
nerve,  dividing  into  two,  and  passing  to  the  Ibrehead; 
g,  a  second  l)ranch  divided  into  several  lesser  ramifica- 
tions passing  to  the  nose  ;  h,  small  branches  from  the 
nasal  branch  that  go  to  the  edges  of  the  eye-lids;  i,  the 
lachrymal  branch  of  the  first  division  of  the  first  branch 
of  the  fifth  pair,  passing  to  the  lachrymal  gland  ;  k,  the 
fourth  pair,  or  pathetic  nerve,  passing  to  the  ohliquus 
superior  muscle  ;  I,  n,  the  sixth  pair;  m,  two  nervous 
filaments  by  which  this  last  is  united  with  the  great 
sympathetic ;  o,  the  third  pair  of  nerves,  or  motores  oculi ; 
p,  q,  r,  s,  t,  u,  x,  various  branches  of  this  nerve  passing 
to  the  different  muscles;  y,  the  ophthalmic  ganglion 
loosened  from  its  connexion  with  the  optic  nerve,  and 
turned  latcrad,  to  show  the  divisions  of  the  third  pair; 


•  Though  this  plate  is  marked  XXII.  it  comes  ia  between  XVIII.  anil  XIX.  and  carries  on  the  scries  of  figures  to  illustrate  the  organs 
of  sensntion. 

Vol.  I.  Part  II.  -5  F 


778 


ANATOMY. 


sr^  the  root  of  the  ophthalmic  ganglion,  arising  from  the 
nerve  that  supplies  the  obltquiis  inferior  muscle  ;  2,  3,  4, 
&c.  other  small  nervous  filaments  arising  from  the  ua- 
aal  branch  of  the  fifth  pair. 

Fig.  8.  Rep-csaits  an  enlarged  outline  view  cf  the  se- 
veral parts  of  the  eye-ball  and  its  aj-pendages,  as  they 
nciM  appear  in  a  vertical  section,  supposing  the  eye  to 
be  so  prepared  as  that  every  part  shall  preserve  its  rela- 
tive situation. 

As  this  outline,  which  is  taken  from  professor  Soe'm- 
mering's  admirable  plates,  affords  the  most  instructing 
lesson  on  the  internal  structure  of  the  eye,  wc  shall  be 
verj'  full  in  our  description  of  it. 

A,  Q,  the  bony  orbit  of  the  eye  ;  A,  H,  its  superior  or 
coronal  pari;  A,  B,  the  left  surface  of  this  part;  C,  C, 
G,  H,  its  convex  surface  next  the  brain;  A,  D,  E,  F, 
that  part  of  the  os  frontis  which  forms  the  forehead;  E,  E, 
medullary  cells  within  the  frontal  part.  F,  the  left  fron- 
tal sinus ;  <f ,  ^,  medullary  cells  in  the  orbital  plate  of 
the  frontal  bone;  O,  the  suture  connecting  the  frontal 
bone  with  the  large  wing  of  the  sphenoid  bone;  Q,  M, 
the  inferior  or  basilar  part  of  the  orbit;  1,  I,  the  upper 
jaw-1'one ;  K,  L,  the  foramen  lacerum,  or  orbital  fissure, 
filled,  in  the  natural  state,  with  vessels,  nerves,  tendi- 
nous fibres,  and  fat ;  M,  that  part  of  the  lesser  wing  of 
the  sphenoid  bone  which  forms  the  floor  of  the  canal 
B,  H,  M,  for  the  optic  nerve ;  x,  x,  a  line  representing 
the  axis  of  the  orbit;  U,  V,  the  dura  mater  of  the  en- 
cephalon,  lining  the  frontal  and  sphenoid  hones,  adhering 
at  T,  to  the  periosteum  of  the  orbit,  at  U,  to  the  sheath 
of  the  optic  nerve,  and  at  V,  to  cellular  membrane  con- 
nected with  the  tendons  of  two  of  the  muscles  ;  W,  Z, 
the  forehead  ;  Y,  the  frontal  belly  of  the  epicranius 
muscle,  with  fat  at  Z,  lying  between  it  and  the  perios- 
teum ;  a,  d,  the  eye-brow ;  b,  the  mouth  of  the  frontal 
vein  ;  c,  the  mouth  of  the  frontal  artery. 

e,  TV,  The  upper  ej-e-lid  ;  g,  the  orbicularis  palpebra- 
rum muscle,  with  fat  behind  it  at  h  ;  i,  the  tendon  of 
the  levator  palpebrx  superioris  muscle  ;  I,  the  cartilage 
or  tarsus  of  the  upper  eye-lid,  with  vestiges  of  the  se- 
baceous follicles  at  m  ;  r,  r,  s,  t,  the  conjunctiva  of  the 
upper  eye-lid  ;  lining  the  cartilage  at  r,  r  ;  q,  the  place 
where  the  cuticle  of  the  face  unites  with  the  conjunc- 
tiva of  the  upper  eye-lid ;  u,  the  upper  eye-lash  ;  n,  the 
mouth  of  the  coronary  artery  of  the  upper  eye-lid  ;  g, 
the  lower  eye-lid  ;  g,  e,  cartilage  of  the  lower  eye-lid ; 
k,  I,  m,  n,  the  conjunctiva  of  the  lower  eye-lid,  investing 
at  n,  m,  the  sclerotic  coat  of  the  eye-ball ;  p,  the  lower 
eye-lash. 

From  1  to  1 1 ,  the  muscles  of  the  eye-ball  and  eye- 
lids ;  1,  2,  3,  levator  palpebree  superioris,  fixed  and  ten- 
dinous at  I,  moveable  at  2,  where  it  is  extended  over 
the  cartilage  of  the  upper  eye-lid ;  4,  5,  6,  the  rectits 
attollens  ocidum,  with  its  immoveable  tendon,  adhering 
at  4  to  the  sheath  of  the  optic  nerve,  and  ending  at  5  in 
the  sclerotic  coat ;  7,  Z,Q,  ti\<i  rectus  deprimens,  adhe- 
ring by  its  tendon  at  7,  to  the  sheath  of  the  optic  nerve, 
and  terminating  near  m,  in  the  sclerotic  coat ;  10,  the 
tendon  of  the  obliquus  superior  muscle ;  11,  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  obliquus  superior. 

From  12  to  18,  the  optic  nerve  running  in  a  serpen- 
tine direction.     Its  sheath  arising  from  the  dura  mater  ; 

14,  the  choroid  membrane;  15,  its  fibrous  substance 
exposed;  16,  apart  of  the  nerve  passing  .through  the 
bony  canal,  and  appearing  flattened  from  above  down- 
ward; 1 7,  its  cylindrical  portion,  contracted  at  1 8,  where 
it  enters  the  ball  of  the  «f  e,  aod  li«re  i»  geea  the  pas- 


sage of  the  central  artery,  and  the  manner  in  which  the 
membranes  of  the  nerve  adhere  to  the  coats  of  the  eye- 
ball ;  19,  a  section  of  the  principal  trunk  of  the  ophthal- 
mic artery  ;  20,  20,  sections  of  the  trunks  of  the  ophthal- 
mic veins  that  surround  the  eye-ball  ;  21,  twigs  of  the 
first  branch  of  the  fifth  pair  of  nerves, 

22,  24,  The  eye-ball ;  22,  22,  its  axis  ;  23,  its  greatest 
transverse  diameter;  24,  the  cornea,  showing  its  true 
thickness,  convexity,  and  mode  of  cohesion  with  the 
sclerotic  ;  25,  26,  the  space  between  the  cornea  and 
crystalline  lens,  divided  into  25,  the  anterior  chamber, 
and  20,  the  posterior  chamber ;  24  r,  a  double  groove 
between  the  cornea  and  sclerotic  coat ;  27,  28,  29,  the 
sclerotic  coat  of  the  eye-ball ;  30,  the  pigmentuni  ni- 
grum between  the  sclerotic  and  choroid  coats ;  31,  to 
37,  the  choroid  coat;  34,  35,  the  corpus  ciliare,  36,  37, 
the  iris ;  38,  pigmentum  nigrum  between  the  choroid 
coat  and  the  retina  ;  39,  40,  41,  the  retina ;  42,  to  40,  the 
crystalline  lens;  42,  43,  its  long  diameter;  44,  45,  its 
short  diameter ;  42,  44,  43,  its  anterior  convexity  ;  42, 
45,  43,  its  posterior  convexity  ;  46,  26,  its  capsule ;  34, 
42,  its  distance  from  the  ciliary  processes. 

CHAP.  III. 

Organs  of  Digestion. 

The  organs  employed  in  the  digestion  of  aliments 
are  numerous  and  important.  The  fimction  of  diges- 
tion includes  several  operations,  as  mastication,  or  the 
chewing  of  the  food ;  deglutition,  or  the  conveying  of 
it  into  that  organ  in  which  its  solution  is  to  be  ellected  ; 
chylification,  or  the  reducing  of  it  into  a  fluid  homoge- 
neous mass,  pro|ier  for  the  nutrition  of  the  animr:!.  The 
several  organs  by  which  these  operations  arc  carried  on, 
will  require  our  particular  attention;  and  we  shall  con- 
sider them  in  the  order  in  which  we  have  enumerated 
the  operations. 

Sect.  I.     Organs  of  Mastication. 

When  the  food  is  received  into  the  mouth,  it  is  there, 
by  the  action  of  the  lower  jaw  pressing  the  teeth  against 
each  other,  reduced  into  small  pieces,  or  so  divided  that 
it  may  be  intimately  mixed  with  the  saliva,  and  thus 
prepared  for  a  more  easy  and  speedy  solution  in  the 
stomach.  The  organs  by  which  mastication  is  per- 
formed are  chiefly  the  teeth,  but  these  are  assisted  in 
the  process  of  insalivation  by  the  lips,  the  tongue,  and 
other  parts  of  the  mouth.  The  mouth  in  general,  as 
including  so  many  important  organs,  first  deserves  no- 
tice ;  and  after  having  considered  its  general  form  and 
varieties,  we  shall  briefly  describe  each  of  its  compo- 
nent parts,  so  far  as  they  have  not  already  been  antici- 
pated. 

There  are  five  principal  cavities  generally  described 
by  anatomists  in  the  human  body,  vix.  those  of  the  skull, 
the  mouth,  the  chest,  the  belly,  and  the  pelvis.  We 
have  already  examined  the  contents  of  the  first  of  these 
cavities,  and  we  now  proceed  to  the  second.  The  ca- 
vity of  the  mouth  is  bounded  on  the  forepart,  or  antinial 
aspect,  by  the  lips ;  on  the  back  part,  or  iniad,  by  the 
velum  pendulum palali,  or  hanging  palate;  on  the  supe- 
rior, or  coronal  aspect,  by  the  vault  of  the  palate  ;  be- 
low, or  basilad,  by  the  tongue,  and  the  general  mucou* 
membrane  ;  on  the  sides,  or  laterad,  by  the  cheeks.  In 
the  erUiuary  position  of  the  buiuaQ  body,  the  direction 


ANATOMY, 


Tm 


of  this  cavJfy  is  nearly  horizontal.  Its  diameter  from 
before  backwards,  is  determined  chiefly  by  that  of  the 
palatine  arch,  while  its  diameter  from  side  to  side  va- 
ries with  the  motion  of  the  cheeks.  Tlie  size  of  this 
cavity  is  of  course  extremely  various  in  different  indi- 
viduals ;  but  in  general,  it  is  said  by  Bichat  to  bear  an 
inverse  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  brain.  Its 
general  forni  is  that  of  an  oval,  being  determined  by 
the  circumference  of  the  lower  jaw-bone  at  the  chin, 
and  by  that  of  the  hanging  palate,  both  of  which  are 
rounded. 

The  lips  generally  differ  from  each  other  in  point  of 
thickness,  the  upper  being  in  most  individuals  thicker 
and  more  prominent  than  the  lower;  though  one  of  our 
most  celebrated  old  poets,  Suckling,  has  considered  the 
opposite  proportion  as  constituting  a  principal  feature 
in  the  portrait  of  his  mistress. 

"  Her  lips  were  small,  and  one  wu  thin, 
Compar'd  to  that  w.*»s  next  her  chin. 
Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly ." 

The  upper  lip  has  a  superficial  channel  in  the  place 
of  the  mesial  line,  running  from  the  foot  of  the  partition 
of  the  nostrils,  and  arising  from  the  strong  adhesion  of 
skin  to  the  muscles  in  this  part.  1"he  lower  lip  has  a 
slight  prominence,  situated  vertically  in  its  middle,  an- 
swering to  the  channel  in  the  uj)per  lip,  and  it  is  divi- 
ded from  the  chiu  by  an  evident  transverse  depression. 
The  union  of  the  lips  at  the  corners  of  the  mouth,  con- 
stitutes what  are  called  commissures  of  the  lips. 

The  substance  of  the  lips  is  composed  of  three  prin- 
cipal layers,  a  peripheral  or  outer  layer,  formed  by  the 
skin ;  a  central  or  inner  layer,  formed  by  the  mucous 
membrane  of  the  mouth  by  doublings,  to  be  presently 
described ;  and  an  intermediate  layer  formed  liy  the 
muscular  fibres  of  the  orbicularis  oris,  and  the  levator 
and  depressor  muscles  of  the.mouth.  The  first  of  these 
layers  is  remarkable  for  its  thinness,  especially  on  the 
edges  of  the  lips  ;  the  second  is  thick,  of  a  close  texture, 
very  red,  from  its  numerous  blood-vessels,  and  is  fur- 
nished with  a  great  many  mucous  glands  of  considerable 
size,  lying  between  it  and  the  muscular  fibres,  and  com- 
municating with  the  cavity  of  the  mouth  by  several  ex- 
cretory ducts.  The  muscular  fibres  of  tbe  third  layer 
are  separated  from  the  first  layer  by  cellular  substance, 
in  which  there  is  scarcely  any  appearance  of  fat. 

The  form  and  Ihickness-of  the  lips  differ  much  in  the 
several  varieties  of  the  human  species.  In  the  negro 
they  are  notoriously  thick  and  prominent,  while  in  most 
Europeans  they  are  comparatively  thin,  and  project  but 
little.  Ti'°se  constitute  the  two  extremes  with  respect 
to  the  lips  ;  and  their  varieties  in  the  natives  of  other 
regions,  consist  chiefly  of  shades  of  difference  in  point 
of  thickness  and  prominence." 

The  velum  pendulum  pal ali,  OT  hanging  palate  (Plate 
XVIII.  Fig.  8.)  extends  from  the  posterior  margin  of 
Ihepalaiine  arch,  backwards  and  downwards  as  far  as  the 
opening  from  the  mouth  into  the  gullet,  and  the  root  of 
the  tongue.  It  is  nearly  of  a  quadrilateral  form  ;  is;|con- 
cave  next  the  cavity  of  the  mouth,and  has  a  longitudinal 
prominence  in  the  mesial  line,  which  divides  it  into  two 
eOjUal  and  similar  halves.  On  each  side  there  is  a  dense 
fold,  partly  membranous,  and  partly  muscular.  These 
folds  are  sometimes  called  the  pillars  of  the  soft  palate  ; 
they  are  united  next  the  palatine  arch, and  separate  from 
each  other  as  they  proceed  towards  the  gullet,  each  of 
them  becoming  thicker  as  it  descends,  and  forming  a 


triangular  space,  which  contains  a  particular  gland  called 
{«H«27  or  almond.     Thus  there  are  formed  (wo  double 
arches,  called  the  arches  of  the  scft  palate.     At  the  lower 
part  of  the  mesial  prominence,  between  tlie  two  tonsils, 
is  that  part  called  by  anatomists  the  urula,  and  in  com- 
mon language  the  pap  of  tlie  throat,  hanging  immediate- 
ly over  the  root  of  the  tongue.     The  uvula  is  of  a  coni- 
cal form,  with  its  base  towards  the  palatine  arch,  and 
ending  below  in  a  blunt  round  point.     It  is  this  part 
which,  in  some  inflammatory  affections  of  the  throat,  is 
so  much  swollen,  or,  as  it  is  called,  relaxed,  as  io  touch 
the  tongue,  and  produce  that  disagreeable  symptom  call- 
ed the  falling  of  the  palate  or  pap.     This  body  appears 
to  he  of  a  glandclar  texture.     The  substance  of  the  soft 
palate  is  also  composed  of  three  layers ;  one  mucous, 
derived   from   the  general  mucous   membrane  of  the 
mouth,  investing  the  palate  through  its  whole  surface, 
end  containing  within  its  folds  numerous  glands,  which 
compose  a  distinct  and  very  thick  layer  between  the  mu- 
cous membrane  and  the  muscles,  thus  forming  the  se- 
cond layer  of  the  soft  palate ;  the  third  being  composetl 
of  fibres  from  all  the  muscles  engaged  in  the  motions  of 
this  organ. 

The  tonsils,  or  what  are  vulgarly  called  the  almonds 
of  the  ears,  are  two^glandular  bodies  of  an  oblong,  round- 
ish form,  largest  at  their  inferior  extremity.  They  are 
composed  of  several  lobes,  which  are  sometimes  closely 
united,  at  others  distinctly  separated  from  each  other. 
The  whole  mass  is  of  a  soft,  pulpy  texture,  and  »f  a 
grayish  colour.  The  appearance  of  their  outer  surface 
differs  according  as  we  examine  it  on  its  convex  or  flat- 
tened part.  On  the  former  surface  there  are  several 
small  openings,  which  lead  to  cellular  cavities  formed 
within  the  substance  of  the  gland,  and  often  communica- 
ting with  each  other.  These  cells  secrete  a  peculiar 
fluid,  the  nature  of  which  is  not  well  understood.  This 
fluid  is  pressed  out  by  the  action  of  the  neighbouring 
muscles  during  mastication  and  deglutition.  It  is  the 
swelling  and  inflammation  of  these  glands  that  forms  one 
of  the  most  distressing  symptoms  of  inflammatory  sore 
throat  called  from  this  circumstance  cynanche  tonsilla- 
ris. In  these  cases,  the  tonsils  may  be  felt  in  their  en- 
larged state  below  the  ears,  whence,  we  suppose,  has 
originated  their  vulgar  name.  For  a  view  of  these 
parts,  see  plate  XVIII.  Fig.  8,  and  its  explanation  at  the 
end  of  the  preceding  chapter. 

The  soft  palate,  with  its  appendages,  forms  a  sort  of 
curtain  between  the  mouth  and  the  opening  of  the  gullet; 
it  assists  in  deglutition,  and  probably  in  tbe  articulation 
of  the  voice. 

The  cheeks,  which  form  the  lateral  boundaries  of  the 
mouth,  are  generally  of  considerable  thickness,  and,  like 
the  lips,  are  composed  of  a  layer  from  the  skin,  another 
chiefly  from  the  buccinator,  and  zygomatic  muscles,  and 
a  third  from  tbe  mucous  membrane  of  the  mouth.  Be- 
tween the  muscular  layer  and  the  skin  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  cellular  substance,  containing,  in  many  cases  a 
considerable  quantity  of  fat,  which  forms  the  plumpness 
of  the  cheeks';  and  by  the  absorption  of  which,  in  certain 
diseases  and  states  of  the  system,  is  produced  that  lank- 
ness  which  is  often  so  remarkable. 

Through  this  fatty  cellular  membrane,  runs  the  ex- 
cretory duct  of  the  parotid  gland,  opening  within  the 
mouth  at  a  perforation  in  the  buccinator  muscle,  oppo- 
site to  the  second  or  third  grinder  of  the  upper  jaw. 

There  are  three  glandular  bodies  on  each  side  which 
secrete  the  saliva  that  is  mixed  with  the  food  during 
5  F  2 


780 


ANATOMY. 


iriastication,  viz.  the  parotid  gland  situated  in  the  fore 
j)artof  the  ear,  and  between  that  organ  and  the  angle  of 
the  lower  jaw,  partly  covering  the  masseter  mmcle  ;  the 
gubmaxillary  gland,  lying  on  the  inside  of  the  angle  of 
the  lower  jaw,  and  covering  the  tendon  of  the  hivcntcr 
maxilla,  and  the  sublingual  gland,  lying  below  the  fore 
part  of  the  tongue.  The  structure  of  these  glands  will 
oe  more  i)roperly  considered  when  we  come  to  describe 
the  organs  of  secretion. 

All  these  organs,  and  the  whole  interior  of  the  month, 
are  lined  with  an  extensive  mucous  membrane,  that, 
from  its  numerous  foldings  and  connexions,  deserves 
particular  notice.  We  shall  trace  its  connexions,  sup|>o- 
sing  it  to  commence  at  some  particular  (tart,  ami  in  doing 
this,  we  shall  chiefly  follow  Bichal,  who  commences  with 
the  border  of  the  lower  li|>.     After  investing  the  back 
part  of  the  lower  lip,  this  mucous  membriuie  is  reflect- 
ed over  the  body  of  the  jaw-bone,  at  the  symphysis  of 
which  it  forms  a  remarkable  doubling,  called  the  fre- 
num  of  the  lip.     It  then  ascends  towanls  the  necks  of 
the  teeth,  and  gives  off  to  each  socket  a  promulgation, 
which,  with  the  periosteum  of  the  jaw,  contributes  to 
form  the  gums.     Passing  between  the  teeth,  it  Hues  the 
inner  surface  of  the  lower  jaw,  and  at  tlie  inner  symphy- 
sis of  the  jaw  forma  the  frenum  of  the  tongue.     Then 
passing  over  the  sulilingual  glands,  and  covering  the  in- 
ferior surface  of  the  tongue,  as  far  as  its  point,  it  advan- 
ces over  this  and  the  edges  of  the  tongue,  covers  its  up- 
per surface  as  far  as  its  base,  and  unites  with  the  mem- 
brane that  covers  the  epiglottis.     This  is  the  course 
which  Bichat  supjioses  the  mucous  membrane  to  pursue 
in  the  inferior  or  basilar  portion  of  the  mouth ;  and  we 
may  suppose  it  to  follow  a  similar  route  from  the  edge 
of  the  upper  lip,  and  its  anterior  surface,  where  it  forms 
a  similar  frenum  over  the  alveolar  processes  of  the  up- 
per jaw-bones,  where  it  also  contributes  to  form  the 
giims,  then  lining  the  palatine  arch,  and  theinner  surface 
of  the  velum  pendulum,  over  the  lower  border  of  which 
it  is  reflected,  and  meets  the  pituitary  membrane  that 
comes  behind  from  the  nostrils.     Again,  we  trace  it 
from  the  commissures  of  the  lips,  iining  the  inside  of 
the  cheeks,  and  proceeding  downward,  covers  the  lateral 
borders  and  pillars  of  the  relum  pendulum,  including  the 
tonsils,  and  uniting  with  the  portion  which  we  have  just 
before  traced.     Throughout  the  whole  extent  of  this 
mucous  membrane  there  are  numerous  glands  contained 
within  its  doublings,  and  its  surface  next  the  cavity  of 
the  mouth  is  lined  with  a  very  delicate  epidermis,  or,  as 
it  is  called  by  anatomists,  epithelium. 

The  |)rincipal  organs  of  mastication  are,  as  we  hare 
faid,  the  teeth,  the  structure  and  developement  of  which 
H're  among  the  most  curious  inquiries,  that  can  occupy 
the  attention  of  the  anatomist  and  physiologist,  and  have 
accordingly  been  examined  by  both  with  great  minute- 
uess. 

The  number  of  teeth  in  a  full  grown  man  is  usually 
•32,  1(5  in  each  jaw.  These  are  divided  into  classes,  ac- 
cording to  their  form  or  uses.  The  four  front  teeth  in 
«ach  jaw  are  called  incisores incisivi,  or  cutting  teeth;  the 
f«ingle  teeth  that  stand  next  these  on  each  side  are  calle<l 
.canini,  or  cuspidali,  dog  or  eye  teeth ;  next  these  stand 
two  teeth  on  each  side,  which,  from  their  ending  in  two 
projecting  points,  have  been  called  hicuspides,  or  two 
pointed  teeth.  They  are  also  called  small  grinders. 
These  are  most  distinct  in  the  upper  jaw,  as  in  the 
lower  jaw  the  |ioints,  ami  especially  those  next  the 
iODgo^  are  much  le«B  pronunent.     ffhe  three  teeth  on 


each  side  of  these  last,  liave  three,  four,  or  five  project- 
ing points,  and  are  called  molares,  or  grinders. 

Each  of  these  teeth  is  said  to  consist  of  three  parts  ; 
a  body,  which  is  that  part  without  the  sockets ;  roots  or 
fangs,  by  which  they  arc  fixed  in  the  sockets;  and  a 
neck  between  these,  which  is  surrounded  by  the  gums. 
The  classes  of  teeth  we  have  enumerated  differ  from 
each  other,  both  in  (he  form  of  their  bodies,  and  in  the 
form  and  number  of  their  faugs.  (Plate  XIX.  Fig.  1,  2.) 
The  bodies  of  the  cutting  teeth  are  flat  and  broad, 
rounded  on  the  fore  part,  and  generally  a  little  concave 
internally,  and  end  in  a  sharp  or  cutting  edge,  which  is 
sometimes  a  little  serrated.  These  teeth  have  each  a 
single  fang,  which  isusually  flattened  at  the  sides.  The 
botlies  of  the  canine  teeth  are  nearly  wedge-shaped,  but 
their  extremities,  especially  in  the  upper  jaw,  are  more 
pointed  than  those  of  the  cutting  teeth,  and  the  fangs 
are  larger,  thicker,  and  more  flattened  on  the  sides  than 
those  of  the  former,  aud  sink  much  deeper  in  the  sock- 
els.  The  bicuspidated  teeth,  beside  differing  from  the 
two  former  in  their  pointe<l  extremities,  have  each  a 
large  double  fang,  which,  from  a  depression  on  each 
side,  a[)pears  like  two  fangs  united;  and  indeed  some- 
times, especially  in  the  upper  jaw,  these  teeth  have  two 
distinct  fangs.  The  bodies  of  the  grinders  are  lai^e 
and  thick,  and  a  horizontal  section  of  them  appears 
nearly  square.  (Fig.  3,  4,  and  5.)  They  differ  much  and 
pretty  regularly,  in  the  number  of  their  points.  The 
grinder  next  the  bicuspidated  teeth  on  each  side  in  the 
upper  jaw,  has  usually  four  points,  and  the  rest  in  that 
jaw  have  seldom  more  than  three  ;  while  the  first  grind- 
er in  the  under  jaw  has  generally  five,  and  the  others 
four  points.  Most  of  the  grinders  have  two,  and  some 
of  them  three  fangs,  passing  through  separate  orifices 
in  the  jaw,  and  spreading  widely  from  each  other  as 
they  enter.  These  fangs  are  flatteiied  from  l)efore  back- 
Avanls,  and  not  laterally,  as  in  the  other  teelh.  The 
last  or  most  backward  grinders  are  often  called  dintes 
sapicntice,  or  wisdom  teeth,  as  they  are  seldom  cut  be- 
fore the  age  of  puberty,  when  most  young  peogtle  are 
supposed  to  attain  the  years  of  discretion.  All  the 
roots  or  fangs  of  the  teeth  are  of  a  conical  form,  broad- 
est next  the  liody  of  the  tooth,  and  gradually  tapering  to 
a  point.  Each  fang  is  perforated  with  a  canal  for  the 
passage  of  blood-vessels  and  nerves,  from  the  socket  to 
the  body  of  the  tooth;  and  each  fang  is  invested  with  a 
periosteum  or  membrane,  derived  from  the  inner  sides 
of  the  sockets. 

In  the  human  adult,  ttie  teeth  are  composed  of  two 
substances;  a  bony  matter  differing  in  some  respects 
from  the  other  bony  parts  of  the  system,  forming  the 
fangs  and  central  part  of  the  body  of  the  tooth ;  and  a 
much  harder  white  shining  substance,  covering  the 
outer  part  of  the  hotly,  usually  called  enamel,  and  lately 
denominated  by  Dr.  Blake,  cortex  itriatux,  or  striated 
portion,  from  its  appearance  when  minutely  examined. 

The  bony  part  is  seldom  perfectly  solid,  but  contains 
within  it  a  central  cavity,  having  nearly  the  form  of  the 
tooth,  and  tilled  with  a  soft  vascular  substHUce.  These 
cavities  decrease  as  the  person  advances  in  life,  and  are 
at  last  nearly  oblit«rated.  Their  appearance  is  represent- 
ed at  a.  Fig.  6.  and  7,  Plate  XIX.  T.he  enamel,  or  stri. 
ated  portion  of  the  teeth,  invests  the  bony  part  only  in 
the  body  of  the  tooth,  and  is  thickest  towanis  the  cut- 
ting or  grinding  surface.  This  jwrtion  is  composed  of 
fibres  standing  nearly  parallel  to  each  other,  and  per- 
peadlcular  to  the  body  of  the  tooth  (see  Fig.  6.  and  7,  c)i 


ANATOMY. 


781 


•a  structure  which  may  easily  be  seoii  with  a  magnifying 
^lass  ill  a  broken  tooth.  This  enamel  is  extremely  hard, 
and  is  not  capable,  like  the  bony  part  of  the  looth,  of 
receiving  a  tinge  from  absorption  of  the  particles  of 
madder. 

Towards  the  fangs,  where  the  enamel  ceases,  there 
is  a  remarkable  change  in  the  appearance  of  the  bony 
part,  which  is  here  semi-transparent,  resembling  horn. 
That  the  several  parts  coinimsing  the  teeth  differ  both 
from  each  other,  and  from  the  ordin.-iry  bones  that  form 
the  skeleton,  is  proved,  as  well  from  their  want  of  that 
reticulated  texture  which  distinguishes  the  latter,  as 
from  the  different  proportions  of  their  chemical  consti- 
tuents.    See  Chemistry. 

Though  the  gums  are  among  the  most  insensible  parts 
of  the  body,  so  that  they  may  be  cut,  or  even  torn  with 
impunity,  the  teeth  are,  as  is  well  known  to  the  martyrs 
of  toothach,  extremely  sensible.  This  exquisite  sensi- 
bility seems  to  reside  wholly  in  the  internal  pulp,  or  the 
vascular  membrane  that  lines  the  cavity  of  the  tooth. 
The  nerves  Ihat  supply  the  teeth  are  derived  from  the 
maxillary  nerves,  and  both  these  and  the  corresi^onding 
arteries  send  a  branch  through  each  fang  as  they  pass 
by  the  sockets. 

It  is  well  known,  that  an  infant  at  birth  is  almost  al- 
ways without  teeth,  and  that  a  few  months  after  birlh 
fhe  front  teeth  begin  to  make  their  apjtearance  through 
the  gum.  The  gradual  formation  of  the  teeth  within  the 
jaws  has  not,  till  lately,  been  fully  understood.  Repeat- 
ed observation  has  shown,  that  the  ossification  of  (he 
Jaws  begins  to  take  place  iu  the  faHus  about  two  months 
after  couce[)lion,  before  which  time  these  parts  arc  en- 
tirely composed  ©f  membrane  and  cartilage.  By  de- 
•grees  the  jaw-bones,  which,  for  a  long  time,  were  com- 
posed of  at  least  two  pieces,  liegin  t«  unite  towards  the 
vhin;  two  bony  plates  are  formed,  one  next  the  cheeks, 
and  the  otiicr  next  the  cavity  of  the  mouth,  leaving  be- 
tween them  a  groove,  or  channel,  containing  vessels, 
nerves,  and  little  soft,  i>nlpy  bodies,  wiiich  are  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  teeth,  and  wiiich  are  separated  from  each 
other  by  i)eculiar  membranes.  As  the  ossitjcation  of  the 
Jaws  advances,  bony  fibres  slioot  across  from  plate  to 
plate,  gradually  forming  an  enclosure  around  each  pulpy 
body,  and  constituting  the  future  sockets  of  the  first 
teeth.  Usually,  between  the  eighth  and  ninth  months 
after  conception,  bony  fibres  begin  to  api)ear  in  the  pulpy 
rudiments  of  the  teeth,  and  at  birth  a  bony  shell  is  form- 
ed round  each,  surrounded  by  a  peculiar  membrane, 
which  is  thickest  next  the  gum.  As  this  bony  shell 
increases,  the  central  pulp  diminishes;  but,  from  being 
at  first  nearly  of  a  spherical  figure,  it  is  gradually  lengtli- 
sened  out  to  form  the  central  jiart  of  the  future  fangs. 
As  the  ossification  proceeds,  the  toefh  gradually  rises 
in  the  socket,  and  advances  with  its  investing  membraiie 
towards  the  surface  of  the  gum.  Now,  the  striated  por- 
tion begins  to  be  formed,  and  appears  to  be  secreted 
from  the  investirig  membrane  of  the  bony  shell ;  as  this 
membrane  disappears,  in  proportion  as  (he  enamel  is 
produced.  The  front  teeth  generally  begin  to  make 
their  appearance  about  the  sixth,  seventh,  or  eighth 
month,  after  birth  ;  and  those  first  cut  are  generally  the 
middle  incisors  of  the  lower  jaw;  about  the  twelfth  or 
fourteenth  month,  the  bicuspidated  teeth,  or  small  grind- 
ers of  the  lower  jaw,  begin  to  make  their  appearance, 
.and,  about  the  twentieth  month",  the  cuspidated  or  eye- 
lecth.  These  periods  vary  considerably  in  different 
«iuldrenj  some  beginning  to  cut  tlifiir  teeth  bj  the  fourth 


or  fif(h  montii,  while  oihers  remain  without  any  teeth  for 
more  than  two  years;  but,  in  most  instances,  by  (he  time 
the  child  has  attained  its  third  year,  it  has  acquired  20 
teeth,  viz.  all  (he  front  or  cutting  teeth,  the  four  eye- 
leelh,  the  four  bicuspidated  teeth,  and  the  first  grinder.'^ 
on  each  side. 

All  these  are  but  temporary  teeth;  for,  as  the  jaws 
gradually  extend,  while  (he  teeth,  from  the  hardness  of 
their  sul)stance,  admit,  when  fully  formed,  of  but  little 
increase  in  size, it  was  necessary  that  larger  teeth  should 
be  provided,  to  fill  up  the  enlarged  spaces  of  the  sock- 
ets. For  this  purpose,  an  admirable  organization  has 
been  contrived  by  nature  within  the  body  of  the  jaw- 
bones. A  second  row  of  pulpy  bodies  is  found  at  an 
early  period  in  the  cliannel  between  the  two  plates  of 
the  jaw  bones,  and  more  deeply  situated  than  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  first  teeth,  eiwh  enveloped  in  its  proper 
membrane,  and  gradually  advancing  towards  the  gum, 
as  that  substance  is  penetrated  by  the  first  or  temporary 
teeth.  Not  only  is  each  of  these  second  teeth  furnished 
with  a  distinct  investing  membrane,  but  each  of  them 
is  enclosed  within  a  distinct  socliet,  separated  from  the 
sockets  of  (he  temporary  teeth  by  bony  fibres.  When 
the  ruditncnts  of  the  second  or  permanent  teeth  first 
appear,  they  are  nearly  in  contact  with  the  temporary 
teeth ;  but,  as  these  latter  advance  beyond  the  gum, 
their  sockets  appear  to  rise,  leaving  the  rudiments  of 
the  permanent  teeth  at  a  considerable  distance.  When 
a  clrikl  has  reached  its  fourth  year,  these  permanent 
teeth  are  faradvanccdinoBsification,(PlateXIX.  Fig.8.) 
and,  at  this  ))eriod,  according  to  Dr.  Blake,  (here  are 
more  teeth  formed  and  forming,  than  at  any  other  age, 
as  20  may  now  be  counted  in  each  jaw. 

The  shedding  «f  (he  temporary  teeth  generally  begins 
wlien  a  child  is  about  six  or  seven  years  of  age,  by 
which  time  the  jaws  are  considerably  extended.  The 
temporary  sockets  are  now  gradually  absorbed;  the 
Iwny  partition  between  these  and  the  permanent  sockets 
is  thus  removed,  and  these  latter  begin  to  assume  their 
proper  form.  T\ie  appearance  of  the  second  set  of  teeth 
takes  place  nearly  in  the  sameorderas  that  of  the  tem- 
I)orary  teeth,  except  that  the  grinders  are  cut  before 
(he  hiaispidcs.  By  (he  twelfth  or  fourteenth  year,  the 
cutting  of  the  permanent  tcet'h  is  in  general  com|)leted, 
except  with  respect  to  the  last  grinders,  or  denies  sapi- 
eniice.  We  need  scarcely  remark,  -that,  iu  declining 
age,  such  teeth  as  have  not  been  broken,  worn  down, 
or  extracted,  gradually  fall  out;  but  it  is  extraordinary, 
that,  in  a  few  cases,  some  few  new  teeth  appear,  even 
in  extreme  old  age. 

The  form  of  the  mouth  is  much  influenced  by  the 
presence  or  absence  of  the  teeth.  In  the  infant  soon 
after  birth,  the  alveolar  margin  of  tlie  palate,  and  the 
upper  edge  of  the  lower  jaw,  are  very  flat,  and,  from 
this  circumstance,  the  distance  between  the  no.5e  and 
the  chin  is  small,  and  the  facial  angle  larger  than  at 
any  future  perioil.  A  similar  effect  takes  place  when 
the  teeth  are  lost  in  old  age ;  but,  at  thio  time,  from  the 
greater  projection  of  the  base  of  (he  lowerjaw,  the  nose 
and  chin  appear  to  approach  much  nearer  to  each  other. 
The  state  of  (he  gums,  both  before  dentition,  and  after 
the  loss  of  the  teeth,  is  nearly  the  same.  At  both  periods 
R  callous  rim  is  formed  on  the  edges  of  the  gum,  calcu- 
lated in  infancy  for  pressing  on  the  nipple,  and,  in  old 
age,  for  supplying,  in  some  measure,  the  want  of  teeth. 

We  have  thus  traced  the  progress  of  the  teeth,  from 
their  first  appearance  to  their  final  losr.    We  purposely 


782 


ANATOMY. 


avoid  detailing  the  gymptoBis  that  accompany  dentition, 
and  the  theories  by  which  they  have  been  explained, 
as  these  belong  more  properly  to  future  articles.  To 
complete  our  account  of  the  organs  of  mastication,  it 
remains  only  to  notice  the  structure  and  connexions  of 
the  lower  jaw-bone  ;  hut,  as  these  have  been  sufficiently 
explained  in  our  (able  of  the  bones,  and  as  the  motions 
of  the  lower  jaw  niiiy  be  understood  from  the  attach- 
ments and  lunctious  of  its  muscles,  as  given  in  the  table 
of  muscles,  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  more  minutely  into 
this  part  of  the  subject. 

Of  the  morbid  appearances  of  the  organs  of  mastica- 
tion, those  of  the  teeth  and  gums  are  chiefly  entitled 
to  nolice.  The  teeth  are  often  irregularly  placed,  so 
as  to  interfere  with  each  other,  and  require  some  of 
them  to  be  removed ;  and,  in  some  cases,  this  removal 
is  rendered  necessary,  hy  the  teeth  having  superfluous 
fangs,  or  fangs  with  projecting  excrescences.  It  now 
and  then  happens,  tliat  one  or  more  of  the  fangs  of  a 
tooth  is  wanting,  owing  to  its  having  been  absorbed  in 
consequence  of  inflammation.  The  caries  or  rottenness 
of  the  teeth  is  too  common  to  require  particular  notice; 
but  we  may  remark,  that  the  teeth  are  sometimes  dis- 
coloured, and  even  rendered  almost  black,  where  no 
jiievious  inflammation  or  toothach  appears  to  have  taken 
place.  The  substance  called  tartar,  that  usually  collects 
about  the  neck  ot  the  teeth,  when  proper  attention  is  not 
paid  to  keeping  them  clean,  appears  to  be  a  deposition 
from  the  saliva.  The  gums  are  often  spongy,  and  bleed 
on  the  slightest  touch ;  sometimes  they  are  ulcerated, 
and  in  a  few  cases  aflected  with  fungous  excrescences. 

For  the  best  anatomical  account  of  the  mouth  and  its 
appendages,  we  may  refer  our  readers  to  Bichat's  Ana- 
Imnie  Descriptive,  tom.  ii.  p.  563;  and  for  the  best  ac- 
count of  the  teeth,  see  Albinus's  Annotationcs  Acadc- 
micm,  lib.  ii. ;  Cuvier's,  Lcjons  tT Anatomic  Cmnparee, 
tom.  iii. ;  Soemmering,  De  Corporis  Humani  Fuhrica, 
vol.  i. ;  the  works  of  Hunter  and  Fox  on  the  Natural 
History  (f  the  Human  Teeth;  Blake's  Essay  on  the 
Structure  and  Foi-matim  of  the  Teeth  in  Slan  andvarious 
Animals ;  Holfman  De  Dcntihus  eorumqiie  Morhis  et 
Cura  ;  and  Bell's  Anatomy  of  the  Human  Body,  vol.  iv. 

Sect.  II.    Organs  of  Deglutition. 

'The  organs  employed  in  swallowing  the  food  are 
cliicfly  the  pharynx  and  gullet,  assisted  by  the  tongue 
and  soft  [  alate. 

The  pharynx  is  a  funnel-shaped  cavity,  situated  be- 
hind the  soft  palate,in  that  aperture  called  by  anatomists 
the  isthmus faucium,  or  opening  of  the  throat.  It  is  pro- 
perly the  commencement  of  that  long,  irregular,  winding 
paes;ige,  called  the  alinuntary  canal,  which  traverses 
all  the  cavities  of  the  body,  from  the  mouth  downwards. 
It  is  this  organ  which  receives  the  food  from  the  mouth, 
and  conveys  it  into  the  gullet.  The  pharynx  is  bounded 
above  by  the  basilar  process  of  the  occipital  bone ;  on 
the  fore  part  by  the  cavities  of  the  nose,  and  by  the  la- 
rynx; behind  by  the  bodies  of  the  cervical  vertebrae, 
and  below  it  ends  in  the  gullet.  It  is  in  a  manner  sus- 
pended from  the  pterygoid  i)roce6ses  of  the  s[)henoid 
bone,  and  from  the  horns  ol'  the  os  hyoides  and  thyroid 
cartilages.  Strictly  speaking,  it  forms  only  half  a  cavity, 
being  imperfect  on  the  fore  part,  where  it  serves  as  a 
common  receptacle,  both  to  the  food  that  is  about  to 
pass  into  the  gullet,  and  the  air  that  enters  the  wind- 
pipe.    Its  internal  surface  is  more  extensive  than  its 


external,  as  it  consists  of  membranous  productions  from 
the  pillars  of  the  soft  palate,  and  other  neighbouring 
parts.  This  internal  membrane  is  not  ot  so  deep  a  red 
as  that  of  the  mouth,  though  of  a  higher  colour  than  the 
membrane  that  lines  the  gullet ;  and  this  difference  of 
colour  forms  one  of  the  most  distinct  marks  of  separa- 
tion between  the  gullet  and  what  is  properly  called  the 
pharynx.  Within  this  membrane  are  numerous  mucous 
glands,  with  excretory  ducts  opening  into  the  cavity  of 
the  pharynx.  The  external  or  peripheral  surface  of  the 
pharynx  is  composed  of  numerous  muscular  fibres,  con- 
stituting three  distinct  portions,  which  have  been  called 
the  constrictor  muscles  of  the  pharynx,  and  running 
transversely  with  different  degrees  of  inclination,  ac- 
cording to  their  points  of  attachment. 

The  Oesophagus,  gula,  or  gullet,  is  a  long  canal, 
partly  fleshy,  and  partly  muscular,  that  leads  from  the 
phaiynx  to  the  stomach.  It  is  commonly  said  to  be  cy- 
lindrical, thou2;h  in  its  ordinary,  inactive  state,  its  side? 
are  applied  closely  to  each  other.  It  passes  through  the 
chest,  close  to  the  bodies  of  the  vertebra?  of  the  neck, 
and  back  within  the  doubling  of  the  mediastinum  ;  but 
it  does  not  pursue  a  straight  direction.  Until  is  arrives 
at  the  lower  part  of  the  neck,  it  runs  in  the  direction 
of  the  mesial  line,  but  here  it  inclines  insensibly  to  the 
left,  preserving  this  direction  till  it  arrives  at  that  part 
of  the  chest  where  the  %vindpipe  divides  and  enters  the 
lungs,  when  it  resumes  its  former  mesial  course.  On 
the  fore  part  the  gullet  is  closely  connected  with  the 
larynx,  the  thyroid  gland,  the  left  side  of  the  windpipe, 
and  the  inferior  thyroid  artery  on  the  left  side ;  behind 
to  the  bodies  of  the  cervical  and  dorsal  vertebrae,  the 
aorta,  and  the  thoracic  duct;  and  on  the  sides  it  runs 
along  with  the  jugular  veins  and  the  carotid  arteries. 
It  is  composed  principally  of  two  layers,  a  peripheral 
muscular  layer,  and  a  central  membranous  lining.  The 
former  is  made  up  of  two  sets  of  muscular  fil)res,  of 
which  those  on  the  peripheral  surface  run  in  a  longitu- 
dinal direction,  while  the  others  run  transversely  or  cir- 
cularly. The  membranous  lining  differs  little  from  that 
of  the  pharynx,  except  that  it  is  of  a  whiter  colour. 
Between  the  muscular  coat  and  the  mucous  metnbrane 
there  is  a  quantity  of  cellular  substance,  which  has  been 
termed  by  some  anatomists,  the  nervous  coat ;  and  with- 
in this,  next  the  mucous  membrane,  lie  numerous  glands, 
which  are  more  thickly  set  at  that  part  of  the  gullet 
where  it  joins  the  stomach.  These  glands  secrete  a 
lubricating  fluid,  which  is  poured  through  correspond- 
ing orifices  into  the  cavity  of  the  tube,  and  facilitates 
deglutition.  The  gullet  is  well  supplied  with  nerves, 
both  from  the  eighth  pair  and  the  iatercostals,  and  with 
numerous  absorbent  vessels.  Its  arteries  will  be  notic- 
ed hereafter. 

The  gullet  is  susceptible  of  great  dilatation,  as  a\y- 
pears  from  the  large  masses  wliich  occasionally  jiass 
through  it. 

We  have  said  that  the  tongue  assists  in  the  process 
of  deglutition,  and  this  it  does  chiefly  by  means  of  two 
appendages  which  we  have  not  yet  described.  One  of 
these  is  a  cartilaginous  lid,  nearly  of  a  hemispherical 
shape,  attached  to  the  rootof  tlie  tongue,  and  which,  in 
the  act  of  swallowing,  covers  the  opening  into  the  wind- 
pipe. It  is  therefore  called  the  epiglottis.  See  Plate  XIV. 
Fig.  5.  and  0.  E.  This  part  can  scarcely  be  said  to  as- 
sist in  deglutition,  though,  during  that  process,  it  is 
always  in  action.  The  other  organ  is  more  immediately 
subservient  to  deglutition.     This  is  the  os  hyoides,  or-. 


ANATOMY. 


m 


as  it  is  commonly  called,  the  bone  of  the  tongue.  This 
bone  has  received  its  name  from  its  being  shaped  like 
the  letter  U  ;  it  is  situated  immediately  at  the  root  of 
the  tongue,  to  which,  and  the  neighbouring  parts,  it  is 
closely  connected  by  numerous  and  important  muscles. 
See  the  Tables  of  the  Bones  and  the  Muscles.  The  body 
of  this  hone  is  seated  forwards,  while  its  horns  project 
backwards  to  the  opening  of  the  gullet.  See  Plate  XIV. 
Fig.  5.  J,  a,  a.  In  the  act  of  swallowing,  this  bone  is 
drawn  strongly  upwards,  while  the  epiglottis  is  forced 
downwards.  Thus,  the  opening  to  the  gullet  is  en- 
larged, and  the  communication  between  the  pharynx 
and  the  wind-pi|)e  is  cut  off. 

Several  morbid  appearances  have  been  observed  in 
the  organs  of  deglutition.  The  gullet  is  often  found 
lined  with  a  layer  of  coagulated  lymph,  arising  from 
previous  inflammation.  Strictures  or  contractions  of 
the  gullet  are  not  unfre((uent,  arising  sometimes  from  a 
puckering  of  the  mucous  membrane,  but  more  gene- 
rally from  inflammation  and  consequent  ulceration,  or 
from  scirrhous  tumours,  either  within  the  gullet,  or  in 
the  neighbouring  parts.  Some  part  of  the  gullet  has 
occasionally  been  found  cartilaginous.  The  morbid  ap- 
pearances of  the  pharynx  are  chiefly  fungous  or  scirr- 
hous tumours  growing  within  it,  and  sometimes  this 
cavity  is  dilated  towards  the  gullet  into  a  bag  or  pouch. 

On  the  structure  of  the  organs  of  deglutition,  see 
Bleuland's  Observationcs  Aiiatomico-Midicw  de  Sana  ct 
Morhosa  Oesophagi  Structura,  published  at  Leyden  in 
1785,  with  several  coloured  plates,  that  represent,  in  a 
lively  manner,  the  appearance  of  the  meml.rHnous  lining 
of  the  gullet ;  Bichat's  Anatomic  Descriptive,  torn.  iii.  p. 
379. ;  and  Cuvier's  Analotnie  Cotr.paree,  torn.  iii.  p.  366. 
Some  good  figures,  illustrative  of  the  anatomy  of  the 
gullet,  are  attached  to  a  thesis,  De  Dysphagia,  by  Dr. 
Monro  tertius,  published  at  Edinburgh  in  1797. 

Sect.  III. — Organs  of  Chylijication. 

In  converting  the  food  into  that  nutritious  milky  fluid 
called  chyle,  it  has  generally  been  supposed  that  a  very 
complicated  apparatus  is  necessary.  Accordingly  nume- 
rous organs  are  described  by  anatomists,  as  chylo-poctic 
viscera,  viz.  the  stomach,  intestines,  and  mesentery,  as 
more  immediately  concerned  ;  and  the  liver,  the  pan- 
creas, the  spleen,  &c.  as  assistant  chylo-poetic  viscera. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  all  these  organs,  in  some  mea- 
sure, concur  in  preparing  the  food  for  affording  nourish- 
ment to  the  animal  system,  though  recent  observation 
has  shown  that  the  stomach  is  the  principal  organ  con- 
cerned. In  the  present  section,  w«  shall  conflne  our- 
selves to  the  stomach  and  intestines,  with  some  of  their 
connecting  membranes.  We  shall  describe  the  liver, 
spleen,  and  pancreas,  under  the  organs  of  iecretion. 

The  stomach  is  a  large  expanded  portion  of  the  ali- 
mentary canal ;  the  figure  of  which  has  been  compared 
to  that  of  the  bag  of  a  bagpipe,  being  largest  at  one  end, 
tapering  towards  the  other,  where  it  again  extends  a 
little,  and  ending  by  another  contracted  portion  at  the 
commencement  of  the  small  intestines.  The  stomach 
is  situated  at  the  upper  part  of  the  belly,  a  little  towards 
the  left  side,  nearly  fitting  the  left  hypochondriac  region 
with  its  large  extremity,  sirotching  thence  through  what 
is  called  the  epigastric  region,  where  it  terminates  with 
a  curve  backwards  towards  the  spine ;  see  Plate  XIX. 
pig  9.  and  11.0.  A!»ove  it  is  connected  by  the  oesopha- 
gus, at  that  orifice  called  the  cardia,  with  the  diaphragm, 


and  with  part  of  the  liver;  below  it  is  united,  by  a  par- 
ticular membrane,  to  the  largest  portion  of  the  intes- 
tines called  colon.  Its  fore  part  is  in  contact  with  the 
membrane  of  the  belly  next  the  recti  muscles,  and  the 
false  ribs;  while  on  the  back  part,  it  is  secured  by  the 
membranes  that  connect  the  several  partsof  the  alimen- 
tary canal.  The  extremity  next  the  intestines  has  been 
cnWed  pylorus,  because  the  stomach  is,  during  diges- 
tion, here  contracted,  so  as  to  cut  ofl",  as  by  a  gate,  the 
communication  with  the  bowels.  Between  the  cardia 
and  the  pylorus  there  are  two  rounded  borders  or  curva- 
tures of  the  stomach ;  one  a  little  sternad  and  sacrad, 
which  is  convex,  and  very  large,  and  is  called  the  great 
curvature;  the  other  dorsad,  or  towards  the  back  part, 
concave  next  the  spine,  and  called  the  lesser  curvature. 
When  the  stomach'  is  empty  the  greater  curvature  in- 
clines towards  the  sacrum  ;  but  when  this  cavity  is  dis- 
tended with  food,  the  great  curvature  rises,  and  projects 
forwanl.  Towards  the  left,  the  large  extremity  of  the 
stomach  terminates  in  a  close  pouch,  considerably  be- 
yond the  entrance  of  the  gullet. 

The  stomach,  considered  in  its  intimate  structure,  is, 
like  the  rest  of  the  alimentary  canal  which  we  have  to 
describe,  composed  of  three  coats,  or  layers ;  the  most 
peripheral  or  outmost  of  which  consists  of  a  smooth  se- 
rous membrane,  formed,  as  will  hereafter  appear,  by  a 
reflected  portion  of  the  peritoneum.  This  coat  is  thence 
called  the  peritoneal  coat  of  the  stomach,  and  serves 
chiefly  to  connect  this  organ  with  the  rest  of  the  viscera, 
and  by  its  smoothness  to  facilitate  its  movements  in  the 
belly.  This  coat  is  furnished  with  but  few  nerves  and 
blood-vessels.  Within  it,  and  connected  to  it  by  cellular 
substance,  is  a  layer  of  muscular  fibres,  forming  the 
muscular  coat,  to  which  the  stomach  owes  its  strength 
and  power  of  contraction.  This  coat  is  thin,  and  its 
fibres,  from  being  of  a  whitish  colour,  are  not  very  dis- 
tinct. There  are,  however,  in  the  stomach,  as  in  the 
gullet,  two  orders  of  muscular  fibres ;  one  running 
longitudinally,  in  the  direction  of  the  great  curvature, 
but  rather  few  in  number,  and  not  very  regularly  dispo- 
sed ;  the  others  circular,  more  evident  and  numerous. 
These  last  are  more  properly  the  muscular  fibres  of  the 
stomach  ;  the  former  being  a  continuation  of  the  fibres 
of  the  gullet.  The  circular  fibres  are  few  in  number 
near  the  cardia,  but  gradually  accumulate  towards  the 
pylorus  ;  and  are  most  remarkable  at  a  little  distance 
from  that  orifice,  towards  the  middle  of  the  stomach. 
The  greater  accumulation  of  muscular  fibres  at  this 
part  will  be  found  to  desereve  particular  notice,  as  it  ex- 
plains an  important  step  in  the  process  of  digestion. 
What  is  properly  called  the  third  coat  of  the  stomach, 
is  a  continuation  of  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  gullet, 
or,  rather,  it  is  a  portion  of  that  general  investing  mu- 
cous membrane  that  lines  the  whole  alimentary  canal. 
It  is  in  the  stomach  that  this  membrane  first  begins  to 
assume  the  appearance  of  plaits,  or  folds,  which  are,  as 
we  shall  see,  so  remarkable  in  some  of  the  intestines. 
The  folds  within  the  stomach  are,  however,  scarcely 
visible,  exce|)t  when  this  cavity  is  empty.  They  are 
indeed  merely  accidental,  and  appear  to  be  owing  to  an 
irregular  contraction  of  the  muscular  fibres,  puckering 
up  the  mucous  membrane.  This  membrane  is  connec'ed 
to  the  former  coat  by  cellular  su'>stance,  which,  as  we 
remarked  in  descriMng  the  gullet,  has  been  ranked  as  a 
fourth  coat,  under  the  nume  of  nemeus.  The  stoiiach 
has  numerous  blood-vessels  and  al)sor';ents,  and  ri  c  ives 
its  nerves,  which  are  most  numerous  next  the  cardia, 


784 


ANATOMY. 


from  the  great  sympathetics  and  par  vagum.  There 
are  numerous  minute  glands  spread  over  the  internal 
membrane  oi  the  stomach,  next  the  small  curvature ; 
but  they  are  scarcely  to  be  seen  in  any  other  part. 

When  food  is  received  into  the  stomach,  the  muscu- 
lar fibres,  at  that  part  where  they  are  most  abundant, 
are  thrown  into  contraction,  so  as  to  divide  the  cavity 
into  two  portions:  a  larger  next  the  great  end  of  the 
stomach,  which  is  called  by  ftlr.  Home  the  cardiac  por- 
tion, and  a  lesser  portion,  called  the  pyloric,  us  being 
next  the  pylorus.  By  this  separation,  the  food  is  retain- 
ed in  the  great  end  of  the  stomach,  till  it  has  been  suffi- 
ciently acted  on  by  the  juices  secreted  in  that  cavity, 
when  the  contraction  ceasint:,  it  is  saflered  to  pass  into 
the  pyloric  portion,  where  it  first  begins  to  be  converted 
into  chyle.     See  Phil.  Trans.  1807, -part  II. 

The  glands  situated  within  the  mucous  membrane  of 
the  stomach  secrete  a  fluid  that  is  plentifully  poured  into 
the  cavity,  and  forms  the  general  solvent  of  the  food. 
This  is  called  the  gastric  juice.  We  know  little  of  this 
fluid,  except  from  its  effects;  for  though manj'  attempts 
have  been  made  by  Spallanzani,  Gosse,  and  others,  to 
collect  and  analyze  it,  it  is  probable  that  the  liquor  they 
obtained  was  a  tmxture  of  gastric  juice  with  saliva  and 
mucus.  Indeed,  it  seems  likely  that  it  is  never  secreted 
in  any  great  quantity  except  during  digestion.  From  the 
great  variety  of  substances  which  it  is  capable  of  dis- 
solving, and  from  its  action  on  the  stomach  after  death, 
we  know  that  it  is  a  very  po^werful  chemical  agent  in 
decomposing  animal  and  vegetable  bodies,  though  we 
cannot  determine  on  what  its  activity  depends.  The 
information  that  has  been  acquired  respecting  it  will  be 
given  in  the  article  Chemistry  and  Phvsioi.ogy. 

We  have  said  that  the  intestines  commence  from  the 
pylorus  of  the  stomach.  These,  though  only  a  continu- 
ation of  the  same  canal,  are,  for  convenience,  divided 
into  several  portions,  distinguished  by  particular  names. 
First,  with  respect  to  their  siie,  they  are  divided  into 
small  and  large  intestines,  the  former  extending  from 
thepylorus  of  the  stomach  to  a  large  and  sudden  dilata- 
tion of  the  canal.  This  is  the  most  natural  division,  for 
the  portions  into  which  the  small  and  the  great  intes- 
tines are  divided,  are  merely  artificial. 

The  first  portion  of  the  small  intestines  is  supposed 
to  extend  about  twelve  fingers-breadth  from  the  pylorus, 
and  is  thence  called  duodenum.  Its  limits  are  more  pre- 
cisely ascertained  than  that  of  the  other  small  intestines. 
The  course  of  this  part  of  the  intestines  from  the  pylo- 
rus, is  obliquely  across  the  spine,  a  little  downward, 
and  towards  the  right  side,  where  it  is  connected  with 
all  the  neighbouring  organs,  in  particular  with  the  gall- 
bladder, to  all  of  which  it  is  bound  by  the  general  in- 
vesting membranes*.  The  duodenum  is  nearly  cylin- 
drical, or  at  least  a  transverse  section  of  it  is  circular; 
It  is  of  a  larger  diameter  than  any  other  part  of  the 
small  intestines,  though  considerably  less  than  the  pylo- 
ric portion  of  the  stomach.     This  bowel  is  perforated 


internally  by  a  tube  from  the  liver  and  the  gall-bladder, 
to  be  afterwards  described. 

The  rest  of  the  small  intestines  have,  by  most  anato- 
mists, been  divided  into  two  portions,  je/wnuw  and  ilium; 
but,  as  this  division  is  merely  arbitrary,  and  not,  as  far 
as  we  can  perceive,  attended  with  any  advantage,  we 
shall  follow  Haller  and  Bichat  in  considering  them  as 
one,  and  we  shall  give  them  the  approi>riate  name  of 
small  intestines,  as  they  are  of  less  diameter  than  any- 
other  part  of  the  alimentary  canal.  This  portion  is 
very  long,  and  fills  up  the  greatest  part  of  the  belly  with 
its  numerous  wiudtugs  or  convolutions  (See  Plate  XIX. 
Figs.  9.  and  11,  R,  R,  R) ;  though  it  occupies  chiefly 
the  umbilical  region  of  the  belly,  and  the  atlantal  or 
upper  part  of  the  pelvis.  The  length  of  the  small  in- 
testines has  been  estimated  at  four  or  five  times  that  of 
the  body  to  which  they  belong,  though  this  must  be  ta- 
ken with  some  limitation-  They  float  loosely  towards 
the  fore  part  and  sides  of  the  belly,  but  are  firmly  con- 
nected and  confined  towards  the  spine  by  their  common 
membrane.  Their  peripheral  or  outer  surface,  is  ex- 
tremely smooth  and  equal,  thus  allowing  the  freest  mo- 
tion to  the  bowels.  The  small  intestines  terminate 
suddenly  by  a  peculiar  structure,  which  will  be  noticed 
immediately  about  the  middle  of  the  right  iliac  region. 

Where  the  small  intestines  terminate  in  the  right 
iliac  region,  a  sudden  expansion  takes  place  in  the  aK- 
mentary  canal,  forming  the  commencement  of  the  large 
intestines,  which  after  crossing  the  belly  on  the  fore  part, 
and  almost  entirely  surrounding  the  small  intestines,  ter- 
minate in  the  anus.  This  expanded  portion  has  also  been 
divided  by  minute  anatomists  into  three  portions,  called 
c<ecum,  colon,  and  rectum.  As  the  first  of  these,  how- 
ever, is  merely  the  beginning  of  the  colon,  and  is  ac- 
cordingly by  some  called  the  caput  ccecum  colt,  the  blind 
or  close  head  of  the  colon,  we  shall  consider  the  large 
intestines  as  divided  into  colon  and  rectum. 

The  colon  commences,  as  we  have  said,  in  the  right 
iliac  region,  ly  a  sudden  and  considerable  expansion. 
Hence  it  ascends  through  the  right  hypochondriac,  and 
right  lumbar  region,  from  which  it  crosses  the  fore  part 
of  the  belly  immedidtely  below  the  stomach,  to  the  left 
hypochondriac,  and  left  lumbar  region,  from  which  it  de- 
scends through  the  left  iliac  region,  where  it  makes  two 
remarkable  turns,  one  towards  the  fore  part  of  the  belly, 
and  another  towards  the  sacrum,  forming  what  is  called, 
from  its  resemblance  to  the  letter  S,  the  sigmoid  flexure 
of  the  colon ;  and  here  it  imperceptibly  terminates  ia 
the  rectum.  Hence  this  intestine  has  been  divided  in- 
to four  portions,  (not  including  the  ccecum,)  denominated 
the  right  lumbar  colon,  the  transverse  colon,  or  the  arch 
of  the  colon,  the  left  lumbar  colon,  and  the  left  iliac  co- 
Jon,  or  sigmoid  flexure.  The  direction  and  general  ap- 
pearance of  tliese  last  three  portions  are  well  expressed 
in  Fig.  11,  of  PI.  XlXf.  The  diameter  of  the  colon  is 
greatest  at  its  commencement  in  the  cwciim,  where  it 
forms  a  large  bag  nearly  cubical,  into  which  the  ilium 


*  la  the  text  wc  have  deieribed  tlie  course  of  the  daodeimro  in  a  vety  general  manner,  beeauie,  as  the  organs  near  which  it  passes 
have  not  yet  been  considered,  it  would  not  be  easy  for  such  of  our  readers  as  arc  unacquaintetl  with  the  silnalion  of  these  parts,  to 
undentand  a  more  minute  description.  As  the  direction  of  this  intestine  is,  however,  of  considerable  practical  importance,  we  shall 
here  supply  the  deficiency  of  the  text.  The  duodenum  twice  changes  its  course  in  two  rera:irkable  i>oint«.  It  first  nuis  hnrizoM'Hily 
backwards,  and  a  little  to  the  right  lill  it  reaches  the  neck  of  the  gall-bladder,  where  it  makes  a  sudden  turn,  almost  perpciidicuUrly 
towards  the  tliird  TertebrH  of  the  loins  and  the  right  kidney.  At  the  third  vertebra  it  is  directed  transversely  to  the  left  before  the 
■pine,  and  terminates  at  a  particular  place,  where  it  is  crossed  by  the  superior  mesenteric  arteries,  thus  forming,  in  iis  course,  a  sort  qf 
semicircle,  with  its  convex  part  directed  towanis  the  right.  I'he  flexures  of  the  duodenum  are  well  expressed  in  one  of  Mailer's  plates 
of  the  vescera.     See  his  Jcarwi  JlnatnmiCii. 

\  The  turn  that  the  colon  makes  at  tlie  right  side,  where  it  i«  attached  to  the  Hctr,  is  called  the  hepatic  flexure )  and  that  on  the  left, 
where  it  passes  by  the  apleen,  the  »/>teaic  flexure. 


ANAT05IY. 


^^iBS 


projects  la  sncli  a  Biantier  as  to  form  a  sort  of  valve, 
whicti  in  general  prevents  any  return  of  llie  contents  of 
the  colon  into  the  small  intestines.  The  situation  and 
structure  of  this  valve  will  be  better  understood  when 
we  shall  have  described  the  internal  membrane  of  the 
alimentary  canal.  The  lower  part  of  this  commence- 
ment of  the  colon  extends  downwards,  or  sacrad,  into  a 
large  close  cavity,  whence  the  name  of  ccecum,  while  in 
the  opposite  direction  appears  the  cavity  of  the  right 
lumbar  colon.  Towards  the  right  and  back  part  of  the 
caecum,  on  its  external  surface,  there  is  a  remarkable  ap- 
pendage, forming  a  hollow  tube  of  small  diameter,  call- 
ed, from  its  resemblance  to  a  worm,  the  vermiform  ap- 
pendix. This  small  tube  is  composed  of  coats,  that  are 
very  thick  in  proportion  to  the  diameter  of  its  cavity ;  is 
smooth  and  whitish  on  its  exterior  surface,  while  within 
it  is  lined  by  a  mucous  membrane,  from  which  exudes 
a  considerable  quantity  of  a  glutinous  fluid,  which  is 
poured  through  an  opening  into  the  upper  part  of  the 
cacum  near  the  iliac  valve.  From  the  cmcum  to  the 
transverse  arch  of  the  colon,  the  diameter  of  this  intes- 
tine is  smaller  than  in  any  other  part,  being  very  little 
superior  to  that  of  the  small  intestines  ;  but  the  trans- 
verse arch  is  of  very  considerable  size.  Along  the 
whole  peripheral  surface  of  the  colon,  we  observe  three 
longitudinal  bands,  which  have  by  some  been  called  li- 
gamentous, though  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  (hey  are 
cemposed  of  longitudinal  muscular  fibres.  One  of  these 
is  distinctly  seen  at  Y,  Y,  Y,  Fig.  11,  PI.  XIX.  By 
these  bands  the  colon  is  divided  longitudinally  into  three 
parts,  and  by  the  contraction  of  the  muscular  fibres,  it  is 
puckered  up  into  numerous  divisions,  which  are  com- 
monly called  the  cells  of  the  colon. 

The  colon  is  firndy  fixed  in  the  different  regions,  and 
connected  to  the  neighbouring  parts  by  memS-ranes,  that 
■will  be  presently  noticed,  through  its  whole  extent,  ex- 
cept at  the  sigmoid  flexure,  where  it  floats  loosely  in 
the  cavity  of  the  belly,  like  the  small  intestines.  'I'wo 
particular  parts  of  the  peritoneum,  by  which  it  is  fasten- 
ed on  the  right  and  left  sides,  are  called  the  right  and 
left  ligaments  of  the  colon. 

The  colon  terminates  at  the  end  of  the  sigmoid  flexure, 
in  a  portion  that  runs  almost  per|)endicularly  downwards, 
along  the  cancave  surface  of  the  sacrum,  and  which, 
from  this  tlirection,  has  been  called  intestinum  rectum, 
or  the  straight  gut.  See  PI.  XIX.  Fig.  11.  This  bowel, 
at  its  commencement,  inclines  obliquely  to  the  right,  but 
almost  immediately  takes  its  course  in  the  direction  of 
the  mesial  line.  It  forms  a  more  regular  cylindrical  ca- 
vity than  the  colon,  not  being,  like  that  portion,  divided 
into  cells  by  the  longitudinal  muscular  bands.  It  is  close- 
ly connected  as  it  passes  downwards,  and  is  supported 
partly  by  the  concave  surface  of  the  sacrum,  and  partly 
by  the  cocyx.  Where  it  terminates  in  the  anus,  it  is 
surrounded  by  numerous  strong  muscular  fibres,  form- 
ing two  layers,  and  called,  from  their  office,  the  fpinc- 
ter  muscles  of  the  anus.  At  this  (lart  too  there  are  tivo 
remarkable  bundles  of  longitudinal  fibres,  forming  a 
muscle  on  each  side  called  levator  ani.  The  rectum 
•radually  grow-s  larger  as  it  descends,  and  is  capable  of 
considerable  dilatation  and  contraction. 

Having  thus,  in  conformity  with  the  general  custom 
•f  anatomists,  considered  tlie  intestinal  canal  as  divided 
into  difl^erent  portions,  we  must  now  return  to  the  point 
from  which  we  set  out,  and  examine  more  minutely  the 
structure  of  the  whole  canal,  and  some  of  the  membranes 

Vol.  I.    Part  II. 


by  which  it  is  Connected  to  the  neighbouring  paHg; 
The  intestinal  canal,  like  the  stomach,  has-been  describ- 
ed as  composed  of  four  coats,  or  layers ;  an  outer,  or 
peritoneal  coat,  a  muscular  coat,  a  nervous,  and  a  vil- 
lous coat.  By  most  modern  anatomists  the  third  of  these 
is  very  properly  omitted,  as  it  consits  merely  of  cellular 
substance  lying  between  the  muscular  and  villous  coats- 
There  are  therefore  thtee  layers  of  the  intestinal  canal 
which  we  have  to  examine. 

The  whole  intestinal  canal  is  not  enveloped  In  the  sanic- 
outer-layer.  What  we  have  called  the  small  inU  stines  ; 
the  whole  of  the  colon ;  and  nearly  the  whole  of  the  rec- 
tum, are  covered  with  a  coat  derived  from  the  serouB 
membrane,  called  the  peritoneum,  that  lines  the  cavity  of 
the  belly ;  but  the  duodenum,  lying  as  it  were  behind  the 
peritoneum,  receives  only  partial  coverings  from  that 
membrane,  and  is  surrounded  chiefly  with  productions 
from  another  membrane,  that  connects  the  colon  to  the 
neighbouring  organs.  The  perito.aeal  coat  of  the  intes- 
tines forms  the  principal  connecting  link  towards  the  ster- 
nal andlateral  parts  of  the  belly;  and  from  the  smoothness 
and  humidity  of  its  peripheral  surface,  gives  to  the  whole 
that  polished  appearance  which  we  observe  on  opening 
the  belly.  We  cannot  at  present  attempt  to  describe  the 
manner  in  which  this  outer  coat  passes  successively  over 
the  several  parts  of  the  intestinal  canal ;  but  as  its  course 
is  important,  and  not  generally  understood,  we  shall  no- 
tice it  particularly,  after  having  examined  the  other  con- 
tents of  the  belly.  Within  the  outer  membrane  of  the 
intestines  lies  the  muscular  coat,  which  differs,  in  some 
respects,  in  the  several  parts  of  the  canal.  In  the  duo^ 
dcnuin  iT  consists  chiefly  of  circular  fibres,  resembling, 
both  in  their  disposition  and  colour,  the  transverse  fibres 
of  the  stomach.  In  the  small  intestines  there  are  a  few 
longitudinal  fibres  towards  the  convex  part  of  the  bow- 
els, or  that  side  which  looks  outwards.  In  the  colon,  the 
longitudinal  muscular  fibres  are,  as  we  have  seen,  re- 
markable for  being  dis|)Osed  in  three  bands,  and  they 
differ  from  the  longitudinal  fibres  of  any  other  part  of 
the  alimentary  canal,  by  being  considerably  shorter  than 
the  length  of  the  tul>e  to  which  they  belong,  thus  facili- 
tating the  division  of  the  large  intestines  into  cells,  by 
rendering  unnecessary  so  great  a  muscular  conlractioa 
as  takes  place  in  most  other  muscular  parts  of  the  body. 
In  the  rectum,  the  disposition  of  the  muscular  fibres  is 
very  similar  to  what  we  have  seen  in  the  gullet.  They 
are  here  more  numerous,  and  stronger  than  in  the  rest  of 
the  intestinal  canal,  forming,  as  in  the  gullet,  a  periphe- 
ral layer,  disposed  longitudinally,  and  a  central  circular 
layer.  In  the  part  of  the  rectum  next  the  colon,  the 
muscular  fibres  resemble  those  of  the  other  iutestines 
in  their  white  colour;  but  towards  the  sacral  extremity 
of  the  rectum,  they  become  red,  and  are  more  like  the 
external  muscles  of  the  body. 

The  inner,  or  what,  with  Bichat,  we  shall  call  the 
mucous  coat  of  the  intestinal  canal,  is  the  most  impor- 
tant, both  in  an  anatomical  and  physiological  point  of 
view,  as  it  is  on  this  membrane  that  the  action  of  the 
intestines,  in  the  preparation  or  separation  of  chyle,  more 
immediately  depends.  This  mucous  membrane  is  ex- 
ceedingly voluminous ;  the  extent  of  its  surface  being 
increased  by  numerous  puckeriags  and  doublings,  com- 
monly called  by  auatomists  valvule  connivcntes.  These 
internal  folds  run  obliquely  across  the  intestinal  canal, 
and  considered  separately,  are  but  narrow;  but  from 
their  number,  and  the  closeness  with  which  they  are 
5  6 


786 


ANATOMY. 


arrano-ed,  they  tenil  io  inereaae  tho  inl(!rn&l  surface  of 
the  canal  to  at  least  double  its  external  surface.     These 
folds  are  most  numerous  in  the  small  intestines,  but 
gradually  diminish  in   number  towards   the  colon,  and 
near  the  cwcum  they  almost  entirely  disappear.     There 
are  but  few  of  these  folds  in  the  colon,  but  in  the  rec- 
tum they  are  more  numorous  ;  and  in  the  interior  of  this 
bowel  there  is  besides  a  number  of  folds  runaing  longi- 
tudinally, and  commonly  called  Ihe pillars  of  the  rectum. 
The^e  are  most  remarkable  towards  the  anus,  and  ap- 
pear to  arise  chiefly  from  the  contraction  of  the  circular 
muscular  fibres,  which  is  strongest  at  that  part.     The 
projecting  surface  of  the  folds  has  a  rough  or  shaggy 
pppearance,  and  hence  the  mucous  membrane  has  been 
called  the  villous  coat  of  the  intestines.    There  are  here 
numerous  orifices,  opening  into  the  cavity  of  the  canal ; 
some  of  which  are  the  outlets  of  the  exhalant  vessels, 
that  pour  out  a  mucous  fluid  into  the  cavity  ;  and  others, 
which  are  so  small  as  scarcely  to  be  detected  by  the  na- 
ked eye,  are  the  mouths  of  those  absorbent  vessels  call- 
ed lacteals,  which  take  up  the  nutritious  fluid  from  the 
intestinal  canal,  and  convey  it  into  the  general  circulation. 
That  projection  of  the  sacral  extremity  of  the  small 
inteutines  into  the  caecum,  which  forms  what  is  called 
the  valve  of  the  colon,  is   produced  chiefly  by  a  dou- 
bling of  the   mucous  membrane  of  the  ca;cum,  which, 
folding  back  upon  itself,  is  united  to  a  similar  doubling 
coming  from  the  extremity  of  the   small  intestines,  so 
that,  at  its  middle,  this  valve  is  formed  by  four  layers 
of  the  mucous  membrane.     It  is  not  easy,  by  a  descrip- 
tion, to  convey  an  accurate  idea  of  the  structure  of  this 
valve;  it  is  best  understood  by  examining  the  intestine 
in  the  dead  body.     To  do  this  with  advantage,  it  is  pro- 
per to  cutout  that  portion  of  the  intestines  which  com- 
prehends the  termination  of  the  ilium,  the  csecum,  and 
the  commencement  of  the  colon ;  to  secure  this  last  by 
A  ligament,  then  to  distend  the  caecum   with  air  intro- 
duced through  the  ilium,  which  must  then  be  secured, 
and  the  inflated  portion  sufiered  to  dry.     On  opening 
the  csecum  towards   that  part  which  is  opposite  to  the 
entrance  of  the  ilium,  we  shall  observe  a  large  semilunar 
fold,  transversely  situated,  having  its  upper  part  turned 
towards  the  colon,  its  lower  towards  the  caicum,  with  a 
convex  border  next  the  opening  of  the  ilium,  and  the 
Eide  of  the  caecum  to  which  it  is  fixed,  and  a  loose  con- 
cave border  divided  in  the  middle  into  two  lips  by  a  long 
chink  directed  towards  the  ilium,  and  hanging  into  the 
cavity  of  the  cajcum*.  See  Bicbat,  Anal.  Descript.  torn, 
iii.  p.  433. 

The  intestines  are  supplied  with  numerous  arteries, 
nerves,  and  absorbents,  the  nerves  being  derived  partly 
from  the  par  vapim,  but  chiefly  from  the  great  sympa- 
thetic. The  origin  of  their  arteries,  and  of  those  be- 
longing to  the  stomach,  will  be  given  in  the  table  of 
arteries.  A  great  number  of  minute  glands  are  also 
found  between  the  mucous  membrane  and  the  mus- 
cular coat,  which  are  distinguished  into  simple  or  soli- 
tary and  conglobate,  though  they  are  so  small  as  to  be 
seldom  seen. 

The  intestinal  canal  possesses  a  peculiar  motion  back- 
wards and  forwards,  or  rather  in  a  waring  direction,  by 
which  its  contents  are  repeatedly  subjected  to  the  action 
of  the  exhalants  and  the  lacteals,  that  open  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  mucous  folds.  This  has  been  called  the 
vermicular  or  peristaltic  motion  of  the  bowels.  It  is  easily 


seen  on  opening  an  animal  that  hat  been  killed  soon  af- 
ter (akiRg  food. 

The  food,  after  being  masticated  in  the  mouth,  passes 
through  the  gullet  into  the  stomach,  where  it  is  re- 
tained till  it  be  reduced  to  a  pulpy  mass,  commonly 
called  chyme,  from  which,  in  the  pyloric  portion  of  the 
stomach,  the  chyle  begins  to  be  separated.  The  chyli- 
fication  is  completed  in  the  duodenum;  and  while  the 
alimentary  mass  is  traversing  the  small  intestines,  the 
greatest  part  of  the  chyle  is  taken  up  by  the  lacteals, 
while  the  more  solid  and  excrcmcntilious  parts  pass 
through  the  colon  and  rectum,  to  be  evacuated  by  the 
atius.   See  Physiology. 

Besides  the  peritoneal  coat,  which  forms  the  outer 
covering  of  the  intestinal  canal,  there  are  several  mem- 
Itranes  coimectiug  its  different  parts,  which  we  must 
here  briefly  notice. 

From  the  great  curvature  of  the  stomach  downwards 
to  within  a  few  inches  of  the  pubis,  hangs  a  fatty,  vas- 
cular membrane,  between  the  convolutions  of  the  bowels 
and  the  membrane  that  lines  the  sides  of  the  belly. 
This  is  called  the  great  omentum,  the  remains  of  which 
are  seen  at  Q,  R,  T,  S,  Fig.  11.  PI.  XIX.  This  part  i ^ 
sometimes  called  the  gastrocolic  omentum,  from  being 
common  to  the  stomach  and  colon ;  and  a  reflection 
from  the  same  membrane,  extending  between  the  ca?cum 
and  the  right  side  of  the  arch  of  the  colon,  is  called  the 
colic-omentum.  A  similar  membrane,  commonly  called 
the  lesser  omentum,  and  by  HaWer  membranamacilentior, 
from  its  being  less  abundantly  supplied  with  fat,  con- 
nects the  back  part  of  the  stomach  with  the  duottenuin 
and  the  liver.  These  fatty  membranes  serve  to  hi- 
bricnto  (he  surface  of  the  bowels,  and  facilitate  their 
motions  over  the  neighbouring  parts.  Their  direction 
and  connexions  are  well  expressed  in  two  fi.  i^res  of 
Haller ;  see  his  Icones  Analomica,  and  his  Optra  Minora^ 
torn.  i.  p.  570.  though  the  engraving  of  these  Ust  fi?;ures 
is  not  equal  to  that  of  the  larger  work.  Two  fine  copies 
of  these  figures  are  also  given  by  Dr.  Parr,  in  Iiis  Nerv 
London  Medical  Dictionary. 

The  mesentary,  which  connects  together  the  small 
intestines  with  its  continuations,  lh«^  meso-colon,  and  the 
meso-rcclum,  will  be  noticrd  in  a  future  chapter. 

There  are  perhaps  no  organs  in  the  human  body 
that  exhibit  a  greater  variety  of  morbid  appearances 
than  the  stomach  and  bowels.  We  c;.n  only  notice  those 
which  are  most  commonly  observed.  These  organs  are 
often  found  inflamed,  ulcerated,  or  gangrenous.  M'here 
the  inflammation  has  not  been  of  long  continuance,  their 
coats  appear  distended  with  blood,  ard  either  of  a  florid 
red,  or  a  deep  purple  colour,  with  numerous  adhesions 
to  the  neighbouring  parts.  Where  gangrene  has  com- 
menced, tiiey  exhibit  various  shades  of  blue,  green,  or 
black,  and  exhale  an  offensive  odour.  Ulcers  are  gene- 
rally seen  in  the  mucous  membrane.  Various  parts  of 
the  alimentary  canal  have  been  found  in  a  scirrhous 
state,  but  this  is  most  common  about  the  pyloric  orifice 
of  the  stomach,  and  the  rectum.  In  these  cases,  tlie 
cavity  of  the  canal  is  more  or  less  contracted.  Various 
tumours  of  different  textures,  as  fatty,  cartilaginous,  are 
sometimes  observed  in  the  alimentary  canal ;  and  not 
unfrequently  extraneous  bodies  are  observed,  so  iuvelo- 
ped  in  a  production  from  the  mucous  membrane,  as  to 
appear  like  an  excrescence  from  the  internal  cavity. 
The  stomach  has  been  found  ruptured;  and  both  in  this 


•  Ab  adminWe  Trprc«ca(»Uon  of  thb  tsItc  i»  pTen  bv  AlbiaVj  in  liis  Aroatatimei  Jcademicte,  lib,  iii.  t«b.  t.  fij.  1. 


ANATOMY. 


78* 


and  the  intestine*,  holes  are  Eometimes  found,  arising,  in 
the  former,  sometimes  from  the  corrosive  action  of  the 
gastric  juice  after  death,  and  sometimes  in  both,  from 
the  gnawing  of  worms.  In  some  cases,  especially  where 
the  |>atient  has  died  from  inanition,  the  stomach  and 
large  intestines  have  been  found  unusually  contracted, 
and  the  writer  of  this  article  has  seen  the  arch  of  the 
colon  80  much  diminished,  that  it  did  not  equal  the 
ordinary  diameter  of  the  small  intestines.  At  other 
times,  the  colon  is  found  distended  so  as  to  resemble 
the  slomaeh.  The  mucous  membrane  of  the  intestines 
is  often  greatly  thickened ;  and  in  one  case  we  have 
seen  it  so  united,  as  nearly  to  obliterate  the  cavity, 
though  there  was  no  scirrhous  lianliiess.  An  ap- 
pearance by  no  means  uncommon  in  the  bowels,  is  that 
called  intus  suactptio,  where  one  portion  of  the  intestines 
has  got  within  another  portion,  carrying  with  it  a  |)art 
of  the  mesentery,  and  almost  always  accompanied  with 
inflammation.  In  a  few  cases  the  rectum  is  im;ierforat- 
ed.  or  has  no  external  opening,  and  now  and  then  it 
opens  into  the  bladder.  The  rectum  is  often  seen  per- 
forated, so  as  to  communicate  with  the  cellular  sub- 
stance near  the  bKulder,  forming  what  is  called  n  fistula. 
Lastly,  portions  of  the  intestines,  or  even  of  the  stomach, 
escape  through  certain  openings,  as  at  the  navel,  into 
the  scrotum,  or  below  the  muscles  of  the  thigh,  form- 
ing a  hernia  or  rupture ;  and  when  the  bowel  is  so  en- 
tangled that  it  cannot  be  pushed  back,  it  is  said  to  be 
incarcfratcd. 

On  the  anatomy  of  the  stomach  iand  intestines,  see 
Winslow's  Traite  (T Anatomic,  or  Douglas's  translation ; 
Bichai's  Anaioinie  Descriptive,  torn.  iii.  Cuvier's  Lemons 
(T  Jnatontie  Ccmparec,  torn.  iii.  Bell's  Anatctnie,  vol.  iv. 
and  Philos.  Transact.  1807,  Part  I ;  and  for  engravings  of 
these  organs,  see  Haller's  Icones  Anatotnica  ;  the  Tahulm 
Anatomicx  of  Loder  and  Gerard  Sandifort,  Bell's  Si/stem 
«f  Dissections,  and  the  figures  in  the  4th  vol.  of  his 
Anatomi/.  The  morbid  appearances  are  illustrated  by 
;he  engravings  that  accompany  Dr.  Baillie's  Morbid 
Anatomy. 

Explanation  of  Plate  XIX. 

The  figures  in  this  Plate  afford  views  of  the  teeth,  as 
the  principal  organs  of  wfl^/tcation ;  of  the  more  obvious 
viscera  of  the  chest  and  bell}' ;  showing  the  natural 
eituation  of  the  principal  organs  o{ digestion,  circulation, 
respiraiion,  and  secretion  ;  and  of  the  course  of  the  lac- 
teals,  and  situation  of  the  mesenteric  glands. 

Fig.  1,2,  3,  4,  5,  represent  several  of  the  adult  teeth 
in  their  entire  state,  a.  The  body  of  the  tooth  ;  b,  the 
neck  ;  c  c,  the  fangs  or  roots.  Fig.  1,  is  a  bicuspidated 
tooth  of  the  lower  jaw,  with  only  one  fang :  fig.  2.  a 
similar  tooth  of  the  upper  jaw,  with  two  fangs;  tig.  3, 
4,  and  5,  represent  different  grinders,  those  at  fig.  3, 
and  4,  having  two  fangs  with  their  points  pervious, 
showing  the  entrance  of  the  vessels  and  nerves. 

Fig.  6  and  7,  represent  the  internal  structure  of 
the  teeth,  by  a  perpendicular  section,  a.  The  internal 
cavity  open  to  the  tip  of  the  roots;  ft,  the  bony  part  of 
the  tooth  ;  e,  the  fibres  of  the  cortex  striatus,  or  ena- 
mel. 

Fig.  8,  represents  portions  of  the  upper  and  lower 
jaws  of  a  child  ahout  seven  or  eight  years  old,  the  ante- 
rior plate  of  each  jaw  being  removed,  to  show  the  posi- 
tion o(  the  temporary  and  permanent  teeth,  and  the 
progress  of  ossification  in  the  latter.    The  teeth  marked 


a,  6,  and  c,  are  lempoary  teeth ;  a,  one  of  the  lateral  in- 
cisors of  the  upper  jaw  ;  b,  b,  b,  the  cuspidated  teeth 
in  both  jaws  ;  c,  c,  c,  c,  the  temporary  grinders  ;  those 
marked,  d,  e,  f,  g,  h,  i,  are  the  permanent  teeth  in  dif- 
ferent stages  of  ossification  ;  d,  d,  d,  d,  d,  d,  the  four 
incisors  of  the  lower  jaw,  and  two  of  those  in  the  upper, 
which  have  just  a|)peared  through  the  gum  ;  e,  one  of 
the  lateral  incisors  of  the  upper  jaw,  not  yet  cut;  /,  /, 
the  cuspidated  teeth  on  one  side,  still  imperfect;  g,  g, 
g,  the  bicuspides  in  the  same  imperfect  slate  ;  h,  h,  the 
first  grinders  on  the  right  side,  nearly  perfect,  and  at 
their  proper  height  above  the  level  of  the  gum  ;  i,  fh» 
middle  grinder  of  the  right  side  in  the  lower  jaw,  still 
imperfect. 

Fig.  9,  exhibits  a  front  view  of  the  contents  of  the 
chest  and  belly,  after  cutting  away  part  of  the  ribs  and 
the  colon,  and  turning  back  the  integuments  and  mus- 
cles. A,  the  greater  part  of  the  right  lobe  of  the  lungs, 
the  rest  being  removed,  to  show  the  parts  behind  ;  B, 
the  left  lobe  of  the  lungs ;  C,  D,  the  heart ;  E,  the 
atlantal  or  superior  vena  cava;  F,  F,  the  subclavian 
veins;  G,  G,  the  internal  jugular  veins  ;  H,  part  of  the 
trunk  of  the  aorta,  rising  beside  the  superior  vena  cava  ; 
K,  K,  the  cut  edge  of  the  diaphragm,  with  the  heart 
and  lungs  resting  on  it  ;  L,  L,  the  convex  surface  of  the 
right  and  left  lobes  of  the  liver,  with  a  white  line  between 
them,  showing  the  rudiments  of  the  broad  ligament  f 
M,  j)art  of  the  round  ligament  of  the  liver;  N,  the 
round  extremity  of  the  gall-bladder;  O,  the  stomach, 
pressed  more  than  usual  to  the  left  side  by  the  weight 
ot  the  liver ;  P,  the  spleen ;  Q,  Q,  the  parts  of  the  belly 
where  the  kidneys  are  situated  behind  the  bowels ;  O,  O, 
0,  the  convolutions  of  the  small  intestines,  as  they  ap- 
pear when  the  arch  of  the  colon  and  the  omentum  are 
removed. 

Fig.  10,  represents  several  of  the  viscera  of  the 
belly  that  could  not  be  seen  in  the  former  view.  In 
this  figure  .the  stomach  and  small  intestines  are  re- 
moved, and  the  liver  is  turned  upwards,  to  show  its  con- 
cave surface.  A,  A,  the  concave  surface  of  the  Jiver 
turned  towards  the  right  side  ;  B,  the  small  lobe  of  the 
liver  called  lobulus  spigelii,  between  which  and  the  part 
marked  C,  lies  what  is  called  the  porta  of  the  liver, 
ivhere  the  large  vessels  enter ;  D,  the  round  ligament; 
E,  the  body  of  the  gall-bladder  attached  to  the  concave 
surface  of  the  liver;  P,  its  neck;  G,  the  pancreas ;  H, 
the  spleen  ;  I,  I,  the  kidneys,  lying  close  to  the  posterior 
membrane  of  the  belly ;  K,  K,  the  renal  veins ;  L,  Ii, 
the  ureters  ;  M,  the  descending  trunk  of  the  aorta, 
giving  off  at  N,  the  spermatic  arteries,  at  O,  the  infe- 
rior mesenteric  artery,  and  at  P,  dividing  into  the  two 
large  trunks  called  the  common  iliac  arteries  ;  Q,  the 
sacral  or  inferior  re«a  cava,  receiving  at  R,  the  sperma- 
tic vein  of  the  right  side  ;  S,  S,  the  spermatic  arteries 
and  veins  closely  united  to  form  the  spermatic  cord  ; 
T,  the  common  iliac  veins  uuiting  in  the  trunk  of  the 
inferior  vena  cava  ;  U,  the  extremity  of  the  colon,  imper- 
ceptibly ending  in  V,  the  rectum  ;  X,  the  urinary  blad- 
der distended. 

Fig.  1 1 ,  gives  a  lateral  view  of  the  contents  of  the 
chest,  belly,  and  pelvis,  supposing  a  vertical  section  to 
be  made  through  the  spine,  and  the  ribs,  integuments, 
muscles,  pleura,  and  peritoneum  on  the  left  side  re- 
moved. A,  B,  C,  the  heart  invested  in  its  pericardium  ; 
A,  the  left  or  systemic  ventricle ;  B,  the  left,  or  systemic 
auricle ;  C,  the  root  of  the  pulmonary  artery  ;  D,  the  arch 
of  tlie  aorta,  rising  above  the  pericardium;  E,  the  com- 
5G  2 


■788 


ANATOMY. 


mon  trunk  of  the  right  Carotid  and  right  sub-clavian 
art?ries ;  F,  the  left  carotid  artery  ;  G,  H,  tfie  left  suh- 
claviau  artery  and  vein,  cut  and  tied  ;  I,  the  place  where 
one  of  the  pulmonary  or  systemic  veins  enters  the  sys- 
temic auricle ;  K,  the  left  lobe  of  the  lungs  drawn  aside 
towards  the  spine,  so  that  the  surface  next  the  pericar- 
dium, which  is  naturally  concave,  appears  convex ;  L, 
the  cut  edge  of  the  diaphragm  ;  M,  the  left  lobe  of  the 
liver;  N,  O,  the  stomach  a  little  distended  with  food; 
P,  the  spleen,  rather  of  an  unusual  figure  in  this  subject ; 
Q,  R,  S,  T,  the  great  omentum  covering  the  bowels,  and 
extending  a  little  below  the  navel,  being  in  this  subject 
unusually  devoid  of  fat ;  Q,  R,  q,  r,  s,  t,  the  several  turn- 
ings of  the  colon  or  great  intestine  on  the  left  side  of 
the  body ;  Q,  R,  q,  the  transverse  arch  ol  the  colon ;  q, 
the  spleuic  flexure  ;  q,  r,  the  left  lundiar  portion  ;  r,  s, 
the  left  iliac  portion  ;  *■,  t,  the  sigmoid  flexure ;  X,  the 
tectum  ;  Y,  Y,  Y,  one  of  the  three  bands  of  longitudinal 
muscular  fibres  that  extends  along  the  colon  from  the 
caecum  to  the  rectum  ;  S,  T,  a,  a,  the  convolutions  of  the 
small  intestines  partly  covered  by  the  omentum  ;  6,  the 
urinary  bladder,  a  little  distended  with  fluid,  lying  be- 
tween the  rectum  and  the  pubis;  c,  tlie  prostate  gland 
on  the  left  side ;  d,  the  left  vesiaila  seminalis  ;  e,  the 
left  ureter  separated  a  little  from  the  bladder,  to  which 
it  was  here  closely  connected. 

Fig.  12,  represents  a  portion  of  that  division  of  the 
small  intestines  called ^"f/«nMOT,  taken  from  a  person  who 
had  died  soon  after  eating,  when  the  lacteals  were  dis- 
tended with  chyle.  A,  B,  C,  the  outer  surface  of  the 
intestine  covered  with  its  peritoneal  coat,  through  which 
are  seen  the  minute  ramifications  of  the  blood-vessels, 
and  the  commencement  of  the  lacteals,  which  latter  are 
distinguished  by  their  white  colour;  D,  D,  a  portion  of 
the  mesentery,  by  which  the  intestine  was  connected 
with  the  rest  of  the  canal ;  E,  P,  G,  the  trunk  and  princi- 
pal ramifications  of  the  mesenteric  artery ;  H,  I,  K,  the 
trunk  and  principal  branches  of  the  mesenteric  vein, 
elosely  accompanying  (hose  of  the  artery ;  L,  L,  L, 
three  of  the  mesenteric  glands,  with  numerous  lacteals 
entering  them  from  the  mesentery,  and  a  few  going  out 
on  the  opposite  side; 

CHAP.  IV. 

<^BGANS  of  Circulation. 

In  pnrsOing  our  description  of  the  organs  of  the  hu- 
man bo<ly,  the  most  natural  order  would  be  to  follow 
the  course  of  the  aliment  from  the  intestines  to  the  cir- 
culating system,  through  the  lacteals  and  thoracic  duct. 
To  do  this  with  advantage,  however,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary that  our  readers  should  possess  some  previous 
knowledge  of  at  least  that  part  «f  the  circulating  system 
into  which  the  common  canal  of  the  nutricious  fluid  en- 
ters, and  along  which  it  takes  its  course.  This  consider- 
ation obliges  us  to  deviate  a  little  from  the  course  of 
nature^  and  to  describe  the  organs  of  circulation  before 
we  consider  those  of  absorption. 

The  organs  of  circulation  consist  of  the  heart,  as  the 
common  centre  from  which  the  circulating  fluids  are 
conveyed  to  every  part  of  the  body,  and  to  which  they 
are  returned,  to  undergo  a  renovation  of  their  properties, 
and  be  again  distributed ;  of  arteries,  for  distributing 
the  bloo«l,  and  furnishing  the  various  secretions ;  and  of 
reins,  for  bringing  back  that  part  of  the  fluids  which 
Jias  been  exhausted  of  its  vital  powers,   by  pas»iog 


through  the  several  secreting  organs.  The  circnlat* 
ing  system  is  naturally  divided  into  two  sets  of  or- 
gans; one  destined  for  the  distribution  of  the  blood  to 
all  parts  of  the  bo<ly ;  the  other  to  circulate  it  through 
particular  organs,  by  which  it  is  to  regain  what  it  had 
lost  in  this  general  distribution.  Both  these  sets  of 
organs  are  united  in  one  common  centre,  the  heart, 
which  is,  in  fact,  a  double  organ,  consisting  of  several 
distinct  cavities,  filled  with  blood  of  a  different  uatur); 
and  appearance. 

Sect.  1.    Of  the  Heart. 

The  heart  lies  in  the  inferior  part  of  the  cavity  of  the 
chest,  a  little  towards  the  left  side,  but  chiefly  in  the 
middle  region  of  the  chest,  formed  by  that  doubling  ot 
the  general  investing  membrane  of  this  cavity,  which 
is  called  mediastinum.  The  human  heart,  in  its  figure, 
so  nearly  resembles  that  of  the  domestic  quadrupeds 
which  are  employed  as  food,  that  we  need  not  describe 
its  general  form.  In  its  natural  position  it  lies  upon  its 
side,  resting  on  the  diaphragm,  with  its  point  a  little  for- 
wards, and  towards  the  left  side,  nearly  opposite  the  space 
between  the  sixth  and  seventh  ribs,  against  which  it  beats 
at  eacli  contraction.  Its  base  lies  a  little  backward  or 
dorsad,  towards  the  right,  and  rather  more  atlantad 
than  its  point,  owing  to  the  greater  convexity  of  the 
diaphragm  at  this  part.  The  whole  heart,  and  the 
roots  ol  the  large  blood-vessels  that  arise  from  it,  and 
terminate  in  it,  are  surrounded  with  a  strong  firm  mem- 
brane, to  be  presently  described,  called  pericardium,  by 
which  they  are  firmly  connecte<l  to  the  diaphragm  and 
the  neighbouring  parts.  See  Plate  XIX.  Fig.  H.  A, 
B,  C. 

We  have  said  that  the  heart  is  a  double  organ.  It 
is  divided  nearly  in  the  middle  by  a  strong  partition 
called  the  septum  of  the  heart,  and  composed  of  fleshy 
and  tendinous  fibres.  On  each  side  of  this  partition  lie 
two  considerable  cavities,  with  strong  fleshy  sides  oi* 
walls.  These  cavities  are  called  the  ventricles  of  the 
heart,  and  have  been  distinguished  by  different  names, 
according  to  their  situation  or  uses.  That  which  in  the 
ordinary  position  of  the  human  body  lies  towards  the 
sternum,  and  a  little  towards  the  right  side,  has  been 
called  the  right  or  anterior  ventricle  ;  and  that  which 
looks  towards  the  spine,  and  a  little  to  the  left,  the  left 
or  posterior  ventricle.  We  shall  here  follow  Dr.  Bar-., 
clay's  nomenclature,  calling  the  former  the  pulmonic 
ventricle,  as  it  conveys  the  blood  entirely  to  the  lungs, 
and  the  latter  the  si/stetnic  rentnc\e.,  as  this  is  the  cen- 
tre of  distribution  to  the  system  at  large.  Attached  to 
each  of  these  ventricles  at  the  base  of  the  heart,  and 
easily  distinguished  from  them  by  their  external  projec- 
tion, are  two  other  cavities,  also  of  considerable  size,  but 
not  furnished  with  such  strong  fleshy  sides.  These  ca- 
vities are  called  auricles,  as  they  project  from  the  sides 
of  the  base  of  the  heart  like  the  ears  of  a  dog  from  his 
head.  That  auricle  which  is  most  attached  to  the  right 
or  pulmonic  ventricle,  has  been  called  the  right  auricle, 
and  that  which  is  attached  to  the  left  or  systemic  ven- 
tricle, the  left  auricle.  We  call  the  former  the  pulmo- 
nic, and  the  latter  the  systemic  auricle,  as  the  one.  rei 
ceives  the  blood  that  is  about  to  be  sent  to  the  lungs  by 
the  pulmonic  TeHtricIc,and  the  other  receives  that  which 
is  to  be  distributed  to  the  system  by  the  systemic  ven- 
tricle. From  each  of  the  two  ventricles  arises  a  large 
tube  with  strong  muscular  sides,  called  au  artery.  Ttunt. 


ANATOMY. 


789 


■which  arises  from  the  pulmonic  ventricle  is  generally 
ternied  the  pulniouiiry  aitery,  as  it  is  the  tube  through 
which  Die  blood  is  conveyed  to  the  lungs.  In  Ur.  Bar- 
clay's nomenclature  it  is  tlie  jmlinonic  artery.  That 
tube  which  arises  from  the  eysttmic  ventricle  is  called 
aorta,  and  by  Dr.  Barclay  the  systemic  artery,  being  the 
medium  of  distribution  ot  the  blood  to  the  system.  In 
each  of  the  auricles  terminate  several  large  tubes,  which 
are  tlie  trunks  of  the  great  veins.  The  pulmonic  auri- 
cle receives  two,  one  coming  from  the  atlantal  parts  of 
the  body,  tlience  called  the  superior  or  descending 
vena  cava  ;  the  other  coming  from  the  sacral  parts  of  the 
body,  and  called  the  inferior  or  ascending  vena  cava. 
These  arc  by  Dr.  Barclay  termed  pulmonic  veins.  Into 
the  systemic  auricle  open  four  tubes  bringing  the  blood 
from  the  lungs,  alter  it  has  been  distribuied  through 
those  organs.  These  are  commonly  called  the  pulmo- 
nary veins,  and  by  Dr.  Barclay  the  systemic  veins.  The 
part  of  each  auricle  where  the  venous  tubes  enter,  is 
more  expanded  than  the  rest  of  the  auricle,  and  is  called 
sinus.  That  formed  by  the  rcna:  cavce,  has  been  termed 
the  right  sinus  of  the  heart,  and  we  shall  call  it  the  pul- 
monic sinus;  while  that  formed  by  the  meeting  ol  the 
pulmonary  or  systemic  veins,  is  tiie  left  or  systemic  si- 
nus. Having  thus  given  a  general  description  oi  the 
heart,  and  explained  the  several  names  by  which  its 
parts  are  distinguished,  we  shall  resume  the  subject, 
and  consider  each  part  a  little  more  at  large. 

The  pulmonic,  or  right  auricle  of  the  heart,  occupies 
that  part  of  the  base  which  rests  on  the  diaphragm 
next  the  sternum.  It  is  of  a  very  irregular  appearance, 
hangs  loose  from  (he  heart  on  the  sternal  side,  while  in 
the  opposite  direction  it  is  closely  connected  with  the 
systemic  auricle.  The  principal  part  of  this  cavity  is 
formed  by  the  meeting  of  the  great  pulmonic  veins,  or 
ccrue  cavte,  in  what  we  have  called  the  pulmonic  sinus, 
and  between  tJie  sacral  part  of  this  sinus  and  the  ventri- 
cle, there  is  a  depehding  part,  which  is  more  peculiarly 
styled  the  auricle.  The  internal  cavity  of  the  auricle 
exhibits  several  important  holes  and  eminences.  At  its 
lower  or  sacral  side  enters  the  inferior  vetia  cava,  form- 
ing next  the  mcdiasiimim  nearly  a  straight  canal  with 
the  cavity  of  the  superior  vena  cava :  but  on  the  side 
next  the  proper  auricle,  presenting  a  remarkable  fold 
projecting  within  the  cavity,  so  as  to  lie  convex  next 
the  vein,  and  concave  next  the  ventricle.  This  doubling 
has  been  called  the  eustachian  valve.  Between  the  con- 
cave part  of  the  eustachian  valve  and  the  passage  to  the 
ventricle,  we  find  an  orifice,  which  is  the  entrance  of 
the  coronary  vein,  bringing  the  blood  from  the  substance 
of  the  heart  into  the  auricle.  This  orilice  is  provided 
with  a  valve,  which  prevents  the  return  of  the  blood  into 
the  vein,  but  freely  allows  its  entrance  into  the  auricle. 
Where  the  two  venoe  cava  meet  next  the  right  side, 
there  is  a  small  angular  projection,  sometimes,  tliough 
improperly,  called  ihc  luhercidtim  Lorvcri ;  and  between 
this  and  the  eustachian  valve  is  seen  a  depression,  form- 
ing the  remains  of  a  passage  that  in  the  foetus  led  to  the 
systemic  anricle,  and  was  called  the  oval  hole;  but  be- 
ing closed  by  a  membrane  in  the  adult,  has  received  the 
name  oi  fossa  avalis.  The  interior  cavity  of  the  pu  lino- 
uic  sinus  is  smooth,  while  that  of  the  proper  pulmonic 
auricle  is  rendered  uneven  by  bundles  of  fleshy  fibres 
called  its  pillars.  The  principal  oi  ject  that  remains  to 
be  noticed  within  the  auricle,  is  a  hole  about  an  inch  in 
diameter,  forming  the  passage  from  the  auricle  iuto  the 
puimonic  veutricle. 


The  pulmonic  or  right  ventricle  is  a  triangular  cavity, 
larger  than  the  auricle,  and  furnished  with  thick  fleshy 
walls  or  sides,  extending  nearly  to  the  point  of  the  heart.. 
The  sides  of  this  cavity  are  formed  of  several  layers  of 
large  Ikshy  fibres,  ruuniiig  in  various  directions,  but 
chiefly  in  an  oblique  course,  from  the  base  of  the  heart 
to  the  partition  between  the  ventricle.  On  its  periphe- 
ral suri'uce  the  ventricle  is  smooth,  but  on  its  internal 
or  central  surface  it  is  rendered  very  irregular  by  nu- 
merous bundles  of  fleshy  fibres,  called  columna:  camcny 
or  fleshy  pillars,  projecting  within  the  cavity,  and  ad- 
hering either  to  each  other,  or  longitudinally  to  the  sides 
of  tlie  ventricle.  A  few  of  these  tleshy  pillars  are  loose 
at  one  extremity,  and  are  connected  witli  strong  tendi- 
nous fibres,  ending  next  the  auricle  in  a  membranous 
valve,  generally  divided  into  three  portions,  and  called 
the  tricuspid  valve.  This  valve  is  so  formed,  and  so 
conuected  with  the  tendinous  fibres,  and  tleshy  pillars, 
as  to  prevent  the  return  of  the  blood  from  the  ventricle 
into  tiie  auricle,  though  it  affords  it  a  free  passage  in  the 
opposite  direction.  Near  the  base  of  the  triangular  ca- 
vity of  the  ventricle,  at  its  upper  and  back  part,  is  ano- 
ther "opening  leading  to  the  pulmonic  artery;  This 
opening  is  furnished  with  three  membranes,  nearly  of  a 
semilunar  form,  convex  next  the  ventricle,  and  concave 
next  the  cavity  of  the  artery,  and  ending  in  the  middle 
of  their  loose  edge  by  a  small  hard  substance.  When 
these  valves  are  made  to  approach  each  other,  they  com- 
pletely close  the  opening  into  the  ventricle,  and  prevent 
the  return  of  the  blood  from  the  artery.  From  their 
form  they  are  called  semilunar  valves. 

The  systemic,  or  left  auricle  of  the  heart,  is  joined, 
as  we  have  said,  to  the  pulmonic  auricle  on  its  sternal 
and  right  side,  while  in  the  opposite  direction  it  projects 
towards  the  spine,  forming  two  very  distinct  parts,  one 
almost  of  a  cubical  figure,  and  the  other  neariy  flat  and 
depending.  The  former  of  these  is  the  systemic  sinus, 
the  latter  the  proper  systemic  auricle.  Joining  the  si- 
nus are  seen  the  four  large  trunks  of  the  pulmonary  or 
systemic  veins.  The  internal  cavity  of  the  systemic  si- 
nus is  rather  larger  than  that  of  the  pulmonic  sinus.  It 
exhibits  the  same  smooth  appearance,  but  has  not  so 
many  remarkable  objects  as  the  former.  There  are  ge- 
nerally four  openings  into  this  sinus  from  the  pulmonary 
veins,  two  on  the  right,  and  two  on  the  left  side  ;  but 
these  openings  are  not  guarded  by  any  valve.  The  pro- 
per auricle  on  this  side  has  a  similar  structure  with  that 
of  the  other  side  of  the  heart.  From  the  systemic  auri- 
cle to  the  corresponding  ventricle,  there  is  also  a  lai^e 
opening  for  admitting  the  blood  into  the  latter  cavity, 
guarded  by  a  valve  similar  to  that  between  the  pulmonic 
auricle  and  ventricle,  except  that  it  is  divided  into  two 
portions  instead  of  three.  This  is  called  the  mitral 
valve,  and,  like  the  tricuspid  valve,  has  its  membranous 
part  fixed  in  a  tendinous  ring,  forming  the  boundary  be- 
tween the  auricle  and  ventricle. 

The  systemic  or  left  ventricle  occupies  the  dorsal  side 
of  the  heart,  from  the  systemic  auricle  to  the  point.  It 
is  of  a  pyramidal  form  ;  is  longer  than  the  pulmonic  ven- 
tricle, and  appears  to  have  two  distinct  sides.  The 
sides  are  considerably  thicker  than  those  of  the  other 
ventricle,  but  its  cavity  is  neariy  of  the  same  extent, 
though  some  anatomists  have  described  it  as  smallet 
than  that  ot  the  pulmonic  ventricle.  See  Bell's  Anato- 
my, vol.  ii.  p.  22.  In  structure,  both  on  its  peripheral 
and  central  surface,  it  resembles  the  pu!monie  ventricle. 
From  the  systemic  ventricle  at  its  highest  part,  is  the 


?90 


ANAT03IY. 


opening  into  the  aorta  or  great  systemic  artery,  guard- 
ed like  tliat  of  the  pulmonic  artery,  by  three  gimilunar 
valves. 

The  heart  is  Bupplied  with  nerves  by  the  par  vag7im 
and  great  sympathetic,  and  it  is  nourished  by  arteries 
rbing  from  tlie  root  of  the  aorta,  and  running  in  grooves, 
either  between  the  auricles  and  ventricles,  or  between 
the  two  ventricles. 

The  pericardnim  or  general  covering  of  the  heart, 
forms  a  membranous  bag,  seemingly  detached  from  the 
body  of  the  heart,  except  at  the  roots  of  the  large  blood- 
vessels, where  it  is  firmly  connected,  and  from  this  part 
a  thin  membranous  expansion  is  reflected  over  the  body 
of  the  heart,  forming  its  immediate  coveriug.  The  pe- 
ricardium consists  of  two  layers,  of  which  that  next  the 
nudiastinum  and  diaphragm  is  of  a  fibrous  texture,  while 
that  next  the  heart  is  what  Bichat  calls  a  serous  mem- 
brane. This  latter  is  stronger  than  the  other,  and  is 
smooth  and  polished  on  the  surface  next  the  heart.  Be- 
tween the  pericardium  and  the  heart  there  is  always 
found  a  small  quantity  of  a  serous  or  watery  fluid,  called 
tiie  water  or  liquor  of  the  peiicardiura  {hquor pericardii.) 
On  its  peripher.l  surface  the  pericardium  is  closely 
connected  to  the  mediastinum  and  the  tendinous  part  of 
the  diaphragm.  Thus  it  preserves  the  heart  in  a  fixed 
position  at  its  ba?e,  whiie  it  allows  free  motion  to  the 
body  of  that  organ  during  its  contractions  and  dilata- 
tions. 

The  heart  of  the  foetus  differs  in  several  particulars 
from  that  of  the  adult.  The  eustachian  valve  is  more 
distinct,  and  proportionaliy  larger  in  the  fretus;  the 
oval  hole  in  the  partition  between  the  pulmonic  and 
systemic  auricles  is  open,  but  is  furnished  with  a  valve 
next  the  sj'stemic  auricle,  which  prevents  the  return  of 
the  blood  into  the  pulmonic  sinus.  Between  the  pul- 
monary artery  and  the  aorta,  there  is,  in  the  foetus,  a 
large  canal,  which  forms  a  complete  communication  be- 
tween the  two  arterial  trunks,  thus  admitting  most  of 
the  blood  from  the  pulmonic  ventricle  to  pass  into  the 
aorta.  This  is  called  the  arterious  canal  or  duct  (ca- 
ualis  vel  ductus  arteriosus.)  Both  this  canal  and  the 
oval  hole,  are  obliterated  soon  after  birth. 

The  heart  is  possessed  of  great  irritability,  and  in 
the  living  body  its  cavities  are  continually  changing 
their  dimensions,  owing  to  the  contraction  of  the  mus- 
cular fibres  that  compose  their  sides.  Both  the  auri- 
cles and  ventricles  contract  upon  the  contained  blood 
at  frequent  and  regular  intervals.  Both  auricles  con- 
tract at  the  same  time,  and  both  ventricles  at  the  same 
lime ;  but  the  contraction  of  the  auricles  and  that  of  the 
ventricles  takes  place  alternately  ;  for  while  the  auricles 
are  contracting,  and  thus  propelling  the  blood  into  the 
ventricles,  these  latter  are  in  a  dilated  state ;  while, 
when  the  ventricles  are  contracting,  and  thus  propelling 
the  blood  into  the  great  arterial  trunks,  the  auricles  are 
relaxed.  The  motion  of  the  ventricles  being  most  con- 
siderable, is  that  chiefly  attended  to  in  speaking  of  the 
motion  of  the  heart ;  and  their  contraction  is,  by  medi- 
cal writers,  termed  the  systole,  and  their  dilatation  the 
diastole  of  the  h«art. 

Sect.  II.    Of  the  Arteries. 

We  have  seen  a  large  trunk  rising  from  each  of  the 
ventricles  of  the  heart,  and  to  these  trunks  we  have 
given  the  name  of  artery.  This  name  is  extended  to 
all  the  raraificatioDS  of  theee  trunks,  till  they  become  so 


small  as  to  be  scarcely  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  The 
arteries  then  are  those  blood-vessels  which  proceed  in 
a  gradual  series  of  smaller  and  smp.ller  branches  from 
the  two  great  trunks  rising  from  the  ventricles,  and 
convey  the  blood,  either  to  the  lungs,  or  to  the  system 
at  large.  They  are  cylin(;rical  tu!>es,  with  sides  of  con- 
siderable strength  and  density,  thickest  next  the  trunks, 
and  becoming  so  thin  towards  the  small  branches,  as  to 
be  nearly  transparent.  They  are  divided  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  larger  trunks  into  innumerable  minute 
branches,  that  are  dispersed  through  the  substance  of 
almost  every  organ  of  the  i>ody ;  so  that  when,  by  a  pe- 
culiar process,  they  are  successfully  filled  with  coloured 
wax,  and  the  animal  matter  dissolved  by  corroding 
liquors,  the  remaiiiiag  wax  that  filled  the  arterial  cavi- 
ties, preserves  very  nearly  the  form  of  the  original  or- 
gan. 

The  branches  of  arteries  are  given  off  at  different 
directions,  according  to  their  situation,  or  according  to 
the  distance  or  position  of  the  parts  which  they  are  des- 
tined to  supply.  Sometimes,  as  within  the  great  cavi- 
ties of  the  body,  they  ccme  off  nearly  at  right  angles 
with  the  trunk,  while  in  other  situations,  as  in  the  limbs, 
they  proceed  in  a  direction,  making  a  more  or  less 
acute  pngle  with  the  trunk.  In  general,  where  the  trunk 
of  an  artery  divides  into  two  branches,  one  of  these  is 
larger  than  the  other,  and  may  be  consiilered  as  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  trunk.  The  arteries  seldom  run  far  in 
a  straight  direction,  but  are  generally  either  in  a  waving 
line,  or  are  bent  at  an  angle.  The  serpentine  course  is 
the  more  common.  The  branches  frequently  communi- 
cate with  each  other,  forming  what  are  called  a?iasto~ 
moses  or  inosculntions.  These  are  most  frequent  in  the 
skin  and  membranes,  and  are  particularly  obvious  in  the 
mesentary  that  connects  the  bowels. 

When  an  artery  is  cut  across  its  cavity  in  the  living 
body,  the  section  is  always  circular,  and  this  form  it  re- 
tains, though  great  part  of  the  contained  blood  be  eva- 
cuated. As  the  bloo<l  flows  out,  however,  the  circular 
opening  becomes  gradually  smaller,  from  the  elastic  na- 
ture of  the  arterial  coats,  by  which  the  vessel  is  accom- 
modated to  the  volume  of  its  contents.  Taken  gene- 
rally, the  whole  arterial  system  is  considered  by  most 
anatomists  as  forming  a  cone,  the  smallest  part  of  which 
is  next  the  heart ;  so  that  the  ramifications  taken  toge- 
ther, must  be  considered  as  larger  than  the  tnmk  from 
which  they  proceed.  The  cavity  of  the  arteries  is  per- 
fectly continuous,  having  no  valves  except  at  the  origin 
of  the  great  trunks. 

The  arterial  tubes  are  composed  of  several  layer?, 
partly  membranous  and  partly  muscular.  They  are  all 
furnished  with  a  peripheral  or  external  coat,  which  is 
derived  chiefly  from  the  cellular  substance  by  which 
they  are  every  where  surrounded.  This  cellular  sub- 
stance is  sometimes  so  dense  and  firm,  as  to  form  a  ca- 
nal or  sheath,  within  which  the  artery  is  contained.  The 
elasticity  of  the  arteries  seems  to  reside  chiefly  in  their 
external  coat.  Some  of  the  larger  trunks  derive  their 
additional  coat  from  the  membrane  that  lines  the  cavity 
where  they  are  lodged,  from  the  peritoneum,  the  pleura, 
pericardium,  dura  mater,  &c.  The  arteries  are  lined  on 
their  central  surface  with  a  membrane  that  is  very  thin, 
fine,  smooth,  and  transparent,  though  at  the  same  time 
dense  and  strong.  Between  these  lies  the  proper  mus- 
cular or  fibrous  coat,  which  is  peculiar  to  the  arterial 
system.  This  coat  is  verj'  evident  in  the  larger  trunks 
and  branches ;  but  as  the  arteries  diminish  in  size,  it 


AlV'AtOMY. 


79 1 


becomes  less  appareut*.  The  fibres  of  which  this  coat 
is  composed,  are  t'.isjiosed  in  a  circular  (lirectiou,  form- 
ing arches  round  every  part  of  the  cylinder,  but  not  per- 
fect circles.  The  whole  muscular  coat  appears  of  a 
pale  reddish,  or  rather,  according  to  Bichat,  of  a  yel- 
lowish colour,  and  where  it  is  thickest,  the  artery  is 
most  opaque.  It  is  this  coat  that  gives  to  the  arteries 
tlieir  contractile  power.  All  these  coats  are  connected 
together  by  cellular  substance.  They  are  su|iplied 
with  nourishment  by  extremely  small  arteries,  called  by 
unatomisls  vasa  rasorum,  and  they  are  furnished  with 
absorbents,  and  apparently  with  nerves. 

The  minutest  branches  in  which  most  of  the  arteries 
terminate,  are  called  capillary  vessels,  from  their  ex- 
treme slendernesB.  Where  these  minutest  branches 
terminate,  another  set  of  vessels  commences,  which  re- 
ceive the  blood  from  the  arteries  through  the  capilla- 
ries. These  are  the  veins,  and  these  vessels  we  shall 
presently  consider.  The  capillary  vessels,  as  lying  be- 
tween the  arteries  and  veins,  may  be  said  to  belong  to 
both  systems,  and  will  be  more  properly  considered  by 
themselves. 

It  is  not  only  in  the  capillary  vessels  that  the  arteries 
terminate.  Some  of  them  open  into  various  cavities  by 
small  vessels  that  are  termed  exhalants ;  others  pour 
their  contents  into  certain  complex  organs  called  glands, 
destined  to  produce  some  change  on  the  blood  which 
they  receive,  while  a  few  convey  blood  into  spongy  cel- 
lular parts,  from  which  it  is  again  taken  up,  nearly  un- 
changed, by  other  vessels. 

The  blood  contained  in  the  principal  trunks  and 
branches  of  the  arteries,  when  these  are  viewed  through 
a  microscope,  appears  of  a  red  colour ;  but  in  the  smaller 
ramifications,  and  especially  in  the  capillaries,  it  is 
nearly  colourless.  We  are  not,  however,  to  suppose, 
that  the  coloured  blood  does  not  flow  through  the  ca- 
pillaries from  the  arteries  into  the  veins ;  but  from  the 
extreme  slenderness  of  the  stream  in  these  minute  ves- 
sels, its  colour  is  much  less  obvious ;  just  as  a  small 
quantity  of  red  wine  in  the  bottom  of  a  glass  appears  of 
a  much  lighter  tinge  than  a  considerable  quantity  in  the 
same  vessel. 

The  arteriesin  young  people  are  proportionally  larger, 
and  beat  more  strongly  than  in  persons  of  an  advanced 
age.  In  very  old  people  many  of  the  minuter  arterial 
branches  become  impervious,  and  the  diameter  of  others 
is  greatly  diminished. 

The  names,  origins,  distribution  and  connexion  of 
the  principal  arteries  of  the  human  body,  will  be  given 
presently  in  a  tabular  form. 

Sect.  III.    Of  the  Feins. 

The  veins  are  elastic  tubes,  which  carry  back  to  the 
auricles  of  the  heart  that  blood  which  had  been  distri- 
buted by  the  arteries  to  every  part  of  the  body.  They 
are   generally  larger  than  the  corresponding  arteries, 


and  in  the  liriag  body  are  easily  distinguished  from 
these  by  their  want  oi'  pulsation.  Many  of  them  are 
confined  to  the  surface  of  the  body,  running  in  very  ob- 
vious ramifications  below  the  skin,  where  they  are  dis- 
tinguished by  their  blue  colour;  and  between  the  mus- 
cles, but  two  venous  branches  almost  always  accompany 
the  deep-seated  arteries.  Hence  their  absolute  number 
is  greater  than  that  of  the  arteries,  except.  |!erha|)s,  in 
the  lungs,  where  the  number  and  relative  size  of  the 
arterial  and  venous  branches  are  nearly  alike.  The 
veins  are  cylindrical  like  the  arteries,  but  their  sides 
are  thinner,  weaker,  and  less  elastic,  whence  they  do 
not  preserve  the  cylindrical  form  of  their  cavities  when 
cut  across,  or  when  a  great  part  of  their  contents  is  ab- 
stracted. Their  direction  and  ramification  are  similar 
to  that  of  arteries.  They  also  make  frequent  anasto- 
moses, or  their  branches  freely  communicate  with  eacli 
other.  They  are  also  every  where  surrounded  with 
cellular  texture,  but  this  is  seldom  so  dense  as  that 
which  forms  the  sheaths  of  the  arteries. 

The  veins  are  composed,  like  the  arteries,  of  three 
coats,  an  outer  cellular  membrane,  an  internal  delicate 
membrane,  and  an  intermediate  fibrous  coat;  but  these 
coats  differ  in  several  respects  from  (hose  of  the  arte- 
ries. The  cellular  coat  is  looser,  and  less  elastic.  The 
fibrous  coat  is  not  composed  of  circular  fibres  like  that 
of  the  arteries,  but  chiedy  of  longitudinal  fibres  parallel 
to  each  other,  and  often  with  considerable  intervals  be- 
tween them.  These  longitudinal  fibres  are  said  by 
Bichat  to  be  more  apparent  in  the  superficial  than  in 
tlie  deep-seated  veins,  and  are  by  him  considered  as 
essentially  distinct  in  their  nature  and  properties,  from 
the  circular  fibres  that  compose  the  muscular  coat  of 
the  arteries.  They  are  not  elastic,  are  of  a  soft  texture, 
but  extremely  extensible,  and  not  easily  broken.  See 
Bichat  Anatomic  Gencrale,  torn.  ii.  p.  399,  404.  Some 
anatomists  are  of  opinion  that  these  fibres  are  muscular  ; 
but  this  is  by  no  means  certain,  and  from  their  direction 
they  cannot  have  the  effect  so  universally  attributed  to 
the  circular  fibres  of  the  arteries,  of  assisting  ths  circu- 
lation of  the  blood.  In  several  of  the  veins,  the  internal 
membrane  is  smooth  and  continuous ;  but  in  a  great 
number,  especially  those  of  the  extremities,  this  mem- 
brane is  furnished  with  semilunar  folds  projecting  within 
the  cavity  of  the  tube,  and  forming  valves  that  are  con- 
cave towards  the  trunks,  and  convex  towards  the  small 
branches  of  the  veins.  These  valves  readilj^  allow  the 
blood  to  pass  from  the  branches  into  the  trunks  towards 
the  heart,  but  completely  obstruct  its  passage  in  the  con- 
trary direction.  Where  the  valves  are  seated,  small 
protuberances,  like  knots,  may  sometimes  be  observed 
on  the  outside,  arising,  as  is  alleged,  from  the  insinua- 
tion of  the  blood  between  the  concave  side  of  the  valves, 
and  the  adjacent  part  of  the  sides  of  the  veins. 

The  veins  are  nourished  by  small  arteries,  and  are 
supplied  like  the  arteries,  with  nerves  and  absor- 
bents. 


est  < 

AnattiTiiie  (>e?i^rc(e,  lonie  ii.  p.  *io.  oumc  uiiit-i- atmLuiui9i:>,  iiuwuver,  give  a  very  uinereni  account,  ana  aesenoe  the  muscular  coat  as 
less  CTidrnt  in  the  large  trunks  than  in  the  smaller  branches.  They  also  contend,  that  these  latter  are  proportionally  stronger  than  the 
trnnks ;  aa  opinion  whicli  tliey  seem  to  have  dei-iveil  from  tlie  greater  frequency  of  aneurism  in  the  trunks,  and  from  the  result  of  an 
experiment  of  Mr.  J.  Hunter,  in  which,  of  two  arteries  divided  in  a  living  animni,  the  smaller  contracted  in  diameter,  much  more  than 
the  larger.  We  cannot  enter  at  large  into  the  merits  of  this  question,  but  shall  observe  only,  that  Mr.  Hunter's  experiment  proves  no- 
thing respecting  the  muscular  coat,  as  the  contraction  of  divided  Itring  arteries  is  to  be  .tttribated  to  their  elasticity,  and  the  gre.iter 
frequency  of  aneurism  in  the  large  trunks  proves  merely  that  the  strength  of  their  coats  is  not  sufficient  to  resist  the  strODg  impclting 
farce  of  the  cuiTent  of  blood  sent  immediately  from  the  heart. 


T92 


ANATOMY. 


The  veins  arise  either  frow  the  capillaries  in  which 
the  arteries  terininiite  from  the  convolutions  of  glands, 
or  from  spongy  cells,  as  in  the  penis,  and  probably  in 
the  spleen.  Within  the  head,  the  veins  freely  commu- 
nicate with  the  sinuses  formed  Avithin  the  doublings  of 
the  (hira  mater. 

It  has  been  commonly  supposed  that  the  veins  with- 
in the  belly  dilfer  from  those  in  the  general  system; 
but  Bichat,  whohas  examined  them  with  great  attention, 
describes  them  as  differing,  as  to  structure,  only  in  the 
greater  density  of  the  cellular  membrane,  and  less 
fibrous  appearance,  and  extensibility  of  the  intermedi- 
ate coat.  The  distribution  of  that  particular  set  of 
veins  that  are  ramified  through  the  the  liver,  called  the 
veum  Fortce,  will  be  considered  when  we  treat  of  that 
organ  in  the  seventh  chapter. 

The  veins  in  the  foetal  state,  and  during  early  child- 
hood, are  proportionally  much  less,  com|)ared  with  the 
arteries,  than  at  any  future  period  of  life.  As  age  in- 
creases they  become  larger,  and  those  next  the  surface 
become  more  evident,  and  in  old  people  they  are  much 
dilated  and  very  prominent,  especially  in  the  atlantal  ex- 
tremities. The  embossed  appearance  of  the  arms  of  an 
old  woman,  which  has  furnished  our  poets  with  one  of 
the  most  striking  features  in  their  portrait  of  a  witch,  is 
owing  partly  to  this  dilatation  of  the  veins,  and  partly  to 
the  absorption  of  the  fat  contained  in  the  cellular  sub- 
stance. 

The  names  of  the  principal  veins,  and  their  corres- 
pondence with  arteries,  will  be  noticed  immediately  in 
the  general  table  of  arteries. 

Sect.  IV.    Of  the  Capillary  and  Exhxdant  Vessels. 

We  have  seen  that  the  most  general  termination  of 
arteries  and  commencement  of  veins,  are  by  very  mi- 
nute or  capillary  vessels;  and  this  observation  is  appli- 
cable both  to  the  circulating  vessels  of  the  general  sys- 
tem, and  to  those  that  are  confined  to  the  lungs.  Capil- 
lary vessels  also  form  the  convolutions  of  secreting 
glands.  Their  offices,  in  all  these  situations,  must  of 
course  be  different.  In  some  they  appear  merely  to  con- 
tinue the  circulation  of  the  blood  from  the  arteries  into 
the  veins,  while  in  the  lungs  they  are  supposed  to  be  the 
principal  seat  of  that  important  and  necessary  change 
which  the  blood  undergoes  in  circulating  through  these 
organs ;  and  in  the  glands  they  are  doubtless  subser- 
vient to  the  function  of  secretion.  AVith  respect  to 
their  structure  and  properties  we  know  very  little.  The 
microscope  informsus  that  they  are  cylindrical  and  trans- 
parent, but  of  what  membranes  they  are  composed,  and 
whether  they  jKtssess  an  inherent  contractibility,  or 
merely  admit  the  passage  of  the  fluids  urged  on  by  the 
contractions  of  the  heart  and  arteries,  we  cannot  deter- 
mine. 

It  is  found  that  varions  matters  are  separated  from 
the  general  mass  of  blood  that  passes  through  the  arte- 
ries, without  any  very  complex  organ  to  serve  as  the  me- 
dium of  separation.  Thus,  into  all  the  cavities  of  the 
lio<ly  there  is  poured  a  watery  or  a  mucous  liquor,  which 


serves  to  raoisteti  both  the  sides  and  the  cavitiei,  and  the 
peripheral  surface  of  their  contents  ;  again,  a  moisture 
is  etfused  through  the  pores  of  the  skin,  and  passes 
through  the  cuticle  in  the  form  of  vapour  or  of  fluid  ; 
and  a  similar  elTusion  takes  place  in  the  lungs.  As  no 
par;icular  apparatus  can  be  discovered  by  which  the  se- 
paration is  effected,  it  is  naturally  concluded,  either  that 
the  moisture  exudes  through  pores  in  the  sides  of  the 
blood-vessels,  or  of  the  membranes  lining  the  cavities,  or 
that  it  is  poured  out  or  exhaled  by  particular  vessels 
wandering  from  the  general  course  of  circulation,  and 
opening  within  the  cavities  in  the  cellular  part  of  the 
lungs,  or  below  the  skin.  These  separating  vessels 
have  long  been  known  to  anatomists  by  the  name  of  ex- 
lialants.  They  are  generally  considered  as  coming  off 
from  the  arteries;  and  Bichat  is  of  opinion  that  they 
proceed  from  the  capillary  vessels. 

Soms  anatomists  consider  these  vessels  as  of  the  same 
nature  with  those  that  supply  the  secretary  glands,  and 
call  them  all  by  the  general  name  oi  sccertmig  vessels ; 
while  others  contend  that  these  exhalants  exist  only  in 
the  brains  of  the  humoral  pathologists.  We  wish  not  to 
interfere  with  these  disputes  on  the  mjnwft'a  of  anatomy, 
and  shall  therefore,  for  the  present,  dismiss  the  subject 
of  the  exhalant  arteries,  with  referring  such  of  our 
readers  as  wish  for  a  full  account  of  them,  to  Bichat's 
Anatmnie  Qencrale,  torn.  ii. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  there  belong  to  the  circu- 
lating system  small  vessels  with  open  mouths,  whether 
we  call  them  exhaling  or  secerning  vessels,  by  means  of 
which  the  matters  to  be  assimilated  to  the  various  parts 
of  the  body  are  conveyed  to  their  destined  situations ; 
phosphoric  acid,  lime  and  gelatine  to  the  bones ;  fibrine 
to  the  muscles  ;  albumen  and  gelatine  to  the  tendons  and 
cartilages,  &c.  It  is  true  that  these  are  so  small  as  to 
escape  the  investigation  of  the  anatomist,  but  of  their  ex- 
istence we  can  no  more  doubt  than  we  can  of  that  of  the 
vessels  to  be  presently  noticed,  by  which  these  matters 
are  again  taken  up,  and  carried  back  into  the  circula- 
ting organs,  to  give  place  to  fresh  supplies'". 

The  following  table  exhibits  a  comprehensive  view 
of  the  origin,  distribution,  and  connexion  of  the  princi- 
pal arterial  trunks  and  branches  that  have  received  par- 
ticular names,  and  of  the  veins  that  accompany  them,  or 
correspond  with  them  in  name  or  situation.  It  is  divi- 
ded into  four  columns :  In  the  first  column  are  given  the 
names  of  the  principal  arteries,  according  to  the  most 
received  anatomical  nomenclator,  and  the  synonymous 
names  by  which  they  are  most  generally  distinguished. 
Where  the  principal  trunk  or  branch  gives  off  a  number 
of  smaller  ramifications  that  have  received  appropriate 
names,  the  most  important  of  these  are  enumerated  iu 
Italics,  and  a  reference  is  given  to  such  figures  in  our 
series  of  plates,  as  afford  a  representation  of  the  vessel. 
In  the  second  column  are  marked  the  origins  of  each 
artery,  and  in  the  third  are  given  its  general  course  and 
distribution.  The  fourth  column  contains  the  principal 
communications  of  the  arteries  with  other  arterial 
branches  by  inosculation,  and  their  connexion  with  the 
neighbouring  veins  and  nerves. 


'  Those  who  deny  the  existence  of  exhaling  vessels,  and  explain  exhalation  or  exudatiou,  sccording  to  the  hTpot^esis  of  inorganic 
puret  iu  the  sides  of  the  secreting  surfaces,  lead  us  to  the  inference  that  this  part  of  the  function  of  secretion  is  left  to  chansc  :  but  a*  ia 
^  luacUine  such  as  the  iininial  body,  in  which  so  many  marks  of  evident  design  arc  every  where  presented  to  our  view,  the  influence  of 
ehanec  can  scarcely  be  admitted,  we  utuit  coueluUc  Ijiat  csbalins  vesicl*  really  exi«(,  though  ire  cannot  demonstrate  (o  the  eye  their 
^gin,  dii-c»UoD,  or  teriDioaliOD. 


ANATOMY. 


793 


TABLE  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  ARTERIES  AND  VEINS  OF  THE  HUMAN  BODY. 


1^0.      Names  and   Synony- 

rnes. 
1.  Pulmonary  artery. 
Pulmonic  Artery  of  Bar- 
clay. 


Origin  of  Arteries. 


Distribution  of  A  rteries.        Connexions  of  A  rteries. 


2.  Aorta. 

Systemic     Artery* 
Plate  XVllI.  Fig. 
Fig.  10.  M. 


Bare. 
9.  H. 


3.  Rigbt  and  left  coronary 

arteries. 

4.  Right  and  left  common 

carotids. 
Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  A; 


5.  Right   and    left    subcla- 
vians. 
Plate  XXI.  Fig.  2.  C. 


6.  External   carotid    artery. 
Plate   XXI.    Fig.    1.  D; 

H,  H. 

7.  Superior  thyroid  artery. 
Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  E. 


8.  Lingual     or     sublingual 

artery. 
Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  F. 
Gives  off  the 
Artcria  ranina. 

9.  Superficial     or    external 

maxillary. 
Jjabial    or  facial    artery. 
Plate   XXI.   Fig.    1.    G, 

G,  L,  N,  Y.  k,  k,  p. 

X. 


From  the   right  or   pulmo-     To  the  air-cells  of  the 
nic    ventricle     of       the        lungs, 
heart. 


From  the    left  or   systemic 
ventricle  of  the  heart. 


From  the  root  of  the  aorta. 


The  right  from  a  trunk 
common  to  this  and  tlie 
right  subclavian,  the  left 
immediately  from  the  arch 
of  the  aorta. 


As    the    carotids,   from  the 
arch  of  the  currta. 


The  superficial  branch  of 
those  two  into  which  the 
common  carotid  divides. 

From  the  external  carotid, 
Just  at  its  origin. 


Second  branch  of  the  exter- 
nal carotid. 


Third  branch  of  the  exter- 
nal carotid. 


Rises  to  about  the  first 
rib,  where  it  makes  an 
arch,  then  descends 
through  the  thorax  and 
belly,  at  first  on  the 
left  side  of  the  spine, 
till  at  the  fourth  lumbar 
vertebra,  it  divides 
into  two. 

To  the  muscular  sub- 
stance of  the  heart. 

Ascend  up  the  neck 
between  the  windpipe 
and  the  accompanying 
vein  to  the  top  of  the 
larynx,  where  they  be- 
gin to  give  off  branch- 
es. 

The  right  passes  across 
the  windpipe,  the  left 
risesinto  an  arch;  both 
riun  between  the  col- 
lar bones  and  first  ribs 
to  the  arm-pits. 

Divides  into  eight 
branches  almost  imme- 
diately at  its  origin. 

Runs  obliquely  sacrad  to 
the  thyroid  gland,  giv- 
ing branches  to  the  os 
hyoides  and  neighbour- 
■  ing  muscles,  to  the 
pharynx,  the  larynx, 
and  thyroid  gland. 

Runs  below  the  veins  and 
muscles  chiefly  to  the 
tongue  and  its  muscles. 


Ascends  tortuous,  by  the 
maxillary  gland  over 
a  depression  on  the 
edge  of  the  lower  jaw ; 
to  the  palate,  the  sa- 
livary glands,  the 
chin,     the    lips,     the 


Branches  every  where 
accompanied  by  those 
of  the  pulmonary  or 
systemic  veins. 

Accompanied  in  its  de- 
scent through  the  belly 
by  the  sacral  or  as- 
cending vena  cava  or 
great  ^Zf/umtc  vein. 


Inosculate  with  each 
other. 

Accompanied  by  the  in- 
ternal jugular  veins. 
Plate  XIX.  Fig.  9. 
O,  G. 


Have  the  subclavian 
veins  (Plate  XIX. 
Fig.  9.  F,  F,)  lying 
beside  them. 


With  its  fellow,  and  with 
the  inferior  thyroid. 
(No.  1 7.) 


With  its  fellow, 
on  the  back 
tongue. 


chiefly 
of  the 


Inosculates  with  several 
of  the  neighbouring 
arteries,  and  with 
branches  coming  from 
its  fellow  of  the  oppo- 
site side. 


•  The  'motlTes  which  led  to  these  change!  by  Dr.  Barclay,  in  the  nomenclature  of  the  languiferous  system,  will  more  fully  ap- 
pear presently,  when  we  shall  describe  the  nature  and  differences  of  the  blood.  It  may  not  be  improper  to  remai-k  here,  that  previous 
to  the  time  of  Harvey,  all  the  blood-vessels  connected  with  the  right  ventricle  of  the  heart  were  regarded  as  veins,  and  the  pulmonary 
artery  was  called  vena  arteriosa.  On  the  other  hand,  all  the  vessels  connected  with  the  left  ventricle  were  considered  as  arteries,  and 
the  pulmonary  veins  were  called  anterie  venosa.  The  terms  tcbous  and  arterial  blood  had  then  a  precise  meaning ;  the  former  denoting 
the  blood  contained  in  the  vessels  connected  with  the  right  ventricle,  the  latter  that  contained  in  the  vessels  connected  with  the  left 
ventricle  of  the  heart.  Hence  it  appears,  that  the  distinction  of  the  blood  into  two  kinds  is  older  than  the  time  of  Harvey.  As,  how- 
ever, after  the  discovery  of  the  circulation,  it  was  proved  that  the  veTia  arteriosa  was  really  an  artery,  and  the  arterie  venoste  really  veins, 
the  distinction  into  venous  and  arterial  blood,  though  still  retained,  was  evidently  absurd.  Some  late  physiologists  have  attempted  a 
new  distinction,  by  calling  the  venous  black  hlood,  and  the  vessels  connected  with  the  right  ventricle,  the  system  of  black  blood,  while 
they,  denominate  the  arterial,  red  blood,  and  the  vessels  connected  with  the  left  yentricle,  the  system  of  red  blood.  We  have  preferred 
Dr.  Barclay's  nomenclature,  as  being  neater  and  more  explicit. 

Vol.  I.  Part  II.  5  g 


794 


ANATOMY. 


No.      Names  and  Synonif- 
mcs. 
Gives  off  the 
Inferior  palatine. 
Submental. 
Inferior  labial. 
Coronaries  of  the  lips. 

Ascending  pharingeal 

artery. 
Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  K. 


Origin  of  Arteries. 


Distribution  of  Arteries.         Connexions  of  Arteries. 


10. 


11 


Occipital  artery. 
Plate  XXI,  Fig. 
I. 


1.  I. 


Fourth  branch  of  the  ex- 
ternal carotid,  and  small- 
est except  the  next. 


Fifth  and  smallest  branch 
of  the  external  carotid. 


12.  Posterior  auricular,  or 

stylo-niastoid  artery. 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  A. 


13.  Superficial  or  external 

temporal  artery. 
Plate   XXI.    Fig.    1. 

No.  15. 
Gives  off  the 
Transverse    artery    of 

theface. 
Middle    or    deep    tem- 
poral. 

Anterior  auricular. 
Orbicular. 
Temporo-frontal. 
Temporo-occipilal, 

14.  The  deep  or  internal 

maxillary  artery. 

Gives  off  the 

Deep  auricular  artery. 

Small  and  middle  tiu- 
ningeal  arteries. 

Inferior  maxillary. 

Deep  external  and  in- 
ternal temporal  arte- 
ries. 

Buccal  or  artery  of  the 
check. 

Alveolar. 

Infraorbital. 

Superior  or  pterigo-pa- 
latine. 

15.  Deep  or  internal  caro- 

tid artery. 
Cerebral  artery. 


Sixth  branch  of  the  exter- 
nal carotid,  rising  from 
the  trunk  within  the  pa- 
rotid gland,  just  before 
the  styloid  process. 


The  seventh  branch  of  the 
external  carotid,  rising 
upwards  through  the  pa- 
rotid gland. 


Eighth  branch  of  the  ex- 
ternal carotid,  larger 
than  the  preceding,  ris- 
ing p.liout  hair  way  be- 
tween the  corner  of  the 
jaw  and  its  articulation. 


From  the  common  carotid 
artery,  at  the  top  of  the 
larynx. 


nose,  muscles  and  skin 
of  the  face. 


Rises  anteriorly  to  the 
chink  between  the  sphe- 
noid and  the  orbital  plate 
of  the  frontal  bone,  to 
the  dura  mater,  giving 
branches  to  the  pharynx 
and  to  some  neighbour- 
ing nerves. 

Runs  backward  below  the 
parotid  gland  and  mus- 
cles, whence  it  emerges 
about  the  middle  of  the 
occiput,  giving  branches 
to  the  muscles  and  glansls 
of  the  neck,  to  the  dura 
mater,  the  external  ear, 
and  back  part  of  the  head. 

Passing  in  a  curved  direc- 
tion to  the  back  of  the 
ear,suppliesthe  auditory 
passage,  the  membrane 
of  the  tympanum,  the 
internal  cavities  of  the 
ear,  and  the  neighbour- 
ing muscles. 

Passing  over  the  zygoma- 
tic arch,  between  it  and 
the  ear,  to  the  temples, 
gives  branches  to  the 
joint  of  the  lower  jaw, 
the  face  and  its  muscles; 
the  auditory  passage,  the 
mesial  angle  of  the  eye, 
and  its  muscles. 


Passes  below  the  lower  jaw 
bone  in  a  tortuous  man- 
ner to  the  spheno-mnxil- 
lary  fissure,  giving  bran- 
ches to  the  ear,  the  dura 
mater,  the  teeth,  the  an- 
trum of  Highmore,  Xhe 
cheek,  the  muscles 
about  the  eye,  the  nose, 
the  palate,  and  the  pha- 
rynx. 


Rises  obliquely  backwards 
to  the  carotid  canal  of  the 
temporal  bone,  where  it 


With  branches  coming 
from  the  artery  of  the 
opposite  side,  especially 
on  the  occiput. 


Inosculates  with  the  tem- 
poral and  occipital  arte- 
ries. 


Inosculates  with  several 
branches  o!'  the  superfi- 
cial, and  of  the  deep 
maxillary  arteries,  espe- 
cially the  alveolar,  pal- 
pebral, infraorbital,  co- 
ronary, and  frontal  bran- 
ches. 


Inosculates  with  several  of 
the  neighbouring  bran- 
ches. 


Connected  in  its  passage 
with  the  par  cagum  and 
intercostal  nerve.  Inos- 


ANATOMY. 


795 


Ifo,    Nanus  and  Synotaj- 
mes. 
Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  C. 
Gives  off  the 
Arteries  of  the  recepttt' 

dr. 
Ophthalmic. 
Cor:nmniccUing. 
Anil  rior  carotid. 
Posterior  carotid; 


16.  Deep  or  internal  mam- 
mary artery. 


Origin  of  Arteries. 


Distribution  of  Arteries.      Connexion  of  Arteries. 


17.  Inferior  thyroid  artery. 
Anterior  cervical  arle- 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  2.  R. 


18.  Superior  intercostal  ar- 
tery. 


19.  Vertebral  artery. 


-'  20.  Axillary  and  humeral 

artery. 
Plate    XXI.    Fie.    2. 

Y,d. 
Gives  off  the 
Thoramc  arteries. 
Inferior  scapular. 
Circtm^x. 
Profundi. 
Nutritious    artery    of 

the  humerus,  &.c. 
21.  Ulnar  artery. 

Plate    XXI.     Fig    2. 

d,x,y,s. 
Gives  off  the 
Jntirosseal  arteries. 
Ulnar  recurrent. 
Nutritious    artery    of 

the  uhta,  &c. 


First  branch  of  the  subcla- 
vian, given  off  near  its 
root. 


Second  branch  of  the  sub- 
clavian, rising  near  the 
former. 


From  the  upper  and  back 
part  of  the  trunk  of  the 
subclavian. 


Rises  from  the  subclavian, 
a  little  within  the  pre- 
ceding. 


Properly  the  continued 
trunk  of  the  subclavian, 
running  through  the  ax- 
illa to  the  tendon  of  the 
latissimus  dorsi  muscle, 
where  it  takes  the  name 
of  humeral. 


From  the  axillary  and  hu- 
meral arterj',  a  little 
above  the  bend  of  the 
elbow,  being  the  larger 
of  the  two  branches, 
sinking  immediately  be- 
low the  muscles,  and 
passing  to  the  ulnar  side 
Of  the  fore  arm. 


runs  in  a  curved  direc- 
tion,enter8the  cavernous 
sinous  near  ihcsella  turci- 
ca, and  emerging  hence, 
passes  backwards  to  the 
brain,  giving  branches  to 
the  ear,  the  cavernous  si- 
nus, the  pituitary  g'and, 
the  eye-ball  and  its  mus- 
cles, the  retina,  the  nos- 
trils, and  various  parts  of 
the  brain. 
Passes  stemad  and  sacrad  to 
thetliaphragm, and  below 
the  recti-muscles  of  the 
belly,  giving  branches  to 
the  breast,  pectoral  mus- 
cles, pericardium,  phre- 
nic nerve,  and  in  the  foe- 
tus to  the  thymus  gland. 
Passes  stemeul&ml  atlantad, 
gives  branches  to  the  sca- 
pula,  the   neighbouring 
muscles,  side  of  the  neck, 
thethyroid  gland, o«  hyoi- 
</f5,larynx,and  windpipe. 
Passing  to  the  roots  of  the 
first    and     second    ribs 
%vithin  the  thorax,  sup- 
plies   the   muscles   and 
nerves  of  the  neck,  the 
neighbouring  intercostal 
muscles,  the  gullet  and 
the  vertebrsB. 
Passes  through  the  canal 
formed  by    the  holes  in 
the  transverse  processes 
of  the  cervical  vertebrse, 
between  theatlasand  oc- 
cipital bone,  through  the 
great  hole  along  the  ba- 
sil!<r  process  to  the  brain, 
cerebellum,  spinal  mar- 
row, and  their  investing 
membranes. 
Runs  along  the  volar  side 
of  the  arm  to  near  the 
bend  of  the  elbow,  where 
it  divides,  giving  bran- 
ches to  all   the  muscles 
as  it  passes,  to  the  sca- 
pula, the  intercostal  spa- 
ces,  to  the  bone  of  the 
arm,  and  the  ligaments 
of  the  joints. 

Runs  in  a  waving  direc- 
tion over  the  ulnar  side 
of  the  wrist  to  the  palm 
of  the  hand,  forming  the 
volar  arch,  giving:  bran- 
ches to  the  muscles  as  it 
passes,  to  the  interosse- 
ous ligament,  the  eiliow 
joint,  the  substance  of 
the  ulna,  and  most  of  the 


culates  with  the  verte- 
bral artery  from  the  sub- 
clavian, and  forms  a  cir- 
cle near  the  infundibu- 
lum,  called  the  circle  of 
Willis. 


Inosculates  with  opposite 
branches,  with  the  lum- 
bar and  epigastric  arte- 
ries. See  No.  35. 


Inosculates  with  the  hume- 
ral thoracic  ?rtery,  and 
with  the  superior  thy- 
roid. 


Inosculates  with  the  in- 
ternal mammary,  with 
branches  of  the  inferior 
thyroid. 


Connected  as  it  rises  to  the 
vertebral  holes,  with  the 
ganglions  of  the  inter- 
costal nerve,  and  inoscu- 
lates with  the  internal 
carotid,  to  form  the  cir- 
cle of  Willis.  See  Plate 
XVIII.  Fig  4.  No.  11, 
12,  13. 


Connected  with  the  basilic 
vein,  median  or  radial 
nerves,  and  glands  of  the 
axilla  and  the  arm,  while 
several  of  its  branches 
inosculate  with  each 
other. 


Connected  as  it  passes  willi 
the  ulnar  nerve  and  the 
basilic  vein.  Inoscul  ite» 
in  the  palm  of  the  hand 
with  the  rndial  arfery,  to 
form  the  volar  arch. 


5  H  2 


?06 


ANATOMY. 


No.      Names    and    St/n<s 
vi/inti: 

22.    Radial  artery. 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  2. 
e,  i,  k. 

<Vives  off  the 

Radial  recurrent  ar- 
tery. 

Superficial  volar. 

Artery  of  the  thumb. 

Superior  and  inferior 
volar  peiforants. 

28.    Thoracic  aorta. 
Gives  off  the 
Pericardiac  arteries. 
Bronchial  arteries. 
Oesophageal  arteries. 
Inferior  intercostals. 


i4.    Phrenic  arteries. 


25.    Superior  coronary  ar- 
tery. 


2G,    Hepatic  artery. 
Gives  off  the 
Right  gastro-epiptoics. 


27.  Splenic  artery. 
Gives  off  the 
Vasa  brevia. 

Left  gastro-epiptoics. 

28.  Superior    mesenteric. 
Gives  off  the 
Posterior  pancreatic. 
Superior  colic. 
Ilio-colic. 

29.  Inferior  mesenteric. 
Gives  off  the 

Left  colic. 

Inferior  hwmorrhoidaL 


30.    Emnlgent  or  renal  ar- 
teries. 


31;    Spermatic  arteries. 
Plate  XIX.  Fig.    10. 
N. 


Origin  of  Arteries. 


Smaller  and  more  superfi- 
cial than  the  ulnar,  run- 
ning to  tlte  radial  side  of 
the  fore  arm,  between 
the  stipinator  longus,  and 
radialis  intenma  mus- 
cles. 


Acontiuuatlon  of  the  great 
trunk  of  the  aorta,  from 
the  arch. 


Distribution  of  Arteries.         Connexions  of  Arteries. 


Generally  from  the  trunk 
of  the  aorta,  just  after  it 
passes  the  diaphragm 
from  the  chest. 

Prom  a  short  artery  called 
the  coeliac,  given  off  by 
the  ventral  aorta  on  its 
sternal  side,  a  little  be- 
low the  diaphragm.  See 
Plate  XIV.  Fig.  3.  e. 

From  the  caeliac  to  the 
right. 


Fom  the  coeliac  artery  to 
the  left. 


From  the  sternal  side  of 
the  ventral  aorta,  a  little 
below  the  cceliac.  Plate 
XIV.  Fig.  3.  b. 


From  the  eterno-sSnistral 
part  of  the  trunk  of  the 
aorta,  a  little  above  its 
bifurcatioD. 


From  the  sides  of  the 
trunk  of  the  aorta,  a  lit- 
tle above  the  inferior 
mesenteric. 

From  the  sternal  part  of 
the  trunk  of  the  aorta, 
generally  between  the 
inferior  mesenteric  Bnd 
the  renal. 


fingers. 

Runs  over  the  radial  side  of 
the  wrist,  where  it  is  ea- 
sily felt,  to  the  palm  of 
the  hand,  terminating  in 
the  deep  volar  arch,  sup- 
ply ins;  in  its  course  the 
muscles,  the  interosse- 
ous and  articular  liga- 
ments, the  thumb,  the 
fore  finger,  wrist,  and 
adjacent  parts. 

Passes  a  little  to  the  left, 
till  it  reaches  the  dia- 
phragm, when  it  again 
approaches  the  mesial 
line.  Its  branches  sup- 
ply the  pericardium, 
bronchi,  the  gullet,  and 
most  of  the  intercostal 
spaces. 

To  the  diaphragm  and  se- 
veral of  the  adjoining 
viscera. 

Passes  to  the  cardia  and 
small  arch  of  the  sto- 
mach, supplying  the 
greatest  part  of  that  or- 
gan, and  giving  bran- 
ches to  the  gullet  and 
the  liver. 

Supplies  the  liver,  the  gall 
bladder,  the  duodenum, 
the  pancreas,  the  pylo- 
ric part  of  the  stomach, 
and  part  of  the  omen- 
tum. 

Supplies  the  spleen,  the 
large  extremity  of  the 
stomach,  the  omentum, 
and  the  pancreas. 

Runs  in  a  winding  direc- 
tion in  numerous  bran- 
ches inosculating  toge- 
ther, across  the  mesen- 
tery, chiefly  to  the  small 
intestines  and  the  colon. 

Distributed  in  a  similar 
mo<le  of  ramification  with 
the  former  to  the  lower 
small  intestines,  the  left 
side  of  the  colon,  and 
the  rectum. 

Chiefly  to  the  kidneys. 


Chiefly  to  the  testes  in  men, 
in  women  to  the  utpius 
and  neighbouring  parts. 


Runs  beside  the  spiro-mus- 
cular  nerve,  and  inoscu- 
lates with  the  ulnar  ai^ 
tery  on  the  interosseous 
ligament,  and  in  the 
palm  of  the  hand. 

Has  the  radial  vein  cor- 
responding to  it. 


Is  accompanied  by  the  in- 
ferior vena  cava,  and  its 
branches  inosculate  with 
several  of  those  that 
come  from  the  subcla- 
vian. 


Inosculate  with  the  thora- 
cic arteries,  and  with 
the  opposite  phrenic. 

Inosculates  with  the  rasa 
brevia,  coming  from  the 
splenic. 


Accompanied  by  the  hepa- 
tic vein?.  Inosculiilee 
with  the  coronary  ar- 
tery, and  the  mesenteric 
arteries. 

Inosculates  with  the  coro- 
nary, and  several  other 
neighbouring  branches. 

Accompanied  through  its 
whole  course  by  the  me- 
senteric veius,also  freely 
inosculating  with  each 
other.  See  Plate  XIX. 
Fig.  12. 

Similar  to  that  of  the  su- 
perior mesentery. 


Accompanied  by  the  emnl- 
gent veins. 


Unite  with  the  spprmafic 
veins,  forming  the  sper- 
matic cord. 


ANATOMY. 


•797 


No.    Names  and  Syiw- 

nymes 
32.  Lumbar  arteries. 


33.  Common  iliac  arteries. 
Plate   XIX.  Fig.  10. 

P. 
Give  off  the 
Sacro-median  artery. 

34.  The  deep,  or  internal 

iliac  artery. 

Hypogastric  artery. 

Gives  off  the 

llio-lumhar  artery. 

Sacro-lateral   arteries. 

Umbilical  artery. 

iTtferior  vesical  arte- 
ries. 

Middle  haitnerrhoidai 
artery. 

Postcrioriliac  and  com- 
mon pudic. 

35.  Superficial  or  external 
iliac  artery. 

Gives  off  the 
Epigastric  artery, 

and 
Circwr^x  iliac. 

'36.   Common  femoral  arte- 

Plate  XXI.  Pig.  3.  a. 

Gives  off  the 
External   fudic   arte' 
ries. 


37.   The  deep  femoral  ar- 
tery. 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  3.  b, 
c,  d,f,f. 

Gives  off  the 

Circumflex  arteries, 
and 

First  and  second  perfo- 
rants. 
3S.    Superficial  femoral  ar- 
tery. 

Plr.te  XXT.  Fig.  3.  a. 

Gives  off  the 

Large  anaslomatic  ar- 
tery, and 

Superior  and  inferior 
perforanls. 


Origin  of  Arteries. 

Five  in  number  on  each 
side,  from  the  dorsolate- 
ral part  of  the  ventral 
aorta,  nearly  at  right  an- 
gles. 


Two  large  trunks  formed 
by  the  bifurcation  of  the 
Teotral  aorta. 


From  the  common  iliac 
entering  immediately 
within  the  pelvis,  and 
dividing  into  numeroui 
branches. 


Distribution  of  Arteries.        Connexions  of  Arteries. 


Run  transversely  to  the 
spine,  round  which  they 
are  reflected,  and  sink 
between  the  vertebrae, 
supplying  the  spinal  mar- 
row, the  neighbouring 
muscles,  and  part  of  the 
diaphragm. 

Run  obliquely  downwards, 
separating  from  each 
other  to  a  small  distance, 
when  they  divide  into  the 
two  following  arteries. 


Supplies  the  neighbouring 
muscles,  the  vertebra;  of 
the  sacrum,  the  spinal 
marrow,  the  navel,  (in 
the  foetus,)  the  rectum, 
the  bladder,  and  the  or- 
gans of  reproduction. 


Continued  in  a  straight  line 
from  the  common  iliac, 
till  it  arrives  at  the  thigh. 


A  continuation  of  the  ex- 
ternal iliac  for  about  two 
inches,  when  it  divides. 


From  the  common  femoral 
within  a  triangular  cavi- 
ty, between  the  iliactis 
intcrnus,  peclhteus,  and 
OAlduclor  muiicles. 


A  continuation  of  the  com- 
mon femoral. 


Inosculate  with  the  inter- 
costal, epigastric,  supe- 
rior phrenic,  and  sacro- 
lateral  arteries. 


The  right  iliac  crosses  the 
vena  cava,  near  the  en- 
trace  of  the  iliac  veins  ; 
the  left  runs  down  be- 
side its  corresponding 
vein  on  the  left  side  of 
it. 

Inosculates  with  several  of 
the  neighbouring  arte- 
ries, especially  the  sper- 
jnatic. 


Supplies  the  neighbouring 
muscles,  glands,  and  pe- 
ritoneum ;  the  abdominal 
muscles,  and  parlly  the 
organs  of  reproduction. 


Runs  between  Poupart's  li- 
gament and  the  brim  of 
the  pelvis,  passing  down 
the  thigh  on  the  mesial 
side  of  the  joint  insertion 
of  the  psocLS  and  iliacus 
intcrnus  muscles,  supply- 
ing in  its  course  the  mus- 
cles, integuments,  and 
glands,  and  the  external 
organs  of  reproduction. 

Runs  distad  and  poplitead 
below  the  muscles,  near 
to  the  middle  of  the  thigh- 
bone, supplying  the  mus- 
cles and  integuments,  the 
hip-joint,  the  thigh-bone. 


Runs  below  the  integu- 
ments near  the  sanorius 
musc'e,  ilislad,  centrad, 
a.uA  piplit^ad,  to  the  ham, 
eujMilying,  in  its  course, 
the  nmscltv,  int.-'su- 
menlH,  glands, and  liiigh- 
bone. 


Accompanied  in  its  course 
by  the  iliac  vein  and  cru- 
ral nerve.  Inosculates 
chiefly  with  the  internal 
mammary,  the  intercos- 
tal, lumbar,  and  sperma- 
tic arteries. 

Accompanied  by  the  crural 
nerve,  the  deep  lympha- 
tics, and  the  trunk  of  the 
femoral  vein. 


Inosculates  with  several 
branches  of  the  superfi- 
cial femoral. 

The  deep  femoral  vein  runs 
beside  it. 


Connected  with  the  fascia 
of  the  thigh,  the  inguinal 
glands,  and  superficial 
absorbents.  Makes  fre- 
quent anastomoses  with 
its  own  and  the  neigh- 
bouring I  tranches- 

The  femoral  vein  corres- 
ponds with  this  artery. 


798 


anatomy: 


No.  Nanus  andSynonyines. 
39.    Popliteal  artery. 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  4.  6, 
c,  d,  e. 
■    Gives  off  the 
Articular  arteries. 


40.  Rotolar  or  anterior  ti- 
bial artery. 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  4.  i,  I, 
1,1. 

Gives  off  the 

Tibial  recurrent, 

Maiholar. 

Deep  anastomatic,  &c. 


Origin  of  Arteries. 

A  continuation  of  the  su- 
peL^icial  femoral  in  the 
hollow  of  the  hand, 
bounded  by  the  popliteal 
origin  of  the  tendon  of 
triceps,  and  the  proximal 
extremity  of  the  soleus 
muscles. 

From  the  popliteal  at  the 
distal  edge  of  the  poiili- 
teus  muscle,  perforating 
the  interosseu^  liga- 
meuts. 


41.   Popliteal  or  posterior    From  the  popliteal  artery, 
tibial  artery.  ne«riv  »X  I  he  same  place 

Plate  XXI.  Fig.  4.  /3.        with  the  former. 
H.  Y.  2. 

Gives  off  the 

Posterior  interosseal. 

Common  Jibular,  and 

Plantar  arteries. 


In  the  above  table  we  have  marked  the  conrse  and 
distribution  of  the  principal  arteries,  so  as  to  be  best  un- 
ilerstood  by  the  student  of  anatomy ;  but  it  will  be  of  con- 
sequence to  general  readers  to  be  informed  where  they 
may  find  some  of  the  more  important  superficial  arteries ; 
and  we  shall  endeavour  to  convey  this  information  in  a 
style  as  familiar  as  possible. 

The  carotid  arteries  may  be  felt  beating,  by  pressing 
with  the  fingers  pretty  strongly  at  the  back  of  the  wind- 
pipe, about  the  middle  of  the  neck. 

Thefacial  artery  is  very  perceptible  as  it  passes  over 
the  lower  edge  of  the  jaw-bone,  about  an  inch  from  the 
posterior  angle;  its  branches,  called  the  coronaries  of 
the  lips,  may  be  felt  on  the  inside  of  the  lips.  The 
buccal  artery  may  be  felt  in  the  fleshy  part  of  the  cheek, 
nearly  opposite  the  second  grinder  of  the  lower  jaw. 
The  superficial  temporal  artery  is  extremely  evident  as 
it  passes  before  the  ear,  and  again  as  it  rises  behind  the 
ridge  of  the  temple. 

The  subclavian  artery  may  be  felt  deep  below  the  mid- 
file  of  the  collar-bone,  between  this  and  the  first  rib  ;  the 
axillary  artery  deep  within  the  hollow  of  the  arm-pit ; 
the  humeral  is  very  perceptible  as  it  passes  down 
the  inside  of  the  arm  close  to  the  bone,  on  that  side 
of  the  biceps  muscle,  (which  swells  on  bending  the  arm,) 
that  is  next  the  little  finger;  and  again,  just  at  the 
bend  of  the  elbow.  The  radial  artery  is  that  which 
beats  on  the  side  of  the  fore-arm  nest  the  thumb ;  and 
sometimes  the  ulnar  artery  may  be  felt  on  the  opposite 
side. 

The  femoral  artery  may  be  felt  deep  in  the  groin, 
about  halfway  between  the  inner  corner  of  the  hi[>-bone 
ami  the  middle  of  the  piiis  or  share-bone,  in  a  hollow 
below  the  ligaments  and  glands,  but  can  be  traced  little 


Distribution  of  Arteries.         Connexions  of  Arteries.' '' 

Chiefly  supplies  the  knee-     Covered  by  the  poi-liteal 

joint   and  neighbouring         veins  and  nerves,  an:l  s 

muscles.  considerable  quantity  of 

fat.  Inosculates  with  me 
neighbouring    branches. 


Runs  down  the  rotular  side    Inosculates  with  branches 
of  the  leg,  close  to  the         of  the  following  art<  ry. 
interosseous      ligament.     The  great  S!tf,hena  is  the 
but  nearer  to  the  fibula        pri.icijtal  superficial  vein 
than  tothe  tii>ia,over  the        in  this  part. 
instep,  iielow  the  crucial 
ligament,  to  the  metatar- 
BUf  and  foot,  supplying 
the  rotular  muscles,  the 
interosseous      ligament, 
the  ankles,  the  leg  bones, 
and  most  of  the  foot. 
Runs  along  the   poplitpal    Inosculates  with  branchea 
side  of  the  leg  dislad  to         of  the  preceding  artery, 
the  tibial-anicle,  when  it         and  in  particular  contri- 
passps  between  the  tendo         butes  to  form  with  it  the 
AchilHs  and  the  tiliia,  to         plantar  arch  of  the  foot, 
the  tibial  side  and  sole  of    The   lesser    saphena  vein 
the   foot,   supplying  all         follows  a  similar  course 
these  parts  as  it  passes         in  the  opposite  direction 
along  the  great  toe,  and         superficially, 
sole  of  the  foot, 
further,  as  it  is  soon  lost  among  the  nyiscles.     Scarcely 
any  important  arteries  of  the  leg  run  so  superficially  as 
to  be  felt,  except  the  arch  formed  by  the  anterior  tj- 
bial,  which  crosses  over  the  middle  of  the  back  of  the 
foot. 

By  attending  to  these  hints,  our  ganeral  readers  will 
be  enabled  either  to  guard  against  such  accidents  as  may 
occasion  these  arteries  to  he  cut  or  punctured  ;  or  when 
such  accidents  occur,  will  know  where  to  apply  the 
pressure  of  a  pad  and  bandage,  or  of  the  fingers,  to  stop 
or  moderate  the  effusion  of  blood.  It  must  indeed,  be 
allowed,  that  in  fat  or  muscular  people,  these  arteries 
are  often  not  very  distinctly  felt,  but  it  is  still  useful  to 
know  the  exact  situations  where  they  lie. 

The  heart,  arteries,  and  veins,  constitute  the  sangui- 
ferous system,  so  called  from  their  containing  the  blood, 
or  general  mass  of  circulating  Quids.  The  nature  and 
appearance  of  the  blood  demand  our  particular  attention, 
as  it  is  ultimately  from  this  fluid  that  all  the  parts  of 
the  body,  whether  solid  or  fluid,  are  derived.  We  shall, 
here,  however,  confine  ourselves  chiefly  to  its  [ihysical 
and  more  obvious  properties,  as  the  chemical  consider- 
ation of  this  fluid  will  form  a  prominent  feature  in  our 
animal  chemistry,  while  its  motions  within  the  contain- 
ing vessels  will  be  explained  when  we  treat  of  the  func- 
tion of  circulation,  under  Puvsioi.ogy. 

Blood  is  a  red  fluid,  of  considerable  consistency,  a 
slight  saline  taste,  a  peculiar  odour,  and  appears  unc- 
tuous when  rubbed  between  the  fingers.  Its  specific 
gravity,  is  about  1.0527,  or  rather  greater  than  that  of 
wafer. 

While  the  blood  circulates  within  its  vessels,  and 
when  it  is  first  drawn  from  them,  if  appears  homogene- 
ous ;  but  on  being  suffered  to  remain  at  rest  for  some 


ANATOMY. 


789 


time, it  separates  into  various  portions,  easily  distinguish- 
ed Iroin  each  olher.  The  greater  part  retains  its  fluidity, 
isol'n  thin  coiibistence,  nearly  transparent,  and  of  a  green- 
ish colour.  This  is  called  the  senini  of  the  blood,  from 
its  resemblance  to  whey.  Within  this  fluid  is  seen  a 
solid  coagulum  or  clot,  of  considerable  firmness,  and  of 
a  whitish  or  grayish  colour  on  its  upper  surfiice,  but 
-tender,  and  of  a  deep  red  colour  below.  This  is  called 
the  cruor  or  craasamcnlwn  of  the  blood.  The  firm  part 
on  the  upper  surface,  consists  of  what  is  called  coagula- 
ble  lymph,  while  (he  lower  part  consists  of  the  red  glo- 
bules which  contain  the  colouring  part  of  the  blood.  The 
cruor  sometimes  appears  to  float  on  the  surface  of  the 
serum,  but  this  happens  only  when  (here  are  numerous 
bubbles  of  air  attached  to  its  upper  part ;  for  the  specific 
grarity  of  this  coagulum  is  greater  than  Ihat  of  the  se- 
rum, or  even  of  the  blood  itself  before  separation.  The 
spe<:ific  gravity  of  the  serum  is  about  1.0287,  whereas 
that  of  the  cruor  is  about  1.245. 

When  the  serum  is  examined  more  minutely,  it  is 
found  lo  coagulate,  when  heated  to  the  temperature  of 
150",  when  it  appears  like  dirty  boiled  white  of  egg. 
It  therefore  contains  albumen ;  and  modern  chemistry 
has  shown  that  it  holds  in  solution  gelatine,  coibonate 
of  soda,  muriate  of  soda,  phosphate  of  soda,  a  little 
pure  soda,  phos))hate  of  lime,  and  hydro-euli)huret  of 
ammonia. 

The  cruor  of  the  blood  consists  principally  of  fibrine, 
but  great  part  of  it  is  soluble  in  water,  and  the  solution 
contains  subphosphate  of  iron,  a  little  soda,  and  some 
albumen. 

The  blood  of  the  foetus  dilTers  in  some  respects  from 
that  contained  in  the  vessels  after  birth.  It  is  of  a 
darker  colour,  contains  no  fibrine,  and  no  phosphoric 
acid,  hut  appears  to  contain  a  greater  quantity  of  gela- 
tine than  ordinary  blood.  As  the  body  increases,  and 
as  the  person  advances  in  age,  the  proportion  of  gela- 
tine seems  lo  diminish,  while  that  of  phosphoric  acid 
and  fihrine  probably  increases. 

Such  are  the  nature  and  properties  of  the  blood  in 
general,  but  the  blood  contained  in  one  set  of  vessels 
iias  a  very  different  colour  from  that  in  another  set. 
The  blood  contained  in  the  ramifications  and  trunks  of 
the  vcnm  cavw,  the  pulmonic  sinus,  pulmonic  auricle, 
pulmonic  ventricle,  and  the  trunk  and  branches  of  the 
pulmonary  artery,  is  of  a  dark  red  or  crimson  colour, 
while  that  contained  within  the  branches  and  trunks  of 
the  pulmonary  veins,  in  the  systemic  sinus,  the  syste- 
tnic  auricle,  the  systemic  ventricle,  and  the  trunk  and 
ramifications  of  the  aorta,  is  of  a  florid  red  or  scarlet 
colour.  We  shall  not  at  present  inquire  on  what  this 
difference  depends,  but  merely  notice  the  fact,  as  it 
leads  to  an  important  conclusion  respecting  the  propri- 
ety of  the  nomenclature  which  we  have  adopted  in  de- 
scribing the  sanguiferous  system.  Blood  of  a  dark  or 
crimson  colour  is  commonly  called  venous  blood,  and 
that  which  is  of  the  florid  or  scarlet  red,  is  called  arte- 
rial blood ;  but  as  dark  blood  is  contained  in  the  pulmo- 
nary artery,  and  florid  blood  in  the  pulmonary  veins, 
that  distinction  is  evidently  improper,  an.l  ought  to  be 
abolished.  We  think  that  Dr.  Barclay  has  much  im- 
proved the  nomenclature  of  the  sanguiferous  system, 
by  denominating  those  parts  of  it  which  couliiin  dark 
blood  destined  to  be  distributed  to  the  lungs,  pulmonic  ; 


and  those  which  contain  florid  blood,  destined  lo  supply 
the  system  at  large,  syntonic*. 

All  the  organs  of  circulation  occasionally  exhibit  a 
variety  of  morbid  appearances;  but  these  are  most  r«- 
mnrkable  in  the  heart  and  pericardium.  The  pericar- 
dium is  sometimes  inflamed,  and  iirtternatural  adhesions 
are  found  to  have  taken  place  Letween  it  and  the  heart. 
It  is  sometimes  cartilaginous  or  bony,  and  scrofulous 
tumours  net  unfrequently  appear  about  it.  In  a  few  cases 
the  watery  fluid  within  the  pericardium  is  almost  want- 
ing, but  more  frequently  its  quantity  is  increased.  Dr. 
Baillie  once  saw  a  case  in  which  the  pericardium  was 
entirely  wanting. 

The  heart  is  sometimcg  found  in  a  slate  of  inflamma- 
tion, and  fibrous  concretions,  called  polt/pi,  are  often 
seen  within  its  cavities.  In  some  cases  the  heart  is 
unusually  loaded  with  fat.  A  rupture  is  occasionally 
found  to  have  taken  place,  either  in  the  substance,  or  in 
the  valves  of  the  heart,  and  a  preternatural  dilatation, 
called  aneuriim,  either  in  the  cavities  of  the  heart,  or, 
what  is  more  usual,  in  the  arch  of  the  aorta,  is  now  an(i 
then  observed.  Parts  of  the  substance  of  the  heart,  of 
its  valves,  of  the  aorta,  or  of  the  coronary  arteries,  are 
often  found  ossified  or  bony  ,•  and  still  more  frequently, 
some  of  these  parts  are  found  to  be  thickened  and 
opaque,  or  whitish.  That  peculiar  kind  of  worm  called 
hydatid,  is  sometimes  found  within  the  heart.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  heart  has  been  found  extremely  soft,  and 
sometimes  of  a  scirrhous  hardness. 

The  appearance  of  aneurismal  swellings  in  the  arte- 
ries and  enlargements  in  the  veins,  called  varicose  swell- 
ings, are  not  uufrequent. 

On  the  structure  of  the  heart,  arteries,  and  veins,  see 
Winslow,  Traite  <r Anatomic  ;  Senac,  Traits  du  Ca:ur  ; 
Bichat,  Anatomic  Descriptive,  tom.  iv.  and  Anatcmie 
Generate,  tom.  ii.j  Portal's  Cours  d'Anattmiie  Medi- 
caid, tom.  iii. ;  Murray's  Dcscriptio  Arttriarttm  Corpo- 
ris Ibimani  in  tabulas  rcdacta  ;  or  two  translations  of 
the  same  work,  one  by  Mr.  Archibald  Scott,  published 
at  £)dinburgh,  and  another  at  London,  under  the  auspi- 
ces of  Mr.  James  Macartney  ;  Bell's  Anatomy,  vol.  ii. ; 
and  Fyfe's  Compendium  oj Anatomy,  vols.  ii.  and  iii.  For 
figures  illustrating  the  distribution  of  the  arteries,  see 
Haller's  Icones  Anatomicm  ;  Loder's  Tabulas  Anatomicee  ; 
and  Mr.  Charles  Bell's  En^'aviugs  of  the  Arteries. 

Explanation  of  Plate  Xllf. 

Fig.  1.  Represents  the  principal  arteries  and  veins  of 
the  face,  with  the  neighhmtring  muscles,  dec. 

35.  The  meisseter  muscle  of  the  left  side;  36,  depres- 
sor anguli  oris  ;  37.  depressor  labii  in/erioris ;  38,  39, 
lower  and  upper  portions  of  the  orbicularis  oris  ;  40,  na- 
salis  labii  siiperioris  of  Albinus  ;  41,  buccinator  ;  42,  sti- 
gomaticiis  ;  43,  44,  levatorcs  labii  siiperioris  ;  45,  orbicu- 
laris palpcbrie  ;  46,  frontal  beWy  oi  {\\e  epicranius  ;  47, 
temporal ;  48,  part  of  the  stcrnomastoidevs ;  49,  the 
wind-pipe ;  50,  the  spinal  marrow.  32,  The  sub-max- 
illary gland ;  33,  35,  the  parotid  gland. 

A,  The  common  trunk  of  the  carotid  artery,  in  out- 
line, as  it  passes  below  the  muscles ;  B,  the  common 
trunk  of  the  jugular  vein  above  the  muscles;  C,  the 
internal  carotid;  D,  the  external  carotid;  E,  the  com- 
mencement of  the  superior  thyroid  artery  [passing  under 


•  Venous  blood  is,  of  course,  by  Dr.  Bai'clay  termed  pulmonic,  and  arterial  blood  systemic. 
\  For  the  explanatioD  of  Flate  XX.  see  the  couclusioo  of  the  following  chapter. 


See  tlie  note  at  page  812. 


800 


ANATOMY. 


the  jugular  vein ;  P,  the  course  of  the  lingual  artery 
below  the  veins ;  G,  G,  the  course  of  the  labial  artery  ; 
H,  H,  the  trunk  of  the  external,  carotid,  in  outline,  pass- 
ing upwards  through  the  parotid  gland  ;  I,  I,  the  course 
of  the  occipital  artery  below  the  gland  aad  muscles,  till 
it  emerges  near  the  middle  of  the  occiput ;  K,  the 
sourse  of  the  phtmjngeal  artery;  L,  N,  superficial 
branches  of  the  labia!  artery  ;  G,  G,  Q,  R,  S,  T,  the 
cou.-se  of  the  superiorniaxillary  artery  and  its  anasto- 
moses ;  Y,  K,  K,  P,  the  coronary  arteries  of  the  lips ; 
X,  the  situation  of  the  trunk  of  the  infraorbital  artery, 
which  is  here  below  the  muscles.  0,  The  trunk  of  the 
ophthalmic  artery  issuing  from  the  orbit;  A,  the  poste- 
rior auricular  artery;  15,  the  temporal  artery;  17,  its 
interior  branch ;  22,  its  exterior  branch;  20,  the  facial 
vein  ;  27,  the  temporal  vein. 

Fig.  2.  Exhibits  a  view  of  the  principal  superficial 
blood-vessels  and  nmsclcs,  on  the  thenal  or  palmar  as- 
pect of  the  right  arm  and  hand. 

Muscles.  A,  coraco-hyoideus  ;  B,  trapesitis ;  C,  C, 
Deltoid  muscle  ;  D,  latissimiis  dorsi ;  E,  teres  major ; 
F,  coraco-brachialis  ;  G,  biceps  brachii  ;  H,  H,  Brachialis 
intcrmts  ;  M,  supinator  lonpis  ;  N,  pronator  teres  ;  0,0, 
radiiUis  externus  ;  F,  sublimis  ;  Q,  tdnaris  internus  ;  R, 
part  of  the  ulnaris  externus  ;  S,  part  of  the  profundus  ; 
T,  palmaris  lonpis :  X,  abductor  pollicis  ;  Z,  flexor  pol- 
licis  longits  ;  a,  a,  adductor  pollicis  ;  e,  abductor  indicts  ; 
c,  e,  g,  i,  lumbricales  ;  m,  abductor  difiti  vtinimi ;  n,  an- 
nular ligament  of  the  wrist ;  p,  part  of  the  palmaris 
brevis. 

Arteries  and  Veins. 

A,  a  part  of  the  trunk  of  the  superior  vena  cava;  B, 
the  jugular  vein  ;  C,  the  left  subclavian;  D,  the  exter- 
nal jugular;  E  E,  the  cephalic  vein ;  H,  the  basilic; 
K,  the  median  ;  L,  the  principal  meeting  of  the  basilic 
and  cephalic  ;  O,  the  common  trunk  of  the  right  sub- 
clavian and  right  carotid  arteries ;  P,  the  right  carotid ; 
Q,  the  right  subclavian ;  R,  the  inferior  thyroid ;  S,  the 
deep  cervical  artery  ;  ^,  scapular  artery  ;  *,  the  ante- 
rior circumflex  ;  Y,  to  d,  the  course  of  the  axillary  and 
humeral  artery,  till  at  d  it  gives  oft"  the  ulnar  artery  ; 
e,  i,  Ic,  branches  of  the  radial  artery  ;  x,  a  branch  of  the 
ulnar  going  to  the  little  linger;  y,  z,  the  arterial  arch 
in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  formed  chiefly  by  the  ulnar 
artery. 

Nerves.  6,  6,  8,  roots  of  the  brachial  plexus  ;  7,  10, 
principal  trunk  of  the  radial  nerve  ;  9,  the  musculo-cu- 
taneous  nerve  ;  1 1 ,  a  part  of  the  arm  to  be  avoided  in 
bleeding,  for  fear  of  puncturing  the  radial  nerve  ;  c, 
r.nother  part  to  be  avoided  in  the  same  operation,  from 
the  risk  of  puncturing  the  artery. 

Pig.  3.  Gives  an  anterior  view  of  the  right  thigh,  with 
its  principal  muscles  and  blood-vessels. 

Musdts.  A,  A,  A,  thesartorius  ;  li,!^,  tensor  vagina 
femaris  J  C,  psoas  minor  ;  D,  rectus  rruris  ;  E,  vastus 
externus  ;  F,  vastus  internus ;  G,  pcctineus  ;  H,  I,  K  K, 
the  three  parts  of  the  triceps  ;  L,  gracilis  ;  M  M,  semi- 
mcmbranosus. 

N,  N,  N,  three  of  the  inguinal  glands,  lying  on  the 
sartoriua,  pectineus,  and  triceps  muscles,  -with  lympha- 
tics proceeding  from  them. 

Blood-vessels,  a,  trunk  of  the  femoral  artery ;  h,  its 
deep  seated  branch  ;  c,  the  internal  circumflex;  d,  the 
txterual  circumflex  ;  /,  /,  large  branches  of  the  pro- 
funda, perforating  the  muscle? ;  ?ji,  the   superior  exter- 


nal pudic  artery ;  p.  Inferior  external  pudic  ;  ^,  supe- 
rior articular  artery  of  th«  knee  ;  a,  inferior  articular 
artery  of  the  tibia. 

Fig.  4.  Exhibits  a  view  of  the  fore  part  of  the  leg  and 
back  of  the  foot,  with  their  principal  muscles  and  blood- 
vessels. 

Boms.  A,  the  patella ;  B,  the  radial  or  internal  con- 
dyle of  the  thigh-bone  ;  C,  the  fibular  or  external  con- 
dyle ;  D,  the  head  of  the  tibia;  E,  the  ligament  of  the 
patella  ;  F,  G,  the  lower  p;irt  of  the  tibia ;  H,  the  fibu- 
lar or  outer  ankle  ;  I,  the  instep ;  K,  the  navicular  bone ; 
L,  the  metatarsal  boue  of  the  great  toe  ;  O,  the  os  cu' 
boides. 

Muscles.  D,  biceps  cruris ;  E,  gemtni  or  soleiis  mns> 
cles ;  P,  O,  tibialis  anticus  ;  H,  extensor  pollicis  pedis 
proprius  ;  I,  I,  the  interosseus  ligament ;  K,  L,  M  M, 
extensor  digitorum  longus,  with  its  tendons  ;  P,  pero- 
nens  brevis  ;  Q,  peroneus  longus  ;  R,  S,  T,  V,  X,  extm- 
sor  brevis  digitorum  pedis  ;  Y,  Z,  ititcrossei. 

Blood-vessels,  b,  superior  external  articular  artery ; 
c,  inferior  external  articular  artery  ;  d  d,  superior  inter- 
nal articular  ;  e,  inferior  internal  articular  ;  i  i,  anterior 
tibial  artery ;  1 1,  its  anastomosis,  with  branches  of  the 
posterior  tibial  ;  /J,  a  branch  of  the  peroneal  artery,  in- 
osculating with  a  branch  of  the  anterior  tibial ;  i',  a 
branch  of  the  anterior  tibial  going  to  the  tarsus  ;  H,  an- 
other going  to  the  metatarsus ;  /*,  the  dorsal  artery  of 
the  great  toe  ;  S,  the  plantar  artery. 

CHAP.  V. 

Of  the  Organs  ojf  Absorption'. 

To  convey  the  nutritious  particles  of  the  foo<l  sepa- 
rated in  the  stomach  and  alimentary  canal,  to  the  gene- 
ral mass  of  circulating  fluids,  the  body  is  provided  with 
numerous  small  vessels  that  open  into  the  cavity  of  the 
intestines,  traverse  the  mesentary,  where  they  pass 
through  what  are  called  the  mesenteric  glands,  from 
which  they  again  emerge,  and  gradually  unite  in  larger 
tubes,  till  they  all  centre  in  one  vessel  that  lies  beside 
the  ascending  vena  cava,  and  carries  its  contents  into 
the  left  subclavian  vein.  These  vessels  have  been  called 
lacteals,  from  the  fluid  they  contain  being  of  a  milky 
colour.  Numerous  vessels  of  a  similar  structure  take 
their  origin  from  all  the  principal  cavities  of  the  body, 
and  probably  from  every  part  of  its  surface.  These  take 
np  the  fluids  that  have  been  separated  from  the  general 
mass  of  blood,  and  which  are  no  longer  adapted  to  the 
purposes  for  which  they  were  separated,  or  are  escre- 
mentitious,  and  would  prove  injurious  to  the  system,  if 
retained.  These  vessels  carry  the  matters  they  receive 
to  the  same  general  trunk  with  the  lacteals,  and  most 
of  them  pass  into  bodies,  of  a  roundish  form  and  glan- 
dular appearance.  These  vessels  are  called  lymphatics, 
and  the  bodiesthroughwhich  they  pass  lymfjhatic glands. 
The  general  trunk  in  which  the  lacteals  and  It/mphatics 
ultimately  meet,  is  called  the  thoracic  duct,  as  its  course 
is  chiefly  confined  to  the  thorax  or  chest.  The  lacteals, 
mesenteric  glands,  lymphatic  glands,  and  thoracic  duct, 
constitute  the  organs  ojf  absorption,  or  the  absorbent  syS' 
tcm. 

The  lacteals  and  lymphatics  (see  Plate  XX.)  are  so 
nearly  alike  in  structure,  disposition,  and  uses,  that  we 
shall  consider  them  together  under  the  general  head  of 
absorbent  vessels.  These  are  extremely  minute,  and 
so  transparent,  that  in  tlieir  natural  state  they  are  »carce- 


ANATOMY. 


m'i 


ly  cliscernible  by  tlie  naked  eye";  though,  while  the 
lacteals  are  filled  with  chyle,  or  when  any  of  the  absor- 
bents are  injected  with  an  opaque  fluid,  such  as  mercu- 
ry, they  are  very  preceptible.  We  then  find  that  they 
are  cylindrical  tubes,  resembling  the  small  branches  of 
veins  in  the  thinness  and  flaccidify  of  their  sides;  but 
having  more  of  a  jointed  appearance,  owing  to  the  great- 
er number  of  valves,  which  are  tldekly  set  within  their 
cavities.  Their  sides,  though  extremely  thin,  aj^ear  to 
be  of  considerable  strength,  and  so  far  as  can  be  ascer- 
tained from  an  examination  of  the  thoracic  duct,  they 
are  composed  of  two  coats ;  an  inner  membrane,  that  is 
extremely  fine  and  delicate,  resembling  the  internal 
membrane  of  the  veins,  and  an  outer  coat,  giving  them 
their  strength  and  elasticity.  Some  anatomists  have 
supposed  that  this  outer  coat  cqntains  muscular  fibres, 
but'the  |)resence  of  these  has  not  been  proved.  As  there 
is  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  absorbents  possess  a  power 
«f  contracting  when  irritated,  it  is  probable  that  their 
external  coat  is  of  a  muscular  texture.  See  Cruikshank 
on  the  AbsorbctUs,  2d  ed.  p.  62. 

The  valves  of  the  absorbents,  like  those  of  the  veins, 
are  arranged  in  pairs,  at  very  short  and  generally  regular 
intervals.  Bichat  supposej  them  to  be  formed  by  dou- 
blings of  the  proper  or  external  coat  of  the  absorbents. 

The  absorbent  vessels  run  from  the  points  where  they 
originate,  in  a  serpentine  direction,  and  as  they  pass, 
they  frequently  unite  with  each  other,  sometimes  form- 
ing an  intricate  net-work.  Like  the  veins,  they  are 
most  numerous  at  their  origin,  and  after  passing  through 
glaiKis,  they  become  less  numerous.  The  ramifications 
almost  always  unite  at  very  acute  angles,  in  this  respect 
resembling  those  of  (he  nerves. 

The  lymphatics  are  divided  into  deep-seated  and  su- 
perficial, according  as  they  arise  from  the  central  or 
peripheral  parts  of  the  body.  The  superficial  lympha- 
tics are  the  most  numerous,  and  the  most  easily  exa- 
mined. They  run  immediately  t»elow  the  skin,  and  the 
glands  through  which  they  pass  are  very  evident  to  the 
touch  in  several  parts  of  the  body,  especially  in  the 
groins  and  arm-pits.  The  deep-seated  lymphatics  usual- 
ly accompany  the  branches  of  the  veins  and  arteries, 
and  are  supposed  to  he  more  than  double  their  number. 
All  these  are  nourished  by  very  minute  blood-vessels, 
and  appear  to  I)e  furnished  with  nervous  fibres. 

The  lecteals  that  originate  in  the  intestines,  are  ex- 
tremely numerous,  especially  at  their  origin.  They  run 
beside  the  branches  of  the  mesenteric  arteries  and  veins, 
and  form  several  considerable  trunks,  as  they  approach 
the  trunks  of  these  vessels. 

The  lymphatic  glands  are  round  or  oval  bodies,  gene- 
rally flattened,  and  of  a  reddish  brown  colour  in  young 
people,  but  grayish  or  yellowish  in  those  of  more  ad- 
vanced age.  They  are  of  very  diiferent  sizes,  some  be- 
ing not  larger  than  a  millet  seed,  while  others  are  near- 
ly an  inch  in  diameter.  They  are  found  in  various  parts 
of  the  liody,  but  are  most  remarkable  in  the  arm-pits, 
the  neck,  the  groins,  the  ancles,  and  about  the  joints  of 
the  knees.  See  Plate  XX.  They  are  situated  in  the 
cellular  substance,  and  are  enveloped  each  in  a  membra- 
nous covering,  that  is  of  a  dense  texture,  and  smooth 
appearance,  and  which  seems  to  be  derived  from  the 
cellular  substance  by  which  they  are  connected  with  the 
neighbouring  parts.  In  their  internal  structure  they 
are  soft  and  pulpy,  and  seem  to  be  composed  of  cells 
containing  a  whitish  fluid.  Some  of  them  appear  rather 
like  a  collection  of  minute  vessels  than  of  cells.  They 
Vol.  I.     Part.  II. 


are  all  supplied  with  blood-vc«sels  and  nervea.  The 
mesenteric  glands  do  not  difler  essentially  from  the  other 
glands  of  the  absorbent  system.  They  are  generally  of 
a  considerable  size,  of  an  oval  form,  (see  Plate  XVIII. 
Fig.  12.)  andpf  a  whitish  colour.  They  are  situated  be- 
tween the  folds  of  the  mesentary,  and  are  usually  placed 
in  groups  of  three  or  four  together,  towards  the  large 
branches  of  the  mesenteric  vessels.  All  the  lacteals  do 
not  pass  through  the  mesenteric  glands,  several  having 
been  observed  to  creep  over  them. 

The  lymphatic  glands  have  been  compared  to  the 
ganglions  of  the  nervous  system,  and  are  by  some  anato- 
mists supposed  to  produce  some  imftortant  change  oh 
the  fluids  that  pass  through  them.  That  the  mesente* 
ric  glands  are  intended  to  prepare  the  chyle  more  com- 
pletely before  its  entrance  into  the  sanguiferous  system, 
there  can  be  little  doubt,  though,  from  the  circumstance 
mentioned  above,  it  might  appear  that  these  glands  were 
not  absolutely  necessary.  As,  however,  neariy  all  (he 
lacteals  pass  through  these  glands,  wo  must  consider 
those  instances  in  which  they  run  over  them  in  passing 
to  the  thoracic  duct,  as  only  accidental  exceptions  in 
the  general  plan  of  Nature  ;  and  as  these  vessels  freely 
inosculate  with  each  other,  the  fluid  that  each  contains 
must  be  mixed  and  modified  by  that  which  passes 
through  the  others. 

We  have  said,  that  most  of  the  absorlwnt  vessels 
pass  into  lymphatic  glands.  We  may  now  remark,  that 
similar  vessels,  though  usually  fewer  in  number,  and 
of  a  larger  diameter,  pass  out  at  (he  opposite  sides  of 
these  glands.  The  entering  vessels  are  called  by  ana^ 
tomists  vasa  inferentia,  (i.  e.  vessels  carrxjing  (he  absorb- 
ed matters  into  (he  glands,)  and  the  emerging  vessels 
vasa  effcrcntia,  (or  vesseli  carrying  it  out.)  The  circum- 
stance of  the  emerging  lymphatics  being  less  numerous 
than  the  entering,  |)roves  (hat  they  are  distinct  vessels, 
and  not,  as  some  have  supposed,  a  continuation  of  the 
same  trunks  passing  through  the  glands. 

The  lacteals  coming  from  the  bowels,  and  the  lym- 
phatic vessels  from  all  the  sacral  parts  of  the  bodj-,  gra- 
dually imiteat  about  the  third  vertebra  of  the  loins,  in 
a  vessel  of  larger  diameter  (ban  the  largest  branches  of 
the  lacteals  or  lymphatics ;  but  of  the  same  structure, 
both  in  its  meml)ranes  and  valves.  This  is  the  thoracic 
duct,  which  soon  after  its  commencement  swells  into 
an  oval  cavity,  of  rather  larger  diameter  than  the  rest 
of  the  tube  called  the  receptacle  of  the  chyle.  This  re- 
ceptacle is  generally  situated  near  the  first  vertebra  of 
the  loins,  on  the  right  side,  a  little  higher  than  (he  re- 
nal artery.  From  this  part,  the  thoracic  duct  ascends 
between  them/j-rtof  (he  diaphragm  into  the  chest,  where 
it  passes  between  the  descending  aorta  and  the  asys;os 
vein,  growing  gradually  smaller  (ill  it  reaches  (he  mid- 
dle of  the  back,  where  it  again  begins  to  dilate.  At 
about  the  eighth  dorsal  vertebra,  counting  from  above, 
it  frequently  divides  into  two  tubes  ;  but  these  soon  after 
reunite.  Passing  behind  (he  aor(a,  it  leaves  the  chest, 
and  mounts  upwards  to  the  lower  part  of  the  neck,  in- 
clining towards  the  left  side,  behiml  tho.  left  subclavian 
vein.  Having  reached  the  neck  a  little  above  the  sub- 
clavian, it  makes  a  turn  downwards,  and  enters  the  ve- 
nous system,  at  the  angle  formed  by  the  junction  of  the 
left  subclavian,  with  the  left  internal  jugular  vein.  In 
its  passage  through  the  chest,  it  receives  numerous  ab- 
sorbents from  the  viscera  contained  in  that  cavity,  and 
from  all  the  atlantal  parts  of  the  body,  thus  forming  the 
general  centre  of  the  whole  absorbent  system. 
5  I 


802 


ANATOMY. 


The  diameter  of  the  thoracic  duct  varies,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  ditTerent  parts  of  its  course.  At  the  receptacle 
of  the  chyle  it  is  sometimes  nearly  a  third  of  an  inch  in 
diameter-  and  where  it  terminates  in  the  veins,  its  dia- 
meter is  comuionly  \  or  Jj  »''  an  inch ;  while  in  its  mid- 
dle, and  most  contractt^d  part,  it  is  scarc^y  more  than 
half  a  line.  It  is  generally  described  at  about  as  large 
as  a  crow  quill.     It  runs  in  a  waving  direction. 

We  have,  in  compliance  with  custom,  described  the 
thoracic  duct  as  single  ;  but  it  very  commonly  happens 
that  there  are  two  ducts,  one  on  the  left  and  the  other  on 
the  right  side,  though  that  on  the  right  side  is  general- 
ly extremely  short.  In  a  few  cases,  the  thoracic  duct  is 
double  through  its  whole  length,  and  each  of  its  divi- 
sions terminates  in  separate  parts  of  the  venous  system  ; 
one  in  the  usual  angle  on  the  left  side,  the  other  in  the 
corresponding  angle  on  the  right. 

We  have  said  that  the  lacteals  are  filled  with  chyle, 
and  the  lymphatics  with  a  transparent  watery  fluid,  which 
is  called  lymph.  We  must  briefly  notice  the  general 
appearance  and  chemical  properties  of  these  fluids. 

The  lymph  is  a  watery  liquor,  usually  transparent, 
though,  when  subjected  to  sufficient  heat,  it  is  coagula- 
ble.  It  can  seldom  be  obtained  in  any  quantity  from  the 
lymphatics,  except  when  these  are  accidentally  divided 
in  the  living  body,  and  in  these  cases  it  sometimes  distils 
from  the  wound  so  as  to  impede  its  healing.  The  lymph 
contained  in  the  lymphatics  has  scarcely  been  examined 
by  chemical  analysis,  but  so  far  as  can  be  ascertained, 
it  is  of  the  same  nature  with  that  which  is  collected 
within  the  cavities  of  the  body,  and  which  is  very  simi- 
lar to  the  cerum  of  (he  blood. 

The  chyle  contained  in  the  lacteals  is  a  fluid  of  great- 
er importance  ;  but  unfortunately  our  acquaintance  with 
this  fluid  is  not  very  extensive.  In  its  general  appear- 
ance it  resembles  milk,  being  of  a  white  colour,  coagu- 
lable  by  heat,  containing  a  fatty  matter  resembling 
cream,  a  sweetish  substance  like  sugar,  and  a  few  neu- 
tral salts,  the  nature  of  which  has  not  been  ascertained. 
See  Chemistry. 

Several  morbid  appearances  are  frequently  discovered 
on  dissection,  in  the  absorbent  system.  The  lymphatic 
vessels  are  often  inflamed,  and  in  this  state  are  distinctly 
seen  below  the  skin  like  red  Hues,  which  when  touched, 
feel  like  hard  tense  chords,  and  are  very  painful.  The 
lymphatic  glands,  especialy  those  of  the  neck  and  groin, 
are  frequently  inflamed,  and  very  readily  pass  into  a 
state  of  suppuration,  as  in  scrofula  and  syphilis.  The 
lymphatic  glands  are  sometimes  found  in  a  scirrhous 
state.  This  more  especially  happens  to  the  glands  of 
the  arm-pit,  in  cases  of  cancerous  breast.  They  have 
also  been  seen  bony.  The  mesenteric  glands  are  fre- 
quently diseased.  Sometimes  they  are  obstructed, and  in 
these  cases  their  size  is  greatly  iacreased  ;  they  appear 
like  boiled  yolks  of  eggs,  and  on  being  cut  open,  are 
found  to  contain  a  whitish  or  yellowish  curdy  matter. 
They  are  sometimes  cancerous,  when  any  part  of  the 
intestines  in  their  neighbourhood  is  atfected  by  that  dis- 
ease ;  and  in  a  few  instances  they  have  been  found  fill- 
ed with  an  earthy  or  bony  matter.  The  thoracic  duct  is 
sometimes  greatly  enlarged,  a  remarkable  instance  of 
wliicb  enlargement  is  described  and  figured  by  Mr. 
Cruiktbaiik.  Sometimes  it  is  obstructed  by  an  earthy 
matter  deposited  within  its  cavity,  and  in  a  very  few 
instances  it  has  been  seen  ruptured. 

In  no  part  of  the  animiO  sirmture  have  the  invesliga- 
tioM  of  the  later  anatomi'lb  becu  more  successful  than 


in  the  absorbent  system.  Indeed  this  system  may  be 
considered  as  having  been  entirely  unknown  before  the 
year  1627,  when  Asellius  published  his  account  of  the 
lacteals,  which  he  had  first  observed  in  1622.  It  was 
only  ill  the  inferior  animals,  however,  that  Asellius  saw 
the  lacteal  vessels ;  and  the  first  person  who  appears  to 
have  been  favoured  with  a  sight  of  them  in  man,  was 
Veslingius,  in  1634.  This  anatomist  appears  also  to 
have  been  the  first  who  saw  the  thoracic  duct,  which,  ac- 
cording to  Haler,  was  discovered  by  Veslingius  in  1649, 
though  no  account  of  it  was  published  till  that  of  Pec- 
quet, in  1651.  Much  about  (his  time,  the  Swedish  ana- 
tomist Rudbec,  discovered  the  lymphatic  vessels,  an  ac- 
count of  which  was  first  published  in  1653,  by  Bartholin* 
It  appears  that  the  lymphatics  had  been  seen  in  Eng- 
land by  Dr.  Jolyffe,  so  early  as  1653,  as  Glisson,  in  his 
work  De  Venlriculo  el  Tntestinis,  published  in  1654,  in- 
forms us ;  but  Jolyfle  seems  not  to  have  understood  their 
nature  or  uses.  The  valvesof  the  absorbent  vessels  were 
first  seen  by  Swammerdam  in  1664,  and  they  were  de- 
scribed by  Ruysch  in  thefollowing  year.  Both  Swammer- 
dam and  Ruysch  understood  the  method  of  demonstrating 
the  absorbent  vessels  by  injection ;  but  this  important  art 
was  greatly  improved  by  Nuck,  who,  in  1691,  explain- 
ed his  method  of  injecting  Ihe  absorbents  with  quick- 
silver. This  method  was  further  improved  by  Sheldon, 
and  has  been  jiractised  with  great  success  by  the  disci-, 
pies  of  Dr.  William  Hunter  in  Loudon,  the  second  Dr. 
Monro  in  Edinburgh,  and  by  Mascagni  in  Italy. 

The  knowledge  of  the  absorbent  system  was  further 
enlarged  in  the  latter  end  of  the  18th  century,  by  the 
pupils  of  Hunter  and  Monro,  who  discovered  (hat  these 
vessels  were  not  confined  to  man  and  quadrupeds.  They 
were  seen  in  crocodiles  and  geese,  by  Mr.  .John  Hunter ; 
in  several  birds,  in  some  fishes,  and  in  the  sea  urchin, 
by  Dr.  Monro  and  his  assistants;  in  the  turtle  by  Mr. 
Hewson,  who  also  discovered  them  in  fishes.  Mr.  Shel- 
don gave  the  first  complete  account  of  the  lacteals  in 
1784;  and  two  years  after,  Mr.  Cruikshank  published 
the  first  edition  of  his  Analmntf  of  the  Absorbent  Fcs.icls 
of  the  Hunwn  Body  ;  a  second  edition  of  which  appear- 
ed in  1790,  and  nearly  completed  our  knowledge  of  the 
absorbent  system.  Still  later,  the  Italian  ano.tomist  Mas- 
cagni has  added  to  our  information  respecting  the  human 
absorbents,  by  jiublishin.!;  the  most  splendicf  engravings 
of  them  (hat  have  ever  a|)peared ;  and  in  our  own  times 
the  method  of  injecting  these  vessels  has  been  ranch 
improved  by  employing,  in  certain  cases,  a  steel  or  iron 
syringe,  with  a  capillary  pipe,  instead  of  Sheldon's 
method  of  filling  them,  by  the  weight  of  a  very  long 
column  of  mercury,  falling  from  the  capillary  extremi- 
ty of  a  glass  tulie.  Dr.  Barclay  has  used  (his  syringe 
with  the  best  eflcct  in  injecting  (lie  lymphatic  glands, 
where  considerable  force  is  required,  and  where  the 
glass  tube  would  be  extremely  unmanageable. 

The  most  important  works  on  the  absorbent  system 
are,  Sheldon's  History  of  the  Absorbents  ;  Cruikshaiik's 
Anatomy  of  the  Absorbait  Fesseb ;  Monro  </<•  Fasts 
Lyinphaticis  Valvulosis ;  Hewson's  Expcrimetital  Itv- 
quiries  into  the  LympliiUic  System  ;  Mascagni  De  Vents 
Lymphaticis ;  and  Bichal's  Anatomii  Gcnerale,  toN).  ii. 
On  the  the  diseases  of  the  lymphatics,  see  a  Dissertadon 
by  (irofessor  SoiJmmeriiie,  De  Morbis  Fasonim  Absor- 
baitium  Corporis  Humani ;  Adams's  Obstrrations  on 
Morbid  Poisons  ;  and  Baillie'a  Morbid  Anatomy.  The 
besl  figures  of  the  Lymphatics  are  those  of  Cruiksliank 
auU  Mascagni,  the  latter  of  which  have  been  copied  into 


ANATOMY. 


803 


Loder's  Tahulm  Anaiomicce,  and  Dr.  Parr's  New  London 
Medical  Dictionart/.  A  view  oi'  the  Lacteals  and  Me- 
seiiteric  Glands,  with  their  relative  situation  with  re- 
spect to  the  mesentpric  vessels,  is  given  in  Plate  XIX. 
of  the  present  work,  Fig.  12  ;  and  a  general  view  of  the 
principal  superficial  absorbents,  and  several  of  those 
that  are  deep-seated,  is  afforded  by  the  whole  length 
figure  in  Plate  XX. 

Explanation  of  Plate  XX. 

The  figure  in  this  plate  is  represented  as  entire,  but 
for  the  purpose  of  displaying  more  accurately  the  course 
Of  the  lymphatics,  the  skin  and  the  sternal  parts  of  the 
chest  and  belly  are  supposed  to  be  transparent,  so  that 
the  aisorlient  vessels  may  he  seen  through  them.  The 
contents  of  the  chest  appear  in  their  natural  state,  hut  a 
great  part  of  the  abdominal  viscera,  com|»rehending  the 
intestines,  the  pancreas,  the  spleen  and  the  urin;iry 
bladder,  are  supposed  to  be  removed.  The  liver,  the 
stomach,  and  part  of  the  spleen,  anil  the  kidneys  remain. 
Numerous  superficial  absorbents  are  seen  running  up 
the  inside  of  the  legs  and  thighs,  especially  on  the  left 
side,  and  passing  through  the  inguinal  glands  into  the 
belly,  where  they  are  seen  gradually  to  unite  in  the 
space  between  the  two  kidneys,  with  the  lymphatics,  and 
lacteals  from  the  intestines,  forming  the  thoracic  duct, 
or  that  white  tube  which  is  seen  passing  along  the 
spine,  behind  the  liver  and  the  heart,  and  appearing 
again  in  the  upper  part  of  the  chest,  on  the  left  side, 
till  it  reaches  the  part  where  it  makes  a  turn  downwards 
to  enter  the  veins.  A  great  number  of  superficial  ab- 
sorbents are  also  seen  running  up  the  inside  of  each 
arm,  especially  on  the  rights  where  they  follow  the 
course  of  the  humeral  vein,  and  pass  through  glands  in 
the  arm-pit  and  shoulder.  Other  absorbents  are  repre- 
seiiled  as  coming  down  the  neck,  and  all  entering  the 
flioracic  duct. 

CHAP.  VI. 

Of  the  Organs  «/■  Respiration  onrf  Voice. 

llespiration,  or  that  function  by  which  atmospheric  air 
is  alternately  received  and  emitted  by  the  animal  body, 
is  (<erformed  by  organs  very  different  in  their  uses  and 
structure.  Those  which  are  more  immediately  required 
for  the  reception  and  emission  of  the  air,  are  the  lungs 
and  the  wind-pipe;  but  these  organs  appear  to  be  chiefly 
passive  in  the  function  of  respiration.  Others  are  ne- 
cess;try  for  the  purpose  either  of  expanding  the  cavity 
in  which  the  lun^s  are  placed,  and  thus  enal)ling  them 
to  receive  a  greater  supply  of  fresh  air,  or  for  compress- 
ing them  into  a  smaller  space,  so  as  to  expel  a  part  of 
the  air  which  had  become  unfit  for  effecting  the  neces- 
sary changes  in  the  animal  economy.  These  accessory 
orgins  are  chiefly  the  diaphragm,  the  ribs,  and  the 
muscles,  by  which  these  are  elevated  or  de[)ressed.  In 
the  present  chapter  we  shall  describe  the  lungs,  the 
'wind-pipe  and  its  appendages,  and  the  diaphragm. 

SicT.  I.    Of  the  General  Organs  of  Respiration. 

Before  describing  the  lungs,  it  is  necessary  that  we 
explain  the  form  and  bosmdaries  of  the  thorax  or  chest 
in  which  they  are  contained. 


The  cavity  of  the  chest  is  of  considerable  size,  ex- 
tending from  the  lower  part  of  the  neck  to  the  scrohicu- 
his  cordis  or  pit  of  the  stomach,  on  the  fore  part,  to  the 
last  vertebra  of  the  back,  behind  and  in  the  sides,  nearly 
to  the  lowest  part  of  the  cartilages  of  the  ribs.  It  is 
much  wider  below  than  above,  owing  to  the  gradual  ex- 
pansion of  the  lower  rins.  As  each  rib  is  moveable 
between  the  bodies  of  the  vertebra;  with  which  it  is 
connected,  and  as  the  sternum  or  breast-bone,  from  its 
connexion  with  the  ribs,  partakes  of  their  niotious;  the 
cavity  of  the  chest  is  susceptible  of  considerable  dilata- 
tion and  contraction  ;  and  these  changes  in  its  extent  are 
much  assisted,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  by  the  contrac- 
tion of  the  diaphragm,  or  by  the  strong  action  of  the 
abdominal  muscles  pressing  the  bowels  upward.  The 
whole  cavity  is  lined  !iy  a  very  firm  fibrous  membrane, 
called  the  pleura,  which  we  shall  presently  consider 
more  at  large.  The  principal  divisions  of  the  cavity  of 
the  chest  are  those  formed  on  the  right  and  left  side  by 
the  mediastinum,  extending  from  the  sternum  to  the 
vertebrae.  Of  these  cavities  the  right  is  larger  than  the 
left,  and  both  are  completely  filled  by  the  lungs. 

Those  large  spongy  membranous  and  vascular  parts 
which  we  call  lun^s,  consist  chiefly  of  two  divisions,  to 
which  anatomists  give  the  name  of  lobes.  Each  of  these, 
lobes  is  again  subdivided  intosmallcr  portions,  also  called 
lobes ;  the  right  lung  being  generally  divided  into  three, 
and  the  left  lung  into  two  lol>e3.  These  small  lobes  are 
also  slightly  subdivided  into  still  smaller  portions,  called 
the  lobxdrs  of  the  lungs.  The  lungs  in  their  general 
form  are  very  irregul.ir.  They  are  convex  next  the 
sides  of  the  thorax,  concave  next  the  diaphragm,  un- 
equally flattened  next  the  heart,  terminate  in  a  broad 
round  part  behind,  and  by  edges  more  or  less  acute  oa 
their  sternal  and  sacral  sides.  Indeed,  from  their  tex- 
ture, their  form  must  in  a  great  degree  depend  on  that 
of  the  adjoining  parts.  Their  colour  varies  at  different 
ages.  In  children  and  young  people  they  are  usually 
of  a  fine  red  or  pink  colour;  they  assume  a  light  blue  or 
grayish  tinge  in  middle  age,  and  in  old  people  they  be- 
come more  or  less  dark  and  livid.  To  the  touch  they 
are  soft  and  spongy,  and  extremely  elastic.  In  their 
specific  gravity  they  are  the  lightest  of  all  the  animal 
organs,  even  when  completely  exhausted  of  air.  Oa 
their  peripheral  surface,  the  lungs  are  smooth  and 
glossy.  They  are  enveloped  in  a  very  fine  and  delicate 
transparent  membrane,  derived  from  the  pleura,  and 
through  this  the  peripheral  substance  of  the  lungs  has 
the  appearance  of  net-work.  They  are  connected  at 
their  dorsal  side  to  the  spine  by  the  pleura ;  to  the 
lower  part  of  the  neck  by  the  wind-pipe ;  and  to  the 
heart  by  the  roots  of  the  pulmonary  artery  and  veins ; 
but  towards  the  ribs,  the  mediastinum,  and  the  dia- 
phragm, they  are  in  their  natural  state  unconnected,  so 
as  readily  to  yield  to  the  motions  of  the  ribs  and  dia- 
phragm. 

The  lungs  in  their  internal  stnictnre,  are  composed 
of  a  great  number  of  membranous  cells,  of  numerouB 
ramifications,  of  blood-vessels,  with  nerves  and  lym;>ha- 
tics,  all  connected  by  cellular  substance.  The  ceils  of 
the  lungs  constitute  the  greatest  part  of  their  bulk. 
These  are  very  small,  of  an  irregular  figure,  with  very 
thin  membranous  sides.  They  are  closely  connecied 
and  comiiressed  at  their  sides,  and  they  freely  commu- 
nicate with  each  other,  but  have  no  co:nmunic«fio'i  vith 
the  cellular  substance  by  which  they  ire  coiiue'ied. 
From  the  cells  tbere  arise  small  hollow  tubes,  which 
512 


(J04 


.\J?J  ATOMY. 


gradually  form  other  larger  lubes,  tiH  at  the  upper  part 
of  the  thorax,  all  the  tubes  on  each  side  unite  in  oue, 
and  these  two  branches  at  length  join  to  form  the  wind- 
pipe. At  their  commencement,  these  tubes  are  mesn- 
brauous,  but  as  they  unite  together  to  form  the  two 
branches  of  the  Avind-pipe,  they  become  cartilaginous. 
They  are  generally  called  bronchi  or  bronchia:.  The 
ramifications  of  Ihe  blood-vessels  form  also  a  large  part 
of  the  substance  of  the  lungs,  and  chiefly  consist  of  the 
divisions  of  the  pulmonary  artery  and  veins,  wilh  the 
capillaries  between  theif  extreniilies.  These  ramifica- 
tions are  spread  over  every  part  of  the  cellular  structure 
of  the  lungs,  running  throughout  the  cellular  substance 
that  connects  the  air-cells.  There  are,  however,  other 
blood-vessels,  called  the  bronchial  vessels,  intended  to 
convey  nourishment  to  the  lungs ;  while  the  ramifica- 
tions of  what  are  called  the  pulmonary  vessels,  seem 
destined  to  distribute  the  circulating  fluids  through 
every  part  of  those  spongy  bodies,  for  the  purpose  of 
being  freely  subjected  to  .the  action  of  the  air. 

Besides  (he  common  coat  that  surrounds  the  lobes  of 
the  lungs,  and  is  derived  from  the  pleura,  there  is  a 
very  delicate  membrane  closely  connected  with  the  sub- 
stance of  the  lungs,  and  surrounding  each  of  the  compo- 
nent lobules.  This  appears  to  be  derived  from  the  cel- 
lular substance. 

The  wind-pipe,  called  by  modern  anatomists  the  tra^ 
chea,  and  by  the  older  medical  writers,  aspcra  artcria, 
is  situated  in  the  sternal  part  of  the  neck,  extending 
from  that  remarkable  protuberance  a  Utile  below  the 
chin,  into  the  thorax,  where  it  enters  the  posterior  or 
dorsal  mediastinum,  and  about  the  third  vertebra  of  the 
back,  divides  into  the  two  branches  which  form  the 
union  of  the  bronchi.  The  wind-pipe  is  a  tube  of  con- 
aiderable  size,  of  nearly  a  cylindrical  form  at  its  sternal 
side,  but  flattened  at  its  dorsal  part.  Next  the  head  it 
joins  what  is  called  the  larynx,  which  may  properly  be 
considered  as  an  appendage  to  the  wind-pipe.  Behind, 
it  is  closely  connected  with  the  gullet.  It  is  chiefly 
composed  of  cartilaginous  rings  that  are  complete  on 
the  dorsal  side.  Each  of  these  rings  is  about  -f\  inch 
broad,  and  J-  line  in  thickness.  They  are  generally  16 
or  18  in  number,  and  are  placed  horizontally,  with  their 
edges  next  each  other.  There  is  a  small  space  between 
them,  and  this  is  filled  up  by  a  ligamentous  elastic  sub- 
stance. In  the  atlantal  part  of  the  wind-pipe,  the  carti- 
lages are  sometimes  joined  to  each  other,  but  in  the 
middle  and  sacral  parts  they  are  perfectly  distinct.  The 
cartilages  are  continued  from  the  trunk  of  the  wind-pipe 
to  the  bronchi,  till  they  begin  to  enter  the  cells  of  the 
lungs ;  but  in  that  part  of  the  bronchi  that  is  next  the 
two  principal  branches,  they  are  not  composed  each  of 
one  piece,  as  in  the  wind-pipe,  but  consist  of  two  or 
three  pieces,  so  connected  as  to  surround  the  bronchi, 
and  preserve  their  cylindrical  form. 

The  wind-pipe  and  bronchi  are  covered  on  their  peri- 
pheral surface  with  a  strong  membrane  (hat  is  of  con- 
si<lerable  thickness  on  the  trunk  of  the  wind-pipe,  but 
becomes  thinner  on  the  bronchi.  It  is  composed  chiefly 
of  longitudinal  fibres  running  parallel  to  each  other,  and 
very  obvious  to  the  sight.  On  their  outer  surface  these 
fibres  are  of  a  reddish  colour,  but  appear  whitish  next 
the  cartilages.  The  membranous  part  that  forms  the 
dorsal  side  of  the  wind-pipe,  is  partly  composed  of  this 
outer  membrane,  and  partly  of  two  layers  of  what  ap- 
[(ear  to  he  muscular  fibres;  one  layer  being  arranged 
longitudinally,  the  other  in  a  transverse  direction.    On 


its  central  surface  the  wind-pipe  is  lined  with  a  delicate, 
very  irritaole  membrane,  tiiat  is  continued  from  the 
larynx  through  the  brouchi,  and  probably  to  the  air-cells 
of  the  lungs.  In  the  neck,  the  whole  outer  surface  of 
the  wind-pipe  is  enveloped  with  loose  cellular  sutistance, 
from  which  it  derives  a  general  covering,  and  within 
the  chest  it  takes  a  peripheral  coat  from  the  medias- 
tinum. 

The  cavity  of  the  wind-pipe  and  bronchi  is  moistened 
by  a  mucous  liquor  that  exudes  through  their  internal 
membrane,  and  is  derived  from  numerous  small  glands 
situated  on  their  peripheral  surface, and  opening  f«ifra</ 
by  numerous  small  excretory  ducts.  These  are  calleil 
the  tracheal  glands.  Other  grandular  bodies  connected 
with  the  absorbent  system  of  the  lungs,  are  situated 
within  the  cellular  substance  that  surrounds  the  roots 
of  the  bronchi,  and  the  sacral  extremity  of  the  wind- 
pipe. These  are  of  vnrious  sizes,  some  being  no  larger 
than  a  millet  seed,  while  others  equal  the  tip  of  the  little 
finger.  They  are  of  a  dark  colour,  and  of  a  similar  tex- 
ture with  the  other  lymphatic  glands.  They  are  called 
the  bronchial  glands. 

The  wind-pipe  is  supplied  with  arterial  branches  from 
the  inferior  laryngeal  arteries,  and  its  nerves  come 
chiefly  from  the  great  sympathetics. 

At  the  atlantal  extremity  of  the  wind-pipe,  on  its 
sternal  side,  there  is  a  larger  glandular  body  of  a  dark 
red  colour,  called  the  thyroid  gland,  from  its  being 
partly  situated  over  the  thyroid  cartilage.  This  gland 
consits  of  two  lobes  that  extend  downwards  over  the 
side  of  the  wind-pipe  and  gullet,  and  are  united  before 
by  an  intermediate  portion.  Examined  centratl,  this 
gland  is  found  to  be  composed  of  numerous  small 
grains  connected  by  cellular  substance,  and  it  gener- 
ally contains  a  viscid  liquor.  The  use  of  this  gland 
has  not  been  ascertained.  It  is  smaller  in  women  than 
in  men,  and  from  this  circumstance  the  neck  is  less 
prominent  in  females.  It  is  well  supplied  by  particu- 
lar arteries,  which  have  been  enumerated  in  the  table, 
by  the  names  of  superior  and  inferior  thyroid  arteries, 
and  has  several  nerves  from  those  branches  called 
laryngeal;     Numerous  lymphatics  also  pass  through  it. 

The  diaphragm  is  that  fleshy  |iartition  that  is  situat- 
ed between  the  chest  and  the  belly  ;  by  the  Latin 
anatomists  it  was  called  septum  transverswn,  and  in  com- 
mon language  it  is  known  by  the  name  of  midritf.  This 
partition  is  composed  chiefly  of  muscular  and  tendinous 
fibres,  which  are  arranged  in  various  directions.  But 
the  tendinous  fibres  commonly  occupy  its  central  and' 
sternal  parts,  while  the  muscular  fibres  compose  its  '• 
lateral  and  posterior  parts.  See  Plate  XIV.  Fig.  3.' 
The  diaphragm  is  attached  at  its  fore  part  to  the  central' 
surface  of  the  ensiform  cartilage  that  terminates  the 
sacral  extremity  of  the  sternum  ;  laterally  it  is  united  to 
the  cartilages  of  the  two  sacral  true  ribs,  and  to  those  of 
all  the  false  ribs.  These  attachments  are  by  means  of 
muscular  fibres,  which  run  in  a  radiating  direction 
towards  the  central  tendon.  By  other  fleshy  fibres  form- 
ing four  bundles  or  heads,  called  the  crura  of  Ihe 
diaphragm,  it  is  attached  to  the  four  superior  vertebras 
of  the  loins.  Two  of  these  heads  are  longer  than  the 
others,  and  are  called  the  long  crura  These  run  diverg- 
ing from  each  other  towards  the  central  tendon,  near 
which  their  fibres  cross  each  other,  and  form  an  oval 
opening,  through  which  the  gullet  passes  from  (he 
chest  to  the  cardiac  portion  of  the  stomach.  See  Fig. 
3.  0,    A  little  dorsad  of  (bis  oral  opening  there  is  an- 


ANATOMY. 


805 


other  Eeparatioii  between  the  fleUiy  fibres  of  the  crura, 
for  the  passage  of  the  great  trunk  of  the  aorta  ;  and  tlie 
thoracic  duct,  a  b  c  d  c.  Near  the  sternal  part  of  the 
oval  opening  for  the  gullet,  on  the  right  sidr,  there  is  a 
consideriit)le  triangular  space  between  the  tendinous  fi- 
bres. Through  this  passes  the  trunk,  of  the  sacral  vena 
cava,  V. 

The  diaphragm,  considered  as  a  muscle,  is  usually 
divided  b)'- anatomists  into  two  portions  called  the  great- 
er and  less  muscles  of  the  diaphragm,  the  foriper 
consisting  of  the  large  central  tendon,  which  forms  the 
principal  part  of  the  [lortion,  and  of  these  fleshy  fibres 
that  are  attached  to  the  sternum  and  the  ribs,  while  the 
latter  is  formed  chiefly  by  the  crura  attached  to  the 
vertebrsB  of  the  loins.  As  the  greater  muscle  is  more 
atlantal,  or,  in  the  vertical  position  of  the  body,  higher 
than  the  lesser  muscle  ;  the  Ibrmer  is  sometimes  call- 
ed" the  superior,  and  the  latter  the  inferior  diaphragm. 

In  the  natural  position  of  the  diaphragm,  when  it  is 
neither  much  contracted  nor  much  dilated,  its  mus- 
cular fibres  are  arched  towards  the  thorax.  When 
these  are  thrown  into  strong  contractions,  as  during  a 
deep  inspiration,  they  become  much  less  arched,  and 
the  whole  diaphragm,  is  considerably  flattened  ;  while, 
on  the  contrarjs  when  they  are  in  a  state  of  relaxa- 
tion, and  the  abdominal  viscera  strongly  compressed 
by  the  action  of  the  abdominal  muscles,  the  convexity 
of  the  diaphragm  towards  the  cavity  of  the  thorax  is 
greatly  increased.  This  happens  during  a  violent  ex- 
piration. 

The  diaphragm  is  covered  next  the  thorax  by  a 
membrane  derived  from  the  pleura,  and  towards  the 
belly  it  is  invested  by  a  protluclion  of  the  peritoneum, 
which  is  connected  with  the  liver.  Its  arteries  and 
nerves  have  already  been  noticed  in  their  respective  ta- 
bles. 

Having  now  described  the  contents  of  tho  chest,  we 
must  consider  the  nature  and  disposition  of  the  mem- 
brane that  lines  the  interior  of  this  cavity,  and  enve- 
lopes the  organs  of  respiration  and  circulation  within  its 
doublings.  This  membrane  is  called  pleura,  and  con- 
sists chiefly  of  two  close  bags,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
chest,  united  at  the  sternum.  Hence  it  is  generally 
considered  as  double,  and  the  two  bags  which  it  forms 
are  called  the  tvio  pleurm.  The  whole  may,  however, 
be  described  as  one  membrane,  forming  various  doub- 
lings. In  its  texture  it  is  cellular  on  that  surface  which 
is  next  the  ribs,  and  the  contents  of  the  chest,  but 
smooth  and  polished  towards  the  interior  of  that  cavity. 
It  is  firm,  dense,  and  elastic,  and  more  or  less  trans- 
parent. Its  central  surface  is  moistened  by  a  serous 
fluid  which  continually  ooscs  from  openings  which  are 
considered  as  the  mouth  of  exhahint  arteries. 

To  form  a  correct  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
pleura  is  reflected  over '  the  diflerent  contents  of  the 
chest,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  to  them  a  peripheral 
coat,  and  connecting  llieni  with  each  other,  it  will  be 
useful  to  trace  the  disposition  of  this  membrane  as  we 
have  done  with  the  jntuitary  membrane  of  the  nose, 
from  a  certain  fixed  point,  which  we  shall  suppose  to  be 
one  side  of  the  sternum.  Passing  from  the  side  of  the 
sternum,  the  pleura  proceeds  over  the  concave  surface 
of  the  ribs,  which  it  completely  invests,  but  is  separated 
from  the  intercostal  muscles  by  cellular  substance,  and 
by  the  vessels  and  nerves  that  are  distributed  through 
the  intercostal  spaces.  It  also  covers  the  convex  sur- 
face of  the  diaphragm,  and  passing  from  this  surface, 


and  from  that  of  the  ribs,  it  proceeds  to  the  bodies  of 
the  dorsal  vertebra?,  forming  at  the  atlantal  part  of  the 
chest,  a  close  cavity  for  lodging  the  smaller  extremity 
of  the  lungs.  Towards  the  heads  of  the  ribs  it  covers 
the  nervous  ganglions  that  belong  to  the  chest,  and  the 
branches  to  which  they  give  origin.  It  is  separated  from 
the  bodies  of  the  vertebras  by  a  considerable  quantity  of 
fat.  Arrived  at  the  vertebral  column,  the  pleura  of  one 
side  approaches  that  of  the  other,  which  has  proceeded 
in  a  similar  direction,  and  between  them,  is  formed  that 
cavity  which  has  been  called  the  posterior  mediastinum. 
Through  this  passes  the  gullet,  the  descending  aorta, 
the  thoracic  duct,  <fec.  enveloi)ed  in  cellular  substance, 
which  entirely  fills  this  space.  Proceeding  towards 
the  sternum,  it  approaches  the  heart,  and  the  great  ves- 
sels that  arise  from,  and  terminate  in,  that  organ.  Here 
it  may  be  conceived  either  to  Ibrm  the  whole  of  the 
pericardium,  or  to  invest  that  membrane  ivith  a  peri- 
l)heral  coat,  by  w  hich  it  connects  it  with  the  diaphragm. 
Leaving  the  pericardium  at  the  roots  of  the  pulmonary 
vessels,  it  passes  over,  we  shall  sup[>ose,  the  mesial, dor- 
sal, lateral,  and  sternal  sides  of  each  lobe  of  the  lungs, 
till  it  reaches  the  side  of  the  pulmonary  vessels  and 
pericardium,  opposite  to  that  from  which  we  supposed 
it  to  be  last  reflected.  It  hence  passes  to  the  inner  sur- 
face of  the  sternum,  to  the  point  from  which  we  first 
set  out,  having  fonned  in  this  sternal  part,  the  anterior 
mediastinum. 

Hence  we  see  that  the  mediastinum  is  properly  a 
double  partition,  formed  of  two  plaits  united  at  the 
sternum,  and  diverging  from  each  other  as  they  pro- 
ceed towards  the  vertebrae.  This  divergence  is  most 
remarkable  at  the  sacral  part  of  the  chest,  where  the 
heart  is  lodged.  The  sternal  or  angular  part  of  the 
mediastiaum  is  connected  to  the  sternum  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  divide  this  bone  into  two  unequal  portions. 
Supposing  it  to  commence  on  the  atlantal  part  of  the 
sternum,  it  is  there  fixed  near  the  articulation  of  the 
cartilages  of  the  rii^ht  ribs  with  the  right  side  of  tlie 
sternum.  Hence  it  descends  obliquely  sacrad,  till  it 
ap|)roacheg  the  articulation  of  the  left  cartilages  of  the 
ribs.  This  disposition  of  the  sternal  mediastinum  af- 
fords a  useful  bint  to  surgeor.e  in  those  cases  where  it  in 
required  to  perforate  the  sternum,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  an  opening  into  one  side  of  the  cavity  of  the 
chest.  If  the  opening  is  to  be  made  into  the  right  side, 
we  find,  from  the  disposition  of  the  mediastinum,  that 
the  perforation  must  be  made  in  the  sacral  part  of  the 
sternum,  near  the  ensiform  cartilage,  but  on  the  left 
side  a  perforation  of  the  sternum  will  scarcely  be  of 
advantage,  as,  in  order  to  make  an  opening  into  the 
left  cavity,  it  would  be  nece.'isary  to  perform  the  opera- 
tion near  the  atlantal  extremity  of  the  sacrum. 

The  pleura  receives  arterial  branches  from  all  the 
principal  arteries  of  the  neighbouring  parts.  Its  nerves 
are  small,  and  not  easily  distinguished.  They  are 
chiefly  derived  from  the  great  sympathetic  and  phrenic 
nerves.  In  its  sound  state  this  membrane  possesses 
little  sensibility,  but  when  inflamed,  it  is  extremely 
sensible. 

In  enumfePating  the  organs  of  respiration,,  we  must 
not  omit  the  muscles  that  are  employed  in  dilating  or 
contracting  the  cavity  of  the  chest,  as  on  the  action  of 
these  muscles  inspiration  and  expiration  immediately 
depend.  In  the  general  table  of  muscles  we  have  enu- 
merated those  of  respiration,  in  the  order  according  to 
which  they  most  naturally  present  themselves  indissee 


806 


ANATOMY. 


tion ;  but  it  may  be  pfoper,  in  this  chapter  to  bring  them 
together,  and  to  distinguish  those  which  contribute  to 
the  dilatation  of  the  thorax,  irom  those  which  are  em 


ployed  in  drawing  down  the  ribs,  and  thereby  contraet- 
ing  that  cavity.  We  shall  contrast  them  with  each 
other  in  the  I'oUowing  table  : 


DILATING    MUSCT<E8. 

Intercostales, 
Svpracostales, 
InJ'racostales, 
Diaphragm, 
Assisted  occasionally  by  the 
SternoTnasiaidei, 
Scale  ni, 

Serrati  postici  superiofis, 
Scrrati  aruici, 
Serrati  magni, 
Subclavii, 
Pectorales, 
LcUissimi  dorsi, 
Cervicales  dcscend^ntes, 
Accessorii  ad  sacrolumbaks. 

The  varieties  that  occur  in  the  organs  of  respiration, 
are  not  very  considerable  or  important,  except  as  they 
respect  the  state  of  the  lungs  in  the  fcetus,  and  the  pre- 
sence of  a  particular  gland  in  the  fcetus,  which  is  not 
found  in  the  adult  sttite. 

Before  birth,  the  lungs  are  much  smaller,  firmer, 
and  of  a  much  darker  colour  than  after  respiration 
has  commenced.  They  are  also  of  greater  specific 
gravity,  and  sink  in  water,  except  when  in  a  state  of 
putrefaction. 

In  the  fffitus  there  is  found  a  large  glandular  hody, 
called  the  thymus  gland,  situated  in  the  atlantal  and 
sternal  part  of  the  chest  lietween  the  two  plaits  of  the 
sternal  mediastinum.  It  covers  the  atlantal  part  of  the 
pericardium,  and  that  part  of  the  arch  of  the  aorta  from 
which  arise  the  camtid  and  subclavian  arteries.  From 
this  part  it  rises  considerably,  so  as  to  occupy  a  part  of 
the  neck.  It  has  four  considerable  processes  ;  two  call- 
ed its  lobes,  next  the  pericardium,  which  are  broad  ; 
and  two  long  and  narrow  processes  called  its  horns,  run- 
ning up  the  neck.  This  substance  is  of  a  pale  red  co- 
lour, though  it  becomes  of  a  darker  hue  after  birth. 
Its  internal  structure  has  not  been  accurately  examin- 
ned.  It  commonly  contains  a  whitish  liquor,  but  ap- 
pears to  have  no  excretory  duct,  by  which  that  liquor 
can  be  conveyed  to  any  particular  part.  By  Haller  and 
some  other  anatomists  it  is  considered  as  a  lymphatic 
gland,  and  some  have  supposed  it  to  be  connected  with 
the  nutrition  of  the  fu;tus.  It  has  numerous  blood-ves- 
sels from  the  subclavian  and  internal  mammary  arteries ; 
nerves  from  the  great  sympathetics  and  par  va^um,mvi 
several  lymphatics  have  been  traced  passing  from  it  to 
the  thoracic  duct. 

Sect.  II.  Of  the  Orgnns  of  Voice. 

The  organs  subservient  to  those  modifications  of  re- 
spiration which  we  call  voice,  and  speech,  are  in  man 
more  complex  than  in  most  animals.  They  cbnsist  chiefly 
of  the  larynx,  the  tongue,  and  the  lips,  with  the  mus- 
cles and  membranes,  assisted  occasioually  in  the  articu- 
lations of  speech  by  the  teeth  and  the  palate.  Most  of 
lh«sp  organs  have  been  already  noticed,  as  connected 
with  the  functions  of  sensation  and  digestion.  It  remains 
•for  us  here  to  describe  the  larynx,  and  enumerate  the 


CONTRACTING    MUSCLES. 

Triangulares  stemi, 
Oiliqni  extcmi  abdominis, 
Ob'iqui  intimi  aiilmninis, 
Transvertti  abdominis. 
Recti  aiiditninis, 
Pyramidales, 
Assisted  occasion  illy  by  the 
Serrati  postici  infertores, 
Lo/igissimi  dorsi, 
SacroimnhaUs, 
Quadrati  lumborum, 

Serrati  magni.     See  Barclay  on  Musctdar, 
Motum,  p.  515. 


muscles  employed  in  producing  the  varieties  so  remark' 
able  in  the  human  voice. 

The  larynx  is  a  cavity  composed  of  several  moveable 
pieces,  joined  to  the  atlantal  extremity  of  the  wind-pipe, 
and  situated  in  the  atlantal  and  sternal  pert  of  the  neck. 
Its  general  form  is  not  easily  described,  but  in  its  struc- 
ture it  is  perfectly  regular  and  symmetrical,  beingplrxed 
exactly  in  the  mesial  line,  and  having  each  of  its  lateral 
divisions  equ^il  and  similar.  From  this  regularity  of 
structure,  it  forms  a  complete  contrast  with  the  wind- 
pipe, the  form  of  which  is  very  irregular.  The  larynx 
must  be  considered  almost  entirely  an  organ  of  voice; 
for  though  the  air  passes  through  it  in  respiration,  a 
much  more  simple  orifice  would  be  sufficient  for  the 
purposes  of  breathing,  as  appears  in  those  cases  where 
the  opening  of  the  larynx,  called  glottis,  is  obstructed, 
and  where  breathing  may  be  carried  on  through  an  arti- 
ficial aperture  made  in  the  wind-pipe  below  the  larynx. 

The  larynx  is  composed  of  several  cartilages  that  are 
moveatile  on  each  other,  and  connected  with  membranes 
that  are  susceptible  of  considerable  variations  in  relative 
position.  Views  of  the  larynx  and  its  principal  appen- 
dages, are  given  in  Plate  XIV.  Figs.  5  and  6,  to  which 
the  references  in  the  following  description  correspond. 

That  cartilage  in  the  larynx  which  lies  immediately 
next  the  wind  pipe,  resembles  a  ring  with  its  protuber- 
ance on  the  sternal  part  of  the  neck,  where  it  may  easily 
be  felt  below  the  sharp  ridge.  This  is  called  the  cricoid 
or  annular  cartilage,  see  Fig.  0.  It  constitutes  the  most 
solid  part  of  the  larynx,  and  forms  the  sacral  boundary 
of  that  cavity.  On  thedorsal  side  next  the  gullet,  it  is 
considerably  enlarged,  nearly  of  a  quadrilateral  Ibrm, 
with  a  projecting  angle  in  the  mesial  line.  Its  central 
surface  is  concave,  narrow  on  the  sternal,  and  broad  on 
the  dorsal  aspect.  At  its  atlantal  |>art  there  is  a  broad 
and  roundish  sloping  surface,  for  the  attachment  of 
membranes.  On  its  sacral  surface  it  presents  a  waving 
appearance, Ijcing  convex  steruad  and  dorsad,  and  a  lit- 
tle concave  in  the  middle  of  each  side.  It  is  connected 
to  the  most  atlantal  ring  of  the  wind-pipe,  on  the  dorsal 
aspect,  by  a  fibrous  membrane,  similar  to  those  which 
connect  the  rines  of  the  wind-pipe  to  each  other. 

Above  the  cricoid  cartilage  is  another,  composed  of 
two  broad,  Interal  portions,  oldiquely  angular,  with  seve- 
ral projecting  processes,  uniting  at  their  sternal  edges, 


ANATOMY. 


807 


to  as  to  form  a  sharp  ri«Jge,  a  little  above  the  sternal  pro- 
tuliennct  !.'.  lUt  cricoii'  c  :ti  ge.  This  angular  ridge 
rnay  be  readi.'y  tV:!t  in  the  fore  part  of  the  neck,  a  little 
below  the  chin,  .-nd  torms  what  has  been  called /;om«m 
adami,  or  Aiiain's  apple.  Set;  Adami  ponmm.  This  is 
called  the  thyroid  or  scutifcrm  c.irtilas;^,  becaiige  it  pro- 
tects the  sternal  and  lateral  parts  of  the  laryngeal  cavity 
as  with  a  shield.  A  perspective  view  of  it  is  given  at 
B  b,  b,  Fig.  3.  Confiidered  as  one  piece,  it  has  a  cleft 
immediately  above  the  sternal  projecting  angle,  from 
which  it  proceeds  laterally  in  a  waving  direction,  till  it 
terminates  in  its  most  atlantal  part  on  each  side,  in  a  long 
narrow  process.  These  two  processes  are  called  the 
herns  of  the  thyroid  cartilage,  and  are  connected  by 
ligament  (b,  a,)  to  the  horns  of  the  os  hyoides.  Two  short 
processes  extend  from  the  dorsal  edge  sacrad,  and  are 
connected  by  ligaments  and  muscles  to  the  cricoid  car- 
tilage. Considered  on  its  central  surface,  the  thyroid 
cartilage  presents  an  angular  hollow,  corresponding  to 
its  sternal  ridge.  Immediately  within  the  angle  are  fixed 
the  principal  ligaments  of  the  glottis,  and  the  muscles 
that  connect  this  cartilage  with  those  which  we  are  about 
to  describe.  On  the  central  surface  of  its  lateral  parts 
there  is  a  quantity  of  fat,  separating  them  from  the 
neighbouring  muscles  and  ligaments. 

Attached  to  the  atlantal  and  lateral  parts,  towards  the 
dorsal  side  of  the  cricoid  cartilage,  are  two  other  carti- 
lages of  a  triangular  form,  broadest  at  their  attachment 
to  the  cricoid,  obtusely  pointed  at  their  atlantal  extremi- 
ties, which  approach  each  other,  and  are  bent  obliquely 
backwards,so  as  to  make  the  dorsal  side  of  each  cartilage 
hollow,  while  the  sternal  side  is  rounded.  These  carti- 
lages are  called  ari/tenoid.  Their  pointed  extremities 
are  called  their  horns,  and  the  whole  cartilages  are  so 
connected  to  each  other,  by  membranes  and  muscles,  as 
to  be  susceptible  of  considerable  separation  or  ai)proxi- 
niation.  They  are  also  connected  with  the  neighbour- 
ing cartilages  by  muscles  and  ligaments. 

The  epiglottis,  or  that  oval  convexo-concave  cartilage, 
which  is  attached  to  the  root  of  the  tongue,  may  be  con- 
si<lered  as  belonging  to  the  larynx,  as  during  deglutition 
it  is  pushed  back  over  the  aperture  into  this  cavity,  so  as 
to  prevent  the  food  or  drink  from  entering  the  wind-pipe. 
See  Figs.  5,  and  6.  E.  The  concave  surface  of  the  epi- 
glottis is  next  the  aperture  of  the  larynx  ;  while  its  con- 
vex surface,  in  its  natural  position,  as  represented  in 
Fig.  5,  points  to  the  i)alate.  It  is  connected  with  the 
atlantal  part  of  the  thyroid  cartilage,  being  fixed  in  its 
middle  notch  by  a  broad  short  ligament.  It  is  also  con- 
nected with  the  arytenoid  cartilages  by  two  lateral  liga- 
ments, and  is  fixed  to  the  os  hyoides  and  tongue  by  a 
membrane  called  its  frenum  or  bridle. 

All  these  cartilages  are  thick  and  solid,  extremely 
elastic,  not  of  a  shining  appearance,  like  the  cartilages 
that  are  attached  to  the  articulatingsurfaccsof  the  bones, 
but  of  a  dull  grayish  colour.  The  epiglottis  differs  from 
the  rest  in  being  partly  of  a  fibrous,  and  partly  of  a  carti- 
laginous texture,  and  in  being  rather  more  pliable  than 
the  other  cartilages. 

Besides  the  membranes  that  connect  the  several  car- 
tilages of  the  larynx  with  each  other,  and  with  the  neigh- 
bouring parts,  the  peripheral  surface  of  this  organ  is 
covered  with  a  fibrous  membrane,  resembling  the  perios- 
teum. On  its  central  surface  it  is  also  invested  with  a 
membrane  that  is  reflected  into  various  bands  and  dou- 
blings, that  form  some  of  the  principal  parts  of  the  or- 
gans of  voice.      Two  of  these  reflected  membranes,  ia 


the  form  of  fibrous  bauds,  run  from  the  side  of  each  of 
the  arytenoid  carlilages  to  the  internal  angle  of  the  thy- 
roid cartilages,  where  they  meet  each  other,  leaving, 
,  next  the  arytenoids,  a  space  which,  by  the  motion  of 
these  latter  cartilages,  admits  of  an  almost  infinite  varie- 
ty of  contractions  and  dilatations.  Theopeniogbetweea 
these  two  membranous  bands  is  usually  called  the  glottis, 
or  chink  of  the  glottis  (rinia  glottidis.)  Sacrad  of  these 
bands  there  are  two  other  ligamentous  membranes,  aris- 
ing from  the  roots  of  the  arytenoid  cartilages,  and  also 
attached  before  to  the  thyroid  cartilage.  These  are 
larger,  and  usually  more  distinct  than  the  former,  and 
are  generally  called  the  proper  ligaments  of  the  glottis. 
Between  the  upper  and  lower  ligaments  on  each  side, 
there  is  a  reflection  from  the  inner  membrane  of  the 
larynx,  forming  a  small  cavity,  communicating  with  the 
central  part  of  the  larynx  by  a  fissure.  These  lateral 
membranous  cavities  are  called  the  ventricles  of  the 
glottis.  Though  we  have  described  these  membranes 
as  distinct  from  each  other,  they  may  properly  be  con- 
sidered as  continuations  of  the  general  investing  mem- 
brane of  the  larynx,  reflected  in  different  directions,  so 
as  to  produce  bands  and  cavities.  The  investing  mem- 
brane is  furnished  with  numerous  mucous  glands,  which 
secrete  the  fluid  with  which  the  whole  interior  cavity  is 
moistened.  Among  these  glands,  two  are  more  conspi- 
cuous than  the  rest,  and  are  situated  in  small  depres- 
sions at  the  roots  of  the  arytenoid  cartilages.  They  are 
hence  called  arytenoid  glands,  and  appear  to  have  been 
first  discovered  and  described  by  Morgagni.  Another 
glandular  body  is  placed  at  the  root  of  the  epiglottis,  and 
appears  to  secrete  a  fatty  matter. 

The  larynx  is  furnished  with  four  principal  arteries, 
called  laryngeals;  two  coming  from  the  external  caro- 
tids, and  two  from  the  subclavian  arteries.  Its  nerves 
are  derived  chiefly  from  the  par  vagum. 

The  larynx  is  much  larger  in  men  than  in  women, 
nearly  in  the  proportion  of  two  to  one ;  and  the  angular 
projection  is  much  flatter  in  the  female  sex,  while  the 
atlantal  cleft  is  more  superficial.  These  differences  be- 
tween the  larynx  of  the  male  and  that  of  the  female, 
either  are  not  observed,  or  are  much  less  evident  in  the 
foetus,  and  in  early  childhood.  They  do  not  sensibly  take 
place  till  towards  puberty.  It  is  at  this  time  that  the 
larynx  of  the  male  sex  begins  to  acquire  its  proper  size 
and  prominence;  and  at  this  period,  too, as  is  well  known, 
the  voice  becomes  full  and  manly.  In  old  age,  the  car- 
tilages of  the  larynx  usually  become  ossified,  whence 
they  are  less  elastic,  and  the  membranes  are  not  so  move- 
able as  in  the  earlier  periods  of  life. 

The  muscles  that  serve  to  regulate  and  modify  the 
human  voice  are  numerous,  consisting  not  merely  of 
those  that  are  attached  to  the  larynx  and  the  tongue,  but 
comprehending  almost  all  those  which  are  connected 
with  the  OS  hyoides  or  the  lips.  They  must  be  enume- 
rated as  follows : 

1.  Eight  pairs  proper  to  the  five  cartilages  of  the 
larynx,  viz. 

Cricoikyroidei, 
CricoaryUnoidei  postici, 
Cricoarytenoidei  lateralcs. 
Thyreoarijlenoidci, 
Arytcnoidei  ohliqui, 
Arylenoidfi  transversi, 
Thyreocpiiclottidei, 
A  ryUnocpigloiiidti, 


808 


ANATOIVIY. 


2.  Fifteen  pairs  that  are  attached  to  the  cartilages  of 
the  larynx  or  os  hyoitles,  viz. 

Sternohi/yidei, 

Omohyoidi'i, 

SUrmthyroidei, 

Thyrohyoidei, 

Sti'icht/oidd, 

MyU-hyoidfi, 

Geniohycidei, 

Bi  I  e litres  Maxilla, 

Gcniohyoglossi, 

Styiopharyngei, 

Falalojiharyngei, 

Cricopharyngei, 

Thyropharyngei, 

Syndts7nopharyngei, 

Mylopharyngci. 

3.  Three  pairs  that  assist  in  raising  the  os  bjoides  by 
fixing  the  lower  jaw,  viz. 

Temporal  muscles, 
Masseter  muscles. 
Internal  pterygoids. 

4.  Several  of  the  general  muscles  of  respiration,  es- 
pecially 

The  Diaphragm, 
— —  Intercostal  muscles, 

Abdominsil  muscles.       See  Barclay's 

JtuU.  Nomenclat.  p.  70. 

A  great  variety  of  morbid  appearances  has  been  ob- 
served in  the  organs  of  respiration,  and  the  cavity  in 
which  they  are  contained ;  and  these  merit  particular 
notice,  as  from  them  we  derive  much  useful  information 
respecting  the  seats  and  causes  of  some  of  the  most 
distressing  afflictions  to  which  the  human  frame  is  sub- 
ject. We  shall  begin  with  the  morbid  appearances  that 
are  usually  observed  within  the  cavity  of  the  chest,  and 
about  its  investing  membrane.  The  fluid  that  naturally 
oozes  into  the  chest  from  the  central  surface  of  the 
pleura,  is  often  unusually  increased  in  quantity,  forming 
dro|>sy  of  the  chest,  or  hydrothorax.  Purulent  matter  is 
,  also  occasionally  found  accumulated  in  this  cavity,  con- 
stituting the  disease  called  empyema.  The  pleura  is 
very  frequently  seen  in  a  state  of  inflammation,  and  in 
these  cases,  adhesions,  more  or  less  extensive,  are  found 
to  have  taken  plaee  between  the  pleura  that  lines  the 
ribs,  and  that  which  covers  the  lungs.  These  adhesions 
are  exceedingly  common,  and  are  always  a  mark  of 
preceding  inflammation.  In  a  few  cases,  some  portion 
of  the  pleura  appears  in  a  bony  state,  or  ossified,  and 
sometimes  it  is  found  preternaturally  dry. 

The  lungs  are  very  commonly  observed  affected  with 
inflammation,  or  its  consequences.  Very  often  they  are 
seen  extremely  red  and  firm,  and  their  vessels  turgid 
with  blood.  Frequently  ulcers  are  seen  to  have  been 
formed  in  some  part  of  the  substance  of  the  lungs. 
These  are  called  vomicie,  and  are  sometimes  confined 
■within  a  close  cavity,  while  at  others  they  coinmniiicate 
with  the  wind-pipe,  or  with  the  cavity  of  the  chest.  Nu- 
merous instances  occur  where  the  lungs  contain  a 
inimbcr  of  roundish  firm  white  bodies,  interposed 
through  their  substance.  These  are  called  tubercles, 
and  are  situated  chiefly  in  the  cellular  substance  (hat 
connects  the  air-cells.  These  tubercles  are  generally 
about  the  size  of  a  small  pea,  though  their  magnilude 
varies  considerably,  and  often  they  are  not  larger  than 
small  pins'  heads.     They  arc  sometimes  separate  from 


each  other,  bflt  more  frequently  they  appear  in  clusters. 
They  are  often  seen  in  a  state  of  ulceration,  containing 
a  (hick  curdled  pus.  Sometimes  water  is  found  accumu- 
lated in  the  substance  of  the  lungs,  forming  a  peculiar 
modification  of  hydrothorax.  The  air-cells  have  been 
seen  morbidly  enlarge*!,  and  sometimes  ruptured,  so  that 
a  number  of  them  are  formed  into  one  cavity.  In  a  few- 
rare  cases,  a  portion  of  the  lungs  has  been  found  ossi- 
fied, and  more  frequently  earthy  concretions  are  met 
with  in  their  substance.  Scrofulous  tumours  have  been 
seen  attached  to  the  lungs,  and  hydatids  are  not  unfre- 
quently  found  about  the  lungs  or  the  bronchi. 

The  cartilaginous  rings  composing  the  sternal  part  of 
the  wind-pipe,  are  sometimes  seen  ossified,  and  the  whole 
tube  has  been  observed  contracted  in  its  diameter,  and 
thickened  in  its  substance.  Tlie  fibrous  membrane  that 
covers  the  peripheral  surface  of  the  wind-pipe,  is  often 
seen  inflamed,  especially  next  the  gullet.  But  morbid 
appearances  are  more  frequent  in  its  central  membrane, 
which  is  not  uncommonly  more  or  less  inflamed,  and  is 
sometimes  lined  with  a  layer  of  a  yellowish  pulpy  mat- 
ter, that  may  be  easily  separated  from  the  membrane. 
This  is  the  appearance  so  commonly  described  in  (he 
disease  called  croup.  This  layer  of  adventitious  matter 
sometimes  forms  a  complete  cylinder  of  considerable 
thickness,  but  in  other  cases  parts  of  it  appear  to  have 
been  separated  from  the  membrane,  and  spit  up  by 
coughing. 

The  morbid  appearances  of  the  larynx  resemble  those 
of  the  rest  of  the  wind-pipe,  being  chiefly  ossification  of 
its  cartilages,  and  inflammation  or  ulceration  of  its  mem- 
branes or  muscles. 

Various  morbiil  appearances  have  been  observed  in 
the  thyroid  gland.  It  is  sometimes  scirrhous  and  ra- 
ther enlarged,  and  it  has  been  seen  in  a  state  of  ossifica- 
tion. In  a  few  cases  it  is  affected  with  common  inflam- 
mation ;  but  the  morbid  appearance  most  frequent  in  the 
thyroid  gland,  especially  in  some  particular  countries 
and  districts,  is  that  peculiar  swelling  whieh  forms  the 
charaeterislicof  the  disease  called  bronchoccle  or  goitre, 
so  called  among  the  peasants  of  Savoy.  It  is  then 
seen  of  a  cellular  texture,  and  containing  a  transparent 
viscid  fluid. 

On  the  structure  of  organs  of  respiration  and  voice. 
See  Winslow's  Traile  (tjttatmnie ;  Portal's  Jnatomie 
Medicate ;  Dumas'  Principes  de  I'hysiologie,  tome  iii. ; 
Bichat's  Anatomie  Descriptive,  tomes  ii.  and  iv.;  Bfll's 
Anatomy,  vol.  xiv. ;  and  Fyfe's  Compendium  of  Anatomy, 
vol.  ii. 

CHAP.  VII. 

Of  the  Organs  of  Secretion  and  Excretion. 

In  the  course  of  this  article,  we  have  repeatedly 
had  occasion  to  notice  several  of  those  organs  which 
either  mediately  or  immediately  separate  from  the  ge- 
neral mass  of  blooil ;  those  fluids  that  either  answer 
some  useful  purposes  in  the  animal  economy  or  which 
are  destined  to  be  thrown  from  the  system  as  excremen- 
titious.  These  are  the  organs  of  secretion  and  excretion. 
In  general,  the  organs  of  secretion  separate  the  useful 
fluids,  while  those  of  excretion  separate  or  prepare 
those  which  may  be  considered  as  excrenientitious. 
This  general  notion  of  the  secretory  and  excretory  or- 
gans must  not,  however,  be  carried  too  far;  for,  as  our 
knowledge  of  the  animal  economy  is  not  so  complete  as 
to  enable  us  to  decide,  with  certainly,  what  fluids  are 


ANATOMY. 


809 


beneficial,  and  what  injurious  or  excrementltious,  we 
cannot  with  certainty  decide  how  far  some  of  the  organs 
belong  exclusively  io  the  one  function  or  the  other,  or 
whether  some  of  them  may  not  be  considered  as  belong- 
ing to  both. 

The  organs  of  secretion  and  excretion,  differ  consider- 
ably from  each  other,  with  respect  to  the  simi)licity  of 
their  structure.  Some  of  them  appear  only  to  separate 
from  tlie  blood  mailers  that  are  already  fonned  in  that 
fluid  ;  such  are  the  serous  membranes  that  line  the  close 
cavities  of  the  body,  and  perhaps  the  cellular  membrane 
that  forms  the  general  connecting  medium  of  the  whole 
structure.  These  are  the  simplest  in  their  organization, 
consisting  of  little  more  than  secreting  surfaces,  provid- 
ed with  exhalant  vessels.  A  second  class  separate 
from  the  blood  certain  fluids,  which,  though  not  exactly 
the  same  as  what  are  found  in  the  blood,  have  undergone 
very  little  change.     To  this  class  belong  the  synovial 


membranes  Ihat  are  attached  (0  the  articulations  of  the 
bones,  and  the  mucous  membranes  that  line  what  may 
be  called  the  open  cavities  of  the  body.  The  former  of 
these  ditfer  little,  either  in  structure  or  immediate 
function,  from  the  serous  membranes ;  but  the  latter 
are  both  more  complex  in  their  organization,  as  having 
attached  to  them  an  apparatus  of  glands  resembling 
those  of  the  next  class  ;  and  they  arc  more  im|)ortant  in 
their  functions.  The  third  class  consists  of  those  organs 
which  completely  alter  the  fluids  that  circulate  through 
them,  and  prepare  matters  that  either  are  not  found  at 
all  within  the  blood-vessels,  or  are  contained  there  in 
very  dififerent  jiroportions.  To  this  class  belong  the  nu- 
merous glandular  bodies,  such  as  the  liver,  the  kidneys, 
the  testes,  the  breasts  in  women,  (fcc. 

If  these  general  remarks  be  correct,  we  may  arrange 
(he  principal  secreting  and  excreting  organs  under  a. 
comprehensive  view,  as  in  the  following  table. 


TABLE  OF  SECRETING  AND  EXCRETING  ORGANS. 

I.  SECRETING  SURFACES. 


Organs. 


Where  found. 


Fluids. 


:^ 


f  Seroub  membranes. 


o 


o    _ 

S.2 

S  o 


Cellular  membranes. 


Scrum,  or    coagula- 
hie  lyinph. 


Within  the  skull,  constituting  the  arachnoid 
coat  of  the  brain  :  in  the  chest,  the  plaira  ; 
in  the  belly,  the  peritoneum  ;  covering  the 
brain,  the  lungs,  the  heart,  the  stomach  and 
intestines,  the  liver,  the  spleen,  part  of  the 
urinary  bladder,  and  the  testes. 


Throughout  every  part  of  the  system,  forming    Serum  and/at. 
a  general   organ  both  of  connexion  and  se- 
paration. 


&  o 


a 

^  I 

u 

xa 


'  Synovial  membranes. 


Mucous    MEMBRANES. 


Skin. 


-1  V 


Attached  to  all  the  articulations  forming  the     Synovia. 
capsular   ligaments  and  mucous  bags  of  the 
joints. 


Vol.  I.  Part  II. 


In  the  eye,  the  nose,  and  contiguous  cavities, 
forming  the  conjunctiva  and  pituitary  mem- 
brane ;  lining  the  larynx,  wind-pipe,  and 
bronchi  ;  lining  the  whole  alimentary  canal, 
comprehending  the  mouth,  pharynx,  the  gul- 
let, stomach,  and  intestines ;  lining  all  the 
excretory  ducts  proceeding  from  the  glands  ; 
lining  the  whole  urinary  passages,  compre- 
hending the  ureters,  bladder,  and  the  ure- 
thra ;  and  in  women  lining  the  vagina  and 
uterus. 

Between  the  cuticle  and  retc  mucosum,  forming 
the  third  layer  of  the  integuments. 


5  K 


Mucux. 


Matter  of  perspira- 
tion. 


di0 


ANATOMY. 

ir.  SECRETING  GLANDS. 


Organs". 


&  0 


oi    "  O 

C  ^  « 

K    CS  EC 

5 


LBNTICCliAR  OR  CAPITATED  PA- 
pillae   of  the  tongue. 

Ceruminous  glands. 


Lacrrtmal  glands. 
See  Plate  XXU. 
L      Fig.  7.  B. 

Parotid  glands. 
See  Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  No.  33, 
34. 

SUBMAXILLART    GLANDS. 

See  Plate  XXI.  Fig.  1.  No.  32. 


o 


u 
a> 

§ 
o 
m 

a 

5  I. 


§k 


o  o 


«», 

U 

» 

0 

a 
o 

^•5  IS 

£^ 
w  >: 

«  ee 
»  o. 

e  o  X 


Sublingual  clands> 


Pancreas. 

See  Plate  XIX.  Fig.  lO. 

Spleen. 

See  Plate  XIX.  Fig.  9,  10. 

Liver. 

See  Plate  XIX.  Fig  9,  10,  11. 

Testes. 


Prostate  gland. 


The  breasts  in  women. 


Kidneys. 

See  Plate  XIX.  Fig.  10, 

Renal  glands,  or   atrabili- 

ARY    CAFSULESt 


Where  found. 


Fbiiiki 


Near  the  base  of  the  tongue,  forming  an  angu-    A  malery  fluid. 
lar  assemblage. 


Round  the  external  auditory  passage. 

In  the  coronal  and  mesial  part  of  the  orbit. 


Cerumen  or  max  fif 
the  ear. 

The  tears'. 


Between  the  ear,  the  mastoid  process  of  the' 
temporal  bone,  and  the  angle  of  the   lower 
jaw. 

On  the  inside  of  the  mouth,  between  the  angle 

of  the   lower  jaw  and  the  tendon  of  the  bi-  \  Saliva. 
Tenter  maxillSB  mUscIe. 

Between  the  lower  jaw,  next  the  chin,  and  the 
basilar  surface  of  the  tongue. 

In  the  epigastric  region  of  the  belly,  between    Pancreatic  juice,  si- 
the  stomach  and  spine.  mUar  to  saliva. 

In  the  left  hypochondriac  region,  between  the 
large  extremity  of  the  stomach  and  false  ribs. 

In  the  atlantal  part   of  the  belly,  between  the     Bile. 
diaphragm  and  the^stomach. 

In  the  scrotum.  Seminal  fluid. 

Round  the  neck  of  the  bladder  in  men.  Prostatic  fluid. 

Between  the  skin  and  pectoral  muscles.  Milk: 


In  the  dorsal  part  of  the  belly,  behind  the  peri-     Urine,. 
toneum,  near  the    spine,  and   between    the 
elerenth  rib  and  the  hip  bones. 

At  the  atlantal,  sternal,  and  mesial  part  of  each    A  blackish  fluid. 
kidney. 


Sereral  of  these  secreting  organs  have  been  already  described ;  the  remainder  will  be  considered  in  the  subs^ 
quent  part  of  this  chapter. 


Sect.  I. — Of  Secreting  Membranes. 

We  have  already  given  an  account  of  two  of  the  ge- 
deral  secreting  membranes,  viz.  the  cellular  membrane, 
in  the  introduction  tb  this  part  of  our  article,  and  of  the 
synovial  membranes  in  Chap.  I.  When  treating  of  the 
joints.  We  have  also  briefly  described  several  of  the 
i(,erous  and  mucoui  membrauee,  as  connected  with  the 


cavities  that  have  been  considered  in  the  prece(!ing 
chapters;  but  we  shall  here  give  a  general  view  of  the 
serous  and  mucous  membranes,  considered  as  two  of 
those  important  textures  that  enter  into  the  composi* 
tion  of  the  animal  body.  In  this  view  we  shall  follow 
the  Anatomic  Gcncrale  of  Bichat,  asalmost  theonly  work 
that  contains  a  systematic  and  general  account  of  these 
component  textures.     We  shall,  however,  so  far  depart 


ANATOMY. 


811 


from  his  arrangement,  as  to  consider  the  serous  mem- 
branes before  the  mucous,  conceiving  the  former  as 
the  more  simple  in  their  structure  and  functions. 

The  serous  membranes  are  so  denominated  by  Bi- 
chat,  from  the  serous  fluid  which  bedews  their  central 
surface.  These  membranes  occupy  the  central  surface 
of  two  of  the  great  cavities,  viz.  the  chest  and  the  belly, 
and  they  envelope  the  peripheral  surface  of  several  of 
the  most  important  vital  organs,  as  the  brain,  lungs,  the 
heart,  the  stomach,  and  intestines ;  the  liver,  &c.  Hence 
there  are  three  principal  serous  membranes,  the  arach- 
noid coat  of  the  brain,  the  pleura,  and  the  peritoneum, 
each  forming  a  distinct  bag,  that  is  close,  or  has  no  di- 
rect communication  with  the  surface  of  the  body.  They, 
however,  in  some  measure  communicate  with  each 
other,  viz.  the  pleura  with  the  peritoneum,  through  the 
openings  of  the  diaphragm ;  and  in  one  instance  they 
communicate  with  a  mucous  membrane,  as  the  perito- 
neum with  the  raucous  membrane  lining  the  uterus 
through  the  medium  of  the  Fallopian  tubes. 

The  serous  membranes  have  two  surfaces,  the  one 
attached  to  the  sides  of  the  cavities  in  which  they  are 
found,  but  not  in  general  adhering  to  it  very  closely  ; 
the  other  free,  looking  towards  the  cavities,  and  forming 
more  peculiarly  the  secreting  surface.  These  mem- 
branes, however,  are  composed  of  a  single  layer,  which 
differs  considerably  in  thickness  in  various  parts,  being 
of  a  very  sensible  thickness,  when  enveloping  the  liver, 
the  heart,  or  the  intestines ;  but  remarkably  thin  in  the 
arachnoid  coat  of  the  brain,  and  that  part  of  the  perito- 
neum which  forms  the  omentum.  They  are  of  a  whitish 
colour,  and  a  shining  appearance,  but  not  so  resplendent 
as  the  fibrous  membranes  that  constitute  the  ligaments 
and  tendons.  Examined  more  minutely,  they  appear  to 
be  of  a  cellular  structure,  and  are  furnished  with  exha- 
lants,  absorbents,  blood-vessels,  and  nerves.  They  are 
capable  of  considerable  dilatation,  provided  this  take 
place  in  a  gradual  manner  ;  as  in  their  natural  state  they 
are  not  easily  extended.  They  are  possessed  of  a  small 
tlegree  of  contractibility ;  are  not  very  elastic,  nor,  in 
their  natural  state,  very  sensible. 

The  mucous  membranes,  which  have  also  received 
their  name  from  the  nature  of  the  fluid  which  they  se- 
crete, are  more  generally  diffused  through  the  system 
than  the  serous  membranes,  not  only  lining  the  central 
cavities  of  most  of  those  organs  which  are  enveloped  by 
the  serous  membranes,  but  also  several  which  have  lit- 
tle or  no  connexion  with  those  membranes,  such  as  the 
cornea  and  the  eye-lids;  the  lachrymal  ducts,  nostrils, 
the  pharynx  and  gullet ;  the  eustachian  tubes,  the  ure- 
ters, the  urethra,  the  vagina  and  uterus.  It  will  be 
seen  that  they  differ  from  the  serous  membranes  in  in- 
Testing  all  those  cavities  that  immediately  communicate 
with  the  surface  of  the  body,  and  through  it  with  the 
external  air.  These  membranes  are  divided  by  Bichat 
into  two  general  orders,  one  consisting  of  those  ivhich 
invest  the  bronchial  passages  and  the  alimentary  canal, 
which  he  calls  gaslr»-pidmonary  mucous  membranes; 
and  those  which  invest  the  interior  of  the  genital  and 
urinary  organs,  he  calls  gcniio-urinary  mucous  mem- 
branes. These  two  general  mucous  membranes  have 
no  immediate  communication,  but  they  resemble  each 
other  in  their  structure  and  properties. 

The  mucous,  like  the  serous  membranes,  have  two 
surfaces,  one  attached  to  the  muscular  coat  of  the  or- 


gans which  they  invest,  and  the  other  free,  moistened 
with  the  mucous  secretion,  and  generally  formed  int* 
various  plaits  or  folds.  Considered  in  their  intimate 
structure,  the  mucous  membranes  are  composed  of  two 
principal  layers,oneof  whichisanalogousto  the  substance 
of  the  skin,  which  we  have  called  corion,  and  another 
similar  to  the  papillary  or  villous  surface  of  the  skin. 
The  corion  of  the  mucous  membranes  is  in  general  of 
considerable  thickness,  of  a  spongy  texture,  and  of  a 
very  soft  consistence.  The  papillary  surface,  like  that 
of  the  skin,  seems  to  originate  from  the  extremities  of 
nerves,  and  is  possessed  of  considerable  sensibility. 
These  membranes,  besides  possessing  blood-vessels, 
exhalants,  absorbents,  and  nerves,  like  the  serous  mem- 
branes, are  furnished  with  numerous  glands,  situated 
either  within  the  substance  of  the  corion,  or  between 
this  and  the  muscular  coat  which  it  invests,  and  com- 
municating with  the  papillary  surface  by  numerous  ducts 
or  openings. 

The  mucous  membranes  do  not  possess  so  much  ex- 
tensibility and  contractibility  as  the  numerous  folds  of 
their  papillary  surface  would  lead  us  to  suppose,  but  in 
certain  cases  we  find  them  capable  of  considerable  dila- 
tation. This  is  particularly  observable  in  the  ureters 
and  biliary  ducts,  which  are  sometimes  exceedingly  ea- 
larged  by  the  passage  of  calculi  through  them. 

The  secreting  surfaces  above  described  are  extremely 
subject  to  inflammatory  affections,  but  these  affections 
are  marked  in  each  by  distinct  and  peculiar  characters, 
which  appear  to  have  been  first  accurately  distinguish- 
ed by  Pinel,  in  his  Nosographie  Philosophique,  tom.  i. 
The  inflammation  of  serous,  or  what  Pinel  calls  the 
diaphanous  membranes*,  are  characterized  by  acute 
pain,  quick  and  hard  pulse,  and  in  general  by  a  greater 
reaction  of  the  vascular  system  ;  and  the  inflamed  mem- 
branes have  their  blood-vessels  greatly  distended,  and 
their  surface  remarkably  red.  In  the  inflammation  of 
the  mucous  membranes  there  is  less  pain,  less  reaction 
of  the  vascular  system,  and  the  affections  are  charac- 
terized at  their  connnencement,  chiefly  by  the  great  in- 
crease of  mucous  secretion. 

Among  the  general  secreting  and  excreting  surfaces, 
we  must  not  omit  the  skin,  as  this  integument  performs 
an  office,  viz.  that  of  transpiration,  or  perspiration,  which 
has  always  been  considered  of  great  importance.  The 
skin  is  well  furnished  with  exhaling  vessels,  which 
pour  out  through  its  numerous  pores  the  matter  of  per- 
spiration. 

The  matter  transpired  during  insensible  perspiration, 
seems  to  differ  little  from  that  fluid  which  we  call  sweat. 
Both  consist  chiefly  of  water,  holding  in  solution  carbo- 
nic acid,  and  probably  some  other  acid,  and  having  mix- 
ed with  it  a  peculiar  oily  matter.  Sweat  has  evidently 
a  salt  taste,  and  perhaps  a  little  muriate  of  soda.  See 
Chemistry  and  Physiolocy. 

Sect.  II. — 0/ Secreting  Glands. 

The  name  Gland  has  been  given  to  a  great  variety 
of  organs  that  differ  from  each  other  in  form,  structure, 
situation,  and  functions.  We  have  already  seen  it  ap- 
plied to  certain  protuberances  of  the  encephalon,  as  the 
pineal  and  pituitary  glands,  to  those  roundish  bodies 
which  belong  to  the  absorbent  sysiein,  which  are  called 
lymphatic,  and  sometimes  conglobate  glands  ;  and  to  sc- 


*  Under  the  diaphanous  membranes  Pinel  includes  the  dura  mater,  -which  Bichat  places  among  the  fibrous  membranes. 

5  K2 


812 


ANATOMY. 


Teral  bodies,  the  use  of  ivIiicTi  has  not  beeft  ascertained, 
as  the  thjroiJ,  the  thymus  gland,  <S:c.  Bichat  is  for  re- 
strictinc  the  term  to  those  bodies  which  separate  parti- 
cular fluids  from  the  blood  by  means  of  one  or  more 
ducts  or  canals.  Under  this  head  he  arranges  the  sa- 
livary glands,  the  lachrymal  ginnds,  the  glands  of  Mei- 
bomius,  the  tonsils,  the  ceruminous  glands  of  the  ear, 
the  hreasts  in  women,  the  liver,  the  pancreas,  the  Idd- 
tievs,  the  prostate  gland,  the  testes,  and  the  innumer- 
able mucous  glands  that  accompany  the  mucous  mem- 
br-nes.  All  these  are  properly  secreting  glands,  and 
they  have  been  called  conglomerate,  to  distinguish  them 
froni  the  lymphatic  glands.  We  have  ventured,  in  the 
preceding  table,  to  introduce  the  sjileen  among  the 
glands,  as  it  is  now  proved  that  it  is  analogous  to  the 
kidneys  in  its  office. 

Some  ol  file  secreting  glands  are  superficial,  as  the 
breast  and  the  salivary  glands,  but  the  greater  number 
are  deeply  seated  within  the  principal  cavities  of  the 
botly.  Several  of  them  are  single,  as  the  liver,  pancreas, 
&c.  but  in  general  they  ap])ear  in  pairs,  those  of  each 
pair  resembling  each  other  in  form,  structure,  and  situ- 
ation, bet  not  always  in  size. 

Glands  differ  in  their  intimate  structure  from  most 
other  organs  of  the  body,  in  having  nothing  of  the 
fibrous  texture.  Their  component  parts  form  an  aggre- 
gated mass,  connected  by  cellular  membrane,  and  adhe- 
ring but  loosely  to  each  other.  Sometimes  they  are 
composed  of  insulated  lobes,  separated  from  each  other 
to  a  considerable  distance,  by  the  intermediate  cellular 
membrane  ;  sometimes  the  glandular  grains  are  equally 
and  regularly  arranged,  and  placed  very  near  each 
other,  and  in  a  few  cases  fheir  texture  is  uniformly 
pulpy,  without  any  appearance  of  lobes  or  granulations. 
Ruyscb  appears  to  have  proved  by  minufe  injections, 
that  the  infernal  substance  of  the  secreting  glands  is 
entirely  vascular,  consisting  principally  of  a  secreting 
artery  exceedingly  ramified  and  convoluted,  and  termi- 
nating by  its  capillaries  partly  in  a  vein,  and  partly  in  an 
excreting  duct.  Other  anatomists  have  supposed  that 
cavities  more  or  less  extensive  lie  between  the  termi- 
nations of  the  arterial  branches  and  the  excretory  ducts  ; 
nnd  that  within  these  cavities  fhe  principal  changes  that 
form  the  secreted  fluids,  take  place.  Malpighi  con- 
ceived that  there  existed  in  the  glands,  small  bodies  of 
a  peculiar  nature,  that  constituted  fhe  essential  secret- 
ing organs.  These  have  been  called  cryptce,  hut  are 
supposed  by  Mr.  Hewson  to  be  only  convoluted  vessels. 
None  of  these  points  are,  however,  satisfactorily  ascer- 
tained ;  we  only  know  that  the  arteries  wJiich  penetrate 
the  glands  communicate  with  the  excretory  ducts  that 
pass  out  from  them;  but  whether  this  communication 
be  direct  or  indirect,  we  cannot  determine. 

All  the  true  secreting  glands,  (following  the  system 
of  Bichat,)  are  furnished  with  membranous  tubes,  for 
the  purpose  of  conveying  the  secreted  fluid,  either  info 
particular  cavities,  or  to  the  surface  of  fhe  body.  These 
lules  are  the  excretory  ducts  of  anatomists.  They 
arise,  like  the  veins,  by  an  infinite  number  of  capillaries, 
■which  form  greater  and  greater  ramifications,  till  they 
unite  in  the  general  trunk.  Where  granulated  bodies 
exist  in  the  gland,  each  of  them  appears  to  give  origin 
io  one  of  those  canillarj-  ducts.  The  ramificniions  pass 
in  straight  lines  from  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  gland 
towards  the  general  trunk  of  the  duet.  The  excretory 
ducts  are  romfosed  principally  of  two  layers,  a  central 
mucous  membrane,  which  mjiy  be  considered  as  a  pro- 


duction from  that  which  lines  the  cavity  iuio  wliich  the 
duct  opens,  or  from  the  skin ;  and  a  peripher^^l  mem- 
brane, which  differs  both  in  thickness  and  appearance  in 
different  glands. 

All  the  glands  are  furnished  with  blood-vessels,  but 
these  vessels  enter  the  gland,  and  go  out  from  it  in  a 
different  manner,  according  as  fhe  glands  are  enveloped 
in  a  general  membrane,  or  consist  of  separate  and  dis- 
tinct lobes.  In  the  former  case,  the  arteries  enter,  and 
the  veins  come  out  at  one  side  of  the  gland,  where  there 
is  commonly  a  fissure  or  depression;  in  the  latter  case, 
the  arteries  penetrate  the  glands  on  all  sides,  and  the 
veins  come  out  in  a  similar  manner.  The  glands  are 
well  supplied  with  nerves,  but  it  does  not  appear  that 
their  function  and  secretion  are  influenced  by  the  ner- 
vous power.  See  Bichat,  Anal.  Gen.  torn.  iv.  p.  605. 
The  glands  have  absorbents,  and  probably  exhalants, 
but  these  are  confined  chiefly  to  their  peripheral  surface. 

Having  premised  these  general  remarks  on  the  glan- 
dular system,  we  shall  now  examine  such  of  the  secret- 
ing glands  and  organs  of  excretion  as  we  have  not  yet 
described,  or  which  do  not  more  properly  belong  to  the 
succeeding  chapters.  We  shall  begin  with  the  salivary 
glands  and  the  pancreas,  all  of  which  we  shall  find  to  be 
intimately  connected  in  their  structure,  and  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  fluid  which  they  secrete. 

1.     Of  the  Salivary  Glands  and  Pancreas. 

The  salivary  glands  consist,  as  we  have  seen,  of  the- 
two  parotids,  the  two  sut»-maxillary  glands,  and  the  sub- 
lingual glands.  The  situation  of  these  is  sufBciently 
described  in  the  table.  With  respect  to  structure,  they 
all  pretty  nearly  resemble  each  other.  They  are  all  of 
a  grayish  colour,  of  a  pretty  firm  texture,  and  composed 
of  several  very  apparent  separate  lobes,  connected  by 
cellular  substance,  which  gives  to  their  peripheral  sur- 
face a  very  thin  and  delicate  coat.  Besides  this  thin 
coat  from  the  cellular  membrane,  they  are  furnished 
with  another  peripheral  meml)rane,  derived  !rom  the 
cellular  substance  of  the  neighbouring  organs,  and  thi» 
is  attached  to  them  more  loosely.  They  all  receive 
their  blood-vessels  by  numerous  ramifications,  and  they 
have  all  excretory  ducts  opening  into  the  cavity  of  the 
mouth.  They  differ  from  each  other  in  size  and  form. 
The  parotid  glands  are  the  largest,  and  of  a  long  irre- 
gular shape;  the  sul)-maxillary  glands  are  smaller  and 
rounder  than  the  parotids,  and  the  sub-lingual  glands 
are  the  least,  of  an  oval  form  and  flattened.  They  differ 
also  in  their  excretory  ducts.  Those  of  the  parotid 
glands  are  of  a  large  size,  and  have  very  thick  coats, 
though  their  internal  diameter  is  very  small.  They 
pass  from  the  atlantal  and  iuial  part  of  the  glands,  iu  a 
transverse  direction  over  the  tendons  of  the  massetsr 
muscles,  whence  they  descend  a  little,  and  open  into 
the  mouth,  through  a  perforation  in  the  buccinator  mus- 
cles opposite  to  the  second  or  third  grinder  of  the  upper 
jaw.  The  excretory  ducts  of  the  sul»-maxillary  glanda 
are  longer  than  those  of  the  parotids,  Imt  their  coals  are 
thinner.  They  pass  between  the  mylo-hyoidci  and  genio- 
glcssi  muscles,  and  open  into  the  mouth  behind  the  cut- 
ting teeth  of  the  lower  jaw,  by  two  small  papillary  ori- 
fices. The  excretory  ducts  of  the  sul>-lingual  glands 
are  not  formed  into  a  single  trunk,  like  Ihos-e  of  the  two 
former  pairs,  but  they  open  by  several  orifices  arranged 
in  a  line  along  fhe  eums,  n  little  on  the  outside  of  the 
frenum  of  the  to.ngue.     The  arteries  that  supply  Iho 


ANAToi^nr. 


81b 


Jjarotitl  glauds  come  from  the  temporal  arteries ;  those 
of  the  sub-iTiRxillary  from  the  facial,  ami  those  of  the 
eul'linguai  from  the  lingual  arteries.  All  their  veins 
terminate  in  the  external  jiigulara.  The  nerves  are 
chiefly  from  branches  of  the  inferior  maxillary  nerve, 
an<l  from  the  portio  dura  of  the  seventh  pair. 

The  salivary  glands  in  new-born  infants  are  propor- 
tionally smaller  than  at  any  future  period;  their  action 
is  very  trifling,  and  for  the  first  few  weeks,  the  secre- 
tion of  saliva  is  but  small.  This  secretion  is,  however, 
remarkably  increased  during  dentition.  The  parotid 
gland  in  infants  is  of  a  yellowish  colour,  and  their  saliva 
is  often  remarkable  for  giving  a  yellow  tinge  to  linen. 

These  glands,  especially  the  parotid,  sympathize  in 
particular  cases,  with  other  glandular  organs,  especially 
with  the  testes  in  men,  and  the  breasts  in  women,  as 
appears  from  the  curious  [ihenomena  that  take  place  in 
thr.t  inflammatory  affection  of  the  parotid,  culled  by 
physicians  (^n«(/u;/t«/)aro(<(iifA,  and  in  common  language 
the  mumps. 

Many  of  our  later  anatomists  and  physiologists  have 
remarked  a  striking  similarity,  both  in  structure  and 
functions,  between  \\xe pancreas  and  the  salivary  fflands  ; 
but  scarcely  any  anatomical  writers,  if  we  exce(it  M. 
Roux,  the  writer  of  the  5th  volume  of  Bichat's  Anatmnie 
Drscriptive,  have  described  them  in  the  same  part  of 
their  systems. 

The  pancreas,  or,  as  it  is  popularly  termed,  the  sweet- 
Iread,  is  of  a  long  flat  form,  and  is  situated  transversely 
within  a  doubling  of  the  mesocolon,  extending  towards 
the  left  to  the  spleen,  and  towards  the  right  to  the  first 
curvature  of  the  duodenum,  to  the  side  of  which  it  is 
attached  by  a  small  oblong  process,  commonly  called 
the  head  oi' the  pancreas.  This  process  was,  by  Wins- 
low  its-  discoverer,  called  the  lesser  pancreas.  The 
pancreas  may  be  considered  as  the  largest  of  the  sali- 
vary glands,  and  in  its  general  shape,  has  been  said  to 
resemble  a  dog's  tongue.  Its  broad  smfaces  look  stcr- 
nadanA  dorsad,  and  its  edsjes  nearly  atlantad  and  sacrud. 
It  passes  over  the  aorta,  the  -ena  cava,  and  part  of  the 
splenic  vessels,  to  all  of  which  it  is  attached  ify  cellular 
substance,  by  which  it  is  also  connected  with  the  verte- 
bra-. Sternad  it  is  enveloped  by  two  layers  from  the 
root  of  the  mesocolon. 

When  the  internal  structure  of  the  pancreas  is  exa- 
mined, it  is  found  to  be  com;osed  of  irregular,  glandu- 
lar masses  or  lobes,  connected  hy  loose  cellular  sub- 
stance, and  giving  to  the  |ieripheral  surface  rather  an 
unfqnal  Hpjiearance,  exce|)t  when  the  gland  is  distended, 
when  it  appears  smooth  and  even.  The  whole  siil)stance 
of  the  gland  is  perforated  longitudinally  l.y  an  excretory 
duct  of  considerable  size,  of  a  whitish  colour,  but  of 
thin  and  transparent  coats,  called  the  pancreatic  duct. 
This  duct  is  very  small  at  its  origin  in  the  left  extremity 
of  the  gland,  i  ut  becomes  gradually  larger  as  it  ad- 
xances  to  the  right,  receiving  in  its  course  numerous 
transverse  branches  from  the  lobes  that  compose  the 
su'. stance  of  the  gland,  till  it  finally  perforates  the  side 
of  the  duodenum,  running  a  little  obrKjnely  between  the 
coats  of  thiit  intestine,  and  opening  into  its  cavity  gene- 
rally at  the  same  place  with  the  common  biliary  duct 
voming  from  the  liver  and  gall-bladder. 

The  pancreas,  like  the  salivary  glands,  is  situated  in 
the  midst  of  org^tns  that  are  much  exposed  to  motion, 
tiy  which  the  excretion  of  its  secreted  fluid  is  promoted ; 
like  them  it  is  of  a  grayish  colour  and  soft  consistence, 
lit  is  penetrated  on  all  sides  by  numerous  blood-vessels. 


and  it  seeretes  a  fluid  which  is  extremely  similar  to  sa- 
liva. 

Pew  morbid  appearances  have  been  observed  in  the 
pancreas.  It  has  been  found  inflamed,  ulcerated,  scir-* 
rhous,  or  containing  calculous  concretions.  In  all  these 
afiections  it  resembles  the  salivary  glauds.  Lieutaud 
relates  a  case  in  which  the  pancreas  was  altogether 
wanting. 

The  fluid  secreted  by  the  salivary  glands  is  limpid, 
tasteless,  and  inodorous  like  water,  but  rather  more  vis- 
cid than  that  fluid.  Its  specific  gravity  is  rather  greater, 
being  about  1.09.  It  is  usually  frothy,  and  always  as- 
sumes this  appearance  when  agitated.  It  does  not  rea- 
dily mix  with  water;  has  a  great  ailinity  for  oxygen, 
but  readily  imparts  that  principle  to  other  bodies.  It 
appears  to  contain  mucilage,  albumen,  muriate  of  soda, 
and  phosphates  of  soda,  lime,  and  ammonia,  all  which 
constitute  about  one-fifth  of  its  bulk,  the  remaining 
four-fifths  being  water. 

The  pancreatic  juice  has  not  been  chemically  exa- 
mined. In  its  physical  properties  it  resembles  saliva, 
but  appears  to  have  rather  a  greater  proportion  of  saline 
ingredients. 

2.    0/  tlu  Liver. 

The  liver  is  the  largest  gland  in  the  human  body,  and 
occupies  a  considerable  portion  of  the  cavity  of  the  bel- 
ly. It  is  situated  in  the  atlantal  part  of  the  cavity,  im- 
mediately below  the  diaphragm,  filling  up  the  whole  of 
the  right  hypochondrium,  and  reaching  across  the  epi- 
gastric region  into  the  left  hypochondrium,  which  it 
partly  oc-upies.  (See  Plate  XIX.  Fig.  9.  L,  L.)  It  ia 
of  a  very  irregular  figure,  convex  on  that  surface  which 
is  next  the  diaphragm,  concave  on  the  opposite  surface; 
very  thick  towards  the  right  side,  but  becoming  gra- 
dually thinner  towards  the  left;  has  a  thick  round  edge 
next  the  vertebra;,  and  on  the  right  side,  but  terminates 
in  an  acute  edge  in  its  sternal  part  It  does  not  lie  in  a 
horizontal  iiosition,  but  its  thick  dorsal  margin  is  con- 
siderably more  atlantal  than  its  sharp  sternal  edge.  It 
is  divided  by  a  fissure  near  the  middle  of  its  cone  ive 
surface  into  two  large  unequal  portions  called  its  great 
lobes.  Of  these,  that  towards  the  right,  is  larger  than 
the  other.  There  is  also  a  smaller  lobe  than  either  of 
these,  situated  at  its  atlantal  and  dorsal  part,  called  the 
lohi:  of  Spisehus.  The  liver  is  envelo(ied  in  a  peripheral 
coat,  derived  from  the  neritoneum  that  lines  the  cavity 
of  the  lielly,  and  it  is  attached  to  the  neighliouring  parts 
by  doublings  of  the  ame  memlirane,  which,  from  their 
oBice,  are  called  the  b^atnents  of  the  liver.  Of  these 
ligaments  the  most  remarkable  is  that  which  extendi! 
from  the  fissure  between  the  two  great  lobes  to  the  dia- 
phragm, and  is  called  the  broad  or  suspensory  ligam  nt. 
The  convex  surface  of  the  right  lobe  is  attached  to  the 
diaphragm  by  a  production  called  the  coronary  ligament, 
and  two  other  productions  of  the  peritoneum,  by  which 
the  sides  of  the  liver  are  attached  to  t!ie  neighbouring 
viscera,  are  called  the  lateral  lii^aments ;  and  besides 
these  there  is  a  chord  that  extends  from  a  doubling  in 
the  sacral  pari  of  the  broid  ligament  to  the  navel,  called 
I  he  round  ligament,  which  we  shall  presently  more  par- 
ticularly notice.  The  left  lobe  of  the  liver  lies  over  the 
pyloric  portion  of  the  stomach,  and  is  attached  to  the 
left  side  of  the  colon,  while  the  right  lobe  is  attached 
by  the  right  lateral  ligament  to  the  right  flexure  of  that 
intestine.  The  pancreas  lies  just  sternad  of  the  great 
fissure. 


814 


ANATOMY. 


The  concave  surface  of  the  liver  is  very  irregular, 
haviug  several  remarkable  prominences  and  depressions. 
A  little  steniad  and  sacrad  of  the  lobe  of  Spigelius, 
there  is  a  protuberance  broader  than  that  lobe,  but  less 
nrominent,  to  which  anatomists  have  given  the  absurd 
name  of  lobiihis  anonytntm,  and  from  this  lobtde  there 
fretiuently  runs  an  arch  over  the  passage  from  the  round 
ligament  to  the  left  lobe,  which  is  called  the  bridge  or 
isthmus  of  the  liver.  That  part  of  the  great  fissure 
which  is  bounded  on  the  right  and  lelt  by  the  two  great 
lobes,  dcyrsad  by  the  lobe  of  Spigelius,  and  stemad  by 
the  anonymous  lobule,  is  called  the  transverse  fissure, 
porta  or  sinu.i  porlarvm,  and  these  two  small  lobes  are 
called  the  porta;  or  gates.  This  depression  is  particu- 
larly deserving  of  notice,  as  it  is  that  part  by  which  the 
trunks  of  the  great  blood  vessels  that  supply  the  liver 
enter,  and  from  which  its  excretory  ducts  i)ass  out. 

To  the  concave  surface  of  the  right  lobe  is  attached 
a  hollow  receptacle  in  form  resembling  a  pair,  and 
furnished  with  an  excretory  duct.  This  is  the  gall- 
bladder. 

The  substance  of  the  liver  is  of  a  soft  consistence, 
and  of  a  dusky  red  colour.  When  minutely  examined. 
It  seems  to  be  almost  entirely  composed  of  the  raraitica- 
tions  of  vessels,  though  Malpighi  thought  he  had  disco- 
vered in  this,  as  in  the  other  secreting  glands,  bundles 
of  circumscribed  knotted  appearances  of  a  gloljular  form, 
which  became  more  conspicuous  when  distended  by 
Injection,  whence  he  conceived  them  to  be  hollow  cells 
or  Colllcles.  Dr.  Saunders  seems  to  favour  this  opinion 
of  Malpighi,  for  he  says,  that  "  if  a  subtle  injection  be 
thrown  in  by  the  vena  portarum,  and  the  liver  be  after- 
wards cut  into  thin  slices,  there  will  be  found  knotted 
appearances  that  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  cells, 
and  which,  from  their  equality  of  bulk  and  uniformity 
of  shape,  cannot  be  considered  as  the  protluce  of  extra- 
vasation." See  Saunders  on  the  Liver,  2d  edit.  p.  65. 
Most  anatomists,  however,  agree  with  Ruysch,  in  sup- 
posing'tbat  these  globular  appearances  arise  from  nume- 
rous minute  ramifications  of  vessels,  forming  radiated 
villa?  or  pencils,  from  which  still  more  minute  ramifica- 
tions proceed,  till  they  escape  our  limited  means  of 
investigation. 

There  is  probably  no  secreting  organ  that  is  provided 
with  so  great  a  variety  of  vessels  as  the  liver.  Besides 
the  hepatic  artery  coming  from  the  coeliac,  and  the 
veins  which  correspond  to  this  artery,  there  is  a  very 
large  blood-vessel  called  the  vena  portarum,  formed  by 
the  union  of  the  branches  of  all  the  veins  that  bring  back 
the  Wood  from  the  stomach,  intestines,  pancreas,  and 
spleen.  The  large  vascular  trunk  thus  formed,  resem- 
bles an  artery  in  its  office,  and,  as  some  have  supposed, 
in  its  structure ;  for  it  distributes  the  venous  blood 
which  it  has  collected  from  the  bowels,  through  the 
glandular  substance  of  the  liver;  and  though  it  does  not 
possess  the  principal  discriminating  mark  of  an  artery, 
namely,  the  power  of  preserving  a  circular  orifice  when 
transversely  divided,  it  has  thicker  coats  than  other 
veins,  and  even  some  appearance  of  muscular  fibres. 
The  vena  portarum  enteis  the  transverse  fissure  by  two 
largebranches,  which,  as  well  as  the  tnink.are  enveloped 
in  a  membranous  coat  derived  from  the  peritoneum. 
This  coat  surrounds  the  trunks  of  all  the  vessels  that 
enter  the  liver,  forming  a  common  envelope,  which  has 
been  called  the  capsule  of  Glisson.  It  does  not,  how- 
ever, as  that  anatomist  supposed,  follow  the  ramifica- 
tions of  the  vena  portarum,  any  more  Ihau  those  of  the 


other  vessels  of  the  liver.  Numerous  veins  come  from 
the  liver,  and  meet  in  two  large  branches  called  vcn<e 
cavce  hepaticce,  which  convey  the  blood  to  the  great  vena 
cava.  Part  of  these  veins  arise  from  the  reflected  extre- 
mities of  the  hepatic  artery,  and  part  of  them  are  from 
the  vena  portarum,  so  that  this  last  Tcssel  may  truly  be 
said  to  propel  its  blood,  both  from  its  trunk  into  branch- 
es, and  from  branches  into  trunks. 

Coming  out  from  the  porta  or  transverse  fissure,  there 
are  observed  two  membranous  tubes,  which  speedily 
unite  in  a  single  trunk,  called  the  hepatic  duct,  which 
conveys  the  bile  secreted  by  the  liver  into  another  mem- 
branous tube,  by  which  it  is  carried  into  the  duodenum. 
When  the  two  branches  that  form  the  he|>atic  duct  are 
traced  through  the  substance  of  the  liver,  they  are  found 
to  be  composed  by  the  union  of  innumerable  smaller 
ducts,  the  origins  of  which  are  extremely  minute,  and 
are  called  port  biliarii,  or  biliary  pores.  The  hepatic 
duct  has  been  supposed  to  possess  muscular  contracti- 
bility,  but  its  muscular  fibres  have  never  been  detected; 
and  when  subjected  to  the  action  of  ordinary  stimuli  in 
the  living  body,  it  is  not  found  to  contract.  It  has  also 
very  little  elasticity,  but  if  we  may  judge  from  the  pain 
that  accompanies  its  obstruction  by  gall  stones,  it  is  ex- 
tremely sensible.  ^ 

The  liver  is  abundantly  supplied  with  absorbents, 
both  deep  seated  and  superficial.  The  former  are  re- 
markable for  being  most  numerous  near  the  branches 
of  the  hepatic  duct,  and  for  their  very  frequent  inoscu- 
lations with  each  other.  They  appear  to  be  equally 
valvular  with  other  absorbents,  but  their  valves  do  not 
so  perfectly  obstruct  the  retrograde  passage  of  fluids. 
This  organ  appears  to  have  but  few  nerves.  It  re- 
ceives nervous  filaments,  both  horn  t\\e  par  vagum  and 
great  sympathetics,  and  especially  from  that  ganglion 
close  to  the  diaphragm,  called  the  semilunar  ganglion. 

The  size  of  the  liver  does  not  seem  to  vary  in  the  dif- 
ferent sexes,  though,  from  the  chest  being  proportional- 
ly smaller  in  females,  the  liver  usually  extends  in  them 
more  into  the  left  hypochondrium,  and  sometimes  oc- 
cupies no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  umbilical  region. 
In  the  foetus  the  liver  is  very  large,  and  its  two  great 
lobes  scarcely  ditfer  from  each  other  in  size.  These 
dilferences  in  the  liver  of  the  fcetus  and  that  of  the 
adult  depend  on  the  greater  quantity  of  blood  which 
the  liver  of  the  former  receives,  as  before  birth  the 
umbilical  vein  coming  from  the  placenta,  carries  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  blood  to  the  liver,  especially  to  its 
left  lobe.  Alter  birth,  this  sup|)ly  of  blood  by  the  um- 
bilical vein  being  cut  ofT,  the  vein  itself  becomes  imper- 
vious, and  forms  the  round  ligament,  and  the  whole 
liver,  especially  the  left  lobe,  proportionally  diminishes 
in  bulk,  or  at  least  does  not  increase  in  the  same  pro- 
portion with  the  other  parts  of  the  body.  The  action 
of  the  liver  is  generally  greatest  in  middle  age,  and  in 
warm  climates.  It  diminishes  as  old  age  advances,  and 
at  this  period  of  life  the  substance  of  the  liver  fre- 
quently becomes  soft,  flaccid,  and  of  a  deeper  colour 
than  before. 

We  have  mentioned  the  gall-bladder  as  being  a  pear- 
shaped  receptacle,  attached  to  the  concave  surface  of 
the  right  lobe  of  the  liver.  The  attachment  extend* 
through  its  whole  length,  and  is  occasioned  by  a  pro- 
duction of  the  peritoneum  reflected  over  the  gall-blad- 
der from  the  liver.  The  larger  extremity  of  this  recep- 
tacle is  situated  more  sacrad  than  its  small  extremity, 
80  that  the  round  part  called  its  fundus  is,  iu  the  usual 


Position  of  the  body,  the  most  depending  part,  while  the 
neck  IS  considerably  elevated.     Wtien  the  gall-bladder 
IS  distended,  the  fundus  advances  beyond  the   sternal 
edge  of  the  liver ;  so  as  sometimes  to  touch  the  soft 
parts  of  the  belly  in  the  right  hypochondriuni.  It  usually 
rests  on  the  colon,  near  the  commencement  of  the  duo- 
denum.    From  the  neck  of  the  gall-bladder  is  continued 
a  membranous  tube  called  the  a/.stic  duct,   nhich  soon 
unites  with  the  trunk  of  the  hepatic  duct,  thus  foimina 
a  common  canal,  called  ductus  communis  chotedochus  or 
the   common  biliary  duct.     This   common   duct  is  of 
larger  diameter  than  either  the  hepatic  or  cystic  duct 
It  passes  immediately  to  the  duodenum,  into  which  it 
enters  at  the  second  flexure  of  that  intestine,  running  a 
httle  way  obliquely  between  its  coats,  and  opening  into 
Its  cavity  by  an  oblong  projecting  orifice. 

The  gall-bladder  is  compose.l  of  three  principal  mem- 
branes, a  peripheral  coat,  derived,  as  we  have  said  from 
the  peritoneum ;  and  a  central  mucous  coat,  similar  to 
the  other  mucous  membranes,  and  especially  to  that 
which  lines  the  intestines,  as  it  is  furnished  with  nume 
rous  reticular  folds,  running  towards  the  neck  in  a  lon- 
gitudinal direction.     Among  these  Iblds  there  are  nume- 
rous  orifices,  thi-ough  which  oozes  the  mucus  secreted 
in  the  eorion  of  the  membrane.     Bet«  een  the  periphe- 
ral and  central  coats  is  another,  in  which  there  have 
been  described  a  few  scattered  fibres  running  in  various 
directions.     These  fibres  are,  by  some,  supposed  to  be 
muscular,  and  this  coat  has  been  therefore  called  the 
»»«*o«Wcofl«  of  the  gall-bladder;  but  the  fibres  are  so 
indistinct,  andeven  their  general  existence  so  equivocal 
that  most  anatomists  are  disposed  to  deny  all  muscular 
power  to  the  gall-.Madder.  muscular 

The  blood  vessels,  absorl)ent6,  and  nerves  of  the  eall- 
bladder,  are  connected  with  those  of  the  liver 

The  gall-bladder  appears  to  serve  no  other"  purpose 
in  the  human  economy  than  that  ol  a  receptacle  for  tie 
bile   though  some  have  imagined  that  the  bile  which  it 
contains   is  secreted    by  it,  or  that   there  is   a  direc 
commuuicat.on  between  its  cavity  and  the  substance  of 
the  liver,  hy    what  are  called  hepato-cystic  ducts      As 
however,    the  gall-bladder  has    nothing  of  a  glandular 
_ap,.earance,  exce,.t  in  the  mucous  follicles  attached  to 
Its  central  membrane;  and  as  the  existence  of  henato- 
cystic  ducts  in  the  human  subject  has  been  completelv 
disproved,  we  must  infer  that  the  gall-blad.ler  is  merelv 
a  passive  receptacle.  See  Saunders  on /Af  Liver,  chun  6 
It  IS  now  generally  allowed  that   the  hepatic  arterv 
serves  entirely  lor  the  nourishment  of  the  liver,  ami  tlia^ 
the  peculiar  fluid  secreted  by  this  gland,  and  vhich  "^ 
«al   b,k  or  gall  is  derived  from  the  blood  of  the  vem 
partarum      This  b  le,  besides  descending  from  the  liver 
through  the  hepatic  duct,  is  always  found  collect   7„ 
a  greater  or  ess  quantity  within  thegall-bladder,  whence 
It  occasionally  flows  together  with  that  from  th-  Uver 
through  the  common  duct  into  the  duodenum      " 

Bile  is  a  viscid  fluid,  of  a  yellowish  green  colour 
nncuous  to  the  touch,  of  a  bitter  taste,  and TpecS 
unpleasant  odour.  Its  specific  gravity  varies  in  different 
cases  but  is  always  greater  than  that  of  water  and  U 
staled  at  the  medium  of  1.027.  When  aSd  ?n 
comes  frothy  like  soap  and  water,  whencelt  is  c^l  e.l  a 
saponaceous  auu\.  It  rea.lily  mixes  with  water,  and  he 
so  ution  IS  of  a  yellow  colour.  By  chemical  analyl  it 
IS  lound  to  consist  of  about  three-fourths  water,  and  o;e 
fourth  ol  solid  matters,  which  are  chiefly  a  peculiar 
resin,  a  saccharine  matter,  a  small  proportion  of  alb„ 


Anatomy. 


the  gall-bladder  ho  vevlr  .h,/  ''  '""•'"^  ""  "'«  ''"'^ «'" 
ture  and  proSe  ofIm:  fl  •  "''""n^nts  on  the  na- 
sufhcient  Tuan  tty  ^  ^t  from  th^rh'^^T-  "'f'^  «'  ^ 
scarcely  be  procured.  ^^  ''^P'""=  ^""^t  «=au 

Various  parts  of  the  liver  and  if-  ,.,        , 
ten  found  aflected  with  different  dlo-'^'^^"''']^^'  ^''  ''^• 
lions  of  inflammation      SomS.esTe'il'  ""'f'^'^'?- 
confined  to  the  nerinheral  mlmh  '"""'"'""''""  '« 

observed  to  have  t^Tken  Lt?  h  ?"' ''"^"'^''''^'""^  *^« 
and  the  adjacent  pritonealc^atofre^d/  '"""'""'^ 
fhe  neighi^ouring  organs.  The  subsSn'e  0^'^:''  r""  °'" 
isnotunfrequentlyseeninaVtrt^Tr-T     '^^"'^  ''^«'" 

and  now  and  then  the  lip^r  1  ,=  1  '^^  ob.served 


3-  Of  the  Spleen. 


«1C 


ANATOMY. 


peritoneal  coot,  by  doublings  from  which  it  is  attached 
to  the  neiglil>ouriiig  organs.  Besides  this  general 
membrane,  which  it  lias  in  common  with  most  of  the 
abdominal  viscera,  it  is  furnished  with  a  peculiar  in- 
vesting membrane,  of  a  whitish  gray  colour,  of  con- 
siderable thickness,  consistence,  and  elasticity,  and 
resembling  the  fibrous  membranes  of  Bichat.  Produc- 
tions froni  this  membrane  penetrate  the  subslauce  of 
the  spleen,  and  envelope  the  trunks  of  its  principal  ves- 

ir  we  except  the  liver  and  the  lungs,  no  organ  of 
the  humm  bmly  is  so  vascular  as  the  ?pleen.     Indeed, 
nearly   its   whole  substance  is  composed  of  ramifica- 
tions of  arterious  and  venous  vessels.     It  is   supplied 
with  arteries  from   the  coeliac  arteries,  and  from  what 
are  called  the  vasa  brevia,  that  go  to  the  stomach,  and 
its  veins    are  peculiarly   large.     Mr.  Everartl    Home 
gtates,that  when  t)0th  the  trunk  of  the  splenic  vein,  and 
that  of  the  corresponding  artery  are  injected  with  wax, 
the  size  of  the  former  is  five  times  that  of  the  latter;  a 
proportion  which  does  not  occur  in  any  other  part  of 
the  human  body.— i'fet/.  Tr07M.  1807.    The  substance 
of  the  spleen  is  much  softer  than  that  of  the  liver,  the 
coats  of  its  vessels  being  remarkably  tender.     The  in- 
tin'Hte  structure  of  this  organ  has  not,  till  lately,  been 
•Wf  II  understood.     Malpighi,  long   ago,  described  a  cel- 
lular structure  of  the  spleen,  the  cells  of  which  con- 
tain red  blood,  thus  placed  between  the  arteries  and  the 
reins.     Cuvier  mentions  small  corpuscles,  of  a  white 
colour,  which  are  made  to  disappear  by  minute    in- 
tection,  and  the  use    of  which  is  unknown. — {Lemons 
'D'Anatomie  Cmnparee,  torn.  iv.  p.  38.)  Mr.  Home,  on  at- 
tentively examining  the  spleen,   has   discovered,  that 
these  corpuscles  are  distinct  cells,  containing  a  fluid, 
which  renders  their  membranous  coat  visible,  and   es- 
capes when  this  is  punctured.     From  these  cells  the 
venous    branches   appear  to  arise,    forming  plexuses 
round  the  cbIIf,  and  passing  off  from  them  in  a  radiated 
direction,  at   right  angles,  to  the  circumference  of  the 

cells* 

Numerous  lymphatics  pass  from  the  spleen  through 
lymphatic  glamls,  lying  near  the  splenic  artery.  Thisor- 
jrnn  is  supplied  with  nerves  by  branches  from  the  great 
svmpathelics  and  par  vagum,  which  form  a  plexus 
round  the  great  vessels.  No  excretory  duct  has  been 
discovered  belonging  to  the  spleen. 

The  uses  of  the  spleen  in  the  animal  economy  are 
not  completely  ascertained  ;  and  we  shall  not,  in  this 
place,  even  enumerate  the  various  hypotheses  that  have 
been  contrived  to  account  for  the  presence  of  an  organ 
so  large,  and  so  well  supplied  with  blood.  The  late  ex- 
periments of  Mr.  Home  appear  to  prove,  that  at  least 
■one  important  use  of  the  spleen  is  to  convey  from  the 
stomach  to  the  bladder,  by  a  shorter  passage  than  could 
otherwise  he  afforded,  that  part  of  the  fluids  received 
Into  the  stomach,  which  is  not  required  for  the  process 
of  digestion. 

The  morbid  appearances  of  the  spleen  do  not  ma- 
terially differ  from  those  observed  in  the  liver.  As  in 
this  organ,  both  the  peripheral  membrane,  and  the  sub- 
stance of  the  spleen,  have  been  found  in  a  state  of  in- 
flammation ;  cartilaginous  spots  have  been  seen  on  the 
(urface  ;  tubercles,  or  stony  concretions,  or  hydatids, 
have  hern  dijcovered  within  its  substance  ;  the  whole 
organ  has  been  found  very  hard,  and  sometimes  much 
enlarged.  The  sideen  has  also  been  found  ruptured, 
and  now  and  then  this  organ  has  been  altogether  wanting. 


4.  Cffthe  Urinary  Organs. 


The  kidneys  are  situated  about  the  middle  of  the 
dorsal  part  of  the  belly,  one  on  each  side  the  sjine,  in 
the  right  and  left  lumbar  regions.     They   are  placed 
vertically,  behind  the  intestines,  and  in  such  a  manner, 
that  the  atlautal  extremity  of  the  right  kidney  lies  im- 
mediately below  the  right  lobe  of  the  liver,  while  the 
atlantal  extremity  of  the  left  kidney  is  nearly  contiguous 
to  the  sacral  extremity  of  the  spleen.     The  right  kidney 
is   commonly  a  little  lower  than  the  left.     (See  Plate 
XIX.  Fig    10,  I.  1.)     To  describe  the  form  of  organs, 
which  furnish  one  of  the  most  lamiliar  comparisons  in 
discriminating  the  figure  of  other  objects,  would  be  im- 
pertinent ;  we  shall  remark  only,  that  their  atlantal  ex- 
tremities are  larger  than  their  sacral ;  that  their  convex 
margin  looks  towards  the  sides  of  the  belly,  while  the 
concave  depression  points  nicsiad  to  the  large  blood  ves- 
sels.    They   are   of  a   much   firmer  consistence  than 
either  the  liver  or  the  spleen,  and  of  a  pale  red  colour. 
They  are  not  enveloped  in  a  peritoneal  coat,  like  the 
other  abdominal  organs   which  we  have  been  describ- 
ing, but  are   surrounded  by  a  considerable  quantity  of 
loose,  fatty,  cellular  substance.     From  this  cellular  sub- 
stance is  partly  derived  the  proper  peripheral  membrane 
that  invests  the  body   of  the   kidney,  adhering  very 
closely  to  it,  and  being  reflected  from  the  concave  de- 
pression on   its  mesial   margin,   over  the  trunks  of  the 
blootl-vessels  that  enter  and  pass  out  of  this  part.     This 
peripheral  coat  is  of  a  whitish  colour,  semi-transparent, 
and  allied  to  the  fibrous  membranes. 

The  glandular  substance  of  the  kidney  consists  of 
two  parts,  different  in  their  structure  and  consistence; 
one  called  the  cortical  substance,  forming  the  peripheral 
part  of  the  organ,andanothercalled  medullary,  composing 
the  centre.  The  medullary  part  forms  seven,  eight,  or 
nineconical  divisions,each  with  a  convex  base,  and  having 
their  summits  converging  towards  the  concave  depres- 
sion of  the  kidney.  These  summits  end  in  what  are 
called  papillffi,  which  project  within  a  cavity  called  the 
pelvis  of  the  kidney.  The  cortical  substance  is  of  a 
darker  colour  than  the  medullary  which  it  surrounds, 
sending  protluctions  between  the  cones  that  compose 
the  latter,  and  giving  to  the  cut  substance  of  the  kidney 
a  streaked  appearance.  What  is  called  the  pelvis  of  the 
kidney,  is  properly  a  membranous  cavity,  formed  by 
the  meeting  of  short  membranous  tubes,  called  in- 
fundibvla,  which  surround  the  papillary  terminations  of 
the  medullary  part  of  the  kidney. 

Each  kidney  receives  from  the  acrta  a  considerable 
artery,  which  is  generally  given  off  in  a  single  trunk, 
though  sometimes  there  are  two  or  even  three  trunks. 
The  renal  artery  enters  by  the  mesial  depression,  and 
immediately  divides  into  a  number  of  branches,  that  arc 
ramified  through  every  part  of  the  glandular  substance, 
and  sometimes  even  pierce  the  peripheral  coat  to  the 
surrounding  cellular  membrane.  It  is  remarkable,  that 
those  arterial  ramifications  do  not  inosculate  with  each 
other,  though  the  ramifications  of  the  renal  veins  hare 
frequent  anastomoses.  Within  the  cortical  substance  of 
the  kidney  most  of  the  arterial  branches  terminate,  partly 
in  their  corresj^nding  veins,  and  parily  in  corpuscles, 
from  which  arise  what  are  called  uriniferous  tubes. 
These  tubes,  at  their  commencement  in  the  cortical 
substance,  are  extremely  slender  and  tortuous,  but  in- 
crease in  size,  and  run  in  a  stiaightcr  direction  as  thej' 
unite  in  entering  the  medullary  part.   Here  they  gradu- 


ANATOMY. 


817 


ally  form  the  inftmdibula,  which,  joining  in  ihree  con- 
siderable lubes  that  again  miite,  form  the  yelvis,  from 
wbicli  is  given  off  the  ureter,  or  general  excretory  duct 
of  the  kidney. 

The  nerves  that  supply  the  kidneys  are  derired  from 
the  semilunar  ganglion,  noticed  in  des-cribing  the  livers 
they  form  a  plexus  round  the  trunks  of  the  vessels. 
The  lymphatics  are  chiefly  deep  seated,  or  at  least  the 
superficial  absorbents  are  very  small.  They  may  be 
distinctly  seen  in  the  left  kidney  in  the  Figure  of  Plate 
XX. 

The  ureters  run  obliquely  sacrad  in  a  serpentine 
direction,  on  each  si<le  of  the  lumbar  vertebrse,  till  they 
reach  the  dorsal  side  of  the  urinary  bladder,  into  which 
they  enter,  as  will  be  presently  described.  They  are 
membranous  tubes,  resembling  in  structure  the  biliary 
ducts,  but  not  like  them  regularly  cylindrical ;  the 
ureters  being  alternately  contracted  and  dilated.  Besides 
the  peripheral  and  central  coats,  common  to  all  excretory 
ducts,  the  ureters  are  said  to  possess  a  middle  muscular 
coal,  and  on  their  sternal  sides  they  receive  a  fold  from 
the  peritoneum. 

Following  the  course  of  the  ureters,  we  are  led  to  the 
general  receptacle  of  the  urine,  or  urinary  bladder. 
This  is  situated  in  the  sacral  and  sternal  part  of  the 
pelvis,  between  the  pubis  and  the  rectum  in  men,  and 
between  the  pubis  and  vagina  in  women.  In  man,  the 
bladder,  when  distended,  is  nearly  of  a  spherical  form,  a 
little  flattened  stniarf,  convex  (fors/irf,  and  fa/rorf,  ;ind 
of  a  greater  diameter  from  side  to  side,  than  irom  its 
sternal  to  its  dorsal  part.  It  is  commonly  divided  into 
fundus,  on  that  part  which  is  most  atltinlal.  and  which, 
io  the  natural  state,  projects  a  little  sttrnad ;  neck,  which 
is  its  most  sacral,  or  depending  part,  though  this  is 
scarcely  so  much  contracted  as  to  deserve  the  title  of 
neck:  and  body,  lying  between  these.  Atlanfad  and 
partly  dorsad,  the  bladder  is  connected  with  the  peri- 
toneum, and  is  attached  to  the  rectum  and  to  the  sides 
of  the  peWis,  partly  by  that  membrane,  and  partly  by  cel- 
lular substance.  It  is  connected  with  the  navel  by  a 
triple  ligamentous  cord  to  the  arch  of  the  pubis  by  a 
ligamentous  expansion,  running  from  each  side  of  its 
ueck,  and  to  the  kidneys  by  the  ureters. 

The  bladder  is  composed  of  three  distinct  coats,  each 
of  considerable  thickness;  a  peripheral  coat,  partly 
derived  from  the  peritoneum,  and  partly  from  the  adja- 
cent cellular  substance,  a  central  mucous  membrane, 
similar  to  the  other  membranes  of  that  class,  and  an  in- 
termediate fibrous  coat,  which  is  evidently  muscu'ar. 
The  fleshy  fibres  composing  this  coat  run  in  t.  rious 
directions,  collected  into  numerous  separate  bundles, 
but  many  of  them  are  longitudinal,  and  converge  from 
the  body  of  the  bladder  to  its  neck,  where  they  compose 
a  layer,  much  thicker  than  any  other  part  of  the  bladder, 
forming  what  has  been  called  the  sphincter  of  the  urin- 
siry  bladder.  This  muscle,  or  coat,  is  connected  with 
the  others  by  cellular  substance. 

At  its  sacral  part  the  bladder  is  perforated  by  three 
orifices,  one  sternad  terminating  its  neck,  and  leading 
to  the  membranous  tube  that  runs  throush  the  penis, 
called  the  urethra,  and  two  laierad  a.nd  dorsad,  of  nearly 
an  oval  form.  Which  are  the  openings  of  the  ureters. 
These  excretory  ducts  coming  from  the  kidneys,  hnving 
reached  the  dorsal  part  of  the  bladder,  enter  oMiquely 
between  the  muscular  coat  and  mucous  mem'>rane,  and 
tua  for  some  distance  between  these  coats,  till  they  per- 

VoL.  I.  Part  II. 


forate  the  mucous  membrane  by  the  openings  just  des- 
cribed. 

The  arteries  that  supply  the  urinary  bladder  come 
from  the  hypogastric,  and  have  nothing  extraordinary 
in  their  appearance ;  but  the  veins  are  remarkable  for 
forming  a  very  complicated  network,  especially  about 
the  neck  of  the  bladder.  This  receptacle  is  furnished 
with  numerous  lymphatics,  and  with  nervous  filaments 
coming  from  the  hypogastric  p/«xw.s. 

The  urinary  bladder  is  possessed  of  consideral:le  con- 
tractile power ;  is  very  expansible  and  elastic,  and,  espe- 
cially about  its  neck,  extremely  sensible. 

The  bladder  of  women  is  broader  then  that  of  men, 
has  not  so  long  a  neck,  and  its  neck  is  not  surrounded 
with  any  thing  like  the  male  prostate  gland. 

The  neck  of  the  bladder,  and  commencement  of  the 
urethra,  are  surrounded  by  a  glandular  body  that  pro- 
jects considerably  dorsad,  and  is  called  the  prostate 
gland,  and  from  this  gland  dorsad  and  a  little  laierad, 
there  extend  over  the  body  of  the  bladder  two  tortuous 
lobated  bojlies,  which  are  called  seminal  vesicles  {vesi- 
cula  seminales.)  As  these  appendages  to  the  bladder 
seem,  however,  to  belong  rather  to  the  organs  of  repro- 
duction, we  shall  defer  their  description  till  we  consider 
those  organs. 

Attached  to  the  atlantal,  and  partly  to  the  mesial  side 
of  the  kidneys,  are  found  two  bodies  of  a  dark  yellow  co- 
lour, and  of  an  irregular,  flattened  form.  Their  size 
varies,  but  in  the  adult  they  are  generally  about  two 
fingers'  breadth  in  length.  These,  from  their  glandular 
appearance,  have  been  called  raial,OT  suprarenal  glands  ; 
and,  from  the  blackish  fluid  which  they  contain,  atrabi' 
liary  capsules.  They  are  of  a  firm  texture,  and  a  yellow- 
ish colour,  superficially,  but  of  a  softer  consistence,  and 
of  a  reddish  brown  in  their  central  part.  Here  there  it 
sometimes  a  cavity,  containing  a  serous  blackish  fluid, 
and  lined  with  a  delicate  membrane.  They  are  enve- 
loped in  the  same  cellular  substance  that  surrounds  the 
kidneys,  and  have  a  proper  coat,  which  is  thin,  and  ad- 
heres firmly  to  the  surface.  They  are  well  supplied  with 
arteries,  have  several  veins,  lymphatics,  and  nerves,  but 
appear  to  have  no  excretory  ducts. 

The  kidneys  and  urinary  bladder  are  probably  the 
only  organs  appropriated  to  the  secretion  and  excre- 
tion of  the  urine.  The  use  of  the  renal  glands  is  not 
known. 

The  urinary  organs  have  not  the  same  appearance  and 
proportion  in  the  foetus  as  in  the  adult.  The  kidneys 
have  an  irregular  surface,  and  are  composed  of  several 
distinct  lobes;  the  renal  glands  are  almost  as  large  as 
the  kidneys  themselves.and  receive  a  considerable  quan- 
tity of  blood ;  the  urinary  bladder,  instead  of  being  sphe- 
rical, as  in  the  adult,  is  of  a  lengthened  form,  extending 
alrnost  to  the  navel,  and  its  fundus  is  prolonged  into  a 
conical  tube,  called  urachus,  which  passes  between  the 
umbilical  arteries,  forming  the  middle  of  the  future  tri- 
ple ligament,  which  we  have  described  as  connecting 
the  bladder  with  the  navel.  After  birth,  the  ki<lneys 
gradually  acquire  the  unifonn  external  appearance  which 
they  are  found  lo  possess  in  the  adult :  the  renal  glands 
diminish  till  they  become  not  more  than  l-5th  of  their 
original  size;  the  bladder  diminishes  in  length,  becomes 
rounder,  and  gradually  sinks  within  the  pelvis,  scarcely 
arising  above  the  puds,  except  when  considerably  dis- 
tended with  urinft.  In  very  young  children,  the  bU  Ider 
is  possessed  of  much  more  irritability  than  at  most  other 
5  L 


818 


anato:my. 


periods  of  life,  ami  the  urine,  from  tliis  circumstance,  is 
seldom  long  detained.  In  old  people,  the  kidneys  lose 
the  6rrnnes3  which  thej  formerly  possessed,  and  gene- 
rally become  soft  and  flaccid,  while  the  cellidar  mem- 
brnne  that  envelopes  them  is  deprived  of  a  considerable 
portion  of  its  fat.  The  urinary  bladder  sometimes  loses 
much  of  its  irritability,  and  being  less  excited  by  the 
stimulus  of  the  urine,  allows  this  fluid  to  collect  in  an 
unusual  quantity.  Thus,  from  frequent  distension,  it  is 
often  found  greatly  enlarged.  In  some  cases,  however, 
the  bladder  becomes  contracted,  and  its  membranes 
thickened,  cartilaginous,  or  horny. 

The  general  appearance,  and  most  of  the  physical 
properties  of  urine,  are  well  known.  Its  specific  gra- 
vity is  rather  greater  than  that  of  water,  varying  from 
1.005  to  1.033.  When  first  voided,  it  has  usually  an 
agreeable  odour,  but  this  is  gradually  lost ;  and  after 
having  stood  some  time,  the  fluid  acquires  a  peculiar 
foetor.  Examined  by  chemical  analysis,  the  urine  is 
found  to  contain  a  great  variety  of  ingredients,  some  of 
them  of  a  peculiar  nature.  Water  is  the  most  bulky 
constituent,  and  it  holds  in  solution  or  suspension, 
phosphoric  acid,  phosphates  of  lime,  magnesia,  soda, 
and  ammonia ;  carbonic  acid,  carbonate  of  lime,  benzoic 
acid,  muriates  of  soda  and  ammonia,  sulphur,  albumen, 
gelatine,  a  resinous  substance,  and  three  peculiar  prin- 
ciples, one  of  which  is  called  roscLcic  acid,  and  the  others 
uric  acid  and  urea.     See  Chemistry. 

Numerous  morbid  appearances  have  presented  them- 
selves on  examining  the  urinary  organs  after  death. 
The  peri|)heral  membrane  of  the  kidneys  has  been  found 
iuQiimed;  (he  kidneys  themselves  scirrhous,  ulcerated, 
affected  with  scrofulous  tumours ;  filled  with  hydatids, 
or  having  within  them  calculous  concretions.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  kidneys  is  sometimes  found  preternaturally 
soft,  at  others  unusually  hard,  or  having  earthy  or  bony 
particles  dispersed  through  it.  Frequently  one  kidney 
is  found  larger  than  the  other;  in  some  cases  there  is 
only  one,  and  in  a  few  intances  both  kidneys  are  found 
to  have  grown  together.  The  renal  glands  have  been 
seen  scrofulous,  and  sometimes  ulcerated.  The  ureters 
are  frequently  seen  much  dilated,  their  coats  thickened, 
and  sometimes  a  calculous  concretion  impacted  within 
their  cavity. 

The  urinary  bladder  is  often  found  in  a  state  of  in- 
flammation or  ulceration  ;  it  is  sometimes  discovered  in 
a  cancerous  state,  beset  with  fungous  or  polipous  ex- 
crescences, or  having  its  coats  thickened.  Its  cavity  is 
sometimes  divided  into  two,  and,  in  a  few  cases,  hollow 
appendages,  or  cysts,  are  found  communicating  with  it. 
Part  of  the  bladder  has  been  found  wanting,  and  in  these 
cases  the  ureters  sometimes  terminate  near  the  navel ; 
at  others  the  dorsal  side  of  the  bladder  is  turned  stcmad, 
and  the  ureters  op«n  a  little  above  the  pulies.  One  of 
the  most  common  morbid  appearances  of  the  bladder  is 
that  of  urinary  concretions,  or  stones,  eitherlying  loosely 
ivithin  the  cavity,  or  attached  to  the  central  membrane. 
In  most  cases  these  stones  are  single,  but  not  unfre- 
quently  there  are  several  found  together.  In  the  former 
case,  the  concretion  is  usually  of  an  oval  form,  and 
smooth  surface  ;  but  in  the  latter  the  form  is  generally 
angular,  and  the  surface  more  or  less  uneven.  For  a 
particular  account  of  the  appearances,  and  chemical 
analysis  of  urinary  concretions,  see  the  articles  Cuemis- 

TRT  and  SUROLRT. 

On  the  structure  of  the  secrelhig  organs  in  general, 
tee  the  works  of  Malpighi  and  of  Buysch ;   Bichal's 


Traite  des  Membranes,  and  his  Anatomic  Generate,  iom, 
i.  and  iv  ;  Borden's  Rccherches  AiuUomiques  sur  la  Posi- 
tion et  V Action  des  Glandes,  and  his  Recherches  sur  le 
Tissu  Muquiux ;  and  for  the  best  description  of  the 
organs  treated  of  in  this  chapter,  see  Winslow's  Traite 
d'Antomie ;  various  parts  of  Cuvier's  Le;ons  d'Aiiato- 
mie  Comparee,  and  of  Bichat's  Anatomic  Descriptive  ; 
Glisson's  Anatoniia  Hcpatis  ;  Saunder's  Treatise  on  tlie 
Structure  and  Economy  of  the  Liver ;  and  a  pajjer  On 
the  Spleen,  by  Mr.  Everard  Home,  in  the  Philosophical 
Transactions  for  1307. 

We  have  now  examined  all  the  organs  that  are  con- 
tained within  the  belly;  but  it  will  be  proper,  before 
concluding  this  chapter,  to  give  a  general  view  of  the 
form,  boundaries,  and  divisions  of  this  cavity,  and  to  de- 
scribe the  disposition  and  reflections  of  the  serous  mem- 
brane by  which  it  is  lined. 

The  abdomen,  or  belly,  is  considerbly  larger  than 
the  chest,  and  is  much  longer  on  its  sternal  than  its 
dorsal  side.  It  is  bounded  cUlantad  by  the  diaphragm, 
sacrad  by  the  pelvis,  sternadhy  the  recti  abdominis  mus- 
cles ;  dorsad  by  the  lumbar  vertebra;  and  the  muscles 
that  are  attached  to  them,  especially  the  quadrati  lumbo- 
rum.  On  the  sides  the  cavity  is  bouuded  chiefly  by  the 
obliqui  cxtemi,  obliqui  intemi,  and  transversi  abdominis 
muscles.  On  the  sternal  aspect,  between  the  two  recti 
muscles,  runs  what  anatomists  call  the  linea  alba.  The 
belly  is  usually  divided  into  several  parts,  called  regions, 
which  have  received  various  names,  according  to  their 
situation,  or  the  parts  near  which  they  lie.  Dividing 
the  belly  from  the  sternum  to  the  |)ubi3,  there  are  count- 
ed three  regions,  which  we  may  call  ailantal,  middle,  and 
sacral  regions  ;  the  first  beginning  at  the  ensiform  carti- 
lage of  the  sternum,  and  extending  to  about  a  liaud'i 
breadth  atlantad  of  the  navel,  the  last  from  about  the 
same  distance  sacrad  of  the  navel,  or  from  an  imaginary 
line  drawn  between  the  atlanto-sternal  spinous  firocesses 
of  the  haunch-bones  to  the  pubes,  while  the  middle  oc- 
cupies the  intermediate  space> 

Each  of  these  larger  regions  has  been  subdivided  into 
three.  The  ailantal  region  has  the  epigastric  in  its 
middle,  and  the  right  and  left  hypochondriac  regions  on 
its  sides;  the  middle  region  has  the  umbilical  region  for 
some  distance  on  each  side  of  the  navel,  and  its  sides 
are  called  the  lumbar  regions;  and  the  sacral  region 
has  the  hypogastric  in  its  middle,  and  the  right  and  left 
iliac  regions  on  its  sides. 

It  will  be  seen  that  these  regions  are  extremely  arbi- 
trary, and  their  limits  by  no  means  well  defined ;  but  as 
they  are  employed  by  anatomists  in  marking  the  rela- 
tive situations  of  the  abdominal  viscera,  we  could  not 
properly  omit  them. 

The  peritoneum,  or  that  membrane  which  lines  the 
sides  of  the  belly,  and  is  reflected  over  the  most  of  its 
contents,  ranks,  as  we  have  seen,  among  the  serous  mem- 
branes. It  is  thin,  and  when  separated  from  its  attach- 
ments, transparent,  though  while  connected  with  them, 
it  appears  of  a  whitish  colour.  It  is  excee<lingly  diluta- 
ble, iind  very  elastic.  It  is  supplied  with  blood-vessels 
from  the  small  arteries  of  the  parts  which  it  invests;  has 
a  few  small  nervous  filaments,  chiefly  from  the  great 
sympathetic  and  sacral  nerves,  and  numwous  absorbents, 
which  |iass  chiefly  to  the  iliac   and  lumbar  plexuses. 

It  is  not  easy  to  convey  in  wonls  a  just  idea  of  the  dis- 
position of  Ibis  membrane.  We  have  heard  it  compared 
to  a  large  thin  sheet  that  we  may  suppose  united  at  its 
edges,  and  applied  by  one  part  to  the  linca  alba,  at  the 


anatomy; 


8id 


Siernal  pfcrt  of  the  belly,  wlience  it  extends  on  each  side, 
lining  all  the  abdominal  muscles,  covering  the  pelvis, 
passing  over  tlie/undusot  the  urinary  bladder,  between 
It  and  the  rectum,  while  at  the  atlantal  part  of  (he  belly 
it  invests  the  concave  surface  of  the  diaphragm,  and  on 
the  dorsal  side  passes  across  towards  the  vertebra;  ster- 
nad  of  the  kidneys.  It  may  be  supposed  that  there  is 
still  a  great  part  of  the  sheet  unattached,  and  that  this  is 
wrapped  round  the  liver,  the  stomach,  the  spleen,  the 
colon,  the  small  intestines,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  follow 
all  their  curvatures,  and  all  their  convolutions,  and  to 
leave  doublings  between  them,  forming  the  omentum,  the 
mesentery,  the  mesocolon,  and  the  mcscrcctum,  beside 
the  several  ligaments  that  unite  many  of  these  viscera 
to  the  adjacent  organs.  Thus,  (he  whole  peritoneum  is 
considered  as  a  close  bag,  one  side  of  which  is  smooth 
and  equal,  and  lines  nearly  (he  whole  cavity  of  the  belly, 
while  the  other  side  is  wrapt  in  innumerable  foldings 
over  the  abdominal  viscera.  Hence  it  has  been  remarked, 
(hat  these  viscera  do  not  properly  lie  within  the  cavity 
of  the  belly,  or  at  least  ihat  they  are  situated  behind  the 
cavity  formed  by  the  peritouf um. 

That  part  of  the  peritoneum  which  is  reflected  from 
the  peripheral  surface  ol  the  small  intestines,  and  ex- 
tends from  them  to  (he  lumbar  vertebrse,  is  strictly  call- 
ed mcscntay,  while  that  part  of  the  same  membrane 
which  is  reflected  from  the  peripheral  surface  of  (he 
colon,  and  exiends  between  its  great  arch  and  the  great 
curvature  of  (he  8(omach,  is  called  mesocolon;  and  a 
small  [lorlion  by  which  the  rectum  is  a((ached  to  the 
last  lumbar  vertebra,  has  (he  name  o^  mesoreclum.  All 
these  reflected  portions  of  the  peritoneum,  however, 
form  only  the  continuation  of  the  same  membrane,  pos- 
sess a  similar  structure,  and  serve  similar  purposes. 
They  are  all  double  membranes,  and  between  their  folds 
are  contained  the  large  blood-vessels,  the  mesenteric 
and  lym|)hatic  glands  of  the  belly,  the  lacteals,  and  other 
absorbents. 

The  mesentery  is  said  to  begin  at  the  last  flexure  of 
the  duodenum^  to  run  obliquely  sacrad  and  dextrad  along 
the  first,  second,  and  third  lumbar  rcritftra  ;  the  meso- 
colon of  course  commences  at  about  the  fourth  lumbar 
vertebra,  follows  the  course  of  the  colon,  of  which  it 
forms  the  right  and  left  ligaments,  with  the  broad  expan- 
sion between  them,  (hat  connects  the  colon  with  the 
stomach,  and  covers  the  duodenum  and  the  pancreas. 

The  course  of  the  Peritoneum,  and  the  manner  in 
which  its  various  doublings  pass  over  the  abdominal 
riscera,  are  well  illustrated  by  a  Plate  in  the  4th  volume 
of  Bell's  Anatomy. 

CHAP.  VIII. 

Of  the  Orgaks  of  Integumation. 

To  complete  our  view  of  all  (hose  organs  of  the  hu- 
man body  which  are  common  to  mankind  in  general, 
ivilhout  taking  into  consideration  (he  distinguishing  cha- 
racters of  the  sexes,  we  have  only  to  examine  those 
membranes  that  form  the  universal  covering  of  the  ex- 
ternal surface,  with  their  appendages.  These  are  usu- 
ally called  (he  Common  Integuments,  and  are  here,  in 
conformity  with  the  plan  of  arrangement  (o  neiifterwards 
explained,  denon)inated  the  Org^ans  of  Iiitegumalicn. 

The  common  integuments  ol  (he  hunvm  body  consist 
«f  the  epidermis,  cuticle  or  scarl  skin,  the  rctc  mucosum, 
the  true  skin,  and  the  cellular  membrane ;  with  those 


appendages  which  we  call  hair  and  nails.  Of  these  we 
have  already  treated,  of  the  true  skin  (see  |>.  767.)  as 
being  the  organ  of  feeling,  and  of  the  cellular  membrane, 
as  the  general  connecting  organ  of  the  system.  We 
shall  now  describe  the  cuticle,  rete  mucosum,  hair,  and 
nails. 

The  cuticle,  epidermis,  or  scarf  skin,  is  that  membrane 
which  covers  the  whole  external  surface  of  the  body. 
It  adheres  closely  to  the  parts  beneath,  but  may  be 
readily  separated  from  them  by  maceration,  by  the  ap- 
plication of  boiling  water,  or  by  the  action  of  blisters. 
(See  Plate  XVIII.  Fig.  .'>.)  It  is  of  variousdegrces  of 
thickness  in  difierent  parts  of  (he  body,  being  (bickest 
in  the  palms  of  the  hand  and  soles  of  (he  feet,  even 
when  these  are  not  exposed  to  much  pressure.  Exa- 
mined on  its  peripheral  surface,  it  is  found  marked  with 
various  lines  of  a  curved  direction,  ami  generally  paral- 
lel to  each  other.  These  are  most  remarkable  in  the 
points  of  the  fingers.  Interspersed  with  these  lines, 
are  numerous  pores,  which  appear  to  correspond  with 
those  on  the  true  skin,  and  are  most  evident  about  the 
nose,  ears,  jialms  of  the  hand,  and  soles  of  the  lee(. 
When  separated  from  the  adjacent  membranes,  the  cu- 
ticle is  of  a  white  colour,  and  except  in  the  palms  and 
soles,  it  is  transparent.  It  appears  to  possess  but  very 
little  extensibility,  scarcely  any  elasticity,  and  is  per- 
fectly insensible. 

In  general  the  cuticle  is  composed  of  a  single  layer, 
hut  where  it  is  very  thick,  it  may  be  easily  separated 
into  several  layers,  and  frequently  one  of  these  peels  off 
and  discovers  the  subjacent  lamiiM, 

Authors  are  not  agreed  respecting  the  nature  of  this 
membrane.  Most  anatomists  consider  it  as  an  inorganic 
substance,  merely  spread  over  the  surface  of  the  body, 
but  having  no  vascular  connexion  with  (he  parts  be< 
neath.  Others,  among  whom  are  Dr.  William  Hunter 
and  Mr.  Cruiksbank,  have  believed  it  (o  be  organized, 
though  they  cannot  prove  its  organization.  Its  is  certain 
that  no  vessels  or  nerves  can  be  discovered  running 
along  the  cuticle,  though,  on  detaching  this  membrane 
from  the  skin,  small  filaments  are  observed,  which  are 
8Ui)po»e(l  (o  be  (he  exhalants  that  open  by  the  cuticular 
|iores.  Some  have  considered  it  as  an  exudation  from 
the  cutaneous  vessels,  hardened  by  exjmsure  to  the  air; 
but  this  is  rendered  improbable,  if  it  be  not  entirely  con- 
troverted, by  the  circumstance  that  the  foutus  in  utero 
is  covered  with  a  cuticle. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  cuticle,  when  removed,  is 
reproduced,  and  that  it  is  thickened,  or  its  layers  are 
increased  by  the  application  of  pressure.  In  this  way 
are  produced  those  horny  excrescences  which  we  call 
corns. 

It  is  generally  supposed  (hat  the  fine  and  delicate 
membrane  which  covers  the  lips,  lines  (he  in(erior  of 
the  mou(b  and  all  the  cavities  that  conimum'cate  with 
the  surface,  and  are  invesled  by  mucous  membraties,  is 
merely  a  con(inua(ion  of  the  cuticle,  though,  from  i(g 
greater  (hinness,  it  is  distinguished  by  a  different  name, 
viz.  epithelium. 

Examined  chemically,  the  cuticle  is  found  to  he  inso- 
luble in  vva(er  and  alcohol,  but  eomplelelysolublein  pure 
potash  and  soda,  and  from  (he  circumstance  of  its  re- 
ceiving a  deej)  orange  colour  on  the  application  of  am- 
monia, after  it  has  been  (inged  yellow  by  ni(ric  acid,  it 
is  concluded  (hat  this  membrane  is  merely  a  modification 
ol  coagulhteri  albumen. 

The  cuticle  of  the  fcetus  scarcely  diSers  from  that  of 
5  L2 


820 


ANATOMY. 


the  adult,  except  in  its  greater  absolute  thinness,  though, 
»g  we  have  before  remarked,  even  at  this  early  period  of 
lire,  the  membrane  is  thickest  on  the  palms  of  the  hands 
ami  soles  of  (he  feet.  As  old  age  advances,  the  cuticle 
becomes  drj,  harsh,  and  more  scaly,  than  at  any  former 
jieriod. 

The  nails  are  evidently  appendages  of  the  cuticle,  as 
they  may  be  separated  by  the  same  means,  and  appear 
to  be  composed  of  the  same  substance,  though  of  greater 
density.  They  are  generally  distinguished  into  three 
.]iarts,  one  next  the  joint  of  the  finger  or  toe,  which  we 
'inay  call  the  proxivuU  part  of  the  nail,  which  is  firmly 
attached  to  the  cuticle,  and  forms  about  ^  of  the  whole 
length ;  a  second,  quite  detached  from  the  neighbour- 
ing parts,  and  varying  in  length  and  figure,  according 
to  circumstances,  which  we  may  call  the  distnl  part ; 
and  a  third  between  these,  constituting  by  far  the  great- 
er part  of  the  nail,  and  covering  the  whole  sensible  ex- 
tremities of  the  fingers  and  toes  on  their  anconal  and  ro- 
tular  surfaces.  The  proximal  part  of  the  nail  is  fixed 
between  two  plates  of  the  cuticle,  that  on  its  convex  sur- 
face having  a  portion  of  the  skin  betwixt  it  and  the  nail. 
The  middle  portion  is  fixed  by  its  concave  surface  to  the 
bkin  of  the  finger  or  toe,  by  a  thin  fold  of  the  cuticle, 
which  appears  to  be  reflected  over  the  part,  and  to  have 
insinuated  itself  between  the  skin  and  the  nail,  to  the 
latter  of  which  it  serves  as  a  lining. 

We  have  said  that  the  length  and  form  of  the  dis- 
tal part  of  the  nail  varies  according  to  circumstances. 
If  permitted  to  grow,  it  gradually  extends  beyond  the 
extremity  of  the  finger  or  toe,  and  if  not  accidentally 
broken  it  turns  over  the  point,  so  as  to  cover  it  com- 
pletely. Hence  it  appears  that  the  practice  of  cutting 
the  nails  is  not  merely  a  point  of  cleanliness,  but  is  of 
advantage  in  preserving  the  delicacy  of  touch. 

The  nails  are  made  up  of  several  layers,  the  number 
of  which  is  greatest  at  the  proximal  extremity  of  the 
nail,  and  gradually  diminishes  towards  the  dijilal  part, 
■where  the  nail  is  thinnest.  Though  the  free  mai^in  of 
the  nails  is  well  known  to  be  quite  insensible,  consider- 
able pain  is  excited  in  cutting  or  tearing  the  middle  por- 
tion. This  arises  from  the  close  attachment  of  that  por- 
tion to  the  skiu  beneath,  and  not,  as  some  have  supposed, 
from  any  greater  sensibility  of  the  nail  itself  in  th.nt  part ; 
tor  we  cannot  believe  that  this  portion  of  the  nailpossess- 
ei  any  innate  sensibility,  more  than  the  other  parts, 
iince  no  vascular  or  nervous  connexion  can  be  traced 
between  them.  See  liichat's  AtuU.  Gen.  torn.  iv.  p.  788. 

The  hair,  though  not  derived  from  (he  cuticle,  may 
be  considered  as  an  appendage  to  that  membrane,  as  it 
|iasees  through  pores  in  the  cuticle,  and  receives  from 
it  membranous  pro<luctions.  IHchat,  at  the  conclusion 
of  hia  Anatomie  QcncraU,  has  given  us  an  elaborate  and 
]:foli.\  account  of  the  human  hair,  which  constitutes 
vhal  he  \:A\i  stfsleine  pilcaux.  The  first  article  of  this 
part  of  his  work  contains  little  more  than  well-known 
facta  respecting  the  parts  of  the  body  on  which  the  hair 
grows,  with  remarks  on  the  disposition,  form,  varieties, 
and  colour  of  the  hair  of  the  head,  the  eye-brows,  the  eye- 
lashes and  the  beard.  The  three  succeeding  sections 
are  of  more  importance,  and  treat  of  the  organization, 
the  |)rop€  rties.  and  developement  of  the  hair.  Of  These 
the  following  is  a  brief  abstract. 


The  hair  appears  to  originate  within  the  cellular  sub- 
stance that  lies  below  the  skin,  where  its  roots  form  a 
sort  of  bulb,  and  from  its  origin  to  its  emersion  beyond 
the  cuticle,  each  particular  hair  is  enveloped  in  a  small 
membranous,  transparent  canal,  of  a  cylindrical  I'orm, 
quite  distinct  from  the  hair  itself,  but  of  which  the  ori- 
gin is  unknown.  Surrounded  by  this  membranous  tube, 
the  hairs  pass  through  the  oblique  pores  of  the  skin,  the 
rete  mucosum,  and  the  pores  of  the  cuticle.  Preceding 
writers  have  supposed  that  the  hairs  do  not  pass  through 
the  cuticle,  but  that  they  push  it  outwards,  each  hair 
deriving  from  the  cuticle  an  external  covering.  This 
strange  supposition  is  controverted  by  Bichat,  chiefly  on 
the  grounds  that  each  hair  is  of  the  same  diameter 
wi(hin  its  canal  below  the  cuticle,  as  when  it  has  emerg- 
ed beyond  it,  and  that  when  this  canal  is  opened  at  its 
extremity  next  the  skin,  the  hair  may  easily  be  drawn 
out,  without  producing  any  rupture  in  the  cuticle. 

Each  hair  is  composed  of  two  distinct  parts,  an  exter- 
nal or  peripheral  canal,  and  an  internal  or  central  medul- 
lary part.  The  former  of  these  resembles  the  cuticle 
in  its  nature  and  chemical  properties,  and  like  it,  is  of  a 
white  colour,  whatever  may  be  the  colour  of  the  hair 
itself.  The  central  or  medullary  portion  of  the  hair  is 
that  which  gives  to  this  substance  its  particular  colour*. 
Its  nature  is  unknown,  but  it  is  conjectured  by  Bichat  to 
be  composed  of  extremely  delicate  vessels,  containing  r- 
peculiar  fluid  that  stagnates  within  their  cavities.  This 
portion  is  essentially  distinguished  from  their  peripheral 
tube,  by  its  possessing  vital  properties. 

We  know  that  the  passions  of  the  mind  have  a  re- 
markable influence  on  the  hair.  In  a  very  short  time, 
from  grief  or  terror,  it  has  become  white,  an  effect  that 
can  be  attributed  only  to  a  change  in  the  distribution  of 
that  fluid  with  which  the  central  portion  of  the  hair  is 
filled.  Sometimes  the  quantity  of  this  fluid  is  greatly 
increased,  and  i(s  quality  so  much  changed,  as  tu  have 
the  appearance  of  blood.  In  some  cases  it  is  found  even 
to  assume  a  fleshy  appearance.  These  phenomena  con- 
stitute the  characters  of  (hat  formidable  disease  called 
plica  polonica,  in  which  the  hair  bleeds  on  being  cut,  and 
then  becomes  matted  together.  The  hair  is  susceptible 
of  renovation  when  lost,  as  appears  from  a  growth  of 
new  hair  taking  place  after  a  recovery  from  fevers,  dur- 
ing which  the  patient  had  become  bald ;  and  from  the 
(ihenomena  of  moulting  that  yearly  takes  place  in  most 
quadrupeds,  as  well  as  binls.  Those  and  some  other 
arguments  are  adduced  by  Bichat  to  prove  the  vitality  of 
the  hair.  The  growth  of  (he  hair  appears  to  take  place 
from  its  roots. 

The  hair  is  possessed  of  very  little  extensibility,  and 
contractiMlity,  though,  considering  the  smallness  of  its 
diameter,  it  is  very  strong,  and  is  not  easily  broken. 
When  drawn  between  (he  fingers  from  root  to  point,  its 
peripheral  surface  appears  quite  smooth,  though  when 
rubbed  in  the  contrary  direction,  it  gires  a  sensation  of 
roughness  and  resistance.  This  is  found  to  he  owing  to 
emi.ll  scales  or  im<irica(ed  cones,  of  which  the  peripheral 
tube  is  composed,  and  which  lie  over  each  other  in  Mxh 
a  manner  that  their  attachments  are  towards  the  root  of 
the  hair.  By  chemical  analysis,  the  hair  is  found  to 
contain  a  peculiar  oil,  which  is  sup|)Osed  by  Vauquelin 
tu  be  the  colouring  mutter  of  the  hair,  as  he  observed  it 


•  The  opinion  of  Cnrier  A\Wen  mtXtii»\\j  from  tint  of  BieKat  respecting  the  wat  of  the  colourinE;  matter  of  the  hair  That  distin- 
f,M,t<\  iii.«Hra'ni  in  l.ii  /,<rcen»  d^'^lnutvmie  Comparie  (  Unn  XIV.)  suito  that  the  coJow  of  the  bair«  dependi  on  their  homy  eoTcrian 
•ud  nM  un  itrf^ir  mrjull*r;r  lubttancp,  which  is  white 


ANATOMY. 


sn 


to  be  of  a  blackish  green  in  black  hair,  red  in  red  hair, 
and  oi  a  wl.ili^h  colour  in  white  hair.  Besides  this  oil, 
hair  is  said  to  contain  chiefly  inspissated  mucus,  though 
pro  :ably  its  peri|iher;il  membrane  also  contains  albumen. 
Vauquelinalsodetected  in  black  hair, (which  was  thesub- 
jertofhisana!ysis)iron,'in  an  unknown  state,oxideofman- 
ganese,  phosphate  of  lime,a8uiall;'roportion  of  carbonate 
of  lime,  and  a  sensible  quantity  of  silica,  and  of  sulphur. 
The  above  account  of  hair  applies  eqally  to  that  of 
every  part  of  the  body ;  and  indeed  tlie  varieties  that 
are  found  in  the  hair  of  the  same  individual,  are  not  con- 
siderable, consisting  chiefly  of  coarseness  or  fineness  of 
texture,  and  darker  or  lighter  colour.  In  individuals 
of  the  different  races  of  mankind,  natives  of  different 
countries  belonging  to  the  same  race,  and  even  among 
those  of  the  same  country,  the  varieties  in  the  hair  form 
a  striking  mark  of  distinction.  Europeans  have  in  ge- 
neral long  flowing  hair,  of  a  pretty  firm  texture,  though 
seldom  harehor  wiry.  The  hair  of  the  Negro  is  short, 
■wooliy,  and  of  a  black  colour ;  that  of  the  native  Ameri- 
cans, and  most  of  the  Asiatics,  is  tl.ick,  straight,  black, 
and  shining.  Among  the  Europeans,  the  Danes,  and 
other  Scandinavian  nations,  are  remarkable  for  the  pre- 
ralence  of  red  hair. 

It  seems  now  fully  ascertained,  that  the  males  of  all 
nations  have  hearih,  though  this  appendage  has  by  some 
•writers  been  denied  to  the  native  Americans,  because 
these  people  take  care  to  eradicate  the  hairs  from  their 
chins  as  soonas  they  appear.  It  is,  however,  not  strictly 
tnie,  that  women  have  no  beards.  Most  of  them  have  a 
perceptible  down  on  the  chin  and  upjier  lip,  and  iu  many 
women,  especially  when  advanced  in  years,  the  beard  is 
very  remarkable.  It  is,  indeed,  always  short,  soft,  and 
thin.  Eunuchs,  it  is  well  known,  have  either  uo  beards, 
or  such  as  are  very  short  and  scanty. 

The  stale  of  the  hair  at  different  ages,  though  fami- 
liar, is  too  curious  to  be  omitted.  For  some  time  before 
birth  the  head  of  {\\efxtns  is  covered  with  a  soft  white 
down,  concealed  below  a  fatlj'  matter,  which  at  that  pe- 
riod besmears  the  whole  surface  of  the  body.  At  birth 
the  hair  is  often  very  perceptible,  though  of  a  very  pale 
colour.  In  many  children,  however,  the  appearance  of 
hair  is  very  late,  a  circumstance  which  indicates  a  weak 
and  delicate  habit  of  body.  In  most  young  people  the 
hair  of  the  head  grows  very  fast,  but  nothing  more  than 
a  soft  down  appeni-s  on  any  other  par!  of  the  body  before 
the  age  of  puberty.  At  that  period,  the  beard  of  the 
male  begins  to  sprout,  and  hair  shows  itself  in  the  arm- 
pits, the  limbs,  <S;c.  During  middle  age,  this  system 
undergoes  little  change;  but  as  the  powers  of  life  de- 
cay, the  vessels  that  supply  the  cavity  of  the  hairs  be- 
come obliterated,  the  colouring  matter  is  no  longer  se- 
creted, and  (to  U2e  the  language  of  Bichat)  the  internal 
substance  dies.  Hence  the  hairs  become  white,  and 
those  of  the  head  generally  fall  off. 

When  describing  the  substance  of  the  skin,  in  the 
second  section  of  Chap.  II.  Ave  mentioned  a  reticulated 
layer  which  covered  the  peripheral  surface  of  the  pa- 
pUlte,  called  by  Bichat,  the  reticular  portion,  and  by 
Cruikshank  the  numhrane  of  the  small-fcx.  The  exist- 
ence of  this  membrane,  considered  as  a  distinct  layer 
of  the  integuments,  seems  not  to  have  been  ascertained 
before  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Cruikshank's  Experiments  ; 
and  Bichat  evidently  confounds  it  with  a  more  superfi- 
cial layer,  which  is  properly  the  rde  mucosum,  or  mucous 
network.     This  is  usually  described,  not  as  a  me.'nbrane, 


but  as  a  slratmn  of  a  mucoUs  Or  glairy  fluid,  deposit^ 
between  the  cuticle  and  the  skin  by  the  vessels  of  the 
latter.  Previous  to  the  time  of  Malpighi,  it  was  not  dis- 
tinguished from  the  cuticle ;  but  that  acute  observer 
discovered  that  it  was  a  distinct  substance,  and  gave  it 
the  name  of  corpus  mucosum  vcl  reticulare  ;  though,  ia 
honour  of  him,  it  was  long  called  rete  Malphighii. 

The  greater  part  of  this  portion  of  the  integuments 
appears  to  consist  of  a  very  delicate  vascular  and  porous 
tissue,  connected  centrad  with  the  skin,  and  periphcrad 
with  the  cuticle  by  means  of  very  slender  filaments, 
though  we  are  inclined  to  believe  that  the  old  opinion  of 
its  being  composed  of  a  mucouj  fluid  is  partly  just,  and 
that  such  a  fluid  is  diffused  over  or  through  the  tissue. 
With  the  nature  of  this  substance  we  are  unacquainted  ; 
but  perhaps  it  is  similar  to  the  oily  fluid  that  has  been 
detected  by  Vauquelin  as  forming  the  colouring  matter 
of  the  hair. 

It  is  now  fully  ascertained  that  the  colour  of  the  body- 
depends  on  that  of  the  rete  mucosum.  This  substance  is 
black  in  the  Negro  ;  reddish  in  the  Mulatto,  and  proba- 
bly in  the  native  American  ;  brown  in  the  Gypsy  ;  white, 
with  a  slight  shade  of  red,  in  most  Europeans ;  and  of 
a  dead  white  in  the  Albino.  In  Fig.  5,  of  Pate  XVIII. 
c,  is  represented  the  rete  mucosum  of  a  Negro. 

From  the  observations  of  Cruikshauk,  Bichat,  and 
other  late  experimental  anatomists,  it  appears  that  the 
integuiiiente  of  the  human  body  consist  of  at  least  six 
layers,  viz.  1,  Cuticle;  2,  A  peripheral  layer  similar  to 
cuticle,  but  of  a  finer  texture;  3,  Rett  mucostim ;  A, 
Membrane  of  cutaneous  eruptions  ;  5,  Skin;  6,  Cellular 
mernl  rane. 

The  morbid  appearances  presented  by  the  organs  of 
integumation  are  extremely  numerous,  constituting  the 
characteristics  of  those  muitii'arious  affections  called 
Cutaneous  Diseases.  We  shall  notice  only  the  more 
general  and  important;  they  will  be  considered  hereaf- 
ter in  the  articles  Medicine  and  Sukgert. 

The  cuticle  is  often  seen  scaly.  Sometimes  the  scales 
fall  o.T,  and  leave  a  redness  of  the  surface  below,  as  in 
leprosy ;  sometimes  they  accumulate,  and  render  the 
cuticle  very  thick,  hard,  and  insensible,  as  in  that  pe- 
culiar affection  called  ichlhyosis.  Frequently  the  surface 
of  the  cuticle  is  elevated  into  protuberances,  which  are 
sometimes  soft,  constituting  what  are  called  wens ; 
sometimes  hard  and  callous,  as  in  warts. 

Most  of  the  morbid  appearane^s  of  the  integuments 
extend  beyond  the  cuticle,  taking  the  forms  o(  rashes, 
as  in  the  various  exanthemata,  as  measles,  scarlet  fever, 
nellle  rash,  &c. ;  of  bulla:  or  bladders,  as  in  erys'pdas 
(St  Anthony's  fire,  or  rose)  ;  pemphigtis,  or  vehicular 
fever,  and  pompliolyx,  or  n  ater  blobes ;  vesicles  or  blis- 
ters, in  herpes,  (ring-worm,  shingles)  ;  variuUa  (or 
chicken-pock)  ;  miliary  eruptions,  aplUhm  (or  thrush), 
&c.  and  of  ))ustu!es,  as  in  small-pox,  cow-pox,  itch, 
scald-head,  &:c. 

For  the  best  accounts  of  the  structure  of  the  integu- 
ments, see  Bichat's  Anatomic  Gcneralc,  tomes  i.  and  iv. ; 
Cruiksltank's  Experiments  on  the  Insensible  Perspiration 
of  the  Human  Body  ;  Cwi'ier's  Lcfons  tFAnatomie  Crnn- 
paree,  torn.  ii. ;  and  White's  Account  cf  the  Regular 
Gradation  in  Man,  and  in  different  Animals,  Szc. 

The  best  accounts  of  the  morbid  appearances  of  the 
integuments  will  be  found  in  Willan's  Description  and 
Treatment  pfCutawous  Diseases,  and  iu  Alibcrt'o  De- 
scription d:s  Maladies  de  la  Peau. 


822 


ANATOMY. 


CHAP  IX. 

0/tlte  Obcass  0^  Reproduction. 

Intha  preceding  chapters  we  have  considered  all 
those  organs  of  the  human  body,  that  appear  necessary 
for  carrying  on  the  various  runctions  of  man,  considered 
as  an  individual,  whose  principal  object  is  to  support 
life,  and  to  hold  communication  with  the  external  bodies 
that  surround  him,  and  with  other  individuals  of  the 
aame  species,  abstracted  from  the  consideration  of  sex. 
We  have  described  the  organs  which  give  firmness  and 
sup|iort  to  the  whole  body,  and  which  form  the  solid 
boundaries  of  its  various  cavities ;  those  by  which  the 
whole  iKKly  and  its  different  parts  are  set  in  motion ; 
and  those  through  the  medium  of  which  the  body  re- 
ceives impressions  from  without,  or  communicates  to 
the  most  distant  organs  the  impulses  by  which  the  mind 
actuates  them  to  motion.  We  have  considered  the  or- 
gans that  are  subservient  to  the  support  of  animal  life, 
to  the  distriliution  of  the  fluids  throughout  the  system, 
and  the  consequent  nourishment  of  the  whole  frame, 
ami  to  the  renovation  of  those  principles  of  activity 
which  had  been  lost  during  the  accomplishment  of  these 
ends.  We  have  examined  the  structure  and  uses  of 
those  organs  which  separate  from  the  general  mass  of 
circulating  fluids,  the  substances  that  are  useful  or  ne- 
cessary for  carrying  on  the  functions  of  other  organs, 
iind  which  convey  out  of  the  system,  through  the  va- 
rious emunctoricB,  those  which  are  hurtful  or  effete  ; 
and  we  have,  in  the  last  chapter,  described  those  organs 
which  serve  as  a  general  covering  and  defence  to  the 
•whole  body. 

It  remains  for  us  to  examine  the  organs  that  furnish 
1o  man  the  means  of  continuing  the  species,  and  which, 
as  constituting  the  principal  differences  of  the  two  sexes, 
are  called  the  stxtial  organs.  We  have  denominated 
them,  after  Ihc  modern  French  nomenclature,  the  or- 
gans of  n production. 

The  organs  of  reproduction  are  distinguished  into 
tnalc  and  female,  according  as  they  belong  to  the  one 
sex  or  the  other;  and  most  anatomical  writers  describe 
the  male  and  female  organs  in  distinct  sections.  Cuvier, 
in  his  comprehensive  view  of  these  organs,  divides 
them  into  preparatory  and  conservative  organs,  uniler 
which  he  includes  the  testes,  the  seminal  vesicles,  the 
prostate  gland,  and  the  glands  of  Cowper,  in  the  male, 
and  the  ovaries  in  the  female ;  copulative  organs,  in- 
cluding the  penis  in  males,  and  the  vagina  in  females, 
and  what  he  calls  the  educating  organs,  including  the 
uterus  and  breasts  of  the  female.  In  our  examination 
of  the  organs,  we  shall,  after  the  usual  method,  describe 
first  the  male,  and  then  the  female  organs.  It  is  not 
our  intention  to  give  a  very  minute  account  of  any  of 
these  ;  and  we  shall  be  exceedingly  brief  on  those  which 
are  obvious  to  the  senses,  as  we  apprehend  that  a  par- 
ticular description  of  them  is  unnecessary,  and  could 
5erve  no  other  purpose  than  to  gratify  the  prurient  cu- 
riosity of  the  sensualist. 

These  organs  are  partly  contained,  along  with  the 
nrinary  organs,  within  that  cavity  of  the  bo«ly  called  the 
pelvis.  In  the  female  this  cavity  contains  all  the  most 
important  organs,  but  in  the  male,  only  those  which  are 
att:  ched  to  the  neck  of  the  urinary  bladder,  are  placed 
will  in  the  pelvis. 

The  pelvis  is  situated  at  the  sacral  part  of  the  belly, 
and  may  even  be  considered  as  the  sacral  extremity  of 
this  cavity.     It  is  formed  by  four  bones,  viz.  by  the  «a- 


crum  and  coccyx,  forming  the  dorsal  side  of  the  cavity, 
and  the  osS'<  innominala,  cou&tituting  the  sternal  and  * 
lateral  parts,  the  former  being  l>ouuded  chiefly  bj'  those 
portions  called  i/ta,  or  haunch-bones,  and  the  latter  l>j 
the  pubes  or  share-bones.  The  longest  diameter  ol  ihe 
pelvis  at  itsatlantal  border  is  from  side  to  side,  or  Irom 
one  haunch-bone  to  the  other;  hut  at  the  sacral  part,  itt 
diameters  are  nearly  equal.  A  horizontal  section  of.tlie 
cavity  is  of  an  irregular  oval  figure.  The  pelvis  is  most 
shallow  at  its  eternal  part,  and  deepest  at  the  sides. 

The  bones  that  compose  this  cavity  are,  in  the  adult, 
firmly  united  to  each  other;  but  this  union  is  not  so 
firm  between  the  puiiis,  as  between  the  ossa  itmominata 
and  the  sacrum.  What  is  called  the  symphysis  pubis,  or 
articulation  of  the  share-bones,  is  formed  by  a  liganiento- 
cartilaginous  substance,  situated  between  the  mesial 
extremities  of  these  bones,  and  in  certain  cases,  admit- 
ting some  degree  oi  motion,  or  even  separation.  This 
cartilaginous  substance  is  sometimes  single,  at  others 
double,  and  when  cut  into,  is  found  to  contain  within  it 
a  small  quantity  of  fluid. 

From  examining  the  dried  bones  of  the  pelvis,  while 
in  connexion,  we  should  be  led  to  suppose,  that  this 
cavity  is  very  large ;  but,  in  the  natural  state  ol  the 
body,  the  extent  of  the  cavity  is  greatly  diminished  by 
the  muscles  and  membranes  that  line  the  central  sur- 
faces of  the  bones,  and  pass  from  one  process  to  another. 

It  is  chiefly  in  the  women  that  the  pelvis  is  an  object 
of  particular  attention,  and  we  have  Ibrmerly  remarked, 
that  tlie  female  is  much  larger  than  the  male  pelvis  (see 
p.  728).  The  characteristics  of  a  well-formed  female 
pelvis,  and  the  morbid  varieties  of  its  component  bones, 
will  be  considered  under  Midwifery. 

Sect.  I.  Of  the  Male  Organs  of  Reproduction. 

The  male  organs  are  very  properly  divided  by  Cuvier 
into  preparative  and  copulative.  The  principal  agent 
in  reproduction  is  the  seminal  fluid,  which  is  prepared 
in  the  glandular  bodies  called  testes.  This  fluid  is  con- 
veyed through  a  long  winding  tube  passing  from  the 
testes  into  the  belly  to  the  seminal  vesicles,  where  it  is 
collected,  either  generally  or  occasionally,  and  whence 
it  is,  during  coition,  poured  into  the  urethra.  The  se- 
minal fluid  is  then  the  essential  agent,  and  the  testes 
the  essential  organs  of  generation;  but  there  arc  other 
fluids  which  doubtless  have  their  use  in  this  function. 
These  are  prepared  by  the  prostate  gland  that  surround* 
the  neck  of  the  urinary  bladder,  by  two  small  glandular 
bodies  situated  within  the  urethra,  and  called,  from  their 
discoverer,  Cowper's  glands,  and  probably  from  the 
seminal  vesicles. 

The  testes  are  of  a  flattened,  oval  form,  smooth  and 
regular  on  their  flat  surfaces,  and  on  one  extremity,  but 
rendered  unequal  at  the  other  extremity,  and  at  one  side, 
by  an  irregular  convoluted  body, called  epididymis.  They 
are  of  a  grayish  or  yellowish  colour,  and  a  pretty  firm 
consistence.  They  are  situated  within  the  bag  called 
scrotum,  in  such  a  manner,  that  their  atlantal  extremi- 
ties project  a  little  stcrnad,  while  their  sacral  extremi- 
ties point  a  little  dorsad.  They  are  separated  from  each 
other  by  a  doubling  of  the  cellular  substance  within  Ihe 
scrotum,  and  they  are  each  enveloped  in  distinct  mem- 
branes. The  most  peripheral  of  these  membranes  is 
a  doubling  from  Ihe  peritoneum  that  lines  the  belly,  into 
which  cavity  it  may  be  readily  traced.  This  is  called 
the  vaginal  coat  (tunica  vaginalis:).  It  adheres  closely 
to  the  next  membrane  of  the  testis,  only  in  a  line  on 


ANATOMY. 


8^ 


the  Jortal  side,  being  iii  every  other  part  perfectly  free, 
and  FO  rooiny,  that  the  testis  can  easily  move  within  it. 
The  next  memhrane  ajipears,  iu  the  adult,  to  be  only  a 
reflection  from  the  preceding,  over  the  body  of  the  testis, 
like  the  peripheral  coat  of  the  heart  reflected  from  the 
pericardium  ;  though,  as  will  be  jjresenfly  explained,  it 
was  originally  formed  by  a  separatt  and  very  distant  por- 
tion of  the  pcritcnmm.  It  is  thick,  strong,  inelastic,  and 
of  a  shining  white  colour,  and  closely  invests  the  body 
of  the  testis,  giving  it  a  smooth  and  regular  appearance. 
It  also  invests  the  epididymis,  closely  connecting  it 
with  the  body  of  the  testis,  except  in  one  part,  where  it 
often  passes  between  them.  This  coat  is  called  iuttica 
alhu^inea. 

The  substance  of  the  testes  is  extremely  vascular, 
and  is  composed  partly  of  ramifications  of  arteries  and 
▼eins,  and  partly  of  numerous  small  tubes,  in  which  the 
seminal  fluid  is  contained.  The  extreme  branches  of 
the  arteries  are  collected  within  the  body  of  the  testes, 
into  little  tortuous  bundles,  separated  from  each  other 
by  partitions  of  cellular  substance,  and  extending  in  a 
radiated  form  from  the  dorsal  line  to  which  the  vaginal 
coat  is  fixed,  pm/jftfrarf  towards  the  tunica  albuginea. 
The  seminiferous  tubes  take  their  origin  from  these 
bundles  of  arterial  branches,  and  gradually  form  a  num- 
ber of  distinct  canals,  which,  emerging  from  the  body  of 
the  testis  near  its  atlantal  extremity,  unite  in  a  larger 
tube  that  becomes  extremely  convoluted,  and  forms 
what  is  called  the  head  of  the  epididymis.  The  whole 
of  this  irregular  projecting  botly  is  merely  a  continuation 
of  the  common  seminal  canal,  which,  running  sacrad 
along  the  edge  of  the  testis,  is  reflected  near  the  sacral 
extremity  of  that  body,  and  forms  what  is  called  the  vas 
deferens. 

This  continuation  of  the  seminal  tube  now  expands, 
and  becomes  nearly  straight  till  it  emerges  from  the 
scrotum,  and  enters  the  pelvis,  when  it  takes  a  curved 
direction  across  the  side  of  the  urinary  bladder,  and 
passing  along  the  dorsal  part  of  this  receptacle,  termi- 
nates at  its  neck,  between  the  seminal  vesicle  and  the 
prostate  gland. 

The  testes  are  well  supplied  with  arteries,  nerves, 
and  absorbents.  Their  arteries  are  called  spermatic  ; 
they  come  ofTfrom  the  sternal  side  of  the  aoi-ia,  at  a  very 
acute  angle,  a  little  above  the  origin  of  the  inferior  me- 
senteric artery,  (see  Plate  XIX.  Fig.  10.  N. ;)  and  they 
run  in  a  very  serpentine  direction,  till  they  enter  the 
body  of  the  testis.  The  spermatic  veins  are  very  large, 
and  form  a  plexus  that  is  closely  connected  to  the  arte- 
ries. The  spermatic  artery  and  vein  on  each  side  are 
intimately  connected  by  cellular  substance,  both  with 
each  other,  and  within  the  pelvis  with  the  vas  deferens, 
thus  forming  a  cord  of  considerable  size,  called  the  sper- 
matic cord.  Along  this  cord  run  the  nervous  filaments 
that  supply  the  testis  and  the  absorbent  vessels  that  ori- 
ginate iu  that  gland.  The  spermatic  cord  passes  through 
the  ring  of  the  external  oblique  muscle  of  the  abdomen, 
and  is  covered  by  fleshy  fibres  that  form  what  is  called 
the  crcmaster  muscle  of  the  testes.  This  muscle,  be- 
sides being  connected  with  the  peripheral  surface  of 
the  spermatic  cord,  near  the  body  of  the  testis,  is  at- 
tached to  the  skin  of  the  scrotum  and  to  the  central 
surface  of  that  tendinous  expansion  from  the  external 
oblique  muscle  that  forms  the  sternal  border  of  the 
abdominal  ring,  and  is  called  the  crural  arch,  or  Poti- 
part's  ligamctit ;  thus  serving  both  to  support  the  tes- 
tis, and  by  the  coatractioaof  itsfibres,  to  raise  it  aUanlad. 


The  scrotum,  or  bag  that  contains  the  testes,  is  merely 
a  continuation  of  the  common  integuments,  diftering 
from  them  only  in  the  looseness  of  its  texture,  and  in 
the  redness  and  fibrous  appearance  of  the  cellular  mem- 
brane that  forms  its  central  surface.  On  its  peripheral 
surface,  in  the  direction  'of  the  mesial  line,  there  is  a 
slight  elevation  of  the  skin,  called  raphe,  extending  to- 
wards the  anus,  across  that  part  of  the  integuments 
caUeil  perineum. 

The  organs  called  seminal  vesicles  are  united  at  their 
eacral  and  sternal  extremities,  where  they  joiii  the  neck  , 
of  the  bladder,  but  gradually  diverge  as  they  proceed 
dorsad  and  allantad,  on  the  sides  of  that  receptacle. 
They  are  membranous  cavities,  formed  each  of  a  very 
convoluted  tube,  that  has  several  irregular  processes, 
and  is  surrounded  by  much  tough  cellular  sul:stance. 
Within  this  cellular  membrane  appears  the  proper  coat 
of  the  vesicles,  which  is  white  and  firm,  and  lined  by  a  # 
fine  membrane,  which  appears  to  be  a  continuation  of 
the  mucous  membrane  that  lines  the  ras  d/fercns  and 
the  urethra,  and  is  reflected  into  numerous  folds.  This 
membrane  is  provided  with  mucous  follicles  that  secrete 
the  usual  mucous  fluid.  The  cavities  of  the  two  semi- 
nal vesicles  are  separated  from  each  other  at  the  neck 
of  the  bladder  by  a  small  projection  called  verumonta- 
iium,  or  caput  gallinaginis  ;  and  on  each  side  of  this  pro- 
jection is  a  tube  that  forms  a  canal  leading  from  the 
seminal  vesicles  and  vas  deferens,  and  opening  into  the 
commencement  of  the  urethra  at  the  sacral  and  dorsal 
part  of  the  neck  of  the  bladder. 

It  is  generally  su))posed  that  the  seminal  vesicles 
serve  as  reservoirs  for  the  fluid  secreted  by  the  testes, 
though  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  late  Mr.  John  Hunter, 
that  they  perform  some  more  active  oflice  in  the  animal 
economy. 

The  prostate  gland  is  usually  about  as  large  as  an 
ordinary  chesnut,  of  a  red  colour,  firm  consistence,  and 
cellular  structure.  It  is  composed  chiefly  of  two  lobes, 
situated  principally  on  the  lateral  and  dorsal  parts  of  the 
neck  of  the  bladder,  thus  forming  a  conical  liody,  con- 
vex sacrad  and  dorsad,  and  flattened  atlanlad,  so  that  a 
horizontal  section  of  it  may  properly  be  compared  to 
the  figure  of  a  heart  on  playing  cards.  The  peripheral 
surface  of  the  prostate  gland  is  generally  smooth,  being 
covered  with  a  membrane  derived  chiefly  from  the  cel- 
lular substance,  but  towards  the  sternal  extremity  aro 
inserted  the  fibres  of  what  is  called  the  sphincter  vesiclw. 
The  interior  of  the  gland  is  cellular,  and  is  provided 
with  numerous  follicles  that  secrete  a  mucous  fluid, 
which  is  conveyed  into  the  urethra  by  ten  or  twelve  ducts, 
opening  obliquely  near  the  termination  of  those  canals 
which  we  have  described  as  coming  from  the  seminal 
vesicles  and  vasa  dtferenlia. 

The  penis  is  composed  principally  of  membranous 
cells,  collected  into  three  distinct  bodies,  called  cavern 
ous  bodies,  {corpora  cavernosa,)  with  a  membranous 
tube  running  along  the  dorsal  or  under  side,  and  called 
urethra.  One  of  the  spongy  bodies  surrounds  this  mem- 
branous canal,  and  at  the  distal  extremity  of  the  penis, 
expands  into  what  is  called  the  glans  penis.  This  col- 
lection of  cells  is  called  by  anatomists  corpus  spongiosum 
urethra:.  The  others  form  the  sides  and  sternal  or  up- 
per part  of  the  penis,  and  are  called  corpora  cavernosa 
penis.  Each  of  these  spongy  bodies  is  separated  from 
the  rest  by  a  distinct  enveloping  membrane,  so  that  it  is 
possible  to  fill  the  cells  of  the  spongy  cavernous  bodies 
of  the  penis,  while  those  of  the  urethra  remain  empty. 


824 


ANATOl^fY. 


and  vice  versa.  The  corpora  cavernosa  penis  are  divi- 
ded from  each  other  by  a  mem!  ranous  partition,  run- 
ning longituilinally  through  the  middle  of  the  penis,  as 
far  as  the  root  of  the  glans ;  but  this  partition  is  said 
not  to  atford  a  complete  separation  between  the  copora 
cavernosa,  which  therefore  communicate  with  each  other 
at  this  part.  See  Fyfe's  Compendium  of  Anatomy,  3d 
edit.  vol.  ii.  p.  235.  The  cavernous  bodies  ol  the  penis, 
arise  by  two  conical  extremities  called  crura,  from  the 
mesial  side  of  the  ischia  and  pubes,  and  are  connected 
with  these  l.ones  by  ligaments.  They  unite  at  the  sa- 
cral part  of  the  symphysis  pibis*. 

The  penis  is  sup|)lied  with  three  principal  arteries 
on  each  side,  coming  from  the  pudic  arteries.  Its 
veins  are  numerous,  and  most  of  them  terminate  in  one 
large  trunk,  called  the  great  or  dorsal  vein  of  the  penis, 
vrhich  runs  along  the  sternal  side  of  that  organ,  in  a 
groove  between  the  two  cavernous  bodies.  The  penis 
is  furnished  with  large  nerves,  and  has  numerous  lym- 
phatics. 

There  are  two  muscles  belonging  to  this  organ,  one 
on  each  side,  attached  to  the  memlirane  that  covers  the 
cavernous  bodies  near  their  union,  and  to  the  mesial 
side  of  the  tuberosity  of  the  ischiimi.  These  are  called 
ereclores  penis,  because  when  they  contract,  they  press 
on  the  ceils  of  the  cavernous  bodies,  and  thus  favour  the 
distension  of  that  organ. 

The  membranous  canal,  called  urethra,  runs  from  the 
neck  of  the  bladder  t»  the  distal  extremity  of  the  penis. 
It  is  nearly  cylindrical  in  its  different  parts,  though  it 
ie  not  of  the  same  diameter  through  its  whole  extent. 
It  is  largest  at  about  an  inch  distad  from  the  prostate 
gland,  where  there  is  also  an  enlargement  of  its  peri- 
pheral spongy  part,  constituting  what  is  called  the  bulb 
of  the  urethra.  There  is  another  dilatation  at  the  pros- 
tate gland,  and  a  third  near  the  root  of  the  glans  penis. 
The  rest  of  the  canal  is  about  as  large  as  an  ordinary 
goose  quill.  Between  the  prostate  gland  and  the  prox- 
imal part  of  the  bulb,  the  urethra  is  entirely  membra- 
nous, being  surrounded  only  by  loose  cellular  substance, 
but  the  remainder  of  the  canal  is  surrounded  by  the 
spongy  body.  Along  the  middle  of  the  peripheral  sur- 
face of  the  bulb  there  is  a  tendinous  line,  from  which 
uumerous  muscular  fibres  run  obliquely  towards  the 
sphincter  ani  and  crura  of  the  cavernous  bodies  of  the 
penis.  These  fibres  form  two  small  muscles  which  are 
the  acccleratores  urince,  or  cjaculalores  seminis  of  anato- 
mical writers. 

The  central  part  of  this  canal  is  lined  by  a  very  vas- 
cular and  sensible  mucous  membrane,  between  which 
and  the  spongy  bo<ly  of  the  urethra  there  are  several 
longitudinal  cavities,  called  lacttna,  opening  within  the 
urethra,  and  serving  as  excretory  ducts  to  the  mucus 
with  which  this  canal  is  moistened.  Dr.  Barclay  has 
lately  observed  a  number  of  cells  running  longitudinally, 
but  rather  in  a  serpentine  direction,  between  the  mem- 
brane and  the  spongy  body,  so  as  to  have  the  appearance 


of  irregular  vessels,  or  canals,  which  seem  to  commu- 
nicate laterally,  and  might  be  filled  with  lir  or  mercury 
from  the  orifices  of  the  lacunae — See  Edin.  Med.  and 
Surg.  Jour.  vol.  i.  p.  403. 

We  have  mentioned  numerous  ducts  opening  into  the 
urethra  at  its  origin,  within  the  neck  of  the  bladder,  viz. 
two  from  the  seminal  vesicles  and  vasa  dff-reniia,  and 
ten  or  twelve  from  the  prostate  gland.  Besides  these 
there  are  usually  other  ducts  opening  into  the  bulb  of 
this  canal,  and  coming  from  two  small  bodies  of  a  glan- 
dular structure,  situated  at  the  distal  extremity  of  the 
bulb,  on  the  sides  of  the  peripheral  surface  of  the  mem- 
branous pirt  of  the  urethra,  and  called,  from  their  dis- 
coverer, Ctywper''s  glands. 

Many  important  changes  take  place  in  the  rej)ro(luc- 
tive  organs  of  man  during  his  progress  through  life. 
This  is  particularly  the  case  with  the  testes ;  the  situa- 
tion and  relations  of  which  are  very  ditferentin  the  fcetus, 
from  those  of  the  same  organs  after  birth. 

From  the  time  when  they  are  first  perceived  till  about 
the  eighth  month  of  pregnancy,  the  testes  of  the  Itetng 
are  lodged  within  the  belly,  one  in  each  lumbar  region, 
a  little  saerad  of  the  kidneys,  and  resting  on  the  psoce 
muscles  by  the  sides  of  the  rectum.  Here  they  are 
closely  enveloped  by  that  doubling  of  the  peritoneum, 
which  is  to  become  their  future  tunica  cdbuginea.  Be- 
tween the  testes,  in  this  situation,  and  that  part  of  the 
scrotum  to  which  the  cremaster  muscle  is  attached, 
there  extends,  on  each  side,  a  ligamentous  cellular  and 
vascular  cord,  of  a  conical  form,  called  by  Mr.  John 
Hunter  the  gubemaculmn,  or  ligament  of  the  testes. 
At  this  period  the  two  cavities  of  the  scrotum,  in  which 
the  testes  are  to  be  lodged,  are  separated  from  the  cavity 
of  the  pelvis  by  portions  of  the  peritoneum,  that  just  dip 
within  the  cavities  of  the  scrotum. 

Generally  about  the  eighth  month  of  pregnancy,  or  a 
few  weeks  previous  to  parturition,  the  testes  begin  to 
change  their  situation,  and  to  pass  very  gradually  sa- 
erad towards  the  scrotumf.  The  manner  in  which  this 
passage  of  the  testes  takes  place,  is  not  yet  perfectly 
understood,  though  it  has  attracted  the  attention  of  some 
of  the  ablest  anatomists  and  phisiologists  of  modern 
times.  In  particular,  the  investigations  of  Haller,  John 
Hunter,  Camper,  and  Wrisbcrg,  have  contributed  to 
imjirove  our  knowledge  of  this  singular  phenomenon  in 
the  animal  economy ;  but  their  investigations  have  done 
little  more  than  explain  to  us  the  exact  situation  of  the 
testes,  and  their  connexion  with  the  neighbouring  jiarts 
at  dififerent  periods  of  their  passage.  Mr.  Hunter  sup- 
posed, that  the  principal  agent  in  promoting  the  pas- 
sage of  the  testes  into  the  scrotum  is  the  conical  cord, 
which  he  therefore  called  gubemaculum,  or  helm ;  but 
it  does  not  appear  that  the  action  of  these  bodies  could 
bring  the  testes  further  than  to  the  abdominal  ring. 

As  the  testes  advance  through  the  abdominal  rings 
into  the  scrotum,  they  push  before  them  those  doubling* 
of  the  peritoneum,  which  we  described  as  dipping  w  ithia 


•  In  conformity  to  the  method  of  most  antttomUts,  we  have  descri1>ed  the  e«»cmon»  bodies  of  the  penis,  and  the  siiongy  body  of  the 
nrcthr»,  »»  composed  of  cells  communicating  with  each  other.  It  is  generally  l)elieved  that  these  cells  lie  between  the  extreniitim  of 
the  arteries  and  those  of  the  veins  ;  bat  M.  Cuvier  conteods  that  the  cellular  appearance  is  not  real,  anil  that  the  spongy  texture  of  the 
penis  is  owing  to  the  numerous  and  free  inosculations  of  the  blood-Tessels,  especially  of  the  veins.  Sec  Lecon*  cCJltuUomie  Comparie, 
torn.  V.  p.  'ill. 

•f  This  piissage  of  the  testes  into  the  scrotum  is  commonly  called  their  detcent,  as  the  testes  are  said  to  descend  into  the  scrotum 
at  about  the  riglith  month  of  pregnancy.  The  term  iteacent  is  here  peculiarly  inapplicable;  for  it  is  well  known,  that  the  posiiimi  of 
the  fu;lus  varies  considerably,  and,  in  general,  especially  at  the  time  when  th«  deecetit  of  the  testes  is  said  to  take  place,  its  head  is  th» 
■IBOK  depending  part. 


ANATOMY. 


Bio 


tlie  scrota?  eftvities ;  and  Hiese  doublings  now  become 
the  vaginal  co.itb  of  the  testes.  When  the  testes  first 
pass  into  the  scrotum,  there  is  an  opening  left  between 
the  cavity  ot  the  vaginal  coat  and  that  of  the  pelvis. 
Hence  it  may,  and  sometiuies  does  happen,  that  a  jtor- 
tion  of  the  intestines  slips  through  the  abdominal  ring 
into  the  scrotum  along  with  the  testes,  forming  that 
modification  of  hernia  or  rupture,  called  congenital.  Soon 
after  the  testes  have  passed  into  the  scrotum,  however, 
a  firm  adiiesion  generally  takes  place  between  the  vagi- 
nal and  albugineous  coats,  thus  obliterating  the  commu- 
nication between  the  lielly  and  scrotum. 

We  have  described  the  passage  of  the  testes  into  the 
scrotum  as  usually  taking  place  about  the  eighth  month 
of  pregnancy.  In  some  cases,  however,  they  have  been 
found  within  the  scrotum  so  early  as  the  third  or  fourth 
month;  and  it  not  unfrequently  happens,  that  they  do 
not  descend  till  some  months,  or  even  years,  after  birth. 
This  is  suid  to  be  ^  ery  common  among  the  inhabitnnts 
of  Hungary.  (Rout  in  Bichat's  ^jw/wrtic  Drscn/;f.  torn. 
T.  p.  233.)  Sometimes  only  one  enters  the  scrotum, 
and,  in  a  few  rare  cases,  they  remain  altogether  within 
the  belly. 

Previous  to  the  age  of  puberty,  most  of  the  male  or- 
gans are  Kniall,  and  receive  much  less  blood  than  is 
distributed  to  them  after  that  period.  In  particular,  the 
seminal  vesicles  are  remarkably  small  and  lank,  and 
the  prostate  gland  is  soft  and  flaccid.  In  old  age  the 
testes  are  much  diminished  in  size,  and  are  much  less 
firm  than  before.  On  the  contrary,  the  seminal  vesi- 
cles and  the  prostate  gland  usually  become  hard,  and 
sometimes  cartilaginous,  though  their  secreting  office 
is  also  diminished. 

In  noticingthe  morbid  appcarancesof  the  male  organs, 
we  shall  confine  ourselves  chiefly  to  those  which  have 
leen  observed  in  the  testes,  the  seminal  vesicles,  the 
prostate  gland,  and  the  urethra. 

The  testes  have  been  seen  in  a  state  of  active  inflam- 
mation, ulcerated,  or  even  gangrenous  ;  they  have  been 
found  enlarged,  affected  with  scirrhus  and  cancer,  of  a 
soft  pulpy  consistence,  or  hardened  into  cartilaginous, 
or  sometimes  even  bony  sulistance.  Water  has  not 
tinfrequently  accumulated  between  the  testis  and  its 
vaginal  coat,  forming  that  modification  of  dro|)sy  called 
hydrocele.  Sometimes  the  vaginal  coat  has  been  found 
to  contain  hydatids,  sometimes  an  adhesion  is  found  to 
"have  taken  place  between  the  vaginal  and  albugineous 
■coats,  and  not  unfrequently  cartilaginous  bodies  have 
"been  seen,  either  loose  within  the  vaginal  coat,  or  at- 
tached to  the  alhuginea.  The  vas  deferens  has  been 
Vound  contracted  by  stricture,  or  having  some  part  of  its 
cavity  entirely  obliterated. 

The  seminal  vesicles  have  been  found  inflamed,  scro- 
Tulous,  or  scirrhous.  They  have  been  seen  remarkahly 
small,  and  sometimes  one  of  them  has  been  entirely 
■wanting.     Their  ducts  are  sometimes  impervious. 

The  prostate  gland  is  often  found  enlarged  and 
scirrhous,  and  it  has  been  seen  in  a  state  of  ulceration. 
Its  ducts  are  sometimes  found  enlarged,  and  sometimes 
«bstructcd  by  calculous  concretions. 

The  urethra  is  frequently  found  inflamed,  sometimes 
ulcerated,  and  very  commonly  contracted  by  a  stricture 
of  its  mucous  membrane.  Sometimes  stony  concretions 
are  found  within  the  canal,  and  in  a  few  cases  this  has 
been  seen  lined  by  a  layer  of  earthy  matter. 

You  I.  Pakt  II. 


Sect.  II.  Of  the  Female  Organs  of  Reproduction. 

The  most  important  female  organs  are  the  vagina,  the 
uterus,  with  its  tubes,  and  the  ovaries. 

The  vagina  extends  Ironi  the  sacral  part  of  llie  arch 
of  the  pubis  dorsad  and  allantad  within  the  pelvis;  be- 
tween the  urinary  bladder  and  the  rectum,  with  each  of 
which  it  is  connected  by  cellular  substance.  Its  diame- 
ter is  variable,  but  it  is  a  little  longer  on  its  sacro  dm-sal 
than  on  its  atlanlo-slcrnal  part.  This  eanal  is  composed 
chiefly  of  a  thick  mucous  membrane,  which,  from  its 
numerous  folds,  admits  of  great  dilatation,  and  is  provi- 
ded with  a  considerable  number  of  mucous  glands,  or 
follicles,  furnishing  the  fluid  that  lubricates  its  central 
surface.  Near  the  sitcro-sternnl  orifice  of  the  vagina, 
this  canal  is  surrounded  on  each  side  bj'  a  very  vascular 
or  cellular  texture,  commonly  called  the  cavernous  body 
of  the  vagina. 

The  exterior  opening  of  the  vagina  forms  fhepi/zlrn- 
rfj/OT  mwiiW^re  of  anatomists,  composed  of  (he  two  peri- 
pheral or  external  lahiii,  two  cenlral  or  internal  labia, 
commonly  called  nipnplue,  and  the  clitoris.  This  last 
body  nearly  resembles,  both  in  shape  and  structure,  the 
male  penis,  but  is  seldom  more  than  about  an  inch  long, 
and  scarcely  half  an  inch  in  thickness. 

Sacradof  the  glans  ol  the  clitoris,  and  behveen  the 
two  nympha;,  is  the  external  orifice  of  the  female  ure- 
thra, which  dilTers  from  that  of  man,  in  being  shortei*, 
straightcr,  and  of  larger  diameter,  and  not  having  with.- 
in  its  cavity  the  orifices  described  in  the  male  urethra* 

The  uterus  is  a  cavity  of  a  triangular  form,  situated 
in  the  sacral  part  of  the  pelvis,  between  the  body  of  the 
urin:iry  bladder  and  the  rectum,  and  connected  with 
these  by  cellular  substance.  Its  sides  are  very  thick« 
and  extremely  vascular.  It  is  generally  divided  like 
the  urinary  bladder,  into  fundus,  body,  and  neck;  the 
fundus  being  its  most  atlantal  part,  its  neck  nearly  the 
most  sacral  part,  and  the  body  lying  between  these.  The 
sacral  extremitj'  of  the  uterus  projects  more  or  less 
within  the  cavity  of  the  vagina,  and  terminates  in  a 
transverse  opening,  called  the  mouth  of  the  uterus,  and, 
from  a  fantastical  comparison  with  the  mouth  of  a  tench, 
denominated  by  anatomists,  os  tincce. 

The  size  of  the  uterus  varies  in  different  subjects, 
especially  before  ami  after  child-bearing.  Before  im- 
pregnation, it  is  generally  described  as  being  between 
two  and  three  inches  in  length,  and  about  two  inches  at 
its  broadest  part,  or  fundus.  At  its  neck  it  is  scarcely 
an  inch  across,  but  from  this  part  to  the  mouth  it  becomes 
broader.  Its  cavity,  before  impregnation,  is  remarkably 
small,  being  described  as  scarcely  capable  of  containing 
a  hazel  nut.  Hence  the  thickness  of  its  sides  must  be 
very  great.  These  are  said  to  be  above  half  an  inch 
thick  at  the  neck,  but  rather  Ihinuer  towards  the  fun- 
dus. The  sides  of  the  uterus  are  very  firm  and  com- 
pact, partly  composed  of  membranous  cells,  partly  of 
numerous  ramifications  of  blood  vessels,  and  partly  of 
muscular  fibres.  It  is  lined  by  a  continuation  of  the 
mucous  membrane  that  invests  (he  cavity  of  the  vagina ; 
and,  as  in  that  civity  the  membrane  is  reflected  into 
numerous  folds,  that  run  in  an  oblique,  transverse  di- 
rection, and  have  between  their  doublings  many  mucous 
follicles  of  vnridus  sizes.  The  peripheral  surface  of 
the  uterus,  next  the  cavity  of  the  pelvis,  is  almost  en- 
tirely covered  by  the  peritoneum,  which  is  reflected 
6  M 


826 


ANATOMY. 


from  the  stei-nal  side  of  the  nterus'over  the  dorsal  side 
of  the  urinary  l:!a'Jc!i;r;  and  from  the  dorsal  part  of  the 
uterus  over  the  athiatal  part  of  the  rectum.  From  the 
lateral  parts  of  the  uterus  two  considerable  reflections 
of  the  same  membrane  pass  to  the  sides  of  the  pelvis, 
and  from  their  great  breadth,  and  the  office  Ihey  serve, 
of  9upj>oriing  tbe  uterus  in  the  impregnated  state,  are 
called  the  broad  ligaments  of  the  uterus. 

Thus  the  uterus  is  intimately  connected  with  all  the 
neighbouring  parts  ;  to  llie  -jrinary  bladder,  rcchim,  and 
sides  of  the  pelvis,  by  the  peritoiuum,  and  to  the  nig-ma 
by  its  neck,  which  is  surrounded  by  the  vagina,  so  as  to 
leave  a  concave  circular  space  at  the  atlanto-dorsal  ex- 
tremity of  the  vagitw.  The  nterus  is  also  further  sup- 
ported by  two  strong  ligamentous  and  vascular  cords, 
resembling  in  some  respects  the  spermatic  cords  in 
man,  that  pass  from  the  atlantal  corners  of  the  litems, 
obliquely  sacrad,  to  be  inserted  into  the  groins.  These 
are  called  the  round  ligaments  of  the  titerus.  These 
round  ligaments  are  largest  next  the  fundus  of  the  ute- 
rus., and  grow  gradually  smaller  as  they  approach  the 
groins.  They  run  tor  fome  distance  between  the  dou- 
blings of  the  broad  ligaments. 

On  each  side  of  the  fundus  of  the  uterus,  and  at  the 
distance  of  about  an  inch  from  it,  within  a  doubling  of 
the  broad  ligament,  lies  an  oval  body,  called  mart/  {ova- 
rum).  These  bodies  are  nearly  straight  on  their  atlan- 
tal edge,  rounded  on  their  sacral  side,  (Pyfe's  Compen- 
dium, vol.  ii.  p.  247.)  and  flattened  sternad  and  dorsad. 
They  are  usually  about  half  the  size  of  the  male  testes, 
and,  like  them,  are  covered  by  a  coat  reflected  from  the 
peritoneal  membrane,  in  which  they  are  enveloped. 
They  are  connected  to  the  fundus  of  the  uterus  by  two 
small  solid  cords,  called  the  round  ligaments  of  the  ova- 
ries. Examined  centrally,  these  bodies  are  found  to  be 
composed  of  a  loose  cellular  substance,  intermixed  with 
nerves  and  vessels,  and  containing  within  it  a  number 
of  little  vesicles,  compared  to  eggs,  and  therefore  called 
ova.  These  vesicles  are  usually  about  as  large  as  a 
small  pea,  and  are  fdled  with  a  whitish  glairy  fluid, 
similar  to  the  while  of  egg.  These  are  supposed  to  be 
the  embryos  of  foetuses.  Their  number  varies  greatly 
in  difltrent  individuals  J  sometimes  there  are  not  more 
than  ten,  and  at  others  above  fifteen  have  been  counted 
in  each  ovary. 

Within  the  cavity  of  the  uterus,  at  the  atlantal  angles, 
are  observed  two  orifices,  so  small  as  only  to  admit  a 
hag's  bristle.  These  orifices  lead  to  two  membranous 
tubes,  one  on  each  side  of  the  fundus  of  the  uterus. 
■These  are  the  uterine,  or,  as  they  are  called,  the  Fallo- 
pian tubes.  They  are  of  a  conical  form,  being  smallest 
next  the  uterus,  and  gradually  expanding  as  they  ex- 
tend along  the  atlantal  margins  of  the  broad  ligaments. 
They  pass  over  the  ovaries,  and  their  remote  extremi- 
ties are  so  situated,  that,  on  certain  occasions,  they  can 
grasp  those  bodies,  and  receive  into  their  cavities  the 
tva  that  are  detached  from  them.  At  these  remote  ex- 
tremities, the  diameter  of  the  tubes  nearly  equals  that 
of  a  goose  quill,  and  here  they  expand  into  a  number  of 
fringes, called _/t?/t6W(e,  which  are  longeron  one  side  of 
the  tube  than  on  the  other.  These  fringed  extremities, 
in  the  ordinary  state  of  the  uterine  system,  are  supposed 
to  float  loosely  within  the  pelvis;  but  when  an  ovum  is 
to  be  extruded  from  the  ovarj-,  they  are  believed  to  ap- 
ply themselves  closely  to  the  surfare  of  the  ovary,  and 
tbas  assist  the  passage  of  Uie  ovom  into  the  uterine 


tube,  along  which  it  is  conveyed  through  the  small  ori>- 
fices  above  noticed,  into  the  civity  of  the  uterus. 

The  tubes  are  of  a  spongy  structure,  much  convoluted 
towards  their  larger  extremities,  and  susceptible  of  con- 
siderable dilatation.  Their  central  surface  is  lined  by 
a  continuation  of  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  uterus, 
furnished,  as  in  the  rest  of  these  organs,  with  nume- 
rous folds.  Here,  however,  the  folds  are  chiefly  in  a 
longitudinal  direction. 

The  uterus  and  its  appendages  are  supplied  with  ar- 
teries from  the  hypogastrics  and  spermatics.  Their 
veins  are  large  and  tortuous.  Large  nervous  filaments 
go  to  these  organs  from  the  sacral  nerves  and  the  great 
sympathetics,  and  numerous  absorbents  of  considerable' 
size  may  be  traced  from  them  to  the  lumliar  glands, 
and  to  those  which  are  situated  in  the  lateral  parts  of 
the  pelvis. 

The  female  reproductive  organs,  like  those  of  the 
male,  experience  various  importiiut  changes  during  the 
successive  periods  of  life.  In  infancy  and  childhood, 
the  more  important  organs  are  small,  and  deeply  con- 
cealed among  their  membranes  at  the  bottom  of  the  pel- 
vis. The  external  orifice  of  the  vagina  is  nearly  closed 
by  a  membrane  called  the  hymtn,  which  is  generally 
supi)osed  to  remain  as  long  as  a  female  continues  iu 
the  virgin  state.  The  ovaries  are  remarkable,  previous 
to  the  age  of  puberty,  for  their  long  and  narrow  form, 
and  for  the  smoothness  of  their  peripheral  surface.  The 
age  of  puberty  is  accompanied  by  important  changes  iu 
the  female  as  well  as  the  male  organs.  Those  within 
the  pelvis,  in  particular,  become  more  developed  ;  the 
uterus  rises  higher  within  that  cavity,  and  its  vessels 
receive  more  blood;  the  ovaries  contract  in  length,  be- 
come plumper  and  irregular  on  their  peripheral  sur- 
face, from  the  increased  size  of  the  ova  contained  with- 
in them. 

As  old  age  advances,  the  internal  organs  shrivel,  at 
they  now  receive  much  less  blood  than  at  former  pe- 
riods. The  ovaries,  in  particular,  are  reduced  to  little 
more  than  half  their  former  size,  an<l  their  vesicles 
either  entirely  disappear^  or  are  changed  into  hard  tu- 
bercles. ■'■  • 

The  changes  that  take  place  in  these  organs,  in  con- 
sequence of  conception,  scarcely  come  within  the  plan 
of  the  present  article.  They  will  be  described  under 
Midwifery. 

AVe  shall  mention  only  the  more  important  morbiJ 
appearances  that  t.ike  place  in  the  female  organs.  In  ;i 
few  instances,  cbildren  are  born  with  no  appearance  of 
external  organs.  In  these  cases  the  chililren  arefemalesj 
only  the  labia  h  ive  grown  together,  and  thus  the  en- 
trance of  the  vagina  is  concealed.  A  remarkable  in- 
stance of  this  nature  exists  at  present  in  Edinburgh. 
The  vagina  is  sometimes  found  ulcerated ;  and  it  is 
said,  that,  in  consequence  of  violent  inflammation,  the 
sides  of  its  mucous  membrane  have  grown  together. 
Not  unfrequently  the  cavity  of  the  vagina  is  found  o'l- 
Btruct^d  by  scirrhus  tumours.  The  whole  cavity  has 
been  found  inverted. 

The  uterus  has  been  seen  inflamed,  ulcerated,  and 
enlarged,  in  consequence  of  scirrhus;  its  cavity  has  hvvn 
contracted  l>y  tubercles,  polypus,  stony,  bony,  or  earthy 
concretions,  or  in  consequence  of  stricture.  Sometimes 
its  otiening  into  the  vagina  is  entirely  obliterated.  The 
cavity  of  the  nterus  has  been  seen  enlariced,  filled  with 
water,  or  with  hydatids,  or  containing  a  dead  foetus.    H 


ANATOMY, 


82? 


is  occasionally  found  retrorertcil,  or  lamed  back,  be- 
tween the  vagina  and  the  rectum,  and  not  unfrequently 
it  has  been  seen  ruptured. 

The  ovaries  are  sometims  found  inflamed,  sometimes 
Ecirrhus  and  enlarged.  They  have  been  seen  dropsical, 
and  occasionally,  hair,  teeth,  and  other  marks  of  im- 
perfect impregnation,  have  been  detected  in  them. 
Sometimes  even  a  perfect  foetus  has  been  found  within 
a  membranous  cavity,  into  which  the  ovarium  has  been 
expanded.  Now  and  then,  there  is  only  one  ovarium  ; 
and  cases  have  been  related  in  which  both  were  want- 
ing. 

The  uterine  tubes  are  sometines  seen  in  a  state  of 
inflammation,  or  adhering,  in  consequence  of  inflam- 
mation, to  the  neiglibouring  parts.  Sometimes  they 
are  dropsical.  In  a  few  cases  they  have  been  found  im- 
pervious, and  now  and  then  they  are  seen  dilated,  and 
containing  an  impregnated  ovum,  and  even  a  complete 
foetus. 

The  anatomy  of  the  gravid  uterus,  and  the  develope- 
nient  of  the  foetus,  will  be  considered  in  the  article  Mid- 
wifery. 

The  female  breasts,  otmammte,  are  secreting  glands, 
though,  unlike  the  other  organs  of  that  nature,  they  per- 
form the  office  of  secretion  only  occasionally.  They  are 
situated  between  the  common  integuments  of  the  ster- 
no-laleral  parts  of  the  thorax  and  the  pectoral  muscles, 
to  the  sternal  surface  of  which  they  are  attached,  by 
loose,  fatty,  cellular  substance.  In  the  centre  of  their 
peripheral  surface  stands  the  nipple,  which  is  composed 
partly  of  a  ligamentous  substance,  surrounding  a  num- 
ber of  convoluted  tubes,  which  open  at  the  point  of  the 
nipple.  Round  the  nipple  there  is  a  circular  ring,  cover- 
ed, like  the  nij)ple,  with  a  soft,  delicate  cuticle,  ditfer- 
ing  in  colour  from  that  which  covers  the  neighbouring 
skin.  This  is  called  the  areola  of  the  breast.  On  the 
surface  of  the  areola  are  seen  several  little  perforated 
eminences,  which  are  the  excretory  ducts  of  small  glands 
that  lie  round  the  base  of-the  nipple,  and  secrete  a  fatty 
fluid. 

The  principal  part  of  tlie  breasts  is  made  up  partly  of 
fatty  cellular  substance,  and  partly  of  several  glandular 
bodies,  that  are  collected  lirst  into  smaller,  and  then 
greater  lobes,  with  cellular  substance  lying  between 
them.  These  glandular  lobes  are  extremely  vascular, 
and  are  well  supplied  with  nerves  and  absorbents;  but 
their  principal  part  consists  of  a  great  number  of  small 
tubes,  which  appear  to  take  their  origin  from  the  extre- 
mities of  the  arteries,  and,  gradually  uniting  into  trunks, 
pass  from  each  lobe  in  a  radiated  manner  towards  the 
base  of  the  nipple.  These  are  called  the  lactiferous 
ducts,  because  in  them  the  secretion  of  the  milk  appears 
to  take  place.  From  their  origin  to  the  base  of  the 
nipple,  these  tubes  are  accompanied  with  fibres  of  a 
tough,  elastic  substance.  When  they  reach  the  nipple, 
they  are  usually  coiled  up  in  a  spiral  lorni,  though  easily 
distended,  when  the  nip|)le  is  drawn  outward,  as  by  the 
lips  of  the  child.  The  number  of  lactiferous  tubes  that 
enter  the  nipple  is  variable,  but  generally  from  twelve  to 
eighteen  may  be  counted,  opening  round  the  point  of  the 
nipple.  When  they  reach  the  nipple,  they  appear  to  be 
quite  distinct  from  each  other,  though  some  anatomists 
have  supposed  that  they  form  a  circle  of  communication 
around  the  nipple. 

The  arteries  of  the  breasts  come  partly  from  the  in- 
tercostal, and  partly  from  the  superficial  mammary  arte- 
ries ;  and  the  nerves  are  derived,  partly  from  the  axil- 


lary plexus,  and  partly  from  the  great  sympatlieticB; 
The  absorbents  are  numerous,  and  most  of  them  pass 
to  the  axillary  glands. 

Before  the  age  of  puberty,  the  female  breasts,  like 
those  of  the  male,  are  little  more  than  cutaneous  tuber- 
cles ;  the  nipples  are  flat,  and  the  areola  of  a  florid  red 
colour.  In  children  of  both  sexes,  for  some  days  after 
birth,  the  breasts  are  much  swelled,  and  very  commonly 
contain  a  milky  fluid ;  but  as  this  is  gradually  absorbed, 
they  acquire  the  flatness  just  described.  At  the  period 
of  puberty,  the  breasts  become  plump,  the  nipples  pro- 
minent, and  the  areola  less  florid.  But  as  old  age  ap- 
proaches, and  the  fat,  that  always  forms  a  principal  part 
of  their  substance,  is  absorbed,  these  organs  become 
small,  flabby,  and  in  those  women  who  have  borne  many 
children,  commonly  pendulous. 

The  breasts  are  subject  to  most  of  the  diseases  that 
atfect  other  secreting  glands ;  but  the  morbid  appear- 
ance most  commonly  observed  in  these  organs  is,  that 
scirrhous  hardness,  or  peculiar  state  of  virulent  ulcera- 
tion, which  forms  the  distinguishing  character  of  cancer; 
See  Surgery. 

Human  milk  differs  from  that  of  the  cow,  in  being  of 
a  thinner  consistence,  and  a  bluish  colour,  though  it  con- 
tains a  greater  quantity  of  oily  matter,  and  is  of  a  much 
sweeter  taste.  The  creamy  part  cannot  be  converted 
into  butter  by  churning;  but  if,  after  being  agitated  for 
some  hours,  it  be  suffered  to  remain  at  rest  lor  a  day  or 
two,  there  is  separated  from  it  a  thick,  white,  unctuous 
fluid,  which  floats  on  the  surface  of  a  watery  liquor. 
Human  milk  is  also  not  susceptible  of  coagulation  by 
the  usual  methods  employed  to  coagulate  cow's  milk, 
though  it  is  certain  that  it  contains  curd  as  part  of  its 
composition.  Hence  it  appears,  that  the  milk  of  a  wo- 
man is  distinguished  from  that  of  a  cow,  chiefly  by  three 
circumstances;  1.  Its  oily  part  cannot  be  separated  from 
the  curd  contained  in  the  cream  ;  2.  Its  serous  part  con- 
tains much  less  curd ;  and,  3.  The  whole  fluid  contains 
more  sugar  of  milk. 

Such  of  our  readers  as,  from  their  professional  avoca- 
tions, require  more  particular  information  respecting 
the  subjects  of  this  chajiter,  may  consult  De  Graaf's 
Traciatus  de  Virorum  Organic  Gcneralioni,  and  de  Mu- 
licrum  Organis  Gcneralioni  Inservienlihus ;  W'inslow's 
Train  d' Anatomic  ;  Albini  Annotationcs  Academicoe,  lib. 
iv. ;  Jlonro's  Disstrtalio  hiauguralis  de  Teslibus  in  variis 
Animalibus,  Edin.  1 755. ;  Haller's  Iconis  Anaimnica:,  and 
Opera  Minora,  torn.  I. ;  Hunter,  On  some  parts  of  the 
Animal  Economy ;  Bichat's  Anatomic  Descriptive,  torn. 
V. ;  (by  Roux ;)  Portal's  Anatomic  Medicate,  tom.  v. ; 
Bell's  Aiuttomy,  vol.  iv. ;  Fyfe's  Compendium  of  Anatomy, 
vol.  ii. ;  and  Moreau's  Histoire  NatureUe  de  la  Femme. 

In  the  view  which  we  have  now  taken  of  the  structure 
of  the  human  body,  wo  have  adopted  an  arrange  nent 
which  differs  in  some  respects,  from  that  of  any  anato- 
mical work  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  (hough, in  the 
general  principles  of  our  arrangement,  and  in  the  titles 
of  our  subdivisions,  we  have  followed  nearly  the  Lemons 
d 'Anatomic  Coniparee  of  Cuvier,  the  Principes  de  Physi- 
ologic of  Dumas,  and  the  Anatomic  Descriptive  of  Xavier 
Bichat.  We  feel  the  necessity  of  explaining  our  mo- 
tives for  thus  deviating  from  the  beaten  track  of  anato- 
mical description,  and  conducting  our  reeidere  into  a 
new,  though  not  untrodden  path. 

In  the  usual  elementary  treatises  on  anatomy,  the 
subject  is  divided  into  seven  parts,  corresponding  « ith 
5  M  2 


828 


ANATOMY. 


the  method  according  to  which  the  earlier  anatomists 
thought  proper  to  divide  the  human  body.  Thus,  as 
the  botiy  was  said  to  be  made  up  of  bones,  ligcuiunts, 
ittuscles,  viscera,  vessels,  nerves,  and  glands,  the  science 
of  anatomy  was  divided  into  Osteology,  treating  of  the 
bones  and  cartilages ;  Syndesmology,  of  the  ligaments ; 
Myology,  of  t  lie  muscles;  Splanchnology,  of  the  vis- 
cera; Angeiology,  of  the  vessels;  Neurology,  of  the 
nerves;  and  Adenology,  of  the  glands.  In  this  way, 
however,  several  parts  of  the  body  must  have  been  either 
omitted,  or  described  among  those  with  which  they  have 
▼ery  little  connexion.  Anatomists  preferred  the  lesser 
of  the  two  evils ;  and  accordingly  we  find  the  integu- 
ments, and  the  organs  of  the  senses,  external  as  well  as 
internal,  described  among  the  viscera.  Again,  by  this 
division,  parts  which  have  an  intimate  connexion  with 
each  other,  in  office  or  situation,  or  both,  are  separated 
to  a  considerable  distance.  Thus,  the  heart  is  described 
Id  one  division  of  the  subject,  the  blood-vessels  ia 
another;  the  gullet  is  separated  from  the  stomach;  the 
pancreas  from  the  salivary  glands ;  while  the  teeth  are 
disjoined  from  the  other  masticating  organs,  and,  along 
with  the  small  bones  of  the  ear,  are  described  among  the 
organs  of  support  and  motion  in  the  skeleton.  Thus, 
the  uses  of  the  parts  are  overlooked  in  a  servile  atten- 
tion to  similarity  of  structure. 

We  allow,  that  in  teaching  anatomy  by  lectures  and 
demonstrations  on  the  dead  body,  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  avoitl  such  an  arrangement  as  we  are  here  disapprov- 
ing. There,  it  is  of  advantage  to  describe,  first  the 
skeleton,  or  the  bones,  and  their  appendages;  then  the 
muscles,  the  nerves,  the  blood-vessels,  lymphatics;  then 
the  several  viscera ;  and,  lastly,  the  integuments  ;  and, 
accordingly,  this  is  the  order  which  we  have  followed 
in  the  general  description  of  the  human  body,  given  in 
our  introduction.  Indeed,  were  the  lecturer  to  aim  at 
demonstrating  the  organs,  according  to  the  functions 
•which  they  are  destined  to  perform,  he  must  have  a 
much  greater  number  of  dead  bodies,  than  even  the 
most  favoured  professor  in  a  populous  city  can  generally 
command.  But  however  well  adapted  such  a  division 
may  be  to  anatomical  lectures  and  demonstrations,  it  is 
by  no  means  calculated  for  a  general  reader.  He  looks 
for  something  more  than  a  mere  description  of  the  ex- 
ternal forms,  relative  situations,  and  internal  structure 
of  organs.  He  desires  to  see  how  the  several  organs 
$tand  related  to  each  other  in  their  office;  how  they 
contribute  to  the  carrying  on  of  any  particular  function. 
For  this  purpose,  he  must  followan  arrangement  in  which 
the  organs  are  disposed, not  according  to  their  relative  si- 
tuation, or  similarity  of  structure,  but  according  to  the  or- 
ganic functions  which  they  perform  in  the  living  body. 

At  a  time,  when  the  uses  of  the  organs  were  as  yet 
involved  in  obscurity,  they  might  be  distributed  into  re- 
gions ;  but,  in  the  present  day,  when  we  are  acquainted 
with  the  object  of  most  of  their  actions;  when  descrip- 
tive anatomy  is  little  more  than  the  first  step  towards 
the  study  of  the  animal  fnnctions,  it  is  according  to 
these  functions  that  we  ought  to  arrange  the  organs 
by  which  they  are  performed.  In  this  way,  the  student 
finds  in  his  anatomical  divisions  an  introduction  to  phy- 
siology ;  he  is  accustomed,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the 
expression,  to  consider  the  organs  in  action,  and  not  to 
contemplate  merely  inert  insulated  bodies,  the  study  of 
wbicb,  in  the  usual  method,  is  as  tiresome  to  the  mind 


as  disgusting  to  the  senses.  See  Bichat's  Preliminary 
Discourse  to  his  Anatomie  Descriptioe. 

Besides  accommodating  our  view  of  anatomy  to  mo- 
dern physiology,  we  were  desirous  of  arranging  the  or- 
gans of  the  human  body  so  as  to  admit  of  the  general 
comparison  with  those  of  the  inferior  animals,  which  we 
are  to  give  in  the  subsequent  part.  Our  first  object  has 
been  to  describe  all  those  organs  which  belong  indiffer- 
,  ently  to  either  sex,  or  which  are  subservient  to  what  Bi- 
chat  calls  the  functions  of  animal  and  of  organic  life, 
and  then  to  consider  those  which  distinguish  the  sexes, 
or  are  subservient  to  the  function  of  reproduction.  The 
functions  common  to  both  sexes  are  those  of  Motion, 
Sensation,  Digtstion,  Absorption,  Circulation, 
Rkspiration,  including  Voice,  and  Secretion  ;  and 
in  this  order  we  should,  in  a  physiological  point  of  view, 
have  arranged  them  ;  but,  for  reasons  which  we  assign- 
ed in  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  chapter,  it  appeared 
necessary  to  treat  of  the  organs  of  circulation  before 
those  of  absortion. 

As  some  of  the  integuments  could  not  properly  be  con- 
sidered under  any  of  the  preceding  functions,  we  have 
adopted  a  terra  introtluced  into  a  treatise  on  physiology, 
by  one  of  the  ablest  anatomists  of  the  present  day,  viz. 
Integumation,  to  express  the  office  of  those  mem- 
branes. See  Chap.  VIII.  Soemmering,  in  his  work 
De  Corporis  Humani  Fabrica,  has  followed  a  similar 
method,  calling  that  part  of  Anatomy  which  treats  of  the 
integuments,  Dermatologia. 

As  the  functions  of  motion,  sensation,  and  digestion, 
seem  to  be  the  most  generally  diffused  of  those  which 
belong  indifferently  to  either  sex,  we  have  placed  the 
organs  by  which  these  functions  are  performed  in  the 
first  rank,  thug  following  the  arrangement  of  Cuvier. 

Such  are  the  general  principles  on  which  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  present  article  has  been  founded.  We  are 
aware,  that  several  objections  may  be  made  to  it.  In 
particular,  it  may  be  alleged,  that  as  many  of  the  or- 
gans are  not  confined  to  a  single  function,  it  is  necessary 
to  treat  of  the  same  organ  in  several  parts  of  the  trea- 
tise; a  repetition  which  might  be  avoided,  by  adopting 
the  more  natural  arrangement  of  the  organs,  according 
to  their  situation.  Thus  the  tongue  is  at  once  an  oi^an 
of  sensation,  of  deglutition,  and  of  speech;  (he  skin  aa 
organ  of  sensation,  of  excretion,  and  integumation,  &c. 
We  reply,  that  in  these  cases  re|)etition  may  be  avoided, 
by  describing  the  organ  under  that  function  which  seems 
most  important,  or  to  which  the  organ  in  question  ap- 
pears more  peculiarly  subservient.  It  has  been  well  ob- 
served by  Bichat,  that  nature  docs  not  confine  herself 
to  any  rigorous  division,  but  unites  different  functions 
in  the  same  organ,  and  that,  in  adopting  any  particular 
classification,  we  must  almost  always  meet  with  some 
exce[)tions.     See  Anat.  Dcscrip.  torn.  ii.  p.  563. 

In  the  course  of  the  preceding  pages,  we  have  made 
fre(|uent  references  to  what  we  conceived  to  be  the  best 
works  on  the  particular  subjects  of  which  we  have  treat- 
ed ;  but  it  may  be  expected  that  we  should  point  out  to 
the  student,  the  best  systematic  works  on  Human  Ana- 
tomy ;  and,  as  these  have  not  been  mentioned  in  the  gene- 
ral introduction,  we  shall  enumerate  them  here. 

The  best  foreign  systems  of  anotomy  with  which  we 
are  acquainted,  are  Winslow's  Traite  iTAnalomie,  pub- 
lished originally  in  French,  translated  into  I^atin  by  a 
Xiermau  student, and  into  English  by  Douglas;  Leber's 


ANATOIVTV. 


829 


Prxtectiones  Arwiomica,  published  in  Latia  at  Vienna, 
in  1778,  and  at  Eiiinhurgli,  in  1790,  anil  translated  into 
English,  with  (he  addition  of  Physiological  remarks,  by 
Dr.  Vanghan,  in  1701;  Sahatier's  TraiU  tTAnatomie, 
puhlished  first  in  two  volumes,  and  again  (in  1781)  in 
three  volumes,  8vo;  Soemmering's  work  C)n  the  Struc- 
ture of  the  Human  Body,  published  originally  in  German, 
and  again  in  Latin,  in  five  volumes,  8vo,  1 774 ;  Bichat's 
Anatomic  O'-nerale,  and  Anatomie  Descriptive,  Torming  to- 
gether a  complete  View  of  anatomy,  according  to  the 
author's  peculiar  system,  in  nine  volumes,  8vo;  and 
Portal's  Anatomie  McdicuU,  in  five  volumes,  8vo. 

We  have  few  original  elementary  treatises  on  Anato- 
my in  this  country.  Among  the  best  are  Cheselden's 
Analomi)  of  the  Uunmn  Body,  which  has  gone  through 
numerous  editions,  and  is  still  a  useful  compendium ; 
Bell's  Anatomy,  in  four  volumes,  8vo.  the  first  of  which 
was  published  in  1794,  aad  the  last  in  1804  ;  and  Fyfe's 


Compendium  of  Anatomy,  wuich  has  been  published  in 
several  forms,  viz.  in  three  volumes,  4to.  with  nume- 
rous coloured  plates,  in  1 800 ;  in  two  volumes,  1 2mo. 
without  plates,  in  the  same  year;  and  in  three  volumes, 
8vo.  with  several  engravings  (chiefly  uncoloured)  in 
1807. 

On  the  Morhid  Anatomy  of  the  human  body,  we  have 
the  Scpidcretum  Analomicum  of  Bonetus,  the  Historia 
Anulomico-Medica  of  Lieutaud,  the  classical  work  of 
Morgagni,  J)e  Sedibus  et  Causis  Morhontm,  a  translation 
of  which  last  into  English  was  published  by  Alexander, 
in  1769;  and  Voigtel's  Uandbuch  der  Pathologuclun 
Anatomie ;  and,  in  English,  the  Morbid  Anatomy,  with 
plates,  by  Dr.  Baillie,  and  the  commencement  of  a  work 
on  The  Scats  and  Causes  of  Diseases,  illustrated  by  the 
cases  and  dissections  of  Morgagni,  by  Professor  HamiU 
ton  of  Edinburgh.  The  sequel  of  this  work  is  anxious- 
ly expected  by  the  public.    (/) 


END  OF  HUMAN  ANATOMY. 


GENERAL  EXPLANATION 

OF  THE 

PLATES  BELONGING  TO  VOLUME  FIRST 

OF    THE 

SECOND  AMERICAN  EDITION 

OF   THE 

NEW  EDINBURGH  ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 


PLATE  I. 

Fig.  1.  An  Abacus  or  Arith-Tietical  Machine,  invented 
by  IM.  Perrault,  for  performing  addition,  subtrac- 
tion, and  mulliplicHtion. 

Fig.  2,  3.  Figures  to  illustrate  tlie  aberration  of  the  Fix- 
ed Stars. 

'Fig.  4.  A  Leiis,  ell>|)(ical  on  one  side,  and  circular  on 
the  oth^r,  Hhirh  refracts  parallel  rays  without 
any  fjtlierical  aicrration. 

Fig.  5.  A  Leos,  hyperbolical  on  one  side,  and  plane  on 
the  oth(;r,  which  refracts  parallel  rays  without 
ftfvy  spherical  aberration. 

"'S-  6  .  Apparatus,  showing  that  vibration  is  the  cause  of 
sound. 

Fig.  7.  Illustrates  the  partial  transmission  and  reflection 
of  an  undulation  in  passing  through  media  of  dif- 
ferent elasticity. 

PLATE  n. 

Fig.  1 .  If  A  B  C  be  the  initial  form  of  a  string  vibrating 
between  the  points.  A,  C,  it  will,  after  a  single 
vibration,  have  the  form  A  D  C. 

Fig.  2.  Form  assumed  by  a  musical  string  when  vibra- 
ting between  the  fixed  points  A,  F,  and  sounding 
hfiriKonics. 

Fig.  3.  A,  B,  C,  D,  P,  the  form  of  a  string  vibrating  be- 
tween the  points  A,  F,  producing  its  fundamen- 
tal sound  along  with  its  harmonics. 

Fig.  4.  The  paths  described  by  any  point  in  a  string, 
giving  out  its  hnrmonics,  and  lundamental  sound. 

Fig.  5,  6,  7,  8,  9.  The  Figures  assumed  by  sand  wheo 
strewed  on  Plates  vibrating  laterally. 

Fig.  10.  Kratzensfein's  pipes  for  sounding  the  vowels  A, 
E,  I,  O,  U. 

Fig.  11.  The  sjieaking  trumpet. 

Fig.  12.  Section  ol  the  speaking  trumpet. 

Fig.  13.  Mouthpiece  for  sounding  (he  vowels  A,  E,  0, 
and  U,  in  Kratzenstein's  pi()es. 

PLATE  in. 

1.  Aeronautic  Vessel,  with  copper  halls  exhausted 
of  their  air  proposed  by  Lana  for  traversing  the 


Fig. 
Fig. 

rig. 

Fig 


2.  Montgolfier's  Rarefied  Air  Balloon,  in  which  M. 
Pilafre  de  Rozier  and  the  Marquis  d'Arlandes 
performfd  the  fir&t  aerial  voyage. 

3.  The  Balloon  in  which  Blanrhard  ascended  from 
Paris. 

4.  Itifl-.mmaMe  Air  Walloon,  in  which  M.  Charles 
and  A^esgrs.  Roberts  ascended. 


Fig.  5.  One  of  the  24  gores  of  which  a  balloon  is  com- 
posed. 

PLATE  IV. 

Fig.  1.  The  mode  offilling  balloons  with  inflammable  air. 

Fig.  2.  Garnerin's  parachute,  when  expanded. 

Fig.  3.  The  same  parachute  when  shut. 

Fig.  4.  Diagram  for  finding  the  accidental  colours  of  any 
primary  colour. 

Fig.  5.  Diagram,  showing  the  manner  in  which  the  aber- 
ration of  colour  is  corrected  in  a  triple  achromatic 
object  glass. 

Fig.  6.  Diagram,  showing  how  the  aberration  of  colour 
is  corrected  in  an  cyc-piece  of  two  glasses. 

PLATE  V. 

Fig.  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  Represent  the  various  Parts  of  the 
Rolherhamor  Dutch  Plough,  which  was  introdu- 
ced into  Scotland  in  1730. 

Fig.  S.  Represents  the  Plough  as  improved  by  Mr.  Small. 

Fig.  9,  10.  A  light  Plough  constructed  on  the  same  Prin- 
ciples as  the  Rotherham  Plough,  for  cleaning 
Beans,  Potatoes,  and  Turnips. 

PLATE  VL 

Fig.  1  to  10  inclusive,  are  Diagrams  forconslructing  the 
Plough-ear  with  the  least  possible  Resistance, 
invented  by  Mr.  President  .lefferson. 

Fig.  11.  Drawing  of  the  New  Plough,  improved  by  Mr. 
James  Veitch  of  Inchbonny. 

Fig.  12,  A  Drill  for  sowing  any  Kind  of  Grain  in  Seven 
Rows. 

PLATE  VIL 

Contains  Figures  of  various  Drills  for  sowing  all  Kinds 
of  Grain  and  Seeds. 

PLATE  VIIL 

Contains  a  View  of  the  Machine  for  reaping  Corn,  in- 
vented by  Mr.  Gladstones  of  Castle-Douglas. 

PLATE  IX. 

Fig.  1.  A  thrashing  Machine,  erected  at  Chillingham. 

Fig.  2.  Anuicient  Sarcoi)ha';us,depositfd  in  the  British 
JMuseuin,  and  supposed  tot}e  the  Tombof  Alexan- 
der the  Ure;it. 

PLATE  IX.— No.  2. 

Diagrams  illustrating  the  Application  of  Algebra  to 
Geometry, 


EXPIANATION  OF  PLATES. 


PLATE  X. 
Exhibits  the  most  ancient  Forms  of  Alphabets. 

PLATE  XI. 

Represents  a  great  Variety  ol'  ancient  Alphabels. 

PLATE  XIL 

Contains  various  Speciuiens  of  Oriental  Alphabets, 
which  seem  to  be  founded  on  the  Sanscrit. 

PLATE  Xin. 

Fi"'.  1.  A  Longitudinal  Section  of  the  Thigh  Bone. 

Fig.  2.  One  of  the  Bones  of  a  Foetus,  showing  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  Bones  grow. 

Fig.  3.  A  Front  View  ol  the  Human  Skeleton. 

Fig.  4   A  back  View  of  the  Skeleton. 

Fig.  5.  An  enlarged  Outline  of  (he  Bones  of  the  Hand. 

Fi".  6.  An  cnhirged  Outline  ofjhe  Bones  of  tlie  Ankle 
and  Foot. 

PLATE  XIV. 

Fig.  1.  A  View  of  the  Shoulder  Joint. 

Fiii;.  2.  A  front  View  of  the  Knee  Joint. , 

Fig.  3.  A  View  of  the  Diapiiragni,  on  the  side  next  the 

Bwvels. 

A  View  of  the  Muscles,  when  the  Body  is  in  the 

posture  of  Steeping. 

6.  Two  Views  of  the  Larynx. 


Fig.  4. 
Fig.  5. 


PLATE  XV. 


A  front  and  back  View  of  the  external  Muscles  of  the 
Human  Body. 

PLATE  XVL 

Fig.  1.  The  appearance  of  the  Muscles  of  a  Man  leaning 
upon  a  staff,  and  about  to  make  a  leap. 

Fig.  2.  The  appearance  of  the  Muscles  of  a  Man,  writh- 
ing his  whole  Body  with  extreme  Pain. 

PLATE  XVIL 

The  appearance  of  the  Muscles  of  a  Man,  wringing  a 
Cloth  with  all  his  Strength. 

PLATE  XVIIL 

Fig.  1 .  A  vertical  Section  of  the  Head,  showing  the 
Skull,  the  Cavity  ol  the  Nostrils,  the  Roof  of  the 
Mouth,  and  the  Fauces. 

Fig.  2.  A  horizontal  Section  of  the  Brain. 

Fig.  3.  The  appearance  of  the  Base  of  the  Encephalon, 
without  the  Blood-vessels,  &c. 

Fig.  4.  The  same,  with  the  Blootl-vessels  and  the  Ori- 
gins of  the  cranial  Nerves  on  the  left  side. 

Fig.  5.  A  view  of  the  Laminae  of  the  Integuments  in  a 
Negro  who  died  of  the  Small-Pox. 

Pig.  6.  The  arrangement  of  the  Pores  of  the  Skin,  in  the 
Corners  of  Angular  Figures. 

Fig.  7.  A  View  of  the  Papillae  of  the  Skin,  on  the  Point 
of  the  Fore  Finger. 

Fig.  8.  The  Back  of  the  Mouth,  the  hanging  Palate,  and 
the  opening  into  the  Fauces. 


PLATE  XIX. 

Fig.  1.  A  bicuspidated  Tooth  of  the  tower  Jaw,  witii 
one  Fang. 

Fig.  2.  A  bicusjiidated  Tooth  of  the  upper  Jav,  with  twa 

Fangs. 
Fig.  3,  4,  5.  Different  Grinders. 

Fig.  tJ,  7.  A  vertical  Section  of  the  Teeth,  a,  tli«  inter- 
nal Cavity,  b,  the  bony  Part,  c,  the  Fibrei^of  tht 

Enamel. 
Fig.  8.  Contains  part  of  the  Upper  and  LowenJaw  of: 

Child  about  eight  years  old,  to  shojv  the  Progre- 

of  Ossification  in  the  Teeth. 
Fig.  9.  Represents  a  front  view  of  the  Contents  of  thi 

Chest  and  Belly. 
Fig.  10.  Re,)resents  several  of  the  Viscera,  which  ar 

invisible  in  the  preceding  Figure. 
Fig.  li;  Contains  a  vertical  section  of  the  contents  c 

the  Chest'and  Belly, 
Fig.  12.  Shows  the  Jejunum,  a  part  of  the  small  Inte) 

tines  of  a  Person,  who  had  died  soon  after  eatins 

when  the  Lac  teals  were  distended, 

PLATE  XX. 

Represents  the  Absorbent  Ves-iels,  the  Skin  and  th 
sternal  Parts  ol'  the  Chest  being  supposed  tran 
parent.  See  Anatomy,  chap.  t.  p.  800. 

PLATE  XXL 

Fig.  1 .  Represents  the  principal  Arteries  ant]  veins 

the  Face,  with  its  Muscles. 
Fig.  2.  Shows  the  principal  superficial  13I(>o«l-vessels  ai 

Muscles  on  the  palmar  Aspect  of  the  Right  Ar, 

and  Hand. 
Fig.  3.  Exhibits  an  anterior  Vi«w  of  the  principal  Mu 

cles  and  Blood-vessels  of  the  Right  Thigh. 
Fig.  4.  Represents  the  principal  Muscles  and  Blooi 

Vessels  of  the  Fore  Part  of  the  Leg  and  Back' 

the  Foot. 

PLATE  XXIL 

Fig.  1.  Represents  the  Cavity  of  the  Tympanum  laid 

open,  in  order  to  show  the  natural  Situation  ar 

Connexion  of  the  small  Bones  of  the  internal  ea 
Fig.  2.  Exhibits   a   View  of  the    central  Cavity  ar 

winding  passages  of  the  Labyrinth. 
Fig.  3.  Shows  an  enlarged  View  of  the  Small  bones 

the  Ear,  within  the  Cavity  of  the  Tympanum. 
Fig.  4.  Represents  the  manner  in  which  the  acoustic  •>» 

auditory  Nerves  are  distributed  through  the  C^ 

vitiesofthe  semicircular  Canals. 
Fig.  5.  Exhibits  the  Distribution  of  that  Part  of  the  a 

ditory  Nerve  which  supplies  the  Passage  of  tl 

Cochlea. 
Fig.  6.  Is  a  front  View  of  the  Eye,  to  show  the  lachr 

mal  Passages,  lachrymal  Caruncle,  and  sebaceoi 

Glands. 
Fig.  7.  Is  a  View  of  the  left  Eye-ball  in  its  Orbit,  !• 

show  the  Disposition  and  Insertion  of  the  Nerv* 

and  Muscles. 
Fig.  8.  Is  an  enlarged  vertical  Section  of  the  Eye-bi» 

and  its  appendages  in  their  relative  situatioJ 


END  OF  VOLUME  FIRST. 


i.  8eyn>our,  prilM«% 
4>  Jolui-«lre«t 


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